#it’s soft hours n I love Steven so much
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not him
summary: you’ve been steven’s best friend for a while and have had a crush on him as long as you’ve known him. unfortunately, his eyes are on layla, his alter’s wife. let's just say, you’re not the only one put off by this. this is a story of how you and marc bond over your sorrows.
pairing: marc spector x reader
rating: angst
warning: drunk kiss, one-sided pining, (kinda) cheating, angst, feelings (?)
w/c: 2.7k
a/n: sometimes you just need to feel needed
part two
----
Steven is the type of guy who has no idea what to do with his hands. But when it comes to you, he’s all hands on deck. He’s touchy and you think it’s partially because he’s touch-starved.
And you are too, but in a different way.
Where he craves for touch, you simply cannot process the feeling. It’s foreign. Overwhelming. You’re just not used to it.
But you pull through it because you like him.
And he has no idea.
Steven Grant, the most clueless man in London, gently grasps your hand like you’re not about to keel over from the mere presence of him. You never imagined yourself harboring a massive crush on your best friend, but it’s happened. Or, it’s been happening.
Steven sees you as a safe and reliable friend – one that wouldn’t get the wrong idea if he were to cuddle behind you or play with your hair. And he’s right, in a way. You do understand exactly what his intentions are. And that is nothing.
You’re one to never get your hopes up. Preferring to expect the worst so you’re never disappointed in the end. So you’re fine just being there for him because you’d rather have him as a friend than nothing at all.
He’s adorable really. At first glance you may think he’s a quiet bookworm, looking for a nice spot against the wall to live out the rest of his days, but really, if you give him a chance, he’ll talk for hours. And you’ll listen.
He has a higher-pitched voice than you might’ve expected. His British lit takes it up a notch and you think it’s endearing. He can go on and on about different Egyptian mythological stories, telling each one with details that you swear can only be known by those who were actually there experiencing them.
His eyes light up with a sparkle of his own that you crave to see whenever he’s around. It’s that type of look that spreads his passion and curiosity to whoever's around. You’ve never experienced passion like that until you met him.
And you want more. You’ll always want more. But…it’s too late.
Steven is taken. No – actually he’s married. Well, let’s take a couple of steps back, he’s actually two guys: Steven and Marc.
Marc, the American pessimist, is actually married to a woman named Layla and has been for years now. He just decided to show himself out of the blue one day and now he’s part of Steven. Or he always was a part of Steven, just a hidden one.
Steven, the romantic he is, quickly clicked with Layla and has been chasing after her like a love-sick puppy ever since. And much to Marc’s displeasure, he’s formed a bond with her.
“...And we kissed, can you believe it?” There’s that sparkle again. “I swear to you, she has the softest, most wonderful lips.” He drones on and on about Layla and you can tell it’s all genuine and innocent, which makes it so much worse. “She’s strong and brave, and possibly the most brilliant woman I’ve ever met.”
She’s…perfect.
The back of your neck prickles with heat as he continues, “I know I’ve only known her for a couple of months, but I think – no, I know that I love her.” There’s a tingle at the back of your throat that tightens at his words, threatening to burn your eyes with tears if you’re not careful. You swallow it back, jaw clenched to control yourself.
After a moment, his warm brown eyes bore deeply into yours, thumb rubbing soft circles on the back of your hand. You force a small smile at him, holding back the urge to pull your hands away from his. “That’s great, Steven. I’m so happy for you.”
You’ve never been so jealous.
—
Turns out you weren’t the only one unhappy with the news. Apparently, Marc punched Steven in the jaw when it happened (meaning he technically punched himself), telling him to stay away from his wife, but, of course, that didn’t stop Steven and Layla from seeing each other after.
So that’s how you formed an unexpected friendship with Steven’s other half. It’s nothing like Steven and Layla, you are simply just friends. Disgruntled friends at that. Drinking buddies if you want to be more accurate.
You’ve shared a case of beer with Marc countless times. Steven sleeps early so as soon as 10 pm rolls around, you’re stuck with Marc. Well ‘stuck’ is a bit harsh, but being that Steven is your preferred company at any time of the day, it’s true.
But you’ll admit, it’s not that bad.
He actually talks to you, sometimes. You were surprised the first time you got him to open up about how he and Layla were married, but separated. Apparently, being the righteous man he is, he suddenly made the executive decision to move away for her safety, worrying that his work as an avatar could put her in imminent danger. No wonder Layla was less than jazzed to find out about his life in London.
You knew a little bit about Marc and the Egyptian god, Konshu, but because it has never really directly affected your life, you’ve never fully believed it. The random bouts when Steven has disappeared, however, have been worrying, but Marc filled in the gaps pretty well while making sure to refrain from sharing any sensitive information. You realize Marc probably doesn’t have many friends he can trust with any information at all, so you’re willing to stay and listen like you would for Steven. And it’s fine. You’re content with the dynamic.
Marc is just different. More serious, less…gentle.
But don’t get it wrong, Marc can be enjoyable, even funny sometimes. Sometimes. He has this dry sense of humor that you never expected from him and sometimes it feels like he’s actually engaging in conversation instead of him talking at you. And when he’s in a really good mood, he even flirts with you for the hell of it. You never take it seriously, but that is something Steven doesn’t like – and he hasn’t even seen the half of it. You brush it off, believing Steven is just being protective while Marc instigates as much as possible to get back at him.
Tonight is one of those good nights. It started normally: Steven went to bed, Marc got out of bed, and you’re now letting old episodes of a sitcom run in the background as you trade stories about the horrible drivers you’ve encountered in the past.
“ – Then the guy stops in the middle of the road, green light, and everything, and opens his trunk because he wanted to change his shirt!”
Marc’s eyebrows are high on his head as he listens animatedly. “Right there?” His hand is wrapped around a sweating bottle of beer that’s half-drained already. He’s on his fifth, you’re on your third. It’s one of the heavier nights, but neither one of you mentions anything.
“Yes! Right there!” You smile against the mouth of your bottle at the sound of his deep chuckle. It’s so different from Steven’s, but you still enjoy hearing it. Maybe even strive to hear it. You take a deep swallow of your drink then set it down on the crowded coffee table. It’s littered with books, bottles, and a few remotes for various parts of the tv.
“Did you drive around him?”
“No, he was taking up two lanes with his crooked-ass park job! Oh my god, people were so pissed, honking and yelling at the guy – He didn’t even care!” You like him like this, light and open, like everything in his past has evaporated off his shoulders. You can see prominent smile lines at the corner of his eyes as he laughs at the story. Sometimes you wonder who put them there. Steven or Marc. Or was it a joint effort?
The energy in the room dies down as you close the story, but it doesn’t bother you. You just wait for him to continue the conversation, to do his part. That’s how this works: you speak, then he speaks, then you go again.
But he doesn’t, not this time.
You look at him, expecting a dumb question or controversial take on something like usual, but he just stares right back, eyes half-lidded. You’ve never seen that look before.
There’s never any real silence when you and Marc hang out – and even when there is, there really isn’t. That’s why the TV is always on, so you never have space to think. Like really think. It’s like having music play as you eat dinner: the noise plays over the sounds of obnoxious chewing and utensils scraping against plates.
You need that sound. Without it, you wouldn’t be able to sit here next to him. But sometimes it’s not enough. This time it’s not enough.
This silence feels different, even as the muffled voice of the TV drones in the background. It’s unnerving and it settles around you, like fine dust over furniture.
“Is that a new shirt or somethin’?” He sits up slightly against the arm of the couch, eyes sweeping over your body, “I swear, I’ve never seen your cleavage from this angle before.”
“Marc!” You cross your arms over your chest, “Stop looking you perv!” Your face blooms with heat, though it’s already quite warm from the alcohol you’ve been drinking. He has a teasing grin on his face, but his eyes convey something else.
“Mhm…You wore that for Stevey didn’t you?” His words come out in loops, slurred slightly from the drinking challenge you had earlier in the evening.
“And?” Your ears burn as you confirm his suspicions, “What if I did?”
One of his eyebrows lifts in amusement, “You know he’s in love with my wife, don’t you?”
You frown at him, “Yes, Marc. I’m aware.” Your hand reaches for your bottle of beer if only to have something to look at other than those familiar eyes of his. The label is starting to rub off from the perspiration on the glass.
“Then why do you keep trying?” You feel exasperated. Why do you keep trying? You know Steven’s feelings and intentions, and none of them relate to you. You’re his best friend and he’s…well, he’s taken. You’ve never wanted to risk losing your friendship with him, but at the same time, you’ve never lost hope.
“I… don’t know.” Your skin itches. This wasn’t how the night was supposed to go. Usually, you and Marc would spend a few hours taking turns talking about nothing then you’d call an Uber home and see Steven in the morning.
“Well…He’s an idiot.”
“What –”
Marc sits up, body almost leaning into your space, “Steven has no idea what’s right in front of him.”
“Marc,”
A hand catches yours and you’re thrown back to that day when Steven told you his feelings for Layla.
You are sitting in the exact same position on the couch as that day: you and him, hand in hand and face to face. But this is different. This time Steven’s mouth is telling you exactly what you want to hear.
“You’re beautiful.” But it’s not him.
Marc’s gaze searches your face for a reaction, but all you can do is stare back and look into those soft brown eyes. They have that sparkle. The same look you’ve longed to be directed at you since you met Steven.
You almost give in to that look, wanting to soak in the eagerness flashing in his eyes, but you don’t. You try to take your hands from his hold but he pulls you closer instead. His face is barely a few inches away from yours.
“We shouldn’t…” Your voice is low in a mere whisper. Like you’re sharing a secret.
He smells like him, and he should, you suppose, but it’s still odd to think about how Steven and Marc share a body while being completely different people.
His eyes are different though. His brows sit lower, almost grazing against his dark lashes, infinitely more intense than Steven’s curious look. He’s more alert, or at least, less tired than Steven. And somehow, Steven’s sleepless eye bags disappear when Marc takes control.
But he also looks at you differently. At first, he didn’t look at you at all. He was standoffish, uninterested, and unimpressed. But now, his eyes bore into you and pin you in place. He’s more than looking at you, he’s devouring you. And you like it.
“We shouldn’t…” He echoes your words almost like he’s agreeing, but his eyes flit down to your parted lips directly contradicting your shared sentiment. “But I want to.”
“I-...” He follows your tongue as it pokes out and wets your lower lip nervously, his eyes are nearly glazed over with desire. His hand cups your jaw gently and he slowly tilts your face to look at him. You lean into his touch, craving the feeling of his calloused skin against yours.
Your eyes flutter closed as he leans in, but the kiss never comes.
Instead, a soft sigh brushes your mouth as he holds you close, barely a few centimeters from meeting your lips.
He whispers low with his eyes trained on your parted lips, voice strained with desperation and need, “Please…let me kiss you, sweetheart.” He sounds so broken, yet so sure of this. Like he’s been waiting for this his whole life. You let out a small whimper at his words, unable to hold in how much you want him. His forehead rests against yours, “Tell me you need it as much as I do.”
You attempt to push against him, to capture his lips with yours, but he doesn’t let you. His hand keeps you just far enough to keep you from what you want. “Please.” You beg. Rather than giving in, he parts even further from you and you’re met with that hungry look of his once more.
“Say it.” He sounds so serious, his voice low and rough, but you can tell he wants it as much as you do. He needs this. He needs to hear it.
“I-I want it.” Your hands come up to cradle his face, “I want you to kiss me, Marc Spector. I need you.” The last word is barely audible as you crowd closer to him, nose nudging against his as you lean in.
You feel yourself melt against him as his lips meet yours, warm, soft, and bitter from the beer. There’s an unexplainable feeling that zips up your spine when he kisses you back, hungrily moving his mouth against yours.
You didn’t know a kiss could feel this good.
There’s a push and pull as you move against each other. As the kiss deepens with desire it’s abated by a softened touch as light as a whisper. You love the small sighs he lets out when you sweetly pull back, letting him chase your lips for softer, more playful nips. And then the deeper sounds when you’re flush against him, eagerly drinking him in.
By now, you’ve been pulled onto his lap, legs straddling comfortably over his. His chest rumbles with a groan as your tongue brushes against his, desperately taking in his intoxicating taste. You lean further into him, needing to feel his body against yours.
Your hands drift from his jaw into the soft curls of his hair, tugging gently at the ends, if only to hear that breathless groan of his once more. His hands wrap around your waist and drop to squeeze at your hips, holding you closer as if you aren’t already fully against him.
At some point, you have to break the kiss, if only for a second of air. You look at each other breathing heavily, wrapped around one another, unwilling to part any further.
Silence hangs in the air, but it’s light. Barely even there.
You look at him, and he looks right back, lips swollen with love, or at least the adjacent.
You let out a breath, more like a sigh of relief, when you see it: that sparkle. It’s still there.
#marc spector#marc spector x reader#marc spector x you#steven grant#steven grant x reader#moon knight#steven grant x layla el faouly
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Could i get a conrad x reader smut where they are in a secret relationship/fwb and at the end maybe admit they like each other or start dating?
tangled up with you | c.fisher x reader
a/n: ahh i had such a good time writing this one for you! thank you so much for the request love <3
warnings: SMUT (minors DNI!), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!!), swearing, mentions of weed usage.
—
sneaking around with my best friend’s older brother made life so exhilarating, maybe because of the risk tied to it. i know that if jeremiah were to find out about conrad and my secret relationship that’s been going on for the past eight months, there’s the possibility of losing my best friend.
according to jeremiah, conrad and steven were not allowed to date or hook up with me. i was off limits. i was jeremiah’s best friend since the second grade and the last thing he ever wanted was for things to get complicated with his brothers (steven is basically another brother to him) having a relationship with me.
but feelings are feelings, they can only be suppressed for so long before moves are made.
and maybe the incredible sex tied to conrad fisher sways that statement.
i look out my bedroom window to see the jeep park on the side of the road. the silhouette of the golden haired fisher brother bobbing his head to the music. i giggle before turning to my vanity mirror to check myself out for the last time.
i fixed up my hair, touched up my mascara and lip gloss before spritzing myself with my signature perfume. i grab my phone that sat on my bed before scurrying down the stairs and yelling to my parents that i’m heading out.
i slide my vans on as i make my way over to conrad’s car. i open the door and he’s already smiling at me,
“hey pretty lady,” he winks, making me flush pink.
“hey handsome,” i say back as i settle into my seat, he cradles my face before pulling me into a long kiss. something we’ve both been craving for after pretending for the whole day around steven, belly, and jeremiah that we were, of course, only friends.
his lips tasted like mint and his chapstick, i smile into the kiss and i feel his lips turn upwards in response.
“you ready?” he asks after pulling away, i nod excitedly.
conrad always takes me to new places around cousins, we typically sit on the roof of the car and talk endlessly for hours into the night. sometimes we will smoke a j together, often making out and touching each other in places that isn’t normal for friends to touch.
the weeknd hums quietly as we drive in the night, his large and vascular hand placed highly on my thigh. his long fingers slowly crawling up to my centre. i feel myself getting more excited when his hand is centimetres away from my core.
he pulls away which makes me pout while he puts the jeep into park and steps out the door. he comes to my side of the car and opens my door, he offers his hand as i step out.
conrad brought us to the lighthouse, where waves crashed upon the large rocks and you can see the bright reflection of the moon and stars sparkling on the water. his muscular arms wrap around my waist from behind and we sway side to side, i’m taking in the beautiful sight.
he places gentle kisses on the back of my neck, and i tilt it to the side to give him better access. i can feel him smile at the action as he carefully sucks at the soft skin.
“this view is beautiful,” i tell him, turning around to put my arms around his neck,
“yeah?” he asks with a smirk, “well my view is better.”
his eyes flicker down me and back up to my eyes,
“you’re so cheesy”
“i love you, baby” he kisses me again,
i kiss him back passionately, my fingers getting tangled up in the locks of hair at the back of his head, “i love you so much more.”
so stands two teenagers, desperately in love, making out by the cousins lighthouse in the middle of the night. their hands running up and down the sides of each other before conrad pulls her back towards the car to continue their fun.
we both crawl into the back seat, he lays me down carefully across the three seats as he hovers over me. he removes his shirt in one motion before leaning down fo connect our lips again.
our teeth and lips are clashing as his tongue swipes across my bottom lip, i open my mouth to greet his tongue as it continues to explore.
his hand inches down my body, giving a soft squeeze to my boob before moving down to the edge of my cotton shorts. i sigh in pleasure as he slips his hand into my lacy thong, his fingers playing with the bundle of nerves that make me lift my hips up for more contact,
“please.” i beg him, arching my back as his lips kiss down my throat,
“relax, my love,” he mumbles against my skin, “i’ve got you.”
i moan out as two digits enter me, slowly but hardly thrusting into my centre, “fuck, you’re so wet.” he groans.
he continues to finger me for a few moments longer to prepare me,
“you ready?” he asks me and i nod, conrad kisses my lips again before pulling down my shorts and his own. his thick cock with veins running up it’s sides slaps his abdomen, released from the constrained boxers they were in.
my mouth basically drools at the sight. i’ve always knew that conrad fisher was handsome, but seeing him in the moonlight with his six pack and erected dick only made the wetness between my legs increase.
i watched intently as he lines himself up before sinking down into me, bottoming out. every vein and inch of his cock stretching me out in the best way possible. my head throws back at the feel of him inside of me as he thrusts deeply into me.
i moan loudly, grabbing the edge of the car seat and the head rest as i feel him nearly hitting my gut.
“fuck!” i cry out as he buries his face into my neck, increasing how hard he’s pounding into me. his hand grabs the back of my right thigh, pushing it to my chest to give himself a better angle to hit my sweet spot.
i bite into his shoulder, making him groan lowly as i feel his dick twitch inside of me. my hands are in a frenzy, clawing his back or pulling at his hair or anything to get him closer to me.
“you like that, baby” he moans as he continues to thrust his cock to my sweet spot that makes the knot in my stomach tighten. i nod quickly, “yes, holy fuck, you feel so good!”
“no matter how often i fuck you, your pussy is always tight for me,” conrad breathes out into my ear, “you feel so good around me, babe”
“m- maybe because your dick is so big,” i stutter out back to him, as i feel my orgasm coming closer.
“are you close?” he asks, “i feel your walls squeezing my cock.”
i moan out in response, unable to form words with the state of bliss im in. i cling onto his shoulders as my legs start to shake,
“fuck, i’m gonna come soon,” conrad groans, throwing his head back in pleasure, “where do you want it?”
“i- i’m” i try to speak, but my eyes keep rolling backwards, “i’m on the pill.”
he looks down at me with lust in his eyes, “are you sure?”
i nod, “fuck, conrad!”
he picks up the pace of his thrusts, now chasing his high. his hand reaches down to start rubbing figure eights on my clit to help me get my orgasm,
“come on my dick, baby” he tells me, “i know you can do it. i’m right behind you.”
“fuck, conrad!” i scream out, “i’m coming!”
“that’s it baby” he pants out
conrad litters my face with kisses as my toes flex upwards and my thighs are shaking. my back arches to his chest as i feel my orgasm crashing down on me all at once.
i release pornographic type moans and all i see is white as my nails claw down his back.
i feel him release inside of me, his warm coating my walls as he slowly thrusts me through my orgasm. he eventually pulls out and grabs a baby wipe that he stored under the driver to seat to clean me and himself up. conrad helps me put my clothes back on and kisses my shoulders while he pulls my t-shirt on.
we drive quietly back to my house where he kisses my goodnight before i exit the jeep. right as i open my front door i feel my phone buzz in my back pocket,
con <3:
goodnight my sweet girl, i hope you had as much fun as i did tonight! i love you so so much❤️
i blush at the text and turn around to the road where i see him blow a kiss in my direction. i pretend to catch it and place it on my heart before sending one back. i see a smile etch onto his face before driving off.
y/n <3:
i always have fun when i’m around you, sweet dream baby :) i love you!
#conrad fisher smut#conrad fisher imagine#conrad x reader#jeremiah fisher x reader#tsitp x reader#conrad fisher x you#conrad fisher x reader#conrad fisher x y/n#conrad fisher fanfic#conrad fisher angst#conrad fisher fanfiction#conrad fisher fluff#jeremiah x reader#jeremiah fisher x y/n#jeremiah fisher fanfic#jeremiah fisher smut#tsitp smut#tsitp x you#tsitp imagine
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With You part 11
<-prev next-> || Fic Masterlist || My Masterlist
Summary: Buckle up. That's it, that's the summary
Pairings: Jake Lockley x reader, Steven Grant x reader, Marc Spector x reader. Gender neutral reader. No use of Y/N. Reader is married to the system.
Word Count: 5k
Warnings/notables: Angst, a little fluff, crying, cursing, injury, blood. Sex but language is not overly explicit and remains gender neutral. Mentions of alcoholism and abuse. Lmk if I missed a warning. inaccurate DID, based on the show. Not beta'd
PREVIOUSLY, on "With You"...
"I understand," you whispered, your eyes wide, with a sliver of hope. "But you can say it again."
Tracing your lips with his thumb, he tried to show you everything inside his heart. He didn't deserve you, but he couldn't live without you anymore.
"I'm so sorry," he translated, brushing his lips over yours. "My love... please forgive me." Rubbing his nose against yours tenderly, he breathed against your mouth. "I love you."
You sat with your back pressed against the headboard of your bed, legs stretched out across the mattress. You were so tired, but too wired to sleep.
Your sleeping husband's head rested on your thigh, facing you - lips slightly parted, cheek squished, soft curls stubbornly tumbling across his forehead - despite how many times you'd raked them aside.
Gentle breaths escaped his pliable, kissable lips. The angry slice through his bottom lip made you really fucking irate at the bloody stupid pigeon. How dare he hurt Marc?
And the lip cut was the least of his worries. A bandage stretched across his dark eyebrow, with a huge length of gauze covering the sutures on his side. Multiple scrapes and bruises appeared, littering his dark skin as the night went on.
He may have been restlessly slumbering with physical wounds, but your heart was aching.
Just a little while ago, Jake changed your entire life. After working so hard to find peace without him, he crashed back into your world, bleeding and just as damn infuriating as ever.
But...he loved you.
Even now, hours later, your heart surged with longing as your stomach did somersaults. Jake was so different from your husband, and you were not the same when you were with him either. But these damn injuries hadn't afforded you much in the way of any...physical expressions of love.
With his strong forearm flexing behind your back, pressing you against his body, your foreheads resting sweetly together - his lips brushed yours as he confessed his feelings.
He loved you.
Jake captured your mouth with a surge of passion, immediately hissing in pain as your tongue ran over his cut.
"Shit! Jake, I'm sorry," you gasped, bravely reaching to caress the strong angle of his jaw after feeling so deeply rejected only moments before. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean - "
"Shh, cariño, it's okay," he soothed, his mouth curling at how sweet you were. "Come here." Then he kissed you. It was slow. Passionate. He was hurt, but he had tasted you before and he wouldn't ever give up another chance.
Sucking on your top lip for so long it felt like torture, he finally ran his tongue over your teeth, then rolled his tongue over yours. As you gasped out a little whine, his hands slid down to grasp your hips - squeezing, pulling you demandingly against him.
You jerked back suddenly, tasting blood on your tongue. "Jake, we have to stop," you panted, your forehead dropping to his cheek. His breath mingled with yours as he tried to steady himself.
"I don't want to stop," he admitted, his voice raw and gruff - so much deeper than the timbre to which you were accustomed.
Unable to resist the feel of you, he pulled you into a desperate hug, which you melted into willingly.
"Shit," he hissed, jerking away as pain flared up his wounded side.
"You're hurt." It was stating the obvious, but you were concerned. "I don't want to be the reason you rip those stitches."
With a dark chuckle, Jake's eyebrows shot up, even as he eased out of your embrace to clutch his side. "Could be fun though."
"That's not even funny," you fired back, narrowing your eyes. "It was hell to get those things into you in the first place."
With a self-assured smirk, Jake reached for your fingers. "Keep talking about putting things into me, and I won't care what happens to my stitches, cariño."
Bringing your fingers to his (bloody) lips, he thought to kiss them, just like the first night he "met" you. Remembering his wound, he instead rubbed his nose over your knuckles before squeezing your hand. Pulling your joined hands to his chest, he laid your palm over his wildly beating heart.
"What? No smartass reply?" He teased, eyes darkening as you swallowed hard and wet your lips.
"I-I'm just distracted," you sputtered, taking a moment to clear your throat, "and worried." After all, his mouth was still bleeding.
"Right," he nodded, stretching out his fingers to touch your cheek. "It figures that I would...you know...completely fuck this up."
"What do you mean?" You questioned, your thumb tracing circles on the muscles of his chest.
"This. You...and me. And, you know...us. Me ignoring you for a month - "
"Almost three months," you fired back.
Shrugging one shoulder, he shook his head. "It all feels like one, never-ending wish to see you again, to me."
"Then why didn't you talk to me?" You whispered, leaning your cheek into his touch. "I missed you so bad, Jake."
"I don't deserve you, mi amor. I'll never deserve you." Before you could protest - and the two of you could start bickering again - (which he could not endure unless he felt well enough to take out his frustrations in other ways) - he clarified.
"You save lives. You saved my life. You save Marc's life every day. So that includes Steven too." Swiping his thumb over your cheek, he squeezed your hand that rested on his chest.
"I take lives. I have so much blood on my hands - including Marc's." Reluctantly stepping back, he gestured to the bandage on his side. "This is Marc's blood. It's my fault. You love him and...I hurt him. I hurt people. And you save them."
"You save them too, Jake," you reminded him. "You may have saved Marc's life tonight, and I know you've done it before."
Rubbing his arm reassuringly, you gazed up into his beautiful eyes. "Of course I love Marc. But I love you too. And you're hurt too."
Reaching for his hand, you guided him to sit back down on the bed, which he did with another groan of pain.
"You know what else, Jake?" You leaned in to whisper on his ear, making him shiver with want. "You're just as stubborn as Marc too." Easing back, you gave him a mischievous smile. "Ask him how that works out for him."
Jake was a tangled mess of pain, exhaustion, desire, adoration, unworthiness - his heart was burning for you. He felt alive for the first time in his life. What was he going to do with you?
A hell of a lot, if he could just heal up a little bit.
But to answer your question, he chuckled, referring to you letting Marc know he had met his match when it came to stubbornness. "Uh, he told me. 'Game fucking on'?"
"Game fucking on," you grinned. "Now you need to rest," you commanded, directing him to ease down onto the mattress. "Nurse's orders."
Damn, that did things to Jake. He was unwell on every level and he needed you so bad.
Suddenly desperate at the thought of being parted from you, he grabbed your knee, eyes turning up to you pleadingly. "You won't leave me?"
"Of course not," you soothed, pushing his hair out of his eyes.
Nodding quickly, he tried to get comfortable, pressing a quick kiss to your thigh. "I'm sorry...about tomorrow. I'm never me when I wake up."
"I know that, it's okay," you softly reassured him, directing him to lay his head on your lap. Like an eager puppy he snuggled up to you, absolutely living for your affection.
"I know but...one of them will be here, and they'll be hurt." He swallowed, pausing for a moment as you dabbed his cut lip to try to clean it up again. "Steven won't know what happened...which isn't fair, really. It might scare him at first, to wake up in pain."
With a long, weary sigh, he went on. "And Marc..."
He never said anything else. He didn't have to.
Marc, who had been fighting his demons since Khonshu swept back into his life. Who daily fought his addiction. Marc, who was trying to protect his protector. And Steven. And you. Marc, your husband - the love of your life. Who would give his life for yours in a second, but was faced with the conundrum that anything happening to his own life would hurt Steven too.
Marc who Khonshu abandoned. Betrayed. Hurt.
There was really no preparing for the array of possibilities that came with the notion of Marc being the one to wake up.
"I'll try," Jake murmured, holding onto your leg like a child holding a teddy bear. "I'll try to wake up and be me."
Before long, he was asleep.
You tried to stop your mind from obsessing over everything that had happened - on a personal level with Jake, and on a heartbreaking, rage-inducing level with Marc getting hurt. You were so fucking done with stupid Egyptian deities.
And you worried about which one of them would wake up.
You got your answer a while later, after you had finally dozed in your sitting position. First you heard a groan of pain and felt his body shift. A small whimper followed as his hand flew to his side.
"Bloody hell," Steven hoarsely whispered, his eyes flying open as pain surged through his sleepy body. "What..."
"Baby? Hey," you cooed, caressing his face. "It's okay. You guys got a little hurt last night. You're okay. You're safe."
Attempting to sit up, he moaned in pain, immediately dropping back down to where he started.
