#jake lockley x female reader

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Play Pretend

Jake Lockley x F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • MK Bingo 2024 Masterlist • ko-fi •

Summary: Jake doesn't have much experience in more... intimate matters.

🌛For @moonknight-events MK Bingo Spring 2024 Event🌜

A/N: Okay, so I'm not super happy with this. I don't know. Anyway, I feel like I'm always saying this but my head is really bad with editing atm. I'm sure I've missed so many typos. I'm so sorry.

Warnings: set in Steven's flat (UK), swearing, loss of virginity, p in v sex, fingering, oral sex (both m and f receiving), overuse of italics, typos, railroad sentences, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 4909

Jake shifted a little nervously as he rested his head on your chest, despite the comforting weight of your arm around him. 

He was half laying on you as you were sitting on the sofa, his feet resting on the armrest as you both watched… something on TV. You watched, Jake just couldn’t focus. Even though he normally adored being snuggled up on the settee next to you, savoured any time you both had together. 

He moved again, trying to keep it as minimal as possible so as to not bother you. Slowly he tensed and untensed his legs, switching it so that one was over the other and then back around again.

There was a deep heat growing at the base of his spine, an ache between his legs. He swallowed. Maybe he could excuse himself to the bathroom, rub one out quickly and then come back to your embrace without getting hard like a horny teenager just because you were close. 

It was embarrassingly really. How often this happened. Sometimes you didn’t even have to physically be around, just smelling your scent lingering around the flat was enough at times. The feel of your jumper in the wardrobe when it brushed against his hand as he got dressed in the morning. The photo of you and Marc at the park on the side table. That time Steven accidentally used your shower gel instead of his own. 

He shifted again. Maybe he could-

“You okay?” 

He jumps despite the softness of your voice and turns his head quickly to look at you, a little wide-eyed. “Yeah?” He answers a fraction too quickly to be considered ‘okay’. 

You give him a bemused smile. “You sure?” 

“Hmmhmm.” 

For a moment you pause, just cocking your head to the side ever so slightly as you regard him and Jack as to practically bite the inside of his cheeks to stop himself from groaning out loud. Why, oh why, did you have to look so adorable when you did that? 

“You need to sneak off to the bathroom?” You ask innocently, but there’s a telltale mischief to your eyes that makes Jake’s blood run cold. 

“I, erm, what are you talking about amor?” 

You gesture with your chin to his not-so-subtle budge in Steven’s sweatpants. 

“A…” He shifts again, thinking about grabbing a pillow to place over himself for a second before realising how silly that would be. You already knew what he was hoping to hide. “Maybe.” 

You smile and kiss his cheek. “That’s okay, you can go. I’m not gonna judge you. You know I don’t want you to sit here and be all uncomfortable.” 

“Hmm.” He gives you a small smile, a light dusting of pink highlighting his cheeks and the very top of his ears. “Sorry.” 

You frown a little and speak kindly. “What are you sorry for, silly?” You lightly stroke the shell of his right ear as you talk, just brushing your fingers along the outside and tucking a few errand curls behind it. 

He shivers. You know what you’re doing. 

“For…” He gestures to his crotch and you giggle. 

“I could…” You bite your lip a little a you speak and Jake pinches his thigh to keep control of himself. “Help you out with it? If you want?” There’s a little nervousness to your words, a worry of overstepping a boundary. 

While you had been physical with Marc and Steven for a while now, the most you had done with Jake had been to kiss and hold hands. Not that you minded. Jake was his own person and you wanted to go at his pace, take your time with the more intimate side of things. Or, never have that kind of relationship with him at all. You were just happy to spend time with him. 

He didn’t really like talking about that side of your relationship, and you didn’t want to push him. 

Jake’s blush grew darker. “I… erm…”

You resisted the urge to gently tease him about his loss for words. 

“I…” He closed his eyes, blurting out his words and screwing his face up afterwards. “I’m a virgin.” 

“Oh.” You said in surprise. That certainly wasn’t what you expected him to say. 

He opened his eyes quickly, a tense look of fear pinching at his features and you quickly realised your mistake. 

“No,” you say quickly as you reach out and stroke his hands, embracing them in your warmth. “I mean ‘oh’ as in, ‘oh, I didn’t think you were gonna say that’, not ‘oh, that’s a problem’.” 

The tension in his shoulders viably relaxed slightly and he gave you a weak smile. Looking down briefly at your hands and stroking your knuckles with his fingers. 

“So… you’ve never done anything… sexual before?” 

Your own tiptoeing around the word makes you wince. 

“Just sort of kissing, I guess.” He looks up to you with his large, soft eyes. “Is that a problem?” 

“No, no, no,” you say quickly, “no at all just… yeah, surprising.”

He raises an eyebrow at you. 

“Well,” you nudge him playfully with your shoulder, “I don’t know if you know this, but you are very pretty.” 

Jake snorts, grinning from ear to ear. “I’ve been told.”

You smile back at him before softly brushing his hair behind his ear again, savouring his little hiver. “You know we don’t have to do anything, right? There’s never any pressure, I want you to know that. I’m more than happy just to be with you like this. I love you, it doesn’t have to be physical.” 

He nuzzles into your hand, kissing your wrist. “I know,” he whispers, “and thank you, for saying it out loud I mean.” 

You stroke his cheek as he talks.

“It’s not that I don’t want to… and I know you’ve technically been with the body before, it’s just that…”  

You stay quiet as you caress his face, letting him take his time. 

“I don’t want to disappoint you.” 

As the last words leave his lips a little crack forms in your heart.

“You could never disappoint me, Jake.” 

He smiles but tuts. “You know what I mean… inexperienced isn’t exactly code for ‘giving their partner’s good time’, right?” 

“I’ll have a good time no matter what because I’m with you.” You give him a soft kiss and he smiles.

“That’s not what I mean Amor,” but he kisses you again. “Thank you though, it’s just…” he pauses, thinking carefully on how best to explain himself. Out of the three of them Jake is always the one who thinks most about what they say before they say it. “It’s just, I didn’t want to just… be with someone for the sake of it, I wanted it to be with… someone special, someone I care about. And now…”

“You’re still waiting for that someone special.” You nod solemnly as you tease. 

Jake glares at you playfully, ticking your side until you giggle and hold up your hands. 

“Sorry, sorry,” you mutter between laughter. 

“You should be.” He leans close and lightly nips at your neck. “Be thankful that I’m in a forgiving mood.” 

You grin and kiss his nose. 

“You are my someone special,” he continues sincerely, “and I want it to be enjoyable for you, I want you to…” he trails off and looks down for a second. You can see that hint of a blush returning. 

“You want me to…?”

He bites his lip and swallows. “I want you to look and sound like you do with Marc and Steven.”

You smile cheekily. “You watch?” 

He avoids your gaze. “Sometimes.”

“Sometimes?” 

“Almost all the time.” 

“Almost?” 

“99.9%.”

“What’s wrong with the .0?” You say, pretend indignation in your voice. 

“I’m sleeping.” 

His matter of fact tone takes you by surprise and you laugh loudly. 

“Fair enough.” You stroke his cheek again. 

“You don’t mind?” 

You shake your head. “Marc might. Maybe.” You shrug. “You’d have to ask him.”

“I’m definitely not doing that.” 

“Steven won’t care.” 

Jake nods. “That’s true. Exhibitionist that one, for certain.” 

You laugh again and then pause as both of you look at each other for a long moment. 

“Why don’t we play pretend for a bit? Help you relax and get out of your head?” You ask.

He thinks for a moment before he opens his mouth, a smirk on his lips. “I think it’s called ‘role play’ amor.” 

You tut.

“All I’m saying is I shouldn’t be the one who knows more in this situation-” Jake yelps as you cut him off by tickling him this time. He jumps back from your reach and grins. “Unfair.” 

You poke your tongue out at him. 

Which he promptly returns before he smiles. “Alright, let's play pretend’.”  He sits up straight on the sofa, his hands neatly in his lap as he waits for your direction. 

You give him a brief suspicious look, Jake was never usually one to agree and behave without having some ulterior motive. 

“Alright,” you say a little suspiciously as you settle down next to him. “You can stop this at any point you want, okay?” 

Jake nods once. 

“Okay, so,” you give him a little glance and see he’s listening intently. “I’m thinking, ‘where’s Jake the most comfortable?’”

“In bed.” He interrupts cheekily. 

You snort. “No. I was going to say, driving.”

“Driving’s not very comfortable.”

“Jake-”

“Not here anyway, roads are tiny.”

“Jake-”

“And everyone’s an asshole.”

“Okay, that’s true.”

He grins. 

“But, humour me, yeah?” 

He nods. “Consider yourself humoured.” 

“Alright, driving. So, we’re in the car, you're driving.”

“I’m on the wrong side.”

“Jake.”

“I’m on your left.”

“Well, we’re in America now.” 

“How did we get here?”

“Jake.”

“Did we fly?” 

“Jake.” 

“Marc’s gonna be pissed if we don’t get some pizza, I can tell you that-”

You shut him up by kissing him deeply. While it may not always be the most convenient method of silencing him, it certainly is the most effective. 

He kisses you back desperately, sinking into your embrace and bringing up his hand to lightly caress your cheek as you lick into his mouth. 

You know why he’s talking so much. The action so unlike Jake. He’s nervous. 

He moans softly as you pull back a fraction, trying to follow your lips. 

“I should really be keeping my eyes on the road.” He teases, his voice low and wrecked. 

“Well, it’s a good job we’re on the settee then, isn’t it?” You wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer and pressing your lips back to his. 

You swallow down his softly whimpered moans and trail your hand down his chest. You keep the action slow, deliberate. So he has plenty of time to feel where you're headed, and to stop you if he wants. 

You lightly palm his erection through his jogging bottoms and he hisses in a breath, his hips bucking up towards your touch as he keeps kissing you. 

His hands wrap around you, pulling you closer as he trails his lips down to your jaw, pressing soft kisses along the bone before slipping further down to your neck. 

You press a little harder, running your hand up and down his clothed length and massaging his heavy balls. His cock twitches under your actions, warm and throbbing. 

Jake hisses in a breath, “please.” His voice is so quiet you almost can’t hear him, can distinguish his words from moans as he presses his lips to your skin and sucks lightly. 

You tangle your free hand in his hair, pulling lightly at the curls to make him whine as you hook your fingers under his waistband and pull his trousers down. 

Jake groans, squirming a little and lifting his hips quickly, grabbing hold of the material and yanking his boxers and jogging bottoms down to his knees, keeping his mouth at your neck the whole time. 

The heat coming off his skin almost burns. Even without seeing his face you know that deep blush is back, the one that spreads across his skin like ink and makes you lightheaded from desperation for him. 

Languidly you run the tip of your finger down his length, savouring the way his cock jumps and twitches under your attention. The head is ruddy and swollen, a bead of forming precum seeping out from the slit that begs you to swipe it away with your tongue. 

You wrap your fingers around his girth, a not quite firm enough grip, and pump him twice in long, slow movements.

He sucks in a breath, shivering and muffling his moans against you, his fingers tightening on your side as if you’ll move away. As if you would ever want to leave him like this, aching and needy. 

You dip your hand lower, massaging his balls again and the little sound Jake lets out is the sweetest thing you’ve ever heard. 

“Fuck,” you breathe and quickly pull away from his hold. 

Jake makes a small sound of distress for a moment, thinking you’re stopping, before he realises what you’re doing. 

You lean down, taking hold of his cock and pumping him slowly as you lick along his tip with the flat of your tongue.

Jake groans, throwing his head back against the sofa and balling his hands into fists at his sides. 

You repeat the action again, and again. Lapping at his slit and spreading his precum across your tongue. 

He gasps, his thigh muscles twitching as he fights to keep still and not buck up into your mouth. 

“This okay?” You ask between licks. 

“Yes, ah,  yes, really okay.” He whimpers, squirming a little and biting his lip. “Please don’t stop.” 

“I won’t.” You whisper and lightly suck at his head, moaning as he slips into your mouth, and swirling your tongue around him. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” his hips buck up a fraction before he catches himself and forces them back down against the cushions. “Sorry,” his words are muffled as he grits his jaw, bites his lip and tries to not completely lose it after barely thirty seconds. 

You hum, pressing your tongue flat against him and let yourself slide further down, swallowing and sucking on his greedily. 

“Oh, shi-” he catches himself, fighting every instinct to give in and chase his pleasure. He bites his bottom lip hard, drowning in pleasure and not even trying to come up for air. 

His sighs and pants echo around the flat as you move faster, sink lower, until he hits the back of your throat. 

He gasps loudly, a string of swears thumping out of his throat in a rush. 

Then suddenly, his hands are on your jaw, lightly lifting you back up and off him. “Stop, stop, stop,” he rushes the words together and you move back quickly. 

Your mouth is barely off him before he’s pulling you into a searing embrace, his tongue dancing with your own and licking his precum from your lips. 

“You, you,” he mutters, one hand pulling at your jeans and undoing the button. “You, need you,” you’re not sure if he even realises he’s speaking, his thoughts bypassing any check system and coming straight out of his mouth. 

He pushes you back against the sofa and you let him, let his strong, warm hands guide you and push your jeans and underwear down your thighs just enough so that he can touch you. 

He sighs loudly as he strokes between your legs, the sound almost as if you were the one touching him and not the other way around. 

You moan his name, pulling at his shoulders.

“Show me, show me,” he mutters into your mouth, “please.” 

You grab hold of his hand, pressing his thumb against your clit and showing him the soft circles you like. He follows your directions eagerly, his large dark eyes mesmerised as he watches. 

When you press his fore and middle finger towards your slick entrance he moans again, gently pushing inside and shivering. 

“You’re really wet.” He mutters, trying to control his breathing. Slowly he pulls his fingers out before pushing them back in, revelling in the sound your arousal makes. “Is that,” he repeats the action, his eyes flicking up to your face, “is that okay? Feel okay?” 

You nod, keeping a gentle hold on his forearm. “Just, fuck, thumb’s great, just, sort of curl your fingers a little bit and-” Your sharp moan cuts over whatever you were going to say next as pleasure runs up your spine like lightning. 

“Like that?” He whispers, his voice thick and heavy, his pupils blown wide.

You nod desperately, rolling your hips to chase the sensation of his fingers. “Like that.” 

He groans a little, pressing closer so he can lightly kiss your neck, alternating between sucking at your skin and looking up to watch your face in a blissed out rapture. 

“What made you so wet, hmm?” He mutters into your ear, rocking his hips against you so that his painfully hard cock rubs against your thigh. 

“Fuck,” you hiss as the tips of his fingers brush perfectly inside. 

“Hmm?” He asks needily, practically begging, as if he hasn’t got you at his mercy. 

“You.” You manage to stammer out.

“Me?” 

“You.” 

“You like sucking my cock that much?” He groans, having to pinch his side with his free hand to stop his eyes from rolling back in his head. 

You nod desperately, bucking up into his hand as you chase your orgasm. “Yeah.” Your voice comes out as a pathetic whine and Jake growls. 

He watches you for a few more seconds, trying to keep hitting that spot that makes you mewl under him.

Suddenly, he stops, pulling back his hand and you practically sob, tugging lightly on his wrist to try to keep him inside of you. 

“Jake,” a deep down part of you wishes you didn’t sound quite so needy, but most of you doesn’t care in the slightest.  

“Put your mouth on me again please,” he mutters, his voice rushed and breathless as he urges you down towards his cock with his hand on your upper back. 

You nod, moving quickly to lick a long stripe up the length of him that has him moaning like a whore. 

You take him back into your mouth quickly, sucking him as deep as you can and further still. Jake’s whimpers spurring you on. 

He keeps one hand on your back, nearly at the base of your neck, pressing down ever so slightly to guide your tempo. While he shoves his middle and forefinger into his mouth and groans at the taste of your arousal. 

He moans loudly, his chest vibrating with the sound. “Amor,” his voice is thick, on the verge of breaking, “fuck you taste-” he gasps as you sink lower, your own sounds of pleasure echoing along his cock. 

He bites back a sob. “Taking such good care of me, you taste so sweet,” he sucks on his fingers, desperately trying to find every single trace of your slink that he can. The wet sounds cut over your own, somehow louder in your ears than your racing heartbeat and your mouth around his hot, thick cock.

Jake’s eyebrows pinch together as the ball of pleasure starts to tighten uncontrollably in the base of his stomach, pushing him higher and higher and so close to tumbling off the edge. 

“Amor,” he whines, biting his lip and gently pulling you off his throbbing cock for the second time. 

A thin trail of salvia connects you for a brief moment. You pout a little at being coaxed away from him again, Jake savours your expression for a heartbeat before kissing your swollen lips once, twice. His hands on either side of your face, stroking your cheeks as he slips his tongue into your mouth and squirms in his seat. 

He breaks the kiss briefly to tug off his own trousers, reconnects your lips with a groan and tries to get your jeans off without moving away again. 

You chuckle lightly at his impatient scoff when it doesn’t quite go to plan. He scowls at your clothing, as if it was purposefully being difficult. Swearing lightly under his breath before looking down and tugging them off. You pull your top off at the same time, burning with need. Desperate to feel his skin against yours so keenly that it is almost to the point of pain. 

“Lay back please,” he mutters as he tugs your legs free and clambers between your thighs. His hands dig in just enough to send a shiver along your nerves, twisting deeply at your core. His stubble grazing over your skin as he places sloppy kisses on your inner knee, trailing upwards and nipping lightly. 

He moves hastily, forgoing any pretence of being able to hold himself together as he gazes at your aching pussy. He darts out his tongue, licking one long swipe through your folds and up to your clit, closing his eyes and moaning at the taste wantonly. 

“Fuck, Jake, I-”

He plunges two fingers back inside you, curling them exactly how you instructed and you all but scream. Your breath stolen from you as he flicks his tongue against your clit, circling one way and then the other before latching on and sucking it into his mouth, trying to follow directions from hazy encounters he watched quietly in the headspace. 

When you grab hold of his hair, your hips arching up into his mouth he groans, opening his eyes so that he can see the look of pleasure on your face. How you contort under his touch. 

He sobs, rutting needily against the sofa, the expression on your face almost too much to bear. 

You buck against him unthinkingly, your body taking over as you need to chase your high. His name falls from your lips in whimpered gasps, separated only but pleas and muttered praises. 

You guide the back of his head, encouraging him to lap at you in time with your hips and he follows your directions instantly, pressing closer and moaning against you so much that the sensation nearly has you screaming.

Your thighs shake as you bite your lips together, muscles tensing and waves of pleasure begin to build and build and build, threatening to drag you down over the edge in one fell sweep and-

Jake pulls back quickly, the bottom half of his face shining with his slavia and your slick. You groan in frustration as he moves, but let go of him so as to not pull at his hair. 

“Jake,” you say, a spike of irritation weaving through your words. 

He moans at your tone, his eyes glazing over ever so slightly. “I’m sorry, please,” he rubs your thighs, kneading his fingers into your skin as his own hips rock and buck against nothing but the air. 

His cock is red, leaking and almost painful looking with how hard he is. It bobs up and down with every movement, almost pleading with you to take pity. 

“Please what?” You whisper. 

Jake shuffles back into a sitting position, both feet flat on the floor. He looks at you a little uncertainly for a split second before he pushes the emotion down. “Please come and fuck yourself on my cock.” He says quietly, as if he was truly asking you for a favour and not letting you have everything you want.

You all but jump into his lap, pulling off the rest of your clothing and kissing him hard. He moans against your lips, following every movement desperately as he places his hands gently on your hips. 

With the last fragment of your rapidly disintegrating self-control, you manage to pull away from him just far enough to speak. “You sure?” 

It’s like he doesn’t hear you, too drunk on your touch for your words to make sense. He moves forward, trying to kiss you again. But you hold him back a little, pressing your hands against his cheeks softly but firmly until his eyes meet yours, his eyebrows pinched in puzzlement. 

“Are you sure you want to do this? I don’t want to rush you, we can-”

“Please.” He practically sobs. The break in his voice at the end of the word rings so loudly in the room that you're surprised it doesn’t echo. You’ve never heard him so needy before. 

“Please,” he repeats, “I want to, I want you. If… if you’ll have me, if you-”

You cut off any self-destructive thought that was destined to fall out of his mouth with your lips on his. 

“If I’ll fucking have you,” you mutter against him, raising up on your knees and taking him in your hand. You line him up with your entrance before you sink slowly down. 

Jake gasps, grabbing hold of you and squeezing you tight. His face pressed into your chest as you hold his shoulder, kiss his temple as you ease him inside. 

He bites his lip, trying and failing to hold back a whimper, but succeeding in keeping his hips still. 

You gently turn his face towards you by his chin as you bottom out, kissing his plump lips once, twice before you speak. “You okay?” 

He nods, completely lost in the feel of you squeezing around him. “I’m not gonna last.” 

“That’s okay,” you smile sweetly, stroking his hair.

But Jake shakes his head. “It’s not, I want you to-”

“Hey, hey,” you soothe, “I’m having a good time, okay?” You smile and gently take one of his hands and guide it between your legs to your clit. “Here, remember what I showed you?”

He nods, looking up at you like you painted the sky and quickly begins those soft circles that have you clenching around him and moaning softly. 

He lets out a choked sob. “Can feel you.” He mutters. “Feel you… squeezing, and fuck, so warm, and wet, and tight and-” he swallows his words, groaning loudly, his eyes closing as you start to slowly move, using his shoulders for leverage. 

His fingers don’t falter though. 

The stretch of him is so good it burns, pressing hard and deep inside and threatening to crack you open at any given second. 

You keep your movements steady, rising up and sinking back down, watching his every expression intently. The bob of his throat. The lines of concentration on his forehead.

His thighs shake, his lip so tightly between his teeth that it’s losing colour. 

“You want me to go faster?” You whisper and he grounds, nodding rapidly. 

You can’t help but smile as warmth runs along your veins. How much he trusts you to take care of him, how hard he’s trying to stay still. 

You kiss him hard, forcing him to stop biting his lip and let out the sweet sounds he’s been trying to hamper. He takes hold of your face with his free hand, caressing your cheek as you slide your tongue into his mouth. 

You pick up your pace, truly riding him and he moans. 

“Amor…”

“Move with me.” You mutter, rolling your hips and encouraging him to buck up and do the same. 

He whines, but nods, kissing you deeping as he fucks up into you as you set a brutal pace. 

The slide of his thick cock makes your spine bend, your body moving on autopilot as you chase your high. Your breath catches in your throat as he hits deep. Your fingers tighten around his shoulders, digging into his sweat soaked skin. 

Jake's eyes snap open, watching you intently and angling his hips to try to hit that spot again. 

“Please, please, please,” he mumbles with every thrust, not sure what he’s asking for but knowing that he’s desperate for it. 

You tense, your muscles clenching as bliss begins to burn at the edge of your vision. “Jake, Jake, fuck.”

“Yes, please, please,” he moans, obsessed with how your lips part, your eyes shut as you get close, “please.” His thumb swirls messily over your clit, slick with sweat and your wetness, he pushes you closer.

The slap of skin is nearly as long as both of your moans as you bounce relentlessly on his cock, his balls slapping against your ass cheeks. 

Stars begin to swell behind his eyes, pleasure spiralling in the base of his spine. “I can’t, I’m gonna- please!”

It’s a sobbed beg that pushes you over the edge. How desperate he is for you. How needy. How shamelessly open with what he wants. 

You swear as pleasure crackles over your skin, burns through your veins as you come. Jake groans loudly, following you a fraction of a second later and gasping as you squeeze his cock, milking him for every last drop he has to spend. 

He buries himself deep, pressing his face into your chest. For a second he’s weighty, floating somewhere high above everything, somewhere warm and safe. 

And then your hands stroke his arms, your lips kiss his sweaty forehead, and he can feel you, your warmth, your everything holding him tight and keeping him safe. 

“You okay?” You stroke his hair softly and smile when he looks up at you. 

He nods and grins, pressing his lips to yours in a long, soft kiss. “I think I like play pretend amor.” 

You snort. “Oh, do you?” 

“Hmm, we’ll have to do it again.” 

____________________________________________

Thank you for reading!

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[starryevermore]

I have a request! How would y/n react to the moon boys coming in their pants before they can have sex? All I can think about is a flustered Steven and that he’d have tears in his eyes due to embarrassment.

made a right mess ✧ steven grant, marc spector, & jake lockley

angst city™ library | send in a request (consult request faqs first)

request: I have a request! How would y/n react to the moon boys coming in their pants before they can have sex? All I can think about is a flustered Steven and that he’d have tears in his eyes due to embarrassment. - @spider-starry

pairing: steven grant x fem!reader x marc spector x jake lockley 

word count: 1,032

warnings?: 18+ MINORS DNI, implied smut, little bit of bondage, not proofread

Teasing your sweet, sweet Steven was your favorite pastime. It was so easy to get him worked up. Poor fella was so touch-starved that the first time the two of you had sex together, he came the second that you put your hands on him. Though his stamina did improve, if you pushed his buttons just right, he would come undone in the palm of your hands. And, oh, you relished in it. 

His sweet, breathy moans. The way he’d bury his face in the crook of your neck. How he’d beg and plead and whine. Fuck, it was enough to make you come undone, if you were being honest. Your favorite, though, was well—

“Oh no,” Steven would mumble, looking at the mess he’d made.

You wouldn’t say anything at first. Too surprised at what happened. You’d intended to tease him, you meant for him make such a beautiful mess. But he hadn’t done something like this before, not even when he was inexperienced. 

“‘m sorry,” he’d say. When you’d look up at him, you’d see the tears in his eyes, the flush in his cheeks. “I-I—”

“Shh,” you’d finally say. You reached up, running your thumb across his cheek, swiping away the tears. “Love it when you make a mess, Steven. Love seeing how worked up you get for me.”

He leaned in, hiding his face, like he was still ashamed of what he did. “Mean it?”

You kissed the top of his head, reaching up and smoothing out his messy curls. “Course I do, Steven. I wouldn’t lie to you about that.” You gave his hair a gentle tug, urging him to look back at you. When his head raised, you nuzzled your nose against his. “You’re my sweet, sweet Steven. It’s my job to take care of you, yeah? And if that means you make a right mess, then I’ve done my job well, hm?”

Steven nodded, his eyes fluttered shut. “Can we…Can you do it again?”

You smiled, pressed a kiss to his lips. “Since you asked so sweetly, your wish is my command.”

It was shocking how easy it was to get Marc worked up. Like Steven, he wasn’t touched very often. Granted, Marc chose not to be touched—always keeping folks at arms length. That is, until he met you. It was a slow build up, him getting comfortable around you. He used to shy away from your touches. Regarded you with that guarded look. You were Steven’s girl, after all. He didn’t think you had any love reserved for him. 

But now, as you straddled his lap, grinding down on his clothed cock, his fingers digging into your hips, head thrown back as he moaned loud enough for the entire building to hear, you knew that he knew you loved him fully, wholly, and truthfully. 

“Mine,” you whispered in his ear, nibbling on his earlobe. “You’re all mine, aren’t you? All mine to use?”

“Yours,” he echoed, head dipping forward. His teeth scraped at the exposed skin of your neck. You grinded down harder. “Just want you, baby. Just wanna make you happy.”

“You do,” you said. You held onto his shoulders to give you a better angle. “You make me the happiest woman in the world—”

“Fuck—” Marc sniffed. He buried his face further in your neck. You paused your movements, pulling back to get a better look at him. “I-I didn’t mean to—”

“Shh, baby, it’s okay,” you cooed, cupping his face in your hands. “It’s okay, baby. You’re okay.”

Your neck became wet with his tears. Oh, Marc. Life had been too cruel to him. You lifted a hand, scratching at his scalp. He let out a choked sob, then mumbled, “I didn’t mean to ruin this.”

“You didn’t ruin anything, baby,” you said. “You’re safe. No one’s mad at you. Okay? I’m not mad at you. I just want you to be comfortable. If you wanna take a break, if you don’t wanna continue, that’s okay. We can pop in a movie, order some greasy takeout—do anything you want.”

Marc was quiet for a moment, then mumbled, “I think I wanna take a break. Just a couple minutes.”

“You can take as long as you need, baby.”

Jake would be annoyed. He didn’t like being teased. No, no, he was the one who was supposed to be the one doing the teasing. He was the one supposed to be making you fall apart. He was the one who was supposed to be making a mess of you. But when you manage to flip the script? Manage to convince him to let you tie him up? Settle on his lap, teasing him like it’s your goddamn job? Fuck. Yeah. Yeah, he’s annoyed. 

So when he cums in his fucking underwear like some teenage boy about to have sex for the first time? He’s damn near pissed. And worse, you start giggling at him. Giggling! Fucking giggling!

“It’s not that funny,” he grunted, pulling at his restraints, trying to get out. “Wait til I get outta here and show you just how funny it is.”

“Awe, baby, it’s okay,” you coo, leaning down, nuzzling your nose against his. You let out another giggle. “Everybody makes a mess sometimes.”

