Pairing: Steven Grant x fem!Reader (mention of Marc Spector x fem!Reader/Jake Lockley x fem!Reader)
Fic Type: Drabble
Summary: Steven’s not rough with you, like Marc or Jake. He’s more… Reserved. But he will wreck your shit if you ask nicely.
A/N: So yes this is fluffy Steven smut. No I cannot be stopped and no it is not a part of Red Handed.
Rating/Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, NSFW under the cut, softdom!Steven, sub?Reader, riding, missionary, edging, orgasm denial, squirting, breeding kink, trying for a baby, pregnancy, mention of marathon sex??? I think that’s it???
Steven Grant was a master of puzzles.
Jigsaws he solved within a matter of hours, if that. You’d long since stopped trying to keep track of his 3000-or-more-piece puzzles, always Egyptian-themed, that he’d clear a table for, finish in record time, and then break it up and put it away before reaching for the next one.
Escape rooms? You figured when you introduced him to the random little escape room app on your phone that he’d be just as stumped as you were. Instead, ten minutes later, he asked you how he gets to the next world. “Steven,” You breathed in astonishment. “You… You beat the fucking game?!” I think it’s a given to say that he’d also completely owned your consoles when you showed him puzzle-based games like Skyrim or Zelda.
Jenga, Ka-Plunk, DnD, hell, even Clue, he blew your mind with how quickly puzzles were solved by his hands. Incomprehensible, astounding, holy fucking shit your boyfriend is a genius.
Specifically, one of them in particular.
His Rubik’s cube.
The way he moved those goddamn fingers, those fingers that he could bend and flick and curl expertly against you and in you when you needed him too. Those hands alone could make you see stars if he was really intent on doing so.
He hated it when he had to use both hands for the Rubik’s cube. So he oiled it, ensuring that it flipped and moved with the smallest of touches, one-handed. Shk, shk, shk, he’d already solved it twice while you were watching, restarting the process when you asked him that one simple question. “Just one more time, love. Three times, then I’m all yours, yeah?” His soft voice was deeper, huskier, a little out-of-focus because of how deeply he was concentrating– not that you could tell he was. He looked calm, serene… but calculating. Deep in thought.
You were the puzzle this time.
“Just a little bit longer, love.” He tossed the cube up in the air in front of your face, just being a showoff at this point.
Two weeks ago, you’d started talking about raising a family together. At first it had just been uncertain questions, but then you’d started looking into schools nearby, making lists of baby names, adopting a healthier diet, and going to the doctor. Steven was more determined to get you pregnant than you’d expected, tracking your cycles and ovulation periods– hence why he’d made you take a week off work. He’d seemed a bit nervous when he admitted that he called in for you. “Well, love… you’re ovulating now, yeah? I figured now’s a better time than any to–” You’d never heard the end of that sentence, having immediately dragged him to the bed.
But now there wasn’t an equal flow, like there usually was.
“Don’t cum until I say you can, dove. You can do that, yeah? Can you be a good girl for me?”
He’d laid back, helping you straddle his lap and sink down on his thick cock; it was then you’d realized that he hadn’t cum earlier, that he was holding off, maybe hoping an extremely powerful orgasm might be what it takes to knock you up. You were a puzzle he needed to solve, so like always when he focused intensely, you didn’t even begin to understand what he might be thinking.
He hadn’t thrust up into you, although he had allowed you to roll your hips, bounce on his length, do whatever you want at whatever pace you wanted– there were only three rules. You couldn’t touch yourself, you couldn’t cum, and you had to keep your hands on his stomach so he knew you weren’t cheating in your blissed-out state.
Slowly, his dark chocolate eyes trailed from the Rubik’s cube to your red, sweaty face. “S-Steven… Please, please…”
You found it. Right there. That spot where you can easily drive to your ecstasy. Maybe Steven won’t notice if you cum. Maybe he’ll let it slide. But he knew your body better than you did, and when you started to speed up the rocking of your hips, Steven’s free hand flew to your waist, effectively stopping your impending orgasm. “Steeeevvennn,” You whined, reduced to a blubbering mess of begging to barter for your release. Your approaching euphoria was ripped from you, descending rapidly into a cold pit of roiling tension in your lower belly.
Steven’s hand crawled up your side, brushing painfully close to your breast without touching it and running up the length of your neck. He stopped at your mouth, fingers expertly running over your top and bottom lip gently. “Sh, dove,” He said, all but absentminded as you tried to fuck yourself without fucking yourself on him, “Almost there.”
He slipped his fingers into your mouth, letting you suck on them. You swirled your tongue and bobbed your head, using the same movements as you would when sucking him off, but aside from briefly glancing to your face, he gave no reaction to indicate that it was turning him on at all. His cock barely twitched inside you, and you weren’t entirely certain if he just had that good self-control, or if you’d gone numb from the waist down from fucking like rabbits all day in any position and location possible in your flat.
Finally– finally– he removed his fingers and twisted to toss the Rubik’s cube onto the nightstand, unintentionally shifting himself deeper inside of you, if possible, and eliciting a moan from you; yep, you could still definitely feel everything down there. If anything, you were over-sensitive, rather than under. He stared up at you with admiration and a small smile, massaging your thighs. “You did so well for me, dove. You ready to cum?”
If it were only possible, you would have cum right then. “Yes, please yes!” Maybe in the morning you’d be a little embarrassed about how easily you begged, and so quickly, too– but you had little time to think about it. Effortlessly, Steven rolled you both over so that he was on top, between your legs and still buried deep inside you– maybe even deeper, oh god, you can’t take it–
Steven’s gentle kiss on your forehead was nothing compared to the sheer intensity of how hard he pistoned his hips into you, the head of his cock bumping your cervix and almost making you scream. “Let it out, darling,” Steven urged, “I like to hear you. Please, love?” He punctuated the question with an open-mouthed, heavy kiss on your pulse point right under your jaw, and this time you didn’t hold back. Your wail of pleasure drowned out his soft moans and gasps as he panted for air. Sweat glistened silver on his tawny skin, dripping from his nose, his hair, the chain necklace he wore– gently, you tugged on it, and Steven’s hands flew to yours. He entwined your fingers together before pinning them on either side of your head, driving deeper, faster, harder, until you can’t breathe, you can’t see, there’s only Steven, who kisses you passionately as his thrusts falter. “You can cum now darling,” He breathed into your mouth, moaning as you screamed his name loudly enough to hurt your throat. You soaked the bed, him, hell, you wouldn’t have been surprised if the whole flat was soaked. You’d never squirted before with him, and you wondered if it was what he’d been planning for.
Steven came with a cry, finishing as deep as he possibly could– a part of you thought he must have shot himself directly into your womb. He let go of your hands, allowing you to wrap your arms around his neck as he held you close, trying to catch his breath. He pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, wincing as his hips rocked of their own accord in the aftershocks of his high. “Can you keep it all in for me when I pull out, dove? We’ve gotta make sure every drop has a chance, darling, every drop.” His hand rested pointedly on your stomach, making you smile and nod frantically.
When you shivered, he immediately reached for a nearby blanket, carefully pulling out of you and ensuring you were warm enough before moving away. When he came back, he very gently cleaned you up before moving you to a hot bath, letting you lay there while he changed the sheets. Before you could even think of moving from the tub, Steven returned carrying his comfiest hoodie and sweatpants he knew you liked to wear, along with a snack oh-so-typical of Steven.
“Are those… cookies?”
“Oatmeal cookies,” He specified, sitting on the edge of the tub and carefully handing you your plate. “With raisins. Better for you and the baby, innit?”
You flushed up to your hairline, touched by the gesture. “Honey, we don’t even know if I’m pregnant yet.”
“You will be,” Steven said excitedly, setting the milk (yes, he even brought you milk) on the sink so that he could kneel on the outside of the tub, staring at you fondly with his chin resting on the edge. He caressed your face, smiling when you leaned into him to press your foreheads together. “We’re gonna get you pregnant this week, love, I can feel it.” He kissed you softly, before his face contorted thoughtfully as he pulled slowly away.
“Orange juice,” He said, abruptly standing.
He grabbed the glass of milk on his way out of the bathroom. “Orange juice is better than milk, right? Or, maybe not? Maybe they’re equal? You wouldn’t want them at once, love, so; orange juice, yeah, and a banana? I’ll just drink the milk then, don’t wanna waste it, and I’m not sure if I could pour it back into the container without makin’ a bloody mess…”
You listened to his rambling move about the flat as you nibbled on your cookies, smiling to yourself. You and Steven wanted this baby more than anything; and you wanted it even more since Marc and Jake were both scared but excited at the prospect. You looked at baby clothes together, you had everything planned out, and now you were finally, actually trying without any kind of protection to conceive.
Steven may have planned the week, but they were all so sweet, so supportive, so protective, ensuring that you eat right, drink right, sleep right, rest, bathe–
–and you loved them with all your heart.
The next morning, when you were making the bed, you found his Rubik’s cube half-finished on the nightstand. A smile made its way onto your face as you realized he’d never completed the puzzle last night in favor of completing you.
A couple weeks later, when you and Steven read the positive results of the pregnancy test, you realize, amidst all the cheering and hugging and crying, that with all of his planning, trying to get you pregnant was yet another puzzle he had solved, effortlessly.
With the help of Marc and Jake, of course.
Thanks for reading! :3
Tags: @dameronsknight @sylkisdagger @atzlena @gucciboots @pastel-0-princess @poeticsorcery @rosaren2498 @love-on-the-murder-scene @wintergirlsoilder2 @blackcat-midnight-thatsme @multifandomsw @bookloverfilmoholic @khaotic-kris @hb8301 @soggumm @simonsbluee @adamcarlsenslvr @bluestuesday @magnet-girl @rosellacwrites @dweeb-central @ilymorepls @drwhofangirl1963 @loonymagizoologist @auszimbo @tealrivers @laters-gators12 @izbelross @xcatnapsx @child-of-the-moon-gods @djarinsgirl27 @sokoviansorceress @eerievixen @cold-buffet-ham @upbeat-cascade @stark-kirk-rogers-grant-blog @candydancey @rqmanoff @jakelcckley @sharin4readers @lovely-cryptid @marc-spectorr @rmoonstoner @oscarisaacsspit @marc-spectorr @lovely-cryptid
You're my emergency
Summary: You never changed your emergency contact after the breakup. You don't find out about this until the boys show up at the hospital.
