#Marc Blank | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sarahghetti · 11 months ago

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moving day; m.k.

pairing: marc spector x reader, steven grant x reader, jake lockley x reader

summary: how marc and steven learn to live together, how you come to live with them, and how jake finally lets himself live at all.

warnings: basically a BIG character study into our boys, fluff, hurt and comfort, angst, insecurity, mentions of marc's childhood, mentions of violence, suggestive content but nothing explicit.

word count: 9.9k

notes: this one got away from me and might also be the best thing I've ever written (i'm very proud of it 😭). part of the @MOONKNIGHT-EVENTS bingo! prompt: “'is that my shirt?'”

MOON KNIGHT MASTERLIST | ALL MASTERLISTS

Even though it was (and still is) under Marc’s name, the flat was Steven’s first. Marc just helped set it up a little.

He rented out the first decent unit he found in the city and kept every piece of mismatched furniture the previous tenant left behind. The essentials had to be filled in himself—a bed, couch, and desk. A table to go with that rickety stool to eat meals on, a coat rack near the doorway. The only belongings of his own that Marc left behind were his old Egyptology texts, unceremoniously shoved into a corner of one of the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves that he hoped Steven would like.

(The fish was unexpected, though. Steven already had everything he would need, and it was Marc’s mistake to be scrolling through Facebook Marketplace on one of his last days before he handed it all over to his alter. A complete aquarium set was being offered for next to nothing; attached: a photo of the original poster’s late goldfish. Backlit from the tank light, blank faced and innocent.

He just couldn’t move on.)

But it was Steven who then took Marc’s—their—card and ran with it. Every free surface was prime real estate for another journal, another tomb. The used bookstores of London never stood a chance; it was almost impressive to watch him scour the shelves for the most esoteric topics and still come out with his arms full of what he was looking for. Marc would wake up in the body to find Steven’s collection a little bigger than before and ghost his fingers over the spines during those brief moments of respite before having to put on the suit.

It didn’t stop at the books. Of course, it didn’t. Steven’s always had an affinity for oddities. Marc wasn’t the least bit surprised to see the new paper lantern hung over the living room, or the pumpkin-esque footstool that was coloured as though it was plucked off the vine just a tad too early.

The pieces were quaint at best. If there were any psychological meaning as to why his alter gravitated towards dingy, threadbare upholstery instead of an IKEA like a normal person, it was beyond Marc.

However, he couldn’t not admit that it all kind of worked once put together; the clashing mix of materials and colours sort of became its own style when combined under the wooden rafters. Even when the books started overfilling the storage capacity and ended up in piles on the floor—it only added to the charm.

Marc was sure to erase every trace of his presence around the flat to avoid interfering with Steven’s life, but that didn’t stop the sense of longing to return to their—Steven’s—home during missions.

It was still a mess. A mess where everything has its place, yes, but there was no way that Steven could trip over several odds-and-ends in one day and claim that he was any degree of neat or tidy. Marc silently griped to himself about it all the time, but he’d sooner eat that dusty-ass rug Steven got for free before he saw anything get thrown away.

(It was like this back when they were kids, too. Marc’s childhood bedroom in Chicago—a room he never finds himself thinking about outside of his nightmares—was filled with joy. Medals from peewee baseball. Posters from his favourite movies, carefully smoothened out and taped to the walls by his dad. Drawings by him and Randall piled at the corner of his desk.

Right after the—the accident, all his stuff remained, immortalized in place. As if keeping everything the same would somehow also make Marc’s life the same as it was before, and Randall would come bursting through his door at any moment to ask him to come play. It was an overarching belief in their household. Even on her worst days, his mother’s anger never touched their home. Only him.

But then things began to change. His old action figures, collecting dust, would be strewn about the floor, waiting for someone to continue the battle. A collection of particularly smooth rocks began appearing on his windowsill despite the fact that he hadn’t gone outside in days. He’d wake up to grass-stained jeans and a scraped knee which Marc didn’t know how he got, for once.

Steven has always been like a crow, bringing all these little gifts for Marc to enjoy—these signs of life—even when he wasn’t aware of it.)

Coming back from Cairo feels like it should’ve been a bigger deal than it was, but after the dust settled on Harrow and Layla decided to return stateside alone—a decision that seemed a long time coming, if Steven’s being honest—there was nothing else to do other than to go home.

They have one blissful, uninterrupted day of sleep. Steven was the one to wake up sixteen hours later, mouth dry, and instinctively panicked at the thought of losing days again before realizing that Marc was also (and still is) out cold.

When he finally woke up a few hours later, half-asleep even in the reflection of the mirror, Steven couldn’t help himself from asking, “What now, Marc?”

Because Marc was the original. Marc was the one with a real life and legal status. He might never want to walk the streets of Chicago again, but that didn’t change the fact that he only came overseas to run away. Everything around them was a temporary measure.

Marc straightens. “I won’t bother you too much, I promise.”

“You still have your own life,” Steven reminds him.

“Still—”

“Oh, don’t start—”

At least they agreed on one thing: they were going to stay in London.

Marc cleans out his storage unit, bringing home an array of bins and duffel bags and that shitty fold-up cot that he still refuses to toss. Steven immediately got him his own dresser when Marc tried to insist that he ‘didn’t have much’; that was a blaring warning that he was about to do something stupid and sacrificial, and Steven had to put his foot down before a nearby charity got a donation of some well-loved button-downs.

It’s almost funny, how predicable Marc was when unpacking. Steven watched as he pushed all their new furniture against the walls then methodically unpacked bin by bin, stacking the empties inside one another like Russian dolls. Like Steven, everything he owned had a place, even after months spent stored away. Marc was just a lot more neat about it.

“Move my stuff if you want,” Steven pipes up. Marc doesn’t react, only continuing to store his notebooks on top of a filing cabinet. “Really, I’ve already read everything on that middle shelf there—we can put them somewhere else.”

Marc glances around the bookshelves. “Aren’t these alphabetized?”

“Well, mostly, but give me an hour or two and I’ll free up some space.”

It’s like a puzzle, and Steven’s always liked puzzles. Marc’s gone quiet in their head, out of excuses as to why he can just shove all his belongings out-of-sight so that Steven wouldn’t have to go through the effort. Now, if he would just believe Steven, then he’d know that reorganizing his books was hardly any effort at all.

And even if it was—he’s been meaning to do this for a while. An alphabetized collection is great until he gets a new book, because then everything has to be shifted over, and—well. There’s a reason why there were so many books languishing on the floor.

They pass off the body like that for the rest of the day, moving things around in the flat in order to accommodate Marc. It looks no less hectic in the end, despite Marc’s best efforts to tidy up a little, but it also doesn’t look any worse, which Steven sees as a win.

There are still so many things they need to talk about. Scheduling, routines, the fact that they’re currently both out of a job—either one would be lying if they said that this new life didn’t make them a bit nervous. But when Marc finally flops down onto their bed, a movement as easy as breathing, the pieces begin to settle into place. The last of his bins have been put away. His jacket hangs beside Steven’s as if it’s always been there.

In the headspace, Steven beams. Whatever comes, however hard—they’ll face it together.

Somehow, Steven wakes up one day and feels great.

There are a few minutes more until his alarm goes off, but he turns it off early. The usual grogginess that accompanies him this early is completely absent, and he rolls up to a seated position without a single mental or physical protest. He feels so good, in fact, that he even considers skipping his morning cup of tea.

(He doesn’t, of course. They quickly figured out—well, Steven did, Marc already knew—that they differed in their caffeinated beverages of choice. Steven, a strong cup of Yorkshire Gold with a healthy splash of milk and a teaspoon or two of sugar. Marc, a simple drip coffee, black, made from the most generic-looking brand of medium roast beans.

Not to say that he wishes to be separate from Marc or anything of the sort, but Steven imagines his feelings to be like that of a sibling who was always dressed in matching clothes as his brother. Marc might’ve graced Steven with an interest in Egyptology from his mercenary work and Gus from his—their?—brother’s drawing a lifetime ago, but as far as they know, his preference for tea was just a quirk.

Steven likes having something just for him.)

Marc had the body last night—he must’ve gone to bed early. Must’ve drank camomile tea and avoided blue light the entire time he was fronting because Steven could run a marathon like this and still go into work afterwards. He’s about to ask Marc for his secret when he spots an unfamiliar rumple of fabric on the pillow where he laid his head.

“What’s this now?” Steven murmurs, gathering the soft material in his hands. A woman’s sweater, obviously, with its feminine cut and style and faintly sweet scent that short-circuits his brain for a moment.

It doesn’t take a genius to realize how it got inside their flat, what with how there’s a whole other person living in his head, and it would explain the strange marks he found on his neck the other day—

Heat blooms in his face and Steven nearly drops the sweater back onto the pillow in embarrassment. Distantly, he knows that he should’ve seen this coming. Marc is Marc; Steven’s witnessed the quiet confidence the man extrudes from inside their headspace and the resulting, ah, attention it attracts.

In the corner of his eye, his reflection stills. Steven doesn’t even bother turning around—just holds up the offending sweater and asks, “Fun night?”

Marc, strangely, is quiet. It’s not like he’s one to talk about his romantic pursuits, but Steven at least expected a dry comment or two. He shakes the sweater like a bag of treats until Marc scowls. “Stop that.”

“Not judging,” Steven says, “but don’t suppose you got a number? Should I make a run to the donation bin for you?”

“No.” There’s an edge to Marc’s voice, and he purses his lips when he realizes that he responded a little too fast; Steven’s questioning look is pointedly ignored. “Just leave it on my desk for now.”

“Is she coming back or is this just like a—” Steven makes an ambiguous gesture, full of innuendo “—thing for you?”

“What? No—what?”

“Okay, okay,” Steven finally lets up because the groove between his alter’s eyebrows has become something fierce. He slips out of bed to place the sweater on Marc’s desk as requested, then throws one more comment over his shoulder for good measure, “Bring her home for dinner one day, would you?”

“Steven!”

“Is that my shirt?” You move towards the armchair, a smile tugging at your lips as you pick up the folded garment. It’s been freshly laundered. Marc wouldn’t burden you if he could help it.

“Mhm.” He doesn’t stir from his seat on the couch, tracking your movements with fondness in his eyes. You’ve been to their place plenty over the past few months and quietly, he relishes in the domesticity.

They’re simple things, like knowing your preferred spoon in their drawer or how you like your toast; the ease in which you curl into the cushions next to him—your spot, he can’t help but note—draws a contented little sigh from him.

“You know, if you want me to do your laundry, you can just ask.”

He would. Steven would prod endlessly as he does with all things related to you, but Marc’s managed to get this far with vague explanations and stubborn hand-waving. He’d endure the nosiness if it were for you.

“Although,” he continues, giving you a once-over. His eyebrow quirks at the familiar cotton long-sleeve enveloping your torso. “I’m not even sure you have laundry anymore.”

“Well, maybe if your clothes weren’t so comfortable, I’d stop stealing them,” you tease.

(His clothes aren’t boring, Steven, just—utilitarian. Between Khonshu and his mercenary work, Marc needed plain, flexible pieces; ones that made him blend in anywhere and ready for anything. Nothing that he could get too attached too, either. Everything he wore was at risk of getting ruined by grime and/or blood and/or tearing from various weapons. Of course, he doesn’t own anything ‘nice.’

Not like Steven. Not with his hodgepodge closet filled with colours and patterns, everything just a tad too large on their frame. Marc groans about it every time he takes over in the middle of the day—just a size down, just one. But the issue is that Steven likes it like that, likes the comfort and roominess he finds in his thrifted pieces, and so Marc dropped it as a serious topic, even though he still doesn’t quite get it.)

“This why you had to wear my jacket the other day?”

Steven’s sudden appearances don’t phase Marc anymore, even when you’re around. He just gives him a slight nod without missing a beat. “At this rate, I won’t have any clothes left for you to take.”

“Guess I’ll just have to borrow something from Steven then, hm?”

Before Marc can even begin to think about what to say to that— “I think my white jumper would suit her really well.”

He shoots a glare into a nearby mirror and just barely catches a glimpse of Steven’s grin in the reflection. Part of him wants to tell Steven to stop hitting on his girlfriend, but hesitates when you look at him expectantly, still waiting for his response.

He’s not ashamed of Steven, far from it. Still, a sliver of self-consciousness worms its way into his chest at the thought of talking to him in front of you. He’s done it before, but—he knows how it can look.

You’re more perceptive than he’d like. Marc sees the moment when it clicks in your head. “Is he here right now?”

Excitement bleeds into your voice. You’ve been wanting to meet Steven for a while. Marc showing up to a date with tousled curls and a colourfully-printed button-up instead of his usual streamlined style, a slew of scribbled papers piled onto the armchair you like to lounge on, a sticky note left on one of your books (‘oooh good choice! x’)—all these things that sent panic strumming through his veins were only ever endearing to you, for some reason. It’s lessened his worry by orders of magnitude.

Still. Letting you meet Steven is one step closer to talking about his childhood. His mom. His brother. He’s given you a high- high-level view of things (“It wasn’t great.”), but the thought of going any further makes his throat tighten. There’s a whole failed marriage that proves his inability to be vulnerable.

So, it must truly be a bout of madness that makes him say, “The white one.”

“What?”

“The white sweater,” Marc continues, because he’s already thrown himself off the bridge—there’s no use trying to backtrack now. “He says you’d look good in his white sweater.”

Your face slowly morphs into an expression of pure joy; you do nothing short of jump off the couch to bolt to their bedroom. Steven chatters excitedly in his ear, only pausing momentarily when you slip off Marc’s shirt.

“Oh! Um! She’s—she’s very—wow—" Marc feels the strangest urge to punch himself in the face again—

—And then you reappear into their field of view, a dream in fine knit. Steven’s sweater be damned, your beaming smile is more than enough to render them both speechless.

“How do I look?”

The sweater isn’t his, but it stirs the same syrupy feelings in Marc anyway. You’ve spoken about it before—and him privately with Steven—where Steven stands in your relationship with Marc. All he’s ever let himself hope for was for you and Steven to be cordial, maybe even friends. Of course, he’d have to actually let you guys speak to each other for any of that to be possible, but you two seem to have grown comfortable with each other regardless.

