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bit-dodgy-innit · 2 years

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The Shape of You

Summary: Steven loves your boobs. A story of his devotion to them pre, during, and post-pregnancy as you welcome your first child together.

Pairing: Steven x afab!Reader, with some minor Marc x afab!Reader and Jake x afab!Reader. Reader is married to the system and all three alters are no longer working for Khonshu

Rating: Tré Explicit, Minors DNI!

Word Count: 9.4k (yes, you read that correctly 😳)

TW/CW: Heavy breast and nipple play, lactation kink, some awkwardness and embarrassment around Steven and Reader discovering they share a lactation kink, pregnant sex, breeding kink, p in v sex, fingering, dirty talk, slight somnophilia, daddy!Steven (in both senses of the term 😜), breastfeeding and angst about struggling to breastfeed, postpartum hormones, sundress!kink (that’s a thing, right?), public teasing, a smidge of masturbation, public bathroom sex…so exhibitionism? (no one hears or catches them), more fluff than I’ve ever written iN MY LIFE, titty-fucking, come-eating…writing these always make me feel like a dirty ho 😈

A/N: Sorry friends, the OP got flagged...so let’s try this again with a slightly less steamy gif!

First time writing in second person so please, like Adele, go eaaaaasy on me :) Also I do not have DID, so please forgive and Feel free to educate me if I didn’t nail any dynamics. One more thing - Jake speaks Spanish a bit in this translations will be below

Marc, Steven, and Jake may’ve shared a body, but each alter had a different part of yours that was their favorite. Jake was an ass man, plain and simple. He loved smacking it, biting it, grinding himself between your cheeks…the list could go on. Marc loved your mouth. He never wasted an opportunity for you to suck him off, to feed you every last drop of his cum, to spit into its warm, wet cavern.

Steven, on the other hand, was damn-near obsessed with your breasts. If it were up to him, his hands would never leave your chest. He’d been shy at first, bashful, citing his relative inexperience compared to the other alters. But the endearingly awkward bumbling phase of your relationship soon developed into its current one: The Steven-Can’t-Stop-Won’t-Stop-Playing-With-Your-Tits Phase.

You remember the first time he undressed you and got to see your boobs in all their naked glory. The expression on his face was so reverent it was almost comical. He looked at you as if you’d taken him straight to the Field of Reeds.

“Bloody hell,” he’d whispered.

You asked him if he was alright, to which he nodded frantically and asked, “Can I…can I touch?”

“Of course baby,” you cooed.

From there it was off to the races. Steven cupped your breasts, damn near whimpering when he felt the weight of them in your hands, and gave you a gentle squeeze. You mewled, and his gaze snapped up to meet yours.

“That was a good sound, I promise,” you assured him. “Please, Steven, more.”

He was all too glad to oblige. He massaged each mound in his hand and swiped each thumb over your nipple, delighting when you shuddered at his ministrations. It emboldened him to experiment further. Steven dropped a kiss between your breasts on your sternum, then tilted his head to mouth at one of them. You urged him on with a breathy cry, and Steven took the signal to suck on your nipple.

Whereas most past lovers of yours had treated your tits as a fun but brief pitstop on the way to your pussy, Steven lavished ample delicious attention on them. And he seemed to enjoy it just as much as you did, if the way he was frantically humping the mattress for relief was any indication.

Later, after he’d fingered you to orgasm with a nipple in his mouth and you’d rode him like your life depended on it, Steven murmured to you, “Blimey babe, I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of your tits.”

***

So you shouldn’t have been surprised when you got pregnant that Steven became even more fascinated with your breasts. They kept growing, almost vulgarly large, and you’d caught your husband flat-out staring at them many a time .

“My eyes are up here, honey,” you’d tease him.

Steven snapped out of it and apologized, “Sorry, love.”

“Honestly, I don’t blame you,” you conceded, looking down at your chest, using the insides of your arms to push your breasts together. “Even I can't believe how big they’ve gotten. The baby will be well-fed I guess.”

Steven watched you entranced, his mouth ajar, a bulge in his pants growing. “Uh huh.”

Sex was starting to get tricky as you entered your third trimester, but that didn’t stop Steven from fucking you on your side shortly after your little display. He lay behind you on the bed as he drove his painfully hard dick into your cunt, both of his hands on your tits. You rubbed your clit furiously as he alternated between squeezing them and tugging on your taut peaks.

“Ohhhh, Steven, yesssss,” you moaned.

“Are you close darling?” his lips were centimeters from your ear. You could feel his warm breath on its shell.

“Mmmhmmm,” you whined.

Steven picked up the pace and force of his hips. “Come then love, come for me. Gonna come too, your big titties get me so hard, you feel it, don’t you? So good at taking my cock and growing our baby inside you. Fuck love, yeah.”

That surprised you. Dirty talk was usually a Marc or Jake thing, but you definitely weren’t going to stop Steven as his filthy words hurdled you toward your climax.

“Your boobs are so big, gods, I wonder if they’ll get any bigger? Want ‘em to,” Steven was babbling, his thrusts lost their rhythm. “They’ll spill out of your shirt. Gonna have so much milk–”

You interrupted him with a strangled shriek as your release consumed you. Your pussy spasmed delectably around your lover’s cock, compounded by Steven’s dick pulsing inside of you as he reached his peak. You were so lost in the euphoria, the relief of your orgasm, that you didn’t notice the few drops of fluid that had dribbled out of your left nipple.

It wasn’t until Steven withdrew his spent cock from you and rolled over to snuggle into his side that you noticed him examining his wet fingertips.

“What’s that?”

Steven tensed. “It’s…um, not sure how to put this…I think you leaked a little.”

“Obviously,” you giggled, “The sheets are soaked.”

His cheeks burned. “Not from there, love.”

Mortified, your hands flew to your engorged breasts. You could feel it too. “Oh my god.”

“Don’t worry darling, I’m sure it’s normal,” Steven tried to assuage you.

You didn’t answer him, instead, you maneuvered your very pregnant self up and waddled towards the bathroom.

He followed you, not needing to exert much effort to stop you. He captured your hands in his and brought them to his lips. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. You’re a bloody miracle, growing our baby inside of you.”

Steven’s tender words and touch allowed you to deflate some, yet you withdrew your hands from his grasp. “Thank you honey, it’s just…a lot to reckon with. I need a moment to catch my breath in the bathroom. Alone.”

“Alright love, take your time and I’ll put the kettle on.”

You kissed him softly, languidly, trying to pour all the love you couldn’t put into words into the liplock.

But in the privacy of the bathroom, you crumpled. You were embarrassed. You were ashamed. Because why on earth did it feel so good to have liquid trickle out of your boobs and to come at the thought of how much milk they contained?

Nevertheless, you splashed water on your face and composed yourself, joining Steven on the couch for a cup of tea and an episode of the latest documentary series you were watching together.

What didn’t you know though, was later that night, long after you went to sleep and Steven had stayed up working on next semester’s syllabus for the course he now taught at UCL, your breasts had leaked again.

Steven had noticed when he’d called it a night and was situating himself next to you in bed. The t-shirt you wore one to bed, one of the only things that still fit you, and now had twin dark spots staining the loose cotton.

He didn’t know what to do. Steven didn’t want to wake you, he knew how the discovery would likely upset you again, nor did he want you to awaken and to have soaked through your shirt. He cursed his cock, which had twitched at the previous thought. He tried to ignore the arousal beginning to surge through him, but your tits made his blood rush south.

The best course of action, Steven (and his dick) had decided, was to take care of it for you. He fetched a wet cloth from the bathroom, then pulled the already stretched out v-neckline of the shirt to reveal one of your tits. Steven gently cleaned the peak of your breast, the warm, damp feel of the cloth making you shudder in your sleep, though not enough to wake you. He switched to the other one, and found a small, perfect pearl of milk right on the tip of your nipple.

Steven didn’t know what possessed him - he certainly couldn’t blame this on his alters - but he swooped down and lapped up the milk with his tongue instead of the cloth. The drop was small, which meant Steven couldn’t taste much when he licked your nipple. So he sealed his lips around the bud in hope of getting a taste of the cloudy milk. Before he could, you rolled from your back onto your side.

Your husband knew he’d have to call it a night, but that didn’t stop him from shuffling to the bathroom and rubbing one out, imagining what you’d taste like.

***

Any thoughts of sex flew out the window when Nyla was born. All of your husbands had been co-conscious for the birth, the four of you equally in awe of what your love had created.

You loved your squirmy, wrinkly little girl more than you could comprehend, but the first weeks after bringing her home were rough. Nyla was a few weeks early, so your parents hadn't made it to London yet. There was no sleep. There were a lot of attempts at sleep training, but not a lot of sleep actually happening between you, your husband, and your daughter.

Furthermore, Nyla had problems latching when you fed her. You tried to stay calm, telling yourself that plenty of women went through this with their babies, but you couldn’t help but feel like you’d already failed as a mom. Plus, the wildly fluctuating hormones didn’t exactly help you keep your cool either.

Steven, however, was a godsend. He never hesitated when he heard Nyla fussing over the baby monitor, he always had a backup bottle ready to go, he even sang silly songs to your daughter while he changed her. Marc and Jake adored Nyla too, yet you’d noticed that Steven had been fronting the most as of late.

You suspected it wasn’t that they didn’t care for the baby, more that they didn’t trust themselves around a being so small and fragile. The thought broke your heart. You wanted to talk to them more about it…when you had the energy. Which, currently, you guessed would be somewhere around Nyla’s 18th birthday?

Tonight, you’d actually had gotten Nyla to go down at 8:30. You and Steven silently rejoiced while getting ready for bed as quickly as humanly possible. The two of you had already learned to sleep when the baby slept.

It felt as if you’d only laid your head on a pillow for a second when you’d heard Nyla crying through the monitor.

Steven sprung up before you could. “I’ve got it. Keep sleeping.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. You were just starting to doze off again when Steven re-emerged with a wriggling, still upset Nyla.

“She must be hungry,” he explained apologetically. “Her diaper wasn’t wet and I tried rocking her for a little.”

You nodded in surrender, reaching under your shirt to unclasp a cup of your nursing bra, then extended your arms for Nyla.

Steven carefully placed her in your hold, then announced “I’ll get you a glass of water, yeah?”

“I’m not thirsty right now,” you told him as you tried to get Nyla to latch. Steven was already retreating from the bed.

“Just in case,” he called from the kitchen.

You let it go, focusing more on Nyla than the observation you’d made that as doting as Steven had been, he was rarely present for when you breastfed. It could’ve been because your sweet husband didn’t want to add any eyes and pressure given your difficulties with it, but you couldn’t help the sneaking suspicion it made him uncomfortable.

Nyla wasn’t latching. Again. When Steven returned, he only needed to take one look at your face to see what the problem was.

“I’ll get a bottle.”

Your face crumpled, unable to hold back the tears, which of course, caused Nyla to cry as well.

Steven rushed back in, and scooped your daughter out of your arms.

“There there, little dove, you’re alright,” he shushed Nyla, expertly feeding her the bottle.

“You’re better at nursing her than I am,” you lamented.

“That’s not true, you fed her perfectly for nearly nine months” Steven objected. “We’ll call the specialist Doctor Slater recommended first thing tomorrow.”

You nodded, wiping your eyes. “Sorry, it’s all these goddamn hormones.”

“Don’t apologize,” he told you, moving to burp Nyla. “You did the hard bit, now let us all help out how we can.”

“Alright,” you sniffled.

Steven rose to take Nyla back to her bassinet, kissing you the top of your head on his route.

You wanted to settle down, you did. You wanted nothing more than to surrender to blissful slumber but a fresh wave of tears came when your breasts began to ache.

Steven came back and his face fell. “What is it, love?”

“They hurt,” you bemoaned. “They’re too full. It feels like my body’s punishing me for not feeding Nyla.”

“Oh darling,” Steven scrambled for his phone on his nightstand. “There’s gotta be a fix for it, yeah? I’m going to see what Google says.”

You passed Steven his reading glasses so he could see, privately reveling in how cute he was as he studied his phone screen so intently. It helped distract you from the soreness in your chest.

“Well, it says the best thing to do is to ‘manually express’ any excess fluid,” Steven read.

“So milk me? Like a cow?” you spat.

Steven put his phone down so he could give you his undivided attention. “Hey, hey, I won’t have you talking about yourself like that. Especially since I have Nyla beat at the moment for being the biggest fan of your tits.”

You cracked a smile. Steven crawled closer to you on the bed, “I know tonight’s been a bit full on, but truly babe, I’d love nothing more than to make you feel better.”

“Oh yeah?” you goaded, watching Steven’s gaze zero in on your still exposed breast.

“Uh huh,” he grunted, then looked up at you. “To be honest…you remember that night a few months ago when you first–”

The night you first leaked. “Yeah.”

“Well, I’ve erm, I’ve been curious since then about…about your…tasting you.”

“Oh,” you gasped. That explained his skittishness when you fed Nyla. Steven left because it made him horny. Well, that turned you on rather quickly. Postpartum hormones were a trip.

Steven gently cupped your engorged breasts, then groaned. “Will you let me try?”

“Oh-okay.” You batted his hands away so could you strip off your very unsexy sleep shirt and shed your bra.

While you were self-conscious about how the milk stretched the skin of your breasts and puffed out your nipples, Steven looked at them like a kid on Christmas morning.

He spared one more glance at your face, “Just tell me if it’s too much or anything.”

You consented with a nod and then Steven lowered his mouth to your left nipple. He started by tracing his tongue around your areola, warming you up to his touch, then enclosed his mouth around it. You mewled as he began to suck on your teat, the feeling of liquid being pulled out of you foreign and therefore thrilling in this context. Your eyelids fluttered shut, the sensation of Steven steadily sucking at you was overwhelming.

Soon the novelty and lingering sheepishness melted into sheer relief as Steven suckled at your tit. You blinked your eyes open, nearly needing to close them again at the sight of your husband resolutely drinking from you. It sent another shiver of arousal down your spine.

“Feels so good sweetie,” you encouraged him. “Are you–ah! How are you doing?”

In lieu of answering, Steven guided one of your hands to his crotch where you could feel his pulsing length. He was enjoying this too. Good. You gave him a squeeze, which incited a groan that you felt against the oversensitive skin of your weeping nipple.

Steven used his free hand to pluck at your right peak, gently coaxing milk out with his fingers. You inhaled sharply at the feeling of both your heavy breasts being drained. Keeping your hand molded around your husband’s crotch, you buried the other in the dark curls at the back of his head.

Steven’s enthusiasm gave you the confidence to ask, “Do you like how it tastes?”

His mouth still around you, he nodded. At last, he pulled off and mumbled, “Why weren’t we doing this sooner?”

A winded chuckle escaped you as Steven massaged your chest. “Might have had something to do with the newborn.”

“Clearly there’s enough to go around,” he remarked before he turned your attention to your other breast, latching on to your already leaking nipple and going to town once again.

You stuttered out a breathy shriek, instantly worried that it’d wake Nyla. Luck was on your side however, the monitor remained silent. You resumed groping Steven’s dick through his pajama pants, letting the fabric catch on the wet stain his cockhead had created.

Steven moaned at the stimulation and switched to flicking his tongue over your nipples, causing you to tamp down on another yell.

“Ohhhh fuck,” he rapsed, pulling off your breast, “I’m gonna come.”

Steven began humping your hand frantically while he gathered both your tits in his hands and swiftly alternated licking at each nipples. You mewled at the feather-light shifting touch on your puffy peaks, now hardened into points for a good while now.

“Yeah, that’s it, come baby,” you urged him.

No sooner had the words left your mouth did Steven’s cock spurt, soaking his sleepwear and your hand with his seed with a whimper. His head was thrown back, his eyes screwed shut in ecstasy, and it was in moments like these you understood how your husband and his alters could’ve been avatars for an Egyptian god, because Steven looked absolutely divine.

Once he came down from high, you withdrew your hand, expecting Steven to walk bow-legged to the bathroom and clean himself up. Instead, he shucked off his pants, and went right back to lapping at your breasts, mopping up the milk that had spilled from you as he came.

“Sweetie,” you panted, “you don’t need to–”

“You haven’t come yet,” he whispered from the valley of your tits. He nuzzled the two mounds briefly then reclaimed a nipple between his lips and resumed his feverish suckling.

“Nnnnngh, Steven,” came your delirious reply.

He pulled off for a split-second to ask, “Can I touch you?”

You were still a few weeks out from being able to have penetrative sex again, but you gave Steven the go ahead to slither his hand down to your clit.

Another cry loud enough to wake Nyla ripped from you when his fingers meet your neglected bundle of nerves. You were wet enough to flood the Thames, and Steven wasted no time stroking you exactly how you liked it. Fuck, if Steven sucking on your peaks and playing with your tits felt good, him doing that and rubbing your clit was rapturous.

You began moaning, a tell-tale whine in the back of your throat that meant you were close. Steven switched teats and redoubled his efforts – your orgasm building to its zenith...then snapping and drowning you in pleasure. One last sob escaped you as your release spread through your body, Steven never detaching himself from your breast until you gently pushed him away from oversensitivity.