Warnings: Angst, but happy ending, mentions of car crashes and injuries.
Word count: 1,290
A/n: I had a moment of writers block for awhile there, but once I found this prompt from @ creativepromptsforwriting 's hurt/comfort prompt list, I just knew that I had to write it! Enjoy 💕
He shouldn't care. He really, really shouldn't. But he does. He shouldn't be speeding on the freeway to get to the hospital right now, but he is.
You broke up with Marc and his alters over six months ago due to them constantly getting themselves into dangerous situations. Actually no, that's not what made you do it. The lying did. Jake and Marc always lied to you about their whereabouts, but never Steven. He told you that he never had a reason to, so you trusted him.
One day, Steven told you the museum was doing an overnight trip for a group of Middle Schoolers and that he would be back in a day or two. A couple of weeks later you found out he actually spent the night at Layla's after a mission went south. That's when you broke up with them. He tried to tell you that nothing happened between them, that he just couldn't come home and have you see him like that, but you refused to listen.
It took you two days to pack your stuff and move in with your Aunt. After that, they hadn't heard from you.
Until now. Technically.
Jake was fronting at the time. He had just finished beating a guy's ass for trying to steal a woman's purse, when the hospital called their shared phone.
"Is this a Marc Spector, Steven Grant, or Jake Lockley?" A female voice asked him. "Sorry about this, you're all listed for the same phone number."
Jake decided to let Marc front, not wanting to deal with whatever it is she wanted them for. "Yeah, this is Marc. What's this about?"
"Right, hello Mr. Spector. I just wanted to see if you were able to come down to St Thomas' hospital for a Miss y/n, l/n. She's been in a car accident and you were at the top of her emergency contacts."
Marc's heart skipped a beat. Then another. Then he was able to choke out a reply. "Of course. How bad is it?" Marc was barely listening to her, trying to get Jake's keys out of his pocket.
Jake took over again so he could drive them to the hospital. He didn't even feel bad when he abruptly ended the phone call. He just had to get to you.
'Should we be doing this, mate? I mean, she broke up with us.. she might not want to see us..'
'We should at least check on her. Make sure she get's home safe.'
'You heard her though. She said she doesn't want to see us ever again..'
Jake gripped the wheel, his alters voices sending a wave of anger throughout his body. "Of course we're going to check on her. She needs us." He ground out. Marc and Steven decided to stay quiet for the rest of the drive.
Marc jogged through countless hospital hallways, murmuring, "room 206..." under his breath until he finally found it. Your room. He raised his hand to knock, but found that he couldn't bring himself to. "What if Steven's right?" He mumbled, knowing his alters would hear him.
Steven stayed quiet, but Jake wordlessly took control of Marc's hand and knocked on the door five times. Marc's breath caught in his throat, panic flooding throughout his veins. "Jake, what the fuck?" He hissed.
"Shh! Listen." Jake muttered.
They all listened closely, waiting to hear your voice after all these months. Once Marc heard you call out a quiet, "come in" he slowly pushed open the door and shuffled into the room.
"Marc?" You asked, confusion evident in your tone. "What are you doing here? How did you know where I was?"
Marc stood there speechless, his eye's slowly running along your body. Your left leg was in a cast, you had a large bruise on your shoulder, accompanied with one ace bandage on your neck and the other wrapped around your head. And these were just the exposed injuries.
He finally met your eyes, noting the expecting look you were giving him. Right, she said something.
Marc cleared his throat, slowly making his way towards your bed. "Um, turns out I'm still your emergency contact. Well, we are I guess." He corrected.
"Right.. Well, you can go. I'm fine. Sorry to waste your time." You mumbled, looking anywhere but at him.
"What? No, no, this isn't a waste of time," Marc hesitantly sat on the edge of your bed, placing his hand on top of yours. "You're not a waste of time."
The look on his face is the same one that's been haunting you for six months. A look of pure sorrow is how you described it to your friends. It's the same look he had when you announced the break-up. "I'm not your responsibility anymore. I'm fine. Seriously, I'm sure you have much better things to be doing." You muttered, looking anywhere but him.
That's when Steven took over for the first time that night. "Darling, emergency or not, we still care about you and wanna make sure you're doing well. Please, just let us take care of you. And when you're all better you can send us on our way again, okay?"
"No, it's not okay Steven! I can't-" You took a deep breath, wincing from the pressure on your bruised rib cage. You then closed your eyes and let the breath go before replying. "I can't send you away again, okay? It hurts too much. These past few months have been hell and I can't go through that again. I just can't."
Steven reached out and brushed a rouge strand of hair behind your ear, his touch feather light. "Love, you don't have to push me away. I constantly think about the things that I've done and honestly? I don't like to front anymore so I don't have to feel the weight of my guilt. It's too much to carry. I'm so, so sorry, love. I never wanted to hurt you. And I really didn't want to break your trust either. I know that there's no excuse for what I've done. I just wanted you to know that you're not alone."
You allowed the tears that were welling up in your eyes to finally fall. They slowly made their way down your cheeks, then slipped off of your chin and into your lap. "Steven.. I don't know what to say. You were supposed to be the one person I could count on and you just.." You didn't finish your sentence; you didn't need to.
"I know, I know. I don't deserve your forgiveness. I just wanted you to know that I'm sorry. I'm sure the guys are sorry too, but I'm probably the most sorry." That made you breathe out a laugh, a small smile spreading across your lips.
"Alright, alright. I get it. Thank you." You finally met his eyes, relishing the way his pupils dilated when they gazed into yours. "I still love you. All of you, actually. I just need some time.. Is that okay?"
Steven reached out and grabbed your hand, gently bringing it up to his lips so he could kiss each knuckle. "Of course that's okay, love. Take all the time you need. We'll always wait for you."
You were allowed to leave the hospital two days later. Jake drove you home and helped you settle into your apartment. For the next two months they all took turns visiting and caring for you. Once your leg had healed you went out to celebrated at your favorite bar with Marc.
That night you ended up kissing and officially got back together. Not even a full year later and Steven had proposed to you, which, of course, you said yes. And for the rest of your life, Marc, Steven, and Jake held their place as your #1 emergency contact.
look at Jake y’all (ps his brother too)
you want to step into the footsteps of being a fearless vigilante and the moon boys each have their own way of teaching you.
btw this is me being lazy and not wanting to write a long fic but still having tens of ideas <3
you: “so, what the first step?”
marc: “okay, so first, you just go all in. if you see them step back, means you win.”
marc: braces himself
marc: try it on me.”
you: tackle him into the floor and steps away
you: “did i do it right?”
marc: still on the floor
marc: “could use some work, but you got the idea.”
steven: “i don’t even understand why marc and jake put up with this. in my opinion, i think this is a terrible idea. i mean, things like this can have you seriously injured.”
you: “can we get to it?”
steven: “i suppose.”
steven: prepares himself with his batons but immediately takes a step away from you
steven: “no, can’t do it!”
marc: ‘what the hell, steven.’
jake: ‘oye, qué haces?’
steven: “i’m not going to fight a child.”
jake: “solo de voy a decir una ves.”
jake: “no me importa si estás al borde de la muerte, no los vas a dejar.”
“te golpean en el hombro, les golpeas más fuerte hasta que se caen.”
“marc te puede enseñarte combate, pero el trabajo es mas fácil con un arma.”
jake: hands you his one and only pistol
marc: ‘he did not just give a kid a gun.’
Steven compliments y/n but it goes wrong
Steven, fronting: You look beautiful today
Marc: Oy vey-
Jake: This idiot!
Y/N: *sucking on your teeth*… mm thats sweet, that’s cute…
Jake: He’s dead.
Steven: *staring lovingly to your eyes, big ass smile across his face*
Y/N: today… *soft smile* SO WHAT ABOUT YESTERDAY HM STEVEN?
Steven: *shocked* W-What??
Y/N: YOU SAID TODAY, what ABOUT YESTERDAY?? THE DAY BEFORE?? HMMMM??
Steven: *stuttering* DaRLING YOU LOOK GOOD EVERYDAY I WAS JUST COMPLIMENTING YOU-
Marc and Jake: *sharing some popcorn*
44 from the Little One prompt list with the Moon Knights boys please 🥺
Choosing little one’s name together.
“So, we’re having a girl,” you said.
You just came back from your latest doctor appointment. All things were good, baby was healthy. And you also found out you were having a daughter.
“You called it,” Steven said, mumbling into your stomach.
Out of all the three, he was the one who loved resting against it the most. The other two may find any excuse to have their hands on it, but Steven was the one who had no shame. And now that your baby bump was becoming more prominent, he loved it even more. Anytime he was around you, his hands would find their way to it. If not his hands, then his head. At least his lips.
“I’m happy,” you said, caressing his hair as he kept his head on you. “You guys came up with a lot of cute girl names.”
Since the start of your pregnancy, the boys would text you different names for the baby. It basically become part of your routine to expect a text with a name suggestion. You could tell right away who would be coming up with something based on the choices.
Steven would come up with names that were fancier and/or from literature like Charlotte, Theodore, Emily, Darcy.
Marc liked simpler names that had one or two syllables like James, Amy, Eric, John.
Jake gravitated towards ones that sounded nice in both English and Spanish like Emma, Oscar, Felix, Anna.
“Well, we agreed you’d have the final say, love,” Steven said, now mindlessly tracing shapes along your belly. “Any of them stand out for you?”
“I really like Marceline,” you said. “It sounds pretty. That’s also the name of that poet you really like, right?”
“Marceline Desbordes-Valmore, yes,” he clarified. “The French translation for it also translates to ‘little warrior.’”
“Definitely appropriate for our daughter. It also sounds like the female version of Marc, don’t you think?”
“Yeah, it does,” he peered down to talk directly to your unborn child. “Marceline it is then?”
He felt a small kick just then, getting the both of you to gasp and laugh in disbelief.
“Marceline it is then,” you confirmed. “And what about a middle name?”
“Well, the three of us really liked one name. Mostly because of its meaning behind it.”
“Oh?” You tried your best to remember which one all three of them suggested.
“Abigail,” Steven answered, smiling more fondly than ever. “In Hebrew, it means ‘father’s joy.’”
Hearing that brought out your own elated smile. “It’s perfect,”
So, it was settled.
Five more months, and you’d be welcoming your little warrior that was your father’s joy.
