pairing: marc spector x f!reader, steven grant x f!reader, jake lockley x f!reader
tags: 18+ graphic smut, p in v, rough sex, car sex, public-ish sex, unprotected sex, sir kink, dirty talk, thigh-riding, fingering and oral sex, edging, mentions of guns, mentions of blood and wounds, drinking, swearing, established relationship, angst if u squint really hard, 8.4k word count…
summary: you play mercenaries with marc. you play lovers with jake. you play house with steven. you suppose romance comes in all forms of their differing love for you.
note: had a blast writing this, reblogs & shares are more than appreciated :) listened to this song while writing this, so feel free to listen while reading!
- masterlist - mk playlist
June - Mardin, Turkey
“Sorry, I’m trying to be gentle.” Marc quickly glances at you, sweat beading off of the tiny curl that falls flat against the ridge of his brow.
The stinging accumulation of dust and filth in your eyes only adds to the discomfort of your entire aching body — but by all means, you have to admit that the bullet graze to your arm takes the absolute cake.
It’s dark out and the sleepless nights of Mardin are completely unforgiving. The gas lamp above you has been your only light source in the shabby, stone shack for almost a week. Water is starting to run thin, the main city is too far out for this time of night, and Marc isn’t in any condition to make rash decisions.
You wince when he tries to carefully smooth out the gauze around your upper arm. “Still heavy-handed, are we?” You don’t miss how the corners of his mouth shift upwards in a faint smile at the pathetic jab, uncertain if this was a time for laughter rather than reflection.
But even as you try to lighten his grim mood, Marc is distant. Distant because he fucked that job up. Distant because you got caught in the crosshairs of what should’ve been his successful plan, but he ended up failing. If he lost you, what would he have left? An empty shelter, and the hauntings of your flesh against his?
What would Steven think?
Marc helps you sit up from the wooden table cluttered with bandages and tissues of dark blood, careful that you don’t reopen the wound that he so poorly stitched with the sparse medical supplies and whatever knowledge he had retained from his time in Guam. “A couple inches higher and to the right… that bullet would’ve lodged itself in muscle.”
His calloused palms brush over the sides of your neck and wander down to hold your waist.
The notion is enough to make you forget the pain shooting up your bicep and recognize the warm ache of desire deep within your belly when you lock eyes.
It’s fucked up. But that’s just how it is between you and Marc.
And that’s how it’ll always be.
He gazes at you with a sigh before he pulls away, wiping your blood off of his hands with a dirty towel by a collection of empty beer bottles. You bite your lip at his silence, shoulders tense and jaw tight as thoughts of what-if’s race through his mind.
“Marc.” He shakes his head, fingers coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose before you realize he’s trembling. “Marc, hey. Come on. Come here.” A blend of a meek grunt and an exhale of relief escapes from his lips before he leans over and presses his face into the crook of your neck, nearly launching himself into your open arms.
Marc smells of cordite and hours of being in the sun. Normally, his scent would have comforted you — musk and eucalyptus, remnants of the melting candle by the kitchen window in Steven’s lived-in flat — but nothing about these circumstances are supposed to be comforting. Nothing about being paid to kill, living the ‘gun for hire’ life is supposed to give you solace. For now, you suppose that his lips on your skin is enough to mend this harsh reality of bloodshed that you’ve been fated to endure together.
He whispers quietly against your jaw. “I’m sorry.”
“Hey, no. Don’t do that. I’m alive. It’s just a surface wound, baby.” You hold him by the face, stroking your thumbs under his eyes as he blinks at you, timid and apologetic. “You did the best you could. Plans always end up sideways with us, you know that.” You rub noses tenderly. “We’ve had worse situations, remember?”
“South Africa contract?”
“Honestly, I was thinking more like Malaysia, but that too.” You chuckle softly at him, repeatedly tucking his stubborn curls behind his ear as he stares at you. You delicately splay a hand over his cheek, rubbing the blood off his skin with your thumb. “Are we okay?”
Marc inhales deeply after what feels like ages, nodding as the words of affection leave him woefully. “I just really love you.”
“And I love you, you silly man.”
He doesn’t need to say that he’s scared of losing you for you to understand. You can just read him, feel his anxiety seeping into his bones as his fingers dance over your bandages and underneath your weathered shirt. You can read him even with closed eyes, him who stands between your legs, trailing your knuckles against his biceps as if every goosebump on his body would mimic paragraphs of braille, his unspoken declaration of how much he wants you just beneath your touch — how much he longs to bury himself inside you and stay there until the world leaves the lot of you alone before everything burns.
Let it all burn if that means being with you.
You’re already wet by the time Marc is pulling your muddied cargo pants down your legs. He’s rushing this — needy and exaggerating his impatience as if that would quicken things.
You know him well enough to recognize that tonight, he won’t be gentle even if he tries.
Usually Steven is rougher, which comes as a surprise when his personality is the definition of a sunny London day. Submissive doesn’t always equate to being soft, but his temper is warranted. You’d think that Marc would be the one to break your body and push you to your limits, but he has other ways of taking out his anger — Steven doesn’t.
You’ll take a rough Steven over a rough Marc anyday.
Splinters dig against the backs of your thighs as Marc drags you to the edge of the table, drawing a gasp out of you when he harshly yanks your panties down your thighs.
“Easy, tiger.” You look up at him as he pushes your hair away from your face, eyes wandering over how he then expertly unbuckles his belt with steady fingers. He doesn’t break your lustful gaze, lips parting once his pants hang low on his hips and he meets your mouth with his own.
“I’ve been wanting to do this for days, Y/N.” He sighs into you, a string of saliva connecting his wet bottom lip to yours as he cradles your cheek. “And of course, you just had to get fucking shot on the night I wanna be inside you.” You groan shamefully at the violence of his words, placing a hand on the nape of his neck to draw him closer to you. His kisses are far from chaste and borderline unceremonious, teeth clashing against yours as his nose digs into your cheek for better access. “I don’t wanna hurt you…” He trails his tongue down your neck, mouthing at your skin until he’s marked you purple and red. “… but I know that you can take whatever I give you. No matter how much it hurts, right?”
“Mmm, fuck.” You shiver when he nips at your earlobe, tugging on the fleshy texture as he awaits your response. “No matter how much it hurts.”
“Atta girl.” He hums agreeably, taking pleasure in how your mouth tries to chase after him when he steps back to take his shirt off and admire your parted legs. “Look at this pretty, aching cunt.” He chuckles mockingly, tracing the outline of your folds with his fingers. “Hm, looks so tight for me, sweetheart.” You whimper when he gently runs the back of his hand against your folds, the friction of his knuckles just pleasurable enough to make you rut your hips in anguish. “You think we can make my cock fit?”
“S’big. You know it is.” You whisper, tightening your hold on his shoulders. “I think you’d have to — to play with me a little, Marc.”
“Oh, play with you?” You nod. “You mean like… Marc, finger me?” You shift eagerly to nod again, but your actions are cut off when he abruptly scissors his middle and ring finger inside you. “Marc, fuck your hand into me, fuck me until I’m all loose for you? What, Y/N? Just so you can say… Marc, I can’t take it anymore?” You yelp loudly when he grabs your ass, his other hand lazily pumping in and out of you as he collects your slick onto his digits. “How’s this for playing with you?”
“M-Marc… oh, fuck…” You grab onto his wrist, nails digging into his bone as he fingers you faster and deeper. “Wait, please.”
“Oh, honey, I’ve barely touched you and yet you’re drippin’ all over me.” He purrs, craning his head to study you, reading your features for any sign of discomfort. Yet, all he sees is a woman enjoying herself too much. Helpless, you cling to him, back arching as your face finds comfort against his solid chest. You sob, screwing your eyes shut as his fingers pause unforgivably inside your sopping cunt and his thumb draws light circles on your clit. “Who makes you this wet, Y/N?”
“Almost right.” He grins through a deep laugh, gently shrugging your head off of his shoulder so that you’re left with no choice but to meet his dominant gaze. Your lip wobbles as you fight the urge to clench around him for some kind of satisfaction. Heat flares up your entire body. Every little bit of movement leaves you wanting more. “Don’t pout. You’re better than that. Come on, sweetheart. Say my name, no one else. Who?”
“You do, sir.”
“See? Not so hard.” You bite back a frustrated groan when his fingers leave you so sudden, the building sensation of an orgasm disappearing as your cunt squeezes around nothingness. “You think you’re ready for me?” Fuck. You rub your thighs together, mourning your ruined high and mewling when his palm finds your cheek with a damp finger prodding against your lips. “Use your words, baby. Look at me when you speak.”
“Want you now.” Your head tilts back when his thumb slips between your lips, muffling your whines. Transfixed, Marc watches your pupils dilate when he drags the digit against your hot tongue. It’s erotic. It’s primal, especially when the gash across your cheekbone starts to trickle with blood again from how much your face is straining. And once more, it’s fucked up. So fucked up, that Marc finds himself turned on at how you can make bruises from being slapped by a gun appear so incredibly sensual. “Need you so fucking bad.”
Marc pulls you in for another kiss, mumbling declarations of desire against your lips as you palm him through his underwear and free his cock from his garments. He grunts against your mouth when you twist your fist around the dark tip of his shaft, harmoniously watching in awe together as he thrusts himself into your hand.
“Been dying to… ugh, fuck…”
A soft giggle escapes you, brushing his curls away from his eyes with your free hand after he suckles a large hickey on your collarbone. “Been dying to fuck?”
He glares at you, unamused.
“Just repeating what you said— ah!” You’re abruptly cut off by the feeling of Marc’s erection against your folds, his cock rubbing over the swollen button of your clit before his leaking head finds your entrance. He repeats the motion until his skin is glistening with your slick. “M-Marc!”
“Marc.” He mimics you teasingly, chuckling deeply when you shoot him a dirty look. “Christ, I’ve just been dying to be inside you. Is that what you wanted to hear, Y/N?” Your nails dig into his shoulder blades as he slowly penetrates you, stretching you out after days of abstinence in sake of your mission. “How badly I’ve wanted to fuck my perfect girl? You see, I wanted to wait till we got home. Make love to you slow and sweet on our bed…” He forces himself to stop once your cunt swallows him all the way to the base of his shaft. You can just feel him pulsing even as your walls flutter tightly around him. “… give it to you so damn good and treat you like the sweetheart you are…”
“Please move. Please. I can’t — I need you, please.”
“But you’ve been makin’ some real questionable choices, Y/N.” You lurch forwards into his chest, so desperate to be fucked by him that you can’t help but sob in frustration and strike your palms against his sweaty skin. “Must need someone to teach you how to follow directions, huh?”
“Marc, please! Just make me… I wanna feel good. I want you to make me feel good.” You whine. The fire in your belly grows as he plants a long kiss to your forehead, your defeated voice accompanying the needy furrow of your brows. “Please.”
“I know, baby. I know. But it just doesn’t make sense to me,” He licks the pads of his fingers, spreading his saliva across his digits before you feel him toying with your clit. An embarrassing cry rips from your throat when he touches you, his cock still hard yet motionless inside you. “Why should I make you feel good when you put me through absolute hell today?”
“Are you… are you seriously bringing this up right now?”
“You’re the one who jumped in front of a gun.”
“Because I was trying to save your life!”
“Which could’ve gotten you killed, you stupid girl.”
The name goes straight to your cunt. And although his tone is far from one with serious intent, the slight twinge of irritation in his ending inflection has you desperately trying to close your legs together in embarrassment as you helplessly cream around him.
The two of you share a look — you, like an animal that had been caught in a trap and him, like a hunter who had finally gotten his hands on his game.
“Oh, you fuckin’ liked that.”
Your face burns hot with humiliation. “I didn’t, sir… I…”
He pulls out and thrusts into you harshly, sending the table back a few inches with a loud screech across the creaky floor. You nearly double-over and scream with how intense it all feels — his cock, pounding into you slowly yet with such determination to find the deepest pit inside you, to hit that spot over and over again until his name becomes nothing but incoherent syllables strung together.
Your shirt rides up your chest as Marc runs his palm up your abdomen, kneading at your breasts with a new kind of fervor. He rolls your hardened nipples between his fingers, pinching ever so gently before his hand finds the excess of your shirt and pins it to your throat. His grip is tight, meant to allow breathing room, but the way his eyes scour your naked torso is enough to make you lose all sense of oxygen.
“Didn’t know you liked being called stupid,” He hums in amusement.
“You can’t hold that over me.”
“No? Maybe I should just fuck you stupid. You’d like that better, wouldn’t you?” You roll your eyes at him, pulling him in for another kiss before you purposefully clamp down and around his cock again. “Jesus, Y/N… your pussy is — is so fuckin’ tight. G-God…” You bite your lip at him, mouthing at his Adam’s apple as he guides your hips to match his pace. “Ease up, baby. How do you expect me to move when you’re keepin’ me trapped like this?”
You huff, studying the build-up of sweat upon his nose ridge and how the gas lamp above casts pretty shadows over his soft face. You lean over, shifting his dick deeper into your core once your lips find the shell of his ear.
“How about you just shut up and fuck me harder? Unless you want me to get Steven? Or perhaps Jake can make me cum?”
It’s fucked up.
Marc hates to admit that he enjoys this.
With hedonistic satisfaction, you smile at how his jaw flexes in the dim light. His breathing is heavy, almost ragged in the silent minutes you spend staring each other down with devilish eyes.
Before you can even realize what’s happening, Marc is thrusting into you with a kind of animalistic prowl that you’ve only seen in his violence. The honey in his irises has long dissipated, fusing with the starless black sky outside the shack. The wobbly table is practically cracking beneath your weight, and with Marc’s long strokes, you can easily imagine it broken and splintered by tomorrow morning.
“You wanna know why I couldn’t just wait till we got home so I could do this to you?” You shake your head at him, eyes fluttering shut as pins you down onto the wooden surface. You’re bucking beneath his frame shamelessly, grabbing onto his forearm as he presses his palm onto your lower stomach. The sensual warmth in your abdomen is profound. Each of your five senses heighten as Marc’s fingers wander behind your knee, pulling your leg up and over his shoulder so that you're completely exposed to his will when his cock pounds into you. He grunts in dissatisfaction, tongue swiping across his teeth when your dreamy gaze falls upon his cock disappearing into your entrance. “Answer me, Y/N.”
“No, I d-don’t.”
“Couldn’t help myself. I just couldn’t. Not when I’ve been constantly thinkin’ about your pretty lips wrapped around my dick.” His thumb finds your clit, soothing the bundle of nerves with steady circles. A wanton moan escapes the both of you when Marc readjusts his angle. “Been imagining how good your tits would look covered in my cum. Can you blame me? Holed up together in this shithole… my mind just keeps on wandering and wandering, baby. I think of the way you smell, the way you push up against me when we’re sleeping together on that tiny cot, the way you — oh, fuck…”
His bitemarks litter your arms, his hot tongue memorizes your mouth, his saliva glistens on your nipples whilst your limbs tangle along the tabletop.
His gold chain dangles into your mouth.
“M-Marc, don’t stop! Don’t stop! Please don’t! Fuck me right there!”
His whispers grow filthier with each passing second and with each scream that’s drawn out of your quivering frame.
“I especially think of the way you look after you’ve just killed someone who tried to hurt you. Makes me want you even more.”
His words should’ve been concerning. Such a complicated sentence, and yet all you can think about is how close you are, so unbelievably close. Your heart is pounding in your ears as Marc’s deep thrusts shift you closer to that realm of ecstasy. He’s moaning loudly into your neck, deep vibrations rattling against your dried, bloodied skin until you can feel his muffled cry of your name into your shoulder. Your legs are trembling in the air, toes curling as Marc buries himself to the hilt and lets his spill coat your walls while you ride out your orgasms together.
You don’t realize that the gauze on your arm is seeping with blood until he pulls away.
His tan skin is stained from your wound, spread across his chest and violently dark-red as if you had experienced more than a simple bullet graze.
It’s fucked up. But that’s just how it is between you and Marc.
September - Lacanshire, England
The autumn air is chilly as you and Jake stumble out of the fancy French doors of the pub. Laughter echoes into the cobblestone streets when he gingerly fits his cabbie cap over your head, hooking your arm with his as you start to lose balance in your stilettos. Jake tightens his coat over your shoulders with a soft tug, pecking your cheek drunkenly with a toothy grin.
“You are so fucking adorable, you know that?” He sweetly inhales the scent of your hair, pulling you closer to his body while carefully watching your footing. “I’m so glad we did this tonight, Y/N. Glad you decided to spend time with me.”
You turn his face towards you and stroke his cheek with wide, assuring eyes. “Hey, I love spending time with you.” His hand finds your lower waist beneath the coat, fingers dancing over the exposed skin of your backless dress. “We really need to do this more often.”
“Yeah, but I mean, with your new job…”
“I’ll make it work.”
“And me needing to consult with the other two idiots...”
“Hey, Steven and Marc don’t mind.”
“Sure. Right.” Jake squeezes your side. He’s quiet for a bit, walking comfortably beside you under the soft glow of street lamps until he decides to just speak his mind. “You know, it amazes me how patient you are with us.”
You chuckle, rolling your bottom lip between your teeth when his eyes trail down the frame of your side profile.
“I love all of you in my own twisted way, I guess.”
Even after all these years, he makes you so nervous. He’s the opposite of Steven Grant, more gloomy than he is sunshine but all the good qualities of Marc Spector that tend to outweigh the bad that follows being Jake Lockley. He is far from brooding, but neither is he exactly approachable.
You don’t question him on the nights he slips out of bed, whispering something about getting a glass of water only for him to disappear for hours on end. Yet somehow, he always arrives just in time to eat breakfast with you as if nothing had happened.
You don’t ask Steven or Marc about it.
You’d rather not know what he does. It wouldn’t matter anyways.
Jake smiles at you as you lower yourself into the passenger seat of his 1972 Skylark; your manicured nails wrap around the roof handle while he closes the door behind you, his hat still snug on your head. Neither of your giddy smiles fade even when Jake comes around to the driver’s side and situates himself behind the steering wheel. In fact, you grow exceptionally more flustered when he leans over the middle seat and pulls you in for what is meant to be an innocent kiss. But the taste of tequila and lime on his lips has you eagerly chasing after him, the stubble on his jaw tickling your chin as your mouths move lovingly in sync inside the dark confines of his car.
It’s only when you need to breathe that Jake pulls away, cupid’s bow tinted orange-red from your makeup as he adores you in the pale moonlight. “Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?”
“Just tonight?” You tease, carding your fingers through his dark curls. You don’t miss the way his enraptured stare lingers upon your features, deep in thought.
He raises your knuckles to his lips and kisses each tendon with a soft, adoring moan. “Every night, mi vida.” You chew on your lip again, unable to take your eyes off of Jake when he turns your hand over and starts worshipping the palm of your hand with yearning pecks. “Always so pretty.”
“You’re pretty.” You tenderly swipe your thumb across his eyebrow as he presses your back to the passenger door. “I love you.”
“I love you more.” He breathes out, kissing down your neck till he reaches your shoulder and finds the thin strap of your dress with a hearty laugh. “Would it ruin the mood if I said I want you right now?” You shake your head, lashes fluttering when he sensually drags the strap down your arm. “Good. That’s good. You are so irresistible. So gorgeous. So sexy, like my own personal angel.”
“Jake, don’t tease.”
“Not teasing. I just wanna take my time with you.”
“In the car?”
He hums agreeably against your jawline, nipping at your skin with his teeth until you’re sighing against him.
“In the car,” He whispers with a cheeky grin. Jake’s hand travels down your torso as the front of your dress spills over, revealing your naked breasts to him. His eyes flicker up to you for a split second, and you nod before he quickly takes a nipple into his mouth. You press his head closer to your chest, lips parting with a resigned moan when he litters your tits with tiny lovebites. “Don’t hold back, Y/N.”
You stifle another one when his fingers carefully pinch your nipples. “M’not trying to get caught.”
“There’s no one here. Besides, you act as if we haven’t done anything like this before.” Jake palms at your chest, tracing the swell of your breasts as he gauges your silent reaction. He moans when your jaw falls open just a bit, enough for him to see your tongue flatten against the roof of your mouth. “Do you want me to stop?”
“No, I-I like it.”
“Then let me hear you.” Your hips subconsciously rut upwards from the seat as Jake kisses down your sternum. The flowy skirt of your dress bunches up around your waist, his fist grasping the thin material as he finds your soft stomach and the waistband of your thong. “You drive me crazy, Y/N. This desire to make you feel good… at all times — shit, solecito mío. I could just kiss you for days. So gorgeous.”
You shudder when he suckles at your thighs, his chuckles intermixing with the barely-audible sound of your gasps as he trails his mouth down your leg. His hand wraps around your ankle, stroking your lower calf as he admires the wine-red stiletto on your foot.
“I want you to fuck me when we get home.”
Jake’s hold tightens on your leg, lips staining your soft skin with saliva while he traverses the space between your inner thighs. “And here?” You rest your head back against the cold glass window, shutting your eyes when you can feel his breaths over your needy, throbbing cunt. “What do you want me to do here?”
“Want your mouth on me. And I wanna taste you.”
He smirks playfully. “One thing at a time, yeah?”
“Or we could do both at once.” You gently grasp onto a handful of his locks, pulling his face from below to look up at you. There’s desperation laced in your furrowed brows. Your voice comes out as nothing but an impatient, high-pitched whimper. “Together.”
“You wanna cum together?” He rubs slow, thoughtful circles around your knee.
Jake reaches up, picking his cabbie hat off of your head and tossing it into the backseat with hooded eyes. “Get in there then.”
The leather squeaks beneath your heaving, fumbling bodies as Jake lays you onto your back. You’re propped up tightly against the corner, his hands pushing on the backs of your thighs so that your knees are dangling over your head. He mouths at your clothed mound, kissing your cunt over the thin material with a certain devotion that’s only fronted around you.
Part of you feels like you’re being watched — the feeling still lingers despite Jake’s attest to his own lack of Khonshu in your lives.
Do you believe him? That depends. Right now, with his hands pulling your underwear past your ankles, with nimble fingers folding the fabric and stuffing it into his back pocket while his lusted gaze eats away at the visual of your bare pussy, it doesn’t matter. It definitely, definitely doesn’t matter when Jake hacks up saliva from the back of his throat, spitting on your already-wet folds with a somehow classy elegance that makes you forget how filthy this all feels.
