#jake lockley one shot

[melodygatesauthor]

Not a Doctor

Jake Lockley X f!Reader (Patient X Therapist)

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

Edited by: @welcometostayingawake

AO3 LINK

Summary:

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

Tags/Warnings:

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

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

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

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

“How are you doing today, Marc?”

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

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

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

But you came up with nothing during your quick glance. 

You took a deep breath to steady your racing mind.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

----

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure, yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was when you learned his name was Jake Lockley.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So he’s observant, you noted.

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

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

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

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

“Was that you?”

“Si.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your turn.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Patient Name: Marc Spector

DOB: 03/09/1987

Date of incident: ———

Date of report: ———

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

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

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

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

“Marc, the sheet here says–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I need you to stay calm, okay?”

“Tell me.”

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

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

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

“Who is he? Tell me.”

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

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

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

“Jake.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No no no, I go first.”

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

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

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

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

What was different though, was the conscious effort to make sure your red lipstick was perfect, not one bit smeared or out of place. You’d worn a blouse that showed a tasteful bit of cleavage and in a color that complimented your skin tone. You even broke the rules a little and wore some earrings that dangled just a tiny bit…but of course you weren’t dressing up for the alter of a mentally ill man. That would be…crazy.

“I didn’t dress up for you.”

“Oh? So are you dressing up for Marc then? Does he know you–”

“My turn.” You saw his lip twitch. He seemed to like you snapping back at him. “Why are you hiding yourself from Marc and Steven?”

“They wouldn’t like me very much, sweetheart, I’m not a nice guy.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“My turn.” He leaned back, spreading his legs out.

That’s when you noticed…the unmistakable shadow of arousal in his cloth pants. You gulped, eyes widening as you brought your gaze back to his quickly, trying to act like you weren’t just looking between his legs. He noticed though, without a doubt, Jake Lockley noticed you staring at his erection.

“See something you like?” His eyes were half hooded, a cocky smile spread over his soft lips.

“No.”

You crossed your arms and leaned back, angling yourself so the desk was covering his bottom half from your line of sight.

“What did you do before you were…whatever you are?” He asked.

“My turn.” You said.

It was your coy way of reminding him that he had already asked you a question in an attempt to draw the attention to what was between his legs. He was amused with this game, and if you were being honest with yourself, you were too. If this was the only way to get information out of him, then you were happy to oblige.

“You said you’re not a nice guy. What are you then?” You narrowed your eyes at him. In anticipation of his quick witted remark you added, “and don’t give me a sarcastic answer. Honest answers only.”

He waved a finger at you, “I’ll start being honest the moment you do the same, sweetheart.”

“I am being honest with you.”

“No, no you’re not.”

Jake was gone after that, leaving you with a rambling British man who, ‘didn’t know how he got there’.” Steven cried when you told him that you were going to start seeing them twice a week. It was understandable, since he and Marc had been so close to moving down to a less strict facility just a couple of weeks ago. You didn’t have the heart to bring up Jake to Steven. Your obligation wasn’t to Steven anyway, it was to Marc.

You saw him again. Marc, that is, two days later. He scowled at you for a good five minutes before he finally started speaking.

“I don’t want to hear a word out of your mouth unless it’s about what’s going on in my head, doc.” Marc was mildly sedated again. 

His nose was healing, but it still looked raw and painful. You needed to help him. You needed to keep your interest in his alter at bay in order to assist Marc through this. That was your job. It was hard to understand what it was that made you nearly forget that. You were a therapist, your job was to help Marc Spector rehabilitate into society, and you were failing him by not being honest.

“Last time I tried to talk about him with you, he made an appearance.” You clicked your pen over and over anxiously, unsure how the rest of this could possibly go.

Marc was clearly agitated, and you couldn’t say you blamed him. You often tried to put yourself in the shoes of your patients and thought about how you would feel if you’d just heard someone was taking over your body to do as they wished without your knowledge. Especially if it seemed like that person was doing nothing but harm to you.

“I think he cares about you, that much I can tell.” You tried to give him some sense of comfort with that one thing you had figured out about Jake. “Typically in cases of DID, the alters play a role in protecting the mind of the original in some way. Typically.”

“How is starting fights and nearly getting us sent back to max supposed to help? Huh?” You could see his chest heaving the more upset he got.

“You need to stay calm, you becoming agitated seems to be a trigger for him.” You warned, holding up your hand and lowering it slowly, as though that was supposed to help Marc in any way. “Remember? We talked about this. Deep breaths.”

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, in through his nose, and out through his mouth. Then again.

“There you go.”

“C-can you, can you help me with this damn…” Marc reached behind his back, “my tag is just…it’s itching and…”

“Yeah, of course.” You agreed, standing up and walking over to him.

You leaned over him, reaching behind his neck and gently tucking in his tag. Marc, being one of the more hygienic patients you worked with, smelled nice, like fresh linen. You caught yourself with your face a little too close to his dark curls before you broke yourself from your trance. By the time you leaned back, you weren’t looking at Marc anymore. Jake.

For your own safety, you should’ve run back to your desk immediately, but you didn’t. He reached out quickly, grabbing the badge and security button around your neck. Jake tugged quickly. The straps had safety-release buckles on them, in case a patient tried to choke you, and the lanyard was pulled from your neck. He tossed it to the side carelessly.

“Jake, be careful, if you hurt me-”

“Bebita, I don’t want to hurt you.” Jake said, grabbing your jacket collar.

He pulled you close, leaning up to kiss your crimson painted lips. For a split second, you rested there, enjoying the feeling of his exceptionally soft lips against yours, but only for a split second. You pushed him back and gasped.

“What the hell are you doing?” You hissed through gritted teeth. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

You were flustered, scrambling to go grab the items Jake had thrown, but you made the grave mistake of turning your back to a patient. Another thing you’d seemed to forget about your safety training in your flustered state. He was behind you faster than you could think, right hand snaking down to pull up your skirt and feel around for your cunt, the other was wrapped around your throat, pulling you against him tightly. You stiffened, but you were ashamed to say that you didn’t struggle very hard.

“Got you right where I want you, sweetheart.” He said between heavy breaths.

“L-let me go.” You said, feeling terror, mixed with excitement, trickling down your spine. “If you do something stupid, you’re only going to hurt Marc and you know that.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to take you until you want me…and you will want me.”

His middle finger grazed over your pussy lips through your cloth panties. You were wet, you could feel it when he pressed them against your skin further. You gulped against his thick fingers, still wrapped around your throat, before wriggling against his chest, a feeble attempt to get away.

“You sure you don’t want me already?” He kissed your neck softly, and a single damned moan escaped from you before you could stop it. He chuckled, “course you do.”

“No, I don’t.”

Jake dropped his hand out from under your skirt. A sigh of relief left you, but he kept his other hand firmly against your throat. He reached into his pocket and held out on his fingertips a single paper flower. You furrowed your brow in confusion. Finally he released you, to which you reached your own hand up to rub where he’d held pressure over your neck. You turned to him, but you never took your eyes off the little flower. 

“What is this?” You asked.

“Can’t exactly run out to the store and buy you flowers now, can I?”

Now you looked at him, face full of surprise and uncertainty. Was he…was he seriously trying to court you? Your breath caught in your throat. He had looked at you with clear attraction on several occasions. Him acting this way shouldn’t be overly surprising, and yet you were left speechless.

“You…I don’t understand.” You were scrambling to find the words to say.

“I think you do, you’re a smart girl.” He flicked the flower. You watched as it landed perfectly on the corner of your desk. “When you’ve changed your mind…you just say the word. I know how to keep a secret, bet you can too.”

He was close to you again. This time you didn’t even try to stop him when he pinched your chin between his thumb and forefinger. Were you leaning in or was he? You were close, ready to taste him again.

“Erm, what the…”

Steven. Oh shit, STEVEN.

“Steven!” You jumped back in a panic, feeling your cheeks light on fire.

“Sorry! I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to put my hands on you. I’m still gettin’ used to this whole thing of me not being…well…me all the time. I still lose time and I don’t know what’s happenin’. Oh god, was it Marc? Did Marc touch you?” Steven was panicking, his eyes were blown wide and his hands were balled into nervous fists at his sides.

“No, Steven, it’s alright, I’m fine. I just…I dropped something and…um…today’s session is over you can go.” You started walking over to grab the lanyard Jake had thrown earlier from your neck.

“Are you sure? It’s only half past I don’t want to-”

“Go!” You yelled, leaning over to grab the lanyard from the floor.

----

By the time you saw Marc again, you felt like you were the one that needed to be mildly sedated and institutionalized. You couldn’t get Jake out of your head. Was it the kiss? You could still feel his phantom lips on yours. Was it the way he brushed his fingers against your soaking panties? The moment Steven left after your meeting with them last week, you plunged your fingers two knuckles deep into your drenched cunt until you achieved release.

You still didn’t even know who the fuck he was.

Your license was on the line. The responsible thing to do would be to insist that Marc start seeing a new therapist for his condition. You clearly were unfit to help him at that point, far too affected by his alter’s presence. The thought upset you though, that you might never see this mystery man again. You had to at least try to get through one more session, to prove to yourself that you could handle it…to prove that you were a good therapist.

Marc was wheeled in and put in front of you by security. He looked upset, like he had last week when you finally told him the truth about the gaps in his and Steven’s memories. You supposed you owed him some sort of explanation now. You only hoped you could get through it this time without interruption. If you could get through this one last appointment with Marc, you’d follow through with getting him to another therapist.

“I expect that you and Steven understand why I had to keep him from you…right?” You asked softly.

Looking at him was difficult. When you looked into his eyes, you had a hard time not thinking about Jake, and the way he made you feel. It didn’t make sense how he captivated you that way. He was interesting, mysterious, and dangerous. Was that it? Was he a reprieve from your otherwise boring and mundane life? Was it the way he clearly wanted you? He was so cocky, so confident. He quite literally took your breath away.

“Yeah, I know.” Marc said finally. You watched his shoulders slump. “I don’t know what to do.”

He was crying. Marc didn’t cry often, and usually when he did, Steven would take over immediately, but the alter didn’t seem like he was working his way out. You wondered if Steven was still upset at you for yelling at him the other day.

“I can help you, but…we need to keep this a secret.” You were speaking in a hushed tone. “If your psychiatrist finds out about him…you’ll never get out of…”

You trailed off, unable to finish your sentence. A dark thought crossed your mind.

“Doc?”

You froze in thought. A smirk crept over your lips. If Marc’s psychiatrist thought he had another alter…then they’d be there…well…forever. There was no reason you couldn’t get yourself transferred to maximum and do your work there if worst came to worst, but you suspected Jake was crafty enough to keep them right here. He could keep them insane enough to still need your care, but too sane for a place like Lennox.

If you managed to keep them there, you and Jake could see each other whenever you decided Marc needed an extra session. It would be so easy for you to make sure Jake could take you whenever he wanted, fucking you until you screamed his name while he filled you over and over. It was too much, the need overcoming you with every second that ticked by.

“I’m ready.” You looked deep into Marc’s eyes. “Jake.”

Marc’s brow furrowed, he shook his head in confusion, “what the hell is wrong with you? Is that his name? Why are you looking at me like that?”

You caught your reflection in the desk, you looked fucking crazed. Your eyes were widened, hungry, and full of need. Who was this woman staring back at you? You hardly recognized her. You touched your cheek, feeling the heat at your fingertips. When you shifted in your seat you could feel the slick permeating your panties.

Clammy sweat stuck to your fingers, and your mouth felt dry. You were breathing heavily. Was it hot in there? Taking off your jacket didn’t help. Marc was talking to you, checking in on you so kindly, but you didn’t care. You felt feral, like you were reverting back several steps in evolution and you only wanted one thing, to fu–

“Doc?!” He yelled, breaking you free from your plaguing thoughts.

Your insanity riddled eyes shot up to look at him. He looked afraid. Not afraid of you, but for you. You gulped and took in a deep breath before finding the words to say.