Arthur lying his ass off in the Chamber of Gods: this man is INSANE
Jake, watching this shit from the headspace:
Make Your Acquaintance II (Jake Lockley)
Content Warning: mentions of injuries/blood, also manslaughter
Word Count: 3.7k
Summary: You and Marc arrive home after your mission-gone-awry in Budapest. Neither he nor Steven are up to speed on your introduction to Jake, and you’re desperate to learn more about him in a setting where your life isn’t at stake. Note: There is a time jump between parts I and II. Reading part I isn’t entirely necessary but it’s recommended.
Author's note: I'm not good at part 2s, but y'all were BEGGING me so here it is.
You had both slept on the flight back to London, beaten and exhausted from your adventure and relieved to be out of harm’s way. When the plane finally touched down, it was Marc who awoke to the sound of the captain’s voice informing you of your arrival. He didn’t think much of the gap in his memory—Steven was supposed to be controlling the body anyway—though he was confused by the new wounds on his skin, particularly the ones on his hands.
“I gave Steven the body so he could take care of it.” He complained to you on the car ride home. “He was supposed to make sure we’re well-rested, not find even more ways to get hurt.”
You hadn’t told him the truth about what happened at the hotel, nor about the fact that Steven hadn’t fronted in nearly two days. There didn’t seem to be a good way to explain the truth: that two men had tracked you to your room, that Jake Lockley had murdered them, and that he’d been fronting for hours afterward. The story you were running with was that Steven had dropped a mug of coffee at the breakfast bar of the hotel, not summoning the suit to heal himself because there were so many witnesses around. Marc was suspicious of how a mug could do so much damage, but he had no real reason to question you.
The truth would have to come out eventually, but you had no idea how to introduce it. How could you explain leaving two bodies in that hotel? That two men died at what was technically Marc’s hand, but not? How could you explain that Steven was nowhere to be found and that you didn’t know why or when he’d be back? Or that you probably could never show your faces in Budapest again?
There was something else you couldn’t find words for, either. How could you explain that all of Marc’s assumptions about Jake were wrong? That he was so much more valuable than the other two gave him credit for? How could you explain his surprising agility, his level-headedness, and his knowledge about making clean getaways? How could you explain his tenderness, the way he hummed in his sleep? The way he held you?
Marc was decidedly less pissed off at Steven by the time you made it through the door to your apartment. A thin layer of dust covered everything, reminding you of just how long you had been gone. Relief washed over you as you breathed in the familiar scent of your shared home. There was nothing here that could hurt you, especially not armed men with a vendetta. The bruising on your ribs was feeling slightly better now that you had rested some, but you still thought it would be a good idea to hold some ice to it. You allowed Marc to unpack his things, muttering at the way ‘Steven’ sloppily organized the duffel, as you searched the freezer for a pack of frozen vegetables to put on your wound.
It wouldn’t take long for Marc to figure something didn’t add up. Either Steven would reveal to Marc that he didn’t remember anything from the past few days, or his continued absence would draw attention that something was wrong. Either way, it was only a matter of time. Probably a few hours at most, so you needed to brace yourself to explain everything to him.
Something else was interrupting your thoughts, though. It overtook your concern that you were keeping such a secret from your partner. Your brain was occupied wholly by curiosity. Curiosity about Jake Lockley.
You were desperate to know more about this man. Your limited time with him had only arisen more questions about his nature. Now you knew that there was more to him than just a need for survival, but how much more? And what about the softer side of him, the side that had held you so gently as you slept? Did the other two even know about that side of him? Hell, did Jake himself even really know?
“Should we go to the doctor about your ribs?” Marc’s concern interrupted your thoughts. The bag of frozen peas covered the worst of your wound, but nearly half of your torso was covered in splotches of blue and purple. “You’re looking pretty rough there, baby.”
“No, I’ll be okay.” You replied as he settled beside you on the sofa. He hadn’t been present when Steven surveyed your wounds initially. “They’re just bruised. Nothing a doctor can do to help it. I just need to rest.”
“Yeah, speaking of rest,” Marc placed his arm casually around the back of the couch, “I kinda planned to be out for a few days more than this. I thought Steven would like having the body for a little while. You know, unhindered by my presence or whatever.”
“I don’t know what to tell you,” He was starting to piece things together. There was no point in trying to keep him in the dark, “Why don’t you talk to him about it?”
“Later.” He said. “For now I would just like to sleep.”
“I second that.”
Your mission in Budapest had knocked the wind out of you both—more literally in your case. It would probably take days for you both to be on your best game and weeks for your abdomen to heal completely. For now, there was no rush to do anything. Everything was calm, and quiet, and safe in your apartment. The rest of the world could wait. Now was the time to rest. You couldn’t help but ponder more about the mysterious Jake Lockley as you laid down on Marc’s chest. The memory of his unconscious humming followed you into your own much-needed slumber.
You were the first to stir back awake, and hunger pangs amplified the dull soreness in your abdomen. You peered across the study at the clock on the wall. You’d both been asleep for over two hours. Marc didn’t move as you carefully lifted off of his chest, likely still in need of some good, deep rest. You made your way quietly into the kitchen, intent on searching the cupboards for something to eat.
Too impatient to cook, you decided on ordering a pizza for the two of you. Some breadsticks, too, just in case Steven would be fronting when they finally did wake up. You heard shuffling on the couch as you placed your order over the phone. Footsteps approached you from behind as you hung up the call, and you turned to see your very groggy boyfriend squinting down at you, stifling a yawn.
“I ordered us pizza and breadsticks.” You informed him, testing the waters to see who was fronting. “Is that okay?”
“Sounds perfect,” Marc replied. At least, it sounded like Marc. But something was off. His voice was slightly gruff, almost like he was having to force it to be in its normal register. He eyed you suspiciously as if he was waiting for you to catch him in a lie. You had a gut feeling about it. A strong one.
“You’re not Marc,” you accused. He widened his eyes slightly at your intensity, but you knew you were right. Suddenly, he was avoiding your gaze. “Didn’t think I would be seeing you again so soon.”
“I didn’t think you would be, either,” Jake replied, a hint of red appearing on his cheeks. Why was he blushing? This big, scary man whose reputation was only murder and recklessness. He was blushing at you. “Guess it’s a subconscious thing. I… guess I wanted to be sure we got home okay.”
“Can the boys hear you right now? I mean… Steven and Marc. Are they listening to us”
“I don’t think so. Then again, that doesn’t mean anything for sure.” You sat across from him at the dining table, stunned by the idea that he was fronting again so soon. This man that you’d just met was now concerned for your safety so much that he’d overtaken your partner’s mind just to check on you. It didn’t make sense to you. It was fascinating.
“I don’t understand. I thought you said you normally watched from behind. Y’know, like… that’s how you even knew who I was. Are you fronting on purpose?” You were forming a small obsession with Jake Lockley, despite your very real instincts—and various warnings from Marc— to stay away from the dangerous, violent man. You needed to unearth every facet of his personality. Who was this mysterious man sharing a body with the boys that you loved?
“Not really on purpose. I think it just happens whether I try to or not. Like a feeling.”
“Like a feeling.” You repeated the phrase, turning it over again in your brain. It felt pointless, trying to ask him why he was here right now. It made more sense to ask other things. You had other burning questions and you intended to pry the answers out of him. A risky thought popped into your brain. If it wasn’t so irresponsible, it just might have been a genius idea.
“Do you drink beer?” You asked Jake, standing to head toward the fridge. He furrowed his brow at your question. “I think I’m gonna have some with dinner.”
“Yeah, I drink beer.” He responded as you pulled two bottles out of the refrigerator drawer. “But I usually prefer whiskey with pizza.”
But also… ew.
“Whiskey and pizza?” You scoffed, setting the two beers down on the table. You never drank liquor with your boys; Steven only served you wine on date nights and you tried to keep Marc away from the bottle in general.
“Hey, don’t knock it ‘till you try it.” He teasingly grinned at you. It was strange, seeing Jake smile and joke when everything you knew about him conflicted with the very idea. Even at your last meeting with him—also technically your first—Jake Lockley didn’t seem like the type of person to joke. Or to laugh. It took hours for him to show you anything but anger and tunnel vision, as a matter of fact. You guessed it was different, now that he was fronting in a safe environment. The murder and grand theft auto might have been affecting his mood before.
You’d had two beers before the pizza was even delivered. Jake had had one… and two glasses of the bourbon he’d found somewhere in the back of the cabinet. You tended to forget how small their body was until you started drinking. It was hard to maintain the big and strong persona when two glasses of wine could knock Steven on his ass. Jake seemed to be doing surprisingly well with his whiskey—that is, until he stood to answer the knock at the door.
“I got it.” He was pretty good at hiding the way his weight swayed as he got to his feet. But he couldn’t hide the bright red staining his cheeks. You figured he was adequately tipsy now; he would probably tell you whatever you wanted to hear without much resistance. Jake tipped the delivery boy a generous amount before tossing the two boxes onto the table before you. By now, he was certainly a different image that you’d ever imagined from him.
“Man, I’m starving.” Jake bit off nearly half a slice in a single, swift bite. You chewed off a decidedly smaller piece as he ravenously scarfed down his food. “You should try the bourbon with your pizza. It really is better than it sounds.”
Your heart was beating slightly faster than normal. Despite your fascination with him, Jake was still a man to be feared. Hell, your introduction to him was watching him slit two men’s throats. He was dangerous, unpredictable, and you didn’t know which parts of him you could trust. Even now, half-drunk and more relaxed than you’d seen him except during sleep, Jake held himself with an isolated ferver that was absent in the others. His eyes were wider and darker, his jaw was tense and his muscles prepared to spring. It was like he was radiating with energy, you just couldn’t tell what type.
“So, Jake. How do you know how to hotwire a car?” You figured that was as good a question as any to start. It was innocent enough, and relevant at least.
“I know a lot of things.” He replied through a mouthful of bread and cheese. “They teach you a lot of weird stuff in the marines. Bet Marc can hotwire a car, too.”
“Guess the issue never came up before.” The more you learned about Jake, it seemed the less you knew about the other two. “But you don’t know if he can speak Spanish?”
“He probably does. I don’t ever hear him use it though. In his head. He just says English in that stupid Chicago accent.” Jake seemed anxious to talk, oddly enough. He’d told you before that he didn’t really have much to say, but that was proving to be untrue. He had lots to say, he just didn’t want to say it to Marc, or to Steven for that matter. You figured if you asked the right question, you could open the floodgates.
