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spctrsgf · 11 months

Text

morning banter

summary: something about you and marc? he wakes up early, and you most certainly do not.

word count: 1.2k

warnings: language, my shitty spanish (i’m trying okay)

a/n: took a quick break from b+h for a lil marc spector drabble!!! hope you all enjoy

Es tan temprano para esta mierda, Marc. Jake’s annoyed Spanish drawl smacks into the side of Marc's head. The combination of his drowsy, slow mind and that Marc knew next to no spanish caused the said man’s eyebrows to crinkle. “What the fuck did you just say?” He can barely hear his own voice, but he knows Jake can.

Don’t worry about it.

“Jake.”

Marc. Only Jake would pitch up his name in a high voice: it’s a mimic.

“Hey! I don’t sound like that.”

Yeah you do.

“No, I don’t! Back me up, Steven.”

Don’t bring me into this.

C’mon, Stevie— Jake cuts off abruptly, probably the doing of Steven.

“Jake,” Marc resists the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Just tell me what you said.”

Go to sleep, puta.

“Okay, I know that one,” Marc hisses, toiling you in closer to him. “Rude.”

You deserved it.

“You wanna know what you deserve?”

Oh, yeah, Jake taunts. What’s that?

“A fucking pun–”

His voice goes legato as soon as he senses you moving, causing him to fall silent. You curl tighter into a ball, spiraling the covers more into your fists and tucking them again beneath your chin. Jake, by some miracle, also goes quiet, as if somehow his words could expel themselves out of Marc’s mouth and to your ears.

But, the soft exhales are the only noise you left out, and if you heard them, you didn’t show it. Marc’s shoulders roll back from where they were hunched, surely Steven’s gentle gesture to the position he hadn’t even realized he’d been in.

Would it kill the two of you to just be nice to each other? The Brit muses.

Absolutely. Jake’s response is automatic.

“One hundred percent true.” Marc chimes in.

HAH! Steven ejects the exclamation in triumph. Now I got the two of you agreeing.

“Sure, whatever.”

Only time we agree is when you finesse us into it, hermano.

Marc slides his arm out from where it was wrapped around your waist to give the two a thumbs up in agreement with Jake, reluctantly.

Or, he tried to.

“Noooooo…” You groan groggily, tightening your hold.

Marc freezes. “Baby?”

“Mmmmm?”

“I- I didn’t know you were aware.”

“Well,” you snuggle closer into his chest, his warm embrace. “You ‘n Steven ‘n Jake aren’t exactly quiet when you argue.”

He sighs, guilt pooling in his stomach. “Listen, ‘m sorry. You know how we can be.”

“Yeah, I do. And I love you all,” you reach back, squeezing his bicep reassuringly. “But I also love my beauty sleep.”

“You don’t need to sleep to be beautiful.” He ducks his head to place a featherlight kiss to your neck, savoring the sigh you let out in return.

“You’re sweet, but we both know that’s not true.”

“Do we?”

“Mhm,” you turn, nudging Marc’s arms off of you as you face him. “‘M a menace without it.”

“That’s true,” he chuckles when you slap his arm, letting out an effortlessly beautiful smile. “But it’s nothing a cup of nice, warm coffee can’t solve.”

You giggle softly. “That’s true.”

“C’mon, sleepyhead,” He moves to slide you both out from under the covers. “Let’s get going.”

“Nope.” You let him go, rolling to burrito yourself in the covers again.

“Nope?” He inquires, rounding the bed to stand over you.

“Nope.”

His shadow covers your shut eyelids and you know he’s bent over your face. “I’ll make you coffee to apologize for waking you up, baby, I promise.” You scrunch your nose. “Tempting, but no.”

“Not even because I’m asking you?”

“Not even if you were on your knees and begging.”

“Oh?” The sentence your half asleep brain had kindled clearly took him by surprise.

You huff, flipping over in the bed dramatically. “Go away, I’m tired.”

“What’s so great about this bed that I can’t give you, huh?”

“Well,” You take a deep breath, and some small, rational part of your brain tells you that maybe the spew of words about to come out of your mouth is what he wanted to happen all along. “The bed is warm. It’s cozy. The covers are just the right heaviness and just the right thickness to provide optimal warmth and the right amount of pressure to keep me sleeping like a bear in hibernation. ‘Nd my pillow is the right firmness, but has my desired amount of sink to put me out as soon as you turn off the light and wrap your arms around me. Even though that only happens sometimes.”

