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lovelettersforthedamned · 1 month

Note

Congrats on reaching 4000 followers!!! 🥳

Can I request "so tell me, what do you feel for me?" "you know the answer. you know it all." "i want to hear you say it." with Steven Grant? ❤ it could be end with smut if you're comfortable with it 🤭

Same Tradition, Different Approach

✮ steven grant x afab!reader

✮ word count: 1.4k

✮ summary: a late night confession opens both you and steven's hearts (and your legs).

✮ warnings: fluff, smut, language, mention of food, mentions of anxiety, kisses, hair pulling, oral (f! receiving), cunnilingus, MINORS DNI, 18+.

minors if you keep reading i will manifest you having lice :)

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

main masterlist ⋆ moon knight masterlist ⋆ four-hundred follower bash

gif by @magnusedom Every Friday night, you and Steven meet at his apartment for movie night. You guys have kept this tradition every week for the past few years that you’ve been friends. Laying in his bed, you both stare at the laptop screen, a comfortable silence falling upon you two.

With the final scenes playing, you sit up and stretch. “That was good,” you look towards Steven, still lying comfortably under the blankets, “a little slow, but good.” He nods his head in response as you fold up your laptop, tossing it aside, and giving him your full attention. “I brought vegan cookie dough if you’re up to baking. I’m craving something sweet,” you begin to rise from the mattress, but Steven’s abnormal silence stops you in your tracks.

Steven’s ability to constantly talk about anything was one of the things you loved about him, along with many other things, so his lack of words shocked you. You say his name, and it finally catches his attention, “You okay?”

His eyes linger on yours for a second too long, and he quickly diverts them before responding. “Y–Yeah,” he clears his throat before sitting up, the blankets pooling on his lap, “just some things on my mind, love.”

Your head tilts at his confession. Steven always had a nervous habit when dealing with tricky things, so when you see this, you’re puzzled. Your eyes dart to his constantly moving hands then back to his eyes. You reach a hand towards his anxious ones, placing yours there to ease his mind, “We can talk about it. Only if you want to, of course.”

“It’s complicated, and I don’t want to bother you,” his demeanor visibly relaxes at the feeling of your touch.

You let out a breathy laugh, “You never bother me, Steven, you know that.” Your thumb has started to rub the back of his hand, each movement making his heart flutter.

“Just,” he starts before stopping, trying to find the right words, “don’t let what I say ruin our friendship. I value too much, and if I happen to fuck this up then stop me right now.” Your heart was racing at each word that Steven was rambling over. He was a nervous mess in front of you, and you could tell he was scaring himself. You kept quiet to see if he would continue, but when he remained flustered, you decided to jump the gun. Grabbing the sides of his face, you pulled him in for a kiss.

Nerves racked your brain until he kissed back. His hands, previously folded over each other on his lap, are now at the sides of your waist, pulling you in closer. There’s a fit of passion between the two of you. All these years of unspoken love have finally escaped, and you couldn’t be more relieved.

You try to pull away, but Steven keeps you in his touch with one of his hands coming to the side of your neck. His other hand makes its way down to the meat of your hip, squeezing it. You gasp at his actions, pulling away to look at him with a smile on your face. Steven’s face is bright red, his gaze focusing on your lips until you grab his chin, forcing him to look up at you, “So tell me, what do you feel for me?”

He’s already leaning in for another kiss, his body needs you. You lean back, forcing him to chase your lips before he responds, knowing that you won’t let him touch you unless he answers your question, “You know the answer, darling. You know it all.”

He thought you were satisfied until you shook your head, still holding his chin as you leaned in as close as possible. Still not connecting your lips, you whisper, “I want to hear you say it, Steven.”

You’re teasing him, and he knows it. “I love you.” he starts before taking a deep breath and looking into your eyes. “I love every part of you, and I can’t handle another second without your touch now that I’ve finally got it. So, please…Please let me kiss you, love.”

The grin on your face widens before you close the gap between you and Steven. He moans into the kiss as if you’re the sweetest fruit he’s sunk his teeth in. The sound of his pleasure sends waves straight to your core, a feeling of desperation grows as the kiss progresses.

“Lay down,” Steven mutters into your lips. Leaning back to fall onto the mattress, your lips never leave his. His arms cage you in as he hovers over your body, his lips moving to your neck. His lips suck on the supple skin right under your ear, eliciting a moan from you. Your hands immediately weave themselves in his hair. Lifting his head he says your name, catching your attention, “Let me take care of you, yeah?”

Not another second goes by before you nod your head, eager to see what happens next. His arms slide down your torso, his fingers catching on the hem of your pants and hooking under your panties in one swift motion. You open your legs for Steven, and he wastes no time placing himself between them.

He first places delicate kisses on each thigh. Each one is higher than the last, and each one causes a shiver to run up your spine. The anticipation was killing you, “Steven, please stop teasing.”

He nips at the skin before licking it and placing his head on your thigh, looking up at you with innocent eyes, “I have no idea what you’re talking about, love.” You whine in response, and he laughs. “Hey,” he finally comes face to face with your aching pussy, “I had to get back at you for teasing me. Now we’re even.”

You start to talk back before you’re cut off by Steven’s warm mouth on you. He doesn’t waste any time before diving his tongue deep into you, a gasp of surprise echoes throughout the small apartment. He’s lapping at your juices, the taste makes him moan into your clit. “Fuck, Steven…,” you moan, your hands gripping at the sheets beside you. You’re not sure where he learned how to do this, but that’s honestly the last thing on your mind, especially when he keeps sucking on your clit.

Steven can see how hard you’re gripping the sheets, and even though you two are touching, he misses your touch. He removes one of his hands off of your thighs and reaches for yours. You’re still a moaning mess when Steven intertwines your fingers, but you notice his actions, as you always have.

He can’t get enough of you, and when you cum into his mouth, he stays there, making sure to get every single drop. “Steven–fuck,” you giggle at his eagerness to keep going, but you’re too overstimulated to keep going. With your free hand, you hold the side of his head before gently pulling him off of you.

His lips and chin are glistening from your slick, and he has a shit-eating grin on his face. You couldn’t get enough of the sight in front of you. Sitting up, you pull Steven up for a kiss. The taste of you on his lips makes you whine.

Reaching towards Steven’s cock, you pull away when you feel a wet spot and a soft cock in his pants. You look back up at him, his face bright red from embarrassment, “Shit. I’m sorry, love. That’s pathetic of me.”

“Hey,” you give him a small peck, “I think it’s kind of hot actually.” You smile at him before standing and walking towards the bathroom. You look over your shoulder to see Steven, still on the bed, admiring your half-naked form. You tease, “Do you want to join me in the shower, or are you going to keep staring at me?”

He perks up at the suggestion and immediately joins you.

Your movie nights will continue to be a tradition, but now, a few kisses in between each scene won’t hurt.

✮ author's note: EEEK STEVEN GRANT!!! i love this man so much it's unreal. thank you for requesting this and participating in my bash, @steven-grants-world !! if you guys want to join, click on the link at the top of this fic. don't forget to like, comment, and reblog if you enjoyed!! ok, bye ily 🫶

#steven grant x afab!reader #steven grant smut #steven grant fluff #steven grant x reader #fluff #marvel #moon knight x reader #llftd 400 follower bash

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my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction · 1 year

Text

Sleep Tight

Jake Lockley X F!Reader Rating: PG Masterlist | ao3 | want to be tagged?

Steven's Part Marc's Part

A/N: For @loonymagizoologist's ask! I'm sorry this has taken... 293 years... Marc's one is coming! I headcanon that Jake speaks Ladino as well as Spanish.

Summary: Jake has a nightmare. You try to help.

Warnings: Nightmares. Typos (oh god, why are there always typos?) Please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 687

Taglist: @pleasurebuttonwrites @jake-g-lockley @raven-rk @Campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @cocodiem @oscarisaacsspit @welcometostayingawake @mbakubabe @solobagginses

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You woke, groggy and pulled from sleep by a faint noise. It took you a moment to work out where you were, your bed, and decipher the sound - Jake.

It was dark. Early morning.

Jake’s breathing was uneven, laboured, the smallest sound of discomfort between his lips, punctuating little whispers of words.

It took you a moment longer to realise he was still asleep.

His speech made no sense, some of it garbled, others fragments of sentences in English, Spanish, and Ladino.

The few words you could make out made your stomach twist. ‘No’, and ‘stop’, and ‘help’.

You moved closer to him, turning to face him fully as you sat up and gently put your hand on his shoulder.

He was warm to your touch, sweating and shaking.

“Jake.”

His whimpering continued.

Now that your eyes had adjusted to the faint light you could see the frown on his face, how his eyebrows were pinched together.

“Jake.” You shook his shoulder ever so slightly, speaking louder this time.

He didn’t stir.

You swallowed and bit your lip. “Jake.”

He flinched like he had been hit. But still did not wake. “Por favor… don’t… hurt…” the rest of the sentence was lost in another shuddered intake of breath.

Panic started to twist in your stomach, the idea of him being under some curse, of him never being able to wake up started to take root in the back of your head.

You shook his shoulder again. “Marc? Steven?” Hoping that the others could hear you and wake him themselves.

But Jake flinched again. “No… hacerles daño… leave th… alone…”

You leaned close and cupped his face with your hands. So carefully, as if he were some small thing that would break between your fingers, you began to run your thumbs over his skin. Gentle circles along his cheeks before trailing upwards and tracing his eyebrows.

You pressed lightly on his forehead, trying to massage the tension away.

His breathing hitched, becoming a sigh.

“Jake.” You pressed a kiss to his temple, your voice soft. “It’s time to wake up now.”

He didn’t jolt awake, but it was sudden nonetheless. Asleep one second and not the next. He grabbed hold of your right arm instinctively, his fingers digging into your bicep, his stomach muscles clenching.

You braced yourself, expecting him to roll you over and pin you down. A move you often practised while sparing. Sure that he would still be so caught up in the nightmare he would think he was in danger.

Instead your name fell from his lips, panicked and small, before his eyes opened.

“You were having a bad dream.” You gave him a weak smile, instinctively continuing to trace his features with your fingers.

He stared up at you for a second before he nodded, closing his eyes and swallowing hard. There were tears at the edges of his long lashes.

“Yeah.”

There was a moment before you spoke again. “Are you okay?”

Jake shook his head, keeping his eyes closed.

“That’s okay.” You press another kiss to his forehead.

As you started to move back Jake’s grip on your arm tightened. “Stay.” He swallowed, his eyes still closed. “Please.”

“Of course.” You kissed his nose, and massaged his temples as he slowly wrapped both arms around you, urging you closer. His movements were sluggish, heavy, sleep trying its best to pull him back.

You shifted a little, trying to move your legs from their awkward angle.

Jake let out the smallest sound of distress that cut deep into your heart.

“I’m staying,” you whispered, moving slowly, “I’m here.”

He clung to you as you moved, hugging you against his chest until you ended up laying on top of him, like his own personal weighted blanket.

His rapid heartbeat echoed through to your chest. Though it was slowing now, gradually becoming something closer to normal.

“Are you comfortable?” You said quietly.

Jake hummed, his breathing peaceful but his arms still firmly holding you.

“Good.” You kissed his jaw and settled your head on the pillow next to him, your body still on top of him. Grounding him with your weight. “Sleep tight.”

#jake lockley x reader #jake lockley x f!reader #moon knight #moon knight mcu #moon knight x reader #moon knight x f!reader #female reader #afab reader #my writing #oscar isaac #oscar isaac characters

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letmehavemyfictionalmen · 10 months

Text

Love, Lunacy, Time

summary: In a startling twist of fate, you find yourself awakening not in your bedroom at the Avengers compound, but alongside the Moon Knight boys in the 1950s in a sitcom-like setting of the town of Westview. The shock intensifies as you realize that, somehow, you and the Moon Knight boys are married to each other, despite never having crossed paths before.

pairing: Moonknight x afab!ScarletWitch!reader

warning: 18+ content, Eventual smut, Unprotected sex, Violence, Blood, Age-Gap, Kidnapping, Domestic Bliss, Fluff, a sprinkle of Angst, Strangers to Married, Flirting, Scarlet Witch!reader, Chaos Magic, Not an accurate representation of D.I.D.

Chapters

001. — Lost in Time's Embrace — [You find yourself preparing for a peaceful night's sleep in the familiar confines of the Avengers compound. However, your world is turned upside down when they wake up in the 1950s, alongside a man who oozes Chaos.]

002. — Unfamiliar Familiar Faces — [As the front door swings open, you are greeted by faces that stir a sense of recognition deep within you. Yet, something about their demeanor feels off, their behavior slightly peculiar. It's as if they are familiar, but not quite themselves.]

☼ Please note that I do not wish to have my work translated or published on any third-party reading websites. I claim the rights to my work.

☼ Where I don’t have any rights to the characters, many ideas and OC are my own creation. Please respect that.

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worstamongequals · 10 months

Text

What Can I Do

— That is the absolute last thing you need right now. Layla gently holding your face with her left hand, drawing soft lines to accentuate your eyes with her right, all while staring right at you with her lips slightly parted as she concentrates. No, no, absolutely not.

Layla El-Faouly x AFAB Reader

Warnings: swearing, smut‼️, oral, fingering, face riding, sharing a vibrator, infidelity (wedding day confessions; i don’t condone cheating ofc)

Word count: 3286

An AU where Layla and Marc’s wedding is set to happen after they get back from Cairo. You’ve been in love with Layla for forever, and as you get ready for her big day, she asks you why you’re not happy for her and Marc.

That night, you lay awake. Memories of her filled your mind and nothing you did could put them to bed. Layla, your wonderful, beautiful friend, is getting married tomorrow.

Today, you groaned, rolling onto your side and glancing at the green glow of the digital clock on your bedside table. 3:39 AM. She’s getting married today.

“To Marc.” You muttered aloud. “Fucker.”

Your mind wandered back to three years ago when she’d first suggested you get an apartment together. You were hesitant, but she couldn’t be more excited to be sharing a space with you. Her best friend! Her excitement dashed all the doubts in your mind, how could you tell her no? Shortly after you both had moved in was when she learned how terrified you were of horror movies. By the time It was over, you were begging to sleep in her bed. Your tone was joking, but she could tell you meant it, especially after you stuck your arm into the bathroom to turn on the light before going in, and again when you ran out of the room after turning the light off.

“Fine,” She had huffed playfully. “Just this once.” But then the next week, she suggested watching It Chapter 2. And the week after that, The Shining. And then one of the Saw movies. You couldn’t get that fucking puppet on the tricycle out of your head, and most nights, you found yourself crawling into her bed.

Your chest felt hollow as you remembered how warm and inviting the bed, and Layla, had been.

