If you ran away - Mind if I stay? Part 2 (Steven Grant x Reader)
Summary:The worst morning of Steven’s life is officially the one he woke up without you. Nothing’s made sense since. And if he thinks it can’t get any worse, that’s only because he has yet to notice his nightmares catching up to him.
Warnings:SO MUCH ANGST, sad Steven is an understatement, no smut just brief mentions but the series is 18+ so minors DNI, ep 1 spoilers
Word count: ~6.1K
A/n:Okay just so it’s clear, I am not making Marc the bad guy! I’m going somewhere with this (I’m trying to at least:)) This is just me experimenting with making a series *sweats nervously*
Title and lyrics from Where’s my love? by SYML. Gonna start adding those at the beginning ‘cause I love the soundtrack in my head.
“Yeah, no, the date was great. She really liked the… flowers. And me. She’s really… smart and funny, and she’s got the most wonderful laugh. You’d really like her. I think this could really… lead somewhere, you know? Might bring her around soon. Anyway, sorry I missed you again, Mom. Love you. Laters, gators.”
The smile Steven had forced onto his face died the moment he hung up. Not that it had done much to brighten the tone of his voice.
Jake Lockley x Reader, Marc Spector x Reader, Steven Grant x Reader
Words: 2600
Warnings: Cursing, mention of sex, break up, Jake can be a dick
Summary: Marc had a suspicion he had another person in him, Steven wasn’t the only one, that was evident after what happened with Harrow. But neither Marc nor Steven could be prepared when they met Jake.
When Marc realized that Khonshu tricked them, he was fuming, and so was Steven.
“You said you would let us go!” yelled Marc.
“I said I’ll let you and the worm free, never mentioned your third party.” Marc and Steven both felt as if their stomach fell, the feeling of being played was devastating.
They found themselves on yet another mission. A mission they thought was long over, yet here they were, standing in a weird temple and the worst is that Layla was with them.
“Khonsu, you liar!” she yelled. “You said you would set them free!”
“Again, I never mentioned the third one, if he chose to work for me, that has nothing to do with you.”
All three knew Khonsu had a point. Yet, still, they were super mad.
“You played us!” said Steve as he came forward.
“Can we get over this, please? We are here to catch someone very dangerous before you three decided to arrive, the plan was going swimmingly,“ said Khonshu.
Layla followed what he thought was Marc, that is how she got there and how thankful she was that she went.
Then they met the guy they were there for.
His name was Jacob Highs, according to Khonshu he likes to torture people and plays cruel games with them.
"Marc Spector, I know about you. Now, it’s time for you to face your demons!” the man let out a wicked laugh.
“Kill him Marc!” yelled Khonshu. “Kill him before h-”
—
“Marc?” he heard Layla’s voice.
“What happened?” he asked as he opened his eyes, he found himself in an old dingy house. From the window, he could see the outside was pitch black. No landscape, nothing, only darkness.
“I-I don’t know but…” Layla couldn’t finish her sentence as Marc was hugged suddenly.
“Oh, Marc! I thought you died!” said Steven.
“Steven? How is this possible?”
“Told you Highs is dangerous.” said Khonshu, "He likes to play with people. This is one of the realms he created.“
Marc finally stood up and he noticed another man, another him.
"So, you are Jake.” all three looked at Jake who rolled his eyes, not answering. The three started to talk trying to figure out what to do.
“How do we get out of here?” asked Layla who looked at all three men and Khonshu.
“We wait.” said Jake, finally speaking up, everyone looked at him.
“Wait? Are you out of your mind?”
“Technically, yes. I am.”
“How could we just stand and wait?” asked Steven as he looked at everyone.
“We will die here if we don’t find a way out.” said Layla.
“Yeah, let’s just start walking, get out of this filthy house and see what we are against.” said Steven as Marc was thinking.
“No, we need to wait.” said Jake again with a firmer tone.
“Why would we just sit here and wait?” asked Marc, annoyed with the man in the hat.
“Because, unlike you two, I have a girlfriend who is actually useful.” said Jake and just as he said that Jacob’s unconscious body flew in the window, shattering the glass as he landed. Jake made an ‘I-told-you-so’ face at the others before the door opened and a woman came in, you.
“Oh,” you looked at all the people in there. “Hello.” you offered a small wave. You looked at Khonshu. “So, he doesn’t speak and I didn’t want to kill him in case that would get us stuck here forever.” you said and then turned to the others. “Well, this is… awkward.”
“Hi, Mi Amor.” you smiled at Jake and placed a kiss on his lips, he pulled you close by your waist.
“There they go again.” said Khonshu as Jake whispered Spanish words into your ear before disappearing to find a way out.
The other three just watched in disbelief. Not it all made a lot more sense to Layla, whenever Marc forgot a date or he was late, or he had marks on him that wasn’t from fighting, Layla had a suspicion he had another woman, but she never knew Jake was there and that he had someone.
When you finally pulled away from Jake, he kept you close, kissing your neck, determined to leave a mark on your delicious skin.
“Sorry, this is a bit, come on now.” you tried to push him away, but it didn’t work.
“Who are you?” asked Steven.
“You must be Steven, lovely to meet you and you Marc, and oh what was it? Lauren?”
“Layla,” said Marc with a very annoyed tone but you didn’t mind.
“Right, lovely to meet you all, Jake did mention you three, but as you can see he’s not big on talking.” just as you said that Jake pulled you closer, and it made you giggle but he also bit your neck a little.
“My name is Y/N, I’m Jake’s girlfriend and partner in crime. I’m a descendant of a Goddess, not too sure which one, I have certain powers. Like I can see the angry pigeon standing behind you.” everyone turned to see Khonshu there.
Jake finally finished with your neck as he let you go, but still kept you close.
“I wasn’t able to find a way out.” he said before he turned to Jacob, he was out cold and he will be for a long time. “We will stay here and when he wakes up we will convince him to let us out.”
“Lovely, this is like camp when you are a kid. I would love to get to know you all better. Let’s start with you Steven.” you sat down on the floor, creating fire in the fireplace to keep you all warm.
And you talked.
—
You talked a lot. Marc was sure he has gone mad. Not that he wasn’t already insane but this.
To finally meet the man who killed many, whom he didn’t know about, who he cannot even remember, and he had a girlfriend?
Marc was loyal to Layla, always.
But this, this was too much, and by Layla’s expression, he thought the same.
“So, how does this work?” asked Marc with a very annoyed voice. “We find out that Khonshu lied to us, we are still Moon Knight, and now this. Another me and you?”
“I know you feel cheated, Khonshu did hide this from you b-”
“And just who the fuck are you?!” Marc was now angry.
“Amigo! Watch your fucking mouth when you talk to my girl! If it wasn’t for her that fucker would be out there torturing us.”
“This IS torture!"
Steven wanted to defuse the situation, he really did but he agreed with Marc.
"So, how does this work?” he asked the same question Marc just did.
“He comes to me, we go on dates, usually that includes killing people Birdie tells us to kill, then we go back to my place or to his, sorry, yours and have sex. Easy life. I leave before he wakes up or he leaves before you switch.”
The way you were so causal about this was disturbing. They all made a face.
“Look, I know you all are new to this, but I am a good fucking person okay? I help people, I save people and I knew what I was getting into when I met Jake. He told me about you three, he told me how this works, you all can be angry at me all you want, but you cannot deny a man from his love.”
Layla was too quiet during all this, even you noticed. It must be hard for her to hear all this, but this wasn’t just about her.
You loved Jake and Jake loved you, they all have to live with that as you live with the fact that Marc and Steven love Layla.
“Nah, I say we vote. It’s two against one. You two have to stop… this.” said Steven.
“Vote? Are you mad? Do you want me to crush your skull?” spoke Jake but you put your hand on his shoulder.
“Try me.” you said. “Try it, try and separate us, Steven, even you Marc, I challenge you to try.” They didn’t know what you were capable of. And for Jake, you’d do everything.
Suddenly everything felt cold, the windows started to freeze and the fire went out, the wooden floor began to get slippery with the ice on the surface.
You weren’t joking, Marc thought you were, but you were not.
Powers? Definitely. You were scary, Marc didn’t want to mess around with you, not for one bit.
That fire in your eyes as you stood up for the one you loved, he had never seen that before, not even in his own eyes.
It made him question so many things.
And by the look on Layla’s face, as she excused herself to another room, he knew.
You watched as the two left, leaving Steven behind.
“So, Steven, I heard you work in a gift shop in a museum?”
“Used to work.” he corrected.
“Right, so, anything you learned there? Jake never really liked it, although he did like one of the tour guides.” you said sending a side-eye towards him.
“It was you? You asked her on a date to the stake house!” now it made sense even to Steven, he did find it difficult to believe Marc, who was married would ask someone on a date.
“Yes, but I found someone better.” you smiled as Jake finally sat down beside you. “Tengo Frio, Amor.” he said and you put the fire back on. Steven sat down close to it, thankful that the ice was finally gone.
“Look, Steven, I understand this is a lot to take in, it was a lot for me as well. But I’m not going to let Jake just leave. Maybe it is unfair to Layla, but if you take him from me, that is unfair to me. You have to understand, please. I love him. And I’m sure I can love you too. I mean no harm.”
You spoke so gently like you were trying to make a child understand something huge, and you kind of were.
You understood their side, you really did. But you were not willing to let go of Jake. Never.
When Layla and Marc arrived back, they looked… not happy. To say the least.
“Okay, now that we talked about this, ready to leave?” you stood up as did Steven and Jake.
“W-But I thought you said you can’t-”
“I never said I can’t get us out of here, all I said is that I’m not willing to kill him to risk getting us stuck.” you said smiling at Steven.
“Smart girl.” said Khonshu as he waited. You closed your eyes but then remembered one more thing.
“Oh and Mr Lockley, you better thank me for this! You know what I like!”
“Ice cream.”
“That, and you on your knees baby.” you winked and before anyone could answer, you quickly worked your magic.
—
Marc woke up in his bed, alarmed at what just happened, he wasn’t sure if it was a dream or not.
“Steven? Was it all a dream?”
“If it was, we dreamt the same thing. We have to go to work.”
Marc got dressed and let Steven take over so they could go to work. Both of them were thinking hard. Was it really all just a dream?
Steven worked as usual, having a smile on his face as he served everyone. And just like Marc, he couldn’t think of anything else.
He knew he will need to talk to Layla and you as well. But how would this work out? Would this work out at all?
—
Well, Layla wasn’t happy. At all.
Is seemed like she understood the fact that Egyptian Gods were real better than that a person can have D.I.D. It broke Marc’s and Steven’s heart.
She left them.
Marc blamed you, of course he did, but Steven, he felt something else, curiosity.
He wanted to find you, and he was willing to ask Jake for help. But he knew better than to mess around with Jake especially since Marc knew about Steven’s steps.
Another week ended, you let out a sigh as you stood in front of the museum. Jake asked you to come since he wanted to go to a restaurant. You eyed the woman he asked previously on a date.
“Damn, she’s gorgeous.” you said as she smiled at her colleague and left.
You turned around to look at the stairs, seeing one person coming your way.
“Would you look at that, I was waiting for,” you checked your watch. “Five minutes…hmm… it felt longer.” You moved your arms around his neck as you kissed him.
But something was off, instead of his arms moving around you, he just froze.
“Shit. Steven?” you asked as you quickly pulled back.
“Y-Yeah.”
“Oh, sorry, Jake said he wanted to meet, I thought you were him. I’m sorry.”
You wanted to leave, disappear.
“I-I actually wanted to speak with you. If you are up for it.”
“Sure, let’s go eat something I’m starving.”
You two arrived at a steak restaurant, you ordered a nice plate of steak while Steven only asked for a salad.
“You are charming.” you said and it made Steven stutter.
“Thank you.”
“Charming, smart, handsome and British. Nice combination, makes all the panties drop.” you probably shouldn’t have said that especially while he was drinking, but you did.
“Layla left us.” he said with such a sad tone it made you feel bad.
“I’m sorry Steven.”
“It was her decision, she said she couldn’t bear the thought of Marc with someone else.”
“So, is he blaming me? Are you?”
“No, it was her decision, we could have made it work.” you could have, really, but if she wasn’t up for it.
“Alright then, Mr Accent. Let’s not talk about your ex on our first date. Tell me about you. You obviously know a lot. You might be able to help me.”
“Help you?”
“Yes, you see, I am really interested in my past, I’m still not sure where I got my powers from and I want to find out.”
He looked interested like a new quest just opened its doors for him.
“How much do you know?”
“Besides the name of the orphanage I grew up in, nothing.”
Then his eyes changed.
“Hi Marc.”
“I’m not angry at you, you didn’t make Layla leave, but what are you doing with Steven?”
“Asking for help, that’s all.” you really had no other intentions but you understood that Marc was protective over Steven.
“I’m sure you will grow to like me. I like Steven he is kind.” Marc was still not sure about you. Then you looked up at the building behind him, he did as well as he saw Khonshu.
When he turned back, you noticed the change immediately.
“There you are” you smiled as he finally appeared.
“Who was it?”
“Both actually, she left them.”
“Good.” Jake called over the waiter ordering a steak.
“Don’t be mean, she was nice.”
“She didn’t fit me. You do.” Jake was always harsh you were used to it by now, it also rubbed off on you a little so now you were the same from time to time. “Now, Marc has to get used to the thought as well. And you will be able to move in as I asked you before.”
“Whatever you say, Babe.” you smiled as you drank from your wine.
Summary:Marc went through a lot already, good and bad, mainly bad, but with you came all the good.
Your pregnancy shook up Marc better than anything before. He never felt such anxiety as he did when you showed him that pregnancy test, and it was positive.
He was switching between himself and Steven a lot. Which you noted was due to his nerves getting the best of him. And just when you were about to feel bad about the whole thing, Steven calmed you, saying this was the best thing to ever happen to him and Marc.
Marc felt guilty for not being out more than he should have. He felt like he was leaving you all alone in this. And even if you said you don’t mind seeing Steven more and Steven did help a lot, Marc wanted to be there for you.
There were weeks, even a month when he didn’t even see you, it was all Steven.
“Marc, it’s okay honestly. It’s not like I don’t have anyone with me. Steven’s here and the baby.” you always told him, trying to calm him, but it barely worked. He was not convinced Steven could protect you if needed, it also didn’t help that Khonshu often asked Marc to go on missions.
Steven on the other hand enjoyed seeing you, he was scared, yes, but he was there to help and even went to the doctors with you. You often caught him talking to a mirror, hearing him tell Marc what happened while he was in control. He often showed Marc the pictures the doctors gave you, Steven even went to the lengths to show Marc your papers, stating everything was in order with the baby.
Then as your belly got rounder, Steven smiled a lot more, he touched your baby bump a lot more, begging to feel the little one move.
One morning something strange happened.
It wasn’t Steven and it was for sure not Marc either.
“Okay, looks like you know a lot about me, but I haven’t seen you, who are you?” you asked the man sitting in front of you drinking the coffee you made as he was talking about a cab or something.
“My name is Jake.“ He did look a bit offended, perhaps by the fact that you didn’t recognize him?
"Nice to meet you Jake.” you smiled. “I wonder…”
“You have seen me before, Babe, I mainly get in control during nights when you are already asleep. But we have been to the shopping centre together, usually I’m the one driving.“ Now it all made sense why Marc didn’t remember driving you all those times, you thought he was just joking.
"You’re the one leaving the flowers right? Steven just takes the credit for them.”
“Exactly, and you are pregnant, its ours right?” he asked so casually, so he knew he was one of Marc’s alters, but Marc didn’t know about him.
“Of course,” you showed the ring on your finger then pointed to his. “We got married last year.” you had a feeling Steven and Marc didn’t know about him.
“I remember, we danced. I don’t remember the baby-making though.” you were a bit confused as to what did he see or when was he present.
“Living with three different people is challenging even for me. Not even I’m sure who I was with during that time, but it doesn’t matter.”
He smiled and nodded. “That is true, the baby is ours, and you are our wife.” He turned his attention back to the meal in front of him
“Do you love me?” you asked suddenly.
“I do. You are always kind and you keep me calm. You are also stunning, Babe, pregnancy looks amazing on you. We should have more children.” You smiled and believed him, being with someone who has two other identities is strange, but there was something exciting about it as well.
“Let me push out this one first. Then the four of us can talk about another.” You said as you got his plate and started doing the dishes.
It was like, the same eyes looking at you, yet they were all so different. Marc, Steven and Jake. You wondered how it will all work out once you have the baby.
Jake looked like the kind to get things done, like he was to do the things Marc rather not. Jake would be amazing to have in the room when you give birth, he was even calmer and more collected than Marc.
But somehow, you loved them equally. They were all so different, yet the same.
They were all so gentle, kind and kept you safe.