Marc huffs in frustration. “Hey!”

“Yeah, Marc, my bed is always here on time. It never goes anywhere, and the only life it’s saving is your sorry ass right now.”

“Uncalled for.” He runs a hand through his hair.

“Thought you liked a bit of banter.”

“I like a kick or two,” He leans over and pulls your shoulders to level on the bed and your eyes to meet his own. “But not at eight in the fucking morning.”

“Neither do I,” You reach up, pulling his face in for a kiss.

He gives in almost immediately, setting a knee on either side of your legs and scooping his arms underneath your body to pull you up.

“Nuh uh,” you pull away and unwrap his arms, flopping back onto the bed. “Sleepy. Time to sleep.”

“You can't leave me hanging like that!”

You yawn, pulling the covers up to your chin again. “I can and I did.”

For a second, a naive, small second, you think he’s going to leave you be. Your brain relaxes, you feel yourself on the precipice of sleep, the hypnotic, rich swirl of unconsciousness sucking you deeper into its whirlpool. But then you feel the covers lift, and Marc’s— frighteningly cold— fingers are dancing along your sides to a tune you illustrate with laughs. You slap his hands away, reaching out towards the lure of sleep that now sneaks away to taint another victim.

“You ready to get out of bed now, sweets?”

You groan, turning to face him in defeat. “You fucker.”

He throws his arms mockingly. “What’d I do?”

“You manipulated me! I hate you.”

“I did no such thing. What are these accusations?”

“You knew I would get worked up,” you sit up in the bed now, and Marc shrinks ever so slightly under the weight of your deadly stare. “You knew that would wake me up.”

“Hey, let’s calm down–”

“You knew that if you pushed the right buttons, you would get what you wanted.”

Marc’s face is ghastly, and he looks two steps away from summoning his suit and flying away.

“I warned you earlier about this, Marc, were you listening?”

He nods frantically. “Of course–”

“I’m a menace when I get woken up early.” You launch off the bed, and you might as well be Moon Knight yourself with your accuracy.

The takeaway from this event? For Marc, it’s to never try waking you up before you’ve recharged fully, or to have some coffee made ahead of when he was to attempt it. For you, though?

It’s that Marc shrieks like a little girl.

translations (HELP I FORGOT):

es tan temprano para esta mierda - it’s too early for this shit

puta - bitch

i felt very fancy using these

#moon knight #jake lockley #marc spector #steven grant #steven grant x reader #jake lockley x reader #marc spector x reader #marc spector imagine #steven grant imagine #jake lockley imagine #moon knight tv #marvel #marc spector fluff #marc spector x you #oscar issac #oscar isaac hernandez estrada #oscar issac x reader

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stormkobra-5 · 2 years

Text

Phases

Pairing: Marc Spector x Reader

Fic Type: Drabble

Beta’d by the lovely @marc-spectorr 😌

Summary: Marc knew that being Khonshu’s Avatar came with side effects. He just was never quite aware of how, exactly, the phases of the moon affected him. Not until you.

A/N: So. The gif. Pretend he’s not getting impaled. Or injured at all. Because honestly that’s the position I picture him being in when he’s pinning the reader against him. 🤡 (Also, this is kind of a Marc version of Feral Flight…)[Yes, I ignored my ask box to finish this :/]

Rating/Warnings: 18+ NSFW, Minors DNI, primal play, breeding kink, unprotected PiV, exhibitionism (Steven and Jake watch and comment), feral!Marc Spector, marathon sex, slight dub/non-con, fingering, softdom!Marc, a/b/o vibes, mating kink (??? This is a version of Feral Flight, after all), Marc is confuzzled about what’s happening to him but gives in, lots of mentions of getting the reader pregnant, sex with intention of getting reader pregnant, the phases of the moon affect the Moon Boys, foul/vulgar language, praise kink, rough (?) sex, lots of mentions of Khonshu but like??? He’s not in it???, jealous Marc (briefly), biting, marking, fluff, somehow this went from the kinkiest shit I’ve ever written to extreme yearning fluff idk

Dating the boys had surely been an experience you’d never forget. Steven, Marc, Jake, your boyfriends whom you loved deeply; and they loved you tenfold each. It was a strange feeling, being in a relationship with all three alters— but strange in a good way. You took every part of them and accepted it, loving them for who they were wholly and completely.

