Moon Knight - Blog Posts
heyyyy!! might seem random and I don’t know if you listen to Lana Del Rey at all so feel free to ignore me, but if you do, what are some of her songs that you associate with Oscar’s characters (like Poe, Llewyn, Miguel, Rydal, the Moon boys... whatever, I’m not picky). Love your work btw!
dear anon, you are in luck, you have no idea how much.
I don't listen to lana that much, I do listen to a few songs and appreciate her work but my dear best friend @eatingyouryoung happens to have the oscar + lana brainrot cocktail
when I asked her for help to answer this ask, she happened to have already thought about this and sent me a 5 pages long document she had written about the subject, so there you go:
Llewyn:
In My Feelings
« Could it be that I fell for another loser I'm crying while I'm cummin' Making love while I'm making good money Sobbin' in my cup of coffee 'Cause I fell for another loser Get that cigarette smoke out of my face You've been wasting my time While you're taking what's mine, with the things that you're doing Talk that talk, well now they all know your name And there's no coming back from the place that you came Baby don't do it 'Cause you got me in my feelings (catch you, it's so much right now) Talking in my sleep again (you can whistle if you want) »
Brooklyn Baby
« Well, my boyfriend's in a band He plays guitar while I sing Lou Reed I've got feathers in my hair I get down to Beat poetry And my jazz collection's rare I can play most anything I'm a Brooklyn baby » « They say I'm too young to love you They say I'm too dumb to see They judge me like a picture book By the colors, like they forgot to read I think we're like fire and water I think we're like the wind and sea You're burnin' up, I'm coolin' down You're up, I'm down You're blind, I see »
Rydal:
California
« I shouldn't have done it, but I read it in your letter You said to a friend that you wish you were doing better I wanted to call you, but I didn't say a thing Oh, I'll pick you up If you come back to America, just hit me up » « You don't ever have to be stronger than you really are When you're lying in my arms, and, honey You don't ever have to act cooler than you think you should You're brighter than the brightest stars You're scared to win, scared to lose I've heard the war was over if you really choose The one in and around you You hate the heat, you got the blues Changing like the weather, oh, that's so like you »
Lucky Ones
« Boy, get into my car, got a bad desire You know that we'll never leave if we don't get out now, now, now You're a careless con and you're a crazy liar, but, baby Nobody can compare to the way you get down, down, down I tried so hard to act nice like a lady You taught me that it was good to be crazy Every now and then, the stars align Boy and girl meet by the great design Could it be that you and me are the lucky ones? Everybody told me love was blind Then I saw your face and you blew my mind Finally, you and me are the lucky ones this time »
Santiago:
On Our Way
« Why do I think too much? You tell me not to worry Because you're the boss And you, you got a real good plan My trouble's all over now Because you're my man You don't know what you've done to me You're heavier than heavenly Life on the run has set me free, me free now We're on our way »
Poe:
Love Song
« Dream a dream, here's a scene Touch me anywhere 'cause I'm your baby Grab my waist, don't waste any part I believe that you see me for who I am So spill my clothes on the floor of your new car Is it safe, is it safe to just be who we are? »
Miguel:
Black Beauty
« I paint my nails black I dye my hair a darker shade of brown 'Cause you like your women Spanish, dark, strong and proud I paint the sky black You said if you could have your way You'd make it nighttime all today So it'd suit the mood with your soul Oh, what can I do? Nothing, my sparrow blue Oh, what can I do? Life is beautiful, but you don't have a clue Sun and ocean blue Their magnificence, it don't make sense to you »
Marc:
Say Yes to Heaven
« If you dance, I'll dance And if you don't, I'll dance anyway Give peace a chance Let the fear you have fall away I've got my eye on you »
Jake:
Honeymoon
« There are violets in your eyes There are guns that blaze around you There are roses in between my thighs And a fire that surrounds you It's no wonder every man in town Had neither fought nor found you Everything you do is elusive To even your honey dew »
Steven:
Prom Song (Gone Wrong)
« Boy, it's late, walk me home, put your hand in mine At the gate, stop and say, "be my valentine" You are, by far, the brightest star I've ever seen, and I never dreamed I'd be so happy that I could die You used to say that I was beautiful like Cleopatra But you the king too, so I would say, "back at ya" I flip my hair and make you stare and put my makeup on And make up stories 'bout my life and put on very cherry bomb And even then, I knew that we were something serious That you would dominate my thoughts like radio to Sirius »
Nathan:
Pretty When You Cry
« All those special times I spent with you, my love They don't mean shit compared to all your drugs But I don't really mind, I've got much more than that Like my memories, I don't need that I'll wait for you, babe, you don't come through, babe You never do, babe, that's just what you do Because I'm pretty when I cry »
Blue:
Dealer
« I check it, I wreck it, I turn it around I gave you all my money, gave you all my money Gave you all my money, gave you all my money I don't wanna live I don't wanna give you nothing 'Cause you never give me nothing back Why can't you be good for something? Not one shirt off your back Why can't you be good for something? Not one shirt off your back »
Jonathan:
Young and Beautiful
« Will you still love me when I'm no longer young and beautiful? Will you still love me when I got nothing but my aching soul? I know you will, I know you will, I know that you will Will you still love me when I'm no longer beautiful? Dear Lord, when I get to Heaven Please let me bring my man When he comes, tell me that you'll let him in Father, tell me if you can All that grace, all that body All that face makes me wanna party He's my sun, he makes me shine like diamonds »
Leto:
National Anthem
« I'm your national anthem God, you're so handsome Take me to the Hamptons, Bugatti Veyron He loves to romance 'em, reckless abandon Holding me for ransom, upper echelon He says to be cool but, I don't know how yet Wind in my hair, hand on the back of my neck I said, "Can we party later on?" He said, "Yes, yes, yes" »
here you go :))
How They Cuddle
A/n: Started this while I was stuck in traffic with a tornado warning going on. Later found out 4 touched down around me so basically God said I couldn't die until I posted this
Warnings: none, fluff, angst, semi serious? Talks of death, read with that in mind on Jake's part
Gn! Reader Masterlist
Steven
Tummy hugger
Doesn't matter the size, how hot it is inside, he will latch onto your waist and rest his head on your tummy
Prefers a bare tummy so he can feel your soft skin, but he's happy as long as he gets to hold you
And if you pet his head or play with his hair too? He's a goner
Those sleeping problems he has from time to time? Gone
Those night terrors that keep him up for hours? A thing of the past
He sleeps best when it's with you and when it's on your perfect, soft, warm tummy? He sleeps like a baby
There are, of course, nights where he's had a really bad day and he needs a bit more from you
Those are the nights where he'll ask you to lay on him
He wants to be surrounded by the thing he loves the most
And if you even try to say 'oh, I'll crush you!' he will forcibly pull you on top of him
"Yea right, you forget I was an avatar of Khonshu, love. I'm buff as fuck." He would mumble while burying his head in your hair or shoulder
It's not necessarily a lie, but it gets you to laugh
Pressure therapy is strong with this one
He has so many weighted blankets, it's ridiculous
And usually he doesn't use them now that he has you, but when there are days when you're not home or don't feel like cuddling, Steven will break out his massive pile of weighted blankets
It's honestly really cute seeing Steven all bundled up and only his head poking out of a mountain of blankets
Marc
Lays directly on top of you
Lowkey scared of crushing you so it takes a while for him to admit how he'd prefer to cuddle, but it happens eventually
Marc wants to protect you, you're the love of his life and he couldn't take it if he lost you
So he lays on you to be your shield
If anyone breaks into the apartment, which they probably wouldn't even make it past the front door before Marc absolutely destroys them, but if they do he's the first one they'll attack
And as long as you're safe, he's happy
It's a deeper reason than the others, but it's true
If he's had a bad day, it'll be different
He'll curl up into you, looking so small and vulnerable
He'll bury his face in your chest and hold onto you like you're his life line
Which you are
If you play with his hair and rub his back, maybe even hum to him, he'll pass out in no time
He feels safe in your arms and while he's not used to feeling so vulnerable, he feels like he can be with you
On the other hand, there are very rare nights where Marc will ask you to suffocate him
Not really, of course
He just needs the pressure of you laying on top of him to chase away his dark thoughts
Works every time
Not during nightmares though
Never try that during or after a nightmare
Marc will panic so hard, he might accidentally hurt you and he would rather die than do that to you
Jake
Jake is a little different than Steven and Marc
He doesn't have a preference of cuddles, as long as he can feel your skin somewhere on him, he's ok
It's not in a weird way though
If he can feel your skin, he can feel how warm you are and if he can feel how warm you are, he knows you're not dead
It's morbid, but he's seen so much and caused so much death so he's trying to reassure himself that you're not dead too
He'll have his hands under your shirt and resting on your hips, or hike your leg over his hip to feel your thighs, or sleep with his cheek pressed against your tummy
Anywhere is fair game to him as long as you're comfortable
But then there are nights where he would rather die than feel your skin
It's usually nights where he's had to kill quite a few people and while he usually handles death quite well, he has you now
He's learned to be something other than a tool for Khonshu and a shield for Marc and Steven
Those nights, he'll lay next to you and watch you breathe
The only part of you he touches is your wrist to feel your heart beat
Similar to Steven, he will ask you to occasionally lay on him, just so he can feel you pressed up against him
Not in a sexual way, though he's not ashamed to admit he would enjoy that, just in a way so he can feel a bit more of you than he normal would
And honestly, when as asks you to lay on him, it leads to some kind of make out session
continuing to suck on him after he cums so you can listen to him whimper as he tries to get away>>>
season 2 spell like to charge reblog to cast
can we PLEASE get some COMMOTION for layla's comic debut this week?!?!?! I have heard NOTHING!!!
she's GORGEOUS and I'm so excited to read this!!!
[moon knight: city of the dead (2023) #1]
Falling asleep on their shoulders.
A bunch of headcanons about how would they feel. :) (Moon system x reader.) Steven.
In a million years, he would never have accepted a work outing when he could be in his comfortable apartment with Gus, reading a new book.
Until he found out that you would be going.
He never imagined that an amusement park could be so much fun. He had never been to one before.
Or maybe he had, but he doesn’t remember.
You separated from the group as soon as you arrived. Steven thought he would like to be as carefree as you when you took his hand and walked without a trace of nervousness or fear.
You talked all day, about anything and everything.
“You’re very interesting, Steven.” It was probably the sweetest thing he had ever heard. His blush made you feel satisfied.
For the rest of the day, you made sure he knew you were interested in him.
You also mentally noted how his lips brushed against your fingers when you offered him some of your cotton candy.
You held hands again when you rode the tallest roller coaster in the park.
Oh, and you kept the photograph.
“Shall we go see the Aqualoop?” “See it or…?” “Get splashed, I mean.” He couldn’t say no. Both of you were like a pair of children enjoying the day.
Adult life hadn’t given you the chance to enjoy yourselves like this in a long time.
Both of you closed your eyes tightly as the water splashed over you, drenching you from head to toe. You both laughed until your stomach hurt, and Steven brushed a wet strand of hair from your face.
Having him so close made your heart skip a beat.
You spent the rest of the day dripping wet, enjoying the sun on your skin and the warm air drying your hair.
You shared food as the evening approached, and you discovered that vegan food was much better than you had imagined, while Steven ate half of your french fries.
As the park was about to close, you met up with the others at the exit.
Both of you insisted on declining the ride J.B. offered, as your clothes were still wet.
After 20 long minutes of arguing, you accepted on behalf of yourself and Steven.
Or Scotty, as J.B. had called him, making you struggle to hold back your laughter.
The space in the back seat was limited, and your body was squeezed between Steven and the car door, but you couldn’t say you were uncomfortable.
His body emitted a delightful warmth.
A yawn escaped you.
“Are you tired?” Steven’s whisper near you broke the complete silence in the car.
You silently nodded, rubbing one of your eyes with your hand.
If only he had the courage to tell you how adorable he thought you were.
Minutes of silence passed, your breathing became slower and heavier, and your head gradually leaned to the side as you began to fall asleep.
And it happened. Your cheek ended up against Steven’s shoulder.
He almost vomited from excitement, not exaggerating. Needless to say, he was the type of person who simply assumed he would die of natural causes before moving or telling you that his shoulder had become tired.
After a few minutes, you shifted, slipping an arm underneath his and intertwining your fingers together, returning to your place on his shoulder after.
He allowed himself to finally smile.
And the hours it took him to gather the courage finally culminated in the best part of the night. He leaned in enough to kiss your forehead.
You smiled too, without opening your eyes.
Marc.
One day, you had to explode, and he knew it.
His plans were always thwarted because Khonshu interfered with his sudden missions that not only meant pausing whatever you were doing, but also meant that Marc would disappear completely from the radar for God knows how many days.
It was strange when he returned, too. It took him days to return to normal, if you were lucky enough he would tell you what had happened, only partially.
“It’s always the same!” You finally screamed at your breaking point. Tears overflowed from your eyes as you quickly packed your clothes into your suitcase. You didn’t care if the clothes became even more wrinkled.
“You knew it would be like this, I told you.” Marc had the migraine of the century.
You shouted at each other for a while, and the maid looked at you as if you were crazy.
To be fair, you sounded like it.
The argument came to a close when Marc went too far with his words. You didn’t argue often, but when you did, it always ended like this.
You cried the whole way to the bus station. And you almost started another argument when you pushed your boyfriend’s hand away to prevent him from grabbing your suitcase.
If only he had the strength to set aside his pride for once, he would have apologized the moment the tip of your nose turned red.
You wished you could switch places with a stranger to avoid hours of travel with him.
But it didn’t happen.
You felt like the thousand times you cried yourself to exhaustion as a child. You even let out a yawn within the first 15 minutes of the trip.
It didn’t take long for you to succumb to physical and emotional exhaustion, thinking that sleeping would make time pass faster and you would be away from him sooner.
He was so focused on avoiding your gaze by looking out the window that he didn’t even notice when you fell asleep.
Until your head landed on his shoulder with a sudden turn in the road.
Marc’s body tensed. He was too stubborn to give in instantly, but at the same time, he was too in love to push you away.
He looked at you, and his chest tightened.
You looked so vulnerable. So tender and small. How could he hurt you if he loved you so much?
Unbeknownst to him, a barely noticeable pout formed on his lower lip.
“I love you,” he whispered, more to himself than to you. He was almost consoling himself in the pain of having to carry the regret of his words.
“I love you with all my heart,” he repeated.
It was futile, you were deeply asleep.
He made his decision and closed his eyes, leaning his head against yours to find comfort.
He would sleep by your side, feeling the warmth of your body, and when you woke up, he would apologize to you as many times as necessary.
Even if it meant having to make it up to you with other vacations.
Jake.
You never exchanged words unless it was necessary.
You knew his name, he knew yours, and that you were good at fighting together. Unfortunately, you didn’t have a “magical” suit to help with that.
You stared out the window, suppressing the urge to moan in pain every time the taxi jolted on the road. You had survived worse things than a twisted ankle and a possible broken rib.
Jake didn’t look at you, only when he heard you hiss or take a deep breath because of the discomfort you were in.
“We’re close to the hotel,” he reassured you, even though it was a lie. You were in the middle of nowhere, trusting that the driver had the correct directions.
You nodded silently, closing your eyes and resting your forehead against the cold window.
Five more minutes passed, and there were no signs of life on the road, but the pain became more bearable as exhaustion started clouding your perception.
Every time you were about to fall asleep, a tap of your forehead against the window would wake you up.
And you didn’t even notice his gaze on you.
After the seventh hit, Jake lost his patience.
“Eso no va a funcionar, cariño.” You didn’t understand, and you couldn’t be bothered to understand as you kept your eyes closed.
The last thing you felt was his body moving closer to yours.
You yielded, your body finally relaxing as you managed to fall asleep. It was easier for Jake to wrap his arm around your shoulders and gently push you against his, allowing you to rest.
Almost immediately, he regretted it.
Jake didn’t have this kind of closeness with anyone. His interactions with other people always involved punches, sometimes harder, sometimes softer, but pain was always present.
Was it normal for his heart to race like this? He would investigate later.
You moved your head slightly to snuggle better against his shoulder as he held his breath, trying not to make the slightest movement that could wake you.
“¿Cuánto va a ser?” he asked in a low tone so that the driver would understand his concern about not disturbing you.
The driver pointed to the meter in silence. Well, he encountered someone even quieter than himself.
Jake lost count of how many times he whispered in your ear, “Shh, cariño.” (although sometimes he changed the endearment to “cielo” or “corazón”) as a way to lull you in his arms whenever you shifted in your seat.
When you arrived, he paid in silence, as usual.
He didn’t wake you up, in fact, he did his best to be as stealthy as possible.
He slid one of his arms under your legs, wrapped the other around you, and lifted you up like a bride.
Jake was careful, but not so much that your reflexes didn’t catch the movement.
You woke up, but never opened your eyes; you simply nestled closer to his chest and enjoyed his care.
Tomorrow you would both face whatever you had to face.
Weightless.
Steven Grant x FReader.
Tags - Warnings: Sad baby Steven. Angst but not that bad, lol. Mentions of violence. Mentions of Marc and Jake. Word count: 1477. Summary: The feeling of being trapped goes beyond the ankle bracelet that keeps him tied to the bed. It’s the emptiness of waking up every day without knowing what happened the night before, the memories of a relationship he didn’t experience firsthand, or perhaps the empty sockets of a deranged god looming over him every minute of the day.
First he hears the alarm, then he feels the pain of his entire body throbbing because Marc did who-knows-what with it. Or maybe it was Jake. Does it even matter? The point is that someone didn’t have the courtesy to keep the suit on for a few more seconds the previous night so that Steven could wake up without feeling like a truck had run him over.
Fortunately, this time he remembered to remove the ankle restraint before getting up to avoid a doubly painful fall. It didn’t take much effort for him to stand up; he was never one of those people who liked to stay in bed after the alarm went off, although, of course, that was also Marc’s fault.
If he could avoid being in bed as much as possible, it was better for him.
He swallowed the lump in his throat when he noticed the absence of one of the two goldfish that had been living in his fish tank for the past few months. He didn’t even want to ask, although the mess in his apartment was explanation enough that some kind of fight had taken place there.
When he looked at his reflection in the spoon he used to mix his coffee, he hoped that one of them would apologize. Marc did it occasionally, Jake would silently fix the mess and hope that would be enough to solve his mistake.
Nothing.
Silence, not even a glance.
That’s how it was for a few seconds until his phone rang, notifying him of a message.
✉ → Lovey. ♡
✉ ; Good morning, Steven!
✉ ; Do you want a donut? I’m about to buy some for breakfast.
✉ ; Goodnight! Love you. <3
✉ ; Hey there! Look at this picture of a kitten I found. It looks just like you, don’t you think?
✉ ; Goodnight. :)
Finally, amidst six unanswered messages from you, Steven finds one of his own.
✉ ; I kove tou.
He rolls his eyes to himself. Did he really send that without even checking if it was properly written? Well, it was to be expected, it was the last thing he did before falling asleep.
Another problem caused by Jake and Marc. They checked text messages the second they arrived, so when Steven wanted to communicate with you, he found himself with at least ten of your messages unanswered, just opened, waiting for a response.
Frustration made him close his eyes and take a deep breath. Couldn’t they do that one simple thing for him? Just let him know he had to reply to something. It was simple.
