#marc spector one shot
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
inklore · 1 year ago
Text
PARASITIC
Tumblr media Tumblr media
premise: your fingers wrap around his throat to pull his head from your neck. his heart thrumming against your palm. you could end it right now, squeeze the life out of him, wait for another unsuspecting human to fall into your lap. but you won’t.
pairing: marc spector x succubus!reader
contents: p in v, coming inside, somnophilia, light choking, mind control so dubcon, death mentions, blood and slight gore, biting, oral, masturbation, sub!marc i guess, reader is a monster therefore has a monsters body | wc: 2.8k
note: i hope everyone is having the best hornfilled month thus far, i missed writing for my number one emo boy!
KINKTOBER WEEK ONE: succubus, somnophilia.
Tumblr media
You know hunger. 
You’ve grown accustomed to it—the never ending rumbling in the pit of your stomach that begs you to feed. The ache your teeth get to bite into something, your lungs threaten to stop working if you don’t cater to the hunger. To fill them with something leaking with life—that sweet tang that only humans have to hold onto their meek lives with a determined fist that makes them taste sweeter on your tongue.
It’s been months since you’ve gotten your fill. 
The pile of decomposing bodies you sit on like a throne becoming one with the dirt on the cave floor. The drip drip drip of water and the scurry of nails in mud from the rats who share your feast with you, your only company. Nagging noises that only set you on edge and make the craving in your gut worsen. 
Feeding off the dead only makes you sicker. 
Serves no purpose for what you are. What you were made into. What you became so long ago. What keeps you destitute in this cave and the relic you’re bound to.
Magic put you here, and by magic, you’ll stay and wait. 
Wait for your next meal; for the grins of unsuspecting humans to enter a cave they expect to find undiscovered and holding riches where it only holds a death sentence. 
A dinner for one. 
They come; they always do. 
And they always see the same thing; a beautiful woman trapped in a cave, crying and begging for help, so weak and caked with mud, naked and inviting. A potential victim to some, a treasure to others. But they always fall the same and taste the same when you have them pressed against a wall, your tongue down their throat, licking at their insides. Tasting their misery, their fear when the veil is finally pulled back and the horns, jagged teeth, and black eyes come into view. Gone is the innoence of a lost woman, and gone is their want for you. 
Fear tastes delicious on your tongue, but the hunger inside your gut gnaws for the carnage that only comes from lust. The little death that you bring when you keep the veil over their eyes. When you lower them to the floor and sink down on their weeping cocks and use their bodies until their nothing but a shell, you’ve sucked dry. 
Fucked until their life beats in your belly and you feel full. 
Taking bites out of them and wearing their blood like a blanket. The coppery taste makes the opening between your legs clench. An added high to your appetites. 
Your life an endless cycle of feeding—devouring—only getting your fill for a while until your body longs for more substance. More death. More life. 
And maybe if the kills—the fucking, the blood, the taste of the cords of a neck, the tang of a life being drained through a straw and into you—weren’t so delicious, you’d want something more than kills in a dirty cave. A variety of lungs to squeeze into your mouth like a flimsy can. 
Thoughts of leaving the depths of your cave don’t come until you see him. 
Until he enters your feeding ground. 
Marc. 
There’s always a different smell to humans; greed, anger, fear, excitement.
Never darkness. Never shadows cast behind the eyes and a desperation to rid the tar pulling at the bottom of their hearts. Begging to be rung dry of the misery that’s sunk into it. That holds on. That can’t be found at the bottom of a bottle, inside someone's pussy, or through bloodied fists. 
It’s all you can smell when he enters the cave. 
The two others' scents clouded over by his.
By the deep set of his brow. 
By the way anger and grief cling to how he moves. How he steals and claims things within your home like he owns them. Like he’s found the answer to that desperation in his heart. The score that will finally fix everything. 
You don’t make yourself known. Don’t put a veil up, don’t hide in the shadows, and wait for your victim to find you. 
No. 
You’re a breeze on his cheek when you reach your fingers out to brush against his skin, his eyes unknowingly meeting yours. Staring into the black depths of the soul you don’t have—making something quench and yearn for something you haven’t felt since before. 
A deep groan rattling in the cave as you let your tongue slip from your mouth, the feathery touch of the tip running along his pulse point—a slap at his neck, a bug to him—his taste sour and sweet and intoxicating. 
The perfect blood bag.
A beautiful tortured soul to feed off of.
To play with.
For days, months.
Forever. 
The sweetest of treats falling into your lap, you can’t let him go. Refuse to let him become another meaningless body in this cavern. He’s too pretty, too delicious to drain within seconds. To not drain that desperation with a slow, loving hand would be cruel.
And with a helping hand, your relic is placed in plain sight like an offering from the devil; he’s putting it in his pocket, unlike the other jewels that lay clattering in a bag at his side, like he knows. Knows all you can give, take, and lick from his body—that tar soaked heart dug into by your nails until he’s coming and you’ve fixed him—drained him.
You don’t touch him for weeks. 
Letting yourself continue to go hungry and crave. 
Your insides gnawing at you like a rabid dog trying to let itself free from a cage to bite the hand that feeds it. 
And it seems the more you play with him—the more you haunt his mind with dreams of meeting a strange woman in the shadows, her hand around his throat as she rides him, his fingers dug into her skull as he fucks up into her, hard, rough, raw, marks on both their skin red and bloody. The sweetest noises falling from his lips as his hips rock against his mattress, the weak noise of him coming in his pants and waking up in a cold sweat, chest heaving and heart pounding like a symphony of hymns to your hungry belly—the more you wonder whos torturing who here.
The more your teeth ache, the more you feel starved. 
So many nights spent beside him in bed watching him sleep, making him dream, whispering in his ear. Never allowing yourself to touch him because you know you won't be able to stop. 
He’s a prized treasure you want to take your time with. 
To keep.
But allowing yourself a little appetizer won’t hurt. You need it. After all the playing you’ve done with him from afar. A little touch won’t hurt, you won’t let it. 
As you round his bed, Marc on his back, his chest moving rhythmically as he sleeps peacefully, the tip of your nail moves along his arm. You can feel the beat of his heart, slow and calm, as you press into the crease of his arm. The thrum making arousal beat it’s own drum between your legs. 
His scent even more intoxicating now that you’re closer to him. Now that you’re moving the covers from his body, perched at the side of his bed as you watch the twitches and small beads of sweat move along his frame. The dark briefs he’s wearing cling to his thighs—thighs you want to sink your teeth into—hiding the treat you want to taste tonight. 
You don’t need to touch him to make him see you or to plague his dreams once more with the girl from the shadows. But you want to touch. Need to touch. So you press your fingers to this temple and smile at the way his mouth parts with a small gasp when you’ve inserted yourself into his mind. Your fingers grip his jaw with a light hold—lighter than you’ve ever treated a human—as you turn his head towards you. 
Watching the contorts of his brow bone as he dreams, the hard swallow, the grunts as you waste no time in getting the dream to where you want it—him fucking you, the girl from the shadows, a dream disguised as a nightmare. 
You watch his face for a beat more. Let your fingers run through his hair, trace the pulse in his neck, his bottom lip before you press the lightest of kisses to his parted mouth—letting your tongue run along the chapped skin of his bottom lip for less than you’d like to. 
There’s something else you want to taste. 
The nails at your feet digging into the mattress as you climb over him, maneuvering yourself so you’re kneeling between his thighs. 
He doesn’t stir when you pull down his boxers; why would he? He wouldn’t. He’s too happy in the throes of his dream. Buried deep in the pussy of a monster with a beautiful smile. 
The evidence of that, of the enjoyment of the dream you’re casting, leaking at the tip of his cock. Clear and sweet as you bend and gather it onto your tongue. Swallow it down and sigh contently when your stomach flutters in approval. 
You’ve watched him wrap his fist around his cock for weeks now. 
Even after he’s woken from his dream, his boxers sticky and clinging to him. A vengeful fist wrapped around his spent cock, the scowl on his brow from how oversensitive he is—from the burn you know he feels, the ache and pang of being overused and finding pleasure from it making you bite into your own arm so you won’t reach out and feed off of him. So you won’t stop this beautiful sight. 
He looks so pretty like that.
Making himself grip the sheets, grunts and groans, flowing through the air as he fucks up into his fist in anger, frustration. There's a hatred in it, and it makes you yearn. 
And when he says your name, a name you whisper against his lips in his dreams but in his ear in reality, it’s better than feeding you think.
But not better than the way he tastes.
Your tongue runs up the length of his cock, a smile at the corners of your mouth when you look up, and his lips have parted more. Fingers dug into the sheets, a whimper stuck in his throat as his hips buck. 
Those pretty noises make your hunger greedy the more your tongue moves against him, the tip wrapping around the head, pushing into the slit of his cock to taste the bountiful offering he’s giving you for pleasing his cock. 