“I hate you,” he grumbled. 

“Mm, I don’t know about that. Don’t think you’d cum in your pants if you hated me all that much, don’t you?”

Finally, Jake managed to break free from his restraints. Before you could even think to react, he grabbed you by the hips and flipped you onto your back. You let out a gasp. He held your wrists together in one hand, the other slipping down beneath your waistband, teasing at your clit. You moaned, arching your back against him. But, oh, he was not there to see you enjoy yourself. 

“Jake!” you gasped when he pulled away, just as the coil in your stomach began to tighten. 

“Nuh uh, honey. None of that,” he cooed. “I gotta show you what happens when you tease me, yeah? Gotta show you it ain’t very nice of you to do that.”

And, oh, did he keep that promise. 

#steven grant imagine #steven grant x female reader #steven grant x fem!reader #steven grant x reader #marc spector imagine #marc spector x female reader #marc spector x fem!reader #marc spector x reader #jake lockley imagine #jake lockley x female reader #jake lockley x fem!reader #jake lockley x reader #starrywrites #starryevermore

[bit-dodgy-innit]

Trying for Two

Part of my 500 Follower Celebration set in my SHAPE OF YOU AU

The Prompt: You and your husband begin talking about if you’re ready for baby number two. Steven, being the sneaky little shit he is, does everything he can covertly to make sure you conceive so he can get your milk-filled tits back

Requested by: a few lovely fellow heathen nonnies and the wonderful @fangirlfreakingout

Pairing: Steven x afab!reader, with background Marc x afab!reader and Jake x afab!reader, Reader is married to the system

Word Count: 2k (short but horny I promise!)

Spice-o-meter: 🌶🌶🌶, Rated Explicit, Minors DNI!

CW/TW: Talk of pregnancy, breastfeeding, lactation and conceiving, p in v sex, nipple play, lots o’dirty talk, daddy!kink, breeding kink, mention of bondage, unprotected sex, a smidge of unprotected cumplay

A/N: THANK YOU EVERYONE for the amazing response to last full, hope y’all enjoy this fun romp!! Our 🍈🍈 loving daddy!Steven is back in full force in this one, using his big brain and…other things for horny purposes!!

It couldn’t have come at a more unexpected moment. You and Marc had finally wrestled Nyla down for bed and collapsed on the couch with the telly on, watching 8 Out Of 10 Cats of all things. Perhaps something on the quiz show had prompted Marc, inspired him to share with you, but you nearly dropped your wine glass when your husband remarked, seemingly out of nowhere, “It’d be good for Nyla to have a sibling.”

Out of the four of you, Marc had been the hold out on Baby Number Two. Steven had wanted another kid basically as soon as you’d popped Nyla out, and when you mentioned it to Jake about a year ago, he was on board. Understandably, Marc had his reservations. He was so protective of your daughter, and you knew however irrational it may be, Marc was petrified that a similar fate would befall his children as he and Randall. 

It was almost a blessing in disguise that Nyla had been a surprise, since she drastically reduced the potential overthinking about kids. Once you’d discovered a baby was already on the way, both of you knew wanted her without much doubt. 

You schooled your face to appear cavalier and casual, the last thing you wanted to do was spook him. “That’d be nice wouldn’t it?” 

“Yeah,” he agreed. 

“I’ll give Doctor Slater’s office a ring in the morning.” 

Your statement was a test. If Marc walked it back, then you knew he really wasn’t ready. But he didn’t say anything, so you took his lack of protest as confirmation. It was downright strenuous to keep your cool for the rest of the night and quell any urges to rejoice now that Marc had finally caved on another baby. 

It was not a surprise however to wake up next to Steven since he lectured on Wednesday mornings. When your alarm went off and you rolled into his arms, the first thing he whispered to you was “We’re having another baby.”

“We‘re having another baby,” you echoed with a wide grin. 

The two of you shared a chaste kiss, then Steven pulled you closer to him, no doubt for you to feel his morning wood. “What do you say we start trying right away?” 

It was a tempting idea, but it was also a miracle that Nyla hadn’t burst into your bedroom yet. 

“Later baby,” you promised him. “She’ll be up any minute.” 

Steven surrendered with another kiss. He was willing to wait…for now. 

***

This time conceiving was so different than with Nyla. There were cycle tracking apps, appointments with Dr. Slater, and not to mention a two-and-a-half year old to manage in the midst of everything. 

Most experts said the best way to ensure a pregnancy ASAP was to have sex everyday, which of course the boys were thrilled to hear. Even though you had no trouble getting hot for each other still, the difficulty was finding the time and energy. You had been back at work for a while now, and Nyla was non-stop. 

So Steven decided to take things into his own hands to help the process along. He started waking up extra early to jog on the mornings he fronted, since exercise supposedly helped sperm count. He threw out Marc’s beer and Jake’s “secret emergency” pack of cigarettes due to a study he’d read about them compromising one’s virility, royally pissing off his alters in the process. Your husband wouldn’t let you so much as move after sex either, fetching everything you’d desire to keep you still and try to increase conception. 

Disappointment was inevitable when you got your period the first month after you and your husband started trying for Baby Number Two. The last thing Steven wanted to do was put pressure on you, stress was the worst thing for fertility. Besides, he loved you and didn’t want you to feel like you were lacking in any capacity. 

He did however, intensify his covert conception efforts. He read that yams increase one’s chance of fertility and added it to the weekly shop. You were slightly puzzled that Steven was suddenly so keen on having sweet potatoes at least once a week for dinner, but Nyla liked them and your husband always offered to cook when you had them so you weren’t going to complain.

He also learned that morning sex was marginally better for conceiving, so he began waking you up with head so you’d be all pliant and open to sex first thing. Though that was no great effort on his part, his favorite thing to eat was your pussy. 

Obviously, Steven wanted to have another child with you because you were his soulmate, and the vision of two little pairs of feet pattering around your home never failed to choke him up. But there was another, more selfish, more horny reason he was so eager for you to get pregnant again. 

He’d hidden it well until you two had a date night. Nyla was at home with your trusted sitter Sam, and Steven took you to a restaurant on the river you both loved. Despite his steadfast commitment to veganism, your husband insisted on ordering oysters for the two of you (another fertility-friendly food, not to mention an aphrodisiac too). It hadn’t helped that you’d worn a low cut top that perfectly framed two of his very favorite parts of you. 

When you’d gotten home, you wanted to check on Nyla even though Sam had reported she’d fallen asleep a few hours ago without much fuss. Steven undressed in your bedroom while you kissed your daughter in hers, sporting a very prominent hard on by the time you joined him. 

“Mmmm, is that all for me, Doctor Grant?” You purred as you climbed on the bed and reached into his boxer-briefs. 

He answered you with a groan and crashed your lips together. 

“I think I’m feeling the effects of those oysters,” you lilted while you stripped out of your top and jeans. 

A devilish smirk spread across his lips. “Let’s hope so.” 

Steven had tremendous willpower, but all bets were off when he was inside of you and you talked dirty to him. 

“Oh yeah Daddy,” you moaned as he hammered his throbbing cock into your slick cunt. “You gonna fuck a baby into me?” 

“Mmhmm,” he responded, his tongue darting out to wet his lips while he pounded you from above. “Gonna shoot so deep in your pussy.” 

You whimpered, “Make me all big and swollen with your baby.” 

“Fuck…ungh, yeah,” he assented, and you clenched down around him, which short-circuited his brain “Can’t wait to watch you grow so big with Nyla’s little sibling.” 

You dug your fingertips into his biceps. “You’ll have to take good care of me when I do.” 

“Going to take the best care” he vowed. “I’ll rub your feet and shoulders, lick this tight little cunt whenever you want…and-ah-I’ll drink from your titties when they get too full.” 

There it was. Steven was bloody desperate to get your huge, milk-filled boobs back, and in his opinion, they couldn’t return soon enough. Thankfully, you were turned on enough to go with it without asking any questions for the time being. 

“Wanna start as soon as your milk comes in,” Steven revealed, cupping your boobs in his hands, trying to recall the size they’d grown to when you were breastfeeding. “We wasted so much time before.” 

“You can have as much as you like,” you told him, mewling when he licked over a nipple. 

Steven straightened up and hoisted your hips to wrap your legs around his waist, effectively putting you into a version of a bridge yoga pose. The switch in position made him even more frantic as he watched your boobs bounce harder from the force of his thrusts. 

“Good, because Daddy needs his milk,” he rambled. “Need to bury my face between your huge, dripping titties, suck all of your sweet milk down.” 

You keened at the image your husband described as he speared you on his cock, the incline allowing his pubic bone to grind against your clit just right. “Ohhh honey, gonna come.”

He spurred you on. “Yeah? You gonna come for Daddy?” 

“Uh huh!” You shrieked as your climax surged through you, the force of it strong enough to white out your vision for a moment. That didn’t stop you from babbling, “Come on, Daddy, fill me up with your cum…give me that big load.” 

“Bloody hell,” he swore. Steven was so aroused by your back-and-forth he could hardly keep his grip on your hips while he hurdled toward his release. “Want me to pump you full?” 

“Please,” you whined through the haze of your post-orgasmic fog. 

Steven came so hard he was sure that he triggered a switch, since he had no memory of flopping down on the bed next to you. As soon as he came back to himself and waved a thank-you in the mirror toward Jake who presumably laid him down, Steven scrambled upright in bed, fighting off the lethargy that always followed a particularly good orgasm. 

“Don’t. Move.” He whipped back the blankets to make sure none of his cum had leaked out of you. 

Your husband did in fact spotted a little drop trickling from your hole, and swiftly collected it on his finger to push it back in. A little whimper escaped you when Steven did, still sensitive from your climax. “Sorry babe, but we gotta make sure it takes.” 

“We only just started trying,” you countered. 

“True, but we’ve already waited ‘cause of Marc,” he pointed out, rising from the bed to grab both of your pajamas. “We’re also not getting any younger, you know?”

Part of you wanted to slap Steven for making even the faintest reference that you were aging, but it was then you started to put two and two together. “Is that why you wanted to try out bondage last week? Because if you tied me to the bed I wouldn’t move after sex?” 

“No!” he denied while pulling on the old UCL t-shirt and boxers he slept in. 

Your husband was a lot of things: brilliant, nurturing, incredible in bed, but one thing Steven was not was a good liar. 

“Oh my God!” you exclaimed. “The morning runs, the oysters…it’s all to make sure you knock me up!” 

Steven blushed. Come to think of it, his body was in great shape for its age, and most people were having kids later. Doctor Slater didn’t have any concerns on your end either. So when the source of his enthusiasm dawned on you, you couldn't believe you hadn’t reazlied it sooner. 

Unlike your husband, you weren’t in a tremendous rush to get pregnant. “You want my big boobs back as soon as possible!”  

“I…” Steven had no leg to stand on. 

You obscured the breasts in question when you pulled on your nightie. “Steven Grant!” 

“Shh!” The last thing either of you two needed was Nyla waking up. “I’m sorry, alright? And no, I don’t want to conceive as soon as possible only because we’ll get to…you know…revisit everything we enjoyed when Nyla was born. I do truly want another kid.”

It was impossible to stay cross with Steven when he spoke to you like that, his eyes so earnest and vulnerable. “I know, I know. But, you just…you didn’t need to be so sneaky! I’d expect that shit from Jake, but you?”

“I’m cunning too!” he protested. Leave it to him to get defensive about the strangest things.

“You are, but in other ways usually,” you relented, pulling the blankets back up again. Steven followed suit when you settled yourself against the pillows, turning off the lamp on his nightstand. You laid next to him in the dark for all ten seconds before you asked, “do you think it took?”

He shrugged “Dunno, but I can’t remember the last time I came that much.” 

It more thoroughly debauched sex, but soon you, your husband, and Nyla were celebrating the confirmation that Baby Number Two was well on their way. 

Taglist: @twwcs @rmoonstoner , @hot-mess-express1 @murdickdocked @toracainz @saahmi @unspokenmoon @winterbiipp @avatarofseshat @ilikeoldermenhelp, @losers-club6 , @harrys-tittie , @ninebluehearts , @lucianadraven32 , @dawnsutopia , @strawberry1042 @nikitawolfxo @stormkobra-5

A/N: It’s baby number two time!! This one came out quickly and while it’s not exactly the 10k fuckfest my last one was I know it was a popular fill so I hope everyone enjoyed!!

#moon knight #moon knight fanfic #moon knight fanfiction #steven grant #jake lockley #marc spector #moon knight smut #steven grant x female reader #marc spector fanfiction #marc spector x female reader #jake lockley fanfiction #jake lockley x reader #jack lockley #Jake lockley x female reader #marc spector x reader #Marc Spector x you #Steven grant x reader #Steven grant smut #steven grant fanfic #steven grant fanfiction #moon knight x reader #Oscar isaac #oscar isaac fanfiction #oscar isaac fanfic #bit-dodgy's 500 follower celebration

[here-to-read-and-write]

Moon knight.

Steven x f!reader.

Eventually: Marc x f!reader, Jake x f!reader.

I don't own Moon knight charcaters, or the gif.

Third post in one day, this is amazing.

Wow, either way here you go my friend.

Ep 02:

time :24:17

_Hello (Y/N).

Steven smiled at your flowting form, that was sitting beside him, you were a ghost or that's what you told him you were, Unfortunatly, you can not tell him the whole truth.

In Steven's eyes you were something he possessed only him, his own angel guardien. Not the little American man inside of him, you were his friend that showed him the right path, and you never had been wrong. You always right!

You never lied to him, and you told him everything, well not everything, but enough for him to understand where he stood.

You had helped him when no one wanted to and you never thought of him as weird, you were his guarden angel. You even laughed at his stupid jokes.

You hated the nickname. He thought, you would rather be called a blood thirsty monster than an angel.

_What happened?

You raised an eyebrow, and he couldn't help but let out a small giggle, not from hapiness, but how silly this may be to you.

_Well…Well you see..I know you wouldn't beleive but..but there someone inside of me…He want to take my body..His name is Mark..He was the one that broke the toiletes…He want to take my body and kill people…and I was kidnapped when they thought I was him..You see..

Before he could continue, the door opened and he fallen head first.

_Steven!

You eyes widen as you flowted beside him. You tried to touch him, but when it pass through, you draw them back in disappointment.

_Listen Steven..

He turn you way, ignoring the man in front of him. Steven will always put you first no matter the situation, and he was ready to listen to whatever you say.

_Whatever this man says to you, don't beleive him. Did you hear?

Steven nodded rapiddly, like an obedient child.

_He is a liar, just like the skeleton bird over there.

He was glad the bird couldn't see you, or he would have done something to you, after all the insult you throw his way. Since he appeared in Steven's life one year after you did.

Looking at the bad guy in fornt of him, he thought as he tried to stop his tears "I'm counting on you (Y/N)".

He really is, you were his only chance to get out of this mess.

#moon knight #xreader #variousxreader #moon knight x reader #moon knight x female reader #Steven grant x reader #Steven x reader #Steven grant x female reader #Steven x female reader #Marc x reader #Marc Spector x reader #marc x female reader #marc spector x female reader #Jake x reader #Jake x female reader #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley x female reader #x reader #x female reader

[late-to-the-party-81]

This evening has been so very nice

AN: Hello folks! After the chaos of Kinktober I’ve been taking a little break, but also working on this for the Thot Neighbourhood Discord Server Secret Santa.

I drew @yarnforbrains - I hope you enjoy this, my darling Dani. This is my first time writing for the Moon Knight boys, so I hope I did them justice.

My prompts were Winter Wonderland, Lyrics from 'Baby it's cold outside' and a picture from a German Christmas Market.

NB- I have no experience with people with DID, but did a load of reading from this website

Beta’d by @sidepartskinnyjeans, Spanish help from @aquariusbarnes

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Moodboard by me

Masterlist

Relationships: Steven Grant x plus sized Reader, Marc Spector x plus sized Reader and Jake Lockley x plus sized Reader

Word count: 4k

CW: Fluff, drinking, PDA, explicit sexual content (Oral - F receiving, Rough PinV sex, unprotected sex, cum eating), swearing.

You hurried through the dark streets, your scarf flapping around your neck and your bobble hat pulled down tight on your head. As much as you loved this time of year, sometimes the cold got too much, even for you. However, you could almost feel the Christmas cheer seeping into you as you neared your destination, and therefore your boyfriend. Or was it boyfriends? You’d admit you still had a lot to learn about dating multiple members of a DID system.

The lights ahead of you were bright and you couldn’t help but smile as you walked into the hubbub of the German Christmas themed farmer’s market. Alongside the usual stalls selling honey, vegetables and homemade items there were gaily decorated huts selling mulled wines and ciders, strong german beers, bratwurst and an array of sweet treats. Lights were strung everywhere, carols played over speakers and children squealed as they went round and round on the vintage style carousel. You felt as though you’d stepped into a winter wonderland.

You turned in a circle, taking it all in, but also trying to find your boyfriend in the crowd, a near impossible feat it seemed. Pulling out your phone, you checked your messages, but there wasn’t a new one indicating where you should meet. With a small huff, you decided he could come to you. However, just as you were about to press send on your message for him to meet you in front of the singing moose, a pair of hands covered your eyes from behind.

“Oi-oi, saveloy!”

You spun around with a squeal and threw your arms around his neck.

“Steven!”

You were happy to see the mild mannered alter. He was always so sweet to you. You pressed a kiss to his lips and smiled as a blush made its way up his neck and onto his cheeks. He got embarrassed easily with public displays of affection stronger than hand holding. It was cute.

“So you’re my date this evening then?”

“Yes. Well at the moment, anyhow. The lads and I had a chat and divvied up the night, so to speak…” He stopped speaking suddenly, looking at you earnestly, head tilted slightly to the side. “ I mean, if that’s okay with you?”

You beamed at him, cupping his face and rubbing your nose against his.

“It sounds great. Now, where are we off to first?” Steven twined your fingers together, kissed your knuckles and with a smile dragged you towards the carousel.The pair of you laughed and squealed just like the children from earlier as you bobbed up and down on your horses as the ride spun round and round.The cheerful organ music reminded you of the Christmas’ of your childhood, but the thing that made you giggle the most was Steven trying to get on and then off his horse, sliding on the smooth surface. He was adorably clumsy sometimes.

After the carousel you walked around the food stalls, your head leaning on Steven’s shoulder, inhaling the scent of his cologne. There was more laughter between you as you both chose foot long german sausages that hung out of the bun at each end, setting off immature fits of giggles from you both. It was impractical to eat them as you walked, so you managed to find a space in one of the market shelters, set up with trash cans and perching stools.

You both chatted about your days as you ate, taking it in turns to lean over and wipe mustard and ketchup off each other’s cheeks. When you sucked a bit of sauce off your thumb you saw a flash in his eye, which made you smile even more. While Steven looked quiet and demure from the outside, you knew how he could get if the mood took him. Although, that flash could easily have been either Marc or Jake coming briefly to the surface. 

Napkins and cardboard trays thrown in the trash, you grabbed Steven’s hand.

“Let’s look at the stalls. I saw some cute wooden ornaments, and some snow globes.”

“Whatever you want, babes. Your wish is my command.”  He made a dramatic bow in front of you, like a fairy tale prince, and you giggled once again. You didn’t know what you’d done to deserve such a handsome, sweet guy like Steven, but you thanked the universe daily.

After some retail therapy, where you’d managed to pick up a few gifts for family members, Steven steered you towards the sideshows.

“I’m sure you’ll have fun and excel at these, babes, but they’re not really my forte. Hate to love you and leave you.” He leant forward and pressed his lips to yours, in a soft and sweet kiss. 

When the pressure against your mouth hardened slightly, becoming less sweet and more spicy, you knew that Marc had made his appearance.

Stepping back, you looked up into his eyes. Marc was ‘harder’ around the edges than Steven. He stood straighter, with more confidence in both his body and expression. Reaching into the inner pocket of his coat, he pulled out a baseball cap and set it atop his head, before sliding his arms around your waist and smiling down at you.

“Hey, baby. Have fun with Steven?”

“Yes, thank you. I’m all shopped out and full of hotdog, but if you wanted to win me the giant teddy bear, I wouldn’t say no.”

“Consider it won, Angel.”

He led you over to one of the stalls, a shooting game with battered bb rifles chained to the counter. The targets, bobbing up and down, and moving side to side at the back, were elves peeking out of boxes and reindeer flying across the sky. There were even a pair of black boots moving up and down out of a fake chimney.

Handing over some cash to the stall owner, Marc picked up one of the rifles with cocky assurance, flashing you a grin, before tucking the stock up against his shoulder. He watched the motion of the targets for a few moments, getting a feel for the pattern and speed. With a squeeze of the trigger a spherical piece of metal flew across the space and landed with a ‘thunk’... three inches to the right of the target. You tried, and failed, to suppress a giggle as Marc scowled, looking over the rifle with a huff. Then, without a word, he raised it up again and let of a series of shots across the target area, the chimes of metal hitting metal ringing out one after the other, much to the frustration of the stall holder. You squealed and bounced on your toes as the massive polar bear wearing a santa hat was begrudgingly handed over. Leaning across the huge stuffy, you pressed kisses all over Marc’s cheeks and lips.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

His arms went around your waist and he spun you around until you were both dizzy and laughing, uncaring about the spectacle you were creating. Eventually Marc slowed you down and pulled you into a short, but deep, kiss that left you both breathless.

“Come on, Angel. Let’s check out the other games.”

The pair of you laughed as you played ‘hook a duck’, then skeeball and then failed abysmally at the ring toss.

“I’m sure it’s rigged,” Marc grumbled. You silently agreed with him. It was unlikely that your highly trained boyfriend couldn’t beat a fair version. “Let’s go sit and get a drink instead. I think there’s a mulled wine and cider shack around the corner.”

“There’s an idea I can get behind. Lead the way, my Prince of sideshows.” 

The temperature had dropped over the last hour and you could feel the cold burning at your nose and cheeks, so when the pair of you made your way into the brightly lit, wooden bar, you let out a sigh of relief. The small space was crowded with other market patrons and you were grateful for Marc’s presence, as you squeezed through the press of bodies, along with your bear and shopping bags, to get to a small table in the corner. 

“Sit tight, sweetheart and I’ll be back.” 

The smile he flashed you made your heart jump and your core pulse. As you watched him walk off to the bar, unashamedly watching his ass inside his slacks, an electronic squeal caught your attention. In the other corner of the bar was a small raised stage, with a couple of microphones, speakers and a large monitor; a karaoke set up. A pair of giggling blonde girls were making their way up onto the dais, talking to the man who appeared to be in charge. What occurred next was what could only be described as two cats screeching along to the backing track of Whitney Houston’s ‘I’m Every Woman’. Marc returned to your table part way through the rendition, placing the steaming glass mug in front of you, the red, fragrant liquid with bits of orange peel floating in it, sloshing gently.  You cupped it in your hands, warming them on it and inhaling the heady scent of red wine, spices and citrus.

Marc’s foot toyed with yours under the table, and despite the caterwauling you could feel the romance. You were so lucky that you’d been able form such strong relationships with both of Marc’s main alters. It made all your lives much easier, having those connections, with none of them feeling guilty if they appeared unplanned; you loved them all equally.

The atmosphere, and the second cup of wine, lulled you into relaxation and you knew you had a dopey, slightly buzzed look on your face. You pulled his hand across the table, turning it so it was palm up. With your index finger you started to trace patterns across his skin.

“Marc…” You let out a dramatic, needy whine. A wry smile spread on his face as he looked at you.

“Yes, Angel?”

“Come sing with me. I wanna do karaoke.  We’d be so much better than these guys.”

He rolled his eyes, but you knew he’d say yes. He always indulged you, and you weren’t above taking advantage of that once in a while.

His hand tightened on yours and pulled you to your feet. 

“Come on then - do you know which song you want to do?”

You nodded in reply, your lower lip pulled between your teeth, as you both made your way to the stage. As Marc sorted out the microphones you gave your song request to the DJ. With your performance confirmed you moved to stand next to Marc, taking one of the microphones from him and looping your free arm through his. The short piano intro played and you saw a smile of recognition on your boyfriend’s face, before you breathily sung your first line.

“I really can’t stay…”

Marc didn’t miss a beat before leaning towards you, crooning.

“But, Baby, it’s cold outside…”

“I’ve got to go away…”

“But, Baby it’s cold outside…”

His voice was deep and velvety, a soft caress across your soul. His eyes bored into yours, and you were helpless to look away as you sang to each other. You weren’t sure when it happened, but at some point during the song the playful lightness decreased and the banked heat between you began to rise. When your voices came together in a final, synchronous crescendo you didn’t know if your racing heartbeat was due to the unaccustomed effort of singing or because your mind was already imagining all the things that Marc would do to you when you got back to your apartment. You didn’t notice the applause and cheers from the audience in the wine shack, because all there was was Marc, the way his arm was around your waist, his eyes locked on yours, his breath warm on your lips…

The world lurched as he dipped you, pressing his mouth to yours and kissing you with unreserved passion. You returned the kiss, forgetting for a moment that you were in public, and not in either of your apartments. However, before you could embarrass yourself any further, Marc pulled back, his dark eyes filled with lust.  Whoops and hollers surrounded you, but you just blinked at him, slightly dazed.

“Let’s get outta here, Angel. I’ll just get your bags.” Marc dashed away to collect your things from the table, and you passed the microphones back to the grinning DJ, your face heated. You were glad for the warmth flooding your body as you stepped back out into the cold air, Marc holding your bags and with his body almost pressed up against your back. You quickly re-wrapped your scarf and jammed your hat on your head, before grabbing one of the bags from Marc so you could slip your hand in his. He grinned, a devilish smile lighting up his face before he practically dragged you out of the market and towards the main road.

With a shrill whistle, which pierced the night air like a stiletto knife, he’d hailed a cab and hustled you inside it. He rattled off your address to the cabby, and then he was kissing you again. The bags and the teddy were jammed against your legs, and your big coat, scarf and hat were getting in the way, but you didn’t care. You didn’t recall much of the ride, nor getting through your door, other than the rush to shed your outer clothes and kick off your shoes. You did register the moment your back bounced off the hallway wall as Marc steered you down it towards your bedroom, as you chuckled into his kiss and he growled back comically.

You both fell to the bed in a tangle, but working together to remove all and any clothes between you. You moaned as Marc’s lips fastened over one of your nipples, sucking the swollen flesh in to his mouth. At the same time one of his hands roamed over your soft body, stroking you and slowly making his way between your thighs.

Those deft fingers found their way without hesitation between your folds, spreading your wetness before teasing your clit into a firm peak. He teased it mercilessly, stroking and caressing it, giving it light pinches that made lightning dart across your vision, as his mouth swapped between your lush breasts, worshipping them.

“Marc!” You cried out his name as a plea, a plea for more. He lifted his head and you looked at him, glassy eyed, taking in the mess of his hair where you’d been gripping it without realising. He grinned once more, travelling down your body.

His lips kissed, sucked and nipped at your skin, leaving small marks in their wake. He saved the strongest bite for when he reached your hip. You’d realised early on in your relationship that it was one of Marc’s particular quirks; he loved the softness of your hips. How when he gripped them your flesh spilt between his fingers. How they held the evidence of his passion for you. He loved to decorate them with bite marks, finger marks, hickeys. When Stephen saw the mottled blemishes he’d stroke them gently and ask if you wanted him to apply ointment. When Jake saw them he’d just snort knowingly and grin. 

When your lover was level with the apex of your plump thighs, the hand that had been teasing you left you so he could push your legs further apart, hooking your knees over his shoulders.  Without preamble he fastened his lips to your core, drinking from it as though you alone could slake his thirst. He pulled moans and cries from your throat as you fisted the sheets, already hurtling towards your orgasm. His fingers joined his mouth and tongue, delving into your wet heat, stroking you, stretching you. Shivers raced over your heated skin, the way you were dragging air into your lungs leaving you dizzy. The force of Marc’s lovemaking never failed to leave you startled.

You came with a scream, open-mouthed and uninhibited, uncaring that Mrs Smith next door would probably shoot you daggers in the morning. Marc’s arm clamped across your abdomen, holding you to him as he continued to feast, drawing out every tremble, every whimper from your body, until you went loose and lax beneath him.

“Fuuuuuuck…”

You lay, dazed on the bed as Marc kissed his was back up you. You felt him smile against your skin until he was finally eye level with you again and you gave him a breathy smile before drawing him close and kissing him, deeply.

“I love you, Angel. I could spend all night dragging those noises from you and be satisfied. But a bit like the Ghost of Christmas Present, my time with you for the evening is almost over.”

In your lust addled state, you’d almost forgotten about Jake. You were torn. You didn’t want Marc to go, but it had been a while since you’d spent the night with the most reclusive off the alters, and had to admit the thought of it was exciting. Where Marc made love, Jake fucked. He fucked hard and feral. He left you aching after for days in the most delicious way.

