#dark moon knight fanficition

[moon-kn1ght]

guilty pleasure.

pairing: steven grant x fem!reader wc: 2.3k warnings: dark fic, yandere!steven grant, non con voyuerism, mutual masturbation, stalking sort of, dead dove do not eat. a/n: sorry for this, but i couldn't get it out of my head any other way.

Steven Grant had a crush. Well maybe, it was more than that. Maybe it was a fascination. Almost an obsession. 

He’d ask Donna to schedule him on days that he knew you were working. He’d hang around his friend in the security office so he could watch the cameras as you entered the building. You never noticed the happenstance ways Steven would always bump into you as you entered, somehow he’d always be there. Maybe you did notice it but you chose to ignore it. 

Steven didn’t have the courage to ask you out, though. Even after the whole discovering he’s a superhero thing. He knew that Marc and Layla wouldn’t want another person around — they were content with just the three of you. 

But Steven wasn’t. Not quite. 

So he resigned himself to watching.

He tried to keep his distance. He didn’t want to form an attachment that he’d never be able to act on. 

He’d watch your museum tours from the paned glass of the soft shop. He’d see the way your smile would radiate warmth to the schools groups that you brought around, engaging students and chaperones alike. 

And he couldn’t ignore the looks you go from teachers and chaperones — the way their eyes would track up down your body, their gaze burning past your clothes to imagine the breasts and ass that lie underneath your modest layers. 

Sometimes, the more daring adults would try and ask you out after the tours. They’d linger and lean against the wall, caging your body in from their looming presence. You’d shrink but stand firm, “I’m very flattered, but no thank you.” When they’d insist you’d pull the “I have a boyfriend —“ line. 

“Which is a lie,” Steven would remind himself. 

There’s this low frustration always simmering inside Steven — this ache that consumes him when he thinks too hard about he can’t have you. 

But the frustration grows into a low rage when he sees these other men hitting on you, asking you out, and not taking no for an answer. 

“Why can’t I deliver justice to these creeps?” Steven will ask Khonshu. “She needs me to protect her.” 

Khonshu doesn’t gratify him with a response. 

— 

Steven knows he’s breaking all of his own rules following you home. 

But he’s not doing it for himself — it’s to protect you, which is what his rules are for in the first place. “So it’s okay to break them,” he’ll reason. 

Today, the creep asking you out wasn’t taking no for an answer. He even put his hand on your shoulder. So you threatened to call security on him. 

“Fucking cunt,” he spat at you.

Steven saw the whole thing from the glass walls of the gift shop. You seemed way more shaken than you usually were after encounters of the like. 

“Hey, all you alright? I’m so sorry you had to deal with that twat.” 

Your disposition softened when you turned and saw Steven. “Oh hi. Yeah, I’m okay.” 

“That guy seemed like a real arse. You handled it admirably.” 

You forced a small laugh, “Yeah, he was. Dudes like him are just getting more and more gall. Ugh, it’s so frustrating.” 

“You’re telling me,” Steven whispers under his breath. “We need to get you one of those old folks ‘help I’ve fallen and I can’t get up!’ buttons — then you can press and summon a friend whenever you’re dealing with someone like that.” 

Your smile was starting to reappear. 

“—well not to say that you can’t handle it on your own. I mean, I’m just ..” 

“Steven, yes I get what you mean.” 

“—what I’m trying to say is that you shouldn’t have to always having to be dealing with it on your own. You deserve a friend to help, whenever you want it.” 

“Thank you Steven, that’s a very kind thought.” 

There’s something about the way you say Steven’s name. It’s different than everyone else in the museum and even different from how Marc and Layla say it. There’s a saccharine sweetness that drips from your pronunciation of the ’S’ and the way the ‘v’ vibrates from your closed lips. 

When you say his name he can’t help but stare at your lips. 

(And sometimes he imagines how it would sound to hear you saying his name as you came around his fingers or his cock). 

“It’s the end of my shift, I could walk you home? In case there’s someone lurking in the night.” 

