therapy is going well
Hold Me Close (Moon Boys)
Pairing: Moon Boys (Mostly Steven) x fem!Reader
Fic Type: Drabble
Summary: Having been against touch all your life, now that you have three loving boyfriends, you’re overwhelmingly clingy. Cuddles, hand-holding, standing so close you’re up against them; but sometimes that’s just not close enough.
A/N: Soooo, I’m probably gonna do a Santi version of this? And Poe of course my space husband. Also this was supposed to involve Marc and Jake, but I couldn’t come up with a good story for them yet… :///
Rating/Warnings: 18+ NSFW, Minors DNI, light smut, mention of virginity loss, cockwarming, fluff, a little angsty, hurt/comfort, cuddles, touch-starved reader, touch-starved Moon Bois
~🌙 Steven🌙 ~
You heaved a sigh.
It wasn’t enough.
Your life had been one of light touches, 30 second embraces, cuddles only when a small child or when crying– and that you certainly didn’t do often. As you grew older, you became averse to touch. The thought of hugs made you so uncomfortable you visibly cringed, personal space became a large issue for you, and even a mild handshake was enough to have you inwardly squirming with discomfort as if a centipede was crawling on you. Physical touch, you came to feel, was a very, very bad thing.
Until you met them.
Steven Grant, the sweet gift shop worker with a bit of sass, secretly a tough-ass in a tux when night rolls around. Marc Spector, his alter, the soft but rough mercenary who had pushed you away for weeks when you’d first met. And then Jake, the brutal cabbie driver who fronted only rarely, long enough to serve Khonshu or to protect his alters– until he met you. Marc could get past physical touch if necessary, but he didn’t like it. Jake despised it, he still wouldn’t let you within a foot of him at any given time. Steven was the most like you.
Yearning for touch but detesting it, you’d both, slowly, learned to overcome it. It was barely-there brushes of fingers when grabbing something from the other at first, which made you both yank back as if you’d been burned. There was a lot of talking. Unplanned touches sent Steven into a spiral of mild panic and you retreating into your shell. And so, one day, on the couch, you and Steven spent the day literally warming up to each other.
The first touch of his fingertips against yours made you both gasp, and then you remained like that. Hour by hour, you slowly began to increase the contact, until finally, you were holding hands. Many hours later, past midnight, you closed the distance between you in an embrace that left you both breathless with sobs at the contact. It felt unnatural to both of you, to be held like this.
And then, the unthinkable happened.
You started craving it.
He kissed you for the first time that night, and from that night onward you were always stealing kisses from each other. You slept entangled like koalas, facing each other. All those years of wanting someone to love you enough to hold you, and finally, you found him. Them. Because soon, Marc started to hold your hand, too.
It was Steven, though, that took your virginity, and you’re a little embarrassed to say that when you were cuddling afterward, you were quietly sobbing into his shoulder. “Hey… Love, did I hurt you?”
“No,” You’d answered, comforted by him rubbing your back. “Not at all. I just… I never knew…”
“How intimate this would be?” Steven finished softly.
“We’re so close,” You breathed in disbelief, about the fact that he of all people wanted this intimacy with you– this closeness. As close as two people could possibly become. “Please don’t go away. Ever.”
“Never,” Steven promised, sealing it with a kiss.
And while the cuddles, you clinging to him like a human backpack as he went about the house, and the constant entanglement of your bodies on some level comforted you, sometimes, when you were feeling especially in need of physical contact– like now– it just wasn’t enough.
Steven sat on the couch beside you, reading. You were pressed flush against his side, legs thrown over his lap, one between his knees. He had one arm around you, the other on his book, and his head laying on yours. And yet, despite this closeness…
It wasn’t enough.
You weren’t sure how to say this. Not at all. But there were some nights when you slept with Steven that he remained buried inside you, keeping you as close as humanly possible. It’s something you both clearly enjoy, but have never openly stated– so you wonder, what would he think of you saying it out loud? Asking for it without sex?
Of course he notices something is wrong. Maybe it’s the tenseness of your shoulders, or the way you keep shifting as if to get even closer. Steven lifts his head, taking his glasses off as he looks down at you. “What’s wrong, love?”
“Nothing,” You lied, a lie you’d told your entire life. It came easily now, a habit you’d never be able to break.
Steven made a face, carding his fingers through your hair. “Aw, dove. That’s not true. What is it, hm?” You could only shrug. Unsure of how to bring it up. Steven knows that you’re hiding something, but he doesn’t push you. He keeps massaging your scalp, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Alright, then; you can tell me when you’re ready.”
It isn’t until you’re getting ready for dinner that you are.
Steven is reading on the couch; his eyes widen to the size of dinner plates when you step out of the bathroom in the pretty short nightgown he likes so much, instead of going straight to making dinner with him like you’d planned. “L-love?!”
“Steven…” You say nervously, wringing your hands together. “Can… Can we try a different way of cuddling?”
“Yeah,” Steven answers, eyes raking over your body and drinking in the sight of you. “What’d you have in mind?”
“U-um…” You nervously crawl onto the couch beside him, on your knees as you struggle for the words. “You know how… uh… sometimes after we have sex, you uh… kinda…”
Steven’s quick. He gets it immediately. “You want to be connected, love?”
You let out a whooshing breath of relief. “Yeah.” Immediately after, you added, “I just want to be close to you, and today, it just… Cuddling just doesn’t feel like enough right now.”
“Well,” He leaned over to give you a warm kiss. “Sounds like a bloody good idea to me, dove.” His hand rested on your thigh, massaging the flesh gently. “You alright with me getting you ready? I don’t want to hurt you.”
You couldn’t help but chuckle a little. “You mean can I handle it without jumping you?”
Steven laughed quietly, his smile dazzlingly bright. “Yeah.” You nodded, and Steven didn’t waste any time. Without breaking eye contact, he slipped his hand up your nightgown. You bit your lip as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, slowly working you open and chuckling into your mouth as he kissed you messily. “Aw, love; you’re already soaked. Why didn’t you ask me for this earlier?”
He pulled his hand away and sucked his fingers clean with a soft moan, trying to ignore the fact that your face must have mimicked the sudden arousal you felt. “D-didn’t know how to ask–” You cut off as he guided you closer to him by your wrists. You planted a knee on either side of his hips, hovering there as he untied the drawstring of his sweatpants to remove his half-hard length.
“You can ask me anything,” Steven breathed, letting out a sharp intake of breath as his tip brushed your soaked folds. “Anytime,” He added, although it was more of a growl he started to enter you. Your jaw fell in a silent scream as he guided you down onto him. “That’s it, dove, that’s it– agh–” He bottomed out, stretching your walls to a slight burn; you gasped at the feeling as you involuntarily clenched around him. Your relieved sigh was music to his ears, and it took everything he had in him not to buck up into you– at least, not more than the two times he couldn’t help himself. He forced himself to sit still, and you saw him visibly struggling. Immediately, you felt guilty. Is this too much for him, too little?
“Just… just gimme a second, yeah?” He whispered, breathing deep to control himself. Eventually, his hands found your hips as he calmed, a sparkle in his eyes as he kissed you. “O-okay; I can hold out now. Feels good for you, dove?” You wrapped your arms around his neck, collapsing forward onto him and relaxing into his embrace, overwhelmed by the intensity of the waves of your emotions, of the feelings of warmth and safety. Steven wrapped one arm around you tightly, the other coming to rest on your stomach. He massaged your abdomen, making you both moan into your kisses when he nudged that place where his length rubbed against your insides. “There,” He breathed, keeping his hand still. He rubbed his nose against yours, trying to keep his breathing even. “Feel that?” He met your gaze, dark eyes conveying a sense of assurance. “I’m as close to you as I can ever be physically, love.” He eased up on the pressure, which was good, else you never would have lasted with him inside you. He gripped the back of your head as he kissed you, licking into your mouth and tracing your tongue with his. “But it doesn’t matter how close I physically am, does it?” He breathed into you, so softly you could barely hear him. “Because even if we’re apart, I will always be right,” He kissed you again, hand dropping to sit over where your heart was. “Here.”
“Don’t ever leave me, Steven,” You whispered, leaning into his touch.
“Never ever, not in a thousand years. Nothing’s ever going to take me away from you, dove. You hear me? Never. I promise.” Steven pressed his lips to yours passionately, lovingly, as if trying to convey how much he loved you without words. “If you ever need this, darling, just ask. I’d be more than willing.”
“I love you, Steven,” You sighed softly.
“Love you too, darling.” He shifted so that you were lying down. He faced you, keeping your back against the couch, wrapping his arms and legs around you protectively. He pecked your forehead. “With all my heart.” Dinner was forgotten, both of you falling fast asleep.
Thanks for reading! I’m gonna be doing Marc, Jake, Poe, and Santi probably, eventually. ://
Taglist: @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
Fluff prompt #6 + Marc Spector please!
ˣ pairing: marc spector x reader
ˣ prompt: “i like it when you say my name.”
ˣ warnings: 1.3k wc. mentions of pregnancy. tons of fluff.
ˣ a/n: i swear the idea of this was made prior to all the baby talk these last few days okay. but hope you enjoy hehe xx
“Hmm… What about Oliver?”
Marc shakes his head, his dark, messy curls bouncing ever so slightly. The way he looks ethereal, bathed in a soft golden glow of the dipping sunlight, has your breath hitching and heart fluttering wildly.
Thankfully he’s used to this— you staring, regarding him as if he’s a glorious statue sculpted by Michaelangelo himself.
Gazes intertwining, his smile distracts you for a stolen moment. Not on purpose, but it’s almost always like that with Marc. You’d never seen a prettier smile than his, though he’d argue that yours is by far more beautiful. But there’s something about his smile that simply dazes you— makes you feel like you’re floating in an endless state of bliss.
It’s quite hard to believe at times that Marc is the one you call yours. Falling in love with him had come so unexpectedly, but very easily as if it were all meant to be. Five years and counting, with your first child on the way, you still find yourself falling deeper and deeper. You could only imagine the immense love your heart holds for him… and your little one.
Speaking of which, you cross off yet another name from the list visualized in your head.
“Okay… maybe we can call him Matthew?”
Your input is met with the briefest of silence, followed by a quiet, resounding no that leads you to let out an exhale.
“Huh, who knew naming a kid would be this difficult?” Marc chuckles, his chest reverberating under your ear as the arm around you tightens, pulling you impossibly closer. “We’ve gone through how many names now— 10? 20?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if we already hit the 50 mark, to be honest,” you return, eyes flickering up to meet his warm, café gaze. “Plus, we still need to come up with a middle name. It would really help if you gave me three or four suggestions. Every name I’ve brought up, you didn’t like.”