Marc could obviously see the indecision in your expression. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m only a tiny bit jealous. I’m sure I’ll see you again tomorrow at some point, and I wouldn’t have missed out on our evening for anything.”

He kissed you again, his passion almost overwhelming. The hands around you tightened, the firm body rolling to be fully on top of you, leaving you in no doubt who was in charge. Jake had arrived.

You knew he was the most dangerous of your boys, birthed in the darkest moments of Marc’s army career; A way for his mind to cope with horrors he’d not only seen, but had to carry out.

As he raised his head you saw his hard eyes looking at you like a wolf looked at his prey. A shiver of anticipation racked your body.

“Buenas noches, mi cielo”

You dug your nails into his shoulder blades and nipped at his stubbled jaw.

“Hi, Jakey. Long time, no see.”

He shrugged a little, as if to say it was no big deal.

“No, don’t be like that.” You moved your hands to cup his face and force him to look at you. “You ever need me, I’m here. You matter as much as the others. I love you as much as the others. You don’t need to hide from me.”

“No me escondo, mujer.”

“Well then turn up more often for me then. Cos now you’re here…” your lips travelled up to his ear lobe and gave it a sharp tug with your teeth. “I need you to fuck me. Fuck me, Jake. Let’s fuck off Mrs Smith like we’ve never fucked her off before.”

His eyes narrowed, but before you had a chance to wonder what he was planning, you found yourself flipped onto your stomach, your hips yanked up, and a strong calloused hand on the back of your neck, pressing your cheek into the coverlet.

“¡Mantente abajo!”

“Not like I can go anywhere with you pinning me like… oh god!”  Your snarky retort was cut short as Jake pushed three of his fingers into you without warning.

“Marc got you so wet, mi amor.” 

Fuck, you loved his accent.

He pumped his wrist, and although you couldn’t see his face you could imagine him looking at your stuffed pussy, watching your juices, which you could hear squelching lewdly, spill out around his digits and run down your thighs. Your eyes rolled back in your head as he curled them, the most indelicate sound making its way past your lips.

“That’s it, cariño, be loud for me. Let the whole world know how good I am making you feel.”

He was merciless as he fingered you, seeming to revel in every salacious noise his movements pulled from your throat.

“Si, sing for me, pajarito. You sound beautiful.”

“Jake! Oh god! Fuck!”

Your legs shook as you came, and you were glad that you were mostly lying down, otherwise you would have collapsed. Your orgasm had barely finished when Jake pulled his fingers from you, with a wet, smacking sound. You heard him sucking on them, muttering under his breath, too low for you to really catch, and then he was pushing into you. Your eyes that had fluttered closed during your throws of ecstasy flew open, as he ploughed into you. One hand on your hip, the other still on the back of your neck, this was primal, feral fucking, and it was just what you wanted.

“Fuck, yes! Fuck me, Jake. Fuck me, hard!”

Jake shifted behind you, pressing his whole body against yours, his weight pushing down on your ass. Your legs slid out from under you and he followed you down, still pounding his cock into you, ferociously. 

“You want it hard? Then I’ll give you hard. You will feel me in tu coño for days.” 

He withdrew abruptly, but easily manhandled you over onto your back. He sunk back in, just as hurriedly, before hooking your legs over his muscular forearms and planting his hand on the mattress either side of your chest. Your legs were spread wide and your body folded in half as he rose up on his knees and started up his sweet torture. Each animalistic thrust pushed more noises and curses from you, rambling nonsensical sounds of lust and desire.

His thick cock was rubbing you just right on the inside, and the trimmed hair at the base of it rubbed over your engorged clit. You could feel yourself falling into that delicious spiral - the push and pull of sensation dragging you towards your inevitable, and explosive, end. 

“Mírame, amor.”

You hadn’t even realised your eyes were closed, but at his gruff command, you managed to open them slightly, taking in the fierce look on his face, the sweat peppering his brow, causing his hair to curl more.

“Cum, cariño. Let me feel you coming undone.”

He leant forward, capturing your lips again in an unforgiving kiss, a kiss that felt as though he was trying to pull your soul from you, and as he dragged that part of you from your body, he also dragged your orgasm from you. He let your lips go right at the moment that you screamed out your pleasure, with all the air in your lungs. Your vision went simultaneously black and white, your eyes unable to see anything but static as the waves of ecstasy dashed you on the rocks.

How long you lay there, dazed, you weren’t sure, but you came back to yourself to the feeling of Jake gently mouthing at your core. 

No, not Jake. It didn’t feel like him.

A change in your breathing must have given away your more alert state, because he raised his head, smiling softly. You reached out your hand to weave into his soft hair.

“Steven. When did you get here?”

“You know aftercare is my thing, babes. Now just lay back and let me clean you up, alright?”

You let yourself relax back into your messed up bed, enjoying the soft sensations as Stephen licked and stroked you. Your body juddered with a gentle, final orgasm, lulling you to the edge of sleep. A few dips of the mattress and two strong arms  pulled up the coverlet before wrapping around your body, a few gentle kisses pressed to the corner of your mouth.

“You staying?” you questioned, sleepily.

“Of course, babes. It’s cold outside.”

Taglist: @christywantspizza @jobean12-blog @tuiccim @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky @maladaptivexxdaydreaming @krissy25 @bodeckersdiamonddoll @goldylions @ohsymphony @luxeavenger @wheezy-stucky @doasyoudesireandlive @talia-rumlow

#steven grant x you #marc spector x you #jake lockley x you #steven grant x female reader #marc spector x female reader #jake lockley x female reader #late writes #tis the season to be thot y #the thot neighborhood

[thatsthewrongwallcraig]

The Wrath Of Set 

Summary: Only Jake is able to give you what you desperately crave in moments of utter devastation. 

Pairing: Jake Lockley x fem!Reader (mentions of Marc and Steven) 

Word Count: 1.7k 

Content Warnings: very dark smut 18+!, MDNI, consensual knife play, blood and blood play, mentions of past self harm, explicit talk about self harm, hard!dom!Jake Lockley, sub!reader, bondage, buckle up because we are jumping right into the action!, morally very questionable actions!, pet names, sir kink, begging, degradation, unprotected sex, spanking, seriously…this turned out so super fucking dark and if any of that upsets or triggers you: please do yourself the favour and stay far away from it! 

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT! 

A/N: This story was inspired by this artwork here (TW: consensual knife play, blood, NSFW!). As for some context to the title, Set is the brother of Osiris and one angry motherfucker. He’s the god of chaos, war, storms and violence. 

Tagging who might be interested: @luke-o-lophus @screechingsweets @marcspectorsj @littlefreya @demotalias

Please consider liking, reblogging and commenting! It means the world to me 🌸💞

Feel free to check out my Masterlist!

Also, feel free to check out my supportive Discord server! Nobody needs to simp all alone!

Your encounters with Jake weren’t frequent, but when you searched out his company you really were in desperate need for him. He was able to do what neither Marc nor god forbid gentle, caring Steven could ever do to you. Jake was the only one able to take the edge off, to scratch your dark and morally more than questionable itch when you were down bad and devastated again.

Tonight was one of those nights where you needed him to touch you in the roughest of ways, to toss you around like a little, mindless ragdoll and to remind you who you belong to.

“Jake!” You whined out into the dimly lit bedroom, your naked body being pressed against the wall by the man right behind you.

His muscular statue towered behind your back, one of his hands firmly wrapped around your bound wrists pushed to the tapestry above your head in an almost painful stretch.

“Shut up!”, He responded in a menacing growl that rumbled through his chest “I don’t remember allowing you to speak.”

You mewled against the wall as your rule-breaking was punished with a rigid smack on your bare ass. The sharp sound cut through the room and you tried not to flinch too much, knowing that it would only encourage him to hit harder. Both of you knew that you were in dire need for the pain but Jake wouldn’t give it all to you right away. No, first you had to repent for your sins, for even thinking about hurting yourself again. He wouldn’t release you from his grasp until each and every last thought about that had left your brain, that was already about to fall in the depths of an all-consuming subspace.

Before you could recover from the spank on your ass, Jake served you another one on the other cheek, for good measure, to even out the burning sensation that spread across your skin. In a bolt of rising excitement and arousal the pain did not only go right up your spine but also deep between your slightly shaking legs. You felt your cunt throbbing from two simple hits of his flat hand and a hint of embarrassment at just how pathetically needy you felt tonight flushed your cheeks with red. 

The past weeks have been rough for you to say the least. Life had thrown shit at you from every angle imaginable and tonight you had felt the impending breakdown rearing its ugly head inside your thoughts. Everything had been too much in too short of a time for you to be able to handle it properly. So many emotions eating away at you at the same time and so much tension for you to bear on your already weak and exhausted shoulders.

Tonight you had begged Jake to take it all off of you, because that’s what the two of you granted as a crude gift to each other. Unlike so many others you didn’t see him as a violent monster, no, to you he was the one and only person you trusted with your inner darkness. You presented it to him in painful honesty, purging your soul of what you were fantasizing doing to yourself because you couldn’t handle the agonizing pressure anymore. And in that Jake understood you like no one else had ever done before. The two of you creatures that were pained by their own malicious demons.

Pressing your forehead to the wall, you subconsciously shoved your ass closer to his crotch, looking for any form of friction to ease the pulsing need in your core, but your skin stroked across nothing but the fabric of his slacks.

“Look at you…”, Jake mused with a wicked amusement lacing his tone “So desperate already..” 

You felt his free hand scratching across your lower back before it snaked its way into his pocket, his nails digging mercilessly into your flesh, leaving it marked with quickly forming red swellings. At that you sucked your lower lip between your teeth, biting down hard so as to not make a sound.

“So, little dove….”, You recognised the familiar clicking noise of a switchblade knife being flipped “What were you thinking of doing to yourself, hm?”

Right as you parted your lips again to answer, you felt the cold metal tip of the knife carefully kissing the skin between your shoulders. It wasn’t quite enough for it to dig in yet, but the sensation left you shivering already.

“I- I wanted to… I was thinking about…”, The words falling from your mouth in an awkward stutter “I was thinking about hurting myself, sir!”

Jake behind you clicked his tongue in disapproval. 

“Why would you do that to yourself, huh?” His question, demanding nothing but painful truth from you elicited small, but burning hot tears to pool in the corners of your eyes.

“Because…. because…”, Your trembling tone turned into choked back sobs “Sir, I don’t know how to handle all the tension, sir!”

“You know you just have to beg me to take it from you. Beg me, dove, and I’ll deal with it for you.” 

Your entire body got crushed by a wave of shame and embarrassment. You hated it while you loved it at the same amount. It was downright degrading, but you knew damn well that those thoughts needed to be degraded back into their place.

“Please…”, You eventually winced, falling into total submission underneath his touch “Please, sir! I need you to take it.”

“How much do you need it?” Jake groaned, adding more pressure to the tip of the blade.

You felt how it slowly tore through the first delicate layer of skin.

“Need it so much, sir!” Your eyes fluttered shut at the sensation of the cold steel between your shoulders.

“Then be my good girl and let me take care of it..” The words hadn’t even left his mouth entirely as he slowly dragged the knife down, the distinct cold stinging pain rippling through every fiber of your body.

What fell from your lips in response was a morbidly pleasure-filled moan that echoed right back from the wall in front of you. With your mind slipping into a blissful state of not thinking a single thought, you didn’t fully realize how Jake loosened his bruising grip around your wrists, the now free hand shooting right down to the fly of his slacks. With a few sovereign movements he freed his aching cock from underneath the fabric and drilled himself into your cunt without a warning. The stretching hurt from being split apart from behind like that mixed into the pain the knife inflicted as it left another shallow cut next to the first one.

“God, you are so wet when you get desperate like that.” Jakes breathy moans filled the air as he started fucking into you at a merciless pace, his hand grabbing you by the waist to pull you impossibly close to him with every thrust of his hips.

Skin slapped against skin over and over while the sensations threatened to burn you from the inside out. A fire to cleanse you from all your dangerous, self-loathing fueled thoughts that had no right to punish you the way they did.

After Jake had administered a handful of different-sized cuts along your shoulders, he tossed the knife to the ground, admiring his morbid artwork before he leaned in to seal it with his lips. His wet, sloppy kisses burned on your damaged skin as he lapped up small droplets of blood, allowing the taste of you into his mouth that sent him straight into his own kind of mad frenzy. 

Accompanied by an animalistic growl he pushed himself so deep into you that you’d certainly feel him for more than just the next day. Rutting into you like the madman you allowed him to be with you, Jake chased his own high ferociously, not wasting a single thought about whether you’d come around his cock or not. It was exactly that which set you off not long after. With your entire being lost in a wicked concoction of pain and pleasure, your orgasm crushed right through you with a scorching intensity that was second to none. You cried out for Jake, seeing starts behind your closed eyes while he fucked you through your orgasm, tightening the already firm grip around your waist.

Once again his fingers dug into your flesh with an increasing force while his rhythm started to falter. It turned erratic just like his flat panting that brushed over your back until he pushed into you with one final thrust, a feral growl being ripped from the very bottom of his lungs. You felt every pulse of his twitching cock inside of you as Jake painted your insides with his seed.

A moment of silence spread between your bodies, the both of you gasping for air and trying to catch your breath. 

“Now, now…”, Jake huffed as he released your body from his tight grip, slowly pulling out of you “Let me take good care of your back.”

#jake lockley x you #jake lockley x female reader #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley #hard!dom!Jake lockley #tw dark fic #dark fic #mcu moon knight #marvel moon knight #moon knight fic #jake lockely smut #jake lockley imagine

[ninebluehearts]

Hey I was wondering can you do a Marc Spector/Steven grant/ Jake Lockley x reader where the reader has Wanda’s powers and has know Steven for a month and they’ve gotten close to the point where she asks him out but he misses there date due to Marc taking the body to the alps, Steven shows up to the restaurant two days later and calls her to ask her where she is and she reveals that it was Sunday not Friday and he missed there date, not wanting to lose her he offers an explaintion and she tells him they’ll talk about it in person the next day. She arrives at his apartment and eventually find the scarab in the duffel bag Steven brought in (not knowing what it is) she hides when the police barge in and follows Steven to harrows place. The reader gets wrapped into stopping Harrow when she decided to follow Marc to Cairo to help Steven but Marc is very angsty towards her and they fight like an old married couple because secretly Marc likes her but struggles to admit it in fear of rejection so instead he hopes that being mean to her will push her away but in the end they get their happy ending (Layla doesn’t exist)

Warnings: Knifes, murder, etc.

A/n: I'm gonna be dead honest, Wanda's powers changed so much over the movies and shows that I'm fully basing this off of what I remember- Sooo, don't come for me if I messed anything up! I hope this is what you were picturing!! I'm sorry it took me so long to write this 😅 Also, this is the longest fic I've ever written, so please enjoy 💕

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

You've only known Steven for a little over a month now, but you already knew that you were starting to fall for him. He was just so sweet and kind, you couldn't help it. Ever since you stumbled into him at the museum, you couldn't stop thinking about him.

Steven had been carrying a box filled with assorted stuff animals that were dressed up as the ancient gods of Egypt, walking back over to his small desk in the corner room, a large LED sign above reading "GIFT SHOP."

The box was surprisingly heavy from the amount of stuffed toys, causing Steven to only focus on getting the box to his desk without dropping it, instead of his surroundings. He glanced over at his desk for just a second, getting ready to shout to a Mom and her son that he would be with them in a moment, when he crashed into you.

Causing not only both of you to fall over, but also the box he had been carrying, the stuffed animals now scattered across the floor. "Oh! I'm so, so sorry, ma'am!" He stammered, quickly getting onto his knees and grabbing up the fallen toys.

"Don't worry about it! Here," You said as you stood up, starting to dust off your clothes.

Steven watched in shock as the toys made their way back into the box on their own. He looked up at you, only to find a strange red cloud surrounding your fingers.

Once the toys were back in the box, you bent over and picked it up, then held it out to Steven. "Here you go! Oh, I'm y/n by the way." You said with a kind smile.

"Uhm, Steven.. And thank you.." He mumbled as he took the box from you, obviously still shocked from what just happened.

"Don't worry about it! Hey, you wouldn't happen to know anything about the Statue of Menkaure, would you?" You had asked, following him back to his desk.

You explained how you needed to write a paper on it for your college essay, but you had no idea where to begin. He actually offered to tutor you and you agreed, giving him your personal phone number and address.

After your seventh study session with Steven Grant, you finally decided to ask him out, sick of your hands 'accidentally' touching, or catching each other staring at the other. Luckily for you, he said yes, both of you settiling on dinner Thursday night.

Which was today.

You spent the entire day getting ready, picking out the perfect outfit, even getting your hair, nails, and make up done. You arrived at Tróger Gasztró Bisztró at nine o'clock. Just on time. And so you found your table, texted Steven to let him know you were there, and waited. And waited.. And waited.. ten thirty rolled around and you were asked to leave due to the restaurant closing.

You were absolutely heartbroken. You didn't know if you should be sad or angry. On the one hand, he obviously stood you up. But he also wasn't answering any of your calls or texts, which made you worry. You went home and flopped down onto the couch, refusing to let any of your tears fall just yet.

So, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath. "He'll call." You said to yourself, before getting up to getting yourself ready for bed.

-

You kept your phone turned up for the rest of the weekend, checking it every time it made a noise or vibrated. After hearing nothing from him all day Saturday, you gave up and spent the day at home on Sunday. You were curled up on the couch, eating ice cream out of the tub while watching a new season of Gossip Girl when your phone started to ring.

Steven

You hit the 'answer' button then pressed your phone against your ear, sighing before answering with a, "What do you want?" You wanted to give him a chance to explain himself, but you were just so mad.

"Hey! Um, is everything alright? I thought we agreed on 9:00.. it's half past.." He sounded so nervous, it almost broke your heart.

"Yeah, 9:00 o'clock on Thursday." You said, starting to get really annoyed. What was this, some kind of joke?

"Yeah, today?" Steven said, confusion evident in his tone.

"Three days ago, Steven! What is this? You stand me up and now you're rubbing it in my face? Haha, very funny, jackass!" Tears started to well up in your eyes, threatening to spill over.

"W-What? No- today is Thursday- I just.."

"No, Steven, welcome to Sunday. Lose my number." But right as you were about to hang up, Steven's panicked voice yelled to you through the phone.

"Wait! Please, listen, can I try again? Please? I promise, I-I'll explain everything! Please?"

You sighed. You didn't want to be stood up again, but you were also kind of worried still. He did sound genuinely confused.. "Fine. When and where?"

"Will you come over to mine? I can even make you tea! How does 3 o'clock sound?"

"Fine, just text me the address." You then hung up, staring at the wall, wondering if you just made the stupidest mistake of your life, or the best one.

-

The next day, you arrived at Steven's flat fifteen minutes earlier than you agreed, wanting to see him as soon as possible. But as you walked up to the door, hand reaching out to knock on the thick wood, the panic started to set in. What if this is someone else's address? What if he gave me the wrong one on purpose? What if, what if, what if..

But as you started to pull your hand away from the door, getting ready to leave, you heard a man yelling in the small apartment. Steven. You could recognized that british accent anywhere. Without over thinking it again, you reached up and knocked on the door five times. "Steven? It's me!" You called out, waiting for a response.

"Of course I'm gonna let 'er in! Bugger off, mate!" You heard Steven whisper yell as he started to unlock the door. And when he opened it, you were met with those beautiful, tired brown eyes that you absolutely adored. "Sorry 'bout that, love. Come in! Please!" He held the door open for you, motioning for you to come in with a wave of his arm.

"Are you sure? I can come back if you have someone over." You leaned forward and glanced around his flat, trying to see who he was talking to.

"What? Oh, no, no, no! Don't worry about that. I-I was on the phone! Yeah.." As you walked into the small space, Steven shut the door behind you, locking two out of the three locks. "Just go on a make yourself comfortable, love, I'll just be a seco-"

"Are you leaving?" You interrupted as you picked up the black duffle bag that had been sitting on his table.

"Oh, no, please don't touch that!" Steven took a step towards you, but stopped when you looked at him, tilting your head with a confused look on your face.

'Steven, they'll come after her too if she looks at what's in there.' Marc warned from the reflection in Gus' tank.

"What's in it?" You set the bag down on the table and slowly unzipped it, glancing inside before looking back at Steven, panic evident on his features.

"Listen, love, you don't wanna touch that! Lord knows I wish I didn't." He mumbled, glancing at the fish tank. "Listen, maybe we should res-" Steven was cut off by a loud bang on the door. "Bloody hell.." He mumbled, making his way over to the door.

You turned back to the bag and quietly dug around. You pushed past a passport, two stacks of American and Egyption money, and even a gun. But the thing that really captured your attention was a small golden beetle. "What the..?" You whispered, glancing over at Steven before pocketing the beetle.

"Uh, now?" Steven asked, starting to panic as the people outside asked to come in. You didn't have a good feeling about this, so you quietly ran over to the window, climbing out of the apartment and onto the roof, hiding further up and out of the way behind the brick frame surrounding the window.

You waited a good twenty minutes before slowly making your way back down and into the apartment again. "Steven?" You called out, cautiously looking around the flat, only to find that it was empty. "What the fuck.." You mumbled, walking over to check the apparently empty bathroom.

You looked out of the window and saw a strange black car speeding away from the building. "Jesus Christ." You ran out of the apartment, accidentally pushing an old lady as you raced out of the door. "Sorry!" You yelled as you hopped onto your motorcycle and raced after the black car, hoping that you were right about this...

-

You followed Steven and an older man to some kind of building that you could only call a sanctuary. It even had a damn theater. But you didn't have time to look at all the details. Right now you had to keep yourself hidden. So, you sat down at an empty table in the back of the room, pulling your hood up to hide your face as much as possible.

"..His retribution comes too late. By the time his fist of vengeance arrives, people have already suffered. Ammit knows this too well. She tears evil up from the root, casting her judgment before any evil's done. That's why we must resurrect her." The man told Steven, his tone rather convincing.

"Right. But.. Isn't that a bit dodgy? Like, trusting the judgment of a weird crocodile lady?" Steven asked.

"You don't need to doubt her judgment. Ammit will light the path to good by eradicating the choice of evil," The man said, watching Steven nod with a small hum, before sipping another spoonful of the soup. "Which brings us to the scarab.." You knew this man had to be powerful, but with the way everyone in the room suddenly stood up and started to surround Steven, you knew something strange was going on.

"That scarab functions as a kind of compass, leading us to Ammit's tomb. She's out there, waiting, longing to be freed.."

"Hi.." Steven nervously mumbled to the growing crowd around him.

"While the cruel masses deserve to face her judgment. And in the wake of their screams? Evil eradicated." The man let out a breath, grinning at the mere thought of his plan coming to life. "Steven, to exist in that moment? Heaven on Earth." The man leaned back, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "So, the scarab?"

"Oh, I don't have it." Steven said shyly, he sounded so nervous and it was killing you.

"No?"

"Honestly, I don't have it."

"Well, maybe you know someone who does? Hm? Maybe Marc?"

Marc? Who the hell is Marc? You thought to yourself, wondering if you should intervene yet.

'Just give me the body, Steven.' Marc said from the reflection of the bread bowl, losing more of his patience by the minute.

"No, I don't." Steven snapped a little.

"May I speak with Marc?"

"Um... Ah.."

"Marc, what has Khonshu promised you? That this is your last mission? Then you'll be free? Trust me when I tell you, Khonshu is a liar. There's always one last thing.." The man seemed to stare straight into Steven's soul; it's like he expected him to be someone else. But that was impossible. Steven was Steven.

"Sorry." Steven seemed to interrupt the mans strange spaced out stare. "If Ammit judges people pre-evil, like, before the fact, then, isn't she judging an innocent person? I mean, a thought can't be evil, can it? I mean, I think about killing my boss all the time, but I wouldn't actually do it."

"Steven.."

"W-What about a child? Would she kill a child for something they might do in thirty years?" At this point, Steven was full on panicking and you couldn't just sit there anymore. You had to think of something.

"I'm glad you mentioned that.. Sometimes the cure is a little taste of the disease. The difference between medicine and poison sometimes is only the dosage. Consider a diseased limb. Amputation, horrific, grotesque, but it's necessary for the larger health." Everyone (except for you and Steven) nodded in agreement to the mans horrific analogy.

"But a child is not a diseased limb. Sorry, is that... Is that what... You're all into? Killing children and that? Maybe that's just me, but that's... I kind of draw a line there, at child murder.."

"Do you know what this is?" The man asked as he gestured to his staff, designed with two crocodile heads faced back to back as a handle.

"Yup. It's a cane, yeah." Steven said, almost making you laugh with his sarcasm.

"This was Ammit's gift to her first Avatar." The man picked up the staff and held it up for Steven to see, certain parts of the head starting to glow purple.

"Alright."

"It contains in it a tiny sliver of her power. I don't want to use it.. I don't.."

"Then don't. I can't help you-" Steven said, standing up and slowly backing away from the man. You stood up too, watching as everyone else in the room started to slowly back away from the staff as well.

"Yes, you can. I need to know, where is the scarab?" The man took a step closer, gripping the base of his staff. "Where is the scarb?" He asked again, and when Steven didn't reply, he repeated himself for a third time.

"No.."

"Where's the scarab?"

That was it. You couldn't let him scare Steven like this any longer. "I have it." You said, pulling the scarab out of your pocket and holding it up for everyone to see, pulling your hood back with your other hand.

"Y/n?" Steven asked, the panic on his features now replaced with confusion and concern.

"You couldn't possibly understand the value of what you're holding. Let me have that, I'll keep it safe." The man held out his hand to you, gesturing to the scarab.

THERE IS NO DEAL IN THIS, MARC. FIX THIS. FIX THIS! Khonshu hollered at Steven; even the god was starting to panic.

Steven ran to your side, grabbing your arm. "You really shouldn't be here! How the hell did you get here?"

"We don't have time for that. We have to go." You whispered, shoving the scarab into Steven's chest. "Keep this safe." You then grabbed his hand and pulled him towards a staircase at the back of the room.

"So be it." You heard the man say, followed by whispering in another language you didn't recognize. The ground shook when he slammed his staff into the ground, a purple cloud of dust swarming around the staff.

You dashed up the stairs, taking them two at a time, before crashing straight into a random guy, both of you surprised at the others presence. You panicked, punching the guy in his jaw out of instinct. He started to fight back, throwing a punch back at you. Luckily, you managed to duck just in time, grabbing the edges of his jacket and tossing him over the railing. You watched as he landed on top of a wooden roof, then roll onto the ground.

You glanced behind you, seeing that Steven was shocked by what just happened. "Come on!" You said, grabbing his arm and pulling him through a small doorway that lead to a hallway.

"That was awesome!" Steven said, following you into a room at the end of the hall.

"Thanks, now bolt the door!" You said as you both closed the door, Steven bolting it shut with a wooden plank.

You ran around the room, looking for an exit. Though, it seemed like Steven wasn't too focused on that. "Oh, my god.." He mumbled, looking at all of the ancient artifacts and egyptian tombs. "I'm gonna die in an evil magician's man cave."

You ran over to him and grabbed his shoulders. "No, hey, listen to me-" But both of your heads snapped over to the door when something big seemed to pounce on it.

"Bloody hell.." Steven's breathing started to pick up, his eyes glued to the door.

"Steven? What is that?" You started panicking, gripping his shoulders tighter.

'Give me the body.'

"Well, I could be wrong. But I'm pretty sure it's the jackal from the museum."

"The what?"

But he didn't have time to explain any further when the creature hit the door again, this time chipping a large crack down the middle.

'Steven, let me in.'

"Okay, listen, Steven, we have to think. How do we get out of here?" But Steven just stared at you, seemingly just as clueless as to what to do. "Oh, wait. Who's Marc? Maybe he can help?" You suggested, watching his entire demeanor change.

'She's right, Steven. Give me the body.'

"No." He said, almost defensively, glancing between you and the shiny tomb behind you.

"We'll put a pin in that-" But then the door burst open, though when you looked, nothing was there. "What the..?"

"JACKAL!" Steven covered his mouth with one hand, pointing at the doorway with the other.

"What? Steven, there's nothing there. What jackal?" You looked between Steven and the doorway, confusion written all over your face.

"Jackal... Jackal... Jackal.." Steven murmured, panic evident in his tone. He kept backing up, pointing at something you obviously couldn't see.

"Steven-" But then suddenly Steven flew out of the window. "STEVEN!' You screamed, running over to the window to see him. Though, when you looked down, nobody was there. "Steven?" You called out, waiting for a reply. When he didn't answer, you climbed out of the window and onto the roof, running over to climb down the fire escape ladder built into the side of the building.

You stepped onto the ground and started to walk down the alleyway, your thoughts all scrambled from the panic.

"ACK-"

When you turned around at the loud yelp, you saw a man in a white suit and mask crash through a wooden gate, landing on the bricks a few feet away from you. "Steven?"