“So then what do you do all the time? If you don’t ever talk to Marc or Steven. Are you just like… dormant?”
“No, not really. Like I said, I do a lot of listening and watching. And other stuff.” He was on his third slice already, but he was being careful not to talk with his mouth full of food. Your interest was piqued at the mention of ‘other stuff.’
“What kind of stuff? You can’t just sit and listen all day.” He stifled a chuckle at your question like the answer was some kind of inside joke. He looked up at you with an almost teenage-like spirit. That was probably thanks to the alcohol.
“Well, if you want to know the truth,” You did. Absolutely you did, “I’m in control a little more than I let on. I don’t think they even notice all that much. Especially not Steven, half the time he doesn’t even ask what goes on while he’s away. He just assumes that Marc is handling it.”
So he was around more often than you thought. That brought a weird emotion over you. Unease, maybe? Or was it bashfulness?
“Does that mean we’ve met before? I mean, have I been talking to you before and not known it was you?”
“What? No. I mean… maybe. I don’t know. I’m not that good at pretending to be the other two. Mostly works on strangers.”
“What do you mean by ‘I don’t know’ then?” An ironic wave of fear passed over your chest at the thought that he’d been watching you all this time. It felt silly, seeing as Marc and Steven often were co-conscious. But you didn’t know Jake well enough. It felt wrong, almost creepy.
“Like I said, I know a lot about you through their eyes. Sometimes I don’t even want to see, but their thoughts can be so loud. Especially Steven. But sometimes I start listening too close. Too… intently. And the next thing I know, I pushed the other guy out on accident.”
“You realize how creepy that sounds.”
“Yeah, I know! It’s not like I can help it though. I mean, you try having Steven’s voice inside your head. Sometimes I have to push him out of the way just to get him to shut up. Especially about you.”
Jake’s face suddenly turned bright red, as if he’d said something that he didn’t mean for you to hear. He averted his gaze and sipped at his whiskey, obviously uncomfortable. You decided to change the subject. There were harder questions you wanted to ask. Now you were just pissed off enough at him to ask them, apprehension be damned.
“Jake, when I first saw you last night…” You swallowed hard. He seemed to know where you were going. “Why do you do that? Why do you only show up to a fight when you… you know…”
“You mean when the other two are gonna get us killed?” There was a shortness in his tone, but he seemed to be just as calm as ever. “Why do I come out to finish the job when your boyfriend doesn’t have the balls to do what needs to be done? I’m not gonna die because of their moral code. I’ll do whatever it takes to survive. That’s my job.”
“So you mean you don’t care who gets hurt in the process? You don’t care what you have to do? Who you have to go through?”
“That’s not a fair way to see it.” For some reason, he seemed intent on making you understand. “It’s not that I don’t care. It’s that I can’t afford to worry about that. I mean, that’s what the other two do, and I let them. I only take control when caring about that gets in the way. Only when there’s no other choice.”
“But you’re so brutal.” You were conflicted. Varying images of him conflicted in your head all at once. “What you did in the hotel. It was cold.”
“I think you need to do some re-evaluating, sweetheart. I only do what I was trained to do. Ask your partner how Bushman taught him. He’s not exactly sunshine and roses, either.”
“But he tries…”
“You think I don’t? You don’t know anything about me. Would you rather I left you in that hotel? That I let Steven keep waving his batons until you were both dead? I didn’t think so. You’re just the same as the other two, always blaming me like you’d even be here right now if I wasn’t.”
There was a long silence. Jake rubbed his eyes with his palms, sucking in a breath and letting out a slow sigh. He didn’t look at you. He didn’t take another bite of his food.
“Thank you.” He nearly jumped at your words, though they were barely above a whisper.
“For being here. Thank you. You saved my life, and Steven’s and Marc’s more than once.”
He was quiet. You didn’t expect a ‘you’re welcome’ or anything. Marc wasn’t very good at handling gratitude either. Maybe Steven would have added a ‘don’t mention it,’ but in general the boys were all the same in that respect. Humble, to a fault.
There was no hope of getting him to talk without changing the subject. You supposed that what Jake meant by not having much to say. He didn’t like to talk about himself. You searched for another topic to bring up, but your brain was clouded by beer and by the strangeness of the situation. Only one other question popped into your mind.
“What did you mean when you said you had to make Steven shut up about me? Is there something wrong with me? Do you find me annoying?” It made sense to you that Jake didn’t like your company. After all, he worked hard enough to keep the boys alive, and you were just another liability to think about. You’d gotten that feeling back at the barn, at least at first.
“No, you’re not annoying. I mean… you’re kinda being annoying right now, but not normally. I just meant that Steven’s always going on about you. He’s head over heels. Obsessed. I’d say he’s deranged.”
It was a warm feeling, knowing how deeply Steven was in love with you, but it wasn’t surprising. He regarded you as the best thing in his life. He practically treated you like royalty, so of course you would be on his mind more often than not. Your sweet Steven.
“And it’s annoying that he’s always thinking about me?”
“Yeah, I guess. I mean, I don’t mind that he’s thinking about you. I don’t even mind that he goes on about it for hours. It’s more like… that it’s unfair. Like he’s flaunting it. Bragging.”
“So it makes you what? Jealous?”
“No!” He managed to blush even deeper. For all his illegal endeavors, Jake Lockley wasn’t very good at lying. At least not while he was drunk. And jealous, apparently.
“Why would you be jealous of Steven?” You persisted. Now nothing was making sense. You had thought Jake was incapable of human connection, but that was proving to be more and more wrong as you spent time with him. Now the… situation in the car this morning in Budapest was taking on a different meaning. Not that you knew how to feel about it, regardless of what it did or didn’t mean.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” He blurted, taken aback by your tenacity. “He has everything he could ever want and you’re fucking terrified of me. It’s like he’s just rubbing in my face what I can’t have and why I can never have it. It’s infuriating.”
You didn’t know exactly how to take his words. Again, he was right and you both knew it. You would never willingly let Jake be as close to you as Steven was. At least, never before. Not to mention that Marc would probably drown all three of them before he’d let Jake anywhere near you. But now you were starting to feel differently. You reckoned that Jake could sense that about you, too.
It had been the same process with Marc in the beginning. You started by grounding yourself in his appearance, the same body as the other man you loved. Even if they held themselves differently, they all wore the same crooked smile, the same nose, and the same dark brown eyes. They all had the same dark circles, the same faint line between their eyebrows. And despite the wildly different relationships you had formed with each of them, they all looked at you the same way. Like you belonged to them.
@libsybum @rmoonstoner @fandoms-pizza-wifi-ym13 @moony-artemis @gabewerk @nerdory10 @theluckyplaces @glitteringhippie @ahookedheroespureheart @lunarlockley @eunike-flower @dopeqff
If you want a part III you're gonna have to BEG
Hello! I was thinking of a prompt where the Moon Boys (mainly Marc) takes reader out dancing and the boys get a change to dance with reader. Steven would be a little clumsy and embarrassed about dancing, Marc would be confident but Jake 😳😳😳 bring in Oscar's 'ethnic hips'
ohhhhhh boy, do i love this idea *-* everything about this is tempting so i hope you like it!
"Seriously, Marc, where are we going?" You asked as Marc held your hand. It's not that you didn't trust him, you were just curious.
Both of you were walking down the streets of London. It was a beautiful night, not to warm and not too cold. Marc lightly squeezed your hand and smiled softly.
"I said you have be patient, baby." He said. You sighed and smiled.
"I guess I can do that for you." You said as you leaned against his arm.
Marc guided you around a corner and into a little street where no cars could pass by. There were a lot of people with little jewelry and clothe stands. You were amazed by all the beautiful lights and the music that was playing. A few meters ahead of you were a group of people dancing. The cute thing was that they weren't necessarily following a rhythm. They were just dancing happily on their own.
"Oh my god, this is amazing." You said as you looked around.
"Steven told me about this place and I thought I could take you here to dance with you. So you could dance with us." Marc said and you noticed how he was getting shy all of a sudden. That made you smile as you turned to face him.
"I didn't know you liked to dance." You said. Marc got closer to you until his lips were ghosting over yours.
"It's not my favorite activity. But I think I can take my lady to dance and make her happy." He said before kissing you gently. Your heart fluttered at the thought of your boys stepping out of their comfort zone just to make you happy.
Marc guided you into the crowd of people. There was a very good song playing right now. He grabbed your hands to wrap them around his neck, then placed his hands on your waist.
"Is this okay?" He asked. You nodded and started swaying softly. Marc looked down at his feet, trying not to trip and do it right. You placed a hand on his cheek and gently lifted his head up to look at you.
"Hey, don't worry. Just do what feels right, okay?" You said and he nodded before taking a deep breath and swaying you both from side to side. He seemed to be calming down as time passed by. "That's it. You're doing great!"
Marc let out a breathy laugh and shook his head before kissing your temple. "Only because I have you by my side." He said.
"You're very flirty today." You said making Marc smile.
"A man who loves his girl has to tell her that he loves her." He said.
"You what?" You asked with a playful smile.
"What?" He asked.
"Say that again. Sorry... You what me?" You asked as you placed a hand next to your ear, pretending that you didn't hear him right.
This made Marc roll his eyes and smile. He got closer until his mouth was next to your ear. "I love you." He whispered. You sighed happily.
"I love you too." You said before you leaned closer and kissed him. It was a gentle kiss but full of love and passion. He slowly nipped on your bottom lip asking for access, which you happily obliged. He smiled into the kiss and pulled you closer, if that was possible.
Suddenly, a different song started playing. It was more slow and elegant. You pulled away from the kiss and Marc looked around.
"This seems more like a Steven vibe." He said and then, his face changed. His eyebrows shot up and that smile that you knew too well appeared.
"Hello, love. Having fun?" Steven asked. You smiled and nodded.
"I am. Want to dance with me?" You asked. Steven nodded and gently grabbed your hand, placing a kiss on the back of it.
"How could I possibly say no?" He said before placing a hand on your back, taking the hand he kissed and lifted it in the air next to you both. You had a hand on his shoulder as you started swaying in circles. "And 1, 2, 3... 1, 2, 3..." Steven was saying which made you giggle.
"Wow, you really know how to waltz." You said. He chuckled and you could see how his cheeks were suddenly tinted with a light shade of pink.