“It’s not that I don’t like those other names. I just don’t think any of them suit our little guy— get what I’m saying?”
You hum softly in response, featherlight fingertips slowly drawing shapes into his tanned skin. “So, now what? Are we going to wait until he’s born to name him?”
“I guess so,” he answers with a shrug. “Naming a baby is a big responsibility, and our son will be stuck with whatever name we choose for the rest of his life. It has to be perfect.”
A gentle hand then comes to rest on your grown belly. With a tender smile, Marc soothes the pad of his thumb over the swell of your stomach.
It still leaves him awestruck, the fact that he’s going to be a father soon. He’d painted the nursery walls and assembled the crib and other furnishings nearly a month ago. Though it felt even more real after spending the entire morning of today helping you pack the hospital bag.
A few weeks more, you’d remind him earlier. Just a few weeks more, Marc would finally have the family he’d always wanted— the one he’d always dreamed of having with you.
“Come on, Marc, we gotta think of at least a few,” you urge him with a small laugh.
He gives you a look. A sweet one, at that. Earthy brown orbs gaze at you adoringly; they mesmerize you, seamlessly indulging in delight at the mere flawless sight of you cuddled at his side.
Only Marc could reduce you to a puddle with those sparkling eyes.
You sincerely hope that your son inherits them. Those eyes, those curls, the smile that you’d never tire of seeing. Perhaps even the sound of his laughter, if it were possible.
You wish that your son would grow up to become the good man Marc is. The world could truly use another Marc Spector to brighten up everyone’s lives, the same way your Marc has done to yours.
“What about Marc?” you blurt out in the open, smiling softly.
“Marc?” he repeats. His features are unreadable, but the furrowing brow at your idea gives his puzzlement away.
“Yeah,” you nod, fingers twirling at the stray strand of hair splayed on Marc’s forehead. “What if we name our baby Marc?”
“Why would you want that?”
“Because why not?” comes your counter as you prop yourself up on one elbow. “Be it his first or middle, I want to name our baby after his father, my wonderful husband. The man who would do anything and everything for the two of us and who would love and protect us fiercely no matter what.”
Marc pauses, his mind undoubtedly reeling this all in. There are instances when he’s unable to see himself the way you see him. He’d slip into these fleeting moments of self-doubt and self-deprecation from time to time, an unfortunate habit following his tragic past.
You’re certain that this is one of those moments.
So you do the only thing that gets Marc to stop.
You kiss him.
Softly and sweetly, you press your lips against Marc’s, sensing the tension in his body slowly easing away. He clings to you as if you’re his lifeline, and you draw him in as close as you can.
The kiss seems everlasting. You want it to last forever, or at least as long as Marc needs it to. You’d say you love him a million times, but a kiss— this kiss— seals the promise, declaring the truth that you’re more than glad to remind him of for the rest of his life.
When it’s time to part, you leave Marc breathless. Breathless and grounded. All worries now a minuscule thought in the back of his head. He allows himself to bask at this moment, in this reality.
In this slice of heaven that you and he have built together.
The silence breaks at the sound of his delicate voice. “A-Are you sure?”
“Only if you agree, but yeah, I’m sure. I want to name our son after you, Marc.”
Marc’s smile reappears, and it reaches his tear-stained eyes. The corner of his mouth curls with your words, his hand remaining on your bump, caressing it. “I like it when you say my name, you know? Can’t exactly explain how it feels, but hearing you say it makes me the happiest man in the universe.”
Your heart swells at the touch and his admission.
You make Marc happy, but he doesn’t realize how much he makes you happier.
“So… what do you think?”
He takes a second to form a response. And as if he needs more convincing, your son gives a slight kick from inside your womb that catches you both by surprise. “Marc Jr., huh? You like that, buddy?”
Another set of kicks and they cause you and Marc to break into a fit of giggles.
“Little Marc Jr.,” you whisper. “Of course, we can give him a nickname, so he doesn’t get confused when he’s older.”
“Well, what if we settle on Marc as the middle name to avoid it?”
You ponder for a bit, then release a chuckle. “I’m good with that. But you know what this means, right?”
Marc tilts his head, his gaze narrowing as he shifts in bed, turning to you. “What does it mean?”
“It means we’re back to square one on first names.”
A playful groan escapes Marc’s parted lips, and with a kiss dotted on your nose, he buries his head in the crook of your neck. “Back to the drawing board, we go.”
taglist: @milkiane @dopeqff @liaaacantwrite @raging-trash-of-mind @daydreamingchaos713 @tinysquirrrrelgirl @khonshus-wife @loonymagizoologist @thelaststraw3 @irethepotato @syrma-sensei @mad-malory @allthingsvicf @victoriaarantza @battaltt @juleslovesfics @j-n-h-p @mooonlight-and-stars @xcatnapsx @dailydoseofchoices @izbelross @mrs-holmes @avatar-of-procrastination @darthxochitl @doomsdaybby @jakelcckley @xdarkcreaturex @glitteringhippie @fleurated @kyrst1n @n0ripeaches @bxmxtx @elaine-spades @mona-has-friends @ghostlyreads @later-gators12 @rmoonstoner @lluckpng
strikethroughs i am unable to tag. let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!
moon knight masterlist
Audio Master (smut)
A/N: This is inspired by a comment from this fanfic. Thank you so much for the recommendation, @aestheticpisces ! Ikind of changed it from a professor-student relationship to a neigbor type because… yes.
Basics: Listening to an audio maker that sounds alike with your hot neighbor. That must be a coincidence, right?
Warnings: s*xually explicit, minors DNI, minor writing errors, creampie, erotic audio, praise kink etc…
Word count: 3.4 k
You only had a few things in your life that you could look forward to, 5 in the afternoon, sushi takeout and your little secret: Erotic audios.
Now normally, people would prefer the visual stuff. Seeing people grinding on each other, going ham in different places. But not you. No, you prefer the auditory sensation.
Feeling the vibration, moans, and especially the words directly into your ears. So you could imagine and indulge yourself into the moment. The given prompt. Dear God it was so hypnotic.
Now you’ve recently encountered a new erotic audio content creator who had a very similar voice to your long time fantasies. Your crush. Your dearest friend and neighbor. Steven Grant.
He’s been a friend of yours for over a year now. And boy he’s such a wildfire. Sure, he’s soft and cautious but you’ve seen how calloused his hands are from time to time. How his shirt would outline his apparent muscles. Those damn arms that you admired so much.
Let’s be real here, you’ve been touching yourself at the thought of him, several times over now. Thinking about choking on his length, him eating you out. Getting railed while bent over, on a bed, by the kitchen, during a movie, in public- I mean, we can go on and on about your sexual desire for this man.
So discovering this lustful voice that sounded so much like Steven made your intimate solo moments, so much pleasurable.
It was 8 PM now, on a Saturday night and you had just cleaned up for the day. You didn’t have the time during the week to touch yourself, so this seemed to be a great moment to do so. No ones coming over, you’re not going out, and hey, it's been a hectic week— it’d be nice to let it all out.
After a nice warm bath and a change to a big comfortable shirt, you opted to wear nothing underneath. You know, easier access.
So you prepared your bed and arranged everything. Your laptop, your earphones, dimmed lights, a lit scented candle and a sensual playlist to play during the ‘pleasurable’ time you were about to endure.
Happily, you plop down onto your bed, fixing the comforter and pillows to your liking. Of course, one can’t forget the main attraction. Your beautiful toy. It wasn’t big, nor was it small. It was one of the silicone egg-shaped vibrators, and it did you wonders.
It’s pretty pink was far from unnoticeable. You grab your laptop, plopping it by your bedside, placing the earphones on. The browser was waiting for you to look his name up. And there he was.
He uploaded a new audio yesterday but you never got the chance to listen to it the whole day because of work. So the excitement in you was wildin’.
You picked the new audio:
[M4F] Dom boyfriend reminds you who you belong to
“Come here. Now.”
The voice was so similar to Steven’s, you couldn’t help but spread your legs and place your toy by your slit.
“Why did you think it’d be okay to flirt with that guy?”
“I don’t want to hear dumb excuses, love. Come here and bend over my lap.”
“You heard me. Now.”
You turned the device on and felt its buzz on your clit. These types of audios were allowing you to just immerse yourself, thinking about whoever you want to think about. Steven.
“That’s it. My good little doll… bent over looking so fucking pretty for me.”
You couldn’t help but verbally respond, pushing the toy into you. “Fuck Steven” an airy release coming from your lips. Of course you were thinking about him, you always thought about him.
“You take my fingers so well. So wet for me aren’t you?”
“Tell me who you belong to. Fucking tell me.”
You increased the vibration of your toy, moving it in and out of your now soaked cunt. You found your other hand fondling with your breasts, lifting your shirt up till your chest.
Just as you were getting lost in your bliss, the vibrator in you, you other fingers teasing your clit, you hear a knock from the door, followed by two quick doorbells. “Y/n?”
Shit. Why was Steven here at this time? It was so annoying because why’d it have to happen when you were getting yourself into a wet puddle of your own filth.
You couldn’t help but feel nasty at the situation. You were getting off to an audio of a man who sounds like Steven, and Steven was knocking at your door right now. You couldn’t help but feel like you were getting karma.
Quickly, you hid your toy under you pillow, slightly closing the laptop as you pause the audio. Ensuring that any and all evidence of something was not there.
The apartments had an open layout so Steven would notice your bed. So you hop out of bed, blowing the candle out as you turn on the lights.
You pull your shirt down, it reached just above your knees so it didn’t expose the fact that you were not wearing underwear. You curse at your pussy for clenching. Thinking about Steven as you were about to open your door.
“Y/N! Sorry but I need to chat.” He blares out again, knocking thrice.
You open the door carefully and look up at a disheveled Steven. His brows were furrowed and his lips were downturned. He looked very sad, like a puppy dog. “Sure… come on in.” You open the door wider to let him in.
He thanks you kindly, moving to your couch as he jitters with his hands. An awkward walk from your door to the couch was what you ended up doing. Not truly your fault, you were very sensitive because this was not the agenda of the night. But Steven looks to be in need of friendship. So this’ll have to do.
“Let me get you a cup of tea.” You walk to your kitchen, reboiling the water heater as you grabbed the cup Steven usually uses.