You both laid with your backs flat on the bed, staring up at the ceiling in sexed out wonder.

Steven spoke first. “No need to call the lactation specialist, I reckon.”

“Steven!” You exclaimed in a whisper, playfully slapping his arm.

“That fixed it, didn’t it?” he pointed out. “Your tits feel better?”

“Well yeah,” you admitted, “but I still want to breastfeed our daughter. You read all the books and journals along with me, I don’t want to deprive her of its benefits.”

Steven hummed in defeated agreement. You rolled over on your side to caress his face and assure him, “That doesn’t mean you can’t still get your fill.”

Your husband’s face split into a wide smile and he pulled you into a dirty, open-mouthed kiss. It allowed you to taste traces of yourself and your milk’s mild, nutty flavor as you plundered his mouth with your tongue.

Steven cradled you to him, tucking you into his side and the pair of you drifted into the best night’s sleep you’d both gotten since Nyla was born.

When you awoke the next morning, your husband was spooned against your back.

“Mmm, we’re naked,” Marc murmured.

You turned to face him and with a grin, “Fancy seeing you here.” You planted a kiss on his lips. “Hi, honey.”

“Hi, mama,” Marc shifted and groaned, “Any reason why I feel weirdly full this morning?”

You blushed. “Well, Nyla isn’t latching still–”

“Still?”

“Still,” you confirmed, “so Steven relieved some of the…buildup I was feeling. With his mouth.”

Marc grumbled, “Just when I thought he couldn't be more fixated on your tits.”

Nyla made her presence known on the monitor before you could say anything else. Marc sat up, but you put a hand on his bare pecs. “I’ll get her. You start on breakfast please?”

He acquiesced with a kiss to your temple.

Marc was in the midst of scrambling eggs and frying sausages when you brought Nyla into the kitchen, “Look who’s changed and dressed and happy to see Daddy!”

Marc beamed, rinsing his hands quickly before you passed her to him. “Hey little girl, I’ve missed you.”

You took over at the stove as Marc walked his daughter over to the couch. He sat down and rested Nyla’s back on the thick, sturdy expanse of the tops of his thighs.

“Now, Miss Nyla Spector, I hear that you’re not letting Mommy feed you,” he began with mock seriousness. “Don’t you know her huge boobs are a gift from Tawaret herself?”

“Marc!!”

***

Things slowly improved after you began seeing Pippa, the lactation specialist your obstetrician had recommended. Nyla now latched the majority of the time and you learned how to keep calm when she didn’t.

Your parents arrived in London too, which also made the care of your newborn a lot more manageable. They did diaper runs whenever you needed, helped with cooking so you and your husband stayed fed, and would watch Nyla so you each could take showers longer than 30 seconds, even nap.

The only drawback was it made you and Steven having what you’d codenamed “Parental Time” a lot trickier. They’d gotten an AirBnb flat around the corner from yours, and your mom especially had a pesky penchant for dropping in unannounced, resulting in a few very close calls of her catching Steven’s head under your shirt.

So you and Steven developed a new routine. On the days he was fronting, after your parents went back to their rented flat for the night, you’d feed Nyla one last time, put her down and then Steven would get his turn at your tits.

To be honest, it happened a lot when Marc and Jake had fronted that day too. Your parents knew about your husband’s DID and had met each alter, but the men tried not to switch in front of them. They figured their in-laws being so accepting of their daughter being married to three men was already enough of an ask that they didn’t want to alienate your parents further. Therefore, if Jake was fronting when they came over in the morning, he’d have possession of the body for the rest of the day, or at least until your parents left.

This was a blessing in disguise you found, since it evened out the time each alter spent with their daughter. All that being said, you didn’t exactly protest when Steven would force a switch late at night to get his mouth on your breasts when you were feeling particularly swollen.

“What is it, cariño?” Jake asked when you padded over to the bed after you tucked Nyla in for the night.

“It’s my boobs,” you told him, trying to massage the ache out of them. “Nyla didn’t eat a ton today so they’re feeling extra hea–”

Jake’s quizzical expression changed into Steven’s unmistakably hungry gaze. “Then come right over here love,” he beckoned you over to the mattress. “And let Daddy help you.”

His naughty words made you whimper and obey him at once. You sat on his lap, where you could already feel his erection growing against your dampening core, and lifted your arms so Steven could disrobe you.

“Missed these titties,” he growled, motorboating his prominent nose in between them.

“They missed you,” you sighed back as he wrapped his lips around a nipple and began suckling.

And what are we, chop liver? A disgruntled Marc asked from their bedroom window.

Jake chimed in from the standing mirror. It was my day to front, pendejo.

I’m the only one who wants to do this, Steven countered in his head since his mouth was full of milk, See how much she enjoys it?

As if to prove his point, you ground down on Steven’s stiff length and squealed at the combination of his thick, hard cock against your pussy and the steady tug of your milk flowing into his wanting mouth.

“Wanna ride you,” you told Steven. “Need that big dick inside me.”

Steven groaned and his hips bucked against you. “You sure you’re feeling up to it, babe?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed feverishly. “Doctor Slater said it was okay.”

Your husband didn’t need to be told twice. He all but ripped off both of your clothes and flipped you back on the bed to prepare you. He slowly fed one, then two fingers into your pussy while he lapped at your dripping tits. After Steven worked you through your first orgasm, you two resumed your position where you sat on top of him.

The two of you went easier than you normally would. As much as you wanted to bounce on Steven’s cock until the sun came up, your body was still on the mend, and your lovemaking consisted much more of your husband grinding into you, finding the perfect angle to rub his pubic bone on your clit while you clenched around him. And of course, his hands and mouth lavished non-stop attention on your puffed out nipples.

While Marc had long retreated to the depths of the headspace, little did you or Steven know that Jake had stayed to watch. It shouldn’t have been as hot as it was to watch Steven drink from you, nor should’ve the way you grasped your breasts to squirt some milk on his alter’s tongue when you came, but Jake was intrigued.

***

Just before Nyla turned three months, your parents had convinced you to leave Nyla and go out for lunch with your husband, just the two of you.

You’d agreed at first, positively exhilarated by the thought of an hour or two without thinking about diapers, feeding, and sleep schedules, but now that the afternoon of your lunch date with Steven had arrived, you couldn’t conceive of leaving your daughter, even if it was for a few hours and she’d be with her grandparents.

“She’ll be fine,” your mother insisted. “Nyla-girl knows us now, and besides, didn’t Steven say you’d go to the bistro on the corner? You’ll be five minutes away tops.”

“But I’ve never left her before,” you protested as you tried to feed her. Nyla wasn’t latching, now a rarity rather than the norm. You used it as evidence to postpone your lunch. “See!”

Your mother took her from you, “She’s only doing that because she can sense you’re stressed. Sweetheart, trust me, it’ll be good for you and Marc–”

“It’s Steven today,” you corrected her.

“Right, Steven. It’ll be good for you two to spend some time as just husband and wife. Your marriage is just as important as this little one here.”

“But mom–”

“Now finish getting ready,” she wasn’t taking any buts. “Wear something nice.”

As old-fashioned and misogynistic as the advice seemed, it had been a long time since you’d worn something remotely appealing. It felt good to feel like a human again too. Your styled your hair and applied some makeup too, giggling to yourself that Steven probably wouldn’t even recognize you now that you’d put some effort into your appearance.

You strutted out of the bathroom in a little sundress and wedge sandals, “I’m ready!”

Your dad appeared, “Shhh Nyla’s napping.”

“Sorry,” you lowered your voice. “Where’s Steven?”

“He went ahead to grab you two a table,” he explained. Nyla began to fuss faintly over the baby monitor by the couch, “I’d make a run for it now if I were you.”

Though it felt like there was a physical tether pulling you to where your daughter was fidgeting in her crib, your parents were only here for a few more days. You and Steven had to make the most of it. So you slipped out of the flat as silently as you could.

You felt strangely unencumbered as you walked the thousand or so meters to your favorite little neighborhood spot. The few times you and your husband had left the house, it was almost always with Nyla, which meant you’d brought basically the entire contents of the flat with you. At the very least a diaper bag filled to the brim. With only a small purse for your phone, wallet, and lipstick, you couldn’t help but feel like you were forgetting something.

Any worries you had evaporated when you rounded the corner and caught sight of Steven sitting outside on the bistro’s patio. He’d cleaned up too - his hair brushed and parted to the side like he favored, clean-shaven, and same as you, he’d traded sweats for a pair of trousers and a patterned, short-sleeved button down.

“Hi, handsome,” you greeted him coquettishly as you sauntered over to him. “Is this seat taken?”

“You’re a bloody menace, you know that?” he fumed.

You played dumb, “What do you mean?”

You stretched your arms up and over the back of the chair, further emphasizing your cleavage in your sundress.

The dress was from your pre-pregnancy days. Beyond its fit flattering your post-baby body, you’d chosen to wear it since it also provided solid support in the bust, which meant for once you didn’t need one of your frumpy nursing bras. It was a tight fit however, clinging to your breasts and resting just above where the smooth, creamy skin of your breasts darkened into your nipples. You wore it to drive Steven wild, and it seemed to be achieving your desired effect rather nicely.

“You think this is funny, don’t you?”

“No,” You continued to play coy. “I thought I’d dress up for the first date with my husband after our daughter was born. Feels like a significant moment for us as parents.”

“You want me to say it.”

You leaned over the table to prop your ribcage on your forearms, giving Steven a new, even better view down your dress. “Say what, my love?”

Steven whimpered, straight up whimpered, a sound you’ve never heard him make outside of the privacy of your bedroom.

You were on the verge of showing him a bit of mercy when your server appeared. “Mr. and Mrs. Grant, nice to see you! How’s the new baby?”

“She’s good, thanks” you grinned at them.

“Lovely. Would you two like something to drink?”

“Yeah, we’re both pretty thirsty,” you replied, kicking Steven’s ankle under the table to tear his eyes off your bosom. “Steven, what would you like?”

“Uhh, tea, please.”

“‘Course,” the server noted. You and Steven were regulars so he knew your husband’s order. “With cream and sugar, right?”

“Yeah,” he grunted. It took another kick to his angle to elicit a proper response from Steven, “Yes, please. Thank you.”

“And for the Mrs.?”

“Just water please, and one for him too. Thanks Alex,” you told them with a smile. Once they departed from the table, you turned your focus back to Steven. “Wow, you really like my tits in this dress.”

Steven glared at you.

“Sorry, I didn’t think it’d make you this frustrated,” you apologized. “I thought we could use a break from the baby talk of it all, concentrate on the two of us, remind you of the person who made you and the other boys want to have Nyla in the first place.”

He took your hand. “You look bloody gorgeous, and yes those were quite instrumental in creating Nyla if I recall correctly.”

“I can run back home and get a sweater,” you offered, “if they’re too distracting.”

Steven squeezed your hand and rumbled, “Don’t you dare.”

“Then you’ll behave yourself?”

Steven sent you a mischievous smirk and a shrug.

And for the majority for the meal, he did. While it was impossible for your conversation not to include Nyla, you two did manage to discuss other topics. Steven got your thoughts on the changes he was thinking of making to his course at UCL for the fall semester, you mentioned a new restaurant you wanted to try, and the both of you brainstormed baby-friendly places to spend Steven’s fall holiday if Marc and Jake’s schedules also allowed.

Throughout the meal however, you noticed Steven barely touched his tea. That was odd for him, since he downed no less than six cups a day.

“Hon, are you alright?” You inquired after Alex cleared your plates and settled the bill.

“Never better, why?”

“You had like two sips of your tea,” you noted, “What, did they change their stock?”

“No,” Steven replied without elaborating.

“Then what is it? “

“It’s the creamer,” he confessed with a suggestive look in his eye. “I’ve developed a taste for something a little sweeter.”

You felt yourself flush. “Steven,” you warned him.

“Come on, babe,” he pleaded, “you can’t wear that dress and expect me to wait until tonight.”

He had a point. You’d spent all of lunch teasing him. “But where would we go?”

“Bathroom.”

“Together?”

“You go first, I’ll follow you and knock three times so you know it’s me” he instructed. “Then if anyone asks, I’ll say you’re having ‘a new mother moment’.”

“What the hell is ‘a new mother moment’?”

“Dunno, but no one will ask anything more if I tell them that.”

“We can’t get caught, I really like this place, Steven,” you cautioned, “I don’t want Alex and the staff here thinking we’re perverts.”

“I don’t think anyone will blame me after seeing you parade around in this little dress all afternoon,” Steven pointed out. “Besides, that’s up to you darling, as my mouth will be occupied.”

You cursed the hot shiver that slid down your spine at his words. You rose from the table. “Five minutes.”

Steven nodded, a tad too emphatically.

“Be cool!” you whisper-yelled before disappearing inside the cafe.

Thankfully it was a small bistro, so they had only one bathroom, so Steven couldn’t accidentally get the wrong door, plus the lunch rush was over, which reduced your chances of being interrupted.

You locked the door behind you, and found yourself giddily pacing the length of the small loo. After checking your reflection in the mirror, you planned how you wanted Steven to find you.

You decided to keep your chest covered for now and let your husband ‘unwrap his prize’ so to speak, so you opted to step out of your knickers and tuck them into your purse. Next, you hiked up the skirt of your dress and began touching yourself. Fuck, you were wet. Maybe this little rendezvous wasn’t only for Steven’s benefit.

Three raps on the door sounded and you lunged to open it as quickly as possible and resume the lascivious tableau you’d created for Steven to discover you in. You managed to swing it, sinking down on the closed toilet seat and fondling your pussy while Steven slipped in and locked the door behind him.

“Shit,” Steven exhaled at the sight of you.

“You going to stand there all day and make me get myself off?” you challenged him with a playful lift of your brows.

Your husband pounced on you, caging you into his grasp and then drawing you into his lap, where you could feel his already throbbing erection. He yanked down the straps of your dress as once, your tits tumbling into view, already dribbling from your lust. He dove right into your cleavage, his tongue tracing the rivulets of milk that had trickled down your skin.

Meanwhile, you made quick work of his belt and fly, eagerly fishing Steven’s length out of his boxer-briefs and giving him a few tugs. You took a moment when you lined yourself up to sink down on his cock, slipping his head back and forth to feel your slick.

“Were you not wearing knickers this entire time?” Steven asked before latching onto a nipple.

“Maybe, maybe not,” you hedged, figuring that the ambiguity would only rile him up more.

He groaned deeply around your tit when you sank down on him, while you bit your lip to muffle your own moan. You two worked in tandem to draw your bodies together, the force of your coupling causing Steven to have to pull off of your breast. That didn’t stop him from drinking from you however, he simply grabbed both of your tits and contracted his hands to spray your nectar into his mouth.

It was Steven’s new favorite thing. He liked to switch, drinking a splash from each nipple, and you were a fan of this technique too, since it meant he could talk dirty to you while he consumed you.

“Taste so good,” he mumbled after swallowing a squirt. “Ugh, wanna milk these jugs into a glass so I can have you anytime.”

You dug your fingers deeper into the meat of Steven’s shoulders and keened. This was some of his naughtiest stuff yet. Getting off on the impropriety of your situation seemed to be doing the trick for both of you today.

“So bad daddy,” you gave it right back to him. “Looking at my titties all while I’m trying to eat, thinking about eating me.”

“Don’t play innocent,” he retorted. “Stuffing your big boobs into this flimsy dress. I know exactly what you were trying to do to me. Is that what you wanted? For me to pound my cock into you while I suckle at your tits?”

He punctuated his question by doing just that, flicking his tongue over one of your weeping nipples and latched on to coax your milk into his mouth faster.

“Yesssssss,” you moaned. You added a swivel to your hips for good measure. “Ohhh I wanna come.”

“Yeah? Then rub that little bud of yours, come all over my cock,” he provoked you.

You did just as he said, maneuvering your hand around his that were still attached to your boobs and worked frenzied circles over your clit. Your release hit you less than a minute later, your fingers providing the last push over the edge, where the novelty of the location and desperation for each other had brought you there quicker than usual.

You kept impaling yourself on your husband’s dick. He was close too, you could tell from the little cries he let out around your breasts that took on a borderline forlorn tone, as if Steven didn’t want to come yet, he didn’t quite want your fucking to be over.

Steven was no match for the heat of your cunt and the sweet creaminess of your teats however. His arms encircled your waist, pulling you even closer to him, and planting his face in between your boobs as his cock gushed inside you.

A few moments of silence transpired between the pair of you, save for your heavy breathing, then Steven slowly and gently extracted himself from your core.

“I can’t believe no one interrupted us,” you marveled.

Steven nodded from where he stood by the sink to wet paper towels to clean you both up. “Lucky, innit?”

“Thank you honey,” you said softly when we passed you paper towels for your breasts and slit. “We should be getting back.”

You tried to think of something else to say, but when you and Steven looked at each other, the two of you simply burst into a fit of giggles in disbelief over what you’d just done.