“Jake? Marc?” He called out as he turned his head towards his open bathroom. He could see his reflection from there without any problem.
There was no response.
“She matters to me.” It was the only thing he said as his knuckles pounded on the table, a self-soothing action. “She’s all I have. Do you know that?”
Marc wants to object but stays silent so Steven can continue.
"She’s all I have.” This time his voice breaks, and his hand continues with the pounding. “My apartment is no longer mine. I no longer have my job. I no longer have my body. I no longer have my life.” The pounding grows stronger as tears fill his eyes.
Steven has never had a problem with his sensitivity. When he feels the need to cry, he does, and that’s it.
“She matters to me.” He repeats. “And you can’t do one simple thing for me, which is to support me.” He slams his phone with the opposite hand against the table. “I’m going to lose her because you can’t even notify me that I have a message to respond to. You’re suffocating me, both of you.”
There were a few seconds of silence before he continued speaking. “I’m trapped.” It was the last thing that came out of his lips.
As if God himself had heard his words, the poor phone starts ringing. It’s a call, and Steven can do nothing but take a deep breath and clear his throat so that his voice doesn’t sound as fractured as it feels.
It’s you. And you don’t wait a second after the ringtone ends, not even waiting a greeting from his side.
“This city is trying to kill me.” You say quickly, taking advantage of the fact that for the first time in a long time Steven managed to answer the call in time. “Do you want to go to the beach?”
Steven laughs. Well, more like exhales through his nose, doubting whether you’re serious or not.
“I’m 5 minutes away from your apartment.” You speak again to confirm that you’re not joking. “Do you want to go? Are you free?” He can hear your smile in your voice.
“I’m free.” His gaze wanders over the mess in his apartment; he’s definitely not free. Besides, he already knows that on Wednesday afternoons Jake… Whatever it is he does those days, he never wanted to answer him.
“Steven.” The voice finally makes itself heard in the mirror. “Not today. You know that I…”
“Please, let’s go.” The English accent is stronger when he’s annoyed, you’ve noticed that even though seeing him annoyed is like seeing Halley’s Comet. “I can’t take it anymore. Please, take me.”
“Do you think we should pursue architecture?” You hit the plastic bucket with your small plastic shovel until your instinct tells you that you can lift it without risking the sand getting stuck.
You form the piece number 8 in your huge sandcastle while Steven is trying to figure out how to create a fake tiny lake without the sand swallowing the water.
It’s fascinating to see him in a completely different environment from the one you always find yourselves in. In the city, there’s always noise, people are always busy, always rushing from one place to another, and you feel your lungs hurt from breathing in the pollution around you.
You prepared enough activities to keep yourselves occupied the whole day, and you were still on the first one, spending a good twenty minutes concentrating on building the sandcastle. Of course, the first ten were a struggle to avoid fixating on Steven’s tanned skin, the way a small belly formed in his body from sitting upright, or even the muscles in his arms flexing as he dug with his own tiny shovel.
When you noticed his focus on the game, you wondered if Steven ever had the chance to do something like this as a child.
You knew his situation inside out; it had become an explanation for the days he disappeared without a trace, the bruises on his body, or the unanswered messages. So, it was impossible for you not to feel warmth in your chest when you saw him smile, attempting a very poor imitation of the Giza Pyramid with wet sand.
“I brought some residents.” A couple of Calico Critters figurines were in your hands, a handful that you offered to the guy beside you.
His eyes lit up.
“Did you collect these? They’re definitely your kind of trinket.” You nodded in response to his question, smiling with flushed cheeks. “Alright, this one will be the pharaoh.” He was so delicate when he took one of the teddy bears in your hands that a sigh escaped your lungs.
“These will be his servants.” You stacked the figurines around the construction, which seemed to have no particular sense. You even placed one in Steven’s makeshift water lake, which had somehow worked already. “Steven?”
“Huh?” The smile on his lips dazzled you as he looked up. His curls were more pronounced with the moisture from the beach, his cheeks flushed from the heat, and you had never seen someone whose eyes were complemented so well by the golden hour.
Those huge brown eyes that made your heart race, they usually stood out because of the dark circles underneath them, but today they seemed to shine like stars, even in the full light of day.
“Did you like the beach when you were a child?”
“I don’t know.” He was honest; his childhood was something very blurry for him. It wasn’t like that before, but Marc’s appearance had complicated something in his brain. Now he doubted which parts were true and which were not, so the most accurate thing to do was to admit that he didn’t know. “I had a dream about Layla a while ago, I know she went to the beach one day with Marc or something like that. Maybe I’ll ask him later if he used to like it, if he bothers to respond.”
“What do you mean?” Your fingers arranged another Calico Critter at the fake entrance of your sandcastle.
“They disappear when I ask questions. Both of them.” Steven began to fill his own bucket again, compacting the sand inside it every now and then with his small shovel. He had chosen the yellow one. “This morning they decided to ignore me.”
You simply nodded, already familiar with the tone of “I’m going to talk until I’m tired” in his voice.
“Can you believe it?” His hands flattened the sand where he planned to place the bucket. “I woke up feeling like I got beaten up, and I don’t doubt that it happened. It’s the second time this week, not to mention the mess in my apartment. That must be the mess number 118 since we apparently cleared things up.”
He wishes that he was dramatizing, but he has lost count of how many books he has lost in those messes and how many goldfish they try to replace as if Steven was a child who wouldn’t notice.
“I thought there would be no more lies between us, I thought we were working as a team.” He avoids your gaze as his chest tightens and his breathing becomes erratic; here comes the crying again. “But I’m not included anymore, I’ve realized that.”
Silently, you decide to lean your cheek against his shoulder. His skin feels as warm as it looks, and it’s pleasant, the warmth of both of you colliding comfortably.
“I feel like I’m walking blind. I don’t know at what point in my life I am, I don’t know what we have planned for the future, or if this is all I’ll have for the rest of my days.” His cheek rests against your hair, a way to let you know that he happily receives your touch. “I feel like I’m…”
“Trapped?” You complete with a sigh. Even his words come out as if someone is strangling him, choked, painful.
“Trapped.” He nods slowly, comforting himself by focusing on how his index finger draws fake windows on the sandcastle. “And you.”
“And me.”
“How can I ask you to be with me if I can’t even send you a coherent text message?” The pain in his chest is stronger than the shyness he would feel at any other time admitting his interest in you.
But the truth is, it’s already too obvious.
What Steven and you have is not easy to label. In fact, it’s impossible, but it would be foolish to pretend that there isn’t something you’ve both known for a long time.
You love each other. And you’re trying to do what’s best for each other.
That has always been enough for you.
“We are together, Steven.” Your head remains on his shoulder as you lean back slightly, enough to look at him with a faint smile. It would be stupid to pretend that you’re not worried about him and everything he just said, but it’s more important for you to clarify that your relationship doesn’t have to be part of all that emotional burden weighing on his shoulders for so long.
“Eh? B-But I…”
Your lips silence him, a very short and small kiss. Chaste and innocent, just like Steven himself, or like the feelings you share.
“We are together.” You confirm once again before going in for another kiss.
The rest of the day at the beach is as peaceful as the beginning. Together, you eat the pile of snacks you packed and even toast with two juice boxes, one apple and one orange.
You step on the sand mounds that used to form a castle together and, almost at the end, you sit on the shore to let the water tickle your feet. You also filled your little bucket with water several times to pour it on Steven, but that’s another story.
You saved the best part for last.
“Did you know that Dr. Seuss was a terrible person?”
“Steven, I didn’t bring it up so you could ruin a childhood experience for me.” You bite your lower lip to keep from laughing as you make room on the beach lounger that both of you claimed as your own as soon as you saw it.
You had to lie on your side so that both of you could fit without being cramped, even raising your leg over his and resting an arm on his chest.
You close your eyes, enjoying the feeling of his breath rising and falling against your arm slowly.
“One fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish.” He says amidst a small laugh. This must be a trap of yours to hear him stumble over his own words in that adorable English accent that always makes you smile.
“A classic.” Your fingers wander over his abdomen, tickling him.
“Okay, okay. I’ll read it, leave me alone.” He finally gives in before clearing his throat.
The discussion was longer than the time it took for you to fall asleep. With your head resting on Steven’s chest and one of his arms around your shoulders as he held the book in front of both of your faces.
As soon as your breathing became heavier, he decided it was time to stop the torture of reading a rhyming book as someone who spoke so fast. So, he placed the book on his stomach and focused on holding you, feeling the beating of your heart against his body.
The sun began to set, and for the first time, Steven had time for himself and his thoughts.
He didn’t hate Marc. He didn’t hate Jake. How could he? They were two vital parts of him, and like him, they had a thousand things to carry. Maybe next time he would ask both of them how they feel or if they’re doing okay.
Sometimes he forgot that he could have these moments. Feeling light, carefree. He could take a break and forget about the rest of the world in your arms. Could they do that too?
With a sigh, he let go of all the heaviness he had been carrying in his body since he woke up that day. And he looked down.
The way you assured him you two were together was the next thing that crossed his mind. Was being trapped really that bad? The truth was, no. He liked his life, at least the part that belonged solely to him.
He liked being trapped in his small apartment with the things he loved the most. He liked being trapped in the noisy city that had embraced him since he arrived. He liked being trapped in his body with Marc and Jake, not being alone. He liked being trapped in your arms.
He just had to take the time to appreciate it more often.
Florence
Summary: You and Layla enjoy your honeymoon the way honeymoons are meant to be enjoyed.
Pairing: Layla El-Faouly x f!Reader
Word Count: 1.6k
Warnings: wlw, smut 18+ only, fingering (Layla receiving), porn with like a sprinkle of plot, bad smut most likely you've been warned
A/N: Had this in the works for a few months but here it is! If you enjoyed it you have @pennyserenade to thank for it because she gave me the final push to finish this.
Ever since you’d slipped your ring onto Layla’s hand, you’ve gone a little feral. There’s barely been a moment you’ve spent outside your room, though Florence glitters in the hot sun like a jewelled labyrinth, waiting to be explored.
You suppose that honeymoons were never really meant for tourism anyways.
You can’t really look at Layla without a primal little sprout growing in your chest, a curl of possessiveness that shuts off all other thoughts except for ‘mine’.
Mine.
Gods, you want to bite her, to swallow her whole. You have bitten her, the evidence clear on her skin, and she has done the same to you in turn.
Though this is anything but the first time you’ve had her in bed, screaming until her voice is hoarse, it’s the first time that it’s felt like this. Each brush of her skin against yours, the fan of the sounds spilling from her plush lips raise wave after wave of desire in you in ways you’ve never experienced before.
One look, one kiss, one glance at her ring and you find yourself pressing her down into the sheets, and wrapping your hand around her throat, determined to see what kind of noises you can coax out of her this time.
She seems to only egg you further, asking for more, more, harder and faster, until she’s quivering. Until her legs are gooey and mushy and there’s a sheen of sweat on her chest that you’ll be depraved enough to lick it away, bite down and make her whine from the overstimulation and the pain.
This time had started innocently.
In the bathtub, her back pressed to your chest, you found your hand wandering, trying to clean away the traces of sex from her skin with the tepid, sudsy water. You had worked at her shoulders, tried to loosen the tension knotted into them.
It really had been innocent, a well-needed break for the both of you to rest and eat before the next rounds.
It would have been innocent had you been with anyone else but Layla.
And then she had to go and moan in that delightful way that she did.
The water only came about halfway up to her stomach, her chest bare and exposed, golden skin even more golden in the low light of the washroom.
Her pussy shimmered for you from underneath the bubbles on the surface of the water.
You’d abruptly changed course, fingers on her nipples, playing with them until they hardened over for you. Her body always responded to your touch as easily as if it was the only thing she knew how to do.
Layla had asked you what you thought you were doing and you’d shushed, pressing your lips against her neck and taking in the smell of her. On instinct you’d nipped at the skin, soothed the spot over seconds later with your mouth.
When she hadn’t complained and only moaned in earnest this time, her back arching sharply for you, you’d gotten out of the water to lay down a towel on the ground and all you’d seen after that was the red hot colour of the ember of lust.
You’re manhandling her, her body soaking the towel underneath her, the cold grip of her ring against your hip driving you up the walls.
In seconds you have yourself hovering over her cunt. You press down and the softness of her wet flesh against yours makes you cry out, dizzy and disoriented for a couple of seconds.
The hardened nub of her clit brushes yours, and you come to. There’s a fucked out look in her eyes and that makes you want to bite her.
With another press of your hips, you lean forward, follow the line of her throat with your nose and decide where you want to sink your teeth in now.
There are no other thoughts running inside your head except for mine, mine, mine.
Building up a steady rhythm, you choose the soft skin about her collarbone, before biting her just on the other side of harsh. The sound she makes goes straight to your head, a heady combination of a cry and a moan. Letting go, you soothe the spot over with your tongue, though a depraved piece of you wanted to keep on the grip you had on her skin and tear off a piece for yourself.
Your hand goes underneath her lower thigh and you hike her leg up, moving her around the way you please. The angle switch for her seems to do it all. She moans and cries out for you, a gentle tremble starting to grow in the muscles of her leg like the beginnings of an earthquake.
Her reaction to such a small change is so intense and natural that it makes you laugh gently, “You like that, Layla?”
She groans. “Fuck, baby.”
You start to arch your back further before each time you grind down onto her pussy to get better leverage. The mixture of your arousals drips everywhere and gets stirred in with the bathwater on your bodies. Yours and Layla’s thighs are wet and soaked. There’s the faint, wet click each time your hips meet hers and it’s music to the sounds she’s making underneath you.
The humidity in Italy has done wonders to her hair, and it splays out underneath her and makes her look like an angel.
Moving your hips in circles, you raise an eyebrow at her teasingly, “You want a finger, baby?”
Her eyes open only to see if you’re in earnest or only teasing her in the way you’re often fond of at home, keeping her tethering on the edge for hours at a time, coming up behind her and kissing her neck and making her soak through her jeans. She nods frantically, her hips coming up to meet yours with each thrust of yours.
Pressing two of your fingers in her mouth, she starts to suck at them. You circle her tongue with your fingers and she moans again, muffled, and you can feel the vibrations of it through your hand. You continue your rhythm against her cunt and her chest arches up for you. You move her leg to rest on your waist before you take her breast in your hand and just hold it for now.
Taking your fingers out of her mouth, you reach behind you and run them through her folds. Lust is so strong with you that you marvel at the control you have over yourself to be able to play her body so well and leave her at a loss for words.
You press inside her easily, and her pussy sucks you in almost instantly, barely letting you move your hand and fuck her.
You slow down your hips to move measured and deep presses against her cunt, in time with your fingers as you move them slowly in and out of her.
You remember the first time you slept with Layla. The olive slip dress she’d worn through the dinner all through the night, the way she was so clearly not wearing a bra underneath. The way her legs went on for miles with the heels she was wearing.
She had walked you back to her place and you’d invited her in for another drink, which she never did get, but she did get to be pressed up against the wall with the wine rack against it. She had sighed and moaned and wrapped her leg around your waist because her dress also had a delightful little slit in it that you could slip into and trace up her inner thigh to run through the dark curls between her legs.
Right there against the wall, you had rubbed her clit over and over in a teasing, come-and-go pattern that her shaking as she gripped onto you for dear life as she came.
That was when you knew how much fun you could have with Layla.
Then she’d pressed you back onto bed and licked at your core until she made you come three times and then she’d moved you into much the same position you have her in now and rubbed her cunt against yours until she was crying out in pleasure and gripping onto your forearm for dear life.
The next morning, you’d woken her up and repaid the favour and didn’t let her leave your bed until well-past noon, rolling around until the sheets had fallen onto the floor. You’d pressed her up against the door to your apartment and only let her go after she made you promise that you would come over the next evening and let her make you dinner.
Right now, she’s starting to cry out in the way that lets you know that she’s close. Your thoughts have aroused you so much that you know that simply seeing her release will push you over yours.
You push in a third finger and her pussy squelches for you. The sound makes you break out into a trilling laugh, you want to touch the towel underneath her and see how wet it’s gotten from just her arousal, “Gods, Layla.”
Building up a quicker pace with your hand and hips, you roll the pebble of her nipple between her fingers until she’s breaking out into short pulses of moans and cries. She comes with a scream of your name and a sharp arch of her back.
As you had expected, the marvellous sight in front of you of a goddess drowned in pleasure, pleasure you’ve given her, pleasure you only will give her from now on because she’s your wife, sends you into a white hot release, your palm on her breast, your grip firm.
Thanks for reading, if you liked it, please consider leaving some feedback! I don't usually respond, but I obsess and re-read reblogs and comments constantly.
Masterlist here.
If Oscar Isaac had a nickel for every time he played a comic book character who took a guy's face off, he'd have two nickels
Anything For You
Jake Lockley x f!reader
Warnings: Absolutely none, Jake Lockley is just a big fat cinnamon roll he is just so <3
A/N: Hi this was kind of self indulgent and written in like an hour or two to help feel better after school has officially ended. But it's also a little love note to @melodygatesauthor because Mel you're so special and our convo about this favourite boy made me think and you deserve a special treat because you're the specialest girl (Jake's words!! he has even confirmed it)
-Clem
Synopsis: Jake Lockley always takes care of his favourite girl.
Word count: 1336 (ahhh)
You shuffled into the lightly lit apartment, quietly closing the door behind you. You dropped your bag, rubbing your face as a yawn broke out of you and your shoulders sagged in exhaustion. There was no one to witness your tiredness but the moon as it peeked through the windows.
"Amor?" Jake's sleepy voice came, and soon he emerged from the bedroom, a soft sleepy smile on his face. "Thought I heard you," You smiled weakly. "Hi, didn't mean to wake you-" You started before he waved you off, wrapping an arm about you. "It's alright, amor. I was staying up but I didn't realise you were coming home so late," He kisses the top of your head, and immediately you melted into him, feeling the exhaustion and pain of the past few weeks bubble up and nearly spill over. Your eyes filled with tears but you were quick to press your face to Jake's chest, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist as you breathed him in. He grounded you, all three of them always did- whether from an epic night out or a really bad day, they always helped bring you home.