“Thanks, love.” His endearing names towards you were typical of him. It probably didn’t mean anything at all so you don’t read into it.
You plop down a tea bag of chamomile tea, the water finally reheated and you poured it over. Afterwards you walked over to Steven, placing the cup near him by the coffee table. You sit next to him and squeeze your legs together, worried that you would leave some sort of wet mark on your couch.
“What’s wrong, Steven?” You eyed him as he took a small sip from his cup. He sighs out, running his hand through his hair as his eyes look up at you.
“I honestly- I feel like I am losing my mind, Y/n.” He shakes his head, placing the drink back down. “I like my job, I do. But I can only keep up with so much bullshit.” You barely heard Steven swear, and usually when he does, he is pissed.
“Tell me about it. Maybe you’ll feel better.” You squeezed his shoulder and felt him tense up under your touch. His hard muscles made it so hard to not think about what else is under there. You push it down though.
“Donna is a- a god- d-damn bitch!” He blurts out, almost a bit guilty by the way he said that with so much vulgarity. He was so angry and you wanted him to let it all out, your arms wrapping around him, patting his back.
“What did she do, Steven?” You kept your voice calm and collected. Making Steven feel at home and relaxed. He could always count on you. Your gentle caresses on his back almost made him forget he was fuming in the first place.
Steven has had a big crush on you ever since you first became neighbors. Even more so when you became friends. He couldn’t make a move, at least he never saw an opportunity, so he just left it at this. A friendship.
But by golly, you sure knew how to make him feel better without saying more than what you needed to.
“Huh, yeah- So Donna.” He snaps back to reality, still feeling your hands massage his back. Nearly sending him into overdrive. “She made me do so many things that are not even part of my job description. I mean ‘cleaning the toilets’? That isn’t my job, mate.”
“What an evil woman.” You shook your head at the audacity that woman had. She always mistreated Steven but from the looks of it, this has gotten out of hand. In an attempt to lighten the mood, you stood up to get something from your bed, your stuffed toy of Taweret that he gave you a few months back.
He missed your touch but allowed you to leave. What you didn’t expect was you to accidentally pull your headphones out as you accidentally pressed the space bar of your laptop.
“Does that feel good, darling-“ you panic at the voice and flop around to stop it.“Yeah, you like that.”
“MAKE IT STOP!” You finally shut your laptop down, ending the embarrassment you already gave yourself.
Steven’s ears perked up as he turned his head to your direction. “What was that?” He stands up, walking towards you on the bed as if he was a predator stalking prey.
“It was- pffft- I honestly don’t know. A weird advert of some sort?” You awkwardly chuckle as Steven didn’t stop moving to the side of your bed, grabbing the laptop from you.
“Advert, huh?” He opens the laptop, sadly you didn’t shut it down so he didn’t need a password to access it. Once he opens it, the audio resumes.
You felt your face burn bright red as Steven slowly sat by the edge of your bed, listening to the audio.
“Do my fingers feel nice? Hm? Your warm and tight cunt wrapped around my fingers. So fucking dirty.” The audio made Steven smile, his distraught face changing to a more curious one.
You observed his features and pulled on your sleeves. “Listen, this isn’t-“
Steven had to be very honest. He was a very horny person. It had to be said. He had stressful days, confusing and tiresome nights. All that energy had to go somewhere. So he made erotic audios everytime he could. Having these fantasies of his verbalized and out for consumption for anyone who feels the need to.
He’ll also admit, he always thought of you. That was his main reason for starting these audios anyway. He couldn’t make a move, it seemed too dangerous. But oy vey, here you were listening to a naughty audio. Scratch that, his naughty audio.
“I did like the script of this one.” He slowly states, closing the laptop, placing it to the far edge of the bed. Steven saw an opportunity. A big bright lightbulb boomed.
What did he mean, script? He listens to this stuff too? Or…
“What do you mean-“
He inches closer to you, “I enjoyed recording it.” You could feel his breath by your cheek. He cups your chin, forcing you to look at him.
“I- what?” You swallowed hard and clenched down on your cunt, it was raging being this close to Steven. It was hard to wrap your head around the fact that this Steven-like voice actor was… Steven? Shit.
“Oh you didn’t know?” He pulls your hip, “That makes this more fun actually.” He bites your ear playfully, the light stubble of his beard makes contact on your cheek.
Finding it hard to understand the whole ass situation right now. You shudder and bite your lip. “You mean- that’s you?” You point at the audio that was paused on your laptop.
He nods by your neck, “Honestly, this would be a fun way to get my stress out.” His hand continuously massages your waist and hip. Up and down.
“What would be a- a- a fun way to get your stress out?” It was sad the way you were stuttering so much. Who can blame you? You were literally in the middle of a fun, self-focused moment.
“You know… helping you out… giving you the real thing.” Your faces were looking at one another now. A sultry smirk forms on his face and you were literally quaking in between your thighs.
“This,” he points at the audio, “This crummy audio? Why settle for this? I’m right here.” His hand makes its way to your thigh. You shiver underneath his touch. He felt confident right now. Maybe it was his testosterone or maybe it's the fact that he’s wanted to feel you for so long and finally has a chance.
He spots the way you bit your lip and takes it an inch further between your thighs. Feeling the heat coming from your aching center.
“Steven- I didn’t know it was you.” Your hand held the forearm that was near your heat, his muscles and veins tensing underneath your touch.
“Did you imagine it to be me?” The hand moved further up, at this point he was cupping your cunt. He was already rock hard. The fact that you weren’t wearing anything made him smile. “Dear me, no panties?” He leans into your neck, kissing it softly.
“Did I interrupt something? Hm?” His hand was squeezing you like you were a stress toy. You very much well be, after the day he’s had. “God, you are soaking. Should I take that as a yes?”
“God.” You swallow, looking up to your ceiling. You squeezed his forearm further, encouraging him to slide a few fingers through your slit.
He feels his length pulsate at the way your folds felt. Like they were the most moist and softest place he’ll ever feel. “You feel amazing.” He pulls his hand out and wraps his lips around his fingers. Tasting your wet juices.
“Damn it baby, you taste amazing.” His eyes changed the way they stared back at you. Primal and desperate. “Lay down. I cannot take this anymore.”
“Wh-what do you mean.” You ask innocently, watching him kneel up in front of you, unbuckling his belt before pulling his pants down. Exposing the bulge in his boxers.
“Darling, you are such a beautiful thing. I have always wanted you. In every way. But, I am not going to lie…” He pulls his boxers down abruptly, his prick swinging up. “…But I need to fuck you.” You widen your eyes at the immaculate size and girth Steven was packing. It was perfect.
Maybe it was Steven’s shit day or his pure admiration for you— or both? Yeah both. But he really wanted to fuck the ever living crap out of you.
So you obliged. Laying down, before taking off your oversized tee. Your beautiful breasts perfectly settling atop of your body, Your beloved neighbor, did not expect you to just willingly take it off like that. So he thanks you by taking his off as well.
You knew Steven was chiseled from a few nights together, his shirts would outline those delightful muscles. But, seeing him on top of you with your lights sculpting his body, it made his entire physique god-like.
You pull him down by the neck, needy to have his lips on yours. The kiss was fast but far from rough. It was soft, he could not help but feel warm from the sensation you two were experiencing.
“You are amazing.” He breathes in between your kisses.
You pull away slightly, “So are you, you have no idea.”
Your eyes stared into his, were his eyelashes always so long? He smiles down at you, it was so hypnotizing that you didn’t notice his tip slowly hovering between your clit and slit.
“Stevennn.” You whimper, tightening your grip around his neck. This makes him smile wider, looking down at his aching cock.
“I’m gonna put it inside of you now. Is that alright?” He pushes a few strands of hair away from your face. Looking up at him, you nod softly. God, you looked so innocent even though he knew damn well you were not.
Maintaining eye contact, he slams into you. Earning a loud yelp to escape your lips. You felt so full as he remained in you, not moving an inch just so you would get accustomed to his length.
“You alright, lovely?” His hand squeezes your breasts as he stares at you with a smile. With a deep sigh, you try to say ‘yes’ but it comes out more like a “yemhm”.
Steven laughs at your dick dumbness right now and coos you with his other hand. Cupping your face slightly. “I’m going to move now, alright, baby?” He struggles not to groan as he slowly pushed his cock in and out of you.
The sensation of him made you squeeze down onto him. He hisses at the feeling. “Steven… You feel so good, baby.” You pull him down to you by his neck. Placing love bites all over him.
He does the same, placing love bites all over your neck, collarbones and chest. “Yeah? Do you want me to go faster?” He speaks as he hovers over one of your nipples.
“Fuck yes.” You cradle his head between your tits. Slowly, you felt his hands go to your hips, straightening his back so he could properly slam into you.
Before you knew it, he was fucking you. Primal, fast, hungry fucking. He tightened his grip on your hips, this would surely leave bruises but, who cares? This felt amazing.
Steven was in a blissful zone of himself, so satisfied with the sight and feeling of you under him. Gone are the nights where he has to use his imagination, now he can see you perfectly clear.
His cock was making you moan, it was making you tighten around him. You pulled him down again, scratching his back in the process. It felt so good that you had to mark Steven, too.
“You’re doing so well, love. Taking all of my cock, all of your pussy. Fuck you are amazing.” His praises were ecstatic, you wish it would never end.
In your best attempt to speak, you responded. “So are you, baby.” Feeling his length dive in and out of you, hitting your g-spot so deliciously.
He quickens and deepens his pace, making your moans more audible. The musk in air filling up with sex and both of your sweat. Steven’s beads of sweat began glistening all over his chest. His curls were wet and his face was in pleasure. He looked so good.
You were riding out your high, feeling the tightness in your stomach come to its culmination. “Darling I’m going to- Fuck…” You squeezed down onto his length, he could feel the warmness of your pussy get even hotter. Sensing your cum all over his cock.
He scoops you into his arms, still pounding into you. “Oh god, beautiful, that’s it. All over my cock. Cum all over my cock.” He smiles as you feel lifeless in his arms, lost in your own high.
He pulls you to his lips for a kiss, his pace slowing down but still keeping its depth. “My turn.” He slams into you again, faster, deepening the kiss between the two of you. Your moans vibrate into his mouth, he curses at the feeling. His dick was too far gone.
Sooner rather than later, he felt his load spread into you with one quick pulse, both your juices mixing with one another. He looks down to see the mess, practically pulling his cock out carefully to see the pretty cum drip out of your glistening pussy.