Now, he sees you in Steven’s clothes and his thoughts run rampant. Ours. He tests out the word and his heart skips a beat. It’s always been a possibility; one you all were open to if it ever happened. But he could never ask either of you to try to love each other on his behalf.

God, that word does something stupid to his brain—Steven’s rattling off compliments and other things of his you should try on and invites to go thrifting—and Marc just sits there, dumbfounded by his own hypothetical scenario. “Come on, Marc, say something!”

You move to stand in front of him, and his thighs part automatically to have you close. It takes your hand on his cheek, gentle as you stroke your thumb over his skin, to pull him back to reality. “You okay?”

“You look incredible.” His voice dips in the way he knowsmakes your stomach swoop, and is promptly rewarded with your flustered smile. The moment doesn’t last—not with Steven cooing in his ear over you.

A pang of possessiveness runs through Marc. That smile was for him, thank you very much.

His mouth works faster than his brain. “Steven has something to tell you.”

You light up. “Really?”

“Wants to tell you himself, actually.”

Steven splutters, nerves coming on in full force. Marc bites his tongue to keep a straight face. “Well, now, hang on a minute—”

Steven’s introduction was always going to be a well-thought-out but casual event, as to not make a circus out of it. It was just who they were, after all. They wouldn’t switch in front of you—Steven would change into his wardrobe and ‘do’ his hair beforehand; Marc worried it might be too much for you to see him but hear Steven. He would’ve prepped you both plenty in the preceding days, regardless of how necessary it was.

It definitely would not be the stunt he’s pulling right now.

Your eyes narrow at the placid look on his face, too casual to not be suspicious, but meeting Steven must outweigh the want to catch Marc in the act of whatever he’s planning because you don’t call him out, hands frozen on his face. It’s cute, watching you struggle between overt enthusiasm and not wanting to pressure them into anything.

Marc would even enjoy it a little longer if it weren’t for the confused and alarmed word vomit spilling out in his head.

“Stop messing about—I mean, it’s not—not odd, yeah? For me to front a little? Just a little chat, can’t be all that bad. Please be messing with me, but I can do it, s’not a big deal. Yeah, yeah, it’s whatever—oh, boy."

Taking pity on the poor guy, Marc quiets him with a steady glance into the mirror. “You sure, buddy?”

Slightly shrill but no less serious, “Are you sure, Marc?”

And then Marc’s fun little charade teeters on its head—is he ready for this? You and Steven wouldn’t hold it against him if he pulled the plug on it all right now, but this is the closest he’s ever gotten. The band-aid has to come off, lest he lets this fester for the length of another relationship.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, his flare of panic comforted by the patience in your eyes. More confidently this time, “Yeah, I’m sure.”

Steven’s smile is clear in his voice. It mirrors your own.

“About time, innit?”

Moving into their flat isn’t a decision you make all at once, but rather a slow, steady conclusion that you’ve been unintentionally working towards ever since you first visited.

The clothes were just the start. It’s not like you didn’t have perfectly good clothes before you met Marc, but his were just better somehow. Soft and simple, all in that neutral colour scheme he seemed to gravitate towards. The warm, woodsy scent of his aftershave clings to the fabric, making you want to bury your nose into the garments and go right back to the source—

You just couldn’t help yourself from borrowing something whenever you came over.

(That pleased, half-lidded gaze you receive each time you slip on his shirt, or his heated touch whenever he drapes his jacket over your shoulders during chilly morning afters—well. Those are just a bonus.)

So, maybe you left a shirt or two behind in the process. And maybe you realized that you should probably have a pair of sweatpants there as well, and a good book to read during quiet nights in. Once, you forgot your toothbrush only for Marc to pull out an extra from their medicine cabinet; now you have a toothbrush in their bathroom.

After you finally met Steven and his adorable, eclectic self—all bets were off. You bond while scouring vintage shops and finding new pieces for the flat. A little basket of throw blankets gets added to the living room (always neatly sorted by Marc, without fail). Candles—tall and stout, festive and fruity and spiced—start to litter the shelves. A particularly good haul at a used bookstore, a bit heavy for you to carry home, is instead slotted amongst their collection; the contemporary fonts and colourful covers are a stark contrast against the yellowing older texts, and you love it.

Your fingerprints are all over the place by the time Marc officially empties some space in his dresser for you, uncharacteristically avoiding your eyes as he speaks, “Just in case you wanted to keep some more stuff here.”

You were already using their closets before then (in both the storing-your-clothes sense and the stealing-their-clothes sense); you’ve practically taken over one of his drawers. But to give you one outright, to admit that he’s carved out some space just for you instead of silently accommodating your things as he always has—

“Thank you, Marc,” you whisper, brimming with emotion that you wonder if you’ll ever be able to fully express. He’ll flit about and clean and care for you because words will never capture the depth of his feelings. You see this for what it is, like all the gestures that have come before: a declaration.

“Thank you,” you repeat, and press a soft kiss onto the corner of his mouth. “I love you, too.”

It’s not much long after when Steven comes home from work grinning like a madman, one hand held behind his back. He beelines towards you, not even bothering to put his bag down.

“Hey, you.” You peck his lips and feel his smile stretch impossibly wider. “What’s got you all riled up?”

The words come out in a rush. “Havesomethingforyou.”

“Oh?”

“Close your eyes.” You can’t help but laugh a little as you follow the direction; Steven’s excitement is utterly infectious. “Okay, now hold out your hand.”

“If you give me a bug, I swear to God—”

“I would never.” His seriousness is a bit too heavy-handed, and you get a feeling you’re going to need to be on guard for a while.

You’re distracted, however, by the brush of his skin as he places something small and rigid into your palm. The metal is warm from being clasped inside his hand, but the shape is so familiar that you recognize what it is immediately.

“You can open—”

You’re already looking down—at the silver key to the flat nestled in your hand. Lonesome without the Koala plushie on Steven’s keyring, without the little charm you got for Marc’s—no, it’s meant to be your copy.

“We were thinking, right,” he starts before your heart has the opportunity to beat right out your chest, “Marc and I—well, you’re here with us most of the time. You should have your own key. Beats having to come grab mine from the museum, right?”

You let out a choked little laugh, too caught up to remind him that the only reason why you went to the museum was because else he would’ve dropped everything to deliver the keys himself. Spent his entire break and then some to commute back home so that you wouldn’t have to wait for his shift to be over, even though you could’ve amused yourself just fine outside until then.

“Yeah,” is all you manage to get out before stepping forward, burying your face in his chest as you wrap your arms around his torso. Steven’s love is unbridled; he holds you close, going on about how glad he is—how glad they both are—to have you, how he was practically bouncing off the walls at the locksmith, waiting for the key to be cut.

They’ve been your home for so long now that while the new addition onto your keyring makes you giddy and smile stupidly whenever you get to use it, it also just feels right. You go grocery shopping with Marc and watch him scrutinize apples like they personally offended him. Steven tangles your legs together as you wind down in the evenings, and always always smiles whenever he catches you looking at him. You rank the restaurants around the neighbourhood and line your favourite mugs beside each other on the shelf; you sit in the comforting quiet of the flat and wonder how you got so lucky.

When it’s eventually time to renew your lease, there’s no decision to be made. You’re relieved from dinner prep to write the email to your landlord on their couch. It’s sent off with no fanfare and quickly forgotten about when Marc’s voice rings out, asking what you want to eat.

“Anything,” you say, the ghost of a smile on your lips; he hates it when you say that. Marc grumbles a little, but you mean it this time. You have them and they have you. Curled up in one of Steven’s sweaters, Marc’s playlist on low in the background—anything is just fine by you.

You are the bane of Jake’s existence.

First, you meet Marc. Terrible. Khonshu is riding his ass about a mission in Liverpool—they’ve now been geolocked to stay under the radar—and Marc plans a date. An actual, Godforsaken date with a set time, throwing a wrench into their plans because Steven’s been scheduled to work on the surrounding days as well. How is he supposed to sneak off to the other side of the country now?

Even worse, you stick around. There are more dates between the two of you. For how much he hates texting, Marc responds promptly whenever you send him something. He frets over what to wear before picking you up. You stay over at the flat and he holds you in his sleep like he’s afraid you’ll disappear; Jake has been unluckily enough to wake up in the middle of the night, planning to slip away, only to be hit with the scent of your shampoo in his nose.

Then—and then—Marc has the bright idea to introduce you to Steven. The hope that this is just a casual, temporary thing is dashed away the second Jake sees that lovesick expression on the idiota. It’s more overt than Marc’s, but still the same blaring warning sign that Jake’s life is only about to get harder from here.

Keeping a low profile has become incredibly difficult since the others decided to be normal. Marc never questioned whenever Jake took over in a tight spot, too hyped up on adrenaline and too stubborn about their condition to follow up on his blackouts after the fight was done. Steven was clueless about everything for those first few months, then just blamed his blackouts on Marc.

But now? They talk to each other. They have a year-long calendar on the fridge with a magnetic pen holder to keep track of their schedules, colour-coded blue (for Marc) and green (for Steven). They’ve gotten distracted and added another consciousness for Jake to deceive in order to do his thing. He can’t take the body for more than a few hours, and certainly not by force, without drawing suspicion.

Jake’s happy for them. Really, he is. They’ve finally begun to move on from the trauma of their childhood into something that resembles a normal life. Steven’s gotten rehired at the museum as a tour guide. Marc’s taken up security consulting. And despite their respective anxiousness and ten-foot-walls, you bring them peace.

But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s Khonshu’s avatar now. That a lifetime ago, when the work began to wear down on Marc in all the worst ways, Jake was the one who cut a deal with the god for his release. All he had to do was take his place.

(Foresight might not be his strong suit, but he refuses to take responsibility for what happened next. He could never have imagined all the puppetry that’d occur with Layla in the mix, or that they’d actually divorce one of these days and end up with someone new.

Except this time, you know about their system and not about Khonshu. He wonders how well you’d take that whole mess.)

In short—Marc and Steven still need him. He can’t just up and disappear into the recesses of their mind; he has a job to do.

So, when Steven presses that fucking key into your hand, Jake’s so frustrated he could scream. Unfettered access to the flat—as if you weren’t there enough already. As if he weren’t already jumping through every hoop imaginable, just to keep his existence a secret. He would’ve made them drop the copy down the nearest gutter on the way home if he didn’t know that they would simply go right back to the locksmith and ask for another.

Steven watches as you slip it onto your keychain; that all-encompassing, vibrant burst of joy in their chest be damned—you are the worst thing to ever happen to Jake, even if you might be the best thing to ever happen to them.

Steven had the flat, Marc had his storage unit, and Jake?

Jake has his car.

Multiple, actually, but the limousine is the legal one (thanks for your identity, Marc) and serves as his homebase. Supplies are stashed in compartments around the cabin—weapons, clothes, cash—and with its heavily tinted windows, he can do anything he wants inside and passersby would be none the wiser. When Khonshu’s booming voice echoes around his brain about some new target, at least Jake can recline into a soft leather seat.

The only issue is that he can’t keep everything there. No, the parking garage is a fair distance away from the flat and sometimes, he doesn’t have the opportunity to make the trip before setting off. This means that he has to keep a change of clothes in the flat to avoid accidentally ruining some of Steven’s or Marc’s. He’d never actually wear anything of Steven’s to begin with (at least, not on a mission), but Marc’s wardrobe is minimal by choice—if something went missing or got a new, unexplained hole in it, he’d notice.

That’s why Jake is currently slinking through their living room, ready to change back into Steven’s pajamas before hiding his clothes on the loft above their bed. Nothing up there but empty bins and poster tubes. Marc regularly dusts the area during his monthly deep cleans, so Jake doesn’t even have to worry about leaving behind any tracks.

It was an easy job tonight, done in little less than an hour and not a speck on Jake to show for it. He could take a shower if he wanted—you’re staying over at a friend’s place right now, as noted in red on the calendar. But he shouldn’t keep the body for longer than necessary; they still need sleep, after all.

He slips off his flat cap, groaning as he runs a hand through his hair. God, they’re getting old. Even this stolen hour will be felt by whoever wakes up in the morning, slightly slower and groggier than usual.

(Jake doesn’t think about the future—has never needed to. The only future that exists to him is the next minute, and the minute after that, and what he has to do to ensure the body makes it there. Him and Marc were similar in that aspect for a long, long time.

That calendar on the fridge, while helpful to his vigilantism, stirs something uncomfortable in his gut. He’s seen them flip through the months to mark down birthdays and reservations. Vacations, work events—Marc’s going on a completely normal, non-violent work trip, which Jake still can’t quite wrap his head around—and it’s all so far ahead.

How can they be so sure that nothing will change between now and then? That their life won’t blow up again, and force them on the run? Everything they add is just another handful of salt to be pressed into the wound when it all goes to hell. But they still write things on that stupid calendar. Confident, excited even, about the plans they think will come to pass.

How do they know?)

There’s a rustling in the bedroom.

Oh, fuck. Fuck fuck fuck—

“Marc?”

You shift a little under the covers, trying to peer at him through the darkness. Jake’s never been more grateful for Marc’s sensible taste in fashion; with only a silhouette to go by, of course you’d mistake him for Marc—straight-cut jeans, a collared jacket. His flat cap would tip you off though, and he presses it into his chest to hide it from your line of sight. Marc would never wear a flat cap.

He forces a casual tone. “Hm?”

A small sigh of relief escapes you as your head falls back onto the pillow. Still watching him, though, you mumble, “Bad dream?”

You know about Marc’s time in the military and as a mercenary. Not everything, obviously, but enough. Jake nods, and can imagine the worried purse of your lips in the shadows. In the best impression he can manage, his accent turns Chicagoan. “Just had to take a walk.”

If he were really Marc, he’d already be in bed by now, letting you brush curls away from his face and press a kiss against the furrow of his brow. If he were really Marc, he’d ask you why you were back here instead of with your friends as expected, and you’d talk things out until dozing off in a tangle of limbs, comforted by each other’s presence.

But Jake’s not Marc. He brushes off the subtle tightening of his chest as just a lingering remnant from his alters. The body knows you, even if Jake doesn’t. It doesn’t mean anything to him.

You whine, a sleepy and pitiful but inviting noise from the back of your throat as he continues to stand in the living room. Alarm bells go off in his head; he has to placate you before you get up and try to drag him over yourself.