Marc always promised to fight off whoever decided to even look you the wrong way. Steven made you tea and brought you snacks when you needed anything. And Jake, Jake brought you to places, driving you around, showing you around London, bringing you to parks.
They were all so different, yet they all loved you the same.
And you just knew, they will be amazing father’s for your little one.
You were his first follower and you were given your price for that.
You were the first to ever make him think differently, to see humans as they were and not just the bad.
You were the only one to even steal his heart.
Khonshu, the God of the Moon. Not many liked him, but he was okay with that. During the ancient days, while other Gods and Goddesses hair temples, statues and even tombs raised for them, he wasn’t loved.
No one cared for the God of the Moon as he was feared. Night was his domain, and everyone knew only bad things happened at night.
And yet, there you were, nothing but a young miss in your house’s humble little garden, after a long day at work, looking at the sky, dreaming about it, seeing the stars and the moon, you fell in love with the night sky.
And so, you found Khonshu.
Or rather he found you.
He became interested more so when he first heard prayers. Your voice rang in his head, even if he didn’t know it was you at first.
He wasn’t used to people praying to him.
But he thought he could get used to hearing your voice every night.
Then, he headed out to find you, walking in the desert as he heard your words ring in his head. Your prayers were simple and kind.
It didn’t take long for Khonshu to find you. One evening, he noticed you as you watched the sky, you looked so happy, comfortable and unbothered. Not like the others during the night.
You made him interested.
In your prayers, you wished for health for your family and friends, in case of trouble you prayed for the people involved to be safe.
He noticed how you never asked for anything for yourself. Never. Not once.
Until one day, which he couldn’t ignore. You begged for your mother to be saved from a disease.
“Please Khonshu, please save her and I will do anything you wish for.” You said as you were crying and praying in front of a candle and a small wooden sculpture of Khonsu that you made with your own hands.
“Anything?” he asked at it made you just so quickly that you knocked the figure over. You looked at the huge God standing in front of you, you felt like you were going mad, but it was him, no doubt, Khonsu was standing right in front of you and you suddenly knew what you needed to do.
You knelt on the floor, eyes fixed onto the ground.
“Anything.” You said with a shaky voice.
“For your mother’s life, I will take yours in exchange.” A cold wind ran down your spine from his words. “You will be by my side, you will dedicate your life to me. You do notquestion my decisions, forever till the end of time.” He said.
For your mother, you’d do anything. For your mother’s health this seemed like a small thing in comparison. To dedicate your life to a God, just when you thought your life would have no point.
“Of course, Khonshu.”
—
Days, months, years, decades, centuries passed.
And you were still by his side. After a couple years you were sure Khonshu would get bored of you, but it never happened. He really wanted you by his side.
You were through it all. His little priestess. You were there when the Gods decided they won’t walk with the humans any longer. You were there when they decided to take avatars and when they all banished Khonshu because of his beliefs.
You were there by his side when another god tried to take you away from him, jealous of the relationship you had with Khonshu.
But you were his.
Then, he started to take avatars. One after the other, although you were not a fan of his cruel methods, you were blinded by your feelings for the God of the Moon.
Something about his possessive nature made you feel incredibly safe and you really liked it.
Over the many many years, you grown to love Khonshu, you loved him for the God that he was and for the protection he gave you.
Seeing him in the modern world was something that made you laugh. As the world changed, so did you, well, at least your looks.
But seeing him standing next to a bus or watching as he sat on top of a big statue, when you always feared heights.
And he knew that.
So, one evening he brought you to the very top of the Empire State Building.
You felt sick.
“Please, can we just go down.” You said as you hugged a pillar, feeling sick to your stomach.
“Look at the view.” He said.
You opened one eye, barely seeing anything through your tears before you closed your eyes again.
“Beautiful, now can we leave please?”
He sighed before he put his staff down and grabbed your waist, pulling you away from the pillar, you hugged him instead. He was hugetowering over you like a giant. But you were scared. Extremely scared.
“You are safe with me, I told you before, I proved it to you before during the wars.”
“Yes, but this is very different. I’m terrified of heights and you know that.”
“Of course I do. I know everything about My Little One.” He moved and you tightened your hold on him. “But you have nothing to fear. The night sky will always protect you, Iwill always protect you.”
“I know that, but I am still scared.”
“Or you just like to hold me.”
“No, I prefer it when you hold me. Makes me feel more safe.” Just as you said that his arms moved around you, immediately making you feel a little better. Good enough to make you open your eyes, but you felt dizzy.
“Look at the sky. It will forever guide you to me.”
“Not like I’m allowed to leave your side.”
“No, but I found a new avatar. I have things to deal with.” You nodded, this wasn’t the first, nor will it be the last.
But you managed to take a look at the view from the top of the building, seeing everything and the people below you, you were scared, but him holding you so secure, you felt a lot better.
—
Technically, his next avatar wasn’t supposed to be Marc Spector.
You assumed Khonshu would hide you from Marc just as he did before, but surprisingly, he didn’t. Because when the man turned up in your home, you were both confused and happy.
Marc was a handsome man, yes, you weren’t blind, but he had so many inner demons, you just wanted to hug him.
“This is my wife, Marc so behave.” Khonshu said as he sat down in the corner where he always preferred to sit, to oversee everything.
Wife? Khonshu often called you by cute names. Little One or My Priestess, but he never once mentioned you being a wife or anything like that. Even if you basically was his wifehe never said that before.
Marc looked confused from the God at you, you looked like a normal human as you smiled and waved at him.
“Are you hungry Marc?” you asked.
“Don’t feed him, come here. Marc will think about his next step.” You smiled again at Marc before walking over to Khonshu, who pulled you to sit on his lap. He was completely showing off to Marc just whoyou belong to.
And Marc respected that.
He truly did.
Even in the upcoming weeks, months.
—
You knocked on his door, finding it to be open, so you went in. You never expected to see him almost naked on the floor with a bottle of whiskey in his hand. He looked at the mirror, you closed the door behind yourself, you looked into the mirror but all you saw was Marc.
“Steven?” you asked as you knelt down next to him.
“No.”
“Oh, Marc. What happened?” you asked as you looked him over, trying to find an injury, finding nothing you let out a relieved sigh.
But instead of answering, he took a big gulp of the almost empty bottle.
“You can talk to me you know?”
“I know but Khonshu might not like that.” Of course Marc would be a hard egg to crack, but you had time.
“You know, I used to be human. I lived in Egypt with my family. My mother got really sick, healthcare wasn’t as great as it is nowadays. She would have died if it wasn’t for Khonshu. I gave my life to serve him, so she would live a happy life. That was my deal.”
“So, you are not his wife then.”
“Technically no. But in a way, I am. He wants good for us, he never once hurt me.” You grabbed his hand as he looked into your eyes. “He saved your life as well.” That made Marc scoff as he took another shot from his bottle.
“He tricked me. And used me.”
“Well, duh. He said he was looking for someone. Someone to carry out his work. Of course, he would use you to hunt people Marc. What did you think he meant? Tea parties and cookies?” Marc pulled his hand away from your hold as he tried to stand but he failed. “I know you are in pain. Even the blind could see that you are suffering, but you have to know you are not alone. You have Steven, Khonshu and me. The moon and the night sky will always be there to keep you company.” You offered him a kind smile. And just as the sun was setting and the moon started to rise, you knew Marc was about to leave for another mission.
And surely enough, he had his suit on.
“Thank you Y/N.” he said before he literally jumped out the window.
“You are too kind to him.” Khonshu said from behind you.
“He needs it. You know just how broken he is. Even the smallest push would make him lose it, and I don’t want to lose him.”
“Youlovehim?”
“I do. But my heart belongs to you.” You turned to look at the God standing in front of you.
“You belong to me.” He said and you nodded as he walked closer and hugged you. “Mine.” He said before the two of you headed to the roof, he left to look after Marc while you watched the sky.
Jake Lockley x Reader, Marc Spector x Reader, Steven Grant x Reader
Summary: Your life with the three men was challenging but incredibly rewarding at the same time. All four of you were happy.
“Well, Jenna’s getting married.” you said as you opened the text on your phone.
“Who?” asked Marc as he looked at you from the TV.
“Jenna, an old friend of mine, we didn’t speak in like… Two years. Why is she inviting me then?” you said as you looked at the text again, confused. “Oooh.”
“What is it?”
“She is getting married to a guy I used to like. She wants to rub it in. Well jokes on her, I have three boyfriends now.” you said as you replied to the message that you are going to the wedding and you will bring a plus one. “You’ll need a nice shirt.”
“Do I have to? Really?” Marc groaned, dissatisfied with the news. Being Moon Knight meant he rather not go to elegant events, or play dress-up, but then there were you. You, who convinced even Khonshu to give him a break so he could spend time with you.
“Not necessarily has to be you, could be Jake or Steven.”
“Why do you want to go so badly?” Marc asked as you sat down on his lap, moving your arms around his neck as he held your waist.
“Because I have just the right dress and if she thinks I am the loser in this situation she has something else coming.” you smirked.
Marc loved how cheeky you could be, petty, yes, but he loved it.
“Okay, we go with you, but you take Steven, he’s the polite one.”
“Now, who says Jake isn’t polite?”
“The guy whose nose he broke last week for asking you where the train station was.” you giggled, Jake was extremely protective and jealous.
“Right, but I can’t have sex with Steven in the bathroom, he would never agree!” you complained and Marc rolled his eyes.
“Why would you want to do that?”
“It’s tradition!” you whined. “Everyone knows that.”
“No one does that Sweetheart, maybe a couple of people but not…” Marc knew there was no point in arguing with you. He knew better.
He also knew you’d get anything you wanted, and if you wanted to go to a wedding, you will.
—
Your dress was stunning, hugged you just right, making the boys’ mouths water when they saw you, you adjusted their tie. Steven was a babbling mess when he saw you, a Goddess walking over to him, he was sure he died again.
“Mi Amor,” said Jake as he fronted and started to whistle. “I’m sure we can be a bit late.” he said with a suggestive voice. He leaned over into your ear, “Me estás volviendo salvaje.” and just as he said that, Steven was back.
“Let’s go then.” you said smiling as you headed downstairs for the cab to take you.
The wedding was okay. You didn’t like them too much white which was used as decoration but it definitely wasn’t hideous.
“Jenna, congratulations,” you said as you put on your best fake smile for her, you were only there for the free food, drinks and to see your men in that suit that made them look just divine. “This is my boyfriend, Steven.”
“Hello, nice ceremony, congrats.” Steven was as polite as ever. With another smile, both you and Steven were off to the venue to get drinks.
Steven of course started it slowly but you were already two shots in by the time he lifted the wine to his lips. “Slow down, Love.”
“I can take alcohol very well. One time I drank a bottle of whiskey and barely felt it.”
You still managed to amaze him even after all these months. Steven looked up to the ceiling only to see that it was a glass roof, it was reflecting everyone, he saw Marc who smiled at you and shook his head.
“Of course she did.”
The evening went on quite well. Steven was sitting, watching people dance, including you.
“Dance with her,” Marc would often say to encourage Steven but he was too shy.
“Then let me take the body.” Steven heard Jake say.
“But don’t hurt anyone.” Steven made sure before Jake appeared.
You were dancing, enjoying your time wondering when the cake will arrive when you felt a very familiar pair of arms around you. You smirked.
“I was waiting for youu~”
“I know Mi Amor, you look delicious in this dress and the way you move…”
“I look and taste delicious just for you Mister.” you winked and it was his time to smirk.
“Vamos a salir de aquí.”
“No, I want to dance. Can I dance with all of you?”
And you did. Each one is so different and you loved them the same. Jake was holding you so close, Steven barely touched you and Marc was in-between, touching you a little but he never held onto you like Jake did.
The evening was nice, you were enjoying yourself so much, you forgot that you were at a wedding a couple of times.
You even managed to get Jake alone to the ladies bathroom for a good time. When you two were done, without a shame he walked out. Everyone knew what you two did in there, but like you cared. You needed some fresh air so you headed outside and stood by the pond.
Jake held you close as he kissed your neck. It was cute to see how sentimental he got after sex when he could be so rough with you.
“Let’s sit down.” he said guiding you to a nearby bench.
You looked at the people talking, laughing, drinking and dancing inside.
“Do you think you will ever marry me?” asked Marc, he didn’t even realize what he just said, it just came out. You looked at him, stunned. “I-I mean I already messed up one marriage so I’m not good at this but… you are different.” he looked at you, you could see it in his eyes just how scared he was of your answer.
He always said he was nothing but a broken man, but you knew that wasn’t true. he was kind, gentle and incredible.
“You will have to ask me with a ring. Only then you’ll get my official answer. But my unofficial answer is the same I gave to Jake when he asked me months ago, yes I will marry you.”
Marc wasn’t even surprised when you revealed that Jake already asked you.
You caught Steven in the reflection of the window looking at the two of you, happy.
“Maybe the next wedding we attend will be ours.” said Steven as he looked at you and Marc.
“Maybe.” you let out a sigh. Marc leaned over to give you a kiss.
It was short and sweet, it made you feel special. You even felt it when he switched with Steven.
“Love, they are about to serve the cake.” Steven said as he was afraid to ruin the moment.
But you stood up so quickly, it nearly gave him whip-lash.
“Let’s go then.” you held out your hand for him to take as you offered them a smile.
You were the one for them, from now on being by your side will be their life and future.
Jake Lockley x Reader, Marc Spector x Reader, Steven Grant x Reader
Warnings: Slight angst, mentions of losing virginity, mention of Smut
Summary: Getting into a disagreement with Marc was something you wanted to avoid, but Steven took over and after a mission, he wants to try something out.
It all was so silly.
Fighting over something that was a part of them.
Even if Khonshu healed their wounds, even if he was always okay, it still worried you.
They were still human. Even if they were an avatar. Seeing that bleeding cut on their arm or bruise on their ribs, hurt.
Even when you watched those heal in a matter of seconds, and you could heal them just as quick something about the particular purple bruise on their leg made you crazy.
You didn’t mean to yell, you didn’t mean to get so carried away.
Then Marc switched, and you could tell it wasn’t his choice.
“What’s wrong, Love?” asked Steven who you assume didn’t listen in the last ten minutes. He looked stunned as if he was forced to be out, and you were partially sure he was.
“I had an argument with Marc.” you admitted as you went to Steven, tears in your eyes, you put your hands on his shoulders. “I’m just so worried. Almost every night we go out, yes your wounds heal but, it still hurts to see. But Marc, please I’m not her, you don’t have to hide from me."
"Oh, Love it’s okay, we understand you are just worried, now lets all just calm down and watch something while I hold you okay? Would you like that?” Steven was too sweet, you nodded drying your tears off, and you let out a long sigh. You moved your hands, grabbing onto his shirt.
“I don’t know what happened to me, I’m sorry.”
“No one likes to see the person they love in pain.” Steven pulled you in for a big hug, running his hands up and down your back to calm you.
“I love all of you so much.”
“We love you too, you know that.”
The moment was one of those where you just wish you’d stay there forever.
“Are you two done?” Spoke up Khonshu behind you, making you jump even when you felt his presence.
“FUCK OFF!” you yelled. “Why do you always have to ruin every moment!”
“I do not!”
“Yes, you do! Last time me and Jake tried to have a quiet night, you barged right in!”
“You say quiet night, but you were really loud, I thought it was okay-”
“It was not!”
Steven blushed, still not used to you being so bold and open about intimate things.
“Doesn’t matter, I have a new job for my Knight.” you rolled your eyes.
“Okay, you can go. I’ll stay this time.”
“Why?” asked Steven. “Don’t you want to come as well?”
“Nope, I can feel this is an easy job and I can always go if you need me later, I’ll order some food and I have some leftover ice cream, I’ll be fine.”
“A-About the ice cream…. uhm…You see…”
“You ate it?” Steven nodded. “I suggest you leave this apartment in 0.1 seconds Steven Grant or I might do something I’ll regret.”
And he did.
—
And you were right, it was an easy job, well and easy job for Moon Knight that is. Khonshu found a human trafficking cycle and wanted to shut it down.
“I’m back, Love!” said Steven as he climbed through the window. You were having a shower, as he heard the water running.
“This will be good, give me the body,” Steven heard Jake speak up, “No, I have to apologize to her.” barged in Marc. “Let me have my fun, Amigo!”
“Hush, both of you, this time I’ll be in charge.” this surprised both, Steven was more of a cuddler, he prefered to come out after sex to give you hugs and kisses, he was never in charge during the act.
“Are you sure?” both asked at the same time and Steven nodded at the men in the reflection.
Marc and Jake decided to stay quiet. They wanted to give Steven the illusion that he was alone with you.
Steven was nervous, extremely nervous. He considered himself a virgin. He heard and saw everything Marc does but he was never the one doing it.
