#moon knight one shot

[myfictionaldreams]

Day 2: Mommy Kink - Steven Grant

Kinktober Day 2: Mommy Kink - Steven Grant x f!reader

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, oral (m receiving), dom/sub, sub!steven, mommy kink, riding, creampie , no use of y/n

my main masterlist 📚 // kinktober masterlist😈 // AO3 Link 

“Do you like that, Steven?” you asked softly, keeping your eyes closely on him whilst licking the underside of his cock that was being held up by your hand.

Steven’s face was flushed, face contorted in pure ecstasy as he stared down at your from where he lay in the middle of the bed, both hands tightly gripping onto the bed sheets below. You’d explained on multiple occasions that he could hold you during these intimate moments but he still held back quite a lot, scared he would do the wrong thing, even though you had both been dating for a few months and you knew for sure there was nothing that he could do to offend you.

This is why you also liked to ask every few minutes if what you were doing was ok and not too overwhelming for him, and it was also good to communicate during sex anyway and Steven always appreciated it.

Steven’s only response to your question was a pleasured grunt and nod of the head that had you smiling, kissing the tip of his leaking cock before opening your mouth and taking him to the back of the throat, feeling satisfied at seeing his head fall back into the pillows and a loud groan coming from his lips.

You absolutely loved seeing him like this, so utterly vulnerable to you but also completely smitten and trustworthy. Steven had always been the submissive one, which you enjoyed considering his alters Jake and Marc were most definitely dominants.

With your hand wrapped around the base of his cock, you were able to move in tandem with your mouth, sucking and hollowing your cheeks whilst simultaneously gripping and moving your hand up and down, making sure he was fully pleasured.

As you took him as far as you could, more than half of his cock now sliding down your throat, your spare hand was able to reach in between his legs to gently massage his balls that tightened with the touch.

Steven gasped loudly, hands flying into the air looking as if he wanted to touch you but still, not doing so, but it was his next words that had you halting all movements.

“That feels so good…so so good mommy, please don’t stop”.

Well, this was new and also had your pussy clenching around nothing at just the mention of the single word that he had never uttered before. Steven seemed to freeze as well, realising what he had let slip. Pulling his cock out of your mouth, you looked up at him once more, your breath warm against his cock as you asked, “repeat that for me, Steven”.

“I uh- I” he stuttered, not sure what to say or where to look as his arms returned back to his sides on the bed. Sensing his discomfort you tried to soothe him.

“Shh it’s ok”, you spoke gently, leaning down to kiss the sensitive skin on the trimmed hair mound above his cock before continuing. “There’s no need to be embarrassed, I’m sure you’re more than aware that I called Marc and Jake, daddy.”

Steven still didn’t say anything and didn’t seem all that convinced by your words so you began tossing your hand against his cock again slowly, watching his breathing hitch as he didn’t take his eyes off of you.

“Do you want me to take care of you Steven?” you asked innocently, kissing up the length of his cock. “Do you want mommy to take care of you?”

Simply just mentioned the word has his cock hardening and twitching, his beautiful brown eyes almost darkening as his mouth started to hang open in pleasure.

“Talk to me honey, do you want mommy to make you cum?” his cock once again twitched the word and finally, Steven gasped the word, “yes!”

Smiling encouragingly up at him, you sucked on his tip, as if rewarding him for opening up and not hiding how he felt. Removing your mouth once more you asked, “what do you want me to do my love? Talk to me, Steven.”

Steven’s eyes followed your every move like if he even blinked you might possibly disappear so his next words came out with a hint of desperation. “I want you… please”.

He was always so polite, it just made your heart melt. “How do you want mommy?”

“I…I want you to ride me please… mommy”. You almost didn’t catch the last word he whispered so quietly but you smiled broadly nonetheless, again kissing his cock in reward before climbing up the bed, and straddling his lap. Steven moved too, sitting up so that he could wrap his muscular arms around your waist.

Your own arms wrapped around him as well, curling around his neck so that your fingers could slide through his slightly damp hair, resting your sweat-covered forehead against his, smiling softly at him as he breathed you in. Without another word, you raised onto your knees, shifting your hips until his cock was nudging against your entrance and as slowly as you could, savouring every groan and harsh breath, you sank down on him, gasping at the sensation before kissing him sensationally.

His noises were like music to your ears as you steadily lifted your hips, rolling them up and down against his length, feeling his tip brushing deep into your core.

“Is this what you want Steven?” He moaned loudly, and this was the only response that you were expecting but he once again whispered almost so lowly that you couldn’t catch it, but you did as he said, “yes mommy, you feel so good”.

You loved that he was finally relaxing with each second that passed, his hands holding you close, touching the bare skin of your back as you chased Steven’s pleasure riding his cock.

With each movement, your chest brushed against his, nipples peaked from arousal and stimulation of his chest. Intently watching Steven, you noticed the way that his breathing had picked up its pace, the fact that his hands were clenching and unclenching against your back and that his eyebrows had knitted together, - he was close to cumming.

Smiling broadly at the man you loved and kissing him tenderly, thumb brushing against his cheek, you continued to fuck yourself on him.

“You’re doing so well Steven, you’re making me feel so good with your beautiful cock”.

“Yeah?” he asked looking glazed over almost, determined to make you feel good as his head dipped so that he could suck one of your nipples into his mouth, the sensation sending a pulse straight through between your legs, your own head now falling back as you cradled his head to your chest.

“Ah that's it, you’re making mommy feel so good” you praised.

Steven released your nipple hearing you say that special word one more time and he couldn’t hold back anymore as he grunted heavily, body shuddering as your cunt started to gush his hot seed, dripping down into his lap.

You held him close, whispering that he did so well, he was so good, well done, all trying to help him through his orgasm, feeling giddy on the inside however that you had finally found the kink that could easily pull him over the edge.

As Steven’s shoulders sagged, you began playing with his short hair, kissing along his forehead as he sat back slightly, looking ashamed so you were quick to cup his cheeks, lifting his face higher so you could kiss his lips.

“hey, it's ok Steven”.

“But it’s not ok, is it love? You didn’t even-” he couldn’t even finish his sentence, ashamed that you hadn’t cum before he did, something that he always made sure to do. You could feel his skin heating up with his embarrassment.

“Steven, I promise you that I really don’t care. I’m just glad you’ve been open with me about what sort of thing you’re into, there’s nothing to be ashamed about my love”.

He seemed to be settled by your words, his shoulders noticeably dropping as he found the courage to look you in the eyes and say: “well then, let me make you feel good mommy”.

And with that, gently pushed you back onto the bed, legs now spread, his eyes settled on your cum-leaking cunt, a smirk resting on your lips as you knew you were in for a fun night.

[sweetercalypso]

Mercenary || Marc Spector

Word Count: 1.5k

Summary: while on an undercover mission, Marc suspects he’s been recognized. In hopes of protecting his disguise, he’s forced to get creative.

Notes: no major warnings; kissing, cursing, and vague mentions of alcohol. Canon? Don’t know her. Pre-Moon-Knight Marc with no mentions of Khonshu or alters. No reader pronouns.

“Darling, there you are!”

You turn at the sound of a nearby voice, surprised to see a man standing just out of reach with his attention and his arms outstretched in your direction.

The touch of his hand against your shoulder sends chills down your spine as you look over the stranger with mannered scrutiny. The evening had been overwhelmed with small talk and cordial chatter, yet the dark eyes staring back at you were an unfamiliar sight.

“I’m sorry, I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else.” Your soft reply is barely audible over the melodic string music traveling through the busy ballroom.

The man furrows his brow slightly before wiping the uncertainty from his features. His broad shoulders pull back and he gives a small grin. His charcoal grey suit and black oxfords don’t offer much significance amongst the sea of champagne socialites in attendance, but his mused hair and the yellowing bruise over his jaw are enough to tell you that he’s a character out of place.

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” he laughs airily. His hand drops slowly from your shoulder, travelling down your arm before he waves over a nearby waiter and grabs two glasses from the tray of tawny bubbling spirits.

“I don’t think we’ve met,” you say, accepting the drink with a gracious smile.

“No,” he clinks his glass against yours. “I would’ve remembered meeting you.”

Raising the glass to your painted lips, you take a moment to study the man in front of you. He doesn’t seem impressed by the room’s ornate décor, nor is he drawn to the sea of lively barons and their engrossed coterie.

Instead, he seems to count the expanse of windows across every wall, eyes jumping over each exit like he’s planning an escape. His presence draws no attention, and he doesn’t acknowledge partygoers as they waltz by. It seems, in fact, that this man is a stranger to more than just your company.

“So,” you drawl, startling the stillness that had settled around the two of you. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m having a lovely evening with a beautiful stranger.”

“Right.” You nod curtly, not missing the glint of mischief in his eye. “But what, exactly, brings you here this evening?”

You lean in closely, eyes locking onto his to gauge his reaction. “You look like a man on a mission.”

His face morphs into a look of surprise. He mulls over your words for a minute, surely weighing his options in his mind. Finally, he sighs, a sly grin creeping over his features.

“You caught me.”

Your eyes widen at his unexpected response, realizing that you were right about this rogue stranger. Thoughts of peril and unknown dangers flash in your mind like a silent alarm, but a small voice insists that he’s no threat to you.

“I’m here on business,” he begins, eyes flickering over the oblivious crowd gathered just out of earshot. “I got close to my mark earlier, but the guards got suspicious. I just need to blend in until the party’s over.”

You nod absently, giving thought to what he’d said. “So, you’re here to kill someone?”

“Not today,” he quips with a click of his tongue. “Too much of a mess.”

Nervous laughter spills from your lips. You fight to contain your sudden reaction, but it’s too much to keep from overflowing. This stranger – charming and entertaining as he may be – is dangerous, and his presence is surely no laughing matter.

Taking a moment to quiet your composure, you miss the way the man’s eyes flicker once – twice – over your shoulder when he notices a group of tall, serious-looking men moving steadily in your direction. His jaw tightens and he quickly ducks his head, deflating the humor from your lungs in an instant.

“Is everything alright?” You ask, tilting your head to meet his downcast gaze.

The man shakes his head stiffly and takes another survey of the room, searching for a way to make an escape. He spots the thicket of slow dancers in front of the orchestra and he’s quick in forming a plan.

“Dance with me.”

“What?” You blink at him with wide eyes, not sure what to think of his sudden request.

“I think I’ve been spotted and I need to hide my face. Dance with me. Please.”

A short nod is enough of an answer for the raven-haired man. He slips the half-empty champagne flute from your grasp, abandoning your drinks on a nearby table in favor of leading you towards the dance floor across the room. The two of you weave wordlessly through the throng of duos until the rest of the room is lost beyond the intimate sway of the masses.

He stops once he’s sure he’s out of sight, jaw tensing like he’s deep in thought. His hand guides yours to rest softly on his shoulder while his other palms aptly at your hip.

“M’not much of a dancer,” he says quietly, almost apologetic in the way his feet immediately begin to stumble into yours.

The corners of your mouth tick upwards as you fight back a grin. With each ungainly step he takes in creating a clumsy waltz, you begin to see more of the humble man behind the disguise.

“That’s alright,” you assure him with a smile. “I’ll lead.”

You plant your feet as confidently as you can manage and use your hold on his shoulder to push and pull him along with your strides.

One foot leads the other and the two of you fall into a fluid, measured step. Before long, you’re moving in a comfortable sway like familiar friends or devoted partners.

“Are they looking for me?” He asks lowly once you’re turned in the right direction to see the party over his shoulder.

Two gruff men in plain black suits roam through the crowd on either side of the room, slowly taking count of each person in attendance.

You suck in a deep breath as one glances in your direction, almost as if he knows he’s being watched.

“Yeah,” you reply in a whisper, nodding your head as subtly as you can. “I see at least four, and they’re heading this way.”

“Shit,” he curses under his breath. “I was trying to avoid making a scene.”

The situation calls for action, but you’re unable to think of any way to help the man beyond what you’ve done thus far. You’re not a spy, or anything else of importance that might’ve granted you the skills to aid in this affair.

Just as one of the guards begins to part through the dancing couples, a wave of panic washes over you. In an act of instinct, rather than tactic, you lean in and press your lips to his, placing a hand on the stranger’s cheek in order to hide his face.

He’s still for a moment before he reacts and wraps his arm around you in a tight embrace. His mouth moves against yours skillfully, eagerly, like this impromptu kiss was planned all along.

The guard is long gone by the time you pull away, breathless and wide-eyed at the realization of what you’d done.

“I’m so sorry-” you drop your hands from his face, taking a step back to put a respectable distance between the two of you. “I don’t know what came over me. I saw the guard coming and-”

“Thank you,” he interrupts your nervous apology with a grateful smile.

“I have to go while they’re still busy looking for me, but really, you’ve been a great help.”

He’s turning to leave before you can think to stop him, disappearing into the crowd without so much as a hint as to who he is or where he’s going next. The mystery of the evening remains unsolved, much to your displeasure.

“Wait.”

You’re pushing through the crowd to follow after him, careless of the odd glances you receive from demure guests in your wake.

When you’re close enough to touch him, you call out another “wait!”, grabbing his wrist to keep from losing him in the crowd.

You’re almost upset with him for leaving so feebly, although you’d never admit it out loud. The thrill of the evening had sparked something inside of you, and the spontaneous kiss had only left you wanting more. But now that the adventure is dying down, you’re beginning to lose your confidence.

When you realize he’s waiting for you to speak, you’re suddenly at a loss for words. The need for excitement has grown cold, fizzling out until you’re left with a dreadful pit in the bottom of your stomach.

“I, uh- I didn’t get your name.”

It’s an anticlimactic end to your meeting, but it’s all you can think to say in the moment.

He flashes a smile that reminds you of when you’d first met. No longer faced with the threat of guards closing in, the man’s cool composure has been restored. With a familiar sly expression, he offers only a fleeting response before he’s whisked away:

“Don’t worry – I’m sure we’ll meet again.”

[writingfics-passingtime]

Song: Fahrenheit - Azee

With Marc Spector x fem reader

(I think this may fit well with the Outlaw fic 👀)

Lovely anon, thank you for this request! Definitely feels like Outlaw and that tough-guy reader, and I had fun writing that type of reader character again.

I completely failed at writing something drabble-length but my house, my rules to break. The urge to turn this into such a long fic was and is so fucking strong… sorry for how I left this one 😅 I hope you like it 💜

Compromise

This one-shot is part of JJ’s Mixtape - a mini series based on my followers’ favourite songs and characters. You can read more of them here!

Song prompt: Fahrenheit

Pairing: Marc Spector x female reader

Words: 2450

CWs: Some swearing, mentions of violence

There’s a light on in an upstairs window.

A shadow ebbing through the soft warm glow tells Marc that it wasn’t left on by mistake; there’s someone else inside. But another intruder wouldn’t have turned a light on, unless they were dead stupid, so whoever’s inside is allowed to be.

He’ll have to be careful.

It’s a little past two in the morning when Marc sticks a pick into the keyhole of a maintenance entrance and enters the great stone building. As to be expected in this old library, no alarm or security camera pings the signal detector on his watch. He relaxes, still keeping his steps quiet, and hopes that this strange directive from Khonshu would remain simply strange and not complicated.

“Why do you need me to steal an old book?”

“It’s not a book in the way your human mind is limited to understand,” Khonshu explained. Marc didn’t pretend to look interested or unbothered, but some secret place found relief in the lack the command to end another evil life.

“The Ennead Codex contains matters of great importance, and it is in danger of falling into the hands of those who wish to access the underworld.”

Whatever that means, Marc thought. He didn’t question it further. Really, he didn’t care all that much. It was just another task from his master.

Without many more words, Khonshu told Marc where the sacred manuscripts had been hidden for the past several decades. They’d been moved to this seemingly insignificant library in a small town.

Hidden in plain sight.

As Marc lifts a brass handle and slips through a dark walnut door into the main chambers of the library, he doesn’t bother donning the suit. He’d probably slip in and out undetected, harnessing his years of covert ops.

For a small town, the room is towering and impressive and beautiful. Filtered through a expanse of glass in the ceiling, moonlight casts its judgement across the carved stone pillars of the rotunda. Patches of dark blue carpet are dimly aglow with the help of the night sky, until Marc casts his own shadow across them.

He walks past the circular desk that sits in the dead centre of the room, now having clocked the sign for the Reference section where Khonshu said the Codex may be hidden.

The shelves are shrouded in darkness as he approaches and searches for the number “202.” He doesn’t get very far before the hairs on the back of his neck pique his fight or flight.

His right hand meets the gun at his side, pointer finger itching to meet the strength of the trigger, and a small clicking noise on the other side of the room sends him slipping behind a pillar.

He waits, listens, tries to discern where the sound came from. Footsteps. Coming towards the centre of the room.

Towards him.

Marc slows his breathing to keep it quiet. He wonders if the other presence in the library can sense him in the way he could sense them. Sure, years of tactical training hone the senses, but there’s also a distinct human instinct that tells someone when they’re not alone. He swallows hard when he remembers that it’s possible this other presence is not human.

“I know you’re in here,” a voice echoes through the aisles and up to the ceiling. Sounds human enough. She doesn’t sound afraid so she probably has a weapon. Marc tightens his grip on the gun, readying to draw.

“Come on out,” you command, sounding a little impatient.

You don’t declare a weapon. He doesn’t hear the safety of a pistol disengage, or the cocking of a shotgun, so he emerges from the shadows with a hand on his holstered gun.

You look sharp and powerful, standing in the centre of the room. Empty hands hang by your side - no visible weapon - you tilt your head, intrigued when you see the intruder. The light of the early morning moon chisels harshly against your features, projecting something familiar and severe towards the man who’d broken in.

“What are you doing here?” Your voice is accusing. You take a step towards him, head lowering to show him an unwavering, disarming stare. There’s a flicker of hostility and a glint of gold in your eyes that numbs his tongue just long enough to be too long. “English?” You stop walking and set your jaw. You look like a normal person.

“Yeah, English,” Marc finds his words and quickly assesses you, your stance, the outline of your body. There’s no bulkiness to your clothing, there’s no tension that gives away a readiness to strike; you’re no threat to him. There’s time to grab the book and get out before the small-town cops arrived.

“I’ll be out of your hair in a minute. No one needs to get hurt.” He says it as he turns away from you and you immediately call out after him.

“I won’t let you take it.”

He turns back and narrows his eyes in question.

“I know what you’re here for,” your fingers begin to curl into fists, your chest rises with a breath of preparation. “You need to leave. Now.”

Marc’s eyes flick to your growing battle posture, and he begins to summons the suit.

The exhales of the old pages lining the bookshelves glitter dust through the streams of moonlight. The same moonlight from which Khonshu’s vessel draws the power he begins to feel pulsing through his fingertips, through his chest and the back of his head. He lowers the hand from his gun and looks you dead in the eye. Marc sees another glimmer of gold. It was so fast, if he’d been blinking he’d have missed it. He juts his chin in challenge. “Who are you?”

“Leave,” is your only answer. “I won’t tell you again.”

The room fills with a gentle thundering the second your hands close into fists. Books, across every shelf, buzz with a strange power. The light fixtures are barely swinging, there’s no dust falling from the ceilings, but the shelves are alive with a ferocity you held. No more time to waste.

Lunar silver fills Marc’s vision as the sacred suit fixes tightly around him. He can’t leave here without that Codex. He’s fully prepared to fight you for it.

He positions himself into a stance ready to defend and to attack, watching with bated breath as you see his suit take place. The moment the ceremonial garb fits the last swath to Marc’s skin, you raise your fists.

The room falls quiet. The books fall still.

Marc waits, he listens, he watches as you determine he’s a bigger threat than you’d thought. It looks like you’re bleeding energy to hold your fists above your head, like you’re holding great power. Then, he notices the stream of moonlight begin to dilute. A warm, golden light begins emanating from the bookshelves. From the books themselves.

In a move too swift to predict, you draw your arms down towards your chest and fall to one knee.

A thread of light shoots from what looks to be every page in the room, blasting towards you before he has the chance to blink. Marc has to shield his eyes and again duck behind the pillar to protect himself from a glare so bright he was sure it rivalled the sun’s surface. It’s overpowering, debilitating, even through his tightly shut eyes, he throws his face against the crook of his elbow until he can sense the light begin to wane.

He emerges from the pillar fully prepared to attack, but stops in his tracks when he sees you rise to your feet.

You had transformed.

In a way that was all too familiar.

Golden cuffs circle your wrists, upper arms, your collar adorned with twists of gold and ivory. The breastplate of your armour is blanched leather bordered in the bones of an ancient being. A white cloth drapes around your waist, falling halfway down your legs. Your shins are wrapped in the same cloth, down to where your ankles are cuffed in gold above your bare feet.

Marc hold up his hands in surrender when he eyes the long golden staff in your white-knuckled grip. Not because he thought he couldn’t win, but because it looked like something he’d seen before. “I think we’re on the same side here.”

You smirk, scoff through your nose and point the staff at him. “Anyone attempting to steal the Ennead Codex is on no side of ours.”

“I’m not trying to steal it,” Marc drops the hood and lets the cloth peel back from his face. To show you his eyes in an appeal for trust. You didn’t waver. “I was sent to retrieve it.”

A raised eyebrow tells Marc that, to you, it’s the same fucking thing.

He holds his breath and asks, “Who do you serve?”

He watches you examine him. His suit. He watches as you realise you have a lot more in common than you’d care to admit; somehow, somewhere along the way, your lives ended up in the hands of beings too powerful to comprehend.