He either didn't hear you or just didn't answer, because he reached up and grabbed the metal bumper of a car and gripped it, completely bending the metal and ripping it off with ease.

"Woah.." You mumbled, a rush of chills flooding throughout your body as your cheeks turned a bright pink. "Um- Y-You look different." You stammered, your eyes trailing along his body. You took in how the well fitted suit showed off and complimented everything it needed to.

Before Steven could respond, the invisible being pushed him forward, causing him to drop the large chunk of metal. It then pulled him up right, only to slam him into the front of a car.

"Steven!" You ran over to help him, but he held his hand out to stop you.

"Get away!"

"What?" But then he was lifted back into the air, his arm accidently pushing you over. You sat on the ground, helplessly watching as the being lifted Steven onto a car and started choking him.

"Steven!" Your hand reached out for him, a red blast following it. Suddenly, you could see it. The red glow of your magic holding it in the air was enough to show just how big the creature was. "What the hell.." You mumbled, staring at it for just a moment, before swiping your hand through the air, causing the jackal to fly across the alleyway and slam into the side of a building, making a noise similar to an injured dog.

You stood up and ran over to Steven, crouching down to his level while rubbing his back. "Are you okay?"

Steven coughed, his hand gently rubbing his neck. "How do you do that?" He mumbled, looking at you through the white glow of the mask.

"I-" But the jackal grabbed your ankle and lifted you into the air, slamming your body into the wall. "Fuck, Steven!" You called out, unable to turn your body enough to get a grip on the being.

"I've got you, love!" He called out as he slammed an old, rusty frame of a tire at the jackal. It fought him for a minute, but then dropped you and grabbed the piece of metal, hitting Steven with it.

Steven laid on the ground, trying to catch his breath.

'Give me control, Steven. You can't handle this.' Marc said, staring back at him from the reflection of a car's bumper.

Steven thought about it for a moment, then shook his head. "I think I can." He then jumped to his feet, starting to do a ridiculous prance around the jackal, his fists clutched to his chest. "Leave her alone! Yeah, I see you, you plug-ugly coyote. You're in the wrong ends, mate. You're in my yard now." Steven ripped off his jacket and threw it onto the wet, brick covered ground, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows. "Yeah. Come on. That's right. Come on."

Though it was a serious situation, something about the way he taunted the creature caused butterflies to erupt in your belly. You watched as he and the jackal jumped around, back and forth like professional boxers.

"Ohh, lookie here. Lookie here." Steven continued to taunt, his fists clenched and ready. "Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee, my name's Steven with a V!" He yelled, before clocking the creature in the face, effectively knocking it out. "Haha, wow! Did you see that? Y/n, did you see that? That was amazi-" But the jackal jumped up and kicked Steven in his stomach, causing him to roll into the busy street.

"Is he having a seizure?" A stranger asked.

"Nah, he's just a fancy drunk." Another stranger replied.

The jackal slammed Steven onto the side of a bus three times, before he was able to turn around and grab it, throwing them both at the oncoming car.

"Steven?" You called out, trying to push your way through the growing crowd.

Steven groaned, slowly making his way back onto both of his feet.

'That was one hell of a punch back there. But look around. Someone's gonna get hurt if you don't let me help.' Marc said, both of them knowing he was right.

"Fine. Take control, but just for now.."

As you made your way to Steven, you watched his head fall back; it looked as though he was being electrocuted. "Steven?" You placed your hand on his arm, gently pulling it to turn him around.

And as he did, white strips of fabric snaked around his body, creating a whole new suit with a cape. You stared into the bright, glowing eyes, knowing something was different. "You're not Steven." You said, taking a step back.

"No, I'm not." The man said with an American accent instead of Steven's English one. He then ran and jumped on top of a car, then onto the side of a building, climbing onto the roof.

He must be leading the jackal away. You thought to yourself, running down the street to try and find him. It didn't take long, the sound of him angrily yelling followed by glass shattering was enough to lead you right to him.

When you could finally see him, he seemed to be talking to someone, but again, nothing was there.

"Where are we going?" He asked whomever he was talking to. He didn't seem too happy with the response; his shoulders slumped over and he sighed. "Cairo? Again? Fucks sake.." He cursed, his mask rising up to cover his face again, before a giant gust of wind hit you like a brick wall, the sound of crows screams echoing throughout the small space.

And when you looked up, he was gone. Why would he need to go to Cairo? Who was this Marc? Why couldn't you see what he saw? You didn't know everything, but you did know that you were going to follow him to Egypt.

-

After a thirteen hour flight, multiple calls to a bunch of hotels, and three taxi's later, you got a room three doors down from Steven. Or was it Marc now? You were honestly too tired to think about it.

You tossed your bag on your bed with a sigh, popping it open to dig around for your pajamas. After a long, hot shower, you climbed into the neat white bed, a yawn forcing it's way out of you. You reached over and turned off the lamp on the nightstand, curling up into a ball as you slowly drifted to sleep.

That was, until a rather loud knock sounded from your door.

"You've gotta be kidding me." You mumbled, angrily ripping the blankets off of your body before stomping across the room, yanking the door open. "What?" You snapped.

"You're following me." Marc said, his arms crossed against his chest.

You stared at him for a long time, your eyes practically bugging out of your skull. "Steven?" You whispered, tilting your head as you noticed how he slightly deflated at the name. "Or Marc? You don't have the accent, so I assume-"

"What are you doing here?" Marc interrupted, annoyance evident in his tone.

You shrugged. "Keeping Steven safe. Plus, I can help."

"No way." Marc pushed his way past you, entering your room before you could object. "Listen, I appreciate what you're doing, I really do, but I've got this. You're just gonna get in the way."

You shut the door then leaned against it, crossing your arms over your chest. "I think I can take care of myself."

"I didn't say you couldn't."

"It was implied." You snapped, now growing irritated yourself.

Marc shook his head, pressing his fingers against his temple. "Look, I set up a flight back home for you in ten hours. Just go home and Steven will be back in two weeks."

"No."

"No?" Marc repeated, surprised with your attitude.

You only shrugged in response, trying not to laugh at the way Marc kinda looked like the muppet Sam Eagle when he was mad.

"What? You think this is funny? I'm serious y/n!"

It must've been on your face then. "Look, Marc, I don't know how any of this works," You gestured to him, referring to the whole Steven-And-Marc situation. "But I know that Steven wouldn't want this."

Marc put his hands on his hips, quickly growing defensive. "How would you know? You don't even know him!"

"I saw how he looked when that guy asked to talk to you instead of him. He was scared. He wants to be in control and you make him feel powerless." You felt guilty when you saw how Marc's shoulders fell, his eyes focused on the floor.

"Yeah, well after this he won't have to worry about me ever again." He walked over and put his hand on the doorknob, not even looking at you. "Move."

You looked up at him and studied his face; it was nothing like Steven. Marc carried himself in a way that made himself look bigger, more standoffish, while Steven was the complete opposite.

Marc finally looked at you, his eyes staring into yours for a moment, before glancing down to your lips. You couldn't help but do the same, your eyes fixed on his chapped lips. You both stayed like that for a moment, the distance between your faces slowly closing by some invisible force.

"You should get some rest. You have a flight to catch in the morning." Of course he had to ruin the moment.

"Will you still be here when I wake up?"

Marc just stared at you, not answering your question.

You pulled yourself off of the door, shrugging your shoulders once again. "Sounds like I'm not going to sleep then."

"Fine by me." Marc said as he pulled the door open and walked out, practically slamming it behind him.

You pulled a chair over to the window and sat down, watching the parking lot to see if he would leave. You'd stay there all night if it meant keeping them safe. Even Marc.

-

The next morning, you woke up to a knock on the door, followed by a, "Room service?" You sat up and groaned, your hand flying to rub your neck. You had fallen asleep in a strange position on the chair last night and with the deep sleep you were in, you barely moved a muscle throughout the night.

After you politely declined the room service, you quickly got dressed and headed down the hall to talk to Marc, but when you reached his room, two maids were inside making the bed, talking about an affair between a Tina and the hotels janitor.

"Excuse me?" You said, ignoring the glares they looked at you with for interrupting their gossip session. "Sorry, but where's the man that stayed here last night?"

One of the maids sighed, rolling her eyes. "He just left not five minutes ago. You could probably catch him if you run."

"Shit- thank you!" You hollered, already racing down the hallway towards the elevator. You slammed your thumb against the G button on the elevator, impatiently tapping your foot as you counted down the floors. When you reached the ground-floor you quickly ran out, scanning the room for the familiar mop of dark brown curls.

You saw him right as he walked out of the door, sliding his sunglasses down from on top of his head to cover his eyes.

You slipped out of the exit on the other side of the building and followed him throughout a very crowded market. You kept your distance, even when he chased a group of mercenaries throughout the streets. There was gonna be a perfect moment for you to step in, you could feel it. So for now, you watched.

Marc had one of the mercenaries pinned to the wall, asking him were a man named Harrow was. He glanced at the mirror on the wall next to him, distracted by whatever he was seeing. The other mercenary took that opportunity to hit him over the head with a piece of wood, effectively knocking Marc to the ground.

He laid there for only a moment, but you watched his body tense and shake like it did in the street the other night. "Steven?" You whispered to yourself, hoping to finally see him.

But this was worse. This couldn't be Steven and you didn't think it could be Marc.

He jumped to his feet with a random surge of energy, running towards the men at full speed. The look in his eyes was purely primal, almost hungry. And though you only saw him for a second, he seemed to be smiling.

You quickly ran after them, surprisingly able to keep up. He chased them to the top of a cliff, punching one of the men with what could only be described as deadly force.

"Jesus, you're gonna kill him!" You yelled, right as he sank a knife into the other man's stomach.

"Huh?" He turned around and looked at you. "What are you doing here?" He questioned with a strange spanish accent.

"You just killed him! I- Who are you?" You asked, hesitantly taking a step closer to him.

"Nobody. Forget you ever saw me."

"Wait-" But before you could question him further, his eyes rolled back and his body tensed for a moment. And when he looked at you again, he had that damn muppet expression on his face.

"Y/n? What the hell ar-"

"Look out!" You pointed to the man sneaking up on him from behind, knife in hand.

Marc turned around, but he wasn't fast enough. The man drew the knife back, but before he could do any damage, you focused all of your attention on the knife, ripping it out of his hand and sending it flying towards you in a red cloud. You caught it by the handle, then immediately dropped it, not wanting anything to do with the murders.

"What the-" The man started, but Marc grabbed him by his scarf and dragged him to the edge of the cliff, dangling him over the edge. "Where's the tomb?"

"Marc, don't!"

"Jesus! You're just as bad as Steven!" Marc snapped, causing him to grip the mans scarf tighter.

"Praise Ammit." The guy said, before pulling a knife out of his pocket and cutting the scarf, falling to his death.

Marc stood there in shock, still gripping the remaining piece of the scarf.

You slowly walked over to him, gently placing your hand on his back. "Marc-"

"I told you to go home!" Marc yelled, turning around and getting in your face.

"Hold on, I just saved your life-"

"That would've never happened if you had just gone home!" Marc pointed his finger at you, his entire body shaking with rage. "Go home, y/n. Now." He then stalked off, heading back towards the busy street from before.

You sat on the edge of the cliff and sighed, burying your face in your hands. You tried your best to calm yourself; reassure yourself that it wasn't your fault, but not even five minutes after Marc left, the sunlight began to disappear. When you looked up, it seemed to be covered by a large, dark circle. The moon.

"What the..?" You mumbled, standing up while keeping your eyes on the dark circle in the sky. Though as quick as it was there, it was gone. And while you were still confused on what the hell was going on, you couldn't ignore the aching feeling that Steven -or Marc; or even that spanish man- were in danger. So you made your way back to your hotel room, doing the only thing you could.

Wait.

-

You were laying on your bed in a robe, still fresh from the shower. As you stared at the ceiling, you couldn't help but finally let all of your thoughts swarm around your mind.

Who was that? Are there more? Where's Steven? Is he okay? Was Marc really gonna kiss me? Did he want to as much as I did?

But your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of your hotel room's phone ringing on the nightstand. You sighed, sitting up and grabbing the phone, holding it up to your ear. "Hello?" You mumbled, rubbing your forehead.

"Y/n? Is that you?" You'd know that british accent anywhere.

"Steven?" You gasped, standing up to start pacing. "Where are you? Can I see you?"

You heard Steven chuckle on the other line. "That's what I was calling for, actually. I need your help."

"Of course. Where are you?" You grabbed a pen and paper and wrote down the address Steven gave you. "Wait, why are you at a pyramid?"

"I'll tell you when you get here. Just please hurry. I don't know how much time I have before Marc tries to take over again."

"Okay, I'm on my way." You said as you yanked on a pair of jeans.

"I'll see you soon. Laters gators." And then Steven hung up, not even knowing how big you were smiling just at his silly catch phrase.

-

You showed up to the pyramid on your motorcycle, easily finding Steven's tent that was set up outside of what you assumed was the entrance. You propped your bike up on it's kickstand before heading over to the tent. But before you pulled the curtain back, you heard Steven talking to someone. So, you stood still, eavesdropping on his conversation.

"..don't be silly. I won't let anything happen to her."

'Steven, I'm serious. Trust me, you don't want her getting roped into this kinda stuff. Just give me the body. She's gonna be here soon.'

"Which is exactly why I'm not giving you the body. Bloody hell, I've barely seen her throughout this whole mess."

'Yes, I know. If you just give me the body I'll give it back in a week or two and you'll never hear from me again. Promise.'

"Yes, well, while that does sound tempting, I'm not gonna miss out on exploring an ancient pyramid with my girlfriend."

Girlfriend? You thought to yourself, your cheeks heating up. You didn't mind the label, it's just that you guys never had a chance to talk about it.

'Girlfriend? Since when did you have time to make things official?' Marc spat in a mocking tone.

Steven just shrugged. "Dunno, I've gotta talk to her about it first, but I just like her so much, Marc. I swear, I've never felt this way about anyone before. And- And I think she feels the same."

You smiled, knowing that he was right. You fixed your clothes, took a deep breath, then pushed the curtain aside. "Steven?"

Steven jumped, quickly turning around. "Y/n!" He quickly rushed over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist. "Bloody hell, I've missed you so much! It's like, I was there, you just couldn't hear me. And don't you worry, Marc got quite the ear full this morning for the way he yelled at you."

Though you could hear Steven rambling, you just couldn't pay attention to what it was about. You wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face against his shoulder. "Steven." You said, trying to get his attention.

"..and I was in a mirror? I think? I'm not quite sure how it works, actually."

"Steven."

"..I honestly can't help but wonder how long he's been in there. Like, is he the only one? Or what if I have a little french man in there as well?"

Or a spanish one, you thought. He obviously wasn't going to listen to you like this. You reached up and cupped his cheeks, pulling his face close to yours. "Steven."

Steven finally looked at you, a bit shocked. "Yes, love?"

"Shut up." You said, breathing out a laugh as you leaned up and pressed your lips to his, wrapping your arms around his neck once again.

Steven just stood there, his eyes wide, lips unmoving.

'Kiss her back!' Marc hissed.

Before you could pull away, thinking he was uncomfortable, Steven snaked his arms around your waist, holding you as close as he could, finally kissing you back.

When you both pulled away a few moments later to catch your breaths, you just stared at each other, soft pants escaping your smiling lips.

"Shall we?" Steven asked sheepishly, jerking his head towards the entrance of the pyramid.

You adored the bright pink shade of his cheeks in that moment, wanting to take a mental picture to keep forever. "Yeah." Was all you could manage, still light headed from your kiss.

You knew this was going to be a long journey; both this mission of Marc's and your relationship with Steven, but you were ready. For what? You didn't know exactly, but as long as you had Steven, you could do anything.

Tag list: @hot-mess-express1

#moon knight fanfic #moon knight #steven grant #jake lockley #marc spector #moon knight imagine #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #jake lockley x reader #steven grant x female reader #marc spector x female reader #jake lockley x female reader #reader has wanda's powers #though it's not too accurate #moonboys x female reader #moonknight x reader #fanfiction #💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙thoughts #thanks for the ask! #sorry it took so long to write #oscar issac #oscar isaac characters #oscar issac hernandez estrada #slow burn

[lokisfirecracker]

jake lockley tags

#jake lockley #jake lockley fluff #jake lockley smut #jake lockley angst #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley x fem!reader #jake lockley x female reader #jake lockley x gn!reader #jake lockley x you #jake lockley x y/n #jake lockley x reader fluff #jake lockley x reader smut #jake lockley x reader angst

[heartthrobin]

press your tulips to mine

steven grant x female!reader

wc: 4.6k

warnings: mutual pining, steven is a shy babygirl, marc playing wingman (but he's kinda terrible at it cause he's also falling in love), no jake (the crowd is booing), no khonshu, steven still works at the museum, post mk s1, no use of y/n

an: rewatched the whole of mk last night and needed to write about my dearest stevie :)) don't forget to repost to support your fav writers

summary: Steven's apartment has become overrun with more bouquets of flowers than any one man could ever find use for, but they would continue to pile up as long as the pretty girl at the flower shop continued to melt him with that syrupy smile each time he walked in.

Steven Grant had never given much thought to flowers.

Sure, he could offer a momentary appreciation for a flicker of yellow growing out the cracks in London sidewalks or maybe if he passed a house with a particularly impressive rose bush he could smile, but beyond that flowers remained mostly inconsequential.

Steven never had girlfriends in high school, or - to be frank - thereafter either.

He’d never had to pick out a bouquet, one that he would need to consider: does this match her eyes? will it match her dress? how does it smell?

In the face of discovering that he was unalone in the occupancy of his five foot nine frame and fighting in the name of an Egyptian moon-god, Steven had less time than ever to consider his frighteningly barren love life or the lack of interest in flowers on account of it.

Isn’t life funny? In the way that we look so far beyond ourselves for answers, when sometimes they’re just around the corner.

Specifically the corner one street over from the museum.

Steven had walked the path to work plenty of times. A designated route. In the days when he still worked at the gift shop, the same route now that he’d been bumped up to tour guide.

Until one otherwise unimportant morning when construction bound his usual way, forcing him a walk further around the block: adding another four minutes to his trip and a view of the quaint shops down Little Russel street.

He hadn’t been down there in months. His last venture had been in search of a pharmacy for sleeping tablets, when Khonshu was still a nightmare and Marc nothing more than a migraine.

Steven noticed first that the pharmacy no longer stood. In fact, the previously white brick face of it’s stand had been painted a lush lemonade-pink. The Petal Parlour.

Almost immediately, in just about the same breath, Steven’s eyes found a woman leaned over a broom and sweeping the edge of the shop step. She was humming, he could just make out a Stevie Wonder tune.

The morning light flickered off your hair as if off the face of a pond out in a beautiful garden. An elderly man passed your work, uttering a greeting, and you'd perked up with a melodic: "good morning Mr B!"

Steven's footfalls stalled down the sidewalk. A man crashed into his back, strewing the contents of his messenger bag around him. "Watch where you're going, asshole!" He'd seethed at him.

By the time Steven had looked up, you'd already retreated back into the shop. He could make out your outline through the stained glass front.

There hadn't been a day since that Steven had taken his normal, considerably shorter, route to work. He got up five minutes earlier each day, brushed his teeth, made a cup of tea and let the memory of you swim behind his eyes. He could hear Marc's sighs every time.

Most mornings you were inside. Steven would deflate when he rounded the block to an empty corner, but he refused to consider it a total loss because - more often than not - he could make out your figure beyond the window fiddling with petunias on a shelf or smiling at a customer.

Some mornings, when he found himself most lucky, you'd be outside the shop. Usually clipping stray leaves off the rows of bouquets that glimmered happily at the people passing down the street. When it rained, Steven was privy to the way your hair clung to your forehead and the smudge of black mascara beneath your eyes. In the sunlight your arms were exposed from under a pink work shirt and a soil-stained apron.

It went like that for nearly a month. Between Steven and Marc's alternating schedules, he learned to appreciate the slim sightings of you he could manage. Marc didn't make it any easier, mind you, with the way he would whine and complain into Steven's ear.

"Jesus, Steven, just go up to her and say hi!"

Once or twice, Marc had managed to gain control of Steven's legs: teetering him drunkenly in your direction.

The fright would rise quickly up in Steven's chest, steering his legs back in the direction he was walking. You'd looked up one of those times, meeting his eye and spilling out a soft laugh that dissolved into a syrupy smile, but he'd rushed off before you could say anything.

Steven's face stayed red that whole day. "See. That wasn't so bad, was it?" Marc jeered.

"That was mortifying." He muttered back.

The bus rocked beneath his feet and his palm was growing sweaty around the pole he was using to steady himself. Frost was creeping up at the edge of the window he was watching out of.

"Okay, so all you're going to do is go in there and ask for ... help with something." Marc clarified again, his voice echoing around Steven's head.

He'd been bugging Steven since he was brushing his teeth before bed the previous night, something about how "I can't handle any more of this, please Steven. Put me out of my misery."

"Help with what?" Steven whispered. A woman looked up at him from her seat. He smiled shyly, turning away from her.

"I don't know ... tell her you're looking to buy some roses. Tell her it's someone's birthday."

Steven nodded slowly to himself. "Okay ... okay."

Marc had worked hard over the last twelve hours at convincing him. The endeavour was initially futile, but after Marc threatened to go in there and ask her out himself with a - frankly insulting - cockney accent, Steven was left with limited options.

He rounded the corner with wobbly legs and The Petal Parlour loomed in the distance. A bunch of sunflowers taunted him with swaying faces.

It drew ever closer and Steven's heart was beating loudly in his throat. The pink brick was crossing his vision now, his footsteps growing heavier, faster, past the floral print on the window--

"Steven don't even think about it--"

Against Steven's will, his legs knotted around each other: collapsing his body in the direction of the white painted door. It crashed open and Marc, more than Steven, caught his body before it hit the tiled floor inside the shop.

"Oh my god, are you alright?"

The shop was cramped now that he'd gotten his first glimpse inside and the three people crowding the space had their eyes on him.

As if appearing from a mirage, you pressed past the people towards him. He nodded frantically, the scalding touch of embarrassment burned his cheeks. "Yeah, yeah ... I'm fine."

Your earrings jingled from where your head was tilted to inspect him. Ringed fingers pressed down over your soil-covered apron. "Okay then, if you're sure."

Your concerned brow dissolved slowly and that syrupy smile he'd seen pointed in other's directions was suddenly overwhelming him with it's warmth. "Well then, can I help you find anything? Are you looking for some arrangement in particular?"

Steven nodded dumbly, he was fidgeting with the edge of his coat. "Yeah ... I'm looking for, uhm..."

"Birthday!" Marc called from somewhere deep in his mind.

"Birthday!" Steven spluttered loudly. There followed a quiet moment of confusion dripping between you and him.

"Jesus, Steven."

Your giggles crumbled into the space before Steven had the ability to conjure more words.

"I-- I'm sorry, I'm being rude ..." Laugher spilt between your words and your cheeks were turning a soft pink, "you want something for a birthday?"

An embarrassed smile had reached up into the corners of Steven's mouth. He liked the tinkle of your laughter, half convinced he could get drunk off the sound. A molecule of pride floated in his chest knowing that he was responsible for it.

"Uh, yes. Sorry, yes." Steven nodded, fidgeting with the bag strap over his shoulder. "Someone's birthday."

"Well, we just gotten some new arrangements in this morning ..." You turned on him, steering across the little shop to a orange, yellow and pink stacked shelf. He followed you tentatively, trying to pretend that he didn't smell perfume where you moved past him. Pretend that it wasn't making his knees buckle.

"They're pretty." He said quietly. You smiled again. You're pretty, he thought.

"Focus!" Marc's sharp voice sliced through his thoughts.

"Who's birthday is it?"

Steven's tongue lodged back into his airways. "Uhm--"

"Oh shit ... uh, say--!"

"My girlfriend's."

"Not girlfriend, you idiot!"

"Oh, alright--" Your hands fidgeted with your necklace, eyes wide.

"My sister." Steven interrupted you again, the argument in his brain between his thoughts and Marc’s voice was rattling his resolve. "I ... not my girlfriend, I don't have ... I don't have a girlfriend."

"You don't have a sister either." Marc quipped.

Steven ignored him. You were watching him with another smile flirting at your lips. "Okay, well, do you know what kind of flowers she likes? Or have an idea of what you want?"

Steven shrugged, head wobbling into a shake. "Uh no ... what kind do you like?"

You seemed taken back by his question. "Oh. Well, I like the tulips. The yellow ones, especially, but they're tough to find around here ... they have tons in Netherlands and Turkey, which not many people know because everyone thinks of them--"

Steven was sure you could see the little birds floating around his head, and how his pupils turned to tiny black hearts: maybe that's why you stopped.

You blushed a velvety red.

"I'm sorry ..." you turned back, hiding your warm face to wave your hand over the shelf of stacked bouquets. "We have some orchids and some irises if you think she might like them?"

"Yes." Steven nodded, hands folding over each other. His eyes were trailing the outline of your profile, savouring the closeness he'd finally been granted. "Those ... they're beautiful. She'll like them."

Your eyes twinkled where you nodded and it made his stomach churn. "Great."

He lingered patiently by the register while you wrapped the flowers with careful hands.

"Say," your gaze flickered up between him and the brown paper. "Do you work around here? I'm sure I've seen you passing in the morning sometimes."

Steven's breath tripped in his throat. She noticed me?

"Yes, now answer her." Marc's voice rung again.

"I-- yeah, I work by the museum actually." His voice stumbled nervously from the back of his throat.

"Oh really? That's so cool!" Your voice lilted with a pitch of interest. "I really like their exhibit on the liberation of India from English colonial regimes. I've only been once or twice though."

Chest buzzing delightfully, Steven nodded. He knew the one you were referencing, it was a couple corridors down from the Egyptian exhibits.

"Well, you should definitely come see the Ancient Egyptian section. The exhibit is huge and we have hundred year old pieces, sarcophaguses and vases and slabs of cave walls with carved hieroglyphics. I work there and it's really the most fascinating--"

"Let her respond, Steven."

But you seemed content to allow him to continue his splurge, your eyes warm and gentle where it caressed over Steven's face. He stopped talking, winding off embarrassed.

"So, uh, yeah."

"You've made a very good case. Maybe I will come visit." You nodded, fingers stroking absently at the edge of the counter. "If you promise me a tour?"

Warm blood rose up from his chest and pooled in his cheeks. "Of course. Anytime."

You handed him the flowers over the stretch of counter. "I never caught your name?"

"Steven." He said quickly, dejection gathering in his throat at the fact that your interaction was nearing a close. "G-Grant. Steven Grant."

You nodded. "Nice name. It's very James Bond."

"Thanks."

"Ask her name!" Marc poked at the back of his brain.

"Uh-- and you are?"

"Oh!" your eyes fell down to your chest where the corner of your stained apron was obscuring the sharpened edge of your name-tag. You shifted it for him to see.

Steven's eyes followed over the letters, he tried your name out on his tongue. It tasted sweeter than he thought a name ever could, rolling off his lips like a song or a bird whistling on a summer evening.

"It's ... it's a beautiful name."

You blushed, eyes moving back to the keyboard for momentary solace before paralysing him with your warm gaze again. "Thank you. I guess I'll see you 'round Stevie."

His mind whirred with how casually the little nickname slipped from you. "Yeah, yeah you will ..."

Leaving the store, Marc called from between the sludge of Steven's muddy mind.

"Good job, Stevie."

-

Steven was consumed by the interaction the whole rest of the day and when then next morning loomed overhead, he could hardly believe his luck when you were pinching together some lilacs out on the front step where he passed.

Half convinced by the nauseating twist in his stomach to just march quietly past, the decision was made for him when you glanced up from the flowers and offered him a friendly wave: “good morning, Stevie!”

His brain dissolved into a warm, gloopy mess. “… Morning.”

-

In the coming weeks, Steven’s apartment had become a botanical garden of epic proportions.

Vases and cups and pots, and whatever he could fit a flower into, lined his kitchen counters and his shelves and his bathroom sink with every possible kind of flower that The Petal Parlour had to offer.

Marc grumbled most days, in search of a coffee mug or apartment keys between what he described the “Amazon jungle in here.”

But Steven paid him little mind. It was a harmless jab and Steven noticed in the reflection of the shop’s stained glass window how Marc watched you too, eyes glazed with a soft affection. He mentioned nothing of it to Marc.

Steven had begun frequenting the shop when he could, on mornings he got up early enough or afternoons when the day’s work brought soil stains across your ruddy, tired cheeks.

He’d bought flowers for every possible celebration to be had in London, seemingly nabbing an invite to each one. Bat mitzvahs, birthdays, weddings, farewells, funerals: he’d bought bouquets for one of each kind.

Each visit would play out similarly. He’d step into the shop, maybe once a week or every other week - with Marc muttering somewhere in his mind, we’re hardly gonna be able afford groceries at this rate - and you’d beam at him from behind the counter or from beneath a brightly coloured shelf.