“Just need to change,” he says, soft and low, warmth injected into every word. Nausea courses through him, to his own confusion, as he continues to play Marc. This should be easier—he’s been hiding for as long as he can remember. This is probably the tamest thing he’s done to keep his cover. “Go back to sleep, I’ll be there in a second, okay?”

He takes two steps towards the kitchen then stops, feigning—feigning something, fuck if he knows—waiting for your breathing to level out again. Silence falls over the flat, but Jake’s mouth runs dry.

There’s no way you don’t bring this up to them in the morning, and there’s no way they won’t immediately suspect another alter. They know he exists, have seen the aftermath of when he fronts. It’s only his secrecy that has kept them off his back for this long, and it will all come crashing down in a few hours.

For better or for worse, he’ll have to meet the others soon.

Marc will never tire of waking up beside you. Even though there’s a heaviness weighing him down, body aching for just a few more minutes, he pushes through because you’re already awake. With one hand on his chest, the other tracing over his jaw—the small, lazy smile on your face has already made his day.

You turned over while he was asleep, but his arm is still slung over your waist; he pulls you closer to press a kiss onto your forehead. Lips moving against your skin, “Morning, baby.”

“Morning,” you murmur. “Feel better?”

Mind hazy from sleep, Marc doesn’t question the odd wording. He just let’s himself settle into the lingering fatigue, leaning into your touch as his eyes flutter shut again. “M’tired. Stay with me a little longer?”

Concern laces your tone. “Was the dream that bad?”

That breaks through to him. He peers at you curiously, more alert than before. “What do you mean?”

You blink, confused. “Your nightmare last night. You left to take a walk?”

Marc sits up, furrowing his brow. Reality seeps in, and he checks the date on his phone. Aren’t you supposed to be—? “I thought you were staying over at a friend’s place.”

“I was going to, but she had a family emergency—I came back here around three. Don’t worry, they walked me home,” you explain with a soft pat of your hand at the end. That—that is one mystery solved, and he is glad to hear that you weren’t walking alone at night, but his shoulders remain taut with tension. His mind gets caught on a detail.

“Three?” He’s a light sleeper, he would’ve woken up when you came into bed. But—your words replay in his mind. He wasn’t here when that happened, was he? “I went on a walk?”

His stress begins to spill over to you, and you prop yourself up on an elbow, fiddling at the blankets. “Um, yeah. We spoke a little when you came back—I was already in bed, remember?”

A pit opens up in his stomach, and the words die in this throat. Marc does not, in fact, remember. He apparently went outside in the middle of the night, long enough for you to come home and settle in without him, then had a whole conversation upon return—and none of it is familiar to him. Not even a hint of déjà vu.

He throws off the covers, on his feet in seconds despite your protests. All hisblackouts, the ones he thought were finished after traversing the Duat—

That third sarcophagus—

Is this what it was like for Steven? To wake up, not knowing what your body has done, where it’s been—if it’s hurt someone?

Marc might actually puke if he thinks about it for too long. And God, you live with them now: him, Steven, and what Marc wishes was a complete unknown. But the truth is—they aren’t an unknown. No, Marc is fully aware of what this alter is capable of.

“Oh, bugger, what’s going on?” Steven must feel his panic, reflects it in kind. He must be expecting bloodshed with how fast their heart is racing.

Marc says nothing and flings open the tri-mirror on the wall, bracing himself with both hands on the sink below. He sees himself in the center, a bull primed to fight. Steven’s to the left, so fearful he’s nearly frozen still. And to the right—

To the right—

So. Jake hasn’t really prepared for this situation, to be honest.

He’ll face anything head-on to keep the body safe, but imagining himself as the threat? Never crossed his mind. There’s anger in their blood, and Marc’s liable to cracking the porcelain with his grip. If looks could kill, Jake would be dead ten times over.

The few times he wondered what it would be like to actually meet Marc and Steven, the worst that could happen was that they disliked him. Unfortunate, but he’d live. He didn’t need their approval to do his job.

But through the blood rushing in their ears, he can hear you; still in bed, barely breathing as you watch everything unfold. And that’s when he remembers—

You are the bane of his existence.

Because Marc and Steven aren’t just thinking about their own self-preservation. No, now they have you to protect, and the lengths that they would go to do that, well—Jake begrudgingly has to admit that they might rival some of his own efforts for them.

He’d let them stare at themselves forever in the mirror if it weren’t for that fact. They would never give up on trying to talk to him. Steven was clever enough with the sand and tape and ankle restraint; he doesn’t want to think about what sort of traps they’d create with Marc in the mix. Jake would probably still evade them all, but they’d drive themselves crazy in their attempts.

They’ve really left him no choice. For the first time, he lets himself be seen.

You’ve watched Marc and Steven talk to each other plenty of times. It’s really no big deal. They’re just normal conversations where you can only hear one side, and usually taken through the nearest reflective surface.

But this? This is an interrogation. Marc slackens his jaw for just a moment before everything in him tenses again. He speaks through clenched teeth, as if barely controlling the severity of his thoughts—you can’t help but brace yourself for impact. “Who are you?”

The pause as he waits for the other alter, whoever they are, to respond is maddening. It wasn’t quite fear that gripped you when you realized that it wasn’t Marc last night—to be honest, you don’t know what to feel—but the scene in front of you has you reevaluating your initial reaction.

That initial reaction being, well—the same thing you felt when you Marc told you about Steven: curiosity. You wanted to meet Steven. Almost begged for the chance near the end. Whoever this is—

“Jake.”

The name grates itself out of Marc’s throat, and you cling to the information like a life raft.

“Jake.” You can’t help but test it out on your tongue, squinting a little as you look at your boyfriend and try to see yourself calling him that. Marc looks towards you. There’s a storm of emotions in his eyes, but there’s no time to decipher any of them—a moment later, he turns back towards the mirror with a scowl.

“Why should I believe you?” The lines on his face deepen; Marc grits his teeth so hard you yearn to hold him, but you’re frozen to the spot.

“I don’t know that. After you—” his eyes dart between you and his reflection so fast, you might’ve imagined it “—after what you’ve done?”

A wave of dread washes over you.

He’s not talking about last night.

No, Marc—Marc has interacted with Jake before, and whatever happened must’ve crossed a line. Must’ve crossed several lines because of how he’s acting right now, and you want to bury yourself under the covers, still fisted tightly in your hands.

He laughs bitterly. The sound rakes through your ears. “You call that protecting us?”

Your blood runs cold. With no real context and spiked with adrenaline, your mind runs rampant with the possibilities, connects all the worst dots.

There’s no way—

“Lay a hand on her and I swear—”

You want to run and you want to hide and you want their arms around you, assuring you of—of anything. You need to leave this building and also never go outside again, because your head begins to pound with each thought that passes through.

You can still see the worry flare in Marc’s eyes when you accidentally grabbed the handle of a hot pan, the dutiful and tender way he held your hand under the tap for no less than fifteen minutes—

You can still hear Steven’s babbling when your new shoes rubbed your ankles red and raw while on a walk, distracting you from the pain the best he could until you got back home—

You are just so acutely aware of their love—that Marc and Steven would never dare hurt you. It��s impossible to reconcile your memories of them with the picture that’s being painted of Jake right now.

No. You can’t believe it.

You’re not even hearing their conversation anymore, your heartbeat is too loud. Breathing returns to you in a rush—you never even realized you stopped—and your vision swims with light-headedness.

None of it makes sense.

It—it can’t—

The mattress dips beside you, but you barely feel it. Someone’s cupping your cheeks, grounding you back into the flat, your home, and you know these hands. You know this voice, soothing in your ear, even as you shut your eyes.

They say that they’re sorry. They say that you’ll be okay.

They call you princesa.

It feels strange walking around the flat, knowing that he’s welcome there now.

Jake’s seen every nook and cranny through Marc and Steven, but to actually be able to explore the place himself—he’s like a kid in a toy store. He can’t help but run his fingers over everything. The spines on the bookshelves, the mismatched dishware in the cabinets. That velvet throw pillow, which you are so fond of playing with during movies—yeah, he gets it.

He’s not going to be talking to you for a while, though. After his rocky first meeting with Marc and Steven, which also coincides with the absolute worst possible first meeting with you—

It’s best to steer clear for a while.

Jake let the other two do the explaining. He watched silently as Marc told you about his past—told you about why he was discharged from the Marines and the scenes he’d wake up to after Jake had fronted—hands shaking as they held onto yours. He watched as Steven took over when it got to be too much, adding in the finer details and clarifications, steadier but no less genuine than Marc. Their arms were gentle as Steven held you in their lap, patient as you stumbled through how you felt.

“Marc seemed so mad at Jake.” You clutched at Steven’s shirt, sniffling into his neck. “I didn’t know what was happening, I—I was scared.”

No. Jake furiously shakes his head as if it would jostle the memory out of his brain. Just thinking about it threatens to unravel him, and he has to keep it together. He’s on thin ice as is.

You had been the one to temper their emotions—the sight of you panicking on their bed grinding all other issues to a halt. The conversation couldn’t continue until you were okay, and this time, Steven kept you in the loop.

Steven is wary. Steven needles him about what he’s been doing all this time, asks him what he’s going to do now with short little mhms. Steven is also the one to buy a new set of pens (because black is already used for non-individual specific events) and designates him as orange.

Marc doesn’t trust Jake at all and admits it outright. It’s—it stings more than he thought it would, but he understands. He always knew that Marc would take a while to come around, especially with you to consider—

Jake doesn’t know why he worries so much about your opinion. Protecting you is an extension of protecting the body, but he never used to care about what Marc or Steven had to say. He hates the caution in your voice when you talk about him and can’t help but appreciate you trying anyways.

He pinches himself. You’re not his to think about, period.

Acknowledging his existence also, sort of, comes with accepting it. Steven somehow finds the space for another dresser in their already cramped bedroom. Jake doesn’t even have enough possessions in general to fill that thing—not counting all the weapons and ammo that Marc would definitely have their head for if he brought them into the flat.

It’s an olive branch on both sides, though. They’re committing to having him around. He’s committing to being around, instead of lurking in the background of their lives.

His clothes only fill up the first drawer but—it’s nice. Jake stares at the thing a lot more than a used, scratched-up piece of furniture probably warrants. He can barely admit it to himself but this, all of it—going outside during the day, eating a freshly-cooked meal, even just relaxing in bed without immediately trying to go to sleep in order to Protect the Body—it really is just nice.

(Since when did he describe anything as nice?)

Then—your keys turn in the door.

Jake hits the eject button so fast, Steven’s probably going to get whiplash.

“Nice reflexes,” he grumbles as you enter the flat. It was funny the first few dozen times. Now? That twat’s just being a coward.

“I’m home!” You call out as Steven rounds the corner to greet you, tote bag nearly bulging in your hand. He pecks your lips as he helps you out of your jacket, then hangs it up beside the three others on the rack. “There was a little creators’ market in the park—you should’ve seen it!”

“Think I’m seeing it now,” he chuckles, moving to help you with your tote. You slink past him at the last second, grinning. “Come on, love, show us what you got!”

“They’re gifts! Just hang on.” You place the bag on the dining table and enraptured, he pulls up a stool. His head rests on his chin as he waits for you to unpack. “Okay, first, for Marc—”

You reach your hand inside and reveal a pair of black leather gloves. Not driving gloves like Jake’s—there’re far less embellishments all around. But they’re warm and flexible, perfect for colder weather. Inside, the lining is made with a material so soft that when trying one on, Steven can’t help but laugh a little in disbelief.

“Treading on my territory, pendejo?”

Marc snipes back, “Like you own a monopoly on leather gloves.”

Steven lets Marc pull to the front. An easy smile spreads on his face as he flexes his hand, testing his movement. “Thanks, baby. I really like them.”

He takes your chin into his gloved hand to thank you properly, slotting his lips against yours with no shortage of appreciation. His grip is an anchor, holding you in place as he kisses you, deep and languid. Like you have all the time in the world despite the heat flickering across his skin. When Marc gets like this, it’s not long before you start squirming under him, and your hands paw at his neck for something more.

That’s his cue to finally pull away, smirking as he traces your bottom lip with his thumb. Whether it’s the leather or him or both, he can see the effect on you, the dazed look you give him when you bat your eyes open.

Let Jake try and beat that.

“Oi! Share!”

Marc sighs. Drops his forehead to yours and reluctantly doesn’t continue any further. “Steven wants his gift now.”

“Oh,” you laugh a little, realizing the situation you’ve put yourself in. “Maybe I should’ve done Steven’s first.”

Marc steals one more kiss before retreating again, and Steven is back, clearly eager for many different reasons now. After putting Marc’s new gloves to the side, you don’t make him wait a second longer; you pull out a stunning new button-up, deep navy with a pattern of large teal palm leaves and hints of salmon accents all over.

All traces of joy disappear from Marc’s voice. “Oh, my fucking God.”

“She’s an enabler. I can’t believe it.”

Steven gapes, amazed. “How did you—”

“I had to go digging,” you admit, gesturing widely. “There were so many racks, we need to go back! I only had my one bag!”

“There’s no way people actually buy this stuff.”

“Ahh, well, it’s not that bad—"

“Are you kidding me?”

Ignoring the fashion police in his head, Steven immediately switches shirts and tosses the old one somewhere behind him. Based on Marc’s grunt, he missed the couch, but also can hardly find himself to care.

He doesn’t even bother doing up the buttons, because he knows where you’ll put your hands when he descends upon your face. Kiss after kiss on your cheeks, forehead, and nose, and soon enough you’re giggling loudly into the air. Your hands are warm against his bare torso, pulling him closer even as their stubble tickles your skin.

“Stevie—Steven! There’s one more!”

He’s not letting you off that easily, though, and finally captures your lips with his. That does buy him a few more blissful seconds until you manage to push him away; breathing heavily, you point sternly in his direction—behave.

Steven schools his expression into one of perfect obedience, teasing, but you barely even react. With one glance back down at the table, it’s like the tote bag sucked away your excitement, leaving shy uncertainty in its wake. You’re biting your lip as you reach for the last gift, quiet.