You don’t lower your staff as you say, with pride and strength in your voice, “I am the Scribe of Seshat. Tasked with protecting the Ennead Codex, and any knowledge those would seek out to use for destruction.” Marc takes a step forward and you don’t like that. With a single nod up, you counter, “Your turn.” Your grip on the hook-ended staff tightens. He doesn’t flinch.

“I am the Fist of Khonshu. Tasked with protecting travellers of the night.” He only stops when he’s a step away from the end of your staff. “Khonshu sent me to retrieve the Codex.”

You pull the sharp hook away, planting the lower end back on the floor beside your feet, and the books thunder for half a second. Again, Marc doesn’t flinch.

After several moments of tense, insular processing, you fix your eyes on a shelf behind your intruder and you begin to look nervous. “Seshat said this day would come.” You then meet his eye with an openness he hadn’t expected. “I just didn’t think it would be this soon.”

“Seshat doesn’t sit on the Ennead Council,” Marc subtly probes, keenly watching the way you’d react.

“No,” you confirm. “Never wants to. The only reason she has an Avatar is to keep them at bay. Seshat wants nothing to do with the Council…” you begin to walk past him, pausing at his side to add, “Especially Khonshu.”

You keep walking so Marc turns his body towards you, and don’t tell him to stay or back off so he follows as you enter the darkened rows.

Your barefooted steps are automatic and confident, carrying you to near the end of a nondescript shelf of reference material. After a moment of pause, reverence, and reflection, you place your hand on the spine of a thick book and chant a few words under your breath. It glows gold for a moment before changing appearance and sliding out into your hand.

Marc watches you caress the edges of the pages and look at the Ennead Codex as if it were something you truly cared for. Truly believed in.

He holds out a hand and promises, “I won’t let anything happen to it.”

Your head snaps towards him and he sees a startling intensity in your eye, along with those flecks of gold. “I know you won’t,” you start, “because the Codex isn’t leaving my sight.” Marc opens his mouth to protest but your protective grip tightens and you set your jaw. “I am the keeper of this Codex. I go where it goes.”

Marc shakes his head once. “Not gonna happen.”

“It’s not up for debate.”

“Don’t make me take it from you.”

A new low rumbling begins all around. Your eyes don’t leave each other as a smirk peaks into the corner of your mouth. “A sliver of waning moonlight versus a roomful of knowledge… do you like your chances against me in my domain, Moon Knight?”

Marc’s stomach lurches, though he gives no outward indication. Moon Knight. He didn’t tell you that name.

Your eyes burn gold, brightening every moment you build the power you’re pulling from the sources around you. Marc bites his tongue and assesses the situation as the library fills with the show of the ancient being you carry the mark of.

Marc arrives at the conclusion that, if you are indeed a vessel for Seshat, fighting you here would be a losing battle. He has no advantage. So, like a good Marine, he knows when to call the retreat. He knows when to compromise, and he does so with a gentle lift of his hands in surrender.

Your eyes return to normal, the books stop readying themselves for battle, and you brush past him with the Codex in your hands. He turns, recovering quickly, and starts after you. “How d’you-”

“Know that name?” You suddenly stop and turn. Marc’s body almost crashes against yours but he stops on a dime and plants one foot behind him, giving you two at least a little bit of personal space. You look him up and down before levelling him with a single look. “How do I, Avatar of the great Goddess of Wisdom and Knowledge, the goddess who invented writing and record-keeping… how do I know who you are?”

Your rhetorical question hangs in the air like the smirk lingers on your lips. After a few moments, Marc nods and sticks his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “We’ll go together to Khonshu, then go our separate ways.”

After, in silence, you reminisce on what Seshat had told you about this day that would come, you nod. “Fine. But if you try to take this from me, I’m gone.”

He gestures around and tries to look unimpressed. “Do you need to do a little light show to change outfits or…?”

He drops the suit in a matter of seconds, before showing a forced and sarcastic smile. Without breaking eye contact, your own garb seamlessly transforms back into the simple clothes you’d been wearing when you first walked in. Your height lifts by an inch when the sneakers finally form around your feet, and you don’t waste a second to turn and begin walking back towards the door from which you and Marc both came. “Keep up, Moon Boy.”

Marc huffs a low grunt, takes a deep breath to ground himself, and sets his jaw before following after you.

This was supposed to be a simple in-and-out, not a full-on extraction. He was here for the Codex, and now that you’ll be leaving your power source he’ll have to look after you until gods know when.

U.S. Marine to glorified fuckin’ babysitter…

Khonshu owes him. Big time.

[freedvmrouge]

INJURY.

fandom: marvel.

character(s): moon knight, soldier.

word count: 472.

tags & warnings: pov marc spector, moon knight (2021-2023), existential dread.

summary: marc comes back to midnight mission (is. 25) after a brutal battle and gets patched up by soldier.

masterlist.

Marc's at the end of his rope. He can hardly feel his arms and his legs are this close to completely giving in. He knew following 8-Ball would be a trap. He went anyway. He needed to find the new Black Spectre and 8-Ball's information was too good to be true. Sometimes, he's just gotta bite the bullet, he supposes.

However, he thinks there are enough deep lacerations and bullet holes in him now to fill a very morbid museum.

Badr may be a doctor, a damn fine one actually, but even Marc can't deny how horrendous his current state of being is. It's never been as clear as this exact moment.

The next time one of my sons dies while I am imprisoned, I cannot resurrect him.

That's what Khonshu said to Badr when he came back from the dead.

The poor man. That was only his first resurrection as a Fist of Khonshu. How many has Marc had now? Four? Six? He always says that he isn't afraid to die. He's reckless to a fault and his last death probably should've been his due. But here he is with even more chances.

"Boss?!" He hears Soldier from somewhere to his left. "What happened?!"

Marc is soon gently manhandled towards a table, not unlike how they first met. Except that time, he and Reese were treating Soldier and Marc still felt invincible.

Not so invincible after all, eh? Jake remarks with a scoff.

"Wrong side of a machine gun," Marc grumbles.

"Please tell me that wasn't a joke," Soldier pleads as he pulls out the first aid kit. "Actually, I take that back. Please tell me that was a joke."

All he can do is puff out air in some facsimile of a laugh. He sends a quiet thank you to the Midnight Mission for dropping him off with Soldier and not Reese or Greer.

Soldier keeps talking through his treatment, trying to dig for information. He's worried. That's nothing new. Yet when he thinks about all the living beings that now count on him, Marc's frozen.

Even if he dies tonight, the Midnight Mission will continue. Reese and Soldier would take over, possibly even Greer, too. But would they be able to? If Marc didn't have his duty to fulfill each night and every night following, would he have been able to?

"I'll get more bandages tonight. We're running low."

Marc hums. He turns his head to look at Soldier, focused entirely on the task at hand, and doing a fine job at it.

When Soldier finishes wrapping Marc up, he neatly puts away the first aid kit and Marc remains seated. It feels like the world has shifted on its axis once more.

Finally found that will to live, have you? Steve so helpfully notes.

"Maybe so," Marc concurs. 

[lunathebee]

Pairing: husband!Jake Lockley x wife!fem!reader

Warning: fluff, pregnancy mentioned, cursed word (like one)

A/n: this was requested by @mystinky-butt ,thank you so much for being patient with me, this took longer than I thought lol

Summary: Jake wanting to build a crib all on his own is the most dad thing ever

Jake let out a yawn and rubbed his eyes before sitting up on the bed, cracking his spine by twisting his body. It is just a normal morning routine that he does every day. It's not that strange, is it? Wrong. It is Sunday, and the clock shows 6 a.m.

But Jake is too excited. There is a place that sells diy baby cribs and he just has to get there as soon as possible. Can you imagine it? A man who used to only know about alcohol and driving now gets worried about picking the right color for a baby crib! Married for over 3 years and having a loving wife sure could turn Jake into a whole different person.

Talking about his wife, the "sleeping beauty" is still deep in sleep beside him here. Jake smiles before leaning down and kissing Y/n's shoulder. The action didn't wake Y/n up, but enough to make the woman turn around and stretch her body like a cat. "Bae? Why are you up so early? "Y/n let out a yawn and nuzzled her face into the blanket.

Jake feels a bit guilty for accidentally waking you up, but your face is too adorable. "Sorry doll, you can go back to sleep. I promise there will be a surprise for you today."

"Umm hum, hope it is some pickles" Y/n giggles while slowly falling back to sleep. Jake gives her one last kiss on the cheek before getting up to go out.

Geez, pickles? He knows you're craving many things while pregnant, but he's worried about your sodium consumption (and god forbid him go out to find you sardines again at midnight).

=== 3 hours later ===

Hubby: Hey princess, how's your morning? Are you home?

Y/n's phone buzzes with Jake's text. She quickly put down the silverware and snapped a quick photo to text him back.

Love: I'm at this new place with Layla! Their pancakes are so good. We're shopping for baby clothes later too, so I won't be back home any time soon. Love you <3

*attached one picture*

Jake take a peek at the picture you sent while driving. It looks like you're having a fun time with the curly-haired girl (and your syrup drenched pancake).

This can't be more perfect! Jake will arrive home in 5 minutes, assemble the baby crib, and then when Y/N gets home, he will surprise her with it! It won't take more than 30 minutes...right?

It turns out it is way harder than he thought. "Ah...fuck...so this is not here...and this." Jake cursed while holding up 2 wooden sticks, eyes still glued to the instruction paper.

It's been over an hour and he has something that looks like a chair in front of him. This is only Jake's fault to blame, he ordered an XL crib without a second thought.

Finally, after struggling for another 45 minutes, Jake stood up with sweats rolled down his forehead, hands on his hips, looking at the baby crib. He had made it!

Jake let out a relieved sigh when you're still not home yet. He needed to lay down for a bit and rest. But somehow, a rest turns into Jake in full on snoring mode, ignoring his phone buzzing like crazy.

Love: Back home in 15 mintues! Can't wait to see your surprise

Love: *attached 4 pictures* baby clothes!

sent 5 minutes ago

Love: What are you doing??

Love: Bae?

After receiving no texts whatsoever, Y/N decided to just go home first and check on Jake. What awaits her when she peeks into the living room is enough to make her face light up like a child.

A baby crib! A big one too, in pastel (f/c), next to it is Jake sleeping peacefully. Y/n has to hold her laughter while tiptoeing near him; this is too good to not take a picture!

After posting it on social media, Y/N kneels down and kisses her husband, shaking his shoulder lightly to wake him up. "Baby, you shouldn't sleep on the floor; you will catch a cold."

Jake blinks a few times in surprise when he sees you. He has fallen asleep without knowing and unintentionally ruined the surprise.

"What do you mean ruined? I love it! The colour is lovely. This is the best surprise ever. Thank you hun." Y/n laughs while giving Jake a deep kiss, feeling him smile in return.

===☾︎ ☾︎ ☾︎ BONUS ☾︎ ☾︎ ☾︎===

Y/n_Lockley post a new picture:

*pic showed her belly and Jake sleeping near the baby crib*

Caption: Guess who is the real big baby here 🤭🤭

Liked by _Layla_EF and 281 others

See all 55 comments

⬇️ Top comments

_Layla_EF: Omgggg is that Jake??

YourmyGus: Great pic Y/n! The baby crib is huge, you sure that's for baby?

Marc.Marc.Marc: You should never delete this post Y/n 😂😂

IamnotKhonshoe: jdnclacu nd!

[daughterofthequeen]

Ok, so I been out of school for a couple weeks now, I’m ready to start back writing, right? Now why can’t I think of anything to write. Where’d all my ideas go?🥺🥺🥺😭😭😭

[little-cereal-draws]

The Blue Beta Fish Bronco (MKtober day one)

“Noooo,” Steven whined, watching through the reflection on the fish tank as Jake dumped a blue beta fish into it. “You can’t put him in there, Jake, he’ll kill Gus!”

“And Gus Two,” Marc added helpfully.

“Right. Yeah. And Gus Two,” Steven said, dragging his hands down his face.

It had been less than a month since they had had gotten back from Cairo and they were still learning how to get along with their new head mate who had revealed himself shortly after. At first Steven was thrilled to have another friend, Marc less so, but it turns out trying to live three lives is even more complicated than two. Steven didn’t know why he expected it to go smoothly; things were rough with Marc at first so why would this be any different?

Jake was very prominent in their lives now. He left his clothes all over the floor, left the volume on the speakers too loud, and needed to be included in everything Marc and Steven did. It annoyed them but they both felt bad for leaving him behind in the Duat and missing all the obvious signs of his existence, so they let it happen. They owed him this, at least. But now he had gone a put a beta fish in with Steven’s (and technically Marc’s) fish.

“That little blue devil will kill them, Jake. Please put him somewhere else,” Steven begged.

“No, it’s ok, it’s ok.” Jake held out his hands placatingly. “I did research on it, amigo. I would never just dump a predatory fish in with these little weak ones. He might bully them a little bit, but he would never hurt them. The internet said they can share the same space and even eat the same food, so it's all good, hombre, no need to freak out."

"I- I am not freaking out, I just want to make sure Gus is safe."

"And Gus Two," Marc chimed in.

"Right. Yeah. And Gus Two. GodIhatethatname," Steven mumbled.

Marc's brows furrowed. "Are you sure you don't want to rename him, Steven?"

Steven let out a long breath. "No, no, he's your fish so you get to decide his name, not me. Even if your name is totally copying my name. And you're dumping new fish in my tank. Everyone gets a fish they name themselves. Fantastic."

"You'll see," Jake said smiling at Steven, "they'll be best friends before you know it."

The three of them looked at the fish. The two goldfish bumbled up to the beta, examining their new brightly colored roommate. The beta stared at them for a second before nipping them on their faces, sending them zooming for cover. Or Gus Two at least. Gus was having some trouble.

"FOR CHRIST'S SAKE, JAKE! HE'S ONLY GOT ONE FIN! GET HIM OUT OF THERE!" Steven bellowed.

"Ok, ok, I'm going, I'm going!" Jake snatched up the net and started trying to scoop the beta fish out of the tank, still reeling from Steven's sudden outburst. He didn't realize Steven even could get that loud.

After much yelling and chaos, the blue beta finally got transferred to a cereal bowl full of water. He glared angrily up at Jake, not appreciating getting pulled from his new big tank, swung around in the air a bunch as Jake frantically screamed and looked for a place to put him, and then put in a stupid cereal bowl. Jake smiled apologetically but dropped it when its glare persisted.

"Don't be putting new fish in my tank alright, mate??? That tank is mine, not yours!!! You don't get to touch it!" Steven crossed his arms on the window of the microwave. If looks could kill...

Jake looked at Steven with wide eyes for a second before hanging his head, mumbling, "Lo siento. I... I didn't mean to make you upset."

A heavy silence hung in the room. Marc looked back and forth between the two of them, not knowing what was going to happen. He had anticipated some butting heads between him and Jake, being as stubborn and hot headed as they both were, but never expected Steven to get in on it. Jake looked genuinely upset that he had made Steven angry. Marc had to do something.

"Um, ok. Well, we can get a fishbowl and put the new fish... uh..." he looked around for some flat surface that wasn't covered in books or maps. "Um... over there! On that little end table! We might have to move some stuff... but it's doable! ...I think."

"No, no, it's ok. I'll take it back," Jake said, slowly moving to gather up all the new stuff he got from the pet store. Mealworm treats, lots of plastic plants, and a hide that was shaped like a Ferrari, among other things. He looked heartbroken.

Steven's scowl fell. "Jake? Mate? I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled like that. I was just worried about Gus- and Gus Two," he added when he saw Marc about to pipe up, "and I just didn't want anything bad to happen to them, yeah? Keep your fish. He's very pretty. Does he have a name yet?"

Jake paused for a moment, debating on if he should tell him, before whispering, "Bronco."

"Bronco," Steven echoed. "That's a good name. At least someone is creative." He cast a glance at Marc.

"What?? Gus Two is a perfectly fine name!" He threw his hands in the air.

"We'll get a new tank, Jake, a smaller one, and put Bronco in that. We can even find some space -somewhere- next to the big tank so he can be with his friends. That seems like a good solution. Everyone's happy, yeah?"

Jake paused, arms still full of his new fish equipment, before dumping it back on the table. "Yeah. That sounds good."

Steven let out a sigh of relief and smiled. "Alright then! Let's find a place for him!"

"Literally, I think the only space is on that table," Marc offered.

"Not helpful, Marc. He's going to be by his friends," Steven chided.

"If we take this bookshelf out-" Jake started.

"Ok, that's a hard no"

[moonknightblog]

Sweet Dreams are Made of Lies

Marc woke up in the body, but he wasn't in the flat. He was in a taxi, in the driver’s seat.“What the hell?” “Steven? You there, what did you do?” There was no response. “Fuck, where am I know?” Marc looked out the window, trying to locate any significant locations. He couldn’t recognize anything, he felt a phone in his left pocket and dug it out. Unfortunately, it was dead. Just then there was a knock on his window, he jumped a bit and rolled it down. “Jake, what are you doing back, I thought I would never see you again.” “Excuse me, I think you have the wrong person.” “...Okay, sure I can recognize you anywhere, my friend.” “Oh right, I was heading to the bar, have time for a drink or two, Jakey?” “No, I have somewhere to be.” Marc lied “Okay, catch you later.” Marc rolled up the window. “The fuck was that, Steven you there yet?” No response. “You not down for a drink, something up with you Lockley?” The familiar voice shook Marc to the core, before he could turn around and look. Everything went black, and next thing he knew, he was in the flat on his bed with some damn awful headache.   

[myfictionaldreams]

Day 28: Car Sex - Jake Lockley

Kinktober Day 28: Car Sex - Jake Lockley

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, taxi driver jake, secret feelings, fluff, protective!jake, drinking, sexual tension, flirting, car sex, riding, nicknames, no use of y/n

my main masterlist 📚 // kinktober masterlist😈 // AO3 Link 

It was always the same taxi driver to pick you up from work, every single day without fail he was always the one to be there, outside the building at 6 pm. This meant that you both had to sit in rush-hour traffic together every day, you probably spent more time speaking to him than you did your co-workers.

He was one of the most mysterious people you’d ever had the opportunity to talk to. You weren’t able to get much information from him about his personal life but that only made it more thrilling as you basically stared at the rearview mirror the entire journey every day. You’d made the excuse that it was because you wanted to see his face as you sat in the back of the black cab whilst talking to him.

In reality, however, it was because you were so incredibly attracted to him, with his roguish look, the dark flat cap that always seemed to be on his head, and the tan leather jacket, all to compliment his deep brown eyes, strong facial features and every so often a handsome smile.

At some point on your journeys he had also nicknamed you Princesa, a subtle accent floating with his words but he always avoided questions when you asked but you were fine with that, maybe you shouldn’t be so nosey. You had however discovered that his name was Jake after asking for weeks.

Every day you began looking forward to your journeys home, almost skipping out of work to get to his taxi. Jake had also now begun waiting outside of his cab, leaning against the backseat door, ready to hold open the door when you were close enough.

“So Princesa, what do you plan on doing tonight? Another night in?” he asked casually as you both sat in traffic, rain hammering down around you.

“No actually, for once I’m going out, nothing crazy just a few drinks at my friend's local pub” you explained, actually happy to be out socialising for once.

“Oh really? Whereabouts is this place?” your eyes met him in the mirror, thinking that it was a bizarre question for him to ask but going with it anyway as the cars began moving.

“It’s about 20 minutes from my place I think? My friends picking me up and taking me there, I’ve never been before but it sounds quite nice, supposed to have an open fire that we can sit around” your fingers nervously twisted in your lap, a habit you always seemed to do with the car with Jake, matching the excited butterflies that filled your stomach.

Jake nodded, acknowledging your comment before asking about work, he always was interested to hear about your day and whenever you felt embarrassed that you had been speaking for so long, he was quick to ease any concerns explaining that he liked to listen to your voice.

Eventually, Jake pulled up to your apartment, asking for a much lower rate for the ride than what was displayed on the screen. You had tried to pay the full amount many times but the money always somehow ended up back in your bag.

“One-minute Princesa” Jake interrupted as you reached for the door handle, “take this” he passed a small card through to you in the back. You took it, reading the numbers on the card, your heart beginning to beat faster as you realised he had given you his phone number.

Jake’s jacket squeaked against his seat as he turned to look over his shoulder at you, “now, I want you to call me when you’re ready to go home and I can come to pick you up”.

Your body warmed, of course, he was just giving you his number for his taxi service, what else would it be for?

A frown passed over your expression as you asked, “but I thought you finished at 10?  I don’t want you waiting all night for me Jake”.

He waved his hand. “I’d sleep better knowing you were home safe so please, call me at any time during the night”.

“Ok, thanks, I appreciate it” you smiled warmly at him before opening the car door, “see you later,” you remarked before quickly rushing through the rain to the front door of your apartment.

Turning back you saw he was still there like he always was, making sure you got to your front door safely even though it was only a few meters from the path, lifting up his hand he waved bye and began to drive off, giving you the chance to collapse back into the door, clutching your chest to try and stop the pounding, you hated feeling like this, like a girl in school with your first crush.

Jake was on your mind all night, your friends noticed, asking a million questions until you finally told them. “Wait, as in Jake who picks you up every day from work, Jake? He’s picking you up tonight… after hours?” your friend said with the biggest shit-eating grin across her face.