“I-I’m sorry Marc, I haven’t been feeling like myself.” You took another deep breath, trying to shake the crazed thoughts out of your mind. “I think I’m going to be sick, we have to reschedule.”

----

“I’m surprised you didn’t ask for a new therapist. You know you have that right.” You sighed, “I’m also surprised you didn’t report me for keeping things from you.”

It had been two weeks since you saw Marc last. After your episode, you canceled all appointments for the next couple of weeks so you could reset. It had taken the first couple days of your break for you to recenter yourself and feel more like…you. After that you’d started to feel better, but you needed to keep yourself separated from them for just a little while longer.

“You stuck your neck out for Steven and myself more times than I can count. Figured I could do the same for you.” He gave you a comforting smirk. “I know you want to help…but I can tell that this…Jake guy…he’s got you riled up.”

You breathed deeply, “yeah, he really…really got into my head. He seems to be triggered by things like certain smells, colors, and sounds. He says his first memories come from your time in the marines.”

Marc clenched his jaw and looked down. You wondered how hard that must’ve been for him, being discharged from the marines and never really knowing why until now, many years later. He looked back up at you. He really was handsome, despite your best efforts not to look at them that way, but he would never compare to Jake, even if they shared the same face.

“Tell me more about him.” Marc demanded.

“He’s…” you thought for a moment, “he’s harsh, rough around the edges, you know? Doesn’t like your hair gel.” You had to stop yourself from smiling like a fool at the thought. “He knows how to make origami flowers.”

You gestured to the flower that still sat on your desk, right where you’d left it before your break. Marc leaned forward on his elbows.

“What else? Steven said he was very…very close to you when he started fronting a couple of weeks ago.” Marc was pressing.

“He…he kissed me.” You hadn’t wanted to admit that to anyone, especially not Marc. “I think he was going to kiss me again but then Steven came in.”

He stood and walked over to your desk. He was looking at you with such intensity. His brows were turned up and drawn in together. Your breath hitched in your throat.

“What else did he do?” Marc’s voice was low, and that was when you realized that something was off.

You were being played with.

Your lips parted, and you stood up suddenly. It was like the entire mental health break you took meant nothing the moment you saw that face. You had a one track mind around him. You could only think about one thing. You took your lanyard off slowly and placed it on the desk softly. Your heels clacked as you stepped around the corner and stopped at the edge, keeping a respectable distance between you and your patient. Every nerve ending in your body was coming alive.

“He touched me.” You said just over a whisper.

Jake stepped closer to you, just one step.

“Where?” You both stepped closer to each other. “Show me.”

You paused, feeling that weight on your chest once again. You were shaking with anticipation. He was terrible, taunting you like this, but you couldn’t stop yourself from feeding into it. Despite taking the time off to reset, and move on from this mental dilemma, the second you realized you were talking to him, and not Marc, you were excited beyond words. He had such a strong hold on you, and you were quickly realizing that there was nothing you could do to stop it.

You reached out and grabbed Jake’s wrist. His skin was so soft. You lifted your skirt up over your hips, never letting your eyes leave his, and then you pulled his hand to your already soaked panties. Jake’s face finally broke, a smirk lifted the corner of his lips. He lowered his lids to gaze at you.

“Why didn’t you come to me when I told you I was ready?” You looked between his eyes rapidly. “I thought, maybe I’d made you up or…that you’d forgotten about me.”

Jake grabbed the back of your neck quickly and pulled you in tight. His fingers slid under the waistband of your panties and slipped over your clit. When you gasped at the sensation, Jake closed his mouth on yours. There wasn’t a single thought other than Jake occupying every bit of your mind while he melted himself into you and started swirling his finger around your swollen nub.

“I couldn’t forget you, sweetheart, not when watching you get all flustered over me has been so entertaining.”

“I’m not…not flustered.” You sounded like you had no air left in your lungs. Your hips slid forward over his fingers involuntarily.

“You’re not?” He leaned closer, lips brushing yours just barely.

Something inside you broke through the fog of your arousal, reminding you how wrong this was. As if you’d been awoken from a deep trance, your eyes shot open, glaring at his.

“No…no!” You pulled back, the waistband of your underwear snapped against your skin as you stepped away from him. “I could lose my license…I could go to prison.”

Jake kept his eyes on you while he stuck the two fingers he’d slipped into your panties into his mouth, sucking on them.

“Tan buena, bebita.”

You ran your hands down your face while looking him over. There was a prominent peak formed in his pants, testing the strength of the seam. You felt your core flutter at the sight. You’d never struggled with shortness of breath, but he had you pressing a hand to your chest, desperate for more oxygen.

“Thought you said you were ready.” Jake still held a sly smirk on his face. “That’s alright, I can be patient, you’ll change your mind eventually.”

“No, I won’t, no. Stop doing this to me.” You walked back around and sat at your desk, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Do you get that wet for all your patients?”

You picked a spot on the white-washed wall and stared at it. Your jaw was clenched, and you started tapping your finger against your arm nervously. You couldn’t ignore him, he wasn’t just going to leave, and you still needed to find a way to help Marc and Steven.

“Do you at least want to know what I think about when I’m fronting at night when Steven and Marc think we’re asleep?” You saw him shift in his seat out of your peripheral, but you kept your eyes on the wall.

“No.”

He chuckled. Jake certainly loved to toy with you. He also didn’t seem interested in the fact that you declined to hear his thoughts.

“I think about how good those delicious red lips will look when I stretch them out. I don’t even know if you could fit all of this in your mouth, what do you think?” He adjusted the waist of his pants, pulling them down under his balls.

Your eyes shifted, for only a second, and you found yourself staring wide. He had his cock caged in his fingers. It was big, bigger than any you’d seen before. You gulped. This was the point that you were instructed by your training to call for security to get him out of there, but instead you just kept your arms crossed firmly and watched.

“See something you like, sweetheart?” He repeated a question he’d asked you once before.

“Stop this.” You said with little conviction.

“You’ll have to call security if you want me to do that.” He dragged his fist upward over his length, “so if you want Marc to get in even more hot water, go for it.”

He exhaled slowly, looking down while he worked on himself and biting his bottom lip with another firm stroke. He looked up at you, smiling when his eyes locked on to yours. You averted your gaze to your spot on the wall once again. 

“Thought a lot about how wet you get, bebita.” He groaned while he stroked. “How wet you are right now.”

You clenched your thighs together tightly to ease the ache between your legs. All you could feel was the wet slick of your panties sliding around. You wanted him, you wanted him so bad, but you couldn’t bring yourself to openly admit it, or to act on it. Your career, and perhaps your life, would be over. 

“Could be our little secret.”

You looked at him again. He moaned, letting his jaw go slack. His head fell back and his eyes fluttered closed. You watched, shamefully, entranced by the way his hand would glide lazily over his thick cock. His free hand grabbed the arm of the wheelchair tightly, knuckles turning white. You were shocked to feel a trickle of drool crawling down your chin. You quickly wiped it away.

What’s happening to me, you thought, you’re his therapist, this is unethical, you should call security right-

“You know sweetheart…” Jake dropped his gaze back on you, and you stared back, “my favorite thing to think about is how good that tight little pussy will look around me, swallowing me whole.”

The lightest exhale left your mouth, and of course he heard it.

“I’m only tolerating this for Marc’s sake.” You reminded him.

“Is that what you’re going to say when I’ve got you bent over that desk?”

He stood and walked over to the desk, dropping his cock with a thud on the smooth white surface. You looked away quickly, but through your peripheral you could see him place his palm firmly over his length and start rutting against the desk.

“Just think about…fuck….how hard I’m gonna fuck you.” The desk scraped over the floor with the thrust of his hips. You braced your hands against it and looked up at him again. “Still not too late, I can take you right now. Just come around here and bend over for me. Lift up that pretty little skirt. It’ll be quick.”

Your eyes widened and you shook your head slowly. This was against everything you thought you knew. No patient ever had this effect on you. Why him? Sure, Marc was attractive, but you’d never felt like this. You were staring again, looking up at the harsh faced man and then tracing your eyes down to his cock while he fucked his palm against the desk.

“There you go, bebita, you thinking about how good it’s gonna feel too?”

You were thinking about how good it would feel, to have him bending you over the desk. You hoped he could fuck you so hard your hips bruised. He was so big, he was sure to stretch you beyond your limit. He’d fill you so full his cum would be dripping out of you for days. The thought alone was enough to make the arousal pool in your core.

You looked away from him again, focusing on the wall, but that didn’t stop the breathy and hardly audible moan that left you. This was out of control, you were out of control. He groaned again, forcing your gaze to return to him. He started moving faster. You noticed precum leaking from the head, glistening over the desk.

“M’bout to come, you sure you don’t want this load? Worked it up just-for-you.” He grunted with each thrust. “Fuck.”

He stopped moving, but his cock throbbed, gushing ropes of cum all over the surface of your desk. A small glob dropped right in front of you. Your jaw dropped, and you rolled back in your chair, staring down at the mess he’d made. He tucked his cock back into his pants once he was sufficiently spent. When you looked up at him you noticed the proud expression on his face.

“Better clean that up before anyone sees it and thinks Marc’s gone insane, jerking off in front of his therapist.” You scowled at him before grabbing some tissues out of the box on your desk and starting to clean up the mess with a clear air of aggravation around you.

“You’re disgusting.” You muttered.

Your body was betraying you though. No matter how disgusting you insisted he was, you wanted him more than you ever recalled wanting anything before. It made no sense. You cleaned up the mess, trying to keep your fingers from touching the sticky cum spread all over. You felt the heat in your cheeks burning you alive, knowing he was watching you. When you finally cleaned up the last bit, under his watchful gaze, you looked back up at him, tossing the last tissue in the waste bin.

He leaned forward slowly, bringing his face close to yours. You thought he might try and kiss you, his lips were right there. You even saw his eyes dip to look at your mouth before going back up to look at you. You leaned in a little too.

“That’s a good girl.”

----

You were a mess.

He’d left your mind in complete disarray and he hadn’t even really touched you. After telling you that you were a good girl, he vanished, leaving Steven standing there in a state of confusion. You craved those words again…

Good girl.

I’m a good girl, you told yourself in the mirror before you left on the day you’d be seeing Marc again. You were wearing everything Jake ever said he liked on you. The striking red lipstick, the shirt that had a little cleavage, and a short skirt. The panties were unnecessary, and would only serve to get in the way. You were ready for him…truly ready this time.

You tried to give all of your patients the attention they deserved leading up to your appointment with Marc, but you didn’t care to hear anything they had to say. When you finally saw Marc again, you weren’t sure how you would react. Normally only Jake made you feel like you wanted to crawl out of your clothes and spread yourself on the desk like a buffet for his pleasure, but the line between him, Marc and Steven was getting blurrier by the minute. Even when it was sweet and innocent Steven fronting, you were struggling to keep yourself from soaking through your skirt.

“Are you alright? You seem a bit…out of sorts.” Steven mentioned, looking at you with a concerned and furrowed brow.

“M-me?” You gave him a reassuring grin, “yes Steven, I’m fine. This isn’t about me, it’s about you. You were saying you and Marc have been feeling down lately?”

Steven shrugged, “yeah, been trying to figure out what’s going on. Marc says there’s another one…he’s like me but scarier. He’s mean.”

You nodded gently, “he’s terrible, yeah…” You had to catch yourself before you bit your lip. “You know he came up during Marc’s time in the marines?”

You stood up and started pacing, noticing the slick way your thighs slid against each other with each step. Nothing could be heard except for the clicking of your heels across the floor as you got closer to Steven. Normally a filter would stop you from antagonizing Steven and trying to mentally cripple him so the protective alter would come out, but your care for their safety had left with Jake the last time you saw him.

“I think I remember Marc mentioning that, yeah.” Steven looked nervous as you got closer to him. “S’not like you to get up and start roaming about, you feelin’ alright today?”