Jake frowned, hugging you back tightly. "Bebita? What's wrong?" You shook your head. "I'm tired, Jake. I'm so fucking tired of everything," If you only listened close enough, you could hear his heart squeeze and shattered at your words. You were almost fragile, your voice heavy with worries and problems and you looked ready to collapse. He didn't like seeing his girl hurting so much. "Oh amor..." He pressed his lips to your head, gently rubbing your back. "Mi poor princesa. You've been working so hard haven't you? Coming home late every night and leaving so early, when was the last time you had a good sleep, mm? Or a proper meal?" You shrugged, too tired to answer. Didn't matter, he knew. He gently squeezed your hips, then hooked a finger under your chin and lifted it up to face him. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, and for a second, your mind emptied of everything- everything but him and you in this moment, lips locked together in such a soft, delicate kiss it made you ache. You missed him. He pulled away, peppering small kisses all over your face. "I'm going to take care of you, okay bebita? You're going to relax and let me make you feel better, sí?" You nodded, "Okay..." He nodded too, sweeping you off your feet and into his arms as he carried you to the bathroom. "I'm gonna run you a bath, okay? And you're gonna sit in there and relax for at least an hour to yourself, while I make you something to eat. And then, we're going to sleep, and you're going to take the day off tomorrow," He stated as if all matters were already decided and sealed. He placed you down on the side of the tub when you reached the bathroom and turned on the hot water. "But- I have work tomorrow." "Like I said, take the day off," "I can't just do that," You frowned. He shook his head as he rummaged through the cabinets, pulling out your nice smelling candles and your favourite body oils and creams. "If you don't call them, I'm going to," "You wouldn't," He turned to you, grinning widely. "Sí, I would. And if I forget- which I won't- then Steven will. Or Marc. You don't want Marc to call them, would you?" That was an easy answer. Marc always get too angry if someone tried to deny you the day off. You nodded, sighing in defeat. "Okay. Day off tomorrow. Will you stay with me then?" He chuckled, kissing your temple. "Of course, princesa. Always," He smiled. "Now, off with the clothes," "Very demanding.." You teased, lifting your shirt over your head, followed by your pants, and then underclothes. He lifted you up, placing you very dramatically in the now full tub, and placing an equally dramatic kiss on your forehead. "I'm gonna wash your heart, bien? And then you can sit and relax until you want to come out," He knelt by the tub, smiling like the most precious man in the world as he squeezed out some shampoo into his hands and started carefully lathering it in your hair. You sigh in relief, feeling the tension slowly drift away as your body relaxes under his touch. Your mind began wandering as your eyes flutter shut while Jake rinses out your hair, humming quietly to himself. A while passed as he took care of you, giving you the treatment he always excelled at- pampering and devoting his full attention to every part of your body. He massaged your back and shoulders, working on the tense knots and helping melt away all the tension left in your body. You hadn't realised that you'd drifted in sleep until you felt him get up from beside you, and your body lost the warmth of his contact. "Where ya going'?" You mumbled, barely lifting your eyelids. He chuckled, "Goin' to make you some food, mi luna," He gave you a quick kiss on the lips. "You can come out when you're ready, bien? If not, I'll come find you when food is done," You giggled, sinking a little more into the water. "Okay...thank you, by the way it mea-" "Shhhhh," He pressed a finger to your lips. "Don't even start. Princesa you don't have to thank me for taking care of you, si? You're my girl, hm? I like taking care
don't make it sound like it's a burden," You kissed his finger, smiling a bit. "Okay. I love you," "I love you too, amor," He said, winking and then leaving the bathroom. You sighed, relaxing back into the warm water as your mind drifted back into a quiet hazy sleep.
You weren't sure how long passed before your eyes fluttered open again, your mind scrambling to get aware of its surroundings again. You yawned, slowly getting up and stretching out the fatigue. You had no idea how long you'd been in there, or if Jake had even come back to check up on you, but it didn't matter. You felt better, and that was that. You grabbed a towel, wrapping it around yourself as you stepped out of the tub and starting to dry yourself off. You hung the towel once done and put your hair up in its special towel, before pulling on your clothes. Well.. not your clothes, but Steven's comfy sweater and little shorts under. You waddle out of the bathroom, very slowly dragging yourself to the kitchen where you find Jake, in all his beautiful gorgeous glory, in a cute apron making a couple of sandwiches. You can't help but chuckle as you rush up to him, wrapping your arms around him from behind and pressing your face to his back. He stiffens at the sudden contact before relaxing when he realises it's you. "Hi bebita. Nice nap?" "Shut up, Lockley," You mumbled. He laughed as he finished off the food he made, smiling proudly to himself. He turned his body to face you, rubbing your sides gently. "Wanna watch a movie?" You shrugged. "Dunno," He hummed. "Bien, we can just eat and sit in silence," He kissed your forehead for what had to be the millionth time, before grabbing the tray of food and leading you to the couch. You sat down in Jake's lap, curling up as he wrapped a big cozy blanket around you.
You sat together in peaceful silence as you ate, watching some horrible National Geographic animal documentary and before long, the endless weeks started catching up to you as your eyelids grew heavy and you rested your head on Jake's chest, feeling his arms wrap tighter around you.
There was no doubting, you thought as you fell into a peaceful sleep, you knew your boys would do anything for you.
Oh, Little Horned One of the Old Oak Tree
Pairing: Steven Grant x Reader
Summary: Becoming the avatar of an ancient Celtic god came with some unforeseen side affects; side affects which you are yet to tell Steven about.
Word Count: 3.5k
Warnings: language, slight body horror if you squint, Steven is a ridiculously supportive boyfriend in the face of fuckery and we love him for it
a/n: giving the reader a supportive god/avatar relationship because it's what they deserve
It's not that you hadn't tried to clean the blood, you'd done your best. But it stained the tips of your fingers and left the porcelain tiles of the bathroom a dark red.
You weren't entirely sure where it had all come from, but the damp, matted hair surrounding where the antlers had sprouted from your head served as a good indicator.
It shouldn't be happening, not yet. You had at least another fortnight till the next eclipse, (if your notes were anything to go by.) But you knew the moment your muscles began to ache and your bones began to creak that it was indeed happening, and it wasn't going to stop regardless of how upset it made you.
You'd tried to call Jake. Then Marc. But you didn't want to risk Steven answering the phone.
The bathroom was the closest refuge you could find and as it would seem it was far from the most ideal of places. You'd torn down the shower curtain in your haste to hide and all but shattered the delicate tiles beneath your feet.
The mirror had also fallen victim to your havoc, an almost artistically applaudable webbed crack spreading out from the centre of the glass where your elbow had made contact. A handful of rouge shards littered the floor and made quick work of slicing open your palm.
You glared at the offending piece of glass before picking it out of your hand and throwing it across the room with enough force that it was embedded in the opposite wall like a well-aimed dart.
You could still make out your reflection through the broken glass pane. Antlers sprouting from the crown of your head, winding off in all different directions. There was a pale glow to your eyes and ruins and ancient symbols wrapped around your arms and the expanse of your chest. And if your abundance of new features hadn't already qualified you for your own Magic: The Gathering card, you'd also doubled in height.
This would be a fucking delight to explain.
You took a moment to thank the gods for Stevens's late shift at the museum before steadying yourself with a deep breath.
You'd felt every bit of it; the stretching, twisting and growing of entirely new bones. And if the persistent pain in your chest and spine was anything to go by you figured it was far from over.
You could hear the deep, resonant voice of your deity, distant and far off, like rushing water over rock. His words were gruff and shaped by his accent as he apologized profusely; and as ego-boosting as it was having an eldritch being admit defeat and practically beg for your forgiveness, you found yourself in too much pain to truly enjoy the moment.
“Cernunnos,” you cursed the god's name.
Your legs were still crammed uncomfortably against your chest and the bathroom door whilst your antlers continued to do a glorious job of scrapping the paint job off the ceiling.
Another wave of pain hit, burning through your veins and seizing hold of your lungs. You coughed and spluttered, each attempt at a breath snagging in your throat like leaves catching on dead branches. The horrid sensation of shifting bones hit your chest and you doubled over with a hiss.
“Please make it stop.”
“I'm sorry, fia beag,” (little deer) the god said, his reflection appearing in the mirror shards. His antlers filled out the frame, putting your own to shame and his eyes, (despite, like the rest of his body, being those of a stag, which as far as species go aren't the most emotionally expressive–) were almost apologetic. “I've tried my best, I asked Manannan to reverse the tides to change the lunar phase and buy us time but it's too late.”
It was heartwarming really; how Cernnunos cared so much, enough to ask a fellow god to inconvenience the entire ocean all in the name of saving your love life. You were glad to have him, even if he was the reason you were going through pain worse than fucking childbirth.
“I'm sorry.” The god's ears flattened against his head and you wondered if you'd said the last part aloud.
“What's the point of all this again?” You'd shifted before but it was never irregular and never this bad.
“A thousand years ago my worshipers adored when my avatar arrived at Imbolc in this form!” Cernnunos sounded excited.
“So it was to show off?”
“To make the people feel seen and protected,” he countered.
“And it's something I have to go through because–?”
The god was quiet for a moment. “Old habits die hard?”
Cernnunos had off-handedly mentioned (downright bragged) about the pact he'd made with the moon sometime before the construction of Newgrange. That his avatar would be gifted with a godly form the night of each lunar eclipse. You weren't well versed in ancient deals between eldritch beings but apparently, it's not the kind of agreement you can back out of a millennia down the line.
And apparently, another moon-related god had initiated an eclipse two weeks ahead of schedule. (your money was on Khonshu over Artemis.)
“It will be alright, little one,” Cernnunos promised. It was soothing having him near, but he tended to have that effect. With him, you were like a fawn, comforted by the knowledge that it was protected by its elder. “Besides, it's not as though this night could get much worse for us.”
Almost comedically, the struggle of key in lock sounded and then the front door opened.
You and the god stared at each other, quite literally, like deers in headlights.
“Love? I'm home–”
Steven's voice sent your flight, fight, freeze response to full throttle and you beckoned for Cernnunos to leave as quietly and frantically as you could. The god seemed reluctant, but another chorus of a British accent from the other side of the door and he relented.
The glass rippled like water on a lake and then he was gone.
You could hear Steven moving around the flat, carrying out his usual routine of removing his name tag, unbuttoning his over shirt and tossing his bag on the couch.
You held your breath when the floorboards of the bedroom creaked and silently prayed he'd just call it a night in favour of finding you hiding in the bathroom looking like something straight from Pans Labyrinth. When he called out for you again you sent your head back against the wall with enough force to crack the tiles.
“Love, you alright?” There was three gentle raps on the door. “Darling?”
“I'm fine,” the words were unsteady. And had your voice gotten deeper?
There was a beat of silence outside the door then, “You don't sound fine.”
“I'm just not feeling great,” you managed. Just go, Steven. Please just go.
“Oh, darling, are you sick? Here let me–” The terrifying sight of the door handle turning caused your heart to almost hammer out of your chest. You rushed to press your foot against it and watched in horror as the timber split right down the middle. The door was barely clinging to the hinges.
You could hear Steven's shock on the other side of the door, a string of curses followed suit. “Y/N–”
“Just leave it, Steven!” you bit out. You hadn't meant for the words to sound so animalistic, so angry. But the only thing currently preventing your life from crumbling was a splintering door and your refusal to move your foot. You were allowed to be rash, you thought.
“Alright, you're scaring me now–”
The universe really wasn't letting up with its ironies today.
The wooden door panels creaked and splintered as Steven tried to open it from the outside. You kept your foot firmly pressed to the middle, but as the hinges began to groan you felt the sturdiness give way. It felt like you had your foot against a wet piece of tissue paper; you were going to tear right through it.
With one more shove from Steven's side, you were forced to surrender.
The door swung open with truly theatrical measure and Steven stumbled in behind it. Instinctually, you pushed yourself against the back wall, forgetting your new height and putting your head through the ceiling as you did.
Chaos is too kind of a word for what followed.
The sound that left Steven fell somewhere between a startled shout and a scream of genuine terror. You reached out and Steven fired back, his feet tying themselves in knots and sending him to the floor.
You struggled to pull your head out of the crater you'd left in the roof. A fine layer of debris and dust covered you and somewhat important-looking wires were strung across your antlers like poorly hung Christmas lights.
Almost on cue, the bathroom light flickered twice and came away from the ceiling, ending up in several pieces on the floor.
The dark apparently did nothing in making you look less menacing as Steven continued to voice his fears. And loudly at that. He hadn't moved, still frozen to the spot just outside the door.
“Steven, please–” you crawled forward at a snail's pace, each movement purposely slow.
He watched you with frantic eyes, his heart hammering like a rabbit against his chest. You'd never seen him so scared.
As he clambered to his feet, you dared to inch closer, but it was the opinion of the shattered tiles beneath your feet that you weren't moving nearly fast enough. You slipped on the porcelain shards and were all but thrown in Steven's direction.
Your rack broke your fall by all but embedding the tips of each spike in the wall surrounding the door frame. You'd put your head through so much wood and plaster in the past few minutes you were beginning to sympathize with mounted deer heads.
Steven was staring now, expression boarding on mild fear and absolute confusion. Then, his eyes flicked to the broken mirror behind you, and then his reflection in the mirror to his right.
Marc and Jake had taken their sweet time.
Steven looked between you, the mirror and the window and then back at you. Then it visibly clicked.
“Oh, oh my gods, Y/N you, you're-” he swallowed. “-what's happening?”
“It's my time of the month.” The joke went down like a led balloon. Steven swayed on his feet.
“Steven, are you alright?”
“Yeah, sort of. No, not really.”
You craned your neck as far as your current predicament would allow for. “Are you going to pass out?”
“Maybe.”
“Okay,” you said the word beneath your breath. He hadn't run which, all things considered, meant this was going fairly well. Even from the awkward angle you were stuck in you could feel his eyes on you, shifting from one monstrous feature to the next, lingering on the markings and the fucking antlers and the–
“Love, you have blood– you're bleeding.” And just like that, a flip switched in Steven's mind at the sight of you wounded. This man was a true enigma and a wonderful one at that. “Here–”
He approached and then almost immediately hesitated, bouncing back on his heel the moment you shifted.
You weren't exactly a threatening sight, shoulders wedged in the door frame, covered in dust and splintered wood and head practically pinned to the wall. You looked like a drunk stag that had lost a fight to a tree.
Steven shook himself and stepped close enough that your laboured breaths ruffled his curls. He was doing an admirable job of hiding the fact that he was shaking.
“Alright, bloody hell um–” He regarded the situation and then nodded. “I'll push, you pull.”
Steven braced his hands against your shoulders and you grabbed hold of the door frame. It's not that you needed the extra help; out of all the things you'd conquered whilst serving as an avatar freeing yourself from a plaster wall ranked fairly low on that list.
But Steven was touching you in this form, his palms pressed to your broadened shoulders and you weren't about to jinx it.
The wall cracked and fissured as you freed yourself, several deep punctures left where your antlers had been. You twisted and manoeuvred your way out of the bathroom until you could straighten up to your full height.
Thank god Steven lived on the top floor. Higher ceilings.
“Okay, woah–” Steven took several steps back as you stood. You towered over him, antlers bleeding into darkened shadows against the ceiling. Okay, now 'intimidating' might be a more fitting word.
You lowered yourself to your knees in an attempt to seem less frightening. Now that you were eye to eye, Steven could see the worry in your expression as you regarded him softly.
“It's alright. I'm adjusting,” he said, voice still trembling. “Just need a quick adjustment period...”
You gave him time and let him lead.
And that's how you ended up in the kitchen, legs crossed as you sat on the floor whilst Steven sat on the counter in front of you. He held a wet flannel in his hand, droplets of water creeping down his arm.
A dry cloth sat folded on the counter beside him, as well as a box of plasters with 'good job!' written across each one.
It was as if his rationality was being overridden by his need to care for you as well as his overall steveness.
Steven dabbed the crown of your head gently, his hands shaking as he did. There was still a dull ache where the antlers had sprouted. Steven rung out the flannel over the sink and the sight of the blood running through his fingers and over his knuckles made you feel ill. His hands were always so soft, they weren't meant to be stained with blood.
You blinked as a small trail of blood seeped from your head and trailed down between your brows. Steven diligently stopped the flow with the cloth and clean you up. Your nose twitched at the dampness of the cloth and Steven smiled.
The first smile you'd seen all night.
His actions slowed, hand stilling as he watched you. Beneath the pale glow of your eyes there was something so familiar. He smiled again.
“Hiya love,” the words were so soft they made you feel warm.
“Hi.”
You raised your arms, the markings and symbols on your skin catching in the dim light. Your hands circled Steven's wrists gently. He pulled back and for a terrifying moment you thought he'd gone completely; deciding that he'd had enough, that you were too much like this and he was drawing the boundary line here.
Instead, he dropped the blood-stained flannel in the sink basin and held his hand back against yours, palms pressed together. It was an adorable comparison. The tips of his fingers barely brushed the top of your palm, in fact, you were certain you could close your hand over the entirety of his own. There was a moment shared in comfortable silence then Steven asked, “Y/N, what is going on?”
The question was gentle and filled with wonder. There was still a trace of a smile on his lips. It made you feel like you could finally tell him.
“Avatar stuff. I suppose my god is a little more... flamboyant than yours.”
Steven laughed and the sound comes as a relief. “Khonshu didn't want to give me the time of day, let alone a– a bloody godly alter ego.”
A beat of silence.
“Did it hurt?”
It was heartwarming that that was his next question.
“A little,” you answered somewhat honestly. “But I'm alright now.”
He finished cleaning you up in a peaceful silence. He took the time to wash the blood from your hair as best he could and plaster your injured hand, (for the emotional boost more than anything.) It took several plasters to cover the expanse of the wound, each overlapping so the supportive catchphrase now read 'good good job good.'
He sat in front of you now, having spent the last few minutes tracing the spirals and patterns on your arm. His earlier fear had completely given way to wonder; it wasn't easy to forget that the man was a mythology nerd through and through.
A boyish laugh crept past his lips. “I wonder how Marc and Jake will react.” He looked up at you to gouge a reaction and his smile fell slightly. “Oh.”
“Steven–” you scratched the back of your neck. This was going to be a bitch to explain. “-Jake only knows because... well–” you made a vague motion with your hands that the four of you had come to recognize meant 'Jake.'
Steven nodded in understanding.
“And Marc just sort of found out by accident.”
Steven nodded again and you could visibly see the process going on behind his eyes.
“And um– why didn't any of you tell me?” His voice adopted a higher pitch at the end of the question, likely in an attempt to take the edge off.
You took a sudden interest in the floorboards. “I didn't want to– you know.”
It was quiet for a moment. Then Steven gasped.
“Oh, oh love, you didn't think... you didn't think I'd be scared did you?”
A quick exhale of amusement from you. “You seemed fairly scared.”
“I- well yeah, yeah.” He conceded. “But not of you. Never of you.” His hands found yours again, the staggering difference in size almost humorous. “I just wish you could have felt like you could have told me, that's all.”
A warmth settled in the centre of your chest and you felt the corner of your eyes dampen. Any attempt of yours to not cry was immediately foiled as he inched closer and put his arms around your neck. His knees bucked against your crossed legs and he sank against your chest.
“For what it's worth,” you smiled against the crown of his head. “I think your reaction probably ranks highest out of the three.”
“Yeah?” He asked lightly. His curls tickled the end of your nose.
“Yeah. Jake used some pretty colourful language, most of it was in Spanish. And Marc pulled a gun on me–”
“He pulled a gun on you–?!” With the exclamation, Steven shot back to look at you.
“Like I said, you take first place.”
“Well, the bar wasn't set awfully bloody high was it?” He glared at his reflection in the kettle and you smirked, closing your arms around him and caging him to your chest. There was something so soothing, so primally comforting about being able to hold him, hold all of him, like this.
You nuzzled against his chocolate curls and to anyone on the outside looking in the action would have looked downright primal. Animalistic. But it couldn't have felt more intimate.
“I could get used to this, I think.” Steven's words were barely above a breath. “You're just a big teddy bear, really. More of you to love.”
His hands slowly and deliberately retraced your shoulder, then your neck, down the expanse of your chest... “What do the patterns mean?”
“Some of the symbols stand for attributes or characteristics; strength, courage, loyalty,” you regarded your arm, from your bicep down to your wrist. “Some of them are his symbols, some he added when I agreed to be his avatar and others, I've never really taken the time to find out–”
Steven hummed, not in a dismissive sense, rather in a way that showed he'd listened to each word like the gospel.
