#moon knight fic

[campingwiththecharmings]

Honey Trap

AN: Fifth fic for @moonknight-events’ MK Bingo! This is probably a little silly (and likely not very well-written) but it was fun to come up with and write so irdc lol 😌 Hope someone other than me enjoys this!

You stumble across Marc while he's camping in a remote part of the woods and he's (understandably) suspicious of you.

(Un-beta’d)

Rated: M+ (this is smut so, you've been warned) Prompt: Hiking Words: 2,427 Pairing: Marc Spector x F!Reader Warnings: references to death, attempted murder, knives, frottage, please let me know if i missed anything. AO3

——————

Marc doesn’t trust you. 

Your story about wandering off trail and getting lost was plausible, sure, and you looked harmless enough, but he'd been around long enough to know that looks can be deceiving. 

Still, what was he to do? If you really were telling him the truth, you needed help. He couldn’t just let you wander around alone in the dark. What if something happened? What if you got injured, or worse, killed? No, better to assume the risk, to give you the benefit of the doubt. Plus, it certainly made it easier to keep an eye on you. You’d been so grateful, thanking him profusely and promising not to be a bother. He’d waved this off of course, trying to ignore the way his stomach flipped when you smiled at him. 

It’s late now, the moon full and high in the dark night sky. You’re sitting on the other side of the fire (his fire), your jacket zipped to your chin, arms wrapped around your legs as you try to get as close to the flames as you can without burning yourself. He tries not to keep looking at you, at the way the firelight makes you glow, but every time he looks away, his eyes inevitably drift back. There’s something about you, he’s not sure what but, it makes him feel…uneasy. Everything about you seems normal but he just can’t shake the feeling that he’s missing something. His stomach rumbles at this thought and he briefly considers that he might just be hungry. With a sigh, Marc digs into his bag, searching for the rations he’d packed. His eyes meet yours over the fire as he pulls a packet of jerky out and shakes it.  

“Want some?” he asks, holding it out to you. 

You hesitate, eyes dipping to study the nondescript packet in his hand. He swallows thickly as you unconsciously lick your lips. 

“Thanks,” you say finally, smiling as you take the food from him. 

He nods, pulling out another and tearing it open. Marc’s eyes scan the surrounding darkness as the two of you eat, the slight crinkling of the ration packaging replacing the silence. 

“So,” you begin, studying the strip of jerky between your fingers. “You come here often?” 

His lips quirk slightly at the joke but he just shrugs. “Not really, no.” 

You hum, carefully chewing a bite of jerky. “Could’ve fooled me.” 

He meets your gaze, unease settling in his gut. “How do you mean?” 

It’s your turn to shrug now, pulling another strip from your packet “You just seem very…prepared is all.” 

He sniffs in amusement, relaxing slightly. “Yeah well, people do tend to be at least slightly prepared when they plan on camping in the woods.” 

You scoff, swallowing your mouthful of food. “I wasn’t planning on camping though.” 

“Maybe not,” he agrees, taking a sip from his water bottle. “But you clearly had no idea what you were getting yourself into by coming all the way out here. Seriously, who hikes without a map?” 

You snort, shaking your head at yourself. “Valid point. Obviously, I’m an incompetent buffoon.” 

Marc bites back a smile, pulling another piece of jerky from the packet. “Well at least you’re aware of it.” 

“I’m so aware of it,” you laugh, putting your head in your hands.  

He hums, his eyes drifting to you again across the fire, watching as you (presumably) mentally berate yourself for getting into this situation. What would’ve happened had you not run into him? If you had run into someone else? With no supplies, would you even have survived the night? A wave of sympathy washes over him, and he frowns at himself for going soft on you so quickly. 

“What brought you out here, anyway? If you don’t mind me asking.” 

You look up from your hands, eyes tired but bright as you smile somewhat fondly. “My brother.” 

Marc raises an eyebrow. “Your brother?” 

You nod, reaching for your pack. You unzip it and pull out an understated urn. His stomach sinks. 

“Oh,” he croaks, his throat going suddenly dry. “I’m…sorry for your loss.” 

“Thanks,” you whisper, turning your attention to the urn in your hands. “He would’ve liked you, I think. Calling me out for being unprepared and all that. He was always looking out for me.” 

Marc grunts, uncomfortable now at the turn the conversation has taken given what had happened to his own brother. “Sounds like he was a, uh, good guy.” 

You nod, meeting his eyes over the fire again, the soft smile on your lips making his heart skip. “He was.” 

The two of you talk a little more, the topics now lighter and less serious. When you start yawning so often you can barely keep the conversation going though, he decides it’s time for bed. He insists that you take his sleeping bag, knowing your thin jacket isn’t enough to keep you warm until the sunrise. Once you agree to take it, he settles down beside the fire, pulling the hood of his jacket up over his head. Your soft snores meet his ears in no time and he smiles to himself, glad that he was able to help someone without using violence just this once. 

He stares into the fire, watching as the flames dance, as they devour the kindling he’d thrown in earlier, as they burn through the sticks and branches he’d collected. His eyes droop, head bobbing gently as he tries to stay awake, knowing he has to keep an eye on things (on you). He thinks he trusts you, or he wants to at least, but he just can’t seem to shake that feeling. Could he really trust himself though? After everything he’s done, after everything he’s seen? Perhaps it’s you who should be afraid of him. 

His thoughts spiral, taking him in directions both logical and illogical. He lets himself get lost in it, in the scenarios, in the possibilities, each one more unlikely than the next. At some point, he must doze off, though, because the next thing he knows is the weight of a body on top of him with a knife to his throat. 

It’s you. Of course it’s you. 

Damn it, he should’ve known, should’ve listened to that niggling feeling inside him that told him not to trust you. 

It’s dark save for the moonlight—you must’ve doused the fire before making your move on him.  

“I’m sorry about this,” you say, grimacing down at him somewhat apologetically. “You seem nice, and I actually kind of enjoyed talking to you but, unfortunately, I have a job to do.” 

Marc swallows thickly, the action pushing the blade a fraction deeper into his skin. “To kill me, you mean?” 

Your face loses some of its softness as you shake your head at him. “That depends on how cooperative you are.” 

He grunts, saying nothing as he tries to assess just how bad things are for him.  

“See,” you continue, leaning in a little closer, the delicious scent of you invading his nostrils. “I need information.” 

He waits for you to continue, eyes scanning your face for any tells, any flickers he can use to his advantage. When he doesn’t respond, you sigh in disappointment, frowning theatrically.  

“Please, Marc, I don’t wanna have to slice up your pretty face. Just tell me what I need to know and I’ll be on my way.” 

He clenches his teeth at your condescending tone. “What do you wanna know?”  

You smile softly at him and he curses himself for the way his heart skips a little; what the fuck was wrong with him? 

“Tell me about Operation Windstorm.” 

He needs to figure out how to get out of this. He can’t just push you off of him, can’t use his legs to flip you over, not with that knife so close to his carotid artery. One wrong move and he’s dead. 

So he stalls. 

Marc snorts, raising an eyebrow at you. “That’s it? Of all the jobs I’ve pulled, that’s the one you wanna know about?” 

You continue to smile down at him, as if you know exactly what he’s doing. “I couldn’t care less, to be perfectly honest but, my client wants to know so, until I get paid, I guess I do too.” 

He grunts, resigned to the fact that he has no choice but to give you exactly what you want in the hopes that you don’t slit his throat afterward. So he tells you every detail of that job, answering every question you have, and just when he’s beginning to think this just might not end well for him, he feels the pressure of your blade ease ever so slightly. 

He wastes no time, taking control and flipping you over, knocking the knife from your hand and causing it to skitter off into the darkness. Marc traps you beneath him, your arms pinned above your head, his knees bracketing your thighs. You’re not giving up without a fight though and wriggling beneath him, trying somehow to use the position to your advantage. You try to lift your leg, brushing your thigh against his groin; the clench of his jaw makes you smirk. 

“Stop it,” he orders, embarrassed by how easy it was for you to rattle him. 

“C’mon, we both know you don’t want that,” you tease, looking down at the slight bulge in his jeans. “Has it been a while, honey?” 

He growls, your breathy chuckles sending shivers up his spine as you continue to move beneath him. “Shut up.” 

“Or what?” you whisper, somehow managing to extricate one of your legs and curl it over his hip.  

“Or this,” he says through gritted teeth, grinding his erection against your core in an effort to turn the tables, to work you up the way you’re working him up. 

It works, your eyes fluttering, lips parting in a sweet little whimper as he grinds into you slowly, over and over again. He groans when you meet his thrusts (as well as you can anyway given your position), the heat blossoming in his gut. He leans in close, his hands still pinning your arms to the ground as he gets lost in you, in the feel of you, in the way you look beneath him. 

“Oh fuck,” you breathe, panting as every press of his hips sends delightful waves of pleasure through your body. 

Marc hums in agreement, his lip between his teeth as he hovers over you. You want to kiss him, to taste him, to devour him. So you do, pushing yourself up to capture his lips, your tongue claiming his mouth and pulling another groan from him. You arch into him as well as you can, pulling his body even closer with your freed leg as you continue to move together. The friction is delicious, like heaven, and a part of you never wants it to end. You wish you could flip him over again, ride him fast and hard, his strong fingers digging into your hips as you pull him apart and put him back together over and over and— 

Your release slams into you at the thought, a choked moan slipping from between your lips as he keeps moving, prolonging your bliss. Marc watches you as you come, the look in his eyes is greedy as your body shakes, your face contorting into something ethereal, almost otherworldly. When you come back to yourself, you meet his eyes again, your chest heaving slightly as you try to catch your breath. He looks like he wants to eat you alive, the wildness and lust in his eyes visible even in the darkness. You shiver with pleasure, chewing your lip as you let your gaze drag slowly down his body. You wish you could see more of him, his windbreaker doing nothing to compliment his undoubtedly amazing body. 

“Who sent you?” He pants, as if he hadn’t just given you the best orgasm you’ve had in years. 

Your eyes flick back to his at the question, a lazy smile curling the edges of your mouth as you begin to move against him again, silently begging him to come for you. He swallows thickly, his body tensing with every brush of your hips, his fingers clenching and unclenching around your forearms. His eyelashes flutter as he watches you, his mouth slack with pleasure. Then he groans, giving into you, into this, his body curling even more over yours as he buries his face in your neck. He ruts against you, his movements somewhat uncoordinated as he chases his release.  

His body twitches above yours as he comes, his moans muffled slightly by your neck. Just as you’re mourning the fact that you didn’t get to see his face, you notice his hold on you has slackened a bit— enough to turn the tables, you hope. Still dazed from his orgasm, it takes him a moment to realize what you’re doing as you begin to wiggle beneath him, and by the time he does, it’s too late.  

Marc grunts as you push him onto his back and straddle him, your hands pinning his muscular arms to the ground. After everything, you should probably kill him—he’s the type to hold a grudge, the type that’ll try to hunt you down—but you just can’t bring yourself to do it. If nothing else, it’d be a waste of a pretty face. Instead, you kiss him, relishing the taste and feel of him one last time before pulling away to smile down at him. 

“Thanks for the tumble, honey,” you whisper, climbing off of him with a chuckle. 

By the time he comes back to himself, you’re gone and the sun is just beginning to peak over the horizon. Marc groans in frustration, running his hands over his face as he tries to figure out what the hell just happened. He should be pissed, he thinks, for so easily falling into your trap but, somehow, he isn’t. He sniffs a laugh, shaking his head at himself as he moves to get up.  

Later, when he’s packing up his gear (including the sleeping bag he’d let you borrow), he comes across a folded, non-descript piece of paper that he knows must be from you. He unfolds it, his fingers fumbling slightly in his haste. For a moment, he just stares, his eyes tracing the lines and curves of your parting words, words that make his lips quirk in a smile.

See you around.

If you enjoyed this, please let me know! I appreciate every single reblog and/or comment. Thank you. 💖

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#my fic #moon knight bingo #marc spector x you #marc spector x reader #marc spector fanfic #marc spector fic #moon knight fic #moon knight fanfic #marc spector smut #moon knight smut

[readerthatreadsss]

Worth The Wait | Steven Grant

(Inspired by the song of the same title by Kali Uchis)

Pairing: Steven Grant x fem!reader

Word Count: 6.2k

Summary: You and Steven have been roommates for a while now. But one night after being stood up by yet another guy in a string of dates gone wrong, Steven offers you some support...which sparks an interesting chain of events.

Warnings[18+ activities MDNI]: sub! (ish) Steven, dom! (ish) reader, fools in love, friends/roommates to lovers, mentions of drunk reader (but not drunk when they actually have sex, you'll see), crying (reader's drunk and starts venting for a bit, that's all), unprotected p in v sex (cloak the joker before you poke her), oral sex (steven and r receiving), Steven doubting himself mid-sex, assertive reader and awkward Steven! , choking (r receiving), riding, creampie, barely edited cause I'm really fuckin tired.

A/N: Hi. Don't ask me where I found the time or motivation to write this shit when school started back a month ago. The idea just popped into my head and my fingers didn't stop moving once I opened a draft. Note, I have a tall fem! reader x Steven in my drafts to finish so don't think I forgot!

"Steeeeven," knock knock knock, "STEVENNNN," knock knock knock−

Steven's brows furrowed beneath his reading glasses at the sound of your voice coming from outside your shared apartment door. Concern as well as confusion sprang through him instantly. You sounded drunk. Which he was sure to be the case seeing as you were sloppily knocking at the door rather than opening it with your keys.

He quickly shut the book he was reading and removed his glasses before making his way over to the door in fear that your next call of his name would wake the entire building.

Unfortunately, he opened the door at the very moment you launched your hand forward to knock once more. This caused you to tumble through the door with a drunken yelp. But Steven caught you in his arms before your body could hit the ground.

You looked up at him with a lazy smile and hooded eyes. "Thanks, Stevie bear," you hiccuped, using both hands to cling onto one of his very defined biceps. You had never realized how big and firm they were before that moment.

"You're welcome," Steven replied worriedly. He swiftly shut the door with his foot and used your grip on his arm to bring you standing back on your feet. "Y/n what the bloody hell happened to your date?"

You rolled your eyes at his question, kicking off your heels and making your way over to the couch without somehow falling again. "See now, Steven," you paused and pointed at him drunkenly, "it can't be a date if the said date doesn't even bother to show up!" you explained.

Steven sighed deeply at your explanation as he sat on the other end of the couch. This wasn't the first time this had happened to you—or him for that matter—but he could never understand why. You were easily one of the most beautiful women in London, and definitely one of the smartest, (your framed Ph.D. in psychology hanging over the television was evidence of that). You were the full package and more. Any man would be lucky to have you.

But the men of London were clearly morons if they kept standing you up or acting like complete knobs to you on your dates.

He would never do that to you. But he's seen photos of your past dates. A woman like you was way out of his league and would never go for someone like him, anyone with eyes could see that.

"How much have you had to drink?" Steven suddenly asked you.

You raised 3 fingers to the best of your ability. "Six," you answered before bursting into a fit of giggles at Steven's expression.

"Gosh, y/n, you're absolutely clobbered," he grabbed a blanket from the arm of the couch and spread it over where your short skin-tight dress was riding up your thighs.

"Well I didn't lie," you sat up abruptly, throwing the blanket off your lap and turning to face Steven and sit as crosslegged as your dress would allow, "Three of the drinks were margaritas...the other three were shots of vodka though," you admitted softly as if it were some secret for only yours and Steven's ears.

"Do you have work in the morning?" Steven questioned gently, picking up the blanket and handing it back to you. Your dress was riding up with every slight movement you made, which meant more of your thighs being exposed to him. Despite this, Steven wouldn't dare look anywhere except your eyes.

"Nope." You threw the blanket back on the floor. The night was pretty warm, you don't understand why Steven keeps giving it to you.

"Do you want me to make you some coffee or tea?"

"Yup."

Steven looked at you in question for a few seconds. "Which one?" he prodded, fighting back a smile at your muddled state.

You moved closer and narrowed your eyes, "Which one of what?" you questioned, truly confused, before breaking out into another fit of drunken giggles that caused you to momentarily tumble forward and land your hands on Steven's thighs.

"Coffee it is then," Steven answered for you, his voice traveling up an octave. He then carefully moved your hand from his thighs, trying to ignore the chills your touch sent up his spine, and hightailed it to the kitchen to put on the percolator for you.

You tilted your head as he walked away, noting how quickly he left.

When Steven returned with your cup of coffee (with cream and no sugar just how you liked it), he found you seated in the same spot but with his blanket draped over your head and body while soft sniffles and sobs met his ears.

He placed your cup on the table nearby and carefully approached your figure on the couch. Steven reached for the blanket and slowly removed it from your body.

"Why are you crying, love?" he sweetly asked once your face came into view.

"Because I'm a mess," you sniffled, using a hand to wipe the trail of tears falling from your eyes.

Steven's head tilted in disbelief at your words. "You don't really believe that, do you?"

"Yes I do," you nodded fervently, "It's why my dates have sucked for the past 2 months, it's why I got passed over for that goddamn promotion at work last week, and it's why you can't stand being around me for longer than 3 minutes these days."

Steven was taken aback by your words. You thought he couldn't stand to be around you? That's impossible.

"You practically sprinted to the kitchen!" you added after a few moments of silence.

"To make you coffee," Steven protested, gesturing to the cup lying untouched nearby.

"I saw your face," you looked down at where your hands lay in your lap.

Steven swallowed harshly. "Y/n."

You ignored his call for your attention.

"Look at me," he came closer and entangled his hands with your own in your lap, immediately causing you to look up at him with tear-stained eyes, "You are not a mess," he softly yet sternly said to you.

"Yes I am−"

"No. You are not," he interrupted your arguing, "Your dates? They're all losers for letting you slip through their hands. And if a few bad dates is fate's way of making you wait to find the one, then I think that's well worth the holdup, yeah?"

You chewed on your bottom lip anxiously before nodding in agreement.

"And as for my behavior earlier, it was−" Steven paused with a sigh fumbling for a sensible excuse, "it's your perfume."

You pulled a face that would have made Steven laugh under normal circumstances. "My perfume? You hate my perfume?"

Steven swallowed harshly. He hated lying. He wasn't even good at it. But convincing you that he couldn't bear your perfume was easier than admitting that he just couldn't handle the way your hands felt on his thighs or the way his entire body heated up when you leaned closer to him. "Yup. The smell was too much for me," he fibbed.

You rested your head in your palms, pouting slightly. "But you're the only reason I wear this perfume, Steven," you confessed, barely audible.

Steven's face fell. "What?"

"You told me that you liked it when I moved in and from then I kept buying it just because you liked it."

Steven's heart swelled at your admission. He felt like an asshole. He was no better than the losers you'd been going on dates with.

You continued to speak. You could feel words preparing to leave your lips that have been eating at you for a while, now guided by your lowered inhibitions. "And I didn't only mean just now. These past few weeks you can barely look me in my eyes, or be near me, Steven. What am I doing wrong?" your voice broke with your last words.

Steven had seen you cry a few times before. But this time was different. The look on your face was heart-wrenching. He couldn't believe that he made you feel like this.

Because he was having trouble dealing with his own feelings for you, he made you think he hated you...when it was the complete opposite.

"There's nothing wrong with you. It's all my fault," Steven said, breaking away from your gaze, feeling it pierce through him.

"I'm the one who was dumb enough to fall in love with you..." he added, only to look up and see you passed out against the arm of the couch.

A part of him was saddened that you fell asleep before hearing his confession. But another was grateful and profoundly unprepared for your inevitable rejection.

Steven looked at you for a few more seconds before carefully picking you up—smiling to himself when you curled into his chest—and carrying you to your bedroom.

° ° ° ° ° ° ° °

You woke up in a slight daze...and in someone else's bed.

It took a few glances around the room for you to piece together that you were in Steven's room.

And then all of last night's events came back to mind, seeping in and clearing the fog that your excessive alcohol consumption had sired;

Your failed date. Coming home and falling into Steven's arms. Saying way too much to Steven. Steven's last words before your body shut down.

Steven.

Steven.

Steven.

"Oh God," you mumbled, cradling your face in your hands.

Eventually, you pulled yourself out of the bed and stumbled into the bathroom for a shower. You thanked whatever higher power was at work that Steven was still asleep on the couch when you padded through the living room.

But when you finished showering and exited the bathroom, you were hit with the smell of freshly brewed coffee. You poked your head into the living room to make sure Steven was still in the kitchen before running a path straight to your room and getting dressed.

After throwing on one of your old university crew necks and the first shorts you could get your hands on (which happened to be very short ones), you heard a knock at your door followed by Steven's voice.

"Y/N? I have a cup of green tea and some painkillers here...thought you'd need them."

You found yourself smiling at the sound of his voice, something that was becoming more common in recent weeks. What did you do to deserve a man like Steven in your life?

You quickly moved to open the door and let Steven in. "Hey, Steven," you greeted him with a small smile.

He released a nervous chuckle as he presented a cup and two pills to you. "Good morning."

You took them happily, bringing them to your night table. "I'm not actually feeling very hungover," you said to him, turning to sit on your bed.

"Really? That's surprising...considering last night," Steven replied, taking a hesitant step further into your room.

"Yeah must be my tolerance and all that," you shrugged, taking interest in how Steven had yet to meet your eyes since you opened the door.

A beat of silence passed between you while you took a sip of your tea. "Steven, you can sit," you softly spoke, gesturing to your bed.

"Oh, sure," Steven took a seat at the farthest edge of your bed, maintaining a more than comfortable space between you.

"How'd I end up in your bed this morning?" you suddenly questioned. You were genuinely curious, but the reaction it garnered from Steven was more than worth it.

After a brief clear of his throat, Steven answered, "Well you sorta climbed into my bed in the middle of the night, gave me quite a scare actually, and I wanted to give you space to rest so I let you have my bed and I slept in the couch."

"Oh, I'm sorry," you frowned, a tinge of embarrassment seeping in, "Why didn't you sleep in my bed?"

"Because..." laying in your bed that smells flawlessly like you would've sent him into cardiac arrest- "the couch is more comfortable."

You nodded in understanding, placing your half-empty teacup back on the table.

"If you uh need anything," Steven stood up from your bed, slowly walking backward to the door, "just shout," he said as he turned to open the door.

"Did you mean it?"

Steven halted in place at your words, his back still facing you.

You slid off your bed and approached his oddly still figure.

Steven's throat ran dry. There's no way you could have actually heard him. Right? "What?" is all he managed to say.

You walked past him and used a hand to close the door, coming to stand in front of him. You needed to look at his face. Living with Steven for a year has taught you that he wasn't a man of many words but his face said more than enough when he couldn't. Drunk you couldn't utilize your psych degree the night before, but sober you sure could at that moment.

"Did you mean it?" you repeated, "When you said you fell in love with me?"

Steven's jaw slackened when he met your stare, that feeling of being pierced by your gaze returning. "I-"

Your eyes narrowed as you took a step closer to him, now being close enough for his nervous breaths to fan across your lips. "Because if you meant it then I would tell you that. I think..." you paused and looked away for a moment, "No, I know that I love you too."

Steven's hooded brown eyes widened. He blinked a few times, trying to will himself to wake up if this was a dream.

You bit back a small laugh at his expression before you continued. "I love how willing you were to rent some small-time therapist your extra bedroom because you heard her crying in the corner of a coffee shop that she'd been kicked out by her stupid ex-boyfriend. I love the mugs you buy me every month because you saw them and they reminded you of me. I love how you watch shitty action movies with me after every bad date I have because you want to take my mind off them. I love how much you care about...everything really. I love you, Steven Grant," an enlightened smile rested on your face as you spoke, "and I'm sorry that I spent the past year thinking everything you made me feel was platonic when the truth was that you made me feel things that no one else has. I'm an idiot Steven-"

"No," Steven's first word came, a relieved smile accompanying it, "You are not an idiot. You are the smartest person I've ever met. Smarter than me, that's for sure," at that, you both laughed, "I've spent this whole year thinking that you would never see me as anything more than your weird, boring roommate...and turns out you loved me this whole time," he ended in a soft whisper, shocked by his own conclusion. Steven found his eyes drifting down to your lips and you immediately took note of it.

You exhaled deeply before closing the gap between you and Steven, meeting his lips in a bold kiss.

Initially stunned, Steven sunk into your lips soon after, gently bringing his hands up to rest on the sides of your face.

Your brain fogged as Steven devoured your lips, an unusual confidence taking over him. You wrapped your hands around his neck and smiled into the kiss, allowing Steven to slip his tongue past your lips, tasting more of you and pulling a moan from your chest.

Steven pulled away first, feeling himself enter a state that he wouldn't dare himself to in your presence. You bit back a whine when his lips left yours, looking up at him in confusion.

"We don't have to do this if you don't want to," he spoke, taking a step away from you.

You licked your lips and stepped towards him. "Steven, trust me, I want to do this. I want to do a lot more than this actually," you pulled his waist flush against your body, drawing a shared moan from you both when his growing bulge pressed against your stomach.

Steven's hands flew up to grab the back of your neck and your jaw. He softly muttered your name, as a warning more than anything else.

You leaned in and pressed a kiss against the corner of his lips. "If you say no, we will stop this right now and go eat breakfast. But if you say yes, we are gonna stay here and I'm gonna let you do very bad things to my body."

Steven swallowed harshly. "God, yes," he replied, failing to swallow back a whimper at the implication of your words.

Your hands squeezed his waist as you moved back to look at his face fully. "I'm sorry, I didn't hear that Stevie," you smirked.

Steven looked down at you with adoration clear in his eyes. He couldn't believe this was really about to happen. He used his hold on your neck to pull your lips crashing into his. This kiss was a lot more hungrier than the first, with Steven now making his intentions much clearer.

"I'll take that as a yes," you grinned between kisses.

Steven groaned his agreement as he continued to kiss you.

You used your grip on his waist to push him back towards your bed, effectively breaking your kiss and causing him to land on the edge of your bed with a grunt.

Steven looked up at you through his lashes in awe as you approached him. He watched keenly as you removed your top, wearing nothing underneath, before moving to straddle his thighs. Steven made a move to touch your chest before stopping his shaky hands midair and looking at you in question.

You gently held Steven's chin up and smiled down at him. "Steven you can touch me," you reassured him. Even in an intimate moment like this, he was ever the gentleman...

Steven indulged with a sheepish smile and brought both his palms to each of your breasts. Unable to help himself, Steven dove in and took one of your nipples in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the hardened bud.