Although… you didn’t expect there to be a part of them that even they weren’t aware of…

Marc knew that the phases of the moon affected the powers that Khonshu gave them. The fuller it was, the more powerful they were. On the New Moon, they all slept so deeply that not even Khonshu himself could wake them. It was apparently some kind of rejuvenating period, which made sense (and also prompted a three-and-half explanation from Steven).

But on the Full Moon?

Their powers were amplified tenfold.

When wearing the suit, their super-strength, flight, speed, healing abilities, they seemed invincible and godlike. It was a feeling that went straight to their heads. For nearly a week around the day of the full moon, they became arrogant. Cocky. Marc would be the first to admit that they became fucking assholes, even Steven. Not to mention, the extra metabolism (? So Steven said. Marc wasn’t too sure.) forced them to eat. And eat. And eat. They bulked up. Whereas throughout the rest of the month they were fit and lean, during the week of the full moon their bodies were sleek, contoured muscle. They would beat the shit out of their enemies (even Steven), or pick fights. They were quick to respond with aggression, and he even felt his neighbors weren’t safe.

Whenever he was in the flat around that time, he would snap and huff at the people he’d ride with in the elevator. They were too close, it was too stuffy, he wanted to chase everyone out of the fucking building and patrol it just to keep everyone out. He felt that way so violently that he usually went out to protect his innocent neighbors before he lost all sense of self. Jake liked to joke that it was just a “moon period,” and it would pass.

Then you came along, and it got worse.

And different.

He seemed to eat more. He was more aggressive toward his neighbors. Every sound in the hall made him want to bust down the door and attack whoever it was because they were too close to you. Everyone was too close to you. You needed a whole building to yourself and Marc would patrol it to keep you safe. If you wanted to go out, he’d just have to go with you, Khonshu be damned.

But with you other things happened that made him confused.

He'd catch himself piling your blankets around him while you were at work just to envelop him in your scent— the smell of your shampoo, though he swore it was more than that. He swore he had heightened senses, because he could almost smell you on an animalistic level. When you got home, he was all over you, worshiping you like you were a princess. He’d have a hot bath already running for you, he’d make you food, ensure you drank water, help you with your shoes and jacket; he catered to you on a standard day, especially Steven, but this was different. He’d be practically unable to let go of you, literally keeping his arms around you and whining high-pitched in the back of his throat like a fucking dog if you had to move. He’d almost aggressively cuddle you, burying his face in the crook of your neck and letting your smell overwhelm him, comfort him.

Of course he’d explained it to you before the time had hit, but in his brief moments of clarity, he’d whisper helplessly with tears in his eyes, “I-I don’t know what’s happening to me…”

You’d only kiss his forehead. Ever patient. Ever loving. He wondered what he did to deserve you. “It’s okay, Marc. We’ll get through it together, I promise.” Of course, Khonshu never explained anything to him.

You were so patient.

Even when he was fucking you senseless.

Usually you both had a reasonable lust for each other, but during the full moon, his sex drive was through the roof. He had to take you. He had to feel you. He was gentle, but also relentless— he wasn’t sure where he suddenly got the stamina for twelve fucking rounds after dinner, but his intention was never to hurt you. He just wanted you. If you pushed him away, too tired for more, Marc would immediately launch into aftercare. A warm bath, blankets straight from the dryer, and him laying protectively around you.

Although there was one night he caught himself lapping slowly at your throat. The fuck???

Jake and Steven were just as bad as he was. In fact, Steven was probably worse. His pent-up years of anger made him more dangerous to strangers and more rough with you, so he kept away from the front.

Marc was happy when on the next full moon, Khonshu had work for him; but it ended up not taking as long as he’d planned. By only eight o’clock he was done with the mission, and he ran thirty times full speed around the block your workplace was in just to let off some steam. He made sure, though, that when you got off, he was there to watch over you from a nearby rooftop.

The wind changed, and he swore— he fucking swore he caught a whiff of your goddamn scent.

No, he really was. Was that a new power? Heightened senses? His mask melted away so that he could better smell it— he shouldn’t know you’re ovulating. He shouldn’t. Were you this morning? No, he’d smelled it coming. He’d been all over you before you’d left for work. But, oh, you smell so fucking good.

Ovulating. The word rings around in his head for a minute. His alters are somewhere in the headspace, keeping away from the front at all costs. He tries to swallow hard, but his throat and mouth are so damn dry that he just can’t. All he can think about is you. You you you. And the fact that you’re ovulating.

He hears a high noise nearby and isn’t sure what it is until he realizes that it’s him. He’s whining as he watches you bid goodbye to a coworker who was chatting with you, wanting nothing more than to pin you down right. There.