"Uhm... Not really... I've never danced with anyone before. Well, nobody wanted to dance with me. I didn't have much time to dance, you know, given the circumstances-" Steven was saying until he tripped over his own feet, making you both stumble. "Oh- Bullocks, I'm sorry, so sorry- I-" He started stuttering and blinking way too quickly.
"Hey. Steven, honey. It's okay, don't worry. Just look at me" You said and held him closer. He let out a huge breath and nodded.
"Told you I'm not good at this." He said with a shy smile. You shook your head.
"I don't care. As long as it's with you, we can trip and stumble a thousand times." You said.
Steven smiled and leaned his forehead against yours. You were still swaying around and he closed his eyes.
"What have I done to deserve you?" He asked.
"A couple of smiles and some cool Egyptian facts did the job." You said and that made him giggle. "Plus, the fact that you're really handsome."
Steven had a huge smile on his face and he looked into your eyes. "I love you, darling." He said.
"And I love you." You said before leaning in to kiss him softly. He hummed in satisfaction and kissed you back.
Then, the song changed into a more fast one. With an upbeat rhythm. Steven's head slightly tilted back and his face changed into another smile that you knew very well.
"Mí turno." (my turn) Jake said with a cheeky smile and he pulled your hips against his. He started moving his hips, guiding yours with his hand.
"Ok now, this is something I do not know how to dance-" You were saying until he grabbed your hand, spun you around, and pulled you closer by your hips again. Your back against his chest and his mouth next to you ear.
"Just listen to the beat. Let go, mí amor. You have no idea how long I wanted to dance with you." Jake said and your breath hitched. You nodded and he placed a small kiss on your neck before spinning you around, swaying his hips back and forth and side to side. He was really good at this.
"Lead the way then." You said just above a whisper, but he heard you. He has a wild smile on his face and he brought you closer to him.
The both of you danced and swayed around. Jake spun you and wrapped his arms around you, guiding your hips with one hand to copy his movements. When he spun you around again and pressed your chest against his, you let out a breath. His hand was getting dangerously low down your back.
"Que mujer hermosa." (what a beautiful woman) Jake said, making you blush and look to the left. He took this as an opportunity to bury his face in your neck. "Don't hide away from me. You're beautiful and I can't believe your mine. Solo mía." (Only mine)
You tilted your head to the side and placed a kiss on his temple. Jake lifted his head and smiled at you. A smile so soft and gentle only meant for your eyes to see.
"Te amo." He said and your heart fluttered for like the billionth time that night. You placed your hands on his cheeks, making him lean into your touch.
"I love you too, Jake." You said and he closed his eyes with a smile on his face. He turned his head to place a kiss on the inside of your hand before looking back at you. "I love all of you."
"We love you too, preciosa. Very much." He said and he leaned into to kiss you with such force and passion, and you loved very bit of it.
Moments like these with your boys, your brave and sweet boys, you cherished with all of your heart.
a/n: hi there :D I'VE GOT TO SAY, I ENJOYED WRITING THIS SO MUCH MY HEART WAS JUST GOING SIDIFNSSLBDLDBDKS 😍 omg i love the moon boys so much.
i hope you liked it!! thank you for sending this request, have a great day! ❤️
Getting a lil angsty, but the reader getting into some misunderstanding with the moon boys and THEY give the reader the silent treatment for a while.
Would love to see your take on this! Cheers!
Okay, back to headcanons!
*If he wants to, he can "dissapear" and you'd never find him, and that's exactly how he does the silent treatment.
*No calls, no meeting, no nothing. He's out there, doing his stuff and he won't even think of you.
*But honestly, sometimes he misses you. There's a reason why you're his special one, and sometimes, after the nightly missions are over, he sits on the limo's nose and think of you. "Si tan solo no fueras tan terca" he sighs.
*Average time for the silent treatment: about one week.
*Ohhh you must do something very special to make him angry to that level. Anyways, he'll warn you about his intentions and will kepp his promise with a will of steel.
*In order to keep his mind free of you, Steven will do a lot of things, like going to libraries to search for more additions to his personal collection, buy things for Gus, talk with Crowley...
*Actually Crowley is the only other person on Earth who knows (unwillingly) about the plot behind the fight. "I mean, not going to break up, I don't think it's necessary... do you think (Y/N) would be thinking of break up?"
*Average time for the silent treatment: two-three days. Steven is the easiest to forgive and forget.
*He didn't want to, but he felt like it was the best. The day you fought he simply leaves and you know he won't talk to you for a while.
*The problem is Marc doesn't cope well with that sort of things, as we know, so he probably surrender the body to either Steven or Jake, that's preferable to think of you and hurt himself for he doesn't know how to deal with that situations.
*Sometimes he'll be around you, your workplace or home, just to make sure you're fine, but keeping the distance and more than ready to run away if there's a chance for you to notice him.
*Average time for the silent trearment: unknown. Could be a few days, could be a month.
Moon Boys Taking Care of You When You're Drunk
Pairing: Steven Grant, Marc Spector, Jake Lockley x Reader
Tags: fluff, teasing, cuddling, domestic, established relationship, drinking, caring Moon Boys, soft Moon Boys
A/N: I'm not good with alcohol at all, I'll only drink it if it tastes really sweet and even then I don't think I've ever had a hangover lol.
Steven is sober most of the time even when the two of you go out for drinks, he can get a little tipsy but nothing more than that
He's always there to walk you home and laughs along with your bad jokes that you tell
When you ask him out for a date and he replies that he already has a partner you become really pouty, which he finds adorable and tells you as much
Always has a glass of water ready for you when you wake up along with scrambled eggs and a fruit salad for you to get some of your energy back after a long night
Marc likes to join you for drinks a lot and handles his alcohol pretty well
Comforts you when if you've had one drink too many and get sick because of it
He loves how cuddly and clingily you can get and how you confess to him over and over and get angry when you tell him that anyone who's able to get him as a boyfriend is really lucky, only for him to say that he does have someone like that already
When you tell him that he's the hottest man you've ever seen he does become a little flustered and replies how he's happy that you have great taste then
Jake always makes sure to cut you off when he knows you're about to go over your limit
He's been drunk a few times himself, not a lot because it doesn't mix well with his work but on a celebratory occasion he can drink, so he knows just what to get for you in order to help you feel better
Of course that doesn't mean he won't take the opportunity to tease you when you try to drag him to bed and he replies that he can't because he wants you to remember every moment with him clearly and you end up sleeping with your back turned to him rather than cuddling against him like usual
Makes you coffee for your hangover while also teasing you about the night before
requesting 45 & 59 w/ Jake Lockley please🥵
TW/CW: 18+ Only, Minors DNI
"Jake, I don't wanna wait. Can't we park somewhere?" You asked as you slid your hand across the console, snaking it across his muscular thigh. He gripped your hand immediately, pausing your ministrations as he glanced over at you with a dark glare.
"Easy, mi vida..." He said lowly as he turned his attention back to the road.
"If I have to pull over, you won't be able to walk for a week,"
His warning sent a shiver through your chest as excitement pumped through your veins. He was daring you, pushing you to do it anyway as he removed his hand from yours to give you the choice.
Did you really want to tempt him with your bratty ways? Could you handle the future bruises on your ass that were sure to keep you from sitting comfortably for days to come?
You drew in a sharp breath as your curiosity couldn't be satiated any longer, slowly creeping your hand further across his lap until it met the rock-hard outline of his erection through his jeans. A deep growl emitted from his chest as you traced your fingers over it, glancing up to watch his jaw clench.
You felt a pang of panic as he suddenly turned the car into a dark alleyway, throwing the gear shift into park as he turned to face you with lustful eyes.
"Get in the back," he demanded as he climbed out of the driver side, meeting you as you shut your door with a hand around your throat. He pushed you back against the leather seats as he undid his belt, sliding his thumb across your lower lip.
"So eager for me, mi amor..." He sighed as you wiggled your hips in anticipation, practically panting beneath him.
He discarded his bottoms, quickly turning to yours to remove them now. His eyes never left yours, until your naked lower half pulled his attention away. His lips turned upward into a mischevious grin as he admired your apparent arousal.
"You're so filthy... All this for me? How cute."
Taglist: @shirukitsune @rosaren2498 @kindnonny23 @booksandbenbarnes @sunnysidesidra @scarlettmoon98 @xcastawayherosx @buginktsworld @rand0m–fangirl @raging-trash-of-mind @natisren @kaqua @irethepotato @dev-angeline @marshmallow–3 @stormkobra-5 @treasureswordsgirl55 @chunkcook @stepasidefilth @brekkers-desigirl @lancaerialcotume @wintergirlsoldier2 @dalia-12-3 @trashpanda99 @chrisevansgirlfriendsposts @darklingbrekksov @dembiscuitstho @xcaptain-winterx @mixerya92 @djarinsgirl27 @moonlighting87 @dd242 @lots-of-love-anon @simping-master-69 @harrys-tittie @love-on-the-murder-scene @loki-hargreeves @whatfandomnow @spectorsvoid @nathandepp @xzombiealicex @allthingsvicf @handswritteeen @sammi-doll483 @love-on-the-murder-scene
Thieving Touch (Steven Grant x Reader, Marc Spector x Reader, Jake Lockley x Reader) [Part 17]
You go to the professor for help.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17
Tagged: @simpforbuckyb, @gracehorses, @raging-trash-of-mind, @galactic-galabee, @wordacadabra, @lucy-sky, @im-a-slut-for-fluff, @startrekkingaroundasgard, @agustdeeyaa, @theratscorner, @villainarc-2, @daddysfavoritesexkitten, @nothxney, @just-call-me-non, @thefreshprinceofmirkwood, @jamiethenerdymonster, @storyteller-le, @unofficialavenger90, @whitewolfstar01, @rosaren2498, @darklingbrekksov, @gadsgikklesen, @ultrablackwidower, @revenge-of-the-bucket-demon, @rellasnowheenim, @natalieisfreeziing, @nyeddleblog, @21st-century-daydreamer, @nemtodd-barnes1923, @yes-im-your-mom, @sleepgod182, @sarcasm-n-insomnia, @allthecurls-misc, @moony-artemis, @whovian378, @flightsoffandom, @thepurpleaccount, @cole-silas, @christineblood, @1-800-vader, @roomiesoreo, @beebslebobs, @theclassicvinyldragon, @thelastemzy, @tsnelf7, @bex-tk1, @ineedmorejakelockley, @graciexmarvel, @later-gators12, @kezibear, @galacticstxrdust, @violet-19999, @dropdeadbec, @toracainz, @ahookedheroespureheart, @astrolockley, @damndosebois, @auszimbo, @ddaeing, @soggumm, @queen-cher-2002-blog, @sgt-morgan, @faefanatic, @bluebloodedfox, @22carolina08
Warnings: mention of past self-harm
Gif Source: paper-n-ashes
Both Marc and Steven expected you to stress at the airport again, terrified that you would try to hurt yourself again. Even if it was just bruising, like it had been the last time they had boarded a plane, it felt like too much. The thought of having to intervene effectively and immediately made both men uneasy. They weren’t sure they could react appropriately if the time came.