“You could ask me for anything now and I’d say yes, I reckon,” your husband joked while you two switched spots in the small bathroom. You checked your appearance, smoothed down your hair, and prayed that people wouldn’t be able to see how fucked out you felt.

“You and the other boys already gave me everything I could ever want,” you turned away from the mirror to gaze straight at Steven. “A beautiful, healthy baby, and a trio of loving fathers to raise her with.”

“Awwww, darling–”

“Jewelry would also be nice,” you swiftly added. You found the idea of a “push present” too transactional, having a baby was both your and your husband’s idea thank you very much, and you knew what you were signing up for. In fact, you’d fiercely wanted it. But something sparkly had caught your attention recently. “There’s this stunning gem bracelet I saw on the Tiffany website that would go great with my eyes. I’ll send you the link.”

Steven rose from the toilet seat and crowded in behind you. He sprinkled a few kisses on your neck, then locked eyes with your reflection. “Whatever you want.”

***

Marc and Jake didn’t protest when Steven mentioned he purchased you the Tiffany bracelet, work had been steady for all three of them, and you had a solid maternity leave package.

“Besides, think of how much we’ve saved on groceries now that every night Steven eats local for dessert,” Marc quipped.

Steven had fucked you in full view of the mirror to get back at him for that, using every trick in his book to show how much you enjoyed him enjoying your body.

Though drinking from your tits didn’t really appeal to Marc (truthfully he had no qualms with it, despite an offhand joke here and there), Jake was different. He hadn’t forgotten the look of elation you wore on your face that time he watched you and Steven fucking while he tasted you.

His chance came a week after your parents had left. Nyla was soundly settled into her sleep schedule, and things didn’t feel quite as chaotic as they had when you first brought you little bundle of joy home. You two were lying on the couch, watching a trashy reality show after folding a load of laundry while Nyla napped.

“Ugh, shit,” you swore, seemingly out of nowhere.

Jake clicked off the TV. “You okay querida?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, I leaked again,” you took the pads out of your bra. Jake couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. “I’m just pissed because I thought I was done with this.”

“Lo siento, mami.”

You rose from the couch.

“Where are you going?”

“To take a shower,” you told him. “Warm water helps ease the ache.”

Jake caught your hand. “Wait.”

“What?”

“No”, Jake barked at his reflection on the dormant television screen, then furrowed his brow. You recognized it as the look he made when he tried to stave off a switch, “I want to help.”

“You do?” you asked carefully. “You do know what Steven usually does to relieve the pressure?”

“Si mami,” he reiterated. “I figure if Steven likes it, why wouldn't !?”

“Oh I don’t know, maybe because I’ve seen you eat two burgers in one sitting and Steven’s a vegan?”

Jake waved a hand as if to swat the implication away. “That’s different.”

You weren’t convinced. “How so?”

“Because Steven and I share a taste for you.”

“Okay,” you watched him cautiously as you sat back down, “We can stop if it’s too weird for you.”

“Please,” Jake scoffed, climbing over you and pinning you down onto the cushions. “They’re your tetas and they’re still so big. And you know I’m the kinkiest one out of all of us.”

“Bien bien Papi,” you surrendered. “Show me what you got.”

Your husband hastily rid you of your clothes. When his mouth first made contact with your pearly nipple, a hearty groan resonated in his chest. He’d held the warm, heavy weight of your post-baby tits many a time, but this was something entirely different.

“Mmm, mamacita, su leche es tan dulce,” he switched to the other peak, already getting drunk off your milk, “no wonder Steven didn’t want to share.”

***

Your family’s fall holiday came together more smoothly than you’d anticipated. Steven’s students were on holiday, Jake took time off from the limo company he owned, and Marc was between consulting jobs.

You were still on maternity leave, but planned on returning to your job in the new year. This time was precious - it felt like the end of a chapter, the last hurrah, the eve of “what comes next”.

So you and the boys rented a seaside cottage in Cornwall. Though you were anxious about Nyla and the four-hour car trip, she was a champ. It turned out that Jake was the one you needed to worry about, nearly veering off the road when he caught a glimpse of you feeding Nyla in the backseat. Apparently your daughter wasn’t the only one who’d gotten hungry.

It was past the busy season, so the little village you were staying in was quiet, exactly what you’d all wanted. You pushed Nyla’s stroller around the sleepy high street, hoping the serene location would ease the blow of what you needed to discuss with Steven.

“Solid foods.”

“Yes,” you confirmed, “We’ve waited long enough to start her on them. I don’t want her to fall behind “

“So no more breastfeeding,” Steven spoke slowly, deliberately.

“Yeah.” you tried to soften the blow. “But not right away, it’s a process.”

Steven looked at you like a kicked puppy, but ultimately he wanted what was best for his daughter. Trying to look on the bright side, he remarked “Well, there’s always the next one.”

You stopped dead in your tracks, storminess flickering behind your eyes. “This one–” you pointed to Nyla, “--needs to be potty-trained and eating solid foods before any of you–” you jabbed your finger at him “--in there can even begin to think about the next one.”

Steven immediately squeaked out a “Yes ma’am.”

“I freaked out,” you acknowledged. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright love,” Steven comforted you, affectionately bumping his shoulder with yours. “You have to do the hard bit after all. Feels like it goes without saying, but we don’t want another until you’re ready.”

“I know,” you exhaled. “It’s been a lot. And as only you could, you turned my struggle with breastfeeding Nyla into a way for us to celebrate being new parents, when it could’ve sent me straight off the deep end. I can’t tell you how much it means…I was so self-conscious about my body after giving birth, and you–Jake and Marc too–but you especially made me feel desirable when I was afraid I never would again.”

Steven drew you into a misty-eyed kiss. “I will always desire you. If anything, your post-pregnancy self is the hottest version of you so far.”

You preened from his praise. “You’re a good man, Steven.”

The week you were spending on the coast also marked your anniversary with Steven (each alter had their own “relationship anniversary” with you, though the four of you shared your wedding date).

As gracious as he’d been earlier, you knew Steven was gutted about you weaning Nyla off the boob, so you intended to do something special for him that night.

You knew he’d spoil you, and your husband didn’t disappoint. Steven ordered takeaway from one of the nicer restaurants in town, setting up a candlelit dinner in your AirBnb cottage so you two could commemorate the evening without having to leave your daughter with a sitter. The Tiffany earrings that matched your bracelet though were a pleasant surprise though.

For your gift, you’d encased his favorite photo of him and Nyla in a frame where you also made imprints of her little hands and feet.

“For your desk at uni,” you’d elucidated when he unwrapped it.

“Darling,” he whispered in awe.

Steven’s dinner also included a bottle of very nice wine, which led to you making out like randy teenagers on the couch after your meal.

“Are you ready for part two of your present?” you queried breathlessly.

Steven looked up from the spot on your neck he’d been nibbling on. “There’s a part two?”

You assured him with a flirty little nod. “See, there is one more thing I want you to do to me while I still have these.” You grasped your tits and pushed them together with your palms.

Your husband’s eyes widened and his hips jerked underneath you. “What is it?”

Instead of answering, you climbed off of him and led him to the bedroom. Your gaze kept dropping to the tent Steven’s turgid cock made in the dad-trousers he wore long before Nyla had been born. You found the view just as lewd as it was invigorating.

Once you hopped back on the bed, you ordered Steven not to move a muscle, and peeled off the rather modest loose-fitting dress you’d worn for dinner to reveal the lingerie you sported underneath. The skimpy set consisted of a mostly sheer bustier that embraced just how obscenely big your boobs remained and a tiny, strappy thong.

Your husband’s jaw nearly dropped to the floor. “Fucking hell, babe. You look incredible.”

“I was hoping you’d have that reaction,” your voice was lilting. “Now remember, stay there, and no touching”

“What are you going to do?” he whispered with a mix of crippling arousal and a perhaps a hint of fear.

You palmed your mounds once again, squeezing them to urge more milk to spew from your teats. Breathy little gasps and sighs stuttered out from your lips as you soaked the thin mesh of your bustier, you wanted to put on a show for him.

Steven’s hand crept down to his crotch but before it could reach its destination you snapped, “Hey! I said no touching.”

“I thought you meant you,” he whined.

“Nope,” you quipped, popping the ‘p’. “You’ll get your chance soon.”

“When?”

“Hmmm,” you glanced down at your chest and rib cage that was now bathed in your own milk. “Think I’m slippery enough?”

“Uh huh,” came Steven’s articulate reply.

“Okay then,” you leaned your arms back on the bed, “Now fuck my tits.”

Steven’s knees threatened to give out. He caught himself and what he said next was a bigger surprise than the earrings. “Alright, mommy. But I wanna get my prick wet in your pussy before I stick it between your knockers.”

It was your turn for your jaw to drop. Where the hell had sweet Steven gone and how did he learn to talk like this? Two could play that game. You fiddled with the straps of thong. “Then come over here and move these panties out of the way.”

Steven jumped you, knocking you back on the bed, too impatient to get inside you to properly deal with your scanty underwear so he did exactly as you’d prodded, he pushed the crotch of your thong aside and sunk two fingers into your sopping pussy.

They went in without much resistance, thus Steven only felt the need to drive them into you a few times, curling them against your g-spot for good measure. He licked off the residue of your desire from his digits and proceeded to tear at his own clothes until he was naked.

His eyes were wild, wilder than you’d ever seen them, as Steven notched the head of his angry-looking erection at the opening of your cunt and sheathed himself in one fluid stroke. You cried out while Steven groaned, your husband wasting no time to start hammering into you.

Every forceful push of his hips punched a “uh” from you, his unrelenting pace stringing them together in quick succession. He couldn’t stop watching your tits swing freely and the copious amounts of milk spill from them. His orgasm mounted in his groin sooner than expected, which propelled him to wrench his dick from your folds and grip the base tightly. Steven wasn’t coming anywhere except your tits.

“Ready, baby?” he asked, his voice gravel as he clumsily scooted up your body to straddle your bosom.

“Please daddy.”

Steven advanced with a goddamn growl, positioning his cock between your milky tits and plunging his length in between them as you held your breasts together. It was nasty, your milk mingling with your juices and his precum, all spread across the expanse of your chest.

Yet the years of love and trust you and Steven had fostered with one another allowed you both to succumb to the kinkiness of the sex you were having without shame. It had taken a hell of a lot of communication and vulnerability for you to get to here, so yeah, you were going to revel in the slick sound Steven’s cock made as it slipped between your tits, the way his face was contorted with pleasure and concentration, how his hands had fallen on top of yours to create the suffocating channel for him to fuck his rock-hard length through.

Somewhere in the back of your mind you realized this meant you were going to have to be this slutty for all of your husbands’ anniversaries, but the thought was kicked out of your consciousness when Steven removed his hands from the top of yours to pluck at your nipples.

A primal sound of pleasure tore from your throat that also ignited your competitive streak. You tilted your neck up and opened your mouth so that the tip of Steven’s cock could brush against your tongue on every drive of his pelvis.

The kitten licks were what did him in, Steven orgasmed with a roar and raised himself higher on his knees at the last possible second to paint your boobs with his seed.

“Oh. My. Days.” Each word required their own breath from your winded husband, now speaking his normal register once again.

“Yeah,” was all your scrambled brain could add before you tried to squirm away from Steven’s tongue on your sternum.

“Please, love,” he nuzzled the one patch of skin on your torso that wasn’t doused in some form of bodily fluid. “Wanna taste us.”

“Fine,” you submitted. “Be grateful I can’t move.”

Steven hummed happily, getting a total of three sweeps of his tongue across your torso before Nyla’s fussing echoing down the cottage’s small hallway.

“Perfect timing, as always,” you groused.

“Ehh, she could've announced herself a lot sooner,” Steven countered. “Hey, you didn’t come.”

There was your Steven, ever the gentleman and egalitarian in the sack. “Honey, if you go take care of her and let me shower right now, we can call it even.”

He pecked your cheek and hopped to. “Only if you let me make a cup of tea too.”

“‘Kay,” you said as he pulled on his, well technically Marc’s, boxers and headed toward the door. You, on the other hand, set yourself the task of maneuvering to the en-suite without dripping everywhere and being kicked off of AirBnb.

“Hon?’ you looked to where Steven watched you from the doorway, ignoring Nyla’s fussing for one more minute. “You sure you’re alright?”

“I am sweetheart,” you assured him. “My pussy’s going to be wet for days after this.”

Steven grinned, remarkably sweetly for a man who’d just come all over your chest. “Love you.”

“Love you, too,” you parroted.

Read the follow up fics : Close Encounters of the Maternal Kind and First

A/N: Writes nearly 10,000 words of lactation kink and *takes myself to horny jail*. Thank you so much for reading and please feel free to let me know if you enjoyed!

Also I wrote this in less than a week, isn’t that terrifying?! Leave it to the moon boys to inspire my to write obscenely long and dirty fics.

My weird little headcanon on the reader and Nyla’s surnames are the on paper and official documents, you use Spector, but casually and in social situations you use the last name of whoever’s fronting.

Translations:

Pendejo - Stupid/Idiot

Querida - dear

Lo siento mami - I’m sorry, mommy

Si mami - Yes mommy

Tetas - tits

Bien bien Papi - okay, okay Daddy

mamacita, tu leche es tan dulce - little mama, your milk is so sweet

4K notes · View notes

soft-girl-musings · 4 months

Text

Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps - CHAPTER 1 (Strangers In The Night)

Noir!Jake Lockley x WOC Lounge Singer!Reader

written in collaboration with + header by @mrs-lockley

chapter 2 chapter 3 chapter 4 chapter 5

cross-posted to ao3

tags: late 1940s Noir AU, Reader is WOC coded but with no physical description besides being slightly taller than Jake while wearing heels, no use of Y/N

wc: 2,222

fic summary: Of all the gin joints in all the world, Jake Lockley walks into yours. Unfortunately for him, it's not quite the start of a beautiful friendship.

A/N: can't believe this is the product of covid-induced hcs and thots between me and @mrs-lockley, thank you so much for encouraging this buddy (also @lunar-ghoulie if i had a nickel for each time you've sent an ask/dm about a WIP and it ended up being where i put all my energy, i'd have two nickels. which isn't a lot but it's hilarious that it's happened twice).

----------

On nights like tonight, Jake Lockley regrets his choice of profession.

It’s a dreary November evening, darkening by the second as the New York streets grow damp and cold. The wise had decided not to venture out; the blindsided rush across slick pavement to whatever shelter they can find. The desperate stay on the clock and curse their luck.

He should know by now that when a client says they’ll be “just a minute,” it’s a boldfaced lie: even if they have every intention of being efficient, he’s been stranded on the curb more times than he can count.

So he keeps the meter running. He’s seen the duds his regular client has on each week; the man could afford to fork over a few extra bucks. Might even build character.

The steady rhythm of the rain had been fine at first, but after half an hour parked beneath the neon sign of The Paper Moon– hat, coat and gloves doing nothing to ward off the chill creeping into his cab– every raindrop taunts him in his isolation.

To hell with this.

He shuts off the engine, pops his collar, and braces himself before stepping out onto the street. The rain falls fast and hard, so he rushes toward the brick exterior of The Paper Moon. He’s never been inside, but the glowing crescent of the sign had piqued his interest the first time he’d dropped his client here. He may as well see what all the fuss is about.

The doorman– a tall, dapperly dressed unit with a neutral grimace– casts a wary look his way. Jake ducks into the alley beside the building. Guess it’s exclusive.

Through the rain he spots a side door with a meagerly covered stoop, upon which is hunched a smaller, yet equally well-dressed figure. The young man’s tawny complexion pops against the emerald green of his just-too-big blazer, mist gathering in the dark brown waves slicked back from his creased brow. He grips a cigarette between clenched teeth, stuttering curses around it as he strikes a flimsy matchbook to no avail.

“¿Necesitas un fuego?”

At his offer, Jake is met by startled, impossibly wide brown eyes. The shock turns to glee as his face breaks into a toothy smile.

“Sí– sí sería genial, señor.” He makes room on the stoop, his dimpled cheeks betraying his youth. Jake pulls out a lighter and deftly lights the end of his cigarette, earning another dimpled grin after a few christening puffs. “Muchísimas gracias.”

“No hay problema.”

He lights one of his own, the smoke mixing with the fog of his breath as he holds out his free hand. “Jake.”

“Mauricio.” His newfound companion grips his hand and shakes vigorously.

They sit in silence for a few moments, their subtle exhalations and the slowing rain the only sounds between them.

The mood is disrupted by shouting from the other side of the door, followed by clattering and the unmistakable sound of someone falling. The door behind them flies open and a lanky, dark skinned man in a matching green blazer pokes his head outside.

“You’d better get your tail in here, Maurie. She’s in one of her moods tonight.”

“Rats, alright,” he groans, taking one last drag of his cigarette before stamping it out with his heel. Mauricio straightens his blazer and pushes a hand through his hair. He pauses at the door and looks back at Jake.

“Do you wanna come inside, dry off for a spell? We put on a mean show,” he swears. The kid's face isn't one Jake imagines people say “no” to very often.