“What’s up, Stevie?”

The nickname made him shiver every time.

“Let me guess … Christmas in July?” You’d tease.

When he’d find you behind the counter, that was his favourite, because you’d lean lazily over it. It blessed him with the view down the slope of your nose, the smell of your fading perfume, the jingle of your clinking earrings.

“Baby shower.” It comes out almost as a question, curling upward at the end.

You’d giggle softly. “Right. Boy or girl?”

It had been long enough that Steven could just about draw out your work schedule.

Fridays you didn’t work, Sundays and Tuesdays you only clocked in the afternoon. He tracked it with the little greetings he got, or didn’t get, as he passed on the way to or from the museum.

“You know,” Marc was fronting an early morning in August, subjecting Steven to a cup of coffee. He hated the stale taste it left in his mouth. “We’re quickly approaching, if not already long surpassed, the point where you need to actually ask her on a date. You know that right?”

Steven remained quiet in the depths of Marc’s mind.

He stayed like that until Marc had cleaned out the mug and stuck a wet toothbrush into his mouth.

“Can I please just get ready for work now?” Steven muttered after nearly twenty minutes of silence.

Marc huffed, letting his eyes roll back and the toothbrush dangle from his lips.

Steven shook out his shoulders, Marc was always so tense. “Thank you.”

It was only when he’d passed the flower shop that he remembered that it was Friday. A group of school kids were expected at the museum around nine that morning.

He was almost grateful for your absence, it allowed him to wallow in Marc’s words for at least one more day. He should ask you out, god does he want to.

The day passed like most of them do.

The school children were rowdy and mostly impartial to the magnificent feats of Ancient Egyptian architecture, but he took another tour around two o’ clock with three couples and a family who were significantly, thankfully, more engaging.

Steven had just wrapped up the hour, on the tail end of explaining how do we know what hieroglyphics mean? to the man who’d asked, when a flitter of shifting fabric floated past the back of his head.

Emerging like a bottle-green wet dream, Steven's gaze found you drifting under the arch between rooms. Your eyes alight in searching, they caressed momentarily over each framed painting and encased ornate vase.

He'd never seen you in anything more than your tight pink work shirt, which - don't get it mistaken - did enough damage to his psyche on it's own, but he immediately knew he'd never recover from the little green dress that clung to your frame.

A square neckline reached past clinking necklaces, long sleeves brushed along your palm - a job Steven desperately wished was his own - and a ruffled edge that teased an upper expanse of thigh which he'd never before been gifted a view of ... and if you shifted just a little, bent just slightly over--

"Hey, thanks a lot. The tour was great."

The middle aged man's face reappeared into Steven's view: dirtied spectacles pressing down the edge of his sweating red nose.

Steven stuttered, eyes flickering between the man's face and your figure in the distance. "Y-Yeah, of course ... anytime, mate."

Your eyes found him, waving a hand.

Uninterested in letting the American tourists keep him from you any longer, Steven slipped past them towards your nearing frame.

"Stevie, hey." You beamed up at his face, hands playing with the strap of your bag: clearly unsure. "You-- well, it was my day off and I thought maybe I could take you up on that tour, but I just saw the board and it says you'd already finished your last one--"

"Hey, hey," Steven shook his head. "No, I'm ... I'm glad you came. I can take you if you'd still like, I'd love to show you around? It will be like a private tour."

He swore he could dissolve under the shine of the smile you gave him. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Oh—“ you started digging into the bag draped down over your shoulder. “That reminds me …”

Your hand emerged with a single white flower. It’s petals were wide with a barely there yellow dot in the centre.

“I thought it would match the jacket you always wear.” A hand reached out, tugging gently on the corner pocket of his grey trench coat and slipping the flower in so it stuck half out happily. “It’s a white daffodil. Nicked it last night before I closed up.”

Steven’s chest was clenching up with a tightness that felt like his last remaining decisions in this life were to either immediately faint, or kiss you until the oxygen deprivation lead him to faint anyways.

“I—“ His fingers caressed gently at the edge of it’s petal. “Thank you.”

“Give her a compliment, Steven.” Marc’s voice startled him. He was a rare presence when Steven was at work.

The idea prodded at Steven that maybe it was the sound of your voice that had drawn him out.

“You … you look beautiful, by the way.” Steven pressed out, “the dress, it’s — it’s very nice.”

With nervous hands at the edge of the skirt, your looked quickly between the dress and Steven's face. "Ugh, this old thing. Just thought it would be a good idea to get out of my work uniform for a bit."

"I agree ... a great idea." He nodded, "You wanna ... get started?"

"Of course."

Steven lead you over the same route that he walked three times a day, four times on weekends, but somehow still felt itchy between the rooms. He figured it had to do with you gaze pressing curiously over his face, it made his neck hot and he prayed you couldn't see it.

When he spoke, you leaned close into his frame: eyes flickering between his trembling lips and the artefacts he was describing.

"That's so cool ..." you'd whisper to yourself at different points, sometimes a "that's crazy" or a "that's kinda gross", and Steven was drinking in your reactions like a man parched.

The tour closed off at the spot it usually does, with the replica of the Rosetta's Stone near the West Exit. By then, the sun had already sunk behind the backdrop of summer London and Steven's nerves were downright shot.

Your perfume was sending him on a chemical high and he's sure Marc heard every one of his desperate thoughts about the way your fingers tightened around his arm when they'd bump past other visitors moving room to room.

With the dress swaying merrily at your sides, you recounted points of the tour with animated hands flying ahead of you.

"And the way they managed to get those tombs so far underground? Not to even mention the complex tunnelling systems, how much work that would actually take to figure out--"

The tiny birds had returned to flying in circles over Steven's head, Isn't She Lovely was playing absently from somewhere in the depths of his mind.

Your excited hands came to find your sides and you huffed yourself into silence.

Following beside him, Steven lead you two out under the arched gates towards the steps of the museum. The moon twinkled between streetlights, and Steven avoided its gaze. Like he could feel Khonshu’s presence over his shoulder.

“Well, I’m glad you enjoyed it.” He smiled at you, a smile that just about suffocated him.

“Enjoyed it?” You laughed. “It was amazing, I mean, you were amazing.”

He laughed softly too, but didn’t respond.

The silence was beginning to turn stale.

“Now is as good a time as it’s gonna get.” Marc pestered.

“Well I should—“ you pointed obviously over your shoulder, before finding the face of your wrist watch. “My bus will be leaving soon.”

Steven nodded. “Yeah … yeah of course. I had fun, you should come by more often.”

“It was … it was very sweet. Taking me on the tour when you probably had better things to do.” Your hand curled over his forearm again, “You’re very sweet, Steven.”

“And you’re very beautiful.”

The words found the air between them before Steven even knew what he’d said.

Your lips parted slightly in surprise, cheeks brushed with a warm pink: “I— thank you, Stevie.”

Steven nodded, not looking at you and suffocating on his own embarrassment. “I’m gonna— need to go finish up inside.”

An unmistakably wounded look passed over your face. It dissolved as quickly as it had appeared.

“Sure.” It was curt. “I’ll see you round the shop.”

“Steven, if you do not stop her so help me God—“

A flurry of hot and cold feelings were chasing up and down his chest: he watched your figure turn and worked to do the same.

The outline of the museum had barely returned to his frame of vision when the cold hand of his subconscious reached out and dragged him down into it’s icy black depths: now watching the view of his eyes as if from a foggy tape recorder.

Marc stiffened his shoulders, turning to where you were bounding down the steps of the museum, heels clicking on each jump.

He chased down after you, skipping two steps at a time.

“Marc, don’t! You’re gonna scare her!” Steven was shouting now, rattling his already shaky consciousness.

He called your name where you’d just reached the sidewalk. You turned up to meet his face.

In barely fractions of a moment, Marc was able to find some sympathy for dear Steven.

Now that he was faced with you himself, as opposed to the blurry lens he’d been cursed to only peer through before, he wondered how Steven ever conjured up the courage to say more than three words to you.

“Steven?”

The light of the street-lamp was flickering in little circles off your eyes in the dim street and Marc was half convinced to abandon Steven in the darkness.

He didn’t.

Rather, he slipped back down into the shadows where he felt Steven surpass him again.

Your brow bent deeper in confusion, “Are you alright?”

If he had time, Steven might have taken a moment to huff at Marc for not even bothering to turn away when he forced himself back to the front, spared you from the sight of his eyes rolling back in their head. But no, you probably thought he was possessed.

“I, yes, that doesn’t matter—“

He could feel ice cold adrenaline pumping down from his brain. Like he did in the seconds before a fight, when the suit would crawl up over his skin.

“Your eyes,” your hand came close up to his face, hesitant enough to just float in its orbit. “They rolled—“

“Will you go on a date with me?”

You blinked up at him. Once, twice.

The silence was reaching far past the limits that it did in all the romance movies Steven had seen and his palms were growing itchy with the passing seconds.

“When?”

Steven’s head was reeling. He hadn’t thought that far, but why quit while he’s ahead?

“Now. Right now, tonight.”

The surprise was fading from your face, replaced with eyes that were glowing around the corners and a smile that made his heart skip every second beat.

“Don’t you have work?”

“You haven’t answered my question yet.”

“If you promise to still come visit the shop ... I would love to go on a date with you, Stevie. Right now.”

Warmth was flooding back into Steven’s hands. “I’ll set up a tent outside on the sidewalk …” he breathed, “you won’t be able to get rid of me.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

Steven nodded. Almost tripping on the step up behind him, “I’m going to tell them that I’m leaving. Just wait right here …“

He’d already moved up two steps, legs buzzing with untamed exhilaration.

“Steven, hold on just one sec—“ when he turned, you’d surpassed the small steps separating you.

He’d barely a chance to turn all the way back around when your index finger hooked between his neck and the collar of his shirt and your lips were on his.

They were warm and soft and Steven had no idea what he was doing.

With his experience being limited to the pool of:

A. The girl he’d pecked in first grade on the swings in the playground.

B. A drunken make-out at a college party for a college he didn’t even attend and,

C. His (mostly Marc’s) ex-wife,

It was nothing short of a miracle when his hand came up to find the side of your neck. When he pulled your waist flush against his.

“Atta’ boy.” He ignored Marc.

You pulled back, Steven was pleased to notice your reddened, wet lips.

“Sorry,” you whispered close against him, voice half-drowned out by the rumbling of taxis in the street and people passing by. “Been itching to do that for a while.”

-

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#steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #jake lockley x reader #moon knight fanfiction #steven grant x you #marc spector x you #jake lockley x you #steven grant #marc spector #jake lockley #khonshu #steven grant x female reader #steven grant fanfiction #marc spector fanfiction #moonknight fic #moonknight #steven grant imagine #marc spector imagine #jake lockely x you #jake lockely imagine #jake lockely x reader

[pimosworld]

Bad days

Pairing- Steven grant x f!reader, hints of Marc and Jake x f!reader.

Summary- You help Steven relax and cure his bad day.

CW-18+,MDNI,NSFW, porn with a little plot, angst, fluff, Steven being unsure at first, oral m receiving, cum eating, slight sub Steven,Dom reader, Marc and Jake being teases and helpful because it’s them.

WK-2.4k

A/N- Making Steven feel good is like candy to me so I hope you enjoy this.

Not beta read

[Moon Knight Masterlist][Main Masterlist]

You set the groceries down to knock on the door to Stevens flat. You don’t hear any movement on the other side of the door for a few brief moments. You know Steven wasn’t always punctual but he never missed an opportunity for you to cook him dinner. 

It was a little nerve wracking at first taking over his job in the gift shop. He was promoted to tour guide at the museum but Donna insisted he train his replacement. 

Marc was annoyed in the beginning. How hard could it be to work in a gift shop? He knew Steven had been waiting for so long to be a tour guide and told him in so many words to tell Donna to shove off. Until you walked in.

  For once in his life Steven didn’t bumble his way through an introduction. You loved the way he cared so deeply for the regular patrons and cataloged all the items  in the gift shop. 

  He gave you a taweret plushie on your last day of training and couldn’t contain his excitement when you wrapped your arms around him as a thank you. 

  Ask her now

  It wasn’t often Jake made an appearance, but since you’ve come into the picture he was making himself more and more known. 

  He’s right, ask her

  It was a problem for Steven when Marc and Jake were getting along. He has yet to make his condition known to you, but he’s noticed you smirking when he’s talking out loud or having a stern conversation with his reflection in the glass of the gift shop. 

  “I was wondering if maybe…you’d like to go to dinner with me sometime?” 

  You said yes before he could even get the words out. 

  That was a few months ago. 

  ****

  Steven noticed you at the end of the hallway as the doors to the lift opened. 

  I told you to just give her a key hermano 

  Steven didn’t want to just hand you a key like Marc or Jake would. He wanted it to be special…he already had it made, he just needed an opportunity to present it to you. He’s been so busy with his promotion he’s barely had time for you. 

  You offered to cook him dinner and he couldn’t even bother to be on time for that. 

  He looks so tired, even from where you’re standing. You can tell he’s had a rough day and you’re determined to make it better. It’s not often the boys let you spoil them, always so concerned with your needs. 

  Steven had needs too…he just needed a gentle reminder. 

  ****

  “I’m sorry I’m so late, Love.” He pecks your lips as he drops some scrolls to the ground to fish out his keys. 

  “It’s okay Steven, I haven't been waiting long.” You bend over to pick up the groceries as he drops his keys. 

  “Oh bollocks, can’t even open my own door.” You try to grab his shoulder as he picks them up from the floor. He mutters something under his breath about being clumsy and your certain Marc or Jake aren’t helping. 

  “Steven, honey.” You wrap your arms around him as you slowly grab the keys. “Let me help you.” 

  Steven wants to protest but your hands are like magic covering his. He has to pinch himself everyday to remind himself he’s not dreaming, when it comes to you. Marc and Jake may give him a hard time but he never lets them forget that you were interested in him first. 

  He sighs into your touch as you slowly open the door. “You’re too good to me, you know that.” He scoops the groceries in one arm and the scrolls in the other. 

  “There’s no such thing as too good.” Your lips curve into a smile before you lean in and kiss him and he nearly drops everything in his arms. 

  “Why don’t you set that stuff down and get comfortable.” 

  He goes to protest but you place your finger on his lips. “Go wash off this awful day, change into something comfortable and relax.” You kiss him again a little deeper and longer, you can feel him sigh into it as you start to pull away. “I’m not taking no for an answer.” 

  I would do what she says if I were you. 

  He pinches himself before he heads off to the bathroom.

  ****

  Steven notes the delicious smell wafting through the flat as he pulls on his favorite jumper and sweatpants. Although he knows whenever he comments on how good it smells you always tell him it’s just garlic and onions. 

  You’re a picture of domestic perfection as you finish putting something in the oven. You wipe your hands on the small towel as you look up and smile at him. 

  His feet are rooted to the spot in the living room as you make your way towards him,you look like you want to devour more than just the food. The urge to look over his shoulder and make sure he’s the one you’re looking at is strong. 

  Your soft hand gently grabs his wrist as you pull him toward the couch. Perhaps Marc or Jake took control of his legs because he certainly doesn’t remember how he swiftly ended up seated with you on your knees in front of him. 

  The words are leaving your mouth but he can’t hear anything over the buzzing in his ears as you rub your hands up and down his legs. 

  “What did you say love?” You smirk and lean up, pulling his face to yours as your soft lips meet his. He could stay like this, just kissing you as he melts into the couch. The stress of the day pouring off him like the rain outside. 

  “I said…did you have a bad day?” You trail kisses along his jaw and nip at his earlobe as you wait for his answer. 

  “Yes.” It comes out as a confession, like he’s ashamed to admit that he has bad days doing his dream job.

  Your warm hands roam under his sweater along his chest and trail down as you hook your fingers in his waistband. His breathing is coming in too fast and he tries to calm himself down as your body brushes against the obvious tent in his sweats.

  “Do you want me to make it better?” It’s a whisper in his ear that he hears loud and clear as your hands wait for permission.

  Say yes Steven

Say yes Steven

  It must’ve been too long, because his head mates urge him to answer you before you change your mind. As if you ever would. 

  “Yes…please.” You chuckle at his rushed out response as if you can read his mind and know exactly what they’re saying. 

  It drives him a little bit wild that you’re giving him this attention. He was always a little more reserved than Marc and not as bold as Jake. He’s never been treated like this. The sole purpose of someone’s desires. 

  You tug a little on his pants and bite your lip. He lifts his hips to help you as you pull them down just enough to pool at his feet. He’s achingly hard as your hand reaches out to pump him a few times. 

  He bites down on his tongue to keep from coming at the first touch of you. It’s only been a few days and he’s already so desperate for anything you’ll give him. 

  The genuine look of enjoyment on your face as you stare at it like it’s an appetizer to a four course meal is something he’ll have to frame in his mind. 

  The feel of your hand is quickly replaced with your mouth as you slide down the length of him, your plush lips wrapped around his cock as you hum in approval. Finally provided the relief you both wanted. 

  He chokes back a moan as your tongue slides back up, slowly twirling around the tip. A drop of precum trails down the side and you tilt your head licking it up like an ice cream cone. Not wanting to waste a drop. 

  Fuck

  Your hands are on his legs again as you rub them in time with your head as you bob up and down, moaning around his cock sending chills up his spine. 

  You loved watching Steven let go. It was exhilarating that you could make someone come undone. The  dark look in his eyes is almost similar to Marc’s but you know by the noises coming from him and the way his hands grip the couch it’s your sweet Steven. 

  Put your hand on the back of her head

  “What?” He rasps out above you. 

  You come off with a pop and take in his unruly curls as the sweat forms on his furrowed brow. 

  “I didn’t say anything honey.” He stares blankly at you for a moment before he realizes he must’ve spoke out loud. 

  Idiota

  “Sorry love, you can keep going…if you want to—

  His rambling is cut short as you take him into your mouth again, not wasting a moment as your lips slide all the way down his cock. Your nose brushes the curls at the base and you gag a little. 

  “Sorry love…” Steven begins to apologize but you don’t seem to be stopping. 

  Listen to me and don’t say anything 

  Perhaps he should just listen to Marc, he’s never…well maybe not never, but he’s rarely led him astray. 

  Put your hand on the back of her head and Gently…go with her movements. 

  You glance up at Steven who nods his head as he places his hand on the back of yours. He’s looking at you with those puppy dog eyes like he’s asking for permission to do what you’ve been wanting this whole time. Enjoy it. 

  You hollow out your cheeks and pull him in deeper as he audibly moans a little louder. His nails scratch lightly at your scalp as he pushes you down a little further. His bold movements turn you on even more than you were before. You breathe through your nose and push past the burning in your lungs to stay on the edge of his pleasure for a little longer. 

  “You’re perfect, you know that?” He mostly says it to himself as you whine your response because you can't really answer at the moment. Not verbally at least. 

  You know you probably look a mess as your mascara runs down your cheeks and the drool pools outside your mouth as he takes what he wants. Except he’s looking at you like you hung the moon as his free hand swipes a stray tear from the corner of your eye. 

  It feels like he’s in the duwat again the way he’s floating between this reality and the next. He struggles to keep his eyes on you as he throws his head back against the couch finally relinquishing all control he had over his emotions. 

  The sounds of your mouth and the muttering of praises are all he can focus on as the familiar feeling starts to creep up his back and infiltrate his brain. 

  You can feel his legs tense beneath your hands as the grip in your hair tightens instinctually. 

  “I’m…im close love, you don’t have to.” 

  Cállate y déjale

  “It’s okay Steven, you can let go.” You half pant out as you resume before he can protest. 

  You place your hand on top of his and urge him on as he curses under his breath. His hips stutter slightly as he feels himself let go, spilling hot ropes of come into your mouth. You don’t let up as you swallow every drop until he’s boneless beneath you. His cock twitches slightly as you come off, slowly catching your breath. His hand drops to the couch with a thud as you raise up next to him and brush his curls out of his face. 

  The redness on his neck dissipates with every breath that he takes in. He may have been close to passing out if you hadn’t stopped soon. 

  “That was…incredible.” He half whispers to himself and you chuckle into his neck as you place soft kisses to his sweaty skin. 

  “I’m glad I could help.” 

  The timer on the oven beeps bringing your attention back to the dinner you started when you told him to relax. 

  “Ooohh, the lasagna is done.I hope you’re hungry.” You bounce up off the couch as he stands and pulls his sweats back on. 

  He feels like he ran a marathon and food sounds delightful at the moment. 

  “You made my favorite?” It’s said as more of a question than a statement as he watches you move around his kitchen like you’ve been here all your life. 

  “I made two actually.” You cut into one and place a serving on each of your plates. “Vegan and meat sauce. I’ll mark them for you so you know which is which.” 

  I love her 

Ella es perfecta

  You lick the sauce off your finger and he’s brought back to what you just did for him on the couch. 

  “I have something for you love.” Steven heads to the room briefly and digs through his jacket pocket before he finds it. 

  He sheepishly returns to the kitchen island where you’re digging into your smaller portion of lasagna. He’s trying  to rid his head of these thoughts for a second as you make the same noises from before as you savor your food. 

  His hand shakily slides the key towards you and you set your fork down to pick it up. The beautiful brass key looks so big in your delicate hands. 

  “Is this my prize?” You ask with a mischievous glint in your eye. 

  Smooth

  “Oh no…I’ve been meaning to give it to you for a while. I didn’t plan it this way…it was supposed to be special and well…”

  “Shhh. Steven, relax, I'm just joking.” He eases a little at your words, knowing you’re just teasing him. You and Jake had that down better than he or Marc ever could. “I love it honey, thank you for trusting me with this.” 

  You lean in and place a kiss to his cheek, shorter than he would care for. He never wants you to stop touching him if he could help it. 

  “Eat up, before it gets cold.” 

  Before I take the body and eat my own

No me parece 

  He eats while they bicker, not wanting to waste another precious moment with you. 

  ****

  Your phone buzzes in your pocket as you stare out the window of the bus on the way home from work. 

  Steven: where are you love?

      On the bus I just left work, how was your day?

  Steven: It was quite dreadful 

           I’ll be home soon to make it better 

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated

Tagging a few who might be interested

@missdictatorme @chichimisaki @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @melodygatesauthor @simpforbritgents

#moon knight fanfiction #steven grant fem reader #steven grant x female reader #moon knight mcu #steven grant x fem!reader #steven grant smut #marc spector x f!reader #jake lockley x reader #moon boys x reader #steven grant fluff #sub steven grant #marvel moon knight #steven grant x f!reader #jake lockley fluff #moon knight fanfic #moon knight x you #oscar issac characters #oscar isaac

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

I have a request if you're taking any. A Jake Lockley x fem!reader. The reader is dating them but is kind of scared of Jake (is very quiet and weary around him, doesn't like his physical touch) because he was cold and mean to her when they first met (he wanted to "protect" Steven) but now all he wants is to hold and love her. The opportunity finally arrives when she's sick and needs his help. (He forcefully fronts bc he's not letting this opportunity go to waste)

Of course! Thank you so much for the ask!

Ahhh, this one got away from me a bit. (And did a bit of it's own thing) I went in to write some angst with Jake and just ended up writing soft!Jake (again, because I can't help myself.) I hope this is okay!

Embrace

Jake Lockley X F!Reader Rating: T Masterlist | ao3 | want to be tagged?

Warnings: Overuse of railroad sentences, typos, hurt/comfort, previous Jake & reader not getting along, sick!reader, fluff, implied Steven x reader and Marc x reader, please let me know if I’ve missed a warning!

Word Count: 1789

_______________________________________

He can’t stop playing it over and over again in his mind. The image looping in a relentless merry-go-round. 

A light touch. His gloved fingertips barely skimming your skin as he tapped you on the arm. A gentle warning that he-they were back. 

You’d had your headphones on as you did the washing up, miming along a song whose beat bled out into the air around you. 

It was like you had known it was him on some subconscious level even before he reached you. 

Your reaction was etched into his skin, carved behind his eyelids. The flinch. The instinctive movement away from him. It was like a knife hacking the flesh away from his chest. 

You had looked at him as you paused your music. Your eyes a little wide and weary before you gave him a small smile. “Am I in the way?” 

The air had stuck in his throat, crushing him under the weight of his breath.

Jake didn’t trust his voice, not in that moment. He swallowed and shook his head. 

You nodded, looking at his hands instead of his face and went back to the washing up. You didn’t turn your music back on. 

.

It had been his fault. Jake knew that. He had been more than distant, cold, purposely keeping you further than an arm’s length and trying to drag Marc and Steven away from you as well. 

You had been a stranger. A danger. A variable that he couldn’t keep a constant eye on. 

There was a small mix up, some bad intel when Jake went out of his way to check on your background - just in case - by the time he realised that he had been working on the wrong information the damage was done. 

.

Jake watched in the background as Steven travelled home, keeping quiet as Marc and Steven talked. They had taken to wearing large over the ear headphones so that they could speak freely in public and look like they were just on the phone. Not that anyone in London would even notice if they were talking to themselves or not. 

He had stayed quiet as Steven showered and got changed, as Marc hoovered and then washed the leftover morning dishes. 

He didn’t even interject in the discussion of what to make for dinner, which was quickly becoming a squabble. 

It was only interrupted by the sound of the front door opening, and you shuffling into the flat. 

But your doorsteps, they sounded… wrong. Too heavy and laboured, missing the normal bounce to your step. 

Marc was about to call out a greeting when Jake pushed to the front, cutting off his words before he had even opened his mouth. 

‘Jake!’ Marc’s voice was loud, but fading as he fell back. 

As Steven spoke at the exact same time. ‘Mate, you can’t just do that-” 

“Something’s wrong.” Jake muttered, his muscles tense. He moved towards the front door, keeping his footsteps light and making the minimal amount of possible sound. He stopped when you came into view.

You were slouched on the settee, crumpled up and drawn in on yourself. Your work bag was still on your lap, your coat and shoes on. Eyes shut. 

There was a horrible twist in his stomach, a wave of panic that buzzed across every nerve. You were hurt. 

He rushed forward, all previous grace forgotten.

You didn’t open your eyes until he put a hand firmly on your shoulder, an action that was worrying enough, “where are you injured?” He frowned deeply, trying to scan you over for any bruising or open wounds. 

“What, I’m not,” your voice came out all stuffy. Bunked up and a little garbled as if you’d just been woken from sleep. 

Realisation dawned.  You were sick, not hurt. He should pull back. He should get Steven or Marc, let them help you. That’s what you would want. 

“I’m just a bit,” your eyes were glassy, your reactions a little delayed. You motioned to your head with your hands. “Cotton wool-y.”

Jake put his hand on your forehead, you were burning hot.

He tutted and knelt down on the ground and began to take off your shoes. Quick and precise in his movements. 

You frowned. Your mind slowly catching up. “Jake?” 

He didn’t pause, didn’t answer. But swallowed when you stiffened slightly. 

“You don’t need to do that.” You whispered.

Jake continued, focused on his task, his warm hand on your calf as he eased your foot out of your boot and placed it carefully on the side before he started on the other. 

You cleared your throat. “You don’t have to.”

He set your other boot next to the first and slowly stood. His movements were slow, precise, careful to not surprise you. As if you were some wild skittish animal that could be spooked by the smallest thing. 

Jake took your work bag from your lap and hung it up on the side, where you liked to keep it. You followed his movements, nerves eating into your stomach. He didn’t have to do this. You were sure he didn’t want to do this. You were nothing more than a burden to him, an annoyance that he had to put up with for Marc and Steven’s sake. You-

“Come on,” he spoke softly, his eyes still downcast as he lent down towards you, gently taking your hands in his to help you to stand. “Let’s get you to bed.” 

“Jake,” the urge to pull your hands back, away from his touch was so strong, but you let him help you up. 

He ignored your words, wrapping one arm around your shoulders, his other hand on your arm as he began to guide you to the bedroom. 

“Jake,”

He stared at his feet,his lips pressed together into a tight line. His long, dark eyelashes were almost kissing his skin in his determination not to catch your gaze. 

“Jake.” You stopped, forcing Jake to as well. Your voice cracked as you spoke, your throat sore and aching. You swallowed. “I don’t need you to do this.”

He looked at you then.

You were expecting to see relief on his face. A nod. For his hands to leave you so that he could go about his evening without having to carry the burden of caring about you for his alter’s sake. 

Instead, his expression made a sharp cut of emotion sink into your chest. 

He stared at you with glassy eyes, his mouth slightly parted. He looked crestfallen. He looked heartbroken.

You didn’t know what to do.

There was a long moment before he spoke. “Please.”

You frowned in confusion. 

“Please,” he repeated. “Please let me look after you.” “Please don’t,” he glanced down again and screwed up his eyes, clenching his jaw and dropping his arms to his sides. Your skin was cold without his heat.

Slowly, you reached out and took his hand. A light touch as you tentatively wrapped your fingers around his. He squeezed back tightly. 

