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steven-grants-world · 12 hours

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“Your turn, Love,” he slurs, reaching out for you despite his inability to keep his eyes open for more than 3 seconds." <- I absolutely love him, he's so sweet and eager to please ❤❤❤

Insomnia

AN: Sixth and final fic for @moonknight-events' MK Bingo! I wish I'd been able to do the entire board like I wanted but alas. Hope you all enjoy! Thank you to @whatthefishh for looking this over for me ❤️

Steven can't sleep and you, uh, help him out.

(Un-beta’d)

Rated: M+ (this is smut so, you've been warned) Prompt: Handjobs Words: 1,233 Pairing: Steven Grant x GN!Reader (pretty sure this could be read as GN, please let me know if that's incorrect) Warnings: handjob (as the prompt indicates lol), cursing, kissing, mild biting, praise kink, sub!Steven, please let me know if I missed anything. AO3

——————

Steven can’t sleep.

He’s tried everything he can think of, his usual tried and true methods (and even some of the old ones), but none of them have worked.

He chews his lip, glancing over to where you’re asleep beside him. You look so relaxed, so peaceful, your lovely lips quirked in a slight smile. He wonders what you’re dreaming about (was it him?)...wishes he could be dreaming too. The urge to wake you is strong, you’ve told him before that he can when this happens, but he just can’t bring himself to disturb you.

Steven sighs, turning over on his side. He closes his eyes and wills himself to sleep.

That doesn’t work either.

He tosses and turns, trying to find a comfortable position, one that will finally allow him to fall into the blissful depths of sleep but, no matter what he does, nothing helps. He feels even worse when you begin to stir beside him, whining softly as you’re unwillingly pulled back to consciousness. He stills, trying not to move (or even breathe) in the hopes that you’ll fall back into the abyss.

“Steven?” you ask, voice still thick with sleep.

He waits silently for a moment, then sighs, turning slightly to look at you over his shoulder.

“So sorry, love, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“S’okay,” you slur, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

You push yourself up into a sitting position, eyes meeting his in the darkness as you reach out to gently push the curls back from his forehead. “Trouble sleeping again?”

Steven nods, his eyelids fluttering at your touch.

“How can I help?”

He smiles tiredly at you. “Not sure you can, love.”

You stick your bottom lip out in a pout and he chuckles softly, reaching out to thumb at it. “S’alright, I’ll be fine. You should go back to sleep though.”

You shake your head, settling your back against the headboard. “I won’t be able to sleep knowing you’re awake beside me.”

With a resigned sigh, Steven sits up to join you.

“I’m so sorry, love,” he says again, taking your hand in his and squeezing it lightly.

You shush him, effectively dismissing his apologies. “Nothing to be sorry for.”

Steven just sighs again, his shoulder pressed against yours as he idly runs his thumb over your knuckles. You sit in silence for a moment, just watching him, the meager light in the room softening his sharper features.

Then it dawns on you, how you can help.

You lean in slowly, tilting your head to get the right angle. He doesn’t notice how close you are until you’re right there, inches away from his face, and before he can protest, you press your lips to his. Immediately, he melts, his free hand reaching up to cup your cheek. You start slow, soft, the pressure gentle, the pace unhurried. After a moment, you brush your tongue along the seam of his lips, his low groan sending a shiver through your body. He’s always so responsive, your Steven, whether it’s a moan or a simple flutter of his eyelashes, he always lets you know how you’re making him feel.

You kiss him deeper, languidly licking into his mouth, your fingers clenching in the fabric of his t-shirt as his tongue slides against yours. For a moment, you let yourself get lost in it, in him, in the taste of him, the feel of him—but then you remember why you started this, remember that he needs you. You relax your fingers, allowing your hand to slip slowly down his chest, over his belly, coming to settle at his waist. Your fingers briefly toy with the band of his sleep pants before slipping beneath them and his boxers.

Steven breaks your kiss with a surprised yelp as you take him in your hand, his breath leaving him in a sharp gasp as you begin to gently work your hand over his length. You shush him, whispering soothing words into his skin as you kiss him wherever your lips can reach.

“Oh fuck,” he breathes, involuntarily arching into your touch.

You respond with a whispered plea for him to relax, your thumb sliding over the velvety tip of him, dragging the prettiest moan from his lips. He stops resisting then, losing himself in the pleasure of your touch, rewarding you on every stroke with breathy sighs and groans.

“So good for me, Steven,” you whisper, the praise drawing a whimper from between his lips.

You smile at the sound, tracing his collarbones with the tip of your tongue as you twist your wrist just so, dragging another delicious sound from him. He pushes up into your fist, his fingers twisting in the bedding beneath him. You move back up his neck, nipping briefly at his jugular and soothing the area with your tongue. Beside you, Steven’s breathing is erratic, his skin hot, hips thrusting in time with the stroke of your hand. You pull back to gaze at him, admiring his mussed curls, kiss-bitten lips, and glassy eyes—he always was beautiful in the throes.

You lean in again, sealing your lips over a spot on his neck. He keens when you suck, your hand gently squeezing his cock to mimic the pressure. You move your hand a little faster, increasing the friction, and his breath hitches, hands now fisted in the sheets beneath him.

“Darling,” he pants, his neck tense with the effort of holding himself back.

You shush him again, pulling back to meet his gaze. He’s close, so close, his big brown eyes pleading—for you, for your love, for your permission.

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth as you watch him, eyes flickering over his face, drinking him in as your touch pushes him closer and closer to the edge. When you’ve teased him enough, you lean in, nuzzling your nose against his ear.

“Come for me, Steven.”

And he does, his body going rigid, as he erupts all over your fist with a choked moan. You keep working him, his body twitching as the pleasure rolls through him. When he finally stills, you release him, whispering your praise as you press a kiss to the hinge of his jaw. He’s absolutely wrecked when you pull back, body limp against the headboard, panting like he’s just run a marathon. You smile at him softly, pushing the curls from his damp forehead with your clean hand before slipping off the bed to get a washcloth.

Once you’ve cleaned both yourself and him up, you settle back in the bed beside him. For a moment, you wonder if he’s already asleep, his eyes closed, breathing (finally) even. He stirs at the movement beside him though, his eyelids heavy as he opens them and smiles at you dreamily.

“Your turn, Love,” he slurs, reaching out for you despite his inability to keep his eyes open for more than 3 seconds.

You chuckle softly, shaking your head as you lean in to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. “Sleep, Steven.”

“But—”

“Sleep,” you insist, yawning as you pull him down with you beneath the blankets.

Steven grunts in protest, but doesn’t stop you, his eyes already falling shut again as you snuggle against his side. You smile as his breathing evens out again, the gentle rhythm of it lulling you back to sleep.

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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#moon knight bingo #steven grant x reader #steven grant smut

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steven-grants-world · 13 hours

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hand– handhandhandhandhand– 👹👹😵

#poe dameron #oscar isaac

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steven-grants-world · 14 hours

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'I am made of stars'

Poe Dameron

↪ for @fceriestcrdst

#Poe dameron #oscar isaac #star wars

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steven-grants-world · 23 hours

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Leto and breeding kink with a virgin reader? I'm dead ☠

Your Father's Rival!Leto Atreides x F!virgin!reader

NSFW MDNI. Reader is of age, obviously! AU in the sense that there is no mention of Lady Jessica or Paul Atreides. Also, Leto may be OOC here. Not beta'd. More content/warnings below the cut. 1.3k words

content: seduction, nipple play, allusions to oral - f. rec., allusions to fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding kink, duplicitous behavior, but everything is consensual

✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧

Your father's rival!Leto Atreides

...who invites your family to Caladan for "peace talks", but secretly hatches his plan

Rival!Leto, who welcomes your begrudging father, throwing a magnificent ball in your family's honor

whose gaze lingers on you - your father's only heir, nearly twenty years younger than Leto himself...

and conveniently unmarried.

Rival!Leto, who requests the honor of a first dance with you. His dark eyes devour yours as his gloved hands pull you a little closer than is formal.

whose stern countenance dissolves when eyes crinkle as he grants you a brilliant smile

whose smooth, tenor voice tickles your ear as he compliments your dancing, subtly hinting at how your body moves in perfect time with his

whose gaze lingers on your lips before dipping down to the low scooped neck of your gown

Rival!Leto, who lets everyone know to treat your family like royalty - to be sure you don't miss a single dance, so that you will eventually need to step outside for some air...

who conveniently stumbles upon you under the stars, in the lush gardens of Castle Caladan and manages to remark how you are more beautiful, if possible, bathed in moonglow

Rival!Leto, who notices your breath hitch when he nears, who asks permission to escort you on a tour of the garden, granting him the opportunity to take you by the arm.

who finds you delightful, really: intelligent - well-read and opinionated. Sparkling conversation distracts him, for a brief while, from his primary goal.

Rival!Leto, who plans to seduce you, and breed you.

You're young and beautiful, and a virgin - the cherished prize of his one and only rival.

Rival!Leto, who will snatch his enemy’s most precious possession from his grasp - to steal your youth, your body and above all, your love.

Not to harm you. In fact, he's already growing quite fond of you.