Layla had talked to you a couple days ago to confirm that you’d be there today, and you’d said yes without hesitation. But now… You weren't sure you’d even make it past doing your hair and getting dressed. You squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself to fall asleep and wake up too late to attend the wedding.

Layla, Layla, Layla.

Her name swirled in your mind, memories of her clear as photographs.

Layla pulling you onto a crowded dance floor, and with your body pressed against hers, you finally admit to yourself that you didn’t want to be just a friend to her.

The time someone mistook the two of you for a couple, referring to you as her girlfriend, and Layla didn’t correct them. Your heart swelled. It was around this time that you’d begun to convince yourself that you could do it; you could tell Layla everything. The thought of doing this didn’t seem so impossible now, and you’d started to feel like the reward greatly outweighed the risk. It would be so fucking worth it.

And back then, it felt so easy.

Layla had been begging you to go to the beach with her and after a few weeks of her relentlessly hounding you about it, you got some time off work, the two of you loaded the car up with all the standard beach necessities and drove off. She was driving, as usual. Layla was the safest driver you knew, both hands always on the wheel, never taking her eyes off the road. This gave you multiple opportunities to steal glimpses of her out of the corner of your eye. You loved when Layla drove. The energy in the car that day felt different and you had convinced yourself that Layla just knew what you were about to confess. You would tell her when you got to the beach. She pulled into a parking spot that was shaded from the sun by a large tree with drooping branches and the two of you took off your seat belts. Layla now had one arm resting on the center console and was using her other hand to check her makeup in the mirror. You took an imperceptibly (you hoped) deep breath, and gently placed a hand on her arm. “Layla?”

“Hm?” She turned to look at you.

You opened your mouth to speak but were cut off by a sharp buzz. Layla’s phone lit up, and so did her face. “Who’s that?” You asked, your confidence plummeting.

“I started talking to this guy, Marc,” Her gaze slid away from her screen and she met your eyes. “He’s nice.”

“Oh,” You plastered a smile on your face. “Good!”

“Yeah,” She shot you a small smile. “What were you going to say?”

“Nothing.”

And then Layla started bringing Marc around and you could hardly contain your jealousy, which made you feel awful when you realized that if you’d met under different circumstances, you and Marc probably would’ve gotten on really well. When Marc disappeared without warning, you felt guilty that your first thought was “Finally!” while Layla was devastated.

The guilt didn’t last long, though. He came back. Or rather, Layla found him. And she was upset, of course, but he explained himself away in that Marc-y way of his and things were pretty much back to normal. You didn’t know what happened in Cairo but it must’ve been pretty great for Layla to come back with an engagement ring on her finger.

Fuck Marc.

***

For five full seconds after you wake up, you are blissfully unaware of what the day will bring.

But then you remember.

And then you wish it was socially acceptable to miss your best friend’s wedding. Although… it was just going to be Marc, Layla, you, and Frenchie at a courthouse. It wasn’t like you’d be skipping out on a gigantic wedding party. Maybe society would be more forgiving in this case.

“Morning,” Layla walked sleepily into your room and plopped down onto your bed.

Beautiful as ever, in spite of the morning breath. Maybe a hint of apprehension on her face? But that was probably wishful thinking. “You look tired.”

“Wow, just what every girl wants to hear,” She grinned. “You don’t look so great either.”

You threw your arm across your forehead, covering your eyes. You must look like shit. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Cold feet? Maids of honor don’t normally get those.”

“Nah,” You said coolly. “What about you?”

“Couldn’t sleep either.”

“Ah, maybe you’re the one with cold feet?”

Layla shifted uncomfortably, averting her gaze. “We should start getting ready.”

“Mhm.” You sat up and let Layla take your hand and pull you out of bed.

The two of you took your time getting ready. Layla, you assumed, was moving slowly to make sure she looked perfect. Which wasn’t hard. Even before you’d had feelings for her, you knew she was gorgeous. You, on the other hand, were dragging your feet through the entire process. Anything to delay the inevitable.

“Want me to do your eyeliner?”

You gulped. “N-no.”

That is the absolute last thing you need right now. Layla gently holding your face with her left hand, drawing soft lines to accentuate your eyes with her right, all while staring right at you with her lips slightly parted as she concentrates. No, no, absolutely not.

“Why not?!” Layla turned away from the mirror and faced you, liquid liner in hand. “You look great with it!”

“I didn’t get much sleep last night, I might rub my eyes and ruin it.”

“You’ll be fine.” You’re sitting on a stool and she steps between your legs, lifting your chin and bringing the felt tip of the pen to your face. You worry, irrationally, that when she stands this close to you, Layla can see every (extremely gay) thought running through your mind.

“Can I ask you something?” She murmurs.

You’re looking anywhere but her face. “Mhm.”

“I know you’re not, um, excited, about today. About the wedding.”

The way she talks about her wedding as if it isn’t her own strikes you as odd.

“Is there a particular reason why?”

“No, Layla, I swear I’m just really tired, I think I need a new mattress-”

“Please,” She moves on to your other eye. “I’m genuinely asking. I want to know.”

“Well…” You hesitate. She may really want to know if you think there’s something wrong with Marc, but you’re positive that the real reason you don’t want her to get married has never even crossed her mind. “I just think that Marc’s kind of a bag of shit.”

She laughed then, harder than you’d seen her laugh in a while, and you smiled. “I do! He’s cool and all, but…”

“But..?” She presses, her eyes still crinkling into a smile.

“I just, I’m so much better than him.” You tried to sound as if you were just joking. “I’m better than him and I’m awful. So that’s a low bar. And you deserve better. The best.” Anything to keep her believing that you really had no problems with the wedding or Marc. You may not want her to marry someone else, but if you didn’t have the nerve to confess your own feelings, who were you to stop her? You couldn’t be that person, ruining what was supposed to be one of the best days of her life, when you knew you weren’t brave enough to risk getting rejected after telling her how you felt about her. You would much rather sacrifice a potential lover than lose a friend.

“Yeah, you are pretty awful.” Okay, ouch. But there was a small smile on Layla’s face. “What makes you so much better than Marc?”

“Well, for one, I wouldn’t drag you to a courthouse. I’d do the whole shebang.”

“The whole shebang?”

“Yeah. You deserve a million shebangs.”

“Well, I really don’t mind a courthouse wedding–”

You cut in. “And I never would’ve left you.”

“That’s different.” Layla’s voice took on a sharp tone. “You don’t know what happened there.”

“Sorry.” You felt small all of a sudden. Maybe you’d pushed too far. “I would if you’d tell me. You haven’t told me much since you got back.”

“You have your own secrets.”

There was something in her eyes when she said that. Something knowing. And still, you felt the urge to lie.

“I don’t. You’re my best friend, I tell you everything.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

“Then tell me the truth,” She looked at you in a way that was soft and sharp all at once. “Why don’t you want Marc to be with me?”

You frowned. She had this so backwards. “It’s not that I don’t want Marc to be with you.” You sighed. “I don’t want you to be with Marc.”

“That’s the same fucking thing–”

“No,” You said quietly. “It isn’t.”

She opened her mouth to speak but stopped. For a good thirty seconds, she said nothing. “So, you…”

“Yes.” Your voice trembled.

“This whole time, you… Oh.” Layla looked down at her hands for a moment, playing with the eyeliner pen before setting it aside. “I didn’t think you thought about me like that.”

“I know, I’m sorry, I–”

“I never dreamed you would think of me like that. I didn’t think it would ever happen.”

Now you were confused. “What?”

“I have wanted this for so long, but it didn’t seem like you felt the same, so I tried to move on,” She swallowed. “With Marc. And he’s nice, but he isn’t you. And for a little while, I thought, maybe… Maybe if you felt something for me, this would help you realize it. But then he proposed,” Layla paused and met your gaze. “And I thought that if you had any secret feelings for me, surely that would bring them to the surface. I was stupid to say yes to him, but I didn’t want to throw it all away. I was afraid to start over, he knows me so well. The only one who knows me better is, well, you.”

This… wasn’t at all what you’d expected. You cleared your throat, preparing to speak, but your mind was blank. It seemed to you as though no words were good enough to describe your feelings for Layla.

So you didn’t try.

You just leaned forward and kissed her. Layla’s right hand cradled you at the base of your skull and she slipped her left arm around your waist, pulling you to her until your bodies were pressed against each other. You laughed nervously as heat pooled between your thighs at the sensation.

“I’m going to talk to Marc and call the whole thing off,” Layla murmured.

“I’m not going to tell you what to do.” You whispered.

“You aren’t. I should’ve done this a long time ago. This, and,” She gripped your hips and walked you backwards until you were at your bed. “This.”

“You don’t know how much I’ve thought of this.”

“I think I have some idea.” Layla pushed you onto your back and straddled you. A shiver ran down your spine when she leaned over and began pressing soft, wet kisses to your neck, collarbone, and chest.

You slipped your hands under her shirt and ran your fingers across the band of her bra. It felt lacy and you’d never wanted to see it so badly. Layla tugged her shirt up and over her head, casting it aside, before doing the same to you. You reached up and pulled her in for another kiss and she cupped your breast in her palm. When her fingers brushed delicately over your nipple you couldn’t stop the sharp gasp from escaping your lips.

“I thought of you sometimes, when I was with him.”

She began gently pulling your shorts down your thighs. “I felt so guilty but I wanted it to be you.” Your shorts were on the floor now, and Layla was settling between your thighs. “It was never better than when I imagined you were the one doing those things to me. And now look at what I get to do to you.” You felt her warm breath on your clothed cunt when she exhaled.

“Fuck,” You whimpered.

“You want this?”

“More than you know.”

She tugged your underwear to the side. “Tell me then.” You jolted when you felt her tongue sliding into the seam of your pussy. Everything was warm and wet. You ran your fingers through her hair, gently tugging on the curls to spur her on.

“I’ve wanted you since that first night we went dancing,” Her fingers began circling your clit and you whined. “When that guy thought we were girlfriends, it sounded good.”

Layla paused, her mouth leaving you, and you bucked your hips searching for any kind of contact again. “You should’ve told me then, we could’ve done this sooner.”

“Well, fuck, Layla, I didn’t know it was that easy.” You said sarcastically, making her laugh. Her eyes were practically sparkling when she asked, “Do you want my fingers inside you?”

“Yes.” You said breathlessly. “Please.”

“So polite,” Layla’s voice sounded like something out of a dream. She watched, entranced, as her fingers sunk into your cunt. “You’re always so sweet to me.” She could feel you squeezing around her fingers as she spoke. “You like that? Hearing me talk?”

“I like everything you do with your mou-” Your words failed you when she curled her fingers into you, reaching a spot that had you seeing stars.

She put her lips back to your clit, licking and sucking in time with the way her fingers stretched you open. Your legs began to shake around her and she used her free hand to hold you in place.

Layla put her hands on your hips and dug her nails into your skin as she fucked you with her tongue, making you whine out her name. Your hips bucked involuntarily and you felt like your body was on fire. You started thrusting upward, shamelessly grinding up against Layla’s face to get more pressure.

“Easy, honey,” Layla’s voice was silky smooth. “All you have to do is tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.”

“More,” You blurted out. “Harder.”

Layla laid down next to you and pulled you on top of her. She grabbed your waist and urged you forward until your cunt was just above her face. You could feel her warm breath every time she exhaled and you knew you must have been dripping wet. “Go as hard as you want.” You hesitated for a moment, and Layla noticed. “Go on.” She said, wrapping her arms around your thighs and gently encouraging you to sink down onto her.

You gasped when you felt her tongue on you again. She moaned into you, the vibration sending sparks of pleasure throughout your body. You began to grind down onto her face until you found the perfect angle that had her nose rubbing against your clit. “Oh fuck.” You spoke through gritted teeth. “Layla, I’m not gonna mmph-” She dragged her nails down your back and you let out a low moan. “I’m gonna cum.” Layla hummed in response, and you almost lost it when you looked down at her. Her eyes were trained on you and she was looking at you like this was her whole purpose in life. With a cry, you started moving your hips faster, seeking the high that was almost within reach. You felt tears gathering in the corner of your eyes, and then-

Nothing.

Layla lifted you off her and you whined at the loss of contact. She leaned over and reached into one of the drawers on the dresser next to your bed. Your cheeks warmed when you realized what she was looking for. “Don’t you want to finish with me?” She smiled mischievously at you, your vibrator in hand.

“That- that would be,” You swallowed hard. “Yeah. Good.”

Her laugh was music to your ears. She clicked the vibrator on and placed it between the two of you before pulling you close.

“Hi,” You had a goofy grin on your face and you felt shy, even though you’d been riding Layla’s face a few moments ago.

“Hey.” Layla’s smile was just as silly. You placed both hands at her jaw and kissed her; you could taste yourself on her. You gently sucked on her lower lip and you could feel her smiling.

Layla closed the distance between you so that vibrator was pressed up against both of you, you both moaned. Your legs began to shake as you watched her grind against the vibrator and you.

You noticed the sweat beading at her forehead, the way her arms had started to tremble. Then she met your gaze. “Are you gonna cum, baby?” She said in a teasing tone. “It feels like you’re getting close.”

And that sent you over the edge. You wrapped your arms around her waist tightly, increasing the pressure of the vibrator against the two of you. Layla let out a cry of surprise, and then of pleasure.

The look on her face as she came was almost enough to make you orgasm all over again. The two of you sat there quietly for a moment, holding onto each other until you caught your breath. You smiled at Layla warmly before going to wipe yourself off and get a warm washcloth for her. You returned seconds later and began gently cleaning her up.

“So,” You broke the silence. “Would now be a good time to tell you that I kind of have a crush on you?”

“Oh my god,” Layla rolled her eyes and twirled a strand of her hair around her finger. “Really? No way.”

“Yes way! Wanna meet up after school and hug?”

She laughed and paused for a moment, before saying “I love you.” She leaned forward slightly and let her forehead rest against yours. “I’ve loved you for so long.”

You blushed. “I think I’ve probably loved you forever.”

“Silly, you haven’t known me forever.”

“Feels like it.”

#marvel fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #reader insert #mcu fic #smut #layla el faouly #scarlet scarab #layla el faouly x reader #afab reader #fem reader #layla el faouly smut #moon knight mcu #moon knight fanfic #moon knight #wlw fanfic #wlw smut #x reader #scarlet scarab smut

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purpleshallot · 2 years

Text

A New Purpose

Pairing: Marc Spector x f!Reader, Steven Grant x f!Reader

Summary: You wake up on the side of the street, unable to remember your name or where you came from. When a stranger offers you help, you quickly start to realize that this scenario seems very similar to one that you’ve already seen before.