You groaned, hiding your embarrassed expression, “yes…maybe… stop looking at me like that please I’m already freaking out as it is!”

Your friends laughed, having not seen you reacting this way before. “Well how about this then? You need some liquid courage so shots everyone?”

You agreed immediately, needing something to quickly take the edge off before your nerves completely ruined your night.

The liquid burned your throat as you swallowed it quickly, flinching at the disgusting taste, not even sure what alcohol it was but as it warmed you from the inside out, you tried to put Jake to the back of your mind for now.

There was something about being with your friends that made the time pass quickly, before you knew it, it was almost 2 am, and you were just about ready to go home. You weren’t the most drunk you had ever been but your body felt loose, a nice buzz humming through your veins as you called the number that you’d already memorised from staring at it all night.

He answered within 2 rings, “Princesa?” you smiled hearing his voice, loving that he automatically knew it was you ringing.

“Hey Jake, sorry if I woke you”, you began nervously biting your nails, waving to your friends as they began walking home.

“I was still awake, are you ready?” you nodded before quickly verbally responding realising he couldn’t see you, then quickly giving the address to where you were.

You sat on one of the benches outside, waiting patiently for Jake, your alcohol blanket keeping you warm against the damp chill in the air.

The sound of a car pulling up close by had you glancing up, body relaxing in a sigh as Jake quickly exited his car, pulling off his now infamous leather jacket. “Mi Amor, you’ll catch a cold” he quickly placed the jacket around your shoulders, you could smell his smokey aftershave on the collars and feel his warmth as your arms moved into the sleeves.

He quickly ushered you into the car, specifically into the passenger side of the car, right next to him, somewhere you had never been before and felt oddly intimate but you didn’t pay any attention. No, that was more on Jake as he helped you with your seat belt and then placed the heater on for you before driving off.

“You look beautiful, how was your night?” his eyes raked over your body before shifting back to the road, his stance was a lot more relaxed than usual as he rested one hand on the top of the steering wheel, the other on the gear stick. Now he didn’t have his jacket on, you could see that he was wearing a plain white shirt, with a slim black tie and dark jeans, accompanied by nice looking leather boots and his signature dark cap.

“Uh, I uh-” you couldn’t help the stammer at the casual compliment. Taking a quick breath, you let the alcohol do the talking, turning in your seat to look at him whilst talking. “It was very good thank you, I haven’t laughed that hard in a while. And thank you, you don’t look too bad yourself”.

Jake smirked, looking at you from the corner of his eye, “gracias” he politely said but you couldn’t stop yourself.

“You smell nice too”. He smiled at your compliment.

“Smell nice?”

“I mean- yeah you smell nice,” you said nuzzling into his jacket.

“Well from the brief glimpse I got from you, you smell nice as well,” he said with laughter in his tone. You weren’t sure why your next sentence came out, only blaming the alcohol.

“I bet I taste nice too” Jake's head swivelled towards you, smirking as you bit your lip in embarrassment, “I just mean that I’ve had a lot of sweet cocktails today so I probably taste of bubblegum and I’m going to stop talking”.

Jake chuckled at your ranting, hand sliding off the gearstick to lay lightly on your exposed knee. His palm was warm and surprisingly rough for a cabbie, you enjoyed the touch, not thinking anything of it, just enjoying his presence that always seemed to calm you as absentmindedly you grabbed his hand, fingers stroking along his.

You both sat in comfortable silence, the atmosphere had noticeably shifted but you enjoyed the time.

“What did you do tonight?” you asked, trying to ignore the way your heart was thumping in your chest.

“Me? Not much, watched some tv, waited for a pretty girl to call me” you hide your smile behind your hair as your cheeks warm.

“I’ve been looking forward to calling you all night” you confessed, not quite sure why you were telling him this. Jake's hand lifted under your chin, tilting it up so you were now looking at him with half-lidded eyes, noting from the red light shining on his face that he’d stopped at the traffic lights.

“And why’s that Princesa?” you were sure he was asking you this to tease you with the glint in his eyes as his fingers moved to stroke your cheek tenderly. You felt like you could hardly breathe as you stared at him, opening your mouth but not knowing what to say until the red gleam over him turned to green.

“The lights turned green” he smirked at your reaction before dropping his hand back to the gear stick and continuing to drive.

You absentmindedly played with your fingers in your lap, biting your lip as you stared out of the window.

“You do that a lot when you think I’m not looking mi Amor” Jake mumbled, glancing over at you as you looked towards him with a confused expression, watching as he lifted his hand once more to ease your lip from between your teeth. “Bite your lip, you do it when you're in deep concentration about something and think I’m not looking, but I’m always looking”.

You felt like your chest was going to burst as he pulled the car to a stop, you now only just realising that he’d pulled up to the back entrance to your building, in the near empty car park. You didn’t want to get out, wanting only to stay with him as you both stared at each other, the tension so incredibly thick you thought you were going to drown.

“Jake…” he raised an eyebrow at his name, his fingers moving a strand of hair from out of your face.

“Yes, mi amor?”. You weren’t entirely sure what to even say but you wanted to be close to him, shifting closer in your seat to him, nuzzling into the hand next to your face.

Tentatively you lifted your hands, gently cupping his and proceeded to do something sober you would absolutely never do: kiss his rough fingertips, one by one.

Jake was the next to move, cupping your cheek as he leant across the car, capturing your lips with his. His touch was fiery, setting your body alight as he began with soft kisses, testing to see your reaction but you clung to him, hands moving to grip his face to yours, deepening the kiss.

He released a heavy breath as you tasted smoke as his tongue teased along your bottom lip between slipping in. You accepted him happily, moving your own tongue against his, tilting your head to the side to kiss him deeper.

Jake's hand was on your knee again, thumb brushing against the skin leaving goosebumps behind, not moving any higher just staying still against your knee as he devoured you with his mouth. But you were greedy, needing more of him, desperate to feel more of the man you had been admiring for months now.

With courage you didn’t think you had even with the alcohol, your needs overpowering your thoughts as you pushed back on his shoulders, climbing across the car, with little difficulty with the small space but Jake moved his seat back so that you were able to straddle his lap, dress noticeably riding up your thighs.

Jake's hands cupped your arse cheeks, pulling you close as your hands cupped the back of his neck, leaning in desperately to kiss him again. Your mouths moved in sync, caressing, tasting, tempting one another.

His hat fell off at some point, giving you better access to his hair, feeling the soft curls beneath your fingers.

No words were spoken, none needed to be as you both grasped each other, need overtaking any normal senses.

You could feel him now, as you ground your hips against his, the outline of his hardened cock against your pantie-covered pussy, the sensation making you moan and break the kiss. But only so Jake could kiss along your jawline, his hands clawing at his jacket, easing it from your shoulders and discarding it into the passenger seat.

Closing your eyes, you relished in the feeling of his soft lips travelling across your throat, whining slightly, overwhelmed with need.

“What do you need Princesa?” he asked against the shell of your ear, causing you to shiver, gripping onto his crisp shirt as you ground into him again.

“Want you Jake” you whispered, feeling breathless, not caring that anyone could be watching right now. As if reading your thoughts, Jake turned the engine off to the cab, along with the lights plunging you both into darkness but meaning there was the slightest bit of privacy, even if it was obvious as to what you were both doing in the car with the way it was moving.

“You can have me mi amor”, to emphasise this, he thrust up causing his jeaned cock to brush over your pussy again.

“Please Jake” you begged, moving your hands lower, feeling his surprisingly hard abs beneath his shirt.

“It’s ok I've got you”, his hands moved to his belt, undoing it swiftly and easing out his cock before reaching beneath your dress to easily rip the flimsy material of your underwear. “Fuck” he curses as his fingers grazed through your slit, feeling how wet you were for him.

Leaning in to kiss him again, you shifted your hips forward until you could feel his tip, nudging it against your clit, moaning into his mouth at the sparks of pleasure shooting through your cunt.

Jake seemed to be losing his patience, needing to feel you now, not wanting to wait anymore as he gripped the base of his cock and edged it towards your dripping hole.

You both gasped, mouths dropping open as you slide down his cock, feeling how much he made you stretch but how well your body adjusted to him like you were made to take his cock.

As he became fully inserted, you looked at him, for only a second, like fireworks going off in your mind as you had the realisation that this was really happening, you were actually fucking your cabbie.

Said cabbie seemed to notice your slight wide-eyed expression and decided to take over, hand roughly grabbing the back of your head to pull you into another heated kiss, the other hand gripping your hip, aiding in your movements.

You didn’t want to hold back, the urgency of the touches and kisses, you weren’t going to go slow. Lifting up onto your knees, which was difficult to do in the car but Jake helped, you were able to slide up his cock most of the way before slamming back down.

The windows began to steam up, making the air feel thick and hot, sweat shining across both of your bodies but you didn’t care that you looked a mess now, hair sticking to your forehead and mascara was sure to be sticking to your under eyes.

All you could concentrate on was the tongue in your mouth, the hands gripping you so tightly to his body that you knew there would be bruises beneath the skin and the cock, that you rode hard and fast, desperation clouding both of your judgements.

The car was rocking with your motions almost helping you both to meet in the middle of each thrust as Jake began lifting his hips to meet yours.

Your cunt was squelching with increasing wetness, your moans like music to Jake’s ears as you moaned his name repeatedly, feeling that increasing tightness building in your core. 

“That’s it Princesa, cum for me” he grunted into your ear, arms now around your waist, supporting your back so you didn’t fall against the steering wheel.

“Jake!” you nuzzled into his shirt, trying to not scream out in pleasure as the waves of pleasure pulsed through you, your thighs trembling from the sensation. Jake didn’t stop fucking you though, making sure to ride out your entire orgasm before he too was cuming with a gasp.

You didn’t stop clinging to him as you both tried to catch your breath, feeling his hot cum seeping out and into his lap. Jake was the first to move, however, but only to comb his fingers through your slightly damp hair, “mi amor?”

You sat back in his lap, his cock still half-limp in your pussy, biting your lip in embarrassment before Jake pulled it out with his fingers, giving you a knowing look.

“Do you uh, want to come in for a coffee?” you asked, not wanting this to be over. Jake chuckled, kissing your cheek.

“Princesa, people usually do the coffee first and then the fucking but yes, I’d love to come in for a coffee”. You flushed at his words, excitement bubbling in your stomach for where the rest of the night might lead you.

[scarletttries]

NSFW Headcanon Request: Steven Grant (Moon Knight)

Steven Grant + Recording: (prompt list here)

(Part Two Here!!)

- When Steven Grant bought a little camcorder and stand a few years ago, he had very innocent reasons in mind. Yes, the stand was set up so the camera pointed straight at his bed, but it was to capture exactly why we woke up so exhausted from a night of tossing and turning alone, not for anything more fun than that.

- Naturally anytime you were coming over, he'd carefully stash the device away, not wanting to creep you out or do anything to risk making the most important person in his life uncomfortable. He knows just how lucky he is to be the man that gets to worship your body, and even though he'd die for the chance to relive every one of your intimate encounters, he thinks it's way too weird of a question to ask.

- That is until one night you surprise him at home, on your way back from a girl's night and missing your sweet, nerdy boyfriend. He's over the moon when he opens the door to your bright, smiling face, quickly surrendering to your hypnotic kiss as you lead him to the bed he was all but ready to settle into for the night alone.

- Your hands are pushing his shirt off his shoulders, while his hands slide up your dress, clawing at your thighs until they spread enough for him to fit between them, when you first notice the blinking red light.

"Steven, gorgeous, how long have you had a camera in your bedroom?" Instantly he's mortified, apologising and tripping over his own feet as he launches off the bed, practically crawling across his bedroom floor to turn off the device,

"I'm so sorry love, I didn't realise you were coming, and it's to help with my sleep walking, and I swear I always put it away whenever you're here, I'd never violate your privacy like that." He's struggling to take in breaths as each sentence catches in his throat, tears prickling the corners of his eyes as he watches you pull down your skirt and hop off the edge of his bed, picking him up off the floor and bringing your hands to softly cup his face.

"It's okay, I believe you. I trust you Steven, I was just surprised is all." Your gentle words slow his heart back to a steady pace, the tender press of your lips to his enough to reassure him that this isn't the breaking point he always assumes is right around the corner. Each kiss is quickly followed by another, Steven completely entranced by you, enough so that he doesn't notice as you press the record button again, throwing the camera a showy wink as you lead him back to bed again.

- It's not until a few days later, texting Steven from a hotel during a weekend away that you let him know about your little tape. He's desperately fighting the urge to plead over text for you to come home early, settling for telling you just how terribly he misses you, three little words hanging on the tip of his tongue, not quite bold enough to let them loose yet. You echo his longing sentiment, telling him just how much you miss the feel of his hands on your skin, his touch on every part of you, and tell him maybe he should check his camera before he takes himself to bed.

- He's sceptical as he takes his camcorder off his stand, flipping the little screen to face him and scrolling through the hours of footage until he recognises the night he last had you over. He has to cover his eyes with embarrassment as he watches himself tumble out of bed to stop the recording, but his eyes dart wide open when he watches you turn it straight back on, the playful look in your eye immediately flushing all his blood down his body.

- He realises he's holding his breath in his attempt to hear every single sound you make as the two of you step across the screen and climb back on to the bed he's now propped up in alone. He knows it was your decision, but he still feels voyeuristic and dirty as he watches your dress slide down your body on the screen, his free hand slipping into his pyjama bottoms as his on screen counterpart slides his hands over your chest, earning a happy moan that has him hardening at the first touch.

- His mouth hangs open and he watches intently as he settles between your legs, turning up the volume as high as he can as you start to pant and moan at the feel of his tongue exploring your centre. His hand has picked up its pace now, chest heaving as he watches your back arch off the bed, nipples hard in the cold night air.

- He almost loses it the first time he notices you smile right into the camera as you moan out his name, a private performance just for him that makes his heart throb almost as hard as the manhood he's now furiously rubbing. He can feel him cross the point of no return as he watched himself plunge deep inside you, your legs wrapping tightly around his hips leaving no room between your two bodies, his lips desperately chasing yours. His screen self lasts longer than lonely Steven does, spilling across the empty bed as you let out the needy high pitched whine you do every time he pulls out of you to change positions. He sits there, dick pulsing in his hand as he watches your ass bounce as he slams his hips against yours, finally both spent and collapsing alongside you.

- Feeling utterly beat he almost puts the camera away, until he notices you creep out of the bed towards the bathroom, stopping in front of the focused lens to mouth three little words to him before stopping the video. If the sensitive soul hadn't already been in bed, he would have immediately collapsed to the floor. Frantically he picks his phone back up, impatiently waiting through the rings until he can finally tell you that he loves you too.

[petertingle-yipyip]

SO LONG LONDON - STEVEN GRANT

Pairing: steven x reader (established) (and then marc shows up)

Word Count: 2,489

Summary: Dating Steven was always a bit of a gamble. So when a beautiful woman comes to town claiming your boyfriend as her husband, you find a whole new side to the man you love.

//honestly idk what happened here, just go with it//

It made no sense.

You two were scheduled together all the time. Donna claimed it was the only way to make sure Steven actually showed up to his shifts. And for the most part, it worked. Occasionally, you two would have a day or two different and he wouldn’t show or would be ridiculously late. But you were usually able to explain it away to your manager so Steven wouldn’t get in trouble.

But now, it has been three straight days of Steven pulling no-calls-no-shows. Even when you tried to call him, it went straight to voicemail. Like his phone wasn’t even on.

You were walking around the city that day after work. You picked up some lunch and were looking at your phone, contemplating whether or not you wanted to try calling out texting him again, but the sharp whizz of a woman on a moped cut you off.

You stopped so suddenly in your tracks that your phone fell from your hands as you scrambled to catch your food.

“I’m so sorry!” The woman said quickly, suddenly in front of you with your phone in hand. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it.” You shrugged it off and held a hand out for your phone. She went to pass it back to you but her eyes lingered on your screen where Steven’s contact photo was waiting.

“It was my fault for not looking.” You tried while she quietly stared at the screen. Your fingers hooked on your device and with a slight tug, you got it back.

“I’m Layla, by the way.” She said when you had moved to leave.

“Y/N.” You nodded. “Nice to meet you.” You tried to leave again but she spoke up.

“Boyfriend?”

“What?”

“The guy on your phone.” She gestured to your hand where your phone still sat. As subtle as possible, your thumb hit the lock button to hide the photo that was still waiting. “Is that your boyfriend?”

“Yeah.” You nodded. “He’s M.I.A. right now so I’m starting to worry. Normal girlfriend things, y’know? He’s a bit of a sleepwalker so…” You finished awkwardly.

“Would you…” She began and your brows raised. “Would you wanna get some coffee maybe? I think we should talk some more.”

“Oh, well.. Thank you but I should get home. I’m like three missed calls away from a missing persons report.” You tried to joke.

“It’s just that your boyfriend looks an awful lot like my husband.”

“What?” Your heart sunk.

“Yeah, uh..” She hurried to pull her phone from her bag. “My husband, Marc Spector. Maybe you’ve heard his name? He comes and goes for work but then I got a call and now I’m here trying to find him.”

“Oh!” You sighed in relief. “Okay, it’s probably a coincidence because my boyfriend’s name is.. Steven… Gra…”

Your sentence trailed off as Layla showed you her screen and a photo of her and someone who looked exactly like Steven faced you. His posture was different and you assumed his aura was as well. His hair was styled differently and he even wore different clothes than Steven would. Too similar to ignore but too different to convince you.

“Wow, um, that resemblance really is… Y’know what, maybe we should get some coffee.” You agreed.

After a while of you two talking, neither of you were convinced the other person was talking about the same person. Layla’s ‘Marc’ seemed to have a completely different personality than Steven. He seemed rougher, insufferable even. To be able to completely abandon your wife with no explanation was borderline appalling, and Steven would never. He hardly even went to run errands without giving you a full list of everywhere he intended to go.

As far as you could tell, the only similarity was their looks.

You offered to bring her to Steven’s apartment to show her that he was a different person with a different life. But when you knocked, your usual habit just in case he was home, he actually answered the door.

“Hello, Love.” He smiled at you, though the expression quickly faded when he saw yours. “Something wrong?”

“Steven, this is Layla. Layla, Steven.” You introduced before she had pushed past you both and into the apartment.

Steven looked at you in confusion but you smiled in apology with a small shrug. He stepped aside and gestured for you to come in so you did. Layla was investigating the small space and Steven was staying close to your side. You could feel his fingers tapping the back of your hand, his silent request to interlock your fingers together, but you put your hands in your jacket pocket instead.

“This is your flat, Marc?” She asked and you were thankful someone finally spoke to break the tension.

“I’m Steven, actually.” He answered.

“And you live here with her?” She gestured to you.

“No.” You answered for yourself. “I stay a few blocks over.”

“It’s my mum’s flat, actually.” Steven defended.

“You guys are talking again?” She asked as she found one of the poetry books on his shelves.

They exchanged remarks about the French poet and the hieroglyphics on Steven’s desk. You watched quietly and were finding nothing that could indicate Steven was Marc. But then again, the one French poet he knew just so happened to be Layla’s favorite. And his explanation of hieroglyphs was the same as hers.

Was it possible?

While the two turned to argue about divorce papers and Steven’s identity, you were distracted by the unusual gym bag on the table. You glanced and saw them take their conversation to another side of the room so you went over to the bag. You were thankful it was already unzipped so you pulled the sides apart and were dumbfounded by what you saw.

Stacks of money, a gun, a golden bug, and a passport.

You were drawn to the document so you pulled it out quietly and opened it, seeing a different name printed on the page.

“Marc Spector.” You read to yourself and your heart came to a screeching halt in your chest.

“Who’s Marc?” You asked suddenly, drawing attention to yourself. You held up the passport expectantly.

“Oh, jeez, uh…” Steven rushed over, crumbling the divorce papers under his arm as he reached for the passport.

“No.” You held it further away. “Who are you?”

“C’mon, love. You know me.” He tried, almost desperate for you to be on his side.

“I don’t think I do.” You said sadly. “Who’s Marc? Is he your twin brother or something?”

“I don’t know.” He answered quickly.

“He is Marc and he needs to tell me if we’re getting this divorce or not.” Layla spoke up and snatched the papers from under Steven’s arm.

“You seem lovely, Layla, truly. But I’m not Marc Spector.” He insisted and you so badly wanted to believe him. “I’m Steven Grant and I work at a gift shop. Well, I used to work at a gift shop. I just want my life back.”

“Doesn’t seem like you know which life that is, do you?” You slammed the passport against his chest.

“Y/N, please wait.” He reached for your hand but you backed away.

You nearly ran down the hall to the elevator. You needed to get away. From Layla. From Steven or Marc or whoever the hell he was.

It felt like you didn’t know him anymore. A different name you could live with. A secret job, sure, you could get over that. But a wife? An entirely opposite personality? That shook your entire world, the very foundation of your relationship. You could justify the rest but the idea of him loving someone else so wholly and being someone else so entirely, it had you questioning everything you knew.

About him. About life and love. Even about yourself.

It made you wonder if you could walk away from it all. Say so long to the quiet london boy that stole your heart.

You were back in your apartment before you knew it and you leaned against the closed door for a moment once you were inside. Your head was spinning with the new situation and you decided you didn’t want to think about it. You pushed yourself up and headed to your fridge, picking out one of the cans you usually reserved for after dinner or nights you had friends over for drinks and movies. You took it into your room and got changed before dropping onto your couch.