It’s not filthy if it’s love, right? You love Marc. You love Steven. You love Jake. None of it feels wrong, but should it?
Fuck, it doesn’t matter.
“God, you’re soaked.” Jake gasps with you as he dips the tip of his finger into your entrance, sliding it in and out slowly as he becomes mesmerized by your body’s response: the immediate arch of your back, the strangled purrs, your breathless appearance as he impatiently adds another digit. “You’re just as tight as the first time I fingered you.”
“Mmm, oh, fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” You squirm against him, covering your mouth with the back of your hand as his lips suction over your clit. “Jake…”
His body is vibrating with tension. “Love how you’re squeezing my fingers. Keep doin’ that. Bet it feels good doesn’t it, mi vida?”
“It does. Fuck, it does, but I…” You splay your hand over the backrest of the seat, clutching onto the slippery material as your grip on his hair tightens. Almost shamefully, you peer down at him with a contorted look of frustrated pleasure, pupils glazed over. “Jake, baby…”
“Hm?” He glances at you, halting his movements out of, at first, genuine concern when he notices the hitch in your strained voice.
And when he’s met with the cute, bratty pout on your face, he doesn’t know whether he wants to fuck it off of you ruthlessly or give in to whatever meek yet lewd request is sitting on the tip of your tongue.
The whimper that squeaks out of you is enough to send all the blood in his body rushing to his dick.
“I need your mouth,” You sigh wantingly.
Jake can’t keep his stare off of the needy rise and fall of your tits, and he certainly can’t help but admire how hard you’re biting your lip – it’s almost comical, how he’s got you so instantly riled-up, but he understands. He feels it too, in Steven’s and Marc’s desire to front, in his own beating heart and his hard cock, that you need him. Everywhere. Somehow. And even though that hysterical part of Jake wants to deny you of this satisfaction, deny you of his touch, deny you of even talking to him because orgasms last so much longer with a greater and tenser build-up, he just can’t. He’s been kind tonight – tonight, which is all about you, with your new, normal, civilian job and an incoming promotion, tonight with your trusting eyes and your sexy dress that Steven had ended up buying you because he has impeccable taste, tonight with your dreamy sighs and the way you carry your scars from previous tours with Marc with such incomparable beauty that you make violence seem romantic.
So, sure. He’ll give in tonight.
He reaches for you, surveying how you follow him with no question, clambering onto his lap with loving adherence. Jake strokes the nape of your neck and lets his hands find the small of your back. You stare into each other’s eyes for a few moments, a couple minutes, just admiring, basking in the intimacy that is so oftentimes and unfortunately rare with Jake Lockley.
Then, he speaks. “Do you want to sit on my face, solecito mío?”
You make a noise that sounds more animalistic than human.
Maybe it’s a reflection of how Jake makes you feel. But then, you suppose that’s how Marc makes you feel as well. And some nights, Steven, too.
“I do.” You nod. Jake nods back in acknowledgement, brushing your hair back with steady fingertips. His nose nudges against yours as you sigh into his mouth, reveling in your lover’s quiet whispers of sweet nothings. “I want to make you feel good, also.”
“You wanna make me feel good?” He kisses your shoulder, lips ghosting over the old bullet graze on your bicep from that job in Turkey.
He doesn’t want to think about the things you did with Marc – the killings don’t bother him, but the sex does. If anything, it’ll only make Jake angry, only make him want to deny you of himself even though his adoration for you goes deeper than this superficial desire.
“Yeah, fuck, I do.”
“You want me to cum all over that amazing throat of yours? Just dump my cum inside you?”
“Wanna be your cumslut.”
It’s silent until you abruptly giggle at each other, almost because of how bizarrely horny either of you sound right now. It’s out of character for you to be this vocal with him, but Jake has learned a couple things from Marc, and Marc from Steven, which he intends to put to good use.
But even though the words sound utterly ridiculous coming from you, his body thinks otherwise. He’s thrumming with want, and Jake isn’t sure how long he can go without having something warm on his cock. “Again.”
You bat your lashes at him, teasingly through a half-serious chuckle. “Wanna be your cumslut. Want you down my throat, keeping me there, choking me with your dick.”
“Oh, Y/N, you’re filthy.”
“Just like you, Jake.”
He practically growls, “Prove it, then. How filthy can you get for me?”
You press down on his clothed chest, watching as he lays flat onto the seat. It’s an uncomfortable position, especially when your elbow rams against the roof as you try to rid yourself of your wrinkled dress. There’s barely any room for your other leg to straddle him, but when you maneuver your sweaty bodies so that your cunt is hovering over his face and his erection is aching to meet your mouth, things start to feel smoother from there on out.
There’s a reason why sixty-nine is his favorite number.
At this point, you don’t even wait to fully take his pants off. His belt is strewn over the front seats, his fly down and greedy cock pulled over the stretchy waistband of his pre-cum ruined boxers.
“You’re so fucking hard…” You coo, glancing at him over your shoulder as he rubs his fingers around your entrance.
He parts your folds, sticking his warm tongue into your cunt while you take the tip of him into your mouth. “F-Fuck, Y/N…” His hips involuntarily thrust into you, and you can’t help but grin around his length before taking him further. His swollen cock pulses in your throat as you lazily bob your head up and down his shaft. “Mmm, fuck, that — that feels good, baby.”
The vibrations of his moans against your pussy has you mewling, humming in pleasure as he sucks at your sensitive clit and the bulb of nose prods against your hole. “J-Jake, honey, your mouth — it’s, oh, keep fucking your tongue into me. Just like that — oh, fuck!” You shudder, and Jake takes advantage of your intense satisfaction to hook his arms tighter around your thighs and pull you deeper against his face. You grind against him, expletives falling from your lips as your juices coat his jaw and chin while he helps rock you back and forth.
“Tastes so good, Y/N. So wet, so sweet, this pussy is just all for me, hm?” He grunts, carefully thrusting into your throat. “Shit, baby. Takin’ this cock so well, too. You’re loving this, aren’t you?” You can only respond with whimpering moans as he fucks your mouth, salty tears brimming at your eyes when you can feel the overwhelming sensation of his fullness. “God, Y/N, you’re gonna make me cum.”
And as he makes haste to bring you to the edge, you give the same attention to his cock, using your small fist to twist around the leftover space that your mouth can’t take. Saliva covers your fingers as you gag pornographically around his prick, he’s thicker than he is long, but that doesn’t make taking him any easier.
“Jake, oh — I’m… fuck, I’m right there.”
“Yeah? You wanna cum together?”
He fills your throat with his seed as you attempt to fit all of him into your mouth. Your vision goes fuzzy from the long, tedious seconds without oxygen and the combined feeling of a drawn-out orgasm. Jake has your cunt trapped against his lips, sucking and tugging at your clit while a dreamlike haze washes over the two of you.
The windows are fogged-up. It’s sweaty, the stench of sex lingers, and your numb bodies are far from graceful even as Jake moves to pull you into his arms and caress the back of your head, resting your ear against his chest because he wants you to listen to how fast his heartbeat is right now.
Then, you mention something to him about round two at home. He laughs and kisses you tenderly, convinced that you’ll probably end up falling asleep on the ride back.
Far from graceful.
But nothing else matters when it comes to him.
May - Brighton, England
“What do you call an alligator with a compass?”
You take a bite out of the strawberry pinched between your fingers, squinting through the blinding sun. “What?”
“A… navi-gator.” Steven deadpans, wiggling his eyebrows at you as you glare at him over the top of your half-finished paperback. You can’t help but chuckle softly, shaking your head at him as you try to hide the childish smirk tugging at your lips. “Oh, come on. Seriously, Y/N? That one was so good.”
“You cannot crack me.“ You cross your ankles over each other and place your book down. Sitting up on the red picnic blanket, you rest back on your forearms and gaze at him intently.
He wags his pointer finger. “Ah, ah, I know another one.” Inhaling deeply, he gestures at you. “Did you hear about the crocodile who was unable to mate?”
You stifle a snort, biting your lip as you can feel the laughter bubbling deep within your chest. “I did not, why?”
“He had a reptile dysfunction.” You maintain a neutral face, nodding nonchalantly at Steven’s fifth adorable attempt of a gator joke. “Really? Not even that one?”
“I am as hard as a rock.”
The dark-haired man sputters, clutching his stomach as he laughs loudly. “Are you now?”
“No! Oh, my god. Not like that, Steven!” You playfully swat his thigh with the back of your hand, grinning widely as he rolls over onto his side to look at you. “Listen, I meant—“
“Am I that funny? That my humor ends up seducing you, petal?” He strokes your calf with a bright smile. “Do my jokes turn you on that much?”
“No, they don’t. Not even one bit.” You chew on your bottom lip, watching as Steven’s fingers travel higher and higher till they reach the bottom of your sundress. “Do my jokes turn you on?”
“No, not at all.” His features soften, eyes half-lidded and his golden complexion illuminated by the sunlight in your backyard. “You’re the farthest from funny.”
“Please, I am the funniest person alive.” Your stare flickers down to where his palm spreads itself over your thigh, long and thick digits caressing your skin. “We’ve been married for months and I still think I’m the better joker out of the two of us, Mr. Grant.”
“You’ve got it all wrong, Mrs. Grant.” Steven plays along as he reaches into the container of strawberries beside you, wrapping his pink lips around one before he takes a small bite. Your curious eyes never leave his mouth, entranced by how a bead of juice dribbles down his chin as he swallows the fleshy fruit with a quiet moan. Steven notices. He’s not stupid, not as oblivious as people tend to think, and especially not as innocent, because his motions are absolutely purposeful. “Is this turning you on?”
You gulp loudly, feeling summer sweat collect at the nape of your neck as you rub your thighs together. The notion causes your dress to ride up, and Steven keenly catches a glimpse of your lack of panties. You see him falter, jaw clenching visibly and lashes fluttering as you shift closer to him.
You take the other half of the strawberry from his fingers, examining the red delicacy before sensually popping it into your mouth.
“Not at all.”
But it does. It turns you on when Steven reaches over and holds you by the small of your back, arching you and guiding you into his chest as you yearningly nudge noses. It turns you on when he sighs against your lips, shaky and overcome by the need to feel you as if he hadn’t taken you from behind on the kitchen counter just this morning. It turns you on when he presses his mouth to yours, tasting of strawberries and even more strawberries when he finds your tongue in the midst of your heated make-out.
“This doesn’t turn you on?” He sighs brokenly against the divot of your collarbone, squeezing and grasping every soft, untouched part of you that makes you squirm against him.
“No.” You moan breathily, throwing your head back when he takes his time to untie the halter string of your sundress from your neck. You nip at his jaw when he skims a hand over your chest, pulling the thin material down to expose your breasts. “Steven… the neighbors…”
“We have a bloody fence,” He pants out as you reach under his shirt and palm at his soft belly, inching closer to his waistband.
“And we have the tendency to be loud, honey.” You smirk against his neck, kissing down his throat until you’re using your teeth to gently tug on his thin chain. “Who’s to say that they’re not gonna hear?”
“Guess you’ll have to keep me quiet then, hm?” He quips, jaw falling open as you dip your hand into his sweatpants and reach for his erection. “My god, Y/N…”
“You’re not wearing underwear!” You giggle in shock, gasping jokingly and feverishly biting at his earlobe.
Sweatpants and a lack of boxers was always a common thing for Steven, especially when he’d have you at home, all to himself, ready to go anytime for a ten-minute quickie or a lazy blowjob. But something about the thought of him here — having eaten strawberries with you on a picnic blanket, outside and in the yard with the possibility of getting caught, the possibility (which you’ve achieved) of making him hard through his sweats — made his affinity for nudity so much sexier.
“Well, neither are you, petal.”
“So, two people without underwear… alone…” You kiss his face tenderly, ghosting over his lips in a teasing manner that has his body physically chasing after your mouth. “… laying in the yard… kissing, biting…” Steven lets out a long moan when you squeeze your hand around his length. “… touching each other… hm, what ever shall they do?”
He shudders with closed eyes when you help rid him of his sweatpants, haphazardly tossing the grey material to the side. He groans in awe when you spit into your hand, coating his cock with your saliva as you admire his frenzied state.
A yelp escapes you when he suddenly hauls you into his lap. You’re positioned on the tops of his outstretched and naked thighs, his dick just out of reach from your desperate touch. Steven moves quickly and impatiently, marking your exposed breasts and sucking at your nipples with lustful adoration while your dress pools around his indecency.
“I wanna make you cum so hard, Steven.”
“You filthy woman,” He chuckles genuinely at you, palming at the fleshiness of your ass as you rock against his body. You touch him everywhere — his chest, his unruly head of hair, his cheeks and his muscled arms — except for where he craves it the most. But you give into him, eventually. “Oh, I absolutely adore you. I love you. I love you so much, Y/N.” Steven whimpers needily as you start to stroke him slowly, using both of your fists to twist around his shaft while you grind your cunt on his thigh. “Ah, f-fuck… fuck, darling.”
“Steven, your cock is so big.” You tease, studying how his gaze drops to where you jerk him against your warm belly. “You’re just so hot. I can’t wait to get you to the edge…” A devilish smile forms on your lips as he sexily tilts his head back, eyes rolling to the back of his skull in utter bliss as you tease his leaking tip. “… oh, but only for me to stop…” You halt the stroking motions, keeping your hands tight and still around his thickness. “… and take you back to square one.”
“No, please,” He begs, opening his eyes to look at you. You see the fiery need to cum in his glazed-over stare, wild and almost pathetically unhinged as he innocently bounces his thigh beneath you. “Please, let me cum all over you.”
The phrase combined with his actions cause you to moan, mostly out of surprise, but also at how good the friction feels.
Hot skin, his hair tickling you, your slick leaving a wet and embarrassing, sticky patch on him.
“I’ll make you cum if you make me?” You roll your hips back and forth against him. Steven’s grip on your ass tightens, hands spreading you apart as he intentionally presses his thigh up to your pussy. “Do you wanna be inside me right now?”
“God, Y/N, I’ll give you anything you want.” He holds you by the chin, wide pupils admiring you. “Do anything you please, anything that’ll make you feel good…”
You whine when his fingers come down onto your clit, circling the nub while you start to lazily stroke him again. “Anything?”
“Oh, anything. You know that.”
“What if I don’t want you to fuck me?” He presses a kiss to your throat, trying to hold back his orgasm when you put pressure around the head of his cock. “What if I wanted to just — mmm — have your dick in my hands… show you how you make me feel? How you tease me, how you touch me and have me aching for you?” His tongue slips into your rambling mouth, whimpers and grunts escaping your molded bodies as Steven keeps you on his thigh. “How you always make me fucking wait before I can cum?”
“Are you going to e-edge me?” He looks deeply into your eyes, teeth clamping down on his lower lip as you slow your pace. “Is that it? Because I like edging you?”
“Just wanna give you a taste of what it's like, honey.” You use your free hand to brush through his curly locks, fingers getting tangled in his scalp. “Is that okay?”
The pleading words leave him instantly.
“Anything for you.”
The furrow in his brows has you clutching onto him to stop yourself from just sinking down onto his dick. So, instead, you remain straddling his thighs, sitting with each knee swung on either side of him as you wrap two eager hands around his cock and work him until he’s a moaning mess for you again.
“Such a handsome boy. Everytime we make love…” You survey him closely, falling in a sexed-out trance with just how his lips part and how he throws his head back like it’s the first time he’s ever been touched. “… you look so fucking good.”
“I love y-you, Y/N. God — goddamnit,” His nose scrunches up as you jerk him off with longer, but slower motions. Naturally, he’s more sensitive by the tip, which you’re proven right when his stomach ripples visibly, flexing and tensing below you. “Ah, fuck! Fuck, darling. Like that. Oh, just like that. Slow. Slow, please.”
“Falling apart for me already?” You sigh shakily, growing wetter as his pre-cum begins to bead down your knuckles. “No cumming until I say so, Steven.”
“Please. Oh, my god. I can’t — Y/N, I won’t… I don’t think I can bear it.” He hisses, running his hands up and down your hips to distract himself. “Fuck, can I see you?”
“I want you to take off the dress.” He requests gruffly, before clearing his throat. “Please, petal.”
You nod with a soft smile, caressing his jaw before you’re helping each other rid yourselves of your remaining clothing. Steven’s shirt and your sundress joins his pants by the corner of the blanket. Instantly, his hands fondle your breasts, skimming over the fading hickies and wandering across your abdomen.
“I can feel you pulsating.”
“That is ‘cause you’ve got me rock fucking hard, you know.” He jokes, referring to your words from earlier. “S-shit, Y/N. How much longer?”
“I’m sorry, Steven. No cumming.” You purr at him. “Not yet. Tell me what’s going on in that pretty head, yes?”
“I mean, you’re just perfect. This body… fuck, who made you like this? How can someone be so beautiful?” The passion laced in his voice has you reeling, nearly doubling over onto his bare chest. “Baby. Oh, baby. Please! Please, I wanna cum. Oh, I wanna cum for you.”
You moan audibly. “Have you been a good boy?”
“Are you mine?”
You let Steven fuck himself into your fist, digits sticky with mess as he rushes to reach his high. “I’m yours. Are you mine?”
You suppose he’s waited long enough.
“Only if you cum for me, honey.”
And as your hand twists and tugs at his cock, Steven falls apart in your grasp. His whole body twitches, fingers bruising your hips as his cum spills over your palms and coats your skin with his seed. Yet, somehow, in the prolonged haziness of his orgasm, Steven can only spew out declarations of love. He calls you every synonym of beautiful, worships your upright body with his swollen lips as he decorates you with his devotion.
“I am so enamored by you, Y/N.” Steven breathes out, laying back onto the picnic blanket beside you. You tuck your head under his arm, sighing as he shifts you closer towards his naked frame. “You are a gift.”
“And you… are a gift shop-ist. So, I guess we’re meant to be.” You laugh sweetly at each other, gazing into one another’s eyes as you trace hearts over Steven’s sternum. “See what I did there?”
“You are not funny.”
The swelling glimmer of amusement in his irises says otherwise.
“I love you, too.”
The sky turns pink over your entangled bodies, golden and sunkissed as you draw a path of kisses along Steven’s jawline while he falls into a different kind of bliss.
You love Steven. You love Jake. You love Marc. And while everything else in the world is fucked up and a cherry-colored funk of clustering emotions, you want to believe that nothing else matters but them. Nothing else matters if it feels right, if it feels like home and a warmth that can’t be found with anyone, anywhere else.
Secret Identities (Marc Spector, Steven Grant, and Jake Lockley x reader)
Summary: There’s part of your life that Steven, Marc, and Jake don’t know about. A big part... namely that you’re an Avenger. But they’re about to find out, and it’s not exactly how you wanted it to go
Fluff, some angst, mostly fluff
Pairings: Marc Spector x f!reader, Steven Grant x f!reader, Jake Lockley x f!reader
A/N: I did my best to accurately represent DID, I had an unfortunate moment where I defaulted to she/her pronouns instead of making this gender neutral as intended, I think I corrected it all, but please tell me if I missed anything
Based on this request: If you take the requests, can I ask for Marc/Steven/Jack with a reader formerly Avengers but rather unknown to the public, and one day some agent from an organization interrupts the reader and Marc/Steven/Jack to ask for help in settling a case since reader is "one of the last remaining active Avengers and one of the people who fought Thanos to protect the universe" and Marc/Steven/Jack are just - wait what?!
It was probably your own history that made a relationship with Marc, Steven, and Jake possible. As an Avenger, you were used to having the people you loved returning home with bumps and bruises and often worse. It was only natural that you’d end up in a relationship with a superhero, not an Avenger, but the boys certainly could be.
Not that you were going to ask them to join the Avengers, mostly because they don’t know about you. You hadn’t told Steven on the first date, nor the second, nor any after. You hadn’t told Marc when you met for the first time and he explained their DID. You hadn’t told Jake when he showed up to your flat in a black and white suit, covered in blood and told you through pained gasps that he was the Moon Knight. That would have been the ideal time to confess your own masked exploits. Hindsight is twenty-twenty and all that.
At this point it seems strange to bring up your real job. Part of you is afraid that the men won’t want to be with a superhero. It would worry Steven to no end to know you’re off on life-threatening mission not work conferences in hotel ballrooms. It would worry all of them, but Steven would really let it show. Jake had a protective streak a mile wild, not that he would stop you, but he’d want to. Then there was Marc who hated seeing you hurt or in pain. He had bruised your thigh during sex once and felt so guilty he wouldn’t touch you for a month.
So no, they don’t know about the Avengers, and the Avengers don’t know about them.
“Alright there love?”
You perk up at the English accent, grinning broadly as your boyfriend strolls down the museum steps.
“Hi,” you greet him with a kiss on his cheek that makes him blush. “How was tour guiding?”
“Friday’s field trip day,” he sighs as way of answer, but there’s a little smile gracing his lips. Steven loves this job, even the rough days.
He takes your hand, interlocking your fingers and rubbing his thumb over your palm absentmindedly.
“You really have a weekend off?”
“Yes,” you lean into his arm as you walk hand in hand. “Work phone has been off since three. It’s just us.”
“And me and Jake.”
“Marc wants you to know he’s here too.”
“Marc knows what I mean,” you laugh. “My place tonight?”
You walk with Steven all around the city, grabbing food from several different food stands or open cafes. Occasionally Jake or Marc fronts for a few blocks - that’s why you end up getting so much food - but this is mostly your night with Steven. The two of you get to your place late, stopping to feed Gus on the way.
Once you both change, you fall into bed together, too tired to do anything more than cuddle. You’re in a spooning mood, so you lay on your side, back to Steven and wiggle your butt a little.
“Give me the body!” Marc begs.
If Jake could have rolled their eyes he would have. Steven does it for him. Still, he lets Marc front. Spooning is really Marc’s thing; he will hold you like this for the entire night without complaint.
“Hi baby,” he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you back against him, grinding himself on your ass just a little.
“Hi Marc,” you grin at the hint of a Chicago accent, the forwardness of the movement.