Rival!Leto, who bids you goodnight, as an upstanding Duke would do, who keeps your honor in tact, while his plan begins to unfold.

who notices you stealing glances across the breakfast table, smiling to himself at the impression he's clearly already made.

who finds you again in the gardens later that evening - who walks and talks with you, luring you into a comforting trust...but doesn't realize he is being lured as well.

Rival!Leto, who carries on for days, so innocently, that he's almost forgotten the duplicity of his original plan...

who finds himself meaning it when he folds you into his arms and kisses you breathless underneath the stars, his body responding with fervor as you wind your fingers through his thick curls and tug him closer to you.

who lures you the next night, and the next, until your walks in the garden turn into the collision of your mouths, the tangle of tongues, the sharing of breath, kissing and panting and touching, bolder each evening.

unlacing the front of your dress while kissing you deeply before trailing his lips down your throat, fingers brushing your collarbone.

stepping over the line of propriety, cupping your breast in his palm, stoking a fire of lust inside you. His lips caress the curve of your mound as hot breath fans across your stiff peaks.

Your father's rival, who takes your nipple into his mouth and gently sucks, pulling a breathy moan from your throat...

who greedily sucks and fondles away your innocence, his cock stirring and twitching at the sounds of your evident desire.

Rival!Leto, who has you half naked in the garden - a scandal just waiting to be uncovered - but the sound of his name on your lips won't allow him to slow, or stop.

who tells you that he's never seen anything more beautiful in all the known universe, and asks you to come to his bed tonight.

Your father's rival, who assures you his staff is discreet, and your secret is safe...

who thrills as you enter his bedchamber in the dark of night, very obviously bathed and perfumed to please him

who unleashes his fervent desire now that you are alone, unlacing your gown - his strong fingers laying claim to your soft flesh as his hungry mouth seeks out yours.

Your father's rival, who draws previously unknown desires from the core of you, making you bloom with raw want and drip with lust, soaking his beard

whose lips bring you to heaven itself as he sucks and fingers away your innocence, coaxing you into womanhood with delicious gasps and moans and sweet little begs that make him hard and ready to take your body completely

who slips inside the wet core of you, hissing as you snugly fit and grip his cock, whimpers and sighs of how full you feel tickling his ear.

His name on your lips as he starts to move - as the sting of intrusion eases into a fullness and completeness unlike anything you could have imagined.

Your father's treasure, naked and panting and scandalously writhing beneath his bitter rival, filled with his thick length, giving your maidenhood away to the enemy - to a man who has promised you nothing

Rival!Leto who presses his strong hand to your abdomen, murmuring your name. "Let me fill you up, dove. You can have a piece of me I've given no woman before this night."

"Yes, Leto," you repeat over and over. "Fill me...I'm yours."

Your father's rival, who intends to fill your belly with his heir, and now realizes, as your thighs fall apart - with each deep thrust - how quickly and how hard he comes inside you. How he fell apart so easily in the soft heat of your body. How he relishes this task he’s taken upon himself, almost feeling as if he is corrupting you.

who holds you close to his chest, like he owns you, your bodies still joined, kissing you possessively

Who can't seem to usher you back to your rooms, even to keep your scandalous secret. Who gently wipes you clean and folds you against his naked, sated body, assuring you to give into your exhaustion and rest - feeling a secret thrill that he’s winning your trust, as you sleep soundly

Who wakes to your beautiful face in dawn's light, stares into your eyes and kisses you deeply, certain you are falling in love with him

He swallows hard, realizing…something is happening to him.

Rival!Leto who finds his thoughts on you constantly throughout the day, who can't keep his eyes from devouring you when you enter a room.

Who desperately seeks a moment alone with you, to beckon you back to his bed. "I must have you again," he murmurs against your cheek in a darkened alcove.

He gathers you into his arms when you come to him that night and takes you to bed.

And the next night, and the next. Each night, telling you how he wants to fill you - his body climaxing at your eager acceptance

Who fucks you slow and deep one night, hand on your belly, hard and ready to burst as you beg him to fill you up - who finally utters his plan aloud. "I want you to carry my heir. I want my child to grow inside you."

You assume this is practically a marriage proposal. "Oh Leto..." you coo, coming apart in his arms. "I would love to be your wife."

He should tell you the truth. That he planned to breed you. To trap you on Caladan, to win your heart, and take your father's only treasure away from him.

But he sees an out - he can simply propose and all will be well

Rival!Leto, who didn't plan to actually fall in love with you

Who realizes, he's trapped himself. He loves you too much to lie anymore. So he confesses.

You don't seem upset with him, or even shocked. You simply kiss him deeply, coaxing him to hardness before joining your body with his once more.

Your father's rival, who has fallen in love with you, who wants to marry you, who will share children with you.

Your mission is accomplished. Your father will be proud.

And it cost you nothing. Because you accidentally fell in love with him too

✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧

Miscellaneous Characters Masterlist

Main Masterlist

#leto atreides x reader #duke leto atreides

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steven-grants-world · 24 hours

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My poor moon boys, I love them so much 🥺❤

Such a great read as always

moon knight- a friend

a/n: last entry for @moonknight-events MK Bingo! Barely edited, but I wanted to get this final one in. It was SO MUCH fun participating and seeing the amazing, amazing work that everyone created for this. Thank you so much @juneknight and @spacecowboyhotch for organizing and helping us enrich our environment/community ❤️

Summary: You and Marc Spector have a purely physical relationship. Both operating in society’s gray area, you try to avoid conflicts of interest. But when you’re hired to steal an artifact from a London museum, you wonder if even Marc himself knows all of his secrets.

Contents: pre-show, gn!reader, no actual smut just sex talk, fwb, Steven is still unaware of Marc (~3k)

-----

When you and Marc were mercenaries together, it was strictly professional.

He disappeared for days at a time.

He drank too much.

People gave him a wide berth. The nicest thing people called him was “unstable.”

You’d been too busy with your own demons to think much about his. But years later, after you’d hung up your AR-15, Spector had shown up through a friend of a friend of a friend. Alive and still “unstable,” asking for help acquiring fake passports and weapons.

You’d been sleeping together ever since. Whenever your paths crossed.

Like yesterday, when you’d been assessing security at a London museum for an illegal acquisition of an Egyptian artifact for a client.

And who’d been there but Marc Spector? Wearing an adorably garish patterned shirt and a “Steven” nametag.

Now, you’re laying in bed together in your hotel room. Your fingers trace over Marc’s tan skin, still sweaty. You’d hardly gotten the door open before you were ripping each other’s clothes off. So, par for the course.

You never asked personal questions. Neither did he. This time was different, though.

You prop yourself up on your elbow so you can look down at the sharp planes of his face. His heavy eyelids and lashes. The way his curly hair sticks to his forehead.

“I know this is breaking an unspoken rule,” you say, “but if we have a professional conflict, I’d rather know about it now.”

Marc’s guard goes up. A slight tensing of his muscles, a downturn of his lips. No matter how hardened Marc was, though, his eyes still can’t hide anything from you.

You decide to take a chance and be up front with him. “I’m breaking into the museum in three days. One of the death masks is due to be removed from display for cleaning. I was hired to steal it.”

Marc’s nostrils flare, but he doesn’t say anything.

“I don’t care why you’re working there, unless you were hired to steal the same thing?”

Marc shakes his head subtly.

“Okay then,” you say, relaxing a bit. “I’ll pay you a grand for your employee ID badge. Be a lot easier for me.”

“No,” he says immediately, “I can’t compromise my cover.”

“Steven?” You ask.

Marc’s eyes flicker. “Please, don’t say that name.”

Something’s going on there. You can feel it.

Over the last few years, Marc had been almost normal. Less erratic, doesn’t talk to himself anymore.

He obviously still has issues he isn’t willing to share, though. It stings, but you only see each other a few times a year. It isn’t like you’re really friends or anything.

You lay your hand on his chest. “I won’t cause trouble with whatever you’re doing here. If you do the same for me.”

Marc glances out the window.

“Wind’s picking up,” you say, watching the trees outside blow fiercely, spewing leaves off their branches.

Marc’s hand comes up to cover yours. His eyes trail over your face.

“I can’t let you steal that mask,” he says.

You’ve never been at odds with him before. “Three grand?”

Marc sighs. He runs a hand through his hair. “It’s not the money.”

Tree branches whip against the hotel window and you jump.

“Calm down,” Marc says, but he’s looking outside and not at you.

“I’m calm,” you say, pulling your hand away and rolling off the bed. “You need to leave.”

Marc nods. He bends down to pick up his clothes and starts to get dressed.

His eyes plead with you. “Don’t come to the museum again. Don’t do the job.”

“The client already paid me, Marc. You know how this works. I couldn’t return the money, even if I wanted to. Which, I don’t.” You fold your arms. “Just stay out of my way.”

Marc glances at you, one of the corners of his mouth smiles. “We’ve never been good at that, have we? Staying out of each other’s way.” He holds his t-shirt in his hands, thinking. “If you come to the museum, I’m going to act like I don’t know you. If you try to steal anything, I’m going to stop you.”

A laugh barks out of you. “I’m a better thief than you are security guard. We both know it.”

“Not anymore,” he says, pulling his shirt back on. He walks around to find his shoes, stuffs his still-bare feet inside. He walks over to you.