“...Yeah, alright. Thanks.”

“Great! There’s a couple of tables toward the back that should still be free, you can sneak in there no problem.” Mauricio holds the door open a bit wider for Jake to step through. “If anyone gives you any trouble, just tell ‘em you’re with me.” With a wink and another winning smile, he darts off to follow the other blazer.

Jake finds his spot easily enough, taking in the atmosphere as he weaves between tables and patrons. So this is The Paper Moon.

The building’s drab exterior is deceptive: inside is a small lounge, bustling with activity and humming with life. Richly draped walls envelop the space, with ornate lamps and soft candlelight radiating from every table. The room looks as warm as it feels, a welcome relief from Jake’s prior solitude.

He takes off his soaked coat and loosens his tie. Across the room Jake sees his client– a cold, calculating Mr. Wesley– who gives a curt nod, as if granting his permission to take a load off (for now).

He orders a drink from a slightly bewildered waiter and continues to survey the space. People of all shapes and sizes occupy tables and barstools, with the chatter of at least three languages creating a dizzying buzz around him. The crowd dies down when stage lights flash on at the far end of the room.

Out marches the band: the guy who'd clambered to the back door sits at the piano, cracking his knuckles before playing a few notes on the keys; an older man with a similar complexion props an upright bass in position, riffing along with the scattered piano melody; an impressively mustachioed fellow polishes the mouthpiece of his trumpet; Mauricio settles in behind a set of drums, waving a stick in the air when he spots Jake.

As warm as he's gotten after coming inside, the temperature seems to skyrocket as the click of heels and the shimmer of the last band member crossing the stage sends his heartbeat right into his throat. In walks– no, floats – a vision, evening gown the same color as the richly painted lips that curl into a smile as easily as breathing. Something Jake seems to have forgotten how to do.

He can’t take his eyes off you.

----------

There’s something in the air tonight.

Maybe it’s the smoke lingering on Mauricio’s jacket (you’ve told him time and time again how smoking before a show irritates you; he must have snuck a pack backstage), or maybe the weather has you out of sorts. Whatever it is, you’re one false step away from losing your cool. Which, of course, cannot happen. Not onstage.

As the band warms up, you take one last look in your compact mirror, blot your lipstick, and take a deep breath. It’s showtime.

The moment you step onstage, you turn on the charm. Nothing can touch you up here. Not when there’s music to play, a band to lead. A night to make unforgettable.

You approach the microphone and smile. “Hello again, darlings. Did you miss us while we were away?”

Applause and cheers echo back to you from the audience. There’s a distinct two-toned whistle that rises above the noise, but you don’t think anything of it.

Not until you scan the crowd and see something– someone – that doesn’t belong.

Lounging at the previously unoccupied back table is a man you’ve never seen before. Which wouldn’t be a problem if you didn’t know the face and name of everyone who enters your club.

His eyes stay trained on you as you nod to the band to begin. One outlier a bad night will not make– you’ll deal with him later. For now, you let the caress of the opening notes ease the new tension in your body, and you start to sing.

With six shows a week, one would think the routine would become tedious. Quite the opposite: any night you play the same standards with the band is bound to be a good night. The chemistry between you and your boys is perfect– even on an off night like tonight, you still manage to follow each other and make the same hour of music sound brand new.

You lead one song, then another, completely in your own world. Of course, the constant cheers and occasional audience participation don’t hurt. But just when you hit your stride and forget your troubles, that whistle rings out above the noise.

The stranger's on the edge of his seat, rapt attention never leaving the stage. Seems innocent enough, but you’re still on high alert.

The set comes to a close, ending with a vibrant flourish. The band improvises a steady beat as you take a sip of water, then smile once more into the microphone.

“Oh, stop. Really…. well, alright, you can keep going,” you croon at the crowd as they cheer louder.

You gesture to the band. “Let’s give a big round of applause to The Jays, what do you say?”

“On piano we have the dazzling Jackie Thomas,” you call out as he trills a fancy melody a little louder than the rest. “Followed by this absolute Adonis on the bass, Benny Hayes,” you add as the smooth licks of his instrument sound out a reply.

“Let’s hear it for Leo Castellón and his magnificent mustache on the trumpet,” you tease as he blasts out a tune. “And our baby bird on drums, Mauricio Farrés!” You raise your voice as the youth bangs out a closing rhythm.

“And as always, I’m Ms. Songbird. We hope you’ll join us again soon, my doves. Goodnight!”

The band plays themselves out as you descend downstage to the front of the room. Time for the next act.

You know how to work a crowd both on and offstage; hospitality is as much a part of the gig as the music. Tonight’s a full house, but you take your time gliding past each table, front to back. Does everyone have their preferred drink? How’s the food? Was the music to their liking? All questions you ask with genuine interest, but you know the answer: everything is perfect.

"Hey, little songbird," a voice calls above the noise.

Everything except him.

You've been avoiding the back table for a while, trying to collect your thoughts before confronting him. No time like the present, I suppose.

You turn to see the outlier standing by the table he’d commandeered, a shimmering bundle of rhinestones dangling from his hand. The glint of a grin catches the low light the same way your traitorous earring does.

You touch your ear and your face grows hot. “Where did you–”

“Fell off as you floated by the last few tables, angel.”

Your heels tap out a warning as you approach. Toe-to-toe, with the added height of your shoes, you practically tower over him. Your brow furrows as you size him up: too forward to have something to hide, too laissez-faire to be up to any obvious trouble. All the same, you don't trust him.

You look him up and down; he does the same. "You're not very tall, are you?" More of a challenge than a question as you reach for the rhinestones in his hand.

Leaning back against the table, jewelry dangling just out of reach, his sly smile grows. "Well, miss, I tried to be."

"Right." You snatch the earring back before he says anything else. "I see you also tried to be discreet, and that didn't go so well for you, did it Chuck?"

"Actually, it's–"

“–club policy to check your coat at the door. Something our hostess would have insisted upon, meaning you– ” you emphasize as you lean in, fingertips pressed to the tabletop by his side, "–slipped in under the wire." You search his face for anything to betray his intentions. "Now how did you manage that?”

The stranger lowers himself into his seat, hands raised in surrender. "A little backstage access, courtesy of your drummer there." He nods toward the stage: you catch a glimpse of Mauricio clumsily ducking back behind the curtain. You'll scold him later.

His gaze shifts across the room. “See that fella over there– the one who looks like it'd kill him to smile? I’m just waiting to drive him home, like I do every week.” He grins again, that same look in his eyes. A look that sets you on edge. “Just a humble cab driver, miss– nothing up my sleeves.”

“Didn't know cabbies could be so exclusive,” you say, still eyeing him. James Wesley has been a regular for a few weeks, but you've never met his driver.

“With what he tips? Doll, I'd do damn near anything he asked.” The stranger chuckles, sipping his drink.

You know what he means: the wait staff has noted a major uptick in gratuities since Mr. Wesley has started frequenting the lounge.

“Very well,” you offer stiffly. It all checks out, but you get the feeling there's something he's not telling you. “I hope everything is to your liking.”

You turn to leave, but he takes your hand before you can go far.

“Oh believe me, it is… Ms. Songbird. ” A wink and a smile play on his lips as he swiftly presses them to your knuckles, letting go just as fast. You storm away before giving the satisfaction of showing how flustered you are.

“Mr. Manalo,” you beckon a waiter as he passes. He stands at attention. You gesture to the table you’d just left, not bothering to look and see if his eyes are still on you.

“Watch out for this one, will you? I get the feeling he isn’t just here for the music.”

----------

A/N: !!!! every story i write becomes my new favorite, but Noir!Jake has carved a pretty special spot in my heart this autumn. so excited to share more of him with y'all!

as always, thank you for reading :)

addtl tag list: @fandxmslxt69 @shadystarlightgentlemen @casa-boiardi (lmk if you'd like to be added to/removed from this wee tag list)

#my works #moon knight #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight au #jake lockley #jake lockley fanfiction #noir!jake lockley #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley x fem!reader #jake lockley x woc!reader #jake lockley x poc!reader #jake lockley/reader #jake lockley/fem!reader #jake lockley/woc! reader #jake lockley/poc!reader

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pimosworld · 4 months

Text

The sun and the moon

🌙Pairing-Moon boys x f!reader x Khonshu x Hathor

🌔Summary- You, a long lost descendant of Hathor, crosses paths with Moon Knight. A chance for Khonshu to reconcile with his past and a chance for the boys to have a future.

🌒CW-18+,MDNI, Explicit smut, angst, hurt, comfort, canon typical violence, god and goddess powers, mentions of parental abuse, past domestic abuse (not physical), healing old wounds, healing your inner child, eventual happy ending.

WK-1.2K

A/N- This idea has been bouncing around in my head for months and now I’m finally tackling it. Don’t have a set schedule for posting or an idea for how many chapters so it should be a wild ride for my moon babes.

Not beta read

[Series Masterlist][Moon Knight Masterlist]

Prologue

He steps into the coffee shop holding a newspaper over his head to shield himself from the rain. He’s sporting that scowl between his brows as he grumbles under his breath.

He takes his fingers through his hair trying as best he can to smooth his hair out of his face. No flat cap today.

The barista doesn’t understand as she tries to make conversation. It was so obvious to you in the beginning and yet people who greet him everyday don’t even notice.

Hmmm coffee with sugar today…interesting.

He says something to the mirror next to the register about buying a new coffee pot as he taps his foot and waits. His arms crossed as he scanned the room.

It’s Pavlovian the way he drifts to you and sits next to your table. The one he doesn’t even know is saved for him.

“This tastes like crap.” He sets the mug down like it personally offended him.

“You’re a little nicer when you have tea.” Marc looks over at you, but you don’t look up from your book. “Although decidedly more grumpy than when you have black coffee.”

He clears his throat a little before speaking. “I’m sorry, did you say something to me?”

You pick up your pressed sunflower bookmark and place it gently between the pages. “You’re much nicer on the days you have tea.”

He feels warm suddenly, when your eyes meet him. The heat is almost too much as he shucks off his jacket. Maybe the coffee was stronger than he thought because he’s sure he can hear his own heartbeat.

Steven did tell him to take a break.

You smile at him and place the book in your bag as you stand from the corner table and exit. You squeeze his shoulder once as you wave goodbye to the barista.

He stares down at where your hand was, it’s seared into him. Like the ache from a sunburn.

Well that settles that mate

“Settles what?”

She has that effect on all of us

****

He doesn’t know how long it’s been.

When he sees you again and recognizes the barista as she smiles at him. Her cheeks are red and she stammers a little over her words.

He can’t focus on anything but that table next to you. He wants to get to that table before anyone else does.

You can tell it’s him when he walks in. His hair is combed back and he’s wearing that black jacket you love that fits him like a glove.

Your eyes flit briefly to the register where the girl who is absolutely smitten with them tries to compose herself enough to not ruin his coffee again.

He’s nervous

There’s two open tables, the one next to you and one by the drafty door. You meet his eyes as he weighs his options while he waits for the girl to finish his coffee.

There's that warmth again, it’s too hot in here. He removes his jacket and sheepishly heads toward you. He gently places it in the seat beside your corner table that looks out onto the street.

“I would never let anyone take your spot.” He’s certain this time, you’re speaking to him. You don’t look up from your book The art and architecture of ancient Egypt.

They call his name twice before he heads back to the counter to collect his coffee.

You take a few notes and bite down on your pen as you think of what to say next. He can see the indentation where you bite the pen. The way your lips rest carefully on the edge. The way your brow furrows when you’re thinking.

He finds himself exactly where he wants to be in his seat. With nothing to say.

The hot coffee somehow cools him down from the flames burning inside. He closes his eyes and is drawn back to the last time he remembered it tasting this good.

When he opens them again you’re smiling at the barista shooting her a thumbs up as she claps her hands in delight.

He swallows thickly, he’s never been this nervous. Not even as moon knight.

“I’ve seen that book before.” His voice somehow sounds foreign even to him.

You flip it over and glance at the back and laugh. A sound he could definitely get used to.

“I would hope so, Steven let me borrow it.”

She’s almost finished it, I just gave it to her a few days ago.

You resume your book as if you didn’t just say the most earth shattering thing for his fragile mind to hear. It shouldn’t come as a surprise with how comfortable you are in his presence.

You know he’s dangling off a cliff and you might as well just give him that push he needs to let go.

“That reminds me.” You dig through your bag for a moment before sliding a small leather bag toward him. “I haven’t seen Jake in a few days, it looked like he might need it.”

Marc shakily opens the bag to reveal a leather patch kit. He takes three deep breaths before zipping it closed.

If you’re going to sit there like an idiota at least say thank you.

“Jake said thank you.” Shit. Why would he say that out loud?

“De nada.”

You know.

Sì she knows.

Was he that closed off after Layla that they didn’t want him to meet you? Maybe they were scared he’d run you away. It’s shocking to have Jake partnering with Steven to keep secrets from him.

Then again, maybe you weren’t a secret.

You can tell he’s genuinely surprised and a little uncomfortable but Steven and Jake told you that was to be expected. This is the longest conversation you’ve had with him, where he didn’t recede from the front.

Long enough for him to finally start opening up to you. Asking your name and how long you’ve known him, them.

You and Steven bonded over tea and your love for ancient Egypt. He was helping you prepare for your interview with the museum to become a curator.

Jake would give you rides to the library or home, when the weather was particularly bad.

He can place it now…that scent that lingers on his clothes from time to time. Your perfume, a mixture of vanilla and lavender. It’s overwhelming his senses now as you lean in and laugh at some off handed remark he said.

You must be comfortable enough to hug them, to press your body close to theirs. Close enough to leave a trace of you on them for days on end. It’s exhilarating and maddening all at once…to know he’s closed himself off from you for so long that you’re practically strangers.

Except you aren’t.

You’re much more than that. The way you reach over and trace a new scar on his brow. Staring at it like it personally offended you. Your touch burns and lingers long after you’ve placed them back in your lap. The look on your face like you’ve possibly crossed some boundary with him. He desperately wants you to touch him again. To leave a mark not unlike his scars.

“I thought he was supposed to heal you?”

It’s evident he’s missed more days with you than he can conceive. He can feel his chest constricting even before the words leave his mouth. “Who?”

“Khonshu.”

The bird looks on from a building high above the street. He’s not sure how you could’ve forgotten that you’re the one who’s supposed to heal them.

🌕Comments and reblogs are much appreciated 🌒

Taglist- @chichimisaki @missdictatorme @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @queerponcho @melodygatesauthor

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devilish-mirage · 2 years

Text

Cute

Steven Grant x Fem!Reader

Summary; A boring night at the inventory with Steven somehow turned into a rather interesting row of events when you discovered just how easily flustered your co-worker really is.

Tags; Reader loved to tease Steven, idiots in love, mutual pining (sort of), suggestive theme, fluff, fluff, fluffy goodness!, Subby Steven and Dom Reader vibes, Marc and Jake as Steven best wingman, Donna cockblocking us, this fic used a lot of cheesy pick up lines

Word count; 2,4k

A/n; thank u as always for translating the Spanish sentences, bebé <3 @friendlyneighbourhood-parker

Masterlist

You huffed tiredly, silently celebrating when you scanned the last item in the box but then you caught the sight of another box not too far away from you, the box was full with unscanned items making you groaned in annoyance.

You sighed, deciding to take a quick break from that nauseous repeated motion. Propping your chin in the palm of your right hand, you shifted your eye sight to your co-worker who shared your unfortunate fate, Steven Grant who sit just a few feet away from you on another desk full of unscanned items.

The man's eyebrows furrowed every now and then when the old scanner doesn't work, you cringed when he dropped an item down, you saw him muttered something underneath his breath and picked the item back up.

He always come with messy hair and wrinkled mismatched shirt, today is no exceptions, as if he had no time to iron them properly. Did he not care about his image in the working environment? Well, you guess that's why he's always late.

You sometimes wondered why he's still working here. Donna, the manager of this section doesn't seem to like him at all and if you're being completely honest the pay is not that good either.

Truth be told he's a pretty passionate person if it came to tour guiding, you've seen him multiple times cosplaying as a tour guide, why didn't Donna gave him the part anyway?

He shifted his gaze towards you slowly as if he's afraid of getting caught but alas you caught him in the middle of the act, throwing him a lazy smirk making him quickly looked back down at the item on his hand, as if it was the most interesting thing in the room.

"Cute." You muttered, smiling widely as you watched him try to get a grip on himself. Placing both of your hand on the desk, you straighten your back, softly calling out for him, your voice rang through the empty room loudly.

"Hey, Steven?"

He looked back up immediately, shouting his answer, "Yes!" you saw him cringed at himself before he cleared his throat, "Y-yes?" he said again, quieter this time.

"Do you know what bees make?"

You felt yourself smiled at his confused face, "Honey?" he hesitantly say his answer making you grin wider at him.

"Yes, honey?"

You saw how his eyes went wide as saucers and he opened his mouth, stuttering the words but you didn't really cared about them right now, the only thing that mattered is how adorable he looked as he crumbled beneath your stare.