Marc hums, trying to figure out what’s wrong. Steven offers you an encouraging little smile and is about to say something when you produce the last gift in a rush, still not meeting their eyes.

It’s a simple wool scarf, colour-blocked in soft browns and greys. He waits as you fiddle with it in your hands, trying to find the words.

“He doesn’t have a scarf,” you blurt out. When Steven doesn’t respond immediately, you continue. “Jake, I mean—I don’t think he has one. I thought it would be nice.”

He follows your gaze to the coat rack near the door, filled with four sets of outerwear. It clearly doesn’t fit all the jackets owned in the household, but his favourite is hung up next to Marc’s, which is hung up beside your overcoat and Jake’s collared jacket. Various cold weather accessories are layered onto the hooks as well, multiple pairs of gloves, hats—but there are only three scarves.

Come to think of it, Steven hasn’t seen Jake ever wear a scarf either. “You’re right, love. Doesn’t his neck get cold? I know our neck gets cold.”

The corners of your mouth tug up a little and he grins, triumphant. He tunes into his head, making sure he doesn’t miss any of Jake’s reaction, but nothing comes. That’s odd. It doesn’t feel like he’s gone, more like—holding his breath.

“Think he’ll like it?” You tilt your head, though your true question is clear on your face.

The words can’t come out of Jake fast enough. “I’m not here right now.”

“Jesus, man.”

Steven huffs but covers for his alter; they’ll press him about it another time. “Once he sees it, I don’t think he’ll ever take it off.”

The gloves and scarf are added to the coat rack, which is liable to falling over one of these days due to the heavy load it’s carrying. With no shortage of complaining from Marc, Steven picks up his discarded shirt and tosses it into the laundry basket. It’s almost full—he makes a note to do a load later this week.

He must look ridiculous, parading around in an undone button-up, but you have nothing but fondness for him when he returns to cuddle with you on the couch. You’ve changed into Marc’s sweater and have to move no less than five decorative pillows in order to make enough space.

Marc makes a distressed noise when Steven throws one of them to the side. “It’s fine—”

It hits the standing lamp and you both freeze as you watch it teeter on its base, creaking ominously. After a moment, it steadies again.

“It’s only fine because of your weak throw.”

Steven splutters as he pulls you into his side. “We have the same arm!”

They bicker about the mechanics of their body, whether muscle memory crosses over when they switch or not. Marc is squarely of the opinion: No. Steven reminds him of when he punched the Jackal, and the conversation continues to devolve. Jake refrains from getting involved but spurs them on regardless with a well-placed snicker here and there.

It’s an aimless argument that has you burying your face in your hands because you’re laughing too hard; one of many that have taken place and one of many that have yet to occur.

In the morning, Marc will cook you breakfast and throw an eggshell into the bin from across the kitchen just to prove a point. Steven will go back to the market with you to buy armfuls of his favourite clothing and home goods, and he’ll add one more to his bag for every snide comment Marc makes. And Jake—

Jake will take a little while longer until he feels ready to speak to you, but you see the scarf gather raindrops and the warm, woodsy smell of their aftershave as he wears it every time he goes outside. Always see it hung up neatly on the rack, on top of his jacket so it can properly dry.

And with all four of you settled in, their cluttered little flat in London—long overflowing with books and clothes, your favourite comforts and some truly unique furniture—finally started to feel complete.

#moon knight x reader #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #jake lockley x reader #moon knight #marc spector #steven grant #jake lockley #moon knight fanfic #my writing #mk bingo 2024

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spicyllewyn · 1 year ago

Text

Kinktober 6. - Mirror sex.

Moon system x F!Reader

Tags & warnings. Mirror sex + hair pulling. (+18)

Word count. 2.8k

Summary. Marc got tired of Steven and Jake breaking his rules.

Kinktober masterlist.

So far, the agreement had been going relatively well. You were in a serious relationship with Marc at first, you met in a café like those silly romantic movies, with the small difference that you almost killed him by spilling your cold drink on him and tripping over him.

Neither of you could deny that things were moving very fast, but everything with him was so ridiculously easy that you weren't afraid to give him your all. You told him about the pet you lost when you were young, about the disagreements with your parents, and the occasional traumatic event in your life. He did the same.

When he told you about Steven and Jake, you joked that he was winning the trauma competition, and he could breathe easy knowing that this was not even close to being an obstacle to your relationship. He could trust you.

Things began to get a bit out of control when everything also became easy with Jake and Steven, each with their own personal charm. You never imagined being with three very different guys, but starting to experience it was a real adventure. The problem was that while you were having fun, they had endless discussions about you and the boundaries they set for each other.

Well, the boundaries that Marc set.

The main and biggest one was that marks on your body were prohibited. He understood that all four were part of the relationship equally, but he also used something he liked to call "privileges of having met you first and being the main reason why everyone is together." Or something like that, he always changed the name for it, the thing is he couldn't help but be a jealous man, he hated that Jake and Steven would forget who you belonged to first.

The first one to break the rule was Steven, unconsciously. You didn't know anyone who was a bigger fan of make-out sessions than him, and when his kisses got deeper, more desperate, he had the habit of holding onto your hips as if you were about to run away at any moment, or as if he wanted to verify that you were real and that you were in his arms, devouring his mouth as if you depended on it to live.

That, combined with the fact that he had a terrible habit of forgetting that his muscles were stronger than he thought. You tried to be as discreet as possible when his fingers left marks on your skin, but with someone as touchy as Jake, it was impossible to keep secrets about your body.

He took it as a challenge, of course. If Steven could break the rules, why couldn't he?

The next day, you could be sure that he saw you as a blank canvas because your neck, your shoulders, and even your breasts were covered in bites and hickeys. You didn't remember him being so aggressive, but maybe pleasure had blinded you.

"What is this?" Marc held your chin, turning your face slightly, just enough to get a better view of your neck.

"It was Jake." You chuckled, still distracted by your phone as you let him guide you, without noticing how his jaw clenched, but feeling his fingers tighten on your jaw.

"Darling?"

Your eyes traveled to him.

"Mhm?"

"Will you come with me to the bedroom? We need to talk."

With a furrowed brow, you obeyed because the hand that held your chin ended up in one of your hands, pulling you as if he were a child wanting to show you something very important.

"Am I in trouble?" You joked as you watched him close the door behind you.

"Sit on the bed."

"Am I...?"

His brown eyes on you were enough for you to obey once again.

"Could you explain to me what the hell is this?" His hand in your hair made you turn your gaze away from the mirror you had in front, leaving the marks in plain sight.

You immediately understood who he was talking to.

Or whom.

"Oh, come on, hermano." Jake rolled his eyes in the mirror's reflection, his arms crossed over his chest. "Steven broke it first."

"False!" The mentioned objected after. It seemed like a competition of who could make Marc lose his patience first. "I would never do something like that."

"Check her hips if you don't believe me."

Raising an eyebrow, Marc released your hair.

"Stand up, sweetheart."

If there's one thing you've learned over time in this relationship, it's that it's not worth objecting when one or all three of them are arguing, especially when you don't even know what the problem is. You stood up slowly, wearing Steven's blue sweater that you slept in, which only covered half of your thighs.

He slowly lifted the edge of the fabric, his fingers brushing your thighs and causing a slight shiver. You could swear you heard him growl when he found the damn marks that fit perfectly with the size of his hands. Some of them were covered by your panties but they were pretty visible, already turning to a purple color.

“I-I didn't even notice those were there!”

“Why can Steven do it and I can't? That’s a damn injustice if you ask me.”

“Fortunately, Jake, I'm not asking you.” He rolled his eyes while you tried to imagine what the other two boys responded to him from the headspace. "On your knees."

The cold of the floor on your skin felt good and you had to look up to meet your boyfriend's chocolate gaze. You never had a problem following his orders.

“The problem here…” His fingers ran through your hair slowly, making you close your eyes for a few seconds. “They are forgetting who you belong to. Who do they think they are to mark my girl like this, huh?” He cooed, the gaze of the other two fixed on him.

Your hands went to the hem of his pants, and when he didn't object, you understood well what he wanted. A small smile spread across your lips as you freed him from his tight black jeans, as well as his underwear.

He wasn't completely hard yet until your tongue ran along his entire length from base to tip.

“I want you to show them who was your first, my love.” Your fingers, as if you were an expert, wrapped around his cock, giving it a squeeze before beginning a slow, up-and-down pace. “Who you think about every fucking time you cum.”

You couldn't see it, but in detail you imagined the way Jake was rolling his eyes.

“It's a punishment for all 3 of you, you understand, don't you, honey?” His eyes boring into you as you kissed all around his cock wetly. “What makes you believe you should allow yourself to be treated that way?”

You parted your lips, taking the head inside before starting to suck. That always gave him chills, the way you didn't rush.

“No-oh.” His fingers tangled in your hair, those soft caresses had stopped. One push of his hand and you had half of his erection inside your mouth. He groaned.

Although you enjoyed taking your time and savoring every inch of Marc, he seemed to be in a hurry, you thought that perhaps the clumsy and aggressive way in which he was directing your head movements was part of the supposed punishment.

Were you supposed to not enjoy that?

“Push deeper.” Jake's voice caught Marc's attention, who a few seconds ago had been distracted by the messy and sloppy way you were sucking him off. He could have sworn there was a point where the only sound in the room was your saliva every time he slid over your tongue.

Marc looked at the mirror with a frown.

“Push harder.” He repeated, looking up. “Steven always fucks her mouth until she cries, if you want to prove your point push harder. Right, Steven?"

The other boy received an elbow against his ribs that forced him to look up. It seems he was enchanted by watching the way your left cheek bulged against the pressure of the head of Marc's lenght against it.

Still distracted, he nodded quickly.

It was that what resulted in you suddenly feeling him push your head harder. The brush against your throat brought tears to your eyes and you heard your boyfriend grunt. He was never so rude.

You didn't complain, though.

You tried your best to relax the muscles in your throat around him, but you were so caught off guard that a couple of gags only did the opposite, feeling you squeeze him every few seconds until he guided your head back.

Saliva ran from your lips to your chin, some drops ending up on your neck. You broke the string of saliva that joined his cock to your mouth by licking your lips.

You sniffed, looking up before giving Marc a smile.

“Oh, you like that, don't you?” His fingers wrapped around himself so he could hit your tongue with his heavy member. You kept your tongue out, happy to receive it and hear the wet slapping. “Or does Steven do it better?”

Another movement of his hips was so abrupt that you felt your nose eventually collide with his lower abdomen, having to close your eyes as your tears ran down them. Still, you didn't give up, you didn't use your well-known "signal" to ask for some mercy.

Instead you moved your tongue slowly underneath, you only managed to graze his balls with the tip of it but it was enough to get a gasp from his throat. You held on for more seconds than you thought you were capable of before it was Marc himself who pushed you away.

It took you several seconds to even out your desperate breathing, you wiped your lips on the sleeve of Steven's sweater.

"Stand up." He ordered. His chest rising and falling rapidly. Jake's smirk on the other side of the mirror screamed at him that he knew. He knew Marc would finish stupidly quickly if he kept fucking your throat like that.

You swallowed hard before standing on shaky legs, the intense heat between your legs beginning to burn through your entire body, without receiving any kind of attention the only thing you could feel was the way your insides clenched around nothing.

"Turn around." Your cheeks took on a reddish color as you remembered the two pairs of eyes that were on you on the other side of the reflection. You slowly turned your back on him, your fingers gripping the wooden cabinet that held the huge mirror. “You better not close your eyes, I want you to look at them.”

Marc's hands took care of the job, pulling the hem of the sweater up to your waist and pulling your panties down to your ankles. You didn't need instructions to spread your legs and raise your ass for him.

He positioned himself behind your body, holding his cock for help. The tip separated your lips and you flinched when it brushed your swollen clit, it was just a couple of brushes as if he wanted to collect your juices on it in order to make penetration easier.

Although with you dripping and him full of your saliva, at this point it was just his pettiness and his desire to make you beg. You lifted your hips higher.

Marc looked down, his hand positioning itself exactly over Steven's finger marks and with a single movement you felt him slide inside you. Your legs trembled as you received him this deep and rough way, an action that you recognized as more typical of Jake.

“M-Marc, fuck, Marc.” You stammered as your body tried to get used to his size. No matter how many times you had done this, it was like your body insisted on giving him that death grip that drove him crazy.

"That's it." He caught her bottom lip between his teeth in a lousy attempt to silence her gasps. “Louder, baby, remind them who's fucking you.”

Somehow you felt like Jake and Steven's eyes burned into your skin. You couldn't look in the mirror, not while you were babbling Marc's name between moans, with that look that made it obvious how cockdrunk you were with just a couple of thrusts.

When Marc hit that sweet spot that made you vibrate from head to toe, your eyes closed automatically, your head falling downward.

"No." He growled, his hand rising to place it in your hair where he tangled his fingers. The sudden tug he gave to your locks made you snap your head up and let out a loud gasp, your eyes snapping open. "Look at them."

On the other side Jake was leaning slightly so he could be at your face level, analyzing every small expression of pleasure he saw in you. Your cheeks are flushed, your pupils are dilated, and your lips are red from biting them so much.

Steven was too lost in his own thoughts to object anything, the truth is that he was enjoying this new angle he had to see his cock splitting you and making you whimper more than he would like.

“Tell them how good I'm making you feel, honey.” He cooed, his fingers giving your hair a harder tug to force you to keep your head up. “Remind them who was the first to break that tight little pussy.”

You stifled a moan, making your bottom lip bleed with a bite.

“Tell them.” He growled, his fingers squeezing your hips so hard you feared your body was going to give up at any moment.

“I-It was you, Marc.” You whimpered in pleasure as his thrusts pushed your body forward, you were already on your tiptoes so as not to end up with your entire body against the furniture.

“Repeat it, I want them to listen to you.” His entire length remained still inside you, brushing against that spot that made you lose your mind. "Louder."

Your parted lips took in deep gasps of air and you had to swallow hard to recover your voice by moistening your throat a little.

“It’s you M-Marc.” He didn't give your hair a break, he was pulling with his fingers so hard that it was starting to hurt. “Fuck, Marc! A-Ah, fuck. It’s you, it’s you, only you.”

Bold of you to assume that Jake wouldn't have that in mind the next time he had his turn with you.