Series tags: rewrite to include reader, strangers (?) to lovers, canon divergence, Layla is still included because I love her

Warnings: limited knowledge of Egyptian mythology, chapter warnings will be added each chapter

A/N: After a long period of writer's block, I'm trying to get back into it. I've been struggling a lot with writing, so any and all feedback is appreciated! I'll try to update this fic every monday, starting from June 20th.

I do not consent to my work being reposted, copied, or translated. You are responsible for your own media consumption. Do not interact with +18 warning chapters if you’re a minor. Reblogs and feedback are always appreciated!

Main masterlist // AO3

Chapter list

Chapter 1: Lost

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Message me if you would like to be added to the taglist. Minors will not be added.

People who helped me brainstorm this idea: @lunarbuck @breakablebarnes @watergator and @fluffyprettykitty, thank you so much for letting me talk about this fic and helping me!

#moon knight #moon knight fanfic #steven grant/reader #marc spector/reader #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #moon knight fanfiction #marc spector x you #steven grant x you #moon knight x reader #moon knight x you #warning: afab reader #📝 finn writes #marc spector #steven grant

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kittyofalltrades · 1 year

Note

Talk to me about Jake smoking outside your work place and waiting for youuuuu

MONA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

But like okay I mean….

Jake fucking Lockley your boyfriend and the bane of your existence loved to walk you home from work. There wasn’t a day that went by that he wasn’t there.

But somewhere along the way you found out about his nasty habit….smoking.

You thought something was up just based on his oral fixation. But you know thought it was smoking.

Not until your coworkers came to you cooing about the hottie out front smoking.

You thought nothing of it because Jake was the only hottie you needed.

That was until you walked out and caught him. Standing in the light smattering of snow with his collar turned up against the cold was Jake.

You’d never seen him look quite as sexy as he did with his lips wrapped around the cigarette. You wanted to pounce on him… pull the cigarette from between his lips and press yours to his.

When he caught you watching him first shame at being caught, then intrigue at your expression.

He closed the distance between you and pulled you into his arms. He’d only ‘em seen that look just before you were about to start pulling off his clothes.

“Let’s go home Cariño and see if you still thinking my lips wrapped around a cigarette is sexy…”

You blush and tell him “the cigarette isn’t what I want your lips wrapped around.”

#moon knight #jake lockely #afab reader #inbox <3 #kitty answers

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deunmiu-dessie · 20 days

Text

ⅴ▬ ⁽ 𝑜𝓇𝒸 ⁾

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ♡︎ : ₅˖₇ₖ ˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ♡︎ : mdni----- unedited, NSFW, explicit content, teratophilia, orc/royalty!human, rough sex, unprotected sex, creampie, overstimulation, breeding, spit kink, sloppy kisses, size difference, somnophilia, slight voyeurism, orcish, reader loses all forms of etiquette and just babbles-- stupidly, belly bulge. ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ♡︎: as royalty it's your duty to marry and provide heirs for the kingdom, however, your parents have a different plan for you.

꒰m!orc ₊⊹ afab!reader꒱

𝐹or as long as you can remember, you have been allured by the forbidden. Whenever your parents commanded you to abstain from a certain act or sternly prohibited you from engaging in another, it ignited a fervor within your being. And inevitably, you succumbed to its allure.

Your relationship with your parents was not a harmonious one. From the time you were but a child, they made it abundantly clear that you were not conceived out of their love for one another, but rather out of an obligation to the throne. To them, you were an inconvenience, a mere hindrance that they longed to be rid of. Thus, you existed in a perpetual state of unease, forever uncertain of their next move.

The castle bustled with activity this week, the number of knights seemed to have multiplied, and your encounters with your parents grew scarce. Your daily meals together became non-existent- not that you were complaining. Instead, during supper, they scorned and mocked you—drawing comparisons to your elder cousin who had recently become betrothed to a Duke. You were aware that they would arrange a marriage for you; it was inevitable, but you hoped it would be to someone who would eventually cherish you as you would them.

Verily, this day seemed naught but a replica of the day prior—a day draped in melancholy. The heavens were adorned with clouds of a somber ashy hue, obscuring the radiant sun in its entirety, and permitting but a scant ray of light to penetrate. You lay sprawled on your bed; the clamor from beyond your door kept you from getting any sleep, so you opt to lay there, eyes shut and breathing even.

The two hefty thuds at your door jolt you awake, your eyes snapping to the entrance. A servant girl stood there, her gaze piercing, and her upper lip curled in a sneer. "The King and Queen request your presence for a meal in the dining chamber."

You release a heavy sigh and nod. "Yes, I shall join them shortly, Nadia." she scoffs and closes the door with a soft thud. Rubbing the remnants of sleep from your eyes, you rose from your bed, slipping into your shoes with a sense of resignation. Hastily, you arranged your disheveled hair and adjusted your attire in the mirror, preparing yourself for the impending encounter. Finally, summoning your resolve, you embarked on the descent towards the dining hall.

Your stomach churns uncomfortably as you motion towards the knights, fingers twisting nervously as they swing open the heavy oak doors. Stepping into the chamber, you swiftly bow and linger there for a moment, awaiting permission to be seated. "Hail to the Sun and Moon of the realm." Your sire grunts and gestures for you to take a seat; you release a shaky breath and settle across from your mother, who pays you no mind.

Within the dining hall, a profound stillness prevails, accompanied solely by the gentle clatter of utensils upon porcelain plates. You dare to disrupt the silence, your heart constricting within your breast, burdened by your uneasiness. " Pray tell, have I heard true? Have the demons breached the borders, causing mayhem? Is that why the ranks of the noble knights have swelled in recent days?"

The older man looks up from his meal, steely eyes on your face. "I did not deem you astute enough to discern matters of such nature, but aye, it is true. The Orcs shall breach the barrier if we do not do something. The knights from Tvatian shall not grace us with their presence for a week's time, yet our defenses wane with each passing moment."

The sound of your mother's throat being cleared reverberates through the air, abruptly drawing your eyes towards her. "You shall soon attain the age of twenty, my dear. Do you have any intentions of entering into wedlock?" Her voice possesses a cloying sweetness, signifying her ulterior motives; she is forever scheming. As you carefully place your knife and fork on the table, you grant her your undivided focus. "Aye, mother," you reply, your words tinged with a touch of uncertainty.

With a disapproving click of her tongue, she gracefully lifted her goblet to her lips, attempting to conceal the mischievous grin that flickered across her features. "Verily, a little bird has whispered in my ear that Orcs take pleasure in having humans as mere playthings, using them as harlots and passing them amongst themselves. How dreadful."

Your hands clench beneath the table, and you struggle to suppress the bile that threatens to rise. Your heart thumps sporadically in your chest, almost painfully. What is she implying? "Pray tell, what is the essence of your words?"

"The royal family's expectations are not to be taken lightly, my child. If you persist in shirking your responsibilities by avoiding marriage and offspring, alternative measures must be considered. You shall be delivered to the head Orc at the border; mayhap that will pacify them until the Tavatian knights arrive." Your father had spoken this time, causing you to swiftly turn your gaze towards him. Tears welled up in your eyes, and a soft laughter escaped your lips. "Pray, father, assure me that you jest."

The answer lies within his silence. Your hands collide with the table, your head sways vehemently from side to side. "Nay, nay! You shall not subject me to this. What offense have I caused thee? I have obeyed all your commands unquestioningly, and you are planning to— Nay, I shall not proceed."

As the succulent salmon dances on her fork, your mother's laughter fills the air, resonating with a warmth that belies the gravity of her words. "My dear child, you find yourself bereft of options. You shall be deemed a traitor to the noble lineage and condemned to perish before your very birthday." A lump lodges itself in your throat, and tears stream down your face, as you rue the moment you stepped out of your room. "For what reason do you bear such animosity towards me?"

"Escort her back to her chamber; she's giving me indigestion," your mother states with a grimace. The knights pause briefly, uncertain of how to guide you away. Dismissing them with a wave of your hand, you rise from your chair and exit the chamber, tears clouding your sight. The journey back is unsettling, with the maids gossiping and gesturing, their disdain evident on their faces, and their disapproving gazes following you.

The door is forcefully slammed shut behind you, and with great urgency, your feet carry you to your bed, where you collapse with a heavy sigh. Almost immediately, your pillow becomes saturated with the tears that pour forth, and you huddle into yourself, simply becoming smaller.

Indeed, you knew this would occur eventually, but you hadn't thought you would be handed over to some hideous monster who would likely slay you upon arrival. Violent sobs wrack your body, shaking you to the core, while your nose runs uncontrollably, the pillow muffles a scream of agony.

After half an hour had passed, you lay there, sleep welcoming you with warm arms. The answer to this puzzle would reveal itself upon your awakening.

—

Woken by the sound of shuffling, faint whispers, and delicate clinks, you remain motionless, filled with trepidation, and unwilling to stir from your position. You quickly clench your eyes shut upon hearing the intruder approach. As much as you desired to confront them, you were also intrigued to uncover their intentions within your room.

"Seize her limbs; we must transport her to the dungeon." In an instant, your heart falters, trembling fiercely, and for a moment, your breath is held captive. As your eyes snap open, the ceiling of your chamber looms above you. Swiftly, you strike at the person nearest to you, expressing gratitude to the gods as you hear their curse.

Emerging hastily from the confines of your bed, you sprint towards the exit, a shrill cry escaping your lips as a hand clutches your ankle. You descend abruptly, your chin colliding with the cold marble beneath, silently expressing gratitude for the prudent act of placing your tongue against the roof of your mouth in the final moments.

Swiftly flipping over, you kick frantically, tears streaming down your face as your legs are forcefully spread apart, and the assailant inserts themselves between your thighs, seizing hold of your arms.

Your vision blurs as a heavy slap is brought across your face. The brief respite from your struggle grants the assailants the opportunity to lay a cloth upon your nostrils. Your eyes flutter shut, darkness casting a shadow upon your vision. The feel of your body being lifted is the only thing you remember.

Within the confines of the cell, you find yourself in a state of contemplation, your head gently leaning against the cold metal bars. The sharp sound of heels striking the ground causes you to straighten up. The passage of time remains elusive, yet the atmosphere hints at the arrival of a new day, shrouded in the quiet of dawn.

Your mother's face came into view, causing you to sneer in disdain as you buried your head in your knees, refusing to meet her gaze. The very sound of her voice sent shivers down your spine, igniting a mixture of anger and sorrow within you. She callously auctioned you off, displaying a complete lack of concern for your well-being.

"I reckoned it would be preferable for you to don your best attire, but it would be futile. A watchman shall be present shortly to guide you to the border, make no disturbance, do you understand? 'Twould be unsightly if you do."

You ignore her, but deep down, you are filled with dread to venture towards the border. You longed to weep and plead with her to refrain from sending you, but it would only wound your pride. Instead, she smiles and draws nigh unto the prison bars. "When we emerge victorious in this war, and if you are still breathing, I shall dispatch you to a brothel. I couldn't possibly have such a defiled child. Revel in your sojourn there, my dear."

The clatter-clack of her footwear slowly vanishing into the distance brings forth a torrent of tears. Why must this befall you? What sin have you committed to warrant such treatment? The jingle-jangle of keys catches your attention; the guard stands before you with a look of pity. "Your majesty, the time has arrived."

You nod in a pitiful manner and rise from the ground, using your soiled hands to dry your tears, leaving traces of dirt on your cheeks. As you draw near to the guard, he pulls down his sleeve and tenderly wipes your cheeks with a sympathetic smile. You bow softly in gratitude and proceed to walk with him to the carriage.

He assists you inside and closes the door; a click prompts you to peer through the tiny gap. A lock secures the door; as you lock eyes with the guard, he merely sighs and shakes his head. "The Queen has requested this. I beg your pardon, Your Majesty."

You remain silent, leaning back in the seat and staring blankly at the castle. You see your father standing at his office window, observing. You avoid his gaze, curling up in the seat. Then, as the carriage sets in motion, your heart swells, and tears flow.

The carriage's abrupt jolt awakens you from your nap; the sun is just beginning to descend, signaling the end of a day filled with endless riding. The only noise is the steady trot of the horses and the occasional whisper of the soldiers. Have you arrived already? You swallow nervously and flinch as the door is forcefully opened. "We have arrived, your highness."

You nod and sit up, clasping his hand to disembark from the carriage. Your eyes swiftly survey the surroundings. Despite the tales, the border seemed relatively serene. You couldn't hear anything from beyond the wall. At length, a throat is cleared, causing you to look up, and the guard beckons you along. You hesitate for only a moment before fortifying your resolve and walking forward.

After much anticipation, the distant voices grow more distinct. "Captain, 'tis here! Shall we unseal the gates?" The clamor of the ponderous wheels turning and ascending is loud in your ears. The gate opens enough to allow your passage beneath. They weren't wasting time at all. The guard places a hand on your lower back and pushes you forward gently. "The Orc General has agreed to receive you; he's on the other side waiting."

You suppress the lump in your throat and proceed, every gaze fixed upon you. The wall loomed thick and intimidating, and you couldn't shake off the fear of it collapsing on you as you reached the other side. However, as you eventually crossed over, your gaze locked with his.

Standing tall at a minimum of 9 feet, he possessed a powerful build adorned with thick muscles, and hair decorating his chest. Dark brown hair cascaded down to his waist woven into an intricate braid, contrasting against his pear-colored complexion and a thick beard enveloped his jaw. Scars crisscrossed his body, enhancing his rugged charm. Despite his blunt tusks, one of which was slightly chipped, there was no denying the outrageous attractiveness of this Orc.

As he takes a step forward, an instinctual reflex compels you to retreat, a shiver of trepidation coursing through your being. Your legs, heavy as if forged from lead, refuse to heed your desperate plea for escape. A subtle chuckle escapes his lips, the corners curling upwards in a smug grin. "Time is not a luxury I possess, little human," he mocks, his voice dripping with impatience.

You part your lips to utter a response, but only silence greets your futile attempt. The resounding thud of the closing wall seals your grim destiny, causing your weakened knees to buckle beneath you, surrendering to the tender embrace of the grassy ground. With a deep sigh, he strides towards you, casting a towering shadow over your slumped figure, a chilling reminder of his overpowering presence.

With utmost ease, he effortlessly lifts you, as if you were as light as a feather. Your body tenses in his embrace, a mixture of vulnerability and anticipation. The tears well up, threatening to spill over. Surprisingly, his touch is tender, his hands delicately traversing your legs and back. Summoning your courage, you manage to muster a question, your voice trembling slightly.

"Might I inquire about your name?" Despite your hesitant speech, he pays no mind, his voice resonating with a deep timber that sends a surge of desire coursing through your veins. A flush of warmth spreads across your face, compelling you to avert your gaze and focus on your lap. "I am Loran, the General of the Mammoth Clan."