He let out a long sigh before he headed to the shower, he failed to notice that the water stopped running.
And out you came with your hair in a towel while only wearing one of their shirts.
“You were quick. How did it go?” you asked.
“It went well. Y-You know… I was thinking…”
“Yes, why are you so nervous Steven? You look like you’re about to explode.” you joked but his serious expression made you change your tone. “Did something happen?”
“No! Not at all, Love, we are all fine, we saved the good people, its just… It’s usually Marc or Jake who’s… with you after.”
It took you a solid minute to realize what he was saying.
“OH, you want to have sex?”
“Make love.” he corrected you immediately. “Love… I-I don’t want to hurt you.”
“But I do like it rough you know!” Steven’s eyes widened. “Hey! I know you are different Steven, and I know how difficult it is to even talk about this, but I’m patient, you don’t have to if you don’t want to. I can wait.”
“I’m ready it’s just. I know what to do, I think, I have seen it but…”
“I can help you.”
“I know that but I still want to be manly!”
“Masculinity is overrated, I do like to be manhandled from time to time but if you’d like I can take the lead, we can take it slow, dim the lights put some awful movie on for background noise.”
“I’d like that.”
And the two of you just stood there for a couple of minutes, unsure.
“I should have got you flowers or chocolate or something. This is so awkward. Maybe I can’t do this.”
“Steven, honey, please.” you walked up to him and slowly started to guide him over to the bed, you pulled him down by the neck and kissed him.
—
You were out of breath as you rolled over and off of Steven, he was breathing just as hard as you were.
“You are amazing.” he said and you smiled.
“I know.” you moved your head onto his chest. “So, how was your first time?” Steven was clearly still under the effect of the afterglow, he smiled and looked at you.
“Amazing. You really are a Goddess.”
“I am.”
“Do you still want to find your parents?”
“EWW Steven! NEVER mention parents after sex, fuck.”
“Sorry! Oh, I ruined it all didn’t I? I’m sorry.” Steven sat up making you sit up with him and when the blanket fell from your chest he blushed and pulled the blanket up but he accidentally touched your skin, making him start to shake a little.
“You didn’t ruin anything. You are perfect. I love you.” this was the first time Steven ever heard you say “you” not “all of you” just “you” just him and he wanted to cry. You leaned over and kissed his shoulder as he moved his arm around you.
You swore if Khonshu was to ruin this moment you’ll paint his beak with glitter paint!
“I love you as well, Love.” he turned his head as a tear formed in his eye and he needed to dry it before turning back to you, he was so happy he felt his chest get tighter.
The movie on the TV ended and it was really quiet now.
“Do you want to do it again?” you asked as he placed his head on your shoulder. He laughed a little.
“I’m a bit… overwhelmed at the moment, Darling.”
“I get it, it’s okay. Also, I don’t want to find my parents or my past. All I want is a future with you. That’s all I care about.” you kissed his temple as he pulled you close, you felt his tears fall onto your chest but you knew they were happy tears.
“Thank you.”
This was the first time when you weren’t sure who said that. You were convinced it was all three of them, but Steven was still in charge.
You held him for a long time after that, Khonsu didn’t arrive to ruin the moment and soon, you were sleeping in Steven’s arms.
This was your future, by the side of these amazing men, and for them, you’d do anything. You’d even pretend to not know about the velvet box hidden amongst the books, you’d pretend not to know about the dinner reservation at a fancy restaurant and you’d pretend to be surprised by his question when he will ask you.
You love them all too much, and they love you way too much as well.
A/N: I really hope everyone enjoyed this mini series! I might continue with short blurbs after this, we will see, currently I’m working on other stuff but I do want to thank everyone who enjoyed this series! ❤
Prompt:pulling your lover into your arms, kissing their cheek as you comfort them (requested by anon for my 3k follower celebration!)
Warnings: fluff, neighbor!reader, mention of nightmares, hurt/comfort, kisses, sweetness, pining, brief appearance by Marc too
Notes: Even though this fic is not explicit, my blog still is so please do not read or interact if you are under 18 thank you. Thanks so much for the request anon, I loved this prompt so much!! And it works so well with Steven cause he deserves the world!! I have an update only blog too to stay up to date on when I post @flightlessangelwings-updates
~
A pained scream woke you up from a peaceful dream and immediately you were on high alert. Without hesitation, you jumped out of bed and rushed to the door as another scream echoed against the wall you shared with your neighbor, Steven Grant. This wasn’t the first time you’d woken up to the sounds of his agony while he slept, but this time seemed more urgent than before. Quickly, you grabbed your keyring, which included the spare key he gave you, and bolted out the door.
“Steven?!” you pounded at his door first. Dread filled your mind as you heard him yell and thrash around inside, “Steven, I’m coming in!” you called through the door as you slid the key in with shaky hands.
Summary: Two years after Marc’s return, life with him and Steven seems to be going the way you always wanted it to, until blood starts to drip again.
Warnings:Pregnancy, blood loss, possible death, breastfeeding kink? (Steven).
Feedback is really appreciated! If you like this comment please!
Italics are flashbacks!
Gif credits to their respective owner!
“Oh, Marc…” she moaned, throwing her head back as she felt herself on the verge of climax. Marc, who was underneath her, gripped her hips firmly and set a faster pace, further increasing the pleasure for both of them.
“Hold on a little longer, baby.” He growled after biting his lips and watching his wife, bouncing on top of him. He brought one of his hands to her clitoris and began massaging it again. She was so overstimulated, the slightest touch caused her to roll her eyes at the incredible sensation. “You’re a fucking goddess- Ah- Fuck, baby!” He brought one of his hands to one of her breasts and pinched the nipple.
“Kiss me. Marc, kiss me.” She moaned at the oncoming wave of pleasure. Marc slipped his arm around her waist, bringing them closer together. Or as close as possible. “Fuck, fuck. Come inside me. Oh—.”
Marc kissed her, and she finished, letting out a majestic moan that ended up encouraging the dark-eyed man to finish too, inside her, in the most intimate way possible.
“We’re very good at this.” He joked as he rested his forehead against hers and sighed contentedly.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him rather shyly. “So good that we ended up like this.” She whispered tenderly as she lowered her gaze to her belly, now rounded and covered with a thin layer of sweat, just like the rest of her and her husband’s body.
Marc brought the hand he had been holding at her waist up to her belly, which he caressed tenderly.
“Mourning for me is to give importance to something, to learn to live, to honour something. You have to name it and explore it, whether it was something that happened or not.”
“Like that life we could never have?”
“For example.”
“It still seems like a dream that we’ve come this far, doesn’t it?”
“Yes.” He replied, “The life we thought we could never have… it turns out we’ve managed to create it. Quite literally.”
"I’m glad to be able to do it with you.” She caressed her husband’s face, looking intently at every detail of his beautiful face. At last, after so many years of suffering, it reflected serenity. “Steven and you are going to be the best thing our daughter could have. She’s very lucky, I’m very lucky too.”
“Lucky us, darling.” Steven spoke, taking control, for the first time in a while. He looked at her with awe and devotion, as if she were one of the Egyptian deities that fascinated him so much.
They loved her, they were lucky.
“I couldn’t agree more with Steven.” Marc said now.
After hearing those words, she kissed him. Well, them. Lovingly and passionately.
Round 2 perhaps was coming?
It was 3:17 in the morning when things started to get complicated. To get ugly.
An immense pain ran through her abdomen and back. Everything was spinning, she felt weak. Really weak. A few moments after trying to overcome the feeling of dizziness, she felt something wet and warm between her legs. She tried to sit up again and awkwardly put a hand to her crotch.
“No, no, no. No… it can’t be, it’s still too early.” whispered in panic. “Marc…!” She tried to call out to her husband in the darkness, she couldn’t see anything. “Marc?” She received no answer. “Ste-Steven?”
Trying to find the switch for the lamp, which was on the bedside table, another wave of pain came over her, but this time with much more intensity, causing her to groan in pain and clutch her belly. Once the light was on, she looked at her hand, which she had previously taken to the wet spot to see what it was.
However, she did not expect to find blood on it. Panicking, she pulled back the sheets that covered her and was able to see the whole thing, horrified and shocked.
Blood. A lot of blood.
The side of the bed where she slept was awash with the warm dark scarlet liquid. It wasn’t until she could smell it that she turned her head in the direction of the side where her husband used to sleep. “Marc.” She said panicking, her face pale, lacking its usual colour. Tears began to form. Marc was missing.
“So if it’s a girl, do you want to name her Layla?” Steven asked her as he tried to assemble the baby’s crib
“Yes.” Replied the soon-to-be-mom as she rocked in the chair, stroking her not-so-swollen belly. “Why? Don’t you think it’s a good idea?”
Steven shrugged. “Don’t get me wrong, the name is beautiful and I adore Layla…but do you think it’s a good idea to name your daughter after your husband’s ex-girlfriend?” Steven asked, tightening one of the screws on the crib. He looked at the woman who hadn’t answered him.
“I have you both because of her. She’s the one who made Marc come back to me, who made him come to his senses to fight for us and not let his fears get the better of him. Thanks to her I have you too, Steven.” She paused slightly as she stood up and walked over to stand next to him, where she sat down on the floor next to the man. “She’s a great person, and a very dear friend. I feel it’s the least I can do.”
“Well…” said Steven, placing a hand on his wife’s, squeezing it lovingly, as he nodded his head. “It sounds like the right name for our daughter. Well… in case it’s a girl.”
She planted a kiss on his cheek. “I’m glad we agree.” She whispered with a goofy grin.
“I didn’t say I agreed.” Marc intervened in the conversation, being the one who took control of the body.
The woman sighed. “Ugh, Marc…” she complained, dropping her head on his shoulder.
“I like the name, I really do, but I think we’re overdoing it. I think it’s a little weird that my wife wants to name our daughter after my ex. Nothing more.” Spoke the soon-to-be-dad in an accelerated manner.
“And what do you think our daughter should be named?” she folded her arms, waiting for an answer from the dark-haired man.
“Well… I’m not sure, but I like this nickname, as a diminutive of-”
”-Tattie. He likes Tattie, as a nickname.“ Steven interrupted Marc, who as he regained control of his body frowned.
"Steven…” sighed Marc in exasperation.
“And what the hell is Tattie diminutive of?”
“Well, it’s short for-”
“-Taweret!” Steven cut Marc off again.
“Steven!” Marc exclaimed. “Stop interrupting me.”
“You want to call our daughter Taweret!?” Exclaimed the female before letting out a laugh. “I love Taweret, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to name our daughter after an Egyptian goddess. She’d get bullied at the playground. And besides, if I’m not mistaken, in Scotland they use that word for the potatoes. I think.”
“Hey, I didn’t laugh when you said Leyla. Besides, she’s the one who helped us get back from the Duat.”
The woman stopped laughing when she heard that part. The fact that she had discovered that Marc had died when he had left her to protect her was something that every time the subject came up, she shuddered. She felt guilty in a way, responsible for not being able to stop him from leaving, from dying. She always felt her heart sinking.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have laughed. You’re right, it makes sense that you would want to call our daughter that.” As she spoke, he caressed her cheeks and then placed a kiss on her forehead, she closed her eyes and enjoyed the feel of his lips on her. “But now that I think about it… Tattie makes sense, the baby won’t be much bigger than a potato now.”
“Small potato!” Steven exclaimed bringing his face close to the level of her belly. “Oi! How’s it going in there, sweetheart?”
She giggled, as she listened intently to the nonsense, the caresses and kisses that landed on her belly Marc and Steven, as they took turns doing it.
“You’re going to be a show as parents.” She commented in a murmur, shaking my head.
When she tried to get out of bed her whole body was shaking and everything was spinning, as she clumsily moved towards the door awkwardly, she kept calling out for her husband, who showed no signs of life.
“Where could he have gone?” she thought, over and over again. “Marc… Steven? I-I need you-” she tried to hold back her sobs.
It couldn’t be possible that this was happening.
“Guys…” she couldn’t hold back her sobs as she looked down at her legs and saw that her pajama trousers were completely stained with blood. She looked down at the floor as well, and could see the trail of blood she had been leaving from the bed to the door of her room. “Tattie…” she moaned in pain, in tears, as she put both hands to her belly.
She couldn’t lose her. Not her baby.
Not now.
“I want to try something. Well, Steven wants to try something.” Marc moaned as he thrusted inside her, again and again, fast and hard. Just the way she liked it so much.
God, how they loved to feel and hear her. To praise her, to touch her, to kiss her, to pleasure her.
“Oh? What-what do you want to try? You know you can- Fuck! Ow- oh! He can try anything he wants. He-he ah! He knows.” She closed her eyes, as she felt her husband’s lips on her neck, slowly moving down to her breasts, now larger and rounder due to her state. “Ahh… Steven do whatever you want to me. I’m yours, completely.”
Steven continued to thrust inside her with the same intensity. “You don’t know how much I love to hear that, darling.” He said, giving her a look, watching as she closed her eyes at the pleasure coursing through her body.
Seeing her reaction to his touch.
Then he took one of her breasts into his mouth and began to suck on it, not forgetting, of course, to massage the other one and play with her sensitive nipple.
“Sweet.” He murmured after his first taste of that white liquid that first came out of her breast. “You have no idea how sweet you are.”
“Don’t even think about stopping.” She moaned, clinging her legs to his hips as she ran her hands through his hair.
And so he continued.
The house was completely dark, except for the small light coming from down the hallway and passing under the bathroom door at the end of the hall. She could hear water running, possibly from the shower. It sounded like someone was in there.
“Steven?” she encouraged herself to ask in the dark, in a faint voice, as she slowly made her way forward, leaning against the wall. “Something’s not right. The baby…” she tried to contain herself, once again. “Something’s not right.”
Her legs failed as she stumbled over something on the floor. She fell to her knees and hands, and that’s when she came across something she hadn’t expected to see.
A gun, large caliber.
What the fuck?
She looked up as she heard the water stop, and could see a shadow, underneath the door, moving towards to open it.
It was a Sunday afternoon, the weather was fine and the breeze was warm, that was the day he first said those words.
“I love you.” Steven broke the silence, looking down at her. She was holding his head in her lap and playing with his hair. They were lying on the grass in the park, the one not far from their house. It was her favourite, because of simple details like that. “I love you.” He repeated with a big smile on his face.
“I love you too.” It was the first time they’d both said it, even though they’d already spent two years getting to know each other and living together as a couple. Well, as a trio rather. “Very much.”
“Fucking finally, man. I’m glad you said it already.” Marc commented, taking control of his body. “But just so you know, I was here first, Steven.” Marc joked.
“I love you too, Mr. Spector.”
“I know. How not to.”
“You cheeky bastard.”
That man, who appeared to be Marc or Steven, leaned against the door frame, arms folded, as he stared at her silently. He had a towel tied around his waist, water dripping down the rest of his body, from his tousled, curly hair. He looked at her with curiosity
“I need help…”
“I can see that.” Said that familiar, yet unfamiliar voice. It was like Marc and Steven’s, but different. More indifferent. Cold. Distant.
She gave him a glance right after hearing his words, she could see him approaching her. “There is too much blood.” He commented as he looked at the huge stain on her pajamas and the trail she had left behind her. “It’s not all yours though, don’t worry.”
It was then, thanks to the bathroom light that now illuminated the entire hallway, that she could see a pile of clothes, which belonged to her boys, stained with blood next to her. “Who the fuck are you?” She asked him through her teeth.
“Oh, right. We’ve never met before.” Spoke the man she didn’t recognise, as he squatted down in front of her. “You don’t know how hard it’s been to hide and not give any indication of my existence. It’s exhausting.”
She let out a grunt at what had been the worst wave of pain she had ever felt. She could feel more blood welling up, too, and trickling down her thighs to the floor. Still, she never took her eyes off the stranger.
Everything began to spin more and more. She knew she would not be conscious much longer.
“Excuse my manners, bonita.” He let out a small laugh, then grabbed her chin and made her look him in the eye. “My name is Jake Lockley, and I am the new owner of this body.”
Her arms and knees failed her, she fell back to the ground. She struggled to stay awake, to stay alert. She could feel, still, familiar arms pick her up off the ground and carry her firmly. She could smell their scent, Marc and Steven’s. That comforted her.
She didn’t know where the man was taking her. Jake Lockley. She didn’t have time to worry either, because everything went black.
She no longer felt anything.
But deep down she hoped that everything was going to be all right.
This weekend, hopefully tonight, I’ll post the second part of I CAN ALMOST SEE YOU! There will be a bit of Smut, Fluff, and Angst. We will also have Soft!Marc and Soft!Steven! So if you’re interested and want me to tag you, just interact with this post and check the fist part, perhaps?✨
The character development of Steven where he negotiates with Khonshu like baby couldn’t even talk to a lady without getting nervous. Now he can tell an ancient God to hush up. Pop off Mr.Knight.