"Fuck, Steven," you moaned, eyes slamming shut at how good it felt. Your words only seemed to egg him on further as Steven switched to your other breast, his lips and tongue moving against it with more enthusiasm.

Your hands at the back of his neck grabbed fistfuls of his curls while his ministrations against your chest pulled more moans and whines from your lips.

Some time after, you pulled Steven's lips away from your breasts and met them in a searing kiss, pressing your clothed cunt down against his erection. "Shit," Steven lowly cursed, bringing his hands to your waist to grind you down further against his bulge.

You obliged with a moan, grinding in Steven's lap harder. "Tell me what you want, Steven," you whispered against his lips.

Steven's hands squeezed your waist harshly when your lips began sucking against his throat. He could barely put together thoughts at the moment, much less words.

You trailed a hand down to the waistband of Steven's sweats and slowly reached under it for his cock. You swallowed a moan when your hand traced his full length and girth. "You've been holding out on me Steven," you chuckled against his neck.

Steven blushed furiously at your words. "Thank you?" he responded awkwardly, barely functioning with your hand rubbing along his cock.

You chuckled once again, pulling away from his neck to look at him. "You're so pretty," you said, causing another wave of red to hit Steven's cheeks.

"No one's ever said that to me before," he admitted softly.

"Well that's okay, cause I want to be the only one who makes you blush like this," you grinned brushing a stray curl from his forehead, "I bet your cock is just as pretty," your hand picked up speed beneath Steven's pants, "Can I see it? Please?"

Steven nodded enthusiastically. "Anything you want," he said with a desperation that had your pussy throbbing with need. You briefly lifted your hips allowing Steven to clumsily slide off his sweatpants and boxers and step out of them.

Once you returned to your position on his thighs, you looked down at his cock, the head already dripping with small beads of precum. The length was truly unexpected, as well as the girth. You would do anything to feel him inside you.

But for now, you really wanted to taste him.

Steven watched you sink to your knees before him, your eyes never straying from his.

"Are you sure you want to-"

"Steven you said anything I wanted," you paused, gliding your fingers over his length and watching it twitch in response, "And I really want to taste you. Can I suck your cock, Steven?"

Steven's breathing picked up as he took in the image before him; you on your knees, touching his dick while literally begging to suck it with a look in your eyes he could only compare to the look of a wild female tiger eyeing her freshly caught meal in the nature documentary he watched the week before.

"Please, please do," his response came soon after.

You began with a kiss to the head of his cock that made it immediately jump in your hand. You couldn't help but chuckle, and it was a sound that Steven hoped would be the last thing he heard before he left this earth. "You're so sensitive, Stevie," you cooed before pressing another kiss but to the base of his length.

Steven released a sharp moan at both of your kisses to his cock, finding himself embarrassingly close to cumming already.

"Please," he pleaded your name with a whine, "stop teasing."

You swirled your tongue around the head where precum had gathered, moaning in time with your movements and drawing yet another mewl from Steven. "Oh but Stevie, I just love hearing you say please," you teased him, looking up from where you had a hand wrapped around his base and another briefly caressing his balls.

Steven was now panting, his eyes never leaving you as you held him. He watched you slowly wrap your lips around his tip before slowly sinking down.

After reaching a little more than halfway down Steven's cock, you felt yourself gag but simply stilled instead of removing yourself completely.

"Fucking hell," Steven grunted before melding into a pathetic moan once you held your position. You eventually let up when you almost ran out of air and slowly removed your lips from his dick, your eyes meeting his with tears streaming along your face from the stretch.

You were prepared to do it once again but felt Steven's palm grab your chin before you could. "No, love, please. If you do that again I'm afraid I'm not gonna last."

Steven watched you lick your lips before shifting to trap his thumb in between your lips and softly suck on it. He couldn't stop the whine that slipped his lips at your action.

You eventually released his thumb from the confines of your mouth and came to stand over him with a smile. "Well then. Tell me what you want to do next. I'm all yours, baby, remember?"

Steven brought his hands to rest on your hips and leaned forward to press a soft kiss against your stomach. "I-uhh," his brows furrowed and he shook his head briefly as if sending away a thought.

"What is it, Steven?"

The man beneath you looked up to meet your eager eyes, suddenly confident enough to say what he wanted. "I really...really want to taste you."

You felt your breath hitch at his request. It was rare for a man to enthusiastically offer to go down on you. Though it was clear to you now that Steven was most definitely a rare man.

"You want to?" you felt your voice come out a lot more unsure than usual.

Steven's brows furrowed once again as a fleeting smile graced his lips at your response. "Of course I do, sweetheart. Do men not usually..."

You harshly exhaled. "I mean some do but I usually have to complain first or they do it cause they want me to return the favor," you admitted.

"They don't deserve you. No one does," Steven softly uttered, gazing up at you with eyes you were growing more fond of by the minute.

You quickly leaned down to meet him in a kiss in response. You didn't deserve him either.

Steven pulled you back into his lap and kissed you back eagerly. But he was the first to pull away, causing you to whine in a way that made his cock jump against your cunt. "I-I really did mean it, love, I need to taste you. Now."

You had never seen Steven so demanding. It had you throbbing in anticipation. You allowed him to lay you on your back and peel away your shorts and panties to reveal the part of you where you needed him most.

Steven looked starstruck as he examined your arousal. He moved closer and closer to your pussy, letting his warm breath fan over your glistening lips.

"Steven please-" you begged, though you couldn't finish your thought before your voice broke into a loud moan when Steven licked a stripe from your entrance to your swollen clit.

Steven closed his eyes, relishing his first taste of you. It was everything he'd quite literally dreamed of and more.

And so, he eagerly dived into your core.

Your hands flew to Steven's head working between your legs as your thighs instinctively closed around his head from the sudden wave of pleasure surging through you.

The feeling of your thighs trapping his head against your pussy was absolute bliss to Steven. He moaned into you as his tongue swirled around your clit sloppily. If he was inexperienced, you couldn't tell because every movement of his tongue brought you closer and closer to your release.

The vibrations of Steven's enjoyment drew a brief scream from your chest before you slapped a hand over your lips to silence it.

Steven finally came up for air, his lips and jaws covered in your slick. His curls were strewn along his forehead by a damp layer of sweat as his dilated pupils met your own. "C'mon. I want to hear those pretty noises you make for me, love," he said before running two of his fingers through your folds to gather some of your wetness and slowly inserting them into you.

"Oh my-STEVEN" your back arched up and off your bed as you felt immediately filled up by Steven's digits.

Steven gauged your reactions as he slowly removed his fingers before pushing them again with no resistance due to your arousal. "I've wanted this for so long, love," he began to speak as he slowly leaned down to press his lips against your clit in a kiss, "Wanted to hear you moaning my name," he sped up his fingers' movements inside you, "Wanted to taste you," he added another finger, now touching that spot inside your walls with every thrust, "You're so beautiful," he ended before fully diving back in with his tongue against your bud.

"Yes—fuck—you're so good to me baby," you finally gathered enough breath to speak while gaining a proper grip on his head. With every sharp lick or nip he'd make, you would tighten your grip on his hair and it would only spur him on further. It was only a matter of seconds from there before...

"Shit, I'm gonna cum, Steven," you called out, looking down to meet where he was already staring up at you, and speeding up his fingers and tongue's ministrations against you.

He held your stare once he felt your walls clench around his fingers and heard your moan melt into a scream.

"Fuck, fuck, FUCK," you shouted as your orgasm slammed into you thanks to Steven's eager tongue and fingers.

Steven watched your chest slow its heaving when your climax subsided and removed his fingers but couldn't stop himself from licking the remnants of your release from your folds. It was as if he was trying to work you up to another orgasm.

"Shit Steven wait," you mewled, attempting to close your legs from overstimulation. But Steven used strength you'd never known him to have to shove your legs back open and hold them in place, clearly intent on tasting every bit of what you had to offer.

Your eyes widened. "Holy fuck," you removed both your hands from Steven's head and ran them over your face and boobs. He was driving you absolutely insane. If it weren't for his grip on your legs you would be trembling beneath him.

It wasn't long before a second orgasm crept up on you, one more powerful than the last. Your lips parted in a silent scream as your climax washed over your entire body, from your thighs to your feet, to the base of your fucking spine.

Steven couldn't help but stare as he cleaned you up for the last time with his tongue. He couldn't believe he got to see this. To make you feel like this.

Your high subsided soon after and you released a sharp exhale followed by a laugh of disbelief.

Steven moved from his position on his knees before you to hover above you on your bed. "You okay, love?" he questioned in concern

You responded to his question with a satisfied grin. "I'm great, Stevie," you spoke before meeting his lips in a sweet kiss, "But..."

Steven's face fell at your words. He slowly moved from above you to lay next to you, scared to meet your eyes. "I did something wrong didn't I? Or did I forget to do something? I'm sorry-" he rambled, immediately doubting himself.

But his words died in his throat when you turned and caressed his cheek with a hand, your grin still present on your face. "You did nothing wrong," you insisted, "That was no doubt one of the best orgasms of my entire life."

Steven looked away and laughed at your confession. "You don't have to say that to make me feel better."

"I mean it, Steven," your voice grew stern, "That was fucking incredible."

Steven couldn't even formulate a response.

"What I was going to say was," you broke his silence, "I promised you could do bad things to my body and you haven't done nearly enough for me," you ended with a smirk.

Steven grunted when he felt your fingertips run along his cock.

"Don't you want to fuck me, Steven?" you questioned innocently while completely wrapping your hand around and stroking Steven's dick.

He nodded quickly, his bottom lip held between his teeth as he tried not to react to how soft your hand felt around his painfully hard cock. "I do. So badly, love."

You released him and brought a hand over to grab Steven's neck before using your grip to pull him back to his previous position above you. "Then fuck me, Steven. I need you to fuck me," you whispered.

Steven wasted no time in grabbing his length and lining himself up with your entrance. "Are you sure?" he checked in with you once more.

You jerked your hip in the direction of his cock in an effort to fill yourself up but to no avail. You were so damn desperate you didn't care how you sounded. "Yes Steven, please, I need you to fill me up. Fill me up baby, c'mon," you whined hurriedly.

"Well who am I to deny you of what you want, love?" he replied before slowly guiding himself into you.

He immediately groaned at the feeling of your walls squeezing him. "Heavens, love, you're so—aghh—tight," he grunted.

Your moans were never-ending as he sunk into you inch by inch. The stretch was briefly painful but it hurt so good you didn't care.Steven stopped halfway in and leaned down to press a kiss against your forehead. "You're taking me so well, sweetheart," he praised you.

You bit your lip at his praise. "More, Steven, keep going."

Steven obliged and fully sunk into you with one last push. Your moans mixed in the air at the sudden change. "You feel so good inside me Steven, oh my God-" you cried out.

You nearly choked on air when Steven slowly pulled out of your heat before slamming back into you.

"SHIT," you both cursed together before opening your eyes to look at each other.

"Faster, baby, I can take it I promise," you nodded, bringing your hands up to the sides of Steven's face. You even wrapped your legs around Steven's waist.

Steven took a deep breath before pulling out and rutting into you again, now establishing a pace. Which every thrust inside your cunt, Steven grazed your g-spot, effortlessly. It was as if you were built for his cock.

"Fuckin' love the way you fuck me, Steven," you mumbled as Steven set a brutal pace inside you.

Steven leaned down to press his forehead against yours as he continued to fuck you. Your breathing seemed to sync as he pulled out moan after moan from you.

His hands rested at the sides of your head but you could feel them inching closer to your neck.

Your pussy clenched around him at the thought of him choking you. Steven faltered in his thrusts in response. "Love you're squeezing me so hard I don't think I'm gonna last."

"Do it," you called out, tilting your head toward one of his hands.

"What?"

"I can see you thinking about it. Choke me, baby," your chest heaved as you felt your third orgasm of the night approaching.

Steven hesitated for a second before he stopped his thrusts and brought a shaky hand to wrap around your throat.

"I trust you, Steven," you spoke truthfully, "I want this too," you brought a hand to rest over Steven's briefly in reassurance.

Steven began roughly pounding you again with his hand now squeezing around your neck.

"Fuck yes, holy shit," you breathed out, feeling your eyes nearly roll to the back of your head with the newly added feeling of Steven's large hand wrapped around your throat. making you see stars.

Steven, although shocked by your immediate enjoyment of his secret guilty pleasure, took it as a sign to continue. So he trusted faster but made sure to maintain the same amount of pressure on your neck. He then got the idea to use his free hand to reach down and fiddle with your clit while fucking you.

You were instantly thrown over the edge. You came with as best a scream of Steven's name as you could manage with his hand still choking you. Chills ran down your spine while Steven slowed his thrusts inside you and waited for your orgasm to pass.

Eventually, you felt Steven release your neck and slowly begin to remove his cock from your cunt. You tightened your legs around his waist in protest. "Uh uh, we're not stopping till you come inside me, Steven," you demanded.

Steven loved the way you'd been taking control throughout all of this. He'd do anything you asked without a thought. "That's fine with me love," he nodded with a lopsided grin.

"Good," you deeply inhaled before using your hold on his waist to roll him onto his back, with you now straddling him.

You smiled at his shocked expression, which soon morphed into excitement. "You're bloody amazing," he grinned up at you.

You fought the heat that crawled onto your cheeks at his words and looked away with a smile. "Stop sweet talking me and fuck me, Steven."

He nodded quickly, "Yes ma'am." Steven slipped back into your entrance slowly.

But you grew impatient and fully sat down on his cock, loving how full he made you feel. Steven's cries met your ears soon after.

You grabbed his hands and placed each on one of your breasts before beginning to properly ride him. Steven heeded your directions and pawed at your chest while thrusting up to meet your hips.

His grunts soon became whimpers and whines as you rode him harder and faster, eager to make him cum.

"I'm almost there, love," he cried before sitting up and pulling you into his chest. His hands moved down to grip your waist where he guided you faster along his cock.

"There you go, Steven," you held his face against your own as his pace grew sloppy and his brown eyes slid shut.

"Cum for me, baby," you softly spoke with one last grind of your hips. Steven halted inside you with a broken sob of your name and filled you up with his warm release.

You moaned at the feeling of his spend coating your inner walls and leaned down to press a kiss to the top of his head. "You did so good Steven."

"I love you," his eyes finally opened while he panted, looking up at you with vulnerable eyes as if scared that you wouldn't feel the same after what you had just done together.

"I love you too," you replied without hesitation. You gently shoved Steven onto his back and followed suit, laying down on his chest as you gently removed his softening cock from inside you. You felt his hands move to wrap around your body soon after, bringing you further into his body.

Steven was the first to speak after some time. "I think you're the best thing that's happened to me in a really long time," he admitted, turning to look at you, not at all phased by the exhaustion in your features.

You leaned up to meet Steven in a heated kiss. He tightened his hold on you and met your lips with equal fervor. You pulled away reluctantly and looked down at his face with furrowed brows as you used a hand to trace his jaw and swollen lips. "Where have you been hiding my entire life, Steven Grant?"

"Haven't been hiding, love. I've just been here waiting for you."

° ° ° ° ° ° ° °

WHEW! This ABSOLUTELY got away from me holy shit. 6k words? yeah, not the plan at all. But hey it's definitely something considering that I haven't been able to sit down and write anything till tonight.

So I really do hope you enjoyed it.

(Lemme go look back through my requests and see what else I can cook up.)

#steven grant smut #moon knight smut #smut #fluff #marvel #imagine #oneshot #steven grant #moon boys #moon knight x reader #steven grant x you #steven grant x reader #moon knight fic #moon knight #oscar issac smut #oscar isaac #oscar isaac x reader #marvel fanfiction #fanfiction

[astroboots]

Kiss Me Again

CO-WRITTEN WITH @THIRSTWORLDPROBLEMSS

Summary: You discover that Marc has a thing for lipstick

Content: Marc blushing -- Oh mai, domestic shenanigans, lotsa yearning, creampie, explicit sex babeh.

Credit: Inspired form Leslie's gorgeous Love Mark series and in particular this beautiful image. Part of the @moonknight-events Bingo scorecard Challenge: Morning After.

Word count: 3.5k

ASTROBOOT’S MASTERLIST | THIRSTWORLDPROBLEMS’ MASTERLIST |MOON KNIGHT MASTERLIST

There is something about waking up in the morning to the sight of Marc standing in the kitchen.

The sight of that wide back turned to you. His firm shoulders fill out that t-shirt oh-so-perfectly, and you can make out the rounded curve of his bum practically bursting out of his jeans. The familiar rigid stiffness that is stitched into every nook and cranny of his frame while he's standing in front of the stove cooking you breakfast.

It's Sunday today, which means the familiar warm and breadlike smell of pancakes permeates the attic flat. It also means that Marc has let you sleep in.

God, what time is it?

Judging from the brightness of the sun, blinding your eyes, he must've let you sleep in late.

You glance at your wristwatch on the bedside table, squinting your eyes to make out the time.

Fuck! Eleven Twenty-Seven?!?!

You grumble, dragging yourself out of bed, grabbing the neatly folded clothes next to you and pulling them on haphazardly. "Why didn't you wake me? It's nearly noon."

Marc is unmoved by your accusatory tone. He flips the pan with a flashy move, flinging the pancake into the air before catching it with ease, right back into the pan.

"You were tired from last night."

He doesn't turn around, but you don’t need to catch the expression on his face when you can hear the playful smirk in his voice.

And he's not wrong. Marc did wear you out last night. The soreness between your thighs as you're making your way to him would prove as much. As does the state of the bed and its rumpled sheets.

You're practically hobbling your way to the kitchen when you  finally manage to join him and perch yourself on a stool near the counter.

From the corner of your eye, Marc turns ever so slightly until you finally catch the amused wry quirk of his lips in person.

"What?"

He doesn't answer you. Just slides the pancake onto a plate, pouring in more batter into the pan, before he brings your plate over to you. Then he looks at you with that same amused expression.

"What is it?" you ask again. Have you suddenly grown horns on your head? Why is he looking at you like that.

Your confusion only adds to his amusement. A huff (that is borderline a laugh) escapes him as he looks at you with a fond expression.

"You're a mess."

Wow. Rude.

You shake your head, your boyfriend never was known for his manners... This boyfriend at least. Steven has the manners of an angelic saint.

Scanning the space, you spot your handbag that's conveniently sitting on the counter and reach for the small pocket mirror, flicking it open.

A deranged Alice Cooper impersonator looks back at you. Mascara running halfway down your face.

Shit.

Okay, Marc might have a point. Your hair looks like a runaway freight train blazed through it, mascara has run halfway down your face, and your lipstick is smeared all over, vivid red splotches and smears dotting your chin and cheeks. How did you even manage that?

You grab a wad of face wipes to take care of the worst of it. Then you glance back up at Marc. He is in considerably much better shape than you are. Hair combed back, already dressed in his regular t-shirt, with his grey jacket and fitted jeans like it's his designated uniform.

That's Marc for you. Unfazed. Un-rumpled. Untouchable. 

Your Mr. Tidy, who needs everything to be in its proper place, no matter the time and place. It leaves you craving to achieve the unachievable, to make a mess of him.

Always put together. Always in control. Always has the upper hand on you.

Well… Your eyes drift to his honed cheeks and you can't help but grin at the sight. Almost always.

Today, there's a chink in his tidy armour. A red smear on his throat, matching the ones you just removed from your own face. Unsurprising perhaps, given the way you mauled this throat last night.

"You're a mess too," you counter.

He tilts his head questioningly, and you flip the mirror back at him to let him see the damage. 

You expect him to frown. Expect him to grumble and reach for a wipe or scrub off the offending mess with the back of his hand. 

Marc does none of that. Instead he freezes, eyes growing wide as he just stares into your pocket mirror. 

You don't know how long he just stays like that, frozen in place, and you can practically see the little spinning wheel icon indicating that he brain has stalled out over this new input. It’s fascinating. You have half a mind to just leave him be, curious to see how long it takes his mind to reboot, but then you smell something off in the kitchen. Burnt, like smoke.

"Uhm, Marc? I think... the pancakes are burning."

That snaps him right out of it. 

"Shit!" 

He leaps into action. In a split of a second, Marc is back at the stove, yanking the offending pan off the heat. He seems a bit off kilter, grumbling to himself as he carries the whole thing to the bin and starts scraping the burnt remains of charcoal pancake off. 

The whole scene takes you aback. You don't think you've ever seen Marc just freeze like that. What could have happened?

Was it the mirror? Mirrors serve as a neat conduit for communication between the boys. Perhaps Steven or Jake said something that distracted him? 

You watch as he moves back to the sink without so much as a glance in your direction.  Hoping for some insight you hop off the stool and walk up next to Marc, but he stiffens unexpectedly at your presence, ducking his face towards the sink, and avoiding your gaze.

Something is off with him. Something is definitely wrong... and-- 

You don’t see it at first. His head is tilted down, casting a shadow over his cheeks, but you think you see… 

Wait wait wait. Is Marc... blushing? 

You lean in closer, peering over his shoulder to stare at his face. 

"This is distracting. I'm trying to clean," he mutters, tilting his face away from you.

Oh wow!

He is! 

Marc is blushing! 

Your veins buzz at the revelation. You're so excited by this new development, you don't even connect the dots at first.

He's blushing! Why is he blushing? God knows!

But it’s adorable! You need to know how to make this happen again.

Mirror. You need to get the mirror– Or wait, no. That doesn't make any sense does it? It's not the mirror that made him blush, why would it?

You retrace your step. Not the mirror, must've been something he saw in the mirror. It could have been something Steven or Jake said, but…

You think back to the night before. The way Marc’s dark eyes had gone darker, deep and bottomless, as he watched you get ready to go out. The way his eyes never left your face as you talked, always circling back to… your lips.

Excited to test your new theory, you leave Marc at the sink and head for the corner of the counter where you left your bag, fishing around until you can locate the tube of lipstick. 

Yanking off the cap, you nearly end up mashing the red tip with how hard you press it on your lips. That done, you recap the tube and drop it back into the depths of your handbag, and rejoin Marc at the stove where he’s already poured another round of batter into the newly cleaned pan.

He's not looking up at you, eyes glued to the bubbling forming on the half-cooked pancake with strained concentration. But you bet you can change that now that you know what you know.

You tip-toe forward, reaching up to press your lips square centre on his cheek. You keep the contact soft and brief. Just enough pressure that you can make sure you've marked him in red with the shape of your lips.

Marc freezes again bound in shock. His eyes are so startlingly wide, for a moment you could almost mistake him for Steven.

Bingo.

You're grinning so widely it almost physically hurts. "Sorry, I think I got some lipstick on you."

He doesn't respond. If you didn't know better you'd think you'd turn him into stone with that small kiss. But you can see the way his fingers are wrapped so tight around the handle of the pan, the cast iron could crumble from the pressure. 

Oh my, this is fun.

Leaning up you do it again. Pressing your lips to his cheek again, inches from where you had before, just as soft. Just as brief, and watch the red mark join the other one.

Marc tenses up all over again. Slowly but surely, you see that gorgeous crimson spread across his cheeks. It's a fascinating sight. And god, it makes you want to paint every inch of his skin in lipstick red, like a blank colouring book.

It takes him entirely too long before he gathers himself again. Eyes blinking rapidly like trying to wake himself from a drunken stupor, before shock is replaced by that familiar grumpy scowl.

"I'm–" he pauses to clear his throat, "I’m trying to make breakfast here."

"So do it," you respond cheekily, leaning in to kiss him again, "Don't let me stop you"

You keep pressing little kisses to his skin, leaving red lip prints all over and delighting in the fact that his face gets hotter with each one. More than a little bit smug to see the pink flush deepen and spread over his cheeks and down his throat.

For once, Marc-nothing-can-faze-me-Spector is struggling to keep his cool, and you are taking entirely too much joy in being the cause of that. 

You reach up again, hands cupping his cheeks to tilt him to your mouth and press a kiss against his lips until they are stained bright lipstick red. 

Marc remains still, but you can feel the frustration vibrating off the surface tension of his skin.

This time he lets go of the pan, and it clatters loudly back onto the stove. 

You step back to the sight of that familiar irritated glare in his eyes even as he's blushing an unfamiliar bright barbie pink on his cheeks. His thumb hovering over his lipstick smeared bottom lip. 

At first you think he's going to wipe it away. He doesn't. Instead his thumb just lingers over the mark, hand trembling slightly.

"Stop teasing," he grumbles.

It’s meant to be a warning, you’re sure, but all you feel is excitement of what's to come.

There's a saying isn't there? About not poking a bear with a stick. Except in that scenario it’s because you don't want to anger it and have it maul you, and in the present, that's exactly what you want from Marc. 

You step in close again, tilting your face up to deliver another kiss.

All you can hear is a low growl, and then Marc is moving. His hand comes to the back of your neck and reels you into him, so close you can feel the embarrassed heat radiating from his cheek as if it were your own. 

Then his lips are on yours, and joy and love surge through you, blending in a dizzying concoction that makes your surroundings spin. 

You expect his kiss to be harsh and hungry, but Marc continues where you left off, pressing gentle, nearly chaste kisses to your lips over and over again. 

It could almost be innocent if it weren't for the way he's panting against your lips. The way his strong arm wraps around your waist. The way his fingers dig into your hip as he drags your hips against his, crushing you against him until you can feel him—all of him, the length of him hot and hard against your stomach—even through his jeans. 

His hand slides down over your hip to your thigh, one firm palm gripping and lifting to hook your leg over one side of his wide hips so he can grind against you. It's desperate and frenzied, the bulge of his cock slotting perfectly between your legs. Pressing forward until you’re so close that you can feel it jerking against you with each shuddering roll of his hips.

And through it all, he kisses and kisses and kisses you, gentle presses that grow just a little bit harder with each one. It sparks through your veins like an ember, heady and sweet until you think you could melt from it.

His lips drag against your own until finally, he parts them. The slight edge of his teeth nipping at your bottom lip, like he wants to devour you whole. 

And you'd let him. You’d let him bite in and swallow every morsel of you without resistance, but for some unfathomable reason, he… doesn't. 

Instead he stills. Pulls back. Both of you gasping and shaking as you just look at each other.

He doesn't say anything. His gaze drops to your lips, his own parted and trembling.

You're just about to ask him what's wrong, when you realise that nothing is.

You've been together long enough now that you are finally starting to get the hang of hearing the things Marc leaves unspoken. Can read that hesitant look in his eyes and know what he’s thinking.

You know that in this moment all Marc wants is more. That’s what he doesn't know how to say.

Because Marc is still learning to ask for what he wants. And you know that the more he wants something, the less able he is to ask for it. (And the more you want to give it to him.)