When you finally put him into your mouth, the guttural noise that falls from his lips as his back bows makes you purr. Makes you pump your mouth faster and harder so he’s reached the back of your throat—a cavern without a bottom—the suction your body contorts to pull more of his noises, more of his pre-come from the very cock you’ve been hungry for for weeks—is animistic. Not fully your style. 
But Marc is different. 
Marc is potential. 
A divine feast. 
You know he’s going to come soon. 
And your stomach begs for it. Begs for you to keep going until he’s come so deep down your throat that you’ll feel fed for days or weeks. Your hunger sedated by his sweet taste. 
But you want more. 
Another part of your body begs to be fed—filled by his leaking cock. 
You were made to seek pleasure, after all. To share it with your victims, to come as you bared your teeth into their throat or watched the life drain from their eyes with your tongue down it. Your come coating their cock as there’s pulled the last breath of life from them. 
Your indulgence in Marc has gone as far as it should tonight. Has gone past what you promised to be just a taste, but you can’t stop yourself from climbing on top of him. From sinking your wet cunt down onto his hard cock, the air caught in his lungs as he fills you. A deep sigh of relief makes your body shake. 
And you should leave it there; you should just fuck him until you’re both coming. Not let your hunger get the best of you and drain him before you want to—before he’s ready. 
But you want to see his eyes when he’s coming inside you. Want to see the desperation they hold. 
“Marc,” you whisper into his ear. Your hips rocking slowly, enough to have his cock moving against the walls of your pussy. Enough to make him stir and whimper. “Marc, wake up.” You kiss at the skin below his earlobe, your tongue coming to lick at the sweat that coats his body, your taste buds mewling. 
When he finally comes to, slow and out of breath, he doesn’t freak out. Doesn’t push you off of him when he sits up and wraps his arms around your ribcage. His dark eyes looking up into your black ones. 
He doesn’t see the horns, the sharp teeth, or your dark lips and tongue. Doesn’t see that you’re nothing like the girl in his dreams—except you are; you’re she, and he still thinks he’s dreaming. Still thinks you are nothing but an innocent fuck, a hole for him to feel at home in. 
To forget those parts of his brain that cause those shadows to gloss over his eyes and that anger that makes him bloody his knuckles and punish himself. 
He looks up at you with need in his eyes, desperation, hunger, admiration. 
And all you can do is smile.
Cup the back of his head, your fingers digging into his hair, your hips moving again—faster and rougher his time. 
His mouth biting and kissing at your collarbone and chest, his fingers digging into your shoulder as he holds onto you as you fuck him. As you bounce on his cock. 
It’s so much better than you’ve imagined. Than you’ve watched playout in his mind, than you’ve felt with other victims.
But Marc’s not your victim. 
He’s not just a feast. 
Something to fuck and eat. 
He’s saying your name into your neck, letting his teeth sink into your flesh. Your own purrs and noises mix with the sounds of skin on skin, wetness, and raw fucking that only feels this good when it’s depraved. When someone’s about to lose something.
Not this time, though. 
Or maybe even the next. 
You feel your lips tingle, a silent plea to press to his mouth and deflate his lungs. To feed on more than just the taste of his cock and the fill of it inside your cunt. 
Your nails dig into his back to stop yourself—making him groan, his hips bucking, fingers and mouth becoming rougher against you the closer he gets to coming. The more needy and desperate he is for his release. 
There will be dried blood there in the morning. Scratches he won’t be able to explain. 
A satisfied noise rumbles in your belly at the image of watching him look at them in the mirror with a scowl. 
Your own orgasm on the cusp of soaking his cock. 
Your fingers wrapping around his throat to pull his head from your neck; his lips wet and swollen, his pupils blown out, heart thrumming against your palm. You could end it all right now, squeeze the life out of him, and wait for another unsuspecting human to fall into your lap. 
But you won’t.
Not even as you press your lips to his, the kiss rough, Marc’s hand at the back of your neck to keep you there. Like he’s been waiting for your mouth to be on his all night. Like it’s what he needed to finally be able to come—his hips thrusting up more sloppy and quick. His breathing more ragged. 
“Look at me, Marc.” You say against his lips before using the hold on his neck to bend his head, so he has no choice but to look up at you. To look up at the monster who’s claimed him. Who’s falling into the depths of the darkness in his eyes and squeezing the tar from his heart one dirty dream at a time—one stroke and clench of her cunt at a time.
“Come for me.” 
His head nods, a weak noise that sounds too much like your name to be anything else as his hips thrust up one more time before he’s spilling inside. Before you’re coming on his cock from the way his eyes gloss over as he keeps looking up at you. As he clings to your body—this big, tough man. 
This killer, this self loathing human, looking weak and all yours. 
You don’t let him catch his breath before you press your mouth against his and take it from him. A few puffs—the appetizer. 
Your eyes rolling back, hunger sedated, full, warm, fed.
When you pull your mouth back, his eyes are hooded. 
His fingers come up to your cheek, thumb pressing into the line of your jaw. “Thank you,” he murmurs before you press your fingers to his temple and make him slip back into sleep.
302 notes · View notes
fluffyprettykitty · 2 years ago
Text
‘falsify’
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Pairing: Marc Spector x female reader (no other specifications!)
Word Count: 1400 words
Warnings: swearing, smoking cigarettes, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal penetrative unprotected sex, cum eating, bodily fluids as lube, manipulation, finger sucking, fingerfucking. if i missed anything major pls lmk!
Outline: A little white lie never really hurt nobody. Plus you could only benefit from it.
Author’s Note: based on this request (a thousand months later but it's here!) & this poll, mind the warnings and proceed!
P.S: dividers by @firefly-graphics || banners by @maysdigitalarts
Main Masterlist ・❥・ Marc Spector Masterlist
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Marc is kneeling down on the floor, his one arm wrapped around your leg, his leather boots dirtying up your wooden floor. You roll your eyes and breathe a sigh of frustration. This was not your scene. Picking up men from the floor and comforting them is not your forte. You were a woman of little words and big actions.
"You don't mean it..." He pleads, his strained eyes meeting up your strict gaze.
"I've meant worse." You shrug and take a drug of your rolled cigarette. You almost feel matriarchal looking down on him, so you decide to be a little nice, you offer him the cigarette.
"C'mon, pretty boy, get up."
He does as you say, taking the cigarette and allowing it to hang loosely off his lips as he is silently heading to your couch. Remorseful, happier even, there's no joy to his walk but you know his heart is skipping a beat. That's the kind of slut he is. Yesterday you were bent over on that couch getting drilled in it like there was no tomorrow.
As for today? That's gonna be the same scene as well, but it'll most likely be the last time.
It's taunting watching him like that. Smoking, with his hair all messed up, his eyes were red from crying and his eyebags hanging off your most depraved dreams. His jeans are dirty because he could never pick a washing machine out of a crowd and the laces of his boots are loose, there is a small peak of his happy trail as he throws his back on the couch, opening his legs. You've seen his cock before you know how big it is, and you know he needs more room than that.
You're thinking to yourself how he's probably not wearing any underwear, how his jacket on the floor smells just like you, and how his fingers come in so close contact with his lips. Dried and washed up. Just like the rest of him.
You really meant to break up with him, being with him get you nowhere but well fucked.
But you need to break his confidence so he could maybe leave you alone.
Just not tonight.
He is taking the last drag of the cigarette and leaving it on the ashtray. He looks delicious. Ready for taking.
"I love you." You murmur and look straight into the center of his eyes. You know that would get the most reaction from him, you know he'd fuck you so well to prove himself to you, to impress you because you love him, because you're a force together, because -whatever romantic bullshit he wants to tell himself.
Oh, you were selfish. But who could blame you?
The speed with which he gets up from the couch the moment he hears your words and pushes you against the wall marks the decision on your mind as great. You will ghost him tomorrow and he'll never ever find you.
He crushes his lips onto yours, teeth crushing against teeth, noses battling each other, his hand gripping your head forcefully, his hand straight on your pants. He wants you, desperately, carnally, forever. He bites down your neck, sucking your skin, his finger getting inside his favorite body part of yours. He pushes the finger inside, thankful for your love of dresses and cotton panties. Easy access, constant fillings.
Your hands are on his hair, always on his hair, loosening them up, getting lost inside those curls and his lips continue, kissing, sucking down your collarbone, down your breasts. Once on your nipples, he goes on full beast mode, pushing your dress down with his nose and sucking on the buds looking for his favorite brand of honey.
You are using him, using his affection on you, his addiction on you for a good time, for a wonderful boost of serotonin.
But who could blame you when he kneels like that holding on to your thighs and looking up at you with the look of the most obedient child, before he buries his head so far deep inside your pussy, your leg on his shoulder, your hands still on his hair that it makes it all worth it.
Your own personal fucktoy and he didn't even know it.
He sucks on your clit so deeply, two fingers already inside your vagina, and he's moaning at the feeling of your cunt, loving the way she just invites him in like the best lover she ever knew. As if he is her commander.