"Hey, hey...you have a cut on your side, sweetheart. Take it easy so your stitches don't rip."
"Stitches?" He gasped. "What the hell happened? Feels like my body's on fire."
Shit. Knowing Steven, he probably meant the pain, but you were worried about your less-than-practiced sutures. He likely needed some antibiotics just in case of infection. Ughh, why did you agree to all this?
But...this was Steven. Sweet Steven. Reasonable Steven. "I know and I'm so sorry. Let me help you get dressed and we need to get to A&E."
Yeah, yeah, yeah - Jake had demanded no hospital. No police. But you damn sure weren't going to let an infection or your shitty stitch work take down your husband. If Khonshu wanted his avatar's business to be kept discreetly hidden away in the night, he could lend a healing fucking hand.
"I don't understand," Steven huffed, trying again to sit up. Everything hurt. "I thought...Khonshu. I thought we couldn't get..."
"I'll explain everything," you promised, helping Steven get all the way up. "On the way."
It took zero convincing to get Steven dressed and out the door. Explaining last night's shenanigans was a little more challenging. For now, you left out the 'Jake and I love each other' bit, although you did admit he was there. That it was he who got Marc home.
Steven was livid. Lacing his fingers through yours in the waiting room, he gripped his side with his other hand. He kept chewing on his bottom lip, only to hiss, "Ouch!" every time his teeth pulled at the cut there.
"Steven, I am so, so sorry," you told him, for the hundredth time.
"Not your fault, darling," he softly said, squeezing your fingers, while staring straight ahead, stone cold. "Stupid fucking pigeon. How could he do that to Marc... I'll speak to the Ennead m'self, I swear to - "
"I know," you interrupted, lowering your voice as a mom, seated beside a young child, glared at the two of you.
"I'll do whatever I can to help you. We'll figure it out, but I want to make sure you get medicine and whatever you need, because you're not as stubborn as the other two."
That made Steven smile. "I realized a long time ago - no use in arguing with you, love. You're always right anyway."
"Oh, I do love you," you laughed, laying your head on his shoulder.
Thankfully, the doctor who treated Steven didn't involve the police. She actually complimented your sutures but agreed a round of antibiotics was the best way to go. She offered to write a script for a strong pain medication, but Steven declined, knowing Marc avoided nearly all addictive substances.
So you spent the rest of the day in the flat with Steven. He asked if you should try to go in late to work, but you assured him that wasn't happening. All you had to do was tell your supervisor your husband was attacked and she said to take all the time you needed.
The two of you made sure to contact Steven's professors and make sure he was clear of his shifts at the university library. Then you sat down with some vegan burritos and had a good, long think about Khonshu, Marc and Jake.
"I'm not trying to put you in the middle here, Steven. I'm just terrified of what could happen next," you explained, your eyes drooping as the two of you rested on the couch.
Noticing how tired you looked, Steven motioned for you to lie down on his lap. You protested by shaking your head, reminding him he was the one who was hurt.
"Darling, you've barely slept at all. You can't go on like this," he soothed, tracing his fingers up and down your arm. "You take care of of us so well. Just rest a bit."
"Maybe we should just go to bed," you mumbled, preferring to snuggle up together than you fall asleep with him in this position.
So you did. You washed up, checked his stitches, put on the coziest pajamas and crawled into bed at 7pm.
You slept for 11 straight hours. When you woke up and realized your husband wasn't beside you, you may have panicked just a little. Bolting out of bed, you called out for Steven. Both Marc and Steven were in the habit of responding to you calling the name of the last person you were with.
But no one answered. If Jake, or worse, Marc, was out on the streets doing any Moon Knight shit, you were going to have a nervous breakdown.
You checked the bedroom, bathroom, living room, kitchen. You looked on the counter for a note about the roof. Scurrying back to your bedroom, you found your phone. No messages. Time to check the roof anyway.
Grabbing Marc's tan hoodie, you hurriedly dialed their number, praying they would answer.
"I'm in the kitchen."
Marc.
You ran, wondering how you could have missed a room you already checked.
"Here." His voice barely rose above a whisper. Shoulders sagging in relief, your gaze fell to the floor - to where Marc huddled beside, and partially under, the kitchen table. He had tucked his body all the way against the wall, near the cupboard, as if attempting to make himself invisible.
His knees were drawn up to his chest, arms wrapped protectively around his legs - head bowed.
"Marc?" You gently called, actually sinking down to the floor to approach him carefully. You wondered how he could sit in such a folded up position with a long, deep gash on his side.
"Is it okay if I sit with you?" You attempted, keeping a little bit of safe distance between the two of you.
Clearing his throat, he kept his head bowed. "Sorry I scared you."
"It's okay - "
"It's not," he objected emphatically.
Drawing a deep breath, you crawled over to sit beside him, back to the wall, knees drawn up, mirroring him. But you didn't touch him yet.
"Okay," you conceded. "You're right. Didn't feel great to wake up and wonder where you were. You're hurt and I'm scared. But you're here, so..."
You didn't finish your thought. It was a little difficult to not touch him. Both Steven and even Jake were a little more handsy than Marc, especially when he was upset. You'd always known what to say to Marc, but you found yourself at a loss right at the moment.
It was like he was on an island that you didn't know how to reach. And that thought squeezed your heart like a vice.
"I feel like I haven't seen you in a while," you whispered, deciding to be transparent with him, as always. "I missed you."
He didn't answer. Okay, new approach.
"Hey, do you want to watch cartoons?" You proposed. Sometimes jumping off-topic would prompt him to talk. Not always. But sometimes a distraction was just what he needed. "We could eat cereal. Are you hungry?"
"No," he mumbled, without an ounce of emotion. He wouldn't even look at you. "I know what you're doing. I...I love you for trying."
"I love you for trying," you affirmed, your voice laced with sweet conviction. "Whatever it is you're fighting through right now...Marc, I'm with you."
"I know." That's all the said for several, long minutes. Finally he lifted his head and used his thumb to fiddle with his wedding band. "Kind of part of the deal now. Sorry about that."
Reaching tentatively over for his hand, you traced the band with your finger. "Sorry about what?"
Turning watery eyes to you, he laced his fingers with yours. "I'm sorry I lied to you. O-or didn't tell you...about Moon Knight." Sniffing, he squeezed your hand. "I'm sorry I got Steven hurt. Almost killed. What would you do without him?"
"What would I do without you?" Pressing a gentle kiss to his knuckles, you scooted close enough so your shoulders touched. "You're right - I really wish you would have told me that you were wearing the suit again. That's...it's a lot, Marc."
"I know," he lamented. "I thought I could...I don't know - fix things before you had to worry about me being in the suit again. I was trying...and then Khonshu just..."
His head dropped defeatedly into his free hand. After a moment, he pushed his fingers through his curls. "He told me I was nothing. That I should be dead and Jake should be left alone to be his avatar. He sounded just...just like her."
His lower lip trembled as his eyes met yours.
"Come here, baby," you whispered, pulling him carefully into your arms.
You were angry. Like really fucking livid. Marc had already been struggling with some typical (and some new) self-worth issues after learning about Jake and breaking his sobriety. He panicked more than once about the thought of Khonshu still having a hold on them. And now, an actual deity was echoing a lifetime of PTSD and trauma back on his head, telling him he was worthless? Leaving him to get beaten? Killed? No fucking way.
"I'm with Steven on this," you calmly started to explain. "We have to figure out how to get you the hell away from Khonshu. And it's going to start with Jake not going out at night anymore. Steven's going to do some research - "
"I don't think Jake's gonna like that," Marc protested.
You scoffed as he eased out of your embrace and leaned back against the wall.
"I don't care. This shit is going to get you killed. I don't care if it's Jake's body too. This is fucking done."
"Besides," you went on, "if Khonshu gave a shit about Jake as his avatar, he would have healed him by now. Isn't that his thing? God of the moon and healing and a bunch of other boring shit?"
Reaching for the hem of his t-shirt, Marc pulled it up, revealing his completely healed side wound. "Already done."
"What?" You gasped, running your fingers over his soft flesh. It was then that you noticed, in the dim lighting, that the cut on his mouth and eyebrow were gone. Suddenly it dawned on you what this could mean. Cold fear gripped your heart at the idea of Khonshu interacting with Marc in any way.
"When did this happen?"
Marc shrugged. "Last night I guess. Don't remember."
"Jake," you huffed. "He seriously went out there last night? How could he do that?"
"I don't know," Marc murmured, barely audibly. "I don't know anything. I don't do anything..." Withdrawing back into himself physically, his voice trailed off. He wanted to be anywhere but his own skin.
So you got Steven for the rest of the day. Now healed and rested, he decided to go about his normal day.
But not you. You made sure to drink zero coffee and took a natural sleep aid while Steven was gone. You had slept 11 hours, sure, but you were about to take a huge nap. Because you were not sleeping tonight.
Not until you talked to Jake.
Everything went according to plan. You slept for 3 hours, woke up, called out of work for the next two days and started dinner.
Steven came home, angelic as ever, and read to you for a while, after you asked if he could take your mind off things. Of course he started speaking French which led to him really taking your mind off things.
You went to bed like normal, but as soon as Koala Steven was sound asleep, latched onto you like usual, you carefully pried yourself away and waited for Jake.
Gone were all your notions of letting people make their own choices - acknowledging that you couldn't change someone's mind. Jake better have one hell of an explanation.
Sure enough, after a couple hours of Steven sleeping soundly, your husband dragged himself out of bed. Unfortunately for him, you were ready to pounce.
"Jake?" You asked for confirmation, stepping right into his path as he climbed out of bed.
He actually smiled. As if he might be pleased to see you.
Noticing you were clearly, visibly upset, he reached to grasp your elbows. Classic Jake. "What's wrong, mi vida?"
Dragging in a shaky breath, you tried very hard to give him a chance to explain before you had a complete nervous breakdown - and beat his ass.
"What are you doing? Right now, what are you doing?" You demanded, your voice terse and accusing.
Dark eyebrows drawn together, Jake shook his head. "What do you mean? What's wrong?"
Placing your hands on his chest, your palms pressed down emphatically. "Tell me right now where you're going. Why are you awake? Why is Steven not sleeping? Answer me."
Touching his forehead to yours, his arms slid around your back. "You know where. I have a job."
"Bullshit," you hissed, using your fists to lightly bang on his chest. "Working for Khonshu is not a job. You're not going!"
"Hey...hey," he soothed, trapping your wrists in his hands. His heart shattered when you started to cry.
"How could you do this?" You brokenly whispered, one tear rolling down your cheek. "After what he did to Marc? How could you sneak back out to him?"
"I did it for him," Jake defended.
"Bullshit!" You repeated, jerking your wrists out of his grasp. "You could have gotten him killed!"
"Mi vida - "
"You weren't there when he was beat half to death - when he was stabbed," you sobbed, dodging his attempts to reach for you. "You weren't there when Steven sat in the waiting room half the day, feeling the pain that he caused!
"You're never here when I need you," you went on, fully crying now, eyes glistening, lips trembling. "You waited until I was asleep and then you left - " Your fists clenched angrily by your sides. "You took Marc and you took Steven and you went out there again. How could you?"
You may as well have taken the glass used to tear through Marc's side and shoved it right into Jake's heart. All the air left his lungs as you accused him, your beautiful face so broken - your voice tinged with such anguish.
Fidgeting uncomfortably, Jake blew out a long breath, running his hands down his face before they landed on his hips.
"Look, I know how you feel about them. I know it's Marc you want with you here right now. And not me. And that's why I did it." His breath trembled as he attempted to explain, his beautiful brown eyes glistening. "I leave at night so you can be with him all day. I told you."
"That's not what I - "
"And I only went to Khonshu for Marc," he went on, stepping up to you boldly. "To tell him to heal us. To tell him to never touch Marc or speak to him ever again."
"I'm sure that went over well," you despondently replied, your voice hollow. "Trying to tell a god what to do."
"I did tell him what to do," Jake confirmed, reaching for your arms again. "And we made a deal."
Sniffing, you started to cry again. This couldn't be good. "What deal?" you whispered.
"A deal to give you what you want," he promised, easing down to look into your troubled, tear-filled eyes. "Khonshu gets me - you get Marc."
"What does that mean?" You whimpered. "I don't understand."
"Khonshu healed Marc," he explained. "He'll never interact with him again. Or Steven. As long as I...serve him. Be his avatar - "
"No," you cried, shoving his chest weakly, breaking down completely. "Tell him no."
"It's done. I'm sorry," he whispered, folding you close and rocking you gently. "You get your husband and I...I'm supposed to stay away from you."
Everything stopped.
Your tears. Your sorrow. Your whole world.
With one phrase, Jake caused every tender and sorrowful emotion to boil raging hot and evaporate into the air around you, leaving only rage.
Your breathing changed - your skin heated up - your vision blurred.
Where, only a moment ago, you were a wilting flower in his arms - now you were rigid - wrath consuming every thought - every corner of your mind.
"What did you say?" You harshly whispered, once again, jerking out of his grasp. "What the fuck did you just say to me, Jake?"
Your eyes flashed with fury. "Khonshu ordered you to stay away from your little 'distraction'?" you hissed, "and you just agreed?"
Jake was struck speechless for a moment. But you didn't leave him a beat of silence to respond anyway.
"So everything you said to me the night I sewed you up - that was complete bullshit," you seethed.
"Of course it wasn't!" Jake cried, grabbing your arms, trying to get you to listen.
But you wouldn't, wrenching yourself from him again, only for him to closely follow until suddenly, you ran out of floor, your back thudding against the bedroom wall.
"Move," you ordered, your jaw clenching in fury. "Don't fucking touch me."
"No," Jake growled, pressing his body solidly into yours. Shoving his strong, muscled thigh between your legs, he gripped your hips, locking you in place - trapping you against the wall.
"Move!" you spat, squirming in his powerful embrace. Realizing you weren't strong enough to wriggle free, you pounded on his chest. "You don't love me! Why did you say that you love me?" Your lip trembled, your body fighting his relentlessly, until you finally sagged against him, defeated.
"I love you," he swore, touching his forehead to yours. Then he softly called your name. "I love you. Khonshu told me to stay away from you. I told him we're married. And he could go to hell."
He didn't wait for an answer. No more talking.
Licking hotly into your mouth, he kissed you with four years of pent-up passion. Hands still squeezing your hips, he pulled you roughly against him.
Your body melted into his as he gripped your thighs, pulling them around his waist. This time, when he dragged you back, he thrusted up to meet you, sucking hotly on your tongue.
As a little bit of the shock began to wear off, you tangled your fingers in his dark locks, using the leverage of your thighs to haul yourself to meet his thrusting - your bodies creating a delicious friction.
Tearing his mouth away from yours, he yanked your t-shirt over your head, growling as he ran his hands all over your chest. You did the same - pulling Steven's pajama top off, moaning in pleasure as your bare skin met his.
"Jake," you panted as he kissed across your jaw, hotly mouthing down your throat.
"Jake, please," you gasped, whining out in protest as he pried your thighs from his waist and set you down. Without hesitation, he touched his forehead to yours - a move you were coming to expect and adore from him - pushing down his pajama pants before yanking at your underwear.
The sight of you completely naked made him desperate for you in a way he had never felt before. Rushing back to each other, your mouths fused in explosive passion - the two of you stumbling somewhere - maybe toward the bed, but you never made it - instead melting to the floor.
Jake rolled you underneath him, running long fingers up your inner thigh. Mouthing a trail to your ear, he touched and teased you right where you wanted, his voice tickling and electrifying you completely.
"Please let me have you," he begged, even as his hands made you gasp in pleasure. "I've wanted you for so long."
"Don't stop," you panted, your body already beginning to tremble with euphoria. "Never stop."
Your bodies tangled - pressing, pulling and thrusting as Jake finally claimed you as his own. His hungry kisses stifled your moans and cries of ecstasy, and he whispered that he loved you as he lost himself inside you.
Pulling you on top of his chest, he collapsed, running his hands tenderly down your back, over the soft curve of your ass and back up. Your ear pressed against his bare chest and the sound of his thundering heart made your heart flare with love for him.
"I love you," you whispered, placing a soft kiss to the spot right over his heart. "I'm sorry."
"Don't worry, mi amor," he soothed, continuing to stroke your skin possessively. "The other two - they love how calm you are. But I see your fire." With a mischievous chuckle, he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. "Remember I'm the one who drives you crazy."
@stormydaysxx @laaundromat @kindlover @deezisnotreal @stevenknightmarc @imonmykneessir @marvelouslovely-barnes @evilbubu @usualsworld @rivalriotrenegade @wordacadabra @this--is--music @i-still-dont-like-your-face @avengersinitiative2012 @lockleywife @poppyflower-22 @thursdaywritings @scoliobean @peregrine-nation @local-mr-frog
@flyestvenustrap @spxctorsslxt @cicithemess2000 <- these 3 tags never seem to work
dividers by saradika
#moon knight#marc spector#steven grant#mcu#marc spector x reader#with you fic#steven grant x reader#jake lockley#jake lockley x reader#moon knight x reader#moon knight fic#moon knight fanfiction#moon boys#moon knight system#jake lockley x gn!reader#steven grant x gn!reader#marc spector x gn!reader#moon knight fanfic#oscar isaac fic
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Anything For You
Jake Lockley x f!reader
Warnings: Absolutely none, Jake Lockley is just a big fat cinnamon roll he is just so <3
A/N: Hi this was kind of self indulgent and written in like an hour or two to help feel better after school has officially ended. But it's also a little love note to @melodygatesauthor because Mel you're so special and our convo about this favourite boy made me think and you deserve a special treat because you're the specialest girl (Jake's words!! he has even confirmed it)
-Clem
Synopsis: Jake Lockley always takes care of his favourite girl.
Word count: 1336 (ahhh)
You shuffled into the lightly lit apartment, quietly closing the door behind you. You dropped your bag, rubbing your face as a yawn broke out of you and your shoulders sagged in exhaustion. There was no one to witness your tiredness but the moon as it peeked through the windows.
"Amor?" Jake's sleepy voice came, and soon he emerged from the bedroom, a soft sleepy smile on his face. "Thought I heard you,"
You smiled weakly. "Hi, didn't mean to wake you-" You started before he waved you off, wrapping an arm about you.
"It's alright, amor. I was staying up but I didn't realise you were coming home so late," He kisses the top of your head, and immediately you melted into him, feeling the exhaustion and pain of the past few weeks bubble up and nearly spill over. Your eyes filled with tears but you were quick to press your face to Jake's chest, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist as you breathed him in.
He grounded you, all three of them always did- whether from an epic night out or a really bad day, they always helped bring you home.
Jake frowned, hugging you back tightly. "Bebita? What's wrong?"
You shook your head. "I'm tired, Jake. I'm so fucking tired of everything,"
If you only listened close enough, you could hear his heart squeeze and shattered at your words. You were almost fragile, your voice heavy with worries and problems and you looked ready to collapse. He didn't like seeing his girl hurting so much.
"Oh amor..." He pressed his lips to your head, gently rubbing your back. "Mi poor princesa. You've been working so hard haven't you? Coming home late every night and leaving so early, when was the last time you had a good sleep, mm? Or a proper meal?"
You shrugged, too tired to answer. Didn't matter, he knew.
He gently squeezed your hips, then hooked a finger under your chin and lifted it up to face him. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, and for a second, your mind emptied of everything- everything but him and you in this moment, lips locked together in such a soft, delicate kiss it made you ache. You missed him.
He pulled away, peppering small kisses all over your face. "I'm going to take care of you, okay bebita? You're going to relax and let me make you feel better, sí?"
You nodded, "Okay..."
He nodded too, sweeping you off your feet and into his arms as he carried you to the bathroom. "I'm gonna run you a bath, okay? And you're gonna sit in there and relax for at least an hour to yourself, while I make you something to eat. And then, we're going to sleep, and you're going to take the day off tomorrow," He stated as if all matters were already decided and sealed. He placed you down on the side of the tub when you reached the bathroom and turned on the hot water.
"But- I have work tomorrow."
"Like I said, take the day off,"
"I can't just do that," You frowned.
He shook his head as he rummaged through the cabinets, pulling out your nice smelling candles and your favourite body oils and creams. "If you don't call them, I'm going to,"
"You wouldn't,"
He turned to you, grinning widely. "Sí, I would. And if I forget- which I won't- then Steven will. Or Marc. You don't want Marc to call them, would you?"
That was an easy answer. Marc always get too angry if someone tried to deny you the day off.
You nodded, sighing in defeat. "Okay. Day off tomorrow. Will you stay with me then?"
He chuckled, kissing your temple. "Of course, princesa. Always," He smiled. "Now, off with the clothes,"
"Very demanding.." You teased, lifting your shirt over your head, followed by your pants, and then underclothes. He lifted you up, placing you very dramatically in the now full tub, and placing an equally dramatic kiss on your forehead.
"I'm gonna wash your hair, bien? And then you can sit and relax until you want to come out," He knelt by the tub, smiling like the most precious man in the world as he squeezed out some shampoo into his hands and started carefully lathering it in your hair.
You sigh in relief, feeling the tension slowly drift away as your body relaxes under his touch. Your mind began wandering as your eyes flutter shut while Jake rinses out your hair, humming quietly to himself.
A while passed as he took care of you, giving you the treatment he always excelled at- pampering and devoting his full attention to every part of your body. He massaged your back and shoulders, working on the tense knots and helping melt away all the tension left in your body.
You hadn't realised that you'd drifted in sleep until you felt him get up from beside you, and your body lost the warmth of his contact.
"Where ya going'?" You mumbled, barely lifting your eyelids.
He chuckled, "Goin' to make you some food, mi luna," He gave you a quick kiss on the lips. "You can come out when you're ready, bien? If not, I'll come find you when food is done," You giggled, sinking a little more into the water.
"Okay...thank you, by the way it mea-"
"Shhhhh," He pressed a finger to your lips. "Don't even start. Princesa you don't have to thank me for taking care of you, si? You're my girl, hm? I like taking care
don't make it sound like it's a burden,"
You kissed his finger, smiling a bit. "Okay. I love you,"
"I love you too, amor," He said, winking and then leaving the bathroom. You sighed, relaxing back into the warm water as your mind drifted back into a quiet hazy sleep.
You weren't sure how long passed before your eyes fluttered open again, your mind scrambling to get aware of its surroundings again. You yawned, slowly getting up and stretching out the fatigue. You had no idea how long you'd been in there, or if Jake had even come back to check up on you, but it didn't matter. You felt better, and that was that. You grabbed a towel, wrapping it around yourself as you stepped out of the tub and starting to dry yourself off. You hung the towel once done and put your hair up in its special towel, before pulling on your clothes. Well.. not your clothes, but Steven's comfy sweater and little shorts under.
You waddle out of the bathroom, very slowly dragging yourself to the kitchen where you find Jake, in all his beautiful gorgeous glory, in a cute apron making a couple of sandwiches. You can't help but chuckle as you rush up to him, wrapping your arms around him from behind and pressing your face to his back.
He stiffens at the sudden contact before relaxing when he realises it's you. "Hi bebita. Nice nap?"
"Shut up, Lockley," You mumbled.
He laughed as he finished off the food he made, smiling proudly to himself. He turned his body to face you, rubbing your sides gently. "Wanna watch a movie?"
You shrugged. "Dunno,"
He hummed. "Bien, we can just eat and sit in silence," He kissed your forehead for what had to be the millionth time, before grabbing the tray of food and leading you to the couch. You sat down in Jake's lap, curling up as he wrapped a big cozy blanket around you.
You sat together in peaceful silence as you ate, watching some horrible National Geographic animal documentary and before long, the endless weeks started catching up to you as your eyelids grew heavy and you rested your head on Jake's chest, feeling his arms wrap tighter around you.
There was no doubting, you thought as you fell into a peaceful sleep, you knew your boys would do anything for you.
#moon knight#marc spector#steven grant#jake lockley#jake lockley x reader#jake lockley fluff#jake lockley imagine#moon knight x reader#moon knight fluff
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Late Nights
Neighbor!Steven Grant x gn!reader
Word count- 1.8k
Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), accidental voyeurism, masturbation, fingering, unprotected sex, praise, feelings, protective!Steven,fluff, no use of y/n
Notes- This check two things: part of my neighbor Steven Grant series and a box (praise kink) for @moonknight-events Bingo. And tho it's part of a series, I wrote all the parts so that they can stand on their own. This as been in my wips for so long and I'm so happy to finally have written it!! I've missed our dear Steven too! Enjoy!
@flightlessangelwings-updates is my update blog so please follow that and turn on post notifs to stay up to date on new fics!
~
It was late, and Steven should have fallen asleep hours ago. Yet, he laid wide awake, his mind racing as he fiddled with his rubik's cube. Steven just couldn’t seem to get you out of his mind. He thought about you all day long- while he was at work, he wondered if you would like the exhibits he worked around. On the days he was lucky to pass you in the hallway on his way to his door, the image of your bright smile stayed with him well into the night. Even when he was in bed, Steven couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to have you there with him, nuzzled in his arms.
He felt too nervous to make the first move, though.
But, a sound from the other side of the wall made Steven gasp- it was you. He heard you whimper and he immediately shot upright as his mind raced. Should he go over to you? Were you just having a nightmare? Or did something happen and you needed him?
As Steven pondered the options, he heard you cry out again, louder this time. His breath caught in his throat as you whined again, but this time it was different. Steven was sure he heard his name.
“I’m coming, love,” he whispered to himself as he jumped out of bed and grabbed the spare key you gave him in case of emergencies.
Steven scrambled to his door and his hands trembled as he opened it. Bolting the short distance to your door, he gritted his teeth as he unlocked your door and burst inside in a rush. Shutting the door behind him, Steven ran across the space to your bed, scared that he would find you hurt or in trouble.
But, what he found instead froze him in his tracks.
You were sprawled out on your bed, one hand cupping your chest, pinching your own nipple and the other between your legs. Your eyes were shut as your hand worked to pleasure yourself and you were lost in bliss until the sound of your name in Steven’s voice made your eyes snap open.
“Steven…” you gasped as you locked eyes with him.
The world felt like it was on fire, and as much as Steven knew he should leave, having caught you in a private and intimate moment, he couldn’t make himself move. It was as if you enthralled him, freezing him to the spot where he stood.
And you were flustered, covering yourself with the sheet as you realized you were so loud that you caught Steven’s attention. But, the way he looked at you made your heart pound. More than being embarrassed that he caught you pleasuring yourself, you felt your skin burn at the thought that he heard you cry out his name while he did so.
It felt like an eternity where neither of you moved, both too unsure of what to do or say to ease the tension in the room. It was Steven who finally moved first, though.
“I-I’m so sorry,” he stuttered as he covered his eyes and turned away, “I should go.”
“Wait,” you replied out of reflex.
Steven turned back to face you, his jaw tight and his eyes burning into your figure on the bed.
“Stay,” you whispered in a soft tone as you sat up and dropped the sheet, “Please stay,” your voice shook as your nerves overtook you, but you figured it was now or never.
He swallowed hard as his hands trembled, “Are- are you sure?” He sounded just as nervous.
“I’m sure,” you replied in a hushed tone as you kicked the sheet away, exposing yourself completely to him.
Steven felt his skin warm as he suddenly felt overdressed. He felt like he was in a dream, but if he was, he didn’t want to wake up. Moving before he realized it, he crossed the rest of the space and leaned forward, placing his hands on the foot of your bed. “Are you sure about this, love?” he asked again in a low tone as his eyes drank you in.
“Yes,” you breathed without hesitation.
Both of you were nervous, it was a bold move and uncharted territory for each of you. But, the need overtook the nerves. Slowly, Steven reached out for you, cupping your face tenderly in his hand. You let out the breath you held as you leaned into his touch. As his thumb brushed across your cheek, Steven also exhaled, “You’re so lovely.”
Your mouth parted as you gasped softly. Mirroring his action, you reached for him, grabbing his shirt and yanking him closer until your lips crashed together. Muffled groans echoed between you as you instantly deepened the kiss, and Steven’s hands roamed all over your bare figure. As you kissed him deeply, you tugged at his shirt, motioning for him to take it off.
“Let me see you too, Steven,” you whispered.
Steven let out a short laugh before he broke away to do as you asked. This time, it was your turn to gawk as your eyes roamed across his chest. You had always found him attractive from the moment you first met, but to see him shirtless before you made your heart flip in your chest.
“Wow…” you breathed.
He giggled nervously, “Wow to you too, darling,” he quipped.
That made you laugh as you pulled him close again, “Touch me, Steven,” you murmured as you guided him to crawl onto the bed so that he hovered over you.