“Maybe there’s a fourth one,” Steven whispered after they booked the tickets while you slumbered. “It can’t be the same one who, you know…”
“Massacres,” Marc mumbled, feeling distant as he considered whether there were yet more personalities he had yet to discover. The birthing pains of confronting and integrating Steven had been so strong—and still so fresh—that he wasn’t sure he was capable of repeating it with other alters so soon.
“They’re better at taking care of her.”
The note of sadness in Steven’s voice gave Marc pause. “We’re only helping her because you insisted, Steven. You’re taking care of her, too.”
“Feels kinda like Gus, yeah? We wake up and changes have happened and we weren’t there to make it happen or experience it. It’s not me who’s helping, it’s…the other one.”
Chest constricting, Marc struggled to find something to say to lift Steven out of his forlornness, but he didn’t even know how to lift himself out of it. The feeling was strange, mixed with underlying anxiety about the blackouts and what could happen in the space between his conscious waking.
“We’ll take it one problem at a time,” he said, effecting conviction in his voice for Steven’s sake. “We’ll get better at knowing how to help.”
The trip to the airport and the entire flight from the West coast to the East one was unremarkable. No blackouts occurred, and you were incredibly, startlingly subdued, as though passing through the experience like a somnambulist. Steven fussed over you, asking you if you wanted food or anything to drink throughout the whole process. You ate and drank water mechanically.
Only when the plane touched down and you exited the terminal into the humidity of New England did you turn to Steven and asked, your voice quiet, “Why are we here?”
“Professor Simmons has some theories on how gods interact with humans that might be useful in helping you,” Steven answered immediately.
“Yeah. That’s alright, innit it? He can probably point us in the right direction.”
“I’m tired.” The words floated on a quiet exhalation, more a resigned statement than a declaration. Circles ringed your eyes despite the hours you had slept after your emotional outpouring. You moved sluggishly and aimlessly, requiring Steven to gently nudge and lead you.
“I know, love. But once we’ve gotten rid of this parasite, yeah, you’ll be able to sleep.”
“Sure,” you muttered, cynicism coloring your voice.
Frowning, Steven waved down a taxi and helped you into it. You slumped against the far door and stared numbly out the window, your gaze unfocused.
Disheartened, Steven sat with resignation in his own seat. It felt like you were slipping through his fingers again, as difficult to maintain a hold on as shifting sands. Each step closer to exorcising your parasitic deity was accompanied by the sound of sand against glass, an hourglass of time marking the hours until Steven was left holding nothing.
By the time the taxi pulled up in front of Professor Simmons’s residence, Steven was actively fighting despair. Marc fronted then, focusing his and Steven’s attention on getting you out of the car and to the front door. The professor wasn’t expecting either of you.
“I should have the conversation,” Steven said as Marc coaxed you out of the taxi, your steps leaden, “else you’ll look like a dunce.”
“You sure about that? This dunce is doing all the work.”
“All the work!? That’s the biggest load of bollocks I’ve ever heard you say.”
Suppressing a snicker, Marc relinquished the reins to Steven. He hesitated as he stared up the long gravel drive to the professor’s house. You stood idly beside him, surveying it with the dispassionate expression of someone only distantly present mentally. Steeling himself, Steven gently laced his fingers in yours to draw you forward with him.
Your grip twitched in his, then tightened a fraction.
His heart leapt into his throat.
Professor Simmons answered the door as Steven was still scrambling to find the right words. The professor, although confused at their appearance on his doorstep, radiated dusty amiability and managed to offer a warm, if perplexed, smile. “May I help you?”
“We hope so,” Steven said. “My friend here is in desperate need of your expertise.”
The professor glanced aside at you, his confusion deepening into a frown. “How can my expertise be of service?”
“It will take some time to explain, I’m afraid.”
Professor Simmons stared at you both as the weight of Steven’s revelation sunk through the layers of his academician brain. As he processed the information, his eyes grew distant, his expression giving a glimpse of his cognitive functions at work.
“Real gods?” He shook his head, shifted his attention down to his desk blotter. Papers were strewn across it some semblance of order that only he seemed to know. The bookcases lining the wall behind him and the adjacent walls were filled to bursting, books stacked in every available space, gaps between them stuffed with more papers.
If not for the task at hand, Steven would have perused the shelves to see what the professor’s library had to offer. Restraining himself, he focused on maintaining his earnest expression, trying not to feel hope flag as the professor continued to stare in silence.
“Even if I believe you,” the professor suddenly said, his voice measured, “I wouldn’t know how to help.”
In Steven’s peripherals, you deflated in your chair. Steven glanced at you, startled by the change in posture. Your earlier malaise and lethargy had, he realized with a gut-wrenching start, taken all your effort—had been your best efforts to hold onto hope. To hear Simmons’s pronouncement had taken the last bit of strength in you.
You visibly retreated inward, your gaze unfocused on the wooden desk.
“There has to be something,” Steven cried, desperation spurring him forward. Mind racing, he struggled to find something to direct himself and the professor toward some sort of solution. “Can you at least give us an idea of who the god might be?”
“Well…I can’t speak to parasitic deities, although I’m sure they exist in some pantheon, but I do know that the Greeks would have believed that what you are experiencing”—he glanced at you, though you didn’t return his attention—“is the gods exerting influence over you through the unconscious. A colleague of mine has written a book about how the Greeks probably ascribed the origin of thought to their gods whispering in their ears.”
Spinning in his chair, he scanned the bookshelf behind him, muttering absently to himself, until he found the spine he was looking for. Pulling the book out, the title declaring it Divination and Human Nature: A Cognitive History of Intuition in Classical Antiquity by Peter T. Struck, he handed it to Steven. “This is technically about prophecies and oracles, but the principle he espouses is still present.”
Steven riffled through its contents, scanned the chapter index. “So you think they’re Greek?”
“It’s probable. Given the stealing, I wouldn’t be surprised if it were someone like Hermes.”
Steven stilled as he saw you flinch in surprise. You woke up then, suddenly and brightly, all of your focus laser-locked on the professor. He stiffened, confusion knitting his eyebrows together as you sat upright in your chair.
You remained silent.
Clearing his throat, concern coursing through him, Steven asked, prompting the professor down another line of thought, “How did humans counteract the things the gods did to them?”
The professor smiled ruefully. “Oftentimes, they didn’t. They remained stuck until the god decided to free them—but that was almost never. The deity typically forgot about the human the moment they punished them and moved on.”
“What about the exceptions?”
Simmons tapped his fingers against the blotter, thinking. “Another god usually intervened.”
“Okay, another god. Right. We can work with that. Who would be the most helpful?”
You laughed, the sound disjointed. Icy fingers crawled down Steven’s spine.
“Helpful is not in their vocabulary.”
Your voice was not your own.
DESPITE EVERYTHING - jake lockley
summary: through everything. through every mistake. through every isolation, you still put up with jake lockley. and it makes him wonder why, after everything, as people call him a monster, you’re still here.
“you’re a piece of shit, jake.” was all you heard through the closed shutter. the only thing standing between you and an angry man.
through their tone, you knew it was marc. not only that but through his language that he used. steven wouldn’t be the one to use such foul language. he would rather use his actions to show much someone has pissed him off than say it.
as you sat on the bed, your legs crossed on top of one another, you slouched down while you waited for the shutter to open. though a part of you was scared when it did. if it did.
this wasn’t the only moment you seemed to hear marc angrily yell into the mirror. especially to jake. as jake didn’t seem to care as much, surely his words and actions toward you from jake seemed to mean something to marc. he didn’t care if he didn’t talk to you, but one word of disrespect and it marc couldn’t seem to put up with it.
night came to be. and as the door shutter opened between the flat and the bathroom, you caught jake exit out.
you knew what time it was. it was dark outside, and you knew it was his time to depart from you until sunrise. but for a small reason, for some reason, you had a need of a word to get out of you to him.
god forbid he takes it. but a desire in you wanted it to be taken. at least to be said.
“está equivocado.” you said as he walked passed you. about to reach for the door, he stopped. he stopped. for a moment you surely believed he would just walk out, take another night out to drink, to drive, to isolate himself from you.
but he didn’t. slowly, he just turned around his body, his head mostly to look at you. the only light that seemed to vaguely create his figure was the nightlight that glowed besides you. even that only seemed to shine across his face mostly.
but it’s all you needed so you could see his eyes. filled with such confusion, an emotion that was complex that you didn’t fully seemed to understand.
and you really wish you did. that you could go inside his head. so that you could fully understand who the man in front of you was. so you could understand what made him so different than the others. what distinctively made you stay with him, after everything.
though you thought he would say something sweeter. nothing sweet ever came from this man. his touches were tense, even if he never enjoyed touching you. his words were nothing more as if you were just another person in his home.
he was nothing more than just a man living in your home. and still, you had empathy for him.
his eyes raised to look at you, throwing back a response you knew you would soon receive, “no me conoces.”
that was true. you didn’t know him. you barely knew him. you didn’t know what he liked. you didn’t know what he disliked. you didn’t know how jake lockley came to be. all you knew is that he was the protector. and he would do anything for marc and steven. anything.
but for you, you doubted for a long, long time. at this point you believed that he didn’t care about you. but still, you cared about him. even if he came with blood across his body, even if he came home tired, you promised yourself you would still be with him.
and he hated it. god, how he hated it. your kind words. your kind acts of service. he didn’t deserve a woman taking care of him. he didn’t do anything for you, he didn’t know you. to him you were just a woman sharing a home with him.
and with that, it was enough to isolate himself from you.
you didn’t know him. he didn’t know you. but just with his actions. just with his small mumbles of words, you knew the type of man jake made himself perceive to be.
fidgeting with your fingers, you scraped under your nails repeatedly, trying to clear your nervousness of talking to this man that was nothing but a ghost in your house. and which you answered back, “sé suficiente."
you were foolish to say that. again, you knew barely anything about the man that stood in front of you.
the same was with you. jake knew nothing about yiu. all he knew himself is that he hated your words, he hated your actions and he knew that you knew that too. so, why, out of all places you still chose to be here. with him. you still chose to stay here, though you barely knew the man.