— STEVEN GRANT FINALLY HAD TO ADMIT TO HIMSELF THAT HE NEEDED HELP. Professional help that is, it took a while for him to understand that he was at his limit for a mental breakdown. He knew he needed to talk to someone other than the statue man on the street. Someone who would actually respond to when he ranted and well, he searched around for a therapist and found you.
Steven was quite nervous to start therapy, any person was really. To share your vulnerability was scary and Steven only ever been vulnerable with the lively statue by the fountain. His heart pounded in his chest as he shifted on his feet staring at the door with a frosted plane window with your last name on it. Steven was muttering underneath his breath trying to convince himself to go in.
“Don’t be mental, you need this Steven. You just need help.” Steven whispered to himself, staring at the plane, he saw the reflection shift a bit but he didn’t move. He brought the back of his clenched fist to his eyes and rubbed them furiously. “I definitely gone mental.”
With his series of muttering gradually becoming louder, suddenly, the door opened causing him to jump in his spot, taking a step back. Your head peeked out the door with furrowed brows and parted lips. Steven felt his breath caught in his throat staring at you with wide eyes. You were simply breathtaking. The way your [color] eyes stared at him in curiosity but with such softness that made him drown in those hues, losing himself all over again.
The way your hair fell over your face and your plump lips quirking into a soft smile. “Oh! You must be Steven Grant!” You beamed happily, opening the door more and stepping by the door frame. “I heard noises out here and I thought one of my neighbors was disturbing you.”
Summary:Marc Spector can’t bake, but for you he’ll try. You and Marc bake cookies together… among other things.
Angst, fluff, smut (the big three)
Pairing:Marc Spector x f!reader, hint of Jake Lockley and Steven Grant x f!reader
Warnings:Sad Marc, DID, Oral sex (f receiving), Not edited
A/N:I just think Marc needs some more love, and I’ve been baking to deal with stress. I’m still working on requests, so if you’re waiting for one, it is coming!
–
Marc Spector has no idea what he’s doing. There’s an egg about to roll off the counter, and he reaches out and catches it with the instincts of a superhero.
Because that’s what he is - a superhero not a baker. Except that for you he’ll be anyone, do anything. That includes telling Khonshu to fuck off for the night so he can bake chocolate chip cookies and try to have a nice date with you. You who have been talking about these stupid cookies all week but have had no time to make them.
He sighs and returns the egg to it’s container. This is useless. He wanted to do something nice for you, but all he’s accomplished is making three trips to the store.
“Just fuck. That always goes over well.”
“Jake, mate,” Steven sighs. “He’s trying to be romantic, considerate, show his love.”
Marc ignores their squabbling, turning back to the recipe on the back of the chocolate chip bag. Flour, salt, butter. No milk. Why the hell does he have milk out then? He picks up the carton and fixes it with a harsh stare like it’s the milk’s fault for messing this all up.
That is how you find Marc when you come home. You walk into the kitchen and sit on the table, legs dangling in the air while you watch Marc stare down a carton of milk.
“What did it do?” You ask when you realize he hasn’t noticed you.
He turns, and his eyes glow with moonlight for the briefest instant before he realizes it’s just you. His harsh, irritated expression turns into something else as he looks you up and down.
“You’re early,” he mutters.
“It’s five-thirty,” you reply with a laugh; it’s the same time you always get home.
He glances at the clock, “Shit!”
You’re still trying to figure out what emotion he’s wearing as he returns the milk to the fridge and runs his hands through his curly hair. Frustration. Maybe a hint of sadness. Disappointment, but with who? Knowing Marc, probably himself.
“Marc,” any hint of humor is gone. “Are you alright?”
“I’m-” his throat bobs as he swallows hard. “I’m fine.”
Your gaze catches the bag of chocolate chips behind him, something you know for a fact was not in your apartment prior to today. You know because you had searched for them desperately for days and craving chocolate chip cookies more than anything in the world for the last week. Marc follows your gaze, and when you meet his eyes the words come spilling from his mouth.
“I wanted to make you these stupid cookies. You talk about them every night, and you’re always doing so much for us, for me, and- and I wanted to do something for you.”
Marc’s lips are falling into that little frown that means he’s about to cry. This isn’t about chocolate chip cookies or Marc’s lack of cooking skills, you know that. Marc isn’t the type of man to be driven to tears by a failed baking experiment. He is the type of man who feels like he can never be enough, never be good enough for the people he loves.
Marc is glancing at the reflective surface of the microwave; you know he is trying to get Steven, or maybe Jake, to front right now.
“Marc,” you reach for his hand and pull him close to you.
Before you can utter another word, he buries his face in your neck. His arms circle your waist, holding tightly. He is shaking, crying. Only a few times have you seen him this vulnerable, and each time Marc had made Steven front to avoid this exact situation.
You wrap an arm over his shoulder and run your free hand through his soft curls.
“You do so much,” you murmur. “It means a lot that you thought of me.”
He holds you tighter but doesn’t respond. His body is warm against you as he cries, and you can only stroke his hair, sometimes brushing your fingers across his cheek or jaw. The soft press of his lips to your neck makes you shiver. It tickles. He does it again, then again, then leans back. A few tears are running down his face, and you reach out to brush them off. You hold his face between your hands, but he’s not looking at you.
“You are enough, Marc Spector. I love you, and you are enough.”
“I really tried,” he eventually whispers and looks up at you through his lashes.
You move a stray curl from his eyes and kiss his forehead, kiss his nose, kiss his lips. His cheek, his jaw, the lines around his eyes. You pepper kisses everywhere, the best way you know to show this man love, until he grabs your face and kisses you with a bruising intensity. Marc works his lips against yours, molding your bodies together until you’re both panting and he pulls back. His hands rest on your hips, your hands on his chest.
“You’re wonderful,” he smiles, and though his eyes are still red-rimmed, you can tell he’s back from that dark place of self-hatred. “I love you.”
The curl is back, the dark hair always falling across his forehead no matter what he does. Cookie ingredients are still spread out on the counter behind him, and though you would love to take this handsome man to bed right now and spend the rest of the evening tangled up with him, the temptation of the cookies is too strong.
“I can teach you how to make them,” you nod to the ingredients. “We can do it together.”
Marc slides you off the table and kisses you on top of the head.
“Okay. Teach me.”
You set Marc up measuring dry ingredients into a bowl while you pour sugar and crack eggs. You laugh when he bumps his hip into the counter, swears, spills the bag of flour everywhere.
“You think that’s funny,” he growls, eyes shining with amusement; he loves how you laugh.
“I though you’d be more graceful, Moon Knight,” you tease, grinning.
Mischief flashes across his face, and he grasps a fistful of spilled flour. You jump back, but he smears flour across your face, spilling it down the front of your shirt.
“Marc!” You protest, but it is half-hearted.
Any further arguments are cut off by his kiss. His dirty hands leave prints all over your body as he presses you into the counter, peppering your face with soft kisses until he finds your lips. If not for the beep of the oven you would have kissed Marc Spector all night. He leans back at the sound, and you duck under his arm to get back to baking.
Marc slides up behind you, holding you around the waist with his chin on your shoulder so he can watch you work. He kisses your cheek each time you move, and when it’s time he adds ingredients to your bowl as you stir, his arms still trapping you against the counter.
“Chocolate chips,” you request.
Reluctantly, Marc moves away to find the package of chocolate and adds it to the dough. His dark hair is now smeared with flour, so is his face and his clothes. You’re probably no better off, but seeing the usually tough man covered in baking ingredients and wearing a goofy grin makes your heart flutter.
“Now what?” Marc asks.
There’s no cookie scoop in the apartment, so you hand him a small spoon. You show him how to scoop the dough and roll it into a ball. As you slide the cookies into the oven and set a timer, you notice Marc starting to take the bowl to the sink.
“Wait!” You call.
He turns back to you with that one eyebrow curved up.
“We’re supposed to eat that.”
“The raw cookie dough?” He questions.
You nod and pluck the bowl from his hands, scooping out a bit with your spoon, and popping it in your mouth with an innocent smile. He is fixated on your lips.
“Focus, Spector,” you tease; you’re fully aware of what thoughts you have evoked in your boyfriend as you offer him the spoon. “Cookie dough?”
“Not what I’m hungry for,” his voice has dropped to a low rumble as he smirks down at you.
If his earlier softness went right to your heart, this goes right to your pussy.
“There’s only seven minutes on the timer,” you warn.
“I can work with that,” he grabs the bowl from your hand and tosses it onto the counter. “Bed.”
Marc has you out of your pants and flat on your back in seconds. He pulls you closer to the edge of the bed so your legs dangle over the edge, and he kneels between them. His eyes are dark as he palms your thighs, his breath tickling your center as he looks to you for confirmation, consent.
You nod, and just like that Marc buries his face in your cunt. He’s licking and sucking, using his tongue with a skill that always shocks you. His broad nose brushes against your clit, and for a second you’re distracted by the question of how he breathes when he’s going down on you. It’s just for a second because a moment later his tongue is flicking at your clit, drawing delightful little circles that have you squirming.
Marc is absolutely smirking as you meet his eyes and a soft breathy sound escapes your throat unbidden. Warmth coils in your stomach as he devours you like he is a starving man. You’re so close. He leaves one hand at your thigh, keeping your legs apart, and uses the other to push two fingers into you with a slowness that is borderline torturous.
“Fuck,” you whimper and reach for his hair, getting a handful of those soft dark locks much to Marc’s delight.
He curls his fingers and presses deeply into you even as his mouth settles over that spot you love. You can feel that tension building and building, warmth pooling in your stomach.
There’s a roaring in your ears as you cum, throwing your head back, shutting your eyes, twitching around his fingers and moaning his name quietly, your whole body shaking as that warmth spreads out from your center. He fucks you right through it, only pulling back when the pulsing has stopped and you begin to squirm away from the over-stimulation.
The timer beeps just as he sits back. Timer? Shit. You’d forgotten about the cookies.
“I got ‘em,” Marc presses a kiss to your inner thigh and stands while you simply lay back and catch your breath.
Water runs. The oven door opens. The stove beeps. A few seconds later, Marc flops heavily into bed. You peek your eyes open to look at him. He has a cookie broken in half, offering part to you. You turn on your side to look at Marc, taking the cookie but really focused on the former mercenary whose eyes are wide with delight as he bites into the desert, chocolate smearing his lips as he chews.
You would stop the Earth from spinning to see that look on Marc’s face again.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” He finally notices your expression.
“You have chocolate,” you answer awkwardly to evade the question and gesture to his lips.
His smile is mischievous as he leans forward, kissing your cheek and leaving a chocolate stain on your skin.
“Marc!”
“Why are you looking at me like that?” He repeats the question.
“You look happy,” you whisper.
He pushes you onto your back and tucks his head into your shoulder, smiling against you.
Summary:The Avengers, your team of superheroes, has been called in to handle an invasion in New York, and you’re bringing your superhero boyfriend, Moon Knight, with you.
Pairings:Marc Spector x reader, Steven Grant x reader, Jake Lockley x reader
Warnings and A/N: I did my best to accurately represent DID, I put very little effort into creating a plot and a lot of effort into writing dialogue
–
It was only you, Marc, and the agent - whose name you had never learned and didn’t care to learn - on the quinjet. You held Marc’s hand the entire time. There was no denying the anxious fluttering in your stomach as your two lives continued converging. Each second brought Marc closer to the Avengers, and you’d be lying if you said that didn’t scare the shit out of you.
You read through the briefing notes, getting occasional comments from the agent now piloting the quinjet. Rogue artificial intelligence, not Ultron level, but dangerous nonetheless. SWORD suspected some alien involvement, but that wasn’t the concern right now. The immediate issue was an army of robots hidden underground waiting to be activated.
At some point you started to fall asleep against Marc’s shoulder. He gingerly shifted you into a laying position resting your head on his thigh in a familiar comfortable position. His hand settles in your hair and strokes the curves of your face, soothing you into sleep. You hardly sleep for an hour before Marc shakes you awake.
“Something’s happening.”
“We need to drop you in,” the agent called back. “The activation happened earlier than our intelligence suggested. Most of the team is already on the ground. Everyone else is on their way. Don’t forget your comm links.”
You sit up and rifle through your bag, pulling out a familiar costume and stripping off your clothes. Marc blinks at you a few times like he’s surprised at your lack of modesty. He knows you well enough that he really shouldn’t be.
“We can’t all summon our suits,” you tease and toss him an ear piece, even as his eyes begin to glow with white moonlight.
“Tell her she looks amazing!” Steven gushes.
“Keep it in your pants,” Jake snaps back.
You reach for a parachute, but Marc’s white gloved hand stops you.
“I can fly you in,” he offers through the mask.
“You told me no flying last month!” You protest.
“I didn’t know you were an Avenger last month.”
“Bad call, mate.”
“Oh, so you thought I was fragile before?” You tease, not really mad at the man.
His mask peels away so he can tilt his head and shoot you an amused glare.
“You’re in range!” The agent calls back.
You turn and plant a kiss on Marc’s lips, then punch a button. The door opens slowly with a cold rush of air. You wrap your arms around his strong body, take a deep breath, and together you jump from the plane into free fall. His cape catches like a parachute part way down, guiding you through the clouds lower and lower until the skyline is in view.
Smoke rises from burning buildings, the wreckage of a city that has again become a battle ground.
“Shit,” Marc whispers. “We’re gonna have to stop having technology free dates.”
“Yeah,” you reply, only half paying attention, too busy scanning the ground for your fellow Avengers. It’s pure chaos on the ground, a complete and utter disaster, but then, through the smoke… “There!”
You point Marc in the direction of a bright flash of blue and white, and he angles you toward the ground. The comm link in your ear begins to crackle and finally beeps a connection. You were right.
“-end up here? We’re supposed to be on vacation!” The voice of Bucky Barnes fills your ear at the same moment the bright red, white, and blue wings of Sam Wilson reappear. “Sam, what the fuck is in the sky?”
That would be Marc.
“Good morning, Captain America,” you smile down at the small figures of your friends on the ground.
“Oh thank god,” Sam replies. “Buck and I are a-” he grunts, “A bit outnumbered. We have to hold this street, or it will interfere with the wizards’ spell.”
You’re streaking toward the fight below, finally able to see the action for real. They are more than a bit outnumbered, the two men surrounded by humanoid robots armed to the teeth with every bit of weapons technology available. You drop to the ground at Bucky’s side, Marc landing next to you.
“You’re late,” Bucky calls. “Who’s the mummy?”
Marc shoots him a glare.
“Marc, don’t glare at Bucky Barnes! That’s-”
“I know who Bucky Barnes is Steven,” he answers silently.
Yeah, he knew Bucky Barnes. Well, Steven knew. At some point in their childhood, Steven realized he shared part of a name with Steven Grant Rogers and harbored a small fascination with the former Captain America ever since.
“That’s Moon Knight!” Sam’s wing decapitates a robot as he turns to look Marc up and down. “Read your briefing packets, Buck.”
Bucky rolls his eyes and returns to the fight. You draw two long knives, gifts from King T’Challa, and make short work of any robot that approaches. Marc hurls crescent darts, each finding their target. But he doesn’t let Steven front. Not yet at least.
Occasionally, he glances back at you, checking to make sure you’re alright. You are doing the same to him. You have never fought at his side before, but already you know that you would do it again and again.
“The sorcerers - not wizards, Sam- are working some spell in that building,” Bucky gestures vaguely behind him. “They can shut the whole AI down, but we have to keep these things out.”
“Androids!” Sam shouts as he jumps over one and buries his shield in it’s neck. “Androids controlled by aliens who can be stopped by wizards. The big three!”
“The big three?” Marc turns to Captain America.
“Don’t ask!” You and Bucky shout at the same time.
The four of you stand no chance of holding this street. Of course this couldn’t be a time-efficient spell, and the robots just keep coming, an endless supply of mindless soldiers puppeteered by some unknown force. A piece of shrapnel slashes your face, distracting you from the fight for a split second. It’s enough for a blow to land at your midsection, knocking the breath from you.
You pull the gun from your waist, SWORD issue with some advanced technology you don’t care to understand, and shoot. It’s not your preferred weapon, but it is necessary. Marc is by your side in an instant. He grabs you around the waist and wraps you in the white fabric of his cape.
It’s just the two of you in this little cocoon. The rest of the world is forgotten as his mask falls away for a moment. The expression on his face is pure horror, lips pressed in a tight line, eyes murderous. His gaze is focused on the blood dripping down your cheek.
“I’m fine,” you insist and run your fingers across his nose and brow that is furrowed deeply, trying to soothe away those worry lines.
“I need Jake,” he breathes, a confession he rarely makes. “We need Jake.”