“I feel fine.”

You walked to Steven’s right, touching his shoulder and looking down at him. His eyes peered into yours. He still looked too soft and sweet to be the man you craved. You needed to push a little harder. You needed to scare Jake out, because it was clear that he wasn’t coming out on his own.

“It was probably scary, wasn’t it? Finding out that you were responsible for killing so many people?” Your voice was low while you spoke. “I’m sure you don’t remember a lot of it, but just think about it.”

“What are you–”

“Come on Steven, that’s gotta be scary, right? Thinking about how scared those people must’ve been?”

“That wasn’t me though, that was Marc, I didn’t do that I didn–”

“But you did.” You were smiling like you were enjoying this. You weren’t, but you were excited for Jake, you needed him. “What about your mother? Hm? Remember how sad you were when you realized you were talking to no one for months?”

“Why are you saying these things? What’s gotten into you?” There were the tears you wanted, starting to glisten in Steven’s eyes.

You grabbed the collar of his shirt, peering deep into his eyes. If Jake was there, he’d see you. Surely, he’d come out. You wondered why he was still hiding from you.

“Jake, I’m ready, please, I mean it this time.” You felt your own eyes starting to water with desperation. “Don’t make me fucking beg.”

Steven looked at you, confusion splayed over his face, “have you gone completely mad?”

“Shut up, Steven.” You shook him, “bring out Jake, now!”

Steven grabbed your arms, “what are you doing?”

You shocked yourself when you pulled your hand back and struck him across the cheek. There was silence after that, Steven just stared at you incredulously. Something so out of character for you should’ve snapped you from your Jake induced trance but it didn’t. You were in too deep. Mentally torturing and striking a patient was grounds for, at a minimum, being fired.

When his eyes darkened and his lips curled up into a confident smirk, you knew you’d succeeded. There was no time to waste, you couldn’t risk him leaving you again. You grabbed his face on either side and desperately pressed your lips to his. Jake moaned into you, standing up and wrapping his arms around your waist. He pulled you in close and entangled his tongue with yours. He tasted so delicious you could hardly stand it.

“You sure you’re ready, bebita?” He said while you both separated for a second to catch your breath.

“Yeah, yes please, can’t get you out of my head.” You tasted something salty when you went back in for more kisses. You were crying, tears of a needy desperation you thought you were above…until you’d met Jake.

“Good, gonna give you exactly what you need sweetheart, bend over for me.”

You looked at him. He was so fucking handsome, looking back at you with those inexplicably dilated eyes that were akin to the hungry eyes of a predator looking at his prey.

“Anything for you, Jake, I’ll do anything. I need you so bad.” An audibly shameful sob left your throat.

“I know, cause you’re a good girl, si?” He had that cocky smirk splayed over his face.

Your mind stopped working when he said that. A slow nod of affirmation was all you could afford him in response. Jake spun you around and placed a firm hand over your back to slam you onto the desk. He teased you first, trekking a single finger up your skirt and gently tugging it up over your bare ass. You heard a dark snicker leave his lips.

“You are ready, aren’t you sweetheart? Look at that.” His finger touched between your pussy lips, rubbing over your folds and brushing against your clit.

“Oh fuck, been ready for a long time, please don’t tease me, fuck me please.” You begged. Any bit of dignity you had left went out the window when Jake had taken Steven’s place.

“Not yet…” He groaned as he continued to play with you.

Everything seemed to be a game to Jake, even this incessant teasing that drove you closer and closer to insanity. You shifted your hips, desperate for him to touch that burning bundle of nerves that he somehow managed to keep ignoring. It was right there. Maybe he didn’t know where it was.

“Right there!” You shouted when he brushed over it again.

“I know exactly where it is, sweetheart, but I need you to be a good girl for me and let me have my fun, okay? Been waiting a long time. Can you be good for me?” He asked in that suave tone that you couldn’t resist.

“Yes, yes I can be good for you.” You grabbed the other side of the desk and held on tight. When you squeezed your eyes shut you felt even more tears falling down your cheeks. You were such a pathetic mess for him.

“You’re so wet, been thinking about me all day?”

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since I met you.” You admitted, pressing your lips together tightly to ease the ache in your cunt. Your body was so hot, all you needed was a release that only he could give you.

“Been a while since I’ve felt a nice warm cunt, but I’ve never seen someone so needy like you before.” His voice was gravelly.

You heard him fumbling with the waist of his pants followed by the prodding of his warm cock against your slick thighs. His finger was still toying with your crevices, teasing you to tears. You didn’t dare beg again, you didn’t want to make the torture last longer just for the sake of his own amusement. Jake slipped his finger inside of you. An aroused exhale left his lips at the feeling of your soft walls fluttering around his digit.

“You’re tight, sweetheart, not sure you can handle what I’ve got for you.” He churned his hip forward, brushing his cock against the back of your leg.

“I can, I promise I can handle it.” Your voice was shaking, you were so distressed. “Please, I can do it.”

“Might hurt a little, I don’t know…” His tone was still teasing.

“I’ll do anything for it, please, Jake.”

He took out his finger, leaving you empty. The air was cool against the slick of your cunt. You felt as he grabbed his cock in his fist and dragged the fat tip between your pussy lips. You gasped, so close to getting the thing you’d been begging him for all this time. It was right fucking there.

“P-please.” You sobbed. Your knuckles ached from how hard you gripped the other side of the desk in anticipation.

Jake thrust forward suddenly, and you were full, stretched out over his cock beyond your threshold. You gasped followed by an agonizing whine. Jake moaned loudly behind you while he started thrusting slowly, resizing your walls to fit his wide girth. Both of his hands landed on your hips in a bruising grip.

“This what you wanted, bebita? Fuck, it’s good…tell me. Tell me how good it is.”

“It’s good, Jake, better than…mmmJake-”

You couldn’t speak properly, even to tell him that the way his cock felt splitting you open was better than any of the daydreams you’d had over the last several weeks. Jake’s hand was heavily pressing against your back, pushing you harder into the desk. Your cries grew until they were filling the office. You were thankful for the white-noise machine outside of the door that muffled them.

“Tell-me-how-good,” he demanded between thrusts.

“Best…best I’ve ever–Jake I can’t.”

“Come on, I know you can do it. You’re a good girl, right?”

“It feels so good,” you said in a primal growl. Drool slipped out of your mouth and onto the desk. “It’s so…so good I can’t…fuck…I can’t stand it!”

Jake pulled out of you, and for a moment you felt disappointed. You turned around to see why he’d do that, but he just looked at you, scanning your body with his lust ridden eyes.

“Get that shirt off, take it all off.” He demanded.

You were too quick to comply, moving so fast that under normal circumstances it would’ve been embarrassing. This wasn’t normal though. The way you felt wasn’t normal. Jake watched you every step of the way while you undressed, ripping off your clothes like they’d wronged you and throwing them aside quickly. 

He pulled you in once you were done and told you, once again, that you were such a good girl. Your body tingled with his words. He lifted you, setting your bare ass on the cold surface of your desk. He used a firm hand to force you onto your back. Jake put one leg up on either shoulder while he lined himself up with you.

He thrust into you again, and immediately both of your hands gripped the edge of the desk for stability. One of Jake’s hands, the one that wasn’t squeezing your hip for leverage, reached around your leg and he started rubbing the pad of his thumb against your clit. Your cunt squeezed around him in response and you tossed your head back.

“Open your eyes and look at me, sweetheart, love seeing the way you look at me.” He urged, smirking at you when your eyes met with his once more.

You bit your lip so tight you thought it might bleed. Tears ran down your cheeks in streams that you weren’t even trying to control anymore.

“So pretty when you cry.” He commented.

Jake continued to circle his thumb over your clit while he fucked you faster. You felt your body trembling with your impending orgasm. You were so close to feeling that sweet release you craved at his hands. You’d been so good trying to resist him all this time, you deserved this moment. At least that’s the delusion that had overcome you.

“No holding back now, gonna fill you up sweetheart. Is that what you wanted? Me to fuck you full of my cum?”

You nodded eagerly, eyes glistening while you gripped the desk with all your strength. His thumb kept rotating over you, drawing whining gasps from your lips with every pass. You felt your cunt flutter around him as you got closer. Your mind started to go white, no thoughts other than Jake’s cock fucking you relentlessly.

“Fuck…hope you’re on the pill, sweetheart, cause I’m gonna…gonna-fill-you-right-up…ahhh!”

Jake’s cock gushed inside of you, stretching you further with every strong throb. You lost it, becoming a drooling and crying mess while your thoughts ceased. You came in crushing waves over his length, draining him of every last drop you could. He noisily kept fucking you through your orgasm until his pace slowed to a stop. The room became quiet again, except for your heavy breathing and the clock ticking.

“I need…tissues.” You could hardly speak but you managed to get that out.

“Oh, we’re not done yet.” Jake pulled out of you and quickly dropped to his knees.

You gasped when his mouth closed over your cunt. He was slurping, collecting both your juices and his own in his mouth. When he stood back up, you didn’t know what he had planned. He hadn’t swallowed yet. He leaned over, dropping the mess on your chest. You thought he was done, but he knelt back down for more. Your clit was swollen and sensitive, but he went in again. You felt his finger slip into your hole, hooking and dragging along your walls to bring anything in there into his mouth. Again, he stood up and deposited the mixture onto your breasts.

“Ready for more, bebita?” He pressed a hand to your chest, smearing the combined liquids over your skin.

You stared at him wide-eyed as you nodded slowly. It would seem he had an unusually short refractory period. Jake was pressing his cock against your hole once again. He thrust himself into you, stretching you out once more. It felt just as good, if not better, the second time.

“Gonna cover you in my cum, sweetheart, make you all mine.” He said hungrily, spreading the mixture over your tits one at a time.

He gave extra attention to your nipples, brushing them with his thumb. He continued fucking you while he did, commenting on your sweet whines and how much he adored them. Jake never stopped surprising you with the way his mind worked. Your entire torso was coated in his cum, your cum, and copious amounts of spit. He never slowed his pace, but he leaned forward and dragged his tongue from as low down on your stomach as he could reach, all the way up to your mouth.

The combination tasted sweet, salty, and like something that only you and Jake could make. His tongue tangled with yours in desperate sloppy kisses. When the taste was gone, you craved more, you begged for it.

“More Jake…give-me-more,” you said between breaths.

He gave you a borderline evil smirk when he looked down at you.

“Anything for you, bebita.”

Jake went back down to your side with his tongue, dragging it up your torso and stopping over your cum coated nipple. He got stuck there, sucking deeply and moaning. Drool trickled down the side of your breast. You arched into his mouth, biting your bottom lip to stifle the loud scream that nearly left you. You looked down, Jake peered at you from under his lashes while he slammed into you harder.

“Feed me, Jake.” You begged, wanting to feel his lips on you again. “Give me more.” Your eyes were still watering.

He complied, bringing what was left in his mouth to yours in a flurry of passionate kisses. That sweet taste was there again, making your mind go blank with a feeling of ecstasy and comfort all blended into one. You felt like you belonged to him, like he was your everything, and the connection had been sealed in your combined body fluids and a kiss.

“Jake.” You said softly as he pulled back from you, “bite me. I want everyone to know that I’m yours. I want Marc and Steven to know that I’m yours.”

“That’s twisted, bebita. You want to scare them that bad?” He kissed down your jawline, working his way to your neck.

“I can’t let you go anywhere now, I can’t let them leave.” You explained, letting go of the desk to entangle your fingers in his dark locks.

“Wouldn’t leave you, even if they took me away.”

A sharp pain seared through your shoulder as you felt Jake’s teeth break through your skin. You winced and hissed, trying not to let your body shy away involuntarily. Even if your body did try to move against your will, Jake kept you close. You were still amazed at his ability to keep his hips rolling into you no matter what the top half of his body was doing.