Resting on your back, you looked up at Steven as his arms framed your face. The two of you froze again as you locked eyes, but this time it didn’t last. Steven was the first to move as he leaned forward and kissed you, taking the lead this time. His kiss was slow and soft, but you moaned into him as you felt his emotions in the kiss.
His hands roamed all over your body, running up and down your sides before cupping your chest. You broke the kiss to let out a louder moan as his hands ran across your nipples while he kneaded your chest.
“Steven…” you whimpered as you arched your back.
Encouraged by your moans, Steven’s hand ran down your body until one dipped between your legs. You gasped when you felt a finger at your entrance, making him pause.
“Keep going… please…” you begged.
“Can’t say no to you, love,” Steven smirked before he slowly pushed a finger into you and started to gently thrust in and out.
Your mouth dropped open as you cried out, “Steven… Feels so good…”
His eyes darkened at your words, and he couldn’t help but pick up his pace before he added a second finger, “You’re exquisite, darling.”
All you could do was moan as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, coating them in your slickness as he did so. His fingers filled you more than your own could, yet you still craved more. “Steven…” you pleaded, “Please… Need you…” you choked on your words, flustered at just how desperate you were.
“Shit love,” he breathed, astonished that you wanted him just as much as he wanted you.
Carefully, Steven pulled his fingers out of you before he pushed his pants down to free his cock. His heart fluttered in his chest as your hungry eyes landed on his hardened length. Slowly, you peeled your eyes away and up his body, soaking in every inch of his skin before you met his gaze. Heat rose in the room as the two of you locked eyes, and the unspoken question lingered in the air.
Swallowing hard, you nodded, answering without the words needed.
Steven whispered your name as he positioned himself at your entrance, crawling over you as the tip pushed in. Both of you gasped as he started to fill you, and you both clung to the other as your heat engulfed him inch by inch until he was completely sheathed inside you.
“Fuck, Steven,” you murmured, “You feel so good,” you couldn’t help but moan as you wrapped your arms around him, “Fuck me… Please…”
He breathed a soft, “Fuck,” in your ear as his hips moved on their own.
Moans and groans filled the room as Steven’s hips rocked against yours. What started as clumsy and unsure quickly morphed into hot and desperate as Steven thrust his hips faster.
“Yes… Steven… So good… Feels so good,” you babbled in his ear as you dug your nails into the skin of his back, desperate to feel him as close as possible.
His eyes rolled back into his head as he felt his climax already start to build. Between how good you felt and the babbling praise that flowed from your lips, he knew he wasn’t going to last. “Fuck… Darling…”
You let out a loud gasp as he thrust as deep as he could into you, hitting that sweet spot with precision, “Fuck!” you screamed, “Right there!” you opened your eyes as he paused in that moment, “You’re beautiful, Steven,” you whispered.
“Not as beautiful as you, love,” he smirked back before his hips took over again, thrusting into you with abandon.
The cries you let out echoed in the room, and both of you were sure the other neighbors could hear you but neither of you cared. All that mattered to each of you was the other, and the climaxes you both desperately chased. Incoherent babbling dripped from your lips in between your moans until you screamed even louder as your peak hit.
“That’s it, love,” Steven wasn’t sure where that came from, but as he talked you through your climax, he found it turned him on even more, “Lovely,” he preened as he felt you clench around him as you came hard, “Fuck…” he stuttered as his own orgasm hit right after yours. Steven groaned your name as he spilled himself inside of you, and he clung to you just as much as you did to him as he rode out both your climaxes together.
Completely spent and out of breath, Steven collapsed down on top of you, clumsily pulling out of you as he did so. He only relaxed for a moment, though; after hearing you gasp, he shot right back up onto his elbows to check on you, “Are you alright, love?” he asked with worry as he cradled your face.
Keeping your eyes closed, you smiled and leaned into his touch, “Never better,” you replied in a hushed tone before you kissed his palm, “That was better than how my night started,” you added with a chuckle.
Steven’s face lit up as he leaned forward and gently kissed your forehead, “I agree,” he whispered with a laugh of his own.
“Stay with me, tonight?” you asked in a meek tone.
“Anything for you, love,” Steven replied as he made himself comfortable and the two of you tangled your limbs in each other, curled up and safe in the other’s arms.
#x reader#reader insert#moonknight events#steven grant#steven grant x reader#steven grant x you#steven grant x y/n#steven grant x gender neutral reader#steven grant x gn!reader#steven grant imagine#steven grant fic#steven grant fanfiction#steven grant fanfic#moon knight x reader#moon knight x you#moon knight x y/n#moon knight x gn!reader#moon knight imagine#moon knight fanfic#moon knight fic#moon knight fanfiction#moon knight fandom#moon knight#oscar issac characters#oscar isaac fandom
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How They Cuddle
A/n: Started this while I was stuck in traffic with a tornado warning going on. Later found out 4 touched down around me so basically God said I couldn't die until I posted this
Warnings: none, fluff, angst, semi serious? Talks of death, read with that in mind on Jake's part
Gn! Reader Masterlist
Steven
Tummy hugger
Doesn't matter the size, how hot it is inside, he will latch onto your waist and rest his head on your tummy
Prefers a bare tummy so he can feel your soft skin, but he's happy as long as he gets to hold you
And if you pet his head or play with his hair too? He's a goner
Those sleeping problems he has from time to time? Gone
Those night terrors that keep him up for hours? A thing of the past
He sleeps best when it's with you and when it's on your perfect, soft, warm tummy? He sleeps like a baby
There are, of course, nights where he's had a really bad day and he needs a bit more from you
Those are the nights where he'll ask you to lay on him
He wants to be surrounded by the thing he loves the most
And if you even try to say 'oh, I'll crush you!' he will forcibly pull you on top of him
"Yea right, you forget I was an avatar of Khonshu, love. I'm buff as fuck." He would mumble while burying his head in your hair or shoulder
It's not necessarily a lie, but it gets you to laugh
Pressure therapy is strong with this one
He has so many weighted blankets, it's ridiculous
And usually he doesn't use them now that he has you, but when there are days when you're not home or don't feel like cuddling, Steven will break out his massive pile of weighted blankets
It's honestly really cute seeing Steven all bundled up and only his head poking out of a mountain of blankets
Marc
Lays directly on top of you
Lowkey scared of crushing you so it takes a while for him to admit how he'd prefer to cuddle, but it happens eventually
Marc wants to protect you, you're the love of his life and he couldn't take it if he lost you
So he lays on you to be your shield
If anyone breaks into the apartment, which they probably wouldn't even make it past the front door before Marc absolutely destroys them, but if they do he's the first one they'll attack
And as long as you're safe, he's happy
It's a deeper reason than the others, but it's true
If he's had a bad day, it'll be different
He'll curl up into you, looking so small and vulnerable
He'll bury his face in your chest and hold onto you like you're his life line
Which you are
If you play with his hair and rub his back, maybe even hum to him, he'll pass out in no time
He feels safe in your arms and while he's not used to feeling so vulnerable, he feels like he can be with you
On the other hand, there are very rare nights where Marc will ask you to suffocate him
Not really, of course
He just needs the pressure of you laying on top of him to chase away his dark thoughts
Works every time
Not during nightmares though
Never try that during or after a nightmare
Marc will panic so hard, he might accidentally hurt you and he would rather die than do that to you
Jake
Jake is a little different than Steven and Marc
He doesn't have a preference of cuddles, as long as he can feel your skin somewhere on him, he's ok
It's not in a weird way though
If he can feel your skin, he can feel how warm you are and if he can feel how warm you are, he knows you're not dead
It's morbid, but he's seen so much and caused so much death so he's trying to reassure himself that you're not dead too
He'll have his hands under your shirt and resting on your hips, or hike your leg over his hip to feel your thighs, or sleep with his cheek pressed against your tummy
Anywhere is fair game to him as long as you're comfortable
But then there are nights where he would rather die than feel your skin
It's usually nights where he's had to kill quite a few people and while he usually handles death quite well, he has you now
He's learned to be something other than a tool for Khonshu and a shield for Marc and Steven
Those nights, he'll lay next to you and watch you breathe
The only part of you he touches is your wrist to feel your heart beat
Similar to Steven, he will ask you to occasionally lay on him, just so he can feel you pressed up against him
Not in a sexual way, though he's not ashamed to admit he would enjoy that, just in a way so he can feel a bit more of you than he normal would
And honestly, when as asks you to lay on him, it leads to some kind of make out session
#marc spector x reader#steven grant x reader#jake lockley x reader#marc spector#marvel#jake lockley#moon knight#steven grant#jake lockley x gn!reader#marc spector x gn!reader#steven grant x gn!reader
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ello! saw your post and i wanna request a moon knight in which the reader is a female and she just graduated uni and the moon boys take turns in bed praising her like "our smart pretty girl", "so independent" of course if you are comfortable writing this have a good day/night :)
Praises // Moon Knight boys ☾ x fem!reader
A/N: Thank you for this request, I’ve been desperate to write something like this again! Also if anyone is at university or college, good luck with any exams/essays/results, I know how difficult it can be but trust me, it’s worth it in the end!
Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, dom/sub, anxiety, fluff, begging, sub steven, dom marc, dom jake, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, squirting, oral sex (f!recieving), creampie, pet names, shower sex, multiple sex positions, fingering, crying, praise kink, sir kink, daddy kink, aftercare, intense orgasms, pain/pleasure, bdsm, literally this is filthy lol, not beta read im sorry for mistakes
Word: 7.6k (oops)
my masterlist 📚
AO3 Link
The hardwood floor creaked beneath your sock-covered feet as you paced back and forth across the flat you shared with the boys. You’d been at it since the moment you’d awakened that day, anxiety rippling through your body so drastically that pacing was the only action you could complete without the overwhelming feeling of throwing up or passing out.
It was the day you’d been waiting for years, results day. And for some unknown reason, the University had decided to release the results in the evening rather than midday which only caused you to overthink everything you had ever done whilst at uni. What if the results are out late because you failed? What if you have to waste another whole year resitting it? Shaking your head, you tried to let your mind go blank before you spiralled into a deep pit.
Steven watched you from his seat on the sofa, his own nerves bubbling in his stomach, hands wringing in his lap as he glanced at the clock for what felt like the 400th time that day. He desperately wanted you to get your results, he knew for sure that you’d passed but he absolutely hated seeing you this worked up.
Usually, Steven was always the one to be able to help best with your anxieties, compared to Jake and Marc. But today, he felt completely helpless as he watched you continue to pace the same path continuously for hours on end.
“Uh… Love, why don’t you have something to drink, you haven’t had anything all day”, Steven tried to reason with you, his voice trying to be soft and calm and would usually have you crawling into his lap but today, your mind couldn’t even process anything that he said.
Instead, your eyes remained glued to the screen of the laptop that was on the desk between you and Steven, so that he couldn’t see the screen. Your reasoning is that if you failed, you didn’t want him to read the words.
Steven shook his head as you continued to pace, briefly glancing at the mirror as Marc demanded that he make you drink. “I can’t force her to do anything mate” Steven mumbled in reply.
Marc rolled his eyes in announced in the mirror, not that you could see or hear his reply, “You know what Steven, maybe you should force her, it’s been nearly 20 hours since she’s had anything to eat or drink”.
“You do it then mate, I’m not having her hating me when she’s so stressed out-” BING.
Both you and Steven stopped immediately at the recognisable email notification noise. The air in the room suddenly felt thick and heavy as you slowly reached for the laptop, fingers shaking as you were one click away from finding out the much-anticipated results. Steven sat on the edge of the sofa, watching you closely to try and read any sort of expression that would give your results away.
Your heartbeat pounded in your ears as you finally plucked up the courage to click on that all-important email.
You couldn’t breathe for a second, eyes becoming painful from the length of time that you’d gone without blinking until finally, you whispered, “I did it”.
Steven stood so quick his vision blurred as he shouted, “you did it?”
“I did it!” you screamed, reading the word congratulations over and over on the computer screen, the realisation finally set in as you sprinted around the table and jumped into Steven’s arms, causing you both to topple backwards onto the sofa, your legs straddling his body as he held you to him. Both of you were screaming and shouting with joy, you even briefly felt bad for the neighbours but you also didn’t care as happy tears slipped down your cheeks.
You weren’t sure when but the tears soon turned into sobs, all the years, countless nights not sleeping, the essays and exams had all been worth it for this moment. Steven held you close, catching every tear that escape your eyes, his lips brushing against your forehead.
“Oh my beautiful, smart girl” he praised, lips moving across your face until there wasn’t a patch of skin he hadn’t kissed as he continued to compliment you until finally, you stopped sobbing, instead smiling so much that your cheeks ached, which Steven was reciprocating with proud bright eyes.
“I can’t believe it,” you said in a rush, leaning your forehead against his whilst his hands settled against your waist, thumb rubbing small circles over your clothes.
“I never doubted you for a second, Love” Steven bragged, one of his hands moving to cup your cheek which you swiftly nuzzled into. Your boyfriend kissed your lips once more, twice, three times before you pressed harder, with all the eagerness that you could muster, knuckles aching with how tightly you were holding onto his shirt. His soft lips moved with yours, the taste of toast on the tip of your tongue as it slipped in, caressing his own.
Steven moaned, hands both now cupping the back of your head, keeping you close to him as you both became lost in one another's lips. It was only as your lungs burned for the need of air did you pull away, but only to tug on the bottom of his shirt, desperate to feel more of him, your hips rolling down onto his crotch, already feeling this thickening cock, only separated from your cunt by a few layers of material.
Leaning forward, you were able to finally free him of the shirt, his warm beautiful skin flexing under your fingers as they danced along the skin, needing to feel every part of him as those wondrous lips of his travelled down your throat, leaving delicate kisses that had your body shivering in response. “My smart girl, my beautiful smart girl” he mumbled, and you mewled with each praise, loving when Steven was so appreciative of you, which he usually was.
It was only as you reached down to undo his jeans were you stopped by his hands enveloping yours, halting your actions. A frown set across your features as Steven sat back on the sofa so you were able to look at his face.
“Sorry Darlin’, Marc he- he keeps shouting at me and it’s only getting worse. I promise we can continue this but I really need you to drink something”.
You sat back against his knees, hands raising to Steven’s cheeks, thumb rubbing against his cheekbone as you knew the next words would probably get you in trouble but you didn’t care, Marc was ruining a perfectly good moment. “Well… fuck Marc, I’m busy”.
Steven’s head tipped back as he laughed, his eyes creasing as his hands returned to the back of your head, pulling you forward, “oh I’m sure you’ll be paying for that one later”. His lips moulded with yours once more, both of you moaning at the contact, his scents were filling your senses as you turned your head, causing the kiss to go deeper, his tongue flicking out and dancing with your own.
Steven was very good at distractions so you weren’t expecting for him to flip your position so now you were the one on the sofa, lying down with him hovering over you. It was now your turn to be undressed and he moved with delicate touches, making sure to lightly touch your skin as he removed each article of clothing leaving goosebumps across your body.
In between your legs was throbbing uncontrollably, your panties visibly wet as he pulled them down your legs and discarded them across the room. You needed him, you needed him now.
Reaching up to try and pull him down, you whined as he moved out of your reach, his lips kissing the tips of your fingers as he smiled down at you, “Shh my clever girl, let me take care of you”. You didn’t respond, not sure you could even form a proper word as arousal turned your brain to fuzz. Particularly as you lay there and watched the half-naked Steven move lower, hands now on the back of your thighs pushing up until you were completely exposed to him, the cool air causing your sweet cunt to clench around nothing.
He didn’t break eye contact, as he lowered his face, tongue out until finally, he licked the length of your core, savouring the unique taste that was only you. Both of you moaned deeply, his movements were slow, calculated like they always were. Steven was a passionate lover, more submissive than the other two but that mean that all he wanted to do was pleasure you, never caring if he came, only caring that you were taken care of.
His talented tongue moved up your slit, reaching your throbbing bean, circling it slowly, adding the slightest bit of pressure, making sure to really build up your already heightened arousal. At the same time, his long fingers moved to your entrance, circling it in the same manner as his tongue and slowly, you watched him slip one finger in, your mouth hung open, a constant stream of moans leaving it, only spurring Steven on.
The man didn’t do anything special with his fingers, for now, that was for later, instead, he simply felt the velvety warm walls, stretching you enough to slip in a second finger, rocking them both in and out as a single dark curl fell onto his forehead. Your hand reached out, sliding through his hair, not being rough, you could never be rough with Steven but simply scratching his scalp, silently telling him that he was doing good, perfect in fact.
Steven watched you for a few moments, continuing his slow actions, knowing that he was going to make you cum in the next minute but wanting to have the image of you moaning, glossy-eyed and desperate, engraved into his brain.
Removing his mouth from your centre, he beamed, “I’m so proud of you”. Steven's lips then seal around your clit, sucking it into his mouth whilst at the same time starting to curl his fingers, pumping his hand and the tingling sensation rushed over you before you could fully process his words. Releasing your clit, his tongue swiped across with firm pressure whilst his fingers didn’t stop the movements, Steven became aware that his chin and neck were becoming wet as you squirted over him, eyes rolling back, the hand in his hair moving to the sofa so you didn’t pull out his hair, needing to grip something as your core tightened violently until finally, you came.
Your cunt convulsed around his fingers, your body spasming as Steven’s fingers slowed until eventually, he pulled them out, his tongue licking up every drip of your juices. He smiled down at you, cheeks flushed as he could see the happy smile spread across your face, “I need you, Steven”.
“You can have me Love, but not here, you deserve the bed, not the sofa, come on”, tugging on your hand, he helped you up, chuckling at the slight wobbling of your legs but the distance to the bed wasn’t long and you were soon pushing him into the middle, crawling up until you were straddling his lap. Once again, however, Steven switched your positions, shaking his head as he smiled mischievously down at you. “How ever will I treat my ever so clever girl, passing her degree all by herself”.
“Steven please”, he never usually had you begging like this, that was more Jake's job but Steven couldn’t help himself today, he wanted you to feel amazing. Reaching up, you gripped his hair, pulling his face down so you could hungrily kiss him, tongues clashing together, teeth nipping on lips.
The man hovering over you reached between your bodies, fumbling to undo his jeans with shaky hands, his cock almost painful with how hard he was, he relieved sigh escaped his lips that were still attached to yours as his member was finally freed. You noticed his reaction and instantly reached for him, tossing him off a few times, enjoying the way he bucked his hips with your movements, before angling it towards your entrance, not even giving him time to fully take off the remainder of his clothes.
You both groaned deeply as he finally slide his thick hard cock into your quivering hole, your arousal enough to be a natural lube as he easily filled you inch after inch until finally you were both slotted together.
Sex with Steven was never the same as with Marc or Jake. It was never rushed, aggressive or filled with fancy sex positions. No, it was always sensual, and passionate and he knew your body better than your own but he was always modest about it, simply smiling down at you like you were the only thing that mattered in the world. Obviously Marc and Jake thought the same but sex with them was just…different, you loved them all equally especially as they were all so unique.
Your back arched up as Steven started to pull out, his thrusts were long and deep, and his hands were interlocked with your own, held above your head whilst his lips travelled down the length of your throat. Every drag of his hips had you clinging harder to him, as he built up your pleasure until he had to cuming just as hard as the first time, your cunt clenching hard around him that he too came, your name spilt from his lips in desperation, arms wobbling to keep himself up as he stilled within.
After a few moments of trying to catch your breaths, he rolled off of you, his hand coming up to stroke your cheek as both of you smiled at each other like idiots in love. Closing your eyes, you savoured the after-sex glow, listening to each other breath.
“You know… you really do need to eat something Poppet. How about we go to dinner? Celebrate the great news, have a few drinks?”
“I would love that very much, Mr Grant. Let me just have a quick shower”, you lean up to kiss him, standing and doing the awkward run to the bathroom, hands between your legs to stop any of his cum from dripping onto the floor.
Stepping into the shower, you let the warm water spill over your body, relaxing your muscles. The reality of passing university brushed over your thoughts again as you did a happy dance in the shower, quickly before washing your body.
You’d become so lost in your happy little thoughts that you didn’t hear the other person enter the bathroom, not until a warm solid body collided with your back. Smiling to yourself, you leaned into the warmth, feeling the already hardening cock against your lower back. “Ready for another round are you, my love?” you asked innocently.
As you made to turn around, a muscular arm circled around your front, gripping your jaw in a strong grip so you were now held firmly in place. Definitely not Steven.
The hand holding your jaw pushed upwards, tipping your head back so that the shower sprayed across your face, lips moved to your ears, tickling and teasing as a low voice murmured, “Fuck Marc? Did I hear you correctly?”
You knew he could feel the pounding of your heart as he held your jaw, his teeth nipping your ear as you rubbed your thighs together, cunt clenching in anticipation, you didn’t date speak. It was always the game of cat and mouse when it came to Marc and your relationship but in the end, Marc always was the winner.
“All you needed to do…was to have one drink of water, just one”. You were hyperaware of every single movement that he made as he raised his spare hand to rest lightly against your naked hip, keeping you close to him.
“Well we were slightly distracted…sir”, you added the name for good measure, not wanting to annoy him any further.
His lips turned up slightly at your words but he didn’t say anything for a few minutes, leaving the anticipation thick in the air until at least, he squeezed your jaw, demanding you open. Immediately you opened your mouth wide, the water from the shower dribbling out and down your chin.
“Drink.”
You drank the water as it poured down from the shower, gulping the water thirstily.
“Good girl”, he whispered, feeling every time you swallowed whilst he continued to hold your jaw. His words sent shivers up your spine, causing it to rub harder against his cock that throbbed against you.
As your gulps started to slow down and Marc was happy with your water intake, he spun you around, pressing your back against the cool tiles, hand still holding onto your jaw, the other now leaning against the wall above you. Reaching down to your height, his back now had the shower beating against it so you weren’t being sprayed anymore.
Slowly, you raised your eyes from the floor, up his body to his dark beautiful eyes. Even though he shared the same body as Steven and Jake, he still looked different, you weren’t sure whether it was the hardening of the gaze in his eyes or the beautiful smirk that he held on his lips but either way, it brought a sly smile to your own mouth, having not seen him for a week.
“I hear congratulations are in order, you beautiful intelligent girl.” Pride and love bloomed in your chest.
“Thank you, sir”. So distracted by his handsome face, you didn’t notice the hand he had used to lean against the wall, slip down until his calloused fingertip started rubbing against your eagerly awaiting clit, causing you to cry out.
“I’m so proud of you, baby girl”.
“Tha-thank you, sir. I couldn’t have done it without you-ah!” Marc had slipped two fingers into your centre, his thumb now rubbing slow methodical circles against your bundle of nerves, your hips began moving with the action instantly. He watched you closely, his eyes devouring your every move.
Marc didn’t quicken his pace as he continued talking, the two fingers within you moving in and out steadily, “Now, I think my baby girl deserves a reward, what do you say?” You could only nod, moaning at his clever hands. “You’ve done so amazingly over these last few years. I want to pleasure you until you can’t walk and then we’ll order some food, no need to leave this place when I’ve got to make you feel good, baby.”
The mere thought of what he had planned had your core tightening, the tingles already spreading down your thighs as you breathed out, “I’m close, sir.”
“You want to cum for daddy?”
“Yes please, daddy”. His fingers moved quicker, bending at the perfect angle as his mouth dropped to suck one of your erect nipples, your hands instantly moving to hold onto his wrist that still held your jaw.
“Then cum for me, baby”. You did. Hard. The wind was knocked out of you as your knees wobbled, nails digging into his skin as your pussy contracted around his fingers.
Releasing your nipple with a pop, Marc moved quickly, turning you around, not giving you time to process what was happening as you found your face pushed against the shower wall. The water then stopped spraying the two of your as he turned it off, pulling your hips backwards leaving you slightly bent over.
Your boyfriend then proceeded to lick your cunt dry, you twitch at the oversensitiveness, automatically moving away from his warm tongue as it lapped over your swollen bud. “Shh, it’s ok Sweetheart”, he kisses both of your arse cheeks, “no more clit play unless you ask”.
Sighing in slight relief, you wiggled your hips as he stood to his full height. Glancing over your shoulder, you moaned, “mmm, want your cock sir”.
“Ok baby girl”, he was penetrating you a second later, your sensitive walls already clenching around him. Having already been fucked by Steven already today, you didn’t need time to adjust and Marc knew that as he started a quick, hard and thorough pace, his hand tugging on your hair so your neck ached at the odd angle, the sounds of your bodies slapping together like music to his ears. “My good girl, my very clever pretty girl”.
You were grunting with each thrust, trying your best to not cum already, it had only been two minutes but you were so sensitive from the previous activities. “I…I already need to cum sir, I don’t think I can hold it, I’m sorry”.
“That’s ok baby, cum for me, that’s it”, your knees buckled as you came, your insides felt like they were on fire as every nerve poured with pleasure, it took you a second to realise that Marc had his arm around your middle stopping you from collapsing to the floor. Easing out of you, he helped you out of the shower after you had found your footing, you stepped out, holding his hand but soon were leaning up to heavily kiss him, realising that you hadn’t even kissed him since he began fronting.
You could feel yourself becoming needier the more feverish the kiss became, enough so that your hand slipped down to grip Marc’s still incredibly hard cock, trying to please him but his hand caught your wrist stopping your movements. Breaking the kiss, Marc looked into your eyes, smirking slightly at your bratty whine.
“Do you want to stop? I need to hear your words?”
“I want you to cum in my pussy, please don’t stop sir” you desperately replied.
Marc didn’t need to be told twice as you found yourself being manhandled by him once more, as he pushed you over the sink, thrusting into your core, pulling on your hair like he had in the shower but now you were faced with the bathroom mirror so you could watch Marc pounded into you.
Leaning over until his lips were next to your ear, with each pound of his hips, Marc praised you, much like how Steven did, about how you were such a smart girl, you’ve done so well, his little university graduate. Your cunt clenched with his words, feeling both fucked out of your mind and proud of yourself at the same moment was hard to comprehend but he made you feel so special. Marc was always a soft dom, he would praise you no matter what, even in your brattiest of moments, but he just loved looking after his baby girl, not like Jake, he liked to handle those moments in different styles, not that you would ever want to be bratty with Jake.
Marc’s other hand which had been holding on to your hips with a fierce grip, moved to your torso, fondling your tits, squeezing the soft flesh, as his lips sucked into the side of your neck lightly. You tried to speak to tell him you were going to cum but the only noises to leave you were heavy moans Marc could tell you were getting close by the fluttering that your cunt was doing around his cock, he had been trying to hold off for a while, seeing you bent over in the shower nearly had him spurting his seed over your back but he held out for as long as he could to see just how much you could handle.
“That’s it, baby, cum with me, well done, good girl”, your core felt impossibly tight as finally, your orgasm rippled through your body. Marc was thankful that you were over the sink, his own orgasm making his knees wobble slightly so that he had to hold onto the side next to your hips to keep himself up as he shouted your name out.
He kissed a line up your back as you tried to catch your breath, his cock slipping out of you followed by his hot seed dripping out and onto the floor. He then spent a few quiet moments cleaning you up, wiping away his cum as softly as he could, apologising every time you flinched before finally asking if you thought you could walk, to which you promptly shook your head no. It didn’t go unnoticed by you the large smirk that he had on his face at hearing that his plan worked.
Your handsome boyfriend eased your body into his arms, your head laying on his shoulder as he supported your legs and back, carrying you back into the main area of the flat and onto the bed, neither of you particularly caring that you were still damp from the shower. Sighing in relief at finally being on a soft surface, Marc wrapped a spare blanket over your cold body, kissing your hairline delicately.
“I’ll be back in a moment sweetheart, I’ll order us some food, my smart girl”.
You must have fallen asleep because, by the time you had woken up, the smell of food was filling the apartment, your stomach making a loud growl at the realisation that food was here. Sitting up in bed, you blinked away the sleep in your eyes, groaning at the ache in your muscle from the evening's activities. The food smelt amazing however so ignoring the pain, you climbed out of bed, keeping the blanket around your naked body and glanced across the room into the kitchen, expecting to see Marc unboxing whatever food he had decided upon ordering but instead, he was hunched over the stove, cooking something.
Frowning you tried to clear the fog in your head to make sense of it. Marc couldn’t cook anything except toast (only on a good day), there was no way he’d be able to cook whatever you were smelling right now, and as for Steven, you’d be lucky to get a plain slide of bread without it being wrong in some kind of way. So it wasn’t Marc and it definitely wasn’t Steven that you were watching cook.