He wears a shit eating grin at he kisses your cheek and holds you tightly to him. Eventually and reluctantly you turn your head away, still sporting that small smile as he nuzzles against the back of your neck and leaves little kisses everywhere you can reach until you drift off to sleep.
The sound of someone saying… shouting your name wakes you a few hours later. A banging sound fills the room, and instantly you are wide awake, reaching under the mattress for the gun you keep concealed there.
“Open up, Y/N! Right now!”
You jump out of bed, gun drawn, moving slowly toward the door. Behind you, Marc is stirring softly.
You wrench the door open, see one person, and grab them by the shoulder to pull them into your flat. No need to make a public scene. The door slams behind you, and that finally jolts Marc awake, white fabric already surrounding his body as he subconsciously processes the threat and summons the suit.
You kick the back of the intruder’s knee out, shoving him to his knees, and slamming him against a wall face first. Your gun pushes firmly into the base of his neck. Only then does it occur to you that Marc is watching everything, that he didn’t know you have a gun or the skills to take down anyone. The thin wall between your life as an Avenger and your life with Marc, Steven, and Jake has just shattered. But this isn’t the time for those thoughts.
“Who are you?” You growl.
“SWORD,” the man replies with surprising calm. “ID’s in my jacket.”
You fumble around in his jacket and produce the ID. Yeah, he’s definitely SWORD. Son of a bitch. You lower the gun and step back, hitting the lights as you move away.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” You bite out.
No agents of any sort, Fury’s or not, are supposed to interfere with your personal life. In the corner of your eye you can see Marc’s costume fading away, the bewilderment on his face. He’s not an idiot. He knows what SWORD is.
“Watched the news recently? Attacks in New York? We’re bringing everyone in.”
The man stands, brushing off his impeccable black suit. Very subtle outfit choice, Fury.
“New York doesn’t have enough heroes?” You remark dryly.
“Not for this.”
“I’m sorry,” Steven says. “What is this?”
He gestures between you two. Marc must be pissed to let Steven front right now, but you know he and Jake are really confronting with Steven right now. You should have told them. They didn’t deserve to find out like this.
“Are you serious?” The SWORD agent looks at Steven thoroughly confused. “This is one of the last remaining Avengers. One of the people who fought Thanos? Saved the universe? Those Avengers.”
“Shut up!” You snarl at him, and turn back to Steven whose eyes are wide and bewildered. “I was going to tell you…”
It’s not enough. You can tell by how violently his eyes roll back that the switch is not easy.
“Are you fucking with me?” Jake growls, expression unreadable.
“No,” you whisper. “Jake, you have every right to-”
“I knew it,” he interrupts you. “All the guns hiding around your flat. Business trips that coincidentally happen around major world events.”
“You knew!?” Marc is shouting.
“And you didn’t think to mention?”
“I suspected something,” Jake clarifies.
“Give me the body now!”
Jake shoots you an apologetic grin and his face shifts, more gently this time, until you’re looking at Marc again.
“So it is true,” the agent says in awe.
“What?” You and Marc both snap at the agent, not looking away from each other.
“You and Moon Knight. There’s this big betting pool at headquarters…” he trails off, realizing too late that this isn’t the time.
Headquarters knows about Marc, Steven, and Jake. How do they know that? Of course SWORD knows about Moon Knight - he’s hardly a subtle superhero - but now they know his identities too.
“I’ll be out. Give me a minute,” you reassure the agent not unkindly.
You’re eyes are still trapped in Marc’s piercing glare as the other man leaves.
“You told them,” Marc growls, stepping close to you. “About me. Is that what this was? A spy op?”
“Marc, you know that’s not fair.”
“I didn’t tell them who you are,” you reach for Marc’s hand, but he pulls it away. “I didn’t even tell them we were together. I’m not an agent, Marc. I don’t answer to them… after Hydra, Thanos, the blip… it doesn’t work like that anymore.”
Marc stares at you, the brutal honesty painted on your face, the worry in your eyes as you beg him to believe you. He wants to believe you, Steven and Jake certainly do, but everything good that has ever happened to Marc has turned out to be a double edged sword. Everyone he loves turns on him. Why should you be any different?
“You made us keep the DID secret for months,” Steven tries to reason. “Secrets get out of control.”
Jake tries next, “When I came through the window that night, there’s no way they already knew about Moon Knight... This definitely happened so Steven wouldn’t worry.”
“Screw off mate.”
“Marc? I love you. This- this is real,” you watch emotions play across his face, knowing Jake and Steven are talking to him. “I should have told you sooner, but this has always been real.”
“I know,” he breathes finally because he does believe you, does trust you completely. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry. I kept meaning to tell you, but I was… I was scared.”
This time when you reach for his hand he lets you take it and run your fingers across his bruised knuckles (a result of Jake’s activities the night before). An idea forms.
“Come with me. I’m not asking you to be an Avenger, but you’d like them. Matt will love Jake. Steven and Spidey will be best friends. Steven might even get him to reveal his secret identity. Maybe Thor can put Khonshu in his place.”
He says nothing, then lets a small smile form on his lips.
“Alright,” then more strongly. “Alright. Jake, you’re going home.”
You grab a bag, already packed and change quickly. Marc has his own bag ready and follows you to the elevator.
“Mates, what do you think their costume looks like?”
“Cool it, Steven,” Jake growls back, but there’s amusement and some awe in his voice.
“I’m dating Avenger,” Marc says, testing how it feels to speak the words out loud.
Jake and Steven are quick to correct him, “We... we are dating an Avenger.”
A/N: My first request! Thank you! I loved writing this and hope you enjoy it.
less jake lockley fics where he’s simply a dominant, ruthless killer with no regard for human life. more jake lockley fics where he drives the reader to and from her local farmers market every saturday and every saturday without fail she gifts him a flower she purchased until one day she asks if he wants to come to the market with her and they have a cute little saturday outing and he buys her a bouq-
Jake Lockley is not evil, Jake Lockley is not "just a killer", Jake Lockley is not a bad person
Jake Lockley is a protector in a system that has been severely traumatized as a child and were not protected and taken care of like they should have been.
Yes, he seems more prone to violence than Marc or Steven, but that does not make him an evil, unfeeling person. He's doing what needs to be done to protect them. The times we know for absolute sure that he has shown up (episode 3 in Cairo, episode 6 in the final battle) have been times where the system was about to die. In episode 3, Marc had been knocked down/out by Harrow's followers, and when he comes back front they're on a cliff. It seems like Harrow's followers were about to throw the system off of a cliff, and Jake came front to protect them and keep them alive, and you'll notice that he left the teenager alive, and let Marc back front as soon as the immediate life-threatening danger had passed. In episode 6, Marc was again on the ground, after Harrow threw his worst trauma in his face, with his soul being pulled out of his body, and Layla was surrounded by Harrow's men. Again, Jake fronted to save their life, and then stepped back once the immediate threat to their life was handled
He is not a cold-blooded killer, he's a protector doing his best to keep their system alive when there are people actively trying to fucking murder them
Stop writing him as this cold, hard, unfeeling person. Stop writing him as participating in senseless violence just because he wants to
You are doing a disservice to Jake as a character, and you are waving a bright red flag over your head that tells systems "hey I don't know what I'm talking about but I'm going to perpetuate harmful stereotypes because it's fun for me!"
Fucking. Stop. It.
~Singlets (non-systems) can and should reblog but DO NOT speak over us~
—STEVEN GRANT WAS EQUALLY CONFUSED AS THE PERSON IN FRONT OF HIM. His brows were furrowed, scrunch up together deep in thought. He stared at you for a moment but his eyes widened seeing how you only had a large shirt that barely rested on your mid-thigh. He covered his eyes. "Oh, god, I'm sorry. Marc did you. . ." He trailed off.
Ever since the actual divorce with Layla, Marc has been on a downward spiral. Steven hoped he didn't have a one-night stand, blocking him out but they came in a package deal now; why would Marc want to hide this?
"No, I don't know who that is. . ." Marc trailed off as well, confused about being in a random apartment and a random woman in front of them.
You arched an eyebrow at the man in front of you. The switching between American and British accent was throwing you off guard. "Why are you British?" You asked, letting a short breath of a laugh. "Is this a joke? Jake, the tacky British accent is funny but the American one is perfect. Look, whatever it is you're hiding, you can tell me. For fucks sake, you don't literally fuck and brand someone then try to run away after confessing your love."
Steven stood there awkwardly, scratching the back of his head as he knitted his brows but he kept his eyes covered. He wasn't going to look at a random almost naked woman and make her feel uncomfortable. "First of all, it isn't a tacky British accent. It's how I talk. Secondly, what did you just say?" He was now utterly confused. Branding? Fucking? Confessing love? "Marc, if you're pulling a prank on me, you better stop."
"What? I'm not pulling a prank on you. Who pulls this type of prank?" Marc exasperated, speaking through the body. You were confused as much about how Jake was able to switch accents quickly and their demeanors were completely different when Steven and Marc spoke. He moved his hand from his eyes and narrowed his eyes at you. "Who are you? Where are we?"
You arched an eyebrow at him. Jake wasn't making any sense Was this some sort of joke because he was afraid to deal with the aftermath of confessing his love? You knew he was a closed-off person who pushed people away. Hell, you might have been his only friend but with all the secrets, the hiding, the one-way contacting; you still knew him best. If this were a joke, there would be dead bodies but seeing how there wasn't something was off.
"I'm [Name]. . .you're in my apartment in New York." You explained. Jake wasn't mentally well, that much you knew but did it get bad to the point where he would forget he was at? You were going to figure out what was happening. "Are you okay, Jake?"
"Jake? Jake like from State Farm?" The British accent came through again from Jake's body. He ran his fingers through his hair, stressing out as he paced around in front of the door. "Marc, don't tell me that you're doing mercenary work again and went under another fake name that you got from a State Farm commercial."
"Steven, who the fuck gets their name from a commercial?"
Standing there, you were watching the man that you thought you knew well arguing with himself in the same body. The clashing of different accents made your head hurt, especially the British one. You walked over to the couch and sat down gazing at nothing trying to comprehend what was going on. You covered your mouth and just stared at the man who you knew for months, worked alongside him during missions. He stole a cat for you and named her for you. He was there at your worst moments and best moments.
How could you know someone yet at the same time apparently know nothing about him? All of these secrets were driving you insane but you thought back about what he said. The others will know. At first, you thought he had a secret life, married and had kids but you remembered how he said he deeply despises children and didn't want any. Were "the others" these people named Steven and Marc?
Steven stopped pacing as he finally stopped arguing with Marc and gazed over at you. "I'm sorry that you're witnessing this. . .I'm just very confused about everything. I. . .I think we need help since you seem to know us, can you help us?" Steven almost sounded like he pleaded with you.
Your heart clenched at his pleading, he sounded almost scared. He was scared because he finally got his life in order but he was blacking out again. Marc and him were scared that there was another living in them after fighting for so long to come to terms with each other, how could they accept another?
You nodded. "Of course-"
"Oh my god, you're bleeding." Steven pointed at your thigh.
You knitted your brows together and quickly looked down. You were so concentrated on the confusing situation that you forgot about your thigh. You healed your leg but you forgot to wash the blood off. "Oh, I'm okay-"
Before you could finish your sentence, Steven ran to the kitchen and he hurriedly grabbed a towel. The sink shot out water on blast, he jumped from how powerful the water was. "Oh, bollocks." He muttered, getting his shirt wet but he seem to not care enough as he dampen the towel and hurried over to you.
You rose an eyebrow at this. Steven knelt in front of you as his cheeks heated merely glancing down at your thigh. "Um, if you don't mind. . .can you raise the shirt a bit? I promise I won't look any further."
You gazed at the man in front of you. This wasn't Jake, he wasn't sweet like the person you're looking at. His chocolate eyes were full of warmth and concern, darting around your face. His hands fidgeted around as his fingers were curled tightly around the towel as it scrunched between his fingers. He was completely different from Jake. This Steven person seemed kind.
Jake had his own type of kindness but this pure innocent kindness that emanated from Steven was genuine. He was genuinely concerned about you. There were no ulterior motives coming from his kind words, he was just kind. The type of kindness that reminded you of someone.
Slowly nodding, you raised the end of your shirt a bit. "Thank you." He muttered, gazing down at your thigh. His eyes widened seeing a scar of the name Jake embedded on your skin. "Who did this? Are you okay?"
You were more than fine with the scar on you but for him to not know that he did that merely fifty minutes ago was concerning but if this wasn't Jake then Steven must have no reconciliation of what happened, ever. "I'm okay." You murmured feeling the cool, wet towel press gently on your thigh as he rubbed it around the scar. The gentleness made you almost forget how it felt to be touched as if you were made of glass.
You were never made of glass but to be treated that way brought you a sense of nostalgia. A familiar of crimson-tinted glasses came into your mind and the smile he would give you after each fight you got into. You shook your head, that was the past. That person was in the past. Your eyes bore on to Steven’s kind, gentle caressing. You saw how his hands shook, the dark bags underneath his eyes indicated how truly tired he was. Your chest tightened, you had the need to comfort him but you didn’t want to scare him more than he already seemed.
"Can you tell me how I got here?" Steven mumbled as he caressed the towel around your thigh, darting his eyes up at you. His eyes were heavy as his shoulders were tensed. He was truly terrified that he was blacking out again after the progress he made with Marc.
"You. . ." You trailed off trying to form the right words but you decided to tell him everything from the beginning. From how you guys met, how you've been working together, and everything that led up to that point besides the sexual stuff. Steven was listening intently as his eyes were firm on your thigh wiping the last of the stained blood.
Steven was quiet, and so was Marc. There was another alter named Jake Lockley. He was working with Khonshu. Khonshu promised them freedom, the deal was that when they stopped Harrow they will be freed. Marc switched in the body as he abruptly stood up, throwing the bloody towel on the coffee table as he stomped over to the wall to think to himself. "That fucking bird." Marc scoffed, shaking his head. "He fucking told me that the deal was off. That we were free but he knew about Jake all of this time. He fucking knew. He found a loophole. . .I'm never going to be free from him."
Marc suddenly punched his fist against the wall. You didn't flinch from his reaction but you saw how the wall tore through his skin as blood begin to trickle down his arm. "I'll. . .get dressed and we can talk about this more." You said, getting up and walking to your room.
Marc's chest heaved as he removed his hand from the wall. He closed his eyes, shaking his head. He was in disbelief. He couldn't believe that Khonshu found a loophole. He was still tied to Khonshu through this Jake Lockley person. "Marc. . ." Steven trailed off from a photo reflection.
"I can't believe it, Steven. I thought we were safe, I made that deal so we can live our lives peacefully but it's never going to end, is it?" Marc muttered, opening his eyes and looked down at a photo that rested on a drawer that was against the wall he punched. He knitted his brows a bit. There were multiple photos on a drawer. It was you and him but except it wasn't. The name on the bottom said Me and Jake: New Year's.
Marc wondered how long the alter Jake Lockley was in him. How long was he tied to Khonshu still? It was six months after the whole Harrow situation. Harrow. Was he even still alive? From the way you were talking about Jake, Marc knew he must be dead because the scene Jake left when he nor Steven was in control was brutal. Harrow couldn't be alive if Jake was killing people without a second thought. It made sense to the blackout incidents when Steven and Marc were confused with dozens of dead bodies surrounding them.
"I don't know, Marc but we will get through it together," Steven reassured. "[Name] can help us through what has happened. I. . .I've seen her in my dreams before." He admitted shyly.
Marc knitted his brows together as he gazed at the other photos on the drawer. "You've seen her in your dreams before?" Marc questioned as his eyes landed on a photo. A man that Marc has seen in his dreams as well. He had crimson-tinted round glasses with his dark brown hair falling neatly to the side as he leaned on a walking stick wearing a goofy Christmas sweater. His head rested on your shoulder with a big smile. You had a big smile as well with your arms wrapped around his chest wearing the same ugly Christmas sweater.
Matt Murdock and [Name] [Last Name]: Christmas <3
The photo seemed relatively old from how young you looked. His eyes darted around to see more photos with you and Jake. One photo was him sticking his middle finger against the camera, holding his other hand up to his face as his lips were tugged into a faint smirk. Marc couldn't believe how he had another alter living inside of him, what caused this alter? He couldn't remember anything about Jake Lockley being created from any traumatic experiences. Marc remembered how Steven was created but not Jake. The many photos of you with Jake and with this Matt Murdock person along with others he didn't recognize.
The list of names under the photos went long as his eyes just kept darting to where his face was at. Series of photos of Jake with a cat curled up on his chest as he slept with a golfer hat on his face. Jake throwing a peace sign next to a dead body. (Steven gagged at the sight of a dead body and didn't understand why you had that photo.) Jake smiling widely with a can paint spray in his right hand as the background on the wall the sentence wrote: Captain suck my ass America.
Marc scoffed at these photos. Jake was doing the most absurd actions in the photos but Marc would gravitate to the person that was always next to Jake in those photos. You. The more Marc stared at the photos of you, the more familiar you were becoming to him. The [color] hair that draped around messily framed your face beautifully as your [color] skin glistened in one of the photos where you were with that Matt Murdock person again on a beach. You looked extremely happy with this Matt Murdock, where was he?
Matt Murdock must know Jake as well if you were with those two the most in the photos. As Marc kept flickering to each photo, a sense of familiarity washed over him. It was honestly pissing him off how familiar you looked to him especially the locket that hung loosely around your neck in every photo. The golden locket with intricate swirls embedded on top of it; Marc has seen that design but where? The familiarity of your smile, the dimples that formed when you smile. The small crinkle when you squint your eyes as you smiled brightly in each photo.
You were too familiar but Marc had seen you before.
Marc had dreams about you before. He thought he was hallucinating you, a random person he saw once but apparently, he did know you through Jake. And he knew of this man Matt Murdock from his dreams as well, he wondered if Jake knew Matt. But there weren't any photos of you three being together. Questions left arises in Marc's mind.
"Yes, I dream about her very often, almost every night. That man was in my dreams too. . .I thought they were just people I've seen before but apparently, I guess not." Steven muttered as Marc stepped away from the photos.
Marc didn't want to look at any more photos. He thought he put this double life behind him, he thought he put the avatar life behind him but the universe hated him. He was still being punished for what he's done. He was in debt to Khonshu and always will be. "I guess they weren't figments of my imagination," Marc muttered, walking back to the couch and carelessly sitting down. He covered his face as he let out a frustrated groan then chuckled dryly. "This whole time, I thought I was done with Khonshu. The killings. Everything."
"If we were able to communicate through each other from the reflections, that must mean we could contact him?" Steven suggested.
Marc arched an eyebrow at himself. "That's a good idea. . .your best yet, Steven."
Marc got up, he glanced around to see any nearby mirrors but there were shards of broken glass scattered across the ground and a chair broken near the wall. He didn't know you well but for some reason, he felt a sense of worry if Jake harmed you in any way. The scarring of his name that was embedded on your thigh was concerning but you didn't react to it when Steven cleaned you up, what was your relationship with Jake Lockley?
You explained how you met Jake because you were a previous avatar of Khonshu but briefly his avatar. You didn't explain why you were briefly but now you were an avatar of Taweret. Marc was confused about that because Taweret didn't mention you in the slightest bit but it would make sense from the random comment she made when he was in the Field of Reeds.
"You can live in peace but I don't think the other would live in peace without her."
Marc understood that you were the soft spot for Jake, an infamous killer apparently when he was in control. He had to scoff at that because it was ridiculous that you were Jake's soft spot and how Taweret knew of Jake as well. He truly hated gods and goddesses. But that left questions stirring in him more, why did Taweret lend Layla her power if you were her original avatar?
Many questions led to more questions. "Thank you, mate. I'm getting the hang of. . .whatever is going on." Steven was proud of himself. Marc patted his own shoulder with a tight smile. "But we need a mirror. . Let's go to her bathroom."
"What? But she's in there." Marc replied, looking over to the door where you disappeared into. He wondered if you were alright because you had been gone for some time now.
"Be polite and knock." Steven raised Marc's hand and imitated a knocking noise from their mouth. "Knock, knock."
Marc rolled his eyes at his alter's childish behavior, bringing his arm down. He closed his eyes and mentally prepare to ask to use your restroom. He felt anxious for some reason, this effect barely happened on him even when he was with Layla but he should have known he wouldn't get as anxious because there was one person that he loved a lot. But love didn't get him far with that because he could barely remember her face but the feelings were there, sometimes, he wishes he could remember that girl's face.
The first girl he ever loved. It's sad how his trauma affected his memories to the point where he couldn't remember the first girl he ever loved. It was a blocking point in his life that were the only good memories growing up but he couldn't remember anything.
Marc inhaled a deep breath to shake away his anxiety and walked over to your crack door. He shakily pressed his hand against the door opening it up a bit. "[Name]?" He called out, stepping into the room.
Marc's eyes darted around the room but his eyes landed on a cat curled up on the bed staring unblinkingly at him. "Oh my god, it's a cat." Steven gushed forcing Marc to move his body towards the cat and outstretching his hand to pet it. The white ragdoll cat immediately stood up and rubbed her head against the padding of his fingers. "Oh my god. Oh my god. It likes me! Marc, a cat finally likes me. What's your name, you pretty little thing-"
"Coochie." Steven deadpanned through the body as he stared at the black collar with her name embedded on the hanging heart with presumably your number underneath it. "Why am I not surprised."
Marc pressed his lips together to try to not laugh at Steven's reaction but he heard shuffling inside of the bathroom. He awkwardly stood there not knowing what to do but he knew he had to talk to Jake or at least try to. He pats the ragdoll cat's head one last time hearing it purr, giving it one last soft smile and walked over to the bathroom door. He shuffled on his feet, raising his fist to knock against the door.
He hated being anxious. How do you have this effect on him already? No one had this effect on him besides the first person he loved but he needed answers and he needed to speak with Jake. He couldn't think about his nerves going into a frenzy.
In the bathroom, you were speaking with Taweret for some time. You knew she had answers to what the hell was going on and for the past twenty minutes, as you were changing, you were arguing with her. "What the fuck do you mean his wife?" You hissed out through gritted teeth, running your fingers through your hair.
"Ex-wife actually but I'm sorry I didn't tell you about all of this." Taweret apologizes through the mirror with an apologetic smile as her ears flapping.