“Please let me look after you.” Jake whispered. “Please.”

You cupped his cheek with your free hand and he lent into it without hesitation, closing his eyes and breathing out heavily. As if the weight of the world was lifted from his shoulders. 

“Jake?” 

He opened his eyes, a painful vulnerability dancing in them. 

“Please look after me.” You whispered. 

He smiled, the expression lighting up his whole face in one glorious moment. You’d never seen him smile like that before. 

He led you to bed, only leaving so that you could get changed into your pyjamas. He came back, calling out to you at first to check that you had finished changing your clothes, with his arms full. He carefully placed a new box of tissues and a packet of strepsils on your bedside table, along with some paracetamol and a cooling gel pack that was intended for headaches - explaining that it was Steven’s and he didn’t know if it would be helpful. 

You beamed at him as you sat up in bed, but didn’t get a chance to thank him as Jake rushed out of the room again, coming back quickly with your favourite mug. Steam wafted out of it. 

“It’s ginger,” he said, adding it to the collection on your bedside table, and making sure it sat perfectly in the middle of the coaster. “With some honey, it should help your throat. I can hear that you're a bit croaky.”

The honey touched your heart. There was only one pot of it in the flat, Jake’s vitamin honey that you had never touched. The honey that he refused to share with Marc or Steven, even going to the extent of hiding it. It was one of the few luxuries he allowed himself. 

“Jake,” you spoke so softly you were surprised he heard you. “Thank you.”

He fiddled with his hands, another little smile pulling at his lips. “It’s nothing.”

You shook your head, leaning a little to reach out to take his hand. He reacted straight away, moving towards your touch so that you didn’t have to disrupt your comfort. He sat lightly on the very edge of the mattress when you urged him to, taking your hand in his and running your thumb over his skin in a soothing pattern. 

Jake watched you, mesmerised. Your touch was for him, he wasn’t watching through Marc or Steven. It was his. 

“I’m honoured you know.” You said with a smile. “Letting me have some of your honey.” 

A small flush crept along his skin. For a moment he thought about lying, about saying that there was another jar. He swallowed and spoke quietly. “You’re more important than the honey.”

You didn’t know what to say, words wouldn’t form. 

Slowly, so carefully as if he was now the easily startled wild animal, you leant forward and wrapped your arms around him. You gave Jake plenty of time to move away, to back off. Instead he rushed towards it, quickly embracing you back and just melting into the hug. 

He tucked his head into your neck and breathed out a shaky breath. 

You could feel the tension in his arms, the strain running just under his skin as he fought the urge to hold you tighter, to press you closer to every inch of his body. 

You shifted backwards, laying down, and pulled him with you, urging him to follow. He clutched you tightly, and moved, shifting only slightly so that he was laying next to you and not on top of you. 

He let out the sweetest sigh of content as you coax him to lay his head on your chest and ran your fingers through his hair, still holding you tight. 

____________________________________

Thank you for reading!

Taglist: @pleasurebuttonwrites @jake-g-lockley @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @cocodiem @oscarisaacsspit @welcometostayingawake @mbakubabe @solobagginses @welcometostayingawake @melodygatesauthor @romanarose @mbakubabe

If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

#moon knight #jake lockley #jake lockley x reader #x reader #x f!reader #x fem!reader #x female reader #jake lockley x f!reader #jake lockley x fem!reader #jake lockley x female reader #moon knight mcu #moon knight x reader #x you #my writing #fanfic #my secret shame but fanfiction #oscar isaac #oscar isaac characters #hurt/comfort #fluff #soft!jake lockley #sick!reader

[moonknightyws]

I'm going feral

(Gifs are not mine)

#marvel #moon knight #steven grant #marc spector #poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron smut #scenes of a marriage #marc spector x you #marc spector smut #marc spector imagine #marc spector x female reader #marc spector x reader #marvel smut #steven grant fic #steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #steven grant smut #jake lockley #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley x you #jake lockley smut

[starryevermore]

do not chastise the dove (epilogue) ✧ steven grant, marc spector, jake lockley

do not chastise the dove ✧ a royal moon knight au | ao3 | pinterest board

pairing: knight!steven grant x fem!princess!reader x knight!marc spector x knight!jake lockley

series summary: you were a princess who would rather be anything but a royal; he was the knight her father forced her to marry—a true match made in hell if there ever was one. but, as the wedding inches closer and closer, it seems that, perhaps, your father had finally done something right by you. 

chapter summary: a look into what the future holds.

word count: 6,120

warnings?: visiting elaine’s grave, talks of death, pregnancy announcement, inaccurate depictions of giving birth, marc being anxious about being a father, fluff, pet name (dove), not proofread 

The Royal Cemetery was a place that was rarely visited. It was completely closed off from the public. Only members of the Royal Family and their guests were allowed to enter. You had only gone once before, just after your mother had passed. You were supposed to be in school at the time, but it had not even been a week since she had been buried. You couldn’t focus on your studies at all, so you found yourself sneaking out the back door and walking all the way to the cemetery. You sat in front of your mother’s grave well past nightfall. You told her all about how you missed her, how you wished you could have hugged her one last time, told her you loved her one more time. You had every intent on staying there forever, but Pearl arrived just as the stars began to twinkle.

When you returned to the palace, Benjamin banned you from going to the cemetery again. At the time, you convinced yourself that he had been worried about you, that he didn’t know where you had gone. You had been so sure that if you asked just nicely enough, he might visit your mother’s grave with you one day. That day never came. Now, you knew he banned you from the cemetery because he cared about his public image. The King didn’t know where the Princess was? He couldn’t keep track of his daughter? It was a tabloid mess if there ever was one. That day had been the beginning of the end of your freedom for a long, long time. 

It was strange being back there now. It was even stranger being there with company. Marc held your hand tight, a bundle of flowers in the other. He dropped your hand as he carefully placed the bouquet on Elaine’s grave. He glanced at you, then back to the headstone. 

“Your daughter is a wonderful woman,” Marc said to the headstone. “I…I want you to know she’s in safe hands. I will never let a day go past without her knowing how loved she is. She deserves all the good in the world, and I will make sure she gets that.”

Your mouth quirked up into a smile. It was still so rare for Marc to make grand statements of love and affection. He was more of an actions-speak-louder-than-words kind of person. You, of course, appreciated his actions. You wouldn’t change a single thing about him. But, still, when he had those rare romantic movie type of declarations of love, your heart always soared. You knew how big of a deal it was to him, and so you savored every last word. 

“I wish you could be here,” you said. “There’s not a day that doesn’t go by without me missing you. I like to think, though, that you’re still here, guiding me through life. Guiding me straight to the loveliest, kindest men I’ve ever met. I mean, you did guide me straight to the truth about my birthright, didn’t you? Thank you. I love you, mommy.”

Marc looked at you, his pretty brown eyes soft. “We should come here more often, keep your mom updated on our lives. Maybe even bring Cleo down, our kids when we have them.”

Your smile grew. Marc still had his doubts about becoming a father, but he had slowly started talking more about the future. One day, he even told you how he wanted three kids. He even confirmed that he liked Steven’s suggesting of naming your son, if you should ever have a son, Randall. Sometimes, when he was feeling even bolder, he would tell you about family traditions he wanted to share with the children. How they would have a bar or bat mitzvah. How Marc couldn’t wait to teach them how to play dreidel. How he looked forward to sharing family recipes. Once, you even found him ordering children’s books, ones Steven told you had been his favorite during his childhood. 

“That would be wonderful.” 

Marc slipped his hand into yours, giving it a squeeze once, twice, three times. You bid your mother farewell before the two of you began walking around the cemetery. Every so often, you would point to a headstone, tell Marc about the family member. You weren’t sure how much he was paying attention. Most of his focus, it seemed, was on you and you alone. That is, until a question came to Marc’s mind.

“Is Benjamin buried here? I would have thought he’d be buried beside your mom.”

You pointed to a corner of the cemetery darkened by the shade of a large tree. A new headstone had been placed there, but it was already being destroyed by winding tree roots coming out of the ground. “Over there.”

Marc snorted. “You pick the spot?”

“I would’ve left his grave unmarked if I did,” you said. “I let the groundskeeper handle it. I almost expected him to bury Benjamin beside my mother. That had always been the plan. Benjamin even had the gravesite picked out. But the groundskeeper holds grudges against those who forbid their family from coming here, it seems.”

“Have you got our spot picked out?”

“I was thinking beside my mother. I feel like she might be lonely, all by herself.”

Marc smiled. “That’s sweet of you, dove.”

“And a bit morbid,” you laughed. “Now, come on. I’m starting to get hungry.”

“Good, because Steven’s been begging to eat for the last little bit.”

“And you just let him starve?” you said with a fake gasp. “We’d better go now, then. We can eat and talk more about the future, yeah?”

“Sounds like a perfect plan, dove. A perfect plan indeed.”

Coronation day had finally arrived. You felt like an odd mix of Anna and Elsa from Frozen, Anna’s excitement fueling you but Elsa’s anxieties making you keenly aware of just how many eyes were going to be on you. It felt a bit silly to be so nervous. After all, you had already been Queen for a year. This was more of a formal ceremony than anything. The power was yours, it couldn’t be taken away. However…You certainly could make a fool of yourself. 

What if you tripped on your way into the cathedral? What if, when you got out of the car, the door was shut on the train of your dress and it got ripped as the driver drove away? What if you jumbled up all of your words? What if you dropped the crown? Oh, it could all be a disaster!

“You’re gonna do fine, my dove,” Steven said watching as you fussed over your dress. 

Well, all things considered, even if the worst happened, at least you looked beautiful while it happened. You had chosen an off-the-shoulder blue gown, adorned with floral appliques. It was tradition that royals wear blue—the family color—to coronations. In any case, the dress was gorgeous when you picked it out, and it looked even more gorgeous on you. 

“I’m scared,” you said. 

Steven rose from his seat before you could blink, coming to stand behind you. He put his hands on your hips, turning you around. As you looked at him, he dipped his head, pressing his forehead against yours. “It’s scary going out there,” he said. “Can’t deny that, can I? I can’t. Every time we do a public engagement, I’m terrified that I’ll come out as a bumbling fool. That I’ll trip over my feet or I’ll say the wrong name. But every time, I get up and it turns out fine.”

“What if this time is different?”

“I’ll be there to support you. Marc and Jake, too, if you’d prefer one of them to jump in. Your entire support system, honestly. If you end up doing something silly, we’ll all do the same thing. You fall? I’m taking a tumble too. You start speaking backwards? I’ll jump up and start speaking backwards too. Alright? The only thing you need to be scared of is the press running stories about how the Queen married a brainless half-wit.”

You let out a laugh. “You’d really do that?”

“Without a second thought.”

You bit down on your lip, holding back another laugh. “Well, then I think we should go now, yeah?”

“Lead the way, my Queen Dove.”

The streets were lined with citizens from all over the kingdom and abroad as the driver took you to the cathedral. As the car passed by, cheers erupted from the crowd. Dozens upon dozens upon dozens of people were waving at you, pointing at the car. Your heart lifted at the sight. Part of you knew that many were gathered just to say they caught the glimpse of the Queen on her way to the coronation. But, it felt nice to see so many people there in support of you. 

You reached over, taking Steven’s hand, as the car approached the cathedral. When the car came to a halt and the door opened, Steven got out first before helping you. Attendants descended upon you, aiding you with the long train, ensuring that the door did not slam on it and rip it. Steven walked in front of you, leading the way into the cathedral. You gave a few smiles to the press as you walked, but you mostly kept your gaze focused on the entryway. 

All eyes were on you as you walked inside. You, again, tried to ignore it. Kept your eyes to the front. Focused on the officiant waiting for you. Watched Steven as he went to his seat in the front row. You stopped when you reached the stairs, letting the officiant hold his hand out for you to take as he helped you up the stairs. You turned to face the crowd as the attendants fixed your train.

Finally, you sank into the throne, look out at the crowd. The officiant stepped in front of you. He asked, “Madam, is your Majesty willing and able to take the Sacred Oath?”

“I am willing and able,” you answered.

“Will you solemnly promise and swear to govern the Peoples of our Great Kingdom according to our laws and customs?”

“I solemnly promise so to do.”

“Will you promise to protect our Great Kingdom against enemies without and within?”

“I always will.”

“Will you to your power cause Law and Justice, in Mercy, to be executed in all your judgments?”

“I will.”

The officiant took the Royal Scepter from one of the attendants and passed it to you. You held it carefully with both hands, swallowing hard. Wow. This was real. This was becoming a reality—even more so than it already was.

“Then repeat after me.” When you nodded, the officiant continued. “I, Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N…”

“I, Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N…”

“…will rule with compassion, extending charity and mercy to all my people…”

“…will rule with compassion, extending charity and mercy to all my people…”

“…All this I have promised, I will perform as champion of my beloved country and her people.”

“…All this I have promised, I will perform as champion of my beloved country and her people.”

The officiant turned to another attendant, taking the crown off of its velvet pillow. He turned back to you, holding the crown over your head. “In accordance with law and custom, I crown you, /N Y/M/N Y/L/N, Queen of our Great Kingdom.”

He placed the crown on your head, then turned to face the crown. “Long live the Queen.”

The crowd echoed back—perhaps Steven the loudest of all— “Long live the Queen!”

Layla squeezed your hand as you looked at the white stick in your hands. You couldn’t believe it. You had wanted this, but…God, it felt so different when you knew it was a reality. You had been feeling sick for a week, waves of nausea constantly washing over you. This morning, when you looked at your calendar and realized you were weeks late for your period, you sent a worker out to pick up an assortment of pregnancy tests. She came back with five, and all five told you the same answer. 

“When are you going to tell them?” Yelena asked.

“Soon,” you said. “I want to do it today, but…I don’t know. I’m scared that it might scare Marc.”

“Marc will be fine,” Layla assured you. “He’ll be scared shitless, sure. But if you think he might run or stop fronting or whatever you’re worried about…I know him well enough to know he would never abandon you like that. Especially not when you’re in such a vulnerable state. He would sooner die.”

“How should I tell them, though? Should I do something elaborate? Be more coy? I just…Pregnancy announcements are a big deal. I want to get this right.”

“Just tell them outright, don’t make a big fuss of it,” Yelena said. “Walk up to them, say I’m pregnant bitches!, and go about your merry way. No muss, no fuss.”

“…you’re pregnant?”

“No, not me, Y/N,” Yelena said, turning towards the door. Her eyes went wide as she stared at the man in the doorframe. “Oh shit.”

You lifted your head to see Jake standing in the doorway to your office, his jaw slack. You dropped the pregnancy test, it clattering on the desk. 

Scott, who stood behind Jake, peaked around him. “Sorry, I didn’t realize it was a bad time,” he said. 

“It…It’s not a bad time at all. Jake, come in. Um, everyone else…Could we have a bit of privacy please?”

Layla stood up and ushered Scott away. Yelena, however, remained standing beside you. When you raised an eyebrow at her, she let out an “oh!” before following Layla and Scott out, shutting the door behind her. You stood up, picking up one of the pregnancy tests, and walked over to Jake. You took his hand, and placed the test in it.

“Two lines…That means positive?” he asked as he looked at it. 

You nodded. 

“And, you’re sure?”

“I took five tests, all positive. We’ll still have to go to a doctor to check. False positives do happen and all that. Plus, it’s good to just start going to a doctor and getting everything ready. But…Yes. I’m sure.”

Jake’s arms were wrapped around you in an instant, squeezing you tight, nearly lifting you right off the floor. “We’re going to have a baby! We’re going to have a baby! We need to go get a, a crib and a bassinet and a stroller! We need to get baby books and parenting books and diapers! Babies poop a lot, so we should start stocking up now! And—”

You placed your hands on either side of his face, stopping his rambling with a kiss. “Shh, we have months to worry about all of that.”

“Times flies, my dove.”

“Well, waiting a day won’t kill us.” You kissed him again. “How are the others holding up?”

“Steven’s been jumping for joy, trying to take control ever since I walked in here,” Jake said. 

“And Marc?”

“He’s still rambling about all of the things we need to do to prepare for our little baby.”

You let out a laugh. Well, you supposed that wasn’t the worst reaction. In fact, it was probably the best reaction he could have had. “In that case…I suppose it’s time for a celebration, hm?”

Jake wiggled his eyebrows at you as he said, “Oh, I’m ready for the biggest celebration.”

And, oh, he was. 

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate the love between Her Majesty, Queen Y/N Y/L/N and His Royal Highnesses, Princes Marc Spector, Steven Grant, and Jake Lockley in a union commended to be honorable among all,” the officiant said. 

You looked at Marc in front of you, unable to hide your smile on your face. You still couldn’t believe he had offered to front for the public wedding ceremony. The one that would be televised internationally. The one that everyone would be watching. If you were honest, you had thought Steven might have been the one to front again. He was all about grand statements of love, after all. But this…This felt perfect. 

Marc held your hand, his thumb rubbing the top of it. “You look beautiful, my dove.”

You had reworn your dress from the private ceremony, with some small alterations. You were a few months into your pregnancy now, and you were just starting to show. Before the dress had been let out, it had been near impossible to close the dress up without ripping the seams because of your belly bump.

Marc had been…Well, you hesitated to call his reaction feral, but it was pretty damn close when he walked in your dress fitting and saw your bump. For all intents and purposes, he was still incredibly nervous about being a father. But there was something about seeing you carry his child that sparked a sort of energy in him that was near impossible to contend with. 

“And you look handsome, my love.”

“And therefore, this union has not been entered into lightly but reverently, passionately, lovingly, and solemnly. Into this, these two persons present now come to reaffirm their wondrous union,” the officiant continued. 

The officiant paused, looking between you and Marc, before smiling and continuing, “William Penn tells us to never marry but for love; but see that thou lovest what is lovely. He that minds a body and not a soul has not the better part of that relationship, and will consequently lack the noblest comfort of a married life.

“Between a man and his wife, nothing ought to rule but love. As love ought to bring them together, so it is the best way to keep them well together.

“A husband and wife that love one another show their children that they should do so too. Others visibly lose their authority in their families by the contempt of one another, and teach their children to be unnatural by their own examples.

“Let not enjoyment lessen, but augment, affection; it being the basest of passions to like when we have not, what we slight when we possess.

“Here it is we ought to search out our pleasure, where the field is large and full of variety, and of an enduring nature; sickness, poverty or disgrace being not able to shake it because it is not under the moving influences of worldly contingencies.

“Nothing can be more entire and without reserve; nothing more zealous, affectionate and sincere; nothing more contented than such a couple, nor greater temporal felicity than to be one of them.”

Marc had been the one to pick out the opening reading. He had found the poem among Steven’s books and declared it perfect for the ceremony. And oh, how could you deny him when he pulled out his pretty puppy dog eyes? 

“There are few loves in this world as pure as the one I have witnessed between the Queen and the Prince Consorts,” the officiant said. “In the short time I have shared with them, it has become clear to me, as it should be clear to all, that these two adore each other. Their love is the kind of love we should all strive to have. They care of each other. They respect each other. They ensure the other’s happiness, always. It is surely the kind of love that artists try to paint, that writers try to write, that will endure forever, always.”

You took a moment to look out at the crowd. The cathedral was filled to the brim and then some. This was, after all, the event of the year. Everyone who was anyone wished to attend. Members of Parliament, foreign dignitaries, and, of course, all of your friends. It was almost strange, seeing so many people there. At least, compared to the more intimate, private ceremony. 

You looked back at Marc as the officiant said, “Her Majesty and His Royal Highness have chosen to share the traditional vows.”

The two of you had done personal vows for the private ceremony. You and the boys debated on sharing an updated version of those vows today, but in the end, the answer was clear. Some parts of your love, of your lives, was meant to stay private. The entire ceremony was to be broadcast internationally. The world didn’t need to know all of the ins and outs of your love for each other. 

“Your Royal Highness, if you would repeat after me: I take you to be my wife, my partner in life, and my one true love.”

“I take you to be my wife, my partner in life, and my one true love.”

“I will cherish our union and love you more each day than I did the day before.”

“I will cherish our union and love you more each day than I did the day before.”

“I will trust you and respect you, laugh with you and cry with you, loving you faithfully through good times and bad, regardless of the obstacles we may face together.”

“I will trust you and respect you, laugh with you and cry with you, loving you faithfully through good times and bad, regardless of the obstacles we may face together.”

“I give you my hand, my heart, and my love, from this day forward for as long as we both shall live.”

“I give you my hand, my heart, and my love, from this day forward for as long as we both shall live.” Marc paused. “And every day after that, too.”

You smiled as the officiant directed you to say the same vows. Once you finished, the officiant said, “We will now exchange rings as a symbol of this couple’s love. May we have the rings?” Layla stepped forward and gave you Marc’s ring and Marc your ring. The officiant looked to Marc, and said, “Your Royal Highness, please repeat after me: I give you this ring as an eternal symbol of my love and commitment to you.”

“I give you this ring as an eternal symbol of my love and commitment to you,” Marc said, sliding the ring onto your finger. 

The officiant turned to you. “Your Majesty please repeat after me: I give you this ring as an eternal symbol of my love and commitment to you.”

“I give you this ring as an eternal symbol of my love and commitment to you,” you repeated, placing the ring on Marc’s finger.

“By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you wife and husband.” The officiant looked at Marc. “You may now kiss the bride.”

“My pleasure,” Marc said. 

Marc grabbed at your waist, spinning you into a dip and kissing you positively senseless. Well, that was certainly going to be the picture plastered across the front page.

As Queen, the annual birthday parade now celebrated your birthday instead of Benjamin’s. The first two years of your reign, you had opted out of the tradition. There was far too much going on between gaining your footing as Queen, planning the coronation and public wedding ceremony, and recovering from the string of attempts on your life. Now, after all of the dust had settled, you decided it was time to revive the tradition. 

You settled in the open carriage, smoothing your hand over your much larger baby bump. You were a month out from delivering your little bundle of joy. This was actually to be your last public engagement for a long while. After this, you planned on resting until you had to go to the hospital. Finally, after months of carrying her, you would finally get to meet your baby Eliana. 

“Little one bein’ fussy?” Jake asked he sat next to you. He wrapped one arm around your shoulder, his other hand coming to rest on your belly. “Because I told her this morning that she needed to be extra good for a couple of hours.”

Jake loved doing that. Talking to your baby bump, you mean. Most mornings when you woke up, you would find Jake with his head resting on your bump, telling little Eliana all sorts of stories. About how her daddies were excited to meet her. How he hoped she grew up to be like her mommy. Sometimes, he would tell her fairytales, though he often forgot most of the details and made them up on the fly. (And, sometimes, you woke up and found Marc doing the same, though he often stuck to telling her how much he loved her. You never let him know you caught him, letting him have the moment to himself.) 

“Oh, don’t worry. She’s settled down after breakfast,” you said. “Think she’s taking a nap in there right now.”

“Good.” Jake leaned, kissed the side of your head. The carriage jolted forward as the parade began, leading out onto the streets of the capitol. “Can you believe this time next year, she’s gonna be sitting right here in between us?”

“No,” you said. “I can hardly believe that in a month’s time, I won’t be carrying her in my belly anymore. I think I’m gonna miss it.”

Jake gave you a wicked grin. “Guess we’ll just have to put another baby in ya then, won’t we?”

“Mm, I would like that.”

Before Jake could say any more, your attention was pulled away by the sound of the cheering crowd. You painted on a smile, getting ready to wave at those in attendance. As you got closer to the crowd, though, you spotted a familiar face in the crowd. You tapped your hand against Jake’s leg. He looked at you, following your gaze to the girl in the crowd. Little Daisy stood there with her parents, giving you both a toothy grin. 

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” she shouted when she realized you were looking at her. 

“THANK YOU, DAISY!” you shouted back, turning to look at the way her face lit up as the carriage continued down the road. 

“Did ya hear that? She remembers me!” you heard her say before you turned back around to face the front. 

“I hope Eliana is as happy as Daisy,” you said to Jake. 

“With you as a mommy? She definitely will be.”

You grabbed Jake’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “I love you so much.”

“And I love you, my dove.”

“Just one more push!” the nurse said. “Just one big one, okay?”

You screamed as you pushed, gripping Marc’s hand so tight it might break. He squeezed back, telling you encouraging words that you mostly drowned out with your shouts. Then— A noise louder than your screams filled the room as your baby was born.

The nurse held your baby as the doctor cut the umbilical cord. “Congratulations,” she said, smiling widely as you. “It’s a girl!”

“A girl?” you repeated. You looked at Marc, a tired smile on your face. “We’ve got our sweet Eliana. Oh, I can’t wait to hold her!”

“Well, let’s not think about that right now. We got another baby to have,” the doctor said. 

You raised your head off the pillow, looking at the doctor with furrowed brows. “Another? You told us we were having just one!”

“Sometimes, one of the babies blocks its twin in the ultrasounds,” he said. “In any case, you need to get ready to push ‘cause this baby’s coming out whether you only expected one child or two.”

The nurse, who had passed your baby to another nurse so she could be cleaned up, glared at the doctor. “Don’t be such a dick,” she hissed at him. She looked back at you, smiling. “Just gotta do it one more time, okay? Lean back, and start pushing when we tell you to, just like we did before.”

You settled back, head falling on the pillow again. You took a moment to look at Marc, seeing the color drained from his face. “You okay, my love?”

“I wasn’t prepared for two. I was barely prepared for one,” he whispered. 

“It’ll be okay,” you said. “We can handle assassination attempts and hidden family plots, can’t we? We can handle this just fine.”

Marc swallowed hard and nodded. “Let’s do this.”

Several minutes, too many pushes, and a sore throat later, your second child was born. A boy, your Randall. You watched as he was taken away, too, to be cleaned up. You glanced at the doctor, who started to get up. 

“No more, right? No secret triplet I should know about?” you asked. 

The doctor shook his head. “Just the two, I swear.”

“You also swore there was just one,” Marc muttered. 

You patted Marc’s arm, turning his attention back to you as the doctor left. “You’re gonna be okay, love. It’s not what we expected, but we always wanted multiple kids. We’re just getting a head start on that big family sooner than expected, yeah?”

“One newborn is hard, two is…unimaginably difficult,” Marc said. 

“We can handle it. And if we can’t, we have a wonderful support system to help us.”

Before Marc could reply, a couple of nurses entered the room, your babies in their arms. “It’s important the babies get plenty of time with mommy,” one of them said, passing you Eliana. The other nurse handed you Randall. Both babies were settled in either book of your arm, nestled in there like it was home. “Don’t want to shock them too much after leaving the womb, hm?”

You thanked them and they soon left the room after telling you to shout if you needed anything. As you and Marc were left alone, you looked at him, seeing his gaze entirely focused on your children. He almost looked like he wanted to ask something but like he was too scared to say anything. You took a shot in the dark as to what that might have been. 

“Go on, my love, hold her,” you said, holding Eliana out towards Marc. 

He stared at her. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. His gaze lifted to look at you, his head giving a small shake. 

“She deserves to know all of her fathers. My love, I wouldn’t ask you to hold her if I thought you would drop her or scare her or hurt her in any way. You’re one of her fathers. You deserve to hold your baby.”

Marc looked back at Eliana. He glanced at Randall, nestled in the crook of your other arm. Eliana cooed at him, wiggling in her cocoon of a blanket as if she was trying to reach out for him, practically crying out, hold me! hold me, please!

“I trust you.”

Slowly, Marc extended his arms, one hand going behind Eliana’s head, supporting her as she nestled in his arms. “She’s so tiny,” he breathed out. “She looks like she could be broken so easily.”

“Not so easily. Babies are resilient, you know,” you said. “This is gonna be hard, Marc. I can’t lie to you about that. But we can get through. That’s what matters. That we don’t give up, that we try to do what’s best for our kids. Sometimes, they might love us for it. Others, they might hate us for it. But let them grow up knowing that we all tried.”

Marc sniffed. He leaned down, brushing his nose against the top of Eliana’s head as he kissed her forehead. “I’m gonna protect you. I’m gonna keep you safe,” he whispered. He looked back to you, his eyes glassy. “I’m gonna make sure no one hurts our family.”

You watched as Randall doddled around the ballroom, his chubby little hand clutching Layla’s fingers. Of everyone in attendance, he was probably the most comfortably dressed. Rather than forcing him into a tuxedo and making him uncomfortable all night, you had purchased one of those t-shirts that has a tuxedo design printed on. Paired with some comfy shorts, he was practically wearing pajamas. Eliana was similarly comfortable, wearing a pink t-shirt and shorts. Unlike her brother, though, she had clung to her daddies all night long. 

“Are you gonna let me dance with daddy?” you asked, tickling under Eliana’s chin as the band began a new song.

She shook her head, giggling. 

“Hm…Well, how about we both dance with you?” you asked. 

Her little face lit up. She let out a noise that almost sounded like she said “yess!!”