“Fuck her harder.” Marc looked at the mirror when the opposing voice caught his attention. “Come on, she can take it.” A mocking smile appeared on his lips, only irritating Marc even more.

Still, he obeyed.

You could hear the slapping between your bodies every time he thrusted into you. Your legs were threatening to stop supporting your body weight as they began to shake, your entire body feeling small spasms as you got closer and closer to the end.

“Marc?” Steven's soft voice caught the attention of the other two. His pupils were dilated and there was an adorable blush on hid cheeks. "Touch her."

Marc grunted when he realized that this wasn't the punishment he'd originally thought, but who was he to say no to Steven? The hand that was holding your hip slowly slid between your legs, separating your pussy lips with his fingers and then pressing his thumb against your sensitive clit.

He immediately felt your little hole tighten around him.

“Circles.”

“I know how to touch her, Steven.” He growled in your ear, only reminding you of the pair who were probably enjoying the show. The pleasure you were experiencing was too much to rescue the few grams of shame you might have somewhere on your body.

Your nails scratched the wood of the furniture in front of you.

“Cum all over me, honey.” He managed to whisper between moans. Two more thrusts of his body snatching the air from your lungs. “I bet they’ll like it.”

And that was enough for the wave of pleasure to make your body tingle from head to toe, your walls milking Marc until he followed you immediately after, filling you with his warm, thick liquid, which he pushed deeper inside you with a couple more strokes.

For a few seconds the only thing you heard along with the ringing in your ears was Marc's heavy breathing. After a moment his fingers gripped your hips, drawing your attention.

He gave you one more thrust and you squealed, sensitive, overstimulated.

“Marc.” You complained, looking up at the mirror in front of you once more as you tried to catch your breath.

On the other side, Jake's smile greeted you, almost playful.

“Let's see which name you can shout the loudest, princesa.”

Tag list. @ninebluehearts @shousha133 @unear7hly @onefinnedwonder-fm @automnepoet @lokisremainingsanity @uncle-eggy @just-a-nightdreamer @spktrgantenk @chinglewingledingledong @queerponcho @faretheeoscar @spideyman-peter

Remember to comment if you want to be on the kinktober tag list!! <3

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bamboobooshark · 5 months ago

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MOON BOYS X READER

₊˚.⋆🕯️⋆⁺. SHARING FOOD : 1.1K WRDS

A/N : Here’s something to hold you guys over for the week! School has been a pain in the ass, so it’s been kind of hard to keep up with classes, homework, social, etc. Hope you guys enjoy these little scenarios where you ask the boys for a bite of their food, even though you told them you weren’t hungry! ALSO SORRY TO THE MARC FANS MY MIND WAS BLANK ON THINKING OF SOMETHING FOR HIM 💔💔💔

STEVEN GRANT .

“Are you sure you don’t want anything, love? Anything at all?” Steven asks you while preparing to order something in the drive-through for the two of you. “Mhm! I’m sure,” you reassure him with a nod for what feels like the millionth time in a row. He exhales deeply and nods in acceptance. He hates it when you insist on not ordering something for yourself. It’s not because he hates sharing his food, but because he wants you to treat yourself. You deserve it!

Your footsteps pad against the hardwood floor of you and Steven’s flat. You rub your eyes from the exhaustion of today. Your senses heighten a bit as you spot Steven on the couch. He’s watching a new documentary. You smile when you realize it’s the one you won’t stop telling him about. Your heart practically melts at the fact that he remembered.

“Steven,” you say in a sing-song voice as you walk up behind the couch. “Mm,” he hums as an absent-minded reply. You lean forward and slip an arm on his shoulder, your hand resting on his chest. “I’m hungry,” you complain. Your eyes drift to the screen, and for only a moment, you and Steven are indulged heavily in the documentary. Your boyfriend let out a breath and winced softly. “Sorry, hun. Did you say something? I was a little focused on my documentary,” he told you with a nervous chuckle. His words pull you out of your own trance, and you nod your head. “Yeah! I said I’m hungry,” you exclaimed.

Steven chuckles softly and releases a hum of acknowledgment. "Well, how about we solve that problem?” he asks with a soft smile. “But I’d really like it if you sat with me first,” he requested as a form of compromise. You smile and roll your eyes at him. He’s always known exactly how to make you agree to do something with him or for him. You walk around the back of the couch and flop down right next to him. Without asking, you reach over to the side table and grab a bite of his food. He swats at your hand with a stupid pout on his face before the two of you exchange snickers and laughs.

MARC SPECTOR .

“Whatever you say, baby,” Marc says in a tone that asks if you’re really sure. You laugh at the way he dramatically raises his eyebrows, throws up his hands, and widens his eyes. “Whatever I say,” you repeat while giving him a playful look. On the way home, though, you keep eyeing his bag of food as stubtly as your attempts can.

Marc sighs when he hears you approach the dinner table. “Marc! Hey,” you drag out awkwardly. He looks up at you from his phone and gives you the same look he always does—the one that tells you he’s always right. “Hungry?” he asks before you get the chance to spit it out. You drop your head in defeat and nod. “Yep,” you agree sheepishly while glancing at his food.

He nods while taking another bite. He reaches his hand into the bag and pulls out food for you. You get butterflies in your stomach as he hands you the packaged meal. “Your usual. With everything you always ask for and nothing of what you don’t ask for,” he says with a knowing smirk. You stand there silently, embarrassed that he knew you’d ask for his food but blushing at how he knew your exact order.

“My kiss?” he asks while giving you a side eye. You put your hands up in defense before leaning forward and kissing his cheek gently. “Thank you, Marc,” you chirp sweetly. “Thank you for the kiss, baby,” he says in a similar tone.

JAKE LOCKLEY .

“Dios mío,” Jake groans over the phone. “I know you’re going to beg me for a little bite of my food later, cariño. Tell me what you want me to get you,” the man urges, like his life depends on it. “Jake, I told you I’m not hungry! If I do get hungry later, I’ll heat up some leftovers or something,” you insist while laying sprawled out on your shared bed. Another noise of annoyance comes from your phone before your boyfriend speaks again. “Okay, mi sol. Whatever you say, don’t come begging for food later. You know I’ll make you do something for it,” he says with a soft chuckle. The two of you say your goodbyes before he hangs up.

“I’m home, chiquito,” he calls to you as he enters the flat, holding his bag of food in one hand while the other holds a flower. He struggles to shut the door with his hands full, but manages to get it done. “Jake! I missed you,” you exclaimed with excitement from the couch. “I know you did. You always do,” he says cheekily. You give him a look that says, ‘Really?’ “Okay, sorry! I missed you too,” he says in a dramatically sweet voice. You both share a laugh. He comes and sits down by you, the couch squeaking a bit once he does. “I got you a flower. Es muy bonito. Just like you,” he says before pressing a kiss on your forehead. He gently gets a hold of your jaw, then tucks the flower behind your ear. He smiles wider because, damn, you are just too much for him to handle. He loves how you look adorning his little gifts.

Jake lets out a grunt as he gets comfortable on the couch. He snatches the remote from your hand with a smirk. He begins to browse through the channels and starts to eat. As your boyfriend is focused on finding something interesting to watch, you carefully reach your hand into the bag of food. “Aye. Don’t,” he tells you with a stern tone. He’s always so good at noticing little details and catching things; likely from being a cabby for a living. You groan as your hand retreats. “Please? Pretty please? I just want a bite,” you ask with a slightly annoyed tone. “I told you earlier that you’d have to do something for me if you wanted some, cariño,” he reminds you. You huff softly and give him a look that prompts him to tell you what he wants you to do. He hums in thought, then makes eye contact with you once he thinks of something. He leans close to you and takes your jaw in his hand once more. “Say please again,” he purrs while looking at you. “Please,” you hesitantly beg. He smiles and pulls back, causing you to yearn for a kiss. He laughs and gives you a bite of his food before you steal the kiss you rightfully deserve.

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love-is-a-dagger · 4 months ago

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Rain

Marc Spector x seer!reader/ slight Steven grant x seer!reader

Being stuck between the future, past snd present is hard work, thankfully you have the boys

Tw: mention of blood, an attempt at a horror?

I’m just really in love with heleana from house of the dragon and just got obsessed with moonknight again, this is my first fic in like a year and a bit and it’s all new again lol, this description sucks but I swear it gets better. I’m just in love with the boys being involved with seer reader but idk how to put it to works, hope you all enjoy 🫶🏻🫶🏻

Rain. You always loved the sound and the feeling and the smell of it, everything. The rain also made it hard to see, made everything blurry in your head, maybe it was the constant sound or maybe the cold, but whenever it rained, you’d be staring out the window for ages, just staring blankly.

Screaming, constant screaming, then a cold feeling in your stomach

Flashes of different places, old and new. It was hard to see where you where sometimes. But the second you felt a presence on your shoulder, you were back in your flat London.

“Love?”

You’ve been like it for a while, half an hour to be exact, sat in your shared bed, watching the rain fall from the window. He almost thought you where frozen had he not seen you blink.

He knew about your gift, or curse, it interested Steven. To be able to see into the future or past, he knew it haunted you sometimes, when loud noises or flashes scared you and you had to hide in his shoulder, it was cute but he knew it wasn’t always fun for you.

He watched as you slowly turned to face him, a blank face soon turned into a smile hard to hide. You always felt a little silly whenever one of the boys found you like that.

“I’m okay” you nodded to yourself, still in a slight trance. His hand travelled to your upper arm and his other hand joined the other. He sat on the bed next to you, rubbing gently into your arms, the feeling of his hands was nice, he saw how you always held onto things after being out, the feeling of something always helped being you to the present.

He has a handsome face, you realised after seeing him in your first vision of him when you were 16, it was a random day yet to come when you first met him, it was Steven you met first in your visions, you can’t remember all the details but he was cuddling you and talking about your recent visit to his old job at the museum.

You watched as he looked at you, trying to figure if it was a good vision or a bad one. This was a rare occurrence now days, but you still felt embarrassed whenever it happened. His eyes became too much and you looked down, looking at the loose piece of skin next to your nail.

Steven, let me

Steven looks over to the reflection of the glass to see marc watching, his brows scrunched together, concerned for you.

You felt his eyes on you, his hand left your arm and his fingers pushed your chin up to face him. His face hardened, and you knew it was no longer your bubbly boy.

“I know baby” gently, he pushed a bit of loose hair away from your eyes, his hand made home to your cheek. You matched him and your left hand met his face, his flushed cheeks finding you comfort.

You move your mouth to try and make sense of what you saw. You never had full moments, only flashes. Marc watched as your eyes searched his for the answer, his hands never leave their spot.

Blood everywhere, you couldn’t see where it was coming from, all you knew was that you wanted your boys. The copper smell burnt your nose, making your crinkle your nose trying to avoid it.

“I-I think Steven wants another fish”

Smiling, Marc’s lips met your forehead. He loved your gift, the nonsense, the drama, everything.

He felt the soft giggles that escaped, as his lips left your head, your eyes meet and your smiles match.

She’s so pretty

Marc couldn’t help but agree with Steven, you were breathtaking, with everything you did.

Suddenly, feeling the trapping tightness of the curse leave you mind, you jumped off the bed, slightly making your boyfriend jump.

You legs feel numb, so does the rest of your body. You found yourself walking to the window, still felling his eyes on you, you open the window. Taking a deep breath of the fresh air, you spin around.

Marc was already looking at you with love struck eyes, a slight smirk on his mouth as he leans on his arm, watching your every move.

“Get up” you demand, making marc tilt his head and rise his eyebrows, very amused. But doing as he’s told, he gets up, each step of his feet getting slightly louder as he approaches.

Flapping his hands, If asking what now. Watching as you make a sudden movement to grasp his hand, the other meets his shoulder.

Confused for all but a second as you start slightly swaying, dancing to the rain. The warmth of his body is nice, a nice contrast to the wet weather. He smells nice too, you notice, guessing by the smell, Jake woke up with the body today, a rich smelling fragrance meets your nose as you hide your face into his shoulder. His spare hand meets the back of your head, comforting you as you snuggle to his chest.

He watches you as you close your eyes and breath him in, never in a million years would he think he would end up here, the love of his life in his hands and two new brothers. He never knew, but you did. You knew everything.

#steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #moonknight fic #moon knight x reader #steven grant one shot #steven grant x you #marc spector x you

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st4rymoon · 9 months ago

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hiii

can i request a smut where steven gets jealous of marc and he tries to be dominant with the reader but while he was being rough she calls him daddy by accident and then steven goes insane and he overstims her just to hear her say it again 😋

I yearn for Steven Grant. I know he's a FREAKK and would always be so touched starved that he takes absolutely anything you give him <3

𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 • 𝘚𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘎𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘹 𝘍𝘦𝘮 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

- 18+, unprotected sex!, creampie, teasing, daddy kink, slight breeding kink, jealousy, pet names, soft som Steven Grant!

Sorry for not posting recently I’ve been busy with mid-terms 😔💔

Steven will and always be a jealous lover. He hates the way Marc and Jake tease him about you due to the fact that you’re usually more dominant with Steven out of all of them.

Don’t worry Steven even if you tried she’d be yellin’ my name echoed in Steven’s head, marc was an ass and Steven was dedicated to showing both of them he could make you just as messy and submissive for him as you are for them.

It didn’t come to a surprise when Steven asked if he could try being in control, you would get hints of it here and there. But today, he didn’t want you doing any of the work.

You were sprawled on your back, legs spread to his sides as Steven rubbed himself through your messy slick folds, one hand holding your leg open and the other tease fucking your folds with his cock.

“Come on lovie, look at me” he pouted mockingly as you squeezed your eyes shut and whined at the teasing. You opened your eyes to the sight of Steven’s hooded eyes watching you intensely, his body glowing in the soft light being emitted through his dim lamp.

“That’s it bunny, jus’ keep looking at me” he smiled as he slid into your slick cunt. You mewled as he buried himself deep inside you, burning each vein and curve of his cock into your memory. “Remember the code word?” Steven hummed as he leaned towards your ear, his hands now running up your thighs and massaging your hips as he fucked you slowly.

You felt like your heart was beating out of your chest at Steven’s movements, so calculated and precise. “Uh huh, cherry” you moaned proving you remembered the safe word. His pace began to pick up “good girl” he smiled as he pulled his hips back and slammed into you brutally.