You put your can on the side table and picked up the remote, flipping through channels until a familiar movie played. You let it run as background noise while you read your book and slipped your drink. But despite your best efforts, Steven was still present in your mind. When you were picturing the main male character, all you could picture was your boyfriend. One of the female characters started to look like Layla. It drove you insane.

You threw the book to the coffee table and dropped to your back across the cushions. You didn’t know how long you had been staring at your ceiling when someone knocked on your door. The first time the noise came, you didn’t move. Surely whoever it was would leave. But after a few seconds the knocking came again, with more authority than the first time. so you hauled yourself up and shuffled over. 

Opening the door, you were greeted by the ghost of your boyfriend. For the most part, it was the same man. Same clothes and same facial features. But his dark curls were pushed out of his face. His posture stood taller and his shoulders pulled back.

It didn’t take long for you to recognize you weren’t looking at Steven.

You moved to close the door when his hand shot out to stop you. You tried leaning some of your body weight against the door but it hardly budged. You muttered a small complaint to yourself before stepping back and opening the door fully.

You stared at the imposter expectantly.

“Not gonna let me in?” He asked, gesturing slightly towards your apartment.

Even his voice was different. Missing the accent, deeper and fuller than Steven’s. Seeing the more mature sound come from your boyfriend’s face sent goosebumps across your skin.

“Why would I? I don’t know you.” You shrugged.

“C’mon, Y/N.” He groaned and ran a hand down his face. “You really wanna have this conversation in the hall?”

You sighed heavily and as if on cue, your nosy neighbor was leaving her apartment. You grabbed Marc’s jacket and pulled him in, giving the woman a quick wave and a tight smile. You heard her question who he was but you shut the door before having to answer. You stared at the door for a second to collect yourself before turning to face Marc, who had already made himself comfortable on your couch.

“Little early in the day for drinks, don’t you think?” He tried to joke and shook the empty can but you didn’t laugh.

“Well when I find out my boyfriend is married and absolutely not who I thought he was, I’m entitled to a spiked lemonade… Just be glad it isn’t the bottle of vodka in my freezer.” You countered, the words spilling faster than you could control them. “So who the hell are you this time?”

“My name’s Marc.” He began and you rolled your eyes. “Steven and I are…”

“Twins?” You tried your earlier guess. You just desperately wanted something simple for an explanation. A case of mistaken identity among twins was simple enough.

“No, not exactly.”

“But you are the one married to that girl, Layla, right?” You pressed.

“Yeah.” He nodded and a small smile crossed his lips. “Steven’s never met her till today.”

“Well…” You said awkwardly, coming a few steps closer. “She’s very pretty.”

He smiled a little wider for a second before he seemed to remember why he was there.

“Listen, I came here because I wanted to try and explain what I could to you.” He began carefully.

“Is Layla right then, Steven’s just an act?” You cut in sharply. “A fake name so you can lead a life away from her? Because it seems to me that that woman loves you. Why she would is baffling to me and why you would divorce her is even more ludacris.”

“He’s not an act and he’s not fake.” He seemed to flinch at the last word. “Maybe he’s not all that real, either. It’s…” He blew out a heavy sigh. “It’s complicated, Y/N/N.”

“Don’t you dare.” You said tightly, closing the distance to put yourself in front of Marc. “You’ve existed to me for all of ten minutes. You have no right to call me that.”

“You’re right.” His hands went up in surrender. “I’m sorry.”

“How do you know about that anyway?”

“I know pretty much everything about Steven’s life.” He shrugged innocently. “You, the gift shop, his really shitty boss. I know what bus he takes, that goddamn fish. Jesus, I even know what underwear brand he wears.”

“How? Why? I just-“ You groaned and pushed your hands into your hair. “What the hell is going on, Marc?”

“Sometimes…” He spoke carefully, as if he was treading around land mines. “There were a few nights when you would come to Steven’s, or walking back to his place after work, it wouldn’t be him… He wouldn’t take over in time and it would be me. Kinda got to know you through that.”

“Oh my god.” You said quietly, your hand covering your mouth as you sunk into the chair beside you. “When he would be super quiet and just nodding or making little humming noises…”

“Yeah…” He hesitantly agreed, clearly embarrassed. “I tried to kind of push him forward but- I don’t know how this shit works, Y/N. I’m just living with it at this point.”

“So… You’re Marc and he’s Steven, but you’re also the same?” You questioned as the information tried to sink in. “Like you two are-“ You interlocked your fingers together.

“Same body, different people.” He nodded. “I know it’s a lot but don’t.. Don’t leave him over this.”

“Leave him?” Your brows furrowed and you almost laughed. “I’m not gonna leave him over this.”

“Really?” His brows raised quizzically. “Cause it didn’t seem that way when you walked out.”

“I can handle personalities, I think. It’s the marriage that’s a problem.”

“To be fair, it’s my marriage.” He offered. “Like I said, he never knew her.”

“I just need a day or two to let it process.” You confessed. “And I think you need a day or two to figure out things with Layla.”

“Yeah, probably right.”

“And if you two work it out, me and Layla are gonna have to figure out an arrangement.”

[forever-rogue]

Bee you’re so amazing and sweet and kind and I hope you know what a beautiful positive impact you’re on this site 💙

I saw you’re accepting Steven Grant requests and my heart is singing cause I miss him so much!!! Might I suggest sweet and shy Steven finding every excuse available to go see you at work but never working up the courage to ask you out until one day he thinks someone else will ask you on a date and he finds his courage to do it first?

AN | I’ve missed him! He’s the best and I’m glad he’s back😌

Pairing | Steven Grant x Fem!Reader

Warnings | None

Word Count | 2.9k

Masterlist | Main, Moon Knight

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

"Your friend is here again," Cameron's voice caused you to look up from the espresso machine. You looked around the cafe in confusion, "well, your favorite customer."

"My favorite customer?" You echoed as Cameron laughed. There were a lot of people who came in on a regular basis so you had no clue as to who they could be referring to, "umm…who?"

"I think his name is Steven?" At the sound of his name your entire face lit up. Alright, maybe you did have a favorite customer, "so I was right!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," you lied, your entire face flushing with warmth, "he's just like anyone else. He just happens to be extra nice."

"He's been walking around outside for like ten minutes now," you peeked past Cameron and looked outside, indeed finding him pacing around. You couldn't help but giggle at him, "wonder if he'll actually come in."

"I'm sure he will," you certainly hoped so anyway, "maybe he's just waiting for a call or something."

"Or maybe his favorite barista is making him nervous and he's trying to get his act together," Cameron suggested as you shrugged innocently, "he's finally going to ask you out!"

“Oh my - stop!” you were laughing nervously and trying to hide your flaming face. You were definitely trying not to imagine him actually asking you on a date. It was a scenario you had imagined and daydreamed of about a thousand times before. But never once had you allowed yourself to believe that it might actually come true. And yet…you shook your head to yourself as you aggressively scrubbed a spot on the counter that you hoped was burnt chocolate and not anything else. You could feel Cameron’s eyes focused on you, “listen. I-I’m not going to flatter myself and think that he might actually like me.”

“And just why not, miss ma’am?” they asked as you shrugged, mumbling something under your breath. They were still waiting for your answer as you turned around and groaned loudly, “I’m telling you, and I would never lie to you, that is something is definitely there between the two of you. Like a spark or something.”

“Cam-” you cast another look outside and found Steven still there. Utter panic and confusion was etched onto his handsome face and you made a small sound of concern. You hoped that nothing was wrong, “he’s like a friend at best.”

“But he could be more if you’d both stop being such weenies,” and yeah, you couldn’t deny that they weren’t necessarily wrong. 

“I’m just…I’m gonna go and make sure he’s okay,” you whipped off your apron and tossed it on the counter before walking past the counter and outside the small patio area. At the sound of the bell twinkling over the door, Steven turned around and looked and was immediately surprised to see you standing there. You smiled softly and held up your hand in a small wave, “hey Steven.”

“H-hi,” he stammered nervously, cheeks immediately darkening as he took you in. The reality was that he’d been trying to work up the courage to come in and see you, and hopefully not make a fool of himself. It seemed like every time he saw, his brain turned to absolute mush and he wasn’t able to form even a single coherent sentence. A part of him that had hoped that by now he’d be able to actually hold a conversation with you but that seemed like an impossible challenge. 

“Is everything alright?” you asked softly and his eyes widened in panic, “I-I don’t mean to pry it was just that we noticed you pacing around. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Yes, of course,” he wasn’t sure if he was more embarrassed by the fact that you’d noticed him pacing, or more touched by the idea that you cared enough to go and check on him. Both…definitely both. You visibly relaxed at the small smile on his face, “I was just…thinking.”

“Oh! Well, we’ve all been there,” the temptation to ask what he was thinking about was almost too great, but you held your tongue. You weren’t sure if he had actually planned on coming inside or if he was going to leave now, but you weren’t ready to part from him, “do you want to come in and I can make you a tea? We’ve just finished baking some fresh biscuits if you’d care to sample.”

“You want me to come in?” he pointed at himself, almost in disbelief and wanting to make sure you were sure. He wouldn’t flatter himself with the idea that you wanted to spend time with him. But what if…

“Yes, silly! Who else?” you put your hand on his arm and gently motioned for him to follow you. Once reality caught up with him, he smiled and eagerly followed into the warm, cozy cafe. He’d learned to love spending time here, especially whenever his schedule coincided with yours, “c’mon!”

“Right behind you,” he promised gently. He was at the point where he was pretty sure that he’d already follow you whenever you went. And that realization was both exciting and terrifying, “right behind you.”

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

Steven, sweet, shy Steven had grown very fond of you. Or in love with you as Marc liked to put. He didn’t necessarily agree or disagree on that account. He often came in when you were working if his schedule coincided with yours. He’d more or less memorized the days and times you worked but in truth it had been accidental. He was keenly aware of a lot of things and you had just become such a regular part of his life and he had become very attuned to you. 

It was a dreary afternoon when Steven got off work, and on a weekend on top of it, he decided he could do with a warm afternoon pick-me-up. And he’d get to see you, which was a definite pick-me-up on its own. There was a definite spring to his step as he made his way over to your little cafe, and he even allowed himself to daydream of asking you on a date. It was something that he’d thought about often, more than he ever dared to admit, but he just couldn’t manage to turn into a reality. 

Marc had even tried to coach him on it, encouraging him to finally ask you instead of just talking about it. Steven had almost even felt ready to do it, but then he just…couldn’t. He’d see your pretty face and that sugar sweet smile and he’d practically melt into a puddle. A puddle that couldn’t do much more than stare longingly at times. 

But today felt different. Today felt like the day he might actually have the courage in his bones to ask you. Maybe it was an overinflated sense of self or something in the air but it all just felt so right. Feeling extra bold, he even allowed himself to stop at one of the small street vendors and purchase a small bouquet of flowers. You’d mentioned it once in passing that you liked daisies more than anything and once he spotted them he knew he was going to grab them for you.

By the time he made his way into the cafe, his eyes were already scanning the place for you. When he spotted you, he grew delighted and was ready to rush over. When he realized the current situation you were in, he stopped in his tracks and inhaled sharply. 

You were standing at the counter, leaning on your elbows as you chatted away with some customer. A very handsome customer from what Steven could discern from only seeing his backside. His heart practically dropped into his stomach at the sweet expression on your face. You were clearly invested into the conversation and that made him take a few steps back and contemplate running out the door. 

As thought you had some kind of sixth sense for him, you looked up and locked eyes with him. His big, brown eyes softened but the expression on his face was nothing short of panic as you waved cheerily at him. He held up the flowers in return as your curiosity piqued - who were the flowers for? You, a part of your heart secretly wished. 

“Hi Steven!” you excused yourself from the other - a friend maybe? - and went over to him, “fancy meeting you here.”

“I could say the same to you,” he managed to tease in return, heart beating wildly inside his chest. You always managed to make him nervous, butterflies exploding in his stomach and heart practically stopping. He felt more like a boy rather than a grown man, but it was a feeling he still managed to love and crave. He looked down at the flowers in his hands and back at your inquisitive eyes before deciding to just do it. It was now or never, “t-these are for you.”

“For me?” and yeah. He instantly knew he’d made the right decision as soon as the simple question escaped your lips. He nodded shyly before handing them over to you, “oh my goodness. They’re daisies! I love them - Steven, I…thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he stammered over his words and found it almost impossible to meet your eyes. He was sure he would have melted into a puddle then and there, “I should umm… I can see-”

“Come on,” you were almost pleading with him. And honestly, who was he to say no to you? You almost skipped behind the counter, grabbing a large pitch and filling it with cool water before putting your new flowers into it. Each step was done with gentle reference before you turned back to him, “what can I make you?”

“Oh, you don’t have to-” he leaned against the counter and tried to play you off, but you weren’t having it. You put your hand on top of his and gave it a gentle squeeze, and his heart almost stopped.

“Don’t even try that on me, Steven,” you insisted and he just made a small sound in response, “your regular or can I try something new and surprise you?”

“Surprise me,” he squeaked as you busied yourself with making him something special. You continually surprised him and it was one of the things he was coming to adore about you. He decided to be bold and push his luck and see if he could get a little information about the man that you had been chatting to. Just you know…out of sheer curiosity. For science…or something like that,  “busy day?”

“Oh you know, just the usual,” you waved your hand around, brow furrowed in concentration and tongue peeking out of your mouth, “average weekend afternoon. Lots of tourists and all that. What about you?”

“There’s a new exhibit on the old kingdom of Egypt at the museum,” he tried to contain his excitement; he loved talking about his job and he knew you liked hearing about it but he didn’t want to bore you either. He was still trying to figure out where the line was, “so lots of crowds, but they all seemed excited, which makes it worthwhile.”

“That’s great,” you smiled at it, handing him the beverage you had made specially for him, “I’d love to see sometime! I’ll have to come by sometime when you’re working, and you can give me the tour. If you’d like…”

“I’d love that,” his entire face lit up as you made up your mind that you would see him as soon as got an afternoon off when he was working, “there’s so much I could show you.”

“I’m sure you could,” you agreed as you went to grab him a fresh pastry, “Steven, I-”

Before you could manage to say anything else, you heard your name being called from the back. You sighed softly and gave Steven an apologetic look before turning towards the kitchen, “sorry, duty calls - I’ll talk to you later, alright?”

“Of course, yes, definitely,” his entire face was falling as he watched you walk away. Realistically he knew that you were at work and had to attend to your job but it still wished you could stay. There was something so magnetic about you that continued to draw him in. You were like a warm, sweet hot chocolate on a rainy afternoon, or a gentle, soft breeze on a perfect spring day, “bye…”

Alright, he was really ging to need to do something and either ask you out finally or just let this all go and move on. But being stuck in this odd limbo of sorts was only to make things worse or continue to break his heart. And, he wagered with himself, if he asked you out and you said no, he’d know where he stood. But…it would still break his heart a little if you only wanted to be friends.

What a dilemma indeed. 

Marc was going to kick his ass later for not asking you out today when he had the perfect opportunity to say so. 

Heck.

-── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

Steven kept his distance for a few days, which you definitely noticed. You were sure that he was busy with work and life and tried not to let it bother you but you definitely missed his presence. It was hard not to notice the absence of the sunshine he brought in all the time. 

Steven, meanwhile, had been trying to work up the nerve to come and see you. He had promised himself (and Marc) that the next time he saw you he was going to ask you out. There were no if ands or buts at this point. Unless, you know, there was an emergency or something…then it would just be rude. Anyway - 

He made his way to the cafe and came inside without allowing himself to have any second thoughts. To his dismay and chagrin, he found the same customer from the other day chatting you up again. Talk about bad timing. He waited until the man left and made a beeline over to you.

“Hey there!” you looked at him with starry eyes and a bright smile, “I’ve missed you!”

“Hi, I - wait. You’ve missed me?” he asked softly as you nodded, “it’s been a busy few days.”

“You don’t have to explain to me,” you insisted, “just know that whenever I get to see you I’m happy.”

“Will you go out with me?” he blurted his question out before he could take it back or have any second thoughts. You blinked at him owlishly a few times, trying to make sure that you’d heard him correctly. When you saw the pretty pink blush creeping into his neck and cheeks you were positive you’d heard him correctly.

“Like on a date?” you asked, you know, just to clarify. 

“Y-yeah,” he answered nervously as you inhaled sharply, a sound of excitement, “I-I am. Unless you’re dating someone already! Like-like that guy you were talking to earlier.”

“James?” you made a sound of amusement before waving off the idea that you had anything romantic with him, “he’s my cousin! He’s been here visiting, that’s all.”

“Oh,” his embarrassment was quickly overshadowed by his excitement and nerves. That meant…, “oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” you teased lightly, “but umm…if the offer still stands, then I’d love to take you up on it.”

“You want to go on a date?” he pointed at himself as you giggled, unable to stop yourself from the incredulous look on his face, “with me?”

“Yes!” you hoped that he could understand just how much you wanted this too. The idea of asking him out had crossed your mind several times and you had almost done it yourself but the right situation just hadn’t come up, “I’d really like that.”

“Right, yeah, me too,” he seemed almost like he was incredibly surprised by your eagerness, “so then it’s a date.”

“It’s a date,” you confirmed, a saccharine silence falling over the two of you. You swallowed the nervous lump in your throat, “how does tonight work? I’m off in about an hour.”

“Tonight?!” you hoped he wasn’t getting cold feet now that the reality of an actual date hit him. You shrugged sheepishly before nodding, “yeah…tonight works. That’d be…great.”

“Good,” you couldn’t stop yourself from leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek, “do you want to wait or meet me back here later?”

“I’ll wait,” he touched the spot on his cheek that had been blessed by your lips, a starry look on his face, “maybe with a tea in the meantime?”

“I can do that,” yeah, you liked this guy a lot. And you were excited to see where it could all go, “that sounds perfect.”

“Yes,” he agreed, “perfect.”

[jake-g-lockley]

Only for You (Steven Grant x reader)

Masterlist | Playlist

Warnings: MDNI, Smut, fingering, oral (fem receiving), protected p in v, popping someone’s cherry, dirty language, swearing.

Word count: 3.8k worth of filth and fluff, yay

A/N: I wanna lay on his chest fr (also his fucking hands just-) I’m fucking sorry but I just realized that I have never written Steven Grant smut, holy shit. Here it is, soft, first-time sex with Steven <3

☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. “Don’t laugh Steven! I'm not scared of sex, I’m just saying that there are other things that I want in a relationship too.” you pout, elbowing Steven square in the stomach.

“It's not like I know how good sex is anyway.” You grumble as Steven chuckled.

You and Steven were curled up on the couch, a forgotten movie playing softly on your laptop. Your head was settled comfortably on his chest, a fluffy blanket over the both of you. If anyone had walked into Steven’s flat then, they would see the picture of your perfect version of a couple.

Except, well, you and Steven weren’t together.

You and him had been watching a movie when a particularly sexy scene came about and you moved to bury your face into Steven’s chest in embarrassment. Part of you had just wanted to stay there, all warm and comfortable but Steven had started to laugh, and is now prodding you slightly about your abstinence from the act of fornication.

He also had been nagging you about how you ditched your Tinder date to instead come to Steven’s flat bearing gifts of wine and chocolates.

“What are the other things you’d want then?” your best friend pushed on, sitting up slightly to close the laptop and place it on the coffee table before gazing down at you.

You shrunk slightly under his gaze, suddenly feeling shy.

Despite being the sweetest human being on the planet, sometimes when he was really into a conversation, Steven would have a sparkle in his eyes that made you feel slightly intoxicated. The first time that happened, you were surprised with the way your body reacted to him, in a fluid way, as if it was totally in tune with the nature that he had presented to you.

Forget sex. You had never been in a romantic relationship. In fact, Steven’s probably the first person in this big blue world who has been this close to you. You cherished him and held him oh so close to your heart, but that made you fall so incredibly hard for him.

But Steven was older, more mature and probably had more experience than you could ever uncover. Why would he want someone as inexperienced and young as you?

Instead you choose to avoid his eyes, staring at your hands that fisted the fluffy blanket.

“You’d think it's stupid.” you mumbled.

“Now, love, I never in a million years would think that. Come on, let's hear it then.” he urged, his hand finding yours for comfort.

You hold his hand in both of yours by his fingers, his hand comically bigger than yours. The weight of his hand in yours was reassuring and safe. You found yourself tracing his life line as you stared into space.

“I’d want them to dance with me in the rain even if both of us have two left feet. I’d want to go on long walks with them and talk about the stupidest things in the world. I��d want to hold their hand and run errands. I’d want them to sing me soft, made up songs, or read me poetry. I’d want them to make me smile even during my darkest days. I’d want them to just hold me in their arms and whisper sweet fluffy things. I’d want them to be my safe place, my comfort person. I’d want someone who can heal me, Steven.” your voice breaking a little when you got to the end of your list.

The both of you sat in silence for a while. You turned your focus entirely to the beat of Steven’s heart and the way his body was pressed to yours. You continued to toy with his fingers, brushing your thumb over a small scar over and over. You’d be lying to yourself if you didn’t want him to fulfill all that you had just said.

“Is that too much to ask for, or am I going to end up being an eternal virgin, eternally alone?” you laughed a little as you said it.

“Would you like me to try?” Steven whispered suddenly, the words spilling out of him in one breath.

At that very moment, you froze. You felt as if the world ceased to exist at the sound of his words.

Steven took a deep breath before continuing.