Marc shifted his weight, his suit suddenly far too tight in the crotch. The wind shifts, and so does his mood.

There’s another scent on you.

The scent of a male.

He can almost see the handprint on your shoulder from where one of your coworkers passed you earlier in the day. The scent is faint, stale, but it’s there, and it makes him furious. He’s possessive over you, and that scares him. He wants to lick and rub his face all over that spot while fucking you hard just to cover you wholly in his scent again.

He’s there, too; he can smell himself on you. The smell of citrus and metal and wood, all fucking over you. You’re his. Except for that. Spot. How dare someone touch his mate while she’s ovulating? If he wasn’t so distracted by you, he’d have tracked the scent and broken both the coworker’s hands for it.

Marc’s head grew foggy. His vision narrowed until you were all he could see. All of his senses were trained on you. He thought he might have whined again, realizing he was palming himself a little too roughly when Jake said in the back of his head, “...Ow,” followed by Steven: “Oi, you tryin’ to castrate us, mate?”

Mate. Marc wasn’t sure where his mind went or what kind of trance he was in. I’ve gotta get down there— get to her— have to— have to mate with her— Marc stood, following you from the rooftop and starting to parkour down. I have to mate with her. Right now, while she’s ready for me.

“Oh shit,” Jake muttered, “Easy, hombré; you hurt her, I won’t hesitate in castrating us. You need fucking fixed, man.”

“Not gonna hurt her,” Marc mumbled as he prepared himself for the drop to the sidewalk below, “Not gonna hurt her…”

Steven, meanwhile, had come too close to the front. He hovered, feral, just behind the edge of Marc’s conscious thought, urging him on silently. Waiting for Marc to pounce.

Marc landed in a crouch before you, making you yelp in momentary terror. The smell was like burning plastic, and he didn’t like it. “No, baby, it’s me—“

Your scent returned to normal as you let out a whooshing breath of relief, a broad but wary smile on your face. “Marc,” The way you said his name caused a shiver to run up his spine. You started to ask him something— whether he was still on a mission, how it went, or something like that, he wasn’t sure— all he knew was that his body was moving before his mind, rushing forward to crush your lips together in a bruising kiss. He slipped his tongue into your mouth, taking advantage of your slack jaw, an arm slipping around you from behind to pull you flush against him. The sensation of your taste and your body against him felt overwhelming. His suit was suddenly scratchy, his skin too hot and feverish, his breath and heartbeat too quick. If he could have seen how black his eyes were, he might have had the sense to be concerned.

His hungry kisses trailed down your neck, where he pulled your shirt down your shoulder to expose the skin. Your gasp at the contact of the chilly night air went straight to his core, and he growled. The scent of the other male was making him pissed, and he found himself licking at the spot before biting down.

Hard.

So hard he drew blood, and you cried out, voice echoing in the empty street.

He didn’t pull back, keeping you against him and rolling his hips into you to try and ease the pressure in his groin with another whine. “Marc—“

“Run,” He hissed in your ear.

The demand took you by surprise. “Huh?”

“I want you to run from me,” He clarified softly, “Run. As fast and as far as you can. Until I catch you. Please?”

“W-what happens if you catch me?” You managed, a little shaken and also understanding what was happening to your boys.

“I get to fuck you,” Marc nipped at your jawline, trying to entice you. If there was one thing he wasn’t going to do, it was force himself on you. He’d catch a plane to Singapore just to keep himself away from you if you said no. He was still steadily rocking into you, lapping at your wounded shoulder as he tried to cover the scent of the other male, take it away, get rid of it…

“M-Marc,” You breathed; he could see in your eyes that you were greatly concerned. But he could also smell your arousal, and it was just making his whole situation worse. “We’re out in public. Can you wait till we get back to the flat?”

He was able to have a moment of clarity (? If you could call it that). Mainly because Steven was acting like a caged tiger, slamming up against the front violently like an animal behind bars. Marc wouldn’t let him out; couldn’t let him out. Steven could get rough and hurt you without even meaning to, and then he’d feel guilty and horrible when he came back to himself. Marc knew that he was always gentle, that he could stop himself, but... “Don’t you fucking dare take her here, Marc. Getting her scent everywhere in a place so far from home. Getting her everywhere— you get her home, Marc. Get her home, or I will. She needs to be safe.”