It was an almost immediate reaction, your whole body felt warm and safe. It wasn’t that Marc and Steve didn’t make you feel safe, of course, they did but with Jake, his unhinged personality meant that he would do anything and everything to keep you safe, it was a different type of protection compared to the other two. It was also not very often that you get to see all three alters in one day.
Biting your lip in anticipation, you stepped forward, “Papi?” His head flicked towards you immediately, moving the food off the heat so he could approach you.
His footsteps were heavy as he walked closer, his arms out, ready for your next move which was to drop the blanket and jump into his arms, legs circling his waist and arms holding tightly to his shoulders as his strong arms held onto your naked body.
“Mi Amor” he mumbled against your neck, kissing the skin lightly as he held you close. You hadn’t seen Jake in weeks, particularly with all the stress that you had been through with the ending of university, he hated seeing you anxious. Unless there was someone else to hurt if they had caused the anxiety, he usually stayed away, hating to see love upset, it slowly sends him into an unbalanced state that no one particularly needed to deal with.
“I’ve missed you”, pulling away from his shoulder, you looked into his brown eyes that looked nearly black whenever Jake was fronting.
“I missed you too, cariño,” his voice was deep and laced with his beautiful Spanish accent that made your heart flutter. “My beautiful, intelligent girl”. Your cheeks warmed due to his compliments as he lowered you back to the floor, his hands cupping the sides of your head, tilting your face up to his so he could kiss your forehead tenderly, then lower to your lips. You wanted desperately to whine at the loss of contact but you didn’t want to ruin this calm Jake that you had not seen in a while, recently whenever he had fronted, it would be after a mission with Konshu and he would have a lot of pent up frustration and tension, leading to hours of you begging for him to allow you to cum, so seeing him calm wasn’t something you were used too.
Kissing your forehead one more time, he nodded in the direction of the table that still had your laptop on from earlier with the best email you had ever received. “Go and take a seat, the food is nearly ready, and take this, you’ll catch a cold, mi amor”, Jake then proceeded to remove his shirt, handing the warm material to you. Quickly pulling it over your head, you took a second to openly ogle at his body, even though you knew his body like the back of your hand, it still managed to get you all hot and bothered.
Jake chuckled deeply to himself, a single finger pushed under your chin, lifting your eyes from his chest up to his eyes, “later mi amor, now, go and take a seat”. You did as instructed, trying to ignore the evidence of arousal that was moistening your core, his shirt the only thing covering up the glistening wet that was slowly spreading over your thighs as you took a seat and tried not to move too much otherwise he would hear the squeak of your wet cunt against the leather chair.
He joined you soon after at the table, carrying two plates filled with delicious food that had your mouth watering, Jake was such a fantastic cook. As you moved to pick up a fork, Jake swatted your hand away lightly, “allow me” he demanded softly so you sat, hands clutching the edge of his shirt whilst he fed you.
He was able to feed both you and himself and with every bite you held strong eye contact with him, thanking him for every drop of food that you swallowed until he was scraping his and your plate clean. Pushing them to the other side of the table, he sat back in his chair, legs spread as he looked your head to two, making you squirm at the intense stare.
“Just taking the opportunities whilst I can”. You frowned at his words, not quite understanding what he meant.
“What opportunities?”
“To do things for you, there won't be much opportunity as you won’t need me for much longer now will you.”
The room suddenly felt small and suffocating as your throat closed shut, it felt like your world was crumbling.
“What?” was all you could whisper, barely audible as you tried not to cry, watching as Jake sat forward in his seat, forearms leaning against the table.
“Well now, you’re a big independent girl, you’ve passed your university degree, what else would you need me for, right?” You realised now that he was joking but you still felt on edge. “I mean, my smart Princesa, you’ve done this all by yourself, you won’t need me anymore”.
“I’ll… I’ll always need you Jake”, he gave you a pointed look so you quickly corrected yourself, “Papi, I’ll always need you”.
He didn’t respond immediately, still taking his time looking up and down your body until it looked like he had decided upon something. Lifting to fingers, he bent them, signalling for you to come to him which you did without needing to be told twice. Jake sat back in the chair, opening his arms for you to sit comfortably in his lap but before you fully sat, he twirled with his hand so you turned your back to him, sitting down in his lap, your head leaning back against his shoulder.
“Now I want you to do something for me, look at that right there” he pointed to the seat you were just in. At first, you looked on, confused about what exactly you were supposed to be looking at but then you spotted it and your cheeks burned hot. On the leather seat, the evidence of your juicy cunt hadn’t dried, even though you had tried not to drip onto the seat.
“Did my amigos not take good enough care of you today Princesa?” You were so embarrassed, it wasn’t normal for your body to still be craving someone's touch when you’d already been pounded multiple times and orgasmed multiple times, yet here you were, nipples peaked, clit throbbing uncomfortably, internally begging that he would touch you.
“Well? Did they?”
“The-they did Papi, I just..always want you, I’ve missed you so much-” your words were cut off as his large hand encircled around your throat squeezing slightly. The other hand moved to ease each of your thighs on either side of his so once he spread his legs further, your legs widened, causing the shirt you were wearing to rise, exposing your wet, marginally swollen cunt to him.
Your breathing quickened as you watched his hand move towards the area you wanted him to touch so desperately. Jake noticed your breathing and not wanting to overwhelm you, shifted the hand up your neck until his index finger could slip into your mouth. Almost instantly you were sucking on it, the action helping to distract and calm you, the muscles all over your body relaxing as you melted back into his hard body.
Your body still jolted however as he rubbed two fingers up and down your folds, coating himself in your arousal before lifting them in front of both of your faces, displaying it. “See, this would say otherwise” he then lifted the fingers to his mouth, sucking them, moaning at the taste before lowering it, testing to see just how much you could take with him. First, he tried to circle your clit with his finger but you hissed at the touch, almost biting down on his finger in your mouth, before he moved lower to your cunt, pushing in slowly and you could feel how oversensitive your walls were and how you were slightly swollen from the action you’d received earlier as his one finger felt like the same thickness as his cock at that moment.
Jake didn’t say anything at first, simply humming as he removed his digit, once again licking it clean before kissing the side of your head, his favourite way to show that you were safe with him and that he’d look after you.
“Now, how am I going to praise you for doing such incredible work with finishing university if you can hardly even take my finger, mi amor.” You huffed in frustration, the building tension was becoming nearly unbearable, even though it was uncomfortable, the pleasure was slowly starting to outweigh the pain. Sex with Jake was usually quite rough anyway so it was nothing that you hadn’t dealt with before.
“I can take it” you mumbled around his finger, reaching across to his other hand, trying to drag it back to your sopping cunt but he kept it still, not giving in to your demands. Instead, he stood, pulling you up with him, arm around your waist as he walked you to the bed, hand tugging on the shirt you worse until your arms shot up, allowing him to pull it off of you, before pushing on your chest so that you collapsed into the centre of the bed.
Looking up at him, you tried not to show how much he intimate you as he began to take off the remainder of his clothes and then crawled to join you, the evidence of his own excitement standing proud in between his legs until he was lying next to you.
“Turn over” he instructed, which you swiftly followed, lying on your side with your back to him, the warmth of his chest had you nuzzling back as his lips delicately kissed your bare shoulder. “You still think you can take me?” he asked, lifting up your leg and resting it onto of his, the feeling of his cock prodding at your inner thigh had you whimpering for more.
“Yes Papi, I can take it”, his only response to your words were him pinching your nipple harshly, tugging it away from your body and then letting it snap back as he released it. Your hips moved at the sensation, the pleasure once again pooling in your cunt entrance. “Need you…”
“You need me? But I thought you were a smart independent girl who doesn’t need me anymore?” you teased, his teeth now grazing your neck, hard enough that you were sure there would be indents in your skin. You could feel yourself feeling more and more subby as the seconds ticked by, your brain fuzzy with the need to be stimulated and Jake once again just laughed at how desperate you were becoming, he always loved to tease and push you to your limits.
Knowing that you’d start crying soon if he didn’t fuck you, he shifted his hips up, his tip finally pushing into your warm, wet folds, finding your aching hole and penetrating within. The sensation took your breath away, you felt so tight even Jake had to stop for a moment as he slide all the way in, otherwise, he would have cum before it had even begun.
His fingers still played with your nipples but as he started to pull out, he moved to grip your throat, the pressure was welcoming, not enough to fully cut off oxygen completely, but enough that you had to concentrate on how you breathed. Lifting your own hands, you gripped onto his wrist, much as you had with Marc.
This position felt intimate, he felt like he was all over you as he cursed in Spanish, his lips right next to your ear as he pushed his cock back into you, it being slightly easier than the first time. You’d never felt this overstimulated before, the mixture of pain and pleasure was blissful and you were worried that you were already only on the verge of cuming with all of the teasings that he’d done.
His pace was unusually slow, but you were thankful, not wanting to have too much stimulation at once but suddenly he snapped his hips up harshly, his cock fucking straight into your g-spot, your cunt clenching like a vice as the recognisable sensation of tightening in your core already overwhelmed you.
“Wait- wait I’m going to cum Papi, wait-” his thrusts didn’t stop, they were still slow but were harsh and you felt the rumble of his chest on your back as he growled in your ear.
“Then cum, mi Amor, cum my clever Princesa”. Your vision nearly turned blank as you hadn’t expected him to give you permission, it was almost an instant reaction as you came, the throbbing contractions fluttering around his cock as your nails dug into his wrist harshly, unable to mentally process what had even happened for a few seconds.
Jake had stopped moving to give you time to recover, another thing that he never usually did, sensing your confusion, he nipped your ear and murmured, “don’t expect this to be a regular occurrence, I’m only being nice because of how proud I am of you today. Do you need to use your safe words?”
You wanted to shake your head, thinking you couldn’t possibly talk but you knew he would get angry if you didn’t use your words so as he removed his hand from your throat you smiled, mumbling, “green Papi”.
Jake pulled his cock out of you, rolling you onto your front and pulling up your hips until you were on your knees, your face laid out on the bed, you were too lazy to try and push yourself up but this was the exact position that Jake wanted you in as he reached forward, pulling each of your arms until he held them behind your back, your neck now straining for the lack of support but any thought of discomfort flew out of the window as he fucked back into you.
You screamed out, not caring who heard as the bed started to shake against Steven’s book cake, Jake wasn’t holding back now. He grunted with each stroke, your cunt gripping him tightly like a glove as he watched himself disappear inside of you. The grip on your hands allowed him to pull you back onto his cock as you repeatedly moaned out Papi.
After all the pleasure you’d had all day, you didn’t think it was possible for you to cum again, having lost count of how many orgasms you’d even had that day but sure enough, as Jake moved to kneel on one knee behind you, the change in movements causing his cock to tip up the slightest bit, he now was just pounding into your poor sensitive g-spot.
“Ah- Papi, I need…to…cum” you shouted, eyes rolling back at the overwhelming sensations, not even listening to whether you had permission or not as euphoria rushed through every inch of your body once more, your toes curling, small drips of squirt dripping onto the sheets below. Jake pulled out, letting go of your arms and you all but collapsed onto the bed, exhausted, body shaking from the day's events.
“See, this is why I make you wait to cum, you’ll just tire yourself out if I let you cum whenever you want, for a smart girl you really are dumb sometimes.” Jake teased, satisfied with how thoroughly fucked you looked.
Glancing over your shoulder tiredly, you looked at his still-hard cock, then up to his beautiful face. “I still want you to cum in me, Papi.”
Jake bit his lip, contemplating your words, hand brushing down your spine, “you know… any other day I would be already fucking you into the mattress but I think you’ve had enough today”.
You frowned at his words, having never heard him actually say no to fucking you before, usually he would continue until you were crying with being overstimulated or floating in subspace. “But..but I can take it, I promise Papi” you tried to wiggle your arse to show him you were still up for it but your whole body felt like jelly so it didn’t move much. “Please!”
Jake glanced away for a moment like he was thinking through the consequences if he continued to stop until finally, he looked back, gripping your cheeks to show the seriousness of his words. “If you started to feel only pain and no pleasure, you tell me immediately do you understand?” he was using his dom tone of voice, one that you wanted to cower away from but instead you simply responded with a simple “yes”.
“Good. And the next time you cum, it will be the final time, as much as I love feeling your beautiful cunt pulsing around my dick, I already know you’re going to be feeling a bit spacey with the next one so we will be stopping and doing aftercare, whether I’ve cum or not, do you understand mi amor?”
“Yes, Papi.” Swallowing harshly at his seriousness, you also could feel the anticipation for him filling you back up again, even though everything felt overly sensitive, you couldn’t wait, the only issue was that your legs were so weak you could kneel back into position so Jake helped you to lift your hips and slide a pillow beneath you, helping your cunt to arch up but still being comfortable for you.
He straddled your legs, hands clenching your arse cheeks, prying them apart so he could look at your core, whispering about its beauty before finally he inched his veiny thick cock back inside of you. All the energy in your body had disappeared so that you couldn’t even grip the sheets, only instead being able to moan out his name repeatedly, as his hips snapped into yours.
This position also allowed him to hit deeper spots inside your cunt, each movement was like a spark of pure pleasure that had you on a constant high. Jake moaned at the sight beneath him, knowing that he was close, he picked up the pace, knowing it needed to be now or never as your eyebrows bunched together, mouth opening in a silent O, just a few more deep, heavy thrusts and his milky cum was coating your walls, just as you also shivered and clenched around him in orgasm but this one was different.
Through the multitude that you’d had that day, all your energy was burnt so you simply shivered and dribbled into the sheets, Jake even though for a moment you’d passed out but you still responded when he called out your name.
Not that you were aware of it, but Jake moved off of the bed, returning only once he had two wash clothes in his hand, one to clean you up with, which you didn’t even flinch at, whilst the other he simply placed it over your cunt as something to ease the pain and swelling.
Finally, he pulled on some underwear, picked up the discarded blanket from the table and moved back into bed, shifting your dead weight up until he was beneath you, your body lying over his chest as he covered you both with the blanket.
Stroking back the sweaty hair out of your face, Jake kissed your forehead one last time for that night, whispering, “well done my clever girl.”
#moon knight smut#moon knight one shot#moon knight fic#moon knight#steven grant one shot#steven grant smut#steven grant fic#steven grant x reader#marc spector smut#marc spector#marc spector x reader#steven grant#jake lockley smut#jake lockley x reader#jake lockley#mine*#request
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Like nobody’s watching
Marc Spector x f!reader x Jake Lockley x Steven Grant
Summary- Marc comes home to your private dance and decides to join your intimate moment.
CW-NSFW,18+ MDNI, explicit, strip tease,lap dance,cursing,fluff,smut, dry humping,unprotected piv,fingering,piv cream pie, soft dom Marc
WC-2.3k
A/N- I know the pic isn’t Marc but we needed a chair for inspo. I will link a playlist below as a suggestion for the strip tease/lap dance. But you can certainly use your imagination.
Not beta read
Like nobody’s watching playlist
You used to dance alone when you were stressed. The way the music made you feel just made all the worries in the world float away. It’s so freeing, letting your body do what it wants, you don’t have to think about what you look like or where your feet go or if you look ridiculous. Alone in your own home when the stress of life got too heavy,you would dance.
Now you find yourself dancing for a very different reason. Alone in your boyfriend's flat, you’ve never been happier in your life. They were supposed to be gone on a mission for khonshu for another day or two, something that used to worry you but over time you got used to it. They would always come home, usually in one piece. Before they left on this latest mission they asked you to move in. Marc and Jake wanted to wait until they got back to ask but poor Steven couldn’t contain himself the night before they left and blurted it out after you’d spent hours making love.
Move in with me…?
Your hazy state and look of utter confusion had him worried.
Umm…move in with us? That's if you want to,of course you don’t have to.
Jesus hermaño give her a minute she doesn’t know which way is up.
Of course you said yes once you regained your bearings. The four of you agreed to let you stay while they were gone and then would move your stuff when they got back.
That’s how you find yourself in Marc’s shirt dancing in front of the couch without a care in the world. The orange hue casting the last of daylight among the flat is so calming and romantic. The scent of him overwhelms you as you’re lost in the music swaying your hips to the beat.
Marc is running on autopilot, the missions weren’t always this hard but sometimes khonshu had more than normal demands being that he was a god. He took over the body hours ago knowing Jake bore the brunt of the dirty work and Steven was still getting used to all this and he didn’t want to overwhelm him. He could hear the faint sound of music coming from his flat as he searched for his keys. An unfamiliar warmth pooled in his belly, he’s never come home from a mission with you here. They finished a few days early and he didn’t think to let you know first. He hasn’t had to communicate like this since Layla. He made a mental note to work on that.
He’s grateful you don’t hear the rustling of the keys or the door open albeit unsafe as he enters the flat he sees you. Bathing in the sunset light cast across the flat, wearing just his shirt and Stevens ridiculous socks, you’re floating around and he swears he could die happy at this very moment. To see you so comfortable and carefree in their your home. He feels something else building as you raise your hands above your head and sway your hips revealing the curve of your ass and those pink booty shorts he loved so much. You still don’t notice him leaning against the door as he palms his jeans to adjust the growing bulge in his pants.
You don’t know what’s got you feeling so bold, maybe the half a bottle of wine you had to yourself. You start to wonder what they would do if they were here. Would you dance for them? Would they think it’s silly? You start to slide your fingers up the side of Marc's shirt pretending you’re doing a strip tease, you can feel the heat pooling between your legs at your sudden surge of confidence. Just as you begin to lift your shirt over your head you hear the screech of the wooden dining chair.
You’re frozen to the spot, the only sound you can hear over the music is your heart beating wildly in your chest. You don’t dare turn around for fear of what might be behind you. You’re not sure at this moment why people always say fight or flight when there’s always the third option of freeze. As the song fades out you turn slowly in your spot, you’re met with the piercing gaze of your boyfriend sitting in the chair with a smug grin on his face. His dark eyes bore into you and the obvious erection in his pants tells you he’s been watching for awhile.
A million emotions flood you at once in what feels like minutes but is only a matter of seconds. Relief that you’re not about to die, embarrassed at your current state, upset that they didn’t tell you they would be home early. None of that really matters in this moment as he states you down like a lion stalking his prey. Is it Marc or Jake? You don’t dare ask, you’ll just wait for an obvious tell. As the next song cues up he reaches for the half-drunk bottle of wine and downs it in three gulps wiping the excess off his chin with the back of his hand. That didn’t help at all.
“I didn’t tell you to stop sweetheart.”
“Hi Marc.” Your voice comes out half cracked and you clear your throat awkwardly. You haven’t spoken in hours, seeing as though you were alone.
He chuckles dark and low, sending a shiver down your spine and a tingling in your core. “You know Jake wouldn’t have stood in that doorway for as long as I did, and he definitely wouldn’t be sitting in this chair.” Those things are all true but you couldn’t think straight after being caught so vulnerable.
“Continue.” You know it’s not a question, you were already imagining doing this when you were alone. He obviously doesn’t think you look silly and the thought of him watching you gives you the push you needed. You turn around to face away from him as you begin to sway your hips again to the music.
Marc was feeling bold when he saw you dancing, as you started to undress he felt like he was intruding on a private moment. Yes this was his home but he was just standing there like a creep and had yet to make his presence known. He didn’t want you to feel embarrassed or startle you, I’ll just have a seat.
The sound of the chair causes you to freeze as you slowly turn around; he can tell you’re studying his movements. He certainly had his differences from Jake but physically they were the most alike. At this moment you’re not thinking straight, it’s so obviously not Jake but he scared you so he can’t fault you. He sees the half empty bottle of wine on the table and decides to level the playing field.
You’re still staring like a deer in headlights and he wants to make you squirm but he was the one that came home unannounced after all. The less time he takes to reveal himself the more time he will have with you. He’s hoping you’re feeling relaxed enough to not turn down his proposition. As you turn around he thinks he may have gone too far but you start to whine your hips again as if you’re the only one in the room.
You slowly start to lift the shirt above your head but decide to stop again. You want to draw this out and make it memorable. You turn to face him again and drop to your knees as you start to crawl towards him. You would feel ridiculous in this moment if not for the way his chest was rising and falling. You settle in front of him and place a hand on each knee, you run your fingers along his muscular thighs as you feel him tense beneath your grip. As you drag your body up his legs the friction of his rough jeans through the shirt makes your nipples hard.
The music and the wine coursing through your veins is giving you a confidence you never knew you had. You straddle his hips as you tilt his head back, dancing just above where he wants you. You sink your hips down onto his cock strained through his jeans and give an experimental roll eliciting a moan from deep within him. The eye contact is sensual and intimidating all at once. You’re leaking through your panties for sure leaving a wet spot on his jeans. You give another roll of your hips as he bucks up to meet yours and his jeans catch your clit, the wanted friction causing a whimper to leave your mouth.
He smirks knowing you’ve lost some of the control you had over him and grips your waist tight with his hands as he brings you down again rocking you back and forth. He can tell you’re chasing the high as you bury your head in the crook of his neck, soft whimpers of his name leaving your mouth.
“Come on baby I know you can come like this.” He says breathlessly in your ear.
No this is not how this was supposed to go.
You smack his hands and will yourself to stop as you catch your breath.“If you can’t keep your hands to yourself I’ll have to stop. You wouldn’t want that now would you?”
He looks up at you wide eyed as he shakes his head. He’s never been so upset and turned on at the same time. He’s aching for release but you’ve never looked so beautiful and confident as you are right now. You both know he’s stronger than you but this need to submit has him reeling. This must be why Steven loves when you take control. You’re looking at him inquisitively and he’s wondering if you asked him something.
“Words.” He suddenly remembers and it's not a question.
“No…please don’t stop, I can keep my hands to myself.”
You take off your shirt and throw it to the side, you watch his pupils blow wide at your lack of bra and see him fighting to keep his hands at his side. You clasp your hands behind his head and play with the curls at the base of his neck. You raise your body from his lap and draw your breast up his face, dragging your pert nipple along his bottom lip. He opens his mouth slightly and lets out a ragged breath. The hot air in contrast to the cool flat causes goosebumps to raise on your skin.
You slide off his lap and drag your teeth along his clothed erection on the way down, you watch as his mouth drops open and his hands white knuckle the chair beneath him. You take off his shoes and begin to work on his belt, he hastily helps you discard his jeans and boxers in one fail swoop and all but rips his shirt taking it off. His thick cock is leaking and angry and his resolve is quickly fading as he takes deep steady breaths.
You sit in his lap again facing away from him. Your thighs straddle his and you can feel the weight of him on your back.
“You can touch me now.” You’re breathless and you can’t hold out any longer. A gasp escapes your lips as he rips your panties as if they were made of paper.
“You better let them have a turn when I’m done, they’ve been very impatient.” He growls into your ear.
“Wha-.” He doesn’t give you a moment to finish as he lifts you and guides you down on his thick cock setting a brutal pace. The pain gives way to pleasure and all you can do is hold on for dear life as he bounces you on his lap over and over.
“Is this what you thought about when I was gone?”
You can’t think let alone answer as the sounds of your pussy slamming down on his length fill the flat. He pulls your hair causing you to arch your back, his pace doesn’t falter as his hips thrust up to meet yours. You’re whining and moaning incoherent chants of his name.
“Answer me.”
“Oh fuck…yes.” You clench down on him as your orgasm steadily approaches, his cock throbs and you can feel his thrusts growing erratic.
“You're gonna come with me baby.” He’s panting in your ear as he reaches around to rub slow circles on your clit.
“Marc…please.”
“Shhh, you’ve been such a good girl taking my cock so well. I’ll tell Jake to take it easy on you.” He chuckles in your ear knowing Jake would never do that.
His thumb quickly circles your bundle of nerves and you can feel yourself coming undone as he drags you back and forth on his thick length. You reach forward and gently stroke his balls,pressing your thumb to the base of his cock. He comes with a shout as he shoots hot ropes of cum into your walls, he’s relentless on your clit as your vision goes white and you’re screaming his name.
His arms are wrapped tight around you as you collapse into his chest, both of you trying to catch your breath. His soft kisses to your neck help you steadily come back to your body. He’s still hard inside you as your cunt flutters, dripping his spend onto the chair beneath you.
“You’re perfect,you know that right?” As if this man isn’t aware of how perfect he is, you give his arm a reassuring squeeze and drop your head back to place a kiss on his cheek.
Aren’t you glad I asked her to move in early?
Sí hermano
He’s somehow still hard but the mess between your legs is evident. You start to lift off him when a strong hand lightly wraps around your throat. His cock throbs and soft whimper leaves your lips.
“Princessa…es hora de mi baile.”
Comments and reblogs are much appreciated.
@bobfloydluvsblackwomen
#moon knight#marc spector x reader#jake lockely x reader#steven grant x reader#moon knight smut#marc spector smut#moon knight x reader#marc spector#oscar isaac#marc spector x fem!reader#moonknight fic
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clumsy
summary: you're extremely clumsy. Steven worries. Marc finds it amusing. Jake gets protective. But they all love you for it nonetheless.
tags: pure fluff, oneshot, boyf!Steven & Marc & Jake, gn!reader (no pronouns/descriptions in place), cute slice of life moments, some comedic humor with Khonshu, bc I am a student in London ofc I had to add in English lingo/London tingz, please do not take as accurate portrayal of DID by any means
☆ word count: 3.5K+ ☆
Steven worries for you. Endlessly.
He knows you’re a capable adult. You’re wicked smart, hard to trick, quick to respond with a sassy comment. But you’re extremely clumsy. He still remembers how the way the two of you first met was because you tripped and nearly fell onto an exhibit piece. Having just finished his shift, Steven was exhausted but his reflexes kicked in as his left arm quickly wrapped around your waist, stopping you from hitting the floor.
Your eyes remained closed, bracing for the harsh impact of the floor, but instead all you felt was… someone’s warm arm wrapped around your waistline.
“A-are you alright?” a soft British voice asked you, your eyes slowly opening to be met with a gorgeous curly haired man with a name tag pinned onto his shirt. Steven, it read.
“I- yeah, thank you. I didn’t mean to fall but I was distracted.” you sheepishly added, looking away from the handsome man’s gaze. You must’ve looked like such a fool, you berated yourself. Unbeknownst to you, he was mesmerized by the way the fading sunlight was illuminating your face, your smile hesitant but pure and your voice even sweeter to hear.
“Yes, the exhibits are truly fascinating-” he started, only to be cut off.
“I was actually looking at the guide dog.” you interrupted, pointing to the golden retriever across the room. “But these ancient exhibits are interesting too! I just wish I had a tour guide or something because reading all this printed information on four hours of sleep is really difficult.” you quickly added, making Steven chuckle.
“I-I could show you around, if you’d like.”
Steven had no idea where the sudden courage came from, but he didn’t want to clamber onto the tube and go back to his empty flat quite yet. He wanted to stay here, with you, listen to you ramble about the most innocuous things. He nervously fiddled with the edge of his jacket, thinking he had perhaps crossed the line, but all you did was smile even wider.
“Really? Are you sure? I mean there’s only half an hour before closing so-”
“It’s no problem, really.”
“Thank you, Steven.”
“No problem….” he trailed off, waiting for you to fill your name in.
“(Y/n).”
“(Y/n). Nice to meet you. So if you look closely upon this carving, you’ll see that it’s a depiction of Anubis. Anubis is the protector of the dead in Egyptian mythology…”
That had been six months ago and now you had moved into his flat, your hoodies carelessly folded over the couch and your mismatched socks stuffed precariously into his drawers. He wouldn’t have it any other way though - being able to come home to you each night and to have your face be the first thing he sees every day (more or less given that both of you had hectic schedules) made even the worst days much brighter for him. It also helped that living together meant he could keep an eye on you more: it wasn’t uncommon for you to have shown up to dates, prior to moving in, with a sprained wrist, a small bruise on your arm, a twisted ankle… All from (badly) doing regular things.
You were just so clumsy and out of them all, Steven worried the most. He carried plasters with him everywhere, in addition to filling one of his drawers to the brim with first aid supplies (which had the additional benefit of being of use to Marc or Jake after a night out, he supposed). He would be the first to drop all his books and come rushing by your side if he heard something drop or shatter, his first priority never being about the damaged item but your wellbeing. He didn’t care that you’d shattered three mugs since moving in or that you’d nearly given yourself a concussion from tripping over a package you were too lazy to pick up. Your clumsiness never annoyed him, though it just made him worry endlessly and be on high alert whenever you decided to do something even remotely dangerous.
“Ah, shit.”