He scoops it up and brings it to your lips, willingly, you take it into you mouth. “Taste us, darling. Taste our nasty filthy pleasure.” After he sees you lick his fingers clean, he kisses you deeply, tasting it as well in the process.
It was sweet and salty, your hands caressed Steven’s back as he massaged your sides.
You pull him away from your face, as if you wanted some proof that this was real, that this wasn’t just a very lucid dream.
Apparently, Steven felt the same. He wanted to see your pretty eyes looking up at him. He could not help but smile back at you as you flashed that satisfactory smile.
“So how was the real thing? Do you wanna do this again?” He plops down to your side, making you willingly wrap your leg around him. It was nerve wracking for Steven, what if he didn’t satisfy you enough?
But with a soft kiss to his jaw, you reassure him with a nod, “Definitely, much better than the audios…”
Thanks for reaadiing ✨❤️
Jake fronts for a full day
Yo why is he looking at me like that
Wassup lil bud, Got a staring problem pal?
Not My Intention (Moon Boys x F!Reader)
Content Warning: mentions of physical/mental abuse
Word Count: 3.1k
Request (Abbreviated) @twhgirl
Could you write one moon boys x female!reader, where they've been dating for a while… They notice she gets anxious and startled very easily, but when they bring it up she always brushes them off so they don't pry. They don’t know she's previously been in an abusive relationship. And maybe they're at an office party and some guy comes to her when she's alone and the boys get jealous since it's obvious he's trying to flirt with their girl. So once they go back to her and the guy leaves, they give her the silent treatment, maybe Marc or Jake could be fronting, they're not mad they just thought it would create some anticipation cause all they think about now is to get home and fuck her dumb. But when they get home, as soon as they enter she becomes a rambling stuttering mess, apologizing profusely… and it dawns on them.
Content: Angst!! Fluff, poorly translated Spanish (obligatory) this shit is pathetic and soFT (not a comment on the recommendation just my writing) reader is dating the entire MK system
This is the first time I’ve tried to write in omniscient 2nd person so forgive me if I mess up the perspective somewhere <3 Thank you for the request!!! Much appreciated
It had been just over a month since you had moved in with your boyfriends. Steven had tried to get you to move in sooner, even offering to cook you breakfast each morning to entice you, but you were trying to take this relationship one step at a time. The boys didn’t quite understand your apprehension, but they respect the boundaries that you put in place. You hadn’t told them the reason that you wanted to take things so slowly. They didn’t know about the damage your last boyfriend had left in his wake.
You had fallen absolutely head over heels for him, desperate to do anything to please him. You didn’t even care about all of the glaring red flags, like how he refused to meet your parents or to introduce himself to your friends. Before long, you had shut yourself off from everyone in order to meet his every demand. You endured the yelling, the manipulation, the guilt-tripping, and even the flat-out threats. You had even endured his escalation to violence; by then, he’d convinced you that you deserved it. It wasn’t until a particularly heated argument left you in the hospital with two broken ribs that you finally realized you had to get away from him.
And so you did. But the damage was already done. Your self-esteem was shattered and your ability to trust equally so. You hadn’t even been looking for a relationship when you first met Steven Grant, but you were so taken aback by his gentleness. At this point in your life, it was the most attractive quality a man could have. You had been fairly understanding when Steven introduced you to Marc and Jake, as you felt safer by any of their sides than you’d felt in years. They soon all three became your devoted boyfriends, and you were happy. You didn’t fully comprehend how much your past abuse still affected you, though. How it still lingered in your subconscious.
Tonight was the office Christmas party at your job. It would be the first time that your coworkers would meet your boyfriend (whomever was fronting tonight, that is). It would also be the first time that you would see all of your colleagues in one place, as this was the first office party you would be attending for the company.
Jake had convinced you to wear quite a revealing dress, insisting that he wanted everyone to see how beautiful you were and maybe even be envious because you belonged to him. You thought he looked ravishing in his own suit, complete with a plum-colored tie to match the color of your dress. The party was more crowded than you had anticipated. You’d never even met many of the employees here, and you were just as unfamiliar with their plus ones as they were with your own.
Jake was considerably more in his element than you were at a party. He was easily the most charismatic man you’d ever seen, able to stir up a conversation with any stranger in the room. You were not quite as socially confident. You spent a large portion of your night following him around. It was easy to smile and nod while he kept the conversation going with your peers. When he had spilled some of his soda onto his tie, though, he’d had to excuse himself to the bathroom, leaving you alone in the sea of largely unfamiliar people.
You started by looking for someone familiar to talk to, someone you saw on a more regular basis. Finally, you found your friend Cameron sipping wine in the corner with her girlfriend. It didn’t take you long to figure out that both of them were quite drunk. You let your small talk fizzle out after it became evident that they were too far gone to keep it going, rambling over you about some trip they were taking to Rome over the holiday.
“Hey, pretty lady,” A quite inebriated man interrupted your half-listening to Cameron’s babbling. You recognized him as a new hire you’d seen once or twice, but you didn’t know his name. He made you uncomfortable, but you knew better than to be rude to creepy men at this point. “How are you liking the party?”
“It’s pretty fun,” You replied, trying to be polite but not intending to stimulate a conversation with him. “Was just talking to my friends here.”
“Oh, I’m sure they won’t mind.” He purred and you could smell the alcohol on his breath. He was standing just slightly too close to you, leaning into the table in a subtle effort to keep you from walking away. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing here all by yourself? Would think you’d have a man on your shoulder.”
“He’s in the bathroom! My boyfriend,” You added quickly, causing him to raise an eyebrow in suspicion. You hoped that he didn’t think you were lying. You continued, “I’m sure he’ll be out in just a minute.”
“Well, I’ll just wait here with you then.” He said, placing a suggestive hand on your shoulder. Your instincts told you that shoving it off would be a bad idea. “I would sure love to meet him. Say, I didn’t catch this ‘boyfriends’ name. Who’s the lucky man, sweetheart?”
“My name is Jake.” You caught a breath in your throat as Jake emerged behind the man. Feelings of relief and of guilt fought each other inside your head. Was he going to be angry at you? God, you hoped he didn’t think you were flirting. At least he was here to get this odd man away from you, though. The thoughts scrambled for dominance in your brain.
“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Jake.” The man all but spat at your partner, dropping his grasp on your shoulder. “Quite a feisty one you’ve got here, wouldn’t you say? What a lucky guy you are.”
“Yes, she’s quite a pistol.” Jake’s expression was unamused. He wrapped his arm around your waist, more assertively than he normally did. “And uh… I didn’t catch your name. Do you work here as well?”
“Something like that.” The man replied shortly. He walked away, now uninterested as he realized you were a taken woman. And that the man you belonged to wasn’t exactly a pushover. Jake, however, looked anything but uninterested.
“Honey, who was that man?” The expression on his face was unreadable. It sent a weight to the pit of your stomach. You didn’t know how to respond.
“He’s, um…” you all but choked on the words, now genuinely upset by the look of betrayal on your boyfriend’s face. You didn’t know how to explain the man’s unwanted advances. Hell, you didn’t know if Jake would even believe you if you did. “He just started working here a few weeks ago.”
“Hmm.” Jake seemed annoyed, and you felt yourself break into a cold sweat. Despite all you knew about your partner, you were exhibiting a fight-or-flight response to his upset. Spiralling thoughts began to stir in your already fumbling brain.
Oh God, he’s mad at me. He thinks I was flirting with that man. That disgusting man! What’s he going to do? I’m gonna have to sleep on the couch tonight. But I can explain it to him! Surely he will listen to me. Oh fuck, now he’s giving me the silent treatment. Is he going to yell at me in the parking lot?
The thoughts continued to race through your mind. Of course, they couldn’t be further from the truth. Yes, Jake was giving you the silent treatment. But it wasn’t because he was upset with you. He hadn’t noticed the man’s unwanted advances--to him it appeared that the man was being playful, and that you were joking along with him. No, Jake was being silent because he was jealous. Not so much as that you’d broken his trust, but that he’d gotten himself riled up by the idea that you were his. Well, his, Marc’s, and Steven’s, but nonetheless he knew that you belonged to him.
Yes, Jake was giving you the silent treatment. But not because he was angry at you. Not because he felt betrayed by you. And certainly not because he planned to yell at you in the parking lot or on the way home. On the contrary, he planned to show you just how much he appreciated that you were his. Jake led you out of the doors of the office silently, going over his plan to fuck you into the mattress as soon as you got back to the apartment.
Your heart continued to beat out of your chest as he all but dragged you into the passenger’s seat of his car. By now, you were covered in a thin layer of sweat, but you didn’t make any comment on what you perceived to be his righteous anger. You didn’t want to cause a scene with your coworkers so close by.
He was completely silent on the excruciatingly long drive home. Your thoughts continued to escalate. So did his.
He’s got to be so angry with me.
She looks so fucking sexy in that little dress.
I think he’s gonna yell at me when we get back.
I’m gonna have to rip it off of her. I don’t have the patience to unbutton it.
Should I just apologize to him now? Would that make it worse?
I wonder if she gets off on flirting like that. Does she like making me jealous?
I should have just stayed where I was. Then he wouldn’t have come up to me.
God, I’m gonna show her how much she fucking gets me worked up.
What if he doesn’t want to forgive me? I’ll plead with him all night if I have to.
Voy a perder la puta cabeza. Tan malditamente hermosa. Y todo mio. All mine.
Perhaps if Steven was co-conscious he would have noticed the way you were shaking. He was the first in the system to notice how anxious you were on a regular basis. Of course all of your boys knew how sensitive you were, but they never pried as to why you were so apprehensive. To them, it just seemed to be your nature and, if it was something else, you would open up when you were ready.
Nonetheless, Jake was failing to notice you were on the verge of a panic attack. When he did steal glances at you between focusing on the dimly-lit road, he mistook your shortened breathing and blushing skin as evidence you had gotten into the wine at the party. He wasn’t to blame for his lack of understanding, truly. He was barely keeping himself together right now. So he really wasn’t at fault when he continued his ruse by avoiding your gaze as you made your way to the door of the apartment. He didn’t know that you failed to see his disfavor was just teasing.
After listening to his cheeky thoughts for the whole ride home, the other boys were now bordering on co-consciousness. Steven could see everything through Jake’s eyes, though he was unable to take control. Marc was holding back more intentionally, though he wouldn’t pretend that he wasn’t equally as enthusiastic. He was egging Jake on, just as heated by your body in that skin-tight dress.