And right now, the thing he wants more of is…

"Hang on a tic," you tell him, holding up a single finger. Your voice sounds throaty, but somehow miraculously calm despite the way your heartbeat is pounding in your ears. You reach behind you, scooping up your discarded handbag and plucking your lipstick from it as easy as you please. The small round tube nearly falls into your hand like it's guided by divine inspiration.

Marc's hands tremble on your hips, fingers gripping tight, tighter, tightest until it's almost painful. Somehow that only makes it better.

How many people on this earth can say that they've managed to make Marc Spector tremble?

Somehow your hands are still rock steady. Uncapping the lipstick, you feel his cock jerk hard against your thigh once, and then again as you twist the tube and begin to slick the bright stoplight red onto your lips.

You don't have a mirror. Don't need one. Don’t even have to look to know this is the cleanest application you'll ever manage, for all that your lips were already smeared to hell when you started. Your lipstick is perfect. You can tell by the way Marc is looking at your mouth. Staring at your mouth. Staring at you, like you're a goddess come to life. Every desperate desire he's ever had made flesh, made divine. 

Marc Spector makes you feel divine.

Twisting the lipstick back down, you recap it, barely managing to tuck it away in your bag with hands that are just beginning to shake. Then you reach for him.

Framing his face with trembling hands, you lean forward to press a single, perfect kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"There we go," you manage, before the need for him rises up to swallow you whole and your voice goes ragged, unspooling at the edges.

"Now, Marc. Please, now."

You don't need to say more than that. You watch the muscle in his jaw jump as he grits his teeth.

The ground beneath your feet vanishes in an instant, all you feel is Marc's arms wrapped around your waist as he hoists you up against the nearest kitchen counter. Firm, thick thighs framed against your sides as he presses you down against the hard surface. All you hear is the fumbling and swearing as he struggles to get his tight jeans undone and pushed down because his usually-rock-steady hands are trembling.

You’ve never seen him like this. All of him is shaking, every muscle in his body straining, so worked up he's practically vibrating with need. And you feel it too, his desperation seeping into you like a contagion, until you can barely breathe. Until you feel sick with want for him. 

You reach down to help him with his fly, the material of his jeans sticky against your fingers, his cock jerking under the fabric at your touch.

"Fuck. Baby," his voice is a raw and ragged thing, dragging in his throat like the air from his lungs has been wrenched from him. 

Everything inside you tingles with excitement at his tone. It doesn't matter that you're still sore from last night. That your legs are still wobbly from the pure physical exertion of it. All you want is more. More of this. More of Marc.

Clumsily, you get his zipper down and reach inside. He's hot and hard, the skin velvety smooth and slick, his cock jerking under your touch as you free him.

He shoves a hand between your legs in return, drags the soaked crotch of your knickers to the side, and unceremoniously slides two fingers into you, filling you so perfectly that you gasp at the sensation.

Heat spears through you, your hips bucking forward so hard you nearly fall off the counter, but he's there to hold you down with his weight.

His hips pressing forward. His hand pulls back, knocking yours out of the way so he can grab himself. Line himself up. The slick, fat head of his cock pressing against you. 

It's hurried and frantic. Your head spins from the blood rushing through your head so fast your vision blurs.

Then Marc presses inside. 

His cock is hot. Slipping into you like a fiery brand. Like the missing heart of you coming home. Burning you from the inside out. You both moan, gasping into each other's mouths.

When did you start kissing again?

You don't know. Why did you even stop? You never want to stop.

You can't move. Can’t think. Can't fucking breathe, but it's okay. You don't need to. Don't need anything except this. His cock pressing into you. Lodging itself inside you until it's as deep as it's possible to go.

You gasp again, and your head falls back, breaking the kiss as pleasure spears though you, sharp and blindingly sweet. It’s too much. It’s perfect.

Marc says something as his hips retreat, but you don’t register what it is, barely realise that he’s spoken.

You don’t register he's talking to you, asking you for something, until he stops moving. You whine, clawing at his shoulders because whatever he wants, the answer is, 'yes.'  

"Again," he repeats, and yes, that’s what you want. You want him to fuck you again, but he’s not doing it. Why did he stop?

"Baby," he says, the word scraping its way out of his throat like it's made of broken glass, "Kiss me again."

Oh.

It doesn’t register with you then—not really—the significance of his ask. How unusual it is that Marc is asking you for something that he desperately wants. You’ll remember later. Notice later. But for right now, it doesn't matter, because you want to give him what he wants regardless. You always want to give this man anything and everything he wants.

You lunge forward, his stubble scraping against your lips as you glance off his chin leaving a red smear.

Hot pleasure blooms as he thrusts forward into you.

"Again," he says.

You whine as he pulls back, but you're quicker on the uptake this time. Kissing his throat and get to watch his Adam's apple bob under the red lip print you leave behind, before your vision goes fuzzy with the next overwhelming thrust.

"Again."

You kiss his jaw, and he barely pauses before fucking back into you.

"Again."

His throat, again. and you're rewarded with the hot perfect press of him inside.

"Again."

Everything starts to blur. His words slurring together; your lips barely leaving his skin. The heavy weight of him pushing its way inside you.

You're panting open mouthed against his shoulder, lips sliding and sticking against his skin.

"Again," he demands, even though there's no longer any lull in your movements, 

"Again."  No break in contact of your lips on his skin. 

"Again." No pause in his rhythm.

"Again." No respite from the way the feeling swells. Coils tight, right where his cock is pounding, relentless, into the very centre of you.

"Again."

You can't–

"Again."

Oh god, you’re about to–

"Again. Again. Aga–ngh"

The litany breaks off, words dying, replaced by a strangled groan, when you come hard, your body clamping down, clenching around him. 

Through the waves of overwhelming pleasure, you feel the sting of his blunt fingernails digging in too hard at your hips. Hear the tiny, ragged "Oh. Baby. Fuck." that leaves his lips like it's been punched out of him.

You swear you can feel the heavy weight of him swell inside your still-clenching cunt, and then the reflexive, aborted jerk of his hips, as his cock begins to pulse.

He holds you there, tight against him, or maybe you hold him or both of you hold each other, as you shudder there together for long, endless moments.

When it's finally over, he presses one last, gentle kiss to your lips and pulls back.

You watch, heart so full of love for him that your chest aches, as one side of his red-smeared mouth pulls up in a rare, happy smile.  You trace the corner of it with one mostly-steady finger, and can't help smiling back.

“Well now," you say, once you're certain your voice won't betray you too badly, "I've made quite the mess of you, haven't I?"

Marc's eyes roam over your face. One warm hand comes up to cup your jaw, and you lean into his touch, letting him drag his thumb over your lips. You can feel it sticking slightly on whatever's left of your lipstick, but what does it matter? It's not like he can make it any worse now, is it?

"Yeah," he says. His thumb lingers.  His gaze too. Eyes gone soft and warm the longer he looks at your mouth. "Your mess."

Something constricts in your chest at the words. A deep-rooted, possessive protectiveness that takes hold, then unfurls, spreading everywhere, warm and sweet.  

"Yes," you agree, tightening your arms around his back to pull him closer to you. "All mine."

A/N a sequel to the angsty Love Bites where Marc gets his yearning fulfilled. @thirstworldproblemss and I wrote this ages ago before Christmas but then we felt that there needed to be more ✨ yeaaaaarning✨ Hope you had fun reading.

Follow me on astroboots-writes and turn on notifications to be notified when I post something new!

#oscar isaac #moon knight #marvel #mcu #marvel mcu #marc spector x you #marc spector x reader #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight fic #moon knight fanfic #marc spector #moon knight x reader #moon knight x you

[pimosworld]

Blueberry Pancakes

Moon knight system x f!reader

Summary- You’re frustrated with Jake not being apart of your relationship so you take matters into your own hands.

CW-NSFW, 18+ MDNI, Depictions of DID, Smut, mentions of sex, Unprotected piv,fingering,rough sex,slight dom Jake, piv cream pie,cum,light angst, fluff.

Please let me know in the comments if I missed any warnings.

WC-3k

Not beta-read

———————————————————

You slowly blink open your eyes taking in the soft morning light of the flat you share with your boyfriend-boyfriends. You’ve been spoiled by Marc and Steven for a year now and you couldn’t be happier. The sweet smell of blueberry pancakes wafts amongst the flat and you can’t help the bittersweet feeling that consumes you.

Jake makes you blueberry pancakes.

Despite doing all the things a loving, caring boyfriend does- he refuses to front. A simple hi and bye is the most you’ve gotten out of him. It shouldn’t bother you really, you have two wonderful men that kiss the ground you walk on. You can’t help but wonder why he doesn’t think he deserves to be a part of this the way Marc and Steven are.

You're pulled from your thoughts as the door to the bathroom opens and you're graced with the sight of Marc stalking towards you only wrapped in a towel. His broad shoulders and chest are still dripping with water from the shower. He leans down and places a chaste kiss on your forehead.

“Mornin’ sweetheart.”

You smile up at him feeling slightly guilty. You secretly hope one of these mornings it’s Jake emerging from the bathroom still glistening from the shower, he climbs into bed and fucks you like his life depends on it and you both enjoy those sweet blueberry pancakes together.

“Prince Charming made you pancakes again.” He says sarcastically as he makes his way to the closet to get dressed.

It seems to be a sore subject for Marc as you think back to the first time he made them. Marc excused himself from the table as you moaned into every bite. You didn’t miss the way he glared into his reflection in the toaster while he stood in the kitchen waiting for you to finish.

“You know I love you and you make the best omelet.” You say as you make your way out of bed and wrap him in a tight hug from behind.

“Yes but you don’t sound like we’re fucking when you eat my omelet.”

You nip at his back and smack his ass on your way out of the bedroom. As much as he calls you a brat he definitely has his moments.

You make your way to the kitchen to enjoy your breakfast before you have to head to work. As you sit down to take your first bite you feel Marc’s eyes on you. You look up from your plate and see him with arms crossed and a smirk on his gorgeous face. You cock your head to the side and take a slow bite stifling a moan, because now is not the time.

“Are you going to watch me eat the whole thing?” You say playfully as you watch him make his way to the coffee maker that Jake got ready for Marc-because you prefer tea.

He doesn’t respond right away so you think this is as good a time as any to bring up what’s been bothering you.

“Why won’t he spend time with me?”

Marc groans and rubs a hand over his face. “I’ve already told you, please just leave it alone.”

“Is he listening now?”

“No sweetheart.” Yes cariño

“Well if you could tell him, I really really love pancakes.”

“Sure thing.” Marc says with slight annoyance.

****

You turn the key to enter your flat and as you open the door you're greeted with the sight of your boyfriend on the couch pecking at you over the bridge of his reading glasses.

“Hey love.” Steven smiles sweetly at you as he sets his book on the coffee table. “How was your day?” He always directed his full attention at you, as if you were the moon and the stars.

“It was fine.” You say rather unconvincing.

“Oh just fine,that won’t do.” He pats the seat next to him on the couch. “Come have a seat, let's talk.”

You make your way over to the couch and sit down and he grabs your legs placing them in his lap as you lean your back on the opposite arm rest. He takes your heels off one by one and begins rubbing your aching feet.

“I know you had pancakes this morning so the day started off better than fine.” He says jokingly with a smirk on his face.

“Well…that’s just it.” You say slightly embarrassed about what you're about to ask the sweet man rubbing your feet as he does most nights after a long day at work. “Could you help me with something?”

“Depends on what it is but anything for you love.”

“Could you…help me spend some time with Jake?” You say almost at a whisper.

He ceases rubbing your feet and looks at you with those deep brown pleading eyes. “You know how he is…but if it’s important to you I’ll try.”

You sit up enthusiastically and curl into Stevens' side wrapping your arms around his waist in a gripping hug.

“Okay, what does he like to eat?Does he have any favorite hobbies?What kind of shows does he watch? What’s his favorite color?…you realize your rambling like Steven does when he’s giving a tour at the museum, not even giving the poor man a chance to answer.

“Slow down love, one thing at a time.” He furrows his brow deep in thought. “Oh bollocks, I’m afraid I’m no help. I don’t know what he likes to eat, I’m pretty sure his favorite hobby is murder, he barely watches television and…well.” He chuckles to himself.

“What’s so funny.” You say slightly defeated

“Oh it’s nothing, it's just that I’m pretty sure his favorite color is red since he’s practically always covered in it.”

Steven looks at his reflection in the t.v. and suddenly drops his smile. “Right…well that’s about all I can help you with sorry love.” He stammers out quickly.

“Sorry I couldn’t be of more help.” He says as he hangs his head. Your sweet Steven has no idea how helpful he truly is.

You slide your hand to his cheek and tilt his head down at you placing a soft kiss on his lips. You sit up to straddle his lap and you can feel him getting hard for you already. As you wrap your arms around his neck and lean in to whisper in his ear, you can tell his breath is ragged.

“I’d like to show you how helpful you are, if you’ll let me?” You bite down on his earlobe and hear his breath catch in his throat.

“I’d like that very much love.”

****

It’s Friday night, it’s been three days since Steven helped you-and you helped Steven. You’ve been planning and hoping that what you have in store will draw Jake out of hiding. If not you’ll just have to live with his silent affections.

Steven is relaxing on the couch as you stand in front of your full length mirror putting on the final touches to your look. It didn’t take much convincing to have him spend the night with you if things don’t go according to plan.

You got your hair done that morning, something you rarely treat yourself too. As you stare at yourself in the mirror you can’t help but feel slightly turned on- this has to work.

You adjust the straps on your silk red dress and smooth your hands down the front. You slide in your strappy red heels that you hope you won’t have to walk very far tonight. You lean into the mirror to apply your crimson red lipstick to match the red you applied to your nails earlier that day.

As you grab your purse and make your way towards the door you can feel Stevens' eyes on you. You don’t dare glance over at him suddenly feeling like a predator's prey.

“Bye love, I’m going out with some friends, don't wait up for me.”

You reach for the door but an unfamiliar voice stops you in your tracks.

“Bebita I don’t think your boyfriends would be too happy about this.” You turn around to see Jake with his eyes narrowed as if he’s studying your movements.

“My boyfriends don’t care if I go out.” Your voice cracks a little and you're suddenly aware of how dry your throat is.

“I didn’t mean if you go out cariño.” He stands from the couch and you suddenly feel very small. “I mean dressed like this.” He gestures his fingers up and down your body.

“Maaarrrc…Steeeeven?” You mockingly call about the flat. “I guess they aren’t here so I’ll be going.”

You take one last look at yourself in the mirror next to the door feigning confidence.

“You’ll be staying.” He says in a commanding tone that makes your pussy clench in anticipation.

You grab the door handle and look over your shoulder with the most sultry look you can muster (that you absolutely have not been practicing in the mirror). “Make me.”

He crosses the distance from the couch to you in two steps and pins you against the door with his chest pressed to your back. You can tell you’ve had an affect on him by the way his hard bulge is pressed against your ass. He grips both your wrists with one of his large calloused hands. He leans in close to your ear and breathes in deep.

“New perfume?” He says in a low husky tone.

He licks a stripe up your neck and gently bites down on your earlobe. Drawing a small whimper out of you.

“Not so talkative now are we hermosa? His chuckles reverberate through your body as he slowly draws his fingers up your thigh. He can feel how wet you are through your panties and a low growl from him sends shivers down your spine.

“This wet for me?” A breathy “ yes” is all you can manage as he drags his fingers through your slit at an agonizing slow pace. He starts rubbing circles on your clit with his thumb and you can feel that tell tale sign that you're close to your climax as you clench down on nothing. He knows you're close and he wants to draw this out- you drew him out after all. He ceases his movements and all you can do is whimper.

“Shh it’s ok hermosa I’m going to take care of you.” You try to calm your breathing but he still has you pressed against the door with both hands behind your back.

“Answer my questions and I’ll take care of you.” He says into your ear as his breathing picks up. You give him a quick nod and his grip tightness on your wrist. “Words sweetheart.”

“Yes sir.” He nips at your shoulder with that last word. He resumes his movements dragging his fingers through your slit. “Did you buy this dress for me?”

“Yes.” You answer as he dips two fingers into your soft channel. If not for his grip on your wrists you’d be in a puddle on the floor. “What about these panties, did you buy them for me?” He’s slowly fucking you with his fingers and all you can hear in the flat is your breathy moans.

“Yes.” You say a little louder this time and he presses his fingers on those bundle of nerves inside and you think you might lose your mind.He brings his thumb to your clit as he steadily works you open. He places his knee between your thighs and slowly lifts you up. “Come for me hermosa.” You drop your head back on his shoulder and note down on your lip as you come with a silent cry.

As you come down from your high you realize you’ve never had an orgasm so intense without seeing your boyfriend's face. He slowly puts you down and draws his fingers away and you hiss at the loss.

“Tell me what you want and it’s yours.” He says still with his back pressed to you, his obvious erection putting a strain on Stevens sweatpants.

“I want you to fuck me.” You say in almost a whine not even recognizing your own voice. He spins you around and you can see the hunger in his deep brown eyes, pupils blown wide. He looks very different from Marc and Steven, yet so similar. It takes your breath away how he looks at you like you're his world and also his victim in the same moment.

“I’m sorry about your dress.” He says sarcastically as you look down confused seeing nothing wrong with it. Before you can ask why he takes both hands and rips it down the front as if it was made of paper. “I’m sorry about your panties too.” You close your eyes and prepare yourself for what’s next as you feel a light tug on your hips and the sound of your new red lace panties ripping.

He takes in your form as you're now left in your sheer red bra and strappy heels. One of his hands comes to the back of your head and he pulls you into a bruising kiss, he kisses you like he’s been starving for you. Like if you pull away you’ll disappear. Your hands come to his arms tracing the familiar muscles you’ve come to know and love and this just feels right.

His thick bulge is pressed against your abdomen, as he grinds his hips into you pressing you further into the door. Precum now staining Stevens sweatpants (which you’ll have to hear about later). You suddenly feel very exposed and you slowly push him off you. As you both catch your breath he looks as though he’s done something wrong and your heart aches because you just want the man to be as exposed as you are.

“Clothes off.” Is all you can manage-real articulate.

Jake strips in two seconds flat and your thanking whatever Egyptian god that he didn’t rip Stevens clothes.

You’ve seen this body many times but as he stands before you with his thick cock, tip red and aching steadily leaking precum you feel as if it’s the first time. He backs you against the door again and grabs your face with both hands as he stares into your eyes.

“Tell me again.” He says in a pleading tone.

“I want you to fuck me Jake.”

You yelp in surprise as he grabs your waist and hoists you up. You instinctively wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. He takes his hand and wraps it around his thick cock slowly coating it with your slick just teasing your entrance. You whimper at the feeling as he pushes in and you both moan in unison at the stretch. You drop your head to his shoulder and he’s not moving but you desperately want him too.

You dig your heels into his ass and he groans as his grip tightens on your waist.

“Just give me a moment cariño.” And you almost don’t recognize his voice. You squeeze your core around his throbbing cock and that’s all the moment he needs before he’s thrusting into you at a bruising pace.

“Oh. Fuck. Jake..” your words are punctuated with each thrust as he fucks too against the door.

“Jesus Christ, your pussy is so tight.” He’s quickly falling apart as he slams you down on his cock over and over. “I can’t believe I waited this long to do this.” Your moans in his ear as you hold on for dear life are going to send him over the edge. But not before you. His movements slow and you can feel his thick cock drag through your walls as you drop your head to the crook of his neck.

“Tell me what you want cariño.” He turns his head to see his reflection in the mirror next to the door.

“Fuck me harder Jake please.” You’re practically crying at the sensation as if it’s your first time. He smirks at his reflection and your pleas are all he needs.

“I love when you beg hermosa.” He holds you up with one arm and brings his thumb to your clit as he resumes his pace, roughly fucking you against the door. He can feel your pussy gripping his cock as your slick coats both your thighs.

“Fuck. Me. Right. There.” You're screaming now and will surely get a noise complaint, but you can’t care at this moment you’ve wanted for so long. Your vision goes white as you reach your climax and you're digging your nails into his back as you come undone. That’s all it takes for him before he comes with a choked sound as he’s shooting hot ropes of cum into your quivering channel. He groans in your ear as he slowly rocks his hips up pinning you to the door.

You don’t know how long you stay like that trying to catch your breath as you both come down from your high. It feels like you're floating and you realize he hasn’t put you down but he’s carrying towards the bed. He gently lays you down and you both wince as he pulls out of you. He places a soft kiss on your sweat soaked forehead. He takes off your heels and brings you one of Stevens shirts to sleep in.

“I’ll be right back cariño.” Your smiling to yourself as you watch him walk towards the bathroom.

Sleep is starting to claim you as he makes his way back to you with a warm washcloth, gently wiping your thighs and your swollen folds. He tosses the towel in the direction of the hamper not caring if he makes it. He lays down beside you and pulls your back into his chest wrapping you in a deep hug.

“Shouldn’t you call your friends so they aren’t worried?” He mumbles into your hair.

“Hmm?” Your blissed out brain can’t grasp what he’s talking about. He chuckles lowly to himself.

He’s not sure if you're asleep when he whispers to himself.

“I really really love pancakes too.”

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated

#moon knight #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #jake lockely x reader #moon knight fic #moon knight x reader #moonknight smut #jake lockely smut #oscar issac characters #moon knight fanfiction #jake lockely x you #steven grant x fem!reader #marc spector x fem!reader

[ivystoryweaver]

With You (part 1)

next part  ||  Fic Masterlist  ||  My Masterlist

Hi, everyone! This is not my first fic, but it is my first MK fic! I have been on Tumblr for ages, but never actually posted a fic here. (I know this account is newer. My much older one is my more personal blog). 

Anyway, I hope you enjoy. 

Pairings: Marc Spector x reader, Steven Grant x reader. No references to reader’s gender. No use of Y/N. Reader is engaged to Marc and Steven.

Word Count: 2890

Warnings: Angst, drinking, alcoholism, ummm cursing? Some kissing and stuff? No actual smut. Let me know if I missed a warning. Probably inaccurate DID, based on the show.

Marc was a little quiet lately. Strangely quiet, even for him. 

After finishing your shift at the hospital and stumbling home exhausted, you were eager to see your fiancé, maybe even talk to him to see what was going on. 

After a brief eternity riding up in the old lift in your building, you finally turned the key in the deadbolt and let yourself into your shared flat. As usual, one of the boys had left on a small lamp in the entry way, its incandescent glow the only illumination in the flat except for the florescent light of Steven’s fish tank.

Depositing your belongings on the entry table and kicking off your shoes, you quietly made your way toward the bedroom. But as you passed the darkened kitchen you heard a whispered, “Shit,” followed by the sound of a glass bottle landing on the countertop.

Marc.

He was drinking. Even with only the moon’s glow through the kitchen window, you could make out his preferred brand of whiskey.

In the span of a heartbeat, you took in the sight before you. Marc was facing away from you, as if he had been staring out the window, perhaps cursing the moon. Sweatpants hung low on his hips as if he’d made little effort to tie the drawstring. He hadn’t bothered with a shirt and the muscles of his back expanded with a labored breath.

Broad shoulders sagged as his fingers gripped the counter’s edge, his head bowed in what was likely shame. His curls tumbled forward, and you were certain that his long fingers had raked through them relentlessly in your absence, to be able to pull them from Marc’s preferred style.

God, he was beautiful like this, in the moonlight. You couldn’t breathe for a moment, and you wondered how he was able to bring this reaction out in you after four years as a couple. Still...you were worried.

“Marc?” You softly called, giving him a moment to hear your voice and acknowledge you before you attempted to touch him. Despite your loving and very physical relationship, he didn’t like to be caught off guard by anything - most especially not by touch.

He sighed so softly you almost didn’t hear it.

“Marc--”

“I know,” he bit out, though his voice was soft, sounding insistent rather than angry. 

You paused, confused. “What?”

His hand reached for the whiskey bottle, which he lifted and quickly set back down on the counter, shoving it away from him. The liquid sloshed but didn’t spill - he had already taken care of too much of it himself. 

“I know,” he repeated, still refusing look at you, or even lift his head from its bowed position. 

Fairly certain you knew what he meant, you clarified, “You mean you know you’re drinking?” 

Huffing out a sigh, he pushed his fingers through his curls, shifting uncomfortably. He didn’t want to face you like this. You had been through this - his drinking. It was bad at one point - drinking every night, passing out, getting into fights, but he worked hard and got sober. He worked so hard...

As far as you knew, this was his first drink in two years. 

You were devastated on his behalf, but more than anything you wondered what could have caused him to pick up a bottle.

Finally, he turned his head to the side, granting you the view of his profile. “Yeah, I am. So let’s hear it.”

He was waiting for something from you. A lecture? Disbelief, anger, something. 

Pausing to calm your racing thoughts, you tried to figure out how to keep from running to him, grabbing him, overwhelming him, smothering him with love and concern. 

Impatient, he turned all the way around, leaning against the countertop to glare at you. You could barely see his face in the darkness, but you could imagine the grumpy glower he wore. 

“Well?” He asked, sounding more defeated than annoyed.

Squeezing your fists together, you exhaled quietly. Whatever anger or disappointment he was expecting from you tonight, it just wasn’t there. All you felt was overwhelming compassion and deep concern. What had hurt your Marc so deeply? Who were you going to have to tear apart? 

Easing toward him, you moved carefully, slowly, angling your body toward his side, ending up beside him. Placing one hand gently on his forearm, you felt it flex in nervous anticipation. He stopped breathing as your eyes flicked up to his. 

“Are you hurt, Marc?” You softly inquired, not even daring to squeeze or rub his warm flesh. 

Exhaling shakily, he quickly shook his head.

You rubbed your thumb across his arm, feather soft, that small point of contact searing your skin with yearning for him. “Is this okay, sweetheart?”

His chest rose with a pained breath. With a slight nod, his chin dropped down to his chest, unable to look at you anymore.

You dared to rub and down his arm then. Small strokes of your fingertips dancing on his flesh, soothing, not demanding. “Missed you today,” you said sweetly, momentarily ignoring what was clearly agitating him the most - what you would think of him breaking his two-year sobriety. 

Truthfully, your concern was growing with every passing moment. But you knew Marc as well as you knew yourself. You could get nowhere with him if he didn’t feel safe. And was so safe with you. You would burn worlds down for this man you were about to marry. 

“What are you doing?” he harshly whispered, recoiling only a fraction from your touch. “I almost finished the bottle.” A confession of sorts. 