Jake will do anything to protect Marc and Steven and anything to protect you. It’s probably why you had never actually seen Jake suited up for a fight. He is the ‘whatever it takes’ part of the system, and all three of them are still afraid to show you that side.
“Okay,” you grip his upper arms. “It’s okay.”
His eyes flicker for a second, then his suit shifts, darkens to a midnight black that is more like tactical armor than Marc’s mummy wrappings. A bright white crescent moon shines on his chest; it matches the bright white of his cape. He tilts his head with a little smirk, and just like that Jake Lockley has joined the fray.
“Cap? Cap?” Someone is shouting through coms. “We’re coming to you. Do you copy?”
The voice is crackly, so you can’t make out exactly who it is.
You turn back to the fight, watching with bit of admiration and a lot of attraction as Jake expertly dispatches android after android.
“Did he change outfits mid fight?” Bucky punches a robot beside you.
“Sort of.”
You kick a robot across the head, stabbing one of your vibranium knives into it’s chest and immediately lashing out toward another. You glance up, and the world seems to slow around you. The battle is forgotten as you can only stare at Jake. He is fighting desperately, holding his own except…
Except behind him. A metallic arm is raising a heavy blade for a killing blow, metal arching toward his neck. You’re trying to scream his name. You are screaming his name, but it’s too late. You stab the android in front of you, but you will never make it. Jake’s suit will protect him from a lot, heal just about anything, but not decapitation.
Red flashes across your view, a bright flash hurtling through the air. A stick strikes the robot through the forehead, and the metal being collapses in a dead heap. Jake whips his head around as he realizes what almost happened. A figure in dark red drops from a nearby fire escape, grabs the stick from the robots sparking brain, and nods to you. He jumps into the fight at Jake’s side, the two men working together with an impressive synchrony for two strangers.
“How did you see that?” Jake shouts.
“I heard it,” Matt Murdock replies as he dispatches another android.
A few more minutes and the fighting finally stops. Another wave of robots is undoubtedly assembling nearby, but for now the team has a moment to breathe.
Jake’s mask falls away as he studies Daredevil. His eyes linger on the upper half of Matt’s face, noticing how his eyes are completely obscured by the dark red of his mask. You sprint to Jake’s side, wanting to reach for his hand, hold him, kiss him, feel that he is alive, but you restrain yourself. Your relationship is a secret, and for now you want to keep it that way.
“So this is the boyfriend?” Matt asks.
Your relationship is not a secret.
“How-” you start to question how Matt could possibly know that you had a boyfriend, let alone that this was him.
“You started smelling different a few months ago,” he explains. “It’s him. His scent is all over you.”
“Is there a better way to say that then ‘his scent is all over you’? Tone down the creepy… vibes? Vibes? Is that the word?”
“Give up on the modern slang, Buck,” Sam makes a face and pats his partners’ shoulder mockingly.
You plant a kiss to Jake’s cheek, and he brushes his hand across your fingers to tell you that he is okay. You watch him and Daredevil with interest, hoping Jake might find a friend in the hero who protected his city with the same ferocity and passion as Jake protected Steven, Marc, and you.
“What’s up with the little horns, el diablo?” Jake asks. “What are you the hero of? Hell?”
“Hell’s Kitchen, and it’s Daredevil actually.”
Jake shoots you a glance then shifts his gaze back to Matt. A smile fills his features, a genuine one, and a second later the same expression appears on Matt’s face. You let out a heavy sigh of relief as they slip into easy conversation and you turn back to Sam and Bucky.
“You and Moon Knight, huh?” Sam frowns. “Guess Spidey was right.”
As if summoned by his name, the mysterious masked hero drops from the sky.
“Hey you guys! There’s another group heading our way.”
He starts to turn to Cap, notices Jake and does a double take to stare at the white costumed man, everyone else forgotten. Jake looks at him completely unimpressed.
“Oh my god, you’re Moon Knight!” Spider-Man’s voice has a youthfulness that always surprises you. “I love you! I wanted a cape because of you, but I gave up the idea pretty quick. I mean not in New York right? Handsy people. It would never have lasted. Wow! Mr. Knight, you are so cool.”
“Mr. Knight,” Steven tries out the name “I like that.”
“I hate it,” Marc replies.
“Well that seems like your problem don’t it? I’m keeping it. You can be Moon Knight. I’ll be Mr. Knight.”
“Marc, right?” Spidey asks, and you can practically see the mischief forming in the boys’ mind at his well-meaning mistake.
“I’m Jake.”
“Sorry! Jake-”
Jake’s expression changes, the suit shifting with him.
“Oops, Steven now,” Steven grins.
“O-Okay, Steven,” Spider-Man tries to keep up.
The suit changes as Marc fronts.
“Marc again,” he teases, messing with the young hero.
“Oh,” that catches Spidey off guard. “Nice to meet you, Marc.”
“Actually, Jake now.”
“Leave him alone, you three,” you glower at Jake but have to fight back a laugh.
You thanked any god you could think of that Spider-Man had been there with his goofy remarks and joking attitude to make it easier for Marc, Steven, and Jake to show off this particular skill set.
“Sorry, love.”
That’s Steven.
He adjusts his white suit jacket and grins at Spider-Man, ““You know, the cape is actually really overrated, kid.”
“I’m Spider-Man,” he lowers his voice and puts extra emphasis on the ‘man.’
“More like Spider-Kid,” Jake mutters.
Steven ignores his alter and nods conspiratorially to Spider-Man. He gives him a thumbs up like they just shared a secret.
“Figure out how to really punch criminals yet?” Daredevil snarks, tossing an arm across Spider-Man’s shoulders affectionately.
“I’m not beating the shit out of people,” he protests.
“It’s more efficient.”
“Whatever you say ‘really good lawyer.’”
You observe their interaction with some interest. Had Matt defended whoever was in the Spider-Man suit? No time for that now though, you realize as a mechanical whirring fills the air. You take a defensive stance at Steven’s side, Bucky to your right. Cap and Spidey leap into the air. Matt stands beside Steven.
Sam looks down at his makeshift team then out at the approaching mechanical army. They’re not much, but they’ll do.
“Avengers…”
–
A/N:I left this open for a part 3. Not sure if I’ll write it, but I do think a 3rd part to wrap it all up and let the system meet some other Avengers would be fun! Let me know if you want added to my general Moon Knight tag list!
The Co-Worker Rule (Steven Grant, Marc Spector, and Jake Lockley x Reader)
Summary:With the Avengers’ ranks depleted in the aftermath of the blip, your team needs heroes. Your mission is to recruit the Moon Knight. What you didn’t expect was to fall for him.
Fluff, Adventure
Pairings: Mainly Steven Grant x reader, Marc Spector x reader, Jake Lockley x reader
Warnings: I did my best to accurately represent DID but please tell me if there are errors, canon typical violence, some blood, broken bones, super-powered reader, not really edited yet, I cannot write a fic where I don’t talk about Oscar’s nose and hair
A/N:Based on this request: I absolutely LOVED secret identities!!! Do you think you can do another avengers!xreader and marc/Steven/jake story!! Mange the reader is sent to recruit moonknight and then end up falling for each other?
This is not the Secret Identities sequel (my other Avengers!reader fic). The sequel is coming soon!
—
Marc Spector. Steven Grant. Jake Lockley. Three men, two superheroes, one body, and exactly who the Avengers needed. Well, to be fair the Avengers needed anyone with superpowers.
That’s how you found yourself in London watching Steven Grant sit on a park bench, eat a sandwich, and stare into the sunset. The crowds were gone by the time dusk fell, and it was just you and Steven. You wouldn’t risk civilian casualties if he turned out to be a lose cannon, so you’d waited.
You approached carefully and sat on the bench beside Steven who stared silently into the distance. He’s really very handsome with his curly hair and dark eyes, and the silhouette of his nose and jaw in the setting sun has you swallowing hard. Without so much as a glance, he holds out a foil wrapped panini from the stand he stopped at earlier, offering it to you like you were an old friend.
“Probably cold now,” he finally says in a thick British accent. “Saw you following me when I left work. Thought you might be hungry too. S’not poisoned or nothing’.”
“What do you mean it’s not poisoned?” Jake hisses. “I told you to drug them.”
“Jake, we don’t have access to anything to drug someone,” Marc is confused. “Do we?”
You can’t help but smile a little bit at Steven Grant and take the food he’s offering. You are hungry, and though the hours old food would sit badly in a normal human’s stomach, you’re unconcerned. And if it’s poisoned, well, poison didn’t really work on you.
“So what do you want then?” Steven finally looks at you.
You have a mouthful of food, and all you can do is freeze as the full weight of Steven Grant’s gaze settles on you.
“Ever heard of the Avengers?” you opt to cut right to the chase.
“What? Are we stupid?” Marc hisses.
“Hasn’t everyone?” Steven filters Marc’s snide remark.
“I’m an Avenger.”
“Bullshit. Give me the body!”
“We know about,” you debate the best way to sound non-threatening and end up gesturing vaguely to his whole body. “you and are interested-”
The man hears nothing else that you say, just Jake’s voice.
“Steven, give me the body,” his alter says with deadly calm.
Steven doesn’t, just keeps staring at you. Sadness fills his deep brown eyes.
“Don’t try to take me in,” he mutters. “It won’t end well for you.”
“No, no,” you put a hand on his knee. “I’m not here to arrest you or anything like that.”
Steven glances down at your hand, and you draw it back quickly, apologetically.
“We want to recruit you for the initiative,” you explain, rubbing your hands together as you talk. “After Cairo, Moon Knight is a bit of a hero amongst us Avengers.”
Steven looks at you with slightly parted lips. The sun catches in his dark curls, and as you’re staring at him thinking that he is one of the most beautiful human beings you’ve ever seen he’s staring back thinking the same thing.
“Keep it together, buddy,” Marc says. “I don’t disagree with you, but-”
“This is dangerous. Someone knows about us! Mierda! Do the Avengers know about all of us?”
You look him up and down. God, you want to touch those curls. Stop. Focus. You have got to focus. You cross your arms, leaning forward onto your knees and pulling your gaze away from Steven to look into the distance.
“After the blip, the battle, we lost so much. The team scattered, but our enemies didn’t. I’m not asking you to live in a tower or at the new compound. We just need heroes willing to defend those who can’t defend themselves,” you let the sadness tinge your voice, sadness for your lost team. “Heroes who will answer the call when it’s time.”
“I’m not a hero.”
The accent is gone. You glance over at Marc Spector, his brows furrowed deeply as he studies you. He thinks he believes you, even though Jake is still suspicious. It’s the tragic honesty of your plea that makes him comfortable enough to front. And it’s the perfect opportunity to see just how much you know.
“Nice to meet you, Marc.”
“Looks like the answer is everything,” Jake hisses.“Everything!”
Reluctantly, Marc allows Jake to front. You can tell instantly by how his mouth sets in a tight line that you’re looking at the third alter. Jake clearly sees you as a threat. All you know from the file is that he is “the most violent of the three,” which is an assessment you think is unfair. It seemed to you that Jake only fronted when the system was in real danger, only took lives when absolutely necessary, did anything to protect Marc and Steven. You admired him for it, respected him.
But if he saw you as a threat, then you were in trouble. Shit.
You jump to your feet, taking a defensive stance as Jake stands too, looking at you with a slightly tilted head and menacing eyes.
“You want us to be an Avenger?” He growls. “What if I don’t believe you?”
He steps closer, closer.
“Jake, I think she’s telling the truth,” Steven interrupts.
“I’ll be the judge of that,” he says aloud then lunges for you.
You side step him, raising your hands and blocking his punch easily. He spins and kicks. You slide back to avoid it, totally on the defensive, not having any desire to really fight Jake. That is, until he finds your ribs with a hard kick. Something cracks. Instinct takes over then. You kick him right in the chest, sending Jake staggering backward.
“Not bad,” he grins like this is some sort of game.
You glance around, making sure the park is still empty. You don’t want the cops called on an Avenger fighting a vigilante. There’s no one. You leap at Jake, tossing punch after punch that he blocks easily. Just as you intended. He’s distracted and doesn’t notice you step in to sweep out his leg, knocking him flat on his butt.
He kicks your ankle hard, and you fall forward to your knees. By the time you realize what’s happening, he’s back on his feet in a low crouch. You use your momentum to roll forward, back on your feet in an instant only inches from Jake. He strikes forward; you catch his arm, locking out his wrist and elbow and spinning him around. You raise a knee to strike his face, and he grabs your thigh.
Add some degree of super strength to Moon Knight’s list of powers. He hooks an arm under your leg and flips you onto your back, shaking your grip free as the air whooshes from your lungs. Pain shoots through your side. Jake’s body collapses heavily on yours, pinning you beneath him. He straddles your waist, leaning forward over you.
You bring an elbow across his face and blood sprays from his nose.
“Alright, I’m definitely buying the Avengers thing,” Marc says.
Jake wasn’t quite convinced. He draws back a hand and you jerk your head to the side to avoid the punch. He hits the ground instead. You use his shifted weight to get your legs around his waist, and flip him to the side so you’re on top with him pinned beneath you.
“That was hot.”
“Steven, you are just one giant intrusive thought right now,” Jake replies silently as he stares up you.
For a moment, you think you’ve reached a truce and relax your body ever so slightly. That’s exactly what Jake wanted. He reaches for your neck. You bat his hand away. He tries again. You block again, and he grabs your wrist instead, yanking you closer so he can wrap his strong arms around your back and flip you back over.
“That was hot,” it’s Marc’s turn to admire you.
A flash of gold then a cold blade is pressed to your neck, pricking the skin.
“Easy, Jake,” Steven warns.
Blood from Jake’s face drips across yours as he glowers down at you.
Power flares in your hands, but you will it back to sleep. He’s not really going to hurt you. He was pulling his punches. This is a test, some sort of strange initiation to see if you’re trustworthy enough for Jake Lockley. You meet his gaze with a measured look of complete calm. He tilts his head.
“Hmm, te creo,” he sheathes the crescent shaped blade. “I believe you.”
He sits back and offers you a hand, pulling you to your feet. You feel the tiny mark on your neck that’s bleeding a surprising amount. Jake touches his nose tenderly. It’s definitely broken. And so are your ribs you realize as you struggle to take a deep breath.
“Here,” you reach for him first, letting your powers flow through you as you trace his busted nose with a feather light touch.
When his nose snaps back into place, he doesn’t so much as flinch. But he is staring at you with raised eyebrows. You run a hand over your neck, healing the tiny cut, then press your palm to your side. It hurts like it always does as your bones click back together.
“Fuck,” you hiss under your breath, trying and failing to bite back a pained moan.
“Now that was hot,” Jake says silently
“Imagine hearing that sound because of us,” Marc adds, the image of you squirming underneath them flashing through their minds courtesy of Marc.
“We arehearing that sound because of us,” Steven snaps. “Someone - Jake - broke their ribs!”
“Lay off Steven. I was assessing a threat.”
“Whatever you say, mate. Threat assessed.”
“So the Avengers?” Marc asks, wiping blood from his face with the back of his hand.
“I take it I passed,” You remark wryly, not even blinking at the appearance of Marc.
It was the weirdest recruiting mission you had ever been on, but if beating the shit out of each other for a few minutes convinced Jake, Steven, and Marc that you were genuine, then that’s what you’d do.
Marc stepped close to you and raised his hand to your face, touching the spattering of blood there. His face changes, softens. Steven’s palm flattens over your cheek, and without realizing it you lean into the warmth.
“My flat’s a few blocks away,” he offers. “You can clean up there, talk to all of us about the Avengers.”
His eyes are wide as his gaze roves your face, a little smile quirking his lips up. You’re equally as enraptured by him, by all of them really.
“Oh, he’s got it bad,” Jake remarks.
In the end, Steven walks you back to his flat, listening to you talk about the new Avengers Initiative all the while. Marc and Jake jump into the conversation here and there, and in the fifteen minutes it takes to reach Steven’s door, your mission is complete. Moon Knight is an Avenger.
You could go. Right then, you could turn around, wish Steven - and Marc and Jake - the best, tell them you’ll see them later, and go back to the compound. You should go, but there is something magnetic about the three men that makes you follow Steven Grant into his flat.
He sits you on the edge of his bed and cleans the blood from your face with a damp cloth, kneeling between your legs the whole time in a way that makes you feel… things. Damn it. When you were recruited to the team, you made a personal rule that a romance, however brief, would never be an option with a fellow Avenger. Steven is by all rights an Avenger now. The co-workers rule had always kept you out of trouble before. So yes you could admire how handsome this man was, but no, there could be no romance, no sex, nothing.
When your face and neck are clean, Steven absentmindedly puts a hand on your thigh, high on your thigh, and sits back on his knees. There is fire where he’s touching you. Damn it, you curse to yourself. Remember the rule.