“I've got a book on ruins and ancient symbols, only bought the thing for the hieroglyphics really but maybe we could have a look? Do some homework?” A playful nudge accompanied the last question and you caved. As if you stood much of a chance to begin with.
That's how you ended up laying on the bed, (well, mostly on the bed. Your back was against the headboard and your legs still hung over the edge. Steven straddled your middle, an open book and notepad to his right, a highlighter between his teeth and a marker in his hand. His glasses sat on the bridge of his nose and his brows furrowed as he traced his thumb over a symbol just beneath your collarbone.
You shivered despite yourself.
He'd mapped everything out, using the marker to gently draw on your skin, making connections and jotting down notes. It was like watching a scholar at work and you were honoured to be his study.
“Sorry about the bathroom,” you said rather out of the blue.
Steven glanced up at you, rebellious curls falling against his brow. His confusion melted into gentle amusement. “Don't worry about it, love. Needed redoing anyways, I reckon.”
Then, as if it were the most mundane thing in the world, he went back to his translations.
In a form that most could only phantom in the darkest corners of their imagination and with a god willing to bend the seas and skies at your will, Steven Grant somehow remained among both the most curious and most cherished things you had.
Key ➳
Cernnunos - Celtic god of wild things, fertility and animals
Manannan - (Manannan Mac Lir) Celtic god of the sea
Imbolc - the Celtic festival that marks the halfway point between the winter solstice and the spring equinox. It celebrates the return of life and light as it is the time when the ewes come into milk, when the first flowers appear and when the day noticeably lengthens.
Newgrange - famous 5,200 year old passage tomb in Co Meath, Ireland
‘fia beag’ - gaeilge for ‘little deer’
thank you for reading!
tag list: @bakerstreethound @yoditopascal @moonlighy @linkpk88 @spideysimpossiblegirl @noahspector @malaanii @ineedmorejakelockley @drmeowingfangirl @loonymagizoologist @othersideoftheparadise @doozywoozy @mywellspringoflife
morning banter
summary: something about you and marc? he wakes up early, and you most certainly do not.
word count: 1.2k
warnings: language, my shitty spanish (i’m trying okay)
a/n: took a quick break from b+h for a lil marc spector drabble!!! hope you all enjoy
Es tan temprano para esta mierda, Marc. Jake’s annoyed Spanish drawl smacks into the side of Marc's head. The combination of his drowsy, slow mind and that Marc knew next to no spanish caused the said man’s eyebrows to crinkle. “What the fuck did you just say?” He can barely hear his own voice, but he knows Jake can.
Don’t worry about it.
“Jake.”
Marc. Only Jake would pitch up his name in a high voice: it’s a mimic.
“Hey! I don’t sound like that.”
Yeah you do.
“No, I don’t! Back me up, Steven.”
Don’t bring me into this.
C’mon, Stevie— Jake cuts off abruptly, probably the doing of Steven.
“Jake,” Marc resists the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Just tell me what you said.”
Go to sleep, puta.
“Okay, I know that one,” Marc hisses, toiling you in closer to him. “Rude.”
You deserved it.
“You wanna know what you deserve?”
Oh, yeah, Jake taunts. What’s that?
“A fucking pun–”
His voice goes legato as soon as he senses you moving, causing him to fall silent. You curl tighter into a ball, spiraling the covers more into your fists and tucking them again beneath your chin. Jake, by some miracle, also goes quiet, as if somehow his words could expel themselves out of Marc’s mouth and to your ears.
But, the soft exhales are the only noise you left out, and if you heard them, you didn’t show it. Marc’s shoulders roll back from where they were hunched, surely Steven’s gentle gesture to the position he hadn’t even realized he’d been in.
Would it kill the two of you to just be nice to each other? The Brit muses.
Absolutely. Jake’s response is automatic.
“One hundred percent true.” Marc chimes in.
HAH! Steven ejects the exclamation in triumph. Now I got the two of you agreeing.
“Sure, whatever.”
Only time we agree is when you finesse us into it, hermano.
Marc slides his arm out from where it was wrapped around your waist to give the two a thumbs up in agreement with Jake, reluctantly.
Or, he tried to.
“Noooooo…” You groan groggily, tightening your hold.
Marc freezes. “Baby?”
“Mmmmm?”
“I- I didn’t know you were aware.”
“Well,” you snuggle closer into his chest, his warm embrace. “You ‘n Steven ‘n Jake aren’t exactly quiet when you argue.”
He sighs, guilt pooling in his stomach. “Listen, ‘m sorry. You know how we can be.”
“Yeah, I do. And I love you all,” you reach back, squeezing his bicep reassuringly. “But I also love my beauty sleep.”
“You don’t need to sleep to be beautiful.” He ducks his head to place a featherlight kiss to your neck, savoring the sigh you let out in return.
“You’re sweet, but we both know that’s not true.”
“Do we?”
“Mhm,” you turn, nudging Marc’s arms off of you as you face him. “‘M a menace without it.”
“That’s true,” he chuckles when you slap his arm, letting out an effortlessly beautiful smile. “But it’s nothing a cup of nice, warm coffee can’t solve.”
You giggle softly. “That’s true.”
“C’mon, sleepyhead,” He moves to slide you both out from under the covers. “Let’s get going.”
“Nope.” You let him go, rolling to burrito yourself in the covers again.
“Nope?” He inquires, rounding the bed to stand over you.
“Nope.”
His shadow covers your shut eyelids and you know he’s bent over your face. “I’ll make you coffee to apologize for waking you up, baby, I promise.” You scrunch your nose. “Tempting, but no.”
“Not even because I’m asking you?”
“Not even if you were on your knees and begging.”
“Oh?” The sentence your half asleep brain had kindled clearly took him by surprise.
You huff, flipping over in the bed dramatically. “Go away, I’m tired.”
“What’s so great about this bed that I can’t give you, huh?”
“Well,” You take a deep breath, and some small, rational part of your brain tells you that maybe the spew of words about to come out of your mouth is what he wanted to happen all along. “The bed is warm. It’s cozy. The covers are just the right heaviness and just the right thickness to provide optimal warmth and the right amount of pressure to keep me sleeping like a bear in hibernation. ‘Nd my pillow is the right firmness, but has my desired amount of sink to put me out as soon as you turn off the light and wrap your arms around me. Even though that only happens sometimes.”
Marc huffs in frustration. “Hey!”
“Yeah, Marc, my bed is always here on time. It never goes anywhere, and the only life it’s saving is your sorry ass right now.”
“Uncalled for.” He runs a hand through his hair.
“Thought you liked a bit of banter.”
“I like a kick or two,” He leans over and pulls your shoulders to level on the bed and your eyes to meet his own. “But not at eight in the fucking morning.”
“Neither do I,” You reach up, pulling his face in for a kiss.
He gives in almost immediately, setting a knee on either side of your legs and scooping his arms underneath your body to pull you up.
“Nuh uh,” you pull away and unwrap his arms, flopping back onto the bed. “Sleepy. Time to sleep.”
“You can't leave me hanging like that!”
You yawn, pulling the covers up to your chin again. “I can and I did.”
For a second, a naive, small second, you think he’s going to leave you be. Your brain relaxes, you feel yourself on the precipice of sleep, the hypnotic, rich swirl of unconsciousness sucking you deeper into its whirlpool. But then you feel the covers lift, and Marc’s— frighteningly cold— fingers are dancing along your sides to a tune you illustrate with laughs. You slap his hands away, reaching out towards the lure of sleep that now sneaks away to taint another victim.
“You ready to get out of bed now, sweets?”
You groan, turning to face him in defeat. “You fucker.”
He throws his arms mockingly. “What’d I do?”
“You manipulated me! I hate you.”
“I did no such thing. What are these accusations?”
“You knew I would get worked up,” you sit up in the bed now, and Marc shrinks ever so slightly under the weight of your deadly stare. “You knew that would wake me up.”
“Hey, let’s calm down–”
“You knew that if you pushed the right buttons, you would get what you wanted.”
Marc’s face is ghastly, and he looks two steps away from summoning his suit and flying away.
“I warned you earlier about this, Marc, were you listening?”
He nods frantically. “Of course–”
“I’m a menace when I get woken up early.” You launch off the bed, and you might as well be Moon Knight yourself with your accuracy.
The takeaway from this event? For Marc, it’s to never try waking you up before you’ve recharged fully, or to have some coffee made ahead of when he was to attempt it. For you, though?
It’s that Marc shrieks like a little girl.
translations (HELP I FORGOT):
es tan temprano para esta mierda - it’s too early for this shit
puta - bitch
i felt very fancy using these
There's important things going on, yet Steven can't help but notice...
I just think now the interaction would be lowkey hilarious both being played by Oscar Isaac 😭
love you like the sun came out
ˣ pairing: steven grant x reader
ˣ summary: steven spends an evening with two of his absolute favorites— the egyptian exhibit at the museum and you.
ˣ warnings: purely fluff + cheesy love declarations but we need it ;_;
ˣ a/n: this is just a ficlet i whipped up after bawling my eyes out at the end of episode 5. marvel better watch out bc i’m sending them a bill for my therapy this week lololol. hope you enjoy!
Keep reading
summary: steven ‘accidently’ messages you after you’ve broken up.
pairings: ex! steven grant x ex! reader, allusions to ex! marc and ex! jake as well
warnings: literally just angst :( and very minimal cussing
word count: 870 words
a/n: sooo this is the first small part of a series based on ex! moon boys. will have everything from angst, angst and angst, to pining, forced close proximity and hopefully fluff!!! enjoy :) similar fic here (could be considered another part ig)
Surely it was an accident.
The message shone on your screen, illuminating a small portion of your dark room that the sun had not yet reached, eyes squinting with the unwelcoming light. You had blinked once, twice, harshly, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes to ensure this wasn’t a cruel trick your mind was playing.
But it was still there.
Hi.
The message was so simple, a single word. But your heart was pounding, and your mouth was dry. You could imagine him saying it. Could still feel the warm embrace of his breath against the top of your head as he whispered the word, and you knew you were home.
Steven had messaged you. But why?
Keep reading
moonboys and a reader who maladaptive daydreams?
hi, nonnie! thank you for this request, you must’ve seen my blog description haha. this is my first fic request which is very exciting! my inbox is always open so if you’d like to request something, i’d appreciate it. :) anyway, i hope you like it!
IMPLODING THE MIRAGE
Moon Knight x afab!reader (primarily Marc Spector) (10.6k+)
You’ve been escaping into yourself more and more often, and the boys are starting to notice. How are you supposed to explain to them that you don’t want to live in the moment, when the version of your life inside your head is so much better than reality on the outside?
RATING: EXPLICIT (18+, mdni) WARNINGS: maladaptive daydreaming, insecure reader & negative perceptions of self, depictions of injury & violence, kidnapping, miscommunication, SMUT (inappropriate fantasizing, unprotected p in v sex, cum eating, dirty talk, dom/sub dynamics if you squint)
imploding the mirage — the killers
i had to do it, i had no other choice you’ve got to listen to the inside voice a bullet train will get you there fast but it won’t guarantee a long last sometimes it takes a little bit of courage and doubt to push your boundaries out beyond your imagining
He was the moon, and she was the stars.
It was serendipitous, how the couple had come to fall in love throughout the course of their divine adventures alongside each other—two servants to a pair of primordial Egyptian deities, serving as Avatars to protect those who could not protect themselves. She’d met him at a meeting of the Ennead, when he’d been called upon to answer for his actions against a human named Arthur Harrow, who was accused of attempting to raise Ammit from eternal isolation.
The trial hadn’t gone well, and certainly hadn’t worked in his favor, but her goddess protector had a soft spot for Khonshu, the God of the Moon—after all, he was the reason she had been given five extra days with which to bear her five children.
So her Avatar was secretly assigned to keep watch over the Moon Knight, to aid in his fight to keep Ammit contained and offer her services should he need them.
He was resistant at first, but Khonshu insisted that having Nut as an ally could only serve to benefit them in their journey—after all, she was the sky, and without her, the Moon could not rise.
Marc Spector and his alters didn't anticipate becoming so infatuated with the soft curve of her Avatar’s smile or the cosmos she seemed to hold within her eyes. But as time passed, they grew closer, and when she saved him again and again, the navy blue of her armor shimmering with glowing silver emblems of stars, he felt as if his soul was tethered to her. It seemed to be fate, as clear as a constellation, that their lives were somehow intertwined and their happenstance meeting was actually the result of some unseen gravitational pull, guiding them through the darkness until they found solace in one another.
He heard her sandal-clad feet softly hit the solid ground, her body drifting down from the sky to land beside him after her short flight in the air. He turned to look at her—the flowing robes of her ceremonial armor billowed in the evening breeze, her hair pulled back intricately with thin glittering bands of silver, adorned with five-pointed stars that captured the moonlight in her curls. She was ethereal, heavenly, celestial, and when she turned and smiled at him, he swore the planets aligned in some brief moment of rapture.
“Where to next, Moon Boy?”
She teased lightly, her nose crinkling with amusement. His hands twitched at his sides, unable to control the movement of his arm as it reached for her hand.
He heard Khonshu chuckle deeply from somewhere behind him, condescending and slightly mocking. Still, he always spoke kinder about the woman beside him than any other being on this Earth.
“I should’ve known you would become enamored with the little star. Nut always finds a way to reunite the beings of the night sky.”
Marc ignored him—he was too enthralled by the way her breath hitched in her throat at the feeling of his fingers brushing her own, the hood and mask of his armor receding to reveal the tenderness of his gaze. He turned to face her, his other gloved hand reaching to cradle the side of her jaw. He watched as her gaze flickered down to his lips, and he smiled.
“Anywhere, as long as it’s with you.”
He leaned forward to capture her lips with his own, swallowing her contented sigh as she melted into his touch—
“Jesus Christ!”
You nearly toppled forward when Marc abruptly yanked his arm away from you, his face contorted into a look of pain. You blinked once, then twice, eyes clearing to focus in on the blood staining your hands and the curved needle that was pinched tightly between your forefinger and thumb.
“The fuck was that? Are you even paying attention to what you’re doing?”
Marc hissed at you, cradling his injured forearm to his chest, gritting his teeth as your eyes widened in realization.
“Shit, shit, I’m sorry, Marc, I zoned out, here, just let me see—”
“Forget it, I’ll just do it myself.”
He snatched the suture from your hand and laid his arm back on the marbled countertop of your bathroom sink, giving you a clear view of the mistake you’d made—you’d laid the stitch nearly a full inch from where the edge of the gaping incision had started, sinking it into completely uninjured, healthy skin.
“Marc, stop, I’ll do it.”
You stopped him before he could hurt himself even more—he never had the patience to treat his wounds properly, but for ones that were this deep, it was smarter to close them by hand than wait several hours for his magical suit to heal it on its own.
He grunted in protest, but nonetheless allowed you to retrieve the needle from his hold and lean over his arm, tongue pinched between your teeth in concentration.
You were much more careful, this time, deliberate with each pull of the thread beneath his skin, finishing sewing shut the injury quickly. When you’d finally finished, you leaned forward to bite the end of the stitch and tear it away with your teeth. You reached for a piece of gauze, pouring a generous amount of saline solution onto the cloth in order to blot the excess blood from his skin.
You could feel his eyes on you the whole time, burning into your skull as if he was trying to read your mind. You sulked.
“I said I was sorry, Marc, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Your words were soft, and he could hear the guilt that was churning in your stomach. He didn’t flinch when you began dabbing at the drying blood around the wound.
“S’fine. But—what happened? It’s like—you just tapped out for a second, there. Did you even hear what I was saying to you?”
You frowned.
“No, I’m sorry. I just—got lost in thought.”
“Hell of a time for that to happen.”
He chuckled in an attempt to lighten the mood, but you didn’t laugh. Your eyes were still fixed on the skin of his arm, even though you’d successfully wiped away most of the remaining blood.
“I was just saying that—that I appreciate that you’re willing to do this for me.”
Your eyes darted to his face, surprised at the vulnerability he was displaying by expressing his gratitude.
“I mean—I never figured that when I’d stumbled onto your balcony all those months ago, beaten to all hell, that I’d meet someone who was willing to patch me up over and over again. Well—at least, before you stabbed me with a needle.”
Your eyes fell again, cheeks reddening at his jab. But he just laughed warmly, lifting his arm to rest his hand on your shoulder. Your bristled beneath his fingers, although his touch was nothing more than a friendly expression of appreciation.
“I’m just teasing you. But either way—just wanted to say thanks. Steven told me that I don’t say it enough, so...”
Now you laughed. It was more of a scoff, really, accompanied by the roll of your eyes as you reached for the knobs on the faucet, rinsing the blood from your fingers.
“Of course Steven made you.”
A lopsided grin found its way onto his face, and when you looked at him again, there was a twinkle in his eye. Your breath stuttered in your throat as you gazed at him—ebony curls spilling messily against his forehead, his lips quirked upwards at the corners, the fondness that was lingering beneath his brown irises. Was it possible? Could he really care about you the way you cared for him?
You turned away, standing and exiting the bathroom quickly before you could make a fool of yourself, face heating up at your own naïveté. Of course he didn’t feel that way about you. You were just—you. Only in the sanctuary of your imagination would he ever look at you and see anything beyond just a nurse playmate, or even maybe a friend.
You heard his heavy footsteps follow you back into your flat, where you wandered into the kitchen and retrieved a couple glasses.
“Do you mind if I—”
“Spare bed’s already made, I washed the sheets since last time you bled all over them and didn’t even tell me.”
You turned on the tap to fill the two cups with water. You were certain Marc hadn’t remembered to drink anything since his most recent escapade as a masked vigilante, and being around him always tended to make your mouth run dry.
“Thanks, sweetheart.”
You slid the glass of water across the countertop towards him, leaning back against the kitchen island to sip at your own. You watched him above the rim of your glass—the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he took a large swig of the cool liquid, the way a stray droplet of water dribbled down his chin when he pulled the glass back, the way his hand came to wipe it away, the plush of his bottom lip supple beneath the swipe of his fingers.
She fell back against the mattress, breath temporarily stolen from her lungs as she felt the heat of his lips hungrily mouthing at any exposed skin it could reach—her jawline, her neck, her collarbone, the swell of her breasts. A soft whine fell from her mouth and Marc swiftly lifted himself back to her face to swallow the sound, tongue sinking into her mouth to taste her.
Her fingers clawed at the fabric of his t-shirt, twisting and yanking him impossibly closer, legs lifting to wrap around his waist to press the heat of her core against the growing tent in his pants. A low groan escaped his chest as he rutted against her, pulling back to take stock of the hazy fog of lust that clouded her eyes and the O-shape of her lips as she let out a shaky exhale.
“Fuck, Marc.”
She whispered, arms wrapping tightly around his shoulders, fingers digging into his shoulderblades.
“Want you—need you so bad.”
“You’re doing it again.”
You blinked once, then twice, finding Marc's dark gaze staring straight at you as his voice pulled you back to reality. Your brows lifted in horror when you realized you’d shamelessly been ogling at him, too engrossed in your thoughts to notice how long you’d been standing there.
“Shit, I—sorry.”
You rubbed at your eyes with your fingers, hoping that maybe if you pressed hard enough, the image of Marc’s body hovering above you would erase itself from your mind. It didn’t work.
You heard the clank of his now-empty glass as he set it down on the granite countertop, his arms crossing over his chest.
“Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong?”