He cups your face in his big, warm hands.

“I know what we have isn’t personal,” he says, “and that’s my fault. But trust me on this one. Don’t do the job.”

Marc looks at you now with eyes almost as dark as earlier that night, an honesty and rawness you’ve never seen outside of when he’s inside of you.

You pull his hands away. “I’m sorry, Marc.”

A pained look crosses his face. “Me too.”

*****

Tidying the brochures is Steven’s third least favorite job. The second is overnight inventory. A lonely, endless task. The worst job is anything involving Donna.

Unfortunately, all three are on the agenda.

He doesn’t remember skipping out on the last half of his shift yesterday, but he can’t deny that it’d happened.

He remembered closing his eyes in a quiet corner of the museum during his break. He must’ve sleepwalked right out. He’d come to outside of a hotel on the other side of town, sockless and without a jacket.

Punishment is doing all of the fiddly, annoying tasks today.

Steven watches a tour group pass by.

A person at the back lags behind. Probably bored. If he gave the tours, no one would be bored. Especially not someone with eyes like yours, sharp and observant.

Your gaze lands on him. He gives you a little wave, brochure for a double-decker tour of London still in hand.

You give him a very strange look in return. A little stiff, confused, as if you expect him to come talk to you.

Surely you wouldn’t expect that, though.

But you’re walking over. Steven’s heart races.

“Hi,” you say cautiously.

Steven smiles. “Hiya, d’you need assistance? I see you drew the short straw and got Phil as your guide. He’s nice enough, but a bit dry. If you have any questions, maybe I can help though. I work in the gift shop, but I promise I know more about all of this than Phil. He’s more interested in the sandwiches at the cafe than Tawaret.” He laughs, then remembers himself. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be talking your ear off.”

“No,” you say, your eyes wide, “rant away. This is fascinating. I never knew you were such a good actor.”

Steven screws up his face. “Actor? No, I’m more of a, um, I guess you could call me a gift-shop-ist.”

“Mmm-hmmm,” you say, nodding and looking him over.

Steven’s cheeks feel a bit warm from your attention, but it’s not entirely unwelcome. Something about you is familiar, your scent maybe, or the sound of your voice. He can’t put his finger on it.

That, at least, is something he knows well. He feels like his brain is always trying to grasp at sleepy memories just out of his reach.

You loop your arm through his, surprising him. You pull him toward one of the display cases.

“What do you know about this?” You tap the glass.

Steven, caught up in the profile of your face, has to unscramble his thoughts for a second. “That is, to be honest, a poor example of a death mask. Pre-Roman but only just.”

Your squeeze your body closer to his.

“Interesting,” you say. “And why isn’t it any good?”

“Well, it has value of course, historically speaking,” Steven says, trying to keep his tone professional. “It’s not original, though. It’s a copy. Maybe a copy of a copy. The lineage of it is fascinating. It’s a recent acquisition.”

Your arm slips out of his and you lean against the case, staring hard at him.

Steven shifts under your scrutiny.

“I’m pretty sure this one is the original,” you say.

Steven swallows. “Well, I can understand why you’d think that. The research staff certainly do, and labeled it as such. But I disagree.”

You give him a smile, a slightly annoyed look. “Why am I not surprised? You're going to tell me it's useless? Stop asking questions about it?”

“Have I done something to offend you? I’m sorry.” Steven lays a hand over his chest.

“You can’t tell me this is fake just to throw me off my job,” you say.

“You’re not here working,” Steven says. “I am.”

You lean forward slightly. “You don’t tell me what to do. I’m an independent contractor, just like you.”

Steven tries to make sense of what you’re saying, but like a lot of things in his life, nothing quite lines up. Before he can ask more, you turn and walk swiftly back out of the exhibit hall.

Steven watches you go, torn between confusion and a longing that he doesn’t understand.

*****

You knew Marc would be waiting for you in one of the collections management rooms in the museum. The room where the artifact is being cleaned.

And he doesn’t disappoint.

He’s still wearing his “Steven” get-up. The table next to him is covered in a white sheet, presumably with what you’re after underneath it.

You close the door behind you when you enter.

“Hell, Spector, with a performance like that, I think Hollywood’s going to be calling you any minute,” you say as you walk into the room toward him.

A flicker of confusion crosses his face.

“Did we speak earlier?” He asks.

You roll your eyes. “No, Marc, we didn’t. I was speaking to ‘Steven,’ right?”

Marc frowns.

Your eyes scan his body, but he doesn’t look armed.

“Anyway,” you say, “I decided to move up my timeline after you made it clear you weren’t going to play nice. Seems like you anticipated that.”

Marc holds out a hand, like he’s trying to soothe a wild animal. “You don’t understand what you’re dealing with here. This artifact isn’t just a mask. It’s a map.”

“For fuck’s sake, Marc. Which is it? Is it a map and important, or is it fake like you told me earlier?” You stretch out your neck, anticipating a fight.

“Fake?” Marc’s voice hones to a sharp edge. He turns to the table and pulls off the white sheet in one, harsh tug.

“Not fake, just not ‘original,’ or whatever," you say.

You watch him pick up the mask and examine it, front and back.

You keep your distance, out of arm’s length but positioned slightly behind him. You don’t want to fight him. Hand to hand was never your strongest skill. You’ve seen Marc in action, though, and you know how vicious he can be.

How far would he go to stop you?

You only know this: you can’t kill him.

If you let yourself, you could love him. And because of that, even though his attention isn’t fully on you and you could probably take out your knife and stab him right through a kidney before he’d react, you don’t make a move against him.

Marc drops the mask back on the table. His voice is as tense as his shoulders. “How did you know this wasn’t the original?”

Your senses tell you something’s wrong. Off.

“I didn’t,” you say slowly. “You did.”

Marc’s head drops.

You lay one hand on the knife sheathed to your thigh, just in case. The other reaches out as you take a few steps and close the distance to Marc. You rest your hand on his shoulders, and after a few seconds, run it back and forth. Some of the tension leaves his body.

“Marc, what’s going on here?” You ask.

He shakes his head, his curls bouncing and hiding any expression on his face as he keeps looking down at the table.

“You should go,” he says. “Get as far away from me as you can. I’m a mess, sweetheart.”

The endearment makes your skin feel hot. He’s never used it before.

“The good news is, my client paid for the original, so I don’t have to kick your ass. For now,” you say. "I'll be returning their money."

Marc breathes out a laugh.

“I have to ask though, do you know where the original is?”

Marc straightens up from the table. Your hand drops. He grabs it and holds on, almost absentmindedly.

“I don’t know. Probably nowhere good,” he says.

“But you have an idea?”

Marc gives you a wry look. “I don’t have shit. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m barely hanging on here. Never mind. Not your problem.”

“What if it were?” You ask, pulling him closer to you. “My problem, I mean. Let me help, please.”

His arms wrap around you loosely. “We’ve done a lot of jobs together, but I can’t drag you into this one. It’s too dangerous. Besides,” he says with a dark look, “I already have help. And he’s pretty selfish about my time.”

“Oh,” you say, slightly surprised.

“No,” Marc laughs, “it’s not like that. He’s my boss and I owe him my life. So, I’m kind of stuck in his service for the rest of eternity.”

He looks around the room. “There is something, though,” he says.

“Anything.”

Marc’s face softens as he looks at you. There are lines at the corners of his eyes when he smiles, ones that never used to be there. He’s only gotten more handsome as the years have gone on, but he looks so tired you want to wrap him up in a blanket and let him have a good night's sleep somewhere quiet.

“You said you spoke to Steven earlier,” he says, gauging your reaction. “I can’t really explain, but he’s not me. I’m not him either.”

You don’t understand what he seems to be hinting at, but you’re used to taking things as they come with Marc.

“He’s special,” Marc says. “Stronger than he knows, but he’s lonely. Could use a friend.”

“Me?” You say, almost shocked.

He grins. “You’re good company. Always were. And with this job canceled, I know you’ll need the money. Just keep an eye on him. I’ll wire you ten k.”

You open your mouth, but Marc lays his fingers over your lips.

“Jobs are no questions asked,” he says. “Unless you’ve changed that policy.”

You shake your head and he drops his fingers.

“Will I see you soon, then?” You feel weak for asking, but can’t stop the question.

Marc leans in and kisses you softly. Not like anything you’ve shared before. It feels like, a shiver runs through you, love.

*****

Steven sells a 500 piece puzzle of the Great Pyramid of Giza. Then an ankh necklace. An umbrella with hieroglyphics.

None of the customers are interested in a conversation about them. Shame, really.

He rubs his fingers over his eyes. He thought he’d gotten a full night’s sleep last night. But he has the feeling that maybe his body was out and about again. Although how he’d gotten past all his own traps and devices, he didn’t know.

A heavy book about Gods and Goddesses thumps down on the counter.

Steven looks up.

“Oh, hello,” he says with a smile.

“Hi again,” you say. “I’m sorry about the other day. I was really rude.”

“No, not at all,” Steven says. He scans the book. “We all have off days. Cash or card?”

You take out your wallet. “Cash.”

You set down a few bills. Steven wraps the book in tissue paper before putting it in the bag, an unnecessary step, but it keeps the dust jacket from getting crushed.