"So, Marc Spector. He has DID. Steven Grant and Jake Lockley are his alters?" You questioned again to make sure, you stayed quiet as possible just in case he was outside of your bathroom door. "All this time. . .All this fucking time, I thought I knew Jake. . .sure I hated him at first but he was my partner. He knew almost everything about me but. . ."
A lump formed in your throat as your eyes stung. The burning sensation in your chest grew as you scoffed at yourself. You were a famous assassin, a powerful avatar, you had powerful friends and you were powerful. How can one guy make you feel like complete and utter shit? You couldn't lie to yourself and say you didn't feel betrayed because you did feel betrayed, how was it fair that you told him your trauma but he never spoke about his. You understood it took people a while to open but still, this wasn't something he should have hid while claiming he loved you.
You covered your mouth in realization. "Oh god. . .I hope I didn't break up Marc and his wife Layla." You felt worse than before.
Sure Jake and Marc weren't the same person but they shared the same body. Your heart dropped as you placed your hand on your stomach becoming disgusted with yourself. "I'm a homewrecker. I. . ."
"No, you're not," Taweret said trying to comfort you the best she could but the nauseous feeling rose in your throat as your face went pale. "You didn't do anything sexual with Jake until recently. Marc and Layla were already on the rocks and their divorce was finalized a while ago."
"Oh, thank god. . .that's tough on them but thank god." You muttered, letting out a relieved sigh. You gazed at the goddess as you pressed your back against the wall. "You said that my scales would be thrown off balance if I fell in love with Jake. Is it because of who he is or because of the others inside of him?"
Taweret stayed silent for a moment as her eyes fluttered. She was in deep thought about your question. "It's. . .undecided. Who he is a person is troubling but the others. . ." She trailed off as she was deep in thought as if she had something important to say. Something was holding her back. "[Name], do you not remember-"
An abrupt knock rang against the door as Marc's name called you out. You glanced back at the mirror to see if Taweret was still there but she left. All that was standing there was you in a low-cut black tank top with yellow-black checker pants as your white cat earrings dangled, swaying as you turned your head toward the door. You felt the locket necklace sway softly between your breast, it was something that you carried with you everywhere you went.
You inhaled a deep breath as you opened the door. You were met with Marc, you believed. His dark, chocolate eyes were dilated gazing down at you. His head was tilted as his face remained neutral but his eyes shifted around your body. Your breath hitched in your throat, this wasn't Jake. They had the same face but it wasn't Jake. You could feel your slick dampen the fabric just by gazing at Marc.
There was an unspoken tension as Marc stood there gazing at you. This was the same man that fucked you in the limo, branded you, and fucked you in your kitchen. But expect, it wasn't the same man. You kept in mind that they were different people. Jake Lockley wasn't Marc Spector and Jake wasn't Steven Grant. But it was the same body, you were attracted to this man but you weren't going to make a move because Marc and Steven weren't Jake.
Your cheeks heated as you stared at him. You cleared your throat catching him out of his daze. "Did you need something?" You asked, your fingers twirling the locket necklace around between your fingers. It was a nervous habit, that usually happened when you were around people you loved. You stopped your fingers, you shouldn't be nervous around Marc or Steven, you didn't know them like you knew Jake.
"I was hoping to use your. . .bathroom." Marc was completely out of his thoughts. His eyes trailed around your figure. Your style of clothing was certainly something. It reminded him of something from his childhood. The golden locket around your neck, the intricate details of swirling patterns. He's seen that locket in his dreams. Seeing it in person made him remember something briefly from his childhood but as quick the memory of that locket, the memory vanished.
"Uh, yeah. Of course." You closed your eyes, mentally cursing yourself from how awkward you were being. You've seen his face for months, you know the little details on his face. Hell, you saw his dick not that long ago but tension always made you flustered but being flushed just from the sight of him was worse.
"Thank you, darling," Steven said through the body. Your cheeks heated up more from Steven's nickname as you nodded, glancing at him one more time before trying to pass him but your body pressed against his chest. Steven felt the plump of your curves against him, he swallowed thickly. There was no doubt he thought you were beautiful as well but this tension was too much for Steven as he basically jumped in the bathroom, making eye contact with you one last time before shutting the door too loudly.
Steven pressed his back against the door, shaking his head as he covered his mouth, groaning. He was always nervous and fidgeting around the woman and cursed at himself for being extra nervous around you. He barely met you, there was no reason to be nervous. You were here to help them in whatever way.
"Real smooth, Steven." Marc retorted with sarcasm as Steven pulled his hands off his face, glaring at the reflection. "Besides kissing my ex-wife, have you ever touched a woman?"
Steven felt his cheeks blush. "That's not important." He walked over to the sink as he stared at himself in the mirror. He tried calming down the heat he felt coursing through his body. He hated the abrupt sexual thoughts that flooded his mind as the heat tinted his cheeks redder from the thoughts, shaking them off. "What's important is trying to talk to Jake, so, who should do this?"
"I'll take over," Marc said through the body, taking control once again as he stared at the mirror, gripping the edge of the sink. "Okay, you murdering son of a bitch, come out."
Jake was not pleased, to say the least. He fucking hated Steven and Marc for many reasons. There were many reasons to hate the other two that lived inside with him. One of the reasons is how they were pussies for not wanting to kill and not wanting to kill Harrow after he shot them. Another reason being that they broke the deal off of Khonshu. And the very prominent reason was that they finally met you.
As exhilarating as that was, Jake couldn't contain his jealousy. For fucks sake, this wasn't Jake. He wasn't supposed to give a shit about anyone. He was created to not care for anyone. To carry the burden of the hard choices that Marc couldn't go through. But here Jake was, caring about his unwanted partner that he didn't want in the first place. Sure he never truly hated you but that didn't mean he wanted you as his partner.
He knew you felt the same way. You didn't want to be his partner but Khonshu insisted only because you were his ex avatar. Yet, throughout everything these past months, he's grown close with you. The number one rule in his book was to not be close with anyone. . .not after Randall and certainly not another the betrayal of trust from his mother beating him for something that wasn't his fault.
Jake always had trouble trusting or caring about other people's well beings but when he met you; that was a different territory. Falling in love with a brutal assassin who was compassionate and kind was something that he never thought of happening. He never thought he would fall in love but here he was, trying to keep both lives contained. Tried to contain Steven and Marc from ever finding out about you or Khonshu again but he failed.
Jake was always reckless and insane. He knew sooner or later his secrets would be out but he never expected them to be revealed at once. It was rather annoying but not annoying as how Steven took care of you. How Steven, the fucking angel, was there cleaning your blood up. He saw those puppy eyes that Jake fucking hated on Steven. Those same eyes staring at you with kindness, gently caressing the scar that Jake embedded on you.
Apparently, Steven didn't get the fucking memo and still touched you. But what was worse, you allowed it. And your eyes, the way you stared at Steven as he did it. Your eyes were tender, in a daze watching Steven. And the encounter he just had with you. Marc was no better. Jake can see through the same body, the way their eyes raked up your body.
Your curves being perfectly shown. The way Steven acted like a fucking idiot. Jake knew this would happen, all this damn chaos. He knew that the others will try something. He wasn't going to have it. He carved his name on you for a reason but those two just didn't get the idea that you were his. Not theirs. Just his.
And having to look back at the same body as Marc was in control. He scoffed from the mirror of the reflection. "I'm a murdering son of a bitch?" Jake said as his dark eyes narrowed at Marc who was slightly taken back along with Steven. "You were a fucking mercenary. A gun for hire. Is that any better than what I did?"
"You carved your name on [Name], you're a sick person thinking you own someone," Steven spoke through the body, shaking his head at Jake. His nose scrunched up in disgust.
Jake rolled his eyes, scoffing. "Oh? Are you not the same person that kissed Marc's wife?" Jake questioned, malice lacing through his tone. "No seas un maldito hipocrita."
Don't be a fucking hypocrite.
"Oh, great! He speaks Spanish!" Marc threw his hands up, pacing around the bathroom. "Great, I have an alter that's British and another that has a fucking New York accent and can speak Spanish. What's next? The voices of Norse gods?"
Arguing erupted from the three as the screaming grew louder and more intense. Jake was cursing at them in Spanish as Marc could barely understand the incoherent sentences. Steven's high-pitched voice spoke, his British accent speaking almost incoherently for Jake to understand. And Marc curled his fist into a ball as he pointed a finger at the mirror, glaring at Jake. "You worked with Khonshu as this time? Why? Why the hell would you ever work for that fucking lunatic?" Marc demanded.
His chest was on fire, he was beyond angry. He was fuming feeling his ears turn red as he was breathing heavily. Jake knew what Khonshu put him through, he saw that Khonshu used Marc's vulnerability and turned Marc into his avatar. Why did Jake agree to this? But the answer was simple to Jake.
"I kill bad people. What difference is that from what you did, cabron? You were a mercenary. You let the guilt swallow you, hell, you remember each and every person you kill but me? I don't give a fuck. To rid the world of sinners, the worst of the worse. I don't care that I have to be a monster in order to get rid of the bigger ones. At least I can admit I take pleasure getting rid of those people."
Marc couldn't believe what he was hearing. Now, he could understand why Jake was created. Jake was the monster that Marc was afraid of. Himself. Marc was scared of himself because he was scared to admit that he did enjoy taking those monsters' lives. To know that they won't harm anyone else. He forced himself to remember each name because, the idea of taking someone's life always nauseated him but deep down, the simple pleasure of knowing that someone's monster was dead. To know that someone's abuser was gone because of him.
Marc couldn't handle that guilt. But Jake could. He only could because he was created that way. To not feel the guilt of taking those lives. Jake was the monster Marc was always afraid of. His darkest nature that he tried to keep hidden but it manifested to another alter but Marc still can't pinpoint the traumatic experience where Jake was created.
"You created me from your chaos." Jake shook his head as he clenched his jaw, his voice becoming deeper. "You can't even admit to yourself that you enjoyed taking lives? I remember the very specific life that you wanted to take. The person that tortured you the most."
Marc clenched his jaw, curling his fingers into a ball as his chest heaved heavily. "Shut up."
"You wanted to kill your mother. You dreamt about it every damn night." Jake's condescending voice struck Marc.
"Shut the fuck up." Marc's voice went low as he narrowed his eyes darkly at Jake.
"I know you, Marc. I am the monster you created because you were afraid to admit to your violent impulses. I know you better than anyone else. I am a murdering son of a bitch? No, you are. You created me this way. There's not a moment where you didn't enjoy taking people's lives-"
"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Marc shouted, colliding his fist with the mirror. The shards of glass cracked under his knuckles. He felt the shattered glass pierce through his fist as blood flowed down his scarred hands. He was in a blind rage, his hands wouldn't stop hitting the mirror. He wanted to believe that if that reflection of Jake was gone then he would be gone but Jake was always there, lurking and creating chaos.
"Enough, Marc!" Steven shouted forcing Marc to stop. Marc's chest burned as it heaved heavily. Blood trickled against the white marble sink, the faint echo of his blood splattering against the sink made Marc come back to the present. His hands shakily pulled back, and his heart hammered in his chest as he let his bloody hand fall on the side of him.
Jake was ultimately right. He was the darkest parts of Marc. The parts he tried his best to store away but chaos seeped through the cracks. Marc created a monster. He stared at the cracked mirror, the reflection spilled him three. It felt ironic seeing the reflection being spilt into three, he was truly mentally fucked up.
"You can't deny me, Marc. You accepted, Steven." Jake stated through the cracked mirror. "I'm always going to be part of you. I didn't want the two of you to find me out at all. I knew once you found me out that you would try to stop me but I'm never going to stop. As long there are monsters in the world, I will get rid of them."
"Yeah? And if you get rid of every monster in the world and the one left standing is you, what are you going to do then?" Marc questioned, the stinging pain of feeling glass shift inside of his knuckles, scraping his bones making him wince. He almost forgot that the only good part of being Khonshu's avatar was the healing factor.
"I don't mind taking out the last monster in this world." Jake implied causing Marc's breath to hitch in his throat. It was a reference to how Marc almost took his life before Khonshu granted him becoming Moon Knight. It was a dark moment. Jake knew that and used it against him.
Marc's jaw tense as he gazed at the mirror. Steven was quiet. What could he even say about the situation? Steven was created when Marc's mom was abusing him. He used Steven as a comfort person to hide away from the pain. But Jake was created from Marc's anger. His darkest impulses. The complete opposite of Steven. In a way, they were the traits Marc hid away.
Marc knew that Jake created this whole life for himself. He narrowed his eyes in thought, if he created this life and you were his soft spot. . .a sudden laugh let his parted lips. If Marc truly had dark impulses then he would have to use them against Jake. Without a word, he stepped back, he walked over to the door.
His hands curled around the golden knob and pulled it quickly. "Marc, whatever you're planning on doing. Don't do it." Steven advised but Marc was too angry. His face was hardened, he was utterly outraged. A muscle in his jaw twitched as his heavy strides echoed through the apartment.
Marc felt his fingers tingle from what he was about to do. His eyes were set ahead as he left the bedroom, he saw you standing in the kitchen warming up some tea on the stove. Your eyes darted to the side seeing his towering figure standing there. Your eyes trailed down to his fist to see trickles of trailing blood behind him. "Are you okay?" You asked, turning around.
He didn't say anything. He heard loud cussing screaming from Jake from the passing reflections. If Jake wasn't furious before, he was infuriated. Jake knew exactly what Marc was going to do, hell, if he was in Marc's shoes, he would do the exact same thing. But that didn't mean Marc has the right to touch his girl.
Marc strode across the room, his hands cupping your face as he pulled you close to his mouth. His nose bumped against yours as he pressed his lips against your plump ones. Your eyes widened from the sudden action, clutching his shirt between your fingers. Marc backed you against the counter, your lower back hit against the edge roughly. His lips moved against yours, roughly.
"Marc, stop this." Steven slightly pleaded from the reflection of the silver refrigerator.
"You're enjoying this, shut the fuck up," Marc muttered against your lips. You etched your brows together staring at him as his lips hovered over your lips.
"Marc. . .this isn't right." You mumbled, gazing up at him. The storm raging in his chocolate eyes was evident. His jaw was tightened as his shoulders were tense. From the shouting you heard, Marc got the truth from Jake. He was taking his frustrations out on you.
"Perhaps not, but I saw the way you looked at Steven. How you looked at me. You wanted to fuck me. Does it matter who I am at the moment?" Marc wondered.
Your lips quirked into a frown. This wasn't right at all. He was clearly hurting and tried to find an outlet to take it out on. You nodded. "It matters."
"Why do you care?" Marc hastily questions. His voice came out gruff and annoyed causing you to slightly flinch. "You only care about Jake. That's why you're helping us. Don't stand there and pretend that you care about me."
"Marc, are you serious?" Steven hissed from the reflection, shaking his head.
You closed your eyes, placing your hand on his chest, and pushed him back as you sighed. "You may share a body with Jake but you're exactly like him." You muttered, shaking your head. "You found out what he did and you're doing this for revenge. I'm a person not a fucking item you can play around with when you need to cool off steam."
Marc stepped back. He realized how terrible and fucked up he was being towards you. His chest tightened as his eyes gazed away from you. He felt utter shame. This is why he didn't let his impulses get to him. This is why Jake was created. He ran his fingers through his hair. He heard Steven sigh in disappointment. "I. . .I'm sorry."
You walked over to him and stood in front of him. You placed your hand on his cheek and sighed heavily. "I am angry at him too. He kept this secret for a long time so. . .if you wanted revenge, you should have asked me first before assuming."
Marc scrunched his brows together glancing back at you. "What?" He asked breathlessly as you pulled his face down to your level.
"If you wanted revenge on Jake then fuck me." You muttered, brushing your lips against his.
Marc's brown eyes dilated as he gazed at you. You were willing to get back at Jake. He realize that you were just as impulsive as him if not on the level of Jake. He didn't say anything besides crashing his lips against yours, pushing you back against the refrigerator. His fingers weaved through your hair as his mouth moved against yours harshly again.
His hips bucked against yours, grinding roughly. A moan escaped your lips as you hiked up your leg around his waist, pulling him closer. Slick dampened the fabric as heat pooled in your cunt. That same resentment you felt before you claimed your love for Jake was there. Jake hurt you and Marc.
He hurt you by keeping all these secrets. His secrets were destroying you and Marc. That burning flame spread across your chest, crawling against your skin. Goosebumps formed feeling Marc's large hands roaming down to your breast. His large hands cupped roughly around your breast, massaging through the fabric as the padding of his fingers circled around where your nipple would be at.
Marc grunted feeling your hips move against his. His cock hardened in his jeans as he pulled away briefly away from you. You fluttered your eyes open to stare at him. All of this was from resentment, secrets but there was a lace of something else. Something that burned in Marc, he wasn't quite sure if it was his or not but envy.
Perhaps the envy came from all three men. Marc was envious because there was someone who wanted to help, who was downright utterly gorgeous and most definitely deadly. There was someone who knew of his darkest impulses, the creation of his own chaos but someone loved that part of him. He was envious because Jake kept you hidden away. Layla couldn't love Marc for those dark moments but here you were still sticking around after knowing.
Marc didn't know who was more insane, Jake or you. You fell in love with a murderer, that couldn't be right. But that lacing envy wasn't just his, it was Steven's. Steven felt envious because for one reason, Marc got to kiss you but he wouldn't admit it. The other reason being for the same reason Marc felt envious. You accepted a dark part of them but why did you accept them so easily?
And there was Jake. Jake Lockley was beyond furious, there wasn't a word to describe how he was feeling. His eyes were narrowed staring at the scene from the reflection of the refrigerator. He was quiet. Too quiet. You knew you're screwed when Jake Lockley is quiet and it's terrifying when he's quiet because he's the most deadly.
Jake wrote his name on you because you were his. Simple as that. But for Marc to have you a moaning mess underneath him. Not even a breath escaped his lips. You had screwed up.
Marc's fingers weaved through your hair but he abruptly stopped. You opened your eyes and stared at him. "Marc?" You muttered concern.
His eyes fluttered as tilted his head back, the prominent vein bulged on his neck. "Marc?" You whispered again, rubbing your thumb on his jawline.
Jake tilted his head down, gazing at you. The evident darker look in his eyes made you shiver. Just by being with the others for a short amount of time, you knew their different body language. But Jake was always the most prominent because of just the look in his eyes. "Jake?" You said, etching your brows but that same familiar hatred burned through your chest, stepping back from him as he stayed silent, his dark eyes boring on you. "Jake! Are you fucking serious? You kept Marc and Steven from me. I told you everything about me! You know about. . ."
You trailed off, shaking your head thinking momentarily about the man with crimson-tinted round glasses. That blind fucking lawyer that crept into your mind every now and then. "You know almost every single thing about me yet you kept that hidden from me. Why?" You almost whispered your last sentence. Your heart hammered against your chest trying to calm your nerves. There were only three men in your life that ever made you feel nervous.
Your first love that you can't remember too well. Matt Murdock. And Jake Lockley.
The betrayal of him barely ever speaking about himself. This apparent double life. You knew him well, you knew of his habits. He didn't like many sweets but there was one sweet that he love, pumpkin empanadas. He liked to drink his coffee with no creamer, not even sugar. He would leave his shirts in your apartment, you designated a space for him in your closet for him to put his clothes in.
His habits of always double-checking your apartment before you went in to make sure there wasn't any out to kill you. He greeted the ragdoll cat first before doing anything. You knew everything about him but apparently, not enough because he kept this from you for so long. But you weren't just angry that he kept the others hidden but this life he had, it was harming Marc and Steven.
You saw how Steven's eyes glistened for a moment as he heard the story of still being tied to Khonshu. How there was another in them harming people without them knowing. You weren''t solely angry about the secrets, Jake was affecting Marc and Steven. Jake tried to contain this double life but it was crashing down on him; he didn't think about the consequences and how it affected everything.
Jake stayed silent. He stood there just staring at you. You grew frustrated with how quiet he was being. His eyes were calculated and dangerous. You knew when he was beyond infuriated that he stayed silent but this was no time for him to be silent. "For fucks sake, say something! I just told you that I love you. Do you know how hard that was for me to admit?" You murmured furrowing your brows as your nostrils flared.
"That's your fault for falling in love with me."
You stood there silent as the color drained out of your face. Your eyes glistened with tears, pursing your lips trying to hold back the emotions. Your heart stung from what he said, you couldn't believe what he said. How do you go from claiming you love someone then say something hurtful like that?
"Wow." You scoffed, closing your eyes for the tears to go away. You blinked your eyes open as your face fell frustrated. "You admitted that you love me. What the fuck is your problem, Jake Lockley?"
"What's my problem? You were just acting like a fucking whore kissing Marc but I have the problem?" Jake scoffed, shaking his head. "Why the fuck do you care about those two idiots anyways? What I'm doing is getting rid of criminals! Once you found out that there were others in me, you spread your legs wide open, didn't you?"
Your jaw dropped. "You kept all these damn secrets from me but you demanded that I tell you my secrets! That I tell you every single thing about me. I hated you because of those secrets you kept. I hated you because everything felt one-sided! Don't act like you didn't have revenge sex before. I remember that night. God, I remember that night you had that one night stand because I kissed someone in front of you."
"You kissed Matt fucking Murdock in front of me! You know I hate that goody two shoes motherfucker!" Jake shouted back but he kept his distance. Every anger, every frustration, everything he held back was coming out. He was envious. He was always envious when other men stared at you, and touched you but he didn't know the line between it becoming toxic.
Jake was created out of anger, deep pure hatred from Marc. How could he ever know the line of his actions becoming toxic and harming?
"We weren't even together, Jake!" You screamed, throwing your hands in the air. "And it was for the mission, we did what we had to pretend that we were a couple! But you went to fuck the first girl you saw because of your jealousy. I don't get you, Jake Lockley."
"Oh, so now I'm the bad guy? What about you fucking Matt in revenge for what I did?" Jake scoffed, running his fingers through his hair as he pointed a finger at you. "What you did right now is worse."
You raised your eyebrows. "What I did was worse? You kept secrets away from me. I'm supposed to be your partner. We went through almost everything together but you kept Marc and Steven hidden. You're harming them and I care about them because I care about you!"