You should be used to the rush of heat to your face by now—just being in Marc’s company caused you to blush uncontrollably, but still, the discomfort of your ruddy cheeks made your pulse quicken. Your gaze flickered down to your feet, eyes meeting the stupid fucking bunny slippers that you wore to accompany your fleece pajama bottoms. Fucking embarrassing.
“It’s nothing, Marc.”
You whispered quietly in response, although nausea was beginning to settle in the pit of your stomach. You were out of control—this man was driving you insane.
He studied you for a moment longer, eyes narrowed in suspicion, but when you didn’t look back up at him, he just sighed.
“Okay. I’ll just—leave you alone, then. Goodnight.”
There were tears pricking the back of your eyes. You wanted to ask him to stay, to come share your bed instead of the one in your guest room, to kiss his stupidly handsome face.
“Towels are folded in the bathroom for you, and there’s clothes in the wardrobe if you want to change.”
You said instead, turning to refill your glass of water in the sink behind you. If he heard you, he didn’t respond—you listened to his footsteps disappear down the hall before the door to the guest bedroom creaked shut with a quiet click. Your shoulders immediately slumped forward, eyes squeezed shut tightly in an effort to combat the desperate urge to break down.
Her eyes were full of detestation as she glared down at him, nostrils flared with rage. He wanted to shrink beneath her disapproval.
“Are you out of your fucking mind?”
The woman started, and in spite of her towering figure looking down at him, he couldn’t help but gawk at the way the moonlight framed her, her silhouette outlined by the subtle glow of the night sky behind her. She offered him a hand and he took it, allowing her to yank him to his feet without an ounce of gentleness.
“You’re lucky I was here, Lockley, or things would’ve ended differently.”
She hissed, dusting herself off as if to showcase the strenuous effort she had put into saving his ass. He scowled behind his mask, the blood from the wound on his forearm beginning to soak through the bandages of his suit, tingeing the cream-colored fabric a dark crimson.
“I don’t need your help, estrellita. I was handling it.”
She scoffed as he turned on his heel to stomp away, crossing her arms tightly over her chest.
“Yeah, sure looked like you were handling it—why didn’t you call me? Nut had to drag me out of bed so you didn’t get yourself killed. Didn’t the old bird tell you we were together on this?”
He scowled, eyes narrowed in contempt.
“Yeah, he did, and I said no. We are not partners. We’re hardly even friends.”
He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth, the way her face fell and her brows creased causing a pang of guilt to stab through his already-sore chest. He sighed.
“Estrellita, I didn’t mean—”
“Why do you push me away?”
She interrupted, and Jake was taken aback by the question.
“What do you mean?”
“You need me, Jake. We need each other. I’m just—I just want to help you, why won’t you let me help you?”
He didn’t respond, just stared at her as her eyes flooded with tears. At his silence, she shook her head, turning away to stare up into the star-filled sky.
“We’re supposed to be a team, Moon Knight. The stars and the moon—you can’t have one without the other.”
He could see the reflection of the crescent-shaped moon in her glassy eyes, the soft glow painting her face with silvery beams of light.
You’d left the balcony door wide open—your routine was fairly habitual, now. A mug of warm tea was cradled in your fingers as you curled up in the wicker chair, eyes flitting across the scattered stars that were visible from your tiny apartment complex.
You watched him sit down beside you in your periphery, the movement to your left pulling you from your reverie. He reached for the glass of bourbon you'd set out on the table in front of him.
You sat in silence for awhile, finding comfort in the man’s quiet presence. You liked that about Jake—you never felt like you had to fill the air with meaningless conversation. He was perfectly content to just enjoy your company, the same as you enjoyed his.
You heard the ice in his glass clink against the side as he took a sip.
“Are you going to tell them?”
Neither of you looked at each other when he spoke—the question was spoken out into the world, not really directed towards you, although you knew what he meant.
Jake was too fucking perceptive for his own good. Even when he was silent, he was always there, watching, listening, observing—even if the other alters were oblivious to the yearning that was thinly veiled within your eyes, he certainly wasn’t. You sighed.
“No.”
He hummed in acknowledgement, but something about his lack of verbal response bothered you, itching at the back of your brain. You turned to scowl at him.
“What?”
Jake hardly spared you a glance, barely quirking a brow at your emotionally-charged reaction as he shook his head.
“Nothing. I didn’t say anything.”
“Exactly.”
You glared, fingers anxiously tapping at the rim of your mug. The contours of Jake’s face were sharp in the dim light of the moon, features accentuated by the shadows. He finally turned to look at you.
“You know what I think, nena. You’re only hurting yourself. And your constant...daydreaming. It’s not as subtle as it once was. You—You should talk to them. Or me.”
The last bit of his proposal caught you off guard. His eyes had already drifted elsewhere when he said it, staring into his half-empty glass of liquor, but your brows lifted in surprise.
“I—you?”
He glowered playfully.
“Don’t sound so surprised, nena. I always listen to you.”
That was true. Some of your fondest memories with Jake were of late nights spent out on your balcony, getting drunk on cheap wine and sharing stories.
“Yeah, you’re good at listening, but not so much the talking part.”
Jake shrugged, although he nodded in understanding. He was all too aware of his own weaknesses.
You took a sip of your chamomile tea, letting its warmth combat the chill of the evening air.
“Why won’t you tell me?”
You asked quietly, and even without elaborating, Jake knew what you were referring to. He sighed, tossing back the last of his bourbon before setting it on the small table between you, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.
“I’ve told you before. It’s not my place. I know what they think, but not what they feel.”
You huffed quietly, although deep down, you knew he was right. It wasn’t his place to share how Marc or Steven felt about you. You sort of admired the way he was so strict in his moral obligations—especially considering the lengths you were willing to go in order to change his mind.
Jake stiffened when he felt your hand rest on his bicep, fingers wrapping around it and squeezing lightly.
“But what about how you feel?”
His jaw rippled, and you felt the muscle beneath your fingers tense at your coy words. You could feel the restraint within him as he sat up abruptly, pulling away so his arm fell from your grasp. He still didn’t look at you.
“It doesn’t matter how I feel, nena. Not until you talk to Marc. He—you were his first. I’m not going jeopardize your relationship with him until he knows the truth.”
Anger flared within you.
“I’m not his. I don’t belong to anyone. My choices are my own.”
Jake flinched, eyes softening as they flickered over to you.
“You’re right, I’m sorry—I didn’t mean it like that. I just—you have to understand. He—I can’t go behind his back like this. Yo no sería capaz de vivir conmigo mismo.”
“But you can’t even tell me if he feels the same way?”
You asked, and he could hear the pain in your voice as your tone wavered slightly. You’d had this conversation many times before, but things had been escalating recently—perhaps because it was getting increasingly difficult for you to be content in the reality you lived in.
Jake’s eyes were full of sympathy as he regarded you.
“No, nena. I’m sorry.”
You turned away.
“But you need to tell him. And Steven, too. They deserve to know. And so do you.”
You heard his weight shift as he stood to head back to bed, having spent too much time keeping the body awake—he didn’t want his alters to grow suspicious at the exhaustion when they woke in the morning.
“What if he breaks my heart?”
He paused in the threshold on the doorway, glancing back at you when he heard the thickness in your throat as your eyes welled with tears.
“What if he doesn’t feel the same way?”
Jake pursed his lips, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides as he pondered his response. Finally, he released a long sigh.
“I don’t think you have to worry about that, nena. He’d be crazy not to.”
The smell of cinnamon wafted down the hallway as Steven rose from his slumber. There was a gentle melody floating in the air as he pulled himself from the bed, rubbing sleep from his eyes, his bare feet padding along the tiled floor towards the source of the noise.
She was singing quietly to herself, back towards him as she chopped the fresh strawberries into fourths. He couldn’t help but smile at the domesticity of it all—the woman he loved, that he fought beside, making breakfast for them to share. His heart felt whole.
He sidled up behind her, arms wrapping around her waist and his body pressing flush against her back. He placed a kiss to the exposed skin of her neck, her hair pulled up in a sloppy updo.
“G’mornin’, darling.”
He hummed sleepily, and he felt her chest rumble with an airy giggle as she leaned into his touch.
“Hi, handsome. Sleep okay?”
He reached over her shoulder to steal a strawberry from the cutting board, taking a bite of the succulent fruit before offering the other half to her by pressing it to her lips. She smiled and happily accepted his offering.
“Would’ve slept even better if I’d woken up to your face beside me.”
She threw her head back, leaning against his chest as she laughed brightly—his favorite sound.
“Oh, boohoo. Sorry for getting up early to make you breakfast.”
She teased, and Steven pressed his face into her hair, the smell of her coconut shampoo enticing him. His arms reached to rest on the countertop to either side of her, successfully caging her in. He heard her breath hitch as the movement of the knife in her hand stalled, his body pressing up more firmly against her—enough so that she could feel the hardness of his manhood against the flesh of her ass.
“The strawberries are sweet, darling, but I’d rather have something even sweeter for breakfast this mornin’, yeah?”
“G’mornin’, darling.”
The knife fumbled in your grasp and the blade slipped across your fingers, slicing a divot in the tender flesh between your thumb and forefinger.
“Steven! Shit!”
You immediately dropped the knife and rushed towards the sink, rinsing your wound under the cold water to inspect the damage and dilute the blood.
“Oh, Gods, m’so sorry, love—are you alright?”
You could feel his body creeping up behind you, an arm reaching around to grab yours in an attempt to investigate the source of your discomfort. The warmth of his presence against your back startled you, a fierce blush rising to your cheeks as you reached for a towel and sidestepped, trying to put as much distance between the two of you as possible.
“It’s—I’m fine. It’s just a tiny cut, it’s no big deal.”
You brushed it off, although your palm was beginning to throb. You pulled the washcloth away from the afflicted area, finding it soaked with a generous amount of your blood.
“Looks like it hurts. Can I—may I help you with it?”
There was trepidation in his big brown eyes, obviously put off by the hastiness with which you’d pulled away from him. You surrendered yourself, offering a sigh and a slow nod.
“Yeah. Thanks.”
You found yourself in a similar position to the previous night, although this time, the roles were reversed—and your wound was from an unfortunate kitchen incident, not a scuffle with a group of evil antique smugglers.
Steven’s bottom lip was pulled between his teeth as he secured a piece of gauze on the injury with medical tape, winding it around your palm so it fit snugly against the area. His hands were nimble and his touch was painfully gentle, the pads of his fingers just barely skimming over your skin in an effort to prevent you from more discomfort. A chill crept up your spine at the close proximity.
He looked rather satisfied with himself when he’d finished, shoving the medical supplies back into the bin beneath your sink that you had specially packed for him.
“There we are—good as new.”
He smiled cheerily at you, and it was so contagious that you couldn’t help but grin back at him. Your mind briefly darted back to your conversation with Jake the night before; then the unholy thoughts you’d been having this morning when Steven had snuck up on you. Gods, you really were getting out of control...
Steven led you from the bathroom and you returned to your post, rinsing the knife and the sliced strawberries to ensure they weren’t contaminated. You stepped over to the stove to check the steel-cut oatmeal that had been simmering—Steven’s favorite. You gave it a few good stirs before deciding that it was finished, filling up two bowls with generous servings and sprinkling the top with strawberries, brown sugar, and a pinch of cinnamon. Steven was already seated at you breakfast bar when you turned to offer him his meal.
“Bon apétit.”
You flourished playfully, passing the bowl in front of him as you seated yourself on the stool across the way. His eyes crinkled with appreciation when he smiled.
“Oh, it smells bloody lovely. Thank you, darling.”
He always called you that, you rationalized. It was nothing more than a term of endearment—a friendly pet name.
You ate in silence for awhile, save for the sound of silverware clinking against porcelain and the birds chirping from your open window. Your eyes couldn’t help but follow him as he slipped a strawberry past his lips, something reminiscent of a moan escaping him as he savored the flavor of the fruit. Your face flushed bright red.
“Yes, darling—just like that, please.”
He was whimpering beneath her, pupils blown wide as he gazed up at her from where she straddled him, sliding her naked and exposed core over his boxer-clad erection.
“You wanna be inside me, Steven?”
She cooed, leaning forward to kiss along his stubbled jawline, and he moaned wantonly, hips rutting up against her.
“Gods, yes, love, please, I can’t—”
“S’there somethin’ on my face?”
Panic flooded you at the bewildered expression on Steven’s face, his hand coming up to wipe at his mouth in case you'd been gawking at some remnants of food on the corners of his lips.
You shook your head, eyes wide and cheeks already turning pink.
“I—No, no, there’s not, I—sorry. I was just—just thinking.”
He gave you a brief scrutinizing look before shrugging and diving back into the remainder of his oatmeal.
“What were you thinkin’ about?”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“Oh, it’s—nothing, really. Sometimes I just—space out, I guess.”
You offered sheepishly, toying with the last few bites of your food with your spoon—your appetite was suddenly gone.
“You seem to do that a lot, yeah? S’everything alright?”
“Yes.”
You answered him a bit too quickly, hastily jumping to end the conversation before it even began. His brows furrowed, watching as you quickly grabbed both bowls to busy yourself with cleaning up.
He wasn’t quite satisfied with your answer—in fact, it only served to startle him more. He watched you carefully as you began to viciously scrub at the blue porcelain bowls with a sponge.
“Are you...sure? I’m just—you’re worryin’ me a bit, yeah? And with last night, with Marc—if somethin’s the matter, you know you can always talk to us, ‘lright?”
You squeezed your eyes shut, forcing yourself to take in a slow, careful breath in an effort to soothe your frazzled nerves.
“Yeah, I know, Steven—thank you. But—but everything’s just fine, really.”
She’s lying.
Steven was surprised to hear Jake’s voice echo from the back of the headspace—it wasn’t often that he offered internal commentary to any conversations outside of when he was fronting.
And how do you know that?
Marc quipped back in his mind—Steven hated when they argued in the headspace, especially when he was the one in control of the body. His brain felt too full and it was easy for him to get overstimulated.
What—you think she’s telling the truth, jefe?
Marc didn’t respond, and Steven was silently grateful that their quarrel had ended quickly. Still, he knew his alters were correct—you definitely weren’t ‘just fine.’
But the last thing he wanted to do was push you away, especially since it already felt like you were putting up a wall between you, keeping him at arm’s length.
He let out a long sigh, standing up from the bar to get ready to depart for his shift at the museum.
“Well, thank you for brekky, love, and for—everything else.”
You startled when you turned, finding him standing directly behind you, pulling you into his warm embrace without any due warning. God, why was he so fucking sweet? Guilt gnawed away are your insides—Jake was right. He really did deserve to know the truth, why you were spending more time living in your fantasyland than grounded in reality—but surely it’d scare him off. Marc, too.
Perhaps it was just better to keep imagining what it would be like to be loved by them—at least without being outright rejected, there would always be that small sliver of hope gleaming in the back of your mind, that tiny semblance of ‘what if’ that you let linger.
You melted into his arms, face pressed into his shoulder.
“Anytime, Steven, really. It’s my pleasure.”
There was always a smile on her face when they departed—even if their time away from each other was difficult, she knew she could look forward to the next time they'd see each other. The way his big brown eyes would light up with elation when he saw her, like an overexcited puppy reuniting with its owner.
The grin remained on her face, still, after he’d kissed her goodbye and they parted ways. She hummed softly to herself as she journeyed down the hallway to remake the bed and tidy up the room.
He never did remember to tuck in the blankets. She laughed quietly to herself and she entered the room, filled with the distinctive cypress scent of him. She reached to fluff the pillows—
Oh. That shouldn’t be there, should it?
Your fingers wrapped around the small white trinket, strung along on a leather braided band. You lifted it up to your face to inspect it more closely—it was an pendant carved from ivory, shaped like a cross with a loop at the top. An ankh—the key of life—you recalled, as Steven had once taught you. There was a certain texture that ran along the sides, and only when you brought the object right up to your nose were you able to see that there was a teeny tiny pattern etched into the surface. Hieroglyphics.
Shit, you realized. This looked like something that would be in the museum Steven worked at—although it looked a bit too high quality to be sold in the gift shop. Nonetheless, you realized that it must’ve slipped from his pocket while he was getting dressed. What if it was important?
You wandered back to the kitchen and tried calling his cell, once, then twice, without receiving an answer. He was probably already being berated by Donna—oh, well. The museum was on your way to work anyhow, just one bus stop before the café that you worked at. You could swing by and give it to him before your shift.
You glanced down at your phone to shoot him a quick text.
hey, you forgot something here i’ll drop it off for you in a bit x
It was only when you were strolling down the street with the pendant strung around your neck that a thrill of excitement ran up your spine.
What if this was from his latest mission?
It wasn’t something you’d considered before, but now that you thought about it, it seemed like the likeliest explanation. The boys didn’t tell you much about their escapades as the masked lunar vigilante, save for the vague explanations about the injuries they asked you to patch up—but you knew enough to be two-and-two together. This must be the ancient artifact he had been sent to retrieve on Khonshu’s behalf the previous night.
You suppressed a smile by sucking your bottom lip between your teeth, filled with giddiness. You were actually helping.
“Where is it?”
A venomous voice seethed, peering down at the crumpled form of the man at his feet. Marc was hunched over, arms chained behind his back, blood from his abdomen beginning to soak through the white fabric of his suit. His mouth tasted like copper, teeth coated in the sticky red substance as a gruff hand came to harshly grip his jaw, forcing his eyes upward. He sneered.
“I told you. I don’t know.”
Another punch collided with his face, this time connecting with the bridge of his nose and sending him careening backwards, landing against the concrete with a grunt.
“You’re full of shit. We know it was you at the burial site, Spector. We have eyewitnesses. You’re the only person in the world who could have possibly taken it.”
To the man's utter surprise, Marc Spector began to laugh. It was a wet sound, his mask receding so he could spit out a wad of crimson-tinted bile as he chuckled wolfishly, his lips curling up into a snarl. The perpetrator felt fear shoot through him at the look on his face.
“You’re wrong, actually. See, I was there.”
He clarified, eyes glinting dangerously. His attacker stumbled backwards as a harsh silver light blinded him briefly, and when his vision cleared, the Moon Knight had risen to his feet, freed from his shackles.
“I just wasn’t alone.”
The hair on the back of his neck prickled as he slowly turned around, met face to face with intense glare of a woman, her eyes still glowing with residual power. She tilted her head at him condescendingly, before lifting her right hand—the white ankh charm was dangling from her fingertips as she smiled coyly up at him.
“Looking for this?”
She cooed, smirking innocently, and before the man could even blink, she had pounced, wrestling him to the floor and pressing his face down against the cold flooring, cheek smushed against the pavement. She straddled his back, using her weight to hold him still while her fingers made a curling motion in the air—a rope of pure silvery light materialized with the sweep of her hand, binding the man’s hands behind his back with tendrils of starlight.
Her partner was dealing with the other two lackeys, one already laid out on the ground and the other lifted in the air by his neck, one of Marc’s gloved hands raising him up with his fingers pressing beneath his jaw.
When he stopped resisting, Marc let his body collapse to the floor in a heap before he turned back to face the woman, whose chest was rising and falling with heavy breaths. Even after a fight, she somehow appeared graceful and collected—she reached upward and pulled a stray hair from her eyes, tucking it back into it’s place beneath her star-laden headdress. Their eyes met briefly.
“Thanks.”