Trying to distract yourself, you take the cloth from him and dab at his face that is still bloody from the broken nose. It forces you to lean closer as you hold his head still with one hand and wipe blood away with the other. His face is soft with just a hint of afternoon stubble on his cheek and jaw. This was not a good choice for a distraction.
He’s looking up at you with those big dark eyes, and when he makes eye contact, he hold you still with just his gaze.
“Come on, Steven!” Marc cheers him on.
Steven doesn’t think. He takes your face between his hands and kisses you like a dying man taking his last breath. He leans you back, pressing you flat to the bed and moving to hover over you, kissing you all the while.
“I-is this alright?” Steven asks, pulling back so your noses are barely brushing.
No. It’s breaking the rule. That’s what you should say. But your hands are pressed to the smooth muscles of his chest, moving almost of their own accord to feel him through his shirt.
“Yes,” you decide right then to take a leap of faith.
The smile that lights up Steven’s face is contagious. You would break every rule in the world just to see him smile. You’re grinning back at him as he shifts his body atop yours. Fighting Jake had been - dare you say it - fun, but this was better. Steven is warm and gentle in all the right ways, and you think that if you ever get the chance you’d find that Marc and Jake would be rough in all the right ways. But for now, this is enough. More than enough.
Steven’s hands roam your face like he’s trying to memorize every bit of it. You’re raising goosebumps along his side as you slip your hands under the soft fabric of his shirt.
And just as you are about to tear this beautiful man’s clothes off, your phone vibrates loudly in your pocket. The moment is broken. You fumble for the device, brushing the back of your hand awkwardly across Steven’s… oh shit. He huffs softly.
“Sorry,” you mutter, feeling how hard he is with that quick touch.
He moves his eyes up, averting his gaze from you with a slightly embarrassed half-grin, half-grimace.
“Hello,” you answer, calming your breathing.
You’re still laying under Steven who is braced on his elbows with hands hovering awkwardly around your head.
“Any updates?”
Why did it have to be Sam Wilson calling you right now? It felt like your older brother had just walked in on you having sex. It wasn’t sex… yet, and Sam wasn’t your older brother… biologically, but that might has well have been the situation.
“Yeah, it uh… went well. He’s on board.”
You glance at Steven who is watching you curiously, actively running a hand through your hair now.
“Good. So we’ll see you back here early morning then?” Sam asks.
“I um… I missed my flight,” that is technically true.
“Missed flight?” You hear Bucky shout and pull the phone from your ear as his voice gets louder. “They’re fucking. I knew it! I saw those pictures of him, and I knew this was the end of your stupid co-worker rule!”
“We’re not-” you start, then stop; lying to Bucky and Sam has never been your best skill. “We-”
Marc grabs the phone from your hand; you don’t know when the change occurred. He could definitely hear Bucky’s yelling.
“We’re trying to,” he speaks into the phone.
You can hear Bucky’s happy shouting on the other line, Sam trying to calm him down. Then Marc hangs up and tosses your phone aside.
“Now where were we?” Marc’s voice shifts to Steven’s British accent mid-sentence.
You bury your fingers in his soft curly hair, dragging Steven’s face down to yours and pressing your lips to his soft ones. You’d followed your co-worker rule for years, but not anymore. Steven moans quietly, a deep throaty sound that shoots heat through your body.
It was like Stark had always said, rules are made to be broken.
–
Tag List: @love-on-the-murder-scene@bookfrog242 (Let me know if you want added to my Moon Knight list or if I missed you. I’m really bad at maintaining these.)
Pairing: Steven Grant x female reader (hints of Marc Spector x female reader)
Summary: Something strange is going on with Steven. Or alternatively: how you fix your relationship by giving Steven the sloppiest office blowjob ever.
Rating: really fucking explicit
Warning/content: unease around male character, inappropriate office behaviour, blowjob, semi-public sex. Please do not attempt to re-enact this, it will land you with HR.
Word Count: 9.3k (guys this was meant to be a short interlude… idek)
You’re naked in your boyfriend’s bed—the very same bed where he took you apart some hours ago, desperate, worshipful mouth pressed tight between your thighs. But now he’s staring down at you, that very same mouth set in an almost-disdainful line, eyes flat and blank.
It’s like looking in a funhouse mirror and seeing a distorted reflection of reality. So many of the peripheral things are the same but the essence is different somehow. Off in a way that has your heart pounding loud in your ears.
The difference is jarring in the same way that the still-healing wounds on his torso are. Though in this low light, the bruising on his shoulder and the cuts across his chest don’t look nearly as bad as they did when you first saw them. Was it just the shock of their existence that made you think they were worse than they are?
He clears his throat and you realise with a start that you’ve been silently gawking at his chest for the last several minutes. When your eyes fly to his face, you find him poorly suppressing an amused smirk. He’s never looked at you like that before; you weren’t even aware his mouth was physically capable of curving into such a snide expression.
You don’t know what to say to him. To this stranger of a man who has replaced your sweet, awkward Steven. Don’t know what to do with yourself either. In fact, you’re pretty sure you’re staring at him like a deer in the headlights, covers still clutched to your chest.
His brows draw together, head tilting slightly to the side as he regards you, dark eyes sharp, almost predatory in a way that makes you feel exposed and vulnerable, like an insect pinned to a display board. Your breath stutters in your chest, and a wave of goosebumps raises the hairs along the back of your arms.
Something is wrong, and you want it to stop. And if it won’t stop, you need to leave.
But calmly. Years of experience with drunk blokes in pubs and with overly-handsy coworkers tells you to act normal. Make an excuse. Wouldn’t do to alarm him.
“Is… um… is your insomnia flaring up again? I should go. I… really need to be getting home anyway. Early morning at work, you know.” You’re babbling nervously, can’t seem to stop as you start to gather up your clothes. You hurry as much as you can without letting go of the duvet, unwilling to lose the only barrier of protection you have against him.
“I’ll… um… Just let me–” you stammer as you scoop your ruined tights into your handbag and grab your boots. You back prickles uneasily and you have to force yourself not to look over your shoulder and see if he’s still standing there watching you. “I’ll just get dressed and be on my way.”
You don’t look at him or wait for a response. Things in hand and bedding still wrapped firmly around yourself, you scuttle across the flat like a deranged hermit crab, relieved to find that the doorway you spotted is, indeed the loo. You retreat inside, closing the accordion door firmly shut behind you.
Encased in the darkness of the small room, you listen anxiously for any noise from the rest of the flat, but all you can hear is your heart beating loudly in your ears. You fumble blindly with your handbag, pawing through the keys and makeup and all the other odds and ends that seem to accumulate despite your best efforts, cursing yourself for not being more organised.
Finally, after an infinitely long moment of listening to your breathing come faster and faster as you search, your hand closes around your phone, and you yank it free. Your fingers are clumsy as you thumb it open, turning on the flashlight so you can find the pull cord for the bathroom light and tug it down until the room flickers with a jarring glaring brightness.
You squint down at your phone, and the familiar background screen of you and Steven looks back up at you. Something akin to guilt floods your chest when you pull up the Uber app to secure a ride home—ETA: 6 mins. It’s followed immediately by relief.
You need the loo, but you feel too exposed to actually sit down for a pee while starkers. It’s ridiculous really, this isn’t a Hitchcock movie, and logically you know that no one is going to attack you from behind the shower curtain. Still you opt for dressing yourself as quickly as you can.
Fully clothed and with your escape route secured, you feel a tiny bit better, but the tightness in your chest refuses to dissipate fully.
You use the loo and wash your hands. Catching sight of yourself in the tiny mirror above the sink, you run a quick hand over your hair before giving it up as a bad job, less worried about your looks than… than… What is it that you’re worried about anyway?
Standing there staring at your reflection, peaky and fretful under the harsh light, you wrap your arms around yourself and wonder what the bloody hell is going on with you. You’re being ridiculous.
It’s just Steven, right? Your sweet, caring Steven. Except it’snot.
He hasn’t really even done anything untoward, and yet here you are, your heart in your throat, ready to jump out of your skin at the slightest provocation.
He was just so oddly still. Loose and almost… relaxed in a way you’re not used to from Steven.
Maybe that’s it, you tell yourself, trying to pluck up the courage to open the door to the rest of the flat. People sometimes act differently after sex. (Case in point: whatever is going on with you right now.)
Maybe this is just what Steven is like once he finally lets himself relax?
The thought warms you, makes the tightness in your chest relax marginally. But the warmth fades as soon as you open the door to find him standing in the middle of the room, staring at you.
He’s dressed now as well in the well-fitted t-shirt and dark jacket, so different from his usual oversized clothes. You note absently that it’s a good look on him, but the thought never truly takes hold because you’re too focused on his eyes, just as piercing as before. Another shiver works its way up your spine. This isn’t just your imagination.
Something is wrong with Steven, and everything inside you is screaming that you need to get out of here.
Now.
“I’ll just… um… wait downstairs, shall I?”
He says nothing, and you’re glad, even though that’s wrong too. Steven always offers to walk you, but this time you’re just as happy to be away from him that much sooner.
You’re uncomfortably aware of the weight of his eyes on you as you make your way to the door and start to unfasten the frankly ridiculous number of locks and deadbolts. Even for London this is a bit of an overkill, isn’t it?
Once you finally get the door open, you flash Steven one last wave and a quick, “see you around.” You duck out the door before he can reply, shutting it gently behind you. Resisting the urge to let your head thunk forward against the wood, you turn and head for the lift, still feeling odd about the whole interaction and vaguely on edge.
What was that? Why do you feel more like a witness fleeing a crime scene than a woman bidding a fond goodnight to her boyfriend?
It doesn’t help your nerves that the hallway is dark and empty and one of the lights keeps flickering, lending the whole space an eerie feel. You almost wish you’d asked Steven to walk you down, but you want your Steven, awkward and openly affectionate, not the odd, mostly-silent man you’ve just left behind in his flat.
You reach the lift and punch the call button, prompting a deep hum as the machinery starts to move. You’re staring at the bright red LED light indicating which floor it’s on, willing it to arrive when something grabs hold of your wrist. Hard and unyielding. The persistent grip makes you flinch, jerking your hand back and spinning around to confront… Steven.
He’s right there behind you, looming over you, looking impossibly large and menacing, and your heart hammers in your chest. You take an involuntary step backwards and clutch your bag to your chest. Your back bumps up against something cold, and you nearly shriek before realising you’ve backed into the door of the lift.
God, what is wrong with you tonight!?
It’s just Steven, you tell yourself, willing your rabbiting heart to slow down. (But it’s not. Something inside you is still screaming that this is not your Steven. His eyes are wrong, his stance is wrong, his fucking hairiswrong.)
And you don’t know what you expect (theworst. Oh god, since when have you expected the worst from Steven?) but it isn’t for him to take a step back and hold his hands up in the universal gesture of harmlessness.
Harmless… right. What a laugh. Right now he looks anything but. Except…
He regards you steadily, eyes dark in his too-serious face. He’s still too still, too… much to be your Steven, but…
There’s something about the way he’s giving you space. The way the stillness is deliberate now, controlled. He’s not trying to make himself smaller—not the way Steven always does—but he’s holding himself back. The power obvious in every line of his body is being restrained in an effort to reassure you, and it’s enough to overcome the worst of your irrational fear.
There’s a tilt of his head, as he gives you a nod, one that seems to say, ‘that’s right. You’re okay.’ And as those dark eyes burn into yours, you can almost bring yourself to believe it.
He seems to notice too, something shifting subtly in his face. His lips curve up into a small smile, but even that is wrong… almost condescending. And he tips his head slightly to the right.
It’s then that you notice your cheap watch hanging from his hand, the stupid thing looking tiny and delicate in his thick fingers.
Oh. Oh God. You’ve made a right idiot of yourself, haven’t you? Embarrassed warmth floods your cheeks. He must think you’re a complete nutter, overreacting like that over the return of a wristwatch.
Your eyes shift from your watch back to his face, and there’s something—the slightest quirk of an eyebrow or maybe the way that one corner of his mouth ticks up higher—that turns the expression cruel, like he’s having a laugh at your expense.
The heat spreads and prickles up over the back of your neck, making your ears burn. You’re not even sure anymore if it’s nerves or embarrassment or something else entirely, but it rubs you the wrong way all the same, and annoyance comes to the forefront.
Narrowing your eyes, you send him a look that would ordinarily have Steven withering, but it only seems to amuse the man in front of you.
“Thanks,” you tell him flatly, not quite daring to pop off the way you want to. Instead you hesitantly step forward into his space to grab the watch from him. The band pops apart—of course it does—leaving you each holding half of the useless thing, and you have to scramble to grab the other half from his hand under his taunting gaze.
What is wrong with you? What is wrong with Steven!? God, you just want to be done with this and far, far away from here.
Like the answer to your prayers, a loud ding sounds out in the silence, heralding the arrival of the lift.
The doors open behind you, and you back in, unwilling to take your eyes off the man who continues to watch you with the same expression of condescending amusement. Once you’re far enough in, you punch the button for the ground floor, and give him a perfunctory wave as the doors close between you, breathing a sigh of relief once the lift begins to move.
Still, it’s not until you’re safely ensconced in the uber on the way back to your flat that you feel like you can finally take a full breath again. And as soon as you do, doubt floods into you along with it.
What in the bloody hell was that!?
Why did you react that way? Somehow, in the veritable sea of red flags lining the road of your relationship with Steven, nothing else has set you off like this.
The whole thing seems surreal, and the farther from Steven’s flat you get, the less sure you are of what happened. Was he really even behaving oddly? Or were you the odd one for overreacting—practically having kittens over your boyfriend… what? Not fawning over you the way he usually does or nattering on about one of his interests in the middle or the night?
Your logical mind is scrambling for some rational explanation: It’s not outrageous to think Steven might be out of sorts because he couldn’t sleep. Or perhaps you had an unremembered bad dream, and the anxiety bled over into wakefulness. Half two in the morning is not anyone’s best hour.
But the way he looked at you there at the end, like you werenothing to him…
No matter how you try to explain what happened or excuse it away, the sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach remains the same. As does the fact that, for a bit there, for whatever reason, you were afraid to be alone with Steven.
And that’s a giant fucking red flag if you’ve ever seen one. One you don’t know if you can get past.
You don’t get any sleep that night, and the entirety of the following workday is a fog. There’s spreadsheets and Team meetings and more spreadsheets, and thank God none of it requires your active brain capacity, because you have none to give today. Your thoughts are entirely preoccupied with last night, and trying to decide what to do about Steven.
The logical part of you votes for cutting your losses and ending things now before you get in too deep. Part of you thinks it’s already too late.
Your phone pings from your bag, and despite your uncertainty and everything that happened last night, your heart still skips excitedly at the thought that it might be Steven. Fishing it out, you unlock it, anticipating a text from Steven; expecting him to be checking in on you the way he always does.
Except, it’s notSteven.
Instead it’s an unsolicited picture of an unimpressive specimen of male genitalia taken under the most unflattering fluorescent bathroom light possible. Definitely not Steven.
Hello, unwanted dick pic #13.
God, this is what you would have to look forward to if you break it off with Steven, isn’t it? A return to the dystopian, post-apocalyptic landscape that is the London dating scene.
You don’t want to go back to unsolicited dick pics; questionable men, who are either lying about their marriage status or their profile picture; and blokes who leer at you like you’re a piece of meat hanging from a hook in the window display of a butcher’s store.
But most of all you don’t want to go back to dating strange random men, because you want to be dating Steven.
YoulikeSteven.
You like his puppy dog eyes, and his awkward adoration, and his enthusiasm. You like the silly texts that he sends you throughout the work day— random photos of cute dogs on the Tube or Egyptian artefacts with captions full of lame puns and emojis and the reason why he thought of you.
You like all of it.
You like Steven. You like Steven a lot. Before last night, you might even have said you were falling in lo– (No. No, you’re not going there. Not right now.)
But last night was… not good. Quite bad, in fact, wasn’t it? You can admit that now. In the space of that last quarter hour with Steven, he made you feel scared and… and… small. And you don’t know how to deal with that from someone you’re supposed to be able to trust.
Don’t know if you even want to try.
God, you’re a mess.
You shoot yet another glance at the wall clock, but it’s still not half five.
You’ve spent the last several hours counting down the minutes and seconds until you can clock out, but the more you check the time, the more it seems to drag on until you think the hands must be clinging to the face of the clock, slowing time itself just to taunt you.
It takes an eternity and a half but then, finally, the clock ticks over.
You gather up your belongings in a daze and bid your coworkers an absentminded goodbye before wandering off to the lift. You stare at your own reflection, distorted in the metallic sidewall as the lift descends, still fretting about Steven.
Do you want to break up with him? Keep seeing him? How the bloody hell are you supposed to know when you don’t even know what it will be like when you see him again?
When the doors open on the ground floor, you can hear that there’s some kind of commotion taking place at reception.