Silence envelops the air for a fleeting moment before your voice breaks through once more. "My name is (Name)" He acknowledges your introduction with a subtle hum, and together, you navigate through the labyrinthine paths until you arrive at a large tent. With utmost care, he settles you upon a sumptuous bed adorned with furs, then proceeds to position himself near a table, obscuring its contents from your prying eyes.

A knot tightens in your throat as you summon the courage to voice your deepest fear. "Might you have intentions of devouring me?" you whisper, recoiling at the childlike vulnerability that tinges on your words.

His laughter causes a flutter in your chest; every aspect of him leaves your insides twisted. At last, he ceases his actions and pivots to meet your gaze, his arms folded. You had to physically remind yourself to avert your eyes from his well-defined muscles. "Would you like me to?" His voice carries a teasing lilt, yet his words hint at something more intimate.

You shake your head in denial and draw your knees closer to your body. He was nothing like the figure you had imagined; you were convinced that your life would have ended by now. Your gaze wanders aimlessly as you delve into your own musings. Unbeknownst to you, he crouches down before you. The calloused tips of his fingers grazing your chin send a shiver down your spine. Your eyes meet his, and you find yourself holding your breath.

"The hour grows late; retire for the night. "

You offer a silent nod, watching him leave the tent. Following his guidance, you settle back onto the furs. After the tumultuous events of the day, slumber swiftly envelops you, embracing the plush comfort of the bedding.

The warmth seeping into your skin prompts you to wriggle out of the furs. The weight of an arm flung over your stomach arrests you, dread settling in your heart and coiling around it like a vice. Though yesterday's events come rushing back to you and you relax, your tense body melting into Loran's embrace.

Despite the circumstances that brought you here, he had shown nothing but kindness, even playfulness - he didin't really make you uneasy, and it seemed as though a burden had been lifted from your shoulders.

In the realm of uncertainty, his actions remained capricious, yet amidst this unpredictability, a newfound liberation enveloped your being, you were free. Loran, with an irresistible allure, draws you nearer, your bodies melding as your front meets his. You place your hands on his chest and gently create distance, huffing as he cuddles closer.

After struggling a bit more, you come to a stop and seize the opportunity to examine him closely. Withdrawing your hand from his chest, you gently place it on his cheek, relishing its velvety texture. Loran possessed a striking appearance. Tracing your fingers along his lips, the sensation of his tusks lightly brushing against your fingertips captivates you once more. Their smoothness leaves you mesmerized. The rounded tips are gentle and harmless; they would not cause any discomfort if you were to share a kiss.

Blushing with embarrassment, your cheeks turn a rosy hue, and for a fleeting moment, you seek solace by burying your face into his chest. Raising your gaze once more, you cautiously wave your hand before his face, ensuring his continued slumber. With no signs of movement and a steady rhythm of breath, a sigh of relief escapes your lips.

Gradually, you shift your position, ascending along his form, while your heart flutters nervously within your chest. With a mixture of fascination and unease, you lean closer, drawn to an inexplicable magnetism emanating from him. His lips, so alluring, entice you irresistibly.

Placing your hand on his cheek, you lean in with deliberate slowness, capturing his lips with yours. The sensation of his tusks grazing your skin sends a rush of pleasure up your spine. With closed eyes, you deepen the kiss, savoring the unexpected softness of his lips. His taste is intoxicating, akin to a forbidden elixir. You have always been drawn to forbidden pleasures.

With a hint of reluctance, you retreat, allowing your eyes to slowly unveil the world around you. A startled gasp escapes your lips as your gaze meets Loran's. Despite your endeavors to break free from his embrace, his arms encase you like unyielding steel, entrapping you. Loran's chuckle resonates with a profound and drowsy timbre, while his hand ascends to firmly grasp your chin. "Do not flee from me, Sma ni." ( little one )

His lips are on yours, gentle and governing. His other hand gripping your waist and quickly lifting you onto his chest. The sensation of his thick and moist tongue overpowering your mouth elicits a fervent moan from deep within you, while your thighs instinctively clasp around his stomach. As his hands glide up your top, the pads of his fingers diligently work out the tension in your soft skin. Gradually, they find their way to your hips, expertly guiding them to grind against his abdomen.

With a soft whine escaping your mouth, you break the connection of his kiss, and your tongue lazily protrudes, leaving a trail of warm saliva on your chin. A primal growl resonates from deep within his chest, causing your thoughts to blur. Your hands instinctively find their way to his chest, the rough hair gently tickling your palms. The pressure on your hips eases, and his hand tightly grasps your hair, enabling him to sit up and halt the rhythmic grind of your hips.

A soft whimper escapes your lips as the throbbing sensation between your thighs intensifies. Loran's lips trail along the curve of your throat, delicately nibbling at your tender skin, while his tongue glides with ease. Suddenly, a tearing sound startles you and a rush of cool air caresses your newly bared legs. The remnants of your shredded trousers gracefully descend to the floor, leaving you vulnerable and exposed.

Upon the velvety fur, Loran tenderly positions you, his voracious eyes meticulously exploring the expanse of your body. In a swift motion, he removes the sole obstruction that conceals your body, leaving you vulnerable to his cravings. You clench your thighs, your pussy pulsating with emptiness. This man was sinful; he looked so delectable, his lips shimmering with the remnants of your passionate kisses, and his complexion adorned with a captivating flush.

He lets out a deep groan, settling himself amidst your thighs, the ache in your legs a mere whisper compared to the intensity of his touch, tongue dancing over your nipples, nipping and tugging. Loran's hand travels up your body, his thick fingers entering your warm, wet mouth. You suppress a gag and suck on them shyly, tears welling up in your eyes. As his fingers delve deeper into your throat, you grasp his wrist firmly, your hips grinding against his thick bulge.

Loran pulls his fingers from your mouth, watching the rivulets of saliva drip down his digits. Leaving a glistening trail of moisture along your body, Loran delicately caresses his fingers through the soft curls of hair on your pussy, teasing you with the soft touch of his fingertips. With deliberate precision, he gradually eases one digit into the confines of your snug entrance stretching you. You pull your fleshy bottom lip into your mouth, teeth digging painfully. Your lashes flutter, exposing the whites of your eyes as they roll back in blissful surrender, eyebrows arching. Your mewls are soft and pleading. "Mmph! L-Loran. Please "

Your voice is a siren's call to him, as you whimper and plead for him. His desire to possess you completely, to fuck you full of his cum, to have you swollen with his young, consumes him. The mere thought of it almost brings him to the brink of release. Granting mercy upon your adorable, fucked out face, he finally sinks his finger into your cunt, relishing the exquisite tightness that embraces him, while your delicate hands clutch his braid and tug.

With his other hand, he gently cups your cheeks between his large, powerful fingers, causing your lips to pucker. His mouth descends upon yours, messy and dominating, leaving a trail of mingled saliva that pools down your flushed cheeks. He chuckles as your eyes wander elsewhere, glazed and hazy with pleasure as he eases a single finger inside you.

A high-pitched sound escapes your lips as he expertly probes a sensitive spot deep within you, causing your hips to tremble and your inner walls to clench around his fingers. Leaning closer, his warm breath brushes against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "Ayh lat naka ve cum, sma shara? " His mother tongue is foreign to you, but it sounds absolutely erotic, especially while he's stroking your drooling pussy skillfully. You shudder fervently, emitting mewls and whimpers, as the squelching noises of his thrusts fill the confined space of the tent. “I—uhn~ w-wait p-please, Lor…” You babble nonsensically. ( are you going to cum, little human? )

Loran, in a teasing mood, complies with your dumb prattling, and moves away from you, fingers slipping out with an erotic pop. A soft whimper escapes your lips, your lower lip jutting out in a pout as tears well up in your eyes from the empty feeling in your pussy, your eyes widen at seeing him suck on his dampened fingers. “N-no, why’d you stop!”

With a chuckle, the Orc leans in to press a tender kiss on your flushed cheeks, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. "I simply did as you asked, Faushnu," he whispers. Pulling back slightly, he studies your expression - your eyebrows furrowed, lips parted, and your chest rising and falling rapidly. "I did not mean for this," you whimper, grinding your hips against his growing bulge. “M-more. Give me more.” You give him a stern glare, that only turns him on more, his little hostage was so demanding. ( baby ) "Of course, Your Highness," he says, his tone dripping with playful mockery. Loran's large hands firmly grasp your waist, swiftly maneuvering you onto your stomach. With a gentle yet commanding motion, he elevates your hips, causing your face to be buried in the soft furs beneath you. The sensation is almost agonizing as your back arches, eliciting a sharp squeal from your lips. A glob of warm saliva unexpectedly lands on your moistened pussy, causing an involuntary clenching reaction. "What are yo--?"

Before you can finish, the sudden roughness of his tongue against your throbbing cunt has you seeing stars. His feral growls reverberate through the air, as his tongue delves and ravishes you with an insatiable fervor. Reduced to a whimpering wreck, tears of rapturous delight cascade down your flushed face. Desperate to regain control, you weakly press your small hand against the crown of his head, attempting to halt the relentless onslaught. "No more, please, m'gunna cum. Want to cum for you," you manage to slur amidst incoherent babbling, your words a contradictory mix.

Loran, enraptured by your musings, fingers your pussy once again, effortlessly finding that spongey nerve inside of you and deftly curling his thick finger into it, time and again. A torrent of scorching pleasure engulfs your entire being, as you succumb to an intense climax, your trembling thighs embracing his head while your pussy flutters around his finger.

" Loran! "You slur, thighs still convulsing as the feel of Loran's hands on the fat of your hips seems multiplied, your mind filled with goo. The rustle of fabric falling to the ground barely registers before his thick cock presses into your pussy, hands guiding your hips onto him. Warmth trickles onto your pulsing cunt, his saliva lubing where you connect. You clench around him, emitting obscene moans.

He delves deeper, your snugness yielding to his thick, heavy cock. You swear you can feel every pulsating vein, every ridge of him inside of you. You whimper and whine when he fucks half of his big cock into your tiny little hole, and you thrash and let out small mewls of pleasure. "Mmph, Lor--!! it won't fit!" you whimper amidst sobs.

"Hm?" He utters, his voice a low hum, as he observes with rapt attention as you stretch around his green, monstrous cock. The pressure within your abdomen steadily intensifies, inch by inch, until Loran thrusts in the last couple of inches, his large balls flush against your engorged clit. You're already fucked stupid, pupils blown, and moans strewing from your lips. The Orc takes hold of your hand, guiding it towards your stomach, allowing you to feel the undeniable presence of his shaft protruding from your belly. "Do you feel me? Feel my cock in your insides, my little human?"

With a forceful motion, he retreats, then thrusts forcefully into you, his grip tightening on your hair as he pulls. A fervent moan escapes your lips, as the resounding collision of his hips against your ass fills the air, the only thing you can hear. The wet squelching of your arousal intermingles with his precum, cascading onto the opulent furs beneath you. His name becomes a sacred mantra, slipping from your tongue like a fervent prayer. "S'good, m'gunna cum, let me cum, please, please."

With a gentle caress, Loran's hand ascends your stomach, pinching your sensitive nipples. You mewl, back arching as you clench and pulse around his thick length, cumming harder than before, a wave of darkness gently tinting your vision. A low, guttural moan reverberates from deep within you, harmonizing with Loran's unyielding thrusts. “That's a good fuckin’ girl.”

The Orc's hand comes down on your ass, observing the quivering flesh. Your violated hole trembles around Loran's thick length, and he snickers, his hips stuttering. "You're mine. Hm? Do you understand, pet?" His thrusts became more profound, faster, not giving you rest, groaning as you nod quickly, whimpering.

You turn your gaze towards him, his fingers constricting in your tresses. "Loran, want you to cum inside me, please." Your feeble arms emerge from beneath your form, delicate hands reaching to spread your pussy wider. "You will, right?"

Your wanton plea hurls the massive Orc over the brink. Loran's hips slam into yours once more as his scorching cum coats your walls; the copious amount of it had you cumming once more. Loran continues to pump his seed into you, his cock still hard and balls full of cum. He longed to see you swollen with his offspring; he wouldn't stop until he knew you were trapped with him.

You are not permitted to rest until the early morning, curled against his chest with his seed leaking from your stretched opening. Your body is tender, marked with bruises on your neck and chest. Loran places his large hand on your cheek; although he is running late for the meeting, he decides to allow you more time to sleep.

He lifts you gently, thankful that he has cleaned you up and changed the bedding. You snuggle into his warmth, almost convincing him to delay for another hour. "My zemar, it's time to wake up. We must rise before the sun sets." (my heart)

Stirring in his arms, your eyelashes flutter before you slowly open your bleary eyes. Attempting to close them once more, his hearty chuckle resonates, partially rousing you. Placing you gently on the bed, he drapes one of his shirts over you, guiding your arms through the sleeves. Loran picks you up again, cradling you as he carries you out of the tent, shielding your eyes from the glaring sun. The short walk to the other side of the campsite goes unnoticed by you.

He arrives promptly, his raven perched gracefully on its stand. A soft whistle escapes his lips, a signal for the bird to gather the troops. Loran takes his place at the head of the table, positioning you to face him, your legs wrapped around his waist. With spit on his fingers, he traces circles around your cunt, pleased that it had returned to its original state, tight and warm. After lubricating your entrance, he spits on his palm and wraps his member in a firm grip, ensuring that it's slick.

Loran aligns himself with your little hole and eases inside, emitting a deep groan at the vice grip; you let out a sleepy moan, tightening around him. His large hands grip the fat of your hips, guiding you down the rest of his thick length. He pulls his shirt over your ass, concealing where his cock is nestled inside of you.

He has to stop himself from fucking you on the table in front of all his tribe members. Once he had you in the perfect position, his soldiers began to file into the room. He couldn't help but notice how your warm, tight hole was becoming slick. Unbeknownst to you, his thick cock was already buried deep within you.

The meeting unfolds seamlessly. With nightfall as their ally, they conspire to dismantle the impenetrable walls of the Kingdom on the morrow. A sacred covenant governs The Mammoth Clan, dictating that the fairer sex and the innocent offspring shall be spared from any affliction. Thus, the innocent shall be granted mercy and protection.

Awakening towards the end, your pussy pulsating and enveloping something thick and long. A twitching motion stirs inside you, nudging your G-spot. A soft moan escapes your lips as you hide your face in his neck. Loran dismisses it as your mere awakening, soothingly caressing your back. Only a fool would miss the evidence of your arousal - the glistening juices trickling down your bare thighs and the hint of green meeting a clenching hole

" Dismissed. "

The orcs file out of the room, speaking amongst each other. Loran's gaze descends upon your petite frame, concealed beneath his garments. He looks feral. Once the auditory commotion subsides, you cautiously lift your head, locking eyes with his penetrating stare.

"Loran, please."