And the way he loves it when he makes you cum twice always right before he fucks you, just by getting in such close contact with your clit that she ends up dormant makes your plan succeed.
He thinks you love him still. He thinks your feelings were fused by your earlier fight, he truly thinks you'd stay.
He pushes his jeans on the floor and of course, there is no underwear to speak of. His cock, hard, leaking, standing stiff against his stomach and you gulp at the sight. And he chuckles. That cocky chuckle of his.
"Think she can fit all of me in, huh? Don't worry darlin', I'll make sure she does."
And he pushes his cockhead inside, always teasingly, always pausing to look at your face, his hand on your chin lifting it up to make sure he's getting that first breath of hot air on his face. Watching your mouth open and your eyes roll. He loved the effect he had on you, he always thought he was in control.
And he pushes more, shoving two fingers inside your mouth as you willingly take them in, sucking them in, as his eyes dark as the night stays on yours. He sees right inside them and he learns nothing, absolutely nothing.
He thrusts. And it's desperate, punishing, dominating, and romantic at the same time. He sees you as a doll, his doll, you see him as your own personal brand of fucktoy. His lips are hanging open as he's making noises himself, whimpers of the "your pussy is a too wet cause of me" type. He loves to hear that sound of his cock swimming inside your juices.
Marc continues for a while, until he pushes his fingers out of his mouth, moving his hand behind your head and crushing his forehead on yours, the other hand on your waist and then he starts. The main show.
He pistols his hips in such a fast and brutal way, slapping sounds filling the narrow room, your moans echoing, as he licks his lips together and fastens the pace, over and over again until he feels like a drilling machine inside you. That man could last, he could last all fucking night, just to give you the most full cumshot you'd ever seen.
So you don't beg him, you don't ask him for it, you know he's gonna do it when he pleases, he's gonna empty his load when he feels you had enough, not mattering if you came on his cock five or seven times, he'd continue until he felt like the time was accurate for you.
Oh but when he did it was so beautiful, he'd slow down a little, losing control of his hips as he went and then he'd stare at your mouth and lick your lips, and then he'd begin to unload, and look down as he'd slowly start pulling his cock away with his right hand, his left on your head pushing you to look down at the way he filled you up.
And he'd chuckle "Can't fucking put it all in, huh? dumb little pussy."
He'd scoff and scoop up the spare with his hand and force you to lick it, his cock getting harder the more desperately you'd eat it.
Until he'd do it all all over again.
On the couch,
on the floor,
on the broken bed,
on the bathroom sink,
in the shower,
on the kitchen table,
against the door,
in the elevator.
And you'd never blame yourself for getting on that plane never to be found again that following morning.
Tumblr media
If you want to be notified about my future stories please follow my library blog @fluffyprettykittylibrary and turn on notifications!
305 notes · View notes
boredzillenial · 11 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
Steven 🌒,Marc 🌓, Jake 🌑, all three 🌕
Tumblr media
College AU Series 🌕
🌙 “Is That My Shirt?”
🌙 Coworkers
🌙 Biting
Western AU Series 🌓
🌙 Stargazing
Tumblr media
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.
72 notes · View notes
jake-g-lockley · 2 years ago
Note
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?
Tumblr media
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 ~~~
373 notes · View notes
rancidpancakebatter · 2 years ago
Text
Strawberries and Cream | [S.G.] [M.S.]
Tumblr media
Pairings: Steven Grant x Black!Female!Reader, Marc Spector x Black!Female!Reader
Summary: It's valentine's day and your boys surprise you with breakfast in bed
Word Count: 3.4k words
Content Warnings: Swearing, established relationship, fluff, fluff, and more fluff
( Masterlist )
Tumblr media
A/N: Wowowowow, this took so long! Apparently, I don't know how to write anything other than angst, so it took me like six stories until I had one with just fluff. I had a lot of fun writing this though. HAPPY BELATED VALENTINE'S DAY! (And Black History Month, that is why we're here)
Tumblr media
You woke up on the fourteenth, thrumming with excitement. The sun’s gossamer rays crept into the room, and you basked in the honey glow, letting the warmth soak into your skin. You wrapped yourself tighter in your sheets to fight off the chill and realised you were alone.
Usually, you would wake up feeling a little clammy and pressed into the mattress by a snoring hunk of muscle who had rolled over onto you in the night. But this morning, the furnace you were accustomed to waking up under was nowhere to be seen. 
You slowly sit up and look around. There’s a different book on the nightstand. Which tells you they at least came home last night. Steven had just finished reading Don Quixote with you, and it seems your next bedtime story was Flowers for Algernon.
You heard something fall to the floor in the kitchen, then a string of curses. You would have panicked, maybe considered that your apartment had been broken into, but you recognised that voice…and the other.
“Steven cut it out. We only need one chef in the kitchen.”
“Yeah, well you forget I’ve had your food. And it’s not good mate.”
“Whatever, you don't even eat real food.”
“Cows are cute and I don’t want to eat them! But that’s beside the point. Crepes are tricky and you’ve already ruined the batter, just let me try and fix it, yeah?”
“I didn’t ruin anything. That extra egg was just- just good protein.”
“Well, now they’re gonna be too eggy! It’s gonna taste like an omelette!”
“Oh, shut up it’s fine. Everything is fine!”
Peering around the corner, watching them switch back and forth, you almost giggle. They're frantically whisking away, the mixing bowl tucked into their chest, pinned by their arm. Pinched between their fingers was the compact mirror you kept in your purse, but it seemed backseat driving was no longer sufficient.
They're covered in flour, and there's a bit of batter splattered on some of the cabinets, and across their cheekbone. Chaotic Domesticity. It was a good look on them. 
They don’t see you when you step out of the hallway, “I’m sure it will be delicious, my loves.”
Your voice startles them slightly, and they almost drop the bowl. You quickly try to discern whose fronting. His brows are high, and his jaw is slightly slack. You step around the island divider and wipe the spot you noticed earlier, hoping it might calm him down. 
“Steven, if they taste like omelettes, then I will be delighted to have omelettes. But crepes are great too. And so is that cafe down the street. Whatever works out, as long as you guys are there to eat them with me.”
He melts in your hold a little; his face tilting into your palm. But then he jerks it away very suddenly. You’re confused as he backs away. 
“Oy! This was supposed to be a surprise!” He’s upset but not with you, just in general. However, his expression falls into a frown that breaks your heart a little. “We had a whole plan.”
“It’s alright, dear. I won’t look at anything else,” You say as you throw your hands up to cover your eyes. “Just tell me what you need me to do.” 
He chuckles at your antics, and you feel a little brighter. He explains that they planned to bring you breakfast in bed today. You shuffled back to your room and closed the door that way they would feel like they would get a little more privacy.
You tidied up a bit, picking up some clothes from the floor and remaking the bed. You stepped into your ensuite, brushed your teeth, and washed your face, then you let your braids out of your bonnet and tended to them accordingly. With nothing else to do, you wandered to the bookshelf in search of a title to pass the time. 
Alice had just met the dodo and sacrificed her thimble when you heard a knock at the door. 
“Are ya decent?” You heard Marc’s gruff voice call out. 
You chuckle at the absurdity. You were currently wearing his shirt and his boxers in your shared bed in your shared apartment. He had seen you naked plenty of times. 
“Based on previous reviews, I’d say I’m more than decent,” you tease. 
You hear his laughter in the hall, and you inflate with a bit of pride. He cracks the door and loudly “whispers” through the gap.
“Steven wanted to wake you up with breakfast. Is there,” He sighs, embarrassed to ask, “Is there any way you could pretend to be asleep?” 
You chuckle, knowing Steven can hear everything Marc says right now. “Of course. Anything for my boys.”
He shuts the door again, and you feel like you’ve been transported to the days of your childhood. Those times your parents would come into your room to tell you goodnight and tuck you in. But then you would immediately hide in your impenetrable fortress made of cotton and down and stay up reading for just a little longer.
After a few chapters, you could hear your parents walking towards your door to ensure you were asleep. Your heart would pound in your chest as you fumble to turn off your flashlight and try to hide your book under your pillow so your parents wouldn’t know you had gotten lost in the Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane yet again. 
You feel a bit of adrenaline course through you as you scramble around. You're frantically searching for a bookmark and spot a receipt sticking out of a jeans pocket in the laundry. You shove it between your pages and toss the book under your pillow. Then you yank the blanket up, high above you and tuck the edge under your head. You watched the blanket cascade back down in a slow wave, like the rainbow parachute from elementary gym class. 
You scrunch your eyes closed, as tight as you can- when you hear a gentle rapping on the door. It slowly creaks open again, and your name is whispered into the air, but you don’t respond. You’re supposed to be asleep. You’re not fallin’ for that.