“C’mon man, show her who she belongs to. Make her work for it, too.” They were all eaten up with lust, senses clouded by their desire and their excitement. It wasn’t until the apartment door slammed behind them that they were snapped back to reality.
You jumped at the way the door shook against the hinges, the sound of contact echoing through the kitchen. You tried not to panic as Jake barreled over to you, jaw locked with aggression. All of your trauma was flooding back to you now, manifesting in your rawest survival instincts. Jake raised a calloused hand up to your face and you reflexively put up your arm to shield yourself.
Then there was silence.
At least, to you. There was shouting inside of Jake’s head as the boys processed what they had just seen.
What the hell was that? Did she think we were going to… hit her? Why the hell would she think that? Is she scared of us? She’s never been scared of us before. She knows that we would never hurt her. Any of us! It must have been a reflex. A reflex? Why would she have a reflex like that?
Then there was silence in his head, too.
Of course, you couldn’t hear any of their thoughts. Your own thoughts were loud enough to fill the room. You felt immediately guilty for implying that Jake would ever hurt you. That any of them would for that matter. But you also felt a wave of pain as your mind forced you back to where those reflexes were learned. You couldn’t stop the tears before they were streaming down your face, and you couldn’t get enough air in no matter how much you gasped for it. You felt your knees buckle underneath you, luckily your partner was there to brace your collapse to the ground.
“I’m so sorry, mi Vida,” Jake stuttered, pulling your head into his chest. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Or to make you think I was angry. I’m not mad at you, I promise. I thought I was just poking fun. God, baby, I’m sorry.”
You struggled to regulate your breathing as he massaged your back, holding you as close as he could. His body tensed underneath you and his hands broke their rhythm, indicating someone else was trying to front. You almost felt more guilty that you were making a scene in front of all of your boys. But you were admittedly more comforted by their presence.
“Did someone hurt you, love?” Steven asked in a gentle whisper. You could only nod into his chest, your voice ravaged by the sobs overtaking your body. “We would never lay a hand on you, darling. Not one of us. Never. I swear it on my life.”
Steven continued to stroke your back, shushing you and repeating “you’re alright”s and “it’s okay”s until your breathing finally began to calm. He planted kisses on the top of your head, waiting patiently for you to regain your composure. It was several minutes before he gently asked you if you’d like to stand up off the floor.
“How’s about I make you a cup of tea, yeah? And then we can sit and talk if you’re comfortable.” Steven coaxed you over to the couch, handing you the box of tissues he kept on his desk. Your eyeliner had ruined his shirt, leaving uneven stripes down his already soda-soaked tie. He gave no indication that he minded though. In fact, he grabbed one of his own oversized night shirts for you to change into as he waited for the kettle to boil.
Finally he emerged from the kitchen with your favorite mug in hand. He’d lost his tie somewhere along his little mission to comfort, his top button now undone and his hair disheveled. You almost giggled at the thought of the two of you, hot messes barely reminiscent of your elegant pre-party selves.
“Here we are, love. Extra milk. Just how you like it.” Steven brandished an uneven grin, wary of your response as he settled on the couch next to you. He spoke genuinely as he handed you the mug. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
“No, it’s okay.” You began, sipping from your piping hot cup. Perfect. Steven always made it just right. You knew now that it was time to tell the three of them the truth. They’d already gathered the big idea, anyway, you supposed. They had put so much of their faith in you. Hell, they practically worshipped you. It was time you gave them the honesty they deserved. And time that you admitted to yourself how much healing you still had left to do.
You talked for hours that night. Mostly with Steven, but Jake and Marc made their appearances, too. Steven was a master of comfort, assuring you of the love and respect that you deserved. He even drew you a bath later that night, lighting your favorite candles and setting up speakers around the tub for you to play music. Jake made his fair share of threats and you had to make him promise not to go after your ex. You weren’t entirely sure he didn’t have his fingers crossed, though. Marc mostly listened. He listened intently. He also made sure to tell you how much he loved you every time you paused for breath. He would have given you the world if he could find a way to hold it in his hands.
And when you finally succumbed to your exhaustion it was Marc that held you safely in his arms. His chin nestled into your neck, he whispered sweet nothings until he heard you softly snoring. Only then did he start to relax, sure that his best girl was taken care of first. It was the best night's sleep you had ever had in your life. It wasn’t far from his, either.
colourful people - s.g/m.s
summary: strangers to friends to lovers with steven grant, and eventually marc spector.
word count: 5k
warnings that slowly descend into disclaimers: canon level violence, angst, threat to reader, blood, fluff, worried!steven, protective!marc (eventually), swearing, hurt/comfort because i cant resist somehow. wound patching so needle, maybe too much dialogue??, made up valuable object with no historical basis for plot, btw title is kinda related to that fanta ad about colourful people bc while i hate capitalist advertising i liked that one, a large serving of plot because i can’t help it, jake hasn’t been acknowledged here (yet), timeline is janked
You met Steven Grant at a bookstore. Fingertips tracing along the weathered spines of the second-hand section, you searched for a copy of your favourite poetry collection. A thrill ran through you when you recognised the white font printed on the spine and you reached out to tip it out of the shelf, only to be met with firm resistance. Tugging again, it persisted.
You followed the top of the book, only to find two fingers gripping onto the same pages on the other side of the shelf. You dipped your head down, looking across the top of the books to meet a pair of curious brown eyes in the aisle opposite. The moment your eyes locked, the hand retracted with a hasty apology.
“I’m so sorry. You have that one – I’m sure there’s another.” Through the gap above the books, you watched his figure continue down his aisle to the right before you could respond. You closed your parted lips and swiped the book from the shelf, mirroring his movements until you reached the end of the aisle, looking around you to find who the endearing voice belonged to. Turning the corner, you stopped short of walking straight into somebody, clutching the book to your chest.
His eyes were wide, shoulders tensed with the effort of putting on the brakes, too. He let out a relieved huff as you lowered yourself from the balls of your feet.
“Sorry!” He said, eyes dropping to the book in your grip. “Oh, it’s you!” As soon as the words left his mouth he averted his eyes, as if he were afraid to have embarrassed himself. You chuckled.
“You like Marceline Desbordes-Valmore?” If his already sunshiney countenance could get any brighter, it did.
“She’s my favourite poet. Been looking for a copy like that for ages. Problem is –”
“They’re stupid rare,” you interrupted, looking a little sheepish when he nodded, scratching the back of his neck. “You can take it, you’ve been on the hunt a lot longer than I have,” you smiled. He seemed to recoil at the thought.
“Oh, no! You found it fair and square,” he said warmly. You bit your lip for a moment, and to your delight figured out a win-win-win solution
“Tell you what: I’m gonna buy it. But… you could give me your number, so that when I’m done, I can give it to you. Then you keep it, because I have too many books,” you said. The stranger’s eyebrows raised, and he seemed to freeze in place for a second before blinking himself out of it.
“Sorry, are you asking– do you…?” You smiled, nodding.
You left the bookstore with a rare edition of your favourite poems, an uncontainable smile, and a piece of paper slid into the front cover:
I’d love to know your favourite poem.
xxx xxx xxxxx
He was listed in your contacts as “steven :]”.
You had texted him the name of your favourite poem in the collection. He replied within five minutes.
steven :] 13:43
Mental. Mine, too!
Soon after that it was coffee dates, picking him up from his work. The first few times you arrived, he insisted on showing you around the exhibits, ancient Egyptian history spilling from his lips and into the space around you. He brought inanimate objects to life with his knowledge and stories of some forgotten legend, his hand ghosting the small of your back while he guided you around. You couldn’t believe he was working in the gift shop and not as a tour guide.
“And that’s the Ennead. Kind of.” He gestured to a poster advertising the exhibit, and your eyebrows dipped in confusion.
“I thought you said there were nine.” His eyes lit up, and he smiled knowingly.
“There are. Marketing really mucked it up, didn’t they?” You chuckled and nodded, popping a pink smartie into your mouth.
“They should really recruit you, Mister Encyclopaedia,” you said as you both moved on to gaze at the art on the old pottery and vases.
“Wouldn’t that be brilliant? Donna, though, already ruled out the tour guide.” He stopped in front of an old pot, depicting Horus in front of some human figures, his chin resting on his thumb and index finger against his nose.
“Really? That’s rather rude. Why?” He shrugged.
“Condemning me to the role of gift shop-ist forever, I suppose.”
You frowned. It’s cruel that someone as bright and optimistic as Steven is stuck yearning for a job that’s right under his nose. Your heart ached, and you wordlessly offered him a Smartie as a way to show your sympathy. A purple and red one fell into his hand as he brought them to his mouth and said, “Cheers.”
“You know, Steven, you deserve better,” you said, eyes fixed on Horus’. You could feel the heat of Steven’s own stare as you continued. “You’re so kind, and passionate. You’re a colourful person, I think. The world needs more of those,” you nodded to yourself, another smartie gone. You glanced at the tube in your hand. “Like this,” you finally turned to look at him, raising it slightly.
His stare was intense, heavy, and your smile faltered momentarily, simultaneous with the skip of your heart, because it was infused with something that you’ve missed. What it was exactly, though, you could only guess. Love, or admiration? Perhaps it was neither, and instead was a deep affection. You hoped it was, as your own affection for Steven rooted itself in your heart, wrapping around tighter with each day you spent with him.
“I’m a tube of Smarties?” He raised his eyebrow playfully. You smiled brightly, offering him another.
“Yep,” you popped your ‘p’, “Bright, colourful, and smart.”
He chucked to himself, accepting your offer with a renewed twinkle in his eye and deepened laughter lines.
At night, you would lay in bed and text him before you slept, asking how his day was. Some nights he would reply instantly, but more often than not you would wake up to his reply, sent deep during the night. Maybe initially you were a little put out, but he was probably just an early sleeper… or didn’t sleep at all. Vampires don’t sleep.
Don’t be ridiculous.
But you had no idea what you had signed up for.
Steven Grant is a sunset on a summer evening. All warm colours and comfort. He loves you as if there was nothing more precious in his world, because to him, there wasn’t. Occasionally he’ll wonder whether he obviously stares for too long.
Whether you notice that his lips linger on your forehead for a little longer than necessary when comforting you. Whether you know that your presence in his life was like opening a window to feel the warm summer breeze and to listen to the symphony of birdsong in the trees.
Do you know that he'd do anything for you?