You whined at the agonizing burn of his bite while he continued clamping his teeth into you harder. When he finally stopped, you looked at his face. His lips were glossy with spit and blood. You leaned up, kissing him, letting him make a mess of you even further. All you could taste was Jake and the metallic taste of iron. He pressed his forehead against yours and increased the pace of his hips.

“Gonna fill you up again. I don’t want you to be able to walk right.”

With a firm hand against your chest, he pushed you back onto the desk with a thud. You gasped as he fucked you harder than before. He reached his fingers up to your mouth, sticking two of them in there.

“Suck.”

You made Jake whine when your tongue started dancing over his digits. He tossed his head back for a second before looking back into your eyes with a dark and hooded gaze. His brow furrowed and his moaning changed to something more animalistic, less controlled. You looked up at him from under your lashes while making your muffled moans over his fingers.

“Hold-on-tight,” he said with each thrust.

You grabbed the edge of the desk with everything you could, feeling the white hot ropes filling you again with every throb of his thick cock inside of you. Once again, your eyes were rolling back, obscuring your vision while your body trembled from your orgasm over him. Your screams were still loud, though stifled by his fingers against your tongue. You were both a mess of heavy breathing while his thrusting slowed to a halt.

When he pulled himself out of you this time, you felt empty. You peered at the clock, it was nearly the end of Marc’s session. Jake stepped back, holding out a hand to you. He helped you off the desk before leaning his face into yours. He kissed you softly and then looked at you with a gentle expression.

“Will you come back?” You asked, feeling suddenly terrified that you may never see him again. You were sure you’d rather die than live in that reality.

“You keep me a secret and out of your little notes, and I’ll keep the boys crazy enough to stick around.” He winked at you, “I’ll be back in a couple days, try not to miss me too much.”

You were dressed before Steven was fronting again. He was sitting in the chair and grabbed his head the moment Jake went to the headspace. The last thing he must’ve remembered was you grabbing his shirt and slapping him. You’d fixed yourself up in the mirror as best as you could. You wiped the smeared makeup from your face, and what was left of Jake’s cum from your torso.

Steven touched his cheek, “you…you hit me.”

“Steven, bring Marc out. Things are going to be changing around here, and we need to have a chat.”

----

Moon Knight Masterlist

Jake Lockley Masterlist

Taglist (Please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed!):

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction, @my-secret-shame, @thatmomwitchfriend, @alexxavicry, @ryebreadsworld, @welcometostayingawake, @jake-g-lockley, @campingwiththecharmings, @steven-grants-world, @bloodredwolfsbane, @minigirl87, @ahookedheroespureheart, @romanarose, @360iris, @grumpyahjumma, @ninebluehearts, @burnincrown

[myfictionaldreams]

Day 28: Car Sex - Jake Lockley

Kinktober Day 28: Car Sex - Jake Lockley

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Smell nice?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[jake-g-lockley]

KISS! KISS! KISS!

Hello love ❤️ could you do these prompts if you wanna do ... feel no pressure 😅😅

MOON BOIS PLEASE!!

Imsuchawhoreforthemforgivemeforihavesinnedactuallyidontregretanyofthese

7. Almost kissing but someone walks in 0_0

13. “would you acknowledge my feelings for you if i kissed you right now? you can’t seem to take a damn hint, [name]”

18. they’re teasing each other when one character goes “then kiss me” and is surprised that the other character actually does it.

19. ARGUING!!!!! then a heated “kiss me.” and suddenly their hands are all over each other

The Boss (Moon Boys x reader)

Masterlist | Spotify Playlist | Want to be Tagged?

A/N: HI LOVELY! Thanks for the ask!! The idea I had for this was born out of very very very spicy noodles and I was crying on the inside hahaha. 

Word count: 2.3k

☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Your hands were shaking. You could barely gesture around the exhibits to the group of people around you and you had caught yourself twisting the edge of your blazer one time too many. One lady in the group nodded sympathetically to you, connoting your nervousness to the fact that you were leading around a large crowd in a huge museum. Any other employee would have been scared. Scared that their employer would fire them for not doing their job right.

But your situation was something completely out of the ordinary.

It all started the night before, when you and your boss had been finishing up the day's work, making sure that everything was in order. Your boss, or bosses, were a peculiar bunch. For starters you had three, and all three of them resided in one body, or you could say, mind. There was Steven Grant; the nerdy, enthusiastic, sweet man, Marc Spector; the hard and efficient boss and Jake Lockley; the one who was barely there, preferring to work away from people.

You had taken a liking to all of them, accidentally finding out their situation when you caught Steven yelling at a mirror, only to realize that he had a strong American accent instead of his usual soft British drawl. You had picked up their differences fast, the way their posture was, the expressions on their face, all of the slight changes letting you know who you were addressing. As far as you were concerned, they were fine with your company too, and all of you chatted away happily as the piles of work got smaller and smaller.

Once the pile had about 30 minutes worth of work left, Marc got up and came back with a bottle of wine and two glasses. You stared at the bottle he was holding, noticing that it was an old, expensive red wine that was gifted by one of the museum sponsors. You watched as Marc set down the glasses, pulling the cork off the bottle and pouring a generous fill for the both of you. This was slightly out of the blue and you never usually drank on the job, but Marc smiled sweetly and handed you your glass. You took a sip, savoring the rich aroma and matured taste of the aged wine as you watched Marc from over the rim of your glass. He was pulling off his jacket, draping it onto the chair before loosening his tie and unbuttoning his cuffs.

The one thing that smashed your brain up was how hot your bosses were. They were attractive, almost like they had their own glow from within them that radiated a confidence that you felt like you could never achieve. You try not to stare as he started to fold his sleeves until they were over his elbows and slightly strained at the biceps. He sat down and fully pulled at his tie until it unfurled from his neck and sat limp in his hands. He quickly balled it up and set it aside, reaching for his glass of wine.

“Do you like it?” he suddenly asked, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“Huh?” uh oh, you felt like he had caught you staring and your face flushed.

“The wine, sweetheart.” he chuckled and suddenly you forgot to breathe.

The word of endearment sent sparks down your spine and you felt yourself getting dizzy but you nodded and went back to nursing your glass.

“You’ve done some good work here.” It was Steven now and he was looking at you with a smile. “We couldn’t have done it without you.”

“That’s alright Mr. Grant, happy to help.” you return his smile, happy at his genuineness.

“How many times have I told you to stop calling me that? You can call me Steven!” he laughs and takes another sip and you smile shyly.

After a couple of silent minutes, you heard a tapping against a seat, making you look up. It was Jake now, and he wore a relaxed look on his face, one that you had not seen before.

“Come, sit closer to us, we don't bite.” he says, sounding amused.

You found yourself obeying his simple request, getting up and taking a seat next to him. Jake reached for your glass and set it beside you. While Marc and Steven made you feel somewhat equal to them, Jake made you feel like you were prey and he was at the top of the food chain. He eluded so much swagger that you felt smaller than usual around his presence.

“The boys and I were talking,” he started, keeping his eyes on his glass as he watched the wine swirl, “we wanna do something for you.”

You turned to him, slightly surprised at the predicament before you. You nodded, urging him to go on. He leaned closer to you and you couldn’t help but breathe him in. He smelled expensive, leather and sandalwood radiating off him excessively. You found yourself looking at his eyes, watching his long beautiful eyelashes every time he blinked. You pleaded for your heart to still, fearing that he would hear from how painfully hard it was thumping in your chest.

“We want to give you a promotion, cielo.” he whispered it and your mouth dropped open.

He smiled at your reaction and leaned back on his seat to take in more of it.

“Why?” you managed to make yourself whisper.

“You’ve been so good for us, cielo, you’ll be a good asset to the management. But we won’t take you out of your tour guiding, we see how charismatic you are with the people. We just wanna treat our best employee a little better, you know?” he jabbered away, the slight Spanish accent feeling like a delightful tingle in your brain.

“Thank you.” you said, clinking your glass with his glass that he held out.

You took a sip and suddenly you felt a small gust of wind form the open window picking up a paper that was on the table, sending it tumbling away. You set your glasses aside and quickly get up to grab it, only to find that Jake was doing the same. The both of you grabbed the paper at the same time, the both of you kneeling on the ground.

You made the grave mistake of looking up at his face, suddenly realizing that you didn’t know who you were looking at. You couldn’t tell exactly who it was from the thundering in your ears. You stared into the deep brown orbs, almost like you were leaning into the edge of Tartarus, staring down at Kronos as time slowed around you. You watch as the man’s eyes drop to your lips and you know the both of you are tipping towards dangerous territory, the wine softening your hardened edges.

You felt yourself unconsciously crawl forward, setting your hands on top of the man’s thighs, watching something sharp form in his eyes. You let your eyes drop to his lips, studying its shape and resisting the urge to paint them with the lipstick on your own lips. You wondered if they had drugged you, your brain surged into overdrive as he leaned slightly towards you, tipping his head. His eyes were hooded now and so were yours and everything seemed so blurry.

The sound of the door brought the both of you out of the thick tension that had been brewing. While your head swerved towards the door, Marc was still looking at you, his head completely void at any thought but the feeling of your hands on his thighs. Your grip on your boss’ thigh deepened as your eyes widened at the sight of the security guard who was at the door. You were too frozen to move and you were silently pleading with one of the boys to say something.

Fortunately the security guard beat you to it.

“Oops, sorry sir, I’ll come for my rounds later.” he hurriedly said, shutting the door and scuttling away.

The loud bang of the door shutting made you pull away from your boss at lightspeed, as if he was on fire. You acted quickly, jumping to your feet and gathering your things, shoving them in your bag as fast as you possibly could.

“Wait, hey, sorry.” Marc’s voice? No Steven, might even be Jake

You couldn’t think and you didn’t let yourself look at them, eyes glossy and brain foggy, trying to make your legs move as fast as they possibly could to get you far away from them.

☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Back at the present moment, you found yourself in a corporate meeting, surrounded by executives, discussing the transport of a new object to the museum for a special temporary exhibition. You bosses were nowhere to be seen and you sat taking notes, trying your best to put all of your attention to the project. The door of the meeting room slammed open, a little louder to you than anyone else sitting in the room and you could physically feel the atmosphere in the room change and you could hear the taps of your boss’ shoes on the tiled floor.

He pulled a chair beside you and took a seat, his clothed calf brushing your bare one. From your periphery, you saw him nod, acknowledging the executives. Your right hand shook slightly and you stopped taking notes, fighting hard to focus on the meeting. Suddenly, a large hand covered yours and pulled your notebook away, making you almost jump. You turned to watch your boss flipping through the meeting minutes that you had taken down.

You noticed very quickly that it was Steven and that he was wearing his glasses that were gradually sliding down his nose. You had to resist the urge to push them up his nose and comb back the stray curl that flopped onto his forehead. Instead you watched as his fingers traced your words on your notebook and his familiar scent that burned your senses.

“All of these plans are looking good. I will decide who will transport the item.” Steven’s voice brought you out of your hyperfocus.

He snapped your book shut and stood up, making you remember something.

“Actually, sir, I’d like to volunteer.” you piped up, standing up to meet his eyeline.

“That would not be necessary, Miss, I have made my decision.” Steven said, almost coldly.

“But I-”

Jake’s intimidating face was enough for you to stop in your tracks and take a deep breath.

“Alright, sir, sorry.” you said and the meeting was dismissed.

You turned to follow the stream of people walking out of the meeting room when a hand grabbed at your wrist. It pulled you into a hard chest and you gasped but played it off with a cough. You turned to stare at your boss as the door shut behind the last person who exited the room.

“Why can’t I take the project?” you whispered, noting how their eyes didn’t meet yours.

“Can't let you take that job, love, it's dangerous.” Steven said, wincing slightly at the word of endearment leaving his lips.

“It's just transporting, I don’t think it's that dangerous, stop tryna shield me. So all you said about me being an asset was just bullshit?” you raised your voice and wrenched your arm from his grasp.