Steven knocked the wind out of you with each thrust, your eyes rolling back into your skull as his thumb rubbed soft circles onto your swollen bud. Steven was a man out of control as your pretty moans grew louder and louder.

His name spilling from your lips as he fucked you like he’s been dreaming of. “You like that huh? Look at you lovie, drooling and everything” he chuckled as your back arched at his pace.

“S- st- ohhh my go- ah!” You mewled as he rubbed your sensitive clit at the perfect rhythm with his thrusts. Steven almost choked on his spit as your walls squeezed around him, the mear sight of you going dumb almost making him cum.

This was the fastest you’d came with anyone and Steven knew it. He just broke a record for the both of you.

You were clawing at Steven’s back as he drilled you onto the sheets, your vision going blurry and thoughts going blank as he sucked onto your neck.

“O- feels so go- so good daddy” you gasped as Steven’s pubic bone rubbed against your clit.

The sound that came out of Steven’s voice was filthy, a gruntled moan spilling from his lips as your voice echoed in his head. “Yeah?” He seethed as he shifted himself up and wrapped a hand around your throat “fu- yea- daddy” you mewled as Steven’s hips rammed into you harder.

Your slick as all over the sheets, bed creaking as a warning of how rough he was fucking you. The noise complaints were the least of your worries as Steven continuously knocked at the spongy spot deep inside you.

“You like daddy fucking you don’t you love” Steven moaned as you nodded dumbly. He smiled at the way you mewled at his words “yes yes yes, love you so- so fucking much” you cried.

And with that Steven’s thick white ropes of cum painted your walls as a loud moan spilled from his lips. His orgasm hitting him hard enough to have him shaking above you.

Your nails clawed down his back as he let himself spill out of your puffy cunt. The moan Steven let out was pornographic as he pulled out, his eyes watching your cunt gush his sticky cum.

“Now that’s it doll, all lush and pretty” he cooed as he leaned into your lips and gently kissed you. Both of you know this wouldn’t be the last round tonight and neither of you have anything against it.

#steven grant smut #steven grant x you #steven grant x reader #steven smut #steven grant #moonknight smut #moonknight x reader #moon knight smut #smut #marvel smut

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myeagleexpert · 11 months ago

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𝕸𝖞 𝕳𝖔𝖑𝖞 𝕷𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙

Yandere ex bad boy x reader When a former bad boy gets out of prison and finds you, the light of his life, he decides he would never let you go again.

cw: delusional yandere, creppy, clingy, no use of yn, reader is stressed and doesn't love yandere but is with him just because he's a stress reliever, the straight-laced girl gets involved with an ex badboy, use of pet names “princess , love”, stalking, insecurity, thoughts of getting married, beginning of a relationship, religious themes at the beginning (youth meeting), very soft at the beginning because the longer you stay together the more he develops an obsession.

"I will marry you". You would be grateful to hear this from a long-term relationship….but hearing this on the first day of your first official relationship?? Who would have the audacity to ask you that??

Marc, your new boyfriend. He is of average height, with shaved hair and thin. You met him by inviting him to a youth meeting at your church, and since he wanted to embrace his new good guy phase, he clearly went. And it wouldn't take long for you to regret that decision.

Marc is strangely strange, like a criminal in interrogation, already anticipating the argument he would have with the lawyer. He has an anxious look on his face every time you meet, and the pressure he has placed on his shoulders to be the “perfect boyfriend” requires him to be honest with you. Everyone knows and feels that pleasant and cozy atmosphere when a couple gets to know each other more and more, opening up little by little, leaving themselves vulnerable to the person their heart burns so much but…. I don't want to ruin this phase, but… he opened up about his past and it totally changed your image of him. How messing with delinquent people influenced him, how he left his family and ran away from home, how his other two serious relationships were toxic and abusive and hurt him psychologically, how he spent time in jail when they caught him with drugs , how he abandoned the will to live….

Until he met you and everything changed.

“You are the light of my life” “I only see my future by your side”

Of all the years he appeared in your life, he appeared just when you were killing yourself studying for a place at the college of your dreams! How much sacrifice! So much pressure! So much stress! The year you followed an intense study routine and practically isolated yourself from the world to study was the year he appeared…as a distraction.

You were so stressed that you needed a distraction on your side. After all, you need to live your youth too, don’t you? It won't be anything serious, you don't have time for that princess, it will just be a momentary relief, just a little flig.

Not if it's up to him.

In fact, you "met" in high school, from different classes, he uses and insists on this argument every time you say that you haven't known each other long enough. "But we never spoke….". "But we talked through our eyes!" You swear you can count on the fingers of your left hand how many times you've actually seen him.

Upon leaving the cold and degrading prison and feeling completely lost, he prayed to the heavens about what direction to ask for in life and coincidentally your profile appeared on his Instagram!

"As soon as I saw your profile, I knew you were different and would change my life" he tells the story of how he met his precious girlfriend for the millionth time, with the same dreamy sigh as always.

He spent 8 months just observing you, what you like and what you don't like, following you, your friends and family on all social networks, he discovered your favorite books and read each one of them trying to be the one you admire most, he discovered where you buy your favorite perfumes and bought the ones you liked the most, to know how you felt and all that… thrown out the window. Because every time Marc looks at you, he forgets everything, the world goes blank and his focus is absolutely you.

He forgets the beautiful words he thought when he was going home, he forgets the way the heartthrob in his book convinced the girl to give him an innocent kiss on the cheek, or how he rehearsed in the mirror how to hold her hand and kiss her without looking so awkward, Marc forget that he has to breathe to continue living but frankly he prefers to be in your air, breathe your oxygen. He also forgets that he had other relationships and shouldn't be so nervous around you.

“Then I said-…hey, I can feel your gaze from here.” “Am I staring at you a lot?? Aah sorry, you’re so beautiful that I couldn’t resist.” he says while kissing your cheek and interrupting anything that would come out of your mouth.

Marc desires to be a devoted follower of his goddess, you. But most of the time it fails miserably. He is in such a trance that he forgets everything and even though the eyes of a passionate puppy that he looks at you with seem cute, you are not guilty of feeling offended. He forgets your favorite place to go out, he forgets your favorite snack, he forgets that sweets make you feel calmer in tpm, he forgets that you canceled a date and gets sulky afterwards blaming you, he forgets that you have bigger goals clear and more important than him and most importantly, he forgets that you have a life before him and whenever you mention an ex-boyfriend he's like "What do you mean you had a boyfriend before me? Who is he? Why did they break up?" So that I don't make the same mistakes he did so that I find him and threaten him to never even look at him again.

and for you so I can make you feel guilty for still having his contact so it's just me and you in the world

Marc is strangely strange, have you ever seen a bear hiding behind a lamp post? So is his jealousy. His blood boils every time you mention a name that isn't his, his body screams mine mine mine, to possessively squeeze your waist and his mouth kisses you until the princess's stressed little head forgets that useless name what you just said after all, I'm the one next to you and I bet he can't make you feel good like I do but…. he hides it well, sometimes, when he forces it. But it's so fking hard to disguise it!

"I met a friend of mine today" "Friend, what friend? A man?" "Then he said- "But wait, love - sorry to interrupt you - since when and where have you known him?" Wasn't this friend of yours on his list where he came from? "I met him in my first year of high school, love, he moved away after that, and I met him again now" " And you hugged him? "Of course, like I do with everyone-" "whyyyyyy?" “Marc he’s my friend and-” “And do you remember his name?”- He asked something simple but that had a strong and heavy meaning behind it.

the name. the name is something so simple but so important, isn’t it?

In a random dawn, he realized that the little princess didn't remember people's names very well and when asked, you replied “They're not important to me, just some extras interacting with me” and while you sleepy laughed at theory made on the spot, his heart squeezed as he remembered that you often forgot his name too.

I'm not so important that you remember my name?

In a random dawn, you told him that you had had other relationships before him, but you never felt anything for them, so you ended it and left and forgot about them. Others, which were hidden and you did crazy things in love for them, regretted them and never saw them again. And that he was your first official boyfriend, the first you took home, the first you took to meet your parents and family, the first you took to your hiding place in the house. He. But as quickly as pride filled his heart, his mind fed the uncertainties and insecurities that keep him awake at night.

Would you live love adventures with him too? Would you regret loving him? Do you have feelings for him or is it a one-sided relationship? Would you forget about him? Would you trade it for one night? Would you… leave?

Marc is so strangely strange that he sometimes blurts out strange and chilling phrases every time you try to subtly open his eyes about the relationship, and in his head they are sweet and romantic, passionate and sincere declarations always sealing the promise with kisses and hugs that are increasingly hard and possessive, but they are red signs in your eyes that something is wrong.

“I don’t know if I could handle that either.” You said as you casually gossiped about a breakup between a couple you saw on the internet, without realizing it Marc's eyes darkened when he heard the word breakup "Listen, if we broke up I…"

"Baby, you know that if it's up to me, we'll never breakup, right?" With a determined look, Marc pulled you onto his lap

"Of course, dear, but if what you did…"

"I would come to your house, take you and lock you away from the world. Because if that's the case, you would never leave me."

"Whoa boy, a little bird wasn't meant to be trapped." When you felt the sincerity of Marc's words, you tried to leave your dear boyfriend's lap, demonstrating that you were serious about the matter, this fact did not go unnoticed by him as he smiled at you and with hearts in his eyes, he kissed you madly until you was breathless and again and again and again….he put you in a bridal carry position, pressing you against his chest with such force that it left you sore

"So i cut the bird's wings and we stay together, love, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. We will never break up, remember what I told you? Let's get married, my beautiful darling."

#tw yandere #yandere boy #yanderecore #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #clingy yandere #delusional #red aesthetic #my ocs #oc yandere #infelizmente inspirado em fatos reais #yn girl

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have-you-seen-my-sanity · 7 months ago

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Trying something new

Marc Spector x fem!reader

Warnings: light bondage, consensual non-consent, p in v, light touch on horror themes(?), Marc being scary, light threats, soft-dom Marc, smut.

You didn't do alot of roleplay with the boys, only some Moon Knight roleplay with Marc and some Professor Grant roleplay with Steven. Jake isn't into roleplay, but he is the one who would give ideas to the other two, and that's exactly what he did to Marc.

It was a stormy night, the wind and rain hitting the window in waves. But what made this a bit more scary was you on the couch, wrapped up in a cozy blanked while watching Terrifier 2. You sipped on your hot chocolate, the storm outside and the horror movie making you cuddle yourself in the blanket. As the movie progressed, your eyes began to grew heavy due to almost being 1 AM.

But suddenly you heard a crash coming from the kitchen. You jumped in your seat, your brain whirling with 'Did that just happen or did you imagine it?'

So you paused the movie, your heart went to your throat as you felt the adrenaline floot your system. You slowly got up, grabbing your phone and clutching it tightly. Looking into the small dark hallway, you suddenly heard the floor squeak, heavy steps coming towards you. You thought about turning on the flashlight on your phone, ready to scream. But then the person flicked on the light in the hallway, a figure dressed in black, wearing a balaclava stood before you. You could only see the eyes, the brown eyes.

You started backing off slowly, but the intruder did the same, slowly walking towards you. "Don't even think about it." He said threatingly as he saw your gaze fell upon the mug with the still hot chocolate in it. You froze in place immediately, watching as the man advanced to you. Only then did you notice the hunting knife in his hand.

The man stopped a couple of steps away from you, "Never thought you'd experience what it's like to be in a horror movie, did ya'?" He asked amused, nodding towards the paused horror movie, meanwhile you just stood there, unable to move from being shocked and scared at the same.

"Don't piss your pants yet, I only broke in and you're shaking like a leaf." He chuckled, leaning down to your level, his brown eyes looking straight into your eyes as his other gloved hand came up to pinch your cheek softly.

After what felt like hours you finally spoke up, "What do you want?" your voice trembling in fear as the man straightened up again, reaching behind himself, reaching for handcuffs before showing them to you, "Turn around and put your hands behind your back." Was the order he gave. You complied, slowly turning and putting your hands behind your back. He grabbed your wrists and clicked the handcuffs around them, but making sure they had enough space as to not scrape against your skin to hurt you.

He leaned down and placed both his gloved hands on your shoulders, making you jump slightly "I assume you'll be good for me, right? Don't wanna end up like that girl in the movie, hm?" He whispered into your ear, his hands on your shoulders squeezing gently as his breath ghosted over your shell through the balaclava.

"N-no, sir..." You replied, shaking your head. The man stepped back, his eyes roaming over your body, "You got quite the beautiful body." He began to whistle teasingly, making the hair on your neck stand up.

"And now, tell me where you hide your good valuable stuff, princess." He demanded in a firm tone, crossing his arms over his chest as you slowly turned around, unsure if you were allowed to.

"I don't have anything valuable." You murmured, eyes flicking to his brown ones before meeting the ground.

He tilted his head slightly, definitely not buying your excuse, "Who are you kidding? Nothing, eh? Bullshit."

"You can turn the whole place around if you want, I got nothing." You defended, trying to reason with him.

He uncrossed his arms and began swiping his fingers across the sharp blade of his hunting knife before looking at you, "You're telling the truth and got nothing, huh?"

You nodded, looking back on the ground.

"So you're telling me I just wasted my fucking time breaking into this place, only to find you here telling me you got nothing?" He asked frustrated.

You remained quiet.

The man stopped playing with the knife, "You know...you're wrong about that."

You looked up, giving him a puzzled expression "What?"

"You said there is nothing..." He trailed off. "But who do I got here standing infront of me?" He asked, the grin in his voice was audible. "You..." He pointed to knife at you.

"No-wait..." You backed off as he walked towards you, quickly stopping you by grabbing your shoulder, "Ah-ah, no running off for you tonight, come with me." He scolded gently, dragging you towards the bedroom.

Inside the bedroom he gently pushed you towards the bed, locking the door afterward. "You know what comes now, don't you?" He walked over to you, grabbing your cuffed wrists with one and your chin with the other hand, "I'm gonna cuff your wrist to the headboard now. And you'll be a good little captive and do what I say, alright?" He informed before freeing one wrist and forcing you to get on the bed.