You were sucking on the edge of your slightly burnt thumb for less than two seconds when Steven came rushing into the room, the sound of metal hitting the floor followed by your cursing forcing him to sprint out of bed and come to your aid. His hands carefully cradled your left hand, examining it in the dim yellow light of the kitchen, whilst you rolled your eyes playfully in protest.
“Stevennnnn, the cookies!” you attempted to pull away from him but his grip was iron tight.
“You’re far more important than the sweets, love. Hold on.”
Turning off the oven, he pulled out a pack of plasters from the top shelf, ordering for you to run your thumb under cold water in the mean time. Afterwards, he carefully dried off your finger (being ever so careful to ask you to tell him if it was hurting as he applied pressure) and bandaged it nicely with a soft kiss to your hand. The action made your heart flutter.
“Thanks, Steven.” you kissed him gently, an action which still made him blush.
“No problem, darling.”
“... Are the cookies okay though?” you pouted, pulling away from his embrace to check inside the oven. Steven’s hands quickly landed on your shoulders, pulling you backwards in an instant.
“Hold on, love. Let me get the cookies out, alright? Don’t want you to burn yourself again.” he lightly teased, putting on oven gloves. You sighed - admittedly, that was probably the best thing to do anyways. Steven was the one to carefully take the cookies off of the baking sheet with a spatula as you arranged them neatly into stacks into the plastic container, carefully balancing one of the cookies on top of your palm so you could feed it to Steven. He smiled, gently biting into the dessert, a pleasant hum leaving his lips.
“Any good? It’s a new recipe.”
“It’s marvelous, love. Very sweet. Only second to you.”
“Well it was a team effort, I’d say. I bake and… you make sure I don’t burn the flat down. Or burn myself.” you added, taking a bite of the cookie as well. “Seriously, don’t you get tired of having to treat minor injuries for me so often?”
Steven shook his head sideways, kissing you softly again - his lips still had the remnants of coconut and chocolate, with a hint of raspberry.
“Never.”
---------------------------------------
Marc, on the other hand, finds your clumsiness endlessly amusing.
He wouldn’t hesitate to pull you away from a burning pot or to help you stand up if you fell, of course. But unlike Steven who worried endlessly, waiting anxiously by your side as you cooked or cleaned, he found your daring efforts amusing and fun. Especially when he’d be able to tease you afterwards, see the adorable way in which your face would crinkle up in embarrassment, thereby giving him an excuse to kiss away the sour expression from your face.
Juggling trying to retain whatever was ‘normal’ for Steven with a mercenary’s life and an Egyptian god constantly bothering him in the background, there was something so comforting and normal about watching you. His favorite sight in the world was whenever you’d stay up late waiting for him to get home then fall asleep on the sofa, your face smushed into the cushions, your chest rising in soft breaths as you slept. Being able to carry you back to bed, after arranging the pillows and blankets to be as comfortable as they could, before falling into the sheets with you was how he wished every day could be.
His heart burned for you. And amongst the millions of things he loved about you, above all, it was your heart - your never ending desire to help others, your generosity, your need to always give back to others. He even saw one time that you’d scheduled various anniversaries into your phone, each day color coded and neatly organized - he pretended to have not seen the first month anniversary notification and acted surprised a week later when you pulled out a pair of tickets to a new musical. His right arm never left your waist as you clung to him afterwards, the uneven cobblestoned streets of London making walking (especially as you were drunk) ever more difficult.
“Oh!” you suddenly stopped walking, causing Marc to almost tip over to the side at the suddenness and force with which you stopped walking. Cautious, he quickly surveyed the surroundings, expecting you to have seen something to make you nervous. “Remind me to take out the cake I have in the fridge before Marc gets home.”
His heart was overflowing with warmth as he chuckled quietly, brushing away your hair from your face so he could better see it under the moonlight.
“Baby, I am Marc.”
You simply hummed in response, his reply not seemingly registering in your brain for a few moments before your eyes widened in shock.
“You are! No, now I ruined the surprise.” you dramatically flailed your arms, almost falling over as you took a misstep. Marc’s reflexes were fast, quickly pulling you into his chest as a black cab rushed by.
“Careful, angel. Almost got run over by London traffic.”
Gently walking you towards the other side of the street, Marc was vigilant to keep you away from the side facing the open traffic all the way until the two of you reached the flat. Opening the door took several tries as you insisted on being useful and opening it yourself, but you kept on dropping the key or using the wrong key for the door.
“Just help the little human already.” Khonshu grumbled from the background, his arms crossed and his tone unamused. But Marc didn’t care. There was something so cute about seeing you get frustrated, your eyebrows furrowing in concentration as you tried over and over again to open the door. When Marc eventually stepped in and opened it in one try, you threw your arms around him, kissing his face and calling him your hero, causing him to accidentally knock against the kitchen counter with a mug falling and shattering on the floor as a result.
“My clumsy baby. What will I ever do with you…” he commented against your lips, the pads of his thumbs drawing circles on your face.
“Perhaps you could begin by cleaning up the filth on the floor.”
Marc was about to chastise the god when your head suddenly whipped around to the tall creature.
“Shut it, birdie! It was a mistake.”
“... You can see me?” the god’s voice changed from annoyance to one of surprise, clearly having underestimated your abilities to perceive beyond the mortal world.
“Yes! And you need to stop being so mean to Steven, he’s a good boy.”
The god was baffled into silence as Marc let out a wild laugh at your antics, hugging you closer to his chest.
God, he loved you.
The sound of the door finally unlocking snapped him out of his memories, his thoughts running wild when you finally stepped out of the bathroom, nervously pulling at the ends of the fabric whilst looking yourself over in the mirror repeatedly. He knew you were meeting with your best friend’s fiancee tonight and that you want to make ‘the best impression possible.’ His throat immediately ran dry, his eyes hungrily drinking in your figure whilst you took his silence to be a bad thing.
“Oh no, does it look bad on me? Is it too much? Should I change? I can grab-”
A swift kiss to your lips, firm but still gentle, cut your rambling off.
“You look perfect, baby. Now you have to leave if you want to catch your Uber on time.”
“Right.” you smiled against his lips. Quickly fixing your hair in the mirror one last time and grabbing your bag - quickly shoving your phone inside - you raced to the front door in your socks, knocking over a pile of books that the god had been skimming through for the past few hours.
“I’m so sorry, Khonshu!” you felt horrible, knowing that he’d been skimming over the books for hours, as you dropped onto your knees and began to pick them up one by one. The god let out a displeased sigh - at this point, the god had come to oddly respect you and care for you in his own right. But even so, he couldn’t help but marvel at your clumsiness. It was unlike anything else he’d ever seen.
Marc was quick to arrive by your side, gently coaxing you away from the pile of books.
“It’s alright, baby, you go ahead. I’ll clean this up.”
Apologizing fervently again, you planted one last kiss on Marc’s lips before hurriedly exiting the flat, the force with which you slammed the door causing the flat to shake. Shaking his head sideways in amusement, Marc quickly went about picking up the books as the god watched from above him.
“I sincerely do not understand how one mortal can both perceive the higher realms whilst struggling to maintain basic balance and hand-eye coordination.”
Marc chuckled.
“It’s a mystery to me too.”
---------------------------------------
Jake didn’t worry for you nor did he find your clumsiness amusing.
No, seeing you trip, knock over, cut yourself accidentally or drop things made his protective side kick in, his body immediately wrapping around yours and shielding you from whatever danger was created. It was a bit much at times, causing even Marc and Steven to complain - “they’re London cyclists, Jake, they’re supposed to go a bit fast” - but Jake didn’t care. He hated to see you in pain, to see any markings or discoloration on your pretty skin, so it was primal instinct to be protective around you.
Sometimes you’d pout when he’d seat you away from an open flame or insist on holding your hand in open streets, but he couldn’t help it. He wasn’t the best with words - like Steven - nor with spending quality time with you - like Marc - so his love for you spilled over in his actions. Jake was fiercely protective of you, unafraid to snap, push or get a little violent with people if they could ever hurt you. Or if they flirted with you.
As Jake eyed the menu of the small cafe nestled in the corner of the bookstore, your order memorized like the back of his hand, he missed your figure leaving his side as a certain book cover on the top shelf caught your eye. Having decided what to order, he returned his gaze to his side to ask you if you’d like the usual, before he realized that you were no longer next to him. His eyes quickly scanned the surroundings, seeing that you’d opted to climb up a ladder to reach a book on the top shelf in the historical fiction section.
His brain immediately flashed with numerous scenarios of what could go wrong - you’d fall off the ladder, hit your head on a sharp corner and get a concussion, get a paper cut from flipping through too quickly - and Jake was quick to abandon his place in line, only to be cut off by another man accidentally walking into you as you stepped off the ladder. Engrossed in whatever was written on the back cover of the book, you hadn’t seen the man blocking your pathway who was now apologizing to you profusely.
“I’m terribly sorry for that.” the man kept repeating his apologies, bending down to retrieve your fallen book. Jealousy coursed through Jake’s veins upon realizing that the man was objectively good looking, his brown hair well styled, his prim suit indicating that he probably held a well off, stable job. It was one of Jake’s insecurities - the fact that he (or Marc or Steven for that matter, but especially him) could not offer you a ‘normal’ life free of violence, doomsdays and existential threats. And the way you keep giggling and entertaining the man’s quips caused his stomach to twist and anger to bubble up in his chest, his fists clenching by his sides. Jake wasn’t thinking when he stormed up to where you were standing and pulled you right against him, lacing your fingers with his.
“Mi corazón, we should leave now if we want to catch the bus in time.” his voice was sweet when speaking to you but his glare to the man was deadly, who was now shifting uncomfortably under Jake’s stare. Your brows furrowed in confusion.
“Oh, but Spencer was just about to tell me-”
You weren’t able to finish your sentence nor get your book back from Spencer as Jake quickly dragged you away, leaving the brunette man confused and alone with your book. Jake was silent for a few moments, simply dragging you behind him as you hurried your pace in an effort to keep up with him amongst the busy crowds of pedestrians.
“What was that for?” you pouted.
Jake stopped, dropping your hand before letting out a curt sigh.
“That bastardo was flirting with you. Plus, he could’ve hurt you by knocking into you while you were stepping off a ladder.”
The mix of jealousy and insecurity dripping from his voice caused your expression to soften, your delicate hands coming up to cup his face.
“It’s sweet of you to worry, Jake, but I’m fine, see? Also, even if he was flirting, I would never be interested in him. Not when I have the most handsome, caring and amazing boyfriends by my side.”
His anger slowly dissipated, your lips meeting his in a gentle manner, which he was quick to turn into a full out steamy makeout session by pinning you against the brick wall of the alleyway. You laughed against his lips at his eagerness as a small smirk spreads across his lips.
“You’re mine, mi amor, aren’t you?” he growled.
“All yours, Jake... But I did really want to buy that book so you’ll have to make it up to me.”
He kisses you again, his intoxicating mix of sandalwood and fresh leather flooding your senses.
“Of course. I’ll buy you that book. And anything else you’d ever want.”
“Can I open my eyes now?” you whined, the blindfold placed on your eyes having meant you’d been led in complete darkness for the past ten minutes. Based on the attire you were told to wear and the soft feeling of grass and dirt underneath your feet, you had a feeling you were in a hilly area or a park, but you had no idea why you were here or what Jake had planned for date night. Jake simply chuckled in response.
“In a minute.”
A few rustles of paper and the sound of fabric being straightened out, then he carefully took off the blindfold from your eyes, revealing the gorgeous sight in front. A hastily sprung out picnic basket laid out with white and red checkered squares, pinned to the grassy floor with a few glass candles. Two wine glasses and a bottle of wine sat in the middle. It was intimate and small, yet so beautifully done, you felt your heart squeeze in appreciation as you looked up at Jake’s face (which was uncharacteristically shy and withdrawn in this instance).
“Sorry for the... rather messy presentation. Steven and Marc helped with a few things but I’m usually not very good with these things, so-”
“It’s perfect.” you cut him off quickly, grabbing his hands and squeezing them in reassurance. “Thank you, thank you all so much. This is just… the best thing I could’ve asked for on our sixth month anniversary.”
Jake’s shoulders quickly relaxed, a sly smirk appearing on his face.
“Oh, just wait until you see, mi vida, what we have planned for you.”
As Jake sat down next to you, you popped open the wine bottle and began to pour him a glass, accidentally spilling some onto his pants.
“Shit! I’m so sorry-” you quickly placed down the drinks, searching for some tissues and water to help rub out the stain. But Jake simply couldn’t care, choosing instead to admire you: the way your eyes glittered in the moonlight or the way the faint glow of the candles below carved your face in shadows.
“God, I’m just so clumsy, did we bring any tissues? Or I can run down to a nearby-” you continued to ramble, becoming silent only when Jake's hand reached out for yours, wrapping around your wrist and setting you back down on to the floor.
“It’s alright, mi amor. Just sit and enjoy this night with me, okay?”
“Okay.”
And as the two of you sat in silence, the object in his left pocket felt heavier than ever.
“Thank goodness the wine didn’t spill onto the ring.” Steven remarked.
“Though, that would have been very (Y/n)-esque to do.” Marc added.
And as he tore his gaze away from the night sky and onto you, all Jake could think about was how much he wanted to spend to spend the rest of his life with you. Even through all the falls, bruises, wine spills, forgotten items and cuts you’d rack up along the way.
a/n: sooo basically I haven't posted any fics since Aug of 2020. Whew. So posting this is pretty nervewracking for me. Sorry if this fic wasn't the best, I am a little rusty. Not sure if any of my older followers are reading this but if you stuck around, thank you!
As for everyone else, please let me know if you enjoyed by liking/commenting/reblogging - if the feedback is positive I may write more in this fandom :)
❤️ Drink water, nourish your body and be kind to yourself today ❤️
#steven grant x reader#steven grant x you#marc spector x reader#marc spector x you#jake lockley x reader#jake lockley x you#steven grant fluff#marc spector fluff#jake lockley fluff#moon knight#moon knight fluff#moon knight x reader#marvel reader insert#reader insert#1k#2k#3k#4k
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Can you write a short little thing about steddie x reader’s early mornings? Reader is asleep in the middle of Eddie and Steve and they have soft conversations across her body while she’s still asleep and eventually they move above her head and start kissing each other and that’s how reader wakes up, smushed between her two loves
A/N: I started writing a side thing but for some reason this felt right in the Good Neighbors / We're a Family universe.
Warnings: Mentions of smut (very light), more fluff then anything, slight angst (mentions of their ex)
Word Count: 860
Steve wakes up early to the sound of Eddie snoring on the opposite side of you. He can’t help but chuckle wondering how in the hell you can still sleep so soundly with that noise echoing so close to your ear. He imagines your answer would be the same as his; you can’t sleep without it.
When they were merely roommates and slept in different rooms, Steve slept alright but he realized he slept even better with you three together. When Eddie used to work late at the shop before he owned it, he would wake up every other hour until the metalhead finally came home because he felt like something was off. The truth was, there wasn’t that constant drumming of his snores to comfort Steve reminding him that, yes, this is my reality and my husband and wife are still here with me.
After tenderly kissing your shoulder, he reaches over to brush some of Eddie’s wild mess of hair away from his face. Steve had always thought his friend was handsome and not just because physically he was so fucking gorgeous but because he always had a beautiful heart. Even when Emily was berating him, he would still come with flowers and an apology hoping to smooth everything over so things would go back to the way they were.
It still made him angry thinking about how she told him she would never have one of his kids and the way Steve saw his heart break through his eyes. He would never mention it now but after Aurora was born the thought made him even angrier. To him, just like with Dylan and James, he felt she was perfect. She had all of Eddie’s best qualities and watching them together always made his heart melt. To think that their ex wanted to deprive him of this kind of happiness…
“Hmmm…Steve?” Eddie’s eyes blink open at the sound of the other man’s low growl and heavy sigh. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah. Just someone’s snoring woke me up.”
“Hm. I know. Y/N can sound like a lawn mower.” He closed his eyes again pretending to go back to sleep as he listened to Steve laugh. He loved that sound especially so early in the morning. “What were you thinking about that made you sigh like that?”
“You.”
The metalhead’s eyes opened again as he adjusted his head so he could see his husband more clearly.
“Anything in particular?”
“What happened that last night we were with Emily.”
“Steven Elizabeth Harrington.”, he exhaled as he rubbed his fingers into his eyes.
“That is not my middle name, Edward.”, he chuckles. “I just remember how much she hurt you and I’m thinking about how fucking ignorant she was because look how wonderful Ro is.”
“Shhhhh…”, the other man reaches out to lightly cover Steve’s mouth. “Don’t want to wake up Y/N with all you angsty morning thoughts.”
Covering his hand with his own, he gently kisses his palm before sliding it further over towards his cheek.
“I just love you, baby, so much. I don’t know what or where I would be without you.”
Eddie’s soft eye’s scan over his before leaning over to kiss his lips. Just like Steve, he always found his friend attractive. I mean, who wouldn’t think King Steve Harrington is sexy as hell? He, honestly, never thought he had any kind of chance with him so he was perfectly alright with at least being close friends. Emily had suggested there was a spark between them but he just thought it was because they were best friends but when you mentioned it as well those old feelings began bubbling up again.
That day when you were neighbors during Dylan’s birthday party and had gotten into a fight they fumed in their apartment before laying together on the floor in the living room just talking about everything while smoking a joint. Eddie finally made that first move and when his lips touched his own…it felt right. When Steve’s mouth wrapped around his cock he saw stars and after he came they held each other and he never wanted him to let him go.
“I love you to, sweetheart.”
As their kisses grew more passionate, they pressed closer together with you in the middle, groaning awake at the feeling of their hips grinding on either side of you.
“It is 6am, you weirdos.”
They laugh as Steve looks at his watch while Eddie’s kisses trail down his trail line.
“Jesus, woman, how do you know that? Your eyes aren’t even open.”
“I’m a mom. I know everything.”, you grumble as you wrap your arms around the metalhead’s waist and kiss his bare chest before nuzzling into its warmth. His hand comes down to pet the back of your head as Steve scoots closer to you, his own palm roaming under your shirt to your breasts making you moan.
“If it’s 6 am, that means we have a good hour before anyone wakes up.”
“More than enough time.”
Eddie grins causing you to giggle and playfully moan in pain as he tugs Steve closer to him by squishing you between them.
###########
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#steddie x reader#steddie fluff#steddie smut#steddie fanfiction#steddie#eddie munson#steve harrington#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson smut#eddie fanfic#eddie stranger things#steve fanfic#steve smut#steve stranger things#joe keery#joseph quinn#stranger things#fan fiction#steddie ask
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✧ ECHOES OF YOU ✧
a/n: i had planned to be done with this days ago, but steven's inspo was nowhere to be found. so this is written the day before and it might be a mess, but we're going with it. not going to lie i suck at dialogue most of the time, so this being mainly dialogue makes me a bit anxious. hopefully y'all enjoy.
day twelve - mutual masturbation + phone sex | kinktober 2023
summary: "it was its own kind of torture to be without him for so long. steven had gotten used to calling it a recipe for disaster."
word count: 1.8k+
pairing: steven grant x f!reader
warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, phone sex, mutual masturbation, dirty talk like so much, needy steven, dirty pictures, a slight bit of angst.
Five days.
That’s how long it’s been since your boyfriend up and joined Marc Spector on a mission they couldn’t tell you anything about. Five days since he planted a soft kiss to your lips with the promise of seeing you in a maximum of three days. You couldn’t blame Steven. Not when he’d been worried about even leaving you behind in the first place. After several hours of talking and saying you’d be okay, his mind settled a bit.
Yet there you lay. Alone in his bed, wearing his favorite sweater and staring at his contact name on your phone. The glow a bright white against your face. You hesitated on pressing the call button, too afraid of what might come from the other end. But you missed his voice. Ached to hear him say a few sentences, wish you a good night, say he loved you.
So you pressed it, dragged it up to your ear, and listened anxiously as the phone rang slowly.
There was no guarantee that he’d pick up. You were pretty sure that he didn’t even have his phone on him. The small device traded in for something discreet and off the grid. But that didn’t stop your heart from hammering in your chest with each ring of the phone—the sound echoing in your head like a damn bell that would never stop. You shouldn’t be doing this; shouldn’t be disturbing him when something important happens.
Except then the line crackled, the incessant ringing finally giving way to the echo of him.
“Love?”
Hearing Steven’s voice was like a punch to your chest. The sound of it, the accent you missed dearly, simply the way he breathed all amounted to that painful twinge in your body. The same one that twisted like a fucking knife as he repeated the endearment he called you. His voice filled with concern.
“Steven,” you breathed, emotion practically dripping from your voice.
You could hear the panic in his voice rise. “Is something wrong? Are you okay? What’s happened?”
“I’m okay baby,” you mumbled, picking at a loose thread on the sweater. “Just missed you is all.”
He sighed in relief, a small laugh filtering through the phone. “I miss you too. Marc’s nearly done here and I’ll be home soon.”
It was its own kind of torture to be without him for so long. Steven had gotten used to calling it a recipe for disaster. Neither of you being able to handle long lengths of time without hearing each other’s voices, feeling the tender touches you’d grown so used to. You wanted to reach through the phone and press your hands against his chest. Hear the way his heart beat strong and steady in his chest.
At least then you’d know he was okay.
“Tell me what you’re doing,” you murmured, staring up at his ceiling.
You could practically hear the grin in his voice. “What I’m doing? Or what I’m wearing.”
“Don’t be cheeky Steven.” Marc was beginning to wear off on him and even you had to admit it was beginning to fluster you beyond your control.
“I’m in a hotel room.”
“Mmm.” You shifted until you were propped up on some pillows. “Sounds romantic.”
He chuckled, the sound shooting down to your stomach and causing your heart to skip a beat. “It’s…”
“Seedy? Debauched? A place for people to fuck and nothing else?” You grinned at the sound of him choking on his spit, a cough echoing through the speaker. You’d placed the phone on your chest, setting him to speaker in the hopes that his voice would envelop the entire flat. That it would soak right into your skin.
The question from before resurfaces. Only this time…you aren’t the one to ask it.
His voice comes in lower than before, a soft rasp to it that usually came when he was between your thighs—brown eyes dark and all consuming. It has your breath hitching in your chest. A flutter going through your stomach at the sound. You could practically see him in your mind. The outline of his muscles beneath his shirt—or Marc’s shirt to be exact.
You could practically see him above you, the way his cheeks flushed a darker shade, eyes dilated as he took in what you looked like beneath him. Ever the observant man you fell in love with. You craved seeing him like that now. Needed to feel like you were close enough to touch, even if he wasn’t in the same country.
“What are you wearing love?” His voice was a bit hesitant, still a bit nervous to instigate things like this, but it made you clench around nothing.
“Steven,” you breathed, shifting your legs together and feeling a trickle of wetness pool in your panties.
“Tell me.”
Your eyes fluttered shut, hands spreading along the sheets. “Your sweater. The one that has a hole in the side.”
“The blue one?”
You nodded, only to remember he couldn’t see you. “Yeah.”
He hummed softly, the echo of something shifting in the background coming through the speaker. Perhaps he was simply laying down. Or even getting comfortable. But then you heard it. The whisper of a zipper being pulled down, of denim being shucked off—his breaths getting heavier as he held you there in silence. A soft whine left your mouth, hands sliding down to your thighs because you knew what he was doing. What he was about to ask you to do.
“Are you…” He cut himself off with a shaky breath.
Nodding, you pulled off your panties and deposited them at the end of the bed, his sweater getting shoved up your body. “Yeah baby. I am.”
“Good.”
A shiver rolled down your spine, mouth parting when your fingers dipped even lower, teasing the seam of your pussy just as he would. “Wish you were here.”
He let out a heavy breath, a noise coming from the back of his throat, and you could practically see the image in your mind. Of his hand moving to wrap around his cock. You wondered if he was already dripping for you, if the head was read and swollen. What you wouldn’t give to take him into your mouth at this time. To taste the salty tang of him spread along on your tongue.
“Fuck,” he breathed. “I’ll be home soon I swear. I’ll drag Marc back if I have to.”
Your lips pulled into a smile. “I don’t think he’d be happy about that.”
“Don’t care.” He gritted his teeth. “Wanna hold you love. I need it.”
A mewl broke free when you finally slid your fingers through your wet heat, gathering the slick that practically dripped down your inner thigh and swirled it around your clit. Sparks flooded your senses. That feeling you’d been unable to achieve without Steven. Still even as you built up the release that would no doubt come, it felt different. Lonely.
“Are you touching yourself?” you panted, shifting your hips to give yourself better access.
“Yeah.” His voice was high, whispered in the darkness of his hotel room, and it was fucking delicious.
“Spit on it for me.”
A broken sound tore from his chest, sending a wave of pleasure through your body. The sound of him shuffling to lean forward, his spit now covering his cock, echoed lewdly in the empty flat. Causing you to gasp softly when you sunk two fingers into yourself. Grinding against the heel of your palm to chase the friction you needed.
“Want you to—hng—put three fingers.” He pumped his cock rapidly, the wet sounds of it reverberating against your chest—filling you with the senses you longed to have in person.
Adding another finger, you moaned his name, head tipping back and legs stretching out to make more room. “Steven. I’m—oh fuck I’m r-right there.”
He grunted, spitting again and you could see it as if he were right in front of you. How slick his length would be. The way his hand would glide easily over it, thumb pressing right beneath the head just the way he loved. You wanted him to fuck your mouth, to spill messily down your throat, but you’d settle for this. The sound of him whining and moaning—the sounds so perfect they were now forever etched into your mind.
“‘M gonna fuck you when I get home,” he said softly, breaths coming in short as he sped up his movements.
You moaned, your other hand reaching up and teasing your nipple. “W-Where?”
“T-The—ah—” He keened, the wet echo of him fucking his fist nearly sending you over the edge. “Kitchen.”
“Shit,” you gasped, curling your fingers in the hopes that you could mimic how he moved his. “Yeah baby? On the table?”
“Uh-huh.”
You felt the pull in your body, the way it went taut as your fingers curled just right. He must have heard you make a sound, his voice now filtering through the lust filled haze of your mind. If there’s one thing about Steven it was that his nerves dropped when things were going. He became a man starved. Devouring you every way he knew how, and even over the phone did he draw you tight, dragging you over the edge.
“I can hear your pussy love,” he breathed. “Gonna cum for me?”
Nodding, you gasped, pulling at your nipple and pretending it was his teeth. “S-Steven—”
“Do it. Fuck…please I’ll cum with you.” His breathy whine did you in. Ripped your release right from your body and shoving you over the edge.
A soft cry of his name echoed in the flat, your eyes fluttering shut and thighs trembling as he tipped over with you. Over the hum in your ears, you heard him moan your name—a drawn out long sound that shoved you even higher. Prolonging your pleasure you rubbed quick circles over your clit. Gasping, you tore your hand away as pain began to filter in, your body humming with an overwhelming amount of bliss.
He shuffled, a soft ding coming in through the silence, and you lifted the phone slowly. Blinking to clear the daze. Until you saw it. The picture was dark and slightly blurry, but you could make out Steven’s hand holding his cock—cum dripping down his hand and onto his stomach. You moaned softly, rubbing your thighs together as your mouth watered.
“How long until you’re home?” you asked softly, eyes glued to the vein that ran down his length.
He breathed a laugh. “Soon.” A small pout formed on your lips and as if he could see it through the phone, his voice came through again. “I promise love.”
“Okay,” you replied, lifting your phone and angling it—catching the perfect image of your pussy covered in the shiny wetness that also coated your fingers. Steven’s breath hitching as it sent and a soft needy sound coming through made you smile. “See you soon baby.”
#steven grant x f!reader#steven grant x reader#steven grant x you#steven grant x y/n#steven grant smut#steven grant#moon knight smut#my writing#kinktober 2023
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Tired of Me
pairing (s): marc spector x reader, steven grant x reader, jake lockley x reader
word count: 1.5k
requested by: @reareaikea
warning (s): panic attack, angst, hurt/comfort
moon knight masterlist
.・゜゜・ ・゜゜・．
It all happened too fast.
An hour ago you were laughing in his arms, letting him wipe your happy tears away. Marc did not consider himself as a funny person, but somehow he always managed to make you laugh at something he said. It was such a blessing to hear your contagious laughter, and he would trade the world if it meant he could see you happy by his side forever.
But then your phone rang. It was a call from your parents. He could still remember the look in your eyes as you answered the call, uncertain and worried. He would not say that he disliked them, but he did not like them much either, since they always seemed to find a way to hurt your feelings every time they talked to you.
Now you were no longer in his arms. You were sitting on the floor, legs against your chest as you started to feel lightheaded. Marc did not know what your parents had said to you, but it triggered something in you until it left you trembling in fear.