Steven let out a laugh, adjusting Eliana so he had a better grip on her before leading you and her onto the dance floor. You placed one hand on Steven’s shoulder, wrapping your other arm around Eliana. Steven put one hand on your waist. Together, the two of you swayed to the music.

“Me!”

You looked down, seeing Randall doddling up to you as quickly as he could manage. Layla let out a laugh, scooping him up and helping him get the rest of the way to you. You let go of Steven, balancing your baby boy in your arms, before continuing to sway.

“How could I ever forget my boy?” you asked, kissing his cheeks. “Gotta have both my babies, don’t I?”

It was your first birthday ball since…Well, the horrible one that sent your entire life as you once knew it spiraling. You had chosen to not hold the ball last year when you revived the birthday parade tradition. It was one thing to sit in a carriage and smile and wave for a few hours. It was an entirely different thing to stand in the ballroom for a couple of hours, even if you did forgo the heels. Now, though, as your sweet babies were nearly a year old, it felt right to bring it back. A new family, a better tradition. 

“What about this boy? I think you forgot his kiss this morning.”

You lifted your gaze to look at Marc, who was now fronting. You smiled and leaned in, careful to not bump Randall’s head against Eliana’s, and gave him a gentle kiss. “That better, my love?”

“Hmm, it’ll have to hold me over for now.” He smiled slightly. “Happy birthday, dove.”

The song came to an end and Layla stepped forward, Yelena by her side, offering to watch the kiddos so you and Marc could have a moment to yourselves. You both agreed, passing the toddlers to them, before slipping your hand in Marc’s and leading him out to the balcony. 

“As nervous as I was for all of this,” Marc said, looking up at the stars, “I wouldn’t trade it for the world.”

You smiled at him, leaning your head against his shoulder. “Me neither. Everything is more amazing than I ever could have imagined.”

You felt a shift in Marc’s body language and, when you lifted your head, you realized that Jake was now fronting. “I can think of something that would make this even more amazing.”

A brow raised. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“Adding another member to the family.”

You smiled. “You know, I think that would be an amazing birthday present.”

It was almost strange, feeling so happy. So content. For so many years, you had been on edge. You were scared and anxious and hated the way your life was headed. There was a constant weight on your shoulder. But ever since you met your husbands, that weight was slowly being lifted off of you until now, when you felt as light as a feather. You could breathe. You weren’t afraid anymore. Ever since you met your husbands, you felt free to live, to love, to be authentically you. Sure, you still had to paint on a smile for public engagements (after all, anyone who spent their days being attacked by flash photography could much rather glare than smile), but otherwise? You didn’t have to pretend anymore. 

You once thought that, if you had a choice, you would be anything but a royal. You thought that it wasn’t what you wanted. You thought it ripped your freedom from you. You thought you would never be able to do anything right. Now, you knew that this was the life you always wanted. Being a royal had its issues, to be sure. But when you looked at your life that you had built with Marc, Steven, and Jake by your side…You wouldn’t trade it for anything. 

“I love you, dove. We all do.”

“And I love you all, too, my loves. Forever and ever.”

And all was well for now and forevermore. 

FIN.

#do not chastise the dove: a royal moon knight au #steven grant imagine #steven grant x reader #steven grant x fem!reader #steven grant x female reader #marc spector imagine #marc spector x reader #marc spector x fem!reader #marc spector x female reader #jake lockley imagine #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley x fem!reader #jake lockley x female reader #starrywrites #starryevermore

[bit-dodgy-innit]

The Shape of You

Summary: Steven loves your boobs. A story of his devotion to them pre, during, and post-pregnancy as you welcome your first child together.

Pairing: Steven x afab!Reader, with some minor Marc x afab!Reader and Jake x afab!Reader. Reader is married to the system and all three alters are no longer working for Khonshu 

Rating: Tré Explicit, Minors DNI!

Word Count: 9.4k (yes, you read that correctly 😳)

TW/CW: Heavy breast and nipple play, lactation kink, some awkwardness and embarrassment around Steven and Reader discovering they share a lactation kink, pregnant sex, breeding kink, p in v sex, fingering, dirty talk, slight somnophilia, daddy!Steven (in both senses of the term 😜), breastfeeding and angst about struggling to breastfeed, postpartum hormones, sundress!kink (that’s a thing, right?), public teasing, a smidge of masturbation, public bathroom sex…so exhibitionism? (no one hears or catches them), more fluff than I’ve ever written iN MY LIFE, titty-fucking, come-eating…writing these always make me feel like a dirty ho 😈

A/N: Sorry friends, the OP got flagged...so let’s try this again with a slightly less steamy gif! 

First time writing in second person so please, like Adele, go eaaaaasy on me :) Also I do not have DID, so please forgive and Feel free to educate me if I didn’t nail any dynamics. One more thing - Jake speaks Spanish a bit in this translations will be below

Marc, Steven, and Jake may’ve shared a body, but each alter had a different part of yours that was their favorite. Jake was an ass man, plain and simple. He loved smacking it, biting it, grinding himself between your cheeks…the list could go on. Marc loved your mouth. He never wasted an opportunity for you to suck him off, to feed you every last drop of his cum, to spit into its warm, wet cavern. 

Steven, on the other hand, was damn-near obsessed with your breasts. If it were up to him, his hands would never leave your chest. He’d been shy at first, bashful, citing his relative inexperience compared to the other alters. But the endearingly awkward bumbling phase of your relationship soon developed into its current one: The Steven-Can’t-Stop-Won’t-Stop-Playing-With-Your-Tits Phase.

You remember the first time he undressed you and got to see your boobs in all their naked glory. The expression on his face was so reverent it was almost comical. He looked at you as if you’d taken him straight to the Field of Reeds. 

“Bloody hell,” he’d whispered. 

You asked him if he was alright, to which he nodded frantically and asked, “Can I…can I touch?” 

“Of course baby,” you cooed. 

From there it was off to the races. Steven cupped your breasts, damn near whimpering when he felt the weight of them in your hands, and gave you a gentle squeeze. You mewled, and his gaze snapped up to meet yours. 

“That was a good sound, I promise,” you assured him. “Please, Steven, more.” 

He was all too glad to oblige. He massaged each mound in his hand and swiped each thumb over your nipple, delighting when you shuddered at his ministrations. It emboldened him to experiment further. Steven dropped a kiss between your breasts on your sternum, then tilted his head to mouth at one of them. You urged him on with a breathy cry, and Steven took the signal to suck on your nipple. 

Whereas most past lovers of yours had treated your tits as a fun but brief pitstop on the way to your pussy, Steven lavished ample delicious attention on them. And he seemed to enjoy it just as much as you did, if the way he was frantically humping the mattress for relief was any indication. 

Later, after he’d fingered you to orgasm with a nipple in his mouth and you’d rode him like your life depended on it, Steven murmured to you, “Blimey babe, I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of your tits.” 

***

So you shouldn’t have been surprised when you got pregnant that Steven became even more fascinated with your breasts. They kept growing, almost vulgarly large, and you’d caught your husband flat-out staring at them many a time . 

“My eyes are up here, honey,” you’d tease him. 

Steven snapped out of it and apologized, “Sorry, love.” 

“Honestly, I don’t blame you,” you conceded, looking down at your chest, using the insides of your arms to push your breasts together. “Even I can't believe how big they’ve gotten. The baby will be well-fed I guess.” 

Steven watched you entranced, his mouth ajar, a bulge in his pants growing. “Uh huh.” 

Sex was starting to get tricky as you entered your third trimester, but that didn’t stop Steven from fucking you on your side shortly after your little display. He lay behind you on the bed as he drove his painfully hard dick into your cunt, both of his hands on your tits. You rubbed your clit furiously as he alternated between squeezing them and tugging on your taut peaks. 

“Ohhhh, Steven, yesssss,” you moaned. 

“Are you close darling?” his lips were centimeters from your ear. You could feel his warm breath on its shell. 

“Mmmhmmm,” you whined. 

Steven picked up the pace and force of his hips. “Come then love, come for me. Gonna come too, your big titties get me so hard, you feel it, don’t you? So good at taking my cock and growing our baby inside you. Fuck love, yeah.” 

That surprised you. Dirty talk was usually a Marc or Jake thing, but you definitely weren’t going to stop Steven as his filthy words hurdled you toward your climax. 

“Your boobs are so big, gods, I wonder if they’ll get any bigger? Want ‘em to,” Steven was babbling, his thrusts lost their rhythm. “They’ll spill out of your shirt. Gonna have so much milk–” 

You interrupted him with a strangled shriek as your release consumed you. Your pussy spasmed delectably around your lover’s cock, compounded by Steven’s dick pulsing inside of you as he reached his peak. You were so lost in the euphoria, the relief of your orgasm, that you didn’t notice the few drops of fluid that had dribbled out of your left nipple. 

It wasn’t until Steven withdrew his spent cock from you and rolled over to snuggle into his side that you noticed him examining his wet fingertips. 

“What’s that?”

Steven tensed. “It’s…um, not sure how to put this…I think you leaked a little.” 

“Obviously,” you giggled, “The sheets are soaked.” 

His cheeks burned. “Not from there, love.” 

Mortified, your hands flew to your engorged breasts. You could feel it too. “Oh my god.”

“Don’t worry darling, I’m sure it’s normal,” Steven tried to assuage you. 

You didn’t answer him, instead, you maneuvered your very pregnant self up and waddled towards the bathroom. 

He followed you, not needing to exert much effort to stop you. He captured your hands in his and brought them to his lips. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. You’re a bloody miracle, growing our baby inside of you.” 

Steven’s tender words and touch allowed you to deflate some, yet you withdrew your hands from his grasp. “Thank you honey, it’s just…a lot to reckon with. I need a moment to catch my breath in the bathroom. Alone.” 

“Alright love, take your time and I’ll put the kettle on.” 

You kissed him softly, languidly, trying to pour all the love you couldn’t put into words into the liplock. 

But in the privacy of the bathroom, you crumpled. You were embarrassed. You were ashamed. Because why on earth did it feel so good to have liquid trickle out of your boobs and to come at the thought of how much milk they contained? 

Nevertheless, you splashed water on your face and composed yourself, joining Steven on the couch for a cup of tea and an episode of the latest documentary series you were watching together. 

What didn’t you know though, was later that night, long after you went to sleep and Steven had stayed up working on next semester’s syllabus for the course he now taught at UCL, your breasts had leaked again. 

Steven had noticed when he’d called it a night and was situating himself next to you in bed. The t-shirt you wore one to bed, one of the only things that still fit you, and now had twin dark spots staining the loose cotton.  

He didn’t know what to do. Steven didn’t want to wake you, he knew how the discovery would likely upset you again, nor did he want you to awaken and to have soaked through your shirt. He cursed his cock, which had twitched at the previous thought. He tried to ignore the arousal beginning to surge through him, but your tits made his blood rush south. 

The best course of action, Steven (and his dick) had decided, was to take care of it for you. He fetched a wet cloth from the bathroom, then pulled the already stretched out v-neckline of the shirt to reveal one of your tits. Steven gently cleaned the peak of your breast, the warm, damp feel of the cloth making you shudder in your sleep, though not enough to wake you. He switched to the other one, and found a small, perfect pearl of milk right on the tip of your nipple.

Steven didn’t know what possessed him - he certainly couldn’t blame this on his alters - but he swooped down and lapped up the milk with his tongue instead of the cloth. The drop was small, which meant Steven couldn’t taste much when he licked your nipple. So he sealed his lips around the bud in hope of getting a taste of the cloudy milk. Before he could, you rolled from your back onto your side. 

Your husband knew he’d have to call it a night, but that didn’t stop him from shuffling to the bathroom and rubbing one out, imagining what you’d taste like. 

*** 

Any thoughts of sex flew out the window when Nyla was born. All of your husbands had been co-conscious for the birth, the four of you equally in awe of what your love had created.

You loved your squirmy, wrinkly little girl more than you could comprehend, but the first weeks after bringing her home were rough. Nyla was a few weeks early, so your parents hadn't made it to London yet. There was no sleep. There were a lot of attempts at sleep training, but not a lot of sleep actually happening between you, your husband, and your daughter. 

Furthermore, Nyla had problems latching when you fed her. You tried to stay calm, telling yourself that plenty of women went through this with their babies, but you couldn’t help but feel like you’d already failed as a mom. Plus, the wildly fluctuating hormones didn’t exactly help you keep your cool either. 

Steven, however, was a godsend. He never hesitated when he heard Nyla fussing over the baby monitor, he always had a backup bottle ready to go, he even sang silly songs to your daughter while he changed her. Marc and Jake adored Nyla too, yet you’d noticed that Steven had been fronting the most as of late. 

You suspected it wasn’t that they didn’t care for the baby, more that they didn’t trust themselves around a being so small and fragile. The thought broke your heart. You wanted to talk to them more about it…when you had the energy. Which, currently, you guessed would be somewhere around Nyla’s 18th birthday? 

Tonight, you’d actually had gotten Nyla to go down at 8:30. You and Steven silently rejoiced while getting ready for bed as quickly as humanly possible. The two of you had already learned to sleep when the baby slept.  

It felt as if you’d only laid your head on a pillow for a second when you’d heard Nyla crying through the monitor. 

Steven sprung up before you could. “I’ve got it. Keep sleeping.” 

You didn’t need to be told twice. You were just starting to doze off again when Steven re-emerged with a wriggling, still upset Nyla. 

“She must be hungry,” he explained apologetically. “Her diaper wasn’t wet and I tried rocking her for a little.” 

You nodded in surrender, reaching under your shirt to unclasp a cup of your nursing bra, then extended your arms for Nyla. 

Steven carefully placed her in your hold, then announced “I’ll get you a glass of water, yeah?”

“I’m not thirsty right now,” you told him as you tried to get Nyla to latch. Steven was already retreating from the bed. 

“Just in case,” he called from the kitchen. 

You let it go, focusing more on Nyla than the observation you’d made that as doting as Steven had been, he was rarely present for when you breastfed. It could’ve been because your sweet husband didn’t want to add any eyes and pressure given your difficulties with it, but you couldn’t help the sneaking suspicion it made him uncomfortable. 

Nyla wasn’t latching. Again. When Steven returned, he only needed to take one look at your face to see what the problem was. 

“I’ll get a bottle.” 

Your face crumpled, unable to hold back the tears, which of course, caused Nyla to cry as well. 

Steven rushed back in, and scooped your daughter out of your arms. 

“There there, little dove, you’re alright,” he shushed Nyla, expertly feeding her the bottle. 

“You’re better at nursing her than I am,” you lamented. 

“That’s not true, you fed her perfectly for nearly nine months” Steven objected. “We’ll call the specialist Doctor Slater recommended first thing tomorrow.” 

You nodded, wiping your eyes. “Sorry, it’s all these goddamn hormones.” 

“Don’t apologize,” he told you, moving to burp Nyla. “You did the hard bit, now let us all help out how we can.” 

“Alright,” you sniffled. 

Steven rose to take Nyla back to her bassinet, kissing you the top of your head on his route. 

You wanted to settle down, you did. You wanted nothing more than to surrender to blissful slumber but a fresh wave of tears came when your breasts began to ache. 

Steven came back and his face fell. “What is it, love?”

“They hurt,” you bemoaned. “They’re too full. It feels like my body’s punishing me for not feeding Nyla.”

“Oh darling,” Steven scrambled for his phone on his nightstand. “There’s gotta be a fix for it, yeah? I’m going to see what Google says.” 

You passed Steven his reading glasses so he could see, privately reveling in how cute he was as he studied his phone screen so intently. It helped distract you from the soreness in your chest. 

“Well, it says the best thing to do is to ‘manually express’ any excess fluid,” Steven read. 

“So milk me? Like a cow?” you spat. 

Steven put his phone down so he could give you his undivided attention. “Hey, hey, I won’t have you talking about yourself like that. Especially since I have Nyla beat at the moment for being the biggest fan of your tits.” 

You cracked a smile. Steven crawled closer to you on the bed, “I know tonight’s been a bit full on, but truly babe, I’d love nothing more than to make you feel better.” 

“Oh yeah?” you goaded, watching Steven’s gaze zero in on your still exposed breast. 

“Uh huh,” he grunted, then looked up at you. “To be honest…you remember that night a few months ago when you first–”

The night you first leaked.  “Yeah.”

“Well, I’ve erm, I’ve been curious since then about…about your…tasting you.”

“Oh,” you gasped. That explained his skittishness when you fed Nyla. Steven left because it made him horny. Well, that turned you on rather quickly. Postpartum hormones were a trip. 

Steven gently cupped your engorged breasts, then groaned. “Will you let me try?”

“Oh-okay.” You batted his hands away so could you strip off your very unsexy sleep shirt and shed your bra. 

While you were self-conscious about how the milk stretched the skin of your breasts and puffed out your nipples, Steven looked at them like a kid on Christmas morning. 

He spared one more glance at your face, “Just tell me if it’s too much or anything.”

You consented with a nod and then Steven lowered his mouth to your left nipple. He started by tracing his tongue around your areola, warming you up to his touch, then enclosed his mouth around it. You mewled as he began to suck on your teat, the feeling of liquid being pulled out of you foreign and therefore thrilling in this context. Your eyelids fluttered shut, the sensation of Steven steadily sucking at you was overwhelming. 

Soon the novelty and lingering sheepishness melted into sheer relief as Steven suckled at your tit. You blinked your eyes open, nearly needing to close them again at the sight of your husband resolutely drinking from you. It sent another shiver of arousal down your spine. 

“Feels so good sweetie,” you encouraged him. “Are you–ah! How are you doing?”

In lieu of answering, Steven guided one of your hands to his crotch where you could feel his pulsing length. He was enjoying this too. Good. You gave him a squeeze, which incited a groan that you felt against the oversensitive skin of your weeping nipple. 

Steven used his free hand to pluck at your right peak, gently coaxing milk out with his fingers. You inhaled sharply at the feeling of both your heavy breasts being drained. Keeping your hand molded around your husband’s crotch, you buried the other in the dark curls at the back of his head. 

Steven’s enthusiasm gave you the confidence to ask, “Do you like how it tastes?”

His mouth still around you, he nodded. At last, he pulled off and mumbled, “Why weren’t we doing this sooner?”

A winded chuckle escaped you as Steven massaged your chest. “Might have had something to do with the newborn.” 

“Clearly there’s enough to go around,” he remarked before he turned your attention to your other breast, latching on to your already leaking nipple and going to town once again. 

You stuttered out a breathy shriek, instantly worried that it’d wake Nyla. Luck was on your side however, the monitor remained silent. You resumed groping Steven’s dick through his pajama pants, letting the fabric catch on the wet stain his cockhead had created. 

Steven moaned at the stimulation and switched to flicking his tongue over your nipples, causing you to tamp down on another yell. 

“Ohhhh fuck,” he rapsed, pulling off your breast, “I’m gonna come.” 

Steven began humping your hand frantically while he gathered both your tits in his hands and swiftly alternated licking at each nipples. You mewled at the feather-light shifting touch on your puffy peaks, now hardened into points for a good while now. 

“Yeah, that’s it, come baby,” you urged him. 

No sooner had the words left your mouth did Steven’s cock spurt, soaking his sleepwear and your hand with his seed with a whimper. His head was thrown back, his eyes screwed shut in ecstasy, and it was in moments like these you understood how your husband and his alters could’ve been avatars for an Egyptian god, because Steven looked absolutely divine. 

Once he came down from high, you withdrew your hand, expecting Steven to walk bow-legged to the bathroom and clean himself up. Instead, he shucked off his pants, and went right back to lapping at your breasts, mopping up the milk that had spilled from you as he came. 

“Sweetie,” you panted, “you don’t need to–”

“You haven’t come yet,” he whispered from the valley of your tits. He nuzzled the two mounds briefly then reclaimed a nipple between his lips and resumed his feverish suckling. 

“Nnnnngh, Steven,” came your delirious reply. 

He pulled off for a split-second to ask, “Can I touch you?” 

You were still a few weeks out from being able to have penetrative sex again, but you gave Steven the go ahead to slither his hand down to your clit. 

Another cry loud enough to wake Nyla ripped from you when his fingers meet your neglected bundle of nerves. You were wet enough to flood the Thames, and Steven wasted no time stroking you exactly how you liked it. Fuck, if Steven sucking on your peaks and playing with your tits felt good, him doing that and rubbing your clit was rapturous. 

You began moaning, a tell-tale whine in the back of your throat that meant you were close. Steven switched teats and redoubled his efforts – your orgasm building to its zenith...then snapping and drowning you in pleasure. One last sob escaped you as your release spread through your body, Steven never detaching himself from your breast until you gently pushed him away from oversensitivity. 

You both laid with your backs flat on the bed, staring up at the ceiling in sexed out wonder. 

Steven spoke first. “No need to call the lactation specialist, I reckon.”

“Steven!” You exclaimed in a whisper, playfully slapping his arm. 

“That fixed it, didn’t it?” he pointed out. “Your tits feel better?” 

“Well yeah,” you admitted, “but I still want to breastfeed our daughter. You read all the books and journals along with me, I don’t want to deprive her of its benefits.” 

Steven hummed in defeated agreement. You rolled over on your side to caress his face and assure him, “That doesn’t mean you can’t still get your fill.” 

Your husband’s face split into a wide smile and he pulled you into a dirty, open-mouthed kiss. It allowed you to taste traces of yourself and your milk’s mild, nutty flavor as you plundered his mouth with your tongue.

Steven cradled you to him, tucking you into his side and the pair of you drifted into the best night’s sleep you’d both gotten since Nyla was born. 

When you awoke the next morning, your husband was spooned against your back. 

“Mmm, we’re naked,” Marc murmured. 

You turned to face him and with a grin, “Fancy seeing you here.” You planted a kiss on his lips. “Hi, honey.” 

“Hi, mama,” Marc shifted and groaned, “Any reason why I feel weirdly full this morning?”

You blushed. “Well, Nyla isn’t latching still–”

“Still?”

“Still,” you confirmed, “so Steven relieved some of the…buildup I was feeling. With his mouth.” 

Marc grumbled, “Just when I thought he couldn't be more fixated on your tits.”

Nyla made her presence known on the monitor before you could say anything else. Marc sat up, but you put a hand on his bare pecs. “I’ll get her. You start on breakfast please?”

He acquiesced with a kiss to your temple. 

Marc was in the midst of scrambling eggs and frying sausages when you brought Nyla into the kitchen, “Look who’s changed and dressed and happy to see Daddy!”

Marc beamed, rinsing his hands quickly before you passed her to him. “Hey little girl, I’ve missed you.” 

You took over at the stove as Marc walked his daughter over to the couch. He sat down and rested Nyla’s back on the thick, sturdy expanse of the tops of his thighs. 

“Now, Miss Nyla Spector, I hear that you’re not letting Mommy feed you,” he began with mock seriousness. “Don’t you know her huge boobs are a gift from Tawaret herself?” 

“Marc!!” 

***

Things slowly improved after you began seeing Pippa, the lactation specialist your obstetrician had recommended. Nyla now latched the majority of the time and you learned how to keep calm when she didn’t.

Your parents arrived in London too, which also made the care of your newborn a lot more manageable. They did diaper runs whenever you needed, helped with cooking so you and your husband stayed fed, and would watch Nyla so you each could take showers longer than 30 seconds, even nap. 

The only drawback was it made you and Steven having what you’d codenamed “Parental Time” a lot trickier. They’d gotten an AirBnb flat around the corner from yours, and your mom especially had a pesky penchant for dropping in unannounced, resulting in a few very close calls of her catching Steven’s head under your shirt. 

So you and Steven developed a new routine. On the days he was fronting, after your parents went back to their rented flat for the night, you’d feed Nyla one last time, put her down and then Steven would get his turn at your tits. 

To be honest, it happened a lot when Marc and Jake had fronted that day too. Your parents knew about your husband’s DID and had met each alter, but the men tried not to switch in front of them. They figured their in-laws being so accepting of their daughter being married to three men was already enough of an ask that they didn’t want to alienate your parents further. Therefore, if Jake was fronting when they came over in the morning, he’d have possession of the body for the rest of the day, or at least until your parents left. 

This was a blessing in disguise you found, since it evened out the time each alter spent with their daughter. All that being said, you didn’t exactly protest when Steven would force a switch late at night to get his mouth on your breasts when you were feeling particularly swollen.

“What is it, cariño?” Jake asked when you padded over to the bed after you tucked Nyla in for the night.

“It’s my boobs,” you told him, trying to massage the ache out of them. “Nyla didn’t eat a ton today so they’re feeling extra hea–”

Jake’s quizzical expression changed into Steven’s unmistakably hungry gaze. “Then come right over here love,” he beckoned you over to the mattress. “And let Daddy help you.” 

His naughty words made you whimper and obey him at once. You sat on his lap, where you could already feel his erection growing against your dampening core, and lifted your arms so Steven could disrobe you.

“Missed these titties,” he growled, motorboating his prominent nose in between them. 

“They missed you,” you sighed back as he wrapped his lips around a nipple and began suckling. 

And what are we, chop liver? A disgruntled Marc asked from their bedroom window.

Jake chimed in from the standing mirror. It was my day to front, pendejo.

I’m the only one who wants to do this, Steven countered in his head since his mouth was full of milk, See how much she enjoys it? 

As if to prove his point, you ground down on Steven’s stiff length and squealed at the combination of his thick, hard cock against your pussy and the steady tug of your milk flowing into his wanting mouth. 

“Wanna ride you,” you told Steven. “Need that big dick inside me.” 

Steven groaned and his hips bucked against you. “You sure you’re feeling up to it, babe?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed feverishly. “Doctor Slater said it was okay.” 

Your husband didn’t need to be told twice. He all but ripped off both of your clothes and flipped you back on the bed to prepare you. He slowly fed one, then two fingers into your pussy while he lapped at your dripping tits. After Steven worked you through your first orgasm, you two resumed your position where you sat on top of him. 

The two of you went easier than you normally would. As much as you wanted to bounce on Steven’s cock until the sun came up, your body was still on the mend, and your lovemaking consisted much more of your husband grinding into you, finding the perfect angle to rub his pubic bone on your clit while you clenched around him. And of course, his hands and mouth lavished non-stop attention on your puffed out nipples. 

While Marc had long retreated to the depths of the headspace, little did you or Steven know that Jake had stayed to watch. It shouldn’t have been as hot as it was to watch Steven drink from you, nor should’ve the way you grasped your breasts to squirt some milk on his alter’s tongue when you came, but Jake was intrigued. 

***

Just before Nyla turned three months, your parents had convinced you to leave Nyla and go out for lunch with your husband, just the two of you. 

You’d agreed at first, positively exhilarated by the thought of an hour or two without thinking about diapers, feeding, and sleep schedules, but now that the afternoon of your lunch date with Steven had arrived, you couldn’t conceive of leaving your daughter, even if it was for a few hours and she’d be with her grandparents. 

“She’ll be fine,” your mother insisted. “Nyla-girl knows us now, and besides, didn’t Steven say you’d go to the bistro on the corner? You’ll be five minutes away tops.”

“But I’ve never left her before,” you protested as you tried to feed her. Nyla wasn’t latching, now a rarity rather than the norm. You used it as evidence to postpone your lunch. “See!”

Your mother took her from you, “She’s only doing that because she can sense you’re stressed. Sweetheart, trust me, it’ll be good for you and Marc–”

“It’s Steven today,” you corrected her. 

“Right, Steven. It’ll be good for you two to spend some time as just husband and wife. Your marriage is just as important as this little one here.” 

“But mom–”

“Now finish getting ready,” she wasn’t taking any buts. “Wear something nice.”

As old-fashioned and misogynistic as the advice seemed, it had been a long time since you’d worn something remotely appealing. It felt good to feel like a human again too. Your styled your hair and applied some makeup too, giggling to yourself that Steven probably wouldn’t even recognize you now that you’d put some effort into your appearance. 

You strutted out of the bathroom in a little sundress and wedge sandals, “I’m ready!” 

Your dad appeared, “Shhh Nyla’s napping.” 

“Sorry,” you lowered your voice. “Where’s Steven?”

“He went ahead to grab you two a table,” he explained. Nyla began to fuss faintly over the baby monitor by the couch, “I’d make a run for it now if I were you.” 

Though it felt like there was a physical tether pulling you to where your daughter was fidgeting in her crib, your parents were only here for a few more days. You and Steven had to make the most of it. So you slipped out of the flat as silently as you could. 

You felt strangely unencumbered as you walked the thousand or so meters to your favorite little neighborhood spot. The few times you and your husband had left the house, it was almost always with Nyla, which meant you’d brought basically the entire contents of the flat with you. At the very least a diaper bag filled to the brim. With only a small purse for your phone, wallet, and lipstick, you couldn’t help but feel like you were forgetting something. 

Any worries you had evaporated when you rounded the corner and caught sight of Steven sitting outside on the bistro’s patio. He’d cleaned up too - his hair brushed and parted to the side like he favored, clean-shaven, and same as you, he’d traded sweats for a pair of trousers and a patterned, short-sleeved button down. 