Steven was his voice of reason, as always. He wholly agreed with his alter, biting softly at your jawline and nuzzling into your neck. There. He found it. The spot right behind your ears that had your knees buckling, a flood of arousal heading straight to your core. You were probably dripping for him already.

“Bloody hell,” Steven groaned when he saw how you nearly went limp, if not for Marc catching you and holding you against him.

Marc scooped you up in his arms and held you close, taking you back to the flat; it wasn’t a particularly long walk, but it felt like days. Marc’s suit was tight, way too tight and he could barely breathe. By the time the building was in sight, he was sweating buckets and could barely walk, almost in pain. He set you down carefully, much to your confusion. “Can you run? Please? I want to chase you.”

“Why?” You weren’t mocking, or teasing; you were genuinely asking why he wanted to chase you. He himself wasn’t sure— all he knew was that he wanted to have the thrill of chasing you before mating with you. Before…

Before he breeds you.

The thought of potentially impregnating you makes him moan into your neck, and he turns you around, giving you a gentle nudge to the building. “Go. Go, please.”

Reluctantly, you did. Marc started counting to thirty, watching your shrinking form pick up speed, as his alters spoke up.

1…2…3…

Steven was too close, heated and pissed. “Get that bloody male’s scent off her, Marc. I don’t care if you have to fucking cum on her shoulders. Get. It. Off.”

“Marc, listen to me, hombré,” Jake said, farther back, still horny but sensible. He wasn’t letting himself get near to the front, but he kept trying to pull Steven back, which resulted violently; not entirely in control of himself, Steven attacked, fending Jake off while keeping his position in co-fronting. “Remember yourself. Don’t let yourself hurt her.”

20, 21, 22…

Keeping Steven contained was the equivalent of holding a cat carrier with a violent, strong cat freaking out on the inside. Marc was losing his hold, grip failing—

Steven took advantage of the slip and bolted.

You’d only just gotten through the doors of the building when Steven took off, too far gone to hear Jake reprimanding him or Marc begging him for the body back. He burst through the doors just as you entered the elevator, watching with wide eyes as he raced for you. The doors closed before he reached them, and he slammed into them hard enough to dent them. The suit gave him the strength to pry the doors open with the sound of screeching metal, but the car was already gone, leaving only a gaping hole in the floor. Steven whirled for the stairs with a growl of frustration.

He’d only made it halfway up when he faltered, dizzy from how he was panting and from the overwhelming scents of his neighbors. A part of him was furious. They shouldn't be this close to you. The other was horrified. If he’d have caught you in the elevator, what would he have done?

Steven put his face in his hands. “T-Take over. One of you take over. Please.”

Marc easily slipped into the front, slumping over. Steven disappeared into the farthest reaches of the headspace that he could go, but Marc and Jake both knew it was only a matter of time before he came back out.

Muscles shaking, Marc sprinted the last few floors to the flat, tearing open the door to find your scent fresh and present; his eyes locked on you as you stood in the middle of the living room, unsure of what to do. He gently closed and locked the door behind him, striding forward to take you in his arms and kiss you deeply. He wasn’t even aware that his hand rested on your stomach until he broke away to kiss your neck. “No condoms. Please.”

“Mar—“

“Please,” Marc was speaking before his mind could comprehend that he was fucking begging. “I-I dont just wanna have s-sex, I want to mate with you, breed you, pleasepleasepleaseplease—“ He must’ve been rambling, because you took his face in your hands to look him in the eyes. Marc forced himself to form a coherent sentence, though his voice was barely a whisper. “I-I… I want to get you pregnant…” He shook his head, realizing what he was saying in a moment of true clarity. “Baby, I don’t know what’s happening, please forgive me—“

You kissed him softly. Just a peck. “Marc. It’s okay.”

Marc moaned with relief, turning you around and helping you to the bed. He laid you flat on your back and caged you in underneath of him, pressing his face into your neck to lick and suck and bite at your throat. The scents of the flat— you, him, home— relaxed his tense muscles. It made him feel as if you were in a safe zone. He peeled your jacket off and tore off your button-down shirt, the little buttons flying everywhere. Marc didn’t remove the suit, still only maskless— if it enhanced his powers, he wondered if it would enhance other things. If it might take first try.

Your little whimpers and gasps caused his hips to buck into you suddenly. He slipped his waist between your legs, which locked around his torso tightly to pull him closer. The sound of tearing fabric filled the bedroom as Marc tore off your pants and underwear with no effort whatsoever, making you gasp loudly and moan his name. Marc sensed how wet you were and snarled against your neck, grinding into you as he entwined his fingers with yours.