"I never asked you to care about me! I never wanted you as my fucking partner!" Jake shouted. "I never wanted you!"
You narrowed your eyes as silence erupted through the air. His lips parted open realizing what he said. The sudden guilt washed over him. He breathed in heavily watching you gaze back at him emotionless. You pursed your lips, nodding, letting out a hum.
Jake felt his hands shake. He couldn't do this. The secrets coming out weren't exhilarating anymore. This became something so fucking chaotic and out of his control. He hated when he wasn't in control of situations. He turned around and walked over to the door before he said anything else out of anger.
But, he heard heavy footsteps behind him. Before he could turn around, he felt something hard hit the back of his head. His eyes fluttered from the sudden daze as his body slumped to the ground.
Jake groggily open his eyes, feeling a burn as he tried to move his limbs around but he was constricted. Something roped around his body, he blinked away the groggy feeling as he saw you standing there with a gun in your hands. His wrist burned against the scraping of the rope as his arms were tied behind him on the chair.
His heart hammered against his chest. No, he wasn't afraid. He just knew that his girl was crazy as him and loved how insane and reckless you were. He faintly smiled in admiration. "Ah, mi amor. If you wanted me tied to a chair you could have begged." He lightly joked, tilting his head.
It was one thing falling in love with another avatar but it was another thing to fall in love with an assassin. The way you twirled the gun in your hands as you sat across from him in the chair. He leaned back against the chair, shifting against the tight ropes. You hummed, shrugging your shoulders. "If I let you go, I wouldn't have seen you again. I know you too well. You avoid me like the plague when we argue."
Jake lazily shrugged. "I'm not in the best mood especially after you tried to fuck Marc."
You rolled your eyes, standing up. "Always the jealous one, you know, you would have felt me still in your body. What does it matter?" You asked with raised eyebrows.
"Because you're mine. I don't want them touching you." Jake stated watching and calculating your movements. "Ahora, que me tienes aqui, que esperas sacar de mi?"
Now that you have me here, what do you hope to get out of me?"
"I'm tired of all of the lies, Jake." You cocked your gun back, pressing the barrel underneath his chin. He rose an eyebrow at this, tilting his head against the gun with a smirk. "Tell me everything, now."
Jake stayed quiet for a moment. "Or what? You're not going to shoot me, mi amor. We fight, we makeup and it's a repeated cycle." Jake conceded. "It's a toxic cycle, sure but you knew what you were getting into loving me."
"Like you said, it was a mistake loving you." Jake shouldn't feel his heart stinging but he did. He felt his heart sting from what you had said. "But I am still your partner. We've been working on a mission for the past few months and if I'm going to be your partner still, I need to know everything."
Jake didn't know if he was sad. He barely had any moments of sadness. He didn't apologize to anyone because he didn't care enough to but he knew he fucked up badly. He mentioned something that was triggering to you and used that against you, that was a shitty thing to do. His heart clenched from the feeling of sadness.
Jake self-sabotage again. Of course, he did because when there's something good in front of him, he ruins everything. He ruins everything he touches. Why should this surprise him? Why shouldn't you admit that loving him was a mistake? He pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek, sighing.
"There's nothing else to know." Jake declared swallowing the lump in his throat thickly trying to wash away his sadness with coldness. "You met Steven and Marc. If you want to know about how your cat got kidnapped then that's a story for another day but anything else. . .you know already."
You narrowed your eyes, glaring at him. You tossed the gun to the couch, shaking your head. "It's funny how after all this time you think you can still lie. I know you better than anyone else. The corner of your eye twitched that means you're lying."
Jake pressed his lips together into a thin line. Sometimes, he hated how you knew him too well. You didn't have to know his childhood or anything to know when he was lying. There were many secrets for you to unfold but what's the point of spilling them with everything that lead up to this point.
"Okay then." You fell to your knees in front of him, he arched an eyebrow at you as you were between his legs. Jake now only realized he was in his boxers.
A slow smile stretched across his lips. Jake could laugh really, he could laugh a lung out. You were truly just as crazy as he was. You pulled out your switchblade knife and tapped it against his thigh. The all too familiar scene flashed across his mind. The scarring of his name on you. "Sabia que nunca podrias estar realmente enojada conmigo."
I knew you could never really be mad at me.
Your eyes darkened at his words hating that he was right. You hated how he was always right about you because while you knew his very habits, he knew of yours as well. "You're going to talk, if you're a good boy then I'll let you cum but if you don't talk by the time I'm finished with my name on you. You don't get to cum, simple."
"I thought you were angry at me?" Jake questioned, shifting in his spot in anticipation as his eyes got darker feeling the paddings of your fingers roam around his thigh.
"Oh, I am. I'm fucking pissed at you that I could kill you but I'm taking my frustrations out another way. Unless you want me to suck Marc or Steven off." You pressed the tip of your blade against his thigh. He slightly hissed feeling the sharpness trail against his thigh.
"Fuck off," Jake muttered, glaring at you. "I much rather have you suck me off."
"I will only do it if you give me information. Your choice." You said, curlings your fingers around the hem of his boxers.
Jake scowled, closing his eyes shut as he shook his head. He remember that he chose this. He chose for the outcome of this situation. In your heart, you were a fucking menace. Something that made Jake fall in love in the first place because of how cold your malicious heart could become. Yet, Taweret said your scales are balanced.
But they were truly never balanced. You decided to not care about your scales anymore. The thought of passing through the Field of Reeds didn't matter anymore. You chose Jake Lockley. The fucking asshole who was a cold person. The type of person you're not supposed to love. Even from what he said, you hated how your heart betrayed you.
Jake inhaled a deep breath. "Fine." He gritted through his teeth. "What do you want to know, mi amor?"
"Good boy." You cheekily smiled at him. It wasn't the type of smile that was supposed to be kind. It was the strained smile you always use to give him. "Why did you hide the truth from me?"
Jake parted his lips, he already knew the answer but it was hard for him to admit it. His Adam's apple bobbed in his throat as he clutched his hands. His cock twitched underneath his boxers as a tent formed. His length straining against the material, desperate to be freed. "The truth. . ." He played the words on his lips.
You pulled his boxers down to free his aching cock that curbed up towards his abdomen. He shouldn't be enjoying this but he was. He fucking loved when you took control and showed truly how terrifying you could be. But you almost forgot how big he was. You inhaled through your nose, pressing the tip of the blade against his thigh.
"You better tell me the truth because my patience wears thin very easily. I'm being reasonable at the moment." You stated. Forking veins curled around his girth, the swollen tip leaked with pre-cum, dribbling down the underside of his cock. It wasn't that long ago that it was in you but you sure did miss it being in your mouth. "So, start talking."
The tip of his cock pressed against your lips as you dragged the blade on his thigh to make out the first line. Jake hissed, inhaling through his nose. "The truth. . ." He thickly swallowed feeling your mouth wrap around his length, taking more of it in. "I. . .I."
He couldn't say anything. He couldn't admit to himself what he was feeling. He hated admitting his own feelings to himself. He felt the pain coursing through his thigh hearing Steven letting out pain hisses. He narrowed his eyes staring at the reflection in the window. That burning jealously of knowing exactly why he hid the truth away from you.
"Steven fucking Grant." He gritted out as you arched an eyebrow at him, bobbing your head slowly. Jake loved the pain of the blade dragging across his thigh as you were branding him. The blade tore his skin as you carved your name out but the way your pretty lips looked around his cock. Tying him up and forcing him to spill the truth. He couldn't be more proud.
Steven looked at him confused through the reflection as Jake let out dark chuckles. "I hid. . ." He let out a shaky breath holding back his low grunts feeling your throat gag around his cock. He knew it was too much for you but you insisted. "I hid the truth because of him."
Jake couldn't believe he was admitting to the truth but that was the truth. "I fucking hate that prick. I knew once he was out, he would take you away from me. He's just like Matt. . .so fucking annoying. That stupid moral compass of theirs. . ." He hissed. Blood trickles down his thigh, his eyes dilated at the sight. The sight of his blood caused from you was something he never expected.
�� But Jake always loved pain. Tears formed in the corner of your eyes as drool dribbled down the corners of your mouth, humming in slight satisfaction. But if he knew any better from knowing you well, you required more information.
The muscles in his jaw tightened as he let out a frustrated sigh. He hated that you were the only that made him feel this vulnerable while sucking his dick. "I hate Steven. I knew that once you found out about Steven, you would. . ." He trailed off, scoffing at himself.
Jake didn't want to reveal the truth. He was too envious to admit his hatred towards the alter. The sweet fucking angel who came to everyone's rescue. Who rambled on about his stupid interest. Who was too awkward that certain people found adorable. Steven Grant, the alter that was meant to bring peace and calm the chaos.
You stopped moving your head as the intricate carvings of your blade still worked. Jake let out a small whimper but caught himself, scowling at himself. He was close to finishing but he knew your ultimate plan now. To edge him on and make him beg for it. You hummed out in curiosity with raised eyebrows.
"Deja de burlarte de mi." Jake snapped feeling his thigh shake from the euphoric feeling of your knife still dragging across his scarred thigh, he slightly heaved from the pleasure glaring down at you.
Stop teasing me.
A callous smile spread on your lips as you shrugged. Pretending to be sympathetic to his current situation, languidly dragging your lips down. He felt the drool trail down his cock. Jake knew you wanted the whole truth and you wouldn't let him cum. He let out a short huff, grunting lowly. "Fine. Steven reminds me of Matt. Both are fucking annoying with their not killing people shit. I am envious. I'm envious at the thought that. . .you would like Steven more. Because Steven is exactly like Matt." Jake felt his heart hammer in his chest admitting that, it almost felt like a weight off his chest. Almost.
"Happy?" He uttered lowly, A soft smile spread on your lips as you nodded. "Good because my patience wears thin." His arms flexed around the ropes as he called upon Khonshu for strength. The ropes broke around his strength, snapping in two.
Your eyes widened as you felt his fingers roughly weave through your hair, caressing down to your neck. His hand formed around your throat, feeling his cock in your throat as he forcibly pulled you on his length. Jake let out a sigh of satisfaction.
"Creias que tenias el control?" Jake clicked his tongue, shaking his head as he let out a dark chuckle.
Did you think you were in control?
For a moment, you thought you were but he was so calculating with his moves. He entertained the idea that you could be in control but not this time. "I played along with your game long enough." Jake retorted, the padding of his thumb caressed your prominent jawline. "Now, it's my turn to show I'm being reasonable after you tried fucking Marc."
Jake pushed himself in you. Your lungs burned for air as you gagged, feeling the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat. Dribble of spit and pre-cum pooled in your mouth, trying to ease the feeling of him in your throat. Your chest tightened as he rutted his hips in your mouth barely giving you time to make a sound.
Your fingers slipped loose the blade out of your hands. The blade clanked next to you on the ground. You brought your blunt fingernails and dig into his pained thigh, pressing against the wound. Jake hissed through his parted lips as you felt the blood trickle down underneath your hands, dripping over your arm.
"I told you that you're only mine, mi amor." Jake tilted his head down at you. "Yet, you acted like a whore. Well, I guess you're getting treated like one."
Your throat was hoarse from each brutal and rapid pace. Your jaw ached with each thrust as tears spilled out from the corner of your eyes. Your chest burned, Jake Lockley brought out that resentment each time he did something to piss you off. His half-lidded eyes teared down at you, feeling his cock twitch in your mouth.
"No lllores como si no disfrutaras esto." Jake scoffed. A slap reverberated in the room. Your eyes stung with more pain from the harsh slap.
Don't cry like you don't enjoy this.
You hated how your body betrayed how you felt. The slick pooled in your cunt, dampening the fabric as your walls fluttered around nothing. Truly, you wanted him but he made it so fucking difficult each time he was on the precipice of admitting something about himself or revealing his secrets.
Jake let out low grunts as he rutted his hips into your mouth. His cock twitched violently in your mouth as his fingers curled tightly around your neck, cutting off your oxygen more. Warmth filled his body as he released into your mouth, letting out a low moan. He let out breaths of relief. "Swallow."
You swallowed his cum. The taste of him went down with ease, he arched an eyebrow at you. "Of course, you already swallowed." Jake scoffed, standing up. Now that he got his dick sucked, he removed the ropes off of him with ease.
Jake let go of your throat and shuffled out of his seat, pulling his jeans back up. The torn skin on his thigh formed together, closing the existing wounds that you created. His eyes darted coldly over to you. "Well, now that you know the truth. I'm going to be going." He turned away from you and walked to the door.
"What. . .?" Your voice cracked. You cleared your throat as you rubbed your aching jaw, standing up from your previous spot. "Jake, don't fucking leave again."
"I'm going to leave. Don't bother me, [Name]. Now that you learned the truth, what's the point of sticking around?" The self-sabotaging behavior came again. All he ever knew was pushing people away. He was worse than Marc when it came to pushing people away. His chest tightened at the thought of leaving but he had to. "There's no point in me sticking around."
"So, what? You're just going to leave and walk out of my life because you're scared of your feelings?" You scoffed, shaking your head. "You're a coward, Jake."
You were right. He was a coward. He was created to endure the chaos but he wasn't made out for relationships. He wasn't made out to properly and healthily process his feelings. He was created by a traumatic experience from Marc's rage. How could he properly handle you knowing about Steven and Marc?
It was a matter of time before you chose them over him. Because he wasn't meant to be loved. God, he never knew of love until his feelings were stirring with you but it wouldn't work. He wasn't created for love. Without saying anything, he left leaving you behind frustrated and disappointed.
It's been another two and a half weeks. Jake made a promise to himself that he wouldn't contact to you. He made sure to throw away his burner phone where your number was on so that Steven or Marc wouldn't try to call you. The annoying angel Steven tried to talk to Jake about what happened but he shut him down quickly. It was annoying having the other two knowing he was out. It was like watching Marc and Steven crossing paths all over again except Steven and Marc had to deal with a murdering alter.
Jake drove around in the limo with Khonshu in the back. He tapped his finger against the steering with an aggravated sigh as No Me Queda Mas by Selena played softly in the background. Repressed feelings were hard to contain, he missed you and your guy's cat. He never thought he could miss someone after the death of Randall. He heard Khonshu softly humming to the song, with each passing lyric, Jake's heart ached.
Jake always tried to hide his feelings. He couldn't process his feelings healthy, he wasn't made for that. He was Marc's dark impulses but for him to contain every single feeling of missing you, he was cracking. Khonshu kept asking if Jake missed you and Jake would deny it but the clear connection between you and Jake was evident; Khonshu knew of this. But Jake contained that lingering feeling of missing the way your eyes would lit up whenever the ragdoll cat would do anything remotely cute.
How your hands would move around when you talk trying to create stories out of your hands as you spoke way too fast at times. How you would mimic his poses to piss him off. How you would always bring food on missions because you knew he would get hungry but never admitted to you that he got hungry. His fingers curled tightly around the steering wheel, his chest was tight from that feeling of missing you. He was going to explode from bottling all these feelings, he was itching to take his mind off of you the best he could.
Jake faintly bore his eyes to the package that rested on his passenger's seat. It was hard to look over at the seat without seeing you there with your feet up on the dashboard singing your heart out to Mexican music, trying to make Jake laugh with how dramatic you were singing. But instead of finding you in that empty spot, there was an orange package. It was your spelling written on the package. That same heart you wrote next to his name each time you wrote his name out. His eyes darted to the package once in a while as he drove around, tapping his finger against the steering wheel again wondering if he should open the package.
"Just open it." Steven sighed heavily from the window's reflection.
"Don't fucking tell me what to do." Jake snapped. Steven stayed silent, flinching from his aggressive behavior as Jake parked the car on the side of the road. He turned the ignition off and glanced down towards the orange package. He leaned his head back, closing his eyes as he sighed heavily. "Vas a ser la muerte para mi." He muttered, fumbling his hands around to grasp the package.
You're going to be the death of me. Jake was beginning to think that from how heavy the package was. He was nervous to open the package, what could you have sent him? He didn't deserve anything after the fight, after he walked out of your life. He chose to walk out of your life because he was afraid of someone loving his counterparts more than him. He didn't deserve love.
Deciding against how he felt, Jake carefully opened the package, shaking the item out of the orange packaging. He rose an eyebrow as a tablet fell into his hand. He scrunched his brows together, confused. Why would you send him a tablet? You already gave him one as a gift.
Jake saw a note fall out of the package, landing on top of the screen. He flipped the note over as he read over it.
Jake raised his brows curiously as he clicked the ON button. The screen lit up as a play button was already displayed. He pressed the button and his hands tightened seeing the video play. He couldn't believe, in fact, he wouldn't. One of the best assassins out there was in this video. The avatar of Taweret. His fucking girl.
You were blindfolded, tied up to a chair as you lazily sat back down but bruises and scars were littered on your body. They were torturing you.
"Jake Lockley. You thought you killed us all but. . .you didn't. We're stronger than ever and we have your partner captured here. You have something of ours and I have something of yours." A voice rang out from behind the camera but from the corner of the footage, he saw a familiar top of a gun pointing at you.
His heart hammered as he heard Marc and Steven's breath hitch in their throat. A gunshot rang as a bullet grazed your arm. You let out a surprise shout, jumping from the noise and the pain. "You have twenty-hour fours to give us about the map to Apopis. If not, well, just like what you did to my family; I'm going to do to your pretty little partner."
A crackling sound of the person's laughter filled the air as the video went blank. Jake gripped the tablet, his hands shaking against the tablet as it cracked underneath him. Circuits sparkled as his hands went through the tablet, breaking it completely. His chest heaved heavily but he was quiet.
Jake was deadly when he was quiet. But he remembers this organization. He knew of one person who knew it well as he did. He wanted to do this alone but he put aside the impulse thinking. Your life was on the line. This wasn't just some organized crime group. It was an organized cult that had powers that Jake couldn't fight against himself.
"What are we going to do?" Steven asked, concerned with a frown. "She's going to die if we don't help."
Jake stayed quiet, carefully thinking of his next moves. He felt something else in the orange package. He shook the package as he tilted it to drop what was in there. His eyes stared emotionlessly at the the item in his hands. Your golden locket. His fingers curled around the locket as he let out a frustrated scream, punching his finger against the window next to him. His fingers went through as glass scraped against his scarred hands, blood immediately poured out of his hands as he brought his hand back in the car.
Jake opened his hand. His eyes bore on the locket. The special locket you always wore. He lowered his head and put the necklace on, tugging it underneath his shirt feeling the cool metal brush against his heart. He gazed out the broken window thinking of his next plan.
Jake was hesitant. He pondered for a moment thinking about a person. He didn't want to even think about calling but that person was the only one who knew of the cult and helped a few months back. He hated to admit that this cult was too big for him to deal with, he could deal with anything by himself but he wasn't suicidal, he hesitated to admit he needed help. He fished for his flipped phone and pulled it out. His eyes scanned the contacts as he pressed to the very bottom.
Jake grumbled, rolling his eyes to himself as he shook his head. He pressed the green button, holding the phone to his ear. The silent deafening rings filled the front of the seat. Khonshu was oddly silent after the song ended. Well, the god never said much anyways besides insults.
The other line picked up. Jake clutched his fingers around the phone tightly. "Jake?" The voice questioned confused.
Everyone expecting hard-core smut but got angst instead:
But also Matt Murdock making an appearance:
Note: well, I didn't plan on continuing this story. But since you whores kept asking and begging, I decided to ruin your day with angst <3, but I'm thinking about a smut jake/Matt tag team on the reader soooo look forward to that.
ˣ warnings: 1.4k wc. explicit smut and language, handcuffs, edging, handjob, blowjob, sub!steven, an appearance from marc at the end bc why not :-)
ˣ a/n: i was gonna add a video instead of the gif so we could hear his lil moan there but decided not to for everyone’s sake. also i’m thinking of doing a series called “smutty sundays” in which i release smutty drabbles each week. thoughts?
“You ready, baby?” you ask him lowly, trailing your fingers tantalizingly down his neck.
Steven draws in a sharp intake of breath, the handcuffs secured around his wrist rattling against the wooden backing of the chair as he writhes under your touch. He watches you slowly sink to your knees through heavy-lidded eyes, lightly dragging your nails along his bare chest and toned stomach, only to halt once you reach the place where he needs you the most.
“P-Please, love,” he begs impatiently, his cock simply aching for you to show him mercy. “Sweetheart, I-I need you now. I don’t think I can wait any longer.”
“Yes, you can, Steven,” comes your smug reply. “I’m going to take my sweet, sweet time with you tonight. You’re not going to come until I allow you to, understood?”
He nods weakly in response, unable to find his voice at the moment when your hot breath blows on his manhood.
Fuck. He’s so hard, it hurts.
“Words, Steven. I need words.”
“Understood, d-darling,” Steven stutters, his chest heaving in anticipation. “Understood.”
You smile alluringly at his confirmation, your hands settling on his inner thighs. Steven releases a grunt as pillowy soft lips press gentle kisses to the tender skin there, your mouth just a hair away from his weeping cock. He bucks his hips instinctively, desperate to feel your warmth around him— to feel both relief and pleasure.
“Not so fast, honey,” you tsk, chuckling under your breath. “If you try to rush any of this, I will not let you come tonight.”
“N-No, please! I’m sorry, so sorry. I-I won’t do it again, promise.”
You lean close again, and Steven does his best to not fucking move. “That’s my good boy.”
A shaky wine escapes Steven’s throat when delicate fingers finally wrap around his thick shaft, squeezing and pumping in the most teasing way.
“Look at you, baby. You’re so big, you can’t even fully fit in my hand,” you murmur softly, gazing back up at him with adoring eyes. “Fuck, you have the prettiest cock, Steven, and I can’t believe it’s all mine.”
This sends a wave of arousal through Steven’s body, and he wishes his hands were unrestrained so that he could pull you in for a kiss right then and there.
Gripping him tighter, you start to stroke him at a faster pace. Small whimpers and quiet praises float in the air as you add a delicious twist to your wrist with each pass, spreading the dewy precum leaking all over Steven’s stiff cock. He arches his back involuntarily, his hands desperate to touch you anywhere and everywhere as you jerk him closer and closer to the edge. God, he wants to feel you so badly.