“Hi, handsome,” you greeted him coquettishly as you sauntered over to him. “Is this seat taken?”

“You’re a bloody menace, you know that?” he fumed.

You played dumb, “What do you mean?” 

You stretched your arms up and over the back of the chair, further emphasizing your cleavage in your sundress. 

The dress was from your pre-pregnancy days. Beyond its fit flattering your post-baby body, you’d chosen to wear it since it also provided solid support in the bust, which meant for once you didn’t need one of your frumpy nursing bras. It was a tight fit however, clinging to your breasts and resting just above where the smooth, creamy skin of your breasts darkened into your nipples. You wore it to drive Steven wild, and it seemed to be achieving your desired effect rather nicely. 

“You think this is funny, don’t you?” 

“No,” You continued to play coy. “I thought I’d dress up for the first date with my husband after our daughter was born. Feels like a significant moment for us as parents.”

“You want me to say it.”

You leaned over the table to prop your ribcage on your forearms, giving Steven a new, even better view down your dress. “Say what, my love?” 

Steven whimpered, straight up whimpered, a sound you’ve never heard him make outside of the privacy of your bedroom. 

You were on the verge of showing him a bit of mercy when your server appeared. “Mr. and Mrs. Grant, nice to see you! How’s the new baby?” 

“She’s good, thanks” you grinned at them. 

“Lovely. Would you two like something to drink?”

“Yeah, we’re both pretty thirsty,” you replied, kicking Steven’s ankle under the table to tear his eyes off your bosom. “Steven, what would you like?” 

“Uhh, tea, please.” 

“‘Course,” the server noted. You and Steven were regulars so he knew your husband’s order. “With cream and sugar, right?”

“Yeah,” he grunted. It took another kick to his angle to elicit a proper response from Steven, “Yes, please. Thank you.”

“And for the Mrs.?”

“Just water please, and one for him too. Thanks Alex,” you told them with a smile. Once they departed from the table, you turned your focus back to Steven. “Wow, you really like my tits in this dress.”

Steven glared at you. 

“Sorry, I didn’t think it’d make you this frustrated,” you apologized. “I thought we could use a break from the baby talk of it all, concentrate on the two of us, remind you of the person who made you and the other boys want to have Nyla in the first place.” 

He took your hand. “You look bloody gorgeous, and yes those were quite instrumental in creating Nyla if I recall correctly.” 

“I can run back home and get a sweater,” you offered, “if they’re too distracting.”

Steven squeezed your hand and rumbled, “Don’t you dare.”

“Then you’ll behave yourself?”

Steven sent you a mischievous smirk and a shrug. 

And for the majority for the meal, he did. While it was impossible for your conversation not to include Nyla, you two did manage to discuss other topics. Steven got your thoughts on the changes he was thinking of making to his course at UCL for the fall semester, you mentioned a new restaurant you wanted to try, and the both of you brainstormed baby-friendly places to spend Steven’s fall holiday if Marc and Jake’s schedules also allowed. 

Throughout the meal however, you noticed Steven barely touched his tea. That was odd for him, since he downed no less than six cups a day. 

“Hon, are you alright?” You inquired after Alex cleared your plates and settled the bill. 

“Never better, why?” 

“You had like two sips of your tea,” you noted, “What, did they change their stock?”

“No,” Steven replied without elaborating. 

“Then what is it? “

“It’s the creamer,” he confessed with a suggestive look in his eye. “I’ve developed a taste for something a little sweeter.” 

You felt yourself flush. “Steven,” you warned him. 

“Come on, babe,” he pleaded, “you can’t wear that dress and expect me to wait until tonight.” 

He had a point. You’d spent all of lunch teasing him. “But where would we go?” 

“Bathroom.” 

“Together?” 

“You go first, I’ll follow you and knock three times so you know it’s me” he instructed. “Then if anyone asks, I’ll say you’re having ‘a new mother moment’.”

“What the hell is ‘a new mother moment’?”

“Dunno, but no one will ask anything more if I tell them that.” 

“We can’t get caught, I really like this place, Steven,” you cautioned, “I don’t want Alex and the staff here thinking we’re perverts.”

“I don’t think anyone will blame me after seeing you parade around in this little dress all afternoon,” Steven pointed out. “Besides, that’s up to you darling, as my mouth will be occupied.” 

You cursed the hot shiver that slid down your spine at his words. You rose from the table. “Five minutes.” 

Steven nodded, a tad too emphatically. 

“Be cool!” you whisper-yelled before disappearing inside the cafe. 

Thankfully it was a small bistro, so they had only one bathroom, so Steven couldn’t accidentally get the wrong door, plus the lunch rush was over, which reduced your chances of being interrupted. 

You locked the door behind you, and found yourself giddily pacing the length of the small loo. After checking your reflection in the mirror, you planned how you wanted Steven to find you. 

You decided to keep your chest covered for now and let your husband ‘unwrap his prize’ so to speak, so you opted to step out of your knickers and tuck them into your purse. Next, you hiked up the skirt of your dress and began touching yourself. Fuck, you were wet. Maybe this little rendezvous wasn’t only for Steven’s benefit. 

Three raps on the door sounded and you lunged to open it as quickly as possible and resume the lascivious tableau you’d created for Steven to discover you in. You managed to swing it, sinking down on the closed toilet seat and fondling your pussy while Steven slipped in and locked the door behind him. 

“Shit,” Steven exhaled at the sight of you. 

“You going to stand there all day and make me get myself off?” you challenged him with a playful lift of your brows. 

Your husband pounced on you, caging you into his grasp and then drawing you into his lap, where you could feel his already throbbing erection. He yanked down the straps of your dress as once, your tits tumbling into view, already dribbling from your lust. He dove right into your cleavage, his tongue tracing the rivulets of milk that had trickled down your skin. 

Meanwhile, you made quick work of his belt and fly, eagerly fishing Steven’s length out of his boxer-briefs and giving him a few tugs. You took a moment when you lined yourself up to sink down on his cock, slipping his head back and forth to feel your slick. 

“Were you not wearing knickers this entire time?” Steven asked before latching onto a nipple. 

“Maybe, maybe not,” you hedged, figuring that the ambiguity would only rile him up more. 

He groaned deeply around your tit when you sank down on him, while you bit your lip to muffle your own moan. You two worked in tandem to draw your bodies together, the force of your coupling causing Steven to have to pull off of your breast. That didn’t stop him from drinking from you however, he simply grabbed both of your tits and contracted his hands to spray your nectar into his mouth. 

It was Steven’s new favorite thing. He liked to switch, drinking a splash from each nipple, and you were a fan of this technique too, since it meant he could talk dirty to you while he consumed you. 

“Taste so good,” he mumbled after swallowing a squirt. “Ugh, wanna milk these jugs into a glass so I can have you anytime.”

You dug your fingers deeper into the meat of Steven’s shoulders and keened. This was some of his naughtiest stuff yet. Getting off on the impropriety of your situation seemed to be doing the trick for both of you today. 

“So bad daddy,” you gave it right back to him. “Looking at my titties all while I’m trying to eat, thinking about eating me.” 

“Don’t play innocent,” he retorted. “Stuffing your big boobs into this flimsy dress. I know exactly what you were trying to do to me. Is that what you wanted? For me to pound my cock into you while I suckle at your tits?”

He punctuated his question by doing just that, flicking his tongue over one of your weeping nipples and latched on to coax your milk into his mouth faster. 

“Yesssssss,” you moaned. You added a swivel to your hips for good measure. “Ohhh I wanna come.” 

“Yeah? Then rub that little bud of yours, come all over my cock,” he provoked you. 

You did just as he said, maneuvering your hand around his that were still attached to your boobs and worked frenzied circles over your clit. Your release hit you less than a minute later, your fingers providing the last push over the edge, where the novelty of the location and desperation for each other had brought you there quicker than usual. 

You kept impaling yourself on your husband’s dick. He was close too, you could tell from the little cries he let out around your breasts that took on a borderline forlorn tone, as if Steven didn’t want to come yet, he didn’t quite want your fucking to be over. 

Steven was no match for the heat of your cunt and the sweet creaminess of your teats however. His arms encircled your waist, pulling you even closer to him, and planting his face in between your boobs as his cock gushed inside you. 

A few moments of silence transpired between the pair of you, save for your heavy breathing, then Steven slowly and gently extracted himself from your core. 

“I can’t believe no one interrupted us,” you marveled. 

Steven nodded from where he stood by the sink to wet paper towels to clean you both up. “Lucky, innit?” 

“Thank you honey,” you said softly when we passed you paper towels for your breasts and slit. “We should be getting back.” 

You tried to think of something else to say, but when you and Steven looked at each other, the two of you simply burst into a fit of giggles in disbelief over what you’d just done. 

“You could ask me for anything now and I’d say yes, I reckon,” your husband joked while you two switched spots in the small bathroom. You checked your appearance, smoothed down your hair, and prayed that people wouldn’t be able to see how fucked out you felt. 

“You and the other boys already gave me everything I could ever want,” you turned away from the mirror to gaze straight at Steven. “A beautiful, healthy baby, and a trio of loving fathers to raise her with.”

“Awwww, darling–”

“Jewelry would also be nice,” you swiftly added. You found the idea of a “push present” too transactional, having a baby was both your and your husband’s idea thank you very much, and you knew what you were signing up for.  In fact, you’d fiercely wanted it. But something sparkly had caught your attention recently. “There’s this stunning gem bracelet I saw on the Tiffany website that would go great with my eyes. I’ll send you the link.” 

Steven rose from the toilet seat and crowded in behind you. He sprinkled a few kisses on your neck, then locked eyes with your reflection. “Whatever you want.” 

***

Marc and Jake didn’t protest when Steven mentioned he purchased you the Tiffany bracelet, work had been steady for all three of them, and you had a solid maternity leave package. 

“Besides, think of how much we’ve saved on groceries now that every night Steven eats local for dessert,” Marc quipped. 

Steven had fucked you in full view of the mirror to get back at him for that, using every trick in his book to show how much you enjoyed him enjoying your body. 

Though drinking from your tits didn’t really appeal to Marc (truthfully he had no qualms with it, despite an offhand joke here and there), Jake was different. He hadn’t forgotten the look of elation you wore on your face that time he watched you and Steven fucking while he tasted you. 

His chance came a week after your parents had left. Nyla was soundly settled into her sleep schedule, and things didn’t feel quite as chaotic as they had when you first brought you little bundle of joy home. You two were lying on the couch, watching a trashy reality show after folding a load of laundry while Nyla napped. 

“Ugh, shit,” you swore, seemingly out of nowhere. 

Jake clicked off the TV. “You okay querida?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine, I leaked again,” you took the pads out of your bra. Jake couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. “I’m just pissed because I thought I was done with this.” 

“Lo siento, mami.” 

You rose from the couch. 

“Where are you going?”

“To take a shower,” you told him. “Warm water helps ease the ache.”

Jake caught your hand. “Wait.”

“What?”

“No”, Jake barked at his reflection on the dormant television screen, then furrowed his brow. You recognized it as the look he made when he tried to stave off a switch, “I want to help.” 

“You do?” you asked carefully. “You do know what Steven usually does to relieve the pressure?”

“Si mami,” he reiterated. “I figure if Steven likes it, why wouldn't !?”

“Oh I don’t know, maybe because I’ve seen you eat two burgers in one sitting and Steven’s a vegan?”

Jake waved a hand as if to swat the implication away. “That’s different.”

You weren’t convinced. “How so?”

“Because Steven and I share a taste for you.” 

“Okay,” you watched him cautiously as you sat back down, “We can stop if it’s too weird for you.” 

“Please,” Jake scoffed, climbing over you and pinning you down onto the cushions. “They’re your tetas and they’re still so big. And you know I’m the kinkiest one out of all of us.”

“Bien bien Papi,” you surrendered. “Show me what you got.”

Your husband hastily rid you of your clothes. When his mouth first made contact with your pearly nipple, a hearty groan resonated in his chest. He’d held the warm, heavy weight of your post-baby tits many a time, but this was something entirely different. 

“Mmm, mamacita, su leche es tan dulce,” he switched to the other peak, already getting drunk off your milk, “no wonder Steven didn’t want to share.” 

***

Your family’s fall holiday came together more smoothly than you’d anticipated. Steven’s students were on holiday, Jake took time off from the limo company he owned, and Marc was between consulting jobs. 

You were still on maternity leave, but planned on returning to your job in the new year. This time was precious - it felt like the end of a chapter, the last hurrah, the eve of “what comes next”. 

So you and the boys rented a seaside cottage in Cornwall. Though you were anxious about Nyla and the four-hour car trip, she was a champ. It turned out that Jake was the one you needed to worry about, nearly veering off the road when he caught a glimpse of you feeding Nyla in the backseat. Apparently your daughter wasn’t the only one who’d gotten hungry. 

It was past the busy season, so the little village you were staying in was quiet, exactly what you’d all wanted. You pushed Nyla’s stroller around the sleepy high street, hoping the serene location would ease the blow of what you needed to discuss with Steven. 

“Solid foods.” 

“Yes,” you confirmed, “We’ve waited long enough to start her on them. I don’t want her to fall behind “ 

“So no more breastfeeding,” Steven spoke slowly, deliberately. 

“Yeah.” you tried to soften the blow. “But not right away, it’s a process.” 

Steven looked at you like a kicked puppy, but ultimately he wanted what was best for his daughter. Trying to look on the bright side, he remarked “Well, there’s always the next one.”

You stopped dead in your tracks, storminess flickering behind your eyes. “This one–” you pointed to Nyla, “--needs to be potty-trained and eating solid foods before any of you–” you jabbed your finger at him “--in there can even begin to think about the next one.”

Steven immediately squeaked out a “Yes ma’am.” 

“I freaked out,” you acknowledged. “Sorry.” 

“It’s alright love,” Steven comforted you, affectionately bumping his shoulder with yours. “You have to do the hard bit after all. Feels like it goes without saying, but we don’t want another until you’re ready.” 

“I know,” you exhaled. “It’s been a lot. And as only you could, you turned my struggle with breastfeeding Nyla into a way for us to celebrate being new parents, when it could’ve sent me straight off the deep end. I can’t tell you how much it means…I was so self-conscious about my body after giving birth, and you–Jake and Marc too–but you especially made me feel desirable when I was afraid I never would again.” 

Steven drew you into a misty-eyed kiss. “I will always desire you. If anything, your post-pregnancy self is the hottest version of you so far.” 

You preened from his praise. “You’re a good man, Steven.” 

The week you were spending on the coast also marked your anniversary with Steven (each alter had their own “relationship anniversary” with you, though the four of you shared your wedding date).

As gracious as he’d been earlier, you knew Steven was gutted about you weaning Nyla off the boob, so you intended to do something special for him that night. 

You knew he’d spoil you, and your husband didn’t disappoint. Steven ordered takeaway from one of the nicer restaurants in town, setting up a candlelit dinner in your AirBnb cottage so you two could commemorate the evening without having to leave your daughter with a sitter. The Tiffany earrings that matched your bracelet though were a pleasant surprise though. 

For your gift, you’d encased his favorite photo of him and Nyla in a frame where you also made imprints of her little hands and feet. 

“For your desk at uni,” you’d elucidated when he unwrapped it. 

“Darling,” he whispered in awe. 

Steven’s dinner also included a bottle of very nice wine, which led to you making out like randy teenagers on the couch after your meal. 

“Are you ready for part two of your present?” you queried breathlessly. 

Steven looked up from the spot on your neck he’d been nibbling on. “There’s a part two?”

You assured him with a flirty little nod. “See, there is one more thing I want you to do to me while I still have these.” You grasped your tits and pushed them together with your palms.

Your husband’s eyes widened and his hips jerked underneath you. “What is it?” 

Instead of answering, you climbed off of him and led him to the bedroom. Your gaze kept dropping to the tent Steven’s turgid cock made in the dad-trousers he wore long before Nyla had been born. You found the view just as lewd as it was invigorating. 

Once you hopped back on the bed, you ordered Steven not to move a muscle, and peeled off the rather modest loose-fitting dress you’d worn for dinner to reveal the lingerie you sported underneath. The skimpy set consisted of a mostly sheer bustier that embraced just how obscenely big your boobs remained and a tiny, strappy thong. 

Your husband’s jaw nearly dropped to the floor. “Fucking hell, babe. You look incredible.” 

“I was hoping you’d have that reaction,” your voice was lilting. “Now remember, stay there, and no touching”

“What are you going to do?” he whispered with a mix of crippling arousal and a perhaps a hint of fear. 

You palmed your mounds once again, squeezing them to urge more milk to spew from your teats. Breathy little gasps and sighs stuttered out from your lips as you soaked the thin mesh of your bustier, you wanted to put on a show for him. 

Steven’s hand crept down to his crotch but before it could reach its destination you snapped, “Hey! I said no touching.”

“I thought you meant you,” he whined. 

“Nope,” you quipped, popping the ‘p’. “You’ll get your chance soon.” 

“When?”

“Hmmm,” you glanced down at your chest and rib cage that was now bathed in your own milk. “Think I’m slippery enough?” 

“Uh huh,” came Steven’s articulate reply. 

“Okay then,” you leaned your arms back on the bed, “Now fuck my tits.” 

Steven’s knees threatened to give out. He caught himself and what he said next was a bigger surprise than the earrings. “Alright, mommy. But I wanna get my prick wet in your pussy before I stick it between your knockers.” 

It was your turn for your jaw to drop. Where the hell had sweet Steven gone and how did he learn to talk like this? Two could play that game. You fiddled with the straps of thong. “Then come over here and move these panties out of the way.” 

Steven jumped you, knocking you back on the bed, too impatient to get inside you to properly deal with your scanty underwear so he did exactly as you’d prodded, he pushed the crotch of your thong aside and sunk two fingers into your sopping pussy. 

They went in without much resistance, thus Steven only felt the need to drive them into you a few times, curling them against your g-spot for good measure. He licked off the residue of your desire from his digits and proceeded to tear at his own clothes until he was naked. 

His eyes were wild, wilder than you’d ever seen them, as Steven notched the head of his angry-looking erection at the opening of your cunt and sheathed himself in one fluid stroke. You cried out while Steven groaned, your husband wasting no time to start hammering into you. 

Every forceful push of his hips punched a “uh” from you, his unrelenting pace stringing them together in quick succession. He couldn’t stop watching your tits swing freely and the copious amounts of milk spill from them. His orgasm mounted in his groin sooner than expected, which propelled him to wrench his dick from your folds and grip the base tightly. Steven wasn’t coming anywhere except your tits. 

“Ready, baby?” he asked, his voice gravel as he clumsily scooted up your body to straddle your bosom. 

“Please daddy.” 

Steven advanced with a goddamn growl, positioning his cock between your milky tits and plunging his length in between them as you held your breasts together. It was nasty, your milk mingling with your juices and his precum, all spread across the expanse of your chest. 

Yet the years of love and trust you and Steven had fostered with one another allowed you both to succumb to the kinkiness of the sex you were having without shame. It had taken a hell of a lot of communication and vulnerability for you to get to here, so yeah, you were going to revel in the slick sound Steven’s cock made as it slipped between your tits, the way his face was contorted with pleasure and concentration, how his hands had fallen on top of yours to create the suffocating channel for him to fuck his rock-hard length through. 

Somewhere in the back of your mind you realized this meant you were going to have to be this slutty for all of your husbands’ anniversaries, but the thought was kicked out of your consciousness when Steven removed his hands from the top of yours to pluck at your nipples. 

A primal sound of pleasure tore from your throat that also ignited your competitive streak. You tilted your neck up and opened your mouth so that the tip of Steven’s cock could brush against your tongue on every drive of his pelvis. 

The kitten licks were what did him in, Steven orgasmed with a roar and raised himself higher on his knees at the last possible second to paint your boobs with his seed. 

“Oh. My. Days.” Each word required their own breath from your winded husband, now speaking his normal register once again. 

“Yeah,” was all your scrambled brain could add before you tried to squirm away from Steven’s tongue on your sternum. 

“Please, love,” he nuzzled the one patch of skin on your torso that wasn’t doused in some form of bodily fluid. “Wanna taste us.”

“Fine,” you submitted. “Be grateful I can’t move.” 

Steven hummed happily, getting a total of three sweeps of his tongue across your torso before Nyla’s fussing echoing down the cottage’s small hallway. 

“Perfect timing, as always,” you groused. 

“Ehh, she could've announced herself a lot sooner,” Steven countered. “Hey, you didn’t come.” 

There was your Steven, ever the gentleman and egalitarian in the sack. “Honey, if you go take care of her and let me shower right now, we can call it even.” 

He pecked your cheek and hopped to. “Only if you let me make a cup of tea too.” 

“‘Kay,” you said as he pulled on his, well technically Marc’s, boxers and headed toward the door.  You, on the other hand, set yourself the task of maneuvering to the en-suite without dripping everywhere and being kicked off of AirBnb.

“Hon?’ you looked to where Steven watched you from the doorway, ignoring Nyla’s fussing for one more minute. “You sure you’re alright?”

“I am sweetheart,” you assured him. “My pussy’s going to be wet for days after this.”

Steven grinned, remarkably sweetly for a man who’d just come all over your chest. “Love you.” 

“Love you, too,” you parroted. 

Read the follow up fics : Close Encounters of the Maternal Kind  and First

A/N: Writes nearly 10,000 words of lactation kink and *takes myself to horny jail*. Thank you so much for reading and please feel free to let me know if you enjoyed! 

Also I wrote this in less than a week, isn’t that terrifying?! Leave it to the moon boys to inspire my to write obscenely long and dirty fics. 

My weird little headcanon on the reader and Nyla’s surnames are the on paper and official documents, you use Spector, but casually and in social situations you use the last name of whoever’s fronting. 

Translations: 

Pendejo - Stupid/Idiot 

Querida - dear 

Lo siento mami - I’m sorry, mommy 

Si mami - Yes mommy 

Tetas - tits 

Bien bien Papi - okay, okay Daddy 

mamacita, tu leche es tan dulce - little mama, your milk is so sweet

#moon knight #moon knight smut #moon knight fanfic #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight au #steven grant #steven grant x reader #steven grant x female reader #steven grant smut #marc spector #marc spector x reader #marc spector x female reader #marc spector smut #jake lockley #jake lockely x female reader #jake lockely x reader #jake lockely smut #steven grant x you #marc spector x you #jake lockely x you #oscar isaac #oscar isaac fanfiction #oscar isaac smut #oscar issac x reader #Oscar Isaac thirst hours #jake lockley speaking spanish #steven grant fanfiction #jake lockley fanfiction #marc spector fanfiction

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Seven: Saturday

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Moon Boys x F!Reader

Summary: You’re a workaholic, but now that you’re on a week’s vacation, your lives are going to take FULL advantage of your presence aka the Moon Boys keep you in bed for a whole week.

Warning: smut - oral (f receiving), squirting

Series Masterlist

You're cooking up dinner while Marc stepped out for errands. You sway your hips to the record playing. You're only in one of Jake's shirts and underwear. You hum along to the music as you add some seasoning to the stir fry.

Unbeknownst to you, Marc arrived back home, only he was no longer fronting. Jake stares at you with dark lustful eyes. He slowly approaches you like a predator with its prey.

His gloved hands rest make their way to your hip, causing you to jump in surprise.

"Shit, honey. You scared me."

Jake hums and kisses your neck, "Always need to be vigilant, amor."

You smile wide, lowering the heat on the stove and turning to face Jake. Your arms immediately wrap around his neck, "Well hello there, Mr. Lockley."

"Hello, mi amor," he presses his lips to yours, hands sliding back to grip your ass. He gives you a spank and you yelp, pulling away from him.

"I'm cooking."

"It can wait."

"Aren't you hungry?"

"Not for food," he replies with a smirk. He reaches around and turns off the stove. He then picks you up and carries you to the counter.

You hiss, "The counter's cold!"

"I'll warm you up," Jake says as his gloved hands slide up your legs and stop at your underwear. He hooks his fingers and pulls the garment off, tossing it to the floor.

You chuckle as he presses his lips to yours, his fingers sliding in between your legs. He teases your core as he moves his lips against yours. He pulls away to kiss your jaw, lips trailing down your neck to your chest.

His gloved fingers circle around your clit and you throw your head back in a moan.

"That's it, baby. Lemme hear you," he murmurs against your skin. He's rubbing slow circles against you. You grip his shoulders as he continues to pleasure you.

He dips his middle finger into you and then looks down to see your slick shine against his black leather gloves. You watch as he licks your juices off his fingers and, with his teeth, pull the gloves off.

He kneels down and pulls you by your legs so they hang over his shoulders. He delves in and your breath hitches when you feel his tongue tasting you. You weave your fingers through his black girls and give them a tug. He moans into your core.

He licks up your slit and then begins to circle his tongue around your clit. He looks up at you, feeling a sense of pride as you rest your head against the cabinets, eyes closed, and mouth open in pleasure. He just loves to see how you fall apart for him.

He spreads your lips wider to taste more of you. Your slick smearing along his mouth. He doesn't care how much of a mess you make on him. He loves being marked by you.

While he eats you out, he inserts a finger in you for more added pleasure. He slowly pumps it in and out, gaging your reaction to the sensation.

When you moan and tug at Jake's hair, he takes it as a sign that you can take another finger. So he inserts a second one and you hiss in pleasure, "Fuuuuck yes! That's it, Jake! Just like that."

He stares up at you while he fucks you with his fingers and mouth. You're so beautiful while you're falling apart for him. Sweat forming along your hairline, your chest heaving as your breathing grows harder.

With his other hand, Jake reaches up and slides his hand under your shirt or, rather, his shirt. He grips your breast and then tweaks your nipple.

"Holy fuck, Jake. Shit! So good!" you cry out.

He starts pumping his fingers faster now, "Cum, amor, cum for me. Lemme taste you," he mumbles against your core.

His tongue flicking at your clit while he fucks you with his fingers. Your nails dig into him while you arch your back. Your eyes closed shut as you cry out in pleasure. Your legs shaking around Jake's face as he helps you through your orgasm. A burst of wetness coats his face and Jake is smiling with pride.

As your body calms, he slowly pulls his fingers out and leans back. His face and neck coated in your wetness.

You're panting and looking at him with a tired smile, "Sorry, baby."

He chuckles, wiping at his face and then licking his fingers, "Don't be. You know I love it," he gives you a wink and stands. He presses a gentle kiss to your lips, "You okay?"

You nod, "Yeah," you sigh and look to the stove on your right, "I should finish dinner."

Jake shakes his head, "No, no. Clean up. I'll finish." He helps you down from the counter top and makes sure you don't collapse at his feet. He silently asks you if you're okay.

You smile, "I'm good. Thank you," you peck his lips.

He hums, "I should be thanking you."

You snort and roll your eyes, "We both got something out of it. You sure you don't need me to-"

"Go take a quick shower. I'll clean up here and finish dinner."

"Okay, okay," you hold your hands up in surrender, "Love you, Jake."

"I love you too, amor," he kisses your head and gives your butt a gentle spank before you head to the shower.

#smut #moon boys x reader #moon knight x reader #marc spector x reader #jake lockley x reader #steven grant x reader #f!reader #female!reader #fem!reader

[melodygatesauthor]

You Forgot to Say 'Thank You'

Jake Lockley X f!Reader

Blurb 22 for Melody's 2023 Ficversary Celebration

NSFW below the cut

The sound of Jake’s hand slapping against your wet thighs filled the bedroom. You shrieked and squirmed from your place over his lap, but his free hand kept you from wriggling away.

“Uh uh, sweetheart,” he tutted, bringing his hand down over your bare ass this time. “Just two more, and you’re gonna stay put for me, si?”

You nodded, tears still streaming down your cheeks, “yes!”

“And you’re going to say ‘thank you daddy’, after each one like a good little girl, right?” He rubbed his palm over one of your ass cheeks idly, waiting for your answer.

“Y-yes, d-daddy,” you hiccuped through your sobs.

No matter how much you cried, the sweet, slick arousal that dripped out of you and down your thighs told Jake that you were enjoying every minute of it. You could feel how he was enjoying himself too, noticing the way his erection pressed against your stomach. His hand came down again, followed by a short gasp and an agonizing groan from your lips.

“T-thank you, daddy, thank you,” you muttered, trying desperately to catch your breath.

“One more, sweetheart, you’re doing great, but this next one is gonna be rough.”

He shifted, feeling his cock throbbing against you. His hand struck down once more, your flesh bouncing in response and the sound of your loud cries fueling the orgasm that overwhelmed him. Jake rutted upward against your stomach, holding you in place while coating his slacks and your skin in his spend. He breathed heavy, hand gripping your raw and aching rear as he came down from his climax.

He grabbed your face and turned you to look at him. He gave you that smug smirk that you knew meant trouble.

“Sweetheart,” he said softly, “you forgot to say ‘thank you’.”

Melody's 2023 Ficversary Masterlist

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