“I cut you off before you could finish telling me about the exhibit,” you say. “Do you do private tours?”

Steven looks up. He points a finger to himself. “Me? I don’t do tours at all. Not allowed.”

You frown. “Seems like a bad decision on management’s part.”

Steven looks around, then leans a bit toward you. “They’re not the brightest around here.”

You smile. Steven feels a lightness in his chest. He might never have felt like this before, except maybe in the morning when he talks to Gus. Easy conversation, that. Relaxing.

He refrains from comparing you to his goldfish, though. You might not appreciate it.

“How about you tell me more over lunch, then? If you have a break. Or tonight after work. Or tomorrow?” You ask. “My treat. Please.”

It sounds like a date. But why would someone as interesting as you ever want to date him? Bonkers.

But he hasn’t stopped thinking about you. Hasn’t even tried to stop.

He’s a mess, though. Waking up in the middle of the street, violent dreams, can’t even get a simple job like a gift shop clerk right.

“That’s kind of you,” Steven says, “but I’m not really able to go on dates now. I’d love to, but I, um,” he smiles sadly.

He takes the money you laid down and opens the till.

“I understand,” you say. “You feel like you’re barely holding it together.”

Steven hands you your change. “Yeah, I do.”

Something in your eyes says that you do actually understand. It lifts his spirits.

“Not a date then. How about as friends? Everyone could use a friend,” you smile at him.

He breaks out in a huge grin. “Yeah, I could definitely use one of those.”

You steal a pen from next to the cash register and write down your number and name on your receipt. You hand it to him.

“I can’t wait to get to know you, Steven,” you say. “You probably have all kinds of secrets.”

Steven folds the receipt carefully and puts it in his shirt pocket. “No secrets, I’m afraid. I’m boring as anything.”

Your eyes study him. That way he’s starting to recognize. Like you’re not sure if he’s joking or not. Like you’re poking around for something.

“Steven Grant, you’re anything but boring,” you say. “Text me.”

You grab your bag and walk out. Steven watches you go, barely holding his tongue. He didn’t want to make a bad impression, or derail things.

But he was certain that he’d never told you his last name.

-----

Square I "secret relationship"’" and in this fic, every relationship is kind of a secret. Steven doesn’t know about Marc, and therefore doesn’t know reader knows him. Reader is making friends w/ Steven under false pretenses. Messy.

**MK Spring '24 Bingo masterlist**

MK masterlist :: main masterlist :: Join My Fic Taglist

taglist friends

@burymesanti, @sosa2imagines, @silvernight-m, @myhohastuff, @apesarecuul, @mangoslushcrush, @clemdango04, @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction, @daydream-believer19, @eternallyvenus, @iolaussharpe-24, @spacecowboyhotch, @bulletgoth, @eternallyvenus, @minigirl87, @oscarssimp, @oddballwriter, @scarlettmoon98

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please let me know if you'd like to be taken off- i promise not to take it personally!

#moon knight bingo #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader

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steven-grants-world · 2 days

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Can someone pls write a fic about Steven Grant/Marc Spector with a plus size female reader like the someone made rude comments about the readers body and she thinks that they are true and that Steven/Marc don’t like her body and they show her how much they love her body.

I’m sorry this is so bad this popped into my head last night and it hasn’t left ever since.

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steven-grants-world · 2 days

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You caged me and then you called me crazy I am what I am 'cause you trained me

#anakin skywalker #darth vader #star wars

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steven-grants-world · 2 days

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⊹₊ ⋆₊♡‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊♡‧₊ ⊹₊ ⋆

𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎' 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

• 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐬 .ᐟ 𝟏𝟖+ .ᐟ

- college AU, a little stalker/hacker Mig :3, best friends to lovers, 18+, unprotected sex, manhandling, degradation, language, talks about porn, size kink

Not proof read I’m lazy rn….

Miguel had a tendency to snoop, it was just in his DNA. Especially when he realized the late night studying and friendly chats were making him see you in a different light.

He knew it could be bad and ruin your whole entire friendship with his selfish need to be more than friends but that never stopped him from catching onto things you liked.

How wasn’t he supposed to imagine ruining a pretty little thing like you? He towered over you and he knew it would be more than easy to toss you around and mold you in his hands.

He always went out of his way for you, you were his best friend after all so why wouldn’t he want to make sure you enjoyed being with him?

That smells good, next thing you know Miguel had himself a brand new cologne. He knew it was desperate to say the least, changing himself for you to see him in a different perspective.

That's why the day he came over one night and noticed your computer out on the kitchen counter he couldn’t help but take a peek. After all, you are his best friend.

He scrolled through your tabs, his expertise with computers coming in handy when the big input password button popped up on your screen while he tried to look through your history.

He watched the door to the restroom, his shoulders going stiff he heard you yell from inside “I’m gonna take a shower real quick I’ll be out in a few”

Everything was falling perfectly into place. Was this a sign that he should keep going? Gosh he knew it was wrong snooping through your history but it was served to him on a silver platter. How couldn’t he??

He replied with a yeah and went back to your computer. A smile curling on his lips as he managed to get past the password block.

A bunch of useless links, books, school, school. Ugh. He scrolled with a bored look until he saw something he didn’t expect.

Twitter? He perked up at the link name and clicked. His cheeks went red at the screen in front of him, plastered in the screen was full on porn. The video of a man twice the size of his lover, fucking her onto his bed like a mad man. It was rough, animalistic, and yet so intimate.

He scrolled through the links, another, and another. He watched hypnotized as he picked up the patterns, was it a coincidence?

You seemed to have a lot of videos with men who have obvious size differences, dark brown hair, honey tan skin, broad buff builds. All very similar to him.

The days after that night he was obsessed with seeing what other coincidences he could find. It wasn’t difficult to log into your account so why wouldn’t he just have another quick skim?

He could see your Twitter through his phone, his fingers scrolling through your saves. I love when men wear grey sweats, such sluts he read on one of your bookmarks.

The next day Miguel confidently walked into your apartment for movie night, your weekly rituals. Your mouth almost went dry when Miguel walked in with grey sweats and a tight black gym shirt on.

Your eyes darted off of him in seconds but the way your eyes widened didn’t go unnoticed by Miguel. He told himself he wanted feasible conformation, he needed undoubted proof that he wasn’t making this up.

And oh did he get proof.

He felt like this was a dream, he thought he was the one who would surprise you but oh he was wrong. You were a needy little thing and he was hypnotized. He watched you in admiration as your hands rested on his chest, riding him like a goddamn stallion.

Miguel really didn’t know how it got to this, he felt like he was in a different reality. He blinked up at you dumbly as he grounded himself back into reality, his hands touching and squeezing you just to make sure this was all real.

“Fe- feels so good” you gasped, his conformation that it was all real.

Miguel moaned in bliss as his hand slipped behind your lower back, giving him enough room to flip you onto your back. “All those videos saved on your Twitter, pft. You’ve got me now, I’ll fuck you in a head lock if you want it bunny. Jus’ like those filthy fucking videos you watch. Only difference is you won’t have to fake an orgasm” he seethed as he fucked his length deep into your tummy.

“Yes yesss yes” you hummed as he spread your legs wide, his behemoth body hovering over you felt like a shield protecting you from everything other than this moment. Neither of you had a thought other than each other, the stretch of you cunt making him dizzy and the way he broke you in had you drooling.

Your eyes were rolled back into your head as he manhandled you to your side, his hand reaching to lift your leg up to his side. The new position making you let out a pitiful whimper as he nudge at your gummy cervix.

It was so much. He was pounding you into the couch with such force that it was almost screeching across the wood floor. “I l- love it love it soo” you cooed.

“Lo sé mami, ya lo sé. Te gustan los hombres que son groseros contigo? Los hombres que te cojean sin respecto” he seethed. You nodded dumbly at his words, your cunt fluttering around him at the cruel tone he spoke in.

Miguel couldn’t believe he’s got his own little porn star now since you had all those damn videos saved, he’d make sure you deleted that damn app.

You wouldn’t need to get off on anything other than him.

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut

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steven-grants-world · 2 days

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Such an exciting chapter 🔥

Is Marc...dead? 🥺 What does Jake want from the reader? And who is he exactly in this story? 😳 so many questions... 🤔

The Dark Side of the Moon - Chapter 12: The Dark Side of the Moon

Vampire Marc Spector X f!Reader

Beta Read by @xbellaxcarolinax - Masterlist - AO3

Chapter Summary

Things start to go south, and fast, and your only salvation is trapped down below in the mansion...

Tags/Warnings (for entire fic)

Major Tags/Warnings Major Character Death - Non-con - Dub-con - Violence Minor Tags/WarningsNSFW, smut, Khonshu is human turned vampire, Ammit is human turned vampire, sex with characters other than the main pairing (Marc X f!Unnamed Character - Khonshu X f!Reader), p in v creampie, furniture grinding, scent kink, blood kink, vampire/human relationship, blood drinking, rough sex, oral sex, coming untouched, coming in pants, panty sniffing, angst, fluff, smut, forbidden relationship, secret relationship, possessiveness, obsessiveness, Marc does NOT have DID Dead Dove Do Not Eat - This means that what you see in the tags is what you get in the fic. If you read the tags and see "non-con" and then see non-con in the fic, don't be surprised!