“Sir, I’m going to ask you one final time: Who are you here to see?” The no-nonsense voice booms through the entrance hall of your office building
Susan, the loveable old battle-axe of a receptionist, is giving some poor bloke a hard time again. Nothing unusual there. You can hear her barking out, “If you don’t give me a name right now, you’re going to have to leave. This isn’t a bus stop, alright?”
“Sorry, Sorry.”
Oh God. You recognise that voice.
“I’m not loitering or anything dodgy like that. I’m just waiting for my… girl–uh… lady… um… friend.“
Rounding the corner, you see him.
Puppydog Steven has returned. He’s wearing another novelty print button down and a hangdog expression. Back stooped and hunching into himself, he’s standing in front of the receptionist desk, holding a bouquet of roses the size of a carnival prize in front of himself like a shield.
“Steven?”
At your voice, he turns towards you, hunching further over into himself like he’s bracing himself for a blow. As you approach, you can tell he’s nervous and unhappy in a way you haven’t seen since your first date, and your first thought is that something awful must have happened, because of the contrast between last night and now beggars belief.
“This one yours then, love?” Susan asks, still eyeing Steven like he might be about to make off with the electronics.
“Yeah, he’s um… Yeah. Thanks, Susan,” you flash her a placating smile, then turn to Steven.
“Steven, what’s wrong? Why are you—,” but you don’t even get the chance to finish the question before he interrupts you.
“I’m sorry. Oh God,this is why I don’t— Sorry, sorry. I–” The words are disjointed, tripping over each other in his hurry to get them out, but clearly some sort of garbled apology. “Look, if I– If I did something last night that made you uncomfortable, I’m– Oh God, I’m so sorry.”
In your peripheral view you can see Susan, working studiously at the corner of the reception desk that offers the best position for her to listen in on your private conversation with Steven. You’re acutely aware of various other onlookers who seem to all have found reasons to loiter in the reception area as well. Unless you want to be the star of the workplace gossip blasted in the office kitchen tomorrow morning, you need to move the two of you somewhere less public, and quickly.
“Susan, can you block off one of the meeting rooms for me?”
She gives you a slightly dubious look, and for a moment you think she’ll refuse. Susan lives for any morsel of gossip to keep her entertained. But to your surprise, she does you a solid without any further prompting.
“Room 10, pet.”
“Thanks. I’ll owe you one.” You flash Susan a grateful smile and make a mental note to get her one of those fancy coffees she likes from the cafe around the corner for brekkie tomorrow.
“C’mon.” You grab the cuff of Steven’s shirt and tug gently.
Steven follows your lead, allowing you to pull him with you down the hallway of conference rooms. Rounding a corner, into a more secluded bit of hallway, you follow the corridor until you reach the last door in the row. The one to the conference room that affords the most privacy.
Swinging the door open, you all but shove Steven inside before closing the door behind the two of you. You flip the lock to ensure there are no unwanted interruptions before turning back to Steven.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he starts again as soon as you’re facing him.
“Steven,Steven. It’s alright,” you interrupt, attempting to reassure him, because God, he looks miserable—every inch the cowering puppydog, just waiting for the kick he knows is coming—and you can’t bear for him to look like that.
But he just shuts his eyes like looking at you is painful. He shakes his head, the set of his mouth all misery, and then your heart skips a beat when his eyes snap open and lock onto yours with an intensity that’s startlingly reminiscent of the night before.
“I just– Look, I— You’re the best bloody thing I’ve had in my life in a long time—maybe ever—and… and last night was amazing. Better—way better—than anything I could’ve ever imagined.”
He’s so open, so honest, gazing at you with large, pleading eyes. You feel yourself melting despite your earlier indecision on whether you should be done with him, especially when he continues.
“Last night was perfect,” he says with fervent conviction, but then falters and looks down, apparently shy. You feel your heart squeeze at how adoring he is. “At least, I thought so. You were perfect. And I got to fall asleep with you, which was perfect too. But then I woke up and you were gone. And I’m afraid I’ve bollocksed it all up somehow, the way I always do. Good ol’ Steven, can’t pull a bird to save his life, let alone hold onto one. And it never mattered so much before, but now it does because it’s you, and…”
And he’s still talking, but you’re stuck on one particular part of that word vomit.
He said… he said that he woke up and you were gone. But that’s not right. You know that’s not right. He woke up before you, so clearly you were still there! Does he… not remember?
You almost ask. Almost say so directly, but something holds you back. Some lingering fear prevents you from bringing up your last unnerving middle-of-the-night encounter. An absurd worry that you don’t dare mention that other, wrong Steven for fear of summoning him back.
Instead you interrupt Steven’s rambling to probe gently, “I was gone when you woke up?”
Steven nods.
“Yeah, this morning. Must’ve worn me out ‘cause I slept straight through.” He gives you a small shy smile that fades quickly when you don’t return it. “Was nearly late for work.”
You’re still reeling, your mind stuck on the bit where he doesn’t remember interacting with you in the middle of the night at all. (Maybe the idea of it being not your Steven isn’t so far-fetched after all?)But Steven doesn’t give you any time to consider; he barely even pauses for breath before barrelling on.
“I don’t blame you for leaving, of course, but I can’t help thinking that I must’ve–” he cuts himself off, gaze dropping to the floor like he can’t bear to look at you. “Look, you… you have to know by now. How dodgy my memory is sometimes. Missing dates or showing up on the wrong day and all that, yeah? Sometimes things happen that I don’t remember. I do things that I don’t remember. And I can’t bear–”
He breaks off, swallows hard, and finally looks up to meet your eyes. His gaze is serious and direct in a way that almost reminds you of last night, except that there’s no hint of that dreadful, supercilious amusement.
“I can’t help thinking that I must’ve done something, and I’m– I’m sorry if I– Sorry. I– Just please.” His eyes are huge, round and still so open and honest, and there’s something else there too as he continues, “Please tell me that I didn’t do anything to hurt or upset you.”
Fear. It’s fear you’re seeing in his eyes and written across his face. You recognize it now, and you think your heart might break over how scared he looks. Completely terrified over the idea that he might have hurt or upset you.
“Steven… ” You hesitate, brow furrowing as you trail off, not sure what to say or how to describe what happened last night.
“Oh. I– Oh.I did, didn’t I?” He looks vaguely sick at the idea and starts to back away, the hand holding the roses dropping to his side as he hunches into himself all over again, spewing apologies twice as fast as before. “Sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m– Oh God,what did I do? Whatever it was, I’m sorry. I wouldn’t ever– Or would I? Guess I did, didn’t I? God I’m– I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine why I would…”
This whole conversation has been a lot to take in, but Steven is clearly distraught, set to go on self-chastising indefinitely for something that seems to be out of his control. You hate to see him this way—it’s painful to watch his quick descent into misery and self-hatred.
“Steven—Steven!” You try to interrupt his spiral, but he doesn’t even pause. You don’t know what to say to break him out of it, so you stop him the best way you know how.
Surging forward, you grab onto the lapels of his jacket to hold him in place while you press your lips to his. It’s a little awkward—Steven is still talking, mouth open when you make contact, and you misjudged the angle slightly—but it does shut him up rather handily.
His eyes flutter closed and he melts against you with a moan so sweet that you want to tuck it away in a keepsake box and keep it all to yourself. When you pull back a moment later, his eyes are half-lidded and dazed, and he’s wearing an expression like he’s forgotten how to carry out the simple task of breathing.
“It’s alright, Steven,” you soothe him and it is. With him anyway. You’re not sure what’s going on exactly, but you know you lo– that you care about Steven a lot and don’t want to lose him to… whatever it is that happened last night.
He blinks, gaze focusing slightly as he’s coming back to earth. Then he really looks at you. And the dazed confusion is coloured with something akin to hopefulness in those wide eyes.
“So, I didn’t… do anything to hurt you?” Those round, pitch dark eyes are so sincere. So ridiculously vulnerable like he was never introduced to the concept of self-preservation. Steven is the living embodiment of wearing his heart on his sleeves to the point where you worry for him sometimes.
You shake your head no, a smile tugging at your lips at the sight of him, because when that sincerity is pointed in your direction you can’t help the swell of affection in your chest.
And it’s true.
Hedidn’t do anything to hurt you. You were unsettled at worst, and you’ve got the beginning of a suspicion that somehow it may not even have been Steven you were dealing with last night at all.
“So we’re… um…” he pauses and licks his lips, hesitating, and you try not to get distracted by the way his pink tongue slicks over the swell of his bottom lip, “We’re good then, yeah?”
You nod, smile spreading wider despite yourself. “Yeah. We’re good.”
“You’re… You’re sure?” he presses. He’s still gazing at you with those dark puppydog eyes, uncertainty painted across every line of his face. One stray curl has furled up against his forehead as he bites down onto his bottom lip, worrying the plump flesh.
You reach for him without thinking, wanting to reassure him, and you pull him in to plant another short, chaste kiss against his lips.
Eager for you as always, Steven meets your kiss. Soft, warm lips pressed to yours for a long moment, and then he’s licking into your mouth with a hungry enthusiasm that has your knees ready to go out from under you. His free hand comes up to wrap around your back, and you bury your own hands in his riotous curls as he kisses you hard enough to bend you back over his arm.
Steven’s kisses are always ravenous, but this time in particular, he kisses you like he’s seeking salvation from your lips; like you’re water when he’s dying of thirst, and he’s determined to consume all of you that he can get before you change your mind.
You have to plant your hands on his shoulders, barely managing to pull away from his lips long enough to catch oxygen into your lungs. He releases you with obvious reluctance, and your knees are weak enough that you take a moment to be sure they’ll hold you before you take a step back to look him over, drinking in the sight of him.
Collar askew, curls a frantic mess over his forehead, kiss-swollen lips, just a hint of uncertainty lingering in those big, dark eyes. Fuck, he’s so damned gorgeous.
And okay, yes, you want to reassure him, but you’re certainly not opposed to messing him up a little bit more in the process. Messy is such a good look on him after all.
You sneak a quick glance at the wall clock above—6pm, after office hours.
There may still be some unlucky souls still working upstairs in the office space, but no one is going to be using these ground floor meeting rooms at this hour. No one except you, that is, and you know exactly what you want to do with that privacy.
Grasping Steven’s collar, you tug at it to lead him further into the room.
He follows without resistance, but clumsily, nearly tripping on the carpeted floor. Too busy staring at you to watch his footing. He’s like a puppy learning to walk on a leash, and it’s adorable.
You lead him to the mahogany conference table, and take the bouquet from his unresisting hand, laying it down gently on the table top before pulling out one of the large rolling office chairs. A bit of manoeuvring, and you’ve got Steven standing in front of the chair with his back to the door, just in case.
He gasps when you drop to your knees in front of him, and makes an abortive movement like he meant to catch you by your shoulders but was too slow, leaving his hand hanging there uselessly in midair.
The rough carpet scratches at your skin through your tights, but you keep your attention on Steven as you make quick work of unbuckling his belt.
You can see the moment it dawns on him exactly what your intentions are. His eyes grow comically large, tongue darting out in a nervous fit to lick over the swell of his lower lip.
“Wait, wait. What are you–? There’s people outside. We can’t do this here, can we?” He sounds scandalised, and it makes you want to show him just how scandalous you can be.
“It’s fine,” you tell him, nuzzling at the crotch of his jeans and breathing in the scent of him, before the soft whisper of the metal zipper being lowered fills the room.
“We shou—oh fuck, that feels so…—Shouldn’t be doing this though, should we?”
For all his protesting, Steven is already half hard, the incriminating evidence pressing against the front of his underwear. His throat constricts as he swallows, a nervous reflex.
You still, fingers hooked into the edge of his jeans and underwear, and peer up at him.
“Steven. Do you want me to stop?”
“No.” The response is instantaneous, accompanied by a vigorous shaking of his head. “I-I– Don’t stop. Keep… um… keep going, please. If you want to.”
“Good.” You tug down the jeans and pants down over the ample curve of his ass to his thighs in one fluid motion, and his cock springs free from the constraints, rising to slap gently against his stomach.
“Then sit down.” You wrap both hands around his hips and give the gentlest of pushes, but he drops down so forcefully it’s like you’ve tackled him.
He’s so distracted—eyes wide and shell-shocked and glued on you—that he nearly misses the chair, not quite making it square in the seat. The chair wheels squeak noisily, as his momentum sends it rolling backwards away from you.
You blink in disbelief.
"Oh bugger. Sorry, sorry. Let me just…” Steven, clearly mortified, tries to course correct, planting his feet to kick forward, but he miscalculates the trajectory and sends the chair into a spin instead. “Oh god, I’m so sorry."
Giddy relief fills your chest, and you can’t help the laughter that bubbles up in your throat. Dear God, why are things with the two of you always like this? It’s practically a comedy of errors.
Still, if there was any doubt before, it’s definitely gone now. This man—the man in front of you, awkward and fumbling and sweet—is your Steven.
You shake your head and climb to your feet, still smiling as you walk over to him. Planting your hands on the armrests, you force the chair to a stop. Steven’s horrified expression, now inches from your own face, nearly sends you into another fit of giggles.
“Stay,” you order with a fond smile. “Don’t move. Just relax, alright? I’ve got you.”
While Steven is normally very good at taking orders from you, this is one that he entirely fails to follow. His whole body remains tense, fingers flexing as they hover nervously in the air until you take them and guide them to the armrests where they grip and hold on tight.
You drop to your knees again and lean forward until you’re caged in by his spread legs on either side of you. Steven lets out a breathless gasp even though you haven’t so much as touched him yet.
On your knees like this, your face inches away from his cock, you get an up and close personal view that you weren’t privy to the night before. The head is flushed dark pink and it shines slick with the precome that’s beading at the blunt tip.
Even his cock is ridiculously pretty. It’s really not fair.
This close the scent of him is even stronger, clean, with a hint of musk and something altogether Steven. Parting your lips, you ghost your breath over him, relishing the way he practically whines at the sensation, his cock twitching and jerking, more precome welling out to drip down the impressive length of him.
So sensitive, your Steven.
You dart out the tip of your tongue to lap up the runner of liquid. It’s a barely-there touch, but from the sound he makes, you’d think you had punched him square in the solar plexus. The choked-out, pitiful sob makes the blood in your veins sing.
You do it again, just to see if he’ll make the same noise.
He does.
Then again, and he moans, long and breathless, and it shivers through you. Makes you want to see what other sounds you can pull from him. But first you pull back for a moment.
“Shall I continue then?” you ask, pretty sure you know the answer already.
“Yes, please. God yes.” His voice is breathless, desperate, and you can’t help the self-satisfied smile tugging at your lips.
You wrap your hand around the base of his cock, and it jumps in your grip, thick and hot and throbbing against your palm. You love how reactive he is. Looking him in the eye, you drag your tongue against your bottom lip to wet it for him. Then without further ado, you wrap your lips around him.
“Shit. Oh bloody–Shit.” His whole body stiffens under the assault of your mouth, and you can feel him pulsing on your tongue.
Closing your eyes, you savour the sounds he makes for you. Keen little noises and punched out gasps like you’re holding him under water and drowning him in sensations until he can barely breathe.
His reactions, the way his cock twitches, the sweet tang of precome on your tongue; it’s all perfect, and your stomach clenches with arousal and the aching need to touch yourself.
It’s tempting, so tempting, to slip a hand under your skirt and indulge in your own pleasure, but you want to stay focused on Steven right now. Want to be able to take in every minute detail of his response to you. So you keep your hands wrapped firmly around the base of him as your mouth inches down, taking as much of him as you can before backing off again to tease him with just the tip of your tongue.
"Oh God, oh God, that feels amazing. You’re so–oh fuck–so good at this… I mean why wouldn’t you be? I mean… oh God.” He’s babbling. Fingers gripping the armrest so hard that his knuckles have gone ghost-white. “Pleasedon'tstop.”
It is, possibly, the world’s worst and most adorable attempt at dirty talking. But it hardly matters. Steven is so responsive to your every touch, so obviously overwhelmed, that it’s impossible to take his words the wrong way. Impossible not to be aroused by his enthusiastic reactions.
When you kiss the tip of him, he keens. When you swirl your tongue, tracing shapes against the sensitive head, he’ll cant his hips upwards, in an attempt to get even deeper. When you grant him exactly that, letting him slide him deeper into your mouth, his hands fly to your shoulder, fingers flexing there, digging in until they’re just short of painful.
And all the while he’s watching you with awe, gaze locked on you, as though he’s afraid to look away in case you disintegrate under his hands. As though he can hardly believe you’re real.
That look in his eyes makes you burn. Makes you want to do even more for him. To make him feel as good as humanly possible. So you suck and kiss and lick every inch of him you can, your hand wrapped in a tight fist around his slick girth to work what your mouth is unable to.