“Sweetheart, can you tell me what’s wrong?”
His voice was soft, not wanting to scare you even more. His heart sank, as you did not even look up at him. You stared blankly at the wall, cold sweat started to form on your skin.
Marc knew what was happening. He had never been here with you during your panic attacks. It was always Steven or Jake. Steven knew how to comfort you, providing you with what you needed. Marc always thought Jake as the harshest one among them, but he admitted that Jake knew how to handle this situation better than him.
“Y/N, look at me.”
Marc had kneeled down to your level, worry laced in his voice. It pulled on his heartstrings to see tears in your eyes. You were in pain, and he wished he could take it all away from you.
“Marc..”
“I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”
He promised, taking one of your hands in his. He would never leave you alone when you were shaking like this, choking up on your own tears.
“I’m sorry, Marc. I can’t stop this..”
It crushed his heart when you started apologising, a strangled sob escaped your throat. He shook his head, his own tears started to well up in his eyes. It was so painful to see you like this, and he had been stabbed for so many times in his life.
“Don’t apologise, sweetheart. I’m here to stay.”
He never let go of your hand, while his other hand went to caress your face gently. He wished it was enough to comfort you and tell you that he was never leaving you. Marc felt a wave of relief washed over him, as you started to calm down a bit, breathing properly.
“Can you count to ten for me, sweetheart?”
He learned from Steven, and he hoped he was doing something right. A small smile found its way on his face as you counted to ten, returning to a much calmer state.
“Can you tell me what day is today?”
“Sunday.”
Marc nodded, smiling as he felt your hand tightened around his. He wrapped his arms around you, drawing stars on your back as you buried your face in his chest. His familiar scent comforted you in a way that you could not explain in words, and you would let him hold you forever if he wanted to.
“Thank you, Marc. I love you.”
Your voice was hoarse from crying, but it was the least of his concern. You were safe and sound in his arms. He never wanted you to go through something like this again, but he also knew it was out of your control.
“I love you, Y/N.”
Your heart warmed at his words, and you had forgotten about what had triggered your situation a few minutes ago. Marc did not say it as often as Steven, but you knew he loved you by the way he protected you and took a good care of you.
“Sunshine, I’m going to carry you to bed. Is that alright?”
You smiled at the nickname, looking up to find Jake’s worried eyes on you. His gaze softened when his eyes meet yours, and he placed a kiss on your head before carrying you to bed.
He tucked you in bed, and you loved how he was always so careful around you, treating you like a fragile rose petal when he was careless with everyone else. Pulling you into his arms, he did not say a word, not wanting to make you uncomfortable again when you just managed to calm down.
You knew he was worried. He loved to see you smile, saying that it warmed up his cold heart, hence the nickname he gave to you. You were his only sunshine, and it killed him to see you in pain when he had no power to help you.
“I’m fine, Jake. Don’t worry.”
You kissed the back of his hand, a small gesture that he had grown to love. It could seem like nothing to other people, but it meant the world to him. Jake shook his head, holding back a smile.
“I will always worry about you.”
He said, tightening his arms around you. You melted in his arms, letting yourself fall asleep, knowing that you were safe and nothing could harm you. But not before you whispered your love for him, not seeing the rosy blush that ran across his cheeks at your words.
“I love you, Jake.”
.・゜゜・ ・゜゜・．
You woke up to find the other side of the bed empty. Getting out of the bed, you heard some noises from the kitchen. You knew your boyfriend would be upset if you did not stay in bed to rest, but you just wanted to see him— No matter who was fronting that morning.
You smiled when you saw Steven in the kitchen, preparing breakfast while also talking to Marc or Jake, you did not know. It was an adorable sight that you wanted to engrave in your mind forever.
“Morning, Steven.”
You greeted, chuckling when he turned to look at you, eyes widen in worry. He quickly walked towards you, clearly not liking the fact that you were out of bed.
“Morning, love. You should be in bed. Breakfast is almost ready and I’ll bring it to you—“
You pecked his lips lovingly, grinning when his worried gaze turned into a love dazed one. He smiled, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you closer to him. He wanted to ask you about last night, but he did not want to ruin your morning. However, he was still worried.
“Are you alright?”
He started, knowing that you would always find him first to tell him about your problems. It made him feel needed and wanted, but he also did not want to force you.
“I’m feeling better.”
Steven let out a sigh of relief, his heartbeat quickened as you put your head on his chest. He always wondered how did he get so lucky to have you in his life, but during these moments, he did not care about anything else but you. He wanted you forever, and he was never going to let you go.
“If you want to talk about it, I’ll be here for you.”
“Thank you, Steven.”
Both of you stayed that way for awhile, holding each other as if the world was built only for the two of you. You could hear his heart beating in his chest, and it brought a smile upon your face.
“Will you ever grow tired of me?”
Your question struck him across the heart, and he frowned. He did not know where did you get the idea that he would ever get tired of you, when he just wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. Steven did not want to assume, but he was sure it had something to do with what your parents had said to you last night.
“No, never! How could I ever grow tired of you? You’re my heart.”
You could not help but smile at how genuine he sounded, a little bit angry that you would even think that he would get tired of you. You put your hands on his chest, planting a kiss on his cheek to tell him that you believed him.
“You’re my heart too.”
His face flushed, and he was so in love with you that you could tell him to fall on his knees and he would do it in a split second. Anything for you.
“I love you, Y/N.”
He said, knowing that you lived for his sweet words. Also, he heard you saying that you loved Marc and Jake last night, and he would be lying to himself if he say that he was not a little bit jealous of them.
“I love you too, my heart.”
.•° ✿ °•. .•° ✿ °•. .•° ✿ °•.
a/n: if you can't tell, I'm struggling to write fluff without inserting angst. this is only my second work of moon knight, I still have so many things to improve so any comments are appreciated. also, my favourite is Steven but I really want to be Jake's little sunshine. 🌻
#marc spector x reader#steven grant x reader#jake lockley x reader#moon knight x reader#steven grant#marc spector#moon knight#jake lockley#steven grant x you#steven grant angst#marc spector imagine
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"Love you too, Sugar " - Steve Rogers X GN! Reader
WC: 825
Warnings: sickeningly sweet fluff
Summary : Steve refuses to let you go in the morning.
--------
You blinked slowly, the bright light of the sun hitting your eyes as the startling sound of your alarm filled your ears. Your boyfriend never understood why your alarm HAD to be so ‘alarming’, even though you had explained to him a multitude of times that you could easily sleep through a hurricane. As you shifted to sit up, a warm, muscled arm wrapped around your torso, keeping you effectively pinned to the mattress.
“Stevie…” You murmured softly, turning your head to face your boyfriend- a very sleepy Captain America. You wiggled your arm out from under his grasp and gently pushed away a few blonde strands from his face so you could see his eyes, that was a mistake. You could now see his piercing blue eyes, looking up at you with all the sadness - albeit mostly fake sadness- in the world.
“Steve, honey bunches, I’ve got work today.” You murmured affectionately, placing your hand on the side of his face, which he promptly nuzzled into. You couldn’t help but smile at your boyfriend’s actions. He was quite like a clingy golden retriever puppy, especially on days where he had nothing to do and you had work.
“You don’t need to go to work, I make enough to provide for us both…” The stubborn blonde murmured softly in return, nuzzling into your hand.
“What do you expect me to do when you’re at work, sweet thing? This job may drive me insane, but it also keeps me sane when you’re away on missions,” You explained softly, pulling your hand away from his face which left the strong man whining.
He wrapped both arms around you in protest, pulling you close to his chest and refusing to let go. Your face was situated between his pecs, a place you wouldn’t normally mind being, except that you had to be at work in about an hour or so, so you needed to start getting ready. “Steven Grant Rogers.” You said sternly against his chest.
“Y/n M/n L/n” He said back in a sing-songy tone.
“Sweetheart, I need to take a shower and get ready for work, as much as I would love to stay nestled here all day, I really can’t.” You said in a stern, yet gentle voice. Reluctantly, Steve let you free from his arms, a pout clear on his face.
“Awe, don’t make that face…” You said softly, playfully hitting his shoulder. “You know I’ll be back! It’s not like I’m leaving forever, sweetheart. “ You said as you sat up, leaning over and kissing his cheek. “But thank you for being good and letting me go. I love you.”
Steve smiled a bit at the praise, that was always his soft spot. “ Love you too, sugar.” He said softly, pulling you in for a quick kiss before letting you go.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As you made your way out of the bathroom, hair freshly dried and new, clean clothes on, you smiled a bit as the scent of fresh breakfast hit your nose. Steve always loved to spoil you with the promise of fresh breakfast. Today it seemed like it was french toast, sausage, and eggs.
You walked into the kitchen and the sight before you made you smile: Steve was standing there in an apron overtop his gray sweats and bare chest, plating up two plates of food as soft music played over a bluetooth speaker you had gotten him a while back. “Smells delicious my love.”
“Delicious enough for you to stay?” He asked with a cute little smile as he cocked his head to the side.
“Unfortunately not, baby.”
“Dagnabbit,” he said in a playful little voice, slapping his knee in fake frustration.
“Dagnabbit? Sometimes I forget that you are simply very old.”
“Very old? Why you little-” He started as he placed the food down on the counter and made his way over to you, grabbing you by the waist. “brat.” he finished in a teasing voice, grabbing your chin and pulling you in for a very gentle and loving kiss that simply made you melt.
Your knees got a little weak and you felt like your teeth were going to rot out of your head from how sweet that kiss was. Soon enough, your beloved old man pulled away, just holding you in his tight grasp for a moment longer, before finally letting you go and walking over to the table.
He pulled out your chair, allowing you to sit down before he brought over the food, sitting down across from you as he always did- with about 3 times the amount of food that you had for himself. That’s one thing about the super human serum, it always made him incredibly hungry.
You sat in silence for a few moments, just eating your food before you hummed in delight, looking over at your super soldier boyfriend. “ I love you so much Steve. “
“I love you too, sugar.”
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The Boy With The Thorn In His Side [3]
Steven Grant x F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals • Masterlist • ao3 • want to be tagged?
Series Masterlist
Summary: You squealed as he grabbed you around the waist, shifting the food to his other hand and holding it out so that it didn’t get in the way. He kissed you repeatedly, soft quick pecks on your mouth and cheeks and chin, until you were giggling uncontrollably.
After a date at the cinema you invite Steven back to yours.
A/N: It's been a hot minute. (This chapter was going to be longer, but I ended up splitting it in two.) Also shout out to @hon3yboy and their amazing series Adventure Awaits! (Tiny little reference to it here, sort of.)
Warnings: swearing, typos, kissing, dry humping, please let me know if I've missed a warning.
Word Count: 2002
________________________________
The movie was trash. But you’d known it would be.
There hadn’t been much on that had appealed, or seemed appropriate. A horror film that was the third in the series (Steven hadn’t seen the first two), a romantic comedy (the trailer had been enough to make you want to rip your ears off), a historical drama (Steven had belittled the accuracy just from the poster, before quickly apologising to you and then grinning when he realised how hard you were laughing.), and an action film.
You settled on the action film.
Honestly, you were just happy to see him.
He’d been a little scattershot, sometimes taking a few days to reply to a message. Not that you minded that much. You could be the same, and you understood the anxiety that came with replying.
He always apologised profusely and tended to prefer calling you instead of texts. You quickly adapted your communication style, calling or face timing him. Steven didn’t always answer, but he was a lot more consistent with it. And it was always lovely to hear his voice.
This was technically the fifth date you’d had. (Sixth if you counted the time you’d met him at work with donuts, and seventh if you counted the meal the first time you’d met.)
“The bit with the explosion though,” Steven giggled as you both walked out of the cinema. “I mean, come on? What was that?”
“What was that?” You laughed.
“And the dialogue, come on.”
“Terrible.”
“So terrible!”
“Though, the bit where the guy,” you mocked dramatically dying.
Steven laughed loudly. “The best bit! It was meant to be a comedy right?”
You giggled. “Oh definitely.”
Both of you paused as you came to the entrance lobby of the cinema. It was getting late, but you didn’t want to say goodbye to him yet. All of your previous dates had been in outside, public areas: restaurants, the Tate Modern, Greenwich Park… The furthest you’d gone is holding hands and snog. Not that that was a problem. You didn’t want to rush anything of course.
But you’d also happily jump Steven’s bones if he asked.
“Do you want to come back to my flat for a bit? I know it’s late.” You pulled the skin around your thumbnail nervously. “My flatmates are away for a long weekend at the moment, and there’s a really good place around the corner that does takeaway vegan pizza?”
Were you talking too quickly? You were probably talking too quickly. But you couldn’t stop.
“I know it’s Saturday tomorrow, I don’t know if you have work this weekend? You don’t have to stay long, I mean, my flat’s not too far from here, no pressure to or anything.”
It’s only when you finally look up at Steven that you see he’s smiling. It’s a small expression, something he’s trying to hide and not take joy in your nervousness. But he can’t help it. The countless hours he spends fretting over other people’s feelings… it’s just… nice seeing someone trouble over him.
“That sounds great love,” he takes your hand in his and squeezes lightly as you both head to the door.
A little heat rises to your face. “How long were you gonna let me flounder there?”
His grin widens. “Maybe a little longer.”
“Oh, I see.” You squinted your eyes at him, pretending to be offended.
Steven laughed, kissing your cheek and nuzzling against you for a moment until you broke into a smile.
.
You picked up the pizzas on the way. Nervousness tiptoed along your skin as you got to your flat. Panickingly trying to remember if you’d left a mess anywhere.
“So are you working tomorrow?” You asked as you fished around in your bag for your keys. Steven had politely offered to hold the food.
He shook his head. “No, not in this weekend, bit of a relief actually.”
“Oh, how come?”
“Might murder Donna if I had to see her straight after today.”
You looked up from your bag. “That bad?”
“Nah,” he shrugged. “She just annoyed me today. Micromanaging. Badly.”
“Ugh.” You pulled a face and finally found your keys and unlocked the door, holding it open for him.
He spoke as he walked in. “Knowing I was seeing you later on was the only thing that got me through the day honestly.”
“Steven, stop,” you pushed him softly in the arm.
He grinned. “Why?”
“If you keep being so lovely, I’m going to have to kiss you.”
“Oh,” he nodded, pretending to think seriously on the matter. “Okay.”
You squealed as he grabbed you around the waist, shifting the food to his other hand and holding it out so that it didn’t get in the way. He kissed you repeatedly, soft quick pecks on your mouth and cheeks and chin, until you were giggling uncontrollably.
He then pressed fully against you, pushing lightly at your lower back as he kissed you deeply and slowly. Opening your lips with his own and sliding his tongue into your mouth. He moaned hungrily as he licked into you as you wrapped your arms around him.
He smiled at you, a little dopey as he broke the kiss and nuzzled his face into your neck.
“Been waiting to kiss you all day.” He sighed happily.
You grin. “You could have kissed me earlier. You can kiss me whenever you want.”
“I’ll have to remember that.” He muttered into your skin.
There was something dark at the very edge of his tone that made you shudder.
“You cold, love?” The way Steven’s eyebrows pinched in concern made you want to just melt into him.
You shook your head and smiled. “I’m fine.”
“Hmm.” He gave you a disbelieving look but didn’t press the matter. “As long as you’re sure.” He rubbed your arm with his free hand, trying to warm you up.
You let him, unsure how to work ‘I’m not actually cold, just your voice makes me break out in goosebumps in a good way sometimes’ into the conversation.
After managing to find a guest pair of slippers in Steven’s size and a very quick tour of your flat (the living room/kitchen were all one space, and the bathroom - you steered clear of your room) you both settled on the sofa to eat and watch a film.
“Something we’ve both seen? For some background noise, yeah?” Steven looked through the listings while you shoved a slice of pizza into your mouth and nodded. “Oh! The Mummy!” He glanced at you excitedly, “You’ve seen The Mummy, right?”
You grinned at his enthusiasm and nodded again.
“A classic!” He beamed and started the film.
You had both finished your food by the time the heroes had boarded The Sudan, and Steven’s attention had started to wander well before the boat sank.
His arm snaked around your shoulders, his fingertips gently stroking your shoulder. You could see him out of the corner of your eye. Watching you more than he was watching the film.
You pretended not to notice.
He shuffled closer to you again, making a soft, sighing sound.
It took you a minute to fight with the smile that threatened to break out onto your face before you leaned back a little into him.
His fingers on your arm tightened.
Languidly, he turned his head ever so slightly. His face so close to yours that his nose was nearly touching your cheek. He placed a soft kiss on your jawline.
“Steven?”
“Hmm.” He didn’t look up, just kissed your skin again.
“You’re not paying attention to the film.” It was impossible to keep your amusement out of your voice.
“I know love.” His voice had that same low, dark tone from before.
You shiver. “I thought you wanted to watch it?”
“Found something else that captivates my attention.” He muttered, shifting in his seat so that he could turn his body completely towards yours.
You giggle as he takes your cheek delicately in his warm hand and turns you to face him.
He kisses you soft and slow. Teasing your bottom lip with smooth swipes of his tongue and breaking the kiss every time you try to deepen it. He leans back, his eyes hooded, watching you for the smallest second. His thumb strokes your cheek before he starts the process all over again.
You let out a little huff of frustration. “Steven…”
He kisses you again, pressing his body more firmly into you for a second, tilting your head up and barely licking into your mouth before pulling back.
“Hmm?” He raises his eyebrow at you and you squirm. He knows exactly what he’s doing.
“You’re teasing.” You grab hold of the back of his neck and force his mouth against yours. For a second you can feel the small upturn of his lips before he slips his tongue into your mouth and moans.
He doesn’t pull back this time.
Instead, he pushes you back until you're flat on the sofa and he’s wormed his way between your legs. His kisses leave you breathless. Giddy, dizzying emotion bubbles up in your chest and threatens to overwhelm your very being.
You cling onto his shoulders and the curls at the nape of his neck as he kisses you deeper, needing to caress every single part of you and not settling for anything less. One hand slides down to your waist, to just gently rub at your skin over the material of your top.
Despite being between your legs, and how easy it would be for him to grind down against you, he keeps an inch of space between your bodies where you would most like them to touch. Moving up ever so slightly whenever you buck closer to him.
You fight with the urge to just hook your legs over the small of his back and pull him closer. You don’t want to rush him or make him feel uncomfortable but the desperate need to have him near, for his body to touch yours (even if it is over clothing) is almost too painful to deny.
You moan against him as he licks into your mouth, his thumb on your waist just slipping under your top and sparking along your feverish skin.
“Steven,” you whine between kisses, tugging on his shirt and trying to urge him closer.
There’s a small answering growl from deep within his chest. “Love it when you say my name like that.” He slips his tongue back into your mouth, swallowing down your response. He moves his thumb, circling your bare skin twice before pulling it back and repositioning his fingers over your clothing.
You could almost sob in frustration. Maybe, you could-
Steven breaks the kiss to move down, trailing his lips over your jaw and sucking on your pulse point.
You gasp and buck up against him instinctively. This time he doesn’t move away.
Your clit just grazes along the zip of his jeans, the heavy, hard outline of his cock and you whimper.
Steven’s own accompanying sound is muffled into your neck, his flingers flinch against you and he grabs your hip with a bruising strength. Lightly he grinds down against you, a hardly there pressure as he drags his erection across your core, using a level of force that would be more akin to stroking a feather over skin.
You moan again, a small sound you try to muffle, and Steven sucks harder on your neck just scraping his teeth along the newly forming bruise.
You start to speak but Steven shushes you, whispering as he nips at your skin. “You’re getting distracted.” He murmurs, his voice low and like liquid as he echoes your words from earlier. “I thought you wanted to watch the film?”
He gently turns your head to the side, so that you’re looking towards the television screen, and continues his onslaught on your neck as you gasp and whimper and writhe against him.
Both of you continue like that for most of the film.
____________________________________
Thank you for reading!
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#steven grant#moon knight#moon knight mcu#steven grant x reader#x reader#steven grant x you#x you#steven grant x female reader#x female reader#steven grant x f!reader#x f!reader#steven grant x fem!reader#x fem!reader#my writing#fanfic#oscar isaac#oscar isaac characters
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Yandere Steven Grant
Steven realises that maybe sometimes he needs to be a little rough with you
Where you were 'resting' was so cold and dusty.
It was just in a small den above Steven's apartment, it was tiny, so tiny he wouldn't even be able to fit in.
But, he assured you that it was the best spot for you to 'cosy up' inside of.
You were shivering slightly when you heard Steven call your name.
You slowly climbed down from the 'den' and saw Steven making dinner.
"Did you take a nap like I asked, love?" He said as you wrapped your arms around yourself.
"No... I was too cold and uncomfortable." You grumbled as Steven looked at you.
"Oh, sweetheart. You should've told me! How about first thing tomorrow morning I'll go out and get you some blankets and toys. Would that help, baby?" He asked as he held his face in your hands.
"No. I would rather you just let me leave and stop treating me like a child, I'm 20 years old." You growled with annoyance as he sighed.
"Darling, don't start with your attitude. You know Marc and Jake really don't like that." He warned as you glared at him.
"I deserve a life just like everyone else, just because you're fucked mentally doesn't mean you have to fucking drag me down with you!" You screamed before Steven slapped you across the face, he didn't know his own strength and you fell backwards.
"Oh, love! Oh gods, baby! I'm so sorry, sweetheart, you were swearing so much and being so naughty I lost control." He said as he knelt down and grabbed onto your wrist, a little too roughly.
He could see you were afraid, but he knew that meant you would listen.
"I know I said I wouldn't hurt you, baby. But, look at you! You think all of this is okay? I thought maybe I could be nice and you would listen but you didn't! So I have to be rough with you now. This is your fault!" He shouted with tears in his eyes as you looked at him in fear.
"If you want comfort and warmth and things like blankets you have to start behaving, Y/N. Do I make myself clear?" He said sternly as you you looked at him in shock.
"Yes..." You whispered, deciding to not fight.
"Good, go back to your bed. You're not getting dinner." He demanded as you felt tears in your eyes.
You nodded and quickly scattered away back up to your bed.
You cuddled into the thin blanket and tried to conceal the noise of your cries.
--
After two hours and Steven had finished dinner and let you think about what you'd done.
He climbed up to see you in bed just staring at the wall.
"Babygirl, I think it's time you come out." He said as you looked at him.
"No." You whispered making him sigh.
"Alright, love. Come down when you're ready." He replied, about to climb back down before you grabbed his wrist.
"W-Wait... I don't want to be alone." You whispered as he offered you a soft smile.
"Come and sit with me, darling. We can watch a movie." He said as you crawled out and got down from the ladder.
You went to the couch with Steven and sat down, hugging your knees to your chest.
"Will you still buy me a blanket?" You whispered as Steven dragged you close to him and he wrapped his arms around you.
"Of course, love. You were such a good girl taking your punishment." He said as you cuddled into him.
"I'll even get you a teddy, okay baby?" He said as you nodded a little.
"Thank you."
#moon knight#steven grant#marc spector#jake lockley#marvel#mcu#Yandere#Yandere Steven Grant#Yandere moon knight#Steven Grant x reader
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Three Moons
Summary: Marc takes you out, and Jake steps into your life.
This is the squeal to Moon Struck in which Steven asks you out, and Marc falls in love, and Over the moon in which Steven takes you out, Marc continues to be in denial about his feelings.
Pairing: Steven Grant x Reader, Marc Spector x Reader, Jake Lockley x Reader
Word Count: ~13.6k (oops)
Warnings: mostly fluff, pining, angst, Jake Lockley really likes the word fuck, minor mention of depression
A/N: Thank you for reading! Please, please, please let me know what you think! I was very nervous to try my hand writing Jake since I know so little about him based on the show. Please let me know how I did!
Marc stares at himself in the mirror over the sink, adjusting and readjusting the collar of his open button-up.
It won’t fucking lie flat.
“You look fine, Marc,” Steven says from the smaller angled mirror next to the one Marc gazes into, his voice amused. “I’m a bloody mess most times and she’s never minded.”
But Marc minds, he cares so much it makes him feel stupid and sick.
He saw you everyday.
This should not be a problem.
“I look like an asshole,” he mutters, the urge to punch the mirror snaking up his arm. He shucks off the button-up instead, in favor of wearing just the navy blue t-shirt beneath.
Would you mind him in just a t-shirt? Was it too casual? Would you think he wasn’t putting any effort in? That this didn’t matter to him?
Because it does matter to him. It mattered probably what was beyond reasonable.
Steven always wore those patterned button-ups when he went out with you. Maybe he should try one of those? You always complimented those fucking shirts in any case, your eyes soft and amused when you looked at him.
Steven sighs and rolls his eyes as Marc furrows his brows at himself in the mirror, tabling the shirt issue to try to decide what to do about his hair instead. “Try not to be too bothered, yeah? We see her everyday. I’m sure she isn’t expecting too much.”
Marc knows Steven is trying to be helpful and encouraging but he doesn’t want apathy, he doesn’t want to settle. He doesn’t want you to settle.
He wants you to expect something from him. He wants you to have expectations for him, so that he can meet them, exceed them.
Fuck, he wants to impress you, in his own way.
He wants to make you happy, in his own way.
Especially when there’s always a lingering worry at the back of his mind that you only accepted him because Steven got you first. He worries that if Steven hadn’t charmed you into his life, Marc would have never gotten you on his own.
And it doesn’t help that Marc feels like he’s always one step behind.
Because while you’ve been on countless dates with Steven, you’ve never been on one with Marc. He wants you to think of this as your first date together, not just another date in the long line of them you’ve had with his alter. He worries sometimes that you just think of him as just another facet of Steven, even though you’ve given no indication that you do.
“Oh, Marc,” Steven breathes softly, “she doesn’t confuse us. She well knows you aren’t me.”
Maybe.
Still, Steven got his first with you, Marc wants his first with you too.
He should not feel anxious about taking you out on a date, not when he spent every evening walking you home, not when most of your free time was spent with him and Steven in the flat anyways. Not when you cooked together, not when you watched movies curled up on the couch together. Not when Marc has listened to you read, played cards with you for hours, and felt stupidly warm anytime you fell asleep on his shoulder when you stayed late on the couch together.
He can’t consider any of those moments dates, though. They were just time you spent together.
A date came with intentions and expectations and planning.
At least for him.
It was important to him that he try, that he gets this good thing, this very normal thing.
Because you deserved it too.
You deserve his effort and his attention.
Steven has taken you on countless dates, to museums and tea shops, escape rooms and movies - you’ve had so many quiet dates in the flat playing cards and board games and watching endless hours of TV series together. But Marc has never taken you out once, has never really planned a date in either.
Marc had been content with seeing you though his alter’s eyes, letting Steven take most of the soft moments from you himself. Marc was your protector, he was your support, he did not need to be what Steven could be for you better.
But he wants to try. He wants to try to be those other things for you too, even if he was shit at it.
And he was still learning.
He was still learning that this was real, that you were his as much as you were Steven’s, that you loved him too and that you wanted to spend time with him.
Marc was still learning that he could be more, more than just your protector and support. He could be your comfort too, your joy and love.
Marc was still learning to communicate with you, to tell you the things that rattled around inside his head.
Even when it was difficult.
Especially when it was difficult.
But fuck, was it hard.
Harder than he ever thought it might be.
Keys rattle in the front door suddenly and Marc hastily runs a hand through his hair in a quick attempt to tame it, frustrated with the way it looks, with the curl that won’t stay off his forehead.
He hears you shut the door and relock it, your shoes thumping down as you kick them off, quiet socked steps trailing toward the bathroom.
The memory of your face when Steven gave you a spare set of keys to the flat comes unbidden. The memory is like warmth spreading in Marc, your acceptance a balm against Steven’s intense loneliness. You had lit up, bright with joy at the gesture, at the trust they showed you.
The bathroom door is ajar, your head poking around the side. “Marc,” you greet, a smile pulling at your lips at the sight of him. A smile that Marc still isn’t quite used to seeing directed at him, not when he was fronting at least. Your eyes flick over him appreciatively, gaze lingering on his hands. He knows you’re noting the bruises on his knuckles, bruises with no origin, bruises he doesn’t remember earning.
The touch of your stare follows the vein in his forearm before your eyes flick back to his face. “You clean up nice. Ready to go?”
Marc likes the way you look at him, likes the way your attention feels.
The tension that’s always locked in his shoulders melts away, curled hands unclenching. You tilt your head and smile again, clearly wondering at his lack of response.
“See?” Steven reassures. “Nothin’ to worry about, mate.”