Your lips are folded into your mouth as you try desperately not to giggle, staying as still as possible. You can hear steps approaching their side of the bed. They set a few things down and let out a long dramatic sigh that you recognise as Steven’s. 
“I know you’re not asleep.”
You remain still. 
“Really?”
He sounds more amused than irritated, so you continue the bit. You know Marc is definitely getting a kick out of this. 
“Your food’s gonna get cold, and Marc and I worked too hard for you to let it go to waste. Now, come off it. Let’s see that beautiful face.”
Steven hears a muffled sound from the covers, but it’s indecipherable mumbling. 
“Didn’t quite catch that love.”
You huff and tug the blanket under your chin.
“I said, If you wanna wake me up, you know how. I expect a proper waking up.”
As soon as the words are out of your mouth, you pull the blanket right back over your head. Steven grumbles but doesn’t complain. The sound of fabric ruffling and hitting the floor fills the room, and you can’t fight the grin spreading over your cheeks.
The rush of cold air on your back as the covers were pulled back was well worth knowing you had won. He slides in next to you and tucks himself in. Already your body seems closer to equilibrium, just having him near.
He pulls at your shoulder so you're laying on your back, and his arms immediately worm around your waist as his head rests on your chest. Your hands naturally come up to hold him closer, one draped over his back and the other tangled in his curly hair. You released a content sigh at the feeling of him snuggling into you as your nails pass through his curls. 
You almost forgot what brought you into this situation in the first place. You are so at peace, intertwined with your lovers. But then Steven starts trailing kisses across your shoulder and up your neck. They are sweet and tender, feather soft. Each one pressed into your skin with consideration and devotion.
He reaches your cheeks, and one of his hands cradles your jaw. The way his fingers drag across your skin makes you feel like a precious stone, and the way he looks into your eyes makes you feel like a star plucked from the heavens. 
He tugs gently at your chin, and your lips part as he ever so slowly leans in. You’re sure he can hear the way your heart is racing. The way it whispers his name every pump.
His nose bumps against yours, and you feel the faint sigh that leaves his lips against yours. You nudge your chin closer, trying to close the gap, but he manages to move just out of reach while staying just as close. 
“I’m waking you up, darling,” he reminds you with a small smirk. 
You whisper out a small okay that sounds pathetically desperate even to your ears, but you can’t find it in you to care. Because now his lips are brushing against yours. His slightly chapped lips set off every nerve ending in your own. His tongue darted out for just a moment to run against your bottom lip, and you gasped at the contact.
He dipped his nose under yours, and the torment began on the other side. He kissed your cheek, and you were about ready to snap. Had you been standing, you would have stomped your foot in frustration, and Steven would have laughed at your childish response. But he was teasing you relentlessly (which was already out of character for your sweet boy, who is always so eager to please), and it was getting harder to breathe under the covers. 
His head is tilted so that it is almost perpendicular to yours. He moves his hand to cradle your cheek, his big hand almost covering the whole expanse of your face. He smiles sweetly at you before finally diving in. 
Then it happened. His lips attached around your parted lips and created a seal. He blew a big puff of air into your mouth, and your brain reacted in the same way you think it would if you had been shot. Your eyes bugged out of your head, your arms instinctively failed out, and you made a sputtering, gagging noise. Your cheeks comically inflated for a second before all the foreign breath shot out of your nose. It was like a forced sneeze.
While you were effectively stunned, Steven was full-on chortling, completely cracking up. You’re not entirely sure what “guffawing” means, but you’re sure that’s what this is. You think he might actually damage something, bust his gut or something. It would serve him right, swift justice. You had recovered enough from your initial shock to finally respond. 
“STEVEN MICHEAL GRANT! I cannot believe you did that! You not only faked me out but you- you...I don’t even know what you did! But it was horrible!”
The man you are scolding does not seem to care as he lies on his back, clutching his stomach and kicking his feet like a little schoolgirl. You playful smacked his chest as you sat cross-legged beside him in protest. You were upset, not because it happened, but because it happened to you. You didn’t want to admit how funny the joke was. Nor that you wished you had thought of it first.
His rolling laughter is cut short when his body suddenly stiffens, and his neck straightens with his chin pointing to the ceiling. The face that meets your gaze is a little hardened, tougher. His jaw is almost always clenched, and his brows are millimetres from furrowed. Sometimes it blows your mind how these two men can come from the same brain- cohabitate in the same body- when they are also so different. When they look so different. 
This is the same face, the same hair, the same muscle and skeletal structure, biologically, the same man, and yet, they are entirely different. Their goals and aspirations are much more copasetic than they were before, but they are still different. They have different tastes in music and food. They have different favourite colours. They have different hobbies and skills. They know different languages. It’s wild. 
But also they are similar in a lot of ways too. They are both shit dancers. Absolutely no rhythm to be found. But plenty of enthusiasm. They both like the smell of citrus. Neither of them really believes in multivitamins. You tried to get them to take some vitamin D (they are mostly active at night! They need it!), but even Steven thinks they're silly.
He promised to drink more orange juice. You didn’t have it in you to tell him orange juice packed vitamin C and not D and instead thanked him for making an effort.
They also both loved you. Like a lot. And that was pretty crazy to wrap your mind around too. 
Marc’s eyes locked with yours and you watched as his lips danced around his face, chasing off a smile. You gave him a warning look, but it had the opposite effect. He burst into a fit of snickers. He at least had the courtesy to try to hide it behind his hand. He sat up and tried to cover his tittering with the most obviously fake cough you have ever heard. 
“Sorry, had a little tickle in my throat.”
You roll your eyes and lightly check his shoulder with yours, “I know you were the mastermind behind that. My sweet little Steenie Baby would never do that to me. You’ve corrupted him. Truly a terrible influence.”
Marc throws his head back in a laugh (possibly an evil one, you couldn’t tell). He kisses your cheek in an effort to win you over, and you hate to say it works. He pulls you into his lap, and you settle into his chest. His arms rest under yours as he links your fingers together.
You tilt your head to the side as Marc takes his turn to pepper you with kisses and remind you how much he loves you. When he’s satisfied that his message got across, he tucks his face into your neck. There he stays, pulling your arms across your waist so he can still hold your hands while he presses your body as closely into his as modern science will allow. 
You sway along to a song that isn’t playing. Or maybe it’s not playing through the air but rather through your hearts. Perhaps the shockwaves of each throb are travelling through your bodies, having a private conversation you’re not meant to hear. A secret serenade. 
After what seemed like both forever and not nearly long enough, Marc left his hovel with a huff. 
“Steven says if we don’t eat right now he’s going to go ‘absolutely mental.’”  
You giggle and offer an apology to Steven while Marc leans over and sets the tray in your lap. It's a cookie sheet that they folded a towel around, so it wasn’t as cold or ugly. You smile as you admire its contents. A single red rose beside your plate, which was covered by a large bowl flipped upside-down, behaving as a lid of sorts. You unveiled your dish and gasped at the beauty before you.
Where you expected (maybe edible) plain crepes, you were instead presented with a large stack of hearts dyed to look pink and layered with some sort of white cream and strawberry slices. The top layer was adorned with little tuffs of the cream on the outer rim, with whole strawberries in between. 
You looked at Marc in utter disbelief, and he beamed at you, pride pushing his chest forward. “Happy Valentines Day, Sheyfele.”
You grabbed him by the cheeks and crashed your lips into his. The kiss was quick but steady and sure. “Thank you, both of you. I love you so much.”
You’re sure they can see your eyes becoming glassier, but neither comment on it. You extend the favour. 
“We love you too…Now please try it. Steven really is losing his mind here.”
It’s delicious (the sweet cream hides the little bit of egginess well), and you share bites with Marc for a while. He goes to readjust; prop up the pillows behind him. Marc had been putting his body through the wringer since he walked out his front door all those years ago. While he is definitely still young, his body isn’t what it used to be. He fluffs his, then reaches to grab yours. 
“What’s this, baby?” He holds up a book with an amused smile.
You laugh at the memory, “Oh, I was reading that this morning, but then you asked me to pretend to sleep, so I just hopped under the covers as quickly as I could.”
He hummed in acknowledgement as he thumbed through the pages. A small slip of paper fell out, and as Marc examined it closer, he felt his heart in his throat.
“Hey (y/n), where did you find this?”
You glance at the paper and answer between bites. 
“It was stickin’ out of your pant pocket.” You point to the pair hanging out of the hamper, “I’m sorry, was it important? I didn’t mean to steal it.”
You worry for a second that you might have upset him. You try to make light of the situation. “Imma strong believer in the ‘anything is a bookmark’ philosophy. You guys know my rule: use the first thing you see.”
Marc nodded in agreement, “Yeah, yeah, I know. Did you uh- did you see anything else? When you found this, I mean.”
You shook your head no. “I don’t meddle in any of the crazy shit you bring home, baby. I am not interested in accidentally gettin’ some pharao curse or getting hunted down by some god.” 