Your naked body was responding to him exactly how he wanted you to. You writhed and rocked against him, squeezing his hands for something to ground you. You wrestled a hand out from under his, and at first he was going to pin it back down, but then your fingers tangled in his curls and tugged. He groaned into your neck, sinking his teeth gently into your flesh and sweeping his other arm underneath of you to hold you against him; yours magnetized around him, hand fisting his cape at his back.

His hand slipped between you, sinking into your heat; you gasped, though the fact that you rocked into his hand made him continue. You were soaked.

He had Jake in one ear, barely able to control himself, whispering about how he needs to fuck you hard and thorough. He had Steven in the other, growling and cussing and trying to force himself to the front to take you himself.

Marc pulled back a little, just enough to maneuver his suit to pull his length out, throbbing and so hard he was nearly in pain. “Baby,” You whispered sympathetically, concerned, and Marc nudged his face into yours.

“Is this okay?”

You frowned, pulling him closer. He’d walk away if you said no, willing to fight through the pain of whatever was wrong with him. “It’s okay.”

Marc slowly, carefully, like you were made of glass, pushed into you. His hips twitched too quickly as he sunk in, as if he was fighting himself not to take you rough. Once he bottomed out, he unleashed a primal groan, deep in the back of his throat. “Oh my god; that’s it, babygirl, that’s it…”

His thrusts were slow as he rubbed your clit, trying to get you to the edge that he was already at. But it wasn’t enough, he needed more and so did you…

He pulled out, ignoring your whine save for a reassuring nudge against your face. “S’okay.” He turned you over, assisting you to your hands and knees; he doubled over you as he buried himself inside you again, pressing against something devastating deep within you— you cried out, loudly enough to where you knew your neighbors would be complaining in the morning. One of his arms swept under your hips to hold you firmly against him, the other, holding himself up alongside your own. You gripped his wrist for leverage as he propped a leg up beside you, knowing that he was going to absolutely ruin you.

The position woke up something feral in him. He was sure that Steven and Jake were co-fronting now, adding to his actions, but he didn’t care. You felt and looked and smelled so fucking good around and under and all over him that he didn’t care at all. His hips pistoned into you at a bruising pace, the head of his cock punching your cervix with each blow. His eyes rolled back in his head as he finally felt the build of his orgasm; but he couldn’t cum yet. Not without you. “Fuck, sweetheart—“ His position shifted slightly. He straightened his back, both hands coming to grip your hips briefly before one slipped underneath of you, pressing against your stomach until you moaned; he started grinding, feeling himself nudge against your insides as you started to sob with pleasure. Marc let out a guttural groan, letting his forehead fall onto your back. You all but screamed when he started roughly massaging your clit with his other hand.

“That’s it, babygirl, that’s it, come on… Come on…”

You came with a piercing wail that almost hurt his ears. Tumbling after you after a few stuttering thrusts was Marc, spilling into you with a yelp of alarm. “Oh— shit!” He stilled, face contorting with the pleasure of his high as he held you against him, panting fast and heavy as he emptied into you for far longer than he was used to. “F-fuck…”

“Huh,” Jake hummed, “Who knew wearing Khonshu’s suit would give us a bigger load.” Steven, on the other hand, had felt the orgasm too, and was calmed down, in a sort of daze.

“M-Marc,” you whimpered, but he was loathe to pull out of you. He reached up and brushed your sweaty hair back away from your face, kissing at your shoulders.

Gently, he rolled over so that you were both on your sides before pulling out; he scooped whatever dripped out right back in, not that it mattered. It didn’t take. She’s not pregnant. Marc frowned, whimpering as he let the suit melt off. You couldn’t take another load like that, not right now; he wasn’t even sure if you could take another orgasm. He was licking at your throat and that spot that drove you crazy, slowly, eyes closed as he breathed you in and held you against him. The contrast of your naked form against his clothed body made him feel off, so he pulled back and stripped of everything, settling in bed beside you.

He was already hard again, and the blissful smile you sent his way only made it worse. It disappeared off your face when you saw his pained expression. “What is it?”

“I… I need more…” He was reluctant to admit it. He didn’t want to take advantage of you.

“Marc…” You cupped his face in your hand. “I can take it. I promise. I’ll use my safeword if I can’t, okay?”

“Okay?” Marc echoed, situating himself above you and between your legs. “You sure? I don’t wanna hurt you—“

“I’m fine,” Was all the assurance he needed.