Marc doesn’t answer Steven, nodding at you as you push the door all the way open, hesitating there for a moment like you aren’t sure if you should approach, like you think you might be intruding. Marc holds out a hand to you, the invitation immediately taken as you step closer, your fingers warm in his hand.
You’re wearing Khonshu’s jacket. Today the gauzy white-gray fabric wrapped around your shoulders was in the shape of an oversized blazer. Beneath that, you wear only a t-shirt and jeans, just like him. And he supposed he had told you to dress casually and had no real reason to be as worried about the shirt as he had been. “You look beautiful,” he says, by way of a greeting when he tugs you close. “Fucking stunning, baby.”
“She looks divine,” Steven says softly, and Marc doesn’t need to turn to the mirror to know that he’s doe-eyed, that he looks like a sappy love drunk moron. Marc only half admits to himself that he doesn’t want to look at the mirror because he knows he looks the exact fucking same.
“Steven says you look awful by the way,” Marc snarks.
“Oy, I never! Tell her what I actually said!” The immediate outrage makes him snort, and when he looks over Steven is positively fuming.
You look at Marc in surprise, then to the mirror and back again, your mouth falling open, eyes wide, and for a moment Marc thinks he’s made a terrible miscalculation. He doesn’t realize sometimes how harsh he sounds and maybe-
A startled laugh bursts out of you before you stop and cover your mouth, a small snicker echoing from behind your hand as you lean into him, the weight of you warm and pleasant against him.
And everything inside Marc softens just a little bit.
He presses his arms around you, nudges his nose against your temple, the smell of you like summer rain and him - jasmine and lavender, compliments of the jacket you always wore.
“No, he did not,” you grin. “Steven would never.”
“Absolutely right I wouldn’t, love!”
He presses his lips along your cheekbone, feels the scar that lingers there beneath his mouth, until he reaches your ear. “He said you’re hot as fuck.”
You laugh, and the sound is breathless, like he’d flustered you. Marc smirks and you lightly slap his chest. “I don’t believe for a second that the words hot as fuck came out of Steven’s mouth.”
“As you well shouldn’t,” Steven grumbles.
Marc rolls his eyes at both of you. “No, he’s gushing about how divine you are, but I can’t have him upstaging me today,” Marc says. “We both think you look stunning.”
You press your lips together, like you’re trying not to laugh. “Steven,” you say, turning to the mirror. “Thank you very much, sweetheart. I know you aren’t the vulgar one around here.”
“Bloody right I’m not. I missed you. You look so wonderful.”
Marc relays the message, making sure to emphasize they both thought you were gorgeous. “You both just think that because I’m wearing something you gave me,” you tease, trying to downplay their compliments for reasons Marc won’t make himself understand.
Marc loosens his fingers from between yours, touching the bare skin of your wrist instead, sliding his palm up the length of your arm. His heart contracts when you lean further into him, your arm circling his waist, your fingers briefly skating up and down the column of his spine in a soothing motion.
You step closer to him, one of your legs slotting between both of his, tilting your head up, fingers tangling into the back of his shirt. “Has nothing to do with that jacket, sweetheart,” he assures you, his lips only a hairsbreadth from yours.
Marc watches the flutter of your lashes, the way your breathing picks up as your eyes flick to his lips, and he remembers all the times he had to watch in agony as Steven hesitated in kissing you.
But he gets it now.
There was something to be said about savoring the way you looked right before, with your lips parted so prettily, the hitch of breath in your chest, the affection in your eyes.
He likes how he can feel the tremble of your breath against his skin.
Marc trails his fingers across the length of your shoulders, eyes darting over the swoop of your bottom lip, the webbing of your lashes around watchful eyes. He tilts his head over yours, skims one finger up the column of your throat before cradling your jaw in his hand.
You follow his touch, easily leaning your head into his hand before kissing his palm carefully.
When you look back at him, your breath a stutter against his wrist, he feels weightless.
Everything would always be okay, if only you kept looking at him like that.
You’re the one to lean in to kiss him when he can only stare at you, the press of your lips like velvet against his.
Marc kisses you back, wrapping his other arm around you to jerk you that much closer, to feel the full length of you against him. Your hand slides around to rest against his sternum, your skin warm through the fabric of his shirt, before drifting down, making his stomach contract and belly flutter pleasantly with nerves before your fingers dig into his ribs.
He’s so hungry for you, feels like he could devour you. Warmth darting down his spine when your lips part and your tongue slides lightly against his.
Marc turns you in one fluid motion, pressing you back into the sink to get that much closer to you, both hands cupping your face. You’re so close, so warm, and when you circle your fingers around his wrists to steady yourself, Marc never wants you to let go.
You pull back for a breath, gasping against his lips because there’s nowhere for you to go. But you don’t seem to mind, tucking your face against his neck where he feels you press a kiss to the underside of his jaw.
And he tilts his head up, because he wants you to do it again.
He’s rewarded with another press of your lips, the very soft give of your teeth against his throat.
God, he can’t believe he denied himself this, you, for a whole fucking year.
“Where are you taking me?” You ask quietly, tracing the vertebrae of his spine with the tips of your fingers again, the ghost of your mouth whispering against his skin.
“You’ll see,” he says, pulling back just a bit to look at you, to see what he does to you, how dazed and breathless you look.
How happy you seem.
You smile at him and he follows the path of your hand when you reach up to push back the errant curl that he could not get to lie back.
And of course, it stays in place as you trace your finger gingerly down his hairline to curl your fingers against the shell of his ear. “Should we go? Will we be late?”
“I’m actually really happy here,” he murmurs, tracing his thumb over the curve of your cheek, the faded scar that sits there.
“Happy, huh?” You inquire softly.
Yeah, he thinks, he’s so fucking happy.
And Marc feels so stupid, for making you wait, for making himself wait, all those months, a year, for him to realize that this was okay, that this was something he could have.
“I don’t like to say I told you so,” Steven boasts from a mirror he doesn’t turn to look into, “But I bloody well told you so, Marc.”
~
Keeping up with Marc took some adjusting to. Of course, he was different to Steven who was happier with books and solace and chatter in much the same ways you were.
Marc was busier, more active. He fidgeted constantly some days, but not in the nervous way Steven sometimes did. He talked less, saw much more and felt deeper than anyone gave him credit for.
Learning how he operated, how he thought, what the signals of his moods were, had been a process that you gladly undertook.
You want to know everything about Marc.
And while Steven simply told you the things you wanted to know, Marc was solid and quiet.
You learned through observing him. And the tension in his shoulders, the exact way his brow furrowed, the tilt of his mouth, told you more than his words ever would.
But Marc was gradually getting better at telling you things, making an effort to tell you things he’d otherwise lock inside himself.
The trust he shows you makes your heart ache, especially considering how long he’d taken to come to you at all.
You learned quickly that Marc was alert and cautious in public. Even when you were alone, even when no danger lurked, Marc was always sure to have a hand on you, either at the small of your back or locking his fingers with yours.
First and foremost, he was protective, like you could be snatched away at any given moment.
But Marc was also a romantic, though you would be loathe to get him to admit something like that.
You know Marc doesn’t consider the things he does romantic, but rather things that just should be done.
Like covering you with a blanket when you fell asleep on their couch, making you a cup of coffee before you woke, buying your favorite take out, picking up a book that he thought you would like despite never reading anything himself, complimenting you whenever he saw you, always opening doors for you, carrying your bag for you on your way home from the theater each night.
And where Steven chattered your ear off, Marc was okay with periods of silence, with stroking the back of your hand with his thumb, with occasionally pointing something out to you as you walked together, or listening.
Marc was similar to Steven in that way. He listened to every word you said, and he remembered the things you said.
He would bring you a cup of coffee without being asked from your favorite shop that you’d only mentioned to him once in passing. He remembered the brands of ingredients you used when cooking and rebought the same ones. He remembered the names of books you talked about, remembered the passages you read to him even when it was something he didn’t care about.
Marc cared about the things you mentioned, because they mattered to you, because they made up who you were.
His attentiveness was intense, his catalog of everything you extensive and precious to him.
Now, as you walk along a busy London street, you watch him from the corner of your eye, how his gaze never stopped moving and assessing, alert and vigilant to the point of paranoia.
You squeeze his hand and wonder where he’s taking you.
When Marc had asked you to go out with him on a date as you sat on their couch after a recital, Marc’s fingers massaging your calves when you’d put your feet in his lap, he had been weirdly formal about it.
This was clearly very important to him.
Maybe because it was the first time Marc had wanted to do something other than stay in the apartment together where things were safe and controllable. You think Marc considers this your first date together, and you weren’t about to contradict him though you adored all the time you spent together in the flat, though you were already together.
You were already his.
“What is it with the pair of you and secret dates?” You ask as Marc leads you down another street, this one much less crowded. The tension that had his shoulders hiked up around his ears bleeding away.
If you didn’t spend so much time watching Marc, you would have never noticed the difference, the change in him was so subtle. His fingers loosen on yours by a fraction too.
“It's more fun this way.”
“For me or you?”
“Both,” he tugs you into his side, looping his arm around your shoulders instead as you walk, leaning over to press his nose into your temple, kiss your cheek briefly. You think that’s all he’s going to say as you wind an arm behind him, digging your fingers into his side and leaning your head against his shoulder.
But to your surprise, he continues.
“I know you and Steven like to go to museums together. But that’s not really my thing. My first instinct was to take you to a Cubs game actually. But going to fucking Chicago for a date seemed a little much.” He tilts his head to the side, looking at you from the corner of his eye, “Not sure sports are something you’re into anyways.”
Something about it makes your heart swell, your throat tighten, because you know Marc is trying so hard. He’s trying to open up to you, he’s trying to be okay with being vulnerable with you.
You know it isn’t easy, that there are things he may never tell you about his past.
Even something as simple as telling you he wanted to take you to a baseball game took effort. Like you might find the idea repulsive and push him away.
Baseball, you mentally note. Baseball was important to Marc.
Maybe he’d played baseball as a kid, went to games with his father.
“I would love to go to a Cubs game with you someday, Marc,” you say. “I’m a dancer too, you know. I’m more than a nerdy bookworm.”
Marc actually laughs at that and you can’t help the smile that tugs at your mouth as you watch him.
“Yeah, but dance is a little more classy than baseball.”
“Who says I’m always classy?”
Marc smiles again, tilting his head down when you rest your chin against his shoulder, “Cubs are playing the Brewers in a couple days. We could watch it together.”
“I would love nothing more,” you say. “Though I might fall asleep. Time difference means it’ll be quite late.”
Marc’s thumb traces a path along the top of your shoulder. “Not like you don’t fall asleep on me all the time anyways.”
You lift your head and laugh, Marc looking a little bit startled before his gaze softens and he gives you a tight smile. “If your shoulder wasn’t so comfortable maybe I wouldn’t.”
“Could be worse I guess,” he muses. “Worse is you going home before you get the chance.”
A pleasant ache shakes through you at the longing in his voice. “If you want me to move in, Spector, just say that.”
“You wouldn’t believe how boring it gets when it's just me and Steven. Too many fucking books around for it to be exciting.”
You chuckle, imagining the protesting Steven must be doing as Marc turns to glance at his reflection in the windows you pass.
“Steven, baby, Marc is just jealous he couldn’t sit still if his life depended on it. You are anything but boring.”
Marc snorts and brings you to a stop outside of a building. “That’s not the insult you think it is.”
You just smile and squeeze his fingers when you take his hand again.
Marc tugs you along, up to the entrance of the building, through a lobby and past a front desk, to a stairwell in the back, the spiral of stairs leading down. “Are you going to kill me?” You ask, peering down into the darkness.
“I wouldn’t have brought you all the way here if I was going to do that,” Marc informs you, guiding you down the steps ahead of him.
You descend the stairs, a single door at the end which Marc reaches around you to open.
You look out onto a retro bowling alley. There are several open lanes of wam, dark wood. Low red leather couches around sturdy tables before each lane. The light is low and golden, casting shadows across the floorboards.
The roll and crash of bowling balls echoes against the wood paneled walls. “Oh wow,” you say. “I didn’t know there were bowling alleys like this still around!”
Marc, when you look back at him, has a lingering look of nervousness around him. “You like bowling?”
“I hate it actually, I think we should leave,” you snark.
“Ha ha,” he deadpans, the anxiety around him dispersing, his shoulders loosening, eyes softening. “You hungry or you want to bowl right away?”
You nod your head toward the bar, and Marc gestures you ahead, following closely behind you, his hand stretching out to take yours again and you fight the smile trying to capture your mouth.
~
You and Marc bowl a few rounds, and Marc wins every single one of them. But you think it wasn’t really fair, given Marc’s ‘being an avatar of an ancient god’ thing. He was bound to have a few tricks up his sleeve that you did not.
But you can’t be too upset because you discover that Marc turned lovestruck and soft when he had even a drop of alcohol in his veins.
He’d bought you a basket of fries to share, a whiskey neat for himself, and the beer you had asked for. He wasn’t anywhere close to drunk, not with his tolerance and only one drink in him.
But he was definitely warm, a little bit looser than usual.
He touched you more easily, was more willing to tell you what Steven was saying, more prone to laugh. You could crack a joke and get a smile in return instead of a teasing glare.
Marc had wrapped his arms around you when you were bowling, guided your arm back, showed you how to bowl a perfect strike.
But you really were shit when his hand wasn’t pressed over yours.
So maybe you bowled a little worse than usual on purpose.
Just so he’d show you again.
And show you he did, arms tight around you, the ghost of his lips against the side of your throat, the curve of your ear, while he whispered what to do. The low husky drawl of his voice sending pleasantly nervous waves through your veins.
You’d leaned back into his chest, felt the flutter of his breath against your cheek. And when you turned your head to meet his gaze, his eyes had been open and soft, not a trace of the guardedness you were used to lingering in his stare.
Now, you sit next to him on one of the low sofas. Marc had brought a pack of playing cards with him, clearly having planned for only a couple rounds of bowling. A second round of empty beer bottles sit on the table in front of you next to a half eaten soft pretzel.
You’re only half heartedly hiding the cards in your hands. You’d much rather be close to him when he was like this, like there was nothing in the world weighing on him.
You have one knee bent up into the space between you on the couch, the crest of your knee pressed into his thigh as you tap your other foot against his boot occasionally.
Marc’s free hand is on your thigh as he talks, telling you something about baseball that you pretend to understand. It was only fair, considering the amount of times you’d talked his ear off about something he neither cared about nor understood, but remembered nonetheless.
You’d have to buy a book about baseball soon, start keeping up with the games a little, so you could understand and contribute.
You ask the occasional question though, and Marc seems happy enough to explain - about batting statistics and league history and the worth of certain players.
You’re studying your cards and trying to decide which to play next when he abruptly stops talking.
You glance up, watching Marc’s brows knit together as he stares at you, the thumb he’s tracing along your thigh sliding to your knee and back again.
The low lighting casts his eyes in shadow, the circles beneath his eyes more pronounced. He still looks beautiful, like a renaissance painting come to life. But the way he’s looking at you makes your chest contract painfully, and you can’t imagine what he might be thinking about. “Marc? You okay?”
“Fine.”
But you see the tenderness in his eyes and know he’s thinking about something important, something hard. You lower your cards, shuffling them together and setting them aside before you reach out to touch his cheek, brushing the backs of your fingers along the line of his jaw. “You can tell me. If you want.”
He reaches up to take the hand you hold against his face, slotting your fingers between his to tug you close, until you’re hip to hip, until the leg you had folded between you was in his lap instead. “Thank you,” Marc says so earnestly that you can’t help but feel confused. He drops your knitted hands from his face to rest on your creased leg instead, his fingers spasming around yours.
If you didn’t know better, you would say he was nervous.
You watch him for a moment as he flutters his card together as well, carefully putting them down on the sofa’s armrest.
“For what?” You ask carefully.
“You didn’t have to - you didn’t have to give me a chance. You could have told me to fuck off a long time ago, and you didn’t. I know you weren’t waiting for me,” he sounds only a little bit self-deprecating when he says it, his eyes on your folded hands. “I know you only cared about Steven but -,” he falters and stops, like he always does, coming just short of saying the thing he really wanted to. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”
You stay quiet for a moment, letting him gather his thoughts, to see if he’ll continue.
When he doesn’t you tap one finger to the underside of his chin, “Hey, I kinda saw your cards earlier. I know I’m gonna win.”
He glances down at his stacked cards before glancing over at the table. You can see his face reflected in his empty glass. “Looks like I had you beat,” you say with a smile, reaching across him to take his cards and shuffle them together with your own. “What’s Steven saying?”
“He’s telling me to just fucking say it,” Marc grits out, eyes on your fingers.
“You don’t have to tell me,” you soothe. “Not now, not if you don’t want to.”
He takes a breath and with no small amount of effort continues, “This was just really important to me,” his voice is brittle and sharp but you know it's directed inward and not at you. “It's important to me that we get - that you get to have…everything. Something complete. Not just an extension of something you have with -”
He stops again and you can see Marc clamming up and closing off in real time, the way a shutter falls closed behind his eyes despite the warmth between you, despite the way his voice was like gravel, you know he wants to tell you these things.
“Hey,” you say gently. “It's important to me too. It’s important to me that you get that too.”
His brows lift at that, dark eyes tracking your hands when you wrap your fingers loosely around his wrist. “Yeah?”
“Of course, baby,” you say and watch his eyes flutter shut at the pet name on your lips. “Of course it is. Our first date and you planned it.”
He nods and looks back at you, his brows furrowed, finally meeting your eyes. “I did,” he confirms. “Scoped it out and everything.”
“First of many,” you chirp quietly, tracing the vein that runs against the back of his hand. “Tonight has been almost perfect, but I have one complaint.”
Marc’s brow ticks up, an amused smile you’re so relieved to see tugging at the corner of his mouth, “Yeah? And what’s that sweetheart?”
“Well,” you whisper, leaning forward conspiratorially, like you would tell him a great secret. “It would have been perfect had you let me win one round of bowling.”
“You want me to throw a game for you, baby?” His almost grin bleeds into a smirk. “Should have told me earlier, I would have thrown all of them for you.”
You try not to feel flustered at the way he calls you baby, at the rumble that was his voice. He sounded so pretty when he said things like that, when he called you baby and sweetheart.
You chuckle and lean forward to press your forehead against his, glad for the low lighting of the bowling alley. It makes you feel like you’re alone together, like it was okay to be so close and intimate. Like it was okay to have your heart fluttering pleasantly around the back of your throat.
“That’s typically something you just cotton onto, Spector,” you tell him, voice false with reprimand.
He touches your cheek, the slide of his fingers against your skin making you ache when his nose nudges yours and he finally dips his head to kiss you softly.
Marc tastes like the burn of whiskey, like a tang of copper, and something deeper - something like relief and hope.
“There’s still time. You wanna bowl again, sweetheart? So I can right this horrible wrong?”
You nod, “I’m not ready to go home yet.”
Marc’s hand drifts up your arm, his fingers so light against your skin you barely feel it. It sends a shiver up your spine, how tender he’s always been with you. The memory of Marc in the alleyway the night you got mugged springs to your mind, the careful way he’d lifted your hands, tipped a finger under your chin.
He’s shown you love in his own way from the moment he knew you.
The thought makes your chest tighten, makes you ache in a quiet way, makes regret burrow under your skin that you had not realized sooner.
Now, he cups his hand against the back of your neck, fingers calloused and warm against that delicate skin. You feel him squeeze gently, the breath punching out of your lungs at the sensation.
“Neither am I,” he returns, pulling you that much closer to connect your lips again, the kiss slow and soft.
You press a hand against his chest, feel the frantic beating of his heart beneath your touch, almost a nervous tremor, and you become aware of just how badly Marc wanted you, wanted everything between you to work out, how well he hid it because he was trying to keep pace with you and catch up with you while trying not to scare you off.
You pull back from him, raising a hand to hook at his elbow, gingerly stroking your thumb against the pilant flesh there, the edge of bone. “You know, Marc,” you start, making sure to duck your head and catch his gaze when he looks away from you. He preferred to look elsewhere when too many emotions welled up inside him, liked to stare at your hands instead, but you don’t let him. “Maybe I wasn’t exactly waiting for you. But you came to me in a totally different way than Steven did.” You pause and take a breath, “I love you, you know. I love you in a different way than I love Steven, but it's not in a way that’s less. I love you on your own. We can have all the firsts together that you want. I want them too.”
His thumb roams over the line of your jaw before he takes both your hands and pushes your touch gently away.
Your heart cracks, spiderwebs of pain crystallizing over your veins as he pats your fingers and then stands.
He clears his throat, one hand on his hip as he draws a hand over his face. Marc nods to himself, Steven clearly telling him something, before he leans over you one hand against the back of the sofa, the other on the armrest. You don’t pull away when he tips his head over yours, eyes searching your gaze for a long time before he finally kisses you again, the touch of his lips soft and slow against yours. The tight hurt eases just a bit, and you remind yourself that he was not pulling away from you, but that his emotions were too wild for him to continue in that moment.
Something made Marc afraid of being vulnerable, even with you, and you’d like to destroy that thing, to see it come crashing down.
Because he wanted to, he so clearly wanted to be open with you, but something always made him stop.
“Another beer?” He asks.
“Sure.”
“And you want to bowl again?”
“Yes.”
“I’m not going to let you win. You’ve gotta earn it,” he says earnestly, his voice light and joking suddenly.
Better than melancholy, better than self-hatred.
“Sure, Marc,” you nod, falsely seriously. “Of course.”
He bumps his nose against yours, his brown eyes so soft and warm it was like wading into the arms of the earth. “I mean it. I’m not going to let you win.”
Marc doesn’t win another round that night.
~
“That was a bloody awful film,” Steven says, dumping the remainder of your popcorn into a nearby bin.
He immediately reaches for your hand, tangling your fingers together as you laugh, his heart stuttering at the sound. “Horrible really,” he concludes, watching the way your eyes crinkle and your shoulders shake. “What’s the appeal in horror, then? Other than to be scared out of your wits over something that ain’t even real?”
You laugh again and reach over to tug on a lock of his hair, “I told you you should have just let me see it with Marc.”
Steven tugs you closer, tucking you against his side as you walk, the familiar warmth that you bring darting up his spine to settle hard in his chest. It’s a weight he’s delighted to bear, the pain of it well worth it. “Yeah, alright. But Marc gets you so often these days.”
“No he does not,” you roll your eyes playfully, turning your head to nudge your nose into the top of his shoulder. “You see me an equal amount.”
Steven glances into a storefront window, Marc silently watching you, a fond expression on his face. And Steven is so glad to see Marc looking softer, having stopped bloody torturing himself for no reason by denying himself the very pleasant sensation of your affection. Steven raises your hand to his lips, brushing a kiss to your knuckles as Marc says, “She definitely spends more time with you.”
Of course Marc would think that.
“Suppose you’re probably right, love. Marc claims I see you more often.”
“See, I always know best. It’s very equal.”
Steven goes soft with the affection blooming in his chest when he looks back to you, “Yeah, suppose you do.”
“We should have just went to the theater,” you chirp, tightening your fingers on his hand. “Could have seen a play.”
“Oh no, dear heart. You’re at that theater quite enough as it is.” Steven says, catching Marc’s anger in his chest like a physical thing at just the mention of the place.
Marc runs an irritated hand through his hair, “Tell her to quit.”
Steven ignores Marc’s acidity, and asks instead, “Would you like to stop for dinner before we head home?”
He’s also avoiding the subject of your dance company just a little bit. He knows it's a contentious issue between you and Marc at the moment, and that he has the easier position of never being the one to see you directly after your rehearsals.
Steven was never the one to wrap your ankles, massage your feet and calves, see the pain and fear in your eyes that you were not enough, that you weren’t good enough.
Not that he wouldn’t do those things for you but that Marc was insistent on being the one to do it, like the pain you carried was his personal burden to help shoulder, trying to protect you from dance and Steven from witnessing your pain.
Marc was a bleeding martyr about nearly everything, and it was only endearing half the time.
“Don’t you dare ignore me, Steven. Tell her to quit that fucking job. It’s killing her,” Marc snarls at him. “She thinks she isn’t good. It's making her hate herself.”
You swallow thickly and your smile is strained when you meet his eyes, your thumb running soothingly across the back of his hand. “Sorry. Shouldn’t have mentioned the theater. I can practically hear Marc.” You pause, “I’m just not their favorite, and that’s okay. I’m looking for something new anyways.”
Marc settles a little at that, huffing out a breath, and Steven rolls his eyes at his headmate.
The problem was the nepotism the company was riddled with, and all three of you knew it. But something in you so hated to quit, like if you could just practice hard enough, you would be enough in a company that wanted you to play second fiddle to a person who was far less talented.
You were similar to Marc and Steven in that way, incredibly hard headed when it pleased you.
But it was slowly draining you, physically and mentally.
“And tell Marc not to worry,” you say in the tone of someone long suffering the same argument. “I know what I’m doing.”
Marc snorts derisively, and Steven is so glad you can’t hear him. “We support you, darling. We’re just worried,” he decides to say instead, because even though Marc liked to hiss and demand, he would never make you do something you didn’t want to.
“Is Marc upset with me?” You voice is small and you clench Steven’s fingers, the soft lock of them between his grounding. “I’m not ready to give up yet.”
“Of course not, dear heart. He’s just being a right arse because he cares.”
Marc doesn’t comment on that, viciously silent.
“I’m not mad,” his voice clips out after a few minutes of you and Steven walking in silence. “Just can’t see her hurt.”
Steven relays the message to you, relief flooding him when you smile and turn to the nearest reflective surface. “You don’t have to be so mean when you care, Marc.”
“Sorry, baby,” and Marc does look properly chastised, the intense gaze he always sported burning holes into you, peering at you from beneath slanted brows.
Steven rolls his eyes at the dramatics. “He says he’s so very sorry for upsetting you, darling.”
You smile, “You two are always lying about what the other is saying.”
“We enhance each other, love,” Steven says, making you smile wider, nose scrunching in a way that makes him want to kiss you. “He did apologize.”
“I know,” you say, squeezing his hand. “Neither of you have to worry.”
But they did, so much the emotion chokes Steven, and makes him wonder if it was at all normal to love someone as much as he loves you.
~
There are two, and then, one day, there are three.
You stare at the fish tank as you kick off your shoes by the front door of the flat, watching three fish, and not two, circle each other.
The third fish matched Gus and Guy in size, swimming along like he’d always been there, slightly less orange in color than the other two. You tilt your head and approach the tank, watching them swim along happily. “Hello there,” you say. “Where on earth did you come from?” The new fish bobs by your nose, while Gus and Guy continue their slow dance on the other side of the tank. “Cute. Guess we’ll have to have a town hall about your name so Marc doesn’t feel left out again.”
You smile at the memory of Marc’s indignation, that he grumbled about how stupid fish names were but that he was so loathe to be left out of anything. He wanted to be involved, you’ve found, but that would not stop him from grumbling about it.
You wonder for a moment if Steven and Marc bought this one for you, but something about it doesn’t feel right. The last you had all talked about it, it had been agreed that two fish were more than enough.
Steven would have told you about it anyways, probably would have made you come along to the pet shop to pick him out. Steven probably would have also insisted on something new for the tank, but only all the usual fare is there, no new pyramids or sphinxes.
Marc on the other hand - Marc did not care enough about the fish to go out of his way to pick up another one, and certainly not without consulting you and Steven when he knew how important the fish were to both of you.
The fish were mainly Steven’s hobby and responsibility besides, and when Marc was fronting you often had to leave notes and reminders to feed the fish so that another one-finned wonder situation did not occur.
“So, where did you come from then?” You ask the new fish, who hovers near the glass by your face.
You turn away from the tank, perplexed by the sudden appearance of the third fish.
The flat is eerily quiet, a strange energy making you jumpy and alert, finding it odd that Steven hasn’t come to you yet. He usually greeted you at the door. Maybe he wasn’t in the flat at all.
You check your watch, like knowing the time might make Steven suddenly appear.
You had plans to go to his favorite bookstore together, which he never missed.
“Steven?” You call out. “You here?” No one answers, the floorboards creaking forebodingly beneath your feet. “Marc?” You call, your voice slightly quieter.
“Not exactly,” a voice says. The accent is American, the timber exactly the same as Marc and Steven’s. You peer around the fishtank, moving toward the bed on the other side of the room when a figure steps out of the bathroom.
“Hey, sweetheart,” you halt, and stare, your breathing picking up in a slight panic.
Although the accent is American, it's distinct from Marc’s - more New York than Midwest.
It’s the body you know, its Steven and Marc’s body, but the person staring at you is neither of them.