Stumbling and looking anywhere beside your face as his cheeks reddened at that simple sentence that you just said.

You really think he awoken something in you and you're not complaining. You felt the smile grew wider on your face. Oh, you'll know the days would fun from now on.

That was the first of many times you'll tease him with cheesy pick up lines.

"Hey, can I borrow a pen?"

You suddenly appeared behind him, smiling widely at his figure as he searched the item on his body, "I didn't bring any."

"How about a pencil?"

You said, he shook his head to the side softly, his eyes softened, frowning slightly at your direction. "That too, sorry."

You mirrored his frown, sighing softly before muttering, "Damn, then how could u draw my attention every single time?" out loud.

You looked up and met his eyes, you can't fight the smile from forming as he stood there, in silenced with his eyes wide open- like a deer in highlights.

He gulped, feeling himself getting nervous underneath your stare, he always find you to be so pretty and confident, it's intimidating.

"I- uh,"

He stuttered making you hummed softly at him, leaning closer so you could hear him better, not missing the way his breath hitched when you're just inches away from him.

"Go on, Steven. Let me hear you."

He couldn't said it, not when you're like that. The way his heart is beating so loudly reached his ears, he's afraid that you'll hear his rapid heartbeat.

"Nevermind,"

He muttered, looking down on his shoe as he held his breath, you smell so good but he doesn't want to feel like a creep.

"I think there's something wrong with my eyes," You suddenly said, without wasting a second he looked up again, eyes boring straight into yours.

"Are you alright? Do you need anything?!" he unconsciously leaned closer with a worried mixed with panicked expression, too busy worrying about you to notice how startled you looked at his action, he also didn't notice how the glint in your eyes slightly shine.

Oh? What's this?

"I can't take them off of you, Steven."

He shut his mouth before letting a breath out. You're just so- You almost had a heart attack when he suddenly looked back, facing his back at you.

"I- Is that Donna calling me? I gotta go!"

He looked back at you and nervously smiled at you, nodding his head repeatedly and stumbling his way to the back.

Your gaze didn't left his back until he's completely out of your sight, shaking your head softly while smiling.

"Cute."

Ever since that day you've noticed that Steven has been very busy. Donna did in fact called for him a few days ago, she assigned him a couple works to do, sadly you only share a few of them and you didn't want to admit it but you kinda miss that easily flustered coworker of yours.

Thankfully you just finished this week meeting, too busy staring at Steven to noticed that all of your co-workers has left the both of you on your own.

When you finally did realized, you caught yourself waltzed your way to him, smiling slightly as he focused on his notes instead of his suroundings, he always got lost in his own world, that's such a Steven thing to do.

"You should really try (Insert the name of your country here)'s foods."

That's the first thing that you said to him. He looked up, smiling softly at your direction as you stood next to him. It's been a few days since you've talked and he also share the same feeling as you did.

"Oh- of course, I've been meaning too. "

You nodded your head, looking ahead for a second before shifting your gaze towards him again, smiling as you said the word, "I have a recommendation."

"What is it?"

"It's-"

"Wait, Let me write it down, I don't want to forget it." he cut you off, looking down again to grab a pen and tried to find an empty page on his note.

You chuckled at his behavior, leaning slightly towards him, "Me."

The pen on his grasp halted, did you just said what he thought you did?

"Excuse me?"

You raised an eyebrow at him with an innocent expression, "I'm from (country)," stepping closer to him with each word that fell from your lips. "You could try me."

He unconsciously stepped backwards, his hands trying to grab anything that could help me calm down but he was met with a wall.

"But you're not food?"

He nervously smiled when he felt his back already hit the wall behind him, you hummed at him, letting your gaze fell to his lips for a moment.

"I don't know, why don't you try and find out?"

His breath hitched once you brushed your fingertips on his forehead, brushing away the hair that covered his face.

"Are you guys flirting again?"

You looked back and stare at Donna who already folded both of her hand in front of her chest with a deep frown painted her face.

"That could wait." She said, her voice was slightly louder and tinted with annoyance as if she knew you were about to mock her.

You smiled at her direction but let out a, "It really couldn't." under your breath.

She only motioned her head to the side, silently asking you to follow her.

"Bummer." You let out another breath, looking back to where Steven is. He stood there in all his awkwardness as he watched the two of you interacted.

"I'll see u in a bit, Steven."

You winked at him and turned your back, making your way to the door, you wouldn't let the teasing end of course, you purposely sway your hips to the side seductively.

You slightly turned your head and caught a glimpse of him checking you out, you giggled. He's really easy to read, such a cute fellow.

"All you have to do is flirt back, Steven."

"no es tan difícil, hermano." (It's not that hard, brother)

"It is, Jake!"

He suddenly shouted to the mirror, his face fell, immediately regretting his action the next second.

"I'm sorry," he said, shaking his head, "I'm just really nervous around her." he looked back up to stare at his alters, "I don't know what it is."

"Really?" his alters only raised their eyebrows at him, he could clearly heard their tone, it was lanced with a lot of sarcasm, "You really don't know?"

Steven bit his lips, gulping his saliva down as he thought to himself before saying the words that was on his mind, his thoughts about you.

"She's just that pretty, alright!" He finally admitted, "She's confident, kind, also she's very good with words."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah! She also smells really nice, I swear the way she smiles light up the room like how could someone look so-"

Steven suddenly stopped mid sentences, while both of his alters shared a knowing look to one another.

Oh, oh. The realization came to him and it hit him like a train, he looked at his alters who looked back at him with a teasing smirk plastered on their face.

"Did you finally get it?"

Steven only nodded his head without a word, too embarrassed to say anything, he palmed his forehead as he tried to hide his blush.

Steven strode inside the inventory in confidence, today's the day, today is the day he'll finally threw a pick up line at you and caught you off guard, he also planned to ask you out, he took a deep breath.

"Don't worry, we got your back."

"así es." (That's right)

He silently thanked his alters, sitting in his place, his gaze already fixated on your face.

You could felt your skin getting hot because how hard he's been staring at you.

"No pick up line today?"

He said making you let out a small laugh, shaking your head slightly to the side you said, "I have no pick up lines in mind because I only have you in my mind right now."

He nodded his head, nervously gripping his jacket before taking them off, it's getting pretty hot.

Gulping as he repeat the pick up line that he picked. You wouldn't know but he spend a lot of time arguing on which pick up line is the best.

"Um, y/n?"

"Hm?"

You hummed at him, not looking up and continued to scan the item in your hand.

"What's your last name?"

You raised an eyebrow at that, that's new.

"L/n," you said, putting the item down and finally meeting his eye, he could almost felt like he'll melt. "that's my last name."

"C-could you spell it for me?"

He cursed himself in his mind, how could he stuttered?

You didn't really pay any mind to it and spelled your last name for him, slowly letting the alphabets fall from your lips as you keep your eyes still at him who seem to be writing them down, you wonder what's it for though.

"It's kinda hard,"

You stood up, "Let me help you write-" already making your way to him before he cuts you off, "Wouldn't it be easier if you change it to Grant instead?"

"That's right, Steven!"

He heard both of his alter said at the same time, making him somehow proud, the feeling fill his chest as he looked up, a proud expression sits on his face but it quickly shifted to a panicked one when he realized you're staring him down with a smirk, both of your hands were on the table.

"Oh? Is that so?"

"Stay strong, hermano!" (brother)

"Keep your feet to the ground!"

"Y-yes,"

"Can I really have it, Steven?"

"Don't back down now!'

You leaned closer, lifting his chin with your fingers so he could looked up at you, you could see how his pupils dilated, "Hm?" that teasing smile of yours never leave your face as you leaned closer to him, your eyes fell to his lips.

"She's really cute from up close though."

His alter said making him furrowed his eyebrows when he heard them.

"Jake!"

That's Marc, Steven unconsciously nodded his head in agreement, Marc always has his back.

"What? You disagree?"

"No, you're right."

He almost fell, surprised that his only hope was agreeing to what Jake's said.

"She's really my type too."

"I might have her all for myself-"

Steven cut Marc's word, gulping as he braved himself to said them, "I can give it to you if you want." he can't lose you, no, especially not to this idiots.

"Hey!" they both said at the same time and Steven just outright ignored them.

You lift your eyebrow, tilting your head to the side.

He took a deep breath, looking at you directly, throwing all the anxiety and nervousness out the window, "Grant. My last name."

You let out a weak laugh that made him swore he almost fell down on his knees by the sound of it, it was heavenly.

"Y/n Grant,"

You hummed at him, placing your fingers on your chin as if you're thinking about it.

Steven could felt his heartbeat beating hard through his ribcage when he heard you said that, once again afraid you'll hear them. He knew you did though.

"I like the way it sounds."

Should he buy a ring on his way home? How many kids do you want? What should he name them-

"Wait, you're moving too fast, Steven!"

He blinked, Marc's right, you putting your first name and his last name together was making him imagining things far in the future.

"Does that mean I could take you out for dinner?"

'That's a good start, right?' He thought to himself and he could hear his alters agreeing on the back of his mind.

You let out a giggle, "Yes, I would love to." smiling as you said the word you've always associates with Steven, "Cute."

#steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #steven grant #moon knight #marc spector #moon knight x reader #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley #steven grant x you #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight au #marvel moon knight #mcu moon knight #mira writes shts #moon knight fluff #steven grant fluff

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thot-of-khonshu · 2 years

Note

Can do a story where Steven overstims the reader and makes her squirt for the first time 🤭🤭🤭🤭

It’s time for another appearance of Professor Steven Grant.

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Content: overstimulation, dirty talk, age gap, student/teacher relationship, spanking, pussy spanking, squirting

A lazy fall Sunday afternoon could’ve been spent binge watching tv in your dorm with a half-open window, greeting the embracing chill. You could’ve been on the lawn with your roommate, who invited you out with friends of friends to smoke joints and drink wine until it got dark. Hell, you could’ve called home to tell them everything was okay, college was gee terrific grand and that it was everything you thought it would be and more.

But on this Sunday afternoon at 2 PM, you find yourself half naked, pleated skirt hiked up as Professor Steven Grant finger fucks you into oblivion. Your hands are currently useless, fashioned into the tie you noticed from last Wednesday’s lecture on a pipe hanging above his desk.

Papers are scattered everywhere and you’re currently fucked out of your mind and entering a state of bliss you didn't know existed. The only thing you can hear is the sounds of your wetness as Steven's thick fingers enter and exit you shallowly, his palm hitting your clit hard.

It feels so good you don't want it to stop but you also don't want to lose control. He feels too good and he's hitting your walls with such intense pressure you feel yourself building, building, building.

"Fuck you're taking my fingers so well. I have to get you ready for my cock, I need to feel this wetness around it." Steven groans.

"Please don't stop, Professor Grant." You groaned, neither of you admitting how mad it drives the both of you calling him by his formal name. Knowing how inappropriate and dirty this all is. It just makes him more feral.

He grabs your ass tightly, giving it a hard smack as he crashes his lips into yours. He forces his tongue into your mouth as you moan with entry.

"I need you to say that when you come. I'm desperate for it. I need something to think about when I see you at your desk, me dying to touch this pussy but I can't." Steven grits into your mouth.

He quickly crouches down between your legs. He moves at a pace with his fingers that makes you unable to produce sound. You feel your muscles tensing and you're about to release in any moment.

But then he takes his other hand, slapping roughly at your clit, he puts a hard pressure on it that's too much to take. You want to scream.

You don't realize until Steven is chuckling to himself that you are screaming. You're relieved campus is empty but if someone caught you, submitting your pussy to Professor Steven Grant you'd let them see it. Let them see how much he owns you.

"Let it go, love." He begs.

"Professor Grant!" A burst of liquid comes out of you as Steven lets out a loud, guttural groan. He opens his mouth to taste your spill, humming to himself and singing praises.

You're immobile with shock. "I've never done that before." You pant to him. He moves back up to your lips, biting the lower.

"Well, it certainly won't be the last."

#steven grant #moon knight #steven grant smut #moon knight smut #steven grant x you #steven grant x y/n #steven grant fanfiction #steven grant x reader #oscar isaac fanfiction #oscar isaac x y/n #Oscar isaac #Oscar isaac X you #professor steven grant #professor Steven grant au #moon knight au #ask bea

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blushnik · 6 months

Text

Patrons' most voted Drawing of the Month turned into a little comic x3 Bonus panel (that I hopefully won't get yeeted for is below)

Uncensored on my Patreon as usual (link in the bio💙)

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanart #moon knight #jake lockley #steven grant #marc spector #marvel fanart #moon knight au #myart #blushnik #comic

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ivystoryweaver · 10 months

Text

Jake Lockley Dance Instructor hc's

My Masterlist

Jake is the most popular dance instructor at the studio

He can teach anything ballroom or Latin, but everyone loves to see those hips sway

His favorite dance is the Cha Cha, although it's the slow and sensual Rumba that sweeps his lady partners off their feet

Despite his love and natural aptitude for Latin dances, he is actually quite good at the Foxtrot

^ To that end, little old ladies, who are all more in love with him than the young ladies, proudly parade around the dance floor when an old Foxtrot plays

Jake has the highest sales in the studio, the area and even the state. It takes exactly one lesson to want to buy a whole dance program with him.

He is the perfect gentleman - professional, composed, always neat and tidy, and he smells divine.

However, he is so devastatingly handsome, some women like to think he flirts with them. (He doesn't, he's just charming)

The middle aged women get catty and jealous about who takes more lessons with him, who gets the best lesson time slots, and who gets the most dances with him at a social mixer

Jake wins every competition he enters

The studio has a strict non-fraternization policy that Jake adheres to religiously. On the dance floor, he can make a woman believe she is the most special girl in the world, but he's never crossed the line, ever. He has no trouble getting a date outside the studio.

This all goes right to hell the day you walk in for your first dance lesson.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Moon Knight Masterlist

Main Masterlist

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Join the tag list (or tell me your tagging preferences by fandom and NSFW/SFW)

#jake lockley #jake lockley au #moon knight au #jake lockley hc's #jake lockley headcanons #dancing #ballroom dancing #latin dancing #dancer jake lockley #jake lockley x you

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crystaljelly64 · 2 years

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Me and @tankycinna were talking about an Unus Annus AU for Steven and Marc where they’re Ethan and Mark (Jake and Layla are Evan and Amy as camera operators) and he brought up this specific UA moment, so I decided to draw it 😭🌙✨ (it’s mostly traced over from the video but the faces aren’t)

Thought today was the perfect day to post it since the prompt today is “Mummy”! I had fun creating this and hope to do more AU stuff in the future :D

#moon knight #moon knight fanart #moon knight art #steven grant #marc spector #moonknight #fanart #unus anuus #moon knight au #markiplier #crankgameplays #momento mori #artists on tumblr #digital art #procreate art #crystaljellyart #I’m sorta back I guess #will be saving some posts to reblog at a better time tomorrow cuz I’ve missed some stuff >:)

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cameronthecryptid · 1 month

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Ever since seeing @hhhhleb’s little!Jake au I’ve just been imagining the boys in this meme and I love it so much

#moon knight #moonknight #jake lockley #little!jake lockley #moon knight au #I love the idea of the boys acting like brothers and their au just makes the idea so much cuter

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stevengrcnt · 2 years

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teacher!steven grant playing his students a song he wrote for their ancient egypt unit

#steven grant #oscar isaac #steven grant x you #steven grant x reader #mk headcanons #moon knight #moon knight au

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darth-sonny · 2 years

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the traditional au of leo dying in the prison dimension, except he comes back as a hamato spirit one year later, but the only person he can interact with is casey as the other members of his family disconnected themselves from the hamato clan after his death

aka, the moon knight au lol

#casey and leo go out exploring the world #leo does it bc he genuinly wants to. casey does it as an excuse not to go back to new york #and yes; leo and casey can fuse like karai and april did; and yes; casey can use leo's powers in this state #tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #leo hamato #casey jones junior #my art #sonny draws #moon knight au

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bit-dodgy-innit · 2 years

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Close Encounters of the Maternal Kind

Summary: In which your mom almost finds you with Steven’s head up your shirt.

This is set within my other fic THE SHAPE OF YOU which is helpful to read first but not necessary!

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

Rating: Explicit, Minors DNI!

Word Count: 2.4k (which for me is a drabble)

TW/CW: Lactation kink (shocker, I know), fluff, dirty talk, teasing, and a touch of softdom!reader, maybe a little exhibitionism too because our lovely couple almost gets caught?

A/N: AGAIN THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL THE LOVE AND ATTENTION EVERYONE HAS SHOWN SHAPE OF YOU!! So glad I’m not the only fan of Steven being a fan of your boobs out there!! Hope y’all enjoy, and if everyone keeps up the love, I’ll keep writing for this boy and this kink!

“Oh wow, well done Nyla!” Steven cheered from his seat next to you as he watched with sheer pride and delight as she breastfed from you.