It was slower this time, more sensual. He held you against him as he drove carefully into you with firm rolls of his hips, getting as deep as possible. Your shared orgasm was enough to knock him out cold, and Steven fronted. Gently, he caressed your face as he hovered over you, already hard again inside you and knowing it hadn’t taken yet. “I’m sorry for scaring you earlier, dove,” Steven breathed, nuzzling up under your chin. “Don’t know what came over me… do you have one more in you, lovey? One more?”

You knew full well it wouldn’t be just one more, or two. Steven managed to cum in you once, but he drew two orgasms from you first. Then Jake was fronting, gently moving you so that your legs were over his shoulders before he slowly pounded into you, drawing another orgasm from you when he came.

Fighting the urges, he launched into aftercare, wiping you clean and engulfing you in his hold as you slept.

When he woke, it was Marc. Jake and Steven were quiet. It was only midnight. The full moon blazed through the window, illuminating the whole room with silver light— and you were gone. Marc sat up in a panic, your scent overwhelming him and fresh; but where were you? He called your name warily, only for you to come out of the bathroom with one of his shirts on. Your legs were wobbly. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“You needed your rest,” you whispered softly as he helped you back into bed. Immediately, his arms were around you and he was pulling you underneath of him, nuzzling into your throat with a soft hum. There was no trace of the other male’s scent, now. There’s only Marc, Jake, Steven, you… no one else.

You’re still not pregnant.

You’re still ovulating, though. The moon is at its fullest and brightest. He might not even need the suit. His hand traced your stomach, drawing patterns as you ran your hands through his curls. He softly said your name before propping himself up on his elbows to look you in the eye. He didn’t even have to ask; your legs parted for him immediately when you felt him hardening against your thigh, wrapping around his hips.

“Be gentle,” Steven warned, “We’ve had her all night.”

“She can do it,” Jake whispered, “Hermosa, tan hermosa…”

Marc hesitated, biting his lip. His fingers danced over your stomach nervously. “What is it?” You whispered quietly; he seemed a bit back to himself, more lucid, but you feared one wrong word would send him back into the frenzy he and his alters had been in earlier.

“I’m sorry,” Marc choked out, fighting back tears. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart; you didn’t sign up for any of this shit—“

“Marc,” You ran your thumbs over his cheekbones, brushing away tears he didn’t realize he’d shed. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not, I’m fucking you so hard with intentions you agreed to without thinking—“

You cut him off with a light scold. “Marc Spector… don’t you remember this morning?” Marc was, reasonably, confused. In fact, he didn’t remember much of the day. It was a blur of aggression and lust for all three of them. He shook his head. “We were talking about kids,” You caressed his cheek, brow furrowing with concern. “How many we wanted, how we’ll need a bigger house… this is just… a different way of trying.”

“...Trying,” Marc repeated after a second, shocked. He still didn’t remember it. But he trusted you. Now, other fears surfaced, ones he hadn’t thought of in his moon-induced trance. “What if I’m not a good dad? What if I’m a horrible father? What if—“

You cut him off with a passionate kiss. Marc melted against you. Don’t even say it, you thought, you’ll never be like your mother. “You’ll be an amazing father,” You whispered instead. “And I’ll be right there with you every step of the way.” After a moment, you added, “Do… Do you still want to try?”

Marc shifted slightly, licking his lips, before kissing you warmly. “...Yeah. I do.” You wrapped your arms around his neck with a smile, pulling him close. “Steven and Jake are here,” Marc breathed against your ear as he pushed into you; you hissed, walls over-sensitive from being paid so much attention over the course of the night. “Can they watch, pretty girl? Can they watch us make a baby?”

Your frantic nodding made Steven smile; Jake leaned back as if getting comfortable for a movie. Marc entwined your fingers with his as he slowly rutted into you, dragging his cock along your walls painfully slowly before sliding back in and pressing against something that made you see stars. You breathed his name like a mantra, while Marc whispered honeyed words into your ear. “Our kid’s gonna be so beautiful, having a part of you. Can’t think of anyone in the world I’d rather have a baby with, sweetheart; you, only you.” He nuzzled the side of your face, nipping at your jawline as he drew slow circles over your clit.

When you came, you dragged Marc with you over the edge, the pair of you writhing and moaning against each other in the throes of your ecstasy. As you came to, you saw Marc’s beaming smile, eyes glistening with unshed tears. His hand never left your stomach. “I think we did it… I… I think you’re pregnant.”