Your answer gives him relief, and he laughs alongside you. 
He tucks the paper back into your book and kisses your shoulder to grab your attention. 
“Would you like Steven to read to you while you eat?” You excitedly nod your head, and moments later, you hear Steenie’s sweet voice. 
“Alright, Alice in Wonderland; a classic. Good choice, love.” He kisses your temple, and you feel the same swell of pride in your chest that you would get when your teacher rewarded you with a little gold star. “Now, where were you?”
As you tear into your breakfast (sharing, of course) and Steven reads to you, you get hit with a feeling of gratitude. You feel at home here- with them. You feel safe and cherished. You feel more than joy; something better than happy. You feel contentment, fulfilled.
You had never been one to believe in fate before, but you thanked whoever was out there, whoever had heard your desperate prayers on your lonely nights. You thanked them for delivering…and then some. 
Your boys were also feeling that gratitude. They couldn’t believe they had found someone so truly beautiful inside and out. A woman who was damn near fearless, with a kind heart, sharp intellect, and tremendous patience. You were a treasure to behold.
Every morning they wake up expecting to be back in the dusty old flat with only books and a fish for company. But then, when they open their eyes, there you are, and it feels like the most extraordinary gift they’ve ever been given. Your love is something deserving of its own fable or myth. Your story should be told in reverie. A story passed down for centuries, like that of Osiris and Isis. 
But they also feel a little scared. They have big plans today. Plans to spoil you and fill your heart with joy. Plans to woo. Plans to convince you that they are worth it- that they’re worth you. Plans to prove to you that you are all they will ever need- all they will ever want. Plans to get on one knee. Plans to beg you to give them this chance at a happy ending. Plans to promise you yours.
Plans to pull a ring box from the back pocket of those pants dangling dangerously out of the hamper. Plans to slip the dainty gold band with a honey-warm, citrine gem- that he got on a mission last week in Bolivia- onto your finger. Plans to admire how it glows against your skin, and how despite its magnificence, it could never outshine yours. Plans that would have been ruined if you could read the Spanish receipt in your book.
Tumblr media
Taglist: @barbecuetiddy, @fanfics-instead-of-depression, @heejinw0rld, @ilovemoonknight, @Isshecrazyorissheclever, @purple-amaranthe, @jedisstark, @rudy-the-winged-wolf, @scorpiolystoned, @wannapizzamymindposts, @whoreforklitz,
If you want to be tagged in future Moon Knight fics but don't want to do the whole taglist thing again, just comment or reach out and I'll add you to it :))
Tumblr media
another A/N because whatever: I will be doing a little /headcannon break down thing for this because I'm kinda throwing some in there with no real explanation, but feel free to send me asks about any confusion. I love answering those!
I'm also gonna start linking those to the original fics too, so you (and new readers) can find them
204 notes · View notes
moonlight-prose · 2 years ago
Text
Tumblr media
A SUNDAY KIND OF LOVE
a/n: i've been feeling stressed because i can't seem to finish any of my long fics due to writers block or burn out. so i decided to write a small thing for marc spector, because i really miss him and steven. also mainly cause this is my dream romance scenario.
summary: a sunday kind of love...that was all you could have wanted with him.
word count: 678
pairing: marc spector x reader
warnings: none, fluffy as fuck.
Hints of sunlight beneath the midnight blue hue of the curtains gave way to a combination of warmth and cold. A perfect encasing of the morning afternoon where sleep crept up one’s spine and the scent of coffee from outside wafted through the room. The blanket was too comfortable to remove. Almost as if this was your armor against what remained of the frigid morning air.
An internal war of waking up and slumbering fought in the back of your mind as you cracked open your eyes. Like a cat unwilling to stir from a nap, you slowly allowed all six of your senses to return to you. The remainder of your body, still stuck in the grasp of sleep. A yawn escaped you, tears filling your eyes as you stretched slightly, the curve of your spine cracking softly.
You were unable to fully surrender to the waking world. You couldn’t. The cocoon you were a part of felt too much like the embrace of a lover. While your lover was gone, vanished for the day, you were still in their arms in your imagination.
The door cracked open slightly, the shuffle of someone attempting to walk lightly across the wooden floors, echoed behind you. That small bit of noise brought you out of your sleepy state, eyes opening fully as you fought against the exhaustion that still wracked your body. It turns out working late hours didn’t bode well for your state of being. Rather it left you immobile, barely able to lift your head to see the dark head of hair as he stripped off his jacket.
“Marc?” Even your voice sounded different, far more gravelly than when you were wide awake. Although he claimed to love the sound of you first thing in the morning—claiming he’d never heard anyone hotter.
“Shit,” he mumbled, turning to look at you like a deer caught in the headlights. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”
A lazy grin spread across your lips, the scent of coffee stronger now. “Mm, did you bring me coffee?”
“Steven’s idea.”
“Bullshit,” you huffed, digging further into the sheets that still smelled like him. “C’mere it’s cold.”
Though you couldn’t see him, you knew he wore a smile as he pulled off his shoes, letting them thump on the ground one at a time. The blankets shifted, his scent now combining with the richness of the dark roast he knew you loved. If you could, you’d bottle it up just to smell it all day, to be reminded of the man who owned every part of your soul. Who promised you forever with the hope that you’d say yes.
As if on instinct, he reached for your left hand, twisting the delicate ring that sat there. The movement made you smile, your eyes fluttering open to see his brown ones watching you with a look that continued to steal your breath each and every morning. The look that made you feel loved and beautiful. Leaning in closer you pressed a soft kiss to his lips. Savoring the flavor of the coffee he already sipped.
“Go back to sleep,” he murmured, brushing his thumb along your bottom lip.
“I have to get up for work.” The dreaded words that left a pit in the bottom of your stomach.
He still smiled though. “I called in sick for you.” Your eyes opened again, seeing the mischief that you could only claim as Marc’s. “So if they ask you have the flu.”
Sighing, you sunk into his embrace, feeling warmth encase your heart as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Love you,” you mumbled, being lulled by the steady beat of his heart.
“Love you more baby.”
Eventually you’d have to get up, join the sun in its ascent into the sky, but for now you could remain in your own haven with him. Falling asleep to the music of his love, the warmth of his touch. Sunday would come and go, but this was your forever. That alone was enough for you—forever.
204 notes · View notes
lostalioth · 1 year ago
Text
Tumblr media
everything marked with ツ contains smut, my blog is 18+ only regardless of if something contains smut or not. please read all warnings before reading any of my fics. all series contain a mixture of fluff, smut and angst.
Tumblr media
→ steven grant.
𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐬.
— desperate | kinktober 24’
 it was meant to be just a simple quick visit to your sweet boyfriend at work, a regular thing on your days off, something steven looked forward to. especially when the both of you snuck off to the bathroom. ツ
Tumblr media
→ marc spector.
𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐬.
— bad memories
a bad memory sends you into a panic attack waking up your boyfriend.
— bite down | kinktober 24’
marc could get possessive, very possessive infact and when that happens he cant seem to hold back. ツ
27 notes · View notes
love-is-a-dagger · 2 months ago
Text
Rain
Marc Spector x seer!reader/ slight Steven grant x seer!reader
Being stuck between the future, past snd present is hard work, thankfully you have the boys
Tw: mention of blood, an attempt at a horror?
I’m just really in love with heleana from house of the dragon and just got obsessed with moonknight again, this is my first fic in like a year and a bit and it’s all new again lol, this description sucks but I swear it gets better. I’m just in love with the boys being involved with seer reader but idk how to put it to works, hope you all enjoy 🫶🏻🫶🏻
Tumblr media
Rain. You always loved the sound and the feeling and the smell of it, everything. The rain also made it hard to see, made everything blurry in your head, maybe it was the constant sound or maybe the cold, but whenever it rained, you’d be staring out the window for ages, just staring blankly.
Screaming, constant screaming, then a cold feeling in your stomach
Flashes of different places, old and new. It was hard to see where you where sometimes. But the second you felt a presence on your shoulder, you were back in your flat London.
“Love?”
You’ve been like it for a while, half an hour to be exact, sat in your shared bed, watching the rain fall from the window. He almost thought you where frozen had he not seen you blink.
He knew about your gift, or curse, it interested Steven. To be able to see into the future or past, he knew it haunted you sometimes, when loud noises or flashes scared you and you had to hide in his shoulder, it was cute but he knew it wasn’t always fun for you.
He watched as you slowly turned to face him, a blank face soon turned into a smile hard to hide. You always felt a little silly whenever one of the boys found you like that.
“I’m okay” you nodded to yourself, still in a slight trance. His hand travelled to your upper arm and his other hand joined the other. He sat on the bed next to you, rubbing gently into your arms, the feeling of his hands was nice, he saw how you always held onto things after being out, the feeling of something always helped being you to the present.