“por qué me aguantas?” jake questioned, taking a few steps closer to you as he pushed his upper body closed. furrowing his brows, he shook his head.
you furrowed your own brows as he asked that question. “que?”
it was a question that was easily understood, easily comprehensible. but one that was too complex to answer, even for you, especially with this man. why did you put up with him? why are you still here with him?
holding up his shoulders for a moment, he looked away from you, like he was waiting for someone else to answer with a clear response. like he so desperately needed to hear an answer that he could fully understand. one he could fully comprehend.
“no entiendo por qué, después todo, sigues aquí. me seguiste hasta aquí. he said. through these words you somehow began to see the man jake mickey was.
and his words were true. they were what he has been wanting to say every since he met you.
after everything. after every mistake, after each night that he came home bloody, with someone blood all over his hands, after each night that he came home angry at the world that he had to see humanity take another reckless hit on innocent lives, when he truly believed that we humans could not go deeper in our own shit.
after everything he still came home to your words of worry, to your actions of healing. despite everything. the anger, the worry, the isolation, the spite, you’re still here putting up with him.
how could he deserve that? how could you look at him and continue to do what you did each and every night he came back.
you stared at him. you wanted to respond with something more meaningful. something more impactful. but the words, “entre todos, solo hay uno de usted. por eso aguanté al resto. y por eso te aguanto. no importa qué." these were the words that circled around your head.
now, they would come to sound stupid. but they were the ones you chose. why? because despite everything, you stayed with marc. despite everything, you stayed with steven. why couldn’t you do the same with jake. though he didn’t seem to want it. you would try. though he pushed you away, you couldn’t let him leave without knowing that you, out of all people you, you were always going to be there for him.
no matter what. he was a part of you. a part of your life. one that you didn’t seem to fully acknowledge. but he has always been there.
pushing yourself off the bed, you stood up. not taking your eyes off of his, you couldn’t let this night be different than the others.
“no me importa que me alejes,” the words crept into his ears. “solo quiero que sepas que me preocupo por ti.” though it was only worry, that it will always be worry, it was enough for him to know that there was someone who cared about him.
and he wished you said everything so differently. the entire opposite is what he wished you said. that you didn’t care about him. that you didn’t worry. that you hated him as much as he hated you.
but you didn’t.
and for the first time, in a long time, your words made him feel human. like he wasn’t just a life here in this world with no purpose. but a life that had impacted another. a life that you would come to cherish for the rest of your life.
coming to look down at the floorboard, he softly nodded before turning away from you.
and when he did, he reached for the door like he meant to in the beginning. turning over to look at you one last time, he softly spoke in a tone you never thought you would believe and whispered, “gracias.” before he walked out, shutting the door.
Bro I just want to use Marc Spector, Steven Grant, and Jake Lockley as my weighted blanket
How about number 21 with Marc and Marcy and he’s singing their song, Bridge Over Troubled Water? Please!!!
Singing songs and rocking little one to sleep.
Her sobs was the first thing he heard upon entering your place. He was finally home, albeit, a little later than he wanted. But at least the first thing he could do is see his baby girl.
He dropped his things by the entrance and made a beeline towards Marcy’s room. She continued to cry. You’d probably be up, soon enough, to get her yourself.
You were left to take care of your daughter while he left for Colombia for a mission. You had told him you understood, but he still felt bad since Marcy had been rather restless lately. Things didn’t change, evidence by how he approached her room where her cries had yet to stop. Going over to her crib, he couldn’t stop himself from smiling down at her red face.
He scooped her into his arms and cradled her against his chest. He should’ve showered before anything else since he wasn’t exactly smelling so fresh, but he couldn’t stand to hear her sound so sad. He needed to be with her once again. She must’ve felt the same way, judging from how her wails were being reduced to little grunts.
He rocked her, swaying her slightly in his arms. He built a sort of rhythm to it that got him humming softly. When she opened up her eyes to look up at him, he had to give her another smile.
“When you’re weary, feeling small. When tears are in your eyes, I will dry them all…”
His eyes glanced over to the baby monitor attached to her crib. He made sure to keep his voice soft to keep her calm and not wake you up.
“I’m on your side when times get rough…”
He started to feel the guilt come back and weight him down. He hadn’t been doing such a good job as a dad. He told himself he was doing his part by going out and keeping the world safe for Marcy. But while doing so, he was missing out on actually being there for her.
“And friends just can’t be found. Like a bridge over troubled water, I will lay me down…”
He’ll be sure to stay for a good while this time. He might get some crap from Khonshu, but there are others around who can do his dirty work if it needed to be done so badly. Steven and Jake could help him make his case, he was sure.
“Like a bridge over troubled water, I will lay me down.”
He pressed a kiss to her head and returned her to her crib. Luckily she didn’t kick up anymore fuss.
It was perfect timing, seeing as your arms slid around him from behind. He smiled as he felt you rest your head against his back.
“Welcome home,” you said quietly on him. “You smell like shit.”
He did his best to keep his laugh down. “Feel like it,”
“Want me to draw you a bath?”
He hummed out his response, loving the offer. He turned around so he could wrap his arms around you and kiss you. God, he missed your lips.
“Only if you join me,”
Adeline’s Hex +18 Smut
Slight Dom!Steven Grant x Black!Virgin!Reader
A/N: When I write the reader, the intention is so that it is inclusive. However, there aren’t much fics catered to black women specifically. Every now and then I want to write fics catered to a specific kind of reader so they’ll feel represented but honestly anyone can enjoy this fic 😊 Who wouldn’t with all the smuttiness that will ensue. This is a sex pollen fic,too. Please Enjoy!
Word Count: 2.4k words
Summary: When a mysterious artifact is delivered to the museum. You and Steven decide to inspect it. What you didn’t anticipate was the item containing a potent drug similar to ecstasy, sex pollen.
Warnings: age gap (legal), public sex, p in v (unprotected), loss of virginity, slight blood kink, black magic, slight dub con (via sex pollen), riding, oral sex (f receiving), graphic language
You’d gotten this huge opportunity to work in a very prestige Egyptian-centered historical museum in London having to move from the U.S. When you’d first arrive as the curator for the museum, you were incredibly nervous. After all you were young and just getting your foot in the door of the art world.
But then you met Steven Grant. The cute, wacky, intelligent mercenary who happened to speak French, too. Soon the two of you were the best of friends and you’d talk shit about your short-termpered boss, Donna, in French and developed your own insiders.
Although, you’d always found Steven to be quite attractive, you wouldn’t dare ruin the bond you both shared. Not to say that there weren’t any attempts on your part to showcase your attraction. You’ve definitely flirted with him on occasion. You laid it on thick sometimes, even. Yet, it didn’t seem like he paid you any mind in that kind of way. Why would he when he’s already had women fawning over him and hoping to bed him? You assumed that in his eyes he’d looked at you as the young, nerdy, naive art enthusiast looking for a mentor.
But you didn’t want a mentor or a friend in him. You wanted more. You’d fantasized about his hands and lips all over you nearly every night. It didn’t help that he’d give you light touches throughout the day either. Patting you on the back, moving the kinky curls of your hair from your eyes, fleeting hand touches. Not to mention, his intense stares when you’d go on rambling about a random topic. It was all too much.
It was evening. The museum closed. You were at your desk looking at some new arrivals to expect for the museum.
Steven closes up shop, heading over to you with a heavy wooden crate with a crowbar at the top.
“Delivery.” He singsongs.
I look up from my computer. “Where’d that come? I’ve already received all the needed packages for today.”
“I’m not quite sure but it’s postmarked to this very museum,” He sets it down on the desk before picking up the crowbar. “And it comes with a bonus gift!”
You stood up from your seat, going around your desk so that you could get a closer inspection of the box. The big, red word: “FRAGILE” plastered on the side.
“I wonder what it could be.” You say eyeing the thing.
“Worst case scenario: it’s a bomb.” Steven jokes.
“Well, no point in letting the time tick to zero,” You say, still studying the box for any clues. “Wanna do the honors or should I?”
“You mean, we’re going to actually open the creepy death box.”
“Yes, I’d kinda want to know if what’s in here is actually meant to be here or if we’d have to call SCO-19. Quit being a scaredy cat.” You teased.
“Since, I’m a gentleman,” He says with a shaky voice. “I’ll do the honors.”
You put a hand over your heart further teasing him. “Aw, my hero.”
Steven shoves the tip of the crowbar into the box’s top, hearing a crack to signal that its opening up. Steven still hesitant to open the box, you place a hand over his to grip the crowbar as well. You both look at each other, nod, then pull down.
A final crack sounds and the box is fully open and a cloud of dust disperses. Packing peanuts and bubble wrapped stuffed at the top of the box, obscuring your view of the items inside. Steven takes the initiative and puts his hand into the box and pulling out a porcelain doll with dark brown skin and a traditional Haitian dress. The doll had a sad expression on its face. A red ribbon tying a description tag to the doll’s right hand.
“A doll?” Steven asks, bewilderment in his tone.
“Looks familiar,” You take it from his hands, inspecting it. You notice Steven wiping his hands on his pants. “Everything okay?”
“Yes, just a bit of dust, is all.”
Thats’s when you read the name on the tag and your eyes widened. “La Peau de Lueur.” You whispered.
“Glow Skin,” Steven translates. “What does that…” Steven looks at his hands seeing it shimmer like glitter.
Your eyes widened. “My parents told me the story of this artifact as a child. When they were younger and living in a small village in Haiti, there was a woman, Adeline. She killed herself after learning of that her husband was unfaithful. When the authorities found the body, she was found clutching a doll in her right hand. Legend has it that she was a witch who dabbled in black magic and transferred her soul to the doll. Whoever is unlucky enough to encounter it will be hex’d. This dust is no ordinary dust, Steven. It’s some fucking kind of potent death pollen!”
Steven is now heavily breathing, a bead of sweat forming at his forehead. “Bloody hell,” He exclaims. “That can’t possibly be true. Are you saying we could die?”