The Orc emits a deep snarl, his lips forcefully meeting yours as he firmly grasps the flesh of your hips, hoisting you off his slick member. Swiftly, he plunges you back down, thrusting into you with fervor, fucking you onto him. You're moaning mess, the spit from your sloppy kiss sliding down your chin and eyes rolling to the back of your head. The sound of wet slapping resonates loudly within the confines of the tent. With a gasp for air, you disengage from him, your hands finding solace on his broad shoulders.

A particular thrust causes the swollen, mushroom-shaped tip of his cock to abuse your g-spot and your moan is shrill. You climax, your body trembling around him, leaving a creamy, ivory ring at the base of his cock. Stars burst in your vision as you weakly press your lips against his throat, whimpering as he continues to thrust into you, your sensitive and throbbing core tender. " Lor-.. no more.. s’too.. much!" you sputter, sloppily pressing your lips to his and sucking on his large tongue.

Despite the roughness of his hips snapping into yours, he caresses your sides softly and pulls away from your kiss, licking his lips. "Be a good pet, hm? Let me use my pussy, can you do that for me? " You nod hesitantly, and he smiles, sending your stomach to unfurl languidly. "S'my good girl." You bury your face in his neck with a whimper, but when your blunt little teeth sink into his collarbone it pushes him over the edge; and he stands up with you still bouncing on his cock, thrusting so deeply that you hiss. Ropes of cum paint your pulsing walls, filling you up.

Loran's shallow thrusts ensure not a single drop is wasted as you envelop him in your embrace, closing your eyes and inhaling deeply.

Mayhap, the circumstance of being dispatched to this place was not as grievous as first imagined...

connected with this post!

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the-witheredroses · 5 months

Text

Oscar Isaac Characters Eating You Out

Minors DNI

Featured Characters: Miguel O’Hara, Moon Knight System, Basil Stitt, Anselm Vogelweide, Blue Jones, Poe Dameron, Nathan Bateman, Duke Leto Atreides, Prince John, Santiago “Pope” Garcia x afab!reader (Pronouns and descriptions aren’t used for the reader)

CW: SMUT (did you look at the title?), pet names, slight size difference, fingering, face riding, mention of periods, slapping, toys, anal, dub-con, sub and dom roles, squirting, overstim/crying, untranslated Spanish, and possibly some other things (All are just brief mentions)

These are just some short, dumb little rambles/headcannons of mine, so it’s not written the best. Not proofread or heavily edited.

(Lmk if you want more in the future)

Miguel O’Hara - Across the Spiderverse

Miguel is a tired man, always overworking himself with the Spider Society. All because he’s extremely thorough, never leaving something to be completed at a later date. Because of this, it’s not often he gets the chance to destress.

So, when it comes time to pleasure, he’s just as thorough. Miguel makes sure you feel just as much pleasure as he does.

Of course, because of his lack of free time, Miguel doesn’t care where or when it happens, he’s eating you out.

You’re in his office? Bend over.

You’re on your period? I guess he’s not beating the vampire allegations.

Pick a time or a place, he’s there, willing to thoroughly please you in whatever way he can.

Miguel is on his knees with your legs over his shoulders. His claws gently pricking at the soft of your thighs as he holds you still.

If you squirm too much, he is glaring at you from overtop your heat, pinning you in place with one of his massive hands.

His tongue runs laps in your cunt, teasing your clit and slurping you up. He’s eating you like a starved man, letting out small growls every now and again.

Miguel will refuse to touch himself until you’ve climaxed multiple times. He has the stamina to keep going for hours, and this is just a warm up for him. Besides, he’d rather see either of your pretty lips wrapped around his length over his hand.

When you’re a trembling, sopping mess underneath him, he’ll finally stop. His lower face is shiny as he licks his lips and hungrily smirks at you.

“Don’t think this is over, mi amor. This is just the beginning…”

Marc Spector / Steven Grant / Jake Lockley - Moon Knight

Marc wants you to feel as much pleasure as possible, because while he denies it, a part of him is a people pleaser. He always puts his partners above himself, including during intimate moments.

Marc is experienced and he will take the time to know what you like. Marc practically memorizes your body and what gets you riled up. But if he has the choice, he has you on your knees as he eats you out from behind.

Marc has you bent over as his tongue hits that perfect spot, causing you to tremble and moan in pleasure.

He loves seeing you grasp the sheets as you bury your face in your pillow, to him it’s a sign of validation, evidence that he’s making you feel good.

His hands grab at your thighs and ass as he goes to town. If he feels you try to pull away, he’ll swat your rear until you stay still.

When his mouth starts to ache, Marc will pull up and insert his fingers instead. He’ll move them in the way that has your toes curling and has muffled screams coming from your pillow.

Of course though, he finishes the job with his mouth back on you, drinking up every ounce you give him. He’ll lick his lips clean and kiss your cunt in praise.

“You did so good for me, darling…”

Steven is the most insecure of the boys. He never had the chance to date before, so he’s always worried about making you feel good. He especially worries when he hears how Marc talks about your guys' time together. Steven wants to make you feel just as good.

But Steven isn’t as affirmative as Marc or Jake.

Steven will keep you on your back, his hands feeling his favorite parts of your body. He loves to caress you.

Steven likes to be thorough but also to go slow. He wants you to feel every little moment he makes.

His tongue hits the spots you love, but it’s methodical, careful.

Steven pleasures you as though you could fall apart if he were to be too rough. But if you grind your hips or grab his hair, he’ll go a bit faster.

He lets you have control, his goal is to make you feel good, so why wouldn’t he listen to you?

Despite being focused on you, Steven won’t hesitate to make himself feel good too. Whether it’s with his hand or just humping at the mattress in front of him.

He definitely gets pussy drunk, babbling as dines on you.

“So pretty… so pretty…”

Jake, on the other hand, prefers to be a bit risky.

As much as he loves private moments with you (like the other boys), the thrill of getting caught makes it more exciting for him.

He’ll absolutely eat you out in his car or in an empty alleyway. All because you dressed up pretty for him or gave him that perfect smile of yours.

Jake likes to be quick but efficient with you, at least in public.

Jake sinks to his knees and pushes you against the brick wall. His hand stays on your stomach, making sure you don’t scramble from his grasp.

He’d start slow, intentionally making you panic about getting caught, but as he gets quicker, you become a moaning mess above him.

Jake will smirk as he makes quick work of you, making you finish quicker than you thought possible.

“Tan perfecta/o, mi vida… tan perfecta/o para mí…”

All of them love you so much, so sometimes after a hard day, they’ll each take turns making you feel good.

Steven most likely starts, being that he’s the most gentle. He’s a good warm up and he’s good for calming down without actually stopping. But with the other guys there too, he definitely is being a bit more aggressive to keep up.

Marc and Jake will take their turns, teasing and riling you up. Just between those two alone, your position is constantly changing, there’s no chance you��re getting sore from being stuck in one place.

Each of the boys will make sure you feel good, prioritizing you above all else. They even monitor each other through the many mirrors littered throughout the apartment. They just want their darling to feel good <3

Each will take their time, only stopping when you’re an overstimulated, crying mess.

Soft kisses and cuddling definitely ensue afterwards.

“Our beautiful darling…”

Basil Stitt - Lightningface

Basil, the pathetic, desperate, possessive loner. He will do anything for your attention. He will follow your every order. You don’t even have to touch him, he’ll cum just from eating you out. He loves you that much.

Basil is aggressive as he eats you out, desperate to make you finish. Because if you finish, you’ll stay, despite his scars.

He moans and whimpers more than you do as you pull him deeper into your cunt. His hands grapple at every curve of your body, desperate to make sure you’re real, that you want him.

Why would anyone want a monster like him? Even his own girlfriend cheated on him before his accident happened.

As he tastes you, he desperately chases your climax.

He needs you to feel good. He needs you.

When your legs tense around his head and you start praising him, he starts crying and finishes as well, his seed staining the floor below him.

His head falls against your inner thigh as his tears fall fast. He grabs at you harshly, his fear causing his chest to ache.

“Imsosorry… staywithmeplease…”

Anselm Vogelweide - Big Gold Brick

Anselm is a weirdo, a big horny weirdo, let’s get that out of the way.

Anselm will touch you and do whatever he wants whenever he wants. This kinky switch of a man will eat you out in any way possible, and it’s never simple.

Per his request, he lies tied up with you over him. His arms are completely restrained as he lets you control the situation.

Your glittering heat flutters as he blows on you, smirking at every little reaction you have. He loves your noises, especially when you’re loud.

Eventually you sit on his face, and groaning happily, he licks up into you.

Your hips rock back and forth on his face, his nose hitting your throbbing clit harshly. You’re breathing heavily as Anselm eats you up, his beard scratching the back of your legs as your hips move.

Despite being such an odd man, he absolutely knows what he’s doing, like— he’s extremely talented with his tongue alone. With every squirm and noise you make, he’s watching you like a hawk.

Your high builds and comes crashing down quickly. But when you start to move off, he harshly demands you get back.

“We aren’t done yet, doll. If you don’t get back on, I’ll kill myself.”

Blue Jones - Sucker Punch

Blue doesn’t eat you out for your pleasure, no- it’s to prove a point.

He owns you, just like he owns all the people working for his club. And because he owns you, he has to make sure you know how good only he can make you.

You were in the dressing room when he approached you, his eyes hungrily scanning your body.

Whether out of fear or attraction, you do everything he asks. So when he asks you to strip bare, you do exactly that.

With his head between your thighs, it’s hard to remember that this man could kill you without a second thought. He’s just too talented with his tongue.

Running a club has its perks, including having lots of practice in making others feel good. With all this practice, this man will do anything to make you squirt. He sees it as a sign of victory, that his toy likes him the best.

Your back is arching as Blue hits your sweet spot. Your hips lightly hump his face and nose, chasing your high. His hands grip your legs, letting you ride his face more and more.

You squirt all over his face, causing him to hum in approval.

When you finish, he licks a stripe through your arousal. Blue’s eyes meet yours.

“Bunny, do you act like such a desperate whore with all the clients?”

Poe Dameron - Star Wars

Lover of the sky, Poe is known for being quite flirty. With the constant travel, Poe has had his share of hookups and romantic partners.

Which is why, of course, Poe would do anything to make you feel as much pleasure as possible.

He’s cocky, sure, but when he brags about how loud he makes you scream, you know it’s the truth.

After a long day of travel, Poe is clinging to your cunt.

As his tongue runs laps through your folds, you tightly grip at his curls.

He’s already made you finish at least twice, and he’s desperate for another.

Your cunt is trembling from overstimulation, broken moans escaping your lips as you lazily try to pull him away.

With every faint tug of his hair, he pulls your body closer towards his mouth, not letting you escape.

His tongue circles your clit like a dehydrated man, wanting you to release and give every drop of yourself to him again and again.

When Poe gets you to release over his tongue once more, he doesn’t back off, speaking as he licks every drop.

“Just one more… Can you handle one more for me, baby?”

Nathan Bateman - Ex Machina

Nathan doesn’t eat you out normally, he much prefers using his fingers if he has to.

This man prefers making himself feel good above all else, he only tolerates making you feel good. Which is why he always makes you finish quickly or sometimes not at all, moving on to make sure he can get his pleasure from this exchange.

The only time he has eaten you out was when he walked in on you having a wet dream, mumbling his name as your legs spread under the blankets.

You wake up moaning loudly, Nathan tucked between your thighs, mouth to your aching core.

As he hits your sweet spot, you instinctively grab his head. His buzzed hair provides nothing to grip to as your hips sleepily grinds his face.

Everything feels extra sensitive and good, the lack of previous priority making you extra needy.

His beard provides a scratchy and satisfying feeling as his tongue laps up your soaked folds.

He doesn’t even acknowledge that you’ve awoken, now on a mission to make you finish on his mouth.

His hands grope at your waist and ass, gripping at all the soft flesh he can.

When you finish with trembling legs, he lifts his head, his beard glistening in your juices. His hand palms over his cock as he sits on his knees and stares down at you.

“Get up. It’s my turn.”

Duke Leto Atreides - Dune

Leto is a very busy man, but he does worship you when he gets the chance.

Constantly being needed by everyone, it feels nice to relax and give himself to the one person he wants to: you.

Sure, sometimes you’re under the table servicing him, but it’s not often he gets the chance to do the same for you.

He’s on his knees, worshiping your pussy like it is a divine god. Leto is praying to you with his tongue.

Leto is so focused on you, he can’t even acknowledge his own pleasure before he knows you’ve had some release.

He has to give his baby some extra care while he has the chance <3

His hands touch every inch that he can, worshiping all of you that he can.

Leto’s nose bumps your clit as he watches you like prey, he just loves your blissed out expression.

When you two make eye contact, he makes his assault that much more pleasurable. Whether that’s adding in his fingers or reaching deep into you with his tongue. Man loves his eye contact.

When you climax, he’s smiling and peppering kisses over your inner thighs.

“I still have time, shall we go for another?”

Prince John - Robin Hood (2010)

John is a man of pleasure, and he will devour you as long as he gets some in return. Just… never mention your ex or past relationships, he gets jealous.

He loves different positions and experimenting with you, as long as you’re both having fun or a good time, then he’s more than happy.

John, the whiny man, is begging into your cunt as you two eat each other up.

Your mouth is wrapped around his length as he laps up your warmth.

With each stroke of your tongue, he moves his in tandem. Every moan you gain from him, wonderfully rumbles your pussy.

His hands grasp and pull your ass cheeks, kneading the soft flesh.

John eats you like a starved man, because despite his regal status, you are by far the best meal he’s eaten.

At least that’s what he’d be saying if it weren’t the end to your guys night of pleasure, and John didn’t need an heir.

He probably isn’t the most thrilled to be eating his and your cum out of your pussy, but it's you, so he can’t complain.

Together, you finish and clean each other of every last drop, leaving both of you exhausted.

John pats his shoulder.

“Come, rest your head.”

Santiago “Pope” Garcia - Triple Frontier

Santiago loves to tease you. No matter the situation or place, he will edge you until you’re crying.

He likes seeing you as a whimpering mess, begging for some relief.

You were just on the cusp of finishing when Santiago pulled away, watching as you begged him to let you cum.

He’d chuckle and hold your hands hostage, not letting you get the chance to finish what he started.

As you start to come down from your high, he’d go back in, licking and eating your cunt out.

As you squirm, chasing your release, he’d cage your legs in place with his arms and hands. You’re not allowed to escape him or his constant teasing.

When he finally lets you finish, you’re a trembling mess, your hole clutching at his tongue as he eats every last drop.

“You’re so cute like this… maybe I should go again?”

—————————————————

Thanks for reading!

Lmk if you want me to add more of his characters or do a different set of characters (like Genshin men for ex.)