Marc swallowed, his head bowed low in embarrassment. He waited for the jab to come—‘I told you so.’ He deserved it, really. It was stupid to come in alone.
Instead, he was startled when she approached him softly, her eyes glittering as she lifted her hand to gently brush over his cheekbone, her smile gentle and kind.
“I’ll always have your back. You know that, right?”
He looked away, ridden with guilt and remorse, but she urged his eyes back to her with the nudge of her fingers.
“Marc. I mean it.”
He felt tears stinging the back of his eyes as he sniffed, trying to play off his emotions with fabricated nonchalance.
“Yeah, I know.”
She nodded once, withdrawing her hand from his face before lifting the ancient artifact up to his face, waving it for emphasis.
“We should probably get this to the old bird, then, huh?”
Her head snapped to the side at the gust of wind that abruptly passed them, her eyes trailing up the heavenly form of the aforementioned deity, the slope of his ebony beak towering above her. She swallowed—she’d never actually seen him before, only heard of him in passing from his Avatar. Khonshu.
Time seemed to freeze, briefly, as her breath slowly made its way back to her lungs. The skeletal bird tilted his domineering skull downward, staring her down with intensity.
“Wake up, little star.”
Her brows furrowed, her jaw dropping to reply, but he interrupted.
“You are not a part of this. You’re going to get yourself killed.”
Her head started to swim, the image in front of her turning hazy as her vision began to blur. She blinked profusely. This isn’t a part of the script, this isn’t supposed to happen—
“Wake up!”
With a jolt, you were pulled from your daydream—just in time for a hand to slip over your mouth to muffle your scream before everything went dark.
When your eyes blinked open, heavy with exhaustion, you were staring up at the white ceiling of your bedroom. You made a move to sit up, but the movement caused a throbbing pain to bloom in the back of your skull, forcing you back down against the pillows as a groan of discomfort fell from your lips. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to regain your bearings, when a set of heavy footsteps grabbed your attention from the hallway.
He faltered in the doorway when he made eye contact with you, his dark brows furrowed heavily with concern, dark purple bags settled beneath his lower lashes. When his initial shock wore off, his jaw set as he approached you slowly, a glass of tap water clutched in his left hand. He perched carefully on the edge of the bed, mindful not the nudge you.
“Marc?”
You croaked, your throat hoarse and dry, and he wordlessly reached forward, propping you further up onto the pillows before lifting the glass to your lips.
“Drink.”
He said sternly, pressing the rim to your mouth, and you obliged blindly, letting him tip the contents of the cup back into your mouth as you took slow, tentative sips. When he was satisfied with your water intake, he pulled the glass away and set it on the bedside table, the movement punctuated by a heavy sigh. Your eyes followed him carefully, brows knit together in confusion.
“I—what happened?”
You asked slowly, sitting yourself upward just a bit more. The pain in your head was lessening, although their was still a dull ache lingering at the back of your neck. You could see his jaw ripple again as he clenched his teeth, his body facing the door and his eyes focused on the wall across from him. You studied his profile carefully before he ran a tired hand down his face, rubbing at his eyes with his fingers.
“What do you remember?”
He prompted, and you hesitated, thinking back on the last thing you recalled. You remembered leaving for work, and finding the little white pendant you were planning on returning—and you remember getting lost in another fantasy before a hand clamped around your mouth and—
“Was I kidnapped?”
You asked incredulously, eyes blowing wide with realization as you recalled the sensation of a strong grasp around your face and neck before your fell unconscious. You watched his lip twitch with frustration.
“No. Well—yes. But you, I mean—what the fuck were you thinking?”
He finally turned to look at you, and when he did, you immediately wanted to shrink away and evaporate. His eyes were fiery, burning red hot with fury, the disapproving expression on his face striking something deep in your chest.
“What do you mean?”
You asked quietly, feeling tears begin to prick at your eyes, and Marc stood up, running a hand through his unruly curls as he took in a deep breath, obviously attempting to maintain some semblance of composure.
“You almost got yourself killed—bringing that charm with you, parading it around like a trophy.”
“I didn’t know, Marc, I just—”
“It doesn’t matter. I can’t let you get wrapped up in all of this—fuck, if I hadn’t been there...”
His back was towards you, but you could see the tension in his shoulders, his body heaving with heavy panting breaths. You felt small, like a child being reprimanded. You felt your eyes flood with tears.
“I was just trying to help.”
“Yeah, well, don’t.”
His voice was firm and harsh as he snapped over his shoulder at you, glaring.
“You can’t help. You’re not a part of this.”
You felt your heart hammering in your chest, desperation clawing inside of you as you threw back the blankets, swinging your legs off the side of the mattress so you could approach him.
“But maybe I can, Marc, if you’d just give me a chance, if you’d let me—”
“Stop!”
He whipped around to face you, voice louder than you'd ever heard it before. He was yelling, towering over you as he snarled, fuming.
“Just stop. If you keep this up, you’re gonna get yourself and a lot of other people hurt. You’re not a fucking Avatar—”
“You don’t think I know that?”
Marc flinched when you matched his intensity, the tears falling down your cheeks a stark contrast from the sheer anger that dominated your expression.
“You don’t think I realize that? Or think about it every goddamn night when I have to sit here, alone, wondering if you’re gonna show up, or if you’re somewhere dead and I can’t do anything but wait.”
You squeezed your eyes shut, attempting to swallow your tears down as you broke down in front of the man, your internal conflict reaching a boiling point and spewing out of you without warning.
“You have no idea how many times I’ve wished I could be out there with you, doing something, helping, anything—how often I imagine what it would be like if I wasn’t fucking useless, if I was actually a part of—”
“What did you just say?”
Your eyes snapped open, and your anger faltered when you saw the look of pure horror on Marc’s face, his skin looking several shades paler than it had before. Your mind was reeling, trying to look back on what you said, what your mistake had been, but he quickly clarified for you.
“Did you just—are you saying you wish you were an Avatar?”
His body was rigid, his expression suddenly stony and impenetrable as he looked down at you, offering a barely perceptible shake of his head as he grimaced.
“How could you—how could you possibly want that? Why would you ever—”
You could see his eyes turn glassy as he turned away, his chest beginning to heave again as he ran both of his hands through his hair anxiously, his gaze suddenly appearing frenzied. His words were laced with something adjacent to betrayal.
“You have no idea what—what I wouldn’t give to go back to my life before all of this, to—to not carry this weight, to not—I fucking kill people, do you not understand that? I’m a monster, because my life is fucking controlled by a monster, and you wish you were like me? You wanna suffer like this?”
“At least we’d be suffering together.”
It was barely more than a whisper, your addition, but Marc caught it. You couldn’t bear to look at him anymore—you turned and sat back on the bed, folding your hands in your lap and staring down at your fingers as your heart finally poured out of your chest.
“I don’t know what else I could do, Marc. I don’t know any other way to get you to actually see me.”
“See you?”
He asked incredulously, face marred with confusion, and your lip quivered as you looked anywhere but at him, awaiting his rejection as you spoke.
“I just—all I’ve ever wanted was to be able to help you. To—for you to trust me, for you to—to care about me, and—and the only scenario I can actually imagine you wanting me is if I’m not myself, I’m a version of myself that’s actually strong and capable and—”
You stifled a sob, your face scrunching up as your arms wrapped around yourself in a protective stance, huddling inward as you cried.
“—I don’t know what I’m trying to say, but I just—I want to be more than I am because—because I want to matter to you, Marc, but I know that won’t happen because I’m just—I’m just me.”
Marc fell silent. Your heart was hammering in your chest as you squeezed your bleary eyes shut, forcing yourself to take slow, deliberate inhales despite your desire to hyperventilate. You felt like the room was closing in on you, the walls shrinking and shrinking and you wished the space would swallow you whole.
“What have I done to ever make you think you don’t matter to me?”
His voice was soft and quiet, and when you blinked your tear-filled eyes open, he was staring at you, a look of genuine hurt on his chiseled features. You stuttered.
“I—what?”
“I—”
You watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed thickly.
“Why would you ever think that I don’t care about you? That you have to—to be someone else for that to happen?”
He sounded broken, his big brown eyes wide and imploring, and the sight made your chest feel tight. You pressed the butts of your palms into your eyes.
“I don’t know, Marc. You’re—you’re a fuckin’ superpowered badass who was chosen by an ancient Egyptian god to beat up monsters and go on these epic missions, and—and how can I even compete with that? I don’t even understand why you waste your time with me.”
“Why do you keep saying things like that?”
You startled when he took a few hulking steps towards you, his brows creasing in a look of frustration.
“If you’re so convinced that I’m some superior being to you—which I’m not—then rationalize that, for me. Why would I keep coming back if I didn’t care about you?”
Confusion flashed across your face as you contemplated his question.
“Because—because I patch you up when you get hurt, and I—and I take care of you. You only come here when you need something—”
“But that’s not true.”
He insisted, sounding exasperated with your obstinance.
“I have a magic suit of armor that heals me, I don’t even need you to stitch me back together—”
“But you told me—”
“Well, I lied.”
He snapped, his arms crossing over his chest, and you felt a foreign feeling flutter in the pit of your stomach as his hands came up to rub at his jaw—a nervous habit.
“It was an excuse, and honestly, not even a very convincing one. An excuse to see you.”
Your head was starting to pound again, a dull ache blooming behind your eyes as your mind continued to reel. It didn’t make any sense.
“But you—you never needed an excuse. I would’ve dropped everything for you, Marc—for all three of you.”
“I know.”
He nodded sadly, his face pained as he flinched at your words.
“And that’s what’s so bad about all of this. I shouldn’t have—you shouldn’t feel that way about me. I’m—it’s dangerous. I’ve been trying so hard to push you away because if something happens to you, if you get hurt—that’s on me. And I don’t know what I’d do with myself if—”
“I’m a big girl, Marc.”
You defended, and he seemed impressed with the conviction of your tone.
“You’ve never been anything but honest about the kind of life you live, the kind of things you do—if that scared me, you wouldn’t be standing here right now. I made that choice for myself.”
He looked like he wanted to argue, his lips parting to scold you or deny your claims, but there was resolve in his eyes. You watched as he slowly walked towards the bed, slumping into a seated position beside you, utterly defeated.
“I know.”
It was difficult for you to focus with the proximity of your bodies. He’d left a generous gap between the two of you, but his legs were spread wide as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, and your legs were almost touching. It was unbearable.
“I always thought you were taking advantage of me.”
You spoke smally, a bit ashamed and hesitant to admit the truth, and you saw Marc’s shoulders tense before he hung his head low, a deep sigh coming from his chest.
“Yeah. Jake told me that you might be feeling that way.”
Your eyes darted to his face, taken completely by surprise.
“He—he did?”
Marc chuckled ruefully, scoffing a bit at his alter.
“And I never fuckin’ listened. Told me I needed to come clean—be honest about how I feel, or else I’ll just keep hurting you more—”
“I didn’t realize he’d actually tried to talk to you about it.”
Marc’s brows furrowed.
“Wait, are you—did you tell him that?”
You blushed, feeling somewhat guilty as you nodded. You weren’t proud of the fact that you’d been talking about Marc and Steven behind their backs to their other alter.
“Why did—why didn’t you just talk to me?”
Marc leaned towards you, trying to catch your gaze with his, but you quickly looked forward again, eyes focusing in on your shaky hands.
“I didn’t know if—I never had to question things with Jake. He’s never been shy about how he feels about me.”
“Jake’s never been shy about anything in his entire goddamn life.”
You actually giggled at that, Marc’s tone sour and somewhat envious, but a soft smile easily curled on his lips at the sound of your laughter. When your amusement faded slightly, your breath caught in your throat when you felt a warm hand fall atop your knee, thumb rubbing over the flesh gently. You stared at the place where his skin met yours, heat flushing your cheeks.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. If I would’ve known sooner—if he’d have told me—”
You shook your head quickly, dismissing his apology.
“No, don’t. I made him promise me he wouldn’t tell you. And—and the reason I didn’t say anything is, well—he would never tell me if you felt the same, so I didn’t—I just kind of assumed you didn’t.”
“I don’t understand why you think so little of yourself.”
His fingers gripped your knee a bit more firmly, the heat of his hand traveling upwards despite your attempts to stop it.
“You really think—thought the only way I’d want you is if you were an Avatar?”
You laughed wetly, swiping the last of your tears from beneath your eyes as you shook your head abashedly.
“When you say it out loud, it sounds so fucking stupid.”
“Hey, it’s not stupid.”
He corrected, and you froze when you felt his hand lift from your knee to reach towards your face, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear so he could see you more clearly. His fingers slipped beneath your jaw and gently coaxed your head to face him. You forgot how to breathe.
“It’s just not true.”
“Baby, I’ve wanted you since the day I met you, Avatar or not.”
She let out a quiet gasp at his confession, face lighting up with delight as he surged forward and captured her lips with his own, whimpering against her mouth as his arms encircled her body. He guided her back towards the bed, laying her out beneath him, looking absolutely heavenly, truly ravishing, and the sight made him ravenous as he worshipped her, starting by dragging his tongue—
“Hey. Where’d you go?”
It was only a brief moment of wistfulness, your daydream, but Marc saw the way your eyes misted and filled with a faraway look. He let his fingers dance across the softness of your neck before reaching to cradle your jaw in his hand, fingers threading into the hair behind your left ear.
You blinked away your reverie, trying to ground yourself in the present regardless of how desperately you wanted to fantasize about how much you craved him, how much you just wished he wanted you—
“Sorry.”
You uttered, voice barely above a whisper, and you blinked up at him through your wet lashes, doe-eyed. Your shame quickly melted away into something entirely different when you saw the ghost of a smile flicker over his lips.
“What were you thinking about?”
Your breathing stuttered, and you opened your mouth to speak but he cut you off quickly, the timbre of his voice low and gravelly.
“You can tell me, sweetheart. Whatever it was, whatever you want—I’ll give it to you.”
It all became too much too quickly—the swirling heat of desire coiling lowly in your abdomen, the warmth of his exhales across your face, the roughness of his hands against the soft skin of your cheek, the almost taunting gleam in his dark eyes. His promise emboldened you, and without much thought, you surged forward and captured his lips in your own, whimpering against his mouth as your arms encircled his body.
He was quick to meet your pace, his free arm twisting to wrap around your lower back so he could pull you into his lap, one of your hands sinking into his brown curls and the other digging into his right shoulder. You heard him groan into your lips and you took the opportunity to sink your tongue into his mouth, deepening the kiss as you pressed your body flush against him, desperately seeking as much closeness as possible.
When his lips left yours and began to trail down your jaw and throat, you were pulled out of your stupor.
“Wait—wait.”
You whispered, fingers tugging at his curls so you could see his face. His brows furrowed in concern as he looked at you with worried eyes, his lips dewy and kiss-swollen.
“What’s wrong?”
He asked carefully, his voice gruff but still attentive, and you lifted both hands to cradle his face, thumbs sweeping over his cheekbones as you drank in his features, studying his face carefully.
“I just—”
You let out a shaky exhale, leaning forward to rest your forehead against his.
“I need to know that this is real. That you’re—that this is all real.”
He pulled away from you slightly, grinning somewhat wolfishly at you.
“This is real, baby—does it feel real?”
You nodded eagerly, your lips still tingling from the severity of his kisses, and he pulled you in for another one, his touch deliciously bruising.
When he pulled away again, you felt his fingers trace down your arm before he grabbed your hand in his. Your brows furrowed in confusion as he guided your grasp between your bodies, but your hips jolted when he pressed your hand into the hardness of his bulge in his jeans. You whimpered at the feeling, fingers curling around his length to squeeze him. His lashes fluttered.
“Yeah, baby—you feel what you do to me? That’s fuckin’ real.”
You felt yourself grow increasingly desperate at his words, fingers curling into the hem of his shirt and yanking it over his head with abandon. He seemed in tune with your own neediness because pretty soon, clothes were being ripped off and haphazardly tossed around the room, lips meeting newly-exposed skin at every opportunity.
You were laid out beneath him, his body slotted between your parted legs as he hovered over you, pumping his cock languidly as he gazed down at you with hooded eyes.
“I’ve pictured this, too, you know.”
You felt a small smile find your face.
“Really?”
He bit his lip, the pace of his hand jerking his length speeding up just slightly.
“Oh, fuck yeah, baby. You’re even more beautiful than I ever imagined.”
His sweet compliment was a stark contrast to the depravity of the current situation, but you could hear the sincerity in his words. You smiled up at him, reaching forward to take his cock in your grasp and line him up with your awaiting entrance.
“And you’re even bigger than I ever imagined.”
You purred, watching his eyes flash with pride as he leaned forward to brush the tip of his cock through your sopping folds, causing you to mewl unsurepetitiously.
“Please, Marc, shit—I can’t wait anymore, please.”
He grinned wickedly down at you, and before you could even take a breath, he was plunging into you with force, his cock sheathing itself fully within the softness of your cunt.
He choked above you, his arm slamming down on the mattress beside your head for support, his fist curling into the sheets.
“Jesus fuck, you’re tight.”
He breathed out, his expression almost pained with just how perfectly your walls were squeezing him.
The sudden intrusion was a startling sensation, but the burn of the stretch was quickly evolving into an addictive sting of pleasure.
“Oh, God, yes—move, Marc, please.”
You begged, brows furrowed deeply, and Marc quickly obliged, starting a rapid pace as he hammered into you, his hips snapping forward with jarring strength. The sound of slapping skin echoed within the room and only served to add to your arousal, the noises leaving your lips sinful and completely involuntary.
“Fuck yeah, baby—is this what you wanted? This what you’ve been daydreaming about, huh? My cock filling you up?”
You moaned wantonly, back arching at Marc’s words. His curls were falling across his forehead, dampened with sweat, and you reached up to grip his shoulders for support, fingernails digging into the carved muscle.
“Yes, fuck, yes—so good, Marc, so fucking good—”
He reached down and lifted your legs to wrap around his waist, forcing his cock even deeper inside of you, the new angle earning a sharp cry. Your walls were fluttering around him.
“Yeah, you wanna cum, baby? You wanna cum on my cock?” He hand reached between your bodies to thumb at your clit, and the added stimulation sent you suddenly toppling over the edge into your orgasm, your eyes rolling back into your head as you let out a long, drawn-out moan.
“Yeah, attagirl—fuck yeah.”
Your walls were clamping down on him, pulsing rhythmically over the ridges of his cock, and he felt his release rapidly approaching.
“You want my cum, baby?”
You nodded frantically at him, eyes wild with desperation, and Marc groaned as his pace began to stutter.
“Where, baby? Where do you want it?”
You fingers sank further into the flesh of his shoulders.
“Mouth—want you to cum in my mouth.”
Your request alone was enough to send him hurtling over the edge.
“Oh, shit, gonna cum—”
He pulled out of you quickly, hand reaching down to fervidly fist at his cock as he crawled forward to straddle your stomach on his knees—you eagerly leaned forward just in time as his balls drew up tight, his cum shooting straight across your awaiting tongue as you opened your mouth wide for him.
“Oh, baby—fuuuuckkk—”
His hips thrusted into his fist with each pump of cum that escaped him, some shooting above your lip and dribbling down your chin. He grunted harshly as he tapped the tip of his cock over your tongue, coating the head in his release that had pooled within your mouth. You quickly closed your lips around him and suckled the tip into your mouth, swallowing all of his seed as you swirled your tongue around his length.