“You have already given me the opportunity to know you, in the best way possible, as your best friend. Darling, I’ll let you step on my feet while we dance in the rain. I’ll be your book of stupid facts while we walk around London aimlessly. I’ll never let go of your hand and I’ll sing you songs of my love for you and read you poetry about your pure beauty. I’ll make sure that beautiful smile doesn’t leave your face and I’m not a doctor, but I swear to you, on my life, that I’ll do my best to heal you.” He says as his free hand lightly runs up and down your arm.

“And I hate to be so frank, but I’m already holding you in my arms and I’m trying my best to whisper sweet things to you. Besides, if you didn’t feel safe, I doubt you’d still be slotted next to me holding my hand in yours.” He simply stated, as if he was proving a point.

You didn’t realize you were breathing rapidly until your eyes caught the movement of your chest. You licked your lips, attempting to say something back to Steven.

“Fuck.” was all that you managed instead.

“I could do that very well too if you like.” Steven said without missing a beat.

“YOU COCKY BASTARD!” You wriggled away from him and laughed, sitting up slightly to watch as a smile bloomed on his rosy face.

“You’d do that for me?” you whispered, the second the laughter died down.

“I’ll do anything for you, only for you.” He reassured as his eyes searched yours, bringing a hand up to cup your face. “I want to be the constant in your life, so, my darling, would you like me to try?”

“Yes, please.” You closed your eyes and leaned into his hand, before feeling yourself pulled close to him.

Your eyes fluttered open and you found yourself staring into dark orbs that you had constantly found yourself lost in on a daily basis.

“Can I kiss you and show you how hard I’ll try then?” Steven whispered, his eyes drowning you in his own sanctuary.

“Yes, Steven.” was the last thing you heard yourself say before you lost yourself in him.

Steven’s lips were soft and forgiving against yours as your mind scrambled to comprehend that you were having your first kiss. Your hand shook as you tried to find purchase, settling to grab Steven’s t-shirt. His nose slotted perfectly against yours and you could smell his aftershave and feel his stubble against your skin.

You could tell Steven was trying hard to take it slow but as you straddle his lap, he brought his hand to your hip to push you further into him. The friction made you gasp, allowing Steven to lick into your mouth, creating a symphony of sounds from the both of you.

The both of you stopped for air, but you couldn’t pull yourself away from him, choosing to breathe the air that he heavily breathed out.

“How was that?” Steven asked, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ears.

“For my first? I couldn’t have asked for more.” you hissed slightly as Steven still kept an iron grip on your hip to push you against him, feeling the dynamic shift between the two of you.

You kissed Steven with all your last might and you could hear and feel a deep groan erupt from him as you pressed yourself against him, the wine you had edging you on. He kissed you back with equal fervor, as if he couldn’t get enough of you by the second. You ran your hands through his curls tugging them slightly causing him to whimper. You pressed yourself down on him, hard, realizing that you relished in the sound he made when you tugged on his hair. You could feel him, hard against you and a part of you felt absolutely victorious but the other part that was unsure slowly started to win over.

“I’ve never done this before, Steven.” you whisper as Steven moans, and you could tell that he was holding back from rutting his hips against you.

“That’s alright, love. Do you want to stop?” Steven says with a worried tone in his voice.

You gazed at Steven, at the state that you had put him in. His curls were astray and his lips were parted. Lust had blown his pupils wide open and you swear you could see a galaxy in them from your vantage point.

“No, I don’t want to stop. Not with you. Could you show me?” you plead.

“Let's take things slow,” Steven soothed you, slowly lifting you off him and laying you on your back. “I’m going to eat you out, love, but I need you to promise me that you’ll stop me if it gets too much for you.” he said while his large fingers hooked the waistband of the sweats that you stole from him.

Your face burned furiously at his words, not expecting the forwardness. You wanted to cross your legs and pull away but this was Steven. Your Steven. He would keep you safe.

“I promise.” You whispered back, your heart thumping in your chest.

Steven kissed your inner thigh, pushing your thighs apart to reveal your clothed cunt as you propped yourself onto your elbows to watch him make a mess of you. Your legs hung limp on either side of him, and you felt like a rag doll, absolutely powerless.

He started lightly marking your inner thighs, his tongue soothing out the evidence of his ministrations everytime your moans got a little too out of control. You swirl your hips, not content that your cunt wasn’t getting what it had been initially promised. Feeling a little bolder, your hands flew to his curls as you tried to direct him to what you really needed.

You felt yourself go dizzy as Steven’s fingers suddenly pushed your panties to the side, feeling your already dripping slit.

“Gods, you’re already so wet for me, darling. Such a shame that no one else will get to see how pretty this pussy is now that it's mine.” he mumbled as he trained his eyes to your core.

Blood rushed simultaneously to your face and clit, making you cry out loud at Steven’s lewd commentary.

“Steven, I-” you try saying but you choke on your words as he catches you off guard by pushing a digit into you, pumping it in and out at a slow pace, a vulgar squelching sound reaching your ears. He curls the finger without a hint of sorrow, hitting that one special spot that makes your legs turn into pure jelly, enlisting a shaky moan from you.

“You feel so soft, my love.” he says almost darkly, taking the finger out of you and inserting it into his mouth, eyes not leaving yours and your eyes widen, taking in every square inch of what you were seeing in front of you.

He lowers his head to you until his nose brushes harshly against your clit, sending a shock through your body. Your back arches back as you bring his face closer to you by his hair. Steven didn’t seem to be bothered by the way you were literally suffocating him, instead he lapped a broad stroke along your slit, tasting your juices straight from its source. Your knee jerk reaction to the pleasure you were having was to clamp your thighs together, but Steven was faster than you, holding your thighs open with light pressure, as he pushed his tongue inside you. You felt like you were drowning in a pool of delight as Steven continued to absolutely devour you.

“So much for going slow, Mr. Grant.” You thought as your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

You loved it. Nothing you’ve tried on yourself has felt anything like this. You could tell Steven was studying the pattern of your pleasure, choosing to change tactics when your moans were more hollow and sticking to what he was doing when you wailed and pushed yourself against him. His name rolled off your tongue like a prayer more than a plea and Steven relished the way you spoke it under the change of circumstance.

“Bloody hell, baby, keep saying my name like that. Make everyone know that I’m yours.” Steven groaned into your core as he paused for a breath.

Without meeting much resistance, he pushes two thick fingers into you, covering your clit with his mouth and starts to pump at a steady pace. You brought a hand up to your mouth to stifle your cries of pleasure, only for the hand to be pulled back down by Steven. The steady stimulation of his tongue instantly pushes you up and over your breaking point. You felt yourself clench around his fingers as his tongue runs soothing circles around your clit.

“Gods, I can feel you squeezing my fingers. You like that, angel? Trust me, you’re going to like my cock more.” he says, directing his filthy words into your cunt.

You came with his name echoing in your screams, your body convulsing uncontrollably as Steven helped you to ride out your high. After cleaning out the remnants of the first orgasm that he gave you with his tongue, Steven kissed your thighs softly as you bathed in its afterglow. Your eyes focused on his face, a shy smile encapsulating his wet lips as a soft shade of pink danced over his cheeks and nose.

“That was amazing, Steven. Thank you.” You stretched your arms out for him and he obliged, letting you grab him by the t-shirt and pull him down for a kiss as you wrapped your legs around his torso.

You pulled him further down with your legs so that his body was flush to you, only to have his clothed bulge grind into your sensitive clit making you gasp.

“Shit! Sorry, love!” Steven groaned as he tried to pull himself off you.

You were having none of it. You kept him down and grinded upwards, grinning at the look that passed his face.

“Are you sure, darling? I just don’t want you to be overwhelmed.” he breathed as you ducked your head into the crook of his neck to kiss him.

He smelled like sandalwood and papyrus, twisting your brain with a desire you never knew you had in you.

“I know you’ll be gentle, I can take it.” you said clearly, wanting him to realize that you wanted to see and feel his pleasure too.

Steven searched your eyes only to have you stare back, full of silent determination, before cradling you close to him and lifting you up as he stood from the couch, as if you weighed like a sack of potatoes. Steven’s strength never failed to surprise you. You remembered the time he helped you move into your new apartment, how he lifted several heavy boxes at once without breaking a sweat.

He settled you down on his bed softly, and you knew from that moment on that he was dead set on being gentle with you. He smoothed your hair on the pillow and kissed your forehead before sitting down beside you.

“Can I take your top off, darling?” he asked, his large palm kneading your hip as you smiled up at him.

“Yes, please, bra too.” you said as Steven raised his eyebrows at your shy demand.

He did as he was told and wasted no time in absolutely worshiping you.

“You’re fucking beautiful. Why didn’t we do this sooner?” Steven groaned, letting his hands roam your bare body as his eyes sparkled like a teenage boy.

His mouth and tongue traced patterns on your skin that made you start whimpering. You could feel your arousal grow between your legs again as Steven captured one of your nipples in his mouth and sucked softly, releasing them with a pop, only to knead at your breast with his large hands.

“Need you inside me.” you breathed as he sucked soft hickeys onto your skin, hickeys that only he could have an access to.

He moaned at your words and looked at you with hooded eyes, before proceeding to take off his clothes one by one. Your eyes widened as Steven pulled his boxers off and grabbed a hold of his length. You’ve obviously watched porn before and you’ve never seen a more beautiful cock in your life. He looked absolutely perfect to you, soft trimmed curls boarding the hilt of his long and girthy length with a pink head that was leaking pre-cum.

Your breathing quickened as you watched him pump himself a few times before rolling a condom on. Kneeling in front of you, he grabbed the bottle of lube from his bedside and coated his palm before stroking himself again.

“Steven, you’re a god.” you heard yourself saying as you scanned his body that was literally sculpted to perfection.

“Fuck, Y/N, don’t say that, I’m not gonna fucking last with your words.” He says as he rubbed the tip of his cock along your slit, catching your clit and making you throw your head back against the pillow.

“In, now.” you punctuated as Steven tried to take his time with you.

With the help of the lube and your slick, Steven slid inside of you with relative ease, shocking you and himself with how fast he bottomed out. There was a sharp pain as Steven stretched you out, followed by the sweet sensation of pleasure that made you whimper with ecstasy. You had never felt this full in your life and Steven’s cock was pressing deliciously in all of the spots you had never thought you had. His hands held you down with bruising strength, allowing you to adjust to his length, and only started moving when you started to grind your hips impatiently.

He showered you with praises as he moved with slow fluid movement, his hand inching towards you for you to grab onto. Instead of lacing your fingers together with him, Steven pulled your hand towards him and pressed it gently at the lower part of your belly. You moaned at the feeling of his cock inside of you, the tip bulging through your skin. He pressed down slightly harder, getting off at the feeling of your hand massaging his cock from the outside.

“Steven, you’re too good to me. Feels so good.” you slur as he pushed on slightly harder and deeper.

Tears started to flow from your eyes as your free hand gripped at Steven’s biceps, your nails leaving crescent shapes in his skin as he started to speed up his thrusts. His hand on your belly leaves yours, only for his fingertips to end up on your clit, the action causing you to shake. From the extra stimulation and the way his cock speared you, your second release came faster than your first, blinding you yet again with its powerful waves.

You could feel Steven’s movements start to stutter the second you came, his thrusts getting sloppier as he chased his release. He folded his body over yours and with a few more solid thrusts to your cunt, he groaned into your neck as he spilled thick ropes of cum into the condom.

It took the both of you a few minutes of heavy breathing to gather your thoughts. Steven came to his senses first, slowly pulling himself out of you before taking off the condom and discarding it. He then slowly stroked your hair as your breathing became more labored before taking a bottle of geranium oil from his bedside and dripping it all over your spent body.

You smiled at Steven as he massaged the fragrant oil into your skin. He focused on the points of your body that were sure to be sore tomorrow and silently pressed out all of the tension you had in you. Your body felt warm and you had a buzz running through you as if you had just ran a marathon. He massaged a silent thanks into you with every squeeze of his hand and you just laid there and stared at the man before you, wondering what kind of miracle had allowed you to get to this point. You looked past him and squinted into his apartment, giggling slightly at where your underwear had ended up.

“Hmm, am I really that funny, baby?” Steven said before following your line of sight and gasping at the sight of your underwear draped ungracefully over Gus’s fish tank.

“Oops, sorry Gus, mate.” He said sheepishly, his face turning red. “It's alright, darling, he won’t remember it.”

Steven flipped you over gently and started massaging your back, pulling small hisses and moans out of you. He kneads your lower back with his knuckles, providing you with stronger precision that knocks the wind out of your lungs with pleasure as you sink further into the mattress. He skims over the globes of your ass, making you giggle again. Flipping you onto your back, Steven pulls you into his lap as he settles himself against the headboard, covering the both of you up with a blanket to provide you with some privacy. You cuddle close to him, feeling safe in the small cocoon that he had created.

“Do you always end … it with a massage?” you asked suddenly, the question creeping up into your fluffy thoughts.

“No, actually.” Steven says, sitting up a little. “This was the first. I remember how you would say that massages were your favourites and that you would get a weekly massage if you had some disposable income.”

You blink up at him, realizing that he had been listening to you all along. Your heart swelled with the awareness that you had found your perfect man way before you had even comprehended it.

“Thank you, Steven. I love you.” you say before you could stop yourself as an unknown emotion settled upon Steven’s face.

Horror pulsed through you, your cock-dumb brain still too foggy for you to think anything coherent.

“Shit, sorry, I mean we only just had sex a few minutes ago. This is so uncool-” you stutter before Steven places a finger to your lips.

“I love you too, Y/N.” Steven says, genuinely as a chuckle reverberates through him and into your heart.

You calmed down immediately with his confession, your face blazing as you kissed him, finally feeling at ease with everything around you.

“Told you I can fuck really well.”

“FUCK OFF, STEVEN!”

Tagging: @romanarose @mintpurplemnm

Reblogs are appreciated <3 love you all so so much *muah*

[whoreish-behaviour]

Steven Grant + Marc Spector x Reader

Warnings >~< = Hair pulling, mild brat taming

Not proof read

Shutting your eyes, you attempted to breathe normally - anger radiating off you in waves as you sat criss cross on the sofa - gaming controller almost on the brink of breaking in your tight grip.

It's just a game, it's just a game, its-

Marc's scolding words repeating in you head as you (forcefully) dropped the controller on the floor, the satisfying sound of the plastic doing little to ease your frustration.

'Just a game.' You murmured, shutting your eyes momentarily so you didn't have to keep staring at the DEFEAT! on the tv screen.

However, as soon as you reopened them - the anger flew right back.

'Fucking assholes! Spamming the same controls doesn't make you a better player-.' You rambled, face flushing as you felt yourself getting worked up.

'And my stupid fucking team, like seriously-'

'Darlin’?'

You snapped your mouth shut at the sudden voice of Steven, turning your head to look at where he was stood by the front door. He was dressed in his usual oversized attire, brows pinched together.

'You okay there?' His voice was soft, head tilting in that adorable way when he was unsure.

You pursed your lips, one side of you knowing that you should just take your loss and move on. But, you couldn't shake it off, it was too fresh.

'I'm fine.' You grumbled, crossing your arms over your chest and leaning back against the sofa as you looked back to the tv.

DEFEAT! PRESS 'X' TO CONTINUE

You heard Steven's footsteps as he migrated through his apartment, the sound of something heavy dropping on the counter before the tapping of his shoes made their way to you.

You felt slightly stupid for staring at the unmoving tv screen but made no move to change the channel or start a new game.

You felt him loom over you from behind, hand coming up to rub the top of your head lovingly.

'Aw darling, you know its-'

'I know Steven.' You yourself almost winced at the bite in your tone.

He didn't respond, a pregnant pause hanging in the air before he gently removed his hand from your head.

'Okay, well let me know if you-'

'Uh huh.' You cut him off, the rush of being an utter brat going straight to your head.

While Steven was sweet, you also knew that he loved to ring you back and put you in your place - problem was that it took a long time before that switch would set off inside him.

Giving you the perfect open window to let your frustration spew with no consequences.

Uncrossing your arms, you leaned forward and away from Steven to reach for the remote - lips set in a pout.

You weren't expecting the tight grip your hair was succumbed to, fist unforgiving as you were yanked back to your original position, back flat against the sofa.

'That any way to talk to Steven pretty girl?'

You swallowed thickly at the sound of Marc's unmissable American accent, throat bobbing at the sudden nerves racking your body.

'Hm?' He probed, hand pulling your hair even more taught as he leaned down into your space, running his nose over you jaw and then down to your neck.

Your body immediately shut down, Marc's intimidation and dominance usually having that effect on you.

'And now you're ignoring me, just digging yourself a deeper hole.' He reprimanded, using his hold on your hair to give himself more access to your neck.

'I'm sorry.' Your voice was quiet and meek, complete opposite to your earlier coldness.

Shutting your eyes, you accepted your fate when you felt him chuckle into you - lips brushing your skin and making you feel like an exposed nerve.

'No you’re not.' He pulled away, cold air cooling your warming skin.

You gasped, eyes shooting open when the hand in you hair somehow tightened, pulling your head back until it was rested over the edge of the sofa, Marc's displeased upside down face coming into view.

'But you will be sweet girl.'

[storiesforallfandoms]

how things are now ~ marc spector & steven grant;moon knight

word count: 2436

request?: yes!

“Hi hi hi sweetness!! I am here to humbly request a Marc Spector and Steven Grant x reader. The basis of it is kinda just what life is like after the finale. We saw how Marc was towards Stevens feelings for Layla and I kinda wanted that. The reader (Marc’s wife) starting a conversation with Marc about how things are now then going into how it works with Steven and all three of them talking about it. Fluffy asf please with maybe a steamy ending. Thank you so so very much🤍”

description: now that they’ve learned how to share the body, they must come to terms with the fact that they also have to share their wife

pairing: marc spector x female!reader x steven grant

warnings: swearing, a small sad moment but only small, the boys are fighting again

masterlist (one, two, three)

Meeting Steven Grant, the second personality that lived in your husband’s head, was one of the many surprises you learned about Marc after his time working for the God Khonshu. It was probably the better of all the other surprises, but still a surprise nonetheless. It was also a surprise that came with some complications in the marriage that you knew needed to be addressed.

See, Marc and Steven had figured out a way to evenly share “the body” and to get along with one another, until it came to wanting to spend time with you. Marc loved you to the moon and back and was relieved that everything with Khonshu had ended so that he could finally be with you without the fear of putting you in danger. However, Steven had also grown very fond of you. He was over the moon to find out that “both he and Marc had such a lovely wife” (his words). You’d be lying if you said you didn’t also love Steven as much as you loved Marc.

With that being said, this was where the complications lie: Steven kept trying to take hold of the body over Marc whenever you were with him. Despite having figured out a way to peacefully co-inhabit the body, Marc felt like he was back to struggling for control of himself because of how often Steven tried to take over so he could be with you.

You couldn’t fully blame Steven, though, as Marc had openly voiced his jealousy towards you and Steven, to a point where he wanted to deny Steven any time with you and wanted you all to himself.

You let this go on for a few weeks before you decided it was time to put an end to it. You were going to lay down the ground rules of this new way your marriage was going to work, and if the men didn’t like that, then that was too bad.

You arrived home from work to find Marc hunched over his laptop. You had come to learn which one of them had control of the body due to their body language: standing wise, Marc had the better posture and held himself with more confidence than Steven, but when they were sitting Marc tended to hunch or basically lay across wherever he was sitting.

He looked up at you and smiled.

“Hey, baby,” he said. “How was your day?”

“Oh, you know, same old same old,” you responded. “Dealt with shitty people who don’t know what manners are, restrained myself from slapping said stupid people because an assault charge really isn’t worth it.”

Marc chuckled and pulled you into his arms as you sat down next to him. He leaned down to kiss you. You couldn’t help but smile into the kiss, feeling the familiar warmth running through your body that Marc’s presence usually brought.

You pulled away from the kiss to look up into his eyes. You could see that it was still Marc in control, so you decided to just get to the point.

“I want to talk to you about something,” you said.

He raised an eyebrow. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“Depends on how you take what I’m gonna say.” You pulled away from his embrace and took his hands in yours. You smoothed down his calloused knuckles with your thumbs as your gaze stayed on your joined hands. “I want to talk about Steven.”

You could feel him tense up beside you. “Why?”

“Marc, we can’t just keep acting like everything is the same now,” you said. “Besides the obvious that my husband was the hitman for an Egyptian God and apparently is a superhero now, there’s also a new person that’s been introduced in our marriage.”

“He’s not involved in our marriage.”

You finally looked up at him so that you could give him a stern look. His face was twisted in annoyance.

“You can say that all you want, but the truth is, Steven is just as involved as you and me,” you said. “You love me, I love you. But we both know that Steven also loves me, and I love him, too. I love you both equally.”

“He’s a fucking parasite,” Marc growled, tugging his hands free from you so he could stand.

“Marc!” you scolded. “Don’t you dare say that. We both know that’s not how you feel.”

“It’s how I feel when that fucker is getting between me and my wife. You’ve been my wife for longer, (Y/N). It’s not fair for him to come along and think he can just wedge his way into something he was never involved in before just because he and I have finally figured out how to share the body.”

You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose. You were starting to realize this was probably a bad idea. There was obviously no getting through to Marc about the issue, and you were certain now that he wasn’t about to happily follow along with the ground rules you were trying to set. The last thing you wanted was to continue on like this in your marriage, but you really weren’t sure what else to do anymore.