3K notes · View notes

projectionistwrites · 9 months

Note

Literally would read any moon knight smut from you 🥵 can I request something with the boys having a marking/spit kink? I feel like it is most in Marc’s character but tbh I’m not particular heh

sorry this took so long hehe i hope you like it <3

ONCE BITTEN, TWICE SHY

Marc Spector x afab!reader (mentions of Steven Grant x reader) (2.2k)

Marc Spector didn’t fancy himself a jealous man—but you knew exactly how to push his buttons.

RATING: EXPLICIT (18+ mdni) WARNINGS: arguing, jealousy, SMUT (oral (f! and m! receiving), degradation, a bit of choking, facefucking, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, mean!dom!marc)

It was an accident, really—you hadn’t meant for it to slip out. And yet, there wasn’t a single part of you that felt bad about it.

Marc had already been in a bad mood when he’d woken up that morning, sulking and brooding and generally unpleasant to be around. When you’d asked him what was wrong, he’d brushed you off, insisting he was just tired and had a headache. You knew better than to believe him.

Truthfully, you had a suspicion that Marc had been feeling neglected. After he’d introduced you to Steven several weeks ago, the two of you had been inseparable—you and Marc had been dating for a year and half, so getting to know Steven was like the honeymoon phase all over again. He was sweet, and gentle, and shy, and many other things that Marc simply wasn’t. The contrast excited you, but you could tell that the puppy love between you and Steven had begun to take a toll on Marc.

When you’d gotten home from work today, you had planned on offering to cook a nice meal for you and Marc in an attempt to smooth things over and ease his worried mind, but he clearly was in no mood for reconciliation.

“Honey, I’m hooome.”

You sing-songed jokingly as you walked in the door, keys jingling in the lock. When you received no response, your joviality quickly dissipated and a deep frown etched itself into your face.

“Hello?”

You called again, brows furrowed in confusion. You took a few steps into the apartment, hanging your bag on the coatrack and slipping your shoes from your feet. Again, silence.

You went to turn the corner towards where the bedroom side of the studio apartment was, but quickly collided with a warm body as you rounded the bookshelf.

“Jesus fuck!”

You yelped as a hand came out to steady your shoulder, saving you from stumbling backwards on impact.

“You scared me....”

You hesitated, looking up at the man before you cautiously. The scrunch between his brows and hardness in his brown eyes quickly confirmed your suspicions.

“...Marc.”

Marc mistook your brief moment of pause as disappointment, and he sneered, releasing your arm with a small shove and sidestepping you.

“Yeah, it’s me. Sorry to disappoint.”

You blinked a few times in disbelief, frozen in place as his words took a moment to sink in. When they finally did, you were left reeling, whirling around to face his retreating figure with an incredulous expression.

“What?”

Marc huffed angrily, nostrils flaring as he threw himself onto the couch, a hand reaching up to run through his dark hair.

“I said, sorry to disappoint. I’m sure you’d much rather have Steven greeting you when you get home.”

“I never said that.”

You scoffed, approaching him slowly with your arms crossed over your chest. His brown eyes darted up to your face, his lips curled into a scowl.

“You didn’t have to. You’ve made it pretty clear.”

“Where is this coming from, Marc?”

It was a stupid question—both of you knew the answer already. Marc’s nostrils flared as he averted his gaze from you, sulking silently and staring off at some point in the distance.

A pang of guilt accompanied the sigh that fell from your lips as you noticed the slight quiver of his lip, and you made your way to the empty spot next to him.

“Hey.”

You started gently, letting your hand trace across the veins of his forearm before your slid your fingers between his own.

“I’m sorry, Marc. I know—I know things have been moving pretty fast between me and Steven, and I know I haven’t made as much time for you as I should have. I’m sorry.”

You leaned into him, head ducking slightly in an attempt to catch his gaze with your own. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment as he drew in a long, deep inhalation, before he finally opened them again and fixed them on you.

“No, it’s—it’s okay, baby. I’m glad you and Steven are getting along, that’s exactly what I hoped would happen. And I’m sorry I—I freaked out. Just—miss you, s’all.”

He confessed, a slight blush creeping up his neck and ruddying his cheeks. Marc wasn’t often open about his feelings, so the brief moment of vulnerability was significant. You smiled softly at him, reaching up to brush your fingers through his soft curls.

“Why didn’t you just say so, huh, handsome?”

A smirk quickly made its way across his lips at the insinuation in your tone, his arms swiftly wrapping around your body to haul you up onto his lap and into a searing kiss.

It wasn’t until you were seconds away from an orgasm, Marc’s face buried between your thighs, that you’d fucked up.

“Shit, shit—”

You cried, fisting at the sheets on either side of you as Marc’s tongue swirled over your clit, two of his thick fingers buried in your weeping cunt.

“Oh, God, yes, m’gonna cum, gonna—ahh, fuck, don’t stop, yes, Steven, fuu—”

Your hips lurched off the bed when the stimulation abruptly ceased, your eyes shooting open in alarm only to come face-to-face with Marc’s hardened expression, his lips still shining with your slick.

“Fuck, why’d you—?”

“What the fuck did you just say?”

He interrupted your whiny plea with his threatening words, growled lowly as his eyes narrowed at you. Your rapid heartrate only sped up when you thought back on your pleasured cries, quickly realizing your mistake. You bolted upright in an instant, your eyes wide and panicked, reaching to grip Marc’s bare shoulders.

“Oh, Marc, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean—”

He pulled away from you, rising to his knees on the bed so he loomed over you.

“Get on your knees.”

Your breath stuttered.

“What?”

You yelped when Marc lunged forward, his hand coming to twist in your hair to yank you harshly forward so you were face to face.

“I said,”

he growled, his breath hot on your face and fingers taut in your hair,

“get on your fucking knees.”

He released you with a rough shove and you scrambled off the bed onto your knees, quickly obeying his order. You watched as he slipped off his last remaining layer of clothing before he slowly made his way over to you, his figure towering over you with intimidation and malice. Excitement was beginning to swirl in the pit of your stomach—you’d never seen Marc so angry before, so domineering and unhinged. Still, a small pang of guilt shot through you at your earlier mistake.

“Marc, really, I’m so sorry—”

“Shut the fuck up.”

He snapped, and you immediately obliged, eyes blowing wide at the sternness in his tone. His chest was heaving with labored breaths and his nostrils were flared, eyes alight with fury.

“You just don’t know when to stop fucking talking.”

He was right in front of you, now, languidly stroking his hardened length inches away from your face, precum beading at the slit. He reached forward and roughly grabbed your jaw in his other hand, fingers curling to squeeze your cheeks.

“You wanna keep moaning his name? Guess I’ll have to make you shut up.”

His hand migrated up and wrapped in your hair before yanking your neck back. When your lips parted with a surprised gasp, he immediately plunged his thick length into your mouth, forcing himself down your throat without warning. The sudden and abrupt intrusion caused you to gag harshly, and he pulled out only long enough for you to draw in a gasping breath before he thrusted forward again, sinking his cock all the way back into your throat and beginning a steady rhythm of fucking your face.

“Only way you’ll be quiet is if you’ve got a mouth full of dick, huh?”

He grunted, hips snapping forward. There was drool foaming at the sides of your lips, tears streaming down your cheeks as you forced yourself to sit back and let him use you, the tip of his cock bruising the back of your throat and his balls slapping noisily against your chin.

“Bet you miss him now, don’t you? Steven doesn’t treat you like this—doesn’t know how much of a fucking slut you are.”

You felt yourself grow impossibly wetter at his words, reaching up to brace your hands on his muscular thighs in order to prevent them from reaching between your legs to touch yourself. You felt his arm reach down until his fingers curled around your neck, allowing him to feel each stroke of his cock down your throat.

“Fuck, baby—such a pretty little whore.”

Finally, finally, he pulled out of your mouth, a long string of saliva still connecting the tip of his ruddy cock to your swollen lips. You gasped harshly, letting the mixture of tears and drool drip from your chin as you gazed up and him with watery eyes.

“Thank you, Marc, thank you, I love you, I—”

Marc growled, his grip on your throat tightening and briefly cutting off your airflow.

“Shut. Up.”

He hissed, pulling you upwards with his hand on your neck and tossing you towards the bed. You fell backwards, immediately pliant beneath him as he reached to lift both of your ankles above your head before abruptly plunging his spit-soaked cock into your dripping folds.

A pornographic mewl escaped you at the feeling of him penetrating you, your hole still tight and unprepared for the thickness of his cock. The burn of the stretch was intoxicating, but you were quickly pulled away from the feeling when Marc’s fingers found your jaw again, squeezing your cheeks so your lips involuntarily parted.

“Open.”

He growled, and you obliged, allowing him to spit straight into your awaiting mouth. You whimpered, eyes squeezing shut as he kept railing into you, your mouth closing as his taste overwhelmed you.

“You don’t swallow until I tell you—you hear me?”

You nodded vigorously, eyes silently pleading as tears continued to stream down your face, the sound of slapping skin filling the room as Marc bared his teeth.

“Yeah, that outta wash his name outta your filthy fuckin’ mouth, huh?”

You could barely hear him over the static humming in your ears, an orgasm creeping up and washing over you without warning. You choked on your sob, desperately following Marc’s orders and keeping your mouth full of his saliva despite your desperation to cry out.

Marc felt you clench down on him, and his pace quickened.

“Yeah, that’s it, baby—you cum all over this cock.”

He leaned forward and sank his teeth into the flesh of your collarbone, licking and sucking bruises into your neck and up your throat. You lay helpless beneath him, body melting into the mattress as he continued to pound into you relentlessly, the sting of his lips hot against your sweat-sheened skin.

“Gonna keep you covered in these, baby—he’s never gonna forget who you fuckin’ belong to.”

He grunted in your ear, pulling the lobe between his teeth briefly before sitting back up, shifting up onto his knees and wrapping your legs around his waist before jackhammering into you once again.

He reached forward a final time to wrap his hand around your throat, now covered with red and purple bruises in the shape of his mouth.

“Swallow.”

He panted, his eyes wild and pace faltering.

"Swallow, and tell me who you belong to.”

You swallowed the fluid the had gathered across your tongue and finally let out a salacious moan, back arching off the bed as a second orgasm began building in your abdomen. You could hardly even remember what had started this thing in the first place, and you definitely didn’t care—your entire existence was overwhelmed with Marc, Marc, Marc.

"You, Marc—belong to you."

You cried, and you felt his fingers curl into your neck as he leaned over you, the heat of his body absolutely smothering you as his free hand reached between you to circle your clit. You keened.

“Again. Louder. Who do you belong to?”

“You, Marc—fuck, fuck, Marc, I belong to you, fuck—"

Your climax peaked fiercely, white hot and blinding as your toes curled and your entire body trembled beneath him. The rhythmic clenching of your tight cunt around him had Marc following close behind, his release punctuated by a sharp yelp before he buried himself to the hilt, allowing his seed to fill you completely, offering a few more deep thrusts before stilling.

Marc’s tension-laden body immediately collapsed on top of you, his head tucking into the crook of your neck as his cock stayed nestled inside of you. Your arms wrapped around his clammy torso, one hand stroking a soothing line down his spine and the other brushing through his hair, your lips planting a soft kiss to his forehead. His frantic exhales were hot against your neck.

“I mean it, Marc. I’m yours.”

You assured in a whisper, and Marc tilted his head up to look at you, his once cold eyes now softened with a familiar gentleness.

“I know, baby.”

He leaned up and pecked you on the lips.

“And now you’ll never forget it.”

You let out an airy giggle, sinking back into the comfortable and familiar weight of his body on yours. After a few moments, you bit your lip and gave him a mischievous smile.

“So...when do I get to meet Jake?”

#jake lockley #jake lockley imagine #jake lockley smut #jake lockley x reader #marc spector #marc spector imagine #marc spector smut #marc spector x reader #marvel imagine #marvel smut #steven grant x reader #steven grant smut #steven grant #moon knight #moon knight x reader #moon knight smut #projectionistwrites

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lunargrapejuice · 1 year

Text

behind closed curtains

diluc ragnvindr x afab!reader | 2.1k + words

warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, no pronouns used, masturbation, a tiny bit of voyeurism if you squint, oral (receiving), diluc cumming untouched

it wasn’t unusual for the dark knight hero to pass through this particular part of mondstadt multiple times throughout the night. it was hardly somewhere that monsters could easily get but still he watched over this small apartment building nestled behind a flower shop and a large birch tree.

ruby eyes flash to a window on the second floor, the drawn curtains keeping his beloved from view but it was enough to know that you were safe and comfortable, even if he wished he could be there with you now.

but it was late, the moon having long hung in the sky and cooled the breeze that carried throughout the city, the dreams of those in the land of anemo archon quieting the street. you should be asleep, at least he hoped you would be but he also could not help how the desire to constantly be within your shining radiances, basking in your love and showering you with his own, made his heart strings go taut.

surely it would be fine if he checks on you? a gentle kiss to your forehead before pulling the covers back over your shoulder, stealing too many glances at your lovely sleeping visage, fighting the urge to slip into the covers with you, all before he returns to the dark shadows. he had before and you had given him permission to do so, at times waking up slowly to see silver light spilling through the curtains and wondering if the familiar warmth of him that lingered on your skin and the way his voice that easily coaxed you back to sleep was only a dream.

the only thing you could dream of more was a dream where he stayed and you got to wake up in his arms; see the man proclaimed to be ‘hardened’ look so soft and so unbelievably handsome, if not seeming a few years younger, as long lashes rested atop his cheeks and locks of red spread around him like a halo of fire in the yellow morning light.

did you know how badly he wished for the same, how terribly hard it was to tear himself from your side?

his boots were quiet, stealthy so as to not wake the neighbors that lived below you or draw unnecessary attention to himself, as he easily made his way up to the ledge of your window and with skilled fingers slid the glass open without making a sound.

he hadn’t even swung one leg inside your bedroom before he heard a breathless moan of his name from your lips, labored yet blissful and dripping with need. it’s a melody that ignites his chest, spreads warmth across his cheeks and the tips of his ears, and has his cock beginning to strain against his pants.

wanting to always respect your privacy, he hesitates to push back the curtains hiding what is surely a sinful sight of you touching yourself to the thought of him. but every moment that passes with his heart picking up speed, not at all helping how hard he’s becoming, he can’t ignore the sounds you make, the soft lewd quelches of your fingers playing with your wet pussy or the whimpers you make that he desperately wanted to hear louder and at the mercy of his touches.

the tap of his boots on your floor and the movement of curtains doesn’t draw your attention and for a moment, all the while diluc swore his entire being was going to catching on fire, he admires your naked body illuminated by moonlight laying atop your sheets, your fingers pumping in and out of your tight hole, your eyes closed and mouth parted from your heavy breaths that bring hungry eyes to your breasts.

it's only when he can’t take it any longer, can’t possibly bear to keep himself from between your legs or resist the need to have the taste of you on his tongue after seeing the slick that coats your fingers and glistens against your folds, that he unclips the cape that normally kept him blended with the dark of night and takes a step towards you.