Marc let out a breathless laugh against your lips, and you laughed with him, hugging him tightly and kissing all over your face. Marc— finally satiated, back to himself, his alters confused and excited— was smiling like you’d never seen before. He was happy. “We just started a family,” You sniffled, shocked.

“Wouldn’t have done it with anyone else,” Marc said sincerely, tired and spent. He kissed you, warmth radiating off of him as he embraced you. “...I love you. I know I don’t say it a lot, and I should… I’m gonna try harder. To give you everything. To give you both everything…” His eyes locked with yours, both gazes holding unshed tears. He kissed you again. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Marc,” You said through your tears, and you fell asleep happy and entangled together under the light of the moon.

Slowly, pointedly, you turned to glare over your shoulder at Marc, who sat at the dinner table, feigning innocence. “Marc…” You warned.

“What? I’m not doing anything.”

“Not yet.”

“You say that as if I’m known to do something.”

“Marc?” You said, half-turning around, “I learned long ago that I can never trust you with cookie dough.”

The sound of breaking glass in the next room made you both lunge frantically, tripping over yourselves, chairs, and each other as you rushed for the source of the sound. By the time you got there, there was only a little tiny version of Moon Knight, as if he’d been shrunk, dusting himself off as he stood to face you both, clearly having jumped off the couch in an attempt to “fly.”

You both heaved a sigh of exasperation toward your three-year-old son. “Nico,” Marc scolded lightly, coming forward to kneel in front of him. “What’ve we told you, buddy? You’re gonna get yourself hurt. I’ll fly with you, okay? But when you’re older, I promise. Are you hurt?”

Nico shook his little masked head. “No, Daddy. I bumped the vase.” He pointed accusingly toward the shattered glass and remains of flowers. Marc checked him over anyway before holding him gently by the shoulders. “Don’t do that again, okay?” Nico nodded, lowering his head, and Marc added, “Hey. I’m not angry. I just don’t want you getting hurt. I could never be angry at you. Ever. Okay?” He pulled Nico in for a tender embrace.

You watched it all from the doorway with a smile. Nico Randall Spector (Lockley-Grant, but you couldn’t officially put that on any of his birth certificates or documents without causing a whole conundrum of confusion) was every bit like his father. The same hair, same eyes, and same hidden chaotic energy. “Just like his father…”

Marc shot you a teasing glare. “Hey. I’ve never jumped off the couch.”

“So I’m just supposed to pretend we’ve never had Nerf battles, then?” You countered swiftly.

Marc scoffed as he stood with Nico in his arms. “I’ve never jumped off the couch. Have I ever jumped off the couch?” He turned to confirm with your son, who reluctantly nodded; Marc immediately began to tickle him. “Little traitor! I’ve never jumped off the couch! How dare you!”

Only when Nico was nearly out of breath did Marc stop, smiling as he pressed his forehead to his much smaller one. Nico hugged him tight enough to probably choke him, but Marc didn’t care; he gave him a kiss on the cheek before setting him down. “Okay— go change. It’s almost time for dinner.”

“Okay!” Nico started to hurry away; you called after him, “Need any help, Moon Knight?”

“No thank you,” Came his little voice; Jake’s cat, Taco, appeared out from underneath the couch and padded silently after him.

You and Marc watched your son disappear into his room fondly; you’d never seen Marc smile like that until he was born. He unfolded his arms and came over to loosely put his arms around your waist. “Thought you were supposed to be watching him while I finished up.”

“Your fault for distracting me with the cookie dough,” Marc retorted childishly, then added with a wink, “And those damn jeans.”

“Hush,” You whispered.

Marc smiled again, pressing a kiss to your temple as his hand fell to splay over your stomach. “Maybe his sister will keep him in line when she gets here.”

You tapped his nose with the spoon you’d been holding. He balked and blinked rapidly. “Hey. That doesn’t even have any dough on it!” Reduced to giggling messes, Marc held you tightly against him and closed his eyes, savoring the closeness.

Dinner was one of those rare moments of domestic bliss; Nico made a ridiculous mess, but all three alters were present, switching who was fronting in order to spend time with their expecting wife and son— and to help clean up. The night ended with Marc being the only one who remained awake after a movie, as you were tucked in on one side of him, his arm around you and his hand over your stomach, and Nico under the other arm. Marc smiled to himself, giving you each a kiss.

“Love you guys. With all my heart.”

Thanks for reading!

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