Steven throws his head back, his eyes screwing shut while his lower half thrusts eagerly into your hand. He could feel it coming, his climax fast approaching. The breathy moans fleeing his parted lips grow in volume and frequency, much to your utter delight.
You love it when he doesn’t hold back. You love it when he’s noisy.
“D-Darling— oh, fuck! I-I’m about to come… shit. I’m almost—”
Then, you stop.
You fucking stop, and Steven struggles to contain his cry in frustration.
“Oh, Steven…” you coo, running your palms along his trembling legs. “I haven’t given you permission to come, now did I?”
What he says next is unintelligible, but you’re quite certain that it’s an apology laced with a desperate plea.
“Open your eyes, baby. Open them, please.”
Steven did as you requested, tears unknowingly running down his cheeks. “I-I’m sorry. You’re right; you hadn’t told me to come yet.”
The look you give him next is one of pity. You sigh softly, reaching a hand up to caress the side of his face. “You’re still alright with this, Steven?”
It takes him a second to realize what you’re asking. “Oh, yes. Yeah, I’m still alright with this, love.”
A smile curls at his lips, his head nodding to your query. “I’m sure. Keep going, my love. This is absolutely the hottest thing we’ve ever done.”
You giggle at that before closing the gap between you and him with a kiss, pouring all the unspoken words into it.
Retreating back to where you were, your warm hand firmly encircles the base of his cock, now rock-solid with a swollen, purply tip. Leaning in, Steven’s mouth goes agape when you lick a thick stripe up his girthy member, your lustful gaze all the while locked with his. He gasps for air as you dart out your tongue, swirling it around his sensitive head, and he shudders at the sensation.
Steven stares in awe as you slowly take as much as you can into your mouth, groaning breathlessly once he’s engulfed in warmth and wetness. He tries to stay still when you begin to suck him, your cheeks hollowing and your hand stroking the remainder of him that couldn’t fit. You set a rhythmic pace that quickly got his legs quivering and toes curling. He’s unable to tear his eyes away as your mouth continues bobbing and sucking and licking.
“Holy— shit, b-baby,” Steven mewls when you let him slip further into your mouth and hit the back of your throat. Squirming helplessly against his restraints, his arms are growing terribly sore, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about it at the moment. Not when he’s too preoccupied with your mouth and tongue and hands all at once, as well as the wet sounds of choking and your sensual moans filling up the entire room.
“I’m getting— fuck— I-I’m getting close again, sweetheart,” Steven sputters in between whimpers.
A part of him expects you to cease yet again, and you did. He raggedly moans at the loss of warmth after you withdraw from his cock. Your hands, however, keep stroking him as you speak, “Close, huh? Alright, honey. I want you to come in my mouth. I wanna taste you as you finish. Got that, Steven?”
You don’t give Steven a chance to respond. Immediately, your mouth resumes its ministrations, and he chants your name repeatedly, the tight coil deep inside him swiftly unraveling. Panting heavily, you sloppily suck him near to his completion. He’s thrashing his hips wildly now, the chair scuffing the floor underneath as he jerks forward.
Steven then suddenly stills with a hoarse moan, his cock pulsing in your mouth, twitching and spilling thick, hot white ribbons of cum onto your waiting tongue. He feels you swallow all around him, taking in every spurt he’s released, and not one single drop is missed.
Languidly, he doesn’t come to right away. His heart is pounding madly in his chest, blood still buzzing in his ears. Steven lets out a quiet gasp as you take out his softening cock from your mouth, his body slightly shivering from the overstimulation.
Rising up to your feet, you then retrieve the key to the handcuffs and soon freed Steven from his bindings. You gently hold his hands into yours, inspecting the faint bruises left by the harsh pull of the restraints. He winces as your fingers ghost over his wrists, but he reassures you with a small smile.
“Don’t worry, love. It doesn’t hurt that much,” Steven whispers sweetly as he gets up from his seat. You help steady him when he stumbles a bit, his legs limp and pliant while trying to stand. “But this idea of yours was wicked. Don’t think I’ve ever come that hard from a blowjob, heh.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself,” you tell him, brushing the damp fallen curls away from his blissful eyes.
“Thanks for trusting me, Steven. It truly means a lot. And if you ever want to, you’re more than welcome to use the cuffs on me, too. I’m also extending the invitation to Marc, by the way, if he’s interested.”
You heard that, Steven? Thinking it’s my turn with the body now. Give it.
“Uhhh… Marc seems jazzed about it.”
You chuckle softly. “Well, I’ll be waiting in bed if Marc wants his turn to play.”
Smiling, you give Steven one last kiss on the lips, eyeing him wickedly before disappearing to the bedroom.
Steven, the body now… please?
“Oh, bloody hell, fine,” he grumbles out loud, letting Marc take control for the rest of the night.
STEVEN GRANT X FEM READER [ some brief appearances/mentions of marc spector x reader / jake lockley x reader, but mainly steven. ]
In which Steven shows you just how much appreciates your baking.
warnings: SMUT, s3x (p in v), domestic fluff, dom!steven, sex (p in v), oral sex (f + m receiving), praise kink, gratuitous smut, unprotected sex/creampie.
a.n. i am down so bad for this man and needed some unbearably sweet steven smut after writing bad habit so enjoy this mess as a result <3
MDNI. 18+ FOR EXPLICIT CONTENT!
Steven can’t help but stare as you bustle through the kitchen, frantically pulling ingredients together. You only cook like this when you’re stressed, when you need to keep your hands busy to prevent yourself from doing something very, very stupid. He’s seen you like this a few times, distractedly pacing the kitchen in the early hours of the morning in a desperate attempt to channel your anxiety into something productive. You’re only in a too-big shirt, his shirt, and a pair of underwear, complete with mismatched socks. You have music playing from your phone on the counter, songs he recognizes from a playlist he’d made you. Cute.
You’ve opened his kitchen curtains, allowing the early morning sunlight to cast a soft glow over his apartment. It reflects off your hair, which is tied back in a loose knot at the base of your neck. The strands fall in front of your face as you beat a bowl of dough vigorously. Your hands are covered in the stickiness of it, and you attempt to blow the stray hairs from your face with a heavy breath directed upwards.
Steven approaches you from behind, wrapping his hands around your waist to kiss the back of your neck. You jolt a little, panicked at his sudden appearance behind you. “G’morning, love.”
Your body relaxes as you realize it’s him, sighing softly. “Hi, baby.” His hair is messy and rumbled from sleep, and he’s wearing the soft gray sweatpants you love and a navy long-sleeved shirt. The colors perfectly compliment him, and his eyes seem to shine a little brighter whenever he wears them.
He tucks the loose strands of hair behind your ears before returning to his hold around you. “Making biscuits?” He asks, propping his chin on your shoulder to look at the bowl of dough your hands are kneading out.
“No, it’s too early for cookies,” you tease him, wiping your forehead with the back of your hand. The action smears flour across the skin. “I was making cinnamon buns. Vegan ones.”
Steven’s heart swells at the affectionate gesture. “You’re too sweet, dove.”
You shrug, returning your gaze to the dough as it finally stops sticking to your fingers and shapes into the proper consistency. “You deserve it. All three of you do.”
The hold on your waist tightens, and lips find the space behind your ear. Marc’s accent floats into the kitchen. “Steven’s right, baby. You’re always so good to us.”
You spin to hold your dough-coated hands in front of his face. “You gotta let me go, Marc. I need to wash my hands.” You wiggle your fingers, substantiating your statement.
He rolls his eyes, releasing you to turn on the sink. “Fine, but I deserve a kiss for it,” he adds as you rinse the dough from your hands. “I make a very good kitchen helper.”
You snort at that, shaking your head in disbelief. “You absolutely do not. The last time I let you help, you added an entire fucking tablespoon of salt instead of baking powder. My brownies never rose.”
“Mm, but they were still good. And I ate you out on the counter after to make up for it,” he reminds you sweetly, crossing his arms over his chest.
You finish toweling off your hands as you laugh. “You might be able to cook, but you are not allowed near the baking. Only Steven gets to help me bake.”
“I do?” Steven grabs your hand to twirl you, and you laugh again. “Do I get the same rewards for helping?”
“Oh? What rewards are those?” You walk back to the counter, cover the bowl of dough with a towel, and put it in the fridge to rise before preheating the oven.
Steven leans against the counter beside you. “I get my dessert while you make mine.” His unexpectedly suave little line has you giggling while you stand on your toes to grab for the cinnamon. He reaches above you to hand it to you, dropping it into your waiting hands. “Well? Do I?”
“When I’m done, baby.” You lean to kiss his cheek.
He reaches for a towel and turns your face to his. “Hold still.” He wipes the smeared dough from your forehead, and you swat his hands away playfully.
“I was going to get it,” you say defensively, pointing the spoon towards him. His eyes dart to the filling-covered spoon, then back to you. “Don’t you do it—”
Steven snatches the spoon from your hand, switching to Jake as he shoves the spoon into his mouth. He licks the spoon clean, then hands it back to you. “Just testing. Had to make sure it wasn’t poisoned.”
You grab the spoon back. “That’s unsanitary, Jake.”
Jake shrugs, ruffling your hair with one hand. “You’re in my mouth all the time. We’re the only ones eating it, anyway. What’s the difference?”
“The difference is these are cinnamon buns, not you giving me head. Very big difference,” you inform him, tossing the spoon in the sink and getting a clean one.
“Not to me, both are so sweet.”
“You, Jake Lockley, are an absolute menace, you know that?”
“I take pride in it.”
You hold the bowl in your arms, using the spoon to mix the sugar and cinnamon into the softened butter. “I know you do.”
Steven fronts to take the bowl from you, stirring it himself despite your protests. “My turn to help,” he declares, whipping the filling with an almost angry ferocity in an attempt to finish it as soon as possible.
“Steven, you’re going to—”
A chunk of the filling flies from the bowl and lands on his face, right above his lips. You try to hold in the laughter bubbling up inside of you as he takes a slow, measured breath, closing his eyes. “Don’t you say it.”
“I told you so.” His face falls into the sweetest pout, and you take the bowl from him gently. “Hold still,” you say, leaning up to wipe the filling from his face with two fingers before drawing them into your mouth. His eyes follow the action, leaving you staring up at him as you suck the filling from your fingers. Once you’ve cleaned them, you go back on your tip-toes to lick the remaining cinnamon mixture from above his lips, and you hear his shuddering inhale as you do. You swallow as you pull back, grinning at his flustered state. “Couldn’t let it go to waste.”
“Oh, of course.” His cheeks are adorably red, and he watches you affectionately as you turn back to retrieve the dough from the fridge.
Steven leans against the counter once again, contentedly watching you work. He loves the small things about you: the way you bite your lower lip when you’re focusing intently, the scrunch of your nose when you’re confused, the way you squint ever so slightly when you try to remember something important. It makes him grin stupidly each time, staring dreamily at you. Marc and Jake have a habit of making fun of him for it, telling him he looks like a lovesick teenager.
There’s something about Steven’s loving, doting manner that makes your heart completely swell whenever he’s around. His giddy enthusiasm over you is so unbearably, tooth-rotting sweet that it leaves you unable to think straight. It often spills into your sex life, shining through in his unrelenting desire to make you feel as good as possible whenever he can. The way he drops to his knees and practically worships you with his tongue, then asks so lovingly if you can come in his mouth again. Every single time leaves you shuddering in his grasp as you try to latch back onto reality, your entire body wracked with the ungodly amount of orgasms he works you through.
The thought makes you blush furiously, rolling out the dough more aggressively than before. Steven comes to hug you from behind again, tucking his face against the crook of your neck and shoulder, and you feel his smile against the skin. “Doin’ alright there, love?”
“Of course.” You lean back against Steven as you admire your work rolling out the dough. He lifts his head to reach for the bowl of filling beside you, placing it in front of you before you have the chance to ask. “Thank you, baby.”
He returns his head to your neck, kissing the side of it as you spread the filling across the dough. “You smell like vanilla,” he tells you dreamily, planting a soft kiss under your jaw.
“Mmm. New shampoo.” Always the charmer. You giggle as he quickly leans to plant a kiss on your cheek. “Steven!”
“Couldn’t help it, dove,” he murmurs lovingly, scooping the empty dough bowl away from you and beginning to wash it in the sink.
Steven continues to clean the rest of the dishes in the sink, drying them and setting them aside while you prep the cinnamon buns. You shake your head with an enamored smile, using the back of the spoon to evenly spread the cinnamon mixture across the dough. As he dries off the now-clean bowl, you roll the dough into a tight log. You dust your hands off on the sides of your legs, admiring your work. You open the drawer next to the sink to take out a knife, slicing the cylinder of dough into thick spiral rounds.
“Steven, where’s the baking trays again? The ceramic ones?” You ask, trying to remember where he kept his pans in the cozy kitchen.
You squat to check the lower drawers, and your ever-so-loving boyfriend brushes you aside to grab the exact dish you’re looking for. Sometimes you wonder how you got so fucking lucky to have him. You thank him with a quick kiss on the lips, and he gives a disappointed whine when you pull away. You begin buttering the sides of the dish before lowering the sliced spirals of dough into it. Finally you slip the pan into the oven and set the timer on your phone while Steven watches.
The moment you set your phone on the counter he rushes to pull you into his arms, planting kisses across your cheeks and forehead until you’re laughing uncontrollably. He finally stops, reaching to cover your hands with his and kissing your knuckles softly. “I’m so lucky to have you. Luckiest man on the whole planet.”
Steven’s hands reach up to cup your face in his hands, your fingers clutching at his wrists with your foreheads pressed together. He smiles at you tenderly, stepping closer to you. “You need me to kiss you, love?”
You lean forward and press your lips against his, reaching up to lace your fingers through his curls. His hands drop from your face to slip down your back, so delicately that your body shivers in his touch. His hands settle at your lower back, bringing you flush against his chest. Steven moans softly against you, dropping his mouth to leave tender, open-mouthed kisses down from your jaw. The warmth of his mouth has you shuddering, fingers tightening further in his hair as he makes his way down your neck and across your collarbone.
He tugs at the hem of your shirt; more accurately, his shirt, which you had stolen. Not that he ever minded. You looked too pretty wearing his clothes for him to give a damn. “Take this off for me?” You quickly pull the shirt over your head, tossing it to the floor of the kitchen without a second glance. Steven begins lowering himself to kneel before you, planting gentle kisses down your form. “So pretty. My pretty girl,” he says softly, half to himself. His slow, wet kisses pepper down your stomach, following his hands. He hooks his fingers around the waistband of your underwear, dragging them down your thighs. He does it so slowly, so patiently that your head fucking spins.
Steven settles between your thighs and positions you against the counter, nudging your legs apart as he lowers his head to kiss your inner thigh. He pulls one of your legs over his shoulder to give himself better access to your aching pussy, and presses a slow kiss right above your clit. You prop your elbows against the counter behind you to stare down at him.
You can’t drag your eyes away from his as he lowers his head, dragging his tongue up your slit ever so slowly. Your shuddering gasp at the contact makes his eyebrows raise slightly, gauging your reactions. He reaches to cradle your ass, using the grip to pull your cunt deeper into his mouth.
The first time Steven had gone down on you was nervous and a little clumsy until you directed him on where to put his hands and his mouth. He quickly picked up on exactly how to make you feel as good as possible and come as fast as possible each time. He’d even coaxed you into touching yourself in front of him, so he could see you make yourself come. The moment you had, he’d practically pounced on you, tongue diving into your cunt mirroring the same methods you’d used. You’d shattered in fucking seconds, crying out so loudly for him that his poor neighbor had pounded on the door threatening to file a noise complaint if you didn’t keep it down. He kept you there for fucking hours, forcing each achingly blissful orgasm out of you with such enthusiastic efforts to watch you fall apart.
Steven was utterly intoxicated after that, infatuated with the idea of having his mouth on you again and again, expertly crafting each inescapable orgasm he dragged out of you using his tongue and fingers. He’d found a passion for the slow morning sex specifically, when you’d find his head between the sheets mere minutes after you’d woken up, desperate to help you start your day off as perfectly as he could.
His instinctive ability to please you gave him a sense of confidence, and he’d find himself rambling on about how pretty you look moaning for him, or how good you taste in his mouth. It was like the filter between Steven’s thoughts and his mouth would simply fade out and every honeyed sentence slipping past his lips had you dripping for him. His addictive praises served to drive you further into complete and utter bliss each time. Truthfully, it was almost embarrassing how wet he could get you without even trying.
“Steven, fuck—” The moans spill out of you, echoing in the kitchen alongside the soft music. He hums contentedly, drinking you in eagerly. The slow strokes of his tongue against your clit have your fingers tightening in his curls, and you can’t help the shudder that rushes through your body as he sighs dreamily. Steven is hazy-eyed as he stares at you through dark lashes. His arms have tightened around your thighs, locking you in with the same unexpected strength as always.
There’s something about his approach to eating you out that always shocks you, the way he’s so accommodating with his mouth and consistently craving the feeling of going soft and melting in his hands. He simply lets you direct him to where you need him, and he gets to work worshiping you with his irresistibly talented tongue and sugary praises.
It’s not long before your thighs start to quake, your fingers digging into his hair so tensely that you begin worrying about hurting him. Steven doesn’t seem to care, pulling harder against your grip to hold you against his mouth. He finally sucks at your clit firmly, and your legs give out with the intensity of the orgasm that rushes over you. You’re clutching the countertop for support as you moan out his name with how satisfying it all is; the heat of his mouth, the frantic moans he makes as he devours you. He holds you up through it all, planting soft kisses against your inner thighs as you come down.
“So fucking pretty,” Steven murmurs up at you, his voice so soft and dulcet that you find yourself pressing your legs together. You pull him up by his chin to kiss him desperately, your other hand still clutching the counter behind you. You can taste your own cum on his lips and his tongue, and the flavor of it has you frantically stroking his tongue with your own.
Everything about it is so fucking wet and overwhelming that you can’t focus on anything except him and—
And the fucking timer for the cinnamon buns.
“Steven, the cinnamon buns are gonna burn—” You whisper, pulling back with your legs shaking beneath you.
“Got it.” Steven presses a quick kiss on your forehead before grabbing the dish from the oven with a towel and setting it on the stovetop. He shuts off the oven and turns back to you. The lower half of his mouth is still damp with your wetness, and either he hasn’t noticed or doesn’t care. “Just leave them there for now, love. They still have to cool, yeah? Means I have plenty of time to make you come again.”
You nod quickly. “Bed. Please?”
He smiles, taking your hand and tugging you after him towards his unmade bed and pulling you into his lap. He catches your mouth in another devastatingly gratifying kiss, heated and messy as you try to keep him as close to you as you possibly can.
“Steven—” You whimper out, your head tilting back as he moves to kiss your jaw.
“I need— shit, baby—”
“C’mon, pretty girl, talk to me,” he urges you tenderly, but you’re too focused on how good he is at making you melt for him to even formulate a response. “You need me to make you come again?”
The alluring invitation causes your breath to hitch, staring up at him with wide eyes as you nod. Oh, holy fuck. The sweetness of Steven’s voice has you quaking as you crawl across the bed to him, and he’s already reaching for you to pull you closer. You position yourself above him, thighs framing his face. His hands come to settle against the backs of your thighs, slipping up to grip the flesh of your ass firmly. Ever so lovingly, he closes his eyes to lean up and take a slow drag through your folds.
You breathe out a sigh of pleasure at the sensation, your legs shaking slightly as you hover above his mouth. “Too far away,” he whines, locking his arms around your thighs to force your pussy down into his mouth. Your legs cave with the guiding force, allowing his tongue to work you so much better than before.
The sounds he makes as he slurps at you greedily have you dizzy and frenzied, bucking your hips down against him. He’s rambling off incoherent praises against your soaked pussy, and you manage to catch muffled fragments of them as he continues. So fucking pretty. Would eat you out every day if I could, make it my job. Make you every meal of every day. Want to make you feel so good for me, wanna hear your moans. Always so good to me, so sweet, so—
“Steven—” His nose bumps against your clit, and you shudder. “I can’t—” You gasp out the words, fingers knotted into his curls.
“You don’t wanna come again for me, love?” Steven coos, eyes fluttering up to meet yours from between your legs. The broken moan you let out in response is enough of an answer as you buck your hips against his mouth. You’re riding his mouth at this point, dragging your cunt across his tongue over and over as he locks you down against him. He lets his mouth work languid circles around your clit until finally, he closes his lips around it and sucks.
Your body twitches and your hands snap up to clutch the bookshelf in front of you and you come for him again, even harder than the first.
Steven doesn’t stop there, he never does. He just keeps going until you’re delirious and trying to escape the warm, devastatingly skilled cavern of his mouth. You have to drag him away from your cunt by his hair, pinning him to the pillow. His chest heaves as he gasps, messy curls falling in his face as he quickly licks away your wetness from his lips.
His pupils are blown out, cheeks flushed and mouth still coated in your slick. “Taste so good, love. So sweet,” he whispers against you, planting a soft kiss on your inner thigh while straining against your grip on his hair.
“I wanna kiss you, please, Steven, I need to kiss you—” Your pleas rush out, shifting back to sit on his lap.
He shuffles up the bed until his back is against his wall, allowing you to straddle his hips easier. Steven’s hands rest gently on your hips as you kiss him slowly, your fingers still laced through his curls. He hums happily against your lips, dragging his hands up until they reach your breasts, cupping them in his wide palms. He flexes his fingers around them, groping firmly as you whine into his mouth.
You pull away to kiss the space below his jaw. One of your hands slips up the back of his neck, resting at the base of his hairline as you lower your mouth to his throat. You drag your tongue up the side slowly, relishing the shuddering gasp he makes as you reach just below his jaw. Steven swears softly, head falling back into your hands as he gives you better access. Your mouth works slowly across the length of his neck, sucking marks into the skin until it's reddened under your tongue and teeth.
“Donna’s going to—” His voice breaks as you continue marking him up. “—She’s going to kill me for these.” He makes a sound close to a whimper, reaching up to lace his fingers through your hair in a weak attempt at grounding himself.
“Should I stop then?” You tease, peppering soft, slow kisses over the bruised skin. Your tongue grazes across one of the veins in his neck, and this time he lets out a loud whine.