Gently giving his arm a final squeeze, you let go, after laying a soft kiss to his bare shoulder. Reaching for the bottle, you shocked the hell out of your fiancé by taking a swig, wincing as the strong liquid burned your throat. 

“Damn,” you gasped, immediately taking another drink. “You didn’t save much for me.” Tipping the bottle again, you never got to your third swig before Marc ripped it from your grasp.

“What the hell are you doing? Don’t drink that shit.” He flung the bottle into the sink, where it crashed and broke. It definitely sounded more dramatic than it looked - he hadn’t tossed it very hard, but you still involuntarily flinched, which, of course, worried and upset Marc. 

“Shit, baby...I-I’m sorry, I wasn’t going to...I didn’t mean to--”

“It’s okay, Marc, I’m okay,” you quickly assured him, moving fully into his personal space for the first time all evening. You decided to move and speak with confidence from here on out. He needed to know where you stood. Placing your palms soothingly on his broad, bare chest, you felt his thundering heart. 

“Hey,” you whispered, gazing lovingly up into his frantic eyes. Repeating his name, you waited for him to look down at you, into your eyes, which he finally, reluctantly did. 

“I’m sorry,” you softly soothed, reaching up to trace his jaw line with your fingertips. “I didn’t mean to upset you by having a drink.”

“Why?” he harshly whispered. “I don’t want you drinking that.”

You made a face, “Baby, you were drinking that.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” He jerked away from your touch. “So just say what you’re going to say. Just fucking say it.”

So he was waiting on a lecture. Or a fight maybe. 

“Is there any more?” you asked as he began to pace the kitchen floor. He looked a bit like a caged animal - contained but alert. 

He paused for a moment, almost snarling at you, but seeing your innocent, truly curious expression, he quickly decided that maybe you were really curious and not mocking him. 

“Steven’s bookshelf,” he answered candidly. “The one by the closet - you know, the ones he never reads.”

You nodded slowly, pushing off the counter to walk that way. “Clever,” you replied. Marc was hot on your heels but said nothing else until you retrieved a second bottle of whiskey - same brand - and walked it back to the kitchen.

He assumed you would open the cap and pour it down the drain. He actually wanted you to. But all you did after twisting off the cap was take another long, burning swig. 

Before he could begin to react, you asked, “Are you going to have anymore to drink tonight?”

Shaking his head in disbelief, he grabbed the bottle from your hand and finished what he thought you had started. The amber liquid tumbled from the bottle, splashing in the sink and filling the air with its stale tang. 

“What is wrong with you? Shouldn’t you be the one doing this?” He huffed, dropping the empty bottle to join the first, broken one. 

“No, I absolutely should not be the one doing this, Marc,” you evenly responded. “I should not be pouring out the alcohol that you brought into our home. That is not my job.”

“Ah, there it is,” he snapped, his fists clenching as he leaned toward you, ready for a (verbal) fight. “Let’s hear it, then. Tell me how much I fucked up.”

“No.” Your voice was calm and you took a confident but small step backward. It was not a step of fear, but simply a way to diffuse the fight he was apparently expecting. 

“Marc, you’re a grown man. I’m not going to scold you, or lecture you, or tell you what to do. And despite what you may have been expecting, I’m not going to fight with you. If you want to drink, you’re going to drink. There is nothing I can do or say to change that.”

He looked stricken. Were you giving up on him? Tears stung the corners of his eyes before he could stop them. He’d had a lot to drink and his head was starting to pound. If you weren’t even putting up a fight, he must have really screwed everything up.

“A-are you...are you going to leave?” He whispered, physically withdrawing, turning to brace himself on the countertop once more.

“No, baby,” you answered him evenly, confidently. “I will never leave you. Not unless you made it impossible for me to live here with you. But you wouldn’t do that. Ever.” Easing over to him, you gently laid your cheek against his bare back. “I’m your partner. Not your boss, or a god or a parent. We’re a team. If you’re hurt, I’m there with you. I’m here, Marc. I’m here.”

“But I fucked up,” he shook his head sadly, his voice breaking. “All that work, all that fucking work to stay sober and I...”

“Exactly,” you agreed, carefully sliding your arms around him from behind, watching for any sign of physical discomfort from him. “You made a choice tonight and you hate the choice you made. That’s all that matters. You’re the person that you answer to. What you say goes. If you want to do better for someone, it has to be you. Not me, not Steven. You. Nothing I do will ever change that. Nothing I ever say will keep someone from doing what they decide to do.” 

You squeezed him gently. “So no fights from me. No lectures. But I’m not going to baby you either. If we’re going to drink, that’s the way it’s going to be. You and I can accept that reality or a different one. A reality with no drinking. That’s why I took the drink tonight. It’s just a drink. It’s not evil. It doesn’t have a motive. It’s just liquid in a bottle. It’s what you feel right before you drink -that’s what you have to ask yourself, Marc. What happened right then?”

His body seemed to crumple in on itself and he slowly sank down to the cool tile of the kitchen floor, his back pushing up against the cabinets as he shook his head sorrowfully.

“I can’t,” he gasped, tears trailing down his beautiful, moonlit cheeks. Shaking his head despondently, he turned his broken gaze to yours as you joined him on the floor. “I can’t...everything will change now, I just can’t.”

How could he do this to you...to Steven? He was trying so hard to hide everything he’d learned from Steven - that they were not alone in this body. That there was another. And Khonshu. Stupid, fucking Khonshu still had them enslaved. How could he ever tell the two of you? He had only known for two days and it was killing him inside.

“Come here, baby,” you soothed, reaching to pull him into your arms. Something had happened to set him off. You were certain of it now, more than before, and despite your calm demeanor, you were scared.

Your worries both eased and doubled when his body softened in your embrace and a British accent greeted your ears.

“Darling...what’s all this, then?” Steven asked you, nodding to his state of undress and your positions on the hard kitchen floor. 

“Steven,” you breathed, pulling him in for a hug. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he sweetly replied, granting you a soft kiss. “You alright, love?” 

Before you could answer, he shook his head slightly, “Bollocks, got a bit of a headache. Has Marc been drinking?”

The look on your face told him everything. 

“Bloody hell,” he sighed, rubbing his temples. “Two years sober right down the drain.”

Honestly, the sobriety thing, although crushing for him, was not the highest priority right now. Something was wrong with Marc. 

“Steven, let’s go to bed,” you decided, standing up and offering him your hands. 

Several minutes later, you and your fiancé slid under the covers, freshly washed up and ready for bed. 

“Steven,” you softly repeated his name, running your fingertips over his jaw line, the way you had done with Marc earlier. “I love you.”

“I quite love you too, darling,” he sweetly replied, kissing you softly. “Now tell me what’s the matter.”

“Do you...are you aware of anything going on with Marc?” you asked as Steven’s arms slid securely around you. “I think something’s wrong - like big picture wrong. We didn’t have a fight, like - I don’t think the problem is with us. Did something happen?”

Rubbing your back soothingly, Steven answered the best he could. “Not that I know of. Marc has honestly been a bit closed off with me lately. He is somewhat of a quiet bloke from time to time, but...yeah, I’m pretty certain he’s not been exactly an open book these last few days.”

“Okay,” you breathed, trying to think of what could have happened. “I’m sorry for putting you in the middle, my love. I try not to do that, but he was so upset tonight, and the drinking...”

“He..he didn’t upset you, darling? Or...hurt you? Did he?” His warm brown eyes darkened in concern.

“What, Steven, of course not,” you insisted, sitting up in bed. “You two would never hurt me, I know that.”

“Of course, love, but it’s just...” Steven hesitated, sitting up to join you. “Marc isn’t always at his best when he’s been drinking and...when I was holding you, just then, you--you’re trembling.”

It was true. You hadn’t realized it, but you were more upset than you’d realized. 

Letting out a sigh of defeat, you reached for your fiancé, whispering his name pleadingly as you climbed across his lap. Strong arms wrapped around your back, gripping you firmly as he pulled you into his chest. 

“I’ve got you,” he breathed against your lips. “It’s alright, love.”

Feeling so safe in his arms, against his strong body, you pressed your lips against his, your fingers caressing up his neck, into his curls. Your body melted into his embrace as you slid your tongue over his. Admittedly, you were feeling a little desperate and Steven was most likely intoxicated, but it was heavenly to feel him pulling you into him as your tongues tangled, hands grasping to get somehow closer.

You went on like that for a short while, rubbing your body against his, sucking on his tongue the way he loved, fingers threaded through his curls, which made him almost feral. Lurching forward, he tumbled on top of you, ignoring the pounding in his head and running his hands up your bare thighs. 

Despite how wonderful you felt, he paused, touching his forehead to yours for a moment of reprieve. 

“Steven, are you okay?” You managed to whisper between kisses, looping your arms around his neck. “Your head still hurting?” You asked because you could tell he was holding back a little. You had been kissing for a while and his hands had yet to travel underneath your underwear or (Marc’s) oversized white t-shirt. 

Easing his forehead down to your collarbone, Steven pressed a kiss to the soft skin of your chest. “Too much bloody whiskey,” he murmured. “Sorry, darling.”

“It’s okay. Feels good,” you breathed on his ear, which made him shiver.

“Didn’t mean to get too distracted, love,” he conceded, rolling off of you and rubbing his temples. “I know you’re worried about Marc. I am too, if I’m honest.”

There were no answers for you that night. Steven realized quickly that he needed some sleep and the two of you hoped that Marc might be there the next morning to give you some answers.

#moon knight #moon knight fic #moon knight fanfiction #marc spector #steven grant #jake lockley #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #marc spector x you #steven grant x you #mcu #oscar issac fic

[flightlessangelwings]

My Knight in White

Marc Spector x fem!reader

Word count- 4.3k

Dialogue prompt- “ that was for saving my life. “ Action prompt- [ KISS ]: after having been saved from immediate danger by the receiver, the sender, in a state of intense emotion and relief, kisses them to express these feelings.

Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), protective!Marc, mutual pining, minor violence, minor character death, harassment of reader (not Marc), damsel in distress, unprotected piv, no use of y/n

About this reader- she is smart but not physically badass, works with Egyptian artifacts but I left it vague so you can fill in for yourself exactly what she does, no specific city where they are is stated either so it's open for you to imagine wherever, no physical descriptions other than body parts

Notes- Posting my October Year of Protectiveness @yearofcreation2023 a little late because of kinktober but I'm so excited to share this! This is expanding on an idea that @melodygatesauthor had months ago who wanted to see a damsel in distress reader and Marc saving her!

@flightlessangelwings-updates is my update blog so please follow that too and turn on post notifications to stay up to date on when I post!

~

“You’re here late,” Marc’s voice broke you out of your thoughts.

You blinked, refocusing your eyes to the world around you. Looking around, you didn’t even realize how long you had been hunched over your desk, studying and cleaning the artifact that had recently been brought in. “Marc…” you breathed as you stretched, your back aching as you became aware of reality again.

He smiled softly as he uncrossed his arms, “You work too much, you know that,” he leaned against the doorway as he watched you. 

Marc loved to watch you work. He loved to watch you do anything really, but when you worked, you became so focused, lost in concentration. You handled the old artifacts with such care and respect, he couldn’t help but linger his gaze on your hands. He had never met anyone smarter than you, and he loved to listen to you go on and on about any topic you found interesting. Marc took it upon himself to watch over you, making sure you were always safe even if you never truly knew just how much he looked over you.

“I lost track of time,” you replied as you gathered yourself and packed everything away, “I didn’t realize it’s after dark.”

“And the fact that everyone else left hours ago didn’t clue you in,” Marc smirked.

“Hey,” you playfully chastised him, “I can’t help it, I just got in the zone, you know. Besides, these new artifacts are so fascinating I just can’t tear myself away from them!”

It suddenly occurred to you that you and Marc were completely alone. He was right- everyone else left hours ago. As you stood up and made your way over to him, you took in his handsome features once more. And the way he leaned against the door made your thoughts run wild. The two of you had known each other for some time now, but you kept your true feelings to yourself, afraid of damaging your friendship or losing him.

Marc looked you up and down, “Want me to walk you home?” he offered as he followed behind you, watching you flip the lights off and lock everything up.

“I’m alright,” you suddenly felt nervous. Marc has been to your place many times, but the shiver that ran up your spine made your heart race, “I don’t live that far.”

He furrowed his brow, “You sure?”

“Yeah,” you replied with a soft smile, “Thanks, though,” you stepped in front of him before you turned back, “Good night.”

Marc watched you walk away before he whispered a hushed, “Good night.”

He watched you as you made your way down the street in the darkness until he couldn’t see you anymore. Marc had already decided he was going to follow you anyway, watching over you from afar, but when he saw a group of sketchy-looking men with wicked grins sneer and tail behind you, he knew he had to do more to keep you safe.

You wrapped your arms around yourself as you made your way down the street. You didn’t make it far from Marc when you noticed that a group of men started to follow behind you, and though you couldn’t make out their exact words, you knew they were talking about you. In that moment, you wished you took Marc up on his offer to walk you home, but you couldn’t turn around now. All you could do was hope you got inside fast before they caught up to you.

“Hey sweet cheeks,” one of them called out to you.

Too late.

You glanced over your shoulder and found that they were even closer to you than you thought, and you quickly bolted down the street without a word. That only egged them on more, however, and you heard them laughing behind you as they sped up as well.

“Oh come on, sweetheart,” they sneered, “We just want to talk to you.”

A gasp escaped your lips as you turned down a street, hoping to lose them. But, your plan immediately backfired as you found yourself trapped in an alleyway at a dead end. And you failed to shake them off your tail.

“Please,” you breathed as fear pulsed through your veins, “I’m just trying to get home.”

The men surrounded you, darkness shading their features, “We’ll get you home, sweet girl.”

The others chuckled as they started to reach for you.

“Please leave me alone,” you tried to sound more assertive, but you knew you didn’t intimate them at all. They were all very muscular and taller than you, and you knew you didn’t stand a chance even if you tried to fight back. But that didn’t mean you were going to go down without a fight.

You screamed when one of them grabbed your arm, and you swung your fist into him as hard as you could while digging your feet into the ground. Gritting your teeth, you tried your best to yank yourself from his grip, but tears of frustration filled your eyes when you realized it was useless.

“No!” you cried out as you tried again, your pleas drowned out by their cackling laughter.

Suddenly, your luck changed.

Out of nowhere, something yanked the man who helped you back and he yelped as he found himself flung against the wall of the alleyway. The other men all looked up as a hooded figure in all white descended down and immediately went on the attack against them.

You gasped as you scurried back out of the scuffle, pressing yourself against the opposite wall as much as you could as if you tried to phase through the wall and disappear. Your eyes went wide as you watched the mysterious hero fight off the men who attacked you, beating and punching them down until none of them moved.

The figure then turned to you, and time froze for several moments.

He raised his hands in surrender, “I’m not going to hurt you,” the voice from under the mask said.

You couldn’t help but feel like the voice was familiar. But, you stayed silent.

“Are you ok? Are you hurt?” your rescuer asked as he stepped closer to you, looking you over.

Your hands trembled, but not from fear this time. Taking a deep breath in for the first time in what felt like forever, you finally replied in a hushed voice, “No,” you whispered, “I’m alright.”

As he stepped close enough so you could reach for him if you wanted, you studied his outfit more. He wore all white, but as he got closer, you noticed it looked like linen wrappings, almost like a mummy. A crescent moon symbol adorned his chest and a white cloak covered his head. You could see the muscle definition even through the thick wrappings, and it made you swallow hard.

You had no idea what came over you at that moment- perhaps it was the adrenaline- but without a word, you reached out for him, grabbed him and pulled your bodies closer as you laid a kiss on his mask where his mouth would be.

It caught him off guard, but he didn’t push you away. Instead, he cradled you close, holding onto your waist with one hand and your arm with the other. It felt warm, comfortable, right.

“What was that for?” he asked with a smirk in his voice.

You smiled at him, “That was for saving my life,” your voice was still hushed, your breath taken away, “Thank you.”

He cupped your chin affectionately. Through the mask, he studied you up close. Everything in Marc screamed to take it off and tell you who he was, but he also knew that knowing his secret would put you in danger. And Marc would not allow that. For now, he would be satisfied knowing you were safe, and that he was just in time. He only nodded, not saying anything else before he broke away from you and leapt up into the air, disappearing into the night just as mysteriously as he appeared. 

You watched in bewilderment as it took your brain several moments to process what just happened. You touched your lips as you realized that you kissed a total stranger, and one who you didn’t even see his face too. But, as you looked around and saw the men laying on the ground, the adrenaline ran through your veins once more and you ran out of the alleyway and quickly made your way home.

The whole time, Marc watched from the rooftops until you were safely inside.

*

In the following weeks, you threw yourself completely into your work to cope with what happened that night. A mix of emotions constantly filled your head, and you found that pushing them away with the distraction of work was the easiest way to deal with them. There were days where you hardly looked up from your desk, so deep in concentration that the rest of the world was a blur around you.

Marc kept a watchful eye over you the entire time. He knew why you were like this, but when others asked he feigned ignorance. No one had to know what happened to you, and it wasn’t up to him to tell anyway. Instead, he chose to keep an eye on you from afar, like he always did. 

Vaguely, you were aware of Marc’s presence in the shadows… and it felt familiar to you somehow. He always kept an eye on you, but after that night it somehow felt different. But, having him close was one of the few comforts you had after your attack. Yet, your mind also wandered toward the mysterious hooded figure who rescued you… 

“Hey,” Marc’s voice broke you out of your thoughts. 

You looked up with a startled gasp, not realizing how late it got. Again. “Marc,” you breathed. 

He looked worried, “Everything alright?” Marc asked, “You’ve seemed… off lately.”

Your eyes darted from his face to your desk a few times as you felt nervous suddenly, “I’m fine,” you knew you didn’t convince him, you didn’t even convince yourself.

Marc sighed your name as he settled down next to you, “You know you can tell me anything, right? I’m here for you.”

Heat rose in your face, “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” you exhaled deeply, “Besides, you’d just make fun of me.”

“Never!” he exclaimed, acting playfully offended before he turned serious, “What’s on your mind?”

The comforting tone in his voice and the warmth of his presence allowed you to let your guard down, “Ok…” you took a breath, “The night I was here late a few weeks ago,” you started, “A group of guys tried to jump me,” your voice quivered and you felt Marc’s hand over yours, “But I was saved by…” you paused as you looked at him sheepishly, “A guy in a hood and something that looked like mummy wrappings.”

Marc’s face lit up as he grinned knowingly at you.

You nudged him playfully as you erupted into a fit of giggles out of pure embarrassment, “See I knew you were going to laugh at me!”

“No, sweetheart I’m not laughing at you,” Marc raised his hands defensively, “I swear!”

Something changed in the air between you as you stared at each other. The light atmosphere shifted and it felt like something heavy lingered between the two of you. Your heart pounded in your chest as you realized just how close Marc sat to you, and your breath caught in your throat as you studied his features. Not to mention that was the first time he called you anything affectionate like that…

“Marc…”

“Listen, I…,” he started, interrupting you.  

Leaning in, you were entranced by him and you hung on his every word. Just being near him and laughing like this made all your troubles melt away. You felt safe here, with him. 

But, before Marc could continue, a loud crash cut him off. 

Both of you jumped up, and you let out a soft shriek. Marc immediately went into defense mode and every muscle in his body tensed. It was late, and the two of you were the only ones in the building. He made sure the doors were locked too, so he knew whoever broke in meant trouble.

“Marc?” your voice shook.

“Listen to me,” he turned to you and placed his hands on your shoulders, “I need you to sneak out of here. Take the back exit and hide somewhere. I’m going to distract them and get a path for you to get out.”

“But the artifacts,” you whispered as you glanced over at the old objects on your desk that you spent weeks cleaning and studying. The first thought in your mind was that these are robbers looking to steal and sell them, and you didn’t want that to happen.

“Things can be replaced,” Marc sounded urgent, “We can get them back. I’m more worried about getting you safe right now.”

Your eyes went wide as you looked at him, stunned. Just as you were about to reply, though, another crash made you jump and Marc pulled you in close to keep you calm.

“It's gonna be alright,” he murmured to you, “Just trust me. Ok?”

You pulled back to look into his eyes again, “I trust you.”

He nodded as he pressed his lips together, “Ok,” how Marc sounded nervous, “Stay low. Stay in the shadows. And just get out. You hear me?”

Swallowing hard, you nodded. Then your brain caught up with you, “What about you?”

Marc smirked, “I’ll be alright. Just trust me.”

There was no time for explanations as another crash echoed in the room- they were getting closer. Marc ushered you out of the door and down the hall before he ran in the opposite direction towards the intruders. You glanced over your shoulder at his retreating figure before you made your way down the hall, crouching low and out of sight as you did so. 

As you made your way to the back door, however, you noticed that it was blocked- one of them already made his way there.

“Shit,” you cursed under your breath as you changed direction. Instead, you went up to the roof in hopes of finding a place to hide until Marc did… whatever he was planning to do. 

But that plan also quickly backfired. 

You ran up to the roof and into the open area there, but you were met with yet another thug who blocked the opposite entrance from where you were.

“Well look what we have here,” he said with a dark grin on his face.

Letting out a gasp, you tried to run back where you came from, but another sinister shadowy man blocked that path. “Where do you think you’re going?” he growled.

“Please,” was all you could whimper as you felt them close in on you. 

The men just laughed as they stepped closer, reaching for their guns as they did so. But, before they reached you, one of them was yanked back, slamming into the wall. You looked up and saw the same hooded figure that saved you before swooping down from seemingly nowhere.

More of the thugs appeared from the doorway and they yelled as they pulled out their guns and started to fire on both of you. The hooded figure rushed over to you and wrapped his cloak over both your bodies, shielding you.

You covered your head out of instinct, but as you felt a warm presence, you looked up and found yourself face to face with your linen wrapped savior once more.

“It’s you,” you gasped in relief. The ringing of the guns suddenly sounded distant.

The mask started to peel away on its own, revealing none other than Marc. He breathed your name, “Are you alright?” 

“It’s you!” you sounded stronger that time, in total shock that it was Marc the whole time.

“I told you I wasn’t making fun of you,” he flashed a quick smile before he turned serious again, “I don’t have time to explain now,” he said, “I’m going to fight these guys off. You need to hide somewhere until they’re dealt with. I’ll come find you when it’s safe, I promise.”

The intruders and the guns were more pressing at the moment, so you swallowed and nodded. 

When Marc found an opening, he pushed you towards the door, “Go!” he shouted as he turned back to the intruders and fought them off.

You ran. 

Running on pure instinct, you bolted down the hall and turned a corner into a closet. Luckily, no one was around and you hid yourself well. You crouched in the corner as you listened to the grunts and gunshots in the distance. At one point, you covered your mouth to stifle a scream, suddenly scared for Marc. You fought back tears, swearing to yourself that you wouldn’t cry. 

Just as you squeezed your eyes shut and held your breath, the fighting stopped. Silence filled your ears but you didn’t dare move. Your hands trembled slightly against your face as you strained to hear the one voice that would bring you comfort.

And then you heard it.

Marc called out your name as he stood in the hall, frantically looking for you, “Baby it’s alright. You can come out.”

You let out the breath you held, all your fear escaping with it as you leapt up and out of your hiding spot. Down the hall, you saw Marc standing there, his knighty suit still adorning his body but his face exposed. “Marc,” you breathed in relief as you ran towards him.

“Sweetheart,” he sounded just as relieved as he ran towards you with open arms. 

The two of you crashed together in a messy embrace, emotions getting the better of both of you. He rested a hand on the back of your head while the other pulled you in as close as he possibly could. Tears flowed from your eyes as relief washed over you, yet the pulse of fear still ran through you after everything that happened. Vaguely, you heard Marc whispering soft words of encouragement and reassurance in your ear. 

“Come on,” Marc said, “I’m getting you out of here,” he slid his hand in yours.

“But…” you tried to protest, not wanting to leave any of the artifacts alone.

“It’s ok,” he gave you a soft smile, “They’re dealt with. Right now I want to make sure you’re safe.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you tried to process everything. So much happened in such a short time, and you weren’t sure how to react to it. Time passed in a daze as you found yourself at Marc’s place, settled comfortably on his couch with a mug of tea in your hands. You felt safe with him, of course, but you felt like you were outside your body.

The two of you talked for what felt like hours. Marc told you everything- all of his secrets that he kept hidden for so long. He promised you that he would always protect you, and he explained why he didn’t tell you before. As he talked, the sound of his voice calmed you, like an embrace of your heart. Your eyes moved from where they stared at the mug to meet his gaze.

“I promise you, baby,” Marc cupped your face, “Nothing’s ever going to happen to you. I’ll keep you safe no matter what.”

Heat rose in your face, and you were sure Marc felt how warm you were. But, as you stared into his eyes, you felt your heart flutter and his charming gleam sent a rush of fresh emotions through you. Without a word, you closed the gap between your bodies, crashing your lips together. Muffled groans echoed between you as you climbed into his lap and Marc instantly helped you closer. Deepening the kiss, you felt a tingle on your skin as you tasted him, and you felt the reverberation of his moan against your body.

“What was that for?” he asked in a whisper, “Not that I’m complaining.”

You smirked against Marc, “I wanted to thank you properly,” you breathed, “With a real kiss this time.”

Marc cupped your face as he gazed into your soul through your eyes, “Baby…” he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in for another kiss.

This time, it felt different. It was desperate and heated, but there was also the warmth and passion behind it. You moaned into Marc’s lips as you rocked your hips against his. He tightened his grip on you as a rush of need pulsed through his veins, and he couldn’t help the way his cock twitched underneath you.

Breaking away for air, Marc saw the look of wanton need in your eyes, and he knew exactly what you were thinking, “Are you sure about this, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice a low rumble.

You cupped his face, brushed your fingers along his dark curls, “I’m sure,” you whispered as you kissed him again, “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” you paused before you sheepishly added, “I’ve wanted this so so long…”

Marc grinned, his face lighting up, “Then let’s do this right.”

Shifting your bodies, Marc stood up and extended his hand. You eagerly took it and allowed him to lead you over to his bed. Excitement bloomed between you and before you even made it to the bed, your hands were all over each other. Kisses decorated your steps as you each tugged at the other’s clothing until you were bare.

You and Marc crashed into his bed, and he quickly laid overtop of you. He paused for a moment, breathless as he took in the sight of you bare underneath him, “Fuck you are beautiful,” he breathed.

“So are you,” you sighed in pure admiration as you grabbed his face and yanked him in for another kiss, “We can take our time later,” you murmured between kisses, “I need you too bad right now.”