“Is he upsetting you, love?”

You looked up to see Marc’s entire demeanor had changed. Anyone who didn’t know Marc well enough probably wouldn’t pick up on it, but you had come to learn the tells between Marc and Steven so well that even the slightest of change tipped you off as to who was in control. You knew your angry husband had been forced back into the body, replaced with the kindhearted Brit who also resided in Marc’s head.

“Steven, now really is not a good time for you to take over,” you said. “We’re kind of...discussing you.”

“Oh, I heard,” Steve said. “I also heard that he wasn’t listening and was just making you upset.”

“Steven, give me back the body right now. This doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

“I believe this has everything to do with me, since it’s literally about me.”

“This is between me and my wife, Steven. Regardless of who we’re talking about, you’re not part of the conversation.”

“We share a body, Marc, she’s not just your wife anymore.”

“Will both of you shut the fuck up!”

He looked at you so startled that you weren’t sure which of them currently had control of the body. Not that you even really cared at that moment. You were tired of the fighting. You were finally taking this moment to say what was on your mind, which was what you had been trying to do since you had gotten home. They were going to listen, whether they liked it or not, and they were going to accept your terms.

You stood from the couch and approached whichever one of them had control. You took his hand and looked up into his eyes, searching to figure out which of the two personalities was there. He squeezed your hand a little as you recognized that Steven was the one still in control.

“Steven,” you started. He nodded, confirming what you already knew. “I need you to listen to me, okay? And once I’m done talking, I need you to give me Marc back for a little while?”

He nodded again. You brought him back to the couch and sat him down. Steven looked at you with wide, attentive eyes; the brown eyes that you had fallen in love with all those years ago when you first met Marc. That was one thing that you wished Marc could understand about the new dynamic of your marriage including Steven - the fact that you were basically getting to fall in love with your husband for the first time all over again.

“Marc, I know you’re listening,” you started. “But I need you to also control yourself so I can talk to Steven, okay?” You didn’t wait for a response you knew you weren’t going to get. “Steven, I love you.”

He couldn’t fight the smile that tugged at his lips. “I love you, too, (Y/N).”

“But you understand that I love Marc, too, right? He was my husband first, before I met you. He was my first real love. He’s special to me in a different way.”

Steven nodded. “I know. I understand that. I could never dream of you feeling any other way for him.”

“You say you understand, but you do tend to block Marc and I from spending time together. Case in point, you taking over just then in the middle of our conversation.”

“You were fighting - ”

“We weren’t fighting, we were talking. Even if we were fighting, though, that happens sometimes. Couples argue. It’s normal. You don’t always have to come to my rescue if Marc and I are fighting. And it’s not just when we’re fighting. You take control a lot when we’re trying to spend time together, on date nights especially. I understand that you love me, and that you want to get to spend time with me, too, but Marc did come first. You have to let him have his time with me, too. Okay?”

Steven nodded, looking down at his lap. You reached out to put a finger under his chin, lifting his head to look at you. You gave him a soft smile. “Don’t be upset. I do love the time we spend together.”

Steven smiled, shyly. You leaned forward to kiss him. He seemed shocked at first, which was when you realized it was the first time you had really kissed Steven. All the time you had spent together, all the date nights and lazy Sundays he had hijacked, and you had never truly kissed him before. It almost didn’t seem right for this to be the first time.

You could feel his hand twitch as you kissed. You kept a firm hold of it, knowing it was likely Marc trying to intervene, or trying to hit Steven for kissing you. When you pulled away, Steven pouted, which caused you to giggle.

“We had a deal,” you reminded him. “Can I speak to my husband please?”

Steven sighed, but didn’t put up a fight. You watched his demeanor change as Marc took control again. His pouty face turned to a scowl and he quickly pulled his hands away from you as he fully regained control. You rolled your eyes. Yep, there was your husband alright.

“That was kind of you,” his said. “To give him that speech and to kiss him like that. Wasn’t shitty at all to have to witness another man kissing my wife.”

“Marc,” you said in a warning voice. “We’re talking about this, too.”

“What else is there to talk about? You love Steven. I already knew that. Big fucking deal.”

“But I love you, too. Did you miss that part? The whole giant chunk of conversation where I told Steven that he has to understand that our relationship comes first to me?”

“I heard you tell him you love spending time with him, and that he has to share you. I’m not sharing you, (Y/N), so don’t even think about asking.”

“We don’t exactly have a choice in the matter, Marc. Whether you like it or not, you’re not the only one who has control of your body. You can’t just shove Steven down inside of you and never let him out again.”

“Worked for me once, didn’t it?”

You grabbed his face and forced him to look at you. You could see he was trying to seem angry, but there was something in his eyes that gave him away; sadness.

“Baby, you know heard what I said to Steven,” you said. “I love you. You. I love Steven, too, but you were in my heart first. You’re the man I married, not Steven. Why are you so worried about my feelings for him so much? I can love you both equally, and I do.”

Being forced to look at you and finally being asked the question he dreaded the most caused tears to start to form in Marc’s eyes. You don’t think you had ever seen him cry in years. The last time was probably when you both got married. You could remember his misty eyes as you walked down the aisle that day, but that was the only time you could remember seeing him cry. It took you by surprise to see him getting so emotional over this.

“What if you start to love him more than you love me?” he asked, his voice soft. “What if you realize he’s better than I am?”

“I won’t, because that’s not true.”

Marc laughed, humorlessly. “Isn’t it? I mean, he’s nicer for sure. A little annoying, but people like him. He’s not abrasive or aggressive like I am. He’s the type of guy a woman like you was supposed to end up with, not an asshole like me.”

You took his hand in yours and gave it a slight squeeze. “And yet you’re the one I fell in love with. You’re the one I married. And you’re the one I intend to spend the rest of my life with, whether Steven is in the picture or not. You can be a bit of an asshole, I’m not going to deny that - ” His chuckle had some humor behind it this time. “ - but I love that about you. I love that you are you. I’m not going to end our marriage because of a nice guy with a cute accent. I mean, I’m here trying to negotiate that the three of us have equal standing in this marriage, for God’s sake. Would I be doing that if I loved Steven more than I loved you?”

Marc shook his head. “I guess not.”

You leaned forward to kiss him, too. Just as much love and passion exploded from your kiss with Marc as it did with Steven. If you needed any further evidence that you loved them both equally, that was it.

You rested your forehead against his and looked into his eyes. Those eyes, you loved them more than you could’ve ever loved anything else.

“He doesn’t get to have the best part with you, though,” Marc said.

You raised an eyebrow at him. “The best part?”

You screamed in surprise as Marc suddenly lifted you off your feet and carried you off to the bedroom. “The part where we both get naked and I get to feel you all over. That’s not his, that part is mine.”

[melodygatesauthor]

Not a Doctor

Jake Lockley X f!Reader (Patient X Therapist)

*skin tone of model in banner does not represent skin tone of reader. Reader is not race-coded.

Edited by: @welcometostayingawake

AO3 LINK

Summary:

You're a therapist who works at a medium security mental facility. One of your patients, diagnosed with dissociative identity disorder, has an undocumented alter that starts showing himself to you. When you learn what it is he wants, you find it difficult to resist.

Tags/Warnings:

NSFW, power imbalance, p in v creampie, cum eating, spit kink, obsession, Jake in lust, medical inaccuracies, I probably made mistakes about DID but I tried, no powers/no MK/no marvel, rough sex, inappropriate sex, semi-public sex, patient/doctor relationship, dacryphilia, mild blood, biting/marking, reader is kinda mean to Steven (I'm really sorry), mental manipulation, praise kink, refractory period? What refractory period, Marc and Steven make minor appearances. Jake-centric fic.

Word Count: 12.6k (*cough* don't look at me, I'm but a simple hor)

The first time you met Jake Lockley, he was sitting across your desk in a wheelchair. He was mildly sedated, pupils dilated, brows furrowed in confusion. You didn’t know it was Jake yet, you assumed the original, Marc, was fronting, as he normally was. The manila file rested in front of you untouched, reading Marc Spector on the label. You didn’t even need to open it anymore, unless you were adding notes, as you’d been working with him long enough by now to know the file inside and out.

You asked Marc the same thing you asked at the beginning of every session.

“How are you doing today, Marc?”

A smirk spread over his face, something wicked, a little cocky, and it sent a chill racing down your spine. He looked at you with a face you didn’t recognize.

“I’m not Marc.” He said firmly, dark eyes burning into yours.

You were surprised; the British accent that normally accompanied Marc’s only known alter, Steven Grant, wasn’t there. You opened the file quickly, scouring through, shuffling papers around and trying to stay calm, looking for any indication of a third alter. 

But you came up with nothing during your quick glance. 

You took a deep breath to steady your racing mind.

“You’re not Steven.” You said it as more of a statement than a question.

You crossed your legs and put your hands in your lap, trying to show this new and unpredictable person that you weren’t a threat. You let your facial expression soften. In cases like Marc’s, if there was an undocumented alter, there was no telling if they were friend or foe.

“You’re not a doctor.” He muttered, shaking his head slowly. He had a slight twang to his words.

You gulped uncomfortably. He wasn’t wrong, you didn’t, in fact, have your PhD. You were a licensed therapist, but that was irrelevant information, and there was no way he could really know that. You could see that he was very quickly becoming agitated by the way his breath was coming out faster and his hands were clenching the armrests of his wheelchair. You felt your own anxiety pooling in your chest.

There was training you had undergone specifically for these types of situations. You tried to recall your safety training, remembering the importance of diffusing a situation with your words first, with calling security being a final resort, reserved only for when a patient was beyond reasoning with. The man in front of you wasn’t quite there yet from what you could tell.

The two of you were at a stand still, his chest was heaving and his eyes stayed narrowed on you. After working with Marc and Steven all this time and having no documentation of this alter, you felt at a loss for words. He could be the kindest person you’d ever met, or he could be extremely violent, there really was no telling what he was capable of.

“That’s irrelevant,” you said. “I’m here to help you, Marc and Steven, that’s all that matters.” You paused to see if he would say anything else. When he didn’t, you asked, “What’s your name?” You decided to keep things simple for now.

He leaned forward. Your hand involuntarily reached for the alert button around your neck slowly.

“Don’t you push that fucking button, puta.” He warned, you watched his hand slide forward on the wheelchair arm menacingly.

Your fingers froze over the button, holding there while you determined if this was something you could handle yourself or not. The two of you were at another impasse. If you pushed that button, he was going to lunge, and if you didn’t push it in time in the event he was violent, he could really hurt you, or worse…

“I won’t push the button as long as you and I can have a civil conversation.” You spoke calmly despite the terror building within you.

The man appeared to consider this before he leaned back in his chair. You slowly dropped your arm to show compliance. If he was going to back off, then you could safely let down your guard. A thick silence split through the room, save for the ticking clock above the door.

“I’m not here to hurt you, I’m just here to help. You can call me…” You told him your name. You’d found in your time as a therapist it helped your patients immensely when they felt like you were a peer, not a superior figure. “Alright, do you want to tell me why you’re here?” You asked, trying to keep your shaking voice as light as possible.

“Well…” he let out a snicker, “hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but if I’m here, that’s a bad sign.”

You were supposed to correct patients when they called you names like that, even they were expected to act more respectfully, but you didn’t want to agitate him further. If the worst thing he did right now was call you sweetheart, you’d consider that a win.

He scoffed, “tell me something…why do you smell like nuestra madre, hm?” He was clenching his jaw as he spoke.

You inhaled sharply, realizing you’d made a huge mistake. Your birthday was yesterday, and a friend bought you a new perfume. During one of the many trainings you’d done for your position, you’d been cautioned that certain scents could trigger some patients. Marc’s mother, Wendy…she must’ve worn something with similar notes. That’s why this alter was here. He was protecting the other two from the emotional pain that he thought you might cause. He’d pegged you as a threat.

You furrowed your brow and picked your pen up off the desk. You clicked it and started writing what he said on your legal pad. 

“What are you writing? Huh? You taking little notes about how crazy I am? Telling everyone how fucked up Marc is that he’s got three psychos in the same skull?” This new alter was intense, ready for a fight at every turn. You made a mental note never to wear that perfume again, and started scribbling more about the agitated man in front of you.

“I’m just taking simple notes. All the therapists do it. We have to.” You thought of something that might help him feel safer, “would you like to see them? We don’t typically show patients their notes, but if you ask for them I’m obligated to show them to you.”

It turned out that Jake Lockley did not, in fact, want to see the notes. 

The visit ended shortly after with security intervention. His smile turned manic as he got up from his chair and grabbed a pyramid shaped paperweight from your desk. He turned it around in his hand, the pointed edge facing you and you quickly pressed your emergency button with a look of terror in your eyes. Marc had never done anything like that, especially not to you. He knew you were there to help. This alter clearly didn’t trust you, and it was going to be a struggle to get him to come around.

Security sedated and removed him from your office. You couldn’t stop thinking about him after that interaction. The way his eyes looked, so dark and different, eyebrows scrunched together in nothing but disdain. He looked feral, like a wild animal. As if given the opportunity, he might devour you whole. You’d decided to avoid making any official documentation about him. Marc was so close to moving to a less restrictive program, you didn’t want to ruin that for them until you knew more.

----

The second time you met Jake Lockley was a week later. You were in the middle of a conversation with Steven. Marc would sometimes dissociate when the conversation got too difficult, and you’d just finished talking about Marc’s time in the military. You were trying to figure out more about this other alter. You had a suspicion that he had been around for a while, and that last week wasn’t the first appearance he’d ever made.

You weren’t even sure if Marc knew about him. You cared for Marc and Steven. They’d made so much progress since first coming in, and you didn’t want to see them end up back in a maximum security mental facility. According to their chart, it took months before they finally stopped going on about the Egyptian moon god and being his ‘Moon Knight’. Not that Steven believed in it anyway, that was mostly Marc’s delusion. By the time they’d become your patient, those days were long behind them.

The purpose of Marc being there with you, in that facility, wasn’t to get rid of his dissociative identity disorder. In fact, he’d made it very clear that wasn’t something he intended to do. “Steven’s a part of me, we’re a package deal,” he’d said. He needed to learn to live with it, and function in society in order to be discharged, and that was his goal here. It was just within reach, too. If there was a third alter though, that would be a major setback for them. There was just no telling what kind of man he was.

You supposed that was why you’d broken protocol and kept the new alter out of your chart notes. It was completely unethical to do that, but you wanted to know if this was something worth keeping them in there for any longer. You saw no sense in extending his stay if this alter was just reacting violently to you out of fear.

“Steven, can you tell me something?” You asked, leaning back in your chair and grabbing your coffee between your hands.

“Sure, yeah.”

He always seemed happy to talk to you. You wondered if you were the only one there that treated him like he actually existed, and not like he was some imaginary friend of a mentally ill man. People could be so cruel, even in your field.

“I’ve been looking through your chart more recently, and one very typical symptom of DID is loss of time. Marc said he experienced it quite a bit when you would front, and you mentioned it happening during the last few weeks of you having your job while Marc had control of the body. You know…before the bathroom incident in London.” You strummed your fingers against the cup nervously, unsure if this line of questioning might help or hurt them further. “Have you or Marc…lost any time recently?”

Steven furrowed his brow, his mouth went a little slack while he tried to recall. He shook his head slowly. You could see him trying to think, to a point that his face dropped and he looked almost disappointed. A smirk curled at the side of his lip. Your blood went cold; it was him. The switch happened so fast.

“Hola, puta.” He said, looking up at you through his lashes.

You reached for the button quickly, but hesitated again. It was as if his eyes darkened, and his entire body changed. He wiped some spit from his bottom lip and tousled his hair a bit, straightening his posture.

“Marc must be sick of not having hair gel.” The unknown man commented.

You nodded, “he’s mentioned it once or twice.” You took a deep breath, “do I need this thing? Or are we going to talk like civilized human beings?”

He shrugged and crossed his arms, “that’s up to you. Last time I had a conversation with someone, they weren’t making cute little notes to share with their friends later.”

“Why do the notes bother you?” You asked softly, lowering your arm to the desk.

He looked at the floor for a moment, allowing an awkward silence to hang in the air. When he looked at you again, his eyes were nearly black, pupils dilated. His lips were pressed together tightly and he leaned forward. You shifted uncomfortably, but kept your hands from pressing the panic button.

“I don’t think those notes are particularly honest. Do you?” He tilted his head to the side. “What did you write about me after our little incident last week, huh?”

You were surprised at his ability to recall the time. You began to wonder if he’d been hiding in plain sight and if anyone else had noticed the changes in Marc’s behavior. What you still weren’t sure about, was what seemed to trigger this new alter. You’d been sure not to wear that perfume again. How long has this alter been around? 

“I didn’t write about your incident. The psychiatrist was surprised to hear that Marc had an unusual outburst during our session.” You laced your fingers over your knee. “I’d like to know more about you before I condemn Marc and Steven to more time here.”

You watched his entire body relax at that sentence. His purpose, as it would seem, was to protect the system. When things got scary, physically or otherwise, he would come out. He was in no danger now though, so why he was there now was a mystery to you.

“No notes.” He said firmly, stating his conditions.

“Fine.” You said, pushing the notepad to the other end of the desk. “Let’s just chat then.”

The sound of the clock ticking was deafening. A smirk played over his face again as he grunted and stood from his wheelchair. Your fingers twitched, but you were going to do everything you could not to touch that damn button. Ever since they’d been transferred to this facility, you wanted to help Marc and Steven so badly, and you still meant to do that. He walked up to the desk and held his hand out to you.

Despite your attempt at bravery, your body was trembling as you went to shake his hand. His handshake was firm, and surprisingly his skin was soft. Neither Steven nor Marc had ever touched you before, they just sat in the wheelchair like patients were supposed to. Something told you that this one didn’t care much for the rules or protocol. He turned and went back to his seat.

That was when you learned his name was Jake Lockley.

“Now, what was it you wanted to know, sweetheart?” 

His New York accent was much clearer now. He wasn’t unhinged by nature, in fact, he was quite calmly mannered, however he seemed easy to trigger. It was also hard to tell when he was upset. He seemed to mask his feelings behind a sly grin, brushing off any and every word with a sense of grit. It was like the man you’d met the week before, the one who looked like he might stab you, wasn’t the same one you were talking to now.

Steven had taken a while to sort out, getting him to understand and step into his role in Marc’s life. Steven would come out when Marc was experiencing something triggering, or generally upsetting. If the topic turned to their mother, Marc could talk for a little while before Steven would take his place. Steven had also struggled with understanding his existence. What did it mean to be an alter for a man with DID? The existential questions were still a struggle for even you to comprehend.

“Jake, tell me about what you think is going on here?” You were trying to be friendly, but you could tell he was a no bullshit kind of guy. If you could match his energy, you might be able to get some answers out of him.

“Why don’t you tell me more about you, and then I’ll tell you more about me.” He leaned forward, resting an elbow against his knee.

You interlinked your fingers over the desk and sighed. It was against protocol to tell patients about your personal life. It could create a dangerous situation for you, and potentially trigger a patient. You wanted to get Jake to talk though, so you decided to play along.

“Fine…” you felt tense. No one had made you feel this way during your entire career as a therapist. “You start.”

He seemed amused. His face was cocky, as if he’d won a prize at the end of a game, and perhaps to him this was a game. You leaned back and tapped the arm of your chair anxiously, trying to keep yourself calm despite the weight crushing your chest.

“You married? No, I don’t see a ring.”

So he’s observant, you noted.

“Got a boyfriend then?” He asked, still looking smug.

“No.” You answered bluntly. The important thing with difficult patients like him was to hold your ground, and don’t give them any information they can use against you later.

“Okay, Jake, when Marc was in the Lennox maximum security facility he started some trouble with other patients. It’s also reported that he had no recollection of said events. I guess they should’ve spotted you then.” You looked at him, feeling a little cocky yourself after having done your research since your last session with Marc.

“That sounds more like a statement than a question.”

“Was that you?”

“Si.”

Another pause. Jake rested his chin on his fist. His eyes narrowed, but his brows seemed to soften. He was relaxing, easing into the space. This was good, maybe you could get him to talk more freely.

“Do you wear pretty red lipstick for all of your patients or just for me?”

The heat rose to your cheeks. You tried to keep your breathing steady, but it sounded ragged and shallow despite your best efforts to stay calm. He was being so bold. None of your patients had ever spoken to you like that, so flirtatiously. It still surprised you how different he was from Marc and Steven, despite sharing a body with them.

“That’s inappropriate.” You cleared your throat stiffly.

“Answer the question, bebita.” He demanded coldly. “Answer…or I guess we’re done here.”

“No, I wear this color often.” You answered in an equally cool tone.

“Looks good.” His eyelids lowered seductively. The heat in your cheeks was still burning.

“Uh…thanks.” Your nerves were breaking through the barrier you normally had in place with patients.

“Your turn.”

It was hard to think of another question. He’d rendered you speechless, which you supposed was probably his goal. He was sly, this one, crafty with how he played the game. Suddenly you felt like this was his office, and you were the one under the magnifying glass.

“When did you come about, at what point in Marc’s life?”

You really needed to take these notes, but you decided that it would get you nowhere with him.

“Some time when he was in the service. I don’t remember the exact year.” He cleared his throat now, he seemed to get uncomfortable at the mention of the traumatic event that led to his creation.

“You don’t like to think about that, do you?”

“You already asked your question.” His tone was no longer amused, and you sensed the game was over.