“It sounds absurd, yes. But look at us. We’re a mess. It must be real.”
Your heartbeat was racing and the your skin shimmered. Steven had more exposure than you so his symptoms were full blown. His eyes were dark, lips pouty, raging erection straining his pants, and the shimmering against his olive skin made him look so delicious.
“There must be something we could do.”
Your legs felt like jelly. You rest your back against one of the tall pillars in the room for support.
You read the note on the card aloud.
*“Quand la poussière retombe
La peau brillera
La chaleur va monter
Tu rencontreras ta mort
Mais à travers les affres de l'extase
Alors tu seras Libra.”
“Throes of ecstasy? As in…”
You nod. “It’s the only way to break the curse.”
It was unfortunate that your first time having sex would be an involuntary decision. But somehow you felt worse for Steven. He’s no way attracted to you yet he’s forced in this union, too.
“Do you want this?” His body suddenly against yours. You were now sandwiched between his hard body and the hard pillar.
The aching and throbbing between your legs increases. “I do. I want it.” You bite back a moan as he ground himself against you, feeling his arousal. His body against yours gave some relief but it wasn’t enough.
He brings his both his hands up, sliding them over your clothed arms before settling them at the buttons of your cardigan. He looks up at you and you nod. Unbottoning the sweater, he pulls it off you before throwing it to the ground.
You wore flimsy white spaghetti stap top underneath. Your nipples hard, peaking through. He ghosts his lips over your collarbone as he lowers the straps to your top.
Then, He blows air against your neck while plucking at your nipples through your shirt. And you absolutely melt. “Mmm.” You moan with a shudder.
“Is that good?” He sounded so sexy. Lust clearly in his voice. His accent thicker than ever. You reminded yourself it was only the pollen that’s causing him to want you.
“Yes. So good.” You dig your nails into the small of his back.
“I can practically smell your arousal between your legs,” His lips now to your ear. “Would you like me to taste?”
You nod, frantically.
“Use your words, love.”
“Please. Taste me, Steven.” You say, breathlessly.
“Such a good girl.” He growls before his hands hikes up your pencil skirt. He slowly pulls down your underwear, lowering to his knees. Draping one of your legs over his shoulders, his face is now staring at your cunt.
He groans, bringing his finger up to spread your lips. “Look at that pretty pussy. So wet. So plump. Begging to be filled.”
His swipes his tongue quickly at your clit. You put a hand over your mouth to suppress a scream.
He pulls your hand away. “No. I want to hear you. Put your arms behind you. Wrap them around that pillar until I tell you to move them.”
You whine but all you could do was obey. His presence itself commanded it. “Keep your eyes on mine.” He says as he’s inching towards your pussy. His lips latching onto your clitoris.
You’re a writhing and moaning mess. Your moans bouncing through the walls of the museum. “St-Steven, f-fuck.”
“That’s it, darling. Scream for me,” His hot breath against your core. “Go on and let those hands free. Want them in my hair.”
He doesn’t have to tell you twice. Your hands immediately flew down to grip his dark curls, pushing his head further against you. You don’t know whether you want to throw your head back to scream or continue looking into his lust-filled eyes.
He’s gone completely feral. He feasted on your flesh as if you were the juiciest fruit. Your breathing becoming so frantic, you were worried you’d pass out.
“Mmm, you taste so fucking incredible.” He groans, kissing at your flesh. You notice him jerking himself as he ate you out.
“Steven,” You whimpered. You were so turned on by the sight of him getting pleasure from your pleasure. “I need you to fuck me. Now. I’m aching for you.”
“Gotta get you ready for me, love.”
He pushes a finger in you. Your eyes widen at the intrusion. You’ve had your fingers in you before but his were way thicker and longer. “Oh, my god. Oh, fuck.”
“A tight little thing, aren’t ya,” He says, pumping his finger in and out. “I’ll have to break you in.” He adds another finger, looking up to watch your reaction.
You squirm and cried out. His thick fingers stretched you in ways you weren’t sure were possible. He pumped in and out of you at a slow, teasing pace, rubbing at your clit with his thumb at a similar speed.
But then he adds his tongue into the equation once again. You were a goner. The coil finally snaps and you scream an ear -piercing scream. But his tongue doesn’t stop and he’s still pumping with his fingers at your sensitive core.
You were a sobbing mess and it only seemed to urge him on. This man was not the Steven you knew. The man you knew was shy, sweet, level-headed. But this Steven was a man possessed. “Oh god, please. I need your cock. I want you to ruin me.”
This seemed to be enough to end both of your torture because he pulls his mouth away from your dripping core. He spreads your cardigan on the floor. “Strip.”
You both quickly discarded of your clothes. Steven’s lying on his back on the cardigan. “I want you to ride me.”
You put your legs on either side of his body. Lowering yourself, your pussy hovering just above his erection. It stood tall, looked painfully hard but ready to enter you. It looked almost intimidating.
“I’m a virgin,” You confess. You know you were ruining the mood. But you had to let him know. Obviously, you had to do this or the inevitable will happen but you had to warn him in case the sex is bad. In case, he questioned you for your inexperience.
He looks up at me with pity. “Honestly, I would’ve wished to be able to take you out on a date before we went to this step.”
“D-do you mean that?”
“Yes,” He put his hands to his face. “I’m a fool for holding back for so long. I was just scared you didn’t see me that way. Not to mention, you’re much younger. I assumed you prefer men—“ He chokes out a moan as you lowed down on his dick taking his tip into you.
“Steven! Shit. You’re so fucking big,” You bring your hands back behind you, resting them on both his legs for support. “I want you to watch your cock filling me.”
You lowered yourself taking him inch by inch. The stretching causing a slight burn. Groans slipping from both your lips. You go up again and slide back down. Eventually, you find a delicious rhythm that has you both basking in its intensity.
“God, I love watching that tight cunt swallowing me whole.” His cock glistening from your slick and blood. He didn’t want to admit it to you but he took pride in seeing the blood as a reminder that he’s officially popped your cherry.
He’s dreamt of this moment for so long. He assumed you to be inexperienced because of the way you’d blush when anything remotely sexual was mention, but you’d been virgin. It made the most sense.
After going up and down a few times, pleasure took over most of the pain of being stretched and soon you brought your hands to his chest for support and slamming down your hips. He bottoms out.
“Ohhh, fuck.” Steven groans.
You ride him as if this was something you’ve done countless times before. You circle your hips and went up and down, teasing him a bit.
“You’re doing amazing,” He praises.
You lean in, kissing him. The kiss is hungry and your tongues fought for dominance as you continue to ride him. When you pulled away, a line saliva connecting your lips broke off against your chin and dripped down your chest.
“You’re so wet. You feel so good around me,” You clenched, he moans at the action. “I’m not gonna last long.”
“I’m gonna cum, too. Want your cum so badly. I want you to cum on my ass.” You whine. He growls at that proclamation. Your butt was one of the many parts of you that he loved.
You rotate yourself with his dick still inside, your back now facing him. He takes your hips and pounds into you. “Oh, fuuuck!” The pressure in your stomach building.
“Rub that clit for me, darling,” He moans. “Go on. Let me feel you cum.”
Those words were enough. You feel your orgasm crash into like a freight train. You rubbed at yourself frantically, trembling violently on his cock. Tears once again streaming down your face. Clenching super hard around him making it difficult for him to pump in and out of you. Your breath taken away. You gasp for air. Once you recovered your breath, you felt Steven’s thrust begin to falter.
“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” He pulls out of you with a groan and you feel the spurts of warmth on your ass. “Jesus Christ.” He breathes out, completely satisfied.
You slip off of him laying beside him on the cardigan. The two of you panting for air until you both broke out in giggles.
“I can’t believe we just fucked in the middle of the museum. We are so fired.” You laughed.
Steven laughs, shrugging. “Worth it.”
* When the dust settles
The skin will shimmer
The heat will rise
You will meet your demise
But through the throes of ecstasy
Then so shall you be set free
How the Moonboys Act at the Beach HC
A/N: I took a day trip to the beach today and couldn’t help but write some hc’s while I was there!
- let me begin by saying this man has everything prepared before you guys leave
- he triple checks the bags as he definitely over worries that something will be left behind
- and once you get to the beach you realize how much extra stuff he bought just to make sure you have a good time
- anything you could possibly think of bringing to the beach he’s got
- extra towels, umbrellas, a speaker, loads of snacks, and even a bucket to collect seashells in
- when it come to actually going in the water, i think he prefers the water to be more calm, so if it’s rough, he’ll probably prefer to staying near the shore, just letting the water graze his feet (but if you beg him enough, he’ll cave in and go further into the water)
- he also puts the bucket to good use when he goes to collect seashells
- when he comes to show you every seashell he found your very impressed because he’s incredible at finishing the most unique seashells you’ve ever seen
- Marc LOVES the beach
- he’s probably the one who asks you to go with him to begin with
- whether the water is rough or calm, once he gets there he’s jumping inside
- he’s always beckoning you to join him
- and if u don’t come right away you bet he’ll race his ass over to you, pick you up bridal style, and toss you into the water with him
- He’s a absolute maniac
- he’ll be like “(y/n)! Look look at me! Watch this!” while he does a lil front flip into the water
- he comes up to the surface all proud of himself too
- it’s honestly really cute
- he would 1000% spend all day in the water
- you have to literally drag him out of it
- though afterward he takes the both of you to go get ice cream :)
- honestly I think Jake likes the beach the least out of the three of them
- I believe that he’s not a great swimmer/ just doesn’t know how to swim
- so he’s very hesitant when you first asked him if he would go with you
- but of course he can’t say no to you, so for you, he goes
- The only thing he’ll bring with him is a beach chair, speaker, and a cooler full of snacks and beer
- The closest the water get to him is if it reaches out far enough to touch his toes
- He loves watching you jump in the water though
- also refuses to put sunscreen on
- Claims that “his skin is tough” and that “it can handle the sun”
- then proceeds to complain all the way on the ride home on how burnt his arms and shoulder are
- stops complaining when you offer to give him a massage with aloevera when you get home
I just had a random thought after eating 2 edibles 🍬 and smoking 7 joints 🚬.
Steven asking you to call him daddy. 💸
Jake requesting that you call him papi. 🇪🇸
Marc saying he wants you to call him aba. ✡️
That is all.