“Fuck,” he groaned as he rocked his length along your folds. It didn’t go unnoticed that you mentioned a next time either… But your moan broke Marc out of that thought, and a shiver ran up his spine as he felt his cock against your pussy, “Wet already,” he smirked.

“Please Marc,” you pleaded. 

“I’ve got you, baby,” he moaned as he lined himself up with your entrance.

Slowly, carefully, Marc pushed himself into you, causing you both to gasp at the same time. You clawed at his arms, holding on for dear life as the slight burn of his cock stretching you out went jolts of pleasure through your body. Fresh tears filled your eyes at the sensation, and you never felt more alive, more pleasure than ever before.

“Marc…”

He groaned your name as he bottomed out inside you, “Fuck,” he breathed. Marc cradled your face as he rocked in and out of you, slowly at first, but the more you moaned the faster he moved, “You’re perfect,” he moaned, “Shit…”

“Fuck… Marc… You feel so good,” you moaned as you saw stars every time his cock slammed into you.

It didn’t take long for you to feel the tingles of your approaching climax. Your legs trembled on either side of Marc’s body as he thrust into you over and over again and you dug your nails into his soft skin as you clung to him. Incoherent praises flowed from his lips as both your moans grew louder and louder as you lost yourselves in each other.

“Marc… I’m…”

“I’ve got you, baby,” Marc repeated his words from earlier.

Skin slapped against skin as Marc felt his own climax apparach. But, he was determined to send you over the edge first, and with just a few more thrusts of his hips, he got what he wanted. With a loud scream, you came hard, crying out his name as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through you. And fuck you had never looked more beautiful to Marc.

He kept up his pace as long as he could, watching the show you put on just for him and savoring every second of it. But, Marc’s eyes started to roll back as he felt his orgasm quickly build, egged on by the way you clenched your inner muscles around his cock. And with a groan of your name, he came right after you, spilling himself into you as he did so.

Marc collapsed on top of you, completely spent. But, after just a few breaths, he shifted himself, pulling out of you with a hiss before he laid next to you. You let out a whine at the loss, but quickly curled yourself up in his embrace as Marc held you close. You closed your eyes as you rested your head on his chest, listening to the pounding of his heartbeat against your ear.

“Marc, I…”

“Shhh,” he gently hushed you, “Just rest now baby,” Marc cradled your head as he placed a soft kiss, “I’ve got you.”

You hummed contently as sleep quickly took you over. Between the excitement, the danger and the rush of emotions, you suddenly found yourself exhausted and in no time you feel sound asleep in Marc’s arms.

Marc stayed awake for some time, listening to the sound of your heavy breaths. He knew exactly what you wanted to say, and as much as he wanted to hear you say those words, he knew it was better to wait. He gave your body one extra squeeze before he whispered to your sleeping form, “You’re safe with me, sweetheart… I love you.” 

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[thirstworldproblemss]

Fic: Closer

cowritten with @astroboots

Fandom:  Moon Knight Pairing:  Jake Lockley x F reader (x Steven, x Marc) Length:  5.6k words Rating: Explicit 🔞 Warnings:  This fic contains explicit sexual content including dirty talk, spitting, anal play, and anal sex. (That's it. That's the fic.)

Summary: Jake checks an item off his bucket list, and you both thoroughly enjoy yourselves.

Notes: Many thanks to @guruan who fixed our my extremely questionable Spanish (any remaining mistakes are entirely my fault) and whose deliciously debauched art is a never-ending source of inspiration. More thanks (and uh... oh god, sorry 🙈) to the poor anon who submitted the prompt that spawned this to Cici last Kinktober and had to wait a whole year to see the damn thing. And, of course, ALL my love to my darling cowriter and 🤡💖🤡 sister, @astroboots, who always makes writing a joy, and without whom this never would have been started, finished, or posted at all.

[ twp’s Masterlist  | boots' Masterlist  ]

Jake hasn’t spent a lot of time in the driver’s seat over the years. For a long time he only fronted on rare occasions. Life or death situations mostly. Those hair-trigger moments when the body is in critical danger and a moment’s hesitation is all it’d take for all three of them to wind up dead. 

Those times when things are too much for Marc or Steven to be able to handle? That’s when it’s Jake’s turn at the wheel. 

It’s why normally the first thing he sees when he opens his eyes, in command of the body, is the source of imminent danger: 

The face of the man who has a knife pressed against the collar of his military uniform in the middle of a desert. 

A panoramic view through the windshield of a truck that is seconds from veering off a winding cliff-side road. 

A long-haired Jim Jones wannabe staring down at him along a glowing walking stick protruding from his own chest. 

But things have been different lately. For one thing, he’s been spending a lot more time fronting, and not just in dangerous situations. 

For another, he’s learning that there’s so much more world out there than he’d ever imagined. There’s Ben & Jerry’s peanut popcorn flavored ice cream, Saturday karaoke nights, Derby Girls and you. 

Always you.

You were just Steven’s girl first, and then somehow against all odds Marc got involved too, and now that Jake’s been allowed a taste, he's never letting you go. You’re his guide to the wide world,  the road map keeping him on the right route, the safe resting place when he’s tired. Su alma, his soul.

And right now you look exhausted. Your thighs shaky and trembling, matted hair glued to your forehead, all of you dripping with sweat and other things. Steven must have really worn you out before he ceded the front. 

Sweet, shy little Steven—Mr. Sunshine—who just fucked you seemingly within an inch of your life before he remembered that he needs to share. 

And Marc thinks Jake is the unhinged one. 

The punch of adrenaline that always comes with fronting is still running through his veins, and he’s already hardening at the sight of you on your stomach, ass up in the air on display for him, Steven’s come just beginning to drip out of you. It doesn’t matter that the body just came, it’s Jake’s turn now. 

He slides his rapidly stiffening cock through your slippery folds, nudging the head against your clit, you and him both slick and sloppy with Steven's come and your own wetness.

“Aaah – Jake,” you gasp sharply into the pillow.

You know it’s him. He doesn’t know how. You haven’t even turned around to look at him, but somehow you just know. You always know. It’s an uncanny magic trick that impresses the hell out of him every time.

Jake grips one side of your ass in his free hand, squeezing hard. You’re all smooth skin and soft flesh under his finger, your cute little asshole peeking up at him. You’d kill him if he’d called it that out loud. So he doesn’t. He bites his tongue, swallowing down the groan that’s simmering in his throat at the sight of you.  

He can't resist sliding his thumb over that little pucker. He barely even brushes over you when you let out a pretty gasp for him. His cock is fully hard now, and it jerks against you at the sound, so he does it again, just to see if you’ll make the same noise twice. You do. 

Then you moan, sharp and keen, and he has to pull back, hand sliding over his slick length once before he leans in and replaces his thumb with the head of his cock. Taking his time, he slides it along the curve of your ass before nestling himself snugly between your cheeks. He makes an absolute mess as he goes, smearing the shiny slick left by Steven all over your bare skin until everything is a glistening sheen under the dim light as he begins to thrust forward, sliding his cock between the valley of your cheeks. 

Jake's dreamed of taking you here. He wants to take every fucking hole you have, fill you up and cover you with his come until it's dripping off of–out of every inch of your body.

Mierda. Even just the thought of it has heat climbing his spine, and his cock jerks in his fist and spitting even more precome into the mess already covering your spine and the rounded curves of your ass. 

He thrusts against you again, fucking himself between your cheeks, and you mewl quietly, pressing back against him. Maybe he won’t even fuck your pussy this time. Maybe he’ll just stay right here and rub his cock on your gorgeous ass until he comes all over it. Add to Steven’s mess with one of his own. He’ll do it. And reach around and rub your clit so you come too.

Maybe if he can get you used to the idea of his cock rubbing against your ass, maybe one day you’ll let him put it inside too. 

"You can, you know," you mumble out into the pillows, and Jake freezes, heat streaking down to his balls, and he has to grip himself hard at the base to avoid painting your ass with his come right then and there. 

Shit, did he say that out loud? He’s pretty sure he didn’t. He must have heard you wrong. Or he misunderstood. You can't possibly be offering what he thinks you are. 

"You can try putting it in. I might ask you to stop if I don't like it, but..." you your knees slightly, and the move has your ass practically wiggling at him in temptation, "It feels good right now."

Jake's brain stalls out. His body flashes hot all over. The back of his neck is tingling. He squeezes the base of his cock so hard he thinks he might be in danger of doing permanent damage, but he'll be damned if he comes on your ass right now when he’s just been told he might get to come in it. 

Gritting his teeth, Jake breathes through his body’s urge to come, pushing down the near-overwhelming need to shove his cock into your tight little asshole immediately. He knows he has to prep you if there's going to be any chance of you enjoying this, and he needs you to enjoy it because he wants to be able to do it again (and again and again and...) 

Shit. He needs to get on with it, or he's going to finish before he even makes it inside.

Jake makes himself let go of his aching cock, leaves it bobbing and dripping in midair, and turns his focus on you.

Leaning closer, he uses both hands to pull your ass cheeks apart, and just looks at you for a minute, watching your body clench around nothing.

"You want me to fuck you here, sweetheart?" he demands, sticky thumb sliding down through the mess of your slick and Steven’s come to circle your puckered hole, almost but not quite touching it, "Gonna let me put my cock inside this tight little hole and fill it up with my come?"

You whine, your whole body shivering under him, and he grins, satisfaction buzzing in his veins when your hips cant further up, trying to get him to touch you.

It’s fucking adorable is what it is. He is starting to understand why Marc likes to edge you now. How could he not? You’re always so reactive and needy when you’re denied. You make it so fun to tease. 

Sliding his thumb down, he slicks it around and around, just to watch you whine and shiver and shift, hips chasing his touch. His dick jerks with every noise you make and every time your body visibly clenches.

As fun as this is, a bright delight humming in his chest at your every little reaction, Jake doesn’t have the patience to tease you for long. 

He’s not like Marc. El Jefe seems to have infinite patience when it comes to this, but it’s only a minute or two before Jake can’t wait any longer. He feels like he’s going to jump out of his skin if he doesn’t get inside you one way or another. So he stops, holding his hand still to let you “catch” him.

When you do, he sucks in harsh breath, heat punching through him as he watches you rub yourself against his thumb, heart rate spiking as you lean back, the tip of his thumb pushing inside just a little.

It's barely anything, but the feeling of you parting to let his his thumb slips inside, then squeezing him back out is addictive. He presses harder, wanting more. His thumb slides a bare inch inside, and his groan barely covers the strangled sound you make, body tensing under him. 

Sweat breaks out on his forehead along with the realization that he cannot fuck this up. 

"Alright, mi alma?" he asks, trying to sound sweet and gentle, but his voice, low and eager, betrays him. A starving wolf in a sloppy sheep disguise. He’s not fooling anyone, not himself and certainly not you. 

Reigning himself in as best as he can, his fingers close into a fist with tight tension blaring in every nerve. Then he unfurls his palm to pet his hand over your back and down your side to give your ass a gentle squeeze. 

“Do you  need me to stop?" 

"N-no," comes the shaky answer, and Jake thanks any gods who might be listening, "It feels a bit odd, but..." you squeeze around his thumb, hot and unbelievably tight, and Jake swears under his breath, "It’s a good odd, I think. Just– just give me a moment."

You shift slightly, clenching again, and his cock jerks and throbs like the nerves of his thumb have somehow been reattached directly to his aching length. He really fucking doesn’t want to come before he even gets inside you, but right now he’s not sure if that’s in the cards for him.

Then you push back against him, and his thumb slides in another half inch, and both of you gasp. He pulls out slightly and risks a small thrust back inside. He's rewarded by another gasp and a small moan, so he does it again, a little further this time, and this time the moan is louder.

Fuck, you look so good like this, ass all slick and slippery. Before he even knows what he’s doing, Jake leans forward, spitting onto the curve of your ass right above where his thumb is inside you. 

You jerk when it lands on your skin, and he likes that. Likes that even though he’s done it before it always seems to take you by surprise. Likes how his spit  looks on your skin too, shiny and slick as it slides down the crack of your ass to join the rest of the mess he’s smeared there. Likes that when he pushes it into your tight little asshole, it’s one more way that he can be inside you, make you a little bit more his in a way that will linger after he’s no longer with you.

You whine as he pulls his thumb all the way out, he spits again, hitting his target, directly on your pretty little asshole, then he presses in again, shoving more of his spit into you.

Like most things when it comes to how he feels about you, Jake doesn’t entirely understand why he likes this so much. It’s primal, somehow, a deep-seated need to mark you with himself–his spit, his scent, his come.

His cock is aching, throbbing in time with the way you clench every time he pushes his thumb into you. Jake can't stand it, has to wrap his free hand around himself, gripping as hard as he dares, and stroking slowly. He grits his teeth against how good it feels, red hot pleasure searing up his spine as he leans in to slide the head of his overwrought, leaking cock along your ass, right next to where his thumb is shoved inside. 

"You feel how hard you make me?" he demands, pressing himself against you, relishing the way you shift and moan again, body still squeezing around his thumb, but loosening with every passing moment as you relax. It also has the added benefit of his precome dripping down to lubricate things even more as he thrusts into you a little deeper each time. "Fuck, I can't wait to get inside this tight little hole. You gonna let me in, mi alma?"

"Yes, yes, Jake! Please!" you cry out, only partially muffled where your face is pressed into the pillows, and he damn near loses it again. Has to press his cock against you hard, almost to the point of pain as fire licks out along his nerves, threatening to send him over the edge.

"You want this cock in your ass right now?" he grits out, vaguely aware that he should probably spend more time prepping you, stretching you so you can take him easier, but he can't wait another fucking second.

He pulls back, pulls his thumb out, and you whine out his name Jake, Jake, Jake as you push your ass up and back, chasing his touch.

He looks down to see a blur of movement between your legs, and realizes that at some point you shoved a hand underneath yourself to rub at your clit.

It’s pure impulse. He doesn’t think. Before he even realizes what he's about to do, Jake’s hand flashes out, coming down on your ass with a sharp crack that sends your flesh jiggling in an all-too-appealing way. 

You cry out, sharp and high-pitched, but Jake knows from experience that it's a cry of shock, not of pain, and he quickly follows up on his advantage.

"Naughty naughty, sweetheart,” he scolds, “Who said you could touch yourself?" 

You freeze, obviously caught, and several seconds tick by where he watches approvingly as the mark left on your supple skin from the impact of his hand shades into a darker hue before you whine again, "Please, Jake. I need– I need–"

That's more like it. 

"Pobrecita," he croons to you, enjoying the way you relax at his gentle tone, "Do you need more?"

You nod into the pillow.

He leans in and smacks his cock against the same place his hand struck. You jolt, letting out the hottest fucking sound, so he does it again, and has to grit his teeth against the noise that wants to escape him at the sensation.

"You want this cock, mi alma?" he demands, voice harsh,  "You want me fuck your ass with it right now?"

"Yes. Yes, Jake. Fuck, please. YES!" you pant out, sounding as desperate as he feels. You’re pressing back against him, hips shifting so you can press that pretty little hole right against the tip of him, acting for all the world like you're going to fuck yourself back onto his cock if he doesn't give it to you fast enough.

It's a heady feeling, to hear you beg for him, and part of him wants to hear you do it again, and again and again. To leave you there, begging for him as you struggle to fuck yourself on him. Lucky for you, he is nothing like Marc. 

"All you had to do was ask, mi alma," he grates out as he begins a slow press forward, "All you ever have to do is ask, and I'll give you the world."

Your body yields to him, the head of his cock slipping inside, and he has no more words. Only a strangled groan to match your whine as you clamp down hot and impossibly tight around him.

A sparkling clarity descends, time dilating, stretching out the way it does when he's in the middle of a fight, and he can only be grateful because he's barely clinging to his composure by the tips of his fingers here.

One truth stands out above everything else: he can't hurt you. 

He has to go slow, keep control, make it good for you. 

Jake wraps an arm around you, fingers tangling with yours to rub desperate circles around your clit, and he breathes a sigh of relief when you relax slightly under and around him. Still he doesn't move, not sure if he can without losing it and pumping you full of his come right then and there.

It's only when your hips start to move, hitching forward against his fingers, and then back to fuck yourself a little farther onto his aching cock that he dares draw in another breath, dares to meet your movements with small thrusts of his own, fucking in a little further each time.

And you take him just like that, little by little. One slow press, one torturous inch at a time, until he's buried as deep in you as he can go. 

"Fuck. Jake," you gasp out, clenching hard around him, and he groans. 

He makes the mistake of looking down at where you’re stretched tight around the base of his cock, taking every fucking inch he has to give, and the sight hits him like a punch to the gut. His hips stutter forward involuntarily, and somehow you take him even deeper.

You make a strangled sound, clamping down so tight it borders on the painful, and he freezes, shuddering behind you.

"¡Mierda! ¿Estás bien?" he demands, has to stop and mentally scramble for the words before he can ask again in English, "You okay, mi alma? Shit, did I hurt you?" 

"N-no. I'm okay," you pants out in response, "You can– You can move, Jake. Please. Need you to mo–"

Before you even finish the sentence, he’s already pulling out and easing back in. It’s a tight fit, your body hugging him so snugly that nothing else would fit. 

Lento, he reminds himself, gently. Not too fast. Gritting his teeth against the demands of his body, he presses himself in and out of you as slowly and carefully as he can manage, and he tries to keep his fingers moving on your clit. His free hand grips your hip, fingers digging in until he’s sure it must be painful, but he can't make himself let go.

You whine, writhing under him as he inches back into you.

"Jake," you pant out, nearly sobbing his name, "Jake, Jake," and he slows further, worried that it's too much.

"No!" you cry out suddenly, and Jake freezes on instinct, holding still as you prop yourself up on one elbow, turning your upper body sharply to one side so you can glare at him over your shoulder, "Don't bloody stop. I want you to fuck me."

The words hit him like a blow, knocking the air out of him, and the determined look on your face stabs him right in the heart, his whole chest pulling tight. 

"You've been so patient, Jake,” you cajole him, “and it's good. Better than I thought it would be. I want you to stop holding back. Fuck my ass for real. Let go, Jake."

Fuck, he loves you so fucking much. The feeling is so big, he doesn't know how his body can contain it. He wants to move mountains, conquer the fucking world just so he can lay it at your feet. He'd give you anything. 

But the only thing you're asking for right now is his cock, and that he’s just as desperate to give you as you are to take it.

He pulls out slowly, one… last… controlled… withdrawal, then he slams into you so hard it drives you forward across the bed away from him. Digging both hands into your hips, he yanks you back to him, back onto his cock.

"Like this?" he asks as he pulls out and slams into you again,  "You want it hard? Like this, mi alma?"

"Yes– Fuck– Yes–" you gasp out between harsh thrusts, "Ja-Jake!"

His name breaking on your lips is the sweetest fucking sound he’s ever heard in his entire life, and it severs the last threads of Jake's control. He lurches forward with a roar, driving himself into your tight little ass over and over again, as hard and fast as he can go. 

The force of it knocks you off your elbows, flattening you into the bed, but Jake just yanks you back, repositioning his knees as your hands scrabble uselessly at the sheets.

Every thrust is deep and relentless, burying himself inside you as deep as your body will let him, giving you as much of him as you can take. Until his hip bones are pressed flush against your ass, until his cock is buried inside you to the root, until every inch of him is enveloped by you. 

He's so lost in the feel of you, he doesn't realize he’s fucked you all the way across the bed until you're precariously balanced on the edge of the mattress.

Your knee goes first, slipping sideways off the bed mid-thrust, and it's enough to pull him off balance and send you both tumbling to the floor. 

Instinct takes over, and before Jake even has a chance to consciously register what’s happening, he’s already twisting, shielding your body so that he takes the brunt of the fall. He winds up hitting the hardwood ass-first before coming to rest with his head against the nightstand and you in his lap. 

Miraculously, you’re still connected, the force of the fall shoving you down on his cock farther than ever before, the feeling of being lodged so far inside your tight ass more than enough to overwhelm the slight pain in his tailbone from the fall.

There's a moment of stunned silence, then you start shaking, trembling in his arms, shoulders vibrating against him. He has half a second to worry that he’s fucked up badly enough to make you cry before a loud, bright sound rings out in the room. 

You’re laughing. Oh thank fuck.

"Oh my god, Jake! You just fucked me off the bed, quite literally. That's definitely a first!" you exclaim, twisting around to giggle down at him, eyes crinkled with amusement, mouth curved in an open, full-toothed smile. Jake has a handful of seconds to marvel at how beautiful you are before you shift in his lap, your body clamping down around him, and any last lingering shreds of control he might have been clinging to are gone.

Jake lifts his hips, fucking up into you, and watches your eyes go wide, a gasp falling from your lips.

It's not enough.

He grabs your hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh and rolls to his knees, and your gorgeous laughter dissolves into a broken cry of surprise as he drags you with him. The sound melts into a long drawn out moan that has the tip of his ears tingling. He can’t think, all he can do is keep going as he fucks forward into you again, his chest tight against your back as he forces you down onto all fours so he can keep fucking you. 

Fuck. The wood floor is hard and uncomfortable under his knees, digging into his kneecaps. He knows it must be worse for you with his weight bearing down on you, but he can't make himself stop. 

He's been dreaming about taking you this way for so long, and now he finally gets to. He knows, he knows he should stop and check on you, should move the two of you back up onto the bed where you'll be more comfortable, but that pretty little ass is stretched around him so perfectly, tight and hot around him, and his need is riding him hard.

Heat prickles from the tip of his fingers, spreading along the nerve endings along every patch of skin, fuck. It’s everywhere, expanding across the span of his chest, pooling in his abdomen, gripping into his lungs. He can’t breathe. Can’t stop. Can’t–

"Lo siento," he stutters out. "I'm sorry, mi alma. I can't– I have to–" Words leave him, and all he can do is pant against your neck as his hips jerk into you with increasingly sloppy thrusts. 

His end is approaching fast, whether he wants it to or not, and he barely has the presence of mind to shove a hand underneath you, rubbing desperate circles over your clit with fingers gone clumsy with need.

He has to make it good for you. He has to. He has to– 

Por fortuna, it only takes a minute for you to tense underneath him, sobbing out his name and tightening around him so forcefully that he can't keep thrusting, his cock locked in place by the tight clench of your body.

The lack of movement is enough to stave off his own orgasm, but just barely, the pleasure is overwhelming, teasing at the tip of his tongue as you shudder underneath him and you flutter rhythmically around his cock. It's so similar to being inside your pussy when you come, but it's different too. The pulse of your pleasure there squeezing him so tight it's nearly painful, but its so, so fucking good.

He breathes through it, pressing open-mouthed, panting kisses against the skin of your back. Does his best to keep his fingers moving on your clit, trying to prolong the moment for you, to draw you pleasure out as long as he can. He wishes he could see your face. 

Next time, he promises himself. Face-to-face next time, so he can watch every expression you make as he fucks you full of himself and see the pleasure break across your face when you come with his cock lodged deep inside.

All too soon, you're collapsing forward onto one elbow, your other hand shoving at his where it's buried between your legs, and he lets you push his hand away, planting his palm on the ground next to your head. 

You turn weakly to look up at him, pulling partially off of his dick as your body sags like you can’t keep yourself up. 

"Are you ready, mi alma?" he grits out, dimly aware that he's shaking as he braces himself above you, "Ready for me to fuck this tight little ass full of my come?"

"Mmm," you hum, sweet and contented under him, "yes, please."

That's all Jake needs to hear.

He slams his hips forward into yours, and the force of the first thrust knocks you forward off your elbow, your chest meeting the ground as you half-collapse under him. 

Jake follows you down without stopping, fucking into you hard. You sink a little further towards the floor with each thrust until you're flat on your stomach, but Jake still doesn't stop. He can’t, though he's sure he must be flattening you. Doesn't think he could stop if his life depended on it

He's grinding into you now with increasingly sloppy thrusts, burning heat burrowing into the base of his spine as he holds back his orgasm by sheer will, slurring out endearments against the back of your shoulder.

“Mi alma. Mi vida. Reina de mi corazón.”

And you are. His soul. His life. The queen of his heart. You are all of that and more. His gorgeous, perfect love, taking him, all of him, exactly as he is.

"Do it," you say from underneath him, and reality seems to recede, his vision tunneling in on your lips as they shape the words that just might kill him.

"Fill my ass up with your come. Fuck it into me as deep as you can. I'm yours, Jake."

Jake's orgasm crashes into him like an unexpected switch. Like a bomb going off. Like a knife sliding between his ribs, sharp and sudden. Pleasure sears though every inch of the body that has never felt more like his than it does at this moment, his forehead pressing against the warm skin of your back as he empties himself inside you in pulse after pulse of aching release. 

By the time the last shuddering spasm subsides, Jake feels wrung out like a bloody rag. He barely manages to avoid collapsing on top of you, mustering just enough strength to roll the two of you to the side so that he’s no longer squishing you. Pressing a gentle kiss to your shoulder, he carefully pulls out, then pulls you back against his chest, curving his body around yours, and the two of you lay cuddled together like that for a long moment.

Eventually, his strength returns, along with the awareness that the floor he’s holding you on is both hard and probably not all that clean given Steven’s penchant for pouring sand all over. You deserve better. He gets up first, and carefully helps you rise to standing, waiting a moment to be sure you’re steady on your feet, before guiding you gently into the bathroom. 

When he flips on the bathroom light, the shadow of his reflection in the small round mirror transforms into a flushed, wide-eyed Steven who mumbles, “That was… God, that was… ” 

He doesn’t seem to be able to find the words. Jake’s not sure he could either, but Mr Sunshine doesn’t need to know that, so he just shoots the mirror a smug smile and tips an imaginary cap in that direction before he moves to turn on the shower.

You shiver a little when he steps away from you, so once the water is running, he wraps both arms around you, encouraging you to lean against him while you wait for it to get warm. You do, wrapping one arm around his waist in return and curling into his chest like there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

Jake just watches you. Tilting his head back and slightly to the side to get a better angle, he lets his eyes roam over your face, taking in the soft curve of your cheek, the eyelashes feathered against the soft skin there nod that your eyes have fluttered closed, the hand you’ve settled against his chest, right over his heart, the way your lips curve up into a slight content smile. 

You’re beautiful.

You always are, but right now, something about this moment makes Jake’s chest tight. It steals his breath as surely as if there were hands wrapped tight around his neck, choking the life out of him.  But instead of stealing his life, it’s as if you’re giving him more of it, pumping him full of its essence, filling his chest until he doesn’t know how his body can contain the feelings you inspire in him. 