He let out a low groan before he finally reached forward to tug you off of him, collapsing onto the mattress beside you heavily.
You both caught your breath for a few moments, coming back down to Earth after your intense climaxes.
It was Marc who broke the silence first, a deep chuckle coming from his chest.
“If this is what you’re constantly daydreaming about, then fuck—you gotta tell me. I will make every goddamned one come true.”
Your laughter matched his own as he reached over to wrap an arm around you, pulling you towards the warmth of his body comfortingly. Your smile quickly faded as the heat of the moment made way for reality.
“Was this—I mean, this wasn’t just—just a one-time thing... right?”
Marc pressed a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering along your hairline.
“No, baby. Besides—Jake and Steven haven’t even gotten their turns with you.”
His attempt at a joke fell flat.
“That’s not what I mean.”
You said quietly, and Marc sighed, letting his head rest atop yours as he held you close.
“Sorry. I know what you meant, but still, the answer’s no. Kinda hoping this is an all-the-time thing.”
Now, you laughed, and he swore it was his favorite sound in the entire world.
You had a brief conversation with Steven about your mutual feelings, later—although he was a stuttering mess, his smile was wide and eyes were bright with elation when he finally kissed you. He fell asleep holding you close to him, and you listened to his breathing slow as you began to doze off beside him.
Just when you were about to fall asleep, his arms around you squeezed tighter.
“Told you so.”
Jake’s voice taunted jokingly, and you lifted a fist to punch his shoulder at his teasing. He chuckled, and you tilted your head so you could see his face—he looked relaxed, truly at ease, and you practically melted into his touch.
“Yeah, I guess you did.”
You admitted defeat, and Jake gave you a cheeky lopsided grin before he leaned down and gave you a soft, chaste kiss that left you breathless.
You rested your head back against his chest, but he interrupted your peace yet again.
“Can I ask you somethin, nena?”
You nodded.
“You told Marc you imagined being an Avatar. ’m just curious—what kind of things do you think about?”
You felt your face flush with embarrassment, still feeling silly and insecure about admitting to your daydreaming habits, but Jake gently encouraged you enough until you relented, explaining how you’d always had an infatuation with the deity Nut and liked the poeticism of the pairing of the moon and the stars.
“And you called me estrellita.”
You informed shyly, nuzzling into the crook of his neck, but you could hear the way his breath caught in his throat, his muscles tensing just slightly.
“Estrellita?”
He questioned, and you lifted your head to look at him, his brows furrowed in confusion.
“Yeah, it—it means ‘little star.’”
You explained, and he shook his head.
“I know that, but I—hmm.”
His lips pursed, and you nudged him, his confusion worrying you.
“What? What’s wrong?”
He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye before staring back up at the ceiling, his expression contemplative
“No, it’s nothing. It’s just—today, when Khonshu came to tell us that you were in trouble, he—he called you that. Little star.”
You bolted upright, the color quickly draining from your face.
“He fucking what?”
Jake shrugged uneasily, but you felt your heart begin to hammer in your chest, recalling the bizarre intrusion Khonshu had made in your fantasy today, interrupting your own train of thought. Was that—actually him?
Little did you know, Khonshu had been eavesdropping on your daily mental escapes for some time, entertained by both your active imagination and the elaborate stories you seemed to conjure up on a whim. As a matter of fact, both he and Nut found great amusement in your investment in the life of the Egyptian deities, and should something happen to the Goddess of the Sky’s current Avatar—she knew exactly where to find her next candidate.
spooky boys for spooky season
boo, they're gonna suck your blood!
through the storm | jake lockley
a/n: i'm squeaking i loved this. seeing jake be so rough on himself and finally giving himself what he needs; you. ugh, it's a trope I'm all here for every second of every day 💗 thank you to the beautiful nonnie who requested this ☺️
pairing: jake lockley x fem!reader
warnings: established relationship, marc and steven are only mentioned,
summary: steven loves to cuddle through a storm, marc too. but jake can't give himself the pleasure of falling asleep in your arms, until finally you convince him.
w/c: 0.8k
moon boys masterlist
The rain poured against the top of the apartment, bringing you out of your book. You were cozied up in bed, watching as flashes of lightning illuminated the nook-like space.
You yawned, feeling tiredness sweep through your body like a tidal wave. Stretching your limbs, your eyes follow the line leading to the door which was twisting open to reveal him.
With a cap on his head, he shimmied out of his jacket in silence, droplets of rain meeting the floor beneath him.
“You’re home?” You call out, earning the man’s brown orbs to lift.
Jake. You knew exactly who was fronting.
“Finished early,” Jake responds. “We’re in for some crazy weather,” He informs you.
You nod your head. “Which is the perfect nap weather, am I right?” You giggle, bookmarking your spot. Every time the rain came and a thunderstorm ensued, Marc and Steven would adoringly cuddle with you. Steven wanted to be as close as possible, while Marc enjoyed the sleep he got while wrapped in your arms.
Jake deserved the same.
He rarely gave himself over to a side of affection. Swearing to himself that his sole purpose was to protect Marc and Steven, he tried not to come around as much because he didn’t want you to suffer. He knew he could be bitter at times, but he had the best intentions.
“Yeah,” Jake mumbles, fishing his belongings out of his pocket and placing them in the bowl. He walks through the room after removing his shoes, never once beelining for the spot beside you.
“Jake?” You call his name.
“Yes, cariño?” Jake responds, the pet name making your face soften as your lips part.
Another roar of thunder sounded outside, making you sigh. You really wanted him to let go for a bit– to know what it was like to relax.
“Why don’t we take a nap together? We can be nap buddies.” You inform him just as he turns the corner. Jake’s eyes soften as he stares a hole through the side of the mattress that was currently vacant.
“I’m fine, sweetness. Go on without me.” He deters.
“Jake Lockley,” You clear your throat. “There is a persistent thunderstorm outside, and I want to cuddle. It’s the perfect nap weather! Come on, don’t be so grumpy.” You cross your arms.
Jake glances to the side, certainly hearing as the rain pelted against the rooftop.
Deep down, he wanted to. Oh, he wanted nothing more than to fall into your embrace, but he knew better. He couldn’t risk it.
“Hermosa,” He says, but stops when he sees your bottom lip push forward. “–Don’t do that.”
You shake your head. “I know you don’t want to–”
“That’s not it. I promise.” He stops. “Marc and Steven– they can. I’ll see if–”
“I don’t want Marc or Steven. No offense if they can hear me. I want you, Jake.”
Jake was having a bitter internal fight. He could hear the voices of his alters chuckling and both persuading him.
Steven said you were like a physical form of honey.
Marc said he wouldn’t regret it, it would be the best sleep of his life.
Even the two boys wanted the best for their grumpy alter.
Another ferocious roar of thunder seals the deal for Jake. He can visually see the room growing darker from the clouds overhead, and strikes of lightning slipping through the window panes. He takes a few cautious steps forward, watching as you eagerly move the sheets back.
Jake falls into them nervously and the moment he feels your hand caress his arm, he knew what Steven meant. You looked at him with such an adorable expression, your limbs tangling through his. He was stiff, and you were trying your hardest to coax him to relax.
“Come on, wrap your arms around me, Lockley. I know you can do it.” You tease him.
Jake sighs and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer.
The moment his nose brushes yours, his eyes fall immediately to your lips. His mouth parts slightly and he feels a sudden rush consume him. Cautiously, Jake journeys his hand up the trail of your arm until he ghosts an index finger across your collarbone, soon delivering a feather touch to your jaw. He sees as your eyes dilate with pure adoration, pupils blowing wide as you gazed at him with a sense of longing.
“Mi Vida,” He whispers. He cups your soft cheek, brushing his thumb underneath your eye. You melt into his touch and nuzzle your cheek against his palm.
“Give into it, Jake… You’re safe here.” You reassure him.
Jake closes his eyes, soon finding the softness of your lips. He brushes his fingers through your hair before he pulls you closer, the thunder rolling more repetitively now.
He gives into the feeling, the way he feels safe. He lets it consume him, and soon, he’s fast asleep in your embrace. You’re cuddled to his chest as strong arms engulf you, crushing you to his body, but keeping you safe.
The rain continued to pour and nothing could take this moment away from Jake.
Make It Worth It
Pairing: Moonknight trio x Reader
Word Count: 3.5k
Warnings: So many okay; body worship, HEAVY praise, multiple orgasms, oral (f,m receiving) unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it <3), creampie, hella petnames, fingering, kinda marking too, oh and cockwarming, a lil bit of a jealousy thing going, vague mentions of injuries
Genre: fluff & smut
Summary: The idea of you going on a date makes your friend confess feelings you didn't know they had
***
Meeting Marc Spector was something you'd consider a total fluke. A mishap with his suit had him limping down the street hardly able to hold himself up. Against... probably your better judgment, you brought him to your apartment- patched him up, got him some food, and let him crash on your couch. He was gone before you woke up in the morning and you honestly expected never to see him again. A couple of weeks later though he popped by to say thank you and introduce himself, you told him he could stop by if he needed help again. You didn't think he'd take you up on the offer but you were fast friends as you became his only confidante. Apparently, the vigilante life is not conducive to friendships, especially when you share your life with another; Steven Grant.
It was a while before Marc told you about Steven and you liked to call him Marc's best kept secret, considering Steven doesn't even know about it. It took even longer for you to meet Steven. Another mishap with Marc's suit had him frantically banging on your balcony door one night. You pulled open the door and he'd practically fallen into your apartment.
"Y/n! Hey!" He groaned.
"Jeez! I thought that stupid bird was meant to protect you Marc!" You crossed your arms.
"Help now, be mad later. Oh! And if I wake up and I'm not me, lie." He barely got the last bit out before he practically fell on you.
"Heavens above you still haven't told him the truth?" You groaned technically to yourself as you shoved a now unconscious Marc onto your couch. Even with him passed out you'd gotten more than enough practice patching him up that you had it so down that you were quick and efficient. He was out for quite some time afterwards, you even made dinner before he suddenly startled awake.
"Who are you? Where am I? What are you doing here?" The unfamiliar British accent immediately told you that night that Steven had woken up instead of Marc.
"Um- this is my apartment so that's where you are, I live here so that's what I'm doing here and my name is y/n. You're Steven right?"
"How did you know my name?" He'd looked at you suspiciously.
"I- I looked at your wallet for ID?" He does have his wallet on him so that lie was totally believable.
"Well why am I here?"
That was the question you were dreading from the moment Marc passed out on you.
"You were hurt so I brought you here."
"Hurt? Hurt how?"
"I- I didn't see it happen. You were hurt when I got to you." You shrugged. It wasn't technically a lie. You didn't see Marc get hurt. The answer seemed to satisfy Steven at the time but maintaining separate friendships with Marc and Steven wasn't something you wanted to keep up long term. Hence, with some gentle nudging, Marc eventually revealed himself to Steven and you ended up having to help the duo navigate the new dynamic.
However, where you thought Steven was Marc's best kept secret; a new player had him beaten. A secret so well kept Marc didn't even know until after you did. And his name was Jake Lockley. Meeting him had actually happened intentionally on his end. Apparently tired of watching the back and forth between you and his alters he stepped in to meet you himself. You'll admit you and Marc toed the line pretty much since you met, flirting with each other but not obvious enough to change your dynamic, and once Steven got comfortable with you it was only too fun to tease him. So in came Jake; the hidden protector, questioning you and ultimately deciding you were safe for them to be around. He even trusted you enough to facilitate his introduction to the other two. Now you've got the whole trio you can call friends and they often tell you how instrumental they consider you in maintaining stability in their shared life. You really enjoy having them around most of the time even with how chaotic it can be covering for, patching up, and keeping track of their system.
Tonight, while you're finishing your makeup for a date, you hear a knock from the living room. You're not expecting anyone right now so when you leave your room and find Moonknight on your balcony you're not exactly surprised. You open the door and the suit disappears as he walks into your apartment.
"What're you all dressed up for?" Marc asks taking in your outfit.
"Hello to you too Marc." You roll your eyes.
"Hello. What're you all dressed up for?"
"I have a date tonight." You say with a shrug heading back to your room knowing Marc will follow you.
"A date? What date? You didn't tell me about any date."
"I don't have to tell you about dates."
"Why wouldn't you tell me though?"
"It's a first date Marc I'm not getting married. You're making it a much bigger deal than it is."
"It is a huge deal. You haven't been on a date since we met!"
"Thank you for pointing out that Marc yes this is my first date in a while. Did you come here for a reason? Doesn't that bird of yours have errands for you?"
"I always come here when I'm done with Khonshu's stuff. This is why it's a big deal you didn't tell me about this date. It throws off our routine!"
"Marc you coming here to eat my food after running around for skelo-bird is not set in stone."
"It is set in stone. If it wasn't we wouldn't do it every time."
"Well it's still early, so when I finish my date I'll text you and you can come back over and your routine will be fine."
"That's not the same."
"I dunno what to tell you sweetie, I have to leave, I'm meeting this guy in like 10 minutes."
"Don't go."
"Marc!"
"Come ooon I'm way more fun than whoever this random guy is anyway."
"You don't even know him."
"Neither do you. So stay."
"Let me get this straight, you want me to cancel my first date in over a year because it's more important that we watch a movie while you eat leftovers? Call me crazy but I'd personally rank those a little differently."
"I want you to cancel your first date in over a year because I don't want you to go on a date."
"Okay I know we're close but I feel like that's crossing a line a little bit. That's not really up to you."
"Princessa, are you intentionally misunderstanding him?" Jake's sudden appearance only further confuses you.
"No Jake. I genuinely have no idea what the deal is here and at this rate, I'm going to be late so one of you better start talking straight."
"He's jealous. He doesn't want you going on a date with anyone that's not... us, really. None of us do."
"All of this is about a crush? Bring Marc back out here." You roll your eyes.
"Look I did not send Jake out here to speak for me!"
"You are such a dunce." You smack his chest lightly.
"What?!"
"You don't want me to go on this date because you three like me and you couldn't just say that?"
"I dunno I guess I just didn't want to risk what we've already got, as friends." He says sheepishly.
"Say the words."
"What?"
"Say exactly why you don't want me going on this date and I'll cancel."
"I don't want you to go on this date because I have feelings for you. Stay home. I can make it worth it in any way you ask."
"Any way that I ask?"
"I'll worship you like a god if you want me to."
"Won't that make that silly old bird of yours a little jealous?"
"Let him be if he is. All that matters is you not going on this date and me showing you my gratitude."
"Alright, I'll call and cancel the date."
"Don't bother. Who cares if he gets ghosted?"
"First of all, I'm nice so I care; secondly that's the shit that gets women stalked."
"Oh please, as if he'd ever be able to hurt you with us around." Marc scoffs.
"Okay, bodyguard. The call will take less than two minutes and you'll have my attention the rest of the night." You say grabbing your phone and stepping into the living room. You notice Marc following you as you call your date.
"Hello?"
"Lewis! Hi, I'm sorry to do this so last minute but something has come up and I'm not going to be able to make it to dinner."
"Oh. Is everything alright? Do you need anything?"
"Uh- thanks but I'll be fine! I just gotta take care of a thing and I didn't wanna leave you sitting there waiting."
"Yeah no, thanks for letting me know. We can reschedule."
"Sure! Soon as I get a handle on things I'll reach out to reschedule." You say, ignoring the look Marc gives you.
"Alright no problem. Good luck with your thing." Lewis says before hanging up.
"You aren't actually rescheduling with him, are you?" Marc asks you.
"Probably not." You shrug.
"Probably?!"
"I already canceled the date for you once."
"You making this hard for me on purpose sweetheart?"
"Not at all. Just not sure how things are gonna go." You smile.
"How things are gonna go? I'm gonna show you that canceling that silly date was the right idea and that you don't need anyone other than us."
"Us? Steven and Jake are in on this too?"
"Of course they are."
"Well, that's a big promise Marc, how do you plan to show me all of that?"
"I'm going to start by kissing you. Is that okay?" Marc asks, pulling you towards him with an arm around your waist.
"Absolutely." You say draping your arms over his shoulder. Marc's free hand comes up behind your head as he kisses you hard. You gasp against his lips and he uses the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. Without warning, Marc lifts you into his arms and easily carries you back to your room, not even phased when you pull away from the kiss to squeal. He tosses you onto your bed and climbs over you with a smile.
"You have no idea how crazy we are about you." Marc breathes out, trailing kisses down to your neck.
"Crazy about me? Is that right?" You ask, a moan punctuating your question as Marc latches onto a particularly sensitive spot to turn purple.
"Completely." He says softly, staring at you so intently you pull him towards you for another kiss to escape the look in his eyes. Marc pulls away to tug your already bunched up dress over your head, leaving you in your bra and panties as he looks you over. "Fucking hell you're even more gorgeous than I could've imagined." Marc groans.
"You spend a lot of time thinking about me naked darling?" You can't help but chuckle at the thought as you take the moment of silence on his end to pull his shirt over his head and drag your nails down his chest appreciatively.
"I plead the fifth." Marc groans and moves to litter your chest in more patches of red and purple as he reaches under you to unhook your bra. His hands cover your breasts as soon as they're free, palms kneading the flesh while fingers toy with nipples. The sudden onslaught of stimulation has little whimpers falling from your lips that Marc decides he can't get enough of. He pulls one of your nipples between his lips, sucking, nipping, and tonguing at it to test your reactions, discovering all the sounds you make from this alone. "You make such cute little noises." He chuckles switching from one nipple to the other, pulling all the same sounds from you. Eventually, Marc trails his kisses down your stomach, soft and slow, like he has all the time in the world. "So pretty." He whispers. He pulls your panties down your legs, kissing your thighs on the way down and back up. "I'm so going to enjoy this." Marc says before burying his head between your legs. He licks a hard stripe between your folds that makes you moan and his arms wrap around your thighs before you can even squirm. Marc's tongue swirls around your clit as he watches you, testing what pulls the best reaction from you. When a certain rhythm has your fingers tugging at his hair he settles into it, intent on making you cum like that. Whimpers and cries fall from your lips in quick succession as he sucks and laps at your sensitive bundle of nerves. You writhe and grind against him, although his grip on your thighs restricts your movement as he works you quickly towards an orgasm.
"Holy fuck Marc!" You groan, throwing your head back and pulling almost too hard at his curls but the man between your legs only lets out a pleased growl at the action. "Fuck I'm close." You pant out and Marc wraps his lips securely around your clit, sucking harshly until your legs tense and your orgasm crashes into you with a silent scream. Marc doesn't even let you fully ride out the high before his fingers slide into your opening. He curls the two digits just right and you can feel the pull in your abdomen when he brushes the spot inside you. Your back arches into him as he works you open with his fingers, his tongue still lapping at your clit, determined to pull another orgasm from you. Your second orgasm hits you faster than the first your entire body twitching while you let out the prettiest whine Marc's ever heard.
"My goodness." Although the voice is muted in your pleasure fogged brain, you don't miss the accent in his words.
"Steven?!" You blink at him, chest still heaving slightly as you try to catch your breath. His eyes are as wide as saucers as he takes in the situation he's just been thrown into.
"Hi. I can't imagine Marc did this on purpose I-" Steven's words trail as his head snaps to the mirror hanging on your closet door. "He did this on purpose." Steven looks at you and then back at the mirror. "Why would you do that Marc?!" You pull his gaze back to you by grabbing his chin,
"Steven, calm down." You say.