Getting your newborn daughter to latch had been an ongoing struggle, one that had threatened to completely spin you out in your sleep-deprived, postpartum state. Yet ever since the entrance of Pippa, your obstetrician-recommended lactation specialist, breastfeeding had gone much more smoothly.

“For the love of God, Steven, don’t film this,” you chided in a loving but exasperated tone when your husband whipped out his phone.

“Why not? These are precious memories,” he contended, “not to mention a major moment in Nyla’s development.”

You grinned and allowed him to keep recording, sometimes your Steven was just too earnest for his own good.

“She is doing rather spectacularly” you admitted, sending an absolutely besotted gaze to your little daughter. “Just don’t show anyone this.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Steven averred, “I promise. Well, other than Marc and Jake, of course.”

“Of course,” you repeated softly.

You lapsed into silence, both of you rapt watching your baby girl. These were the moments you loved the most, just the three of you, enjoying something quiet and simple, qualities you’d learned not to take for granted since Nyla’s arrival. It felt as if her cries echoed nonstop in your head, and your stomach still clenched in apprehension every time you held Nyla to your bosom to feed, afraid that all the progress you’d made with Pippa would be lost.

But nothing was better than this, you decided: your little family safe, healthy, and happy. Nyla pulled off of you when she was done, and you readjusted your shirt so you could put her on your shoulder to burp her.

“I can do that,” Steven offered.

“It’s alright honey, I want to,” you told him. “Feel like I need to be close with her for a little while longer, Pippa said it’s good for us.”

He relented, instead using the time to tidy up the place. Thanks to your parents being in town it no longer looked like a bomb site. You paced around the flat while you coaxed a burp from Nyla.

“Did your parents say when they’d be over?” Steven asked.

“No. They said they wanted to check out the gallery at Dulwich but that’s–-oh good girl!”

Nyla had awarded you with a burp, which meant you could put her down to nap. Steven bided his time with the new information as you got your daughter settled. The gallery would take a solid while, plus if they walked around the park and stopped for lunch, Steven should have at least another hour alone with you.

He smiled when you tiptoed out of Nyla’s nursery, pantomiming victory after she fell asleep. Steven couldn’t help but laugh at your little charade.

Steven drew you into his arms. “We’re starting to get the parenting thing down, I think.”

“Too early to say,” you hedged, “but her eating and going down that easily was a definite win.”

Steven kissed you, unhurried and indulgent. You hadn’t kissed each other like this in forever.

“Hi,” he whispered, his lips lingering millimeters from you.

“Hi,” you bit your lip, a stupidly wide grin on your lips.

That was all you needed to to recapture one another’s lips. It was as if you were just seeing each other as people rather than exhausted, harried partners trying to keep a tiny, helpless being alive. Steven’s arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him, yet he flinched away reflexively when the wet spot on your shirt pressed against his.

“Oh shit,” you apologized immediately, “sorry.”

Steven wasn’t offended in the slightest, instead he gave you a heavy-lidded, suggestive look. “Care for some help with that?”

Recently, accidentally, you and Steven had discovered you shared a bit of a lactation kink before Pippa had helped you get Nyla latch. Your husband had always been your tits’ number one fan, so when Nyla was born and struggled to breastfeed, Steven happily volunteered to relieve you when your breasts became too engorged.

Turns out you’d both gotten off on it, which led to a husband who was even more keen when it came to getting his mouth on your boobs.

“We can’t,” you rebuffed.

“Why not?”

You rolled your eyes, men and their libidos. “My parents will be back any minute! God, saying that makes me feel like we’re teenagers sneaking around before curfew.”

Steven wasn’t giving up that easily. He crowded closer to you again. “Please babe? Just a little taste?”

To help convince you, he dotted kisses on that spot just behind your ear. That fucker, he was playing dirty…though, your breasts were a little achy to be honest…

“A taste, that’s it,” you surrendered. You pushed him away to look Steven in the eye. “Seriously Steven, we’re staying clothed and nothing below the belt.”

He nodded, graciously accepting the terms you set forth as you sat down on the couch and reached under your shirt to unclasp a cup on your nursing bra. Steven followed you, rucking up your shirt.

“You should wear these all the time,” he declared before wrapping his lips around your bare nipple.

“What, my gross nursing bras?”

“Mmmhmm,” Steven only disconnected his mouth for a second to clarify, “Easy access.”

You chuckled incredulously. As scandalized as you’d seemed to Steven, it did feel heavenly to have him suckling at you. You sank further into the couch, luxuriating in the wet suction of his mouth on the mound Nyla hadn’t eaten from.

Obviously there was nothing sexual about feeding your daughter, though it was deeply vulnerable and wholesomely intimate. Sharing this with Steven was managed to be both those emotions in a different way and arousing.

You never imagined you’d get off on this, let alone enjoy it. Yet, it was how much Steven relished the act himself that did it for you, that never failed to get your pussy, in addition to your tits, wet. They weren’t kidding when they said becoming a parent changes you.

You carded your fingers through your husband’s curls while he licked and sucked at your peak. Once short, his hair was growing out more since he, nor Marc or Jake, hadn’t been to the barber since your daughter’s birth. You liked it, the longer hair gave you more to grab onto when you and your husbands were able to find the time, let along muster the energy, to fuck.

“So good,” Steven murmured against the thin, sensitive skin of your teat. “Need more.”

You two were already pushing it as it was. “Honey…”

“Please,” You watched him grind himself against the cushions. “You’re just so tasty.”

You tilted Steven’s chin up to connect your lips. He eagerly granted you entrance when your tongue invaded his mouth to taste the two of you for yourself.

“We make quite the combination, don’t we?”

“C’mon babe, you know the power these titties have over me,” Steven pleaded.

You did know. And if you had more time, you’d make him beg for them properly. Steven was the only alter that you felt comfortable with and sexy about bossing around a bit.

You tucked your tit back into your bra but before you exposed the other one, you provoked him, “Tell me how much.”

A little whine escaped from Steven’s mouth. “Want ‘em so badly, darling. Always so big and perky…gods, nothing gets my cock harder than these tits, could suck at ‘em all day—“

You interrupted him, freeing your other breast and pushing his head back to your chest. Steven went without protest, resealing his lips around your nipple and resuming his avid suckling.

Oh, it felt so good for your boobs to be both pleasured and drained. You were on the verge of caving in and telling Steven to get his sure-to-be throbbing dick out when you heard a key in the front door’s lock.

“Oh my God!” You pushed Steven’s head away just as swiftly as you’d pulled it to you moments before, internally cursing that you’d given your parents a key.

It was supposed to be so they could let themselves in without disturbing Nyla, but perhaps the access was hurting more than helping now. You dove away from Steven on the couch and fumbled for the remote.

The two of you could hear the doorknob turning…

“What are you doing?” Steven demanded in a whisper.

“Putting on the telly because why else would you be sitting on the couch with a pillow on your lap other than to hide a boner?” you fired back lowly.

The door opened, footsteps approached…

“Your shirt!” Steven frantically reminded you.

You hastily stuffed your still leaking breast back into your already stained top, assuming what you hoped was a somewhat normal pose on the couch as your mother entered, a few bags from the grocery store as well as one from the Dulwich gift shop in tow.

“Is she napping?” she whispered, referring to Nyla. Both you and your husband nodded. “Then why is the TV on?”

“Because Steven just wanted to check the cricket score,” you covered while Steven muted the volume.

All three of you looked at the screen. A home improvement show that was decidedly not cricket played.

“It’s on a different channel than usual,” Steven explained while he desperately searched the digital guide for Sky Sports.

Honestly, now would have been the perfect time for Nyla to start fussing and divert everyone’s attention away from your disheveled state. Damn your effective sleep training.

A subject change was in order, you decided. “How was the gallery?”

“Lovely,” your mother answered. “Dad was tired, still dealing with the jetlag, so I went to the store and picked up a few things.”

“Thanks mom,” you responded, your tone full of genuine gratitude. Keeping Nyla fed was overwhelming enough, never mind feeding you and Steven on top of it.

“So kind of you,” Steven added along with his thanks.

You both volunteered to help her put away the groceries, one, because she’d gone through the trouble of getting and paying for them, and two, you and Steven had a system.

While you unpacked, the two of you peppered her with a constant stream of questions about her morning at the park and gallery, which seemed to effectively take her mind off of anything she might’ve glimpsed earlier.

***

You thought you’d gotten away with masking your little escapade until later that night. Your mom sent Steven and your dad to pick up the takeaway and was rocking Nyla when she asked you, “Is everything alright, sweet pea?”

“Yeah. Great. You and Dad have been such big helps. Can’t imagine what we would've done without you.”

“Of course! We wouldn’t miss spending this precious time with our sweet Nyla-girl,” she said, gazing down at her granddaughter with eyes full of adoration. “Are you and Steven alright though? You seemed off before.”

Fuck, nothing got past your mom. Not when you were growing up, not now. You tried to think fast. “Oh that…we’re fine. Honestly, I think we’re so sleep-deprived we forgot that we gave you a key. We were a little startled, that's all.”

Your mother listened, giving no indication or not if she was convinced. Her silence prompted you to babble and overcompensate, a rookie move on your part. “Maybe...you know, in the future, you shoot us a text when you’re headed over so neither of us zombies spook and wake the baby.”

“Alright then,” she agreed. You were about to breathe a sigh of relief when she continued, “That’s good for you two, I’m happy you’re getting back to more ‘marital’ activities.”

Well it looked like Steven, Marc and Jake were going to have to raise Nyla on their own, because you died. Of course your mom knew what you’d been up to. “Mom!”

“Oh sweet pea, don’t be embarrassed!!” she tried to comfort you. She must have assumed you two were merely fooling around. You surmised from her nonchalance that she hadn’t seen exactly what you were doing, because wouldn’t she be more scandalized? “It’s a good thing!”

“A good thing that we pretend never happened?” You countered. “Mom, I beg you. It’s one thing between us, but you know Steven–none of the guys–had a good family life. He’ll actually die of embarrassment.”

“I’d never,” your mom replied, miffed you thought she’d mention it to your husband at all. “That's why I sent the men away so we could talk.”

Today had been such a rollercoaster of emotions that all you could manage was a “thanks” in return. And truly, what more was there to add?

***

After dinner, you and Steven showed your parents to the door. Good-nights were exchanged and when the door shut, it was Marc that greeted you. “Hey.”

“Hi,” you pecked him on the lips. “Missed you.”

“You too,” he murmured. “Good day?”

“As if you weren’t co-conscious for my and Steven’s sex debacle.”

Marc laughed softly. “I was trying to be a gentleman about it.”

“Well, I appreciate that, but can I talk to Steven for one more minute,” you requested. You circled your arms around his shoulders, “Then it’s just you, me, the RAF file, plus the bottle of wine my parents couldn’t finish.”

It never failed to astound you, watching one alter’s face subtly, but so distinctly, shift into another’s as they traded possession of the body.

“You’re cross with me, aren’t you?” Steven speculated without hesitation.

“I’m not cross,” you assuaged him, “But I think we can only have ‘parental time’ once Mom and Dad are undoubtedly home for the evening from now on.”

He conceded. “That’s fair. Besides, I know your dad knows we’re married and how babies are made and everything, but I still feel like he’d kill me if he ever caught us in the middle of shagging.”

You giggled, he wasn’t wrong necessarily.

“I’m sure he's telling you, but Marc has to prep for a meeting tomorrow and–”

“Yeah, alright,” Steven cut you off. Marc needed the body. Before he gave over control, Steven asked one more time, “You’re sure you’re alright? That you’re not angry?”

While you weren’t sure you’d live it down with your mom, you had been just as horny as Steven was. Besides, there were more important things to focus on.

“No honey,” you assured him. “I mean we’re only a little over a month into this, I’m going to need you to help a lot more with these.”

Steven took one last good look at your tits, sent you a cheeky wink, then Marc took back over.

Neither man had stopped holding you. Marc’s grasp tightened slightly and he asked, “Now what was that about a bottle of wine?”

Read the follow up fic FIRST

A/N: Soooooooo, what’d we think? I definitely have another lactation!kink fic idea centered around Jake in mind, and then maybe some good ol’ angst and communication between you and Marc about why he’s hesitant to front with the baby. Interested? Let me know!

Also more to come in my other AU with Marc and Sigyn, but after the overwhelmingly lovely response to Shape of You I had to get this out first! Thanks for reading!

#moon knight #moon knight smut #moon knight fanfic #moon knight fanfiction #steven grant #steven grant x female reader #steven grant smut #steven grant x reader #marc spector #marc spector x reader #marc spector x female reader #marc spector smut #oscar isaac #oscar isaac smut #oscar isaac fanfiction #Oscar Isaac thirst hours #moon knight au #steven grant fanfiction #marc spector fanfiction

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soft-girl-musings · 2 months

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Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps - CHAPTER 5 (Something's Gotta Give)

Noir!Jake Lockley x WOC Lounge Singer!Reader

written in collaboration with + header by @mrs-lockley

chapter 1 chapter 2 chapter 3 chapter 4

cross-posted to ao3

tags: late 1940s Noir AU, Reader is WOC coded but with no physical description besides being slightly taller than Jake while wearing heels, no use of Y/N, brief mention of past injury, spanish translation at end (courtesy of @queerponcho, thank you beloved)

wc: 3.4k

fic summary: Of all the gin joints in all the world, Jake Lockley walks into yours. Unfortunately for him, it's not quite the start of a beautiful friendship.

chapter summary: immovable object? the unstoppable force would like a word.

__________

As far as peace offerings go, it’s not the worst.

At least, that’s what you’ve told yourself as you stand outside your neighbor’s apartment, your fist failing to close the distance and knock. In one hand you hold a plate of pastries you’d bought earlier. Hopefully it’s enough.

Before you can raise your hand again, the door whips open.

Leah Mendoza, ever the force to be reckoned with, stands with arms akimbo and eyebrow raised. “Quit shuffling your feet and come inside, nena.”

You oblige wordlessly. Crossing the threshold, you immediately feel the warmth of her apartment embrace you. Not that she’s escaped the chill that plagues your building; Leah is an artist, and every flat surface serves as either canvas or easel. Most spaces are covered in surreal portraits and near-magical icons, her handiwork displayed as a gorgeously chaotic gallery. Sunlight streams through gauzy curtains to feed sprawling plants and attempts to warm the richly colored rug beneath your feet.

You leave your shoes at the door and hold out the platter, smiling sheepishly. “Hope you still have a sweet tooth.”

“It's been so long, I'm surprised you remember.” Despite her playfully icy tone, Leah’s expression warms as she peeks at the pan de mallorca you hand over.

“...But I suppose going five blocks out of your way for breakfast makes up for it.” She nudges you with her hip before escorting you to the kitchen.

“Look what the cat dragged in, Caro,” Leah calls out to the seating area as she pours two mugs of coffee. You see your other friend’s smiling eyes light up at the sight of you.

“Ohhh, it’s been ages!” she squeals as she rushes to your side, tackling you with an enthusiastic hug.

Caroline Ngo, the youngest of your trio, has always brought a much-needed energy to your time together. When she and her parents moved in, you and Leah decided to adopt her into your early morning ritual of coffee and gossip. As her rosy cheeks beam up at you, you’re (a bit selfishly) grateful that she’s delayed her college applications by a year. You’re not ready to part with your other baby bird just yet.

Still, you pry yourself from her grasp. “Something tells me you had an early start on the coffee.”

“Maybe,” she drawls as she saunters away. Leah passes you a steaming mug, prepared just the way you like it.

The three of you sit, sipping and smiling as the room grows brighter with the sunrise. Leah regales you with the results of her latest art show; Caroline badgers you for updates about Mauricio, dimpled cheeks flushed as she speaks. For a few moments, everything feels like it used to.

Leah finishes her pastry and turns to you. “So, ‘Ms. Songbird’. How are you?”

You shrug, dismissive. “Oh, you know. The usual.”

“No, I don’t know. You haven't been around for us to see your ‘usual’.” Leah's voice is measured, but she’s clearly frustrated. “Can you tell me the last time we've heard more than a ‘good morning’ from you? Or were together for longer than an elevator ride to our floor?”

You chuckle nervously. “Goodness, maybe… August? September?”

“June.” She sips her coffee before setting it down. “Are things really so busy at work that you can't spare a moment for us anymore?”

If only you knew.

“I'm sorry, ladies. Truly. But things have been picking up at the lounge, I've even had to get outside help–”

“Ah yes, the altar boy lawyer.” Leah shakes her head. “I thought you were done with him.”

“‘Done with him?’ Leah, he's my friend.”

“Oh, I recall. So good a friend that he lets you ice his bruises and clean his cuts.” She crosses her arms. “So good, he's even bringing new friends with the same scrapes to your door.”

“The other night was an emergency–”

“How long are you going to run around with that kind of crowd?” Her voice bites. “Believe me, I know my share of the nightlife. But every time you bring home some broken man, a load of trouble seems to follow.”

This is not where you saw the morning going. “I thought we were spending time together, not berating the company I keep.”

“Please don't be upset,” Caroline pleads, taking your hand from her seat on the floor. “We miss you. You haven’t been home in weeks,” she laments. “At least, not for more than a couple of hours.”