He has a handsome face, you realised after seeing him in your first vision of him when you were 16, it was a random day yet to come when you first met him, it was Steven you met first in your visions, you can’t remember all the details but he was cuddling you and talking about your recent visit to his old job at the museum.
You watched as he looked at you, trying to figure if it was a good vision or a bad one. This was a rare occurrence now days, but you still felt embarrassed whenever it happened. His eyes became too much and you looked down, looking at the loose piece of skin next to your nail.
Steven, let me
Steven looks over to the reflection of the glass to see marc watching, his brows scrunched together, concerned for you.
You felt his eyes on you, his hand left your arm and his fingers pushed your chin up to face him. His face hardened, and you knew it was no longer your bubbly boy.
“I know baby” gently, he pushed a bit of loose hair away from your eyes, his hand made home to your cheek. You matched him and your left hand met his face, his flushed cheeks finding you comfort.
You move your mouth to try and make sense of what you saw. You never had full moments, only flashes. Marc watched as your eyes searched his for the answer, his hands never leave their spot.
Blood everywhere, you couldn’t see where it was coming from, all you knew was that you wanted your boys. The copper smell burnt your nose, making your crinkle your nose trying to avoid it.
“I-I think Steven wants another fish”
Smiling, Marc’s lips met your forehead. He loved your gift, the nonsense, the drama, everything.
He felt the soft giggles that escaped, as his lips left your head, your eyes meet and your smiles match.
She’s so pretty
Marc couldn’t help but agree with Steven, you were breathtaking, with everything you did.
Suddenly, feeling the trapping tightness of the curse leave you mind, you jumped off the bed, slightly making your boyfriend jump.
You legs feel numb, so does the rest of your body. You found yourself walking to the window, still felling his eyes on you, you open the window. Taking a deep breath of the fresh air, you spin around.
Marc was already looking at you with love struck eyes, a slight smirk on his mouth as he leans on his arm, watching your every move.
“Get up” you demand, making marc tilt his head and rise his eyebrows, very amused. But doing as he’s told, he gets up, each step of his feet getting slightly louder as he approaches.
Flapping his hands, If asking what now. Watching as you make a sudden movement to grasp his hand, the other meets his shoulder.
Confused for all but a second as you start slightly swaying, dancing to the rain. The warmth of his body is nice, a nice contrast to the wet weather. He smells nice too, you notice, guessing by the smell, Jake woke up with the body today, a rich smelling fragrance meets your nose as you hide your face into his shoulder. His spare hand meets the back of your head, comforting you as you snuggle to his chest.
He watches you as you close your eyes and breath him in, never in a million years would he think he would end up here, the love of his life in his hands and two new brothers. He never knew, but you did. You knew everything.
159 notes · View notes
petertingle-yipyip · 8 months ago
Text
SO LONG LONDON - STEVEN GRANT
Tumblr media
Pairing: steven x reader (established) (and then marc shows up)
Word Count: 2,489
Summary: Dating Steven was always a bit of a gamble. So when a beautiful woman comes to town claiming your boyfriend as her husband, you find a whole new side to the man you love.
//honestly idk what happened here, just go with it//
It made no sense.
You two were scheduled together all the time. Donna claimed it was the only way to make sure Steven actually showed up to his shifts. And for the most part, it worked. Occasionally, you two would have a day or two different and he wouldn’t show or would be ridiculously late. But you were usually able to explain it away to your manager so Steven wouldn’t get in trouble.
But now, it has been three straight days of Steven pulling no-calls-no-shows. Even when you tried to call him, it went straight to voicemail. Like his phone wasn’t even on.
You were walking around the city that day after work. You picked up some lunch and were looking at your phone, contemplating whether or not you wanted to try calling out texting him again, but the sharp whizz of a woman on a moped cut you off.
You stopped so suddenly in your tracks that your phone fell from your hands as you scrambled to catch your food.
“I’m so sorry!” The woman said quickly, suddenly in front of you with your phone in hand. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, don’t worry about it.” You shrugged it off and held a hand out for your phone. She went to pass it back to you but her eyes lingered on your screen where Steven’s contact photo was waiting.
“It was my fault for not looking.” You tried while she quietly stared at the screen. Your fingers hooked on your device and with a slight tug, you got it back.
“I’m Layla, by the way.” She said when you had moved to leave.
“Y/N.” You nodded. “Nice to meet you.” You tried to leave again but she spoke up.
“Boyfriend?”
“What?”
“The guy on your phone.” She gestured to your hand where your phone still sat. As subtle as possible, your thumb hit the lock button to hide the photo that was still waiting. “Is that your boyfriend?”
“Yeah.” You nodded. “He’s M.I.A. right now so I’m starting to worry. Normal girlfriend things, y’know? He’s a bit of a sleepwalker so…” You finished awkwardly.
“Would you…” She began and your brows raised. “Would you wanna get some coffee maybe? I think we should talk some more.”
“Oh, well.. Thank you but I should get home. I’m like three missed calls away from a missing persons report.” You tried to joke.
“It’s just that your boyfriend looks an awful lot like my husband.”
“What?” Your heart sunk.
“Yeah, uh..” She hurried to pull her phone from her bag. “My husband, Marc Spector. Maybe you’ve heard his name? He comes and goes for work but then I got a call and now I’m here trying to find him.”
“Oh!” You sighed in relief. “Okay, it’s probably a coincidence because my boyfriend’s name is.. Steven… Gra…”
Your sentence trailed off as Layla showed you her screen and a photo of her and someone who looked exactly like Steven faced you. His posture was different and you assumed his aura was as well. His hair was styled differently and he even wore different clothes than Steven would. Too similar to ignore but too different to convince you.
“Wow, um, that resemblance really is… Y’know what, maybe we should get some coffee.” You agreed.
After a while of you two talking, neither of you were convinced the other person was talking about the same person. Layla’s ‘Marc’ seemed to have a completely different personality than Steven. He seemed rougher, insufferable even. To be able to completely abandon your wife with no explanation was borderline appalling, and Steven would never. He hardly even went to run errands without giving you a full list of everywhere he intended to go.
As far as you could tell, the only similarity was their looks.
You offered to bring her to Steven’s apartment to show her that he was a different person with a different life. But when you knocked, your usual habit just in case he was home, he actually answered the door.
“Hello, Love.” He smiled at you, though the expression quickly faded when he saw yours. “Something wrong?”
“Steven, this is Layla. Layla, Steven.” You introduced before she had pushed past you both and into the apartment.
Steven looked at you in confusion but you smiled in apology with a small shrug. He stepped aside and gestured for you to come in so you did. Layla was investigating the small space and Steven was staying close to your side. You could feel his fingers tapping the back of your hand, his silent request to interlock your fingers together, but you put your hands in your jacket pocket instead.
“This is your flat, Marc?” She asked and you were thankful someone finally spoke to break the tension.
“I’m Steven, actually.” He answered.
“And you live here with her?” She gestured to you.
“No.” You answered for yourself. “I stay a few blocks over.”
“It’s my mum’s flat, actually.” Steven defended.
“You guys are talking again?” She asked as she found one of the poetry books on his shelves.
They exchanged remarks about the French poet and the hieroglyphics on Steven’s desk. You watched quietly and were finding nothing that could indicate Steven was Marc. But then again, the one French poet he knew just so happened to be Layla’s favorite. And his explanation of hieroglyphs was the same as hers.
Was it possible?
While the two turned to argue about divorce papers and Steven’s identity, you were distracted by the unusual gym bag on the table. You glanced and saw them take their conversation to another side of the room so you went over to the bag. You were thankful it was already unzipped so you pulled the sides apart and were dumbfounded by what you saw.
Stacks of money, a gun, a golden bug, and a passport.
You were drawn to the document so you pulled it out quietly and opened it, seeing a different name printed on the page.
“Marc Spector.” You read to yourself and your heart came to a screeching halt in your chest.
“Who’s Marc?” You asked suddenly, drawing attention to yourself. You held up the passport expectantly.
“Oh, jeez, uh…” Steven rushed over, crumbling the divorce papers under his arm as he reached for the passport.
“No.” You held it further away. “Who are you?”
“C’mon, love. You know me.” He tried, almost desperate for you to be on his side.
“I don’t think I do.” You said sadly. “Who’s Marc? Is he your twin brother or something?”
“I don’t know.” He answered quickly.
“He is Marc and he needs to tell me if we’re getting this divorce or not.” Layla spoke up and snatched the papers from under Steven’s arm.
“You seem lovely, Layla, truly. But I’m not Marc Spector.” He insisted and you so badly wanted to believe him. “I’m Steven Grant and I work at a gift shop. Well, I used to work at a gift shop. I just want my life back.”
“Doesn’t seem like you know which life that is, do you?” You slammed the passport against his chest.
“Y/N, please wait.” He reached for your hand but you backed away.
You nearly ran down the hall to the elevator. You needed to get away. From Layla. From Steven or Marc or whoever the hell he was.