“We’re not shielding you, we just have your best interest in mind. And we were not lying.” Marc said, an edge of desperation clinging to his words.

“Well, you are taking away what I want, Mr. Spector.” you counter, anger creeping up to poison your heart.

“Why can’t you get it through that stubborn beautiful head of yours that we’re tryna protect you.” Jake said tapping the side of your forehead.

“This is not protection. I don’t need protection, I want a little bit of freedom!” you spat.

Steven scrubs his face with his hand.

“Can’t you come to terms with the fact that we care?” Steven soothes you softly, holding onto your hand again.

“This is not care-” you stop as you watch Steven’s face contort in pain as Marc tries to push through.

“Fine then, fuck it, would you acknowledge our feelings for you if I kissed you right now? You can’t seem to take a damn hint through the fog that is your stupid stubbornness.” He breathed, moving closer and holding your forearm.

“What?” He said it so fast that you didn’t have time to process it and you were confused at the turn the conversation had taken.

“Kiss me and I’ll show you how much we really care.” he said carefully and your brain stopped working.

Something clicked and you grabbed onto his tie and pulled him, closing the gap as his lips touched yours. It was like they had set you on fire and all you could think of was them. Marc sighed into the kiss and pulled you closer till your body was flushed with his. Their glasses pressed into your skin and you pulled back slightly, searching their eyes, yanking them off and throwing the pair onto the table beside you before slamming your lips back onto their’s. You didn’t know who you were kissing but from the way they were, you knew that you could be given the chance to learn their patterns with more practice.

Your hands cupped their face, their light stubble scratching against the soft skin of your palms. Your nose found its sanctuary beside theirs as you kissed them breathless, moaning as they parted your lips with a hard lick to yours. Their hands couldn’t help but feel you up at their kisses alternated between soft sweet pecks to full passionate breathtaking ones.

Reblogs are appreciated ~~~

[whoreish-behaviour]

Steven Grant + Marc Spector x Reader

Warnings >~< = Hair pulling, mild brat taming

Not proof read

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

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

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

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

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

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

'And my stupid fucking team, like seriously-'

'Darlin’?'

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

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

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

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

DEFEAT! PRESS 'X' TO CONTINUE

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

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

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

'Aw darling, you know its-'

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

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

'Okay, well let me know if you-'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'But you will be sweet girl.'

[bluehourbucky]

Team Work

pairing: Steven Grant x f!reader; Marc Spector x reader; Jake Lockley x reader

summary: your boys help take care of you when you get sick

italics are the moon boys talking to each other

a/n: first time writing for moon boys please be nice. Also would appreciate any tips of how to write for moon knight and the boys <3 if you have any please comment or send them in my asks :)

---------------------------------------------------

Oh no, you thought when you woke up with a runny nose and a sneeze. You turned around to see if you had woken up your boyfriend. Luckily, you didn't. He has a day off so he can sleep a little longer. You're not even sure when they arrived last night, so you were careful to get out of the bed as quietly as possible.

As you were getting ready for work, you felt a little dizzy. Maybe it's nothing, you lied to yourself. You really didn't need a cold or something right now, you were saving your free days to go on a vacation with your boys.

"Love?"

"Shit" you whisper, Steven is going to notice immediately that you're not feeling well, not that Marc or Jake wouldn't it's just harder to convince Steven not to worry.

"Love, you alright?" you hear him coming to the bathroom. He comes in and hugs you from behind, puts his head on your shoulder and kisses your neck.

"I'm fine! Just didn't sleep well last night, you should go back to bed!" Steven looks in the mirror, probably talking to Marc or Jake.

"She's hiding something. Ask her again." Marc scolds Steven, and Steven rolls his eyes.

"Darling, are you sure? What's going on?" Steven stops you, one hand on your arm, and the other is lifting your chin, so you look at him.

Right as you were about to answer, you sneeze into your elbow, which then turns into a coughing fit. Steven caresses your back softly, waiting for you to stop.

"I'm okay." You sniff, looking for toilet paper to blow your nose.

"Marc says you're not, and that you're staying home today, and Jake agrees. And I agree with that, my love, I bet you're burning up."

You knew they were right, so you didn't put up a fight when Steven made you change back into your pajamas and call in sick at work.

"Stay." Steven, tucks you in and orders you to stay in bed, you have a tendency to get up and follow him when you're sick.

"Steven let me switch with you, I wanna take care of my baby."

"Not a chance, I want to do it"

Steven pushes Marc away, set on a mission to make you a hot cup of tea and a soup. He makes you take your temperature, and you in fact do have a fever.

"Steven. Now." Marc is becoming impatient he wants to help but Steven is being stubborn as always.

"I want to help too."

Great, now Jake also wants to help, so Steven has to fight them both for control. He hates to admit it, but you being sick sometimes can be the best time to be with you. You become so cuddly and clingy, and Steven relishes in those moments when you need him. Unfortunately, he's not the only one.

"Here you go, love." Steven helps you sit up and feeds you the soup, then he gives you some medication for your very high fever. He can't believe you almost went to work.

"Thank you." You sniff, and your boyfriend gives you a sympathetic look. You know you probably shouldn't have pulled Steven into bed with you and then laid on his chest, but it's the best spot for sleeping.

"I love you." Stevens heart skips a beat whenever you tell him that. He holds you tighter and then he starts playing with your hair which makes you relax completely.

"This is not fair! You took care of her last time! You can't do this." Marc knows it's stupid to be jealous yet he is but so is Jake.

"Marc's right! Should be my turn by now!"

"You're giving me a headache!" Steven accidentally yells out, which makes you jump.

"Sorry, darling, didn't mean to say that out loud."

"What are you guys fighting about now?" you ask, its easy to tell when they're in a disagreement. They all show it differently, but you know. Right now, Steven is pouting.

"You're not fighting about taking care of me again? Are you? We talked about this."

"Uhh Marc has something to say."

Seriously!???

"Hi babe." Marc is cursing Steven in his head for leaving him to make an excuse.

"We just want to take care of you, and well, I think we all enjoy your attention a little too much when you're like this. And also last time you were sick, Steven did everything and didnt let us help. Don't want you thinking that I don't want to take care of you. "

Doing a great job Marc now she'll think we like it when she's sick!

"Marc, you don't have to worry about that. I know that you're all there for me whenever I need you. I love you. And also you work best as a team."

She's right.

Of course she is. Okay let's do this as a team.

And they do. Steven makes you tea, Marc cuddles you to sleep, Jake wakes you up to give you medicine and so on. You're back in full health in no time.

A week later, Steven comes from the museum with a fever. No surprise, of course, he spent most of the time with you in bed.

[The End]

hope you enjoyed <3

likes reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

[sweetercalypso]

Mercenary || Marc Spector

Word Count: 1.5k

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

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

“Darling, there you are!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You caught me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dance with me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait.”

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

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

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

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

“I, uh- I didn’t get your name.”

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

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

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

[layla4567]

I'm just a librarian ✿

Steven Grant/Marc Spector x Fem!Reader

Summary: You work in a library in the middle of London, you get paid well and you love your little reading space surrounded by books that rise to the highest ceiling. But one day your normality will be turned upside down when a guy comes looking for some books on Egyptian history.

A/N: Ok first of all I must say that this idea arose from a little dream I had (and I also wanted to use the image from the movie The Mummy, I mean, just look at her, she is beautiful, she looks like Belle) second, I don't know if this will have more parts the truth is I'm not good at making long stories because then I leave them unfinished or I run out of ideas so, yes, I'm building this as I go along, sorry.

Part 2

And here I am once again, sitting behind the counter where you could see an old green lamp, a couple of books stacked one on top of the other, a typewriter and a little badge where you could read my name. With my legs crossed I moved my airborne foot rhythmically back and forth following a silent melody while my face rested lazily on my hand. My view was always directed towards the large windows that were near the line where the roof began. They were in the shape of a half circle and had a nice drawing similar to a stained glass window through which the sunlight passed in a warm way.

I loved being around libraries just for the sake of being a bookworm. I could spend hours reading old books sitting in a comfortable chair enjoying the silence without realizing it. But it was kind of boring to sit and wait for people to arrive so that you could help them with whatever they needed. I had already finished arranging the books with the help of the ladder, I loved doing it, it was fun to slide from one side to the other, it was almost like skating.

I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn't realize someone had entered the library until they were in front of me so I gave a little jump in my seat.

"Oh so sorry! did I scare you? It wasn't my intention"

The person who addressed me was a very polite and kind middle-aged man, he had an innocent look in those pretty dark eyes he had. He was wearing a jean jacket and underneath was a white shirt, he was also wearing khaki pants and had a brown shoulder strap on one side.

"Don't worry, It's okay, I was just thinking, can I help you with something?"

I could not stop seeing his eyes, his look gave off a peculiar innocence glow, I could sense a genuinely beautiful aura like that of a child

"Well, yes. I was looking for books on Egyptian history, you know, gods and pharaohs, myths, pyramids, etc."

Every time he spoke his face would light up with enthusiasm, it was admirable to see

"Sure, we have several. Follow me please"- I said while my smile deepened

I led him through the aisles looking for the "Ancient Egypt" section by the gigantic shelves. The man meekly followed me like a lap dog without taking his eyes off me as he clung to his backpack. When we had reached the section, I took out 4 books, stacking them one on top of the other and numbering them as I handed them over to him.

" "History of Egypt", "Gods and mythologies", "Encyclopedia of the pyramids" and "The 10 most famous figures of ancient Egypt" And remember to return everything within 15 days "

I piled the books in the arms of that man who tried with effort to hold them since they were quite large and hardcover while I raised a finger and recited the prayer from memory. Even though the books were about to fall out of his hands, the man looked from the books to me with a beaming smile.

"Of course, yes, miss, I will do so. Thank you very much for your help"

I smiled generously at the man's good manners and walked him to my desk to finish the paperwork. I sat as the middle-aged man patiently watched me with his books in his arms like a child waiting for his Christmas present.

"Ok, I will give you a paper with the exact date where you must return the books along with our address, I would only need to know your name to write it down please"- I looked at him expectantly

"Steven Grant, Steven with a V"

I couldn't help but laugh at the clarification as if I didn't know how to write his name

"I clarify it just in case. A lot of people always misspell it, sometimes they call me Stephen. But surely you wrote it well, you seem to have nice handwriting hehe"

Steven giggled nervously as I smirked in amusement. What a singular man that Steven was

"No problem, what a nice name you have"- I smiled warmly

Steven got more nervous and his face begins to take on a cute reddish color as he stuttered and mumbled a thank you.

"By the way, my name is Y/n"

I told him, pointing with a fingernail to my badge that was resting on the desk. He looked at it for a while and smiled

"Now I won't forget"

And with one free hand he gave me a childish wave as he uttered a sweet "Laters gators" and headed for the exit. With one elbow on the table and my hand resting on my cheek, I watched him until he disappeared through the door.

"Steven.."

I pronounced his name slowly delighting myself with the syllables, it was sweet as honey and resonant as a bell. I was wondering if I would see him around here more often. I sighed with a lopsided smile and went back to staring at the stained glass windows waiting for someone else to come and help them.

The days passed and I didn't hear from Steven, he hadn't returned the books within the agreed period and I was beginning to worry. He supposed that this man was a little distracted or had forgotten or was busy with something important, anyway it was very common for people not to return the books on time and to be a little late. My head was full of thoughts hoping nothing bad happened to Steven and hoping to see him again when someone stormed through the library entrance.

"I'm really sorry!! I got there as fast as I could, apparently I fell asleep and woke up in a place full of sand. I have a sleep disorder, I'm sorry"

Steven was talking fast, spitting out the words like a machine gun, he looked agitated and his hair was messy. And on his face you could see the nervousness and concern. I tried to reassure him

"Steven, Steven calm down, it's okay. I get it, you don't have to apologize."

I grabbed his hand and squeezed it hard trying to provide warmth and protection. Steven giggled nervously and his cheeks turned pink, it was adorable.