“I know you care about Marc, I do too. If you don’t cooperate with me then he’s never going to leave here.” You tried to play to his weakness, Marc, the only reason he existed. “I want to help him. Please.”

“I think we’re done here sweetheart, but I’ll see you again next time. Maybe wear something nice and we’ll see if I feel more talkative.”

You spent the rest of the day thinking about your appearance. When you got home you stood in front of your full length mirror, turning from side to side. You’d worn what you always wore to work: your white coat, with a solid colored shirt underneath, today you’d worn the blue one, and black slacks. Jewelry was something you were instructed to keep to a minimum given the nature of your profession.

What’s wrong with my outfit? I thought I looked nice enough, you thought.

You caught your own eye in the reflection and chuckled, suddenly feeling foolish. Why did you care what your patient thought of your outfit? Your appearance had nothing to do with your ability to do your job. In a frustrated huff you fell into your evening routine, showering, brushing your teeth, changing into sweats and a comfy shirt before crawling into bed.

For the following week you hardly slept. This alter, this…Jake Lockley…he had a hold on you that you couldn’t explain. You started mulling over Marc’s notes in between patients, questioning all the incident reports that appeared exceptionally violent. There weren’t many, otherwise he would’ve remained in maximum security, but there were a few notable incidents.

When you saw Marc again, he had a broken nose. You’d received word earlier that morning that he’d had an incident overnight.

Patient Name: Marc Spector

DOB: 03/09/1987

Date of incident: ———

Date of report: ———

Incident Details: Patient exhibited hostility toward staff. Staff observed as patient seemed to become severely agitated by the sound of gunshots in a movie playing in the common area.

Patient began yelling nonsensically. Staff observed patient grab a pen and attempt to use it as a weapon to stab another patient. Staff intervened and sedated patient. Patient has no recollection of the incident.

No patients or staff sustained physical injury. Patient will be kept under sedation until further evaluation. It’s recommended that patient be evaluated for potential transfer back to the Lennox Facility.

You looked up from the paper and gave Marc a kind smile. He looked a little afraid, confused, and most of all he looked tired. That’s what got him here in the first place. The DID was minor, he had that handled all on his own, well before he was institutionalized. The insomnia is what caused Steven’s hallucinations, and that’s what caused his mental break that put him in front of you.

“Marc, the sheet here says–”

“I know what the sheet says.” He was embarrassed, that much was evident by his lack of eye contact and the way his lips were pressed together.

“Can you tell me what happened?” You spoke hardly above a whisper.

“Oh, yeah sure, I’d love to talk about it.” He said sarcastically. “Problem is, I don’t remember anything, but you should already know that, right? You read the papers.”

“You know that I care a lot about you and Steven, right? I need you to work with me. I want you out of here too. You’re not…insane like some of the other people I’ve seen.” You were speaking low. You weren’t supposed to talk like that about your patients, no matter how true it may be.

“I know…I know.” Marc’s eyes started glistening. “I think there’s another one… a third.”

You gulped, unsure if you should tell him about this new alter he knew nothing about. Marc was smart, smarter than you sometimes gave him credit for. He knew without you saying anything that there was something you were hiding.

“Doc.” Marc always called you that, no matter how many times you told him to call you by your first name. “What’s going on, what do you know?”

“I need you to stay calm, okay?”

“Tell me.”

“I’ve…I’ve met another one, and I’m still figuring him out. I was waiting to learn more before I told you…or anyone else.” You realized you were squeezing your pen in your fist.

“What do you mean?” Marc was panicking, you could see his bottom lip quivering in his frustration. “There’s another one? How? When?”

He started to stand, his legs shook. You’d never seen Marc so upset before. He walked closer and pressed both hands on your desk, leaning forward.

“Who is he? Tell me.”

“I’m sorry, Marc, I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want…”

The shift in expression was subtle, but you could see it plain as day. The anger seemed to dissipate and was replaced with a suave smirk and furrowed brows.

“Hi sweetheart, nice outfit.” He said, tone much calmer than Marc’s was seconds ago.

“Jake.”

“Si, bebita.” His eyes crawled over you slowly, he even bit his bottom lip.

“Sit down.” You said firmly, pulling your white coat over your chest.

He shook his head, “no, I don’t think I will. Been a while since I’ve really been able to stretch my legs.”

He started to pace, stopping to look at some of the artwork and photos in your office. You remained silent, unsure of his next move, and not wanting to give him any fuel to add to the fire. He stopped in front of one photo. They were all generic, stock images that meant nothing, just random and placed there for decorative purposes. The photo he pointed to was of an old cab in a silver frame on the top shelf of your bookcase.

“You know I used to drive a cab. Years ago in New York.” He chuckled like he recalled something funny, “did you always do this…” he gestured around the room, “this therapy thing? Or did you have a different job before?”

“Jake, you know we need to talk about the incident, right? From yesterday?” You were trying to speak gently, hoping he would return the favor, but he was so unpredictable.

“I thought we had a deal, bebita. I ask, then you get to ask.”

He ran his fingers through his hair, letting a stray clump of curls fall over his forehead. He brushed his broken nose with his hand and winced.

“Fuck.” He touched the wound with his fingertip before looking at you, eyes cold.

“Jake, I know you care about them too, why are you hiding yourself from them?”

“No no no, I go first.”

He walked over to the wheelchair, released the brake, brought it closer to your desk, and then set it once again. You watched as he walked over and plopped down in front of you.

“You wore a nicer shirt than the last time I saw you. Did you dress up for me? I like that little skirt too.” 

A big smile spread over his face. Meanwhile, you were fidgeting with the hem of your skirt to pull it down as far as you could. Your cheeks burned, of course you didn’t wear that outfit for him…right? 

You recalled your morning. There were butterflies in your gut at the realization that it was Marc’s therapy day. That wasn’t the most unusual thing, you looked forward to working with some of the patients that you enjoyed talking to, and Marc was one of them.

What was different though, was the conscious effort to make sure your red lipstick was perfect, not one bit smeared or out of place. You’d worn a blouse that showed a tasteful bit of cleavage and in a color that complimented your skin tone. You even broke the rules a little and wore some earrings that dangled just a tiny bit…but of course you weren’t dressing up for the alter of a mentally ill man. That would be…crazy.

“I didn’t dress up for you.”

“Oh? So are you dressing up for Marc then? Does he know you–”

“My turn.” You saw his lip twitch. He seemed to like you snapping back at him. “Why are you hiding yourself from Marc and Steven?”

“They wouldn’t like me very much, sweetheart, I’m not a nice guy.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“My turn.” He leaned back, spreading his legs out.

That’s when you noticed…the unmistakable shadow of arousal in his cloth pants. You gulped, eyes widening as you brought your gaze back to his quickly, trying to act like you weren’t just looking between his legs. He noticed though, without a doubt, Jake Lockley noticed you staring at his erection.

“See something you like?” His eyes were half hooded, a cocky smile spread over his soft lips.

“No.”

You crossed your arms and leaned back, angling yourself so the desk was covering his bottom half from your line of sight.

“What did you do before you were…whatever you are?” He asked.

“My turn.” You said.

It was your coy way of reminding him that he had already asked you a question in an attempt to draw the attention to what was between his legs. He was amused with this game, and if you were being honest with yourself, you were too. If this was the only way to get information out of him, then you were happy to oblige.

“You said you’re not a nice guy. What are you then?” You narrowed your eyes at him. In anticipation of his quick witted remark you added, “and don’t give me a sarcastic answer. Honest answers only.”

He waved a finger at you, “I’ll start being honest the moment you do the same, sweetheart.”

“I am being honest with you.”

“No, no you’re not.”

Jake was gone after that, leaving you with a rambling British man who, ‘didn’t know how he got there’.” Steven cried when you told him that you were going to start seeing them twice a week. It was understandable, since he and Marc had been so close to moving down to a less strict facility just a couple of weeks ago. You didn’t have the heart to bring up Jake to Steven. Your obligation wasn’t to Steven anyway, it was to Marc.

You saw him again. Marc, that is, two days later. He scowled at you for a good five minutes before he finally started speaking.

“I don’t want to hear a word out of your mouth unless it’s about what’s going on in my head, doc.” Marc was mildly sedated again. 

His nose was healing, but it still looked raw and painful. You needed to help him. You needed to keep your interest in his alter at bay in order to assist Marc through this. That was your job. It was hard to understand what it was that made you nearly forget that. You were a therapist, your job was to help Marc Spector rehabilitate into society, and you were failing him by not being honest.

“Last time I tried to talk about him with you, he made an appearance.” You clicked your pen over and over anxiously, unsure how the rest of this could possibly go.

Marc was clearly agitated, and you couldn’t say you blamed him. You often tried to put yourself in the shoes of your patients and thought about how you would feel if you’d just heard someone was taking over your body to do as they wished without your knowledge. Especially if it seemed like that person was doing nothing but harm to you.

“I think he cares about you, that much I can tell.” You tried to give him some sense of comfort with that one thing you had figured out about Jake. “Typically in cases of DID, the alters play a role in protecting the mind of the original in some way. Typically.”

“How is starting fights and nearly getting us sent back to max supposed to help? Huh?” You could see his chest heaving the more upset he got.

“You need to stay calm, you becoming agitated seems to be a trigger for him.” You warned, holding up your hand and lowering it slowly, as though that was supposed to help Marc in any way. “Remember? We talked about this. Deep breaths.”

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, in through his nose, and out through his mouth. Then again.

“There you go.”

“C-can you, can you help me with this damn…” Marc reached behind his back, “my tag is just…it’s itching and…”

“Yeah, of course.” You agreed, standing up and walking over to him.

You leaned over him, reaching behind his neck and gently tucking in his tag. Marc, being one of the more hygienic patients you worked with, smelled nice, like fresh linen. You caught yourself with your face a little too close to his dark curls before you broke yourself from your trance. By the time you leaned back, you weren’t looking at Marc anymore. Jake.

For your own safety, you should’ve run back to your desk immediately, but you didn’t. He reached out quickly, grabbing the badge and security button around your neck. Jake tugged quickly. The straps had safety-release buckles on them, in case a patient tried to choke you, and the lanyard was pulled from your neck. He tossed it to the side carelessly.

“Jake, be careful, if you hurt me-”

“Bebita, I don’t want to hurt you.” Jake said, grabbing your jacket collar.

He pulled you close, leaning up to kiss your crimson painted lips. For a split second, you rested there, enjoying the feeling of his exceptionally soft lips against yours, but only for a split second. You pushed him back and gasped.

“What the hell are you doing?” You hissed through gritted teeth. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

You were flustered, scrambling to go grab the items Jake had thrown, but you made the grave mistake of turning your back to a patient. Another thing you’d seemed to forget about your safety training in your flustered state. He was behind you faster than you could think, right hand snaking down to pull up your skirt and feel around for your cunt, the other was wrapped around your throat, pulling you against him tightly. You stiffened, but you were ashamed to say that you didn’t struggle very hard.

“Got you right where I want you, sweetheart.” He said between heavy breaths.

“L-let me go.” You said, feeling terror, mixed with excitement, trickling down your spine. “If you do something stupid, you’re only going to hurt Marc and you know that.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to take you until you want me…and you will want me.”

His middle finger grazed over your pussy lips through your cloth panties. You were wet, you could feel it when he pressed them against your skin further. You gulped against his thick fingers, still wrapped around your throat, before wriggling against his chest, a feeble attempt to get away.

“You sure you don’t want me already?” He kissed your neck softly, and a single damned moan escaped from you before you could stop it. He chuckled, “course you do.”

“No, I don’t.”

Jake dropped his hand out from under your skirt. A sigh of relief left you, but he kept his other hand firmly against your throat. He reached into his pocket and held out on his fingertips a single paper flower. You furrowed your brow in confusion. Finally he released you, to which you reached your own hand up to rub where he’d held pressure over your neck. You turned to him, but you never took your eyes off the little flower. 

“What is this?” You asked.

“Can’t exactly run out to the store and buy you flowers now, can I?”

Now you looked at him, face full of surprise and uncertainty. Was he…was he seriously trying to court you? Your breath caught in your throat. He had looked at you with clear attraction on several occasions. Him acting this way shouldn’t be overly surprising, and yet you were left speechless.

“You…I don’t understand.” You were scrambling to find the words to say.

“I think you do, you’re a smart girl.” He flicked the flower. You watched as it landed perfectly on the corner of your desk. “When you’ve changed your mind…you just say the word. I know how to keep a secret, bet you can too.”

He was close to you again. This time you didn’t even try to stop him when he pinched your chin between his thumb and forefinger. Were you leaning in or was he? You were close, ready to taste him again.

“Erm, what the…”

Steven. Oh shit, STEVEN.

“Steven!” You jumped back in a panic, feeling your cheeks light on fire.

“Sorry! I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to put my hands on you. I’m still gettin’ used to this whole thing of me not being…well…me all the time. I still lose time and I don’t know what’s happenin’. Oh god, was it Marc? Did Marc touch you?” Steven was panicking, his eyes were blown wide and his hands were balled into nervous fists at his sides.

“No, Steven, it’s alright, I’m fine. I just…I dropped something and…um…today’s session is over you can go.” You started walking over to grab the lanyard Jake had thrown earlier from your neck.

“Are you sure? It’s only half past I don’t want to-”

“Go!” You yelled, leaning over to grab the lanyard from the floor.

----

By the time you saw Marc again, you felt like you were the one that needed to be mildly sedated and institutionalized. You couldn’t get Jake out of your head. Was it the kiss? You could still feel his phantom lips on yours. Was it the way he brushed his fingers against your soaking panties? The moment Steven left after your meeting with them last week, you plunged your fingers two knuckles deep into your drenched cunt until you achieved release.

You still didn’t even know who the fuck he was.

Your license was on the line. The responsible thing to do would be to insist that Marc start seeing a new therapist for his condition. You clearly were unfit to help him at that point, far too affected by his alter’s presence. The thought upset you though, that you might never see this mystery man again. You had to at least try to get through one more session, to prove to yourself that you could handle it…to prove that you were a good therapist.

Marc was wheeled in and put in front of you by security. He looked upset, like he had last week when you finally told him the truth about the gaps in his and Steven’s memories. You supposed you owed him some sort of explanation now. You only hoped you could get through it this time without interruption. If you could get through this one last appointment with Marc, you’d follow through with getting him to another therapist.

“I expect that you and Steven understand why I had to keep him from you…right?” You asked softly.

Looking at him was difficult. When you looked into his eyes, you had a hard time not thinking about Jake, and the way he made you feel. It didn’t make sense how he captivated you that way. He was interesting, mysterious, and dangerous. Was that it? Was he a reprieve from your otherwise boring and mundane life? Was it the way he clearly wanted you? He was so cocky, so confident. He quite literally took your breath away.

“Yeah, I know.” Marc said finally. You watched his shoulders slump. “I don’t know what to do.”

He was crying. Marc didn’t cry often, and usually when he did, Steven would take over immediately, but the alter didn’t seem like he was working his way out. You wondered if Steven was still upset at you for yelling at him the other day.

“I can help you, but…we need to keep this a secret.” You were speaking in a hushed tone. “If your psychiatrist finds out about him…you’ll never get out of…”

You trailed off, unable to finish your sentence. A dark thought crossed your mind.

“Doc?”

You froze in thought. A smirk crept over your lips. If Marc’s psychiatrist thought he had another alter…then they’d be there…well…forever. There was no reason you couldn’t get yourself transferred to maximum and do your work there if worst came to worst, but you suspected Jake was crafty enough to keep them right here. He could keep them insane enough to still need your care, but too sane for a place like Lennox.

If you managed to keep them there, you and Jake could see each other whenever you decided Marc needed an extra session. It would be so easy for you to make sure Jake could take you whenever he wanted, fucking you until you screamed his name while he filled you over and over. It was too much, the need overcoming you with every second that ticked by.

“I’m ready.” You looked deep into Marc’s eyes. “Jake.”

Marc’s brow furrowed, he shook his head in confusion, “what the hell is wrong with you? Is that his name? Why are you looking at me like that?”

You caught your reflection in the desk, you looked fucking crazed. Your eyes were widened, hungry, and full of need. Who was this woman staring back at you? You hardly recognized her. You touched your cheek, feeling the heat at your fingertips. When you shifted in your seat you could feel the slick permeating your panties.

Clammy sweat stuck to your fingers, and your mouth felt dry. You were breathing heavily. Was it hot in there? Taking off your jacket didn’t help. Marc was talking to you, checking in on you so kindly, but you didn’t care. You felt feral, like you were reverting back several steps in evolution and you only wanted one thing, to fu–

“Doc?!” He yelled, breaking you free from your plaguing thoughts.

Your insanity riddled eyes shot up to look at him. He looked afraid. Not afraid of you, but for you. You gulped and took in a deep breath before finding the words to say.

“I-I’m sorry Marc, I haven’t been feeling like myself.” You took another deep breath, trying to shake the crazed thoughts out of your mind. “I think I’m going to be sick, we have to reschedule.”

----

“I’m surprised you didn’t ask for a new therapist. You know you have that right.” You sighed, “I’m also surprised you didn’t report me for keeping things from you.”

It had been two weeks since you saw Marc last. After your episode, you canceled all appointments for the next couple of weeks so you could reset. It had taken the first couple days of your break for you to recenter yourself and feel more like…you. After that you’d started to feel better, but you needed to keep yourself separated from them for just a little while longer.

“You stuck your neck out for Steven and myself more times than I can count. Figured I could do the same for you.” He gave you a comforting smirk. “I know you want to help…but I can tell that this…Jake guy…he’s got you riled up.”

You breathed deeply, “yeah, he really…really got into my head. He seems to be triggered by things like certain smells, colors, and sounds. He says his first memories come from your time in the marines.”

Marc clenched his jaw and looked down. You wondered how hard that must’ve been for him, being discharged from the marines and never really knowing why until now, many years later. He looked back up at you. He really was handsome, despite your best efforts not to look at them that way, but he would never compare to Jake, even if they shared the same face.

“Tell me more about him.” Marc demanded.

“He’s…” you thought for a moment, “he’s harsh, rough around the edges, you know? Doesn’t like your hair gel.” You had to stop yourself from smiling like a fool at the thought. “He knows how to make origami flowers.”

You gestured to the flower that still sat on your desk, right where you’d left it before your break. Marc leaned forward on his elbows.

“What else? Steven said he was very…very close to you when he started fronting a couple of weeks ago.” Marc was pressing.

“He…he kissed me.” You hadn’t wanted to admit that to anyone, especially not Marc. “I think he was going to kiss me again but then Steven came in.”

He stood and walked over to your desk. He was looking at you with such intensity. His brows were turned up and drawn in together. Your breath hitched in your throat.

“What else did he do?” Marc’s voice was low, and that was when you realized that something was off.

You were being played with.

Your lips parted, and you stood up suddenly. It was like the entire mental health break you took meant nothing the moment you saw that face. You had a one track mind around him. You could only think about one thing. You took your lanyard off slowly and placed it on the desk softly. Your heels clacked as you stepped around the corner and stopped at the edge, keeping a respectable distance between you and your patient. Every nerve ending in your body was coming alive.

“He touched me.” You said just over a whisper.

Jake stepped closer to you, just one step.

“Where?” You both stepped closer to each other. “Show me.”

You paused, feeling that weight on your chest once again. You were shaking with anticipation. He was terrible, taunting you like this, but you couldn’t stop yourself from feeding into it. Despite taking the time off to reset, and move on from this mental dilemma, the second you realized you were talking to him, and not Marc, you were excited beyond words. He had such a strong hold on you, and you were quickly realizing that there was nothing you could do to stop it.

You reached out and grabbed Jake’s wrist. His skin was so soft. You lifted your skirt up over your hips, never letting your eyes leave his, and then you pulled his hand to your already soaked panties. Jake’s face finally broke, a smirk lifted the corner of his lips. He lowered his lids to gaze at you.

“Why didn’t you come to me when I told you I was ready?” You looked between his eyes rapidly. “I thought, maybe I’d made you up or…that you’d forgotten about me.”

Jake grabbed the back of your neck quickly and pulled you in tight. His fingers slid under the waistband of your panties and slipped over your clit. When you gasped at the sensation, Jake closed his mouth on yours. There wasn’t a single thought other than Jake occupying every bit of your mind while he melted himself into you and started swirling his finger around your swollen nub.

“I couldn’t forget you, sweetheart, not when watching you get all flustered over me has been so entertaining.”

“I’m not…not flustered.” You sounded like you had no air left in your lungs. Your hips slid forward over his fingers involuntarily.

“You’re not?” He leaned closer, lips brushing yours just barely.

Something inside you broke through the fog of your arousal, reminding you how wrong this was. As if you’d been awoken from a deep trance, your eyes shot open, glaring at his.

“No…no!” You pulled back, the waistband of your underwear snapped against your skin as you stepped away from him. “I could lose my license…I could go to prison.”

Jake kept his eyes on you while he stuck the two fingers he’d slipped into your panties into his mouth, sucking on them.

“Tan buena, bebita.”

You ran your hands down your face while looking him over. There was a prominent peak formed in his pants, testing the strength of the seam. You felt your core flutter at the sight. You’d never struggled with shortness of breath, but he had you pressing a hand to your chest, desperate for more oxygen.

“Thought you said you were ready.” Jake still held a sly smirk on his face. “That’s alright, I can be patient, you’ll change your mind eventually.”