Word Count: 4.8k

Marc had been in the thirst room for almost a week, and ever since he’d left your life had become even more of a living hell than it already was.

Khonshu treated you differently. He was colder to you, emotionless when he fed, and he’d begun addressing you as ‘cattle girl’, instead of his usual pet names. You wondered if he meant to dispose of you once your child was born, and perhaps this was his way of detaching himself from you. The alternative was that he was punishing you, letting you know that his affections were reserved for those who obeyed him, those who respected him.

You didn’t mind the lack of attention you got from him, you didn’t want it anyway. You would spend the rest of your life, if you had to, trying to figure out a way to free Marc from the thirst room. Part of you wanted to sneak off and go to Ammit, but the dainty gold chains around your wrists and ankles wouldn’t allow you to. You didn’t trust her either, but if she could at least free Marc, you thought you might be able to find a way out of this entire mess together.

You thought about killing Khonshu, on several occasions, but you were certain it would be impossible without the help of another vampire. You had hunter blood, you knew that now, but you didn’t know the first thing about the practice of hunting, and therefore the only use you had was to breed more hunters, or to serve a vampire lord as their cattle.

You’d never felt more useless than you did in that week following Marc’s imprisonment.

Your bedroom door opened, tearing you from your thoughts in surprise. You were even further surprised when Harrow stepped inside, looking down his nose at you. He closed the door, and you immediately felt a wave of unease spread over your body. Breathing became challenging, you felt terror wash over you…something wasn’t right.

“You’re pathetic, aren’t you?” He smirked, shaking his head at you. “To think that Ammit and Khonshu have been having a little quarrel over you…it’s downright maddening.” He paced, eyes lingering onthe floor and then back up at you. “I have served Khonshu for a long time, longer than you, Marc,” he sighed, “longer than most of the scum in this mansion.”

“What do you want?”

“I want Marc to finally get what’s coming to him,” he spat. “I want you to die, and I want Marc to suffer and I want Ammit to kill Khonshu for everything he’s done to me, the torture he put me through over the centuries.”

Your jaw dropped slightly, trying to absorb his words. It made sense that he hated Khonshu, that fact didn’t come as a shock to you at all. What was shocking was the fact that he felt so bold as to say it. If Khonshu heard him speaking like that he’d have him thrown into the thirst room across the hall from Marc.

“We all don’t like Khonshu, Harrow, if you work with me we can take him down together,” you said, trying your best to sound convincing.

You didn’t give a shit if Harrow wanted to work with you or not, you just wanted to get out of there in one piece, and with Marc in tow.

“You’re not very bright, though you’ve only been alive for a couple of decades, I wouldn’t expect you to be very wise,” he taunted. “It’s too bad that your unborn child won’t get to see the world Ammit creates. It’s going to be beautiful, and they would’ve been a great asset to her.” He shrugged, stepping toward the door. “They say inhaling the smoke from a fire can make you faint before the flames touch your skin. I only hope for your sake that this is true so you won’t feel the pain of burning alive.”

Before you could make it to the door and stop him, Harrow left your room, slamming the door and locking it from the outside. You screamed as loud as you could, shouting for anyone to hear you, but the chaos that started beyond your door was drowning out every sound you made. You banged on the wood, rattling the handle with all your might, but it was no use.

You ran to the window, looking outside and peering down below. If you tried to jump you’d be dead without a doubt. You turned your attention back to the door, the orange glow of flames flickering underneath the gap. If you stayed there you’d be dead too. Dying wouldn’t be the worst fate you could suffer in your position. You imagined the peace you’d feel if you weren’t forced to play Khonshu’s games anymore and for a moment you felt serenity at the thought.

Then you thought about your unborn child, and you touched your hand to your stomach. You weren’t feeling that sense of motherhood yet, the undying affection you’re supposed to have for your growing fetus. Instead, you were concerned with what that child could do for the future of mankind. If there truly was a world filled with the supernatural, and you were the last hunter remaining, then you needed to survive, for the sake of humanity.

Without any options left at your disposal, you slammed your shoulder against the door, a terrible plan, leaving you aching and immediately regretting such a poor choice. You screamed some more, banging on the door with the heel of your palm and praying that someone would hear your plea. By some damn miracle, someone did hear your cries.

Sophia.

Your head maidservant opened the door, eyes filled with terror as she nearly swung it off its hinges.

“Miss!” She shouted, grabbing you by the wrist, “how did you get locked in there I–”

You pulled your hand back, “where are the thirst rooms?”

“They’re downstairs in the cellar but…I have to insist that you–”

You grabbed her shoulders, “just get out of here, and don’t look back.”

“I can’t…” she trailed off, holding her wrists up to refer to her enchanted chains, but they weren’t there.

You looked at your own wrists, realizing that yours were gone as well. There was no way to be certain, but you wondered if that meant Khonshu was too preoccupied to spend his energy on things like restraints. If that were the case, then there was a chance you could save Marc or a chance that he was already free.

“Go!” You shouted to her, pushing her out into the hall and watching her run toward the exit.

You went in the opposite direction, dodging servants and cattle as they ran in a panic toward you. A couple of them tried to stop you, but you shoved them off and continued your dangerous search for Marc. The flames were traveling slowly, giving you some extra time. Deep down you knew, if the choice was between finding Marc and living, you’d be forced to choose the latter.

Far down in the bowels of the cellar, you heard the most horrific screams. They didn’t sound quite human, instead, they were reminiscent of a screeching creature in bone-crushing agony. You slowed your pace, not wanting to accidentally come face to face with said creature, but you didn’t have the luxury of time on your side either.

The cellar had rows and rows of doors. Some were open, others still closed, and some weren’t even on the hinges anymore. The thirst rooms that you’d heard so much about, a dungeon meant for torture and suffering.

You located the source of the sounds you heard. Malnourished and weak vampires were crawling on the floors, attempting to rise and get out of their rooms. The stronger ones, the ones that had been trapped for a shorter time frame, still had it in them to rise to their feet and start stalking toward you in the stairway. You hadn’t thought this through. There were at least five feral and starving vampires coming your direction, and your body was designed to smell more delicious than the average human to them.

You were dead.

You heard your name being called from behind the feral vampires, and you could see for a split second, Marc’s face among them.

“Run!” He shouted, and you knew there was no choice other than to get out as fast as you could.

You took off sprinting, trying the handles of various doors in the hall when you got up on the floor above the cellar, all locked. You looked behind yourself, seeing a group of vampires running toward you, Marc mixed somewhere among them. You finally found a door that gave in, quickly getting inside and slamming the door behind you.

There was shouting on the other side for only a moment before it was frighteningly silent. Either Marc had won and they were all dead, or he’d lost and whatever was left had run off.

“I need you to let me in,” he said, and you sighed in relief.

But before you opened the door, you thought about how Marc had been in the thirst room for at least a week.

“Is it safe?” You asked, slowly putting your hand on the handle.

“I’d sooner walk into the fire before I’d let myself hurt you,” he said firmly, and you wasted no more time letting him inside.

Marc shut the door behind himself and pulled you into a tight embrace. He held you close, deep breaths forcing his chest to heave against yours. He kissed your cheek up to your lips and then stopped. You could hear his breathing change, the hint of a growl rolling up from the base of his lungs while pulling you even tighter against himself.

“I’m starving,” he rasped.

“Then eat.”

“I can’t.”

“You can.”

“You’ll die.”

“Only if you drink too much, you need your strength, we need to kill–”

You gasped, feeling the sharp pang of Marc’s fangs sinking into your neck. He’d never tasted you before, and you wondered if you were as delectable as he’d imagined. The fire didn’t matter anymore, if you needed to escape quickly, Marc could carry you out the window, but for now, you were at peace with each other.

“Marc,” you breathed softly, carding your fingers through his unruly locks. “I’m so glad you’re safe.”

His body shuddered against yours, his grip on you getting tighter as he drank. You knew this was dangerous, that there was a chance he wouldn’t be able to control himself, and that he’d drink from you until every last drop of blood was gone. You trusted him though, you knew you had to.

“I’m pregnant,” you whispered into his ear, and suddenly the suction he had on your neck stopped.

He looked at you, lips glossy and covered in crimson. His gaze dropped to your mouth and then back into your eyes. Marc didn’t say a word before he had you on the floor, the fabric of your dress thrown up in all directions while he fumbled with his belt. In seconds his cock was freed, the fat tip pushing past your entrance and plunging hungrily inside of you.

You arched your back, hips rising to meet his and take him deeper. You could still see the faint glow of the fire under the door, no doubt making its way from the next level up where your room sat to the floor you were on now. It was hard to care in the heat of the moment, mind numb from the blood loss and the feeling of pure pleasure as it tore through your body.

“The…the fire it–”

“Sh,” Marc said, holding you close and fucking you deeper, “I need you, I need you.”

He brought his lips to the bite he made once again, sucking more blood from your body, forcing a wince and a hiss from you. You didn’t mind though, the feeling of having Marc’s cock buried deep in your tight cunt while he drank your blood felt better than you could put into words. There was nothing quite as exhilarating as being used in every sense of the word by the man you…

By the man you loved.