"Oh by the way, here are the books"

Steven took out of his bag the books in perfect condition that I had given him. At least he was a man of his word

"Thank you very much Steven, do you want any other books?"

"Well actually yes, if it's not a bother, wouldn't you have one that talks about the moon god Khonsu?"-he said something nervous

I laughed in amusement

"Of course! We have many books on Egyptian gods, take the ones you want"-I said tenderly

Steven for some reason gave me a strange feeling, a maternal need to protect him, he looked so helpless at times. I can't even imagine how chaotic his life must be

"You know something? Why don't I buy you a coffee? I'll give you the new books and then we can hang out and chat, I have a break in 15 minutes."

Apparently Steven didn't expect that so he got even more red.

"I-Is it some kind of date?"

"If you want to see it that way, yes"

Steven smiled like a kid in a toy store and followed me back to the bookshelves. After giving him everything he needed, he waited for me at the entrance of the library like a true gentleman. I left my position in charge of my partner Selma who answered me with a grunt and left with Steven towards the nearest cafeteria.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _

We sat at a table close to the street. The cafeteria was decorated with flowers and vines, it was my favorite, it made it look Parisian. We both ordered a simple latte and to eat I ordered a croissant with chocolate and he asked for a kind of vegan burrito, then he explained to me that he doesn't eat anything that comes from animals.

"Well Steven tell me something about yourself, do you have a job?"

"Yes, I'm working in a gift shop at the British Museum. But I would really love to be the one who makes the guides"

"Really? Amazing! who'd say? You are a museum and history enthusiast and I am a bookworm willing to provide you with all the information you want."

We both laughed happily forgetting what was happening around us. Steven's laugh was like sweet nectar to my ears that made all my worries disappear. Except for one that was still on my mind

"Wait a second, how come you woke up in a place full of sand? Where exactly?"

"I have no idea, I wish I knew. But it's not the first time it's happened to me, one day I woke up on top of Everest"

Steven started laughing downplaying it and I laughed too but with less enthusiasm. I was worried about him.

"Well I think I should go back to my work, thanks for everything I really needed to talk to someone and distract myself"

I looked at Steven tenderly, thinking that I was probably the only person he could talk to broke my heart.

"Anytime Steven. Anyway, I also have to go back to work, the time flies by when you talk"

I left a tip on the table and was about to go to the library when Steven stopped me with a question.

"Would you like to visit me one day at the museum? It's that I always visit you...-"

"I'd love to"

We said goodbye with a smile as if we were lifelong friends and each one went their own way to continue with their work on that beautiful afternoon in London.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Sorry if it was boring and there wasn't much interaction with Steven but this is just the first part of the story

[boredzillenial]

Steven 🌒,Marc 🌓, Jake 🌑, all three 🌕

College AU Series 🌕

🌙 “Is That My Shirt?”

🌙 Coworkers

🌙 Biting

Western AU Series 🌓

🌙 Stargazing

One shots

🌒 F.A.F.O 🌑

🌙 Teasing Steven via text has consiquences

🌒 Stronger Than I Look 🌒

You and your coworker Steven are doing inventory late at night. Being a bigger girl you hadn’t worked up the courage to make a move. But an artifact hidden amongst the trinkets in stock changes things.

🌒 The Giftshoppest 🌒

📨 Steven helping you during an awkward moment in the museum and a bit of flirting ensues

🌓 Caught 🌓

📨 MoonKnight Marc walking in on the reader masturbating while house-sitting for him. She panics but he drags her to his bed where he makes her tell him what she was thinking about

🌒 Impact Play 🌑

🎃 You ask Steven for Impact Play at dinner, Jake steps in to show him how it’s done.

🌓 Slow & Soft 🌓

🎃 Marc had a rough night, you find him in the morning and give him what he needs.

🌒 Praise Kink 🌒

🎃 Steven accidentally discovers a new kink with you.

🌑 Wordless Apology 🌕

Jake takes Marc and Steven away during wedding planning, and you’re done.

[mlqueen89]

Pairing: Steven Grant/Marc Spector/Jake Lockley x OFC 

Word Count: 5,042 

Tags & Warnings: violence & mentions of violence (blame Jake) but relatively PG-13. 

Genre: Fluff, hurt/comfort, touch her and die, one-shot. 

Summary: In which Steven’s crush becomes a mutual moon boy crush. 

A/N: So this thing started out as a random thought I had about Steven “pebbling” when he likes someone. It turned into this.  

Sorry, not sorry. I’ll turn my mind back to the things I promised I’d do after this brief, but cool thing I did. Look, it’s shiny.  

Be kiiiiind, I’ve watched Moon Knight exactly two times, once when I told my partner that I wouldn’t watch it without him but did anyway and then the next time when I had to pretend to be surprised by the episodes when he inevitably wanted to watch it. If anyone gets the Latte Macchiato reference in relation to the moon boys, you’ll be my best friend forever.

Steven Grant felt more like Steven Grant than he had in a very very long time.  

That was, if he didn’t count actively thinking about himself in the third person and that there was no way he could hide the fact he walked three blocks out of his way to go to this coffee shop every morning for almost a month.  

Especially not from them. 

The bell over the front door was tinkling before Marc, ever present, ever watchful, ever knowing, chimed in, Steven catching his reflection in the glass of the door. You know we know what you're thinking, right? 

Steven smiled nervously, more to himself, and less to anyone in particular, as he tucked in at the end of the line three people long.  

“Not now. I'm getting coffee,” Steven rasped, thankful the din of the small shop masked his whispers. 

You sure about that?  

Steven hated how smug Marc sounded.  

He never let Steven be when it came to women. Especially beautiful women. Wasn’t it enough that Steven was painfully awkward on his own? He didn’t need Marc’s help messing it up, he was perfectly capable of doing that on his own. 

Three weeks. It had taken Steven three weeks to work up the courage to order a coffee here, from her.   

Three weeks of walking to the front door, apologizing for being in the way as people tried to get in and out while Marc told him this was a dumb idea.  

Three weeks of talking to himself in the shower, creating a conversation that never existed because he couldn’t bring himself to walk through the door.  

Three weeks of almosts and maybes and Marc telling him to get it together. So here he was, now, finally getting coffee.  

Steven stepped up to the counter his eyes focused on the petite brunette behind the till, the green apron she wore hiding a vintage AC/DC shirt just underneath, the ink of hidden tattoos peeking out from under her sleeves.  

“Hi, hiya-” Steven cleared his throat, his eyes searching for a name tag quickly, “… uhm?” 

“Ami - like Amy, but Ah-mee,” Ami smiled a smile that reached her eyes, pushed them up in the corners, accentuating the almond shape of them. Ami smiled like she hadn’t spent her whole life explaining her name instead of choosing one that would have been pronounced properly—Beth or Milly or Emma. “Hi, Steven.”  

Steven started, “I —uh.” She knew his name? How could she know his name? 

Ami quietly tapped the front of her own name tag and Steven’s eyes drew down to the one clipped to his shirt, peeking out from under his own jacket. Right. Of course.  

“What can I get for you?” Ami said, the sound of her smile in her voice. 

“I uhm—a coffee?”  

Marc snort-chuckled in his mind and Steven wished he could bring his eyes to meet the vision of Marc hanging around in the reflective surface of the shiny coffee machine. Three weeks of shower auditions and you didn’t think this far ahead? Order a black coffee, get out of her hair, it’s her job to smile at you.  

“I don’t want a black coffee.” 

“No black coffee. Got it.” Ami’s voice was light, cheerful and it had Steven’s imagination chugging along at speed as she chewed the inside of her cheek in thought, her eyes studying him, analyzing.  

Was she always this cheerful in the morning? If she looked hard enough, could she see Marc, sarcastic and perpetually perturbed and Jake, dark and dangerous, sitting behind his eyes? Steven wondered.  

“How about I surprise you then?” 

Steven nodded and shifted his weight. “I like surprises.” Steven didn’t like surprises named Marc or Jake, didn’t like surprises that shared his body and moved him around like a puppet, an unseen hand wiggling around his insides. 

Ami drummed her fingers on the register for a moment, her eyes moving to search the ether for a moment longer before she made a small noise that sounded like a eureka moment. “I’ve got it. You seem like a latte macchiato kind of guy.” 

Steven smiled, a shaky kind of smile that he felt would look encouraging. Latte macchiato sounded nice. 

Ami moved to the machine with too many handles and buttons, sweeping around behind the counter as she made the drink. Steven moved with her on the other side of the counter, watched her curiously as she concentrated on making the drink. 

“The Eye of Horus,” Ami’s eyes didn’t lift from the stirring and pouring she was busy doing. It wasn’t a question, more of an observation, but her casual tone caught Steven off-guard. 

Your geek pin, genius. Marc chimed in as Steven faltered, his eyes searching the speckled countertop. 

“Oh,” Steven reached up to the small triangle pin stuck to the breast pocket of his coat and touched it, reminding himself that it was there, tapping it twice. “Yes, right. Yeah. Protection and health. Can’t ever get enough of those, am I right?” His laugh was only a bit dry, but nervous. 

Steven bit his tongue before he launched into a deeper explanation. Marc had told him that the yammering on about ancient Egyptian deities, minor and/or major, was off-putting. People didn’t like it.  

Part of Steven wondered if Marc only said that because Layla had liked it.  

Reflection Marc flipped him off.  

Ami’s voice shook him from the scowl he fixed at the shiny surface of the steaming machine. “I loved Egyptology when I was a kid. Even took an elective in first year Uni.” Ami smiled up at him then, grabbing a lid for his coffee and pressing it on top. “Almost liked it more than my journalism course.” 

Steven smiled in response as Ami pushed the cup across the counter at him. “Here you go, latte macchiato Steven.”

Could we— Steven’s small voice itched at Marc’s right temple, scratched only in the way that it was annoying, in a way that wore a person down, a spoon digging a prison escape over the course of months. Just to say hi? 

It had been three days since the last time Steven had shuffled his way into Ami’s coffee shop and ordered another latte macchiato. Three days since Ami waved enthusiastically when she saw him walk through the door. Steven had worn the Bastet pin, backed by a colourful lotus flower and an ankh, the one from the gift shop, the one he’d asked Marion to bring in because cats sold well.  

Everyone likes cats, Marion. Steven had reasoned, pointing it out on the order form as he slid it across Marion the Merch Manager’s desk. Steven smiled in his Steven way, sparing a small, awkward, aww as he pointed to the framed photo on Marion’s desk—her miniature pinscher, Rufus Sewell, dressed as Rick O’Connell from that movie Steven had grimaced through, but secretly liked.  

Had there been an ulterior motive to approach unapproachable Marion with his disarming awkwardness? Of course—Ami liked cats; Steven had noticed the small cat tattoo curled on her skin near her elbow. 

When Ami pinned the enamel Bastet to her apron, her small squeal of surprise and the resulting radiating smile were well worth the trouble he’d gone through with Marion, immediately justifying any continued false interest in min pin Rufus Sewell’s ridiculous costumes. Steven’s heart soared; the feeling astronomical. 

“Not today, pal,” Marc muttered, his hands stuffed into his pockets and the baseball cap pulled down low over his eyes as he threw a glance over his shoulder for any sign of the tail he had managed to shake, careful not to look up into the coffee shop as he passed. 

What about that pin from the new exhibit? Jake’s voice was more pronounced, unmistakable in the attention it demanded. Marc likened Jake to the feeling of an oncoming migraine, one that caused his ears to ring, punch drunk. The bird -. 

Thoth, Steven gently corralled Jake toward the correct answer, represents wisdom and writing – very gentle. His wife, Sesh - 

Marc rolled his eyes. Hard. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me, you too?”  

Marc wasn’t surprised that Steven had tripped over his dick on the coffee shop girl. What was surprising, was that Jake “cold as fucking ice, shoot you in the face to say ‘howdy’” Lockley, was, apparently, following suit. 