You blink, eyes flicking quickly over him.
He stands like Marc does, with shoulders back and spine straight, but softer somehow, loose, like he was entirely comfortable in his skin. Marc was too tense to ever look at ease, and Steven was always slightly hunched, hands held up in front of his chest.
“Hello,” you say, dropping your bag to the floor, trying not to panic that there was apparently a third alter you did not know about. “I don’t think we’ve met.”
He moves closer to you, steps slow and sure, until he passes you by and stops beside the kitchen table. He pulls out a chair and nods for you to sit down, his hands on either side of the chairback.
You hesitate.
This is not a person you know.
There was no predicting his behavior, or what he wanted from you. With Marc, you had felt you’d known him from the stories Steven told you, from his presence always with you and Steven.
You did not have that benefit with this person.
“I’m not gonna hurt you,” he says, the drawl of his accent rounding his words. “Come here.”
You step toward him, something about him making you want to trust him as you slowly approach to sit down in the chair that he’s offering to you. He hovers behind you for a moment after you sit down, hands still on the back of the chair. You crane your head to look back at him.
His eyes are fathomless. The warm brown that you know so well, was so dark it was almost black. He doesn’t look away from you, like he could see right inside of you. It wasn’t like Marc’s stare, like he was trying to figure you out, but more like he already knew everything about you and was only waiting for you to catch on.
You glance away, look down at the wood of the familiar kitchen table.
There’s a brief pressure over your shoulders and the back of your neck, his touch slipping away as quickly as it had come.
He rounds the table and sits down across from you, tilting his head as he continues to observe you.
You wait, assuming he has something he’d like to say to you, that there was a reason he’d chosen to front and to speak to you now.
“Those two got real lucky with you, didn’t they?” he asks suddenly. “They’re both walking disasters. Think you would’ve run for the hills.”
You smile at him, showing teeth, leaning forward, “Easy there, those are my boys you’re talking about.”
“Don’t I know it. Got ‘em wrapped around your little finger,” he snorts, leaning back in his chair to cross his arms over his chest.
“Do you know me?” You ask, watching the crinkle of his nose when the corner of his mouth twitches, teeth gleaming.
He nods, “I sure do.” His eyes flick over you again before he looks away.
You figure that he must have fronted right before you came into the flat, that he was planning this and wanted to speak to you. He’s dressed as Steven would be, with a funky printed button-up and his hair parted to the side.
It makes your heart ache to think of Steven getting ready, only to blackout. You can only assume he’s experiencing what he once did with Marc. Worry bubbles in you at Marc and Steven having to go through that, and Steven enduring it for the second time - fearful for their sanity.
“Can they hear me?”
“They’re asleep.”
Fuck.
You nod and try to keep calm. “Okay. And they don’t know about you?”
You aren’t sure what would be worse. The prospect that Steven and Marc had an alter they aren’t aware of, or that they were aware and never trusted you enough to tell you about him.
“No,” he says, alleviating a little of the tightness in your chest, leaning forward again suddenly, legs spread wide, forearms braced on the table. “And you won’t tell them either.”
“Why not?”
“It's better they don’t know. I can protect ‘em better. Which brings me to my point,” his eyes are locked on yours, a dangerous energy swirling around him as he leans further forward. “For better or worse, you’re essential to ‘em now.”
You don’t have time to ponder what that means, because he reaches forward and takes your hand in his, his touch calloused and familiar, and yet completely new. The sensation of his fingers over yours is so shocking it makes your head swim. “So, you might see me from time to time. To protect them, I gotta protect you now. Understand?”
“Not really, no,” you admit.
He makes a frustrated sound, but his fingers are gentle against your skin, his blazing black gaze holding you perfectly still, a rabbit caught in a trap. “If something happens to ya, they crumble. They can’t crumble ‘cause then I crumble. You’re a fuckin’ liability, understand?”
You nod, even though you aren’t sure what he’s talking about. “Are you the one bruising them up then?” You slide your thumb along the discolored skin of his knuckles, the new purple and blue bruises against the warm brown of his skin.
“Only occasionally,” he says. “Only when I gotta.”
“What’s your name?”
He hesitates, the hard wall in his eyes shaking just a little, the pitch black depths softening just a fraction. “Jake.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Jake.”
He doesn’t seem to like you being familiar with him, doesn’t seem to like hearing you say his name. Jake pulls his hands out of yours. “You too, princess.”
You bite back a smile, the pet name both condescending and endearing.
“Don’t call me that, Jake,” you tell him, watching irritation spread over his face, the clench of his jaw making a muscle jump in his cheek. “How do I explain the third fish? If you don’t want them to know about you? Little on the nose isn’t it, three fish, one tank?”
He rolls his eyes, “Don’t think I don’t know about your metaphor theory.” You lift an eyebrow at that, that he was a fly on the wall in Steven and Marc’s lives but they were completely unaware of him. “Can be our secret. Our fish. For now.”
“Steven is going to be upset with me for getting one without him,” you warn. “I hate seeing Steven upset. And Marc will be suspicious about it. He knows I wouldn’t do that without Steven.”
Jake rolls his eyes, “Don’t gotta be so dramatic about it. They’ll get over it.”
“Jake,” you say, watching him freeze again at the sound of his own name. You wonder if anyone has ever used his name. “They would welcome you, you know.”
His lip twitches, “Ah. Now I see why they like you. You’ve got brains. Able to get to the heart of the thing so fast, huh?”
You don’t reply, just watch him watch you, watch how he folds his arms and smiles at you.
Despite the energy he radiates, chaotic and wild and slightly dangerous, you aren’t afraid of him, you feel safe.
You feel safe with Jake, whoever he was.
To protect them, I gotta protect you now.
“We’ll keep this between us for now, mi vida,” he says. “Fish and all. Consider it a gift.”
The Spanish that curls off his tongue surprises you, but you don’t have time to respond because in the blink of an eye, Jake was gone and Steven was there.
“Oh, hello, love,” he springs up to walk around the table to you. “So odd, I don’t remember you coming in. Are you ready to go?”
The sudden difference makes your head swim, Steven’s sweet buoyancy contrasted sharply with the still dispersing air of danger that had accompanied Jake.
You wonder at Jake for a moment, having spent so long coming to terms with Marc’s past as a hardened mercenary.
Jake’s energy was wild and dangerous but not dark, not frightening. And you know, without a doubt, he would burn the world down to keep the system safe, to make the hard decisions to stay safe and preserve the system that Marc’s self sacrificial nature couldn’t.
And now, apparently, that little orbit, that little world, included you.
You were integral to their internal life.
It makes your head spin, it makes the world tilt.
You wish you could tell them, how important they were to you too, that in a very different way you would cease to exist without them too.
You stand and throw your arms around Steven who has been chattering at you, waffling on about something he’d read yesterday, some book he wanted to pick up today because of it. “Oh, hello there, love. You alright?” He immediately wraps his arms around you.
“Yeah,” you whisper before pulling back. You touch his cheek, tracing the length of his cheekbone. “I - Steven, I just love you. I love you so very much. I hope you know that.”
Steven softens, his shoulders going loose, like little paper hearts might start drifting around his head as his cheeks pink just a little. “I quite love you too. Very much.”
~
You don’t see Jake for weeks after that first time. You don’t see him for so long that you start to wonder if the whole thing had been a bizarre stress dream.
Explaining the fish to Marc and Steven went about as well as you expected. Marc with false exasperation, secretly happy to have a fish for you, and Steven with a bit of hurt that you’d not included him in helping bring the fish home.
Jake remains aloof and gone and the bruises on Steven and Marc’s skin disappear. You take that as a good sign, that Jake had no reason to front, no reason to protect the system from something.
The day you decide to quit your dance company, after a bad fall at a rehearsal and a sprain to your ankle, and being told that even when you recovered your spot would not be given back to you, you decide to make matzo ball soup - another of Marc’s childhood favorites, a comfort food that had inadvertently become yours as well.
Though he hasn’t yet told you, and Steven has only hinted, there was a before and after in Marc’s childhood that he did not want to think or talk about. There were little bits of good though - and a lot of them were food related, so naturally it became a priority to learn how to make those foods.
Marc often helped you, correcting and adding where the recipes you found missed things that he considered essential.
The day you quit your dance company, you turn Marc’s shirt into a tissue with the amount of tears you shed onto it. You know it makes him nervous, that intense negative emotions made something inside him skittish with fear, but it was a testament to his drive to communicate with you, not to shut down or shut you down, that he stays with you instead of letting Steven comfort you.
Marc was the one to suggest the soup making operation, when you realized you were out of both onions and celery.
He smooths his thumbs over your cheeks when he cradles your face, even though you’d stopped crying a few minutes ago. “I’ll be right back. You should sit down while I’m gone. Keep the weight off your ankle.”
You can tell that he doesn’t want to leave you, not while you were emotionally unstable, his shirt still very much wet with your tears, worried about the state of your ankle.
“I’m fine, Marc,” you sniffle a little, to which Marc raises a brow. “I’ll be fine. I will be.”
He nods and reluctantly pulls away, giving you a lingering kiss before heading out with your keys clutched in his palm, crescent moon keychain swinging from his fist.
You stubbornly don’t take his advice, standing at the kitchen counter to chop the carrots and mince the garlic while he’s gone. And even though your ankle is smarting with an aching pain, a new pain on top of the usual strain, you don’t move.
It wasn’t like you would ever dance again, not with a company and not on your own.
That part of your life, you decide with a vicious swing of the knife, is over.
Marc was back in less than ten minutes, boots thumping down before he crossed the kitchen to you.
But the person who returned was not Marc.
You know it's Jake, the second you turn and see his eyes.
You don’t mean to, but an exasperated sigh leaves you.
Trust Jake to show up now.
He hesitates when he hears you sigh, brows quirking up, but you don’t say anything. He plops the onions and celery you had asked for onto the counter. Something flickers over his face, so quickly it's gone before you can identify it. Something akin to hurt. “Y’know, I like matzo ball soup too.”
Wonderful, you think.
Shame immediately follows the sarcastic thought. Jake was a part of the system, a part of Steven and Marc, you should try to welcome him, but after the day you’ve had, all you want is the familiarity of Steven and Marc. All you want is to be able to curl into them and wallow.
Pain shoots up your spine and swallows your heart, and you take a shaky breath.
“You okay?”
You swallow the lump in your throat. “Fine.” Jake’s dark eyes follow you as you take the celery and onions, beginning to rinse the celery in the sink. “Thanks for bringing this stuff. I appreciate it.”
Dance has been such a big part of your identity for so long, you feel like you’re mourning yourself, like part of you was gone and a crater left in its place.
Jake was still watching you, and when you put too much pressure on your left side and your ankle gives out, he’s there, catching an arm around your waist.
“Yeah you seem okay,” he digs at you. “Top notch.”
You shake your head and pull away from his touch. “I’m okay,” you insist. You move back to the cutting board to continue chopping when a bouquet of flowers are carefully laid next to your ingredients.
You pause and turn your head, watching Jake watch you. “I noticed neither of ‘em ever get you flowers. Pretty girl like you should get flowers.”
You bite your lip and try not to cry, reaching out to touch one of the delicate blooms. They were a bunch of your favorite flowers and you can tell he stopped at one of the proper flower stalls, instead of getting cheap ones from the grocery shop. They’re bundled beautifully, wrapped in newspaper and tied with twine.
“My favorite flower. How’d you know?”
“I listen.”
Your throat closes, tears nearly breaking from your eyes again as you take a trembling breath. “I quit today. I don’t think I’ll ever dance again.”
Jake moves closer to you, his head tilted close to yours. “Fuck ‘em. You were too fuckin’ good for them,” his eyes blaze with a sudden heat, so scorching it almost burns.
You sniffle and pick up the flowers. “Thank you, Jake.”
“Want me to kill someone?”
You have no doubt suddenly that if you said yes, he would. “No, that’s quite alright. Might be for the best anyways, my ankles and knees are nearly destroyed. I was going to have to retire early no matter what happened.”
“You don’t gotta work for them to dance,” he says, his voice strangely gentle. “Hell, have Steven move some of this shit and you can dance here.”
“That’s true, I suppose,” you say, stepping around Jake to grab a glass jar to fill with water before carefully dropping the flowers in. But you know, you know that you will never dance again, today had broken your heart too badly. “Thank you again.”
He nods, and you notice that his hands are hovering, have been hovering, near your waist, like he was anxious your weak ankle might betray you again. It makes embarrassment shuffle up your veins. You wonder what Jake thinks of you, of Marc and Steven, for falling in love with someone so weak. “My offer stands. Just give me the word,” Jake insists. “Anytime. Don’t gotta be murder. Tragic accident maybe, fell down the steps of the theater and broke a leg.”
You snort at that and turn, finding Jake very close to you, that wild chaotic energy radiating off him in waves. Even though they occupy the same body, Jake seemed to produce more heat. He feels hot, his skin so very close to yours. “Not the other dancer,” you muse.
Jake steps into your bubble, pins you down with a gaze you can’t decipher, his hands going to the counter on either side of you, bracketing you in against him. Black, impenetrable eyes dart over your face. “Course not. Not her fault and wouldn’t change a fuckin’ thing. Gotta go for the boss. Director, maybe.”
While Marc’s brows were always lowered over his eyes, furrowed in concentration and Steven’s always tilted up, his eyes rounded and wide, Jake was something else entirely. His gaze was open, he didn’t try to hide anything.
But deciphering what laid in those dark depths took more understanding of the man in front of you than you currently possessed. “Right. Like a director or something.”
Jake looks considering for a moment, his jaw clenching.
You reach up and touch the hinge of his jaw, not sure what possesses you to do so. But talking about inflicting bodily harm on the institution you so hated somehow made you feel just a bit better. “Thank you, Jake.”
“Lockley,” he says.
“What?”
“Jake Lockley.”
“Jake Lockley,” you repeat. “Thank you very much. For the flowers and checking in. I hadn’t seen you for a while.”
He sniffs and moves back from you suddenly. “Wasn’t checking in. Just thought you should get flowers once in a while.” Before you can answer he asks, “You want your boys back?”
You nod, “Yeah.”
Jake stares at you for a moment, muttering something under his breath in Spanish that sounds suspiciously like curses, like a muttered prayer, before Marc blinks at you, brows lowering, posture tensing.
“Thank you for bringing me flowers, baby,” you say to him, so he wasn’t confused, so he doesn’t panic at waking in the middle of a conversation.
But you hope Jake hears you, you hope he knows what it means to you.
~
Jake brings you flowers a lot after that, insists that he needs to do it because Marc and Steven don’t.
You can never predict when he’ll show, or in what condition.
But gradually, you get used to him, to the brash way he did everything, to the random curses and torrents of Spanish, to his requests that you make him something that he liked to eat.
Food was something you connected with Marc over, books something you and Steven shared. And you were starting to get the distinct impression that Jake was jealous, that he wanted something special with you.
You take it all with a grain of salt.
Jake was a terrible flirt, a wild ball of energy that needed more than whatever he was constantly looking for.
But you do wake up one morning to a news story - a curious accident, that one of the directors, the father of your rival, had fallen down the front steps of the theater and broken his leg.
Jake never mentions it to you, but you know what happened.
You also see the photos and know the man more than fell down some steps - nose broken, lip split.
One night while you’re waiting for Steven to call you, your fingers aching as you clench Khonshu’s blanket tight around you, Jake waltzes through your flat’s door, spattered with blood, a bunch of flowers grasped in his fist.
“Lockley,” you sigh and stand, taking the flowers from him. “You’re going to drive me crazy.”
He responds to you in rapid fire Spanish, following you through the flat to the bathroom. He doesn’t stop chattering at you as you push him down onto the closed toilet seat, and take up the first aid kit.
“You know I don’t understand a word you’re saying,” you snipe at him.
“Maybe you should learn Spanish then, sweetheart.”
You roll your eyes and examine his hands, the scratches that score his arms, the bruise on his cheek. “Can’t you summon the suit to help you heal?”
“Why would I do something like that, cariño?”
“Why wouldn’t you?”
You and Jake bicker the most, but it's a pleasant bickering, like the friendly snap of conversation. Where Steven was sensitive and Marc shut down with anger, Jake seemed to enjoy it. He liked poking your buttons, and you know he likes when you roll your eyes and snap something sarcastic back at him. You know he enjoys it when you give into him and let him be snarky without consequence.
“So that you heal?” You prompt when he doesn’t answer.
Jake reaches out and gingerly tips your chin up with a curled finger from where you’re crouched on the floor in front of him. “Nah, having a pretty girl patch me up is much better.”
“Pretty, huh?”
“Sí,” he says and leaves it at that.
You clean and patch his injuries with a gentle hand, not meeting his eyes until you have to stand and wipe away the blood stained on the bridge of his nose. He captures your wrists and holds you close.
“You are so fuckin’ pretty, mi vida. I ever tell you that?”
You ignore his flirting, the way his eyes widen and trace over the planes of your face. “What does that mean? Mi vida?”
“Lotta things. Darling, sweetheart, honey, love. Means my life too.”
You soften, leaning into Jake carefully, feeling him wrap an arm around your hips. “Oh?”
“You’re my girl.”
It’s not the first time he’s said it and it won’t be the last - the sentiment with no definition, no meaning.
Steven had come to you slowly, over months, done everything right, asked you on dates and kissed you at the right time. Marc had denied himself your love, was prickly and unused to affection.
Jake simply tells you what you are.
But it's something that cannot happen. It’s a thought you won’t entertain.
“Is that so?”
He’s such a flirt, such a wild and chaotic and dangerous energy - that you aren’t ever sure of when he’s being genuine, of when he’s fucking with you. You aren’t sure if it's a joke, or if he just likes to see you flustered.
“Better go tell your other girlfriends then,” you quip, leaning out of his grip.
He frowns at you, head tilting to the side like he might be able to figure you out if he just looked at you from the right angle. “You are. You’re my only girl.”
“Right,” you say, shooing his hands away from you so you can clean up the medical supplies.
With Marc, things had been different, falling in love with him had been different because Steven’s approval had been so explicit.
You don’t have that now, Marc and Steven were completely in the dark, and so Jake’s touch feels a bit too intimate sometimes, a bit too close and complicated, and you don’t like the feelings that come with it.
But it also causes a rift of pain to shatter your veins, when you watch his gaze close off, his posture change with the rejection, like he really did feel something for you, like you were breaking his heart over and over again.
It’s not a joke.
He wants you, but you don’t know why.
You want him, and you do know why.
And both things are problems you don’t want to deal with.
~
Jake fell in love with you a long time ago.
He knows it, he’s known it for so long.
Problem was Marc and Steven.
They didn’t know about him, and they probably never should, so he can do his job, so he can take care of them, take care of the fuckers that would hurt them.
But you complicate things.
Because you’re a part of their world, their microcosm in the universe.
And Jake can’t have anything happen to you, not because it would break Marc and Steven, though that’s a part of it, but because it would shatter him too.
He’s been a fly on the wall in their lives for long enough to know he wants you too.
And fuck, he tries.
He tries real hard with you.
Flirts with you and fights for you and complimented you and brought you flowers.
And you brushed him off, you were snippy with him where you were kind to Marc and Steven.
And he guesses they are something to you, while he’s nothing, but he expected you to warm up to him over time.
And you haven’t.
You love Marc and Steven the same, that much is obvious. But you loved them in different ways, treated them differently because they required different handling.
Jake never expected you to love him like them, not even a little, and certainly not as much as them. But he expected you to eventually like him, to be able to tolerate him.
He feels a terrible anger inside himself sometimes, that he can’t seem to make you understand that he genuinely cared about you, that his whole world revolved around you, much to Khonshu’s distaste.
But you seem adverse to ever figuring it out - you pass off everything he does as meaningless flirting. He thinks you know about the time he asked one of Steven’s colleagues out - you’re smart and now that you know about him there’s no way you believe Steven or Marc did that.
It had been a pathetically failed attempt to get Steven away from you before you broke his heart - like you’d ever fucking do that.
Jake knew better now, knew you’d loved Steven first so genuine and true from that very first day that it hurt to see.
The day he decides to finally talk to Marc and Steven, was when he realized you were sad.
You were not yourself. You hadn’t been for a long time, not since you quit dancing.
You didn’t read anymore, you avoided Steven’s flat, you were totally apathetic toward your new job even though it was a library gig you should enjoy, your ankle was killing you but you no longer let Marc help you with it.
And then comes the day that you forget your beloved jacket on the arm of the couch, and a panic bites through Jake that he can’t ignore.
You were never without that fucking jacket, not since Marc and Steven gave it to you.
You were pulling away from them, from everything.
And the other two seemed entirely oblivious to it.
So he pushes down the fear that he carried around inside him, the reason he never let them know he was there, that he was the silent, wrathful alter, and that his headmates would want nothing to do with him, and forces his way to the front of their minds.
You were more important than the fear.
And Jake had never been one to back down.
He curses at them in Spanish, the confusion that radiates from Marc and Steven satisfying to him in a vicious way as he forces control of the body, turning to stare at their reflection for the first time in the mirror across the room. “She’s fucking depressed, you morons. She misses dancing and she’s never going to say it.”
Without explaining anything further, he starts moving the furniture, shoving over piles of books with a reckless abandon.
He can fix this, he can help you.
Explaining himself to his alters as he worked was somehow easy, explaining himself and his relationship to you, his love for you and how you did not return it. Explaining that you’d respected his wishes for them not to know about Jake, was easy.
Marc was more than pissed, but Steven understood and Marc always took the moral lead from Steven anyways.
“Fuck you, Lockley,” Marc snarls at him.
Yeah, he’d probably have to get used to that sentiment.
~
You’re surprised by Marc and Steven’s insistence that you come all the way back to their flat to get your jacket that same night, the texts blotting out all other notifications.
Honestly, you’re surprised you didn’t notice you forgot the jacket. You hadn’t really felt the cold until you realized it wasn’t there.
You walk back to their place instead of taking a cab, even though you know Marc will be irritated with you for doing so. And when you walk down the hall to their flat, you can hear one-sided bickering before you even open the door.
The scene that greets you, shocks you.
All of the flat’s furniture and books and piles of things, knick knacks and old texts and notebooks, have been pushed to one side of the room. And for a moment all you can do is mourn the hours you spent, mainly with Steven, trying to create a system of organization for it all.
You sigh and when you turn you’re surprised to find Jake looking back at you.
You blink and then look at the flat again, anger twisting up your veins. “Jake,” you bite out. “I - I - How am I supposed to explain this to them? What did you do? Why did you do this? Steven is going to hate me -,”
“I told them about me.”
You pause, brows knitting together as you look back at him, at the tilt of his head. “What?”
He mutters something in Spanish, so low you only catch a mumble, before he stalks forward and tugs you through the door, closing it gently behind you. “I told ‘em about me, mi vida.”
“Why -,”
But Jake’s gaze is drifting toward the mirror, focus lost, clearly not used to having to pay attention to the chatter of his alters.
“Jake,” you snap. “Why did you destroy the flat? Why would you do something like this? Did I do something to upset you -,”
“I didn’t - it’s not - fuck, you really believe the worst in me, huh?” Jake runs a hand through his hair. “It's a dance floor. It’s so you can fuckin’ - it’s so you can dance again ‘casue I’m tired of watching you be so fuckin’ sad.”
His dark gaze is fractured, like he’s trying and failing to tell you something, something much deeper than dance and furniture.
“Oh,” you falter, still confused. “Oh. Okay and -,”
“Y’know,” he says, curling his fingers through yours. “I’m not exactly being subtle.”
“About what?”
He pulls you a bit closer but you resist him a little, Marc and Steven were surely watching, looking at you too. “That I love you, mi vida. I told you that you’re my girl but you’re determined to be so fuckin’ hard headed about it.”
You can only stare at him, panic starting to spike in your veins. “I need to talk to one of them, Jake,” you say urgently. “Now.”
You watch his gaze go dark, the hopeful pull of his brow gone. He sighs and steps back, “Yeah I knew you didn’t feel the same. ‘S ok. We can forget it.”
“Jake,” you demand, “Let me talk to one of them.”
Jake nods, glancing down, his nose scrunching as he sniffs and cups a hand over his chin. “Fuck. Fuck. Yeah, thought so,” he mumbles.
Before you can respond, his shoulders soften, his mouth relaxes, and Steven’s wide brown eyes are looking at you.
“Oh, love,” he murmurs, wrapping his arms around you as you break, tears siphoning down your cheeks. “You’ve been so very brave.” He strokes your shoulders carefully, his hand slipping down your spine. “Why didn’t you say anything to us? ‘Bout being upset.”
“I’m fine,” you croak, “So fine.”
“You aren’t though, darling. And this Jake character? Keeping so many secrets these days.”
And even though you know he’s joking, it still makes guilt race through your veins.
Your bottom lip quivers, “Steven, I’m so sorry.”
“Whatever for?”
“I think I love him,” you whisper. “I think I love him.”
He shushes you gently, “We know. He told us. You think Marc and I are upset with you? That another part of us fell in love with you? And you with him? Never. You deserve every bit of love. Jake told us all about the last couple months and some of the time before that. Look what he’s done for you - brings you flowers all the time, realized something was wrong before either of us, ruined my bloody flat, pushed that horrible man down some stairs - which I don’t agree with, yeah? But if it's already been done then we’re glad-,”
Steven’s eyes roll back and Jake was staring at you again, and you frown at the way he’s forcibly fronted. “You shouldn’t do that to them. You’ll have to get along -,”
“You love me.”
“Jake -,”
“I told you that you were my girl.”
“Jake,” you say urgently. “Will you dance with me?”
He snorts but his breathing was wild, like he was about to run a race or just finished one, you can’t decide which. His gaze was wild and intense, laced with tension and the unknown.
“Fuck, yeah, sweetheart, I’ll dance with ya.” It’s the softest you’ve ever heard his voice, like if he moved too suddenly or spoke too loud, you would flee.
You grip his hand in yours and let him tug you close, trusting that Marc and Steven were okay with this. “They’re okay,” Jake murmurs, pulling you tight against him. “You’re okay.”
“Are you sure?”
“You think now he knows about me Marc wouldn’t front to keep you away from me?” Jake twirls you, much lighter on his feet than the other two, dancing to music you can’t hear. “Nah, they’re okay, mi vida.”
You nod, and let yourself rest against him, protesting only a little Jake takes some of your weight so your ankle isn’t as strained.
His breathing has settled again, his head tilted over yours, eyes like pitch watching you closely.
“Thank you,” you say when tears strain that back of your throat again. “I missed this. I missed dancing. It’s not the same, obviously, but maybe it's better.”
“I - we’ll dance with ya every night,” Jake promises. “Gotta keep our girl happy.”
You wonder at how quickly Jake had been accepted, but you think part of them always knew Jake was there. The blackouts that left people dead besides, all the times recently where they’d woken in the middle of a conversation with you.
And you remember your own words.
They would welcome you, you know.
Maybe it had been that simple.
Jake’s demanding eyes seek yours. “Don’t gotta talk to me. Maybe Steven is better suited. But you aren’t alone. Not with us. You miss dance. We can help with the ankle. Just gotta ask.”
You smile at how easy he’s slipped into using we.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. And don’t ever forget that fuckin’ jacket again. It’s bulletproof. And it's you.”
You nod, sliding a hand up his arm as he murmurs to himself in Spanish, eyes roving over you as you make a slow circle around the room. “Jake,” you say, because you know how he likes to hear his own name, a name you’re so sure hasn’t been uttered to him by anyone but maybe Khonshu. “Kiss me.”
He smirks at you and says, “Aw, baby, now you know you got me, you wanna use me up -,”
And you’re so glad to have that sharp snappish voice back, the endearing, playful flirting that you kiss him. It was so much better than Jake being panicked and unsure, so unlike himself.
You slide a hand across his shoulders, cup your fingers against the back of his neck to card through his hair and kiss him hard.
He pulls back when you’re gasping for air against his lips, smiling so big that it becomes hard to continue.
“Tell your boys to shut up,” he says, forehead pressed to yours, breath a hoarse rasp against your lips.
“Why? What are they saying?”
Jake’s intense eyes flick open to meet yours. “I’m not used to the noise, not used to hearing them. But they say - they’re saying everything feels complete now. Steven is happy. Marc a little less so.”
You have a feeling you know exactly what they mean, like a final piece had snapped into place.
“And you?”
“Yeah. Feels that way to me too.”
#steven grant x reader#marc spector x reader#jake lockley x reader#moon knight fanfiction#moon knight fic#marc spector x you#steven grant x you#jake lockley x you#jake lockley#marc spector#steven grant
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