Following a scorching summer’s day, Steven invited you to his flat for the evening. It was under the guise of meeting Not Gus, his fish, but you both knew that the day in the park together wasn’t nearly long enough. Steven was addictive. Every sound, every touch, every smile left you craving more. And Steven was happy to give it to you, because you were the same to him.
The door clicked shut behind you, and you turned to study the level of security Steven had installed on it.
“Are there lots of burglaries around here or something?” You were genuinely curious, casting your eyes to the bookshelves stuffed with new and old copies and experiencing a pang of panic at the thought that they could be damaged by an impolite burglar.
“Or something,” Steven engaged one of them before setting his keys down and making his way inside properly. You decided not to ask questions.
It didn’t take long for the thunder to disturb the sky. It began softly, like a bear wondering what’s for dinner. You and Steven settled onto the sofa, watching a romantic comedy that you had already forgotten the name of, because the bowling alley in the sky had opened.
Maybe thinking of it as some deities knocking over enormous bowling pins should have made it bearable, but it was furious and sudden, the whip of lightning across the sky pulling your vision towards it automatically. Unconsciously, you settled a little more into Steven, who lifted his arm over the back of the sofa to give you room to do so.
“You alright, love?”
His voice was muffled, sat at the back of your mind like sand settling in water. The sky thundered again; your bones seemed to vibrate with the force of it, the building seemed to shake. A poke to your upper arm.
“Hmm?” You turned back to Steven, who was wearing a concerned frown.
Clearing your throat, you nodded, “Yeah, good. Great, good. Yes. What?”
He made an unconvinced hum while adrenaline saturated each cell in your body, your nervous system went into overdrive. A whip of lightning cracked through the sky, and the following rumble of thunder mirrored the harsh thumping in your chest. You swallowed thickly, clenching your jaw.
Steven’s eyes flickered between your shaken state and the window, before he stood and crossed the room in a few paces, drawing the curtains shut before sinking back into the cushions next to you. He didn’t hesitate to pull you back into his side, knowing that you were trying to hide the storm whirling inside of you. He pressed his lips to your forehead, lingering slightly longer than necessary. His grip on you tightened with every roll of thunder when the adrenaline started to incite shakes in you, and he turned the volume up on the TV.
“It’s alright. You’re alright,” he said in a low voice next to your ear. This tone, his voice, soft as freshly laundered blankets, enveloped you in its warmth and safety. This was Steven, tender and loving, easy to indulge in and even easier to love in return.
You melted into him, matching your breathing the slow rise and fall of his chest. Still aware of the stiffness in your bones, Steven began talking about Horus, the deity of the weather.
“Clearly, he can be a real prick sometimes,” he muttered into your hair, drawing pointless patterns over the fabric on your thigh before returning to his monologue detailing every little part of Horus’ legend.
The day he officially became your boyfriend was unplanned.
“If you were a Smartie, which one would you be?” Steven asked you, head on your lap as he lay horizontally across a bench in Hyde Park. The fountain in view flowed steadily, with children on the rim sticking their hands into the cool pool and splashing each other, waterdrops refracting the sunlight. A man stood at the edge furthest away from you, flicking a penny into the clear waters.
“If I was a Smartie, I’d be one of the quirky ones that never made it off the factory line,” you said.
“Don’t say that!” You laughed at his involuntary gasp.
“We’re thinking too small with little Smarties, anyway. If you were a book, which one would you be?” Steven sat up, leaning comfortably against the back of the bench.
“I’d be the book that’s sitting on my desk at home, with your see-through post-its stuck on every other page. The Desbordes-Valmore copy that got me your number,” he said after a moment of thought.
It bloomed, then, your affection for him. Buds burst in pinks and reds, each petal saturated with its dizzying heat. It was addictive. His smile, his laugh; the cadence of his voice was like nectar to your ears.
“Oh,” you said, a little breathlessly. His eyes widened in a panic at your silence.
“Sorry, if that was an overstep. I really like you, you know. Meeting you was like, the best day of my life, so it just came out –”
“Steven.” You stopped him gently. “I really like you, too.”
“Oh,” he breathed. “Bloody hell. You do?” You nodded, an uncontainable smile appearing on your face.
“Can I kiss you?”
Marc Spector stands his ground with a determination Steven would admire, if he wasn’t being an idiot about it. The roots of his wariness wind and tangle deep into his psyche, but like a tree, the bark on the outside is only protecting the sap on the inside.
It’s why he never allows Steven to give him the body when he’s with you, why he convinces Steven that you don’t need to know about him. Steven can finally have a normal life. One without Khonshu bothering him, without worrying about his next victim, or if there was going to be a next victim.
He wasn’t afraid of you hurting Steven; every action you took showed that you cared deeply for him. He was afraid that he was going to ruin it all, his callus countenance a contrast to Steven’s welcoming embrace.
Steven told you about Marc, once. Though, not by name. And he left out the whole superhero part. No, all you knew was that Steven had an alter. And by the looks of it, he wasn’t so interested in meeting you.
The white vigilante sweeping across rooftops against the night sky became less of an urban legend when you began to see him with your own eyes. At night, when you stepped off the bus you would sometimes see him on top of the nearby buildings. Often, you wondered what sort of crimes he would get snarled up in.
You didn’t see the vigilante tonight, on your way to the hole in the wall antique shop near your flat. Recently, your curiosity had been piqued after a friend had told you the tale of a collection of poetry that held a valuable secret: each poem contained a clue with a promise that something valuable lay at the end of the trail. It was an unsolved riddle, which ignited your curiosity: your friend knew the owner of the shop, and it had only recently been acquired. It seemed that the seller had found it in his attic, and with no desire to read poetry, wanted to be rid of it.
You thought it would be the perfect gift for Steven: for no occasion, just for the sake of it. Within hours you set out to buy it. Not usually a fan of name dropping, you made an exception in this case as your friend cut the price in half for you. The smell of the store was antique, ashy; it was clear that some of these items had been collecting dust for years.
“Doubt you’ll have any luck finding Sekhmet’s periapt, darlin’,” The owner said, as if trying to dissuade you from buying it. It was in remarkably good condition for something so old, as if it hadn’t been touched for decades. Maybe it hadn’t been.
“Folks ‘ave been trying much longer than you, ‘ave died for it.”
“Do you know the glory waitin’ for someone who finds a treasure that heals all ills? Sekhmet, the Goddess of healing… but also the Goddess of disease. Didja know that? In the wrong hands, we’re looking at something...”
“Bad,” you finished for him, suddenly concerned. You couldn’t tell whether his story was a myth, or whether you should think twice before purchasing it. Could it really provoke biological warfare? Surely not.
“Bad,” he nodded.
You glanced at the white haired man, who fixed you with an intense stare, waiting to see what choice you made. Steven didn’t have to know about the periapt. Leaving it here would just increase the possibility of it falling into the wrong hands.
The pages crinkled happily as you turned them, paragraphs of carefully calculated prose jumping out at you.
“I’ll take it, thanks.”
You left the book on your desk before flopping onto your bed, exhausted from your day yet far too awake to even think about sleep. Staring at the legendary book, you wondered whether it was all true. If you had learned anything from Indiana Jones, it was that malicious people were always just around the corner, their unquenchable thirst for power leading them to do unspeakable things to seize it. A buzz from your phone startled you, the sound seeming much more urgent as it contrasted with the silence of the room.
steven <3, 22:03
Where are you right now?
You frowned at the unexpected message.
at home, are you okay?
steven <3, 22:04
The three grey dots appeared, before disappearing. Slightly concerned, you sat up properly, heartbeat incrementally increasing as the seconds passed and Steven didn’t reply.
steven <3, 22:06
Please tell me that you don’t have the map to Sekhmet’s periapt.
Your gaze shifted to the poetry collection on your desk. How on earth did he know? Your heart sank a little at the idea of ruining the surprise, but it wasn’t worth lying to him.
how did you know? it was supposed to be a surprise for you :(
You gripped your phone a little tighter, the silence prompting you to make your way over to your desk and picked up the aged book, running your thumb over the irregular edges of the pages. You bit your lip, glancing at the window, before hearing the buzz of your phone again.
steven <3, 22:09
steven <3, 22:10
Can you meet me at Hyde Park, near the fountain?
steven <3, 22:10
Don’t forget the book
You involuntarily shake your head at your phone in confusion, concerned for Steven but overwhelmed by curiosity. Securing the book in your purse, you slipped on your shoes, grabbed a jacket, and picked up your keys. Another buzz.
steven <3, 22:13
And don’t be followed, yeah?
Your steps are quick but heavy through the hallways of your building, adrenaline threading your muscles with lead.
steven, you’re scaring me a little bit. why would somebody be following me?
The night was calm. You navigated the streets easily, glad that the walk was only about fifteen minutes at most. But every stone accidentally kicked and every cat mewling in the nearby alleyways urged you to walk quicker. Clutching your phone tightly and looking over your shoulder every now and again soothed you slightly, but you were focused on finding Steven, and asking him what has got him so worked up.
You would have noticed the figure turning onto the street behind you if you weren’t typing out another text to Steven. When you felt a hand tangle into the fabric of your shoulder, your finger reflexively hit send:
you’re okay though, rigfh
You were pulled into a side street, a heavy presence at your back that shoved you into the wall, sandwiching your bag between your hips and it.
“Don’t fucking move, don’t fucking scream.”
Something cold slipped under your shirt and pressed against the skin of your lower back. You shifted your head against the brick to alleviate the sting, but you were only able to move millimetres. The wall must have had to be shaking with the force of your heart beating against it.
“Why did you have to get involved with Marc Spector, huh? A sweet thing like you?” Warm breath at the back of your neck, hot and dense.
“Who’s Marc Spector?” You asked, voice strained. He laughed nastily.
“Don’t be daft. We can both smell bullshit. Where is it?”
Stunned, you tried to process his words. You presumed the “it” he was referring to was the book, but you didn’t know anybody named Marc Spector; they couldn’t possibly be related.
“Fucking–” He jostled you into the wall again, the wet heat of his breath appearing at your cheek. “If you don’t tell me where it is, I swear to God,” his fist tightened against your back, and a sliver of white hot heat grew under your shirt, across the top of your hip. You stifled a pained groan, realising that any movement to free yourself would drive his knife deeper into the laceration.
“You’ll what?” You said through gritted teeth.