Ami, Steven corrected, curtly. The vision of Ami moving carefully behind the counter in the coffee shop, hair that escaped her messy bun floating around her face, bloomed in Marc’s mind. She has a name. 

Que linda, Jake murmured in agreement, his voice husky, marveling in a way that had Marc conjuring his own visions of Ami—her skin bare and soft under his touch, the granite countertop in his apartment under her as he stood between her legs, his mouth roaming, tasting her tattoos. 

“Can we focus, please?” Marc shook his head to dissipate the vision, loosening the cloud from his mind, willing the feeling that stirred within him to dissolve just as quickly. It was a miracle he was able to get anything done with Steven and Jake knocking around in there, waxing poetic about a girl.  

Call him Marc the “Last Bastion of Fucking Sanity” (hitherto referred as “LBFS”) Spector, but Marc wouldn’t fall for the cute coffee shop girl with the dimples and the tattoos. He was digging his heels in hard – he’d pull them all back from the edge before he let them drag him over the cliff with them. 

See, you’ve noticed too. Steven’s itchy voice was gleefully smug.  

Marc hated it—hated that he was right. Hated that when he looked up and through the plate glass window as he passed the store front, he could see Ami laughing with a colleague. Hated that when she looked up and caught his eye and waved, smile wide and genuine and her dimples… dimpling, he could feel himself smiling back. Above all, Marc hated that he didn’t hate it all that much. 

Marc’s stomach flopped as Jake growled something inappropriate, he didn’t quite catch, and his eyes quickly drew back to the sidewalk. 

It was the next Thursday in September before Steven found his way through the door of the coffee shop again; the Thoth enamel pin wrapped in the palm of his clammy hand. 

Just give her the pin, get your coffee and ask her out. Marc coached with a huff.  

Steven nodded, quite literally to himself, as he stood in the line three people deep, shifting nervously. 

“Pin. Coffee. Ask.” Steven counted the steps on his fingers carefully as Marc groaned, a sound that would have come with a face palm. 

Marc had argued in the mirror the night before that he should have been the one fronting when they approached Ami.  

“Out of all of us,” Marc gestured dramatically, shuffling about, sniffing shirts and tossing them aside when they didn’t pass the test, “I’m the only one who’s been married.” 

Marc picked up a cigar cutter from a small table beside the couch, dried cigar clippings stuck to the blades and littering the floor beneath. “Are you smoking this shit again?” 

Jake chuckled dryly, pointedly ignoring Marc’s question, his dark eyes following Marc’s rushed pick up of the space below the brim of the newsboy hat. You’re also the only one of us who’s been divorced, hermano. 

Steven sat quietly in the reflection of the apartment, but his bottom lip jutted out and his head titled to the side as if Jake’s point couldn’t be argued. 

I mean, Steven shrugged, he does have a fair point. Reflection Steven absently picked lint off the leg of his trousers, seemingly uninterested in the conversation at hand. 

“How many times do I have to say it—that was a mutual separation!” Marc huffed, throwing his hands up before he stalked off to wash a plate in the kitchen sink for the third time, Steven hanging around over the reflection of Marc’s shoulder.  

“Don’t make that face at me.” 

What face? Steven asked, making the face. This – this is just my face. 

“That -” Marc jabbed in the direction of Steven’s reflection with a soapy finger, eyebrow cocked, “that face.” 

When Steven woke in the morning, in control, he knew Marc had agreed—at least partially. Steven would front. 

“Pin. Coffee. As—” Steven was going through the list again, touching the tip of each finger with his thumb, his eyes on the heels of the person in line in front of him, when the shouting began. 

“Listen, bitch.” A man in a pressed suit was immediately aggressive, his stubby fingers reaching across the counter to flick the name tag pinned to her apron, “Ay-mee. I’m missing my 9 o’clock meeting for this shit.” 

Puta madre.  

Steven could feel Jake bristle somewhere in the back of his mind, the tingling feeling of brain freeze, as he jostled for dominance, willed Steven to step in.  

Jake always felt like an attack dog on a short leash. Today, that leash felt especially short and the post stuck in the ground meant to keep Jake Lockley on a leash, behind the nice white fence that was Steven’s barely held together control, wobbled in the metaphorical dirt. 

“I don’t take fucking oat milk.”  

Pressed Suit slid the drink across the counter at Ami so hard that it wobbled and tipped, the plastic lid popping off and spilling hot oat milk coffee toward Ami.  

“How many times I gotta tell you and my stupid air-headed fucking assistant? Do it again and don’t fuck it up.” 

He’s gonna take something else is a hot fucking minute. Marc leaned on the fence of Steven’s control, the old man with the shotgun stepping off the porch. Give me the body, Steven. Let me have a chat with this piece of shit. 

“No.” Steven whispered, his fist tightening around the pin in his hand until its sharp edges stung, a reminder that he was in control. “No. I can—I can handle this.” Steven squared his shoulders as he stepped out of his place in line, inflating himself with a false sense of bravado.  

What Would Marc Do? Steven thought, what would Marc do?  

Steven sized the man up, eyes scanning the too-tight tailored suit and height. Taller than him by at least a head; his arms suggested he saw the inside of a gym more than two times every four years, on purpose and not because he had to use the bathroom before he made it to work.  

Steven. Listen to me. You don’t got this, pal. Marc was shaking the metaphorical bars as Jake seethed, ready to break his bonds and stage a coup d’etat. If Marc were Steven, Steven would give the body to Marc. 

“Steven’s got this.” Steven muttered under his breath, walking past Marc’s reflection in the shiny coffee machine, “Steven’s handling—” 

“What the fuck do you want?”  

The man with the stubby fingers and the throbbing neck vein and the Bluetooth bud sticking out of his ear spat as Steven approached with a tentative, awkward wave.  

“You here to trouble-shoot this moron, man purse?”  

His eyes touched on Steven’s satchel before he motioned at Ami behind the counter as she wiped up the spilled coffee as her co-worker scuttled behind the counter, remaking the drink. 

Ami didn’t look up at him, but Steven could see the redness in her ears, the way her fingers trembled as they gripped the coffee-soaked rag. “Ami?” 

Ami’s eyes darted up, catching Steven’s careful ones and he could see then that there were tears welling up and threatening to spill. She offered him a small smile, one that moved her lips, but didn’t reach her eyes. Steven’s heart broke in two and ignited a fire, three-alarmed and white hot in his mind.  

“Oh, Ami—” he hummed, his eyes softening. 

“Talk to me, I’m talking to you.” The man pressed two fingers into Steven’s chest, pushing him back so that he stumbled over his own feet, bumping into the person standing next in line. The Thoth pin he’d been holding dropped to the floor and skittered under a nearby table as his hands searched for something to brace himself against.   

“Bollocks—” Steven made a move to pick it up, leaned forward to chase it where it had fallen under the table closest to the counter. 

Eyes up, this is an eyes up situation, Steven. Marc warned in the back of Steven’s mind.  

He could tell how badly Marc wanted to front, the way Steven’s fists flexed at his sides told him as much. 

To be fair, Marc was more experienced in this area of life—Steven didn’t have Mercenary on his CV, he barely had Fist of Khonshu under the “Summary of Qualifications” header. As he tipped forward, Steven’s eyes focused on the shine of the Thoth pin under the table, he’d have to get it later.  

“Just thought that you might, I dunno—” Steven hated how small his voice sounded now as he straightened up, how appeasing he was trying to be.  

He’d once heard on an online instructional self-defense video how, when faced with a situation wherein you had the disadvantage, being reasonable was the best way to navigate.  

“—Maybe just get coffee somewhere else? Just if —you know —” 

The man chuckled and half-turned away and for a moment, Steven thought he’d handled the situation with grace, channeling the instructional video’s vibe. He’d have to leave a nice comment on the video after work. 

Steven!  

Marc’s voice rang out in his head and Steven flinched only slightly at the sound before he noticed the man had turned back to him, his balled fist aimed straight at Steven’s jaw. When it connected, bone on bone, Steven didn’t feel the pain, didn’t feel the way the momentum knocked him back.  

In that moment the dam within him broke. Steven could sense it. The lightness just before a fainting spell, the tinny whine skewing the sounds of the coffee shop, the airy feeling just before he lost control of his own body, another hand taking over the marionette, pulling the strings— his conciousness was being usurped. 

Whether it was Marc or Jake who had finally broken free, he couldn’t know.  

For Pressed Suit’s sake, he hoped it was Marc.  

Steven fell back, back and back until his head met the edge of the counter, a dull thud and then the sway of his vision before he sunk into blackness.

Marc had broken through first despite Jake’s efforts after Steven had lost consciousness.  

When Marc came to, on the floor of the coffee shop, his head cradled on Ami’s folded legs, Jake had retreated to a far corner of Marc’s mind. Quietly, he seethed, plotted. Waited until Marc stumbled into their apartment and fell asleep, icepack wedged between his pillow and the back of his skull. 

From there, Jake wasted no time. 

Pressed Suit Man had been easy to find.  

It almost came as a bit of a disappointment to Jake as he watched the man hop skip down the steps of his brownstone, briefly look both ways as he crossed the street and slipped into the back of Jake’s yellow cab. Jake felt his grip tighten on the wheel, the cap pulled low over his eyes as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across his face. 

“I’ve got a dinner meeting at Capaldi’s on 7th.”  

Pressed Suit grunted as he shifted in the back seat, his eyes focused on the phone gripped in his beefy hands, his pinky ring catching a bit of light that shone in through the back seat in the twilight. “Get me there in 10 and I’ll make sure you get a nice tip.” 

Jake nodded without a word and without looking back, pulling the brim of his hat further down over his bruised face, Steven’s bruised face. Quietly, he pulled away from the curb and entered the throng of traffic. 

By the time his passenger had noticed that something was amiss, Jake had already pulled off the turnpike, the tires dropping off the road onto the gravel under the overpass. 

“Hey asshole,” Pressed Suit was hammering on the plexiglass divider, his fat fingers wedging between the sliding piece of the separation as Jake calmly shifted the cab into park. “Does this look like fucking 7th to you, dipshit?” 

The man fumed as Jake popped open his driver door and stepped out, taking a few steps back so that he was a good distance back from the yellow cab. 

In the back seat, Pressed Suit shifted with some difficulty, rattling the handle on the inside of the car, his face growing redder and redder with each passing moment.  

Jake huffed, impatiently, shaking his arm so that the sleeve of his jacket fell back, exposing the face of his watch. 

There was a low crack and muffled cursing, and Jake looked up to see the man with the door handle, broken off in his hand, using it to hit the glass.  

Above them, cars whizzed past on the freeway—the isolation of this place nearly absolute. 

“Cerdo impaciente,” Jake murmured before he took a deep breath and shrugged. Stepping toward the door to the backseat, just as the man inside began to throw his weight against it. The car rocked with his efforts and Jake wrenched open the door just as the man threw another shoulder at it. 

With his own momentum, the man tumbled out, landing in a puddle just outside the door, his large frame sopping wet as he struggled to push himself out of the stagnant, dirty water. 

Jake didn’t wait for his passenger to compose himself. Fisting the back of his dress shirt, Jake threw the man forward onto the dry gravel, where he landed with a grunt. 

“What the fu—,” the man peered up at Jake in the dim light, the glow of the cab’s headlights the only source of light under the overpass. 

Jake moved smoothly to the man’s side, reaching into his coat pocket and producing the butterfly knife he’d tucked there before leaving the apartment. With a flourish, he opened the knife, burying it in the back of the man’s beefy calf, just above the ankle. A quick slice and the muted sound of a ‘snap’ like a rubber band told him he’d hit his target. The Achilles tendon, severed. 

The scream that followed satisfied Jake, the sound of it clawing at a deep itch that had begged to be scratched for so long. 

He deserved it, Jake told himself. He deserved much more than what he had planned for him, this sad excuse for a man.  

The man’s screams turned hoarse as Jake folded the knife carefully, slowly and reached into his inner breast pocket to trade it for something else. 