He knelt behind you, taking your wrist and leaning over you to cuff it to the headboard. Your backside accidentally brushed against his crotch, letting you feel the notable bulge in his pants. "From now on you keep your eyes infront of you. Don't look back or things will get pretty ugly." He warned, patting your ass cheeks before giving each a soft squeeze.

The man slowly removed his balaclava, keeping his eyes on you to ensure you didn't look before grabbing your ankles, tugging at them to make you lay down on your stomach.

"You do got something for me, sweetie." He removed his gloves, throwing them onto the floor before undressing your lower half. His warm fingers sliding along your skin. "Since you've been so good for me, I'll be gentle with you." He assured softly as he removed the last piece. His fingers ran up your spine with just enough pressure to make your back arch as he leaned over you, his fingers tangling in your hair, holding your head gently in place "This is how we will start; I'll get you all dripping wet and ready for me before I slide my cock into your tight little pussy inch by inch..."

You nodded, accepting whatever is going to happen, feeling yourself getting wet by even thinking about it.

Marc pulled back, his hands trailing down your back, earning a small squirm from you. He pulled off his shirt and undid his pants, sliding them off, only wearing his boxers and returning to his position behind you. He slowly ran his hand upwards along your inner thigh, feeling the heat from your core. He chuckled when he discovered you already dripping onto the sheets.

"Does that turn you on?" He ran two fingers along your wet folds, making you choke out a moan

"Fuuck~" Your back arched on itself, trying to get more friction.

"Yeah it does turn you on..." He drawled, moving both his hands to your hips to pull your backside up. His fingers returning to your core, moving to rub your clit slowly.

"Feels so good-please don't stop~" You moaned as he pressed down slightly before removing his fingers from your clit.

"Relax, or I will fuck you so hard, so good, you'll either beg me to make you cum or to stop." He chuckled, reaching inside his boxers, pulling his rock hard cock out. Marc got closer to you, rubbing his entire length along your slit, slicking himself up with your wetness.

Your eyes rolled back, arching your back instinctively as the tip of his cock pressed against your entrance.

"It gets you all dripping, hmm?" He pushed inside, "Knowing that," he pushed another inch inside "if you tell the intruder," another inch of his thickness, "there is nothing to grab," he pushed another inch into you, "that he will fuck you." His hips snapped suddenly, burying his whole girth into your pussy.

"O-oh my g-" You cried out, your mind instantly getting fogged with the sensation of him.

"Mhhmm, you dirty little thing..." He pulled out almost entirely, "I'll fuck you senseless." He pushed inside all the way once more, grinding his hips against you.

A loud moan escaped you, his hand swiftly came up to shush you gently, "Shh, you gotta stay quiet for me." He slowly started moving, making you moan against his hand with every drag of his shaft inside you. "Oh no, imagine what people might think what's happening inside here..." He started moving faster, the volume of your moans got more silent again "There you go." Marc stopped, making you whimper at the loss of friction.

"Please..." You whined. He leaned closer, "Please what, princess?" He teased, starting to thrust into you again.

"Want me to fuck you, huh?" He increased his pace, his hand retracted from your mouth to grip your hips along with the other hand.

"Fine, I'll give you what you want." He warned, using your hips as leverage to slam into you again and again. The only sounds louder than your moans and his grunts was the storm outside. Marc didn't slow down, continuing to pount into you. After some time, you felt your orgasm approach rapidly, "I'm close, I'm so close!"

"I gotcha. C'mon, give it to me." He incouraged, his hand moving to stroke your clit, he felt your walls squeezing him tightly, making him lose it. Just as you came you turned your head to look into his brown eyes. With a grunt and a final, hard thrust, Marc filled you up, looking down and catching your gaze, "Thought I told you to keep your eyes ahead, baby." Marc chuckled, pulling out.

"Sorry, couldn't resist." You collapsed onto the bed. Marc collapsed beside you, "You okay?" He asked, with a note of concern in his tone.

You nodded, "Yes."

"That was quite intense." Marc remarked, "But you did great." He kissed your forehead, pulling you close.

You tugged at your cuffed wrist, "Marc, the handcuffs."

"Right, sorry." He laughed, sitting up to grab the black pants to search for the keys for the cuffs. He frowned, looking back at you, "Crap...I uh, lost the keys."

"You serious?" You sat up.

"You bet your ass I am." Marc grinned, pulling the keys out from the pocket.

"Dick." You smacked his shoulder lightly.

"For you." Marc teased, unlocking the cuffs, rubbing your wrist. "Let's go clean up." He smiled, pulling you up.

"And after that we continue with the movie, right?" You smiled, grabbing your remaining clothes. Marc grabbed his own, "Absolutely. Though, your hot chocolate isn't hot anymore." He replied, giving you a grin.

"I got you. No need for the hot chocolate." You giggled.

Marc raised an eyebrow teasingly, "That means we can get to shower cold, right?" He grinned.

"Nooo!" You laughed. "But I gotta ask, how the hell did Jake come up with this whole thing?" You asked.

Marc shrugged, "It's Jake. But he loves witnessing the show, that's for sure."

#marc spector #moon knight #oscar isaac #marc spector smut #marc spector x reader #marc spector x reader smut

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blue-sadie · 1 year ago

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Flick Of A Paint Brush

Moon System

You being a artist while dating them

Steven Grant

He gets you specific things like bowls, mugs, plates, vases etc just so when he sees them or uses them he thinks of you, definitely not so if in the future they find it they'll know how much of a great artist you are.

When he finally gets the courage his asks you to teach him how to paint his curiosity sparked by watching you paint and how you get so involved with each swipe of the paint brush.

If you ask to paint him, he'll become a babblering mess, his breath catching in his throat while his cheeks turn dark red, if he agrees he'll be fidgeting with his hands the entire time.

His most prized possession from you was a vase you brought from Walmart it was plane white intill you had a free afternoon, you painted some of his favorite gods onto it even wrote a little message in hieroglyphics which he stares at everytime he misses you.

Marc Spector

He let's you doodle all over, when watching a movie he gives you his arm to doodle on when your bored, he stares at each thing you've drawn in the mirror when you have fallen asleep, he takes a photo of each one compiling a album of all of them.

He'd rather watch then join and if you 'convince' him he'll begrudgingly join in but he'll get distracted easily and just stare at you instead.

He'll be all bashful if you ask to paint him he'll joke about being naked while posing dramatically but he gets more intrigued and curious as he sees you go into great detail capturing his every detail.

His favorite was a little doodle you did while he was sleeping his naked chest was just a blank canvas waiting to be doodled on it was a little moon with a fox sitting on it with his tail hanging down you have to make him not tattoo it on so he was a photo printed out next to your guys bed.

Jake Lockley

He's more of a classical person and buys you different size canvas so he can hang them around the apartment to make it more homey and so the apartment will feel like you even if your not there but also staring at the paintings calms him down.

He's a brave man no one can deny that but never in a million years will he get enough courage to ask you if he could join he's to scared he'll ruin the paints or break the paint brushes.

He'll refuse at first but as he sees the more effort you put in into asking him he'll cave but you'll have to tell him to smile or remind him to stay still.

He loves the big canvas painting you did of your guys first date it was in a coffee shop by the ocean he finds just by looking at it he gets the fuzzy feeling again he felt on the date.

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wileys-russo · 1 year ago

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dancing the line, what are we? II g.clinton x reader

she's such a cutie, request here dancing the line, what are we? II g.clinton x reader

you tried to hide the happy smile on your face as you noticed grace walk into the change rooms for training, the dirty blonde catching your eye and sending you a beaming grin as she sat down at her locker to change.

"who you eyeballing?" you jumped in surprise as mary dropped down beside you with narrowed eyes. "no one, creeper keeper." you chuckled, attention shifting down to your feet as you laced up your boots. "mmm i know you're hiding something from me, and mark my words child i will find out what it is!" mary warned as you rolled your eyes.

"sorry to disappoint you mum, but there's nothing going on in my life you don't already know far too many details about." you patted the older girls shoulder who had taken you under her wing the moment you made the senior team, mary only scoffing at your choice of words.

"excuse me what have i told you? i am your cool older sister, not your mum! honestly the cheek of you." mary pulled you into a headlock as you whined and tried to pull away, the keeper forecefully dragging you away for training not letting you out of her tight hold.

but your annoyed frown melted away as you again caught grace's eye, the girl glancing up from where her own head was ducked down lacing up her boots, pulling a stupid face at you making you grin before mary yanked you out of the room.

out on the pitch now mary finally let you go, called over to begin training with the other keepers as you lingered around waiting for the rest of the girls to join you being one of the first outside, starting to stretch before warm ups at marcs orders.

"good mornin gorgeous." you smiled as grace appeared beside you, mumbling the last word quietly so only you would hear as the two of you exchanged a soft smile, continuing with your stretches in a comfortable silence as the rest of the girls wandered out.

"gonna be a warm one today." you sighed, closing your eyes as the warmth of the morning sun bathed the training field. "always is when you're round babe." grace retorted quickly, enjoying the blush that crept up your neck at her words, her thick northern accent your favorite sound as you shoved her playfully.

"someone call the babysitters, the children are fighting!" ella teased as you and grace pushed and smacked one another around, you jumping onto her back and wrapping an arm around her neck as she struggled to throw you off.

"oi! stop messing about, the pair of you." alessia warned, smacking both of you on the back of the head sternly as the whistles blew for everyone to huddle up. "sorry mum!" grace mocked, the two of you slinging your arms around one another and marching off as alessia rolled her eyes, her and ella following.

"do'ya wanna be me partner?" grace asked hopefully, practically running over to you as you all returned from your break, pairing off for some passing drills. "nah." you shook your head with a blank face, faking as if you were going to turn away.

"oh how very funny, she's a comedian now ladies and gents." grace clapped sarcastically as you took a bow, the two of you grabbing a ball and wandering off so you were a little more out of earshot of the rest of the team.

"would you like to get dinner tonight? maybe see a film?" you asked the blonde after a few minutes of silence had passed. "is this your way of tryna ask us on a date?" the midfielder teased, but agreeing eagerly right afterwards.

"i think we're past dates clinton once someones tongues been in my mouth i like to think i no longer need to use that word, its just implied." you shot back, smiling victoriously as for once she was the one to blush, forever normally the more confidently cocky out of the pair of you.

"i'll pick ya up later babe, round six or so?" grace proposed, murmuring in your ear as she hugged you goodbye and you nodded, the embrace perhaps lasting a second or so too long as you felt eyes on you.

"we've got an audience." you warned quietly, catching a wary looking alessia and mary clearly speaking about the pair of you as they looked to one another and then back to the two of you.

"let them look, we're only huggin." her taller form vibrated against yours as she chuckled. "besides i'll save what i'd rather be doing with ya for later tonight if you're lucky." she pulled away with a wink, kissing your cheek and darting away before you could hit her for the cheeky comment.

"can i help you?" you bluntly questioned the two older girls whose eyes seemingly refused to leave you as you sat down to pack up your bag.

"don't know, can you?" mary retorted cryptically as you gave her a weird look, quickly stuffing away grace's training jacket you'd stole the other day which poked out the top of your kit bag, trying not to make it obvious you were hiding it.

"that was a...long hug." alessia hinted, leaning back and narrowing her bright blue eyes at you. "do you and tooney not hug enough? oh i'm so sorry lessi, you must be touch depraved." you leaned forward and patted her knee with mock sympathy, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"is that grace on your lockscreen?" the blonde striker questioned again, pointing to your phone as you rolled your eyes and tucked it under your leg. the picture in question was her holding you up as you took a photo in the mirror which was in the entry way of her home.

"none of your business russo." you quipped, the older girl huffing at the use of her last name. "anything you'd like to tell us kid?" mary questioned with a raised eyebrow as you paused to ponder, looking off thoughtfully in the distance.

"umm, you need a shower cause you smell like a wet dog and you need a crash mat taped to your ass since you fell on it so many times today?" you guessed, pointing first to mary and then to alessia.

grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder you sprinted out of the change rooms as they lunged for you, hearing their footsteps and angry shouts after you fade as you were known to be one of the quickest on the team, waving at them with a grin from your car.