“No— god, no,” he answers quickly, his hand tightening in your hair. “All yours, dove,” he promises, grinding his clothed hips up against your still-soaked cunt. The friction has you gasping and rolling your wetness against the length of his hardened cock through the fabric of his sweatpants. “Wanna fuck you, pretty thing. Wanna hear you moan for me.”
You shift your body down to sit by his ankles, dragging his sweatpants with you. He lifts his shirt over his head as you do, revealing the tanned planes of his rapidly-heaving chest. He kicks the pants to the side, and you slowly wrap your fingers around his hardened cock, pressing a soft kiss against the tip of his cock. Steven’s eyes are wide, and he props himself up on his elbows to stare down at you. Your fingers are barely able to wrap around the girth of his cock as you stroke him leisurely, feeling the twitch of it as he fists the sheets.
“Shit, are you—?” His tongue darts out to lick his lower lip, his breathing uneven. You lower your mouth around his cock, taking him into your mouth and sucking steadily. “Oh, fuck, love—” His head tips back, his eyes fluttering as you continue to take him deeper down your throat with each bob of your head. “You look so pretty like this, I can’t…” He brushes your hair away from your face, sighing softly as he knots his fingers into it. “Shit.”
You force him further down your throat, feeling tears prick at your eyes as you try to accommodate the length and girth to fit. You gag loudly as he hits the back of your throat, embarrassment flushing your features at the sound you make around him. Steven’s fingers tighten in your hair in response, his hips rolling up to thrust into your mouth. The action has your stomach twisting in arousal, the way he’s fucking up into your mouth as if it’s your cunt.
“How are you so good at this, I don’t— Bloody hell—” In the next slow thrust of his cock down your throat, you drag your tongue along the sensitive underside. His hips jerk, fingers tightening in your hair as he whines out your name.
You release him from your mouth, jerking him off using both of your hands to cover the length of him. “Steven, we have to be quieter, you need to be quiet.” You lower your mouth back around him, tongue gliding against the veins.
“Fuck, I—” Steven attempts to muffle his moans into his hand, yet they spill out around his fingers at feeling of your mouth around his cock. “—I can’t, not when you feel so bloody good. Your mouth feels so good.” He pulls your mouth from him without warning, gasping sharply as he swears. “You have to stop, or you need to stop or I’m gonna come like this,” he warns you. “Come here so I can fuck you, love.”
You could cry with relief as you scramble up to sit in his lap, gripping his face to kiss him firmly. “Fuck, thank you,�� you sigh out against him, tongue stroking against his.
His hands slip down to your soaked folds, and you feel his smile against your lips. “Sucking me off got you wet, didn’t it, baby? Poor thing.” His statement is so rawly authentic that you feel yourself practically dripping onto his fingers in response; there’s nothing sugar-coated or condescending about it and it has you shuddering. “I should make it better, shouldn’t I?”
Steven lifts you to lower you onto his cock, and you gasp out as he fills you. Your fingers sink into his shoulders as he continues to kiss you, all the while working his cock into you slowly. It’s so fucking much at once that you’re lightheaded until finally, he bottoms out inside you. He’s managed to press himself into you to the hilt, and the delicious stretch that accompanies it almost hurts with how full you feel.
You roll your hips down onto him experimentally, and fuck you feel everything so intensely with each small movement. “There you go, love, just like that,” he urges. Steven slants his mouth against yours, slowly sucking your tongue. It makes your toes curl as you knot your fingers into his hair, sighing softly.
You circle your hips, savoring the way he hits everything inside you so well, so perfectly that it’s like he was made to fuck you. You pull back from his kiss to stare down at where you’re connected, the obscenely wet sounds each thrust makes. It echoes through his flat, punctuated by your shared moans. He presses his forehead against your shoulder, kissing the skin softly.
“So good,” Steven whispers, breathless. “So bloody perfect.”
He reclines back to admire how you look riding him, the way your eyes are hooded and glassy with arousal. Your hair has come undone, falling in your face as you stare at him. Steven’s fingers slide down to grip the dip of your waist, forcing you to handle the tantalizing pace he keeps, repeatedly grinding you down onto his cock. Every thrust hits the same deep, sensitive part of you that has you grinding down against him to meet each thrust. You drag your hips back and forth, falling forward against his chest as you find a perfect rhythm in sync with his thrusts. It has you shuddering.
He shushes you softly, stroking your hair as you cry out for him with each thrust. “That’s right, I know. Feels good, yeah?”
Steven loves that he can get you like this, limp and slumped against him in complete bliss. He loves the way it wracks your body, leaves you clutching his arms and hair and anything else you can manage to find purchase in with your fingers. The way you barely manage to gasp out his name around blabbering strings of praises, telling him how good he feels inside you, how well he fills you up, how deep he is, how badly you want him to fuck you.
Steven continues to hold you against him as he does exactly what you ask, stroking up into you until you’re sure your eyes cross in pleasure.
“S-Steven—” His name shudders past your lips. “I’m close, I’m— fuck—”
“So good for me, pretty girl, so good. Come on, come for me.” He brings your mouth down to his, and you clutch the sides of his face as you kiss him urgently. You’re almost strangling his cock with how tightly you’re gripping him, frantically trying to match his thrusts with each grind of your hips. “I’ll come with you, love, I promise. Come for me, dove, I wanna feel you—”
“Shit—” You crumple in his arms, still trying to kiss him lazily as you come, twitching in his arms.
“Oh, fuck, you’re— oh, love— I’m coming, I—” His hips stutter up into you as you come, and you press your face further against his shoulder. Steven’s hands flatten against your back, holding you against him with a sigh. “Mmm.” He gives your shoulder a gentle kiss, stroking his fingers down your spine. “So pretty when you come,” he says ever so sweetly, leaning back to tuck your hair behind your ear with shaking fingers.
You can’t help but beam at him, despite your flushed cheeks and disheveled hair. “You’re too sweet.”
He shakes his head at you. “All you, baby. Gave me breakfast in bed, literally.”
You laugh at that, trying to ease off of him on shaking legs. “You’re so cheesy, Steven.”
Ever so slowly, you hobble to the bathroom, and Steven wanders behind you, one hand on your lower back. “Come on, silly girl. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
You seat yourself on the toilet across from him, and somehow this entire moment just feels so homey despite the mild awkwardness of it. He cleans your cum off of him as you sit there just admiring him with a loopy, orgasm-fueled grin. He presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “Finish whatever you need, get cleaned up and we can have breakfast, yeah? I’ll make you some tea.”
You nod at this absolute dreamboat of a man as he wanders back to the bedroom area, tugging on his sweatpants on his way to the kitchen. When you finally wander back in, he already has the tea waiting for you in your favorite mug, made exactly the way you like. He’s only in a pair of loose sweatpants now, stirring the glaze for the cinnamon buns together.
You eye it suspiciously, and he meets your gaze with an eye roll. “I know how to make icing, love. It’s not hard.”
You sit at the counter, reaching your arms out for the bowl. He sighs, sliding it across the counter as you dip two fingers in to taste it. Unsurprisingly, it’s nearly as perfect as the man who made it. You smile, finishing stirring it when Steven sticks two fingers in, drawing them past his lips with a content sigh.
“Mmm. Good.” You feel your cheeks heat instantly when his gaze drops down your body. “But not as sweet as you.”
Heyoo! If requests are open, could I request Steven x Marc x reader where it's the readers time of the month and the boys take care of her? Steven being the sweet boy that he is, brings food, meds/a heating pad and gives cuddles 🥺 And Marc maybe offers relief of the...sexy variety? 👀
No but the timing is phenomenal. I just got out of a week of hell, pain and sleep due to my period and this is the perfect fic. Seriously. Hope you like it!!
18+, minors do not interact
Summary: A rather stressful day for you soon turns into a nightmare, luckily Marc and Steven are there for you.
Pairings: Steven Grant x fem!Reader, Marc Spector x fem!Reader
Word count: 2.5k
Warnings: period, cramps, crying, hurt/comfort, mention of blood and injuries, fingering, unprotected shower sex (kind of).
Waking up at 3am due to excruciating pain in your lower belly was not ideal, what was even less ideal was the harrowing and petrifying feeling of something humid in your panties. You groaned, you sat up as carefully as possible, trying to not wake your boyfriends up, you didn't want to make Steven or Marc worry.
They had already done enough that day. You had come back home crying because of your job, you had clung to Steven as you ranted to him about how awful the whole day had been, Marc had cooked you dinner and he had fucked you until you had tapped out, spent and a little happier.
Now you were spent, tired and cranky and it wasn't even morning yet. You were upset, you were reaching your breaking point and you didn't know what to do anymore. It was insane how tiring it could be sometimes, you had never asked to have a period in the first place, let alone one that made you sob in the bathroom. You kept the door closed, trying your best to not wake them up.
It didn't work, well, you didn't try hard enough to make it work; that thought caused another wave of tears to stem from your eyes.
Steven tiptoed into the bathroom, you knew it was him by the sleepy look on his face, hooded eyes that were trying so hard to battle against his exhaustion. You stared at him, crouched down as your arms squeezed your lower belly, those cramps were going to be the death of you.
"Are you okay, love?" Steven muttered with a yawn, stepping in front of you with his brows raised. "I saw a- why are you crying?"
"Period." You managed to say through gritted teeth as another excruciating wave of pain hit your womb. "Cramps. Can't find my meds."
"Oh, darling, they're in the kitchen. I'll grab them for you, wait here."
He rushed out of the bathroom as you faintly nodded, eyes pinched shut as you tried your best to calm your breathing down. Hyperventilating wasn't going to do you any good. You coughed, which caused another wave of cramps to hit you straight in the face. You wanted to scream.
Steven came back a few seconds later with the meds in his grip, he handed them to you with a bottle of water and a heating pad, just for good measure. He knelt down to you and started petting your legs, running his long fingers up and down your thighs, your ankles, your knees, trying his best to soothe you.
It worked, the meds kicked in fairly quickly and you could finally breathe freely without feeling like shit. You sat up a little straighter, Steven looked up at you and kissed your lips, his hands still on your legs.
"I'll draw you a bath so we can soak in together, I'll go change the sheets while the tub fills up." He said it like it was nothing, basically routine and nothing more.
"Change the sheets?" You inquired.
"Don't, it's fine. It happens to everyone." He kissed you again before standing up and turning on the water. "Don't get in until I get back here, but you can take off your shirt if you want."
His little joke made you chuckle, you also realised how much you loved him. He made it seem so easy, so natural and normal that the embarrassment you had felt a few seconds before had already left your body. It happened, he didn't really care anyway and he also seemed to be comfortable with taking care of you.
Steven always took care of you, he always made sure to look after you whenever he could, it didn't matter how, but he kept an eye on you during the day; texting, calling, sending you videos over Instagram, it didn't matter, he always made sure to stay in contact and let you know he was there, just in case you needed him.
You heard rustling in the bedroom and a huff, Steven always found it annoying to put sheets on the bed, he always ended up fighting with the angles and he was a neat freak, which meant that everything had to be symmetrical. You heard him puff up the pillows, throw something on the mattress and then hum, satisfied with himself. You already missed being in bed with him.
"Done." He called from the bedroom, you sighed in relief and stretched your legs a little.
"Are you coming?" You asked, voiced a little raised so that he could hear you clearly.
A beat of silence and then a snort. "Definitely." Marc popped into the room with a smile on his face, he was only wearing his boxers and he had a new package of pads in his hands. "Found this, could be useful." He placed it on the sink and he looked down at you. "Did you sleep with that on?"
You looked down at your pyjama, it was a t-shirt both Marc and Steven wear -- you couldn't believe it at first, they never shared clothes -- and a pair of panties, which you should have taken off as soon as you got into the bathroom; you had been too out of the loop to think about it.
"Get in." Marc was undressing, he slid down his boxers and you looked at his arse as he stepped into the filled tub.
You undressed and got into the bathtub with him, your head rested on his shoulder and his arms wrapped around your body. The water was hot, it was relaxing your muscles and mind, you were already growing tired and sleepy; perhaps the meds were also to be thanked for that.
Marc groaned and threw his head back, his fingers started to trace the outline of your stomach and you frowned, you weren't so fond of being touched there, you could feel your belly protrude more than usual, surely because you were bloated. You hid your face in his neck and gripped his wandering hands into yours, shaking your head quietly.
"Let me." He was already growing hard under your bum and you snorted. "What? You're naked and there's just... listen, I don't know. You look good, it's all."
"I'm bleeding, Marc."
"Yeah, well, you fucked me while I had an open cut on my forehead." He had a point, you did ride him after one of his missions with Khonshu. "Made a huge mess, poor Steven even wanted to change the mattress."
You chuckled before your breath got stuck in your throat when his fingers brushed over your clit. "It's different."
He didn't waste a minute, his fingers eased into you and you grabbed the edge of the bathtub. You had never done anything while on your period before, Steven wasn't a big fan of blood and he was always scared he was going to hurt you or make your cramps worse; you did blow him once or twice, but you never did anything else since Steven always felt guilty whenever he got to come and you didn't.
Marc didn't care. He had made it pretty obvious that period or no period, if he was in the mood he would get there if you allowed him. You kissed his lips while his index dipped into you, he pumped it in and out slowly, humming in your ear as you softly humped toward his hand. It was turning you on, the idea of Marc not giving a fuck about anything because he wanted you.
"It'll help you release some tension, god knows how much you need it."
He had a point, but you also knew he was being cheeky on purpose.
"Do you wanna fuck me?" It slipped out of your mouth when he touched your g-spot, rough fingers dragging over it as you mewled out his name. "This feels so good."
"Yeah, it does." He slipped his fingers out and he planted a kiss on your shoulder, smiling. "Sorry, but if I don't get inside you I might die."
You laughed, he had always been dramatic, it was nothing new to you. You loved it in those moments, though, you loved feeling important and desirable, even when you looked like a mess with your hair partially wet and your face a little flushed.
Marc pushed you forward, he grunted when he took his cock in his hand, he gave it two full strokes and then pressed it against your opening. You knew it was going to be fast and filled with not that many words, just moans and grunts from the both of you. Quickies weren't that common, they happened when you didn't have a lot of time -- due to a mission, Steven's job or your job -- but you all liked to take your time.
Marc bottomed out and you leaned on your hands and knees, facing the wall in front of you as he started to thrust back and forth, splitting you open on his cock as you moaned and whimpered. You didn't even want to know if you were making a mess or not, Marc seemed to be enjoying it as much as you, perhaps even more judging by his stuttering thrusts.
He draped himself over you, his chest rested on your back and his arm held you tight to his chest while his hand started to play with your clit. You moaned his name, head thrown back and eyes closed. You needed that orgasm, you needed to feel your body relax and let go for the rest of the night. Luckily you had a day off, and so did both Steven and Marc.
Your lower belly tightened and you let out a shaky breath, licking your lower lip and pushing back against Marc's cock, taking him deep and faster. He kept rubbing your clit, fast circles and flicks that made you pant and whine as you contracted around his dick, pulsing and throbbing as you came.
"Oh god, baby..." Your head fell forward as Marc gripped both of your hips, starting to fuck you faster and harder. "You're gripping me like a goddamn vice."
You chuckled. "You know you make me come like crazy."
Marc groaned and slammed his hips into yours, he cursed loudly and hurriedly pulled out. You looked back at him, a little confused at first before realising he was stroking his cock, aiming the red tip toward your ass. You felt his come land on your skin, his little stream of "shit, fuck, oh god" made you shiver and smile.
You didn't look down at the water when Marc drained the bathtub and filled it up again, he kept you warm with his body while the water rose up again, you snuggled closer to him, face hidden in his chest while he thoroughly washed your arms and legs.
"Are you tired?" You nodded and Marc hummed. "I'll take you to bed, come here."
Marc dried you up with soft towels that Steven kept stashed under the sink, he wrapped you in his bathrobe and then kissed the tip of your nose, promising you that once you were done getting dressed, he was going to put some white noise on so that you could sleep.
You put the t-shirt from before on, you tossed your stained panties into the hamper and applied a pad on your new ones. You dragged yourself into the bedroom, found a pair of comfortable shorts in a drawer and then collapsed on top of the bed. Marc came back into the bedroom with a new bottle of water and some more meds, surely Steven had left them on the kitchen counter.
You snuggled into his side, face hidden in his chest and legs pulled up to your chest. Marc kissed the back of your head, he kept tracing abstract shapes over your back and you managed to fall asleep.
You woke up late, you were sure you had opened the blinds the night before so that you could wake up at a decent hour, but apparently you had been wrong. They were shut tight, no light was filtering through them and the whole room was dark, you could barely see the palm of your hands.
You rolled around, stretching and groaning as your joints popped. You were relaxed, you had slept wonderfully after it all, Marc had surely helped you relieve some stress. You sat up in bed and rubbed your eyes with a yawn, you heard some pots and pans clang in the kitchen and you rolled back down between the sheets, pulling them up to your chin.
You weren't in pain anymore, but your abdomen was still tight and a little sore. You glanced at your nightstand but there was nothing on it, you let out a frustrated huff and hid your face into your pillow.
Steven had a sixth sense, you were sure of it.
He popped his head into the room, you knew it was him by the way he walked.
"Are you awake, love?" You hummed in response. "Alright, alright. I brought you food, a heating pad and some meds. I think Marc has forgotten to leave them on your nightstand last night."
"I bloody love you, Steven." You meant it even more at that moment, you reached out for the meds and he gave them to you, kissing your hand before letting you go. "Come in bed with me."
"I will, I will. But you need to go change your pad, or tampon -- well, you need to change down there, especially if it's a tampon. It's been almost eight hours. That's why I came here to wake you up." He hurriedly said, no embarrassment clouded his features, it was the most obvious and ordinary thing in the world for him. "I left one of each on the sink, I didn't know which one you wanted."
You kissed him on the lips and headed to the bathroom. You changed, washed your face and changed clothes, putting on a sports bra since your breasts were getting sore. You headed back into the bedroom, Steven had slightly opened the blinds and he was already in bed, a tray of food on his lap.
"I made you pancakes." You crawled closer to him and sat beside him. "You should eat before taking your meds, unless you're still in a lot of pain." You didn't have the time to reply. "Here, take this."
You ended up lying on your back, a heating pad on your belly and Steven by your side, he cut up your food and handed it to you, bite after bite. You couldn't even lift a finger without him objecting to it, claiming you needed rest and comfort since it was going to be a heavy flow kind of day.
Sometimes it still weirded you out how much he knew about you.
Once you were done eating, Steven turned on the TV and chose your favourite show, he lowered the volume so that it could be faintly heard without it disturbing you. You ended up curled on his chest, toes pressed in his thigh and fingers tangled in his shirt. He kissed you gently, a small peck that made you eager for more.
"Nope." He grabbed your wandering hand, moving it away from his thigh. "You've done enough activity for the day."
"Did Marc tell you?" You asked, cheeks rosy.
"We were co-conscious." He shrugged and kissed your forehead, brushing his fingers down your cheeks. "You have a great back, have I ever told you that?"
You laughed, pulled him close and kissed him until he was out of breath. You couldn't believe your luck, you had the best boyfriends in the whole world.
A drawn out sigh left your lips slowly. You'd been waiting for over twenty-five minutes at a café for Steven. Today was his day with the body and he couldn't even be bothered to show up on time?
A barista passed you on her way to the restroom and shot you a soft smile that you painfully tried to return. You turned your headphones up louder and waited for a glimpse of brown hair to come into the door.
It wasn't easy dating three people in the same body who also happened to serve Khonsu. Their nightly duties paired with them having to keep a job proved to leave you alone most nights and days. You longed to have powers like the boys, so maybe you could join them at night at least. Instead, most nights you lay facing your open window watching the phases of the moon.
The boys came more often when the moon was smaller, as they were less powerful and Khonsu gave them more time with you. Another sigh escaped your lips when you checked your phone to reveal another five minutes had passed.
Your attention was pulled to your phone:
Lovers: Hey darling, Donna called me into work for something important and I promise we'll make it up to you later! Love you!
There was always something more important than you. You took off your headphones and stepped the counter, ordering a latte. The girl you made eye contact with earlier made it hastily as you dropped the change into the tip jar. Your walk back to your flat was short, you shut the door and plopped onto the couch.
You didn't even want the latte anymore, instead deciding to read and wait for someone to come make it up to you.
A knock woke you up, the book that was sitting on top of your face fell to the floor. You rubbed exhaustion from your eyes and sat up groggily. Another knock sounded and you realized it was likely one of the boys. You quickly stumbled to the door and threw it open.
Steven's face peaked around a bouquet of red roses, an innocent smile on his face. "Hey love! You'll never believe it!" He stepped into your flat and set the flowers on the counter. "One of our tour guides who was fully booked today got hit by a bus! Donna asked me to take over his shift isn't that great!"
You nodded and threw him a fake smile, "That's great Steven."
"Not for the tour guide but definitely a win for me! Donna told me she would start scheduling me to give tours!" He kicked his shoes off and made eye contact with himself in the mirror by the door. "What do you mean?" He sounded annoyed at one of his alters.
His eyes rolled back and suddenly his expression darkened, running a hand to smooth his hair he eyed you through the mirror. "Come here." Jakes accent you couldn't quite pinpoint commanded.
You frowned and moved close enough to him to turn around and look at you, he cupped your face gently, "He's such an idiot." He shook his head in disbelief, "We give him the body for a day when he's off to take you on a date and instead he goes and tours idiots at the museum."
You nodded softly, "It's okay Jake, no need to be so hard on him. He's passionate about teaching others about Egypt." Jake huffed and pulled you into a hug.
"You're allowed to be upset, y'know that right?" He muttered something sweet in Spanish and kissed behind your ear, "Cariña I've missed you so much." He pulled away to kiss your forehead.
Jake was being surprisingly gentle, normally he was mostly the one who came out to be rough with you in the bedroom. He stepped away and sat on the couch you woke up on, picking up your book from the floor. "Did you fall asleep reading again?" You nodded and he patted the seat next to him. "You're so endearing.." He scooped you across his lap and stared lovingly at you, "Too good for someone like us.."
Before you can even contest he crashes his lips to yours and sighs into your mouth. Jake held your face in place while the other grabbed your hip roughly pulling you closer. "Mmm I haven't had the opportunity to appreciate you yet." He stands up quickly with you now in his arms and brings you to your bedroom. "Can I appreciate you Cariña?" Jake's eyes rolled back and Marc's eyes gazed at you in his arms.