You smile but turn him down, “I’m a big girl Steven, I’ll be fine. I promise.” You reach out and squeeze his hand. The small gesture sends a shiver down his spine.

He lets you turn and walk off. His feet stay glued to the tile as he watches you head to the back room and clock out. 

Maybe it’s his imagination but Steven could swear that he feels eyes boring into him. Eyes that track you, just as he did. Eyes that probably belong to some unsavory creep. 

“Fuck it,” Steven mumbles to himself as he punches his timecard back in the gift shop. He catches sight out you heading out front door and follows, tailing at a safe distance. 

You don’t notice him on the underground train. He sits on the other side of the car and watches you not look up from your smartphone even once during the 8-stop journey. “Quite dangerous, not being aware of your surroundings,” he thinks. 

He tracks your movements from a half a block back as you walk down the street. For as much time Steven has spent watching you at the museum, he never noticed how graceful your long strides looked. In the dim light of the street lamps your silhouette is cast beautifully. To Steven, you look like the subject of an expensive painting. 

Part of Steven knows that he should turn and walk home when you open the door to your building. But the other part of him keeps him still, standing in the shadows. 

There’s a fire escape on the front of the building. With a little Mr. Knight action, he’s quickly up on the second floor of your flat, white suit pressed against the brick of the building exterior. 

“Now I’m beginning to regret the reflective qualities of this white suit..” he mumbles. But his attention is quickly diverted when the light of your flat turns on. He can see you in the kitchen pouring yourself a rather large glass of wine. You sink into the velvet of your couch and Steven can see the reflection of the Netflix logo in a framed piece of art on the opposite wall from your tele. 

Sitting down with his back still pressed against the brick, Steven imagines being curled up with you on that couch. Your head would rest against his shoulder and he could stroke your hair or let his hands roam your body. You probably have great takes on this season of “Love is Blind” that could share with Steven as he peppers kisses all over your neck. 

In this perfect scenario, you’d be pleased when Steven gets hard in his pants as you whisper sweet nothings to him. You’d gladly take his cock in your hand or mouth and help him find his release. And it would be soft and warm and lovely, much better than his own hand could ever feel. 

Steven can feel a boner forming uncomfortably in his pants as he imagines this. “Fuck. Now is not the time for this to be happening.” 

He shifts awkwardly in his tight pants as his eyes track you downing the glass of wine and getting ready for bed. 

Your bed is much too large for one person. Your body looks so small enclosed in my all the pillows and the larger comforter. It must be warm in your flat because it seems like the moment your breathing slows down and you fall asleep, your legs kick off the comforter. Steven isn’t complaining though, because it reveals a nice view of your bare legs. The small nightgown you’re sleeping in rides up your hips and you settle into sleep. If he were only a little closer, Steven could tell whether or not you’re wearing underwear. 

“What the fuck am I doing? What the actual fuck?” 

Guilt crashes in waves over Steven’s consciousness. He’s followed a girl home and watched her from the window. He’s a fucking creep. There’s no other word for it. 

But still, even through these ugly feelings of guilt, Steven wants more. He’s so fucking close. Steven wants to smell you. He wants to touch you. It’s fucking overwhelming how much he wants it. 

His gloved fingers grip the edge of the window and press up. The window opens with a deafening creak. 

He’s done for. 

Your body stirs but your breathing remains steady and slow. 

Steven lets out a deep breath. 

He crouches and enters your bedroom, his white shoes making muffled noises as the press into the ornate rug covering the floor. As he takes it in, he’s overwhelmed with the scent of you that fills the air. It’s warm and lovely and perfect, just like you. 

You lie at an angle across the bed. Your face looks delicate and so unbothered against your pillow. Everything is so still. Your lower body has twisted its way out of the confines of your bedding and as Steven stalks closer, his heart about stops when he sees that you’re not wearing panties. 

Right in front of him, right in front of his very eyes is your pussy. He can’t help but gape, open-mouthed. 