The bathroom is getting warmer, steam starting to form on the mirror, but Jake is loath to relinquish his hold on you. You seem equally uninterested in leaving him. You’re snuggled contentedly into his chest, but the way you slump lower and looser with each passing second tells him that he needs to get you moving fast, before you fall asleep standing up. “Water’s warm,” he tells you, and you hum sleepily against his chest. It’s so, so tempting just to carry you back to bed, but he knows you’ll be happier if you’re clean.

“C’mon, mi alma. Into the shower. Vamos.”  He herds you gently backwards until you’re standing under the spray.

You hum sleepily up at him without opening your eyes, and he’s worried for a moment that he’s lost you to sleep already, but you stay standing when he cautiously releases you.

Reaching for your soap, he quickly lathers up a washcloth. The smell of the soap—the smell of you—quickly permeates the small space, and he breathes deep, letting the familiar scent wash over him.  He runs the cloth gently over your shoulders,  taking extra care with the still-visible bite mark one of them left there, then down over your chest. The skin of your breasts is soft and warm under his fingertips, and he’s half tempted to try for another round, but he feels strangely protective of your soft sleepiness.

Instead he dutifully rinses you off, letting the water cascade over your body. 

You blink your eyes open long enough to shoot him another warm, sleepy smile, and the contentment in his chest seems to expand, taking root and spreading with every breath until it feels almost too large for the small space of the shower. 

He steps out, reaching for a towel, and drys you off gently, before doing the same to himself with much less care.

Then he carries you back to bed and tucks you in, doing his best to straighten out the wrinkly covers before pulling them up over both of you. Curling his body around yours, he holds you tightly to him. There are a lot of things in this world Jake can do without, has done without. But this– you are no longer on that list.

In the cozy warmth of the bed with your body pressed against his, his eyes feel heavy. Jake never used to fight to stay in the driver’s seat, not once the excitement was over. But he clings to consciousness now. He wants to prolong this moment when his vision is filled, not with yet another threat to body, life or limb, but with something altogether perfect: the sight of you drifting off to sleep, your head nuzzling into the pillow, a slight smile on your face… safe. 

It’s the last thing he sees as he falls into a deep, restful sleep. .

Thanks for reading!

—

Want more to read?

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#moon knight #moon knight fic #jake lockely #jake lockely x reader #jake lockley x you #f reader #oi stuff #fanfic #astroboots #thirst world problems #lemon #q #red flags 'verse

[petertingle-yipyip]

SO LONG LONDON - STEVEN GRANT

Pairing: steven x reader (established) (and then marc shows up)

Word Count: 2,489

Summary: Dating Steven was always a bit of a gamble. So when a beautiful woman comes to town claiming your boyfriend as her husband, you find a whole new side to the man you love.

//honestly idk what happened here, just go with it//

It made no sense.

You two were scheduled together all the time. Donna claimed it was the only way to make sure Steven actually showed up to his shifts. And for the most part, it worked. Occasionally, you two would have a day or two different and he wouldn’t show or would be ridiculously late. But you were usually able to explain it away to your manager so Steven wouldn’t get in trouble.

But now, it has been three straight days of Steven pulling no-calls-no-shows. Even when you tried to call him, it went straight to voicemail. Like his phone wasn’t even on.

You were walking around the city that day after work. You picked up some lunch and were looking at your phone, contemplating whether or not you wanted to try calling out texting him again, but the sharp whizz of a woman on a moped cut you off.

You stopped so suddenly in your tracks that your phone fell from your hands as you scrambled to catch your food.

“I’m so sorry!” The woman said quickly, suddenly in front of you with your phone in hand. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it.” You shrugged it off and held a hand out for your phone. She went to pass it back to you but her eyes lingered on your screen where Steven’s contact photo was waiting.

“It was my fault for not looking.” You tried while she quietly stared at the screen. Your fingers hooked on your device and with a slight tug, you got it back.

“I’m Layla, by the way.” She said when you had moved to leave.

“Y/N.” You nodded. “Nice to meet you.” You tried to leave again but she spoke up.

“Boyfriend?”

“What?”

“The guy on your phone.” She gestured to your hand where your phone still sat. As subtle as possible, your thumb hit the lock button to hide the photo that was still waiting. “Is that your boyfriend?”

“Yeah.” You nodded. “He’s M.I.A. right now so I’m starting to worry. Normal girlfriend things, y’know? He’s a bit of a sleepwalker so…” You finished awkwardly.

“Would you…” She began and your brows raised. “Would you wanna get some coffee maybe? I think we should talk some more.”

“Oh, well.. Thank you but I should get home. I’m like three missed calls away from a missing persons report.” You tried to joke.

“It’s just that your boyfriend looks an awful lot like my husband.”

“What?” Your heart sunk.

“Yeah, uh..” She hurried to pull her phone from her bag. “My husband, Marc Spector. Maybe you’ve heard his name? He comes and goes for work but then I got a call and now I’m here trying to find him.”

“Oh!” You sighed in relief. “Okay, it’s probably a coincidence because my boyfriend’s name is.. Steven… Gra…”

Your sentence trailed off as Layla showed you her screen and a photo of her and someone who looked exactly like Steven faced you. His posture was different and you assumed his aura was as well. His hair was styled differently and he even wore different clothes than Steven would. Too similar to ignore but too different to convince you.

“Wow, um, that resemblance really is… Y’know what, maybe we should get some coffee.” You agreed.

After a while of you two talking, neither of you were convinced the other person was talking about the same person. Layla’s ‘Marc’ seemed to have a completely different personality than Steven. He seemed rougher, insufferable even. To be able to completely abandon your wife with no explanation was borderline appalling, and Steven would never. He hardly even went to run errands without giving you a full list of everywhere he intended to go.

As far as you could tell, the only similarity was their looks.

You offered to bring her to Steven’s apartment to show her that he was a different person with a different life. But when you knocked, your usual habit just in case he was home, he actually answered the door.

“Hello, Love.” He smiled at you, though the expression quickly faded when he saw yours. “Something wrong?”

“Steven, this is Layla. Layla, Steven.” You introduced before she had pushed past you both and into the apartment.

Steven looked at you in confusion but you smiled in apology with a small shrug. He stepped aside and gestured for you to come in so you did. Layla was investigating the small space and Steven was staying close to your side. You could feel his fingers tapping the back of your hand, his silent request to interlock your fingers together, but you put your hands in your jacket pocket instead.

“This is your flat, Marc?” She asked and you were thankful someone finally spoke to break the tension.

“I’m Steven, actually.” He answered.

“And you live here with her?” She gestured to you.

“No.” You answered for yourself. “I stay a few blocks over.”

“It’s my mum’s flat, actually.” Steven defended.

“You guys are talking again?” She asked as she found one of the poetry books on his shelves.

They exchanged remarks about the French poet and the hieroglyphics on Steven’s desk. You watched quietly and were finding nothing that could indicate Steven was Marc. But then again, the one French poet he knew just so happened to be Layla’s favorite. And his explanation of hieroglyphs was the same as hers.

Was it possible?

While the two turned to argue about divorce papers and Steven’s identity, you were distracted by the unusual gym bag on the table. You glanced and saw them take their conversation to another side of the room so you went over to the bag. You were thankful it was already unzipped so you pulled the sides apart and were dumbfounded by what you saw.

Stacks of money, a gun, a golden bug, and a passport.

You were drawn to the document so you pulled it out quietly and opened it, seeing a different name printed on the page.

“Marc Spector.” You read to yourself and your heart came to a screeching halt in your chest.

“Who’s Marc?” You asked suddenly, drawing attention to yourself. You held up the passport expectantly.

“Oh, jeez, uh…” Steven rushed over, crumbling the divorce papers under his arm as he reached for the passport.

“No.” You held it further away. “Who are you?”

“C’mon, love. You know me.” He tried, almost desperate for you to be on his side.

“I don’t think I do.” You said sadly. “Who’s Marc? Is he your twin brother or something?”

“I don’t know.” He answered quickly.

“He is Marc and he needs to tell me if we’re getting this divorce or not.” Layla spoke up and snatched the papers from under Steven’s arm.

“You seem lovely, Layla, truly. But I’m not Marc Spector.” He insisted and you so badly wanted to believe him. “I’m Steven Grant and I work at a gift shop. Well, I used to work at a gift shop. I just want my life back.”

“Doesn’t seem like you know which life that is, do you?” You slammed the passport against his chest.

“Y/N, please wait.” He reached for your hand but you backed away.

You nearly ran down the hall to the elevator. You needed to get away. From Layla. From Steven or Marc or whoever the hell he was.

It felt like you didn’t know him anymore. A different name you could live with. A secret job, sure, you could get over that. But a wife? An entirely opposite personality? That shook your entire world, the very foundation of your relationship. You could justify the rest but the idea of him loving someone else so wholly and being someone else so entirely, it had you questioning everything you knew.

About him. About life and love. Even about yourself.

It made you wonder if you could walk away from it all. Say so long to the quiet london boy that stole your heart.

You were back in your apartment before you knew it and you leaned against the closed door for a moment once you were inside. Your head was spinning with the new situation and you decided you didn’t want to think about it. You pushed yourself up and headed to your fridge, picking out one of the cans you usually reserved for after dinner or nights you had friends over for drinks and movies. You took it into your room and got changed before dropping onto your couch.

You put your can on the side table and picked up the remote, flipping through channels until a familiar movie played. You let it run as background noise while you read your book and slipped your drink. But despite your best efforts, Steven was still present in your mind. When you were picturing the main male character, all you could picture was your boyfriend. One of the female characters started to look like Layla. It drove you insane.

You threw the book to the coffee table and dropped to your back across the cushions. You didn’t know how long you had been staring at your ceiling when someone knocked on your door. The first time the noise came, you didn’t move. Surely whoever it was would leave. But after a few seconds the knocking came again, with more authority than the first time. so you hauled yourself up and shuffled over. 

Opening the door, you were greeted by the ghost of your boyfriend. For the most part, it was the same man. Same clothes and same facial features. But his dark curls were pushed out of his face. His posture stood taller and his shoulders pulled back.

It didn’t take long for you to recognize you weren’t looking at Steven.

You moved to close the door when his hand shot out to stop you. You tried leaning some of your body weight against the door but it hardly budged. You muttered a small complaint to yourself before stepping back and opening the door fully.

You stared at the imposter expectantly.

“Not gonna let me in?” He asked, gesturing slightly towards your apartment.

Even his voice was different. Missing the accent, deeper and fuller than Steven’s. Seeing the more mature sound come from your boyfriend’s face sent goosebumps across your skin.

“Why would I? I don’t know you.” You shrugged.

“C’mon, Y/N.” He groaned and ran a hand down his face. “You really wanna have this conversation in the hall?”

You sighed heavily and as if on cue, your nosy neighbor was leaving her apartment. You grabbed Marc’s jacket and pulled him in, giving the woman a quick wave and a tight smile. You heard her question who he was but you shut the door before having to answer. You stared at the door for a second to collect yourself before turning to face Marc, who had already made himself comfortable on your couch.

“Little early in the day for drinks, don’t you think?” He tried to joke and shook the empty can but you didn’t laugh.

“Well when I find out my boyfriend is married and absolutely not who I thought he was, I’m entitled to a spiked lemonade… Just be glad it isn’t the bottle of vodka in my freezer.” You countered, the words spilling faster than you could control them. “So who the hell are you this time?”

“My name’s Marc.” He began and you rolled your eyes. “Steven and I are…”

“Twins?” You tried your earlier guess. You just desperately wanted something simple for an explanation. A case of mistaken identity among twins was simple enough.

“No, not exactly.”

“But you are the one married to that girl, Layla, right?” You pressed.

“Yeah.” He nodded and a small smile crossed his lips. “Steven’s never met her till today.”

“Well…” You said awkwardly, coming a few steps closer. “She’s very pretty.”

He smiled a little wider for a second before he seemed to remember why he was there.

“Listen, I came here because I wanted to try and explain what I could to you.” He began carefully.

“Is Layla right then, Steven’s just an act?” You cut in sharply. “A fake name so you can lead a life away from her? Because it seems to me that that woman loves you. Why she would is baffling to me and why you would divorce her is even more ludacris.”

“He’s not an act and he’s not fake.” He seemed to flinch at the last word. “Maybe he’s not all that real, either. It’s…” He blew out a heavy sigh. “It’s complicated, Y/N/N.”

“Don’t you dare.” You said tightly, closing the distance to put yourself in front of Marc. “You’ve existed to me for all of ten minutes. You have no right to call me that.”

“You’re right.” His hands went up in surrender. “I’m sorry.”

“How do you know about that anyway?”

“I know pretty much everything about Steven’s life.” He shrugged innocently. “You, the gift shop, his really shitty boss. I know what bus he takes, that goddamn fish. Jesus, I even know what underwear brand he wears.”

“How? Why? I just-“ You groaned and pushed your hands into your hair. “What the hell is going on, Marc?”

“Sometimes…” He spoke carefully, as if he was treading around land mines. “There were a few nights when you would come to Steven’s, or walking back to his place after work, it wouldn’t be him… He wouldn’t take over in time and it would be me. Kinda got to know you through that.”

“Oh my god.” You said quietly, your hand covering your mouth as you sunk into the chair beside you. “When he would be super quiet and just nodding or making little humming noises…”

“Yeah…” He hesitantly agreed, clearly embarrassed. “I tried to kind of push him forward but- I don’t know how this shit works, Y/N. I’m just living with it at this point.”

“So… You’re Marc and he’s Steven, but you’re also the same?” You questioned as the information tried to sink in. “Like you two are-“ You interlocked your fingers together.

“Same body, different people.” He nodded. “I know it’s a lot but don’t.. Don’t leave him over this.”

“Leave him?” Your brows furrowed and you almost laughed. “I’m not gonna leave him over this.”

“Really?” His brows raised quizzically. “Cause it didn’t seem that way when you walked out.”

“I can handle personalities, I think. It’s the marriage that’s a problem.”

“To be fair, it’s my marriage.” He offered. “Like I said, he never knew her.”

“I just need a day or two to let it process.” You confessed. “And I think you need a day or two to figure out things with Layla.”

“Yeah, probably right.”

“And if you two work it out, me and Layla are gonna have to figure out an arrangement.”

#steven grant fic #steven x yn #steven grant one shot #mcu steven grant #steven grant hc #steven grant x you #steven grant x reader #marc spector moon knight #steven grant moon knight #moon knight fic #moon knight x yn #moon knight x you #steven grant angst #marc spector angst #marc spector #steven grant #moon knight

[campingwiththecharmings]

Eat You Up

AN: Third fic for @moonknight-events’ MK Bingo! Hope y'all enjoy 😌❤️

PWP. You're watching a movie with Marc and get a bit...distracted.

(Un-beta’d)

Rated: M+ (this is smut so, i mean, you’ve been warned?) Prompt: Biting Words: 985 Pairing: Marc Spector x F!Reader Warnings: pwp, kissing, frottage, biting, licking, sucking (aka giving hickies), sub!Marc, slight praise kink. AO3

——————

You’re beside Marc on the couch, head resting on his shoulder as you both sit and watch that movie your co-worker kept recommending. It was okay, a little predictable but enjoyable all the same. Not enough to hold your attention though, sadly. Truth be told, you’re having trouble focusing on anything but him, on anything but Marc—on the warm, solid press of him against you, on the familiar scent of him surrounding you, comforting you— 

You turn your face toward him, your nose brushing against his neck. His arm tightens around you at the touch, pulling you closer, and you let him. You both resettle, your hand now resting against his chest as you nuzzle your nose against a random spot at the base of his neck. His skin is soft, like velvet, and you can’t help it when your eyes involuntarily fall shut, savoring the feel of him. You bury your face there, inhaling deeply, your lips grazing over his collarbone. He smells so good, warm and clean and a little woodsy. It makes your mouth water, and you can’t stop yourself from licking tentatively at his skin. You sigh softly at the familiar taste of him, his skin salty yet somehow still sweet. 

You hear his breath hitch, feel his body shift beside you and smile softly, gently nipping at his olive skin. His hand clenches slightly where it rests on your shoulder, bunching up the fabric of your shirt, his throat bobbing as he swallows. He doesn’t try to stop you though, so you continue, licking and nipping at that same spot.  

You do get a little carried away, giving up all pretense of watching the movie as you crawl into his lap to straddle him. Your knees are on either side of his hips, his fingers twisting in the back of your shirt as you gently grind against him. He groans softly as you bury your face in his neck again, his head falling to rest against the back of the couch.  

You start off soft and slow, gently sucking at his skin, your tongue soothing the marks left behind. Marc is completely at your mercy, his hands drifting down to settle on your hips as you devour his neck. Your teeth graze over his bruised skin and he shivers, his hips pushing up into yours involuntarily. You moan softly at the friction between your legs, the vibration against his skin making his grip on you tighten. 

You nip at him again, this time a little harder, your lips surrounding the bruise as you add a little suction. Marc hisses, his fingers digging into your sides, and you wonder, just for a moment, if you could make him come like this, with just your mouth and teeth and tongue— 

“Baby,” he groans, lifting his hand to cup the back of your head, wordlessly asking you to slow down. 

You relent, pressing a kiss against his abused skin before pulling back slightly to meet his gaze. He looks wrecked, hair mussed, lips parted, his breaths leaving him in pants. You smile softly at the sight, reaching out to push your hand through his curls. Marc leans into it, his eyes heavy lidded as they lovingly rove your face. 

Your gaze is drawn back to the bruises on his neck, the color of them darkening more and more by the minute. You chew your bottom lip, eyes glued to the marks, all scattered across the base of his neck like a necklace—you like them, like seeing them, that reminder that Marc is yours and no one else's. Yours. He’s yours.  

A molten heat wells inside you at the thought and settles in your core. You drag your eyes back up his delectable neck, licking your lips at the expanse of unmarked skin. You make it as far as his mouth before you lean in, claiming his lips in a deep, languid kiss. His groan is muffled as you shift, sliding forward slightly to press yourself against his front, your arms winding around his neck, fingers plunging into his hair. Marc pushes his hips up into yours, using his grip on you to drag you over his clothed length. You can’t help but moan, pulling back from the kiss with his bottom lip between your teeth. He groans, eyebrows furrowing slightly before you release him with a pop.  

He gazes up at you, his beautiful brown eyes full of love and unslaked lust, and suddenly you want nothing more than to watch him fall apart. You lean in, pressing your foreheads together, your mouth hovering over his as you start to move in his lap. His eyes fall shut in pleasure, his breath leaving him in huffs. 

“So good, baby,” he slurs, his hands grasping your hips as you increase your pace. 

He meets your movements with his own, grinding his cock up against your core. You gasp in pleasure, moving faster, harder, pulling grunts and groans from between his lips. You’re close, so close, and so is Marc, you can tell by how slack his jaw is, by the look he has in his eyes, the one that borders on adoration. 

“Come for me, Marc,” you breathe, nipping at his kiss-bitten lips. 

He comes with a gasp, his hips stuttering as he continues rutting up into you, prolonging his release. A shuddered breath leaves him as he settles once more, his body going limp beneath you. You watch him come down with a soft smile on your lips, reaching out and brushing a few wayward curls from his damp forehead. 

He meets your gaze and smiles, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles against your hips. 

“My turn,” he breathes, soft smile morphing into something more devious as he gathers you in his arms and quickly stands from the couch. 

You yelp in surprise, then laugh as he practically runs to the bedroom.

If you enjoyed this, please let me know! I appreciate every single reblog and/or comment. Thank you. 💖

🌟 Masterlist 🌟 MK Bingo Masterlist 🌟

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#my fic #moon knight bingo #marc spector x you #marc spector x reader #marc spector fanfic #marc spector fic #moon knight fic #moon knight fanfic #marc spector smut #moon knight smut

[astroboots]

Fit to Burst

CO-WRITTEN WITH @THIRSTWORLDPROBLEMSS

Pairing: Marc Spector x female reader x Steven Grant

Summary: Marc decides to teach you a lesson when you mistake him for Steven.

Rating: really fucking explicit

Warning/content: Marc's dirty filthy mouth, Steven's over-eager mouth, Marc is wee bit jealous, cunnilingus, overstimulation, refraction period? — we don't know her, established relationship.

Word Count: 3.5k (I have no excuse, pure self-indulgent filth)

Astroboot's Masterlist | Thirstworldproblemss' Masterlist | Moon Knight Masterlist

“Does that feel good, love? Think you can come for me again?” 

You don't know how many orgasms he's pulled from you already. Everything sounds like it’s underwater. You can't tell if it’s Marc or Steven fronting right now. If it's Marc who is talking to you, or Steven, taking you apart inch by inch, one devastating orgasm at a time.

Love. He called you love. Steven calls you love. This must be Steven.

Steven’s lips come to the inside of your thigh, pressing gentle kisses meant to soothe, but the sandpaper brush of his stubble makes everything inside you that more wound up, your nerves raw like everything is going to splinter. 

“You taste so fuckin’ good,” he murmurs, and the soft caress of his breath is searing against your skin, wreaking havoc on you. The low rumbling of his voice, so uncharacteristic of him, is dipped in hunger and greed, and it skitters up and down your spine until it's difficult to breathe. It's a perfect counterpoint to his surprisingly skilled mouth and fingers on you, to the heat spreading under your skin and building to an explosive pitch between your legs. 

“Want you to come all over my mouth, yeah?” he says, with none of his trademark shyness, before he dives back in, tongue laving at your slick folds.

You can’t help but give him what he wants.

You come, your cunt clenches down, spasming around the thick girth of his fingers where he has you stretched open. Everything else disappears for a moment, your body weightless with pure unadulterated bliss. You are so disorientated that you are almost certain you are floating in zero gravity. You can’t even hear your heartbeat anymore. Can’t feel it thump against the cage of your chest. For all you know it might have stopped entirely. All you’re capable of feeling is an abstract tingling sensation that buzzes pleasantly in your veins.

Then you hear his voice, soft and adoring, from somewhere above. His fingers slip out of you, and you whine--even overwrought as you are, you feel empty at the loss.

There’s a gentle palm with soft-worn calluses stroking down the side of your ribs. Comforting kisses press your thighs, as he murmurs quiet praises about how good you are for him and how pretty you look like this.

You can’t help but snort a laugh at that last bit, not sure what he’s on about because you’re sure you look anything but right now. Your hair is soaked with sweat and clinging to your temple; your face, sticky and clammy. You’re certain you must look a complete mess as you lie here in a shambled heap on your bed. Your vision is so blurred you can barely see the white of your ceiling, but you're still able to make out the man above you, gazing down at you like you’ve hung the moon in the sky.

“Think you can give me another one, love? Jus' one more, yeah?”

Fucking hell. This man…  

He doesn’t even give you a moment to gather yourself. You barely have a chance to nod before the saliva-slicked thumb gently presses down on your clit again. For all his sweet cooing and gentle touch and care, he is always merciless in his pursuit to make you come like there’s a prize for him at the end of it. 

"Fucking finally," he huffs under his breath, and if you weren't so completely out of it, you'd tell him it's his own fault for dragging that last orgasm out so long.

As cliche as it sounds, you’re so blissed out of your mind you can’t tell anymore, where the pleasure begins and ends. All you feel is clever fingers already curling inside you again; a greedy hand cupping your breast; a hungry mouth nipping at the hollow of your throat. He’s everywhere, and you spread your legs wider, open yourself up, so he can have every single inch of you. 

The bed shifts, and you blink rapidly, trying to clear the watery edges of your vision. After a moment, your eyes finally refocus on the man in front of you. 

He’s kneeling above you, cock in hand, as he gives it a slow lazy stroke that makes your mouth water. A slick sheen of sweat graces the muscular line of his shoulder, bathed in amber gold of your bedroom light.

“You alright, baby? Want me to keep going?” The look in his eyes is as gentle as ever he checks in on you to make sure you’re okay. Makes you feel precious and cared for. 

The only thing you can do is nod.

“You say stop if it gets to be too much,”  he rasps out as lines himself up against you. 

The first thrust is deep and consuming, and you cry out as the perfect stretch of him has white sparks burning behind your eyelids. You’re so worked up, everything makes a little bit less sense; mind almost a little bit numb. You can barely think straight and you think to yourself ironically, this is probably why they call it being cockdumb. 

And it's not being made better by the way that he’s running his fucking mouth. 

"So fucking perfect,” he murmurs into your ear, rasped and breathless as he nips on your ear. “You feel so good wrapped around my cock. So wet and warm. Fuck, you're so tight right now. Always so tight after you come for us."

He stays there, buried inside you to the hilt to allow you some reprieve and to accommodate around him. You can feel his eagerness to move in the way his cock twitches excitedly inside of you. Can tell he’s resisting that very urge when he grips the bedsheets tightly with his fingers until they go bone-knuckled. It strikes heat and pleasure all at once into the pit of your stomach. It’s so good; too much; and it teethers on the edge of the overwhelming. 

A warm hand comes to cup your cheeks. He’s consoling you, brushing away the hair in your eyes, and the touch of it grounds you. “Does that feel good, baby?” 

His eyes are ridiculously gorgeous, deep and rich, you find yourself easily lost in him. All you can see is his sweet half-smile, one corner of his mouth curling upward just for you. All you want to do in your overwrought state of mind is to please him, to praise him on how good he always makes you feel, so you do. 

"So good. Feel so full. No one fucks me like you do, Steven."

He stills. 

From above, you see it, the moment his expression changes. Gone is the indulgent softness. The curl of his full lips turned into a scowl. Those deep rich eyes bleed into sternness fixed with a dark glower. You realise a bit too late that Marc is the one inside you now, not sweet Steven. 

You try to think back. When did his voice change? His accent? His eyes are narrowed instead of wide adoring affection. Everything about his body language is different, must have changed before this, and how stupid is it that you didn’t notice until now? As much as you hate to admit it, you're just a little bit out of it; a little bit come dumb from how the two of them have made you come again and again. 

The next thing you register is the emptiness inside you as he slips almost entirely out of you; until only the blunt tip rests inside you. There’s a look in his eyes, a flash of something determined and almost dangerous, as he adjusts his hips against you. 

There’s no warning as he thrusts all the way back inside, in one long and slick stroke back inside you. Deep and hard. It strikes something absolutely fucking devastating in you until it steals away your breath and makes you cry out. 

“Fuckohfuck, Marc!” 

“That's right, baby.” He leans over with his lips to your ear, voice low and dark and demanding as he rolls his hips, and then grinds deep within you. “Say it again. Who fucks you like this?”