"Steven was stupid to go to work today." He stated and set you on your bed. "Wasn't he?"
You felt a sting of frustration at the loss of what Jake was doing, "Why'd you interrupt us?" You grumbled and Marc laughed.
"Who said I was interrupting? Maybe I'm contributing." He pressed a kiss to your forehead and shoved you onto your back, "Take your shirt off r--" His eyes rolled back and Steven looked at you softly.
"I'm so sorry Y/N! I didn't even realize you were upse--" His eyes rolled back and Jake was back.
"Neither of them are going to breach anymore Cariña, you have my word." He crawled over you and nudged your head over with his nose. He peppered soft kisses along your neck, "I'd like to see them try to stop me from this." He challenged and began sucking a soft spot making your breath hitch. He hummed on the spot, "I know honey.." His other hand began to stroke your thigh while he continued his kisses.
Jake suddenly crawled off of you and sat by your pillow, "Y/N I need you to come here." You blushed and sat up to move, he was quick to shove you down on your pillow and grab the hem of your shirt. "Let me take this off for you cariña, just relax for me." He slipped off your t-shirt and stared at you in your bra. "I'll never get tired of seeing you like this.." He unclipped it and tossed it on the floor. "Look at you Y/N...so perfect." He gently had you back against your pillow.
"You're such a good girl, so good at listening to me aren't you?" His hands both on your thighs as he looked at you darkly, "That's why I'm going to treat you. You've been so good for me. You were so good to Steven and he didn't even show up, such a little brat to Marc." He grinned, he always loved trying to prove he was better than Marc, especially when it came to you.
He began pulling off your pants, taking your panties with them. He admired you after throwing them to the side, a hand on your hip while the other held him above your face. "I'm gonna make you feel so good, I promise." He kissed you again while a hand made its way to your breast, squeezing and then rolling your nipple in his fingers. "Will you be good and let me, let me do what I want?" You nodded and you saw the excitement in his eyes.
His mouth drifted from your neck to your chest, while a hand moved between your legs. He rubbed your inner thigh while he sucked hickeys onto your breasts. "I gotta make sure they know how good I did you, how well I treat you...And how good you were to let me." His thumb reached up and flicked across your clit.
You arched your back at the touch, trying to get closer to his hand again, "Oh cariña look at you, can't even control your begging." His hand pinned you hip back down and used the same hand to rub your clit, he was grinning at your whining as he continued. "There you go, you're doing so good for me. I can't wait to taste you." Your mind felt blurry, Jake had only eaten you out one other time.
Most of the time he got you ready for him and then fucked you until you were ready to beg him to stop. The last time it happened it was because he disappeared for two days on a mission without telling you he even left. You were certain he did it last time to convince you to forgive him.
His thick fingers suddenly inched into your pussy, pulling you from the memory. "Holy shit cariña, you're soaking wet." His fingers went knuckle deep and you moaned his name. "I know Y/N, I've only just started." He chuckled and you felt his stubble on your inner thigh, you looked down at him and his dark eyes bore into yours as he pressed a kiss to your clit.
Fireworks erupted in your stomach as his tongue darted out and licked right up your folds. His fingers started moving faster as he latched his mouth around your clit and sucked harshly. Your thighs closed around him and you felt him chuckling against your core.
"Wow you taste so good Y/N." He pulled his fingers out and you whimpered at the loss, he stared at the slick covering his fingers before sucking it off. He slipped both right back in and continued, tongue flickering around your clit as he whispered praises your way.
You could feel an orgasm building, "Jake I'm so close..." You cried out and he started moving even faster somehow. You turned your head to see an almost full moon outside the window as your pleasure bubbled over, heat spreading across your body.
Jake continued until your breathing became ragged and you were trying to pull your pussy away from his aggressive pleasuring. "God you're such a good girl." He sucked his fingers clean again, "Are you ready for more cariña?" You peered at him nervously, his dark eyes showing you he was nowhere near done. You nodded and he grinned.
He pulled his own shirt off now, muscular shoulders and his chiseled torso making you want friction. You closed your legs to try, "So impatient aren't you? You want my cock now?" You nodded again and he titled his head, his hands pausing to unbutton his jeans, "Use your words Y/N, I would hate to have to teach you how to use it again around my cock." You blushed, knowing that he was being honest.
"Yes." His hands opened your legs again, staring as he continued to unbutton his pants.
"Yes, what?" He growled, pulled them off and tossing them to the floor, the bulge in his boxers looking enticing.
"Yes I want your cock now." You pleaded, Jake tugged his boxers off and pulled you onto his lap roughly. His cock was lined up with your entrance, he slipped the head in and you cried out, waiting for him to shove you down.
"Look at me cariña." You opened your eyes and stared into his. He shoved himself all the way in and you just about screamed.
His fingers were big, but nothing ever quite prepared you for his cock, it felt like he was going to split you in half. Jake put a hand over your mouth, "You feel so tight, god Y/N." He began to slowly pull your hips off his cock to get movement going.
The initial shock of his girth became pure pleasure almost instantly, he kept his hand over your mouth as he began thrusting into you rapidly. "Such a good girl for me, how does that feel?" He demanded and moved his hand to be around your throat.
"It feels so good Jake." You responded around his tight grip and he kissed you softly. His grip eased and he wrapped his arms around your back, holding you while he fucked you loudly.
Without taking his cock out he got on top of you, continuing his hard thrusts, hands grabbing your hips to get leverage. "Cariña, you're taking it so well." Jake pulled out and pulled your legs against your shoulders, he shoved back in with force, pulled a moan from you.
Jake continued to fuck you with force, pushing your knees to your chest and holding them there. He penetrated deep and you were left wordless and breathless in his hands. It felt like hours had passed and he continued putting you in different positions.
"Cariña, how would you like to come?" He cupped your chin, his thrusts halting as he stayed buried deep in you.
Before you could even answer his thumb rubbed your clit and he moved slowly in your pussy, "J-Jake.." You whined and he stopped with a taunting look on his face.
"Answer the question or I'll be doing this all night. Unless that's what you want." He did it again when you went to answer him, he did it harder when you tried to speak through the pleasure. "Cariña answer me now."
"O-on my s.." He smashed himself into you quickly and rubbed faster, almost bringing you to orgasm, "Side!" You whimpered a plea and he shoved your legs to one side, pulling out to adjust where you sat before he shoved back into you.
"Now was that so hard honey?" He teased and he leaned to your nightstand drawer, pulling out your vibrator. "Since you've been such a good girl for me, I'm going to reward your clit." He pried your leg up to put the vibrator on your clit, turning it on.
Jake began to fuck you once again, with the vibrator against your clit. You felt the orgasm rippling and begging to come out within ten seconds. "Jake I'm so close holy--" You once again became wordless, trying to beg Jake for permission to come.
"Cariña, you've been so obedient, come for me." He demanded, "Then I'll fill you up for being so good." Your release came out so hard you felt your toes curling and eyes roll to the back of your head. No sound left your lips as Jake continued to fuck you through your climax.
You pulled the vibrator from his hands and he put it right back, the overstimulation causing broken whines out of your mouth as he fucked you like that until he came inside of you. He finally took the vibrator off and you felt his cock twitching in you. "Such a good girl Y/N." Jake stammered and he pulled out, panting out of breath.
His eyes rolled back and Steven was back, "Darling let me clean you up, let me take care of you. I'm so sorry about earlier, let me make it up to you." You peered at him nervously until he grabbed a tissue and wiped you clean, "Let's get you to the bathroom." He picked you up and carried you into the bathroom, starting the shower.
Steven massaged your back and cleaned you up, wordlessly taking care of your leftover makeup and dressing you into his shirt and boxers. He tucked you under your blanket and got himself dressed. Steven climbed into bed beside you and cuddled you to sleep.
You slept heavily and dreamlessly, waking up to feel refreshed without your boyfriends beside you. You yawned and rubbed your tired eyes when the door opened, Marc came in with a tray of breakfast and a cocky smile on his face.
"Good morning baby, let's get you fed so I can finish what I started before those two stopped me." Marc said confidently and you blushed.
All three of them always knew how to make you feel better.
A/N: Hope y'all liked! this is my first piece on this account, back in august I lost my old fic blog when i got a new phone lol. this is also my first smut piece so hopefully its good lol. I think I'll be able to get this blog up and running soon!
summary: every saturday morning jake brings you to the farmer’s market, and every saturday morning, you leave him a flower.
word count: 3k
warnings: SO much fluff, domesticity, meanings of flowers straight from the internet, jake is an uber driver because this is my story i can use whatever plot devices i want to, a hint of angst if you squint, very soft jake, very smitten jake, khonshu has a little cameo
author’s note: this fic is based off of this post i made a few days ago. we all need more soft jake in our lives, and less evil alter bs so i hope this fic fills that void for you all <3
Jake’s life was busy.
His mind and schedule were constantly cluttered whenever he happened to be fronting, whether it was whatever ‘chore’ Khonshu needed him to do that day, or the never ending amounts of rideshare requests that seemed to pile up on him.
But you were a welcome element of his busy routine, one that he didn’t really mind at all. (One might even argue that he looked forward to seeing your name on the top of the endless queue of requests.) Every Saturday, around 9:30, you popped up on his phone, requesting a trip down to Union Square Greenmarket—what Jake had come to learn was your favorite farmers market in the whole city.
Jake had met a lot of people in his line of work. He even had a handful of regulars that often found themselves asking to go to the same location— bars, work, or even concert venues, but you were just different. From the moment you sat down in the back of his car, tucked your flowing sundress behind you before reaching for your seat belt, and made an off handed comment about the ‘new car smell’ of the vehicle, he was smitten. It was silly to think he could fall so quickly, but as soon as he glanced into the rearview mirror and caught you beaming back at him, he swore he heard his heart sing.
And his heart orchestra only crescendoed when you’d somehow managed to request his vehicle for your journey back home, with him around the area having just dropped another person off and you finishing up your shopping. It was undoubtedly fate. (At least that’s what Steven, ever the romantic, told him as he caught his reflection on a door’s mirror.)
You slipped into the same seat once more, did that little move with your dress, and smiled up at your driver.
“Long time no see,” you teased, that adorable grin on your face.
Smitten was an understatement.
Jake listened intently as you went on about your favorite breads and honey that he just had to try because it is just leagues better than that stuff at the store. And healthier for you! And you know what’s leagues better than the stuff at the store there? Tomatoes. You don’t like tomatoes?! What about soup? There’s a company there that sells these soup mixes that are just too good. Their soup with that bread? A match made in heaven.
“Thank you for listening to me ramble,” you giggled with an undertone of embarrassment as he approached your apartment building.
“I liked listening to all of your recommendations. I might have to go back and grab some of those pickles you mentioned earlier.”
“They’re really good. You’ll love ‘em,” you hummed. “Thanks for the ride, Jake,” you opened your wallet and set down a twenty on his middle console. “Maybe I’ll even see you next weekend?”
“I’ll keep my schedule open,” he smiled softly, trying to keep any sort of longing expression from his face as you began to get out of his car, gathering up an absurd amount of reusable bags before exiting the vehicle.
Jake glanced back at your seat after you’d closed the door, and found one lone daffodil on his seat, one that you must’ve dropped from one of your many bags on your way out. Jake rolled down a window and called out for you, and you attentively turned around.
“You left a flower in here! Let me grab it for you,” he offered.
“No, don’t!” you called back. “It‘s a gift for you. I left it on purpose, like an extra tip.”
The cellist in Jake’s heart orchestra was playing so aggressively that his bow broke. He was going to have to find a more intense word than smitten.
You quickly became part of Jake’s weekend routine; dish out some of Khonshu’s good-old-fashioned justice Friday evening, then up and at ‘em Saturday morning, finding himself at your place at 9:30 AM sharp for your weekly trip to the market.
You seemed to be a fan of gifts, bringing him a coffee from Starbucks (black, for the record) after inquiring about his coffee preferences the week prior, offering him samples of overpriced vegan jerkies, and whiffs of chic beeswax candles. And of course, there were the flowers.
A different flower every weekend, and typically just the one, just for Jake.
“Hydrangeas mean unity and togetherness,” you explained as you gently set the stem in the palm of his hand. “I know we only see each other once a week, but I would consider us friends. It doesn’t get much more united than that. Well-“ you cut yourself off, but the damage was done.
“The sunflower means adoration and loyalty… but it mostly just matches my dress today,” you gestured to your clothing. “But I’m loyal to your Uber service. Don’t tell anyone else, but you’re my favorite,” you winked. “See you next weekend, Jake Lockley.”
“Daisies are gorgeous, but they represent simplicity and good fortune. I’m fortunate to have you in my life because you make my Saturday mornings much more simple. Especially considering you just pick me up now without me even having to get onto that app. You need to stop doing that, by the way. You deserve compensation for driving through this hellish traffic.” It may have been true, but Jake didn’t mind. Taking you to and from the market was more of a treat for him than actual work. He still graciously accepted the flower and tried not to have too obvious hearts in his eyes as you rang yourself back into your building.
You truly made his Saturday mornings, with your long-winded rambles on the best items at the farmers market, or your giggled out gossip about your elderly neighbors and drama between stands at the market, and of course, those damn flowers.
It was yet another Saturday morning, after a rather exhausting Friday night with Khonshu. Jake was looking forward to nothing more than seeing your smiling face as you carried two cups of the newest brew you were swearing by, yet, it was 9:35 and you were nowhere to be seen. While this wasn’t completely unheard of for you, it was strange to be five minutes behind. But it was more than possible that Jake was overreacting and you had woken up a little late, or spent a little extra time getting ready. However, 9:35 had turned into 9:45, then 9:55, and something felt extremely off.
Twenty minutes late was completely out of character for you, the ever punctual woman. Jake checked his phone to see if you’d requested a later time, but despite his incessant scrolling, you were nowhere to be found.
Jake’s stomach churned as he turned his car off and approached your building, making up an excuse to one of your neighbors he’d previously heard you mention to get inside, then knocking on the door of your apartment, the one he’d helped bring bags up to when you’d overdo it at the market.
Despite his knocking, you were nowhere to be found, and the pit in his stomach only seemed to drop further.
Maybe you were already at the market, and Jake had nothing to be concerned about. Jake leaned into the gas on his way there, narrowly avoiding a few accidents in his fervorous search for you. Jake swore he left no rock unturned as he searched for you, asking around for you at booths he knew you were a regular at, and letting his mind roam for maybe a few too moments long at the flower booth.
Maybe this was payback for all of the terrible things he’d been doing in Khonshu’s name. Maybe a vengeful widow or orphan had been tailing him for weeks, putting a target on the woman he’d come to love. Jake marched back to his car, swallowing his fear and anger just long enough to make it back into the semi-private haven of his vehicle so he could release some of his wrath on the old bird who got him into this mess.
“Where is she?” Jake questioned as the deity manifested himself in his back seat.
“Why would I know,” he countered casually.
“If something happened to her, the deal is off,” Jake practically hissed.
“That’s not how this works, Jake Lockley.”
“It is now,” he hissed. “I went behind their backs for you. I’ve done unspeakable things for you. What have you done for me lately?”
“I gave you the gift of life. What more could you ever want?”
“I want to know what happened to her,” Jake began to reach over to the glove compartment, and glanced back at the god, the implication of his action clear to both men.
Khonshu sighed exasperatedly, “Fine. Love is not a good look on you, Jake Lockley. I can ask around about her, and that’s it,” he seemed to be done for a moment. “I do not apologize for whatever her fate may be.”
Before Jake could scold the bird once more, he had seemed to disappear into thin air, leaving Jake with only his increasingly worried thoughts.
As the day continued, Jake continued his wild goose chase of a search for you throughout the city, checking out pedestrians to see if you were out and about, and refreshing the request page of his rideshare app every few minutes to see if by some chance you would reach out to him, yet all of his searches were in vain.
Jake had just finished dropping off tourists at Broadway when he received a rather interesting notification– one with your name attached to it.
You seemed to be at an apartment complex just a few blocks away, and in need of a ride back home, despite your home certainly being in walking distance. That was more than doable for Jake, considering he would swim across the Atlantic just to make sure that you were okay. A few blocks was nothing.
But a few blocks was feeling more and more like thousands of miles as Jake attempted to get to you, the ten minute ride feeling like hours. Yet it was somehow all worth it when he saw your silhouette wave familiarly at him from the sidewalk. The man let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, and you slipped into the back of his car as you always did, radiant energy following you.
“Hi Jake. Sorry about missing our Saturday morning routine,” you apologized as you strapped yourself into your seat.”My friend asked me to watch her cat at the last minute, so I’ve been cat-and-house-sitting for the past few days.”
“You don’t have to apologize,” Jake glanced up at you from the rearview mirror, and he swore his heart almost lurched out of his chest. “Not walking tonight?”
“My legs are tired from playing with the kitten all day… And I guess I just wanted to see you,” you glanced out the window as you spoke, possibly embarrassed from your casual admission.
The orchestra in Jake’s chest was back, and in full force. That was probably the most romantic thing that anyone had said to him… ever, really. And it wasn’t even inherently romantic.
Jake was silent for just a beat too long as he processed your words before admitting, “My Saturday was feeling incomplete without seeing you. I missed my flower.”
“And I missed delivering your flower fact,” you added, glancing up and catching his eye in the rearview mirror. “And catching you up on everything at the market.”
“Mmm,” Jake hummed, focusing his energy on the road, and not on how much he wanted to go on about how he missed you.
“How ‘bout I make it up to you next weekend?” you offered as Jake pulled up to your apartment building. “We can go to the market, and I can actually show you the places I tell you about. I mean, only if you want to.”
“I would love to!” Jake replied, maybe a little too enthusiastically. “Next Saturday at 9:30?”
“Mhm,” you confirmed with a hum. “It’s a date,” you said as you cracked the door open.
Before Jake could even stutter out a flustered response, you were gone.
Jake spent a frankly embarrassing amount of time getting ready in the morning, going through a ridiculous amount of clothing to find the perfect outfit that said ‘farmer’s market’, and ‘boyfriend material’ at the same time. He was nearly late coming to pick you up, but he somehow managed to be by your curbside at the time he always was, and there you were, looking as jubilant as ever.
“Morning, Jake,” you chime before passing him a muffin that he could only assume you baked yourself. “I’m so excited to show you everything. All the samples and people you’re gonna meet… It’s gonna be great.”
Your rambling was extra ramble-y that morning, and it was somewhat comforting to know that you were in the same boat of nerves as he was. By the time you arrived at the market, you had talked enough to have Jake’s ear fall off, but it was oddly endearing. As soon as you parked, Jake made quick work of opening your door, and gently taking your hand as you exited the vehicle, as if you were some celebrity at a high class event.
“You are single handedly keeping chivalry alive, Jake Lockley,” you teased, eliciting a hearty laugh out from the both of you.
Your hands remained dangerously close as you approached the market, with your fingertips occasionally even brushing each other’s. A comfortable silence loomed over the two of you for a moment before you grabbed Jake’s hand out of the blue, and began to pull him in the direction of a booth filled with cheeses.
Right when he thought you couldn’t get any more adorable, there you were walking him through the best cheeses, catching up with the owner of the booth like you were old friends, and gently feeding him pieces of cheese.
“Good, right?” you asked as Jake chewed.
“It’s really good,” he echoed back, completely sure he was looking at you with ginormous, cartoon heart eyes, but he was far too infatuated to care.
“Mhm,” you grinned back at him. “We’ll be back later to pick some up. Jake knows all about the time I had warm cheese. Nothing personal Jen, I just don’t think food poisoning starts a date off on a good foot.”
Jake felt like he was going to melt through the floor, even more so when you wrapped your arms around one of his and began to usher him around the rest of the market.
For about an hour, Jake followed you like a lost, lovesick puppy as you introduced him to your favorite companies, products, and even friends. You brought him samples, got him discounts, and even bought him the occasional snack. He swore that he had never felt so comfortable and at peace than watching you just… be you at one of your favorite places.
“We should do this again next weekend,” you said as you evaluated packages of strawberries. “If you’re not busy?”
There you were, asking him out again. He’d be a fool to say no, but he’d also be a fool to let you keep making all the romantic(?) gestures. He didn’t want you to think that this was something one-sided when he somehow found a way to fall for you harder with every moment you spent together.
“We should,” he agreed, cringing at the fact that he did not make even one romantic proposition or gesture, as he’d planned to do.
You looked back at him and gave a soft little smile. Jake had seen all sorts of extreme things in his line of work, yet somehow, you were the only thing that managed to make him lightheaded.
You were deep in conversation with the woman at your beloved bread stand, both of you excitedly gesturing with your hands and presumably catching up on the week where you hadn’t seen each other. As much as he loved watching you, a bright pop of color caught Jake’s eye from his peripheral vision.
The flower stand.
That chance at a grand romantic gesture might have been closer in reach than he thought. Jake excused himself from the booth as you continued chatting with your friend, and he made quick work of getting to the florist.
“Hi, do you have any flowers that represent love? Not roses or anything. But any other flower that means love.”
Jake approached you as you were heading out of the bread booth to presumably find him.
“Perfect timing,” you hummed then glanced down at his fist which was currently clutching a bouquet of red tulips so hard that his knuckles were turning white. “Oooh, what did you get?” you asked with genuine curiosity.
“Well, I actually didn’t get them for me,” he inhaled, trying to find the courage to say what he wanted to say. You always get me such thoughtful gifts and it all started with those flowers and I’ve never felt this way about anyone before and it’s a little overwhelming and a little scary and I really hope you like these and know what they mean but I also hope you don’t know what they mean because maybe I read this all wrong.
Instead, what came out was, a simple, “they’re for you,” as he gently passed the bouquet to you. Your eyes were slightly… watery? as he gave you the bouquet, and you were quiet for a moment as you looked them over.
“They’re lovely, Jake,” you practically cooed. “I love them.”
You completely caught him off guard when you got on the tips of your toes and gently pecked his cheek.
All at once, Jake’s heart orchestra played again.
author’s note ii: in my head in this au jake calls the reader mariposa & one day they grow a vegetable garden together than u for coming to my ted talk