One large, shaking hand comes up to cup the side of your face, his thumb barely ghosting over the corner of your mouth where it’s stretched wide around his cock before moving to your cheek. He rubs small, soothing circles over your cheekbone, gentle even as he’s writhing under your mouth. The tender, doting touch sends pleasure skittering down your spine.
Even now, with you on your knees for him, the man is trying so hard to hold back. To be careful with you. His hips barely hitching up to meet your mouth, as you lick and lap at every inch you can.
“God, look at you. You’re so pretty. I can’t believe you’re actually–” He breaks off, gasping, then starts again, barely seeming aware of what he’s saying, “Your mouth feels so good. So fucking pretty, you are. Can you— Can you take me deeper?” Then when you hum an assent around his cock, “Oh God, oh please…”
The words coming out of him aren’t even particularly filthy, but they affect you all the same.
Heat blossoms in your stomach at how wrecked his voice is as he pants out how pretty you look over and over again. You can feel how wet you are—dripping into the already soaked cotton of your knickers. You squeeze your legs together, moaning around his cock when the pressure makes your cunt clench around nothing.
“Oh. You’re–? Fuck. You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Steven gasps out, and you pull back far enough to look up at him and shoot him a cheeky wink.
“God, you’re amazing,” he groans, thrusting up into your mouth just once, like he can’t help himself, then stilling. Whatever shyness or uncertainty had him tongue tied just a few minutes ago seems to be gone, and he starts to beg for you to “Touch yourself for me, love. Please. Fuck. Want you to enjoy yourself too. Please.”
Hah. As though you weren’t already enjoying yourself thoroughly.
Still, it’s no great hardship to do as he asks, so you pull off slowly, teasingly, and sit back on your heels to look up at him. Collapsed back in the chair, chest heaving, cheeks flushed and curls in complete disarray as those dark eyes burn down into yours, he looks gorgeously undone.
God, and he says you’re the pretty one?
You can’t help but lose yourself in admiring him for a long moment.
Too long of a moment, apparently, because his brows draw together and the light of uncertainty starts to flood those big brown eyes. His hands rise to flutter in the air, a sure sign he’s feeling insecure.
Quickly, before he has a chance to overthink things too much, you make a show of sliding one hand down to cup your breast. Between your office clothes and sensible bra, you don’t get much out of it, but you’ve certainly captured Steven’s attention.
He looks utterly gobsmacked, mouth hanging open, and his eyes remain glued to your hand as it continues its descent down your body, and up under your skirt. His swollen, shiny cock jerking and leaking precome in an entirely gratifying manner.
You press a hand between your thighs over your clothes and gasp when even that muted pressure sends pleasure streaking through you. There’s an awkward moment as you scramble for the edge of your tights, and manage to drag them down far enough to wedge your hand under and into your knickers.
The angle is cramped and uncomfortable, but so, so worth it to be able to rub slippery little circles over your clit. Fuck, you’re already so wet, and you can’t help but moan as you feel wetness leaking down between your thighs every time your cunt clenches.
“Oh my days,” Steven breathes, eyes as wide as you’ve ever seen them as his gaze flits between your face and the hand buried beneath your skirt. He seems to have forgotten about his own arousal entirely, totally focused on you.
And, well, that just won’t do.
When he looks up at your face again, you catch his gaze and send him a naughty smile before ducking forward and taking his cock in your mouth again.
Steven lets out a gasping moan that sounds like it’s torn from his very soul, and this time his hips rise to meet you, no longer holding back. He’s all instincts and hunger now, and you’re reminded of the Steven who took control from you last night and drove you to three orgasms so intense that they left your legs numb in their wake.
His cock fills your mouth perfectly, and it’s almost too much. You struggle for a moment to fit all of him, but then the two of you find a rhythm between you that lets you take him deep without choking.
You rock your hips against your hand in time with his thrusts, and the muscles of your forearm ache as you chase your pleasure. It feels so good that you keep forgetting to time your breathing, butfuck, you barely care. Can’t help but love the burn of it down to your lungs. The taste of him, bittersweet and tangy on your tongue, is intoxicating and you could easily get addicted to this. To the uninhibited sounds he’s making at your touch and the taste and smell of him.
You’re overwhelmed, surrounded by him, head swimming with it. Or perhaps it’s the lack of air that has reality going a bit woozy around the edges as you match each roll of his hips into your waiting mouth with a roll of yours rocking against your hand. Your world narrows down to his cock in your mouth, his voice in your ears, and the devastating ebb of pleasure pours through you, building higher with each advance and retreat.
It’s too much and just the right amount because suddenly you’re there, right on the edge. Don’t realise that you’re moaning until the sound cuts off when you shove forward, desperate to take Steven as deep as possible. You roll your hips down one last time, pressing hard against your clit, and that’s all it takes.
You come hard, white hot bliss surging through you as you convulse on the floor of an empty conference room, Steven’s cock lodged as deep in your throat as you can take him.
Dimly you hear Steven’s shocked “Oh Lord, are you—? Oh my God!” and then a broken, breathy litany of “Oh God oh God oh God,” but it hardly registers.
You hold there as long as you can, until your lungs burn and the muscles of your arm threaten to cramp and you’ve wrung every last drop out of pleasure you can out of your orgasm.
Finally, shuddering with overstimulation, you have to pull back. Pulling your slick hand out of your underclothes, you flex your aching fingers, chest heaving as you suck in a long overdue breath and then another.
“Oh God, oh God, don’t stop.” The head of Steven’s slippery, wet cock glances off your equally slick lips as his hips rise to chase your mouth, “Pleasepleaseplease– I need– Fuck. Please don’t stop.”
His cock is twitching in your hand in protest from the sudden lack of attention. The length of it is dripping from your spit, precome flowing from the fat tip as if it’s drooling, glistening under the ceiling light.
You can’t help the shudder that works its way through you when your oversensitive cunt clenches at the depraved sight.
If your goal was to make a mess of him you’ve certainly succeeded.
To buy yourself time to catch your breath, you press saliva-slick kisses along his hardened length, relishing the way Steven descends completely into incoherence.
Half sentences and broken off words, begging for your mouth. It’s a far cry from the man who was all shy nerves, and worried about people being outside not so very long ago.
And you love it. You love it all.
The sounds he’s making are intoxicating. You want desperately to hear how loud he can get, but there’s a little voice in the back of your head warning that this is not the place to let the volume become an issue.
There shouldn’t be anyone down by this hallway, but the way that Steven is carrying on, you worry the sound will carry far enough that your co-workers on the floor above, still in their offices, will be able to hear you two.
“Steven,” you murmur, pressing another kiss to the fat tip of him, “I need you to keep quiet for me.”
You tilt your head until you can sneak a glance at him. How utterly ruined he looks, chest heaving, rising and falling in tides, eyes dazed, a light sheen of sweat on his forehead. You can’t help but smile, fluttering your eyelashes for his attention as you lap up the precome oozing down his cock with little kitten licks, savouring the way he shivers violently below you.
You know you’re being mean. He’s so overwhelmed that he looks like he is going to jump out of his skin, but you can’t resist as you continue to tease him.
“You don’t want me to have to stop, now do you?”
He whines at that, and if you had the luxury of time and privacy, you’d scold him again, drag out your fun and tease him just a tiny bit more.
“Sorry. I’m sorry.” Steven begs so prettily, shuddering below you as he stutters out, “I—I’ll be good. Quiet, I promise. Please, please don’t stop.”
“Good,” you say, then you lean down again and take him back into your mouth.
His hand flies up to his mouth, and he clamps a wide palm over it in a desperate attempt to quiet himself. It helps some, but you can still hear the muffled groan that rumbles from somewhere deep in his chest.
Your previous established rhythm falls apart.
His hips stutter into a staccato pace as he thrusts into your mouth in a desperate attempt to get deeper. The telltale sign of his sharp jaw tensing, the small muscle there flexing. Those gorgeous doe eyes roll to the back of his head, his face awash in pleasure.
God, he’s fucking beautiful like this. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to the sight of him.
From the way his thighs are trembling, you know he must be teetering on the edge even before he warns you with a hoarse and broken, “Close. I—I’m close.”
You hum, and the vibration makes him hiss like you’ve burnt him. His hands come to frame your face, attempting to gently pry you off of him.
You let him pull you away just long enough to form words, hands still wrapped around him to replace the momentum with firm strokes to keep him on the edge, as he twitches and jerks in your palm.
“Do you want to come in my mouth, Steven?”
He shivers, his eyes are shut tight, and for a moment you aren’t sure if he heard you at all. But then he nods forcefully, choking out a rough, “Fuck. You can’t just– God.Yeah.Yes. Fuck. Please,” that has the tip of your ears tingling.
God, he sounds ruined.
He also soundsloud, and he isn’t stopping.
“Steven.” Your voice is flat, cutting through his desperate rambling. “Shut it.”
A strangled moan tears out of him at your command, and somehow the suppressed noises he’s making are even louder than when he was babbling.
In a sudden fit of inspiration, you shove the fingers of your other hand, still sticky with your slick into his mouth. His tongue drags against you, and he gasps around the intruding digits. At the same time, you lean down to take him as deep as he goes, swallowing down the urge to gag when he hits the back of your throat.
His body goes rigid, throwing his head back and baring his long graceful throat to you with a muffled groan. He suckles at your fingers, mouth hot against your sticky skin, and you can feel it the moment that he comes. His cock pulsing warm and thick against your tongue, as he floods your mouth, tangy and slightly bitter.
It’s quite possibly the hottest thing you’ve ever experienced, and it makes you want to drag out that pleasure for him and ruin him even more.
You hold him in your mouth, tongue lavishing at the stiff underside of his cock, your own fingers pressing against his tongue as he writhes underneath you. You don’t let up, drawing things out until his thighs are shaking violently beneath you and you’re sure that the overstimulation must be bordering on the painful.
Only then do you pull away, sitting back to take in the sight of Steven. Rosy-flushed cheeks, and half-lidded eyes boring into you. He’s staring down at you like you’ve hung the stars and moon in the night lit sky one by one.
All of a sudden, you find yourself feeling almost shy under that loving gaze. Flustered at the adoring attention from him. You feel silly to be the object of that devotion, while you’re still on your knees, knickers and chin equally sticky, and the remnants of his come still lingering on your tongue.
You don’t know what to say or do next, but it doesn’t matter.
Before you can even try to figure it out, Steven surges forward, dropping down to his knees in front of you and closing the distance between you to crash his lips against yours. He licks into your mouth with frantic desperation, apparently uncaring that you still taste of his come.
You can taste yourself in his mouth as well, as Steven devours your mouth with a hungry fervour that you’ve come to associate with his touch.
It’s sweet; it’s depraved; it’s ravenous.
It’s all the contradictions of Steven himself wrapped into a kiss. And for better or worse, it’s something you’re not sure you can live without anymore.
Eventually he slows in his pace, until the one kiss dissolves into many, syrupy and languid in a way that makes the air around you thin. And then…
“God, I love you.” He sighs the words gently into your mouth, so blissful and contented that it takes a moment for you to realise what was said.
You stiffen in his arms as his words fully register with you. Pulling away, you draw back enough to see Steven’s face, not entirely sure if you heard him right until you see the complete adoration in his eyes.
Oh. Oh wow, he really does mean that doesn’t he?
The expression on your face must betray how stunned you are by his confession, because Steven’s brows draw together in concern and he immediately starts apologising.
“Sorry. Should I… um. Should I not have said that? Not the most romantic moment, is it? Course it’s not. Confessing after you– you–” he stutters, clearly flustered. “Well, after that.” He flinches, face flushing bright red, and mutters, “God, I sound like a right bloody wanker, don’t I?”
He’s right.
This was hardly the perfect time, or a particularly romantic one. And he does sound like a bit of a wanker.
Your eyes meet, and he flinches, eyes worried and voice hesitant, as if he did something grievously wrong to offend you.
“Did I make you uncomfortable? I did, didn’t I?” He drops his gaze, as though he thinks he’s committed some grievous wrong to offend you. “I’m sorry, we can pretend I never said it if that’s what you want.” It clearly pains him to make the suggestion, but he makes it anyway. “I don’t– I don’t want to lose you.”
That’s the thing with Steven.
He’s all in.
Whatever else he has going on, Steven’s never been half-hearted about this, about you.
He doesn’t time his moments or play tactics to win you over. Whether it’s bravery or stupidity, you can’t tell, but he’s always been open and vulnerable with his feelings, even that very first night at the restaurant, when his eyes lit up at the sight of you. They’ve always been right there on his sleeve.
And right now it’s clear to see that he’s en route to having a complete nervous breakdown if you leave him hanging any longer without an answer.
You’ve known for a while that you likedSteven, had feelings for him, and now there’s not a single doubt in your mind about how deep those feelings go.
“I love you too.”
He looks up at you timidly from underneath those thick eyelashes with shock that’s shading into careful, dawning hope. His mouth opens as if to speak, but then he hesitates for a long moment, jaw working, like he’s too scared to ask you to repeat it in case he misheard or you’re playing a practical joke on him.
“Yeah?” he asks eventually, voice whisper-soft.
You don’t answer him with words.
Instead you nod, pulling him close until you can kiss him again. Removing any lingering doubt that still might remain—for both of you. Whatever yesterday night was, you meant every one of those three little words, and want to stay to figure it out.
It’s you and Steven, red flags be damned.
Dedication and Credits
To the city of London itself, can you dedicate a city? No? I’m doing it anyway. I’m finally home after 2.5 years of being away and I miss her so. Love of my fucking life.
@thirstworldproblemss my love, my best friend, my soul twin, clown sister. Thank you for being with me literally every single day the past year and almost a half in my pocket, on good days, on bad days, and on the boring-nothing-special days. You’ve kept me going all this time, and the best part of my gloomy days would be waiting for you to wake up half across the world and start our nonsense for the day. My life is all the better because you’re in it. Thank you for keeping me intact and in one piece all this time.
@frannyzooey the kindest, most talented, and most supportive person. You are so loved and truly one of a kind. You give so much of yourself wanting nothing in return and your presence is my life is such a gift. Thank you for always being there with a kind word when I was about to blow my freaking casket in the last year and a half. For talking me down, for being a pillar of calm and reason when I felt like dousing things down with gasoline and setting it on fire. Thank you for being you, I cannot wait to spam you with a million food photos from this day on, that’s my promise to you.
@jazzelsaur for your beautiful, curly avocado toast hair that smells like delicious onions. I love you, your baby whore
@radiowallet with your brilliant big mind. For you love of the comic and nerdy. For being so absolutely fucking wonderful and supportive and kind in a word that is anything but on some days.
@the-ginger-hedge-witch this is not a dedication. This is a call out, remember when you tried to character assassinate Brendan Fraser? Pepperidge Farm remembers. P.S. I love you dearly
Summary:Alternatively titled: “Fuck You To Sleep”.
Pairing: Marc Spector x Reader
Word count:1.5K
Warning: PWP, dirty talking, mutual masturbation, fingering, hand job, unprotected p in v, side-way tango, stomach bulge, male ejaculation
A/N:I didn’t plan to write another Marc’s filth, but @fluffyprettykitty inspired me ahaha! Everyone say thank you to Selene! Literally, this is just PWP. If you enjoy this brain rot, please reblog and comment. I greatly, greatly appreciate it so much! No beta, so any mistakes I missed, are mine.
***Do not copy, repost, or translate my works without permission
You cannot sleep.
You have been tossing and turning for an hour now, trying to find a comfortable position to sleep in. One minute you were covered in the comforter, the next you found yourself kicking the thing off of you. Marc has been noticing it too as he was still on his phone, going through his clients’ emails. It doesn’t bother him as much as it’s more of his worrying about your irregular sleep schedule.
He is aware that he’s partially responsible for it as well since he got back from Cairo as he is trying to get over his own jet lag.
Another huff coming out of your mouth pulls Marc away from his “reading”.
“That’s it,” he mutters before turning and pulling you back till you are flushed against him. Your ass is flushed against his groin. His thick thigh drapes over you, trapping you in place. Your head tucks beneath his chin. Goosebumps spread across your skin as you feel his warmness radiate off of him. You can feel yourself become hyper-aware of his presence, especially by the undeniable throbbing of your pussy, thinking about how his dick would feel rubbing against you.
pairing: steven grant x fem!reader (mentions of marc)
genre: pwp, smut
word count: 1.6k
warnings: glove kink, exhibitionism (they do it on the roof but no one sees), vaginal s.ex, dirty talking, rough s.ex, reader is aware of alters and moon knight, creampie, dom!steven, sub!reader
The way the cold wind brushes the loose strands out of your face, the way it rouses goosebumps across your skin. You love the lights, they remind you of the stars but instead of the sky they decorate the very earth you walk on. You look down on the city from the rooftop, everything seems so tiny.