Everything’s sharp and bright inside you; the rush of pleasure that comes with every thrust mind-numbing. You don’t know how Marc expects you to give him an answer; can’t even stutter out the ‘you’ that’s right on the tip of your tongue. Instead all that comes out is a pitiful sob. 

"No? Still not good enough for you?” Marc demands. 

You thought at first, with what little brain power was available to you, that he was jealous, and maybe there’s some of that in there too, but there’s something else. Something almost teasing that makes you think he’s not even all that upset about your mistake. The bastard that he is, he just wants to capitalise on the opportunity to push you to your limit. 

“Our girl is so greedy, isn’t she?” he continues mercilessly, ”Always wanting more. How about—" two hands come to rest on the inside of your thighs, lifting you off the mattress until your legs are hooked over his shoulders as he presses the delicious weight of his body on top of yours, folding you nearly in half. "How about this?"

His voice is pure savage glee, a kid that gets to play and pull apart his toy in whatever manner he wants. Your fingers twist into the sheets, trying to grab on tight because it feels like you are falling off the edge of the very world. Then Marc rolls his hips into you at the devastating new angle and it knocks the breath out of your lungs, tipping you past that very edge. 

It doesn't matter that you're ready to repent. Doesn’t matter that you’re trying to moan your explanation in between insistent, merciless strokes. "That's not— fuck, ooooh shit, Marc, I didn’t mean—"

That man is not letting up, and with how hard you came just mere minutes ago, he's already got you so keyed up that you can feel that all familiar pressure and heat settle against the line of your spine with an alarming speed. 

There’s a brief hesitation in his rhythm, like his concentration was broken for a moment, and you catch him glancing at the mirror. You wonder if Steven's there telling Marc to stop. Steven’s always looking out for you; would do anything for you, and that includes taking care of you in bed. But when you turn your head sideways, the mirror shows you the same perfect reflection of reality it always does. 

If Steven's there, you can't see him. Instead, all you can see is the image of yourself being split open by Marc. How Marc towers over you, with his lean stature. The firm muscles on his back sloping down to the generous curves of his ass like he was a carved marble statue meant to depict the ancient Greek deities themselves. Those thick raven curls furl with heat and sweat against his forehead. He’s so fucking beautiful it’s unfair. 

“You looking for Steven to save you?” Firm fingers grip the edge of your jaw, forcing your gaze back towards Marc. “Well too fucking bad. Steven’s not here. You’re stuck with me.”

Alright, nevermind. Definitely jealous then.

Marc’s next thrust drives a strange squeaking noise from your lungs, and you’d probably be embarrassed if you weren't so far gone. 

"What was that,—” Marc taunts, huffing out a dark laugh between thrusts, “—did you want me—to stop?"

His voice is unbearably smug, and you almost want to tell him to stop just on principle, but fuck that. You don’t want him to stop. Even though it's so fucking much that it borders on the unbearable. You shake your head frantically. You never want him to stop. “That’s what I… thought,” Marc grits out, thrusting hard on the last word.  

He’s driving up against something perfect and molten inside of you, and heat rises up in you like a tide, seething under your skin. You think you might actually be going to come again, but the sensation is immense, nearly unbearable, and you clutch at Marc, whimpering as it threatens to swamp your already overwhelmed and overstimulated system. 

“It’s alright. You’re alright, baby,” he rasps out, not even slowing down. “You can take it, can’t you? Take it for me like a good girl.” Then he tilts your hips up even farther, and that’s it. You’re done. 

Fierce, electric heat explodes outwards, crackling rapturously through your limbs, submerging you entirely until you lose track of reality for a minute. 

When you come back to yourself, Marc is still thrusting into you. The rhythm of it is soothing, drawing out your pleasure in a way you’ve never known before, like you've hit a plateau rather than travelling up and down a mountain. Distantly you note that everything is a slick mess. That you are soaking Marc’s cock with how wet your cunt is for him. You can feel it leaking out of you with every press and retreat of him inside you, dripping down over the curve of your ass onto the bed sheets.

Then, out of nowhere, Marc does stop.  

The sound you make is damn near inhuman. Fuck, why?? Why is he stopping when all you need is more of him? 

Your eyes flutter open to see Marc staring at the mirror, his full attention focused on his reflection. On Steven. 

You don’t know what Steven is saying to him, but whatever it is, has Marc chuckling. 

He turns away from the mirror with a toothy grin full of mischief, and he leans back down towards you, pressing his mouth close so he can whisper in your ear like it's a secret; like Steven can't always hear him no matter how quiet he's being.

“He wants me to fuck you harder. Stretch you all the way open on our cock. Make you come again.”

You have no way of knowing if that’s true or if Marc is just saying that to get a rise out of Steven. You can’t exactly hear Steven’s end of the conversation. But it doesn’t matter, because Marc’s doing it. 

You don’t know if you want to escape the sensation or demand more of it. But you can’t do either. In fact, you seem to have lost control of your body completely. All you can do is shudder and whine under him as Marc follows Steven’s alleged request and pushes himself hard and deep inside of you—oh God, just like that—again and again. 

The pleasure twines and spreads slowly though your heavy limbs until you're completely drunk on the sensation of Marc's cock driving into you. He’s reduced you to a heap of bones, flesh and skin without any sentient thought left in your brain. Until you have lost all other sensation to the point where you almost miss the way that Marc is murmuring a string of filth into your ear. 

“That’s right, baby. You’re not done yet.” 

You can’t look away from him, the way that sweat is dripping down his collarbone, the mesmerising rise and fall of his chest as his breath is rasping in and out of his lungs. 

“Gimme one more,” he says. “You come on my cock one more time, then I’ll fill you up. Make a mess of you, and Steven can clean you up with his tongue.” 

This man is the devil. 

You don’t know what that makes you when you’re so aroused by the picture he’s painting for you. 

You’re exhausted. Every inch of you feels tender. You have been strummed and plucked and pushed over the edge again and again until all of you has become one single raw overwrought nerve. At this point you’re not even sure you’re physically capable of coming again. But still, white heat sparks and cracks and invades your numb limbs until you’re thrumming with it.

He's rutting into you, hips in an uneven jerking place, grinding as if he needs to get deeper, as deep inside you as he can to stake his claim and never leave. And fuck, you wish he could. You want him to fuck you like this forever and never stop.  

Your cunt flutters around the thick girth of him involuntarily, and it does something to Marc too. He gasps and swears, hips stuttering forward into you, and it's almost enough.... almost... almost...

"Marc..." your voice breathy, pleading, barely recognizable to your own ears.

"Fuck," Marc huffs out. His hips stutter in its pace. If you didn’t know any better, from the way he closes his eyes for a brief moment, as if to gather himself, you’d think his trademark control is slipping. But then he seems to rally himself and pulls back, almost all the way out.

You clutch at him. If he stops now, if he dares to deny you, you swear to god, you will actually kill this man, or failing that, die on the spot in protest. Your fingers digging into the firm meat of his shoulders, sobbing his name. You need—more, need everything, need him, need to— 

“Shh,” he hushes you with a soothing coo, comforting fingers brushing back the sweat-slicked hair clinging to your forehead. “I'm right here, baby. Let go, I've got you.”

His tone doesn’t match his actions. Marc thrusts back in, driving so deep you can fucking taste it, and you dimly realize that you're screaming as the pleasure streaks outward, tearing your world apart.

It’s a flickering light that is dimming and finally dies out from the surge of electricity. Your brain completely loses all higher functions and all that is left is the rush of heat that spreads all over you. It pours and pours until you’re lightheaded and the whole room spins with it. Everything feels blissfully tight; too much and just enough. Then you come.

When you open your eyes, you see those gorgeous dark eyes rolling back, baring the long line of his throat and it’s a beautiful fucking sight. The sharp edge of his jaw, pink pouty lips all shiny and slick from you. You swear those thick sweat soaked curls glisten in the dim light. He’s so ridiculously gorgeous, you can hardly believe he is real. 

Marc isn’t far behind you. His cock pulses, spilling warm heat inside of you with a strained moan. Every muscle in him goes rigid against you. 

Then Marc collapses onto you, arms wrapped all around you as he lands on top of you on the bed, his firm weight resting on top of you. Both of you are a boneless and sweaty tangled heap against the mattress. His firm chest is pressed against you, so close the beat of his heart is hammering against your skin. 

In the silence of your bedroom, your harsh, panting breaths echo as if you just finished the most harrowing marathon of your lives. There’s a gentle hand stroking the plane of your back. It’s so gentle, the touch of it so adoring that you’re not sure if it’s Marc or Steven, but you don’t think it matters much at all.  

As you come down, your senses slowly flicker awake. You can feel the soft gentle comfort of a reassuring touch running along your thighs. A warm hand petting you over the wideness of your hip bones, soft stroking caresses to coax you back down from your high. 

Eventually, your breaths slow, and he pushes himself up, and away from your chest with shaky arms, until you can see his soft gorgeous face that is practically glowing as he smiles down at you. Utterly boyish, utterly charming. 

Steven, you realise. Steven’s back…

“You alright there, love? Was Marc too rough?” His thick brows knit together in worry. An expression of guilt bleeding into his handsome face. 

In your exhaustion, you find yourself still breathless as you try to answer him, “Yeah. No, I’m alright,” you pause, and lower your voice, feeling suddenly, inexplicably shy. “I… I liked it."

At your response, that worried expression breaks out into a beaming grin that makes your heart leap and skip several beats with unadulterated fondness. 

“Good. That’s good, yeah.” 

Steven is a fucking sight onto himself. Your eyes trail downwards, from his chest, that’s glistening with sweat down to his torso and— bloody fucking hell. Your eyes widen at the sight. You don’t even know how, but Steven’s already hard again or maybe he just never went down for the count at all. His other hand is fisting his cock, a slick mess of white lines of cum that’s dripping down the aching length of him as it twitches and jumps with undeterred eagerness. 

“Then, um…. Sorry to ask, but do you think…” It’s Steven’s turn to look down bashfully, then back up at you. His cheeks are flushed with a deep pink; hair, a tousled mess with a pleading expression in his eyes, that you cannot possibly turn down.

“Do you think we could go again? …please?”

Dear fucking God, these men. Steven may be all sweet and polite about it, but deep down he’s just as greedy and demanding as Marc. Maybe worse. 

You’re not sure how you’re going to survive these two, but you’re going to enjoy the ride. 

Dedication and Credits:

@thirstworldproblemss to my most beloved and brilliant co-writer, who stays up with me all night and all day to prawn like no one has prawn ever before. I never have more fun than when I am in a google doc with you, screaming about the beauty of this man and writing out the exact same suggestions to each other at the same time.

@frannyzooey for succeeding to make me cry on a Tuesday afternoon in the office with her kind words and support. You're someone that I'm endlessly proud to call a friend, for your humour, your kindness and your warmth. You are just one of the best humans and I hope you wake up everyday and know that and if you don't, I will remind you everyday.

#oscar isaac #steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #marc spector x reader #marc spector x you #moon knight x reader #moon knight x you #moon knight #moon knight tv #moon knight fanfic #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight fic #steven grant #marc spector #marc spector imagine #steven grant imagine #marvel #cici writes #moon knight imagine #cici moon knight

[pimosworld]

Stranger in my house

Pairing-Moon boys x F!reader ( Secretly Jake x f!reader) Marc Spector x f!reader/ Steven grant x f!reader

CW-18+,MDNI,Angst,Fluff,Insecurities, inaccurate depiction of DID, reader is semi aware of Jake. Protective Marc, Steven being sweet as always. Established relationship with Marc and Steven.

WK-1.6k

Summary-Snippets of a life where Jake struggles to stay in the shadows.

A/N- Dedicated to my moonknight babes. I have not forsaken you.

[Main Masterlist]

Not beta read

You notice him one day.

  A year into your relationship and Marc is fed up with Steven and yours overflowing books on the floor of the flat. “We need another bookshelf.” He grumbles at your suggestion because he would just get rid of some if he had the choice. 

  That’s how you find yourself curled up on the couch with some tea and ironically a book while you watch Marc put together the new shelf you and Steven picked out. 

  It was ornate with cherry wood accents and came with a miniature ladder to help you reach the top shelf. You didn’t think it would be too complicated but it seems as Marc stares at the pages like they are ancient hieroglyphics, you may have caused a bit more of a headache than you intended. 

  He mutters something incoherent under his breath ‘déjeme ver’. You don’t bother to ask if he needs help when the scowl on his face deepens even further into an almost unrecognizable version of your boyfriend. 

  You glance up occasionally to watch the way his back strains against the tight black t-shirt, or the way his ass looks in his jeans when he bends over. Marc and Stevens movements are so unalike and yet even now the way he stands up and straightens as he rolls his neck is so unlike Marc. 

  You stop ogling to resume your book and find yourself several chapters in when you look up to see it finished. “Oh honey, it looks so good.” 

  The look he gives you when he turns around is more of a smirk of amusement. You glance down briefly to mark your page before standing from the couch to inspect his handy work. You don’t notice the way he’s watching you as you slide your hands along the smooth wood shelves. You grab a few of your favorite books that were piled on the floor and strategically place them in some specific secret order that no one but you is privy to. 

  You turn to him and wrap your arms around his neck, waiting for him to scoop you up as he usually does. His hands hover hesitantly at your waist and then he pulls you flush against him. You almost have no room to breathe as you chuckle lightly into his neck. You swear he smells your hair before he abruptly lets you go. 

  “Hi love, do you like the bookcase?” Your sweet Steven has a slightly wild look in his eyes as waits for your response. 

  “Of course I do, we picked it out together silly.” You lean in and kiss him on the cheek and he relaxes at your touch. “If you’re listening Marc, I love it, since you disappeared on me.” 

  “Right ya…Marc. He says you're welcome.” 

  ****

  You notice one day

  You had spent all afternoon preparing a special dinner and dessert for Marc. The flat is adorned with candles and smells of fresh pasta and apple pie. 

  When Marc walks through the door you can see it written all over his face. He doesn’t say anything about you making his favorites because technically it’s not his birthday. It’s the day after. 

  You enjoy each other's company in comfortable silence as you wait for him to finish. He raises an eyebrow at you as you hand him a small box, unwrapped because then it’s not a birthday gift. 

  He opens it slowly to reveal his watch that broke months ago, the small hand ticking away right in front of his eyes. 

  You should thank her mate

  She didn’t need to do all this for my birthday 

  Well it’s technically not anymore is it? 

  He doesn’t say anything but you decide to press on with your plan. Even if it’s not exactly the reaction you were expecting at the very least he’s not protesting it. 

  “I have one more thing.” You stand from the table and head to the kitchen to retrieve the apple pie on warm in the oven. To you it’s just a dessert, a non cake related dessert that just so happened to be his favorite. Steven helped you with the vegan crust because he was not about to let Marc have all the fun. 

  You return to the table with a slice and a fork to share. He stares at it for a moment and your heart sinks a little. 

  “I know what you’re going to say…”

  He cuts you off before you can finish, he stands so suddenly it startles you. He kisses you slowly at first, savoring the way you moan into his mouth. His hand is on the back of your head and the other around your waist and it feels so different. It’s like you’re sending him off to war and this is the last kiss you’ll ever share. Your lungs burn from lack of air but you don’t want to be the first one to break. 

  He pulls away as you look up at him. His eyes are squeezed so tightly shut as he tries to catch his breath. 

  “Honey,look at me.” 

  His brow softens as he opens his eyes revealing that deep chocolate brown, with a look that could only adorn your sweet Stevens face. 

  “Thank you, love.” 

  ****

  It goes like this for a while. You noticing him…him noticing you. 

  You notice as You quirk your eyebrow at him in the kitchen when he picks out the tomato on his sandwich and drops it in the trash like it personally wronged him.  

  “I thought you liked those?” 

  He notices After a long day at work in shoes you know we’re too uncomfortable he picks up your feet and places them in his lap. He rubs them at first bordering on painful that settles into something soothing. His fingers brush the bottom of your feet and you flinch at the ticklish feeling. He tsks at you under his breath and you still your movements when you meet his unfamiliar eyes. 

  You notice When he doesn’t hear you enter the flat. He’s at the kitchen sink washing dishes, shirtless in those gray sweatpants you love. He’s humming some tune you’ve never heard as you place your things down and toe off your shoes. You didn’t mean to startle him as your cold hands met his side and he turned quickly knocking a glass off the counter. 

  “Mierda quédate ahí!” You don’t speak Spanish but you’re too stunned to move anyway. He grabs you with one arm around your waist and carries you like a duffel bag over to the couch away from the glass. 

  “Sorry love, clumsy me. I’ll get this cleaned up.” Steven doesn’t look at you as he grabs the broom from the closet. 

  ****

He notices when he slinks in through the window in the early hours. It’s still dark outside as he strips himself of his moon knight clothes, the blood only distinguishable on his hands. As he slips past you to the shower he can see your shallow breaths while you lay out flat on the bed. 

  After a while you feel the bed dip beside you as you try to calm your breathing. He wraps his arm around you as he pulls your back flush to his chest. His breath is hot on your neck and you can feel his heart beating rapidly against you. 

  “You’re a terrible faker mi amor.” Your breath hitches in your throat as he speaks the words into your ear. 

  “You have to slow down your breathing if you want to pretend to be asleep.” His voice a low growl as he places his hand on your chest. You can feel him take slow deliberate breaths as you try to match the rise and fall of his chest. ‘así’

  “This isn’t how you lay when you're asleep.” His hand leaves your body momentarily and you miss the heat of his touch. He grabs your thigh behind the knee and pushes it gently until it’s bent. His hand slowly guides you to your stomach while his other arm supports the weight of your head.‘es mejor’

  He envelopes you under the blankets and it takes all your willpower not to roll him over and straddle him. You don’t even know him. He buries his face in your neck and sniffs again inhaling your scent. You’re practically skin to skin in your satin slip dress and his bare chest and boxers. 

  “Is this okay?” His voice barely above a whisper as you nod your head. His lips ghost over your back before he kisses your shoulder. It’s those soft sleepy kisses adorning your body until the real sleep claims you both. 

  ****

  You awake to the feel of cold sheets beside you as you feel around for him. A sliver of light hits the room from the bathroom door slightly ajar. 

  “I swear to god Jake, if you fuck this up.”

Jake -he has a name

  It’s mostly Marc speaking idle threats as you listen in to a one sided conversation. Whatever his reservations may be, it's none of your business. You do know that he would never do anything intentionally to fuck this up. 

  Your boyfriend exits the bathroom still dressed only in his black boxers. “Love…we need to talk to you about something.” 

  He sits on the edge of the bed as he rubs circles on your legs under the sheets. 

  “I know.” 

  They knew…it’s why they can’t be mad when you finally talk about the stranger. You fell in love with him a long time ago. The one they tried to keep a secret. He no longer wanted to be kept in the dark. He loves you too much. This stranger in your house. 

@chichimisaki @simpforbritgents @casa-boiardi @missdictatorme @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @melodygatesauthor @missbeverlyhills

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated

Dejeme ver-Let me see

Mierda quedate ahi-Shit stay there

Asi- just like that

Es mejor- that’s better

#moon knight fanfiction #moon knight system #moon boys x reader #marc spector x fem!reader #steven grant x fem!reader #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley fluff #jake lockley fanfiction #moon knight fic #marc spector angst #jake lockely x reader #moon knight x reader #jake lockley imagine #jake lockley x you #steven grant fluff

[melodygatesauthor]

Hot Water

Marc Spector X f!Reader

Not Beta Read - Requested by @blueflowerhat

Thank you for being patient and waiting since APRIL 27th for me to get this done haha. You're the real MVP.

Summary

You and your boyfriend Marc have some steamy shower sex.

Tags/Warnings:

NSFW, smut, shower sex, p in v creampie, pwp, rough sex, Marc gets pretty rough so like...just know that.

Word Count: 754

“It’s my turn to wash you now honey,” Marc said, eyes hooded and full of a lust as he looked down at you, water trickling over his broad shoulders from the showerhead.

You bit your lip, feeling his hands, gentle but calloused, trailing over your soft skin, slick with lavender scented soap. You watched with him nothing but adoration in your eyes as he took his time, as though he were savoring the feeling of your body as his hands explored every inch. He worked his way over your collarbone, down your shoulders, until eventually he landed on your breasts. He cupped them in each palm, brushing a thumb over your nipples softly, inciting a soft, breathy moan to slip past your lips.

“M-Marc,” you whined leaning into him, lips grazing the tanned, wet skin on his neck.

“Shh baby,” he pushed you back a little while he ran his hands over you, rinsing the soap from your body, “just relax for me.”

You exhaled heavily, letting yourself go pliant under his gentle caress. A deep sigh of arousal escaped his lips just before he slotted them over yours. Marc grazed his tongue against the seam of your mouth softly, begging you to let him in. The moment you did, he grabbed the back of your head, making you stiffen in response.

“Don’t tense up on me honey,” his free hand trailed down over your stomach, his middle finger stopped just at the tip of where your body split in two.

You shuddered at his touch, “o-okay,” you tried to relax, but the way his finger slid further between your folds made it impossible.

You moaned deeply, arching your back as the pad of his finger touched your clit. Your body shook, arousal built up so high you felt like you could come with the smallest bit of friction. Marc could feel it, the way your cunt contracted over nothing, hungry for anything he could provide. He was impossibly hard, thick cock prodding your abdomen.

“God…fuckin’ need you,” he said in a low growl, pushing you against the shower wall roughly and lifting you just high enough to plunge his fat cock into your soaking wet heat.

You shrieked out a gasp, going from empty to full in one fell swoop. Marc leaned into the nape of your neck and huffed loudly in your ear at the same pace as his thrusts. You grabbed onto his shoulders for stability, though his grip was so tight you could’ve gone limp and he still would’ve been able to hold you up.

“You’re always so tight for me baby, a perfect fit every-fucking-time-fuck!”

The sounds escaping you were a combined moaning scream, and he wasn’t showing any signs of slowing down. Marc leaned forward more, taking one of his hands off your body and pressing it against the cool tile behind you. He shifted, hitting you deeper, something you were certain couldn’t possible until you felt it. You cried out even louder while he slammed against that spot deep inside you that made your body electrify.

“Marc too much!”

“Shh, you’re fine…” He said, continuing to snap his hips against you at an unforgiving pace, “you’re fine.”

“Too fast Marc!”

He held onto you tightly, lowering you both down into the tub and putting your body underneath his. He used one hand to cover your mouth, and the other to grab your hip, going back to jackhammering himself into your cunt over and over again. You felt your eyes rolling back in your head, and your vision starting to fade as the heat pooled in your core. Instinctively you were wriggling, trying to get away from the relentless pounding, but internally your mind was white, so close to exploding. You weren’t going to last much longer, not at this rate.

“Mmph honey you feel so good, you feel so fucking good around my cock. Your little hole is so soft, so warm I…oh god…f-fuck!”

As Marc’s cock twitched, spilling hot cum into your needy cunt, your walls contracted around him, squeezing out every last drop you could. He kept fucking you through your climax, keeping your mouth covered and muffling your screams that a neighbor might mistake for someone crying bloody murder.

Marc’s entire body shook as he pulled back, cock acting like a plug as it popped out of you and leaked his spend out onto the tub floor. He chuckled and kissed your cheek, moving to whisper in your ear.

“Let’s get you cleaned up…again.”

Moon Knight Masterlist

Main Masterlist

#marc spector #marc spector fiction #marc spector headcanon #marc spector x reader #marc spector x you #marc spector smut #moon knight #moon knight drabble #marc spector drabble #moon knight smut #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight fic #marc spector fanfiction

[talkdilftome]

needy

steven grant x fem! reader

summary: steven grant was nothing if not needy in bed.

warnings: smut, slightly dom!steven, oral sex

steven grant was nothing if not needy in bed. his glazed over eyes, glossy lips and scrunched eyebrows said it all. he needed you. you could see it now, the hunger inside him. his eyes stayed locked with yours as he slowly sunk to his knees, the floorboards creaking underneath him. you were only in your panties now, wet at the crazed look on steven’s face. your body hummed with anticipation. you knew what he was going to do to you. you knew that he was going to take you and taste you until you were screaming.

steven’s fingers ghosted up and down your legs, raising goosebumps and making you clench, the lace of your panties becoming soaked. steven’s hands gripped your ass, pressing his mouth to your thighs, kissing and licking and sucking on your supple skin. 

“you’re so beautiful, darling. i want you so badly.” your whole body blushed and warmed at his sheer honesty. 

“then have me.” your voice was shaky but sure. 

it was all steven needed to hear as he gripped your thighs, turning you and bending you over the bed. you gasped. he was still on his knees you realized. he wasn’t going to fuck you - not yet. he spread your cheeks, hands cupping them and nails digging crescent shapes into the plump flesh. he nipped your right cheek, leaving a love mark there. his heart swelled while looking at it, knowing that he was marking you as his. 

he kissed his way to your center, tongue laving over your already wet panties. he could taste you through them, and his need for you strengthened. he wanted - no, he needed you on his cock soon. he wasted no time getting rid of your panties, sliding them down around your ass. he watched in awe as your pussy was exposed to him, mouth salivating. your pussy clenched and unclenched, needing to feel him inside of you. 

you subtly pushed your hips back, pushing your aching cunt in his face, and whimpering. steven took this as a hint to run his fingers along your slit.

“so wet, love. this all for me? such a pretty pussy.” you moaned at his dirty words, your core hot and tingling. steven’s fingers ran downwards, circling around your clit before traveling up again and teasing your entrance. 

“please steven.” you were desperate for him, almost as desperate as he was for you. although you were soaked and begging for him, his cock was achingly hard at the thought of you. he couldn’t hold himself back any longer, leaning forward and pressing his face into your dripping cunt. you couldn’t control your moans, burying your face in the duvet as steven lapped at your juices. 

his tongue fucked in and out of you, ravaging you. he stretched your hole with his tongue while his fingers ran tight circles around your clit. his own moans matched yours, vibrating along your cunt. you could feel his desperation through his tight grip on your hips. you could feel him rutting up against the bed, the sight of your pussy becoming too much for him to bear. 

steven swapped his fingers for his tongue, plunging his thick digits into your tight hole, sliding in easily. his lips sealed around your clit, sucking and licking frantically. you gasped at his newfound speed, moaning louder, and body shaking. your knees wobbled as steven feasted on you. you could feel your climax rising, pussy clenching around his fingers. 