“You don’t want to know, sweet thing,” his voice was laced with a sort of ominous joy, and warmth trickled over the skin of your hip. “Last chance. Where–”
His weight was ripped away before the man could take another breath. You exhaled in relief, sending your hand straight to the source of your bleeding. With your other hand on the wall, you turned to see the white-caped vigilante himself, throwing punch after punch into the face of your attacker. The sickening crunch of bone twisted your stomach over itself, and blood streamed down the lower half of his face. Although the sight sent a loathsome mixture of nausea and relief through you, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the ruthless scene.
When the man became less and less responsive, though, you knew better than to allow yourself to drown in the desire for revenge. You inhaled deeply.
“I think you got him!” You said, voice beginning to shake from the concoction of adrenaline and pain in your veins. As soon as you finished speaking, your saviour froze, releasing the man and letting him fall to the floor. His cape billowed out behind him as he turned, bright white eyes as intimidating as they were comforting. Approaching you in a few steps, he said, “Are you hurt?”
In London, an American accent was furthest from your expectations, but you didn’t have it in you to care. You just nodded, pulling away your hand and cringing when you saw blood staining your hands, glistening in the limited light of the street.
“A bit, yeah.” His breath seemed to hitch in his throat, but he cleared it before you could decide.
“Bastard. You’re gonna be alright,” he said, calmly but firmly, hands gently lifting your shirt to see the wound. “Shut up, it’s fine.” You blinked.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Not you.” He kicked the knife away.
You swallowed at the edge in his tone, wincing slightly when he guided your hand back over the wound with a wad of fabric secured underneath it. At your sharp intake of breath, the mask dissolved, uncovering a familiar face laced with concern and worry.
“Steven?” You asked incredulously, relief flooding through you as you found yourself with the only person you could seek comfort from. Tears of relief filled your eyes. Steven shook his head, cleared his throat, and looked away.
“Not Steven. I’m Marc.”
“You’re–ouch– Marc? Marc Spector?” He nodded, his attention once again on your wound after you flinched.
“We gotta get to a hospital.” He wound an arm around you, hand replacing yours to keep pressure on the bleeding.
“Do we have to? Hospitals make me queasy.” You groaned as he swept an arm underneath your knees to pull you into his chest. The fabric of his suit was soft against your cheek, his grip firm. “Hurts.” He rolled his jaw, looking out into the main street, the streetlight casting deep shadows across his features.
“I know… Alright, hold on. We’re going home.”
‘Home’ was the familiar space of Steven’s apartment, Not Gus swimming happily in his tank. Marc set you down on your side, and before you could blink the suit unravelled from his body, leaving him in Steven’s casual get-up. He disappeared from your view for a moment, coming back with a first aid kit.
“Talk to me,” he said, removing your hand from the wound that had stopped oozing blood.
“Anything. Let me handle this.”
The cool sting of the antiseptic made you grimace, causing a twitch in Marc’s eyebrows.
“How’d you know–” You sucked in a breath through your teeth as his surprisingly gentle fingers dabbed the edges of the laceration. “-- where I was?” Marc allowed himself a small smile.
“Steven wouldn’t shut up about your typo. We were heading to your apartment – this is gonna hurt – when we found you.” The needle pierced your skin.
While stitching your side, Marc left out the tale of his own concern. The way he was already planning to check on you no matter if Steven was worried or not. (But of course, he was: pacing up and down the path spiralling because you never made a typo.) The way he had admired you, listened to Steven’s lovesick ramblings in total accordance.
Or even the way his stomach filled with lead when he saw the stranger on top of you, blood staining your clothes and the scent of danger suspended in the air. You liked Steven, not him, right?
“Sorry,” he murmured when a particularly sharp pinch sent your hand flying to grab his wrist. The adrenaline was diluted now, and the pain became harder to ignore.
“‘S okay,” you released him after taking a moment to catch your breath.
“You’re doing good.”
“Did you want to meet me?” His eyes met yours and his hands froze. He hesitated; perhaps if you weren’t flooded with pain he would have had it in him to lie. Say that there was never a right time, or something.
“Of course I did,” he said while tying the knot in the suture, ensuring that it wasn’t too loose or too tight. The slight crease between his eyebrows and the narrowing of his eyes while he focused on his task pressed him into silence. He dressed the wound with practised fingers and helped you to sit up. You didn’t respond, chewing on his honesty.
“Is that good?” Marc asked, eyes sweeping over you one more time.
“Yeah, thanks. So, what are we gonna do about the book?” You asked. Marc carefully sat next to you, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He dragged a hand over his face.
“We are not doing anything. I am gonna deal with it. Go to sleep; Steven will be here when you wake up. Where is it?” He looked around the room in search of the object.
You frowned. “Marc. I bought it in the first place– it isn’t fair to dump this problem on you. Let me take responsibility.” He was shaking his head before you had even finished speaking.
“That’s not gonna fly. It’s too risky, and you’re already hurt, and Steven would never forgive me if–”
“We don’t have to figure it out now,” You offered, picking up on the rising volume of his voice. He shook his head vigorously, as if shaking out all the bad ideas.
“I-hm,” his thinking face would be mistaken for a scowl if you didn’t know any better.
“Why don’t we sleep on it? They won’t like, reconstruct their entire plan overnight. Tomorrow, we’ll talk. Steven tells me you’ve been on some pretty insane adventures before, right? That was you?”“Something like that.”
Steven woke you up with a cup of tea and a kiss to your forehead.
“Oh God, you’re alright?” His hands were on your shoulders, one slid up to hold the side of your neck while his eyes swept across your face. You covered it with yours, studying his panic-laced features. You smiled, cupping his jaw and pulling his face towards you, planting a kiss on the tip of his nose and then to his lips.
“Marc did a great job,” you said, patting your side confidently. “I hope I get to see him more.”
“I think you will,” Steven assured you with a kiss at your temple, before moving to his desk for research.
Maybe you still had the problem of the periapt, but Marc's presence soothed you, and your adoration for him and Steven would surely grow.
Just want to tell you that I absolutely adore your work.
Oh can you draw Khonshu but in the screaming seagull meme. I imagine the lines would be "Truck stupid. TRUCK!"
Thank you so so much!
he's so done
- your smile, you're everything -
✧ pairing: jake lockley x f!reader (main) , marc spector x reader , steven grant x reader
✧ summary: you're in the kitchen cooking something up for your boyfriend, jake. when you turn to look at him and he looks back at you, your heart swells. jake feels the exact same way, maybe even more.
✧ genre: fluff/soft comfort
✧ warnings: none at all, this is pure adorbs ! ♥︎
✧ word count: 374
✧ author's note: i'm still not over moon knight and i never will be, ok. this show is everything to me and frankly, i'm still fascinated with it. i absolutely love the moonboys and i might post drabbles of them in the future depending on how this one goes. (tagging @marc-spectorr n @slenderclaw because i love them and they share their love of oscar isaac and mk with me-) this one's short !
do i have a favorite? noooo, ofc not- (jake mi amorcito 🖤)
"You smile a lot more since we've met." You told your lover, brushing the soft, ebony curls away from the frame of his face.
Jake didn't answer you right away. As corny as it sounded to him, he was losing himself in your eyes. God, he was starting to become like Steven, when he'd stare at you like some lovesick teenager, but Jake didn't care.
He could care less at this point, especially when you looked at him the way you did, as if he was the prettiest damn thing on Earth.
"I think my magic is working," you grinned, "you have a really pretty smile, you know. Really makes my day to see you like this, baby."
Ooh, no, no, after that, he knew he didn't deserve you. If he told you that, you'd spend hours giving him a whole lecture on why you disagree with him.
His smile grew a bit more at the thought.
When you cradled his face in your hands and softly rubbed your thumbs across his cheeks, he felt weak in the knees. It was a loving and kind gesture that Jake absolutely fell for.
"Really, huh?" He chuckled.
And it was funny to him, how he came to love your touches, cuddles, and everything in between. To think how before he hated physical touch, wasn't used to it at all but, to his surprise, you were patient enough with him, and as time passed, he became addicted to the feeling of your hands on him.
He fell in love with you each passing day, like a love-drunk fool. Marc would make fun of him for it, Steven too, even while they acted the exact same way when they were around you.
They all loved you.
"Yes, really really." You leaned forward to kiss his nose, then his lips.
"Now come on, food's about to get cold," you told him before pulling away to walk to the table, which had Jake almost let out a whine.
"One more kiss, amor?"
He heard your laughter in the dining room, the sound of it making him feel all bubbly inside.
"Why don't you sit down and I'll think about it, Lockley, hm?"
Who was he to refuse you?
“I haven’t laughed like this in a long time” with the Moon Knight boys might actually end me, I am BEGGING you please!!
The hair problem
paring: moon boys x fem! reader; established relationship
my writing style is slightly different in this one.
Marc is a silly idiot in this one, don't take him seriously, he likes to tease you playfully.
Thanks to @imgoingtofreakoutnow for Spanish words and phrases 💗
warnings: cutting your own bangs lol
You shouldn't have done that. You should not have done that. But it was too late now.
Fifteen minutes ago, you have been scrolling pinterest and pictures of girls with cute bangs caught your eyes. Your eyes lit up at the mental picture of you having a full front bangs.
Part of your mind warned you not to do it by yourself. But you ignored it. You opened youtube for watching tutorials. Hey, how hard could that be?
Two tutorials later, here you are. A chunk of your luscious locks on the bathroom sink.
"Shit. Shit" you drop the kitchen scissors. Yes kitchen scissors. Look, you were in a hurry and I'm not gonna judge. We've all been there.
You don't know if you should laugh or cry.
You stare at your reflection on the bathroom mirror.
It was too short than you expected and too blunt. Your thick uneven bangs rests at your eye level, few strands longer than the rest, reaching down the corner of your right eye.
You laugh to yourself, mix of panic and humor sense at your mistake.
"Okay, I can fix this" a lie you tell yourself. A sigh escape your lips. You just need to trim a little bit at the same level. That's it.
A bad idea, really. But you are desperate to fix your bangs. You bring the trimmer near your forehead, accidentally trimming your right eyebrow in the process. Yikes. You didn't realise it until after the deed was done.
"Where is it?" you mumble to yourself with half belief, searching for the electric trimmer Marc keeps, opening and closing the doors of couple shelves.
Could this get any worse? You mutter few more profanites. Half of your right eyebrow is gone.
You should have resisted the urge and gone to sleep instead. Any urges and thoughts after 9pm was a bad idea. Now you knew that.
"Y/n, baby, where are y-" Marc stops himself, finding you in the bathroom, his eyes fixed on your bangs. "Oh my God" he pauses, "what happened?" he chuckles as if trying not to laugh fully.