He stopped drinking again to kiss you, lips slick with plasma as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. You moaned into him, hands reaching up to the back of his head and keeping him in place. You weren’t sure you could handle much more blood loss, so you’d have to keep him preoccupied with your mouth.

“I love you,” you whispered in between breathless kisses.

At first, you were worried he wouldn’t say it back. As self-loathing as Marc was, you wouldn’t be surprised if he thought he wasn’t worthy of your affection, and that he wasn’t good enough to say it in return.

“I love you too,” he muttered against your mouth. “I fucking love you.”

He moved faster, cock slamming into you at an alarming pace, your screams likely indiscernible from those trying to escape the feral vampires and ever-growing flames. You felt your eyes rolling back in your head, your fingers aching from how hard they grabbed onto Marc’s shoulders, and your legs quivering around his torso. He felt better now than before, maybe it was the desperation in his movements or the way he held onto you like losing you would be the worst thing that ever happened to him, but you couldn’t hold on any longer.

In a flash of white, your mind went blank, body spasming around his as your cunt clenched tightly around his thick cock. You heard him muttering something about how hard you were squeezing him, begging you to keep milking his dick, among other bits of nonsense you couldn’t quite find the will to focus on. His body gave in too, hips slowing to a series of deliberate thrusts that gave way to the thick ropes of cum gushing inside your greedy hole.

You could’ve laid there forever, letting Marc pepper your cheeks in bloodstained kisses and whisper sweet nothings into the night. The flames had finally made their way to your door though, and you’d run out of time.

“We…” you sucked in a breath, “we have to go.”

Marc looked at the door and then back at you. He nodded, standing up and pulling his pants back into place. He picked you up and made his way out the window.

“Hang on tight,” he instructed before climbing down to the ground below, putting you down safely on your feet.

There was an all-out battle happening in the field outside of Khonshu’s mansion, and you found yourselves in awe.

“We have to go. I’ll take you far from here, we can run away–”

“No,” you said almost too quietly, “no Marc we can’t just run.”

He looked at you incredulously.

“Look, I don’t know what you have going on in your head right now, maybe it’s the blood loss, but we can’t stay here, this is our chance.”

Marc hadn’t been there for Khonshu’s explanation of your species and what you really were. You told him quickly, knowing there was little time before you would have to join the fight happening just ahead of you in the fields. He looked at you, dark eyes turned up in an expression that reeked of sadness and an agony you could only describe as someone experiencing insurmountable dread.

“You can’t be turned…” He said, looking at you solemnly. “No matter what we…we could never…”

“We can find a way, I promise, but for now…” you touched his cheek and looked out to the field, “we have to finish this. If we don’t kill Khonshu, he’s just going to find me again.”

He nodded, recollecting himself and shaking the sorrow from his mind. He called the armor, and you wondered if Khonshu was the one controlling that enchantment, or if there was another source of vampire magic you weren’t made privy to. There were still so many things you didn’t understand, but now wasn’t the time to question it.

You and Marc made your way to the battlefield. The normally vacant fields were now host to vampires and humans alike, all fighting for survival. You recognized some of Ammit’s soldiers from your time visiting in the mountains. It was a bloodbath, and you were starting to think Marc’s idea of running away was starting to sound better by the second, but you knew you had to be brave. Fleeing wasn’t an option.

You and Marc found Khonshu, and without a word you hopped on Marc’s back, letting him bring you both to the thick of the fight and leaving the mansion, now almost completely engulfed in flames, at your back. Marc stood, ready to fight as you let yourself down from him. Khonshu looked over at you both, Ammit and Harrow were standing some feet away from him.

“Marc, my dove, look at you two,” he said in that sinister tone you recognized all too well. He was still furious. “Marc, my right hand, I always knew you were more trustworthy than that snake,” he pointed at Harrow, “though not completely trustworthy, are you?” He pointed at you now. “Did she tell you that she’s got your baby in her belly?”

Ammit and Harrow looked at each other, a gesture that told you they hadn’t known about your pregnancy until just now. That information could be dangerous in the wrong hands, and despite Ammit’s kind words to you back in her home, you knew she and Harrow were most certainly the ‘wrong hands’ in question.

“If you two help me, help your master, I’ll see to it that you both live. Marc, I won’t throw you back into that room, I won’t, and I’ll even let you see your baby.” Marc’s face was made of stone, face curled downward into a frown. “I have taken good care of you both! Given you a roof over your head! I’ve given you food and shelter!”

“Enough, Khonshu!” Ammit’s voice boomed over his. “If you were so just in your treatment then you wouldn’t be in this position. You brought all of this down upon yourself. Your mansion burns because you were prideful. You had the opportunity to join me and you refused.” She took a step forward. “I am tired of this war between us, so let’s end this.”

“Get back,” Marc snapped at you, and you obeyed without question, moving away and watching the fight unfold.

For once you watched Harrow and Marc work together, both of their weapons moving dexterously by their wielder. You’d always wondered what Marc looked like fighting, and now you could see it, and it was marvelous. He fought with a combination of his brutish strength, and his nimble grace. You watched his crescent darts fly through the air, hitting Khonshu in the chest, though the damage was minimal, and he was able to recover quickly.

You finally got a glimpse of the strength your blood afforded both Marc and Khonshu. The two of them were much faster and stronger than both Ammit and Harrow.

“Harrow!” Marc shouted, holding out his hand.

As if they could read each other’s minds, Arthur threw his khopesh to Marc. The darts weren’t able to do the job, but Marc being at his level of strength while wielding Harrow’s sword, managed to get the upper hand on Khonshu. For the first time since your time there, you saw fear cross Khonshu’s face. His eyes went wide, hands rising to shield his face.

Without waiting for another moment to pass by, Marc made one swift and clean slice, ridding the ancient vampire of his head. You watched it fall to the ground, rolling to Marc’s feet. Ammit laughed, striding over to the decapitated head and lifting it by the dark locks.

“Just for good measure,” she said coldly, tossing it into the burning flames that had now completely covered the mansion.

Marc was breathing heavily, shoulders rising and falling with each breath. Ammit looked at you, catching you off guard. While this situation had everything to do with you, you weren’t exactly part of it. You were in no position to fight, not being very strong, nor being very well trained or equipped to do so. You stepped back, and Marc put himself between you and Ammit before you could utter a word.

“Calm down, Marc,” she said in that motherly tone she possessed. “I’m not going to hurt her. Quite the contrary, I’d like to keep her for myself.”

“You can’t have her,” he said, following her movements and keeping the khopesh firmly positioned in her direction.

She raised her hands to show willingness to cooperate, “I’m not the enemy here,” she tried to assure him, “your enemy is dead. Work with me, and the two of you can be happy together. I can even make her immortal, just like you.”

You shook your head, “that’s not possible.”

She scoffed, “perhaps not for Khonshu, but for me…I promise you, little girl, anything is possible.”

Marc looked at you, eyes tracing your frame like he was actually contemplating her words. You shook your head again. If he gave in now, and the two of you went with her, there was no doubt she’d enslave you both the way Khonshu had. There was no sanctuary amongst the ancients, and you were learning quickly that none of them could be trusted.

“Ammit, we must kill him, you have me, you don’t need him.” He looked at you, face turned into a grimace. “And she’s just going to give us more problems than she’s worth. We should kill them both–”

“Silence!” Her voice boomed, and you realized that the fighting had died down around you.

There were bodies scattered over the fields, and save for the distant clanking of weapons, the echoing cries of those who still lived, and the crackling fire at your back, it was quiet. You gulped wondering what Marc’s next move would be.

“You can come with me peacefully, or I can make you, Marc Spector.” Her tone became dark. “The choice is y–”

You gasped, hands flying up to cover your mouth as you watched Marc move lightning fast to behead Ammit as quickly as he’d beheaded his own master. Harrow’s face contorted into a pained scream as he watched the woman he’d served so dutifully collapse before his eyes. You felt faint, not used to seeing such acts of violence up close, or perhaps it was just the blood loss finally catching up with you.

Harrow stepped toward Marc, to which Marc pointed the khopesh in his direction.

“You sure you wanna do that?” He asked coldly. “I just killed your master and mine. I’ll kill you too, Arthur.”

Marc put himself between you and Harrow, you guessed in case he got the idea to come after you next. When Harrow backed down, Marc nodded, the two knights at odds finally accepting that the war was over, and there were no winners, only those who had suffered for the war of their masters. Marc made his way over to you, pulling you into an embrace where you felt his entire body sigh in relief.

“It’s over,” he said, kissing your cheek and pulling you back closely again.

Over his shoulder, you saw Harrow moving faster than you could warn Marc to stop it. He held a crescent dart,standing over Ammit’s body, dark crimson liquid dripping from the blade. Ancient vampire blood. Poison. Death.

The weapon flew toward Marc’s back, and you had just enough time to shout his name before he could turn, the blade brushing along his side, just barely grazing him. He reacted quickly, able to move faster than Harrow with your blood still coursing through his veins. He fought swiftly, dodging the attacks of the other knight with relative ease, but you could tell something was off about his movements.