“oh my god, don’t stop! please, please don’t stop steven!” you moaned, guttural pleasure racking through you. steven’s efforts doubled, sucking harder and fucking you faster. his other hand reached down to jerk himself off, imagining that you were wrapped around his cock instead of his fingers. 

your orgasm washed over you, your body on fire, you called out his name. steven’s fingers fucked you through it, slowing as you came down from the high. steven pulled his fingers out of you, coated with slick cum. you whimpered at the loss of them before turning your head to look at your lover. you watched as he popped his fingers into his mouth, sucking on them, tasting you a final time. 

steven looked at you through his lashes. he wasn’t done with you yet. you could still see the need in his eyes, the hazy lust that flickered in his pupils. he stood, pulling his boxers down, his cock bouncing up and smacking against his stomach. 

“you ready for more, love?” your only answer was a moan as he took you from the back. 

#just something quick i whipped up 💁‍♀️ #marvel #mcu #moon knight #moonknight #moon knight fic #moon knight smut #marc spector #jake lockley #steven grant #marc spector x reader #jake lockley x reader #steven grant x reader #marc spector smut #marc spector fic #jake lockley smut #jake lockley fic #steven grant fic #steven grant smut #marvel fic #marvel smut #oscar isaac #oscar isaac x reader #oscar isaac fic #oscar isaac hernandez estrada #layla el faouly #kinktober

[ivystoryweaver]

With You part 3

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Summary: Jake Lockley has finally met you. What does he think of you, and will he, or Marc, give you any answers?

Pairings: Marc Spector x reader, Jake Lockley x reader (implied Steven Grant x reader). Gender neutral reader. No use of Y/N. Reader is engaged to Marc and Steven.

Word Count: 3k

Warnings/notables: Angst, comfort, references to drinking and alcoholism but it doesn’t happen here, sex but the language is not explicit and no gender-specific body parts mentioned, nightmare, brief crying, cursing, assumptions, longing, feeling inadequate, Khonshu is mean here yall, somebody hug marc spector. Let me know if I missed a warning. Probably inaccurate DID, based on the show.

Dividers by saradika

PREVIOUSLY, on “With You”...

Jake could live without Marc and Steven knowing about him. He’d lived that way all this time, but you were something else. He hadn’t wanted to meet you like this. He had screwed up, and now you were only worried about Marc. He was worried too, honestly.

Now you would never want to know him.

“I’ll sleep on the couch,” Jake decided, by which he was effectively deciding to do nothing. He may be able to eliminate the vilest creatures under night’s shadow, but trying to explain to you that he was the reason your fiancé obliterated his sobriety...

Jake didn’t fear anything. In fact, as the streets of London descended from depraved men to monstrous supernatural threats, he relished his role as Khonshu’s vengeful fist. Someone had to do it, and Jake was suited to the task.

A creature of the night, he savored the quiet, cool leather interior of his car as much as the dingy London air whipping through his white cape. And the more challenging his vicious foes, the more Jake reveled in it. He protected people. That was his sole purpose.

Including Marc and Steven.

So the fact that he somehow missed Marc tossing back a bottle of whiskey and upsetting you in the process, well - if he couldn’t protect you and his alters, then he had no reason to exist. 

So, time for bed. He would fade into darkness and you would get back who you really wanted.

Reaching to scoop up each item of clothing he had discarded, with none of this explained aloud to you, he turned to flee.

“Wait,” you pleaded, blocking his pathway out of the bedroom, your hands reaching out to push back gently against the pile in his arms. His gaze fell on yours - open, yet unreadable. Not menacing, but not to be bothered. His eyes didn’t flicker away like Marc’s. He stared you down, waiting.

 “Just wait a second, Jake,” you found yourself whispering, a bit transfixed. “Where do you usually sleep?”

Lips parting in anticipation, your heart did some clichéd somersaulting as he tore his eyes from yours and nodded to your bed.

“You sleep with me?” You clarified, dumbfounded.

Dark eyes flickered momentarily down to your mouth. His tongue swiped over the fullness of his bottom lip before dragging it between his teeth.

“I sleep with you.” 

The rich timbre of his voice electrified you.

“Only so you can wake up with them.”

Air rushed out of you in a mildly dramatic exhale. What was this man doing to you? 

“Please,” you whispered, unsure of what you were even asking him. Mostly, you didn’t want to be without them. You had waited all night, terrified. “Don’t go. I was so worried.”

Eyes narrowing suspiciously, Jake nodded once. He knew what you needed, and it wasn’t him.

Ten minutes later, after what was, for you, an unbearable silence, Jake climbed into bed with you. Having washed up and making his well-fitting ensemble disappear somehow (where did he keep his clothes?), he decided on Steven’s soft pajamas. The sleeves sagged adorably, covering his hands, but Jake’s fingers didn’t fidget like his alter’s. 

How many times had he done this? Pretended to be them? And were you okay with it? Was it even really your business? It was his body too. 

The lights remained off from before, allowing you the cover of darkness to ease under the blankets, as if acting in a play. 

If Marc were with you, he would pull your back against his chest, folding you close until either your body relaxed, or until his lips breathed salacious words on your ear while his hand slipped between your legs. Either that, or he would bury his face in your tummy, the way he had done that morning. That, too, often ended up with him between your legs. 

For Steven, it was the crook of your neck, latched on to you like a koala. After years of sleeping poorly, or trying his damndest to stay awake and not “sleepwalk”, nothing soothed him more than your soft skin and reassuring arms. He marvelously discovered that, with you, he had no trouble falling asleep at all. For Steven, the mornings were when he needed you most. The two of you would race to the bathroom, playfully fighting over who would freshen up first before tumbling back into bed, where he would be sure to end up between your legs. 

But here, now, Jake was a statue. 

You were Marc and Steven’s whole world. Jake knew he had fucked up enough for one week. There was no way he was moving one millimeter in this bed. Hopefully, the warm surge in this heart would settle to the soothing sound of your breathing. That was his balm - you were his anchor. After the cracking of bones and the wailing of night’s creatures deafening his ears - the gentle rise and fall of your chest in the night was his lullaby.

But he didn’t dare touch you. You weren’t his. 

Sometimes you attached yourself to him the night, or maybe he only dreamed that you did. He was never him when sleep ended.

Feeling the tension rolling off you, the urge to somehow alleviate your worries taunted him. But he was certain he didn’t even possess the ability to soothe, only to punish.

So he said nothing. He did nothing. He waited for sleep.

“Jake...” As you turned to him, your sweet voice crawled up his neck, intoxicating him utterly. “Would it be okay if I held your hand?”

The memory of your smooth skin was seared into his memory from the featherlight kiss he’d given your knuckles. He didn’t even hesitate to grasp for you in the dark, tangling his fingers with yours.

Pressing your face to the soft fabric covering his shoulder, you, undeniably realistic you, accepted this real moment. You wanted answers. You wanted a lot of things. He gave you his hand. You took what was here, now.

“I’m glad to know you, Jake,” you whispered, your heavy eyes sliding closed, despite everything. Squeezing his fingers, and swiping your thumb softly along his, you added, “I hope you’ll come back to me soon.”

You woke up to a mess of chocolate curls buried in your stomach.

Marc. 

Your sweet, tormented angel. 

There was a slight chance it wasn’t Marc, but the familiar whimpers of a nightmare gave him away even more than tummy cuddles. 

“Shhh,” you soothed, raking your fingernails through his messy waves. “I’ve got you.”

He squeezed you, murmuring, “No,” brokenly before whimpering again. His nightmares weren’t flailing arms and shouts like in films. They were this: soft, pleading mumbles and anguished pleas.

With a sudden change in his breath, he was awake, eyes darting wildly as he climbed his way up your body, hands checking you frantically.

“Right here, baby,” you murmured, eyes soft and full of love. He looked so broken, you wanted to cry, while desire simultaneously ripped up your spine. Whatever this man of yours needed, you were going to give him, likely, to your great pleasure and benefit. Win-win. 

“You’re here,” he repeated, gathering you in his strong arms as the weight of his body crushed you in the most delicious way. “I dreamed you were gone. You left, or...or someone took you away from me.”

“Never,” you uttered with conviction, pressing your lips to the corner of his jaw, opening your mouth to breathe hotly before kissing a trail to his ear. “I’ll never let that happen. I’ll burn down the whole world first.”

A choked sob erupted from his chest as he whispered your name. Fusing his lips with yours, his fingers gripped your jaw desperately as if he feared you would quite literally slip through them.

Responding to the press of his body like a partner in a well-rehearsed dance, your legs fell open, ready to feel the heat of him consuming you. His mouth hadn’t left yours, but his thick fingers dragged (his) t-shirt up your torso and over your head.

Only then, when your lips parted, did his dark, desperate gaze lock onto yours. “Need you,” he groaned, his voice tinged with the slight beg you associated with Steven.

Surging forward, you met his furious kiss with equal hunger, pushing under his soft pajamas, pulling, dragging until your naked limbs were tangled, pressing and pulling in desperate passion. 

“You’re mine,” he growled, deep inside you, claiming you, as if you had any doubt or desire to be apart from him. “He can’t h-have you. I won’t let him.”

You were oddly turned on by the idea that maybe he sounded jealous of Jake, who had merely held your hand in the dark.

He didn’t mean Jake.

In fact, he wasn’t even aware you’d held an audience with his mysterious alter.

No, he meant the twisted, deceitful, formidable Egyptian god of the moon, to whom he remained enslaved. The one who took you away in his dream.

The things Marc was doing to your body - you could barely think straight. Your back arched in pleasure, your fingers clawing at the sculpted muscles of his back, desperate to somehow bring him even closer to you. 

“I’m yours,” you gasped, realizing with the deep moan that followed, that you didn’t really have control over your voice at this point.

“Mine,” he repeated, as you drowned in him, and he in you. 

After a long, hot shower together, filled with salacious kisses and some very naughty handiwork, the two of you finally made it to the kitchen. Just like in bed, you danced around one another with practiced ease, as if perfectly executing the blocking of a play. Your hand reached for the coffee grounds, while he readied the filter. He found the bread while you produced his favorite jam.

Shoulders rubbed and soft smiles were exchanged, eyes longingly dancing, locking and flittering away to the tasks at hand. 

“Thank you,” he finally said, leaning in to press a kiss to your temple, “for this morning.”

You almost teased him for thanking you for what you two did quite regularly in bed, but you knew what he meant. Whatever anchor he’d needed this morning, you were it. 

Still, you were a cheeky one, as Steven frequently reminded you... “I should be thanking you, baby,” you innocently purred. “That thing you did...when you turned me over, holy shit--”

“Okay, okay,” he laughed out, motioning for you to get back to breakfast, as if he would ever actually order you about. “You and your dirty mind, I swear to god.” 

You laughed out delightedly. “That’s rich, Mr. Spector.”

One of his dark eyebrows shot up. “Call me ‘Mr. Spector’ again and I’ll take you right back in there,” he playfully warned. 

Tempting. 

The toast popped up to interrupt the two of you, giving Marc’s thoughts just enough time to drift back to much more serious matters. He wanted to be with you all day today. He knew Steven had class at uni and you had work - he didn’t care. He needed you to know things.

“Hey, um...” he started, before you could make another quip about Mr. Spector or the bedroom, “I...I meant to tell you...” reaching up to rub the back of his neck, he swallowed nervously. “I--there’s another bottle. In the flat.” 

Bracing his hands on the countertop, his head dropped. It was hard to look at you when he thought he might disappoint you. “I wasn’t trying to hide it, I just...that night, I...”

Reaching over, you laid your hand over his, there on the counter’s edge. “Thank you for letting me know. Do you want to tell me where it is?”

His eyes darted over to yours and he swallowed hard. “The low shelf, down by the edge of that old table I haven’t fixed yet.”

Ah yes, the ‘don’t throw it out, I can fix it’ project that was cluttering your living room. Steven collected books; Marc collected abandoned, broken things...

“Hm,” you hummed thoughtfully, “Steven’s reading chair is right there. He’s going to figure this out, you know.”

“I know,” Marc quickly responded. “I think I wanted him to. Or you. I don’t know...” He didn’t wait for any sympathy. There was too much to tell you before he completely train wrecked his entire life.

“Something happened,” he pressed on, determined. Then he told you. Head bowed, hands gripping the counter, he explained.

You remained completely still at first, but you noticed that the more you acted normal, the easier it was for him to talk. So you finished the coffee, slathered the toast with jam, and walked everything to the tiny table at the kitchen’s edge, where the two of you loved to share your favorite meal almost every single day.

He had fronted a few days ago. It was dark, cold. He was outside, in an unlit, ominously quiet alley. He didn’t know where he was. Steven wasn’t there with him. He reached for his phone and shook with horror at the white bandage-looking material wrapped around his hands. Realizing his face was covered with a mask, he started to panic when the fabric quickly receded, leaving him gasping.

His body was covered in Moon Knight’s mummified wrap. 

“No, no, no, no,” he cried, forgetting, for a moment, that he could simply will the suit away, and clawing at the material instead. 

Then he heard it. Him.

“Marc Spector,” the booming voice of Khonshu splintered through his mind, wracking his body with terror. 

“No, NO,” Marc shouted, climbing to his feet and pressing his palms into his forehead. “You’re gone. I don’t belong to you anymore!” 

He ran, clinging to control of the body, determined not to allow Khonshu anywhere near Steven. Or you. 

The old god’s skeletal form appeared on various rooftops, following and taunting Marc, his voice eerie and all consuming, as if the bird were nearly shouting into his ear. 

“Run away if you can. This body doesn’t belong to you,” the voice taunted. 

“Leave me alone!” Marc shouted, but it came out as more of a whimper, like trying to scream for help in a dream. “We had a deal!” He halted, banging his fists against his head as if it would make the ancient being simply evaporate. 

But the spiteful deity scoffed, turning his bony back as if done with the conversation. Turning his menacing beak back toward the puny one in control of his avatar, he replied, “Lockley is mine, and so are you.”

Then he vanished. 

Just the relief of the god disappearing urged Marc’s legs forward, stumbling through angry tears until he reached your home. You were at work. He paced the flat, tugging his hands through his hair, desperate to keep Steven in the dark. 

“It can’t be,” he gasped, over and over again, trying to convince himself. “We’re free. We made a deal. We’re free.” This overwhelm would normally bring Steven to the front, but Marc held on, pacing himself to exhaustion. He was asleep on the couch by the time you came home. 

You woke up to Steven. And while you worked your next shift, he bought the whiskey. 

He waited another day to drink it.

“I thought maybe...I wondered if I had completely lost my mind,” he uttered, finishing his story, now seated at the kitchen table.

Easing off your chair, you knelt in front of your fiancé, setting your palms gently on his thighs.

“Don’t say that.”

“No, I mean really,” he went on, his hands covering your own, grasping at your fingers. “I thought...what if all this time, Khonshu was in my head? Like...part of me.”

“Like another alter?” you questioned, peering up at him.

“Maybe. I started wondering about all of this Moon Knight bullshit--if it even really happened. And, now there’s this Lockley...” Trailing off he sighed, defeated. 

Okay, progress was happening. Might as well get it all out in the open. 

“I met him, you know,” you carefully admitted, smoothing your thumb over his as you waited for his reaction. “Lockley.”

“Shit,” he rasped, gripping your hands desperately. “He was here, with you? What did he say?”

“Not much,” you admitted. “His name is Jake. Jake Lockley. He was here last night.”

“Here in the flat?”

“Yes. Late last night. He came in through the bedroom window like Spider-Man or something. We talked for a minute, he told me his name and then we went to bed. I didn’t really find out that much about him.”

Releasing your fingers, Marc sat up straight in his kitchen chair, his eyes darkening possessively. “He went to bed with you?”

Hm. You could have worded that better. “Marc, I--”

“Did he touch you?” His jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck straining as his dark eyes burned turbulently. 

“It wasn’t like that,” you protested, quickly climbing up off the ground to stand in front of him. Caressing his face tenderly, you shook your head. “I wanted to talk to him - to see what the hell is going on. He seemed worried about you drinking.”

“You talked to him about that?” Marc pushed off his chair then, pacing across the kitchen and back. “I haven’t even talked to him yet.” 

Fair enough. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, it just came out,” you confessed, giving him a little space, while pushing down your urge to grab him. “Jake was about to leave, and I wanted some answers. I wanted you all here with me. He came home so late, Marc, and your phone was dead. I was so fucking scared...”

Your breath hitched as tears clouded your eyes. “You’ve been so upset, and the drinking... Steven doesn’t have any idea what’s going on and then this Jake uses the damn window in the middle of the night and I thought he was going to leave, and go back out in the night, with no phone. I wanted you here, Marc, so...so I asked him to stay. I asked him if he knew what was going on, or why you had been drinking--”

“Okay, baby, okay,” he conceded, reaching for your shoulders to bring you close. “I’m sorry. It’s not your fault.”

The two of you held one another in the middle of your drafty little kitchen, the shared answers between you only raising more questions. 

“I think you should talk to Steven,” you suggested gently, “if you feel ready.”

Resting his forehead against yours, he rubbed your back soothingly. “Yeah. And maybe...maybe Jake too.”

tags requested @rivalriotrenegade @wordacadabra

#with you fic #moon knight fic #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight fanfic #marc spector x reader #jake lockley x reader #marc spector x you #jake lockley x you #marc spector x gn!reader #jake lockley x gn!reader #steven grant x reader #marc spector #jake lockley #steven grant #moon knight #mcu #oscar isaac fic #read the warnings

[starstruckunknown-princess]

Peony - Steven Grant x Reader

Peony (Paeonia) - Shame, bashfulness

Summary: A slight comedy of errors forces reader and Steven to admit and act on some spicy feelings.

Pairing: Steven Grant x F!Reader

Word Count: 1790

Warnings: Reader is AFAB/Female presenting/has breasts, Steven being adorably embarrassed and awkward, use of "tits", male masturbation (non-explicitly described), excessive euphemisms for masturbation, discussions of masturbation, lots of kissing, making out

Day 10 coming in with some more spice! I love the Moon Boys and thought I'd give Steven a chance to ramble his way into our hearts.

In Bloom Masterlist

Likes, Comments, Reblogs are always appreciated! ❤️

You were scrambling to clean your flat as you waited for Steven — he was coming over to watch ‘The Mummy’ which, surprisingly, he had never seen. After your shift, you’d come home with the full intention of cleaning but had fallen asleep on your couch instead, only having woken up five minutes ago when he called to ask what you liked on your pizza. Your heart fluttered at his thoughtfulness as you gathered all the dirty clothes on your bedroom floor and chucked them into the closet. You’d gotten rid of the lingering trash on your coffee table, taken care of the dishes in the sink, and spot-cleaned your bathroom. 

Nothing like the panic-induced cleaning of a woman whose work-friend-turned-crush is on his way over. 

Looking down at your outfit, you realized you were still in your work attire — pencil skirt and fancy-ish blouse, both now wrinkled from your nap. You stripped off your blouse and bra and were halfway off with your skirt when you heard something ‘slap’ against the floor behind you. 

Without thinking, you spun around and saw Steven in the doorway, mouth agape and a pizza box at his feet. It happened so fast — you seeing him, his eyes glancing at your bare tits, back to your face, and his hasty retreat with a steady stream of ‘I’m sorrys” falling out of his mouth. 

“Wait, Steven!” you shouted after him, grabbing your discarded blouse and trying to chase after him, but he was already gone. You sighed heavily against the door to your flat, tapping your forehead against it.

Part of you was horrified — Steven had just seen you half-naked and not in the sexy way — while the other part of you was excited. Steven had seen you half-naked! Perhaps now he would make a move or, barring that, let you know he liked you as much as you liked him.

But that’s not what happened. The next day you saw him at work, you waved but he grabbed the phone, fumbling it and pretending to be in the middle of a call. 

When you were on your break, you headed toward the gift shop but just as you got there, you caught sight of Steven dashing around the corner with a box full of stuffed Basts. 

By the time your shift was over, you’d had enough. You strode up to the gift shop counter, trapping him behind it. He had the temerity to look scared of you, so you softened your approach and spoke quietly so none of the people milling about would hear you.

“Look, Steven, you saw my tits, big whoop,” you said, “I’m not mad at you or anything, there’s no need to avoid me. We’re still friends, yeah?” 

He ran a hand through his thick curls and sighed. “‘M sorry, course we’re still friends. I just…I wasn’t expecting…those when I walked in.” He gestured to your chest and you laughed.

You playfully punched him in the shoulder, “Well, I hope you learned a lesson about knocking next time. And, hey, thanks for the pizza.” 

He laughed and the tension between you evaporated. It had always been like that with Steven - easy going, honest, like nothing was too complicated that you couldn’t laugh your way out of. 

“You still haven’t seen The Mummy and we need to remedy that as soon as possible,” you said semi-seriously. 

“Tell ya what,” he said, “Why don’t you come to mine tonight and we’ll watch it. You bring the pizza this time.” 

“It’s a da- plan.” You stopped yourself before you could say ‘date.’ 

_____

In your excitement for the evening’s activities, you ended up being about ten minutes early to Steven’s flat. He’d texted you his front door code and said he’d leave his door open since you’d be coming with your hands full. Half-jokingly, you knocked softly on the door before letting yourself in. 

Steven’s flat was unlike yours in that it was one big room divided by his overstuffed bookshelves and piles of even more books. The only room with a door was the bathroom, and that was little more than a curtain. You were surprised you didn’t immediately see him, but you heard a grunt coming from the bedroom area. 

You put the pizza on the kitchen table then made your way toward the noise. 

When you got closer, you saw Steven was facing away from you on the far side of his bed. He looked to be stroking something in his lap—oh. 

Oh.

You didn’t manage to silence your gasp when you realized what he was doing, and he jumped up in shock, yanking his gray sweatpants up so you didn’t see anything. 

“Shit!” 

“Oh, God, sorry!” you said, covering your eyes. In your haste to turn away, you managed to smack your elbow into the corner of one of his bookshelves. Pain shot down your forearm because of course you’d managed to hit your funny bone. You gripped it, hissing at the pain with your eyes closed and tripping over one of the book piles and ending up splayed out on the floor.

Steven cried your name and dashed over, helping you sit up and checking you for injuries. He helped you stand up, making sure you were steady before taking a step back. 

“I didn’t see anything,” you insisted, crouching down to help him pick up the books you knocked over. 

“You don’t have to-” 

“I knocked, I swear!” 

“Please, don’t worry-” 

“I’m so sorry, Steven,” you said, looking up from the small stack of books you’d balanced on your knees. His brow was furrowed, cheeks red with embarrassment. 

“No, love, I’m sorry. I knew you were on your way but I couldn’t help myself. Not like it’s an ongoing issue, like compulsive or anything, but I couldn’t help but remember yesterday and, well,” he paused, gesturing toward your chest again, “and I didn’t want to greet you at the door with a raging hard-on so I thought I’d just, y’know, take care of it real quick but then you walked in and now I’m…rambling. Here, I’ll take those.” 

He reached for the books you were holding and you handed them off. He set them on a different stack a few steps away and rubbed the back of his head, facing away from you again. 

“Wait,” you said, brain finally catching up with what he was saying, “You…you were thinking about me? While you were…shining your statue?”

Steven let out a bark of nervous laughter, “Shining my statue?”

“Yeah, you know, shining the statue, flogging the dolphin, spanking the monkey, playing with the one-eyed snake, having a me-some.” 

You both burst out laughing at that. When you calmed down, he was shaking his head in disbelief while he fiddled with the too-long sleeves of his jumper. 

“So um, I brought pizza,” you said, motioning to the kitchen table, “if you still want to watch the movie. But if you’d rather I go, I totally get it.” 

“No!” he blurted, one hand reaching out to catch you even though you hadn’t moved an inch. “Let’s watch the movie, yeah?”

The two of you moved in sync, gathering plates and the pizza before settling on his bed, his laptop between you as he queued up the movie. You ate in companionable silence until Evie was bargaining for Rick’s life in the prison when Steven hit the spacebar and paused it. 

You turned to him to find him already looking at you. The look in his eyes was sheepish, as if he didn’t want to say something but knew he had to. Your nerves kicked in — was all of this a bigger deal than you thought? Had he been stewing on it? Your instinct was to diffuse tension with humor but, as you’d been told by more than one ex, sometimes it felt like you didn’t take things seriously as you should. 

“What’s up?” you asked. 

“I, uh, I didn’t answer your question.” 

You tilted your head, confused. “What question?” 

“About thinking about you while I, uh, wank.” 

“Oh,” 

“Cuz I do. Think about you. Not that I see you as just a sexual object, I think you’re absolutely brilliant but you’re also dead sexy and after what happened at yours it’s like I, I can’t get you out of my head so I thought avoiding you would make it go away but that just made my massive crush on you way worse-” 

He wasn’t just rambling, he was rambling about how much he liked you — how he stroked himself to the thought of you and thought you were brilliant and hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you. But the most important part was that he had a crush on you, too. 

You cut him off with a kiss, having heard more than enough.

Gentle at first, allowing him plenty of room to pull away if he wanted, but he pressed his lips against yours instead. One of his hands wrapped around the back of your neck, the other sliding around your waist. 

You brushed your tongue against his lower lip and he opened for you, licking into your mouth in a way that made you clench around nothing. Fuck — you had caught him fucking his fist to the thought of you half-naked. That thought plus his hand wandering under the hem of your t-shirt had you incredibly wet, almost dripping. 

Eventually, you came up for air. Steven looked gorgeous, lips slightly swollen from kissing and his blissed-out expression. You wondered what he looked like as he came, a smile forming on your face as you realized you would find out if you kept going. 

“Whatcha smilin’ about?” he asked, running a hand over your hair and letting it rest on your cheek. You turned your head and kissed his palm as an answer, then moved to the sensitive skin of his wrist. 

“You,” you replied simply. 

“C’mere,” he said, his hand on your hips pulling you over so you were straddling his lap. He sat up and kissed you again, hungrier this time, his hands roaming freely along your back, over your breasts, along your arms. His lips left yours and he kissed along your jaw, down your neck. Heat spread from every point of contact, leaving you wanting more but not without a little teasing first. 

“Steven,” you whined, “what about the movie?” 

“Sod the fucking movie,” he growled against your neck, one hand reaching over to slam his laptop shut and coming back to rest on your ass, pulling you against him. 

“Gonna show you what I’ve wanted to do to ya since we met,” he promised, and you bit your lip to keep from beaming at him.

#writing challenge #fanfiction #moon knight #moon knight fic #moon knight fanfic #steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #steven grant #steven grant smut #mcu fanfic #marc spector #jake lockley #moon knight system