The man scrambled, his one good leg pushing his large frame against the body of the cab until he was sitting upright, cowering.  

“Wait—wait, I—” he outstretched his hand, a pitiful attempt to shield himself. “I’ll give you money, you want money, right? The tip I told you about before? I’ll give it to you, a hundred-fold, I just—” 

Quietly, as the man bargained, Jake pulled out a cigar from his inner breast pocket, rolling it between his fingers. He paused for another moment before he reached into the pocket at his hop and pulled out the small cigar trimmer. 

“On the contrary. I have a ‘nice tip’ for you, cobarde,” Jake murmured, carefully snipping the end off as he spoke. “When you speak to a lady, show some respect.” 

“What?” The man sounded almost surprised, and Jake looked up from under the brim of the hat he’d tucked down over his eyes. 

“Respect.” Jake repeated the word, slowly, carefully, his voice just on the edge of warning. 

“Who sent you, was it—it was my assistant, wasn’t it?” The man had lowered his hand slightly now, unsure of what would come next. “I swear to fucking Christ, she’s fucking dead.” 

“Cuidadoso...” Jake warned again, his tone still even as the man continued to curse about his assistant. “Respect.” 

“Her whole fucking family —I’m going to have them deported for this.” The man was seething now, his situation momentarily forgotten in the misplaced anger he held for his poor assistant. “I’ll destroy her and then when she begs me not to —” 

Jake didn’t wait for the man to finish, didn’t provide him with another warning. Swiftly, he reached forward, hand snapping out, fingers closing around the man’s wrist and tugging forward. With a sharp twist of the man’s arm, Jake slotted Pressed Suit’s pinky finger into the cigar trimmer, just past the first knuckle. Without hesitation, Jake squeezed, the blades pressing down into flesh until the resistance was gone, a report of the satisfying snip at the end of the cut. 

The man’s scream was drowned out by an eighteen-wheeler thumping over the roadway overhead. As he writhed, Jake pulled out a white handkerchief from the lapel pocket of his long duster jacket, crouching to gather the dismembered digit, folding it away in the pocket of his coat. 

Patiently, Jake waited for the man to compose himself, the ebb of blood running down his wrist darkening the man’s dress shirt. 

“If you ever think about harming another woman,” Jake started, his voice even, calm, eyes locked on the man’s as he whimpered. “I will know, and I will come back for another.”  

Jake Lockley’s eyes drew down pointedly to Pressed Suit’s large belt buckle.

“A latte macchiato is one part espresso, one part cream, and one part milk dollop,” Marc murmured, scrolling through his phone and reading aloud from the mommy blog recipe page he’d found. 

When Marc had woken up the next morning, his body aching, head pounding, eye still swollen and his lip split, he noticed the small speck of blood on his neck that couldn’t have been his.  

When he’d stripped off another layer of clothing to get into the shower, he’d been able to connect more tiny flecks of blood spatter just under his chin with his eyes as though they were constellations. 

“What did you do?” he muttered, eyes hard, hands grasping the edge of the porcelain sink as he stood in front of the chipped mirror in the tiny bathroom, his grey sweatpants slung low on his hips. 

Took care of the problem. Jake’s response was casual, as if it was natural and fine, as though the information was on a need-to-know basis. 

“Fuck.”  

Marc’s head rolled forward, chin to chest. It made his eye throb as the blood rushed forward, his eyes staring at the pristine white of the porcelain, focusing on where the hard water had dripped from the tap and stained the otherwise perfect white with a teardrop shape of yellow. “Are we going to have to move again?” 

Move? I don’t think we need to get too hasty— Steven’s voice was two tones too high. We just moved here—I like this place. 

No need to move. I was careful. There is no evidence to connect us with— Jake began, his words slow, drawn out. 

Marc’s eyes drifted to his hands, a stain of soot on the webbing between his thumb and index finger drawing his attention. It took a beat for the pieces to come together and when they did, Marc rushed to the decorative fireplace in the living room and fell to his knees in front of it. 

Quickly, his hands moved aside the false logs stacked there and came away soot stained black.  

They’d have to fucking move.  

Blood spatter and now this: evidence that something had been burned here. 

Relax, amigo. Jake’s voice rolled up in the back of Marc’s head, smooth like the slither of a snake. There’s nothing left to find. I didn’t kill him. I wanted to kill him. I could have killed him, but I didn’t. 

“Am I supposed to say, ‘thank you’?” Marc’s chest was heaving, his sooty hands running through his hair and smearing the ash down his face when his hands passed over his eyes and down his cheeks. 

Might be considerate. Jake replied after a beat of silence. 

Marc kicked himself for teaching Jake about how to be considerate, because it meant that Jake could easily turn it back on Marc. Which he did—more often than Marc cared for. Marc was swearing off self-help books on co-existence with “difficult” personalities. Marc didn’t think the authors of the books he was reading meant “personalities” in the actual sense which Marc co-existed with them. 

Once he was showered and dressed, Marc turned his mind to recreating the latte macchiato. He wouldn’t be going back to that coffee place for at least a month, maybe two. 

The machine hissed, emitting a puff of steam that sounded like the squeal of a beast that protested being tamed. Marc jumped back; his arms pulled in. 

I think we can probably go back to the coffee place now? Steven chanced, his tone hopeful in a way that only Steven could be in a situation like this. Ami texted us twice about meeting up— 

“I just think we should lay low for a bit,” Marc interrupted Steven as he moved to the fridge to grab the cream, his phone in hand as he opened the door and reached in without looking. 

What his hand hit in the space where the cream usually sat, was decidedly not the cream carton. 

When Marc looked in, the small plastic baggy in the middle of the otherwise bare fridge caught his attention. It hadn’t been there before and Marc sure as hell didn’t have the extra cash lying around to buy Ziploc bags. Cautiously, he reached in, seeing the red smear in the bag as he inched closer. When he picked it up, he wasn’t sure how to process what he was seeing. 

“Is that a fucking finger?” Marc’s voice was cartoonishly high as Steven gagged in the stainless-steel reflection of the fridge door. 

He wanted to give me a tip, Jake shrugged. It would have been rude not to take it, no? 

A/N: Feedback is always appreciated. Might do more like this in the future.

[freedvmrouge]

INJURY.

fandom: marvel.

character(s): moon knight, soldier.

word count: 472.

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

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

masterlist.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Maybe so," Marc concurs. 

[messrmoonyy]

All my moonknight works in one place.

Marc Spector x reader, Steven grant x reader, Jake Lockley x reader, Layla El-Faouly x reader. Drabbles, one shots and hcs!

Moonknight requests are currently closed

☆ - smut ♡ - fluff ☾- angst

HCs: One / Two

Drabbles: One / Two

Late night talking ( Avenger reader ) ☆ ♡

Steven gets curious about your powers and reminds you how little he cares about your dark past

Kisses in Cairo ♡

You have the coordinates for Ammits tomb and now all you have to do is find it. With a little help from Steven

The vegan in the steak house ♡

As waitress youve seen your fair share of people get stood up on dates. But none quite like Steven Grant

Fine ( FWB reader ) ☆ ♡ ☾

Friends with benefits was never going to work with someone like Marc Spector, was it? Unless he learns to open up

A date of sorts ♡

You’d always been to shy to ask Layla out, but you finally do it. Sort of.

HC: One /

[jake-g-lockley]

Only for You (Steven Grant x reader)

Masterlist | Playlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shrunk slightly under his gaze, suddenly feeling shy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Steven took a deep breath before continuing.

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

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

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

“Fuck.” was all that you managed instead.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Told you I can fuck really well.”

“FUCK OFF, STEVEN!”

Tagging: @romanarose @mintpurplemnm

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

[uncharted4bliss]

steven grant paying for a prostitute but then being so nervous they end up cuddling the first time the entire meeting and the second time he lights candles and when she finally starts to kiss him and grind on him he whimpers and cums in his pants and cries abt it bc he’s just a pathetic little baby but she comforts him but that just feeds into his praise kink more and he accidentally bucks his hips again and squeaks at the sensation bc it’s too much but “oh gods mmmfff please y/n please fuckk nnnnnghh aaa h. ow mmh it hurts” *humps leg more* “ohh fuckkk nnnn sss *drools*. “

[thedarkcoven]

@melodygatesauthor lol you're working on Miguel (and almost done <3) and I am working on Jakey boy as a lil gift for ya (Dark!JakeLockley/moon boys) ^w^

Lil tease

[bluehourbucky]

Ice breaker

pairing: Steven Grant x reader

summary: the first date awkwardness

a/n: I'm still new to writing for Steven so bare with me <3 sorry about the tt reference but I just thought it be funny fhdjdhd

main / moonkinght

_______________________________________

Steven was getting nervous his first date with you is tonight.

He has changed his outfit four times already and if he changes his tie once again he'll be late which won't leave a good impression.

You and Steven met at a library you both often visited, and one time, it just happened that you both wanted to borrow the same book. Unfortunately, there was only one available. Steven and you both wanted to let the other person take it, and in the meantime, someone else had taken it, you had laughed about it and did rock paper scissors to decide who gets it the next time it is available. Steven won, so he promised to let you know when he finishes it so you could borrow it. That's how you exchanged numbers.

You have texted only regarding the books you were reading at the moment and only saw each other at the library. However, last time you had managed to gather courage to ask Steven on a date. Fortunately for you and him he had accepted and you were really excited. Steven is unlike any other man you've met.

He's so sweet and considerate but can be sassy when he wants to, it desn't help that Steven is extremely handsome.

Steven was kind enough to choose the place even though you were the one to ask him on a date. He had told you that he is vegan and you really didn't want to choose a restaurant that had nothing for him so you asked him to do it.

Steven actually blushed when you asked him that, he really appreciated your consideration to his needs.

Steven takes one last look at the mirror and finally manages to get out of his apartment a bit later than he originally wanted to, but he can still get to the flower shop nearby and get you flowers.

"Good evening, I know it's late and you're closing in five but could I please get some flowers." Steven asks as the bells on the door still echo through the flower shop. The lady sighs but nodds.

"Thank you so much I appreciate it. I was wondering if you have dark pink carnations?"

The lady shows him what she has considering it is the end of the day.

"Ah, these are quite light. Do you maybe have some darker ones?"

The woman goes to the back and comes out with the exact ones Steven was looking for.

"Thank you so much." Steven pays and quickly heads into the direction of the restaurant.

He sees you've already arrived and are waiting for him, so he approaches you awkwardly. He hasn't been on a first date in so long.

"Hello, love, sorry I'm late." you turn around and flash him a smile and Steven thinks its the most beautiful smile he's ever seen.

"You're not late I just arrived a bit early because I thought I was late."

"Here these are for you."

Your mouth forms and O before you cover them with your hands.

"I- Thank you Steven so much! It's been so long since I've gotten flowers! They are so beautiful!"

you look at the flowers in awe.

"No problem, darling. Uh shall we go in?"

"Oh yes, please." you're still blushing and when Steven gently rests his arm on your back to lead you in, you can't help the butterflies in your stomach.

The restaurant isn't particularly crowded it's just that all the good spots have been taken

"Bullocks, I should've reserved a good table I'm sorry."

"It's alright I don't mind where we sit." and you really don't you're just excited to be with Steven.

It doesn't take long for you to decide what to drink, with food It's a bit different all of the options look very tasty.

After some consideration and Steven's help you finally decide what to order, but as soon as the waiter leaves its silent.

The silence isn't that awkward but it also kind of is.

Steven's mouth are quicker than his brain so in order to break the awkward silence he suddenly blurts out a random fact.

"Did you know the ancient Egyptians belived that the most significant thing you could do in your life was die?"

Firstly you look at him blankly but then you laugh.

"That's really interesting and an awesome way to break the ice. Tell me more." You say, and Steven let's out a sigh of relief. Needless to say, there were no more awkward silences.

[the end]

not really happy with this but oh well

[daughterofthequeen]

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