There’s nothing more that he wants than to bury his nose between your thighs right now and get a taste of the deliciousness that you are undoubtably hiding inside your folds. But that would for sure wake you. And he can’t have that. 

Steven leans against your bed, careful to not shift the weight of your body. 

Taking a risk, he reaches forward and pushes your nightgown up further on your hips, revealing the full beauty of your ass. 

His cock is already leaking precum, trapped untouched in his pants. 

He lets his fingers graze lightly against your skin. Goosebumps form where they trail but you remain deep asleep. His finger traces down your ass and just barely touches your folds. Steven thinks that they’re the softest things he’s ever felt. 

Suddenly, a stale breeze blows in through the window. 

Khonshu. 

“I always you were going to be a pervert, worm.” 

“Why are you here?” 

“Isn’t your duty to protect to the travelers of the night?” 

“You didn’t answer my question Old Bird.” 

“What do you call this?” 

“Stop.” 

“Is this what you call protecting?” 

“Khonshu, stop.” 

“Oh worm, this is just too perfect.” 

Khonshu stalks around the room, looming across from Steven pressed against the bed. With him, stale air rolls across the room. 

“Don’t mind me, I’ll be here.” 

“Who’s the pervert now?” 

The Old Bird scoffs at Steven’s comment. “I’ll fill her head with dreams and you can do as you please. My treat, little worm.” 

Steven swallows slowly, letting his eyes move from Khonshu’s figure back to you on the bed. 

To test the bird’s promise, Steven roughly grabs a handful of your ass. A small whimper escapes your lips but your eyes stay closed. 

Pushing the guilt and gross feelings to the side, Steven continues his exploration of your body. His fingers press against your soft folds and its him this time who lets out a sound as he presses into your pussy. Your heat closes around him and he grits his teeth. Steven isn’t sure if he’s ever felt this submerged in pleasure from anything else before. 

He strokes in and out of you, soaking in the soft mewls you release as Khonshu keeps you asleep. Your body reacts more, wetness coating his fingers and your legs jerking as he thumbs over your clit. 

In tandem, Steven frees his cock from inside his pants. One hand inside of you and one hand wrapped around his own length. He matches motions with both hands, imagining that his cock is actually inside of you. 

“Fuck,” Steven mumbles as his pace falters. He tries to focus more on playing with your body than chasing his own release, but he’s failing. After so much pent up energy, he’s closer than he’d like to be. He drops his length and inserts a third finger into your warmth. He strokes, aiming to find the spot inside that is going to make you fall apart. 

Your hips jolt up into his hind when he finds it. 

“Oh that’s it, yes baby.” 

Khonshu lets a dark chuckle from across the room. 

“Let go for me,” Steven coaxes as he focuses his attention on your clit. Your body shudders and your breath quickens. Steven can’t help but rut his hips up against the bed as he watches you squirm and moan under his touch. It’s better than his wet dreams of you. 

One more thrust into the sweet spot and your noises tell Steven that he’s got your orgasm, pairing with the flush of wetness that coats his fingers.  

Steven lets out a sigh and pushes the dark thoughts out of his head. 

“Forgetting something?” Khonshu probes, pointing his staff at Steven’s neglected length. 

Using the cum that seeped out of you, Steven wraps his hand around himself once more and begins to stroke. He drags his thumb over the head, swiping at the precum that leaks out the tip. It feels so fucking good to have the stickiness of your release lubing his motions on his cock. 

With a particularly rough tug, Steven lets himself come, painting your ass with his seed. Remnants drip out of the tip, mixing with your slick on his fingers. 

Disgusting and delicious, Steven sucks on the coated fingers. It’s the perfect mix of sweet and tang and alkaline bitter. It’s a taste Steven will never forget. 

— 

“How are you doing today?” Steven queries with almost innocent intentions. “Get home safe last night?” 

“Yes Steven, thank you for asking.” There it is again, that sweet way you say his name. “But I will admit, I had the strangest dreams. I think I shouldn’t drink wine before bed anymore, must be something with the tannins.” 

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