"Clearly I've missed a lot because how did you two even end up like this?" Steven asks and your giggle at his confusion quickly turns into a whimper when the action makes you distinctly aware of his fingers still buried inside you. "My god, help me." Steven breathes out at the sound from your lips. "If this was your act of gratitude why am I here?!" Steven asks to the mirror and you suppose Marc told him how you, in his words, ended up like this. Steven makes a face at whatever Marc says next and then turns to you with a look you can only describe as curious. Before you can question it, his fingers inside you move tentatively, making you moan. He's less sure of himself than Marc had been but he watches intently as he slowly strokes your inner walls, enjoying the way you react to him. "You're absolutely breathtaking."
"And you, are simply adorable." You say bringing him down to kiss him. Steven is obviously much more nervous than Marc was and you take the lead in the kiss. You can taste yourself on his lips as you explore his mouth with your tongue. It seems your reactions feed his confidence as his fingers gain speed the longer you kiss him and soon you're moaning too much to actually do it properly.
"I love the sounds you make." Steven sighs. You pull his fingers from you before he can make you cum again and he pouts at you until you guide the fingers between your lips. You suck them clean, enjoying the way Steven takes a shaky breath at the action. You use one hand to undo his jeans and pull them down his legs, pulling his fingers out of his mouth for him to get up and shove them the rest of the way down with his boxers. You lean forward and take Steven into your mouth, swallowing him down as far as you can.
"Oh god." Steven groans and his eyes roll as he tosses his head back. You bob your head up and down his length, swirling your tongue as you go, enjoying the way he moans and shivers.
"I love the sounds you make too darling." You hum dragging your tongue along the vein that runs the underside length of his dick. Steven hisses and you wrap your lips around him again.
"Holy hell you're... really good at this." Steven's praise is breathy and stuttery. You take him all the way into your mouth, feeling him in the back of your throat. Rather suddenly, you feel his fingers in your hair tugging you off of him.
"Now, it was my understanding that we were meant to be showing you gratitude." Your ears perk up hearing the accent change.
"Jake, yeah so I've been told." You hum.
"And yet here you are pleasing Steven instead of him worshiping you." Jake's thumb rubs along your bottom lip.
"Steven is just so much fun to tease." You smile.
"Tease him later princessa, tonight is about you. How lucky we are to have you in our life. How much of an honor it is to kiss you, to touch you, to please you." Jake intentionally speaks slowly, staring at you intently.
"You are... very good with words." You muse.
"Have our actions not supported them?"
"Marc definitely, and Steven- before I got my hands on him, yes. You however haven't done anything but talk." You smirk at him.
"Tell me what you want from me and it's yours. Anything you ask." Jake says.
"In other circumstances that would be... a dangerous promise to make. But tonight, I just want you inside me. I want you to make me cum on your dick."
"With pleasure." Jake pushes you onto your back and tugs your legs to pull you towards him. He wastes no time lining himself up with your entrance and thrusting into you. Your back immediately arches at the fullness of Jake bottoming out and you can't help but moan. "Fuck you're so wet." He groans dropping his head to your shoulder for a moment. Jake sets a rhythm of sharp thrusts, deep but quick.
"Sh-shit Jake! Feels so good." You whine, dragging your nails down his back. He hisses at the sting and his thrusts pick up speed.
"God y/n you're perfect. So gorgeous. Taking this dick like you were made for us." Jake huffs out. One of his hands reaches between your bodies, finding your clit with ease. You squirm against his ministrations moaning as he drives into you repeatedly. "That's it princessa, moan for me, sounds so nice." He grits out, rubbing circles against your bundle of nerves. You grind against him, trying to bring your orgasm on quicker. "Cum for me sweetheart, let me feel you let go around me. Please mi vida." Jake sweetly kisses you as he practically begs for your orgasm and a few thrusts later you're falling over the edge, nails digging into his back as he watches the way pleasure washes over your face. Once your eyes slowly peel open, Jake tightens his grip on your hips and changes the pace of his thrusts, slowing down now.
"You're gonna cum inside me aren't you Jake?" You ask with a pout specifically to get what you want.
"Mierda." Jake's eyes close for a moment. "Is that what you want princessa?"
"Yes Jake, please."
"I told you I'd give you whatever you ask me for." Jake shifts slightly before picking up the pace of his thrusts, they're sloppier now as he focuses on chasing his own release. "I'll pump you so fucking full, you'll be leaking. Fuck you'll look even prettier dripping like that."
"Please Jake, give it to me. Fill me up baby." You whine, grinding against him. His hips stutter and stop buried inside you and you the warmth of his orgasm inside you makes you moan. Before Jake can twist to lay beside you, you pull him onto you comfortable with the weight of him on you. "Don't move yet, let's just- lay like this for a bit, please." You say.
"Thank fuck you didn't go on that stupid date." Jake mutters and you giggle a little.
"Thank fuck you said something or I would've."
"Well, did we make it worth the stay?" "I'd say so." "Good. After a nap you can discuss the details, probably with Steven, he'll have the most to say." Jake mumbles into your neck.
"I'll have to talk to each of you ya know." You say.
"Sure but start with him. All I have to say is I think you're perfect, and we'd be lucky if you date us."
"You're not the only lucky ones." You say kissing the side of his face. Yeah. It might have been by pure chance that you crossed paths with Marc over a year ago but you're glad the rest of your decisions landed you here. Even if it's not the trajectory you saw that first interaction leading to, definitely worth it.
***
the break-up:
summary: in which y/n is going through a break-up with the moon boys and happens to be serving when one of them is on a date. reader x steven, reader x marc, reader x jake (3rd person, she/her pronouns)
warnings: ANGST (there is fluff, don’t worry) , break-up, language, fem! reader
word count: 4109
thank you for all the love on this fic!! every interaction has made me smile and is very much appreciated. hope you enjoy :)
Keep reading
Bad Knight, Good Knight
Pairing: Marc Spector x Fem!Reader (feat. Steven Grant)
Summary: Give Marc a certain look and he’ll give you his all. In the condition that you’re gonna be good.
Word Count: 2.7k
Warnings: Unprotected and rough p in v penetration, overstimulation, slight D/S dynamics, sir kink, creampie
A/N: I caught up on Moon Knight yesterday and who would’ve thought that it’d be Marc Spector to give me my groove back LMFAO thanks @soldatspet and @bemine-bucky for the push 😘😘😘
MAIN MASTERLIST
“You have got to stop giving me those eyes in the middle of a job.”
You felt Marc trail closely behind you as you both stepped inside the elevator of an old motel. Unable to help yourself from smirking, you bit down on your lip as you turned around.
“What eyes?” You innocently asked, blinking up at Marc while slightly tilting your head to the side.
The soft yet low grunt that Marc made was almost inaudible. He rolled his eyes before towering you, making you walk backwards until you felt the cold wall of the elevator against your bare shoulders.
“Those eyes,” Marc hoarsely whispered as he leaned in closer, his breath fanning your cheek as he teasingly nosed your skin. “…the kind of look you give me when you want to get fucked.” He said, pulling back just to take in your look.
He hasn’t even laid a finger on you and yet your eyes were already so glassy. Your chest rose and fell quickly as you breathed, your mouth parted and lips glistening.
“That what you want?” Marc asked, his tone teasing as he tipped your chin up with his fingers.
You merely nodded, whining softly when you felt Marc’s knee slot in between your legs to tease your mound.
“Want me to fuck this cunt until you’re begging for me to stop?” He asked again, this time moving his knee back and forth to rub at your aching pussy.
Marc didn’t even let you answer because the way you were arching your back against the wall was enough to let him know how much you needed him to use you. He took a step back from you and smirked in amusement when you whined at the loss of contact.
“Tell me you’re gonna be good.” He demanded, voice louder and firmer this time around.
You panted and almost sagged against the wall, your need to feel his cock almost rendering you weak in the knees.
“I’m gonna be good.” You whispered.
Marc snickered, “Louder, princess.”
You groaned, “Gonna be good for you, Marc!” You exclaimed just as when the elevator reached your floor.
A satisfied smile tugged at Marc’s lips as the doors slid open behind him, “As soon as you step out, you’ll only do what I say. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
-
“Is my princess getting tired? Thought you were gonna be good?” Marc asked, the patronizing tone of his voice giving you a new sense of vigor to keep going.
He had already fucked an orgasm out of you as soon as the both of you reached the motel room, but of course, Marc was an overachiever. One climax wasn’t enough for him, he needed more so he sat on a chair and had you straddle him, with your hands tied behind your back.
“‘’m not tired…” you panted, slowly getting your rhythm back as you bounced on his cock
Marc chuckled as he watched you with lidded eyes, so desperate to please him like the good girl you said you were. He licked his lips as he looked at your tits bouncing with every movement.
“You’re gonna have to try harder, princess. I fucked you good earlier, didn’t I? Made your pussy cum so hard it had your eyes rolling back to your head. If you want another reward you’re gonna have to ride my cock better.” He mocked, gripping your neck with both of his large hands to pull you closer for a messy kiss.
You moaned against his mouth, feeling his tongue slip into yours. He kissed you roughly, slightly canting his hips upwards before he completely stilled in his seat again.
“Go on, princess. Ride me harder, you can do it.” He encouraged before letting you go and leaning back against the chair to watch you.
Taking in a sharp inhale, you ignored the way your thighs were burning and sped up your pace. You kept your gaze on Marc as you rode his cock, sometimes sliding back and forth instead of bouncing up and down.
Marc’s face scrunched into pleasure when your pussy clenched around his throbbing cock, parting his mouth to let out a soft grunt.
Moans continued to spill out of you; the girth of his cock stretching your cunt out deliciously. There was a slight sting to it but god, you loved the pain.
And you loved how Marc was looking at you like a predator eyeing his prey.
Sweat trickled down both your bodies, mixing together with your wetness that was pooling at the base of Marc’s cock.
“That’s it, fucking my cock so well. Good girl.” Marc praised, opening his legs wider and pushing your thighs even farther apart.
You keened when you felt the tip of his cock hit your cervix when you slammed down on him, your body trembling at the surge of pleasure that coursed through your veins.
Marc choked out a chuckle, “That hit the spot, princess? Felt your cunt clench around me tightly. Squeezing me so fucking good, getting me all wet from your juices.” He said.
“Marc, please…” you whimpered, feeling that familiar tightness in your abdomen.
“What does my princess want?” Marc asked, brushing your hair away from your face.
You swallowed hard and tried to keep your eyes open, “Touch me, please. Wanna cum so bad.” You moaned, rolling your hips against his harder and faster— needier.
Marc hummed before cupping your face with one hand and holding your waist with the other. He held back from touching you that when you felt the roughness of his palm against your skin, you almost felt like your entire body was burning.
“Need my help to get you off, huh? Can’t cum without me touching you?” Marc teased again, running his thumb along your lower lip.
You nodded, “Yes, sir. Please, please. Need you to touch me, need you to make me cum.” You sputtered out your words.
Marc grunted and shoved two of his fingers into your mouth, allowing you to suck on them before he reached down between your bodies to rub on your bundle of nerves.
The action made you moan out loud and your legs quiver from the pleasure. Tears welled in your eyes as you neared your release.
Marc knew your body perfectly, he knew the little cues it would give each time you were about to explode. He firmly planted his feet on the ground and gripped your waist tighter before finally thrusting his hips up to meet yours.
The pleasure from Marc’s cock fucking into you and his fingers rubbing at your clit was overwhelmingly good, so good that made your entire body tremble as you finally came.
A silent scream left your mouth, your nails digging into the palms as you tried to hold onto something but to no avail. The restraints had already left marks on your wrists but you couldn’t care less because you were too focused on how his cock kept on fucking into you to prolong your orgasm.
Tears tainted your cheeks as you went limp and fell against Marc’s sweaty chest, your body jolting from aftershocks as his cock slowed down from slipping in and out of your abused cunt.
You might have lost your consciousness because when you opened your eyes, your wrists were no longer tied behind you and Marc was soothingly rubbing your back while whispering praises into your ear.
“You back?” He laughed as you straightened up to look at him.
His face was red sweaty, with some of his curls sticking onto his damp forehead. You breathily chuckled as you kissed him, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders.
“You still gonna be good for me?” Marc whispered against your mouth as he stood up from the chair, hoisting you up with him.
You squealed at this sudden movement, feeling his hard cock continue to throb inside of your swollen pussy.
“I asked you a question, princess. Don’t make me repeat myself.” Marc warned as he walked to the bed.
You nodded and kissed him again, “Yes, sir.” You responded.
“Good.” Marc said and wordlessly dropped you on the bed, manhandling you and roughly turning you around before kneeling behind you.
He lifted your ass up and pressed down on your nape, pushing your face against the mattress as he slid his cock back inside of you with no prior warning.
You cried out at the friction, your pussy absolutely overstimulated and begging to breathe. But you’d do anything for Marc Spector, so you took in every thrust no matter how abused your cunt felt.
His grunts and groans filled the air as he fucked you to his liking, landing a spank on your ass every now and then. Your fingers gripped the sheets tightly, your toes curling from the tension slowly pooling in your abdomen yet again.
Two climaxes in and yet your body was begging for more despite the exhaustion.
“God, your pussy’s so fucking tight. So fucking greedy for my cock, aren’t you?” Marc said, thumbing your puckered hole.
“Mhmm!” You hummed, arching your back even deeper.
Marc slapped your ass again before squeezing it playfully, “Could feel you getting close again, can you cum again for me?” He asked, gripping your waist tightly.
You nodded as you drooled on the sheets; your eyelids fluttered as you neared your third orgasm, you were already incoherent and babbling— just the way Marc wanted.
He loved it when he’d fuck you dumb like this. You were so helpless and so willing to surrender everything to him.
Marc lifted his knee up and planted his foot on the bed to find a better angle before he fucked you relentlessly, barely pulling his cock out of your cunt.
You cried his name out like a prayer, cumming hard after one particular thrust that had you seeing stars. Marc groaned out loud when your pussy clenched around his cock, pushing him to his own orgasm.
Marc bent down to press kisses along your spine as he spilled inside of you, his warm release filling you up to the brim.
His sweaty chest was pressed against your back as he pressed a kiss behind your ear, “Did so good for me, princess.” He whispered, allowing your pussy’s contractions to milk his cock until the last drop.
“Hold it in for me?” He whispered as he straightened his back, pulling his softening cock out from your pussy.
Following Marc’s instruction, you clenched hard to keep all of his release inside of you as you caught your breath. Keeping your ass up in the air, you sighed in comfort when Marc started caressing your ass.
“Let go, princess.” He said.
You relaxed your entire body and allowed Marc’s cum to spill out of your cunt. You whined at the feeling of it dripping down the insides of your thighs.
“Beautiful.” Marc praised, landing a gentle spank on your ass as he watched his release continue to drip out of your puffy pussy.
He licked his lips and gently helped you lay down on your back. He crawled over you and smiled proudly, “God, you’re gorgeous. You satisfied now?” He teased, pressing the tip of his nose against yours.
You chuckled and forced your eyes to open despite the exhaustion, “Hmm yeah. Thank you, sir.” You whispered, slowly feeling yourself doze off.
You still heard Marc praising you, making you smile before you completely succumbed to sleep.
-
The shaking of the floor and the loud noise of the tracks as a train passed by woke you up. You were still slightly annoyed that the motel Marc chose to laylow in was near the railway. However, memories from the previous day quickly changed your mood despite the noise.
Your body was sore all over, especially in between your legs. Shifting on the bed, you realized that you were in one of Marc’s shirts already. He must have helped you clean up last night while you were dead asleep.
Smiling, you turned to the other side and was met with Marc’s face, peacefully asleep. Carefully, you reached over to fix a stray curl away from his face.
Marc stirred and scrunched his nose making you laugh, “‘’m sorry, did I wake you?” You softly asked when he opened his eyes.
His eyes met your eyes and it didn’t take him more than a second to let out a scream as he jolted out of bed. You panicked and jumped out as well, asking Marc what was wrong.
“Who are you?! Where am I?!” Marc exclaimed fearfully, eyes wide and seemingly disoriented.
His accent changed too.
“Calm down, Marc. It’s just me.” You coaxed.
Marc’s shocked expression was immediately replaced by that of worry. His shoulders visibly relax as he sat back down on the bed, rubbing his face with his hand.
“Oh no, oh no.” He murmured to himself, “Not again.” He added before realizing that he was merely clad in a pair of boxers.
Marc hurriedly covered himself up with the blanket. His sudden change of demeanor made you realize what was going on.
You cautiously approached the bed and sat down, allowing some space in between the two of you.
“This shouldn’t have happened.” Marc continued to talk to himself.
Steven, rather.
“It’s okay, Steven.” You said, placing a hand on his shoulder.
Steven turned to you quickly, “You…you know me?” He asked incredulously.
You nodded, “Steven Grant.” You said.
“Marc told you…about me?” He asked again, still unable to believe.
“He mentioned you a couple of times. Steven…with a V.” You explained.
You’d known about Steven for quite a while now, it was something that Marc thought he needed you to know. With the kind of relationship you two had, it was important that you knew about these things.
It left you quite confused at first and to be honest, you didn’t understand Marc’s situation. He was patient enough to explain everything to you and after a while, you felt like you already knew Steven.
Now that you finally met him, it felt surreal but nothing’s really changed with how you felt about Steven’s existence— he really was a lovely lad.
Steven let out a sigh, “I must apologize, I must have frightened you.” He said, finally calming down.
You laughed and shook your head, “It’s alright. I figured I’d meet you one day, just didn’t expect it’d be right after…” you trailed, feeling your face heat up.
Steven was quick to understand what you meant and felt just as awkward. There was a pause for a brief moment before he cleared his throat.
“Well, it’s lovely to meet you—“ he trailed, squinting as if he was recalling whether Marc had told him your name.
You quickly introduced yourself and extended your arm for a handshake, “It’s nice to finally meet you.” You said.
Steven glanced down at your hand and noticed the marks on your wrists, “Oh my, you’re hurt.” He worriedly said, mindlessly taking your arm to take a close look at it.
You felt your body heat up even more, “No, don’t worry. Those are…” you said, figuring out how to tell Steven where those marks came from.
“Marc and I…last night…” you stammered.
You saw the embarrassment in Steven’s eyes the very moment he caught your drift, “Ohhh, oh. Must have been a fun night.” He said and immediately regretted his cheeky remark.
You laughed and nodded, “It was indeed a fun night.” You affirmed.
The awkward atmosphere turned lighter thankfully. Steven glanced at you again, “Did Marc…take good care of you after?” He carefully asked.
Your eyes softened up as you looked at Steven. You smiled and nodded, “He did. Thank you for asking, Steven. He did leave me quite hungry though.” You admitted.
Steven chuckled, “Well then, I should get Marc back.” He said, preparing to stand up until you stopped him.
“Why don’t we get breakfast together, Steven with a V?” You asked with amusement.
“Marc did tell me that I’d have to get to know you at one point. Perhaps we can do that over coffee?” You hopefully asked.
You could see the gears in Steven’s head turning before he looked down and scratched at his neck, “I’m not sure Marc would like that.” He said.
Smiling, you stood up and grabbed his shirt on the floor before handing it over to him.
“Marc was right about you, Steven with a V. You worry too much.” You said with a slight chuckle, “I’m absolutely sure he wouldn’t mind.”