"Can someone smack him for me?" you cross your arms.
"Oh, love, I'm sorry" Steven strides towards you, cupping your face in his hands. "It's alright, Y/n/n. It's not that bad. We can fix it, yeah?"
"So it looks some level of bad?" you pull away from his loving embrace momentarily to glance at the mirror again.
"I'm sorry. C'mere" Marc cuts off Steven, opening his arms in hugging gesture.
Okay fine, maybe you could hug him, you think.
His eyes moves from your eyes to your bangs.
"Don't you dare-"
"You look like Dora" he bursts into fit of laughter. His unrestrained laughter fills your ear. "I haven't laughed like this in a long time"
You couldn't help but think how lovely it sounds. When was the last time you heard him laugh like this? You laughed too at the beginning. Maybe, it's not that bad. He wouldn't actually do anything to hurt you intentionally. Besides, it's just hair, it always grows back, you mentally shrug, somewhat consoling yourself. But that doesn't mean, you forgive him that quickly.
"No, you laughed at me" you swat his extended arm playfully with a pout.
"What happened to your eyebrow?!" his expression changes when he finally notice the part of missing eyebrow when he moves the bangs.
"You really want me to ask that?" you sigh exasperatedly.
"I can shave my eyebrow too, if it would make you feel better" Steven fronts, determined to make you feel better. Oh, darling.
"No we are not shaving our eyebrow" Marc protests.
You couldn't help but laugh. Steven ever the sweetheart. But why not play a little with Marc. You can tease back too.
"Actually, I'd like that. We can match!"
"Hell no" Marc Spector would jump off a cliff for you, bring the moon closer to you if you wished. Probably be would shave his head too if you asked. But shaving half of his right eyebrow? Nah, mate. Not happening.
You can see him looking in the mirror and arguing with Steven. "No"
Marc resists hard not to grab the trimmer as Steven wanted to do it. Alright, that's when you decide to interfere and tell them you were just kidding and you were playing with Marc for his teasing earlier.
"You are evil"
"Oh, shush you big baby"
You watch Marc punch himself in the face. "Ow!"
"Doesn't feel great, right?" Steven sasses. "That wasn't me though" he smirks.
"That's for teasing my princesa" you hear Jake's accent and a smile blooms on your face.
"Our girl, Jake. She is our girl" Marc was quick to correct him.
"Not when you make her sad, hombre"
You giggle at their banter.
"Hey" you gently cup Jake's face, making him look at your eyes. "I belong to all of you" you smile. "And I know Marc was just messing around, don't worry about it, okay?" you assure Jake.
He presses a kiss to your head. "Let me fix it" he makes you sit next to the sink. "Eres hermosa, no importa qué, querida", he lifts your chin up with this fingers ever so gently, making you look in his loving eyes. With a kiss to your nose, he makes you giggle and grabs the scissors to cut off the uneven pieces and make the bangs look even. And he did.
Marc apologised again later that night. He wouldn't stop until he heard you laugh.
Now your bangs rests right above your eyebrows and after you styled it with a straightener, it actually looks pretty cute, not gonna lie. Thanks to your man Jake.
steven grant would stand up for you if someone was being rude to you and he may be a little awkward in the way he goes about it but, god he just tries to make you feel safe and valued and he knows how it feels when people are rude all the damn time so he won’t tolerate it when you’re around.
YES OKAY LISTEN—
He might be a little bit of a pushover when it comes to people being rude to him (and when I say that I mean he kinda tolerates it. Like, he’ll respond, but it takes him a lot to reach his breaking point, ya know), BUT THE SECOND SOMEONE IS RUDE TO YOU?? THAT BOY WILL NOT HESITATE.
Except you don’t realize this until one specific incident. To set the scene, you’re in the museum, waiting for Steven to get off work, with two fresh coffees in your hand. And then as you’re walking around, this guy comes around the corner, bumps into you and spills your coffee all on his suit.
And even though, it’s technically that motherfuckers fault, and you are apologizing profusely, this bitch starts to yell at you.
So obviously I think the one thing the moon boys cannot tolerate is anyone being rude to you. They’re pretty good at deescalating a situation with just their words (Jake, not so much but that’s a topic for another day), but if someone is full on screaming at you, that’s where the fucking line is drawn.
So the second Steven sees said pissed off man, and then you, who’s nearly on the verge of tears (cause you’re an angry crier), he’s moving faster than he ever thought possible.
Then somewhere along the line of calling him a ‘fucking knob’ and trying to tell him in the most intimidating way to ‘learn some bloody manners’, the guy gets dragged out by security. And once he clocks out, after you give him his still full cup of coffee (as yours was the one that got demolished), he’ll press kiss after kiss into the side of your face, handing you back the coffee, mumbling “I’d rather you have it, love.”
Don't buy khonshu from shein
S01E03: The Friendly Type | dir. Mohamed Diab
Hi! Am I able to get a super fluffy Steven Grant fic where the reader is best friends with him (and knows about Marc) but she is a Performing Arts student and her last show is soon. She invites Steven but is worried that Marc might ruin it but they were both cheering her on (Marc mentally cus this is Steven time) and he gives her a hug after the show and accidentally confesses with maybe "I fell in love with you all over again?"
AN | Steven is the softest best boyfriend…and Marc’s not too bad either. Enjoy!
Pairing | Steven Grant x Fem!Reader
Warnings | None
Word Count | 1.2k
Masterlist | Main, Moon Knight
── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──
“Are you nervous, darling?” Steven popped up in the mirror behind you, a beaming smile on his face as his eyes met yours. You tried to muster up a smile, but found yourself falling short and giving him a tight-lipped half smile, “there’s no need to be.”
“Considering it’s my final showcase - performance - I think I deserve to be nervous,” you huffed lightly, only causing him to laugh. The sound in itself was beautiful and managed to put a sense of ease into your bones and you relaxed slightly. Steven felt better once he noticed some of the tension leave your shoulders, “what if I-”
“You have nothing to worry about,” he insisted, pressing a kiss to the side of your head, “it’ll be perfect…and even in the off chance that it wasn’t perfect, no one will know.”
“I hope so,” you agreed before turning around to wrap him in a tight embrace. He made a small sound of surprise at the sudden hug but didn’t stop you. Instead, he held you back with such as much intensity, “Steven…I…you’ll come, right? To the showcase?”
"That's not even a question, darling," his hands found your shoulders and gave them a gentle squeeze. You nodded gently before touching his face and stroking his cheek, "alright, I know how to read you a little better than you think…what else is bothering you? I hope you know that you can tell me anything…"
"I know," you whispered softly, "I…I don’t want anything to happen with Marc."
“Marc wouldn’t do anything,” he insisted and while you were reluctant to admit it, Marc was a lot of things but a general jerk he was not, “and besides, he knows it’s my time with you. He can be a right prick but he has some decency.”
“I suppose I can’t argue with that logic,” you laughed lightly, nodding as you exhaled deeply in an attempt to rid yourself of all the worry and nervous energy, “thank you.”
“Whatever for?” he tilted his head to the side, not unlike a puppy as he looked at you with those soft big brown eyes.
“For being you,” you whispered, leaning in for a kiss, “and being wonderful as ever.”
“Oh,” a bright red flush rose up on his cheeks as he eagerly accepted your kiss. He wished there was time to let it go further, but he reminded himself to stay strong and hold back - for now anyway, “we should…I’ll let you finish getting ready. We’ll have to go soon to make it on time.”
“Right,” you agreed, feeling your stomach flip slightly, “I can do this. I will do this.”
── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──
The whole evening went by in a blur. One moment you were finishing getting ready to go and then leaving with Steven and the next you were on stage. It was a strange thing really, to think about the fact that this would be your last performance, at least in an academic setting. In a way it was like the end of an era, and the beginning of a new one. The one thing that was a constant was Steven…and there was no one else you’d rather have gone through this with.
The funny thing about performing on stage which most people never realized unless they got on stage themselves is that the audience was but a blur. The stage lights dulled everything out and there really wasn’t much to see in the audience except a sea of darkness. This evening however, there was one standout; in the large crowd your eyes still managed to find him. You thought you might have been nervous, but instead you felt calmed and it was almost as if you were speaking to him and him alone. It made the whole experience just that much better.
The rapturous applause that reached your ears didn’t hurt either, but none of that really mattered at the end of the day. The only thing that mattered was that you had survived and done your best.
Once everything was over and you were settled and changed, you walked out into the cool evening air and looked around for Steven. He spotted you before you could see him, almost tripping over his own feet in his excitement to get to you. There was a large bouquet of daisies, daffodils, and amaryllis in his arms and he excitedly held them out to you.
“Congratulations, my love,” his smile threatened to break his face in half as you gently took them from him. Between the gorgeous flowers and your love, your heart was filled to bursting and you had to fight back the sting of fresh tears. He seemed alarmed by the sound shift of expression, “what’s wrong? Did I-I do something?”
“No,” you promised as you dabbed at your eyes, “yes, but no. This is just so wonderful…and kind. I love you very much, Steven Grant.”
He gave you a shy little smile before kissing your forehead, “I love you too. Very much. I…I don’t know if it’s possible, but I think I just fell in love with you all over again. I fall in love with you a little more every day.”
“Steven,” you touched his cheek before running a hand through his wild curls, “that might be the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me. There is no way to put into words just how much I love you, but just know it is a ton and then more.”
“I’d say that’s an awful lot,” your words had him feeling like a shy boy more than a grown man. He was sure Marc would tease him about later on, but then speaking of Marc…”you were amazing. You did…a wonderful job, fantastic. And I’m not the only one who thinks so. Marc was very impressed too. He wanted me to tell you.”
“Oh really?” you raised an eyebrow in surprise but couldn’t deny that the praise felt you feeling good. You’d always had a funny little relationship with Marc, but you wouldn’t think he would enjoy something like this. Steven nodded eagerly, “you’ll have to…I’ll have to thank him later. It means a lot…really, having you - both of you really - here for me. It made this so much better. Thank you.”
“Nothing to thank me for,” he insisted gently, “if anything we should be thanking you for that performance. But right now, I have one more big question for you…”
“Which would be?”
“Would you like to go to dinner with me?”
“Always,” you laughed lightly at the jokingly serious look on his features, “you must have read my mind. I would never turn down dinner. Where to?”
“You pick,” he grinned as your eyes lit up in excitement, “tonight is about you, my love.”
“Steven…I love you.”
“I love you more,” he promised, “always.”