By the time he’d beaten Harrow down, forced the man to the ground, and beheaded the third vampire in a ten-minute window, Marc was moving slowly; even more slowly than he had been before drinking your blood. His chest was heaving when he turned around, dropping the khopesh on the ground to signify the end of his fight. He looked at you, and without a word, he collapsed.

“Marc!” You screamed, running as fast as you could to his side, dropping to your knees, and looking into his eyes. “Marc, what’s happening?”

Marc gulped, face slick with sweat while he breathed a labored breath. You noticed the steaming on his skin, not unlike the vampire Ammit had made an example of in her home not so long ago. You looked down at Marc’s side, and there was the wound committed by the crescent dart, the skin there was purple, appearing to decay before your very eyes.

“How do I stop it!” You shouted, trying quickly to recall anything you’d learned during your time as a cattle girl that might save him.

“Honey,” Marc croaked, reaching a hand out to you, but you weren’t listening.You brushed him off applying pressure to the wound with some of your skirts as though that might stop it from killing him.

“Blood, m-my blood is special, here,” you said in a weak voice, bringing your trembling wrist to his lips. “Drink it, please.”

Marc looked at your face, grabbing your wrist in his hand while he kept his eyes on you. He kissed your skin, then brought his lips to your palm as well. It was almost poetic, the way the sun started to rise over the horizon in the distance, and the way a soft breeze swept through enough to make your dress flutter lightly. Marc reached up and touched his fingertips to your cheek.

“It’s fine,” he said, visibly struggling with every breath.

You shook your head, “no, no it’s not. My life was nothing before all of this, it was nothing before you. I…I can’t–”

Marc managed to find the strength to sit, pulling you by the back of your head toward him and slotting his lips over yours. You tasted blood, sweat, and tears every time his mouth melted into yours.

“You’ll be okay,” he whispered, a deep wheeze following his words followed by a coughing fit that left him back on the ground, looking up at you. “You’ll…” he pressed a hand to your stomach. “You’ll be okay.”

It took you an hour to finally walk away from him, away from the mansion, away from the battlefield. You took two of his crescent darts with you, unsure how the weapons were still possible without Khonshu’s enchantment, but you were too exhausted to question that mystery any further.

Nausea hit you nearly halfway down the dirt road that led toward civilization. You were stuck between trying to control your sobs and trying to stop yourself from vomiting what little food and water you’d consumed over the last several hours. By the time you made it anywhere, you felt like you might die too, and you decided that now with Khonshu and Ammit gone, maybe that wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, even with the baby in your womb.

You would live though, and several years would go by that felt like moments in the grand scheme of it all. Every time you looked at your son you would see his father looking back at you, and despite the pain it brought, you loved him with everything you could, because you knew that’s what Marc would’ve done. Someday, you vowed, you’d tell him all about Marc, and Khonshu, and everything you’d gone through together.