You shift in your seat but give her hand a light squeeze. “I've missed you, too.”

“Then do something about it.” Leah gets up, crossing the room to distract herself with more coffee but then doubles back to look you in the eyes.

“You know my gut is never wrong, nena. And I wouldn't be a good friend if I didn't speak my mind.”

You brace yourself as she continues. “You can spend your nights hiding behind your Songbird persona and running the lounge, but don't be surprised if the cage you're building around yourself is locked from the inside.”

With that, she turns on her heel and heads back to the kitchen, leaving you and Caroline in silence.

Slowly, Caroline slides into Leah’s empty seat, her hand still on yours.

“... I always liked your stage name.”

You don’t say anything, instead letting your eyes trail through the patterns on the rug.

She scoots closer. “Leah’s just looking out for you. Like always.”

“I know, Caro.”

You feel her head rest on your shoulder. Tough love has always been Leah’s strong suit; as hard as you are on your boys, it’s bush league compared to your friend.

Caroline’s next words are low, whispered just loud enough for you to hear. “I know that man you were helping.”

You look down at her, dumbfounded. “Really? You know Jake?”

She sits up, eyes wide again. “Well, not technically. I never learned his name. But when he was leaving your apartment, I recognized his face.” Her small smile grows as she speaks. “There were days I’d stay out late after school, and I’d catch a ride from him sometimes. He’s really kind, not like some of the other cab drivers.”

Concern suddenly sweeps across her face. “Is he going to be alright?”

You think back to the morning he left your apartment: his bruises, your stitches, the blood that still stained his coat…

His hand on your hand, your face…

You don’t feel your fingers grazing the apple of your cheek until you hear Caroline giggle. Your hand drops to your lap as your face warms. “He’ll be fine. If he wised up and saw a real doctor, that is.” You shrug, reaching for your coffee.

“You care about him,” she teases.

“Oh, come off it,” you huff, nudging her leg with yours.

“And he obviously cares about you!” She squeals, lowering her voice when Leah turns her head toward the noise. “I saw him leave your apartment, but he stood there for ages, staring at your door.” Her grip on your hand grows unbearably tight. “What happened that night?”

You’ve been asking yourself the same question from the moment he left you standing in a bloodstained gown, your apartment colder without him. Since then, there hasn’t been a moment where you’ve been free from the memory of his face.

“I did him a favor. And… he may have done one for me, too.”

__________

Jake Lockley is man enough to admit when he’s been beaten.

In this case, he's absolutely won over. Head-over-heels, and at your mercy.

Maybe years from now, society adopts stricter rules for how soon you should call on a lady. Even today, some would advise against showing your hand too early. Some men wouldn’t want to seem too eager, too desperate.

But Jake Lockley is not a liar.

If “desperate” is the word for the incessant drumming in his chest each time you come to mind; if it’s what has him cutting corners and driving recklessly, ushering customers along at double the pace so his thoughts can return to you; if it’s why his palms sweat and nerves ache at the memory of your face that night, that morning… then Jake Lockley is desperate.

It’s hardly been a day and a half since he left your apartment, cold and injured. The suit stitched him back together in seconds; the only ache that remained was at the thought of you. You, who scooped him off the pavement and took pity on him. Who stained your hands with his blood to make it stop. You, who set his skin on fire with the smallest touch and had him convinced he would burn with or without it.

Screw the three day rule. He has to see you.

Hot under the collar, Jake now sits at the bar– your bar, long before normal business hours. Next to him is Matt, whose face hasn’t untwisted from the wry grin he’s had from the moment they met up.

“It’s like a jackhammer,” he chuckles into his glass, dodging Jake’s backhand swing.

“Can it, Murdock.” Jake’s hand returns to his own drink. Downing the rest, he raises his glass to the bartender. “Top me off, Mr. Manalo.”

Teddy obliges with shaking hands. He scoops up the bills Jake slides his way before dashing off. The two men had asked for privacy, and he’s determined to stay in their good graces.

Jake knocks back the new drink, swiping the excess from his lip as Matt’s laughter grows louder.

“You really need to calm down.”

“That’s what this was for,” Jake retorts, shaking his glass so the ice clinks against the edge. It’s doing him little good, though; from the moment he snuck in here that stormy night, he knew The Paper Moon as an extension of you. Even with the house lights up and nobody onstage, the lounge makes his heart race as quickly as if you were right beside him.

Matt claps a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll be alright, you’ve been through worse.”

“Yeah,” Jake snorts. Matt’s quiet for a suspicious amount of time. “What’s on your mind, Murdock?”

“What’s on yours?” Telltale concern creeps into his voice. “How are things up there lately?”

Jake smirks, the expression not reaching his eyes. “Oh, you know. Loud… and quiet, in all the wrong ways.”

“Seems quieter than before.”

“Yeah?” Jake cocks an eyebrow. His mind doesn’t feel quieter, not the way it should. Khonshu’s been on his ass more often, doubling down when his thoughts dare to drift to anything besides the mission at hand. The god throwing a tantrum has become one of the few guarantees that remain.

“I mean it,” Matt reassures him. “It’s like night and day from when you returned stateside.”

Jake stirs the ice in his glass, tempted to hop the counter and refill it himself. It takes everything in him to repress the memory of “before,” to not think of the bloody business in El-Alamein. To forget when the occupancy of his mind dropped from three to two.

“Must be the good old American soil.” His sneer drops as he considers his next words. “... or the fool of a pro bono lawyer I managed to snag.”

“Maybe,” Matt says. “Or it could be the little bird that's caught your ear.”

Before Jake can respond, a pair of footsteps cross onto the stage behind them.

He turns to see you and Mauricio, backs to the house, talking in rushed succession as you survey the stage. You’re in a blouse and trousers, your movements easy and unrehearsed despite the growing exasperation in your voice.

“Maurie, I don't care how Leo feels the lights bounces off his new mustache wax, unless he can't follow my cues he's staying stage left. And–”

“No days off for you, are there?”

When you turn you see Jake, hat in hand and standing a few steps from the bar, as if he’d walked toward you but stopped halfway up the aisle. You can’t place the look on his face, but you're nevertheless pinned under the gaze of his now-healed eyes shining up at you.

“JAKE!” Mauricio startles you when he shouts, leaping off the stage to clasp hands with the older man.

“Hermano,” Jake chuckles, pulling him into a quick hug before letting go. “¿No te andas metiendo en problemas, eh?”

“¿Parece que tu eres el que anda causando problemas, ey botero? ¿De dónde salió esa cicatriz?" Mauricio leans in, examining the pale line running through Jake’s eyebrow with awe.

“Ah, just a scratch.” Jake shrugs as he brushes past him to approach the stage and offers his hand as you step down. You accept, hoping he doesn’t notice the slight tremor in your grasp.

“Leave the man alone, Maurie,” you chide, nodding your thanks and holding back a laugh. As much as Caroline fawns over you, Mauricio seems to do the same to Jake whenever their paths cross. It helps that he plays along.

As the three of you walk back to the bar, you notice Matt dial in to something and smile– far from his normal reaction.

“I’m afraid I can’t offer you more than another drink, I have an appointment with Matthew this afternoon.” You cross over to your friend, whose smile only grows as you draw closer. But you brush it off, still focused on Jake.

“Actually,” he starts, his hand sliding into his pocket, “I was hoping to cut in on your consult time for a moment. That alright with you, doll?”

Matt clears his throat. “Mauricio, can you take me backstage? I should start unpacking this file.”

The drummer perks up. “Sure! But the band’s getting ready to play some poker… you feel like teaming up again? We can split the pot like usual.”

“Even better,” Matt grins. “Lead on.”

He gathers his portfolio and walking stick to follow. If you didn’t know better, you’d swear you could see a moment of panic flicker across Jake’s face.

It’s replaced in a flash with his usual smirk. “Sure you want to risk your pocket change, Matty?”

“If all my clients paid like you do, I'd be out of a job.” He collects himself and follows Mauricio’s footsteps, turning to Jake and mouthing “jackhammer” with a hand to his chest when he’s behind you.

Their footfalls fade and it’s just the two of you at the bar. You take a seat, drumming your fingers on the surface to soothe your nerves. Jake sits beside you.

“You look better.” You notice the scar Maurie was talking about: his former head wound is free of your haphazard stitches, instead healed into a light dash through his dark brow. “But I told you that would scar.”

He shakes his head, brushing his fingers past the spot. “I kinda like it. Gives me an edge,” he chuckles. Maybe Khonshu hadn’t healed his face the way he normally would as some sort of lesson. Joke’s on him.

“How did… I mean, you look really good, how did you recover so quickly?” Now that you’re closer, you realize there’s no sign he was hurt just two days ago. If not for his scar, you could pass that night off as some sort of dream.

“You told me to see a doctor, didn’t you? Looks like I’ve got the best one around.”

You eye him, not sure what to think. “... yeah, alright.”

Your fingers drum the bar again. Maybe that night knocked all of Jake’s suave confidence from his head: when he’s not speaking (something you’re still not used to), he looks like a child about to lose his lunch. For all his urgency a few minutes ago, he’s taking his sweet time getting to the point.

Finally he sits up straight and takes something out of his pocket. “Here. For you, morena.”

A small black box slides toward you, stopping at your restless fingers. You raise an eyebrow quizzically, a familiar warmth spreading across your cheeks.

“A present? Didn’t take you for the ‘holly-jolly’ type.” You pick up the box, feeling its velvet casing and fighting back a smile.

“Nah, not really a Christmas guy myself. But I figured you could use a pick-me-up.” Jake crosses one arm along the bar, propping his chin in his other hand as he watches you open the box.

Inside, you see a delicate gold chain with a charm fastened to its middle: a small bird with its wings spread, intricate designs etched into its surface.

“Oh my…” You look back at Jake, who seems to have been holding his breath as you examine your gift.

Your slowly unfolding smile is all the reward he could ask for, breathless laughter pushed from his chest with relief. “For the songbird,” he casually declares, relief mixing with pride at your reaction.

You take the necklace out and hold it to the light. “It’s beautiful,” you sigh. You undo the clasp and try to put it on yourself, but your fingers can’t seem to make it fasten.

“Allow me,” he says quickly, standing to move behind you and assist.

You feel his hands take over and drop your own in your lap. His knuckles brush the back of your neck and it takes everything in you not to shiver. The smell of smoke and spice dances on your senses, pulled away all too soon when he moves to stand in front of you.

“There,” he breathes, eyes going from the pendant draped below your collar to your eyes. “Looks perfect.”

Your fingers grasp the cool metal as you nod. “Looks perfect.”

Silence falls again. You’ve come to hate the sound of nothing when you’re with him.

Jake’s the first to break it. He sits back down, his next words like a punch to the gut. “You know, now that I’m not driving Wesley around… I won’t have to take up space at your back table anymore.”

“Oh. No, I suppose not.” You toy with the charm around your neck. “So is this… goodbye?”

“That depends,” he says cautiously. He turns to you, eyes swimming with the same unfamiliar mix of emotions from before. “Do you want it to be?”

Your fingers leave your neck as you meet his gaze. “Don't say you're going all soft on me, cabbie.”

“What if I was?” He leans forward, and for the first time you don't back away.

“Cards on the table: I haven't stopped thinking about you.”

That makes two of us. You bite your tongue to let him continue.

“Morena… would you ever want to get out of here? Just you and me, call it a truce or a… a date.” A smile plays on his lips before his brow creases. “I won't badger you after today, just… one way or another, put me out of my misery.”

The wings of the charm feel heavier with the weight of his confession. Hand to your heart, you feel the bird again, this time with Leah's warning running through your mind.

“I suppose a truce wouldn't hurt.”

When he smiles, wider than ever, you see the charming gap in his teeth. And you smile, too. You both laugh, the heated stress in your nerves turning to effervescent relief.

You could spend an hour like this. But when you hear shouts of frustration and a bilingual litany of choice words echo from backstage, you know you have to go put out a different fire.

“I should make sure Matthew isn't in trouble,” you sigh, standing to straighten yourself.

“If I know Matt, he's the one causing the trouble.” Jake stands with you, desperate for this moment not to end but anxious for your next answer. “So when can we–”

“Sunday night,” you cut him off, starting to back away toward the stage. “I'll figure out how to slip away, but meet me under the sign at 9.”

You move to rush toward the stage at another outburst, but Jake's hand catches yours yet again.

“You can't keep doing that,” you groan, yet with a smile still on your lips as he tugs you back toward him.

“You're the boss,” he hums, pressing his lips to the back of your hand– the gesture all too routine, but you're ready to admit you've missed it.

He releases your hand and dons his cap, tipping it to you. You laugh again, a rich and easy sound he'd never tire of hearing. You bow slightly and dash backstage, with Jake's voice calling to you as you leave.

“See you Sunday, Songbird."

__________

“¿No te andas metiendo en problemas, eh?” - Not getting yourself into any problems, eh?

“¿Parece que tu eres el que anda causando problemas, ey botero? ¿De dónde salió esa cicatriz?" - Seems like you’re the one causing troubles, hey cabbie? Where did that scar come from?

note: in-universe Jake is Guatemalan and Mauricio is Cuban; as a non-spanish speaker, please let me know how i can improve in the future!

A/N: i've missed these two!! this chapter was a doozy but i'm so happy to have gotten back on track. i won't say PPP is on hiatus (we never had a promised release schedule) but after i take a wee break from writing, i'm set on finishing my Moon Knight Bingo prompts before 4/30 + starting on my OI fanzine entries (!!! exciting times). but if inspiration strikes before i finish, i certainly won't complain.

ty for reading!!

tag list: @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @mercurysjoy, @importantnightwerewolf, @cupidysm, @queerponcho, @nerdieforpedro, @fandxmslxt69, @shadystarlightgentlemen, @lunar-ghoulie, @casa-boiardi (lmk if you'd like to be added to/removed from this wee tag list)

#moon knight #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight au #jake lockley #jake lockley fanfiction #noir!jake lockley #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley x fem!reader #jake lockley x woc!reader #jake lockley x poc!reader #jake lockley/reader #jake lockley/fem!reader #jake lockley/woc! reader #jake lockley/poc!reader #matt murdock

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pimosworld · 4 months

Text

The sun and the moon

🌙Pairing-Moon boys x f!reader x Khonshu x Hathor

🌒Chapter Summary- You and the boys celebrate your new job. Marc’s past trauma threatens to derail what the other so desperately want with you. Khonshu makes his presence known in only ways he knows how.

🌔CW-18+,MDNI,NDFW, friends to lovers, Angst,Fluff,Insecurities,flashback sequence, POV switch, inaccurate depiction of DID,kissing,lots of flirting.

🌑WK-4.2k

A/N-I hope you like our first installment. I don’t know why I love writing Marc so angsty but I promise he will come around. Steven takes the lead in this because I’m a sucker for him and Jake is his ever charming self.

Not beta read

[Series Masterlist][Main Masterlist]

Chapter 1

”I am the one who guides the great ones who are lost and exhausted on the roads of the reborn…

Who guides those who are lost in the underworld,

I am Hathor, Queen of the northern sky,

Who watches over the reborn,

I am a haven of tranquility for the just,

A ferry for the chosen.”

You never imagined you’d find yourself running through the halls of the British museum. You couldn’t contain your excitement of finally being told you got the job. You knew Steven would be leading a tour but he insisted you find him when you got the results. Good or bad.

The curator that was retiring was highly impressed with your knowledge. You thought the job offer would be to assist. You were ecstatic when she told you she wanted you to take over the catalogue of all the new exhibits in the museum.

It always came natural to you, the research and the fascination of every ancient civilization. Egypt in particular held your interest. There was a connection you couldn’t describe when you thought about it. Having met Steven and bonding over your shared obsession made you feel a little less awkward.

You always felt a little more like yourself around them.

Steven could invariably sense it before he even laid his eyes on you. It always started the same - a subtle yet undeniable sensation. A cascade of warmth starting from the top of his head emanating through his body. It was indescribable the reaction you elicited from each one of them, all varying in forms.

He’s meandering through the new Hatshepsut exhibit on a break in between tours when you find him. All bright and blazing smiles, hardly able to contain your excitement. He already knows what you’re going to tell him. You didn’t need his help but Jake would’ve called him all sorts of Spanish curses if he had turned down your request to help prepare for the interview at the museum all those weeks ago.

Some might call his love for ancient Egypt neurose but that’s what led you to him. It’s very likely you would be another stranger to him if his obsession hadn’t caused him to start his incessant babbling that fateful day in the coffee shop.

A beautiful creature like you, arguably the most beautiful he’s ever seen. Sitting in the shop he regularly frequented, seated in the corner to catch the only ray of light. Illuminating in your hands a special edition novel on some obscure topic. You quietly giggling to yourself as you read.

Jake stayed uncharacteristically quiet while Steven rambled to you about all the secret facts that were never printed. This was his forte and who was Jake to overtake this conversation that you seemed to enjoy. You took to him like you were long lost friends.