"yeah thats right you little shit you better run!"

you tapped your phone screen as you heard a knock at your door, the time showing 5:41pm meaning grace was early.

she wasn't your girlfriend, but she was definitely more than your best friend. though neither of you had dared to even have that conversation with one another yet, much as it bore down on both your minds about what the two of you actually were.

you'd not grown up playing on the youth national teams, as much as you knew that was a huge goal for most professional footballers playing for your country wasn't something you'd ever really dreamt of, much to most peoples surprise.

you'd grown up in a football mad household, which had meant every single game you'd played was always over analysed, if it be by your older brothers or your dad you were always given some sort of harsh ribbing or yelled at for some silly mistake in the car ride home.

that pressure to be perfect, to play as best as you could and leave it all out on the pitch meant your relationship with football had become quite strained at one point, falling out of love with the game entirely for awhile.

but then you'd started at the manchester united academy, making your way up the ranks and slowly starting to adore it once more. but with that lingering pressure in the back of your mind, you'd always opted out of playing anything more than for club even once you made the senior womens team, however still endlessly proud of all your friends and teammates when they put on the kit for country.

with you and grace it all started off harmlessly enough. when she had signed on with united in the summer you were more than thrilled, finally having someone your own age to mess about with, growing tired of all the relentless teasing that came with being the baby of the team.

the two of you had clicked right away, paired up for drills her first training and both talking one anothers ears off you found you had a lot more in common than you'd anticipated beyond just your shared age.

which lead to you eagerly inviting her over for a movie night when you discovered your shared passion for 'childrens' movies, and the fact she had never seen cars which to you was basically committing a crime.

from then on the two of you developed a routine of sorts.

movie nights on wednesdays, going out for breakfast together on sundays, cooking dinner together on mondays, carpooling together to training and grabbing coffee, seated together on the busses to away games making shared playlists or binging whatever show you were hooked on.

then one night curled into one another clutching your stomachs with laughter at some dumb comedy on the tv you were half paying attention to, it happened.

you'd both shared a look as you'd come down from your laughter, not anything uncommon, but unlike any of the others this was the look.

and in that look you suddenly realized the feelings you had for your best friend grew beyond that of being friendly, and you found yourself lifting your chin up a little, hesitating slightly unsure if you were misreading anything.

thankfully you weren't, and so when grace moved to clear that few centimetres left between you, soft lips pressed finally against yours as she'd been wondering about for awhile now, the course of your relationship was altered.

from then on your shared routine shifted slightly. wednesday movie nights were still the same but now were accompanied by lazy makeout sessions as you grew more and more comfortable becoming intimate with one another.

lovesick giggles would fill the air as you mumbled against one anothers lips the most stupid of comments as you cooked dinners together on a monday. somehow still maintaining whatever conversation you were having prior to one of you making a move to commence an onslaught of soft kisses in between each word.

you'd been out together on a few dates but normally preferred the cozy comforts of one anothers homes and your usual routine, falling into step with one anothers habits and personal practices. though either of you were yet to spend the night together at one of your houses.

grace learned you'd often go to the local markets on a saturday, usually accompanied by some of your team mates it was no issue she tag along, but as she noticed you'd buy the same few things each week she learned to map out your usual route.

so when it was just the two of you she would take your hand, interlocking your fingers with hers and guiding you both around, knowing which stalls you'd want to stop at and sometimes darting ahead to purchase you something before you had the chance.

though most times one or two of your teammates would come with and you'd adapt, no longer holding hands but still exchanging knowing looks or flirty little comments in one anothers ears when you had a fleeting moment alone. locking pinkies under the table and playing footsies with hidden grins of glee when you'd all sit down for lunch together afterwards.

you'd learnt giving gifts was one of grace's love languages, little trinkets which evidenced that littered your home like the small jar full of sea shells she'd brought back with her after going away with her parents for the weekend to the seaside.

presenting them to you with a toothy grin and a story of how she'd made sure to hand select only the most beautiful of shells for the most beautiful of girls you'd smacked her for the cheesy comment but still rewarded her with a soft kiss and a thank you, her heart soaring as you did.

given that quality time was one of your own love languages you treasured the time the two of you got to spend together like your movie nights, dinners and little market dates. you could honestly spend every day with the taller girl and not grow bored, the two of you seemingly never running out of things to talk about.

but despite all of that neither one of you had actually come forward and asked what the two of you were, not quite dating but not quite friends you'd danced around the line of making it more or less.

it had seemed that one kiss had seamlessly shifted your already shared routine into one much more intimate, domestic and cozy, but both terrified of actually verbalizing that you'd not dared not to speak about it with one another.

leaving your straighter on to warm up you ran to the door as she knocked again. "hi! i'm not ready yet but technically you're early." you rushed out, stepping aside to let her in with a smile.

"dunno why you bother with all this crap, ya always look beautiful anyway." grace smiled back, gesturing to your half finished makeup as you hit her shoulder lightly.

"i see that eyeliner and concealer gracie, hypocrite." you teased, squishing her cheeks in your hand making her roll her eyes playfully and smack your hand away. "do you want a drink or anything?" you offered as she followed you to the kitchen.

"i'll take a tall glass of you? or well a short one maybe." you turned and her body melted into yours, your back just digging into the edge of the counter as she looked down at you with a pearly white grin, hands gently gripping your waist.

"always with the height jokes, get some new material for your stand up show woman really!" you sighed with a shake of your head. "i'll wear heels and we'll see eye to eye." you challenged as she only laughed.

"no ya won't." "no i won't, i hate heels and i'll be wearing trainers." you grinned, arms coming to wrap around her neck as the two of you just stood in silence for a moment, both with that same look of lovesick pining in your eyes as she leaned down to kiss you.

"oh shit i left my straighter on!" you remembered with wide eyes, pushing her off before she could and running to your room as the sound of her laughter followed.

"would forget ya head if it weren't attached to your body." grace tutted, laying down on your bed as you continued to get ready, the two of you chatting about the upcoming game against leicester city on the weekend.

"oh what film did we wanna see?" grace remembered, pushing her hips up to grab her phone from her back pocket, googling what your options were. after she'd listed them off you hummed and suggested two, telling her to make the final decision.

"why! i hate it." the midfielder groaned, head thumping back against your pillows as you finished your hair, tying half of it up into a loose bun as the rest cascaded down your bed, nodding in satisfaction at your appearance.

"cause i picked where we're goin for dinner. so you choose the film!" you smiled, poking her nose as you rummaged around in your bedside table looking for your favorite perfume. "here." grace reached over and grabbed it from the other side of the bed, holding it up.

though as you smiled gratefully and reached for it she moved it out of your grasp. "think i deserve a proper thanks." she grinned cheekily, tapping her lips with her free hand, still holding your perfume captive in the other.

"such a child." you teased, ducking down and pressing your lips to hers a few times sweetly, stealing your perfume before things went any further. "scuse you babe i'm three months older!" grace scoffed, pulling herself to sit up.

"so you never cease to remind me." you tutted in amusement, arms moving to hug her as you looked up with an adoring smile and her hands gently cupped your cheeks. "ya look gorgeous." grace complimented sweetly, ducking her head and kissing you again, though one hand moving to the back of your neck this time making sure it lasted a little longer.

pulling away once air became an issue, both your cheeks flushed rosy pink you pecked her lips a few more times before you mumbled the two of you would be late, interlocking fingers and heading out to her car.

"oi! is that..." alessia whined through a mouthful of ice cream as mary punched her arm to gain her attention, halting suddenly at the older girls words. "mary!" the blonde scolded, punching her back but following where her finger was pointing.

"sneaky sneaky children." ella whistled with a somewhat proud grin, the three of them spotting you and grace tucked up together in the back of the italian restaurant looking awfully cozy.

"you don't think..." alessia trailed off, looking from mary to ella and back to the two of you again with a raised eyebrow. "what? this surprises you? nah less come on!" ella laughed, though she stopped once she realised it seemed she was the only one not shocked.

"youse two are some of the closest people to them! how did ya not catch on they're seeing one another? thick!" ella smacked both girls with a shake of her head. "how did you know before we did tooney?" mary scoffed, throwing away her now empty cup and spoon.

"cause i've got eyes! you don't see the way they look at each other? stupid little shit eating grins, always hanging out together, always whispering about something, always hugging or touching or holding hands thinking they're being subtle about it." ella rolled her eyes at the secret which was apparently not a secret, her and maya having made a bet from the very first week grace signed on that the two of you would wind up dating.

a bet which it now looked like ella would win and be twenty pound richer because of it.

"oh my god surely they're not about to-" marys eyes widened. "oh but they are." ella nodded knowingly. "how did we not notice?" alessia huffed, nostrils flaring in annoyance at their ignorance.

"lady and the tramp, how disgustingly cliche." ella tutted as you and grace shared a piece of pasta, pecking lips at the end and grinning at one another stupidly.

"i'm just going to the toilet." you spoke, grace pulling a face of mock disgust as you shoved her with a roll of your eyes, the taller girl tugging on the back of your dress and leaning up to kiss you goodbye.

"clingy." you teased, dodging her hands which reached out to pinch you, ducking away to use the bathroom.

finishing up you made sure grace's attention was on her phone as you snuck past the table and to the front to pay, thanking the waiter with a smile as he handed you the receipt.

though that smile was completely wiped off your face as a strange feeling you were being watched settled over you, goosebumps prickling at your arms as you looked around, and thats when you spotted them.

mary shook her head with a unreadably firm stare, ella gave you a proud grin and a thumbs up and alessia quite frankly looked like she wanted to murder you, the three of them all outside on the street by the door clearly awaiting the two of you to leave before they pounced.

hastily turning around you hurried back to the table, dropping down beside grace who scoffed at the docket in your hand. "what'd ya do that for!" she groaned, having wanted to pay for the two of you.

"we have much bigger problems right now." you warned, grabbing her chin and turning her head to lock eyes with the three older girls at the front window as they widened in fear.

"well fuck." "fuck indeed. what do we do? sneak out the back?" "nah they know we're here now. but i don't really fancy a tellin off tonight, do you?" with that she gave you a grin, fear melted away as you tilted your head curiously and she filled you in on her plan.

again thanking the waiter you both exited the resteraunt, hand in hand and shrinking slightly under the unwavering glares of the older girls standing across from you.

"evenin girls." grace grinned, squeezing your hand and making a point to bring it up to her mouth placing a gentle kiss on your knuckles. "whats all this then?" alessia questioned, narrowing her eyes. "just two best mates gone for a feed." grace answered with a sly smile.

"bullshit. you two are in some serious trouble." mary warned sternly, alessia smacking ella who was pulling faces and still giving the two of you a proud thumbs up.

"serious trouble." alessia echoed marys words, fixing you both with a glare as grace squeezed your hand twice like you'd planned. "ah thats a shame. look we'd love to stay and chat girls but-" with that the two of you turned and sprinted off, chased quickly by both alessia and mary as ella stayed behind to cheer you both on, finding endless amusement in the situation.

"c'mere." rounding a corner grace tugged you into her body, ducking the two of you down and out of sight behind a large bin. "where the fuck did they go!" you heard mary huff angrily, trying to catch her breath.

"you two little shits can hide for now but you can't hide forever! we'll see you at training tomorrow." alessia yelled out menacingly, both you and grace holding a hand over one anothers mouths and waiting until you were certain that they'd left.

"where the fuck did they go!" you mocked mary. "we'll see you at training tomorrow." grace mimicked alessia as the two of you collapsed to the ground laughing, clutching at your stomachs. "guess the secrets out." you smiled, head resting against the wall behind your head as you caught your breath.

a comfortable silence fell between the two of you, graces eyes roaming your face with a tender smile, a surge of emotions flooding her body at the thought of the entire team soon knowing you were...well, what exactly?

"will ya be me girlfriend?" the midfielder blurted out suddenly, face flushing bright red at its abrupt nature. "nah." you declined before your face broke out into a grin and you launched at her. "of course." you mumbled against her lips, pressing a searing kiss to them and sending the older girls head into a spin.

"could have asked me somewhere a bit more romantic than on a dirty sidewalk behind a bin though babe."

“we were runnin for our lives together, what’s more romantic than that?”

“good mornin girlfriend!” grace sang out happily as you jumped into her car to go to training, taken aback by the withering glare you sent her way as a greeting.

“whats wrong?” she questioned with a frown as you huffed and moved your hair off your shoulder, clearly showing off the two bright red and purple hickies littering your neck.

“oh.”

“oh!” you mocked, sinking into the chair with a groan, burying your face in your hands. “sorry?” grace smiled sheepishly, wincing at the murderous look you gave her and quickly focusing her attention on the road as she reversed out of your driveway.

after the high of finally making things official last night you’d both opted to ditch the movies in favour of going back to your place to watch one together instead.

however you hardly spent more than five minutes watching whatever grace had put on, still riding out the high of being girlfriends you’d quickly moved to makeout and well, things escalated slightly from there.

it was the first time grace had ever left any sort of mark on you, feeling a brand new sense of possessiveness as she’d hovered over you on the lounge, her face pressed into your neck only encouraged by the noises she’d coaxed out of your mouth, exploring the sensitive area with her lips, then with her tongue, then her teeth.

and well, here you were.

“they’re really not that noticeable babe.” grace tried to assure you, taking your hand as you walked into the training centre and headed for the change rooms.

“plus they’ll be too busy yellin at us for runnin away anyway!”

sure enough the moment the two of you entered the change rooms you were met with an onslaught of teasing which you both brushed off, sitting down together to put your boots on.

though no sooner had you sat down did two shadows loom over you both, alessia and mary. they shared a look and a nod before wordlessly grabbing the two of you, alessia tugging you away by the collar of your training top as mary did the same with grace.

"less! come on it was a bit of fun." you whined as she pulled you forcefully out of the change rooms and down the hall, grace and mary dissapearing out around the corner down the opposite end.

"how long?" the older girl sat you down on a bench, folding her arms over her chest and fixing you with a glare. "since last night." you answered honestly, the blonde raising an eyebrow clearly expecting a different answer.

"honestly!" you shrugged. "i am not in the mood for games." alessia warned sternly causing you to let out a sigh. "we've been...hanging out for about a month now? but she only asked me to be her girlfriend last night, truthfully." you promised with a nod.

"if you hurt her...i will hurt you, and i will make sure it is the last time you ever speak to her. yeah?" alessia warned seriously, leaning down closer to you as you nodded repeatedly.

"i wouldn't, i promise."

"okay. well now thats all out of the way!" you almost had whiplash as the taller girl pulled you up into a tight bear hug. "our little babies all coupled up, so cute." she pinched your cheeks harshly as you grunted and pushed her off.

"why didn't you tell us though! that was the most hurtful part of all." alessia slung an arm over your shoulder with a shake of her head, pulling you into her side as the two of you walked back toward the changing room.

"it wasn't anyones business, it still isn't!" you rolled your eyes, spotting grace and mary returning in a similar position to you as all four of you walked back into the mostly empty changing room.

"you get a shovel talk too then?" grace chuckled, the two of you sitting back down to finish putting your shoes on. "if you hurt her i will hurt you, and i will make sure it is the last time you ever speak to her." you mocked alessia.

"i got; if you harm a single little hair on her head i will not hesitate to break both your legs, you treat her with respect or i make you dissapear." grace did her best to mock mary, but her northern accent made it near impossible as you let out a small laugh.

"idiots, the pair of them." you whispered to her, grace humming in agreement and kissing your cheek causing them to warm up with a slight blush as you kissed hers back.

"ugh no kissing before at least ten in the morning please." alessia fake gagged as the four of you stood to head toward the pitch.

"yeah lets not forget you're both children, our little babies." mary added on with a coo, grace grabbing you suddenly and pulling you into a proper kiss as loud retches echoed around the change room and you smiled against her lips before pulling away.

"oi excuse me what are these? did you do this to her gracie?!" mary grabbed you suddenly, moving your hair out of the way and pointing accusingly at the hickies then back to your girlfriend. "no!" grace scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

"you got them from someone else!?" alessia glowered, balling her fists as you shook your head. "of course not!" you shot grace a glare as she sent you a wink, taking your hand and tugging you out of marys grip.

"better get used to it you two, now she's me girlfriend we can do whatever we want."

#grace clinton #woso x reader #woso #grace clinton x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso blurbs #engwnt

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