It felt like you didn’t know him anymore. A different name you could live with. A secret job, sure, you could get over that. But a wife? An entirely opposite personality? That shook your entire world, the very foundation of your relationship. You could justify the rest but the idea of him loving someone else so wholly and being someone else so entirely, it had you questioning everything you knew.
About him. About life and love. Even about yourself.
It made you wonder if you could walk away from it all. Say so long to the quiet london boy that stole your heart.
You were back in your apartment before you knew it and you leaned against the closed door for a moment once you were inside. Your head was spinning with the new situation and you decided you didn’t want to think about it. You pushed yourself up and headed to your fridge, picking out one of the cans you usually reserved for after dinner or nights you had friends over for drinks and movies. You took it into your room and got changed before dropping onto your couch.
You put your can on the side table and picked up the remote, flipping through channels until a familiar movie played. You let it run as background noise while you read your book and slipped your drink. But despite your best efforts, Steven was still present in your mind. When you were picturing the main male character, all you could picture was your boyfriend. One of the female characters started to look like Layla. It drove you insane.
You threw the book to the coffee table and dropped to your back across the cushions. You didn’t know how long you had been staring at your ceiling when someone knocked on your door. The first time the noise came, you didn’t move. Surely whoever it was would leave. But after a few seconds the knocking came again, with more authority than the first time. so you hauled yourself up and shuffled over. 
Opening the door, you were greeted by the ghost of your boyfriend. For the most part, it was the same man. Same clothes and same facial features. But his dark curls were pushed out of his face. His posture stood taller and his shoulders pulled back.
It didn’t take long for you to recognize you weren’t looking at Steven.
You moved to close the door when his hand shot out to stop you. You tried leaning some of your body weight against the door but it hardly budged. You muttered a small complaint to yourself before stepping back and opening the door fully.
You stared at the imposter expectantly.
“Not gonna let me in?” He asked, gesturing slightly towards your apartment.
Even his voice was different. Missing the accent, deeper and fuller than Steven’s. Seeing the more mature sound come from your boyfriend’s face sent goosebumps across your skin.
“Why would I? I don’t know you.” You shrugged.
“C’mon, Y/N.” He groaned and ran a hand down his face. “You really wanna have this conversation in the hall?”
You sighed heavily and as if on cue, your nosy neighbor was leaving her apartment. You grabbed Marc’s jacket and pulled him in, giving the woman a quick wave and a tight smile. You heard her question who he was but you shut the door before having to answer. You stared at the door for a second to collect yourself before turning to face Marc, who had already made himself comfortable on your couch.
“Little early in the day for drinks, don’t you think?” He tried to joke and shook the empty can but you didn’t laugh.
“Well when I find out my boyfriend is married and absolutely not who I thought he was, I’m entitled to a spiked lemonade… Just be glad it isn’t the bottle of vodka in my freezer.” You countered, the words spilling faster than you could control them. “So who the hell are you this time?”
“My name’s Marc.” He began and you rolled your eyes. “Steven and I are…”
“Twins?” You tried your earlier guess. You just desperately wanted something simple for an explanation. A case of mistaken identity among twins was simple enough.
“No, not exactly.”
“But you are the one married to that girl, Layla, right?” You pressed.
“Yeah.” He nodded and a small smile crossed his lips. “Steven’s never met her till today.”
“Well…” You said awkwardly, coming a few steps closer. “She’s very pretty.”
He smiled a little wider for a second before he seemed to remember why he was there.
“Listen, I came here because I wanted to try and explain what I could to you.” He began carefully.
“Is Layla right then, Steven’s just an act?” You cut in sharply. “A fake name so you can lead a life away from her? Because it seems to me that that woman loves you. Why she would is baffling to me and why you would divorce her is even more ludacris.”
“He’s not an act and he’s not fake.” He seemed to flinch at the last word. “Maybe he’s not all that real, either. It’s…” He blew out a heavy sigh. “It’s complicated, Y/N/N.”
“Don’t you dare.” You said tightly, closing the distance to put yourself in front of Marc. “You’ve existed to me for all of ten minutes. You have no right to call me that.”
“You’re right.” His hands went up in surrender. “I’m sorry.”
“How do you know about that anyway?”
“I know pretty much everything about Steven’s life.” He shrugged innocently. “You, the gift shop, his really shitty boss. I know what bus he takes, that goddamn fish. Jesus, I even know what underwear brand he wears.”
“How? Why? I just-“ You groaned and pushed your hands into your hair. “What the hell is going on, Marc?”
“Sometimes…” He spoke carefully, as if he was treading around land mines. “There were a few nights when you would come to Steven’s, or walking back to his place after work, it wouldn’t be him… He wouldn’t take over in time and it would be me. Kinda got to know you through that.”
“Oh my god.” You said quietly, your hand covering your mouth as you sunk into the chair beside you. “When he would be super quiet and just nodding or making little humming noises…”
“Yeah…” He hesitantly agreed, clearly embarrassed. “I tried to kind of push him forward but- I don’t know how this shit works, Y/N. I’m just living with it at this point.”
“So… You’re Marc and he’s Steven, but you’re also the same?” You questioned as the information tried to sink in. “Like you two are-“ You interlocked your fingers together.
“Same body, different people.” He nodded. “I know it’s a lot but don’t.. Don’t leave him over this.”
“Leave him?” Your brows furrowed and you almost laughed. “I’m not gonna leave him over this.”
“Really?” His brows raised quizzically. “Cause it didn’t seem that way when you walked out.”
“I can handle personalities, I think. It’s the marriage that’s a problem.”
“To be fair, it’s my marriage.” He offered. “Like I said, he never knew her.”
“I just need a day or two to let it process.” You confessed. “And I think you need a day or two to figure out things with Layla.”
“Yeah, probably right.”
“And if you two work it out, me and Layla are gonna have to figure out an arrangement.”
369 notes · View notes
whoreish-behaviour · 1 year ago
Text
Tumblr media
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.'
671 notes · View notes
storiesforallfandoms · 1 year ago
Text
how things are now ~ marc spector & steven grant;moon knight
word count: 2436
request?: yes!
“Hi hi hi sweetness!! I am here to humbly request a Marc Spector and Steven Grant x reader. The basis of it is kinda just what life is like after the finale. We saw how Marc was towards Stevens feelings for Layla and I kinda wanted that. The reader (Marc’s wife) starting a conversation with Marc about how things are now then going into how it works with Steven and all three of them talking about it. Fluffy asf please with maybe a steamy ending. Thank you so so very much🤍”
description: now that they’ve learned how to share the body, they must come to terms with the fact that they also have to share their wife
pairing: marc spector x female!reader x steven grant
warnings: swearing, a small sad moment but only small, the boys are fighting again
masterlist (one, two, three)
Tumblr media
Meeting Steven Grant, the second personality that lived in your husband’s head, was one of the many surprises you learned about Marc after his time working for the God Khonshu. It was probably the better of all the other surprises, but still a surprise nonetheless. It was also a surprise that came with some complications in the marriage that you knew needed to be addressed.
See, Marc and Steven had figured out a way to evenly share “the body” and to get along with one another, until it came to wanting to spend time with you. Marc loved you to the moon and back and was relieved that everything with Khonshu had ended so that he could finally be with you without the fear of putting you in danger. However, Steven had also grown very fond of you. He was over the moon to find out that “both he and Marc had such a lovely wife” (his words). You’d be lying if you said you didn’t also love Steven as much as you loved Marc.
With that being said, this was where the complications lie: Steven kept trying to take hold of the body over Marc whenever you were with him. Despite having figured out a way to peacefully co-inhabit the body, Marc felt like he was back to struggling for control of himself because of how often Steven tried to take over so he could be with you.
You couldn’t fully blame Steven, though, as Marc had openly voiced his jealousy towards you and Steven, to a point where he wanted to deny Steven any time with you and wanted you all to himself.
You let this go on for a few weeks before you decided it was time to put an end to it. You were going to lay down the ground rules of this new way your marriage was going to work, and if the men didn’t like that, then that was too bad.
You arrived home from work to find Marc hunched over his laptop. You had come to learn which one of them had control of the body due to their body language: standing wise, Marc had the better posture and held himself with more confidence than Steven, but when they were sitting Marc tended to hunch or basically lay across wherever he was sitting.
He looked up at you and smiled.
“Hey, baby,” he said. “How was your day?”
“Oh, you know, same old same old,” you responded. “Dealt with shitty people who don’t know what manners are, restrained myself from slapping said stupid people because an assault charge really isn’t worth it.”
Marc chuckled and pulled you into his arms as you sat down next to him. He leaned down to kiss you. You couldn’t help but smile into the kiss, feeling the familiar warmth running through your body that Marc’s presence usually brought.
You pulled away from the kiss to look up into his eyes. You could see that it was still Marc in control, so you decided to just get to the point.
“I want to talk to you about something,” you said.