“No, I won’t, no. Stop doing this to me.” You walked back around and sat at your desk, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Do you get that wet for all your patients?”

You picked a spot on the white-washed wall and stared at it. Your jaw was clenched, and you started tapping your finger against your arm nervously. You couldn’t ignore him, he wasn’t just going to leave, and you still needed to find a way to help Marc and Steven.

“Do you at least want to know what I think about when I’m fronting at night when Steven and Marc think we’re asleep?” You saw him shift in his seat out of your peripheral, but you kept your eyes on the wall.

“No.”

He chuckled. Jake certainly loved to toy with you. He also didn’t seem interested in the fact that you declined to hear his thoughts.

“I think about how good those delicious red lips will look when I stretch them out. I don’t even know if you could fit all of this in your mouth, what do you think?” He adjusted the waist of his pants, pulling them down under his balls.

Your eyes shifted, for only a second, and you found yourself staring wide. He had his cock caged in his fingers. It was big, bigger than any you’d seen before. You gulped. This was the point that you were instructed by your training to call for security to get him out of there, but instead you just kept your arms crossed firmly and watched.

“See something you like, sweetheart?” He repeated a question he’d asked you once before.

“Stop this.” You said with little conviction.

“You’ll have to call security if you want me to do that.” He dragged his fist upward over his length, “so if you want Marc to get in even more hot water, go for it.”

He exhaled slowly, looking down while he worked on himself and biting his bottom lip with another firm stroke. He looked up at you, smiling when his eyes locked on to yours. You averted your gaze to your spot on the wall once again. 

“Thought a lot about how wet you get, bebita.” He groaned while he stroked. “How wet you are right now.”

You clenched your thighs together tightly to ease the ache between your legs. All you could feel was the wet slick of your panties sliding around. You wanted him, you wanted him so bad, but you couldn’t bring yourself to openly admit it, or to act on it. Your career, and perhaps your life, would be over. 

“Could be our little secret.”

You looked at him again. He moaned, letting his jaw go slack. His head fell back and his eyes fluttered closed. You watched, shamefully, entranced by the way his hand would glide lazily over his thick cock. His free hand grabbed the arm of the wheelchair tightly, knuckles turning white. You were shocked to feel a trickle of drool crawling down your chin. You quickly wiped it away.

What’s happening to me, you thought, you’re his therapist, this is unethical, you should call security right-

“You know sweetheart…” Jake dropped his gaze back on you, and you stared back, “my favorite thing to think about is how good that tight little pussy will look around me, swallowing me whole.”

The lightest exhale left your mouth, and of course he heard it.

“I’m only tolerating this for Marc’s sake.” You reminded him.

“Is that what you’re going to say when I’ve got you bent over that desk?”

He stood and walked over to the desk, dropping his cock with a thud on the smooth white surface. You looked away quickly, but through your peripheral you could see him place his palm firmly over his length and start rutting against the desk.

“Just think about…fuck….how hard I’m gonna fuck you.” The desk scraped over the floor with the thrust of his hips. You braced your hands against it and looked up at him again. “Still not too late, I can take you right now. Just come around here and bend over for me. Lift up that pretty little skirt. It’ll be quick.”

Your eyes widened and you shook your head slowly. This was against everything you thought you knew. No patient ever had this effect on you. Why him? Sure, Marc was attractive, but you’d never felt like this. You were staring again, looking up at the harsh faced man and then tracing your eyes down to his cock while he fucked his palm against the desk.

“There you go, bebita, you thinking about how good it’s gonna feel too?”

You were thinking about how good it would feel, to have him bending you over the desk. You hoped he could fuck you so hard your hips bruised. He was so big, he was sure to stretch you beyond your limit. He’d fill you so full his cum would be dripping out of you for days. The thought alone was enough to make the arousal pool in your core.

You looked away from him again, focusing on the wall, but that didn’t stop the breathy and hardly audible moan that left you. This was out of control, you were out of control. He groaned again, forcing your gaze to return to him. He started moving faster. You noticed precum leaking from the head, glistening over the desk.

“M’bout to come, you sure you don’t want this load? Worked it up just-for-you.” He grunted with each thrust. “Fuck.”

He stopped moving, but his cock throbbed, gushing ropes of cum all over the surface of your desk. A small glob dropped right in front of you. Your jaw dropped, and you rolled back in your chair, staring down at the mess he’d made. He tucked his cock back into his pants once he was sufficiently spent. When you looked up at him you noticed the proud expression on his face.

“Better clean that up before anyone sees it and thinks Marc’s gone insane, jerking off in front of his therapist.” You scowled at him before grabbing some tissues out of the box on your desk and starting to clean up the mess with a clear air of aggravation around you.

“You’re disgusting.” You muttered.

Your body was betraying you though. No matter how disgusting you insisted he was, you wanted him more than you ever recalled wanting anything before. It made no sense. You cleaned up the mess, trying to keep your fingers from touching the sticky cum spread all over. You felt the heat in your cheeks burning you alive, knowing he was watching you. When you finally cleaned up the last bit, under his watchful gaze, you looked back up at him, tossing the last tissue in the waste bin.

He leaned forward slowly, bringing his face close to yours. You thought he might try and kiss you, his lips were right there. You even saw his eyes dip to look at your mouth before going back up to look at you. You leaned in a little too.

“That’s a good girl.”

----

You were a mess.

He’d left your mind in complete disarray and he hadn’t even really touched you. After telling you that you were a good girl, he vanished, leaving Steven standing there in a state of confusion. You craved those words again…

Good girl.

I’m a good girl, you told yourself in the mirror before you left on the day you’d be seeing Marc again. You were wearing everything Jake ever said he liked on you. The striking red lipstick, the shirt that had a little cleavage, and a short skirt. The panties were unnecessary, and would only serve to get in the way. You were ready for him…truly ready this time.

You tried to give all of your patients the attention they deserved leading up to your appointment with Marc, but you didn’t care to hear anything they had to say. When you finally saw Marc again, you weren’t sure how you would react. Normally only Jake made you feel like you wanted to crawl out of your clothes and spread yourself on the desk like a buffet for his pleasure, but the line between him, Marc and Steven was getting blurrier by the minute. Even when it was sweet and innocent Steven fronting, you were struggling to keep yourself from soaking through your skirt.

“Are you alright? You seem a bit…out of sorts.” Steven mentioned, looking at you with a concerned and furrowed brow.

“M-me?” You gave him a reassuring grin, “yes Steven, I’m fine. This isn’t about me, it’s about you. You were saying you and Marc have been feeling down lately?”

Steven shrugged, “yeah, been trying to figure out what’s going on. Marc says there’s another one…he’s like me but scarier. He’s mean.”

You nodded gently, “he’s terrible, yeah…” You had to catch yourself before you bit your lip. “You know he came up during Marc’s time in the marines?”

You stood up and started pacing, noticing the slick way your thighs slid against each other with each step. Nothing could be heard except for the clicking of your heels across the floor as you got closer to Steven. Normally a filter would stop you from antagonizing Steven and trying to mentally cripple him so the protective alter would come out, but your care for their safety had left with Jake the last time you saw him.

“I think I remember Marc mentioning that, yeah.” Steven looked nervous as you got closer to him. “S’not like you to get up and start roaming about, you feelin’ alright today?”

“I feel fine.”

You walked to Steven’s right, touching his shoulder and looking down at him. His eyes peered into yours. He still looked too soft and sweet to be the man you craved. You needed to push a little harder. You needed to scare Jake out, because it was clear that he wasn’t coming out on his own.

“It was probably scary, wasn’t it? Finding out that you were responsible for killing so many people?” Your voice was low while you spoke. “I’m sure you don’t remember a lot of it, but just think about it.”

“What are you–”

“Come on Steven, that’s gotta be scary, right? Thinking about how scared those people must’ve been?”

“That wasn’t me though, that was Marc, I didn’t do that I didn–”

“But you did.” You were smiling like you were enjoying this. You weren’t, but you were excited for Jake, you needed him. “What about your mother? Hm? Remember how sad you were when you realized you were talking to no one for months?”

“Why are you saying these things? What’s gotten into you?” There were the tears you wanted, starting to glisten in Steven’s eyes.

You grabbed the collar of his shirt, peering deep into his eyes. If Jake was there, he’d see you. Surely, he’d come out. You wondered why he was still hiding from you.

“Jake, I’m ready, please, I mean it this time.” You felt your own eyes starting to water with desperation. “Don’t make me fucking beg.”

Steven looked at you, confusion splayed over his face, “have you gone completely mad?”

“Shut up, Steven.” You shook him, “bring out Jake, now!”

Steven grabbed your arms, “what are you doing?”

You shocked yourself when you pulled your hand back and struck him across the cheek. There was silence after that, Steven just stared at you incredulously. Something so out of character for you should’ve snapped you from your Jake induced trance but it didn’t. You were in too deep. Mentally torturing and striking a patient was grounds for, at a minimum, being fired.

When his eyes darkened and his lips curled up into a confident smirk, you knew you’d succeeded. There was no time to waste, you couldn’t risk him leaving you again. You grabbed his face on either side and desperately pressed your lips to his. Jake moaned into you, standing up and wrapping his arms around your waist. He pulled you in close and entangled his tongue with yours. He tasted so delicious you could hardly stand it.

“You sure you’re ready, bebita?” He said while you both separated for a second to catch your breath.

“Yeah, yes please, can’t get you out of my head.” You tasted something salty when you went back in for more kisses. You were crying, tears of a needy desperation you thought you were above…until you’d met Jake.

“Good, gonna give you exactly what you need sweetheart, bend over for me.”

You looked at him. He was so fucking handsome, looking back at you with those inexplicably dilated eyes that were akin to the hungry eyes of a predator looking at his prey.

“Anything for you, Jake, I’ll do anything. I need you so bad.” An audibly shameful sob left your throat.

“I know, cause you’re a good girl, si?” He had that cocky smirk splayed over his face.

Your mind stopped working when he said that. A slow nod of affirmation was all you could afford him in response. Jake spun you around and placed a firm hand over your back to slam you onto the desk. He teased you first, trekking a single finger up your skirt and gently tugging it up over your bare ass. You heard a dark snicker leave his lips.

“You are ready, aren’t you sweetheart? Look at that.” His finger touched between your pussy lips, rubbing over your folds and brushing against your clit.

“Oh fuck, been ready for a long time, please don’t tease me, fuck me please.” You begged. Any bit of dignity you had left went out the window when Jake had taken Steven’s place.

“Not yet…” He groaned as he continued to play with you.

Everything seemed to be a game to Jake, even this incessant teasing that drove you closer and closer to insanity. You shifted your hips, desperate for him to touch that burning bundle of nerves that he somehow managed to keep ignoring. It was right there. Maybe he didn’t know where it was.

“Right there!” You shouted when he brushed over it again.

“I know exactly where it is, sweetheart, but I need you to be a good girl for me and let me have my fun, okay? Been waiting a long time. Can you be good for me?” He asked in that suave tone that you couldn’t resist.

“Yes, yes I can be good for you.” You grabbed the other side of the desk and held on tight. When you squeezed your eyes shut you felt even more tears falling down your cheeks. You were such a pathetic mess for him.

“You’re so wet, been thinking about me all day?”

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since I met you.” You admitted, pressing your lips together tightly to ease the ache in your cunt. Your body was so hot, all you needed was a release that only he could give you.

“Been a while since I’ve felt a nice warm cunt, but I’ve never seen someone so needy like you before.” His voice was gravelly.

You heard him fumbling with the waist of his pants followed by the prodding of his warm cock against your slick thighs. His finger was still toying with your crevices, teasing you to tears. You didn’t dare beg again, you didn’t want to make the torture last longer just for the sake of his own amusement. Jake slipped his finger inside of you. An aroused exhale left his lips at the feeling of your soft walls fluttering around his digit.

“You’re tight, sweetheart, not sure you can handle what I’ve got for you.” He churned his hip forward, brushing his cock against the back of your leg.

“I can, I promise I can handle it.” Your voice was shaking, you were so distressed. “Please, I can do it.”

“Might hurt a little, I don’t know…” His tone was still teasing.

“I’ll do anything for it, please, Jake.”

He took out his finger, leaving you empty. The air was cool against the slick of your cunt. You felt as he grabbed his cock in his fist and dragged the fat tip between your pussy lips. You gasped, so close to getting the thing you’d been begging him for all this time. It was right fucking there.

“P-please.” You sobbed. Your knuckles ached from how hard you gripped the other side of the desk in anticipation.

Jake thrust forward suddenly, and you were full, stretched out over his cock beyond your threshold. You gasped followed by an agonizing whine. Jake moaned loudly behind you while he started thrusting slowly, resizing your walls to fit his wide girth. Both of his hands landed on your hips in a bruising grip.

“This what you wanted, bebita? Fuck, it’s good…tell me. Tell me how good it is.”

“It’s good, Jake, better than…mmmJake-”

You couldn’t speak properly, even to tell him that the way his cock felt splitting you open was better than any of the daydreams you’d had over the last several weeks. Jake’s hand was heavily pressing against your back, pushing you harder into the desk. Your cries grew until they were filling the office. You were thankful for the white-noise machine outside of the door that muffled them.

“Tell-me-how-good,” he demanded between thrusts.

“Best…best I’ve ever–Jake I can’t.”

“Come on, I know you can do it. You’re a good girl, right?”

“It feels so good,” you said in a primal growl. Drool slipped out of your mouth and onto the desk. “It’s so…so good I can’t…fuck…I can’t stand it!”

Jake pulled out of you, and for a moment you felt disappointed. You turned around to see why he’d do that, but he just looked at you, scanning your body with his lust ridden eyes.

“Get that shirt off, take it all off.” He demanded.

You were too quick to comply, moving so fast that under normal circumstances it would’ve been embarrassing. This wasn’t normal though. The way you felt wasn’t normal. Jake watched you every step of the way while you undressed, ripping off your clothes like they’d wronged you and throwing them aside quickly. 

He pulled you in once you were done and told you, once again, that you were such a good girl. Your body tingled with his words. He lifted you, setting your bare ass on the cold surface of your desk. He used a firm hand to force you onto your back. Jake put one leg up on either shoulder while he lined himself up with you.

He thrust into you again, and immediately both of your hands gripped the edge of the desk for stability. One of Jake’s hands, the one that wasn’t squeezing your hip for leverage, reached around your leg and he started rubbing the pad of his thumb against your clit. Your cunt squeezed around him in response and you tossed your head back.

“Open your eyes and look at me, sweetheart, love seeing the way you look at me.” He urged, smirking at you when your eyes met with his once more.

You bit your lip so tight you thought it might bleed. Tears ran down your cheeks in streams that you weren’t even trying to control anymore.

“So pretty when you cry.” He commented.

Jake continued to circle his thumb over your clit while he fucked you faster. You felt your body trembling with your impending orgasm. You were so close to feeling that sweet release you craved at his hands. You’d been so good trying to resist him all this time, you deserved this moment. At least that’s the delusion that had overcome you.

“No holding back now, gonna fill you up sweetheart. Is that what you wanted? Me to fuck you full of my cum?”

You nodded eagerly, eyes glistening while you gripped the desk with all your strength. His thumb kept rotating over you, drawing whining gasps from your lips with every pass. You felt your cunt flutter around him as you got closer. Your mind started to go white, no thoughts other than Jake’s cock fucking you relentlessly.

“Fuck…hope you’re on the pill, sweetheart, cause I’m gonna…gonna-fill-you-right-up…ahhh!”

Jake’s cock gushed inside of you, stretching you further with every strong throb. You lost it, becoming a drooling and crying mess while your thoughts ceased. You came in crushing waves over his length, draining him of every last drop you could. He noisily kept fucking you through your orgasm until his pace slowed to a stop. The room became quiet again, except for your heavy breathing and the clock ticking.

“I need…tissues.” You could hardly speak but you managed to get that out.

“Oh, we’re not done yet.” Jake pulled out of you and quickly dropped to his knees.

You gasped when his mouth closed over your cunt. He was slurping, collecting both your juices and his own in his mouth. When he stood back up, you didn’t know what he had planned. He hadn’t swallowed yet. He leaned over, dropping the mess on your chest. You thought he was done, but he knelt back down for more. Your clit was swollen and sensitive, but he went in again. You felt his finger slip into your hole, hooking and dragging along your walls to bring anything in there into his mouth. Again, he stood up and deposited the mixture onto your breasts.

“Ready for more, bebita?” He pressed a hand to your chest, smearing the combined liquids over your skin.

You stared at him wide-eyed as you nodded slowly. It would seem he had an unusually short refractory period. Jake was pressing his cock against your hole once again. He thrust himself into you, stretching you out once more. It felt just as good, if not better, the second time.

“Gonna cover you in my cum, sweetheart, make you all mine.” He said hungrily, spreading the mixture over your tits one at a time.

He gave extra attention to your nipples, brushing them with his thumb. He continued fucking you while he did, commenting on your sweet whines and how much he adored them. Jake never stopped surprising you with the way his mind worked. Your entire torso was coated in his cum, your cum, and copious amounts of spit. He never slowed his pace, but he leaned forward and dragged his tongue from as low down on your stomach as he could reach, all the way up to your mouth.

The combination tasted sweet, salty, and like something that only you and Jake could make. His tongue tangled with yours in desperate sloppy kisses. When the taste was gone, you craved more, you begged for it.

“More Jake…give-me-more,” you said between breaths.

He gave you a borderline evil smirk when he looked down at you.

“Anything for you, bebita.”

Jake went back down to your side with his tongue, dragging it up your torso and stopping over your cum coated nipple. He got stuck there, sucking deeply and moaning. Drool trickled down the side of your breast. You arched into his mouth, biting your bottom lip to stifle the loud scream that nearly left you. You looked down, Jake peered at you from under his lashes while he slammed into you harder.

“Feed me, Jake.” You begged, wanting to feel his lips on you again. “Give me more.” Your eyes were still watering.

He complied, bringing what was left in his mouth to yours in a flurry of passionate kisses. That sweet taste was there again, making your mind go blank with a feeling of ecstasy and comfort all blended into one. You felt like you belonged to him, like he was your everything, and the connection had been sealed in your combined body fluids and a kiss.

“Jake.” You said softly as he pulled back from you, “bite me. I want everyone to know that I’m yours. I want Marc and Steven to know that I’m yours.”

“That’s twisted, bebita. You want to scare them that bad?” He kissed down your jawline, working his way to your neck.

“I can’t let you go anywhere now, I can’t let them leave.” You explained, letting go of the desk to entangle your fingers in his dark locks.

“Wouldn’t leave you, even if they took me away.”

A sharp pain seared through your shoulder as you felt Jake’s teeth break through your skin. You winced and hissed, trying not to let your body shy away involuntarily. Even if your body did try to move against your will, Jake kept you close. You were still amazed at his ability to keep his hips rolling into you no matter what the top half of his body was doing.

You whined at the agonizing burn of his bite while he continued clamping his teeth into you harder. When he finally stopped, you looked at his face. His lips were glossy with spit and blood. You leaned up, kissing him, letting him make a mess of you even further. All you could taste was Jake and the metallic taste of iron. He pressed his forehead against yours and increased the pace of his hips.

“Gonna fill you up again. I don’t want you to be able to walk right.”

With a firm hand against your chest, he pushed you back onto the desk with a thud. You gasped as he fucked you harder than before. He reached his fingers up to your mouth, sticking two of them in there.

“Suck.”

You made Jake whine when your tongue started dancing over his digits. He tossed his head back for a second before looking back into your eyes with a dark and hooded gaze. His brow furrowed and his moaning changed to something more animalistic, less controlled. You looked up at him from under your lashes while making your muffled moans over his fingers.

“Hold-on-tight,” he said with each thrust.

You grabbed the edge of the desk with everything you could, feeling the white hot ropes filling you again with every throb of his thick cock inside of you. Once again, your eyes were rolling back, obscuring your vision while your body trembled from your orgasm over him. Your screams were still loud, though stifled by his fingers against your tongue. You were both a mess of heavy breathing while his thrusting slowed to a halt.

When he pulled himself out of you this time, you felt empty. You peered at the clock, it was nearly the end of Marc’s session. Jake stepped back, holding out a hand to you. He helped you off the desk before leaning his face into yours. He kissed you softly and then looked at you with a gentle expression.

“Will you come back?” You asked, feeling suddenly terrified that you may never see him again. You were sure you’d rather die than live in that reality.

“You keep me a secret and out of your little notes, and I’ll keep the boys crazy enough to stick around.” He winked at you, “I’ll be back in a couple days, try not to miss me too much.”

You were dressed before Steven was fronting again. He was sitting in the chair and grabbed his head the moment Jake went to the headspace. The last thing he must’ve remembered was you grabbing his shirt and slapping him. You’d fixed yourself up in the mirror as best as you could. You wiped the smeared makeup from your face, and what was left of Jake’s cum from your torso.

Steven touched his cheek, “you…you hit me.”

“Steven, bring Marc out. Things are going to be changing around here, and we need to have a chat.”

----

Moon Knight Masterlist

Jake Lockley Masterlist

Taglist (Please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed!):

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction, @my-secret-shame, @thatmomwitchfriend, @alexxavicry, @ryebreadsworld, @welcometostayingawake, @jake-g-lockley, @campingwiththecharmings, @steven-grants-world, @bloodredwolfsbane, @minigirl87, @ahookedheroespureheart, @romanarose, @360iris, @grumpyahjumma, @ninebluehearts, @burnincrown