“fucking archons..” he curses under his breath, your doe eyed look that flickers with happiness at the realization he really was here making him even harder.

“d-diluc! wha - i c-can- i mean -”

he lets out a breathless chuckle at how quickly you close your legs, your embarrassment evident but you had no reason to be embarrassed. never with him and especially not when he was so prideful knowing you were imagining it was his own fingers buried inside of you, thick and reaching deep, something you could not recreate by yourself but archons you looked like such a sweet thing trying.

“apologies my love, i didn’t mean to frighten you.”

his strides are long, his impressive length showing through his pants but as soon as he's close enough he reaches for you smooth leather gloves and the warm hands within them are adding fuel to your already burning skin, pulling your legs apart with tenderness but enough force that you couldn’t fight it, not that you even wanted to try. no, you were more than willing to give diluc all of you.

all you can focus on are the ruby orbs of the man you love, eyes that threaten to engulf you in their flames and never let you go. but you were encased within them long before now and tonight you would sink even deeper into their depths.

“have i made you lonely?” he asks, genuine concern laced in his tone.

it was easy for him to use his strength to protect you, move you from prying eyes and danger, carry your sleeping figure from the couch in his study to his bed or move your body as he wished when tangled in silk sheets and beaded with sweat. not that you resisted him but even when his grip was tight he’s so gentle with the way he pulls you closer to the edge of the bed, like you might break if he moves too fast.

he lowers onto his knees before you, the tips of his bangs tickling your inner thigh as he nuzzles his nose against your plush skin, feeling his cock twitch at the way your body reacts to just this little touch.

“n-no! never ‘luc.. n..never with you” your voice shakes in time with your legs and his heart stalls the sweet nickname. he hadn’t quite gotten used to it yet but he wasn’t sure he ever would, not when it was you calling him. “i just..” you bite your bottom lip before turning your gaze from his but still continuing, quiet and shy but oh so adorable. “just wanted you so badly..”

you can feel him smile against your skin, his kisses growing sloppier against your skin but never close to your aching sex. “were your fingers enough to sate your want angel?”

his bold words shock you, even if they did make your stomach flutter with butterflies and your pussy clench around nothing.

they weren’t enough.. you could never reach as deep as he could, could never drive yourself to the kind of bliss that had tears clinging to your lashes like only diluc ever could or had.

“‘luc.. please..” you beg, reaching out for him, to lose your fingers in his thick hair and guide him to your need but he captures them within his own much larger hands and places kisses the tips of each of your fingers instead, much too chastely for how naughty the sight of him on his knees before your bare body was.

“were they?” he asks again, the heat of his breath captured on your hands.

“.. no,” you whimper your answer much to your chagrin but happy to hear your confession, with his own carnal need to gift you that pleasure, he finally lets you touch him in return.

with your fingers tangled in tendrils of red he litters both of your legs with kisses after loving kisses, slow licks and nibbles but never in the place you needed him most. warm saliva cools against your skin the more he showers you with his affection until his lips have tasted nearly every inch of shaking thighs.

even as he moves to dangle your legs over his shoulders he’s still littering them with his love, coming closer and closer to your sticky cunt, teasing and fleeting near your dripping folds until you’re begging and then suddenly, without warning, his burning tongue is running from your eager hole up to your clit and back down again.

your back bows off of the bed and he groans loudly, shamelessly, as he drinks you in, already feeling utterly intoxicated by you; your taste, the way you squirm in his hold at his relentless movements that are somehow too much and not enough, your fingers finding their way deeper into his hair and he’d be sure it wouldn’t be much longer now before you were pulling on the soft strands while you cried his name.

powerful fingers sink into the fat of your thighs to keep them spread with each passing moment that he devours your pretty pussy like he may never get to taste you again. his tongue is hot and consumes your every thought, every nerve in your body as he licks and laps at your folds.

one of his hands leaves your thigh to spread your pussy lips, the leather not as soft as his skin but familiar all the same. he flicks his tongue against your exposed and twitching clit, the way you wither and moan at his ministrations driving him to want to give you more, more, more.

“ah~ d-diluc!” you cry out when he wraps his lips around your clit, feeling how badly and quickly it builds the burning knot behind your stomach that just might burst on him if he kept working you like this.

but he was always one to get lost in the pleasure of your cunt, going down on you like this satisfying him just as much as it did you.

his deep groans join your lovely noises, the taste of you finer and more intoxicating than any wine he could ever create in the cellars of the dawn winery but only he would get to know the pleasure of this, only he would get to be the one to feel your velvety walls clench around his tongue when he buries it deep inside of you, tongue fucking you and feeling his cock throb against the seem of his pants.

you pull him into you, lifting your hips to allow his tongue to reach deeper inside of you or perhaps it was simply because you can’t help it when he’s making you feel this good, he doesn’t know which but your reactions spur him on and he doesn’t relent his tongue for a moment.

the only word you seem to know is his name. you chant it like a mantra and each one rings through his ears and ripples down his body. always call his name.. always be his.. always let him bring you to celestia and back..

a mix of your juices and his saliva drips down your folds and to your ass, so wet he can easily slip two, thick, gloved fingers into your cunt, feeling your walls clench around them the moment he’s knuckles deep and curling them right into the spot that always has you seeing stars as he suckles on your clit.

“‘luc.. ah! i.. i’m gonna.. c- cum ~ ing!”

he groans and curses into your pussy at the first taste of your release, pumping his fingers at the perfect pace for you to ride out your high as long as you can. your fingers tug on his locks hard and it takes the last bit of his own sanity, his rock hard dick pulsing as he releases right into his pants, untouched and god there was so much as he kept leaking more the longer you came undone around him but archons he feels like he could go over and over again if it meant you’d squeeze his length as hard as you are his digits, if he’d get to keep the sweet taste of you melting on his taste buds.

and tonight, as he sheds his clothes, relieving scarred pale skin and tone muscles that you could never seem to get enough of, he comes to stand with your legs on either side of his thin waist and finally kisses you, the lingering taste of your release coating your lips, you think he may do just that.

genshin impact masterlist | main masterlist

#diluc ragnvindr x reader #diluc x reader #diluc ragnvindr #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #diluc ragnvindr smut #genshin impact smut #diluc smut #genshin smut #🌙moonlight.stories

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yourftmfriend · 2 years

Text

I just wanna see afab! Steven come undone on my fingers

Oh he’d be so cute

Trying not to make too much noise but failing

He tries to cover his face and mouth with his hands but you pin his wrists above his head so he can’t hide his face or voice from you

Make him look in your eyes

He’d look so beautiful with tears welling up in his eyes and drool running down his chin and a pretty blush on his face

You tell him how pretty he is and how he sounds like an angel

Your soft words are enough to make him cum on your fingers

“You can take one more right pretty boy??”

He just nods his head

He wants to be good for you

He wants to be your good boy

You stroke his clit with your tumb while fingering him

It has him seeing stars

Bonus point if you eat him out through his orgasm

He’d love it if you cuddle him after it

#im soft #top male reader #dom male reader #dom gn reader #top gn reader #fingering.#sub moon knight #moon boys #male reader #afab steven grant x male reader #afab moon knight #so cute #beautiful beautiful boy

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lovelettersforthedamned · 4 months

Note

Congrats on your 200 followers! 🥳🎉

I'd like to request 12 - "friends don't do this kind of shit." from the smut prompts with Steven Grant ❤

Hidden Love

--genre: SMUT & fluff

--pairing: steven grant x afab!reader

--word count: 1.0k

--warnings: language, oral (m receiving), some pretty heavy make-out sessions, sub!steven(ish), mentions of alcohol, cum eating, sweet sweet fluff at the end.

--gif credits: @magnusedom

Being friends with Steven was easy, he wasn’t an asshole, he wasn’t pretentious, and he definitely wasn’t mean. You could go on for hours about Steven, but you can’t, because it would ultimately lead to you admitting that you’re in love with him.

It’s Friday night, which means it was dinner and movie night. You two opted for ordering dinner instead of making it and putting on a shitty rom-com. Laying on his bed, you focus on the laptop in front of you. You two were basically on top of each other, arms and legs entangled, his head resting on your chest. The mood was cozy, yet thoughts of you two were plaguing your mind.

Little did you know, Steven was thinking the same thing. Neither of you wanted to ruin the friendship you had if you brought up your feelings to one another; not knowing both of you felt the same way.

Maybe it was the wine you had during dinner, but a sudden spark of confidence erupted in your system. Throwing your leg over his thigh, your hips angle at a position that makes Steven’s eyes flicker down to them, his mind wandering to more vulgar thoughts. He knows that he needs to take things slow, just in case he’s wrong about the entire situation. Bringing the hand that was resting on your shoulder, he lowers it down to the side of your torso and starts to softly caress the supple flesh there.

At the sudden touch, your heart picks up a beat. You don’t want to push the moment anymore, still hesitant to initiate anything more than innocent touching. Looking back at the screen, the credits started to roll, yet the both of you haven’t moved. “What should we watch next? I was thinking–”, looking back at Steven, he’s already looking at you. You nervously giggle, “Is there something wrong, Steven?”

He sits up swiftly, the sudden closeness causing your breath to stutter. Looking into his eyes, he looks down at your lips and then back into your eyes. Throwing away your thoughts, you bring a hand up to his face and pull him in for a kiss. The kiss is full of need for each other, all the feelings for each other poured into this one moment.

Out of nowhere, a wave of anxiety floods through your mind, causing you to pull away from his kiss. “W–Wait, Steven,” pulling away, his face full of concern, “friends don’t do this kind of shit.” Squeezing your eyes shut, you bring your hands up to your face in embarrassment.

You feel two hands gently hold your wrist as they slowly pull them away from your eyes, revealing a worried Steven, “Well, maybe we aren’t just friends, love.”

The worry on your face falls into a look of disbelief, unable to speak, Steven breaks the silence for you, “Please, darling, kiss me again.”

His request was a wake-up call, prompting you to lean in for another kiss, your hands roaming over his weirdly strong chest and shoulders, “Jesus Steven, when did you get so buff?”

“I was this whole time, you’ve just never been close enough to feel it,” a teasing tone littering his voice.

You push him on his back, taking your shirt off while he’s lying there, enjoying the view in front of him, “I can get close Steven. I can get very close if you want me to.”

Steven lets out a low moan as he watches you strip in front of him, “Fuck (Y/N)...Are you trying to torture me, love?”

Placing yourself at the foot of the bed, you unbuckle his belt, taking your time as you pull down his boxers and pants, throwing them off to the side. Watching his hard cock spring out from under his clothing makes your core ache with need, but you know that tonight is for him. You’re tired of keeping your feelings to yourself, and now you’re going to show him exactly what you’ve been feeling.

Taking his length into your hand, you lean down to pepper kisses to his tip, looking up through your eyelashes at his reaction. His head is thrown back as far as it can while he’s lying down, his hands gripping the sheets, and his breathing becoming heavier.

Resting your head on his thigh, you take in the sight of his, now throbbing, cock. It pleases you that the little amount of touching drives him mad. You stroke his cock slow, painfully slow. More moans leave his mouth as you start to tighten your grip, his thigh below you tensing.

“D–Darling…oh fuck. I’m gonna cum…”

Raising your head from his thigh, you put him in your mouth and sink as far as you can, his tip hitting the back of your throat. It didn’t take long for him to spill his seed inside of you, the warmth of your mouth pushing him through the finish line.

You didn’t take him out of your mouth until you knew for certain that he was done cumming, wanting to savor every last drop.

Steven was exhausted, even though your touch wasn’t there for long, the teasing was enough to make him lay there and catch his breath. Coming up from your knees, you crawl back onto the mattress and him. Your sudden appearance makes his eyes snap open, and the softest smile grows on his face as he looks at you. He’s truly looking at you with the knowledge that the secret is finally out.

Laying your body onto his, he wraps his arms around you and plants a kiss on the crown of your head. There were no more words said for the rest of the night, bliss filling the quiet space. You two went to bed relieved, the weight of a hidden love finally lifted, and the weight of you planted firmly on his chest.

--author's note: OMG, my first moon knight fic???? i do have a headcannon for the boys, but never got to posting it because i got nervous...LOL. thank you so much for this request, don't tell anyone but steven is my fav to write from the mk system :0. keep supporting your writers by liking, commenting, and reblogging!! ok, ily bye<333

#steven grant x reader #steven grant smut #moon knight x reader #steven grant fluff #steven grant x afab!reader #marvel #fluff #smut #moon knight fic #LLFTD 200 FOLLOWER CELEBRATION

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my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction · 1 year

Text

Good Night

Steven Grant X F!ReaderRating: 18+ pals Masterlist | ao3 | want to be tagged?

Jake's Part Marc's Part

A/N: For @loonymagizoologist's ask! Thank you so much! There will be a Jake fic and a Marc fic coming! Also I hope this is a tad NSFW without being too NSFW (I am terrible, I'm so sorry.)

Summary: Steven has to be up early. It's a shame he can't get to sleep.

Warnings: Typossss! Fragment sentences! Overuse of italics! Dry humping, slightly on the verge of being dom!Steven, I guess?

Word Count: 1031

Taglist: @pleasurebuttonwrites @jake-g-lockley @raven-rk @Campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @cocodiem @oscarisaacsspit @welcometostayingawake @mbakubabe @solobagginses

Steven turned over in bed, shifting from laying on his back to his side, again.

He sighed loudly, dramatically. An over the top sound that was purely for your benefit.

You couldn’t help the smile that tugged on your lips, but kept your eyes closed and back turned away from him. You pushed your face a little closer to the pillow.

There was a blissfully quiet few seconds before he moved again: kicking his feet to readjust the duvet and then turning his pillow over.

He signed again, humming a little at the end of it.

In your mind’s eye you could see him staring at the back of your head. Weighing up his options.

Steven needed to be up early and had practically demanded that both of you go to bed so that he could get a good night’s rest.

And now he couldn’t bloody sleep.

He shifted a little again and you almost took pity on him. But before you could he wiggled closer, sliding his arm around your waist over the covers.

“Love?” He whispered, leaning his head up to look at your side profile.

You kept your eyes shut and tried to suppress the giggle that wanted to erupt.

He leaned a little closer, his lips practically brushing against your ear. “Love?”

You stayed silent.

Steven groaned quietly and flopped back down onto the mattress. He sighed for the third time, but this one was barely audible and defeated. He kept his arm around you, his touch light.

You waited for three seconds, listening to his breathing, imagining the pout on his lips; before suddenly twisting around.

He jumped a little at your sudden movements, his mouth open to speak.