You took to all of them (well most of them) with such great ease…but one thing at a time. Let’s start with Steven.

Your sweet Steven, his posture slightly slouched. Hair a little disheveled and clothes not very firm fitting. But right now he’s standing tall, deft hands in his pockets and his hair with a bit of product. He always took care of his appearance as a tour guide. He stood a little straighter, spoke a little firmer…more assured.

He’s looking at you like that now as you approach him. A slight smirk on his face because he knows but he wouldn’t dare ruin your moment.

It’s hard to describe the feelings you have when you’re around them. It’s much easier to express how you feel when you’re not with them. Incomplete, fragmented,dimmed.

It’s like the opposite of a heartbreak when you see him.

“I have some great news.” You’re bouncing on your feet as you half whisper, trying not to draw attention from the other people in the exhibit.

She’s adorable

Jake is ever present when you are around and Marc as well but he mostly stays silent.

“I got the job.” You clap your hands over your mouth to suppress the squeal that you want to let out.

It feels wrong not to hug you at this moment. He’s not sure how you’d feel about it now that you’re coworkers but the way you step closer, he can’t resist as he pulls you into his arms.

You melt as he mumbles praises into your hair. He’s overwhelmed by the smell of citrus and vanilla as he realizes this is the closest your bodies have ever been. A different kind of warmth spreads over him now as he breaks away from you before ruining this moment with an awkward explanation about the male anatomy.

“I’m so proud of you.” He says while he still holds your hands in his, a safe distance from you now.

“I couldn’t have done it without you Steven.”

He nervously adjusts the collar of his shirt as the redness creeps up his neck at the compliment.

“Nonsense love, you’re a natural.”

It was a regular term of endearment from him but it always made you all giddy inside. You never read too much into each of their special names for you. The countless times Jake called you hermosa or when Marc let the occasional sweetheart slip from his lips.

You nervously fidget with the hem of your blouse as the conversation lulls for a moment. “Well I should let you get back to work.” You reach up and give him a kiss on his cheek before you can talk yourself out of it as you hear a sharp intake of breath.

He watches you briefly as you walk away, he’s stuck in a trance trying to process what just happened.

“We should celebrate!” He didn’t really mean to shout it at you. The way all eyes turn to him including you has him wanting to crawl into the nearest sarcophagus.

You smile at him as you exit the exhibit and the light in the room dims a little as he patiently waits for the responses from his head mates about how bonkers he is.

His phone buzzes lightly in his pocket and his heart skips a beat when he sees your name appear on the screen.

You:My place or yours

Mine-S

Steven can feel Jake and Marc at the forefront,along with a mixture of emotions.

Worried,jealous,excited,anxious. They may be unique in their own way, but they share a brain and a body. Steven wasn’t usually the vanguard in these situations but something about you makes him feel confident. A way he’s never felt before, and he’s never been more sure than he’s been about you.

****

No one drinks your tea hermano.

Steven huffs as he opens the door to the small coffee shop on the corner. “Whatever you say mate. I know I didn’t drink the last of it.” He doesn’t normally get this miffed but he’s been a lot more stressed at work lately with all the new responsibilities.

You wanted those responsibilities.

Buzz off Jake.

A poor old woman turns to him wide eyed. Steven quietly apologizes to her as he tucks his cold hands in his jumper. He just wanted to get some hot tea and be on about his day. Unsure of what he would even do…most likely research for the tours. It sure beats being yelled at by Donna who thinks she’s still Stevens boss.

The barista offers him a polite smile as he steps up to the counter. “I’d like the rooibos chai tea please.” He slides her some bills before she can tell him the total and quickly steps aside.

It’s warm and his hands are clammy. He rolls up the sleeves of his jumper as he idles by the window, somehow in everyone’s way and not in the way at all. He doesn’t remember it being a particularly sunny day when he left the flat but it seems the shop is ten shades brighter.

He glances around nervously as he hears some soft laughter just to his left. A book. A girl. In the corner.

Talking to strangers about Egypt at work was one thing. For starters he got paid to do it and he truly loved it. It’s an entirely different thing to do in public, some might say peculiar to strike up a conversation unprovoked. It’s no matter anyway as his feet carry him to your warm nook in the shop.

“That copy must have cost you a small fortune.” He says as he slides into the seat next to you.

You laugh as you dip your head. “Would you believe me if I told you I found it at a thrift store.” You turn it over in your hand as you brush your fingers down the spine. “Obviously I had to snatch it up before they realized what they had.”

He knows he’s the one who approached you but now he can’t actually believe you’re talking to him. Without even missing a beat. You haven’t returned your attention back to the book as you stare at him like you're studying his movements. Your eyes sparkle as you lift your coffee to your lips and blow before taking a sip.

“So what chapter had you particularly giggly over here.” He teases as you hold the book against your chest.

You lean in and he forces himself not to look at your slightly open blouse.“I’m afraid the god of Min is not one to be discussed out loud.” Your breath ghosts over him as you whisper in his ear. He can feel the heat flush over his body from your close proximity.

You slide the book towards him and tap your finger on the page. He tries to focus on reading it but he notices you haven’t pulled away.

Min was often depicted as a mummiform human man with an ithyphallic (uncovered erect) penis. Wearing a crown adorned with two feathers. In his left hand he holds his penis ( although this is usually only apparent in statues because of the perspective applied to two dimensional images in Egyptian art) in his right hand he holds a flail up above his shoulder representing power and fertility.

You lightly tap him on his shoulder and he looks up to see you gesturing to the young barista excitedly waving him over. She’s a bit squirrelly when he approaches to retrieve his coffee and he thinks perhaps she’s consuming too much of the shop's supply.

What are you doing hermano?

I haven’t the slightest idea mate.

Well keep it up, it seems to be working.

He doesn’t want to intrude but he sees you smiling brightly at him as he returns to the table. You’re still on the same page not having resumed your reading.

Steven sits and sips his tea, he hums in approval and he’s grateful it sat briefly because at the moment he’s plenty warm.

“Is that the chai?” You ask inquisitively as you flip back a few pages with a puzzled look on your face.

“Yes, it’s one of my favorites. In fact I don’t make it at home. It’s just—.”

“It never tastes the same.” You steal the words right from his mouth as he glances down to your coffee in question. “Sometimes I enjoy the occasional cup of coffee. It reminds me of home” You say with a sheepish expression.

“Where’s home?” He clears his throat. “If you don’t mind me asking, that is.”

“I don’t mind at all. Washington.” His eyes go wide and you smirk into your coffee. “I know I’m a long way from home.” You say it with a far away look in your eyes and he silently curses himself for being too forward.

You flip frantically back and forth through the pages as you scrunch your nose in frustration.

She’s cute

Ya he’s aware and he’s thoroughly wrecked at any future attempts to match this turn of events for a day off from the museum.

“Looking for anything in particular?” He leans in a little closer as he scrubs his sweaty palms on his pants.

“Yes…it’s just.” You cease your movements and lean back against the soft cushion. “I know these books leave out so much information. They claim to be special editions but I know there’s more to it than this.” You point at the page like it’s personally offended you.

“Perhaps I could be of some assistance?” You raise your eyebrow at him and it’s quiet for a moment.

“Aren’t you going to ask?”

“Ask what love?” It slips out but you don’t falter or grimace at his words.

“Ask me why I’m so far from home.” You look at each other then, it’s just a millisecond of a flash in your eyes. The iris is bright yellow and then gone. His heart quivers a bit and he thinks he may be having a mild heart attack.

Calmáte

He takes a shuddering breath and shucks off his coat. “S’ not really my business I guess.”

You’re so focused on him. Like you’re learning every tick and line etched into his features. The way you stare at him like he’s a statue to be studied. It’s maddening and a little unnerving but he doesn’t want you to look away.

“Can you tell me why all of the statues of Min are depicted vastly different from all these photographs?” You slide the book toward him but he closes it as a smug smile adorns his face.

“Well the European scholars of the Victorian age were a bit more…conservative.” He adjusted his pants unconsciously before continuing. “They had most of the phallic members on the statues removed when they were discovered. It nearly wiped out all known history of Min…but you can’t erase the mind.” You chuckle as he taps his finger against his temple playfully.

You sigh sympathetically and a comfortable silence falls over the both of you. “Poor Min.”

Steven lets out a raucous laughter and you can’t help the giggle that escapes you. The old woman from before seated at a table nearby shushes you both and Stevens face turns deep red.

You duck your head close to his. “It’s not like we’re in a library.”

Ya he’s a goner

“Another fun fact, that’s likely not in your book.” He drops his voice a little to not disturb anyone else. His excitement is threatening to boil over at your willingness to listen. “It’s rumored that Min was in charge of overseeing the women while the king and his men were at war. When the men returned from battle all of the women were pregnant.” You cover your mouth in shock. “It gets worse.”

Your leg brushes his as you adjust to face him better and he nearly chokes at the brief contact. “The king had his arm and leg chopped off in retaliation.”

“Why not his.” You gesture downward but his eyes stay fixed to your face.

“Well…funny you ask. The king told the men to remove his er…you know. The men thought it was too magnificent so they made him a god. That’s the rumor at least.”

MIN WAS A FOOL

Steven stiffens at the bird's sudden presence as he’s perched in the corner. Unsure as to why he’s here. Marc made it clear to leave Steven alone when it comes to moon knight duties

You’re staring at him with a mesmerized look in your eyes. “How do you know so much?”

He shrugs his shoulders. “I’ve always had a knack for researching and always found Egyptian mythology fascinating. I used to run the gift shop at the British Museum, but now I’m a tour guide.”

You shriek in surprise and the old woman abruptly stands with her newspaper, muttering under her breath as she exits the coffee shop. “I’m interviewing for a job there next month. How serendipitous.” You say the last part half whispered.

“Wow, that is quite the coincidence. What’s the job? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“The curator position has an opening. It’s always been my dream to work there.” Steven glances up nervously at Khonshu who still hasn’t left.

DON'T MESS THIS UP WORM

“I could ugh…help you prepare. If you’d like? I’m sure you know your stuff but if I—.”

“I would love that so much. Thank you.” You say enthusiastically as you clap your hands together.

You reach into your purse to pull out your phone. “I’m here most mornings around this time.” You hand it to him sounding a little apprehensive. “But I should have your number just in case.”

“Of course love.” He punches in the digits trying to calm his shaking hands. He hands it back to you as you look it over.

“Nice to meet you Steven.” You slide it back into your purse along with your book. “I should be going.” You wave at him as you slide out and head towards the door with one last glance over your shoulder at him.

He exhales as he drops his head back, the cafes a little colder and his heart rate slows to a normal pattern.

****

Steven frantically stacks his books against the wall after he’s checked on the vegan pot pie in the oven. He’d managed with Marc’s help to attempt a new recipe without burning down the flat.

She’s been here before Steven just relax

“I just want it to look nice. She’s not just coming over to study.” Despite Marc’s insistence he calms down, he can sense his nervousness.

Jake feels it too.

You’ve been over countless times, laid out on the floor amongst the books that adorned their home. You and Steven rambling for hours about the ancient texts or the hidden tombs. Swapping ridiculous facts that the other hadn’t heard. Jake often had to remind you both to eat or drink something.

Marc would front occasionally…mostly to remind Steven that the body had other duties to attend to. There was always an awkward avoidance on the days after you’d see Marc.

But tonight feels different. You were coming over to spend time with them, not just pick Stevens brain for loads of useful knowledge. The way you touched him today and the look in your eyes told an entirely different story than your budding friendship. He doesn’t want to get ahead of himself before you arrive so he tries to keep his hands busy.

Jake has to give it to him, the flat has never been this clean in its entirety. He notices some newer candles have been lit but decides to keep it to himself.

Just remember she likes us and take deep breaths

“Thanks mate, I sure hope I know what I’m doing.”

****

“Steven, you've outdone yourself.” You slide the empty plate forward and take a sip of your wine.

It never gets old, hearing your praises. You were always so grateful and appreciative of anything they would do for you.

“Marc helped as well.” His eyes meet Marc’s in the reflection of the mirror.

You brush your hand over his tracing the veins along his arm. “Well tell him I said thank you.”

Marc wasn’t avoiding you per say. He just thought it was important for Steven and Jake to experience what he once had. Something he wanted so desperately but was too afraid to mess it up again.

The conversation moves comfortably to the couch, where your feet are curled up beneath you as you animatedly tell Steven about the wonderful interview. Some old sci fi movie on in the background that he can’t bother to pay attention to when he could simply watch you.

You finally take a breath and realize how close you are. Knees touching as you adjust against the worn leather. He looks at you as if he wants you to continue. You thought he’d be sick of talking about this stuff by now but he looks as though he’d let you go on for hours. You can’t ignore the feeling from earlier and you hope deep down that what you’re about to do doesn’t ruin the best friendship you’ve ever had.

If it does, you suppose it’ll make your work relationship less complicated. You aren’t even sure what the policy is on dating. You’re definitely getting ahead of yourself.

“Love is everything alright?” He asks as he places his warm hand gently on your thigh.

“Sorry, I was lost in thought.” You chuckle softly as you look at the fish tank. Gus swimming in the front staring at you.

“Did you want to tell me what’s on your mind?” His hand traces soothing circles on your thigh and he feels you shudder. He moves to withdraw but you grab his hand,lacing your fingers with his.

He slowly raises your arm, kissing the back of your hand as his lips linger there for a moment. ‘Go on’

“I just…wanted to thank you properly. But we were in the museum.” Your voice is suddenly so timid.

“We’re not in the museum now.” His chest rises and falls with rapid breaths as he waits.

It feels like all eyes are on you, and not just Stevens. He’s waiting for you to cross that bridge, giving you the opportunity to say that this can stay exactly what it is and he would be content.

You inch closer to him as you rise up on your knees, the couch creaks as you face him, placing your free hand on his shoulder. He closes his eyes as you roam over his chest, mapping it with your fingers. His dark lashes flutter against his cheeks as you lean in and press your lips to his.

Warmth blooms across his chest at the first feel of your touch. It’s so gentle and experimental as you both share breaths. He releases your hand to wrap around your waist and pull you closer to his chest.

“You’re welcome.” He murmurs against your lips as you chuckle in between opened mouth kisses.

You can still taste the wine on his tongue as he methodically takes the lead. Much more assured of himself than you’ve ever seen.

You yelp in surprise as he swings your leg over his so you’re straddling his lap. You lean back with your hands braced on his chest as it rises and falls beneath you. His hands flex at his side as his eyes roll.

“Mírate, eres tan hermosa.” His pupils are black as he bites his bottom lip.

“Hi.” You say breathlessly as his hands find their way to your hips. He pulls you in as your noses touch, waiting for permission as you nod.

He’s consuming and precise in his movements. His lips crash into yours as you instinctively grind your hips down. He groans into your mouth as you wrap your arms around his neck. It’s so different from Steven and yet so exhilarating knowing it’s the same body.

I wasn’t quite finished yet

Jake chuckles as he trails kisses along your jaw. “I wasn’t sure if he was going to share.” He tilts your head to the side as he bites and nips at your chin. “To be continued.”

His hands flex again and he relaxes beneath you. A blush creeps up Stevens neck at the position you’re in. You adjust yourself and brush against his hardened bulge in his pants. A soft whimper leaves his mouth as you experimentally roll your hips again. He’s slack jawed as he watches you with hooded eyes. You’re beautiful just like this.

Your nerves start to get the better of you and he notices your trembling. He gently unwraps your arms from his neck as he places a kiss on each palm.

“We don’t have to go any further love.” He breathes in the scent of your perfume, heavy on your wrist. “I like this. What we’re doing now.”

You place your hand on his rapidly beating heart, quite the juxtaposition to his outwardly calm demeanor. You’re so content to stay like this…so you do until your eyes fall heavy. Lips chapped from kissing as the candles go out on their own. Curled up under the broadness of their body as they wrap you up into them. You push the thoughts away before sleep claims you of not having seen Marc, you want to thank him…in time.

****

The golden sun bathes you in a warm embrace as you rustle amongst the robust reeds. Your fingers trace along the silky fabric of your dress as the breeze brings scents of jasmine to awaken you softly.

The crunching of grass with each deliberate step, a gentle symphony beneath the weight of someone weaving through the emerald blades. As they move it casts a shadow along your tranquil resting spot.

You hear a faint laugh as you open your eyes. A tall majestic man stands before you, adorned in blue and gold. His dark locks sit beneath a nemes crown. He crouches down beside you as he lays his crescent staff amongst the grass and pulls you close. He rests his head atop yours as he hums quietly to himself.

“I knew I’d find you here.”

****

You stretch your sore limbs, having fallen asleep in such an awkward position. Fragments of a dream linger in your mind briefly. Your eyes adjust to the light in the flat and you’re acutely aware of the lack of warmth against your back.

There’s a soft quilt draped over your form and you pull it close as you sit up on the brown leather couch. It’s silent in the flat, the only sound over the quiet hum of Gus’s tank is the sound of your beating heart as you brush the tears away with the blanket you’re holding tightly to your chest.

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