He raised an eyebrow. “That doesn’t sound good.”
“Depends on how you take what I’m gonna say.” You pulled away from his embrace and took his hands in yours. You smoothed down his calloused knuckles with your thumbs as your gaze stayed on your joined hands. “I want to talk about Steven.”
You could feel him tense up beside you. “Why?”
“Marc, we can’t just keep acting like everything is the same now,” you said. “Besides the obvious that my husband was the hitman for an Egyptian God and apparently is a superhero now, there’s also a new person that’s been introduced in our marriage.”
“He’s not involved in our marriage.”
You finally looked up at him so that you could give him a stern look. His face was twisted in annoyance.
“You can say that all you want, but the truth is, Steven is just as involved as you and me,” you said. “You love me, I love you. But we both know that Steven also loves me, and I love him, too. I love you both equally.”
“He’s a fucking parasite,” Marc growled, tugging his hands free from you so he could stand.
“Marc!” you scolded. “Don’t you dare say that. We both know that’s not how you feel.”
“It’s how I feel when that fucker is getting between me and my wife. You’ve been my wife for longer, (Y/N). It’s not fair for him to come along and think he can just wedge his way into something he was never involved in before just because he and I have finally figured out how to share the body.”
You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose. You were starting to realize this was probably a bad idea. There was obviously no getting through to Marc about the issue, and you were certain now that he wasn’t about to happily follow along with the ground rules you were trying to set. The last thing you wanted was to continue on like this in your marriage, but you really weren’t sure what else to do anymore.
“Is he upsetting you, love?”
You looked up to see Marc’s entire demeanor had changed. Anyone who didn’t know Marc well enough probably wouldn’t pick up on it, but you had come to learn the tells between Marc and Steven so well that even the slightest of change tipped you off as to who was in control. You knew your angry husband had been forced back into the body, replaced with the kindhearted Brit who also resided in Marc’s head.
“Steven, now really is not a good time for you to take over,” you said. “We’re kind of...discussing you.”
“Oh, I heard,” Steve said. “I also heard that he wasn’t listening and was just making you upset.”
“Steven, give me back the body right now. This doesn’t have anything to do with you.”
“I believe this has everything to do with me, since it’s literally about me.”
“This is between me and my wife, Steven. Regardless of who we’re talking about, you’re not part of the conversation.”
“We share a body, Marc, she’s not just your wife anymore.”
“Will both of you shut the fuck up!”
He looked at you so startled that you weren’t sure which of them currently had control of the body. Not that you even really cared at that moment. You were tired of the fighting. You were finally taking this moment to say what was on your mind, which was what you had been trying to do since you had gotten home. They were going to listen, whether they liked it or not, and they were going to accept your terms.
You stood from the couch and approached whichever one of them had control. You took his hand and looked up into his eyes, searching to figure out which of the two personalities was there. He squeezed your hand a little as you recognized that Steven was the one still in control.
“Steven,” you started. He nodded, confirming what you already knew. “I need you to listen to me, okay? And once I’m done talking, I need you to give me Marc back for a little while?”
He nodded again. You brought him back to the couch and sat him down. Steven looked at you with wide, attentive eyes; the brown eyes that you had fallen in love with all those years ago when you first met Marc. That was one thing that you wished Marc could understand about the new dynamic of your marriage including Steven - the fact that you were basically getting to fall in love with your husband for the first time all over again.
“Marc, I know you’re listening,” you started. “But I need you to also control yourself so I can talk to Steven, okay?” You didn’t wait for a response you knew you weren’t going to get. “Steven, I love you.”
He couldn’t fight the smile that tugged at his lips. “I love you, too, (Y/N).”
“But you understand that I love Marc, too, right? He was my husband first, before I met you. He was my first real love. He’s special to me in a different way.”
Steven nodded. “I know. I understand that. I could never dream of you feeling any other way for him.”
“You say you understand, but you do tend to block Marc and I from spending time together. Case in point, you taking over just then in the middle of our conversation.”
“You were fighting - ”
“We weren’t fighting, we were talking. Even if we were fighting, though, that happens sometimes. Couples argue. It’s normal. You don’t always have to come to my rescue if Marc and I are fighting. And it’s not just when we’re fighting. You take control a lot when we’re trying to spend time together, on date nights especially. I understand that you love me, and that you want to get to spend time with me, too, but Marc did come first. You have to let him have his time with me, too. Okay?”
Steven nodded, looking down at his lap. You reached out to put a finger under his chin, lifting his head to look at you. You gave him a soft smile. “Don’t be upset. I do love the time we spend together.”
Steven smiled, shyly. You leaned forward to kiss him. He seemed shocked at first, which was when you realized it was the first time you had really kissed Steven. All the time you had spent together, all the date nights and lazy Sundays he had hijacked, and you had never truly kissed him before. It almost didn’t seem right for this to be the first time.
You could feel his hand twitch as you kissed. You kept a firm hold of it, knowing it was likely Marc trying to intervene, or trying to hit Steven for kissing you. When you pulled away, Steven pouted, which caused you to giggle.
“We had a deal,” you reminded him. “Can I speak to my husband please?”
Steven sighed, but didn’t put up a fight. You watched his demeanor change as Marc took control again. His pouty face turned to a scowl and he quickly pulled his hands away from you as he fully regained control. You rolled your eyes. Yep, there was your husband alright.
“That was kind of you,” his said. “To give him that speech and to kiss him like that. Wasn’t shitty at all to have to witness another man kissing my wife.”
“Marc,” you said in a warning voice. “We’re talking about this, too.”
“What else is there to talk about? You love Steven. I already knew that. Big fucking deal.”
“But I love you, too. Did you miss that part? The whole giant chunk of conversation where I told Steven that he has to understand that our relationship comes first to me?”
“I heard you tell him you love spending time with him, and that he has to share you. I’m not sharing you, (Y/N), so don’t even think about asking.”
“We don’t exactly have a choice in the matter, Marc. Whether you like it or not, you’re not the only one who has control of your body. You can’t just shove Steven down inside of you and never let him out again.”
“Worked for me once, didn’t it?”
You grabbed his face and forced him to look at you. You could see he was trying to seem angry, but there was something in his eyes that gave him away; sadness.
“Baby, you know heard what I said to Steven,” you said. “I love you. You. I love Steven, too, but you were in my heart first. You’re the man I married, not Steven. Why are you so worried about my feelings for him so much? I can love you both equally, and I do.”
Being forced to look at you and finally being asked the question he dreaded the most caused tears to start to form in Marc’s eyes. You don’t think you had ever seen him cry in years. The last time was probably when you both got married. You could remember his misty eyes as you walked down the aisle that day, but that was the only time you could remember seeing him cry. It took you by surprise to see him getting so emotional over this.
“What if you start to love him more than you love me?” he asked, his voice soft. “What if you realize he’s better than I am?”
“I won’t, because that’s not true.”
Marc laughed, humorlessly. “Isn’t it? I mean, he’s nicer for sure. A little annoying, but people like him. He’s not abrasive or aggressive like I am. He’s the type of guy a woman like you was supposed to end up with, not an asshole like me.”
You took his hand in yours and gave it a slight squeeze. “And yet you’re the one I fell in love with. You’re the one I married. And you’re the one I intend to spend the rest of my life with, whether Steven is in the picture or not. You can be a bit of an asshole, I’m not going to deny that - ” His chuckle had some humor behind it this time. “ - but I love that about you. I love that you are you. I’m not going to end our marriage because of a nice guy with a cute accent. I mean, I’m here trying to negotiate that the three of us have equal standing in this marriage, for God’s sake. Would I be doing that if I loved Steven more than I loved you?”
Marc shook his head. “I guess not.”
You leaned forward to kiss him, too. Just as much love and passion exploded from your kiss with Marc as it did with Steven. If you needed any further evidence that you loved them both equally, that was it.
You rested your forehead against his and looked into his eyes. Those eyes, you loved them more than you could’ve ever loved anything else.
“He doesn’t get to have the best part with you, though,” Marc said.
You raised an eyebrow at him. “The best part?”
You screamed in surprise as Marc suddenly lifted you off your feet and carried you off to the bedroom. “The part where we both get naked and I get to feel you all over. That’s not his, that part is mine.”
536 notes · View notes
melodygatesauthor · 2 years ago
Text
Not a Doctor
Jake Lockley X f!Reader (Patient X Therapist)
Tumblr media
*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
709 notes · View notes
bluehourbucky · 2 years ago
Text
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
671 notes · View notes
jake-g-lockley · 2 years ago
Text
Only for You (Steven Grant x reader)
Masterlist | Playlist
Tumblr media
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*
2K notes · View notes
sweetercalypso · 1 year ago
Text
Mercenary || Marc Spector
Tumblr media
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.”
233 notes · View notes
moonknightyws · 1 year ago
Text
so fineee
Tumblr media
(I'm officially back!)
324 notes · View notes