Until then, you’d shelter him from all of it, for as long as you possibly could.

~~~~

“Khonshu is dead.”

Jake nodded, lips curling into a smirk before he sipped his glass of bourbon.

“And Ammit?”

“She’s dead too,” Jake’s messenger answered.

“Good. And Marc’s lover? The pregnant one?”

“We don’t know.”

Jake hummed, slamming his glass on the table.

“You understand what could happen if the wrong person finds her, don’t you? If those mutts in the mountains get to her before we do? I know they’re looking,” Jake growled, standing up and throwing his chair back until it hit the wall.

“Yes sir, but I–”

“Pull my car around.” Jake muttered, grabbing his coat and flat cap. “I’ll find her myself.”

Moon Knight Masterlist

Main Masterlist

#marc spector x reader #marc spector smut #vampire!marc spector

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steven-grants-world · 3 days

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GIF by kjs-s

This was made and sent to me by my dear friend @kjs-s and I am eternally grateful every time I get a little something in my ask box, so here's a little Steven for you all.

This was still more than a little surreal to him, this kind of thing didn't happen to Steven, not ever. He kept waiting for the other boot to drop, for the 'gotcha' moment, and it just never came.

He never knew that he could feel like this, so happy and fizzing inside all the time. Had the grey skies always been such a beautiful shade? The rain so iridescent? His heart soared as he made his way back home, knowing that, once again, you would be waiting for him right there. His lips tingled with the anticipation of your kiss and his step was lighter as he navigated the busy streets.

The world around him seemed to move in such a perfect way, like an intricate dance that hastened him towards you as if you were the sun, the centre of his universe.

He was soaked by the time he stumbled through the door, but he didn't seem to notice. You had wrapped him in a towel, insisted he change into dry clothes and he had insisted you help with that task.

Now, the both of you sat on his bed laughing about nothing, he had never felt so content and well adjusted.

"I love you, goofball." You giggled, the words causing Steven to hide his face momentarily before asking you to repeat your words, words he would never tire of hearing. Words you would happily repeat over and over until he understood deep in his soul that you were not going anywhere.

#Steven Grant x reader #steven grant fluff

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steven-grants-world · 4 days

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I love him 🥺❤

Whatever you do, don‘t try to imagine…

Marc tossing and turning next to you in bed at night. The rainstorm outside has lulled you to sleep a long time ago but his agitated whimpers wake you. You check your watch.

2am.

Under the thin white shirt you see his tense muscles. He writes, shakes fitfully. Sweat beads on his forehead. His breath is erratic. When you reach over to stroke his heated cheek, he jolts, still deep in his nightmare, but chases your calming touch nonetheless.

“Shhhh… I’m here.”

Fast asleep still, he groans and grabs you, scoots close and clings to you.

Your fingers rake through his hair while you repeat your words like a mantra.

I’m here. I’m here.

Only now you can feel him relax. His breaths deepen, his jaw unlocks and he buries himself in you with his limbs firmly around your body. You hold him, kiss the crown of his head, thinking about how he‘d never allow that in a conscious moment. He’ll probably trivialize it in the morning, should he even mention it at all. Which you doubt.

There‘s a reason Marc Spector avoids sleeping at your place. Someone he visits frequently is a potential target, he always factually explained. But there’s more to it than that.

He doesn’t want you to see the weight on his shoulders, his terrible shortcomings and sins, or know the past of a broken man. A lonely man. Years of solitude can convince a man of its barren convenience, even that he deserves it. That´s why he denies himself any semblance of commitment. And yet, he had caved tonight and stayed.

Marc knows it’s dangerous to become attached.

He also knows he´s way into deep already.

#marc spector x reader #marc spector imagine

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steven-grants-world · 4 days

Text

Sooo good, I loved it! 🥵🔥

Tell me you need me

♡ summary: its been a month of fighting against the first order, Poe misses you and needs to let go of some built up tension.

♡ content: MDNI!, afab reader, smut, domination, praise, degradation, making out, rough sex, oral sex, penetrative sex, big dick, dominant Poe, submissive reader.

A/N: I’ve been obsessing over Dameron lately and needed to write some good smut

Being ranked top pilot in the starfighters is a big responsibility, though it’s also the cause of his large ego. Many would say Poe thinks too highly of himself, cocky, arrogant, and that one day he was going to be knocked off his pedestal, but he worked for that position, the title commander doesn’t come without effort. The split second decisions that he was forced to make in the midst of battle weren’t easy and most of the time crucial, for not just him, but for the rest of his squad, and for the resistance. Stress came with the job, it was inevitable, though this month was like no other, frustration was high and patience was low. No breaks, no relaxation, having no room to let go of all of this built up irritation and decompress, but also no time to release himself in others. . pleasures.

This last month, Poe has wanted nothing more than to pump a large load onto his fellow pilot’s face. He couldn’t get his mind off of her, not after the last time. The way she looked up at him. .god his mind couldn't shake the thought. Her pure eyes looking up at him through her lashes as she rested down on her knees for him, and only him. The moment his squadron arrived back from their expedition, his check in with Leia was brief as he was determined to get back to his cordors, to finally get a moment to himself.

You were thrilled to hear that the Black squadron was back from their expedition, it's been awhile since they’ve been home and you were eager to see Poe once again. It didn’t take long until you arrived outside of Poe’s room, you hesitated. Your hand stopped right before you placed a knock on his door. What was stopping you? What was making you so nervous? It hasn’t been that long since you saw him, so what was making you so anxious? As you were about to knock, the door slid open, your eyes met him almost instantly. You watched as he swallowed the lump in his throat.

“Dameron?” His name leaving your mouth caused him to clench his jaw, the way you said his name, it drove him utterly insane. Even if there was no sexual intent behind it, it made the hairs on his arms stick up. Poe was quick to grip your arm, dragging you inside his room, hearing as the door to his room closed behind you, it left the two of you alone with each other's company.

There was silence for a moment, the only thing you could hear was the sound of your heart thumping against your chest. You found your eyes staring down by his feet rather than his eyes, not bringing yourself to look up at him. You could feel him looking down at you, his eyes were drilling into the top of your skull. As he lets go of your arm, his hand slowly makes its way up, pushing your hair behind your ear, allowing your face to be more visible for him. “Why won’t you look at me?” Poe let out in a soft whisper.

Your breath hitched, not a single word in reply to his question. Poe placed his index finger under your chin lifting your head up to look into his eyes directly. “Darling, please look at me.” he pleaded to you. Your eyes finally lock with his and a smug smirk spread across his face. Poe leaned close to your ear, and began kissing along your jaw. “This last month” he inhaled deeply “has been so . . fucking hard, being away from you.” his kisses starting to trail along your neck.

“Dameron i-” he quickly cut you off “don’t say my name like that darling or I won't be able to stop myself” His breath was hot against your skin, sending a chill against your spine. “Don't,” You said bluntly. Poe pulled his face away from the crook of your neck, his eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. “Don’t stop.” You said looking up at him, giving him those eyes. . the eyes he couldn’t say no to, the eyes that got him here in the first place.

There was a pause for a moment, the two of you collecting your thoughts, before he finally leaned down pressing his lips against yours. His hands entangle through your hair holding your head in place. You let out a soft moan against his mouth from the sudden impact, kissing him back, wrapping your arms around his neck. It doesn’t last long before his tongue slips through the seam of your lips, tongues swirling with one another before he sucks on yours, parting away from you. Poe’s hands release your hair and travel down your sides halting at your hips pulling you closer. Lips smashing with one another once more. It wasn’t something you could explain but his touch was addicting and you couldn’t get enough. He was your own personal drug.

You break free of the kiss, a trail of saliva breaking at your departure, leaving the two of you to catch your breath in the process. Poe was eager, he wanted more, he didn’t want it to end. Moving into another kiss his lips stop before yours, lips brushing against each other. “Tell me you need me. .” Poe pleaded softly to you. “Tell me that you need me. . and I’ll be yours. .” His words sunk deep into your core, causing you to bite the bottom of your lip giving it a second thought. You wanted him, there was no denying these feelings. You wanted him and him alone. You nod your head answering his pleas, but he was unsatisfied and shook his head “ No baby, I need you to use your words.”

Pausing for just a moment, you work up the courage to give in to your desires “I need you ” You say “need me to what?” He retaliates quickly. “To touch me.” That's all he needed to hear, and in one swift motion he dragged you over to his cot, hands still placed against your hips. He pulls at the bottom of your tank top signalling you do put your arms up and that you did. Poe pulled your tank top over your head exposing your bare chest, your nipples stiffen from the cold brushing against them. He quickly guides you onto his cot, using your elbows to keep upright.

The sensation of Poe’s hot mouth latching onto your breast before running his tongue against your nipple sends a shiver down your spine. He was gentle with your breast switching between the two giving both sides the attention they deserved. His lips travelled, kissing each breast before slowly trailing down your stomach stopping just at the hem of your pants. Poe’s two index fingers come up and latch onto your pants pulling them down and off, leaving you in just your panties. He was quick to dip his head in between your legs, planting gentle kisses on the inners of your thighs, feeling his beard pricking against your soft skin, causing you to grow impatient. “Stop teasing me” You let out a whine. Poe look’s up at you from in between your legs with a smirk “I'm not teasing, you’re just impatient” You could feel how wet you were growing by the minute, his touch was enough to make you weep. His fingers come up to your core running them gently against the wet fabric of your panties. “I’ve barely even touched you and yet you're so wet for me” You could hear his shit eating grin in his words.

Within a split second he pulled off your panties and quickly dived back in between your legs planting a kiss against your wet pussy, sending a shiver down your spine. A whine escapes your throat as Poe’s tongue begins to suck on your clit, lapping his tongue over it in the process. His hands hooked onto the unders of your knees holding your legs up and open, so you were unable to close them in the process. Your hands reach down and entangle with his hair, holding his head in place. He knew what he was doing, and it showed. The amount of pleasure that was rushing through your body was indescribable. You bite down on your bottom lip trying your best to muffle your moans in the process, causing Poe to pull away. “Let me hear your moans baby” He said, letting his lips hover over your pussy, his hot breath causing your body to slightly jerk. “Let them hear how amazing I’m making you feel” He loved seeing the way you squirmed to his touch.

Your hands reach up to the pillow your head is resting on and gripping it tight as Poe continues to eat you out, You feel your high growing, you’re gaining closer to the edge. To your release. Poe doesn’t stop, he keeps messily fucking you with his tongue, feeling as you’re growing closer to cumming.

“Ah -fuck,” You moan out before the built up knot in your stomach finally releases onto his tongue, but he doesn’t stop, he keeps going, your eyes widen as he continues to eat you out through your orgasm. His hand leaves your knees, inserting two of his fingers into your slick pussy, pumping into you slowly, unmatching the rhythm of his tongue. The sensation is causing your legs to shake, as you were already chasing your next orgasm, the second one closer then the first. “Come on pretty girl, cum on my fingers. .” Poe said, guiding you. He knew the right spots to push you over the edge, your orgasm was creeping up closer by the second and before you knew it you were cumming for him once again, your pussy clamping down on his fingers. “That’s my girl” Poe said while pulling his fingers out of you, licking the sear wet slick of your cum off his fingers.

Your head moves to look down at him but he’s already right there, face inches from yours, his movements were alway so quick, or maybe your mind was moving so slow, you could no longer tell. The tips of his index and ring finger slip past your lips placing them on top of your tongue making you taste yourself on his fingers. Your lips wrap around his fingers and slowly suck the last of your juices off of him. Your hands began to wander, palming him through his pants, he was already so stiff the brush of your hand over his cock was enough to make him groan. “Do you see how crazy you make me?” Poe said, watching as your hand trails against him.

He was quick to get up and off the cot, leaving you there, repositioning yourself onto your knees. You watched as he pulled his shirt up and over his head, following through by unbuckling his belt, tugging his pants and boxers down in the process, revealing his large thick and swollen cock. Reaching out and taking it in your hand, your tongue dragging itself across the slit of his sensitive tip before you swirl it around the head, sending a shiver down his spine. Your lips hallow over the head of his cock, tongue placed at the base slowly moving your head back and forth. “Fuck thats it” Poe groaned under his breath looking down at you as his hand entangles through your hair, guiding your head, bobbing it faster.

You pull your head back to catch a breath releasing his cock from your mouth, saliva running down your chin. Poe couldn’t get over the sight, seeing you like this was his favourite thing in the world. His hand cupped your cheek caressing his thumb softly against your skin. He looked in thought, what was he thinking? “Dameron?” You let out almost in a light whisper, his breath hitched, pushing you down on your back once again, he didn’t even respond, not a single word. Poe positioned your legs around his torso and lined the tip of his cock at your entrance.

It all happened so quick you weren’t sure how to react, his hands placed on your hips, pushing himself into you, you gasped at his cock stretching you out, sinking deeper into you. Poe didn’t wait for adjustment; he was impatient and couldn’t wait any longer. Your hands placed at his torso, pushing him away so he would calm down, he pulled back slightly just so he could pound back into you ignoring your attempt. Your face contorted into pure pleasure letting out a loud moan.

“Holy. Fuck Dameron! W-wait!” You called out to him. Poe’s grip tightened on your hips and picked up the pace, repeatedly slamming himself into you. “Shitt you feel so good, pretty girl” Poe groaned through the back of his throat. His hands place themselves on the back of your knees pushing them up to your head “You’re taking me so well.” He let out once more.

You couldn’t process words, your mind was fog, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he pumped into you. You were already sensitive enough from the last two orgasm’s that you could feel another one coming around the corner. The sound of your combined moans and slapping skin filled the room. Your eyes locked on his, watching his chain swing with the rhythm of your thrusts. This was like no other. His free hand went down to your pussy once again, his thumb teasing your clit, as he continued to pump into you. He felt as you began to clamp down on him, a smug look growing on his face once more. “Are you gonna cum?” you frequently nodded your head, words barley coming to you. “Yes, fuck.” You just barely make out. “Then beg.” Poe said with a stern voice, causing your eyebrows to furrow, was he serious? “Beg me, to let you cum.” He said once more clarifying your questions. “Mm please, please let me cum” you plead out to him. His breathing is becoming as heavy and hitched as your own, was he trying to cum with you? “Please Dameron, I wanna cum so bad” You moaned out once more. You could see his jaw clench he was breaking, his thrust were becoming sloppy and out of rhythm, he was just as close as you were. “Fuck, your pussy’s clenching on me so tight” you could feel the knot in your stomach grow. “agh, I don’t- Ah fuck I’m gonna cum.” You cry out to him “that’s it baby. Cum for me” Your legs fall and wrap around his waist, as you cum on his cock, your legs shake once again, as you run your hands through his hair, tugging on it slightly. You moans were like sympathy to his ears. Poe thrusted into you one last time cummimg, his cum filling you up. The two of you were breathless, chest rising and falling trying your best to catch your breath.

Poe leaned down and placed one soft kiss against your lips, It was more than just a kiss; it was a proclamation of love, a silent promise of everything they had ever dreamed of. Time stood still as you lost yourself in the intoxicating passion of each other's embrace, the moment etched into your minds. Pulling away not long after he looked into your eyes. . just for a moment, gathering his thoughts. A gentle smile played on your lips, a reflection of the tenderness in your heart. He brushed a strand of hair from your face, his touch feather-light yet filled with a depth of emotion that words could never capture. The two of you didn't need to speak; the silence between you was enough. “I want nothing more than to be the reason you smile,” Poe said to you in a light whisper.

@allicat0 signing off

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron smut

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