But you didn’t let him get a word in edgeways as you grabbed hold of his cheeks and peppered his face with quick kisses.

“Oh, love!” You said in a purposefully bad imitation of his voice between kisses. “I just have to go to bed early! I have to be up!”

You let go of his face to slide your hands down to tickle at his ribs. “I have to get a good sleep! Oh woe is me!”

He giggled, trying to wiggle out of your grasp and kiss you back. You shifted your weight on top of him to hold him down.

“Please come to bed with me love! I’ll go to sleep straight away with you there!”

“Stop,” Steven managed to say through his laughter.

You grinned wickedly, but stopped tickling him and sat up, keeping his hips caged with your legs.

Steven smiled as he stopped laughing, gazing up at you. “I’m sorry.”

You tutted. “Don’t make me start tickling you again, no apologising.” You leaned down to kiss him.

He waited until your lips were almost touching before he whispered, “sorry.”

“Ste-” You began to move back but he chased after you, his warm hand cupping the back of your neck as he pulled you back against him. His tongue sliding into your mouth.

You moaned into the kiss, bunching up the material of his top with your fingers, unable to stop yourself.

Steven chuckled lightly. The sound quickly turned into a groan as you ran your nails over his scalp and pulled at his hair.

He shifted to the side and gently flipped you over so that he was now on top. He cradled the back of your head as he moved so that your lips never left his.

The movement made you chuckle, and Steven took full advantage, trailing his lips down your neck to suck at your pulse point while his left hand skimmed under your top. His warm fingers glided upwards with the faintest of touches.

Your laugh quickly turned to a shuddered moan as his thumb ran over your nibble as he squeezed your breast lightly. Enough for it to spark a thread of arousal down your spine, but not enough for it to be any more than a tease.

“Steven,” you whined, squirming under his touch.

“Hmm?” He pressed light kisses to your jaw, feigning innocence.

You tugged at his hair, trying to urge him back to your neck. He fell back to your skin without any further prompting, scraping his teeth down to your collar bone before kissing and licking back up to your ear.

He brushed over your nipple again, pinching it lightly between his thumb and forefinger until it pebbled, before dragging his nail across it. Punctuating the movement with a flick.

You couldn’t stop your hips from bucking upwards to grind against him as fire ignited in your veins. Your breath caught in your throat as you rubbed your core against the hard outline of his cock.

Steven bit down on your neck to muffle his groan, quickly soothing the sting of his teeth with his tongue as he rocked against you.

You turned, pulling lightly at his hair, to capture his lips with your own, rolling your tongue against his as he slipped into your mouth.

“Hmmm, Steven?” You pushed your head back into your pillow, leaving just enough space between you both to get your words out. As you wrapped your legs around his waist and squeezed lightly to still his movements.

He gazed at you, his lips swollen, a slight flush dusting his cheeks. It was like in that moment you held the answers to all the secrets in the universe.

You couldn’t help yourself. The urge to tease was just too strong. It had risen in your chest and made you giddy.

You faked a yawn that quickly became a real one. “I sure am getting sleepy, and you do have to be up early so… Good Night!” You said brightly, giving him your very best smile.

Steven stared at you for a moment, his eyes dark and dangerous. “Really?” His voice was so low it almost became a growl.

You nodded. Acting your heart out and biting back your smile. “I’m so tired.”

His left hand twitched over your breast, his right slowly running up and down your thigh.

A small, wicked smile began to pull at his lips. “We’ll see about that...” He purred, his grip tightening.

#steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #moon knight x reader #moon knight x you #moon knight #moon knight mcu #steven grant #oscar isaac #oscar isaac characters #x reader #x female reader #x f!reader #x afab reader #my writing

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letmehavemyfictionalmen · 10 months

Text

Love, Lunacy, Time: Ch 1

summary: When you fall asleep in the Avengers Compound, you don’t expect your world to be turned upside down when they wake up in the 1950s, alongside a man who oozes Chaos.

pairing: Moonknight x afab!ScarletWitch!reader

The morning sun seeps through sheer lace curtains, casting a warm golden glow upon the bedroom. Soft shadows dance along the walls, creating an atmosphere of tranquility.

The stillness of the morning hangs in the air, as if time itself pauses in quiet anticipation. Distant birdsong gently serenades the room, adding a touch of melody to the serene ambiance.

Like mischievous dancers, the sunbeams tiptoe across your features, tenderly awakening your senses. Gradually, the warmth spreads, seeping into your skin and tickling your brain with a delicate embrace of consciousness.

Slowly, you become aware of the softness of the sheets beneath you, cradling your body in gentle comfort. The rhythmic rise and fall of your chest accompanies the whispering stillness that surrounds you.

Reluctantly, you muster the strength to detach yourself from the embrace of sleep, the allure of remaining nestled in the comforting cocoon of your dreams tugging at you.

The desire to stay a little while longer in the softness of the bed is a tempting whisper in your mind.

As you rub your eyes, still in the process of awakening, you gather your thoughts and gradually sit up in bed. The realization dawns upon you that today is going to be a long day.

Last night, Steve called for a team training in the morning, a prospect that doesn't quite excite you, especially if you haven't had your daily dose of caffeine, much like Tony.

And hey, there's always one thing to look forward to after a grueling training session: Tony’s extravagant breakfast spread. The man knows how to satisfy the Avengers' appetites like no other.

From the tantalizing aroma of freshly brewed coffee to the mouthwatering display of culinary delights, the breakfast table becomes a haven of indulgence.

Waking with a contented sigh, your anticipation for breakfast lingers in the air. Stretching your arms high above your head, you allow the languid motion to wash away any remnants of sleep.

However, as your eyelids flutter open, any thoughts of a delicious breakfast and team training fade into the recesses of your mind.

The moment your eyes adjust to the unfamiliar surroundings, a sense of unease settles within you, overshadowing any lingering expectations.

The room that greets your gaze is far from what you had anticipated. Instead of the cozy familiarity of the Avengers compound, you feel like you have stepped into one of those vintage homey magazines in Steve’s room.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, you take a moment to absorb the details of the room, while your eyes sweep across it.

The walls are painted in a soft, pastel hue, lending an air of serenity to the space. A dainty floral pattern adorns the curtains, their fabric billowing gently in the breeze.

The bed itself is adorned with a neatly arranged floral bedspread, its delicate patterns mirroring those of the curtains. As you run your fingers along the fabric, you can almost feel the intricate stitching beneath your touch.

A wooden dresser stands against one wall, adorned with a small mirror framed by delicate carvings. Its surface showcases a few cherished possessions —a photograph, you can’t see as you are still a bit disoriented, a porcelain trinket box, and a stack of handwritten letters.

Positioned snugly beside the dresser is a diminutive vintage television, the screen, encased in a wooden frame, rests upon sturdy legs.

Your gaze shifts from the television towards the left side of the room, where your attention is drawn to a closed door that leads outside the room.

A small vanity table, adorned with an array of beauty products, catches your attention. Lipsticks, powder compacts, and hair accessories are neatly arranged, as if awaiting the touch of a graceful hand.

A tall wooden closet stands proudly beside the vanity. Its polished surface reflects the gentle light that filters into the room, creating a subtle sheen.

As you sit there, a mix of emotions washes over you. There is a sense of curiosity tinged with confusion, as you grapple with the unknown. How did you end up in this room?

Your mind races, searching for answers and piecing together fragments of memories. Was this the doing of a new supervillian? Was it Thanos again?

After the exhausting battle between the Avengers and Thanos, where you almost lost your father-figure, Tony Stark and your mother-like, Natasha, you don’t think you can handle one again.

Especially after being snapped away for five years by that purple space grape. Not the best experience.

Questions swirl in your mind, each one vying for attention, but none providing a satisfactory answer. You try to recall the events leading up to this moment, but your memory remains frustratingly elusive.

Suddenly, your thoughts are interrupted by a faint rustling sound emanating from the left side of bed beside you. The noise draws your attention like a whisper in the wind, breaking the silence that envelops the room.

The stranger lying beside you emanates an air of tranquil serenity, his slumber undisturbed by the world around him. Rays of sunlight and your shadow gently caress his features, accentuating the delicate contours of his face.

His eyes, closed in peaceful repose, are framed by long lashes that brush against his cheeks. His brows, gracefully arched with an exquisite curvature. His nose, elegantly sculpted and gracefully arched.

His sun-kissed forehead is adorned with tousled curls of dark hair, ruffled by the embrace of slumber.

His lips, slightly parted in peaceful slumber, bear the subtle presence of a small, well-groomed mustache and his strong jawline is sculpted and chiseled.

You continue to gaze at him, almost compelled to keep looking at him. While observing him, a wave of curiosity washes over you. Who is he? How did you end up here together?

While you are pondering this, unconsciously, your hand extends, gliding gently through the air until your fingertips graze his cheek with utmost tenderness.

The touch is electric, sending a subtle current of warmth and connection coursing through your veins. His skin beneath your touch feels velvety and inviting, radiating a soothing heat that envelopes your fingertips.

A soft smile dances upon your lips, a reflection of the quiet awe that fills your being as you witness the tranquility that emanates from him.

With a delicate motion, your hand continues its exploration, guided by a mix of curiosity and reverence. Your fingers traverse the expanse of his cheek, tracing a path of featherlight caresses, to his forehead.

Gently, you brush away the curl that had playfully encroached upon his peaceful slumber, threatening to disturb his serene rest.

Just as your fingertips brush away the curl, a captivating glimmer of light captures your attention. Sunlight caresses your left hand, casting a radiant glow upon something that on your finger.

And there, adorning your ring finger, you notice two rings—a wedding band and an engagement ring.

Your heart skips a beat as realization settles within you, stirring a mix of emotions that cascade like a gentle waterfall. Married?

The word hangs in the air, heavy with implications and uncertainties. You can't deny the surge of anxiety that accompanies the newfound knowledge.

Without a second thought, a surge of urgency propels you to pull the blanket away from his body, your heart pounding with a mixture of confusion and apprehension.

As you reach for his left hand, a shiver of uncertainty runs down your spine, the weight of the unknown bearing down on your shoulders.

And then, as your eyes linger on his hand, the weight of the realization settles upon you like a heavy cloak. His wedding band.

The symbol of a commitment you cannot recall making, with a man whose name remains unknown.

A wave of unease washes over you, clouding the air with uncertainty. Questions flood your mind, each one more pressing than the last. Where are you? How did this happen? Why can't you remember? And most importantly, who is this man lying beside you?

You carefully withdraw your hand, your fingertips tingling with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. The silence in the room stretches, heavy with unspoken words and unexplained circumstances.

How did you end up in this unfamiliar room, married to a stranger? The circumstances defy logic, and a knot of unease tightens in your stomach.

A scream shatters the tranquility of the room, jolting you out of your contemplative state. Startled, your gaze darts to the source of the commotion—your left side—just in time to witness a sight that defies all expectations.

In an instant, the man lying beside you springs to life with an almost comical urgency. His body lunges forward, propelled by an inexplicable force, as if he's been startled by an invisible adversary.

With an uncoordinated tumble, he careens off the end of the bed, crashing unceremoniously onto the floor.

The abruptness of his awakening sends shockwaves through the room, breaking the fragile peace that had settled. As you watch his disoriented scramble, you can't help but feel a mixture of concern and confusion.

Swiftly casting aside the duvet, you scramble to onto your feet, with a sense of urgency, which proves to be a bit hard with this light blue, long feathered robe you find yourself wearing.

Caught between a state of curiosity and worry, you rush to the man's side, kneeling down beside him on the soft carpeted floor.

His eyes dart around the room, his breathing rapid and shallow as he tries to make sense of his surroundings.

"Hey, are you okay?" you ask, your voice filled with genuine concern. He looks up at you, his gaze filled with a mix of confusion and disbelief.

"What... where... who are you?" he stammers, his voice tinged with both fear and curiosity. His eyes scan your face, searching for any hint of recognition or familiarity.

"I... I don't know," you admit, your own voice wavering slightly. "I woke up here, just like you. I just remember falling asleep in my bedroom and then I was just here."

His eyebrows knit together, a furrow of concern etching across his forehead. "This is... this is insane. I told Marc not to eat that steak," he mutters, his words a mere whisper in the air.

The man's words hang in the air, leaving a sense of intrigue mingled with confusion. Who is Marc, and why would eating a steak have any connection to your current predicament?

The room is enveloped in an uncomfortable silence as you and the man exchange bewildered glances, both grappling with the bizarre circumstances that have brought you together.

Steven's gaze darts around the room, his eyes searching for anything familiar amidst the unfamiliar setting. As he takes in the vintage decor and the delicate details that adorn the space, his reflection catches his attention in the multitude of mirrors that grace the room.

His gaze lands upon Marc who is equally bewildered and struggling to comprehend the circumstances that surround them. Confusion lingers in his expression mirroring the perplexity etched across Steven's own face.

However, Jake stands in silence, his eyes fixed upon a black and white photograph hanging on the wall. Steven, curious about Jake's intense focus, traces his eyes to see what he is looking at from the mirror.

Walking closer to the photograph, Steven feels his breath catching in his throat as he observes the photograph in front of him. His heart skips a beat, and a shiver runs down his spine.

The realization dawns upon him, and his mind races to grasp the subject and concept captured within the frame.

In the photograph, you stand resplendent, adorned in a beautiful wedding dress that cascades elegantly around you. A bouquet of delicate flowers rests gently in your hands, completing the picture of radiant joy.

And beside you, Steven finds himself in that moment frozen in time, as your groom. Your arms are intertwined, a symbol of unity and shared commitment.

As Steven's gaze fixates on the photograph, his eyes trace the exquisite details, taking in every nuance and emotion captured within the frame. The significance of the date imprinted at the bottom of the photograph—July 12, 1952.

You stand beside Steven, peering over his shoulder as you both gaze at the photograph in front of you. A mixture of emotions swirls within you—confusion, and disbelief.

"Yeah, I forgot to mention it," you say softly, your voice tinged with a hint of disbelief. "It seems we're married. I noticed the rings on our fingers, and it's hard to ignore what that implies."

“MARRIED?!” Marc yells from the mirror, causing Steven and you to jump. “You know my last marriage ended. And now I am married again with a woman who I’ve never even met?!”

"Who was that?!" you question, your voice laced with panic. Instinctively, you turn around, your eyes scanning the room for the source of the voice. And then, to your surprise and growing unease, your gaze lands on Marc’s reflection in the mirror.

With practiced finesse, your delicate hands, peeking out from the feathery sleeves of your robe, deftly weave intricate gestures, conjuring a ball of magic within your grasp.

"¡Puedes vernos y escucharnos?!" Jake's voice echoes from another mirror, his words laced with a hint of disbelief and awe. [Can you see us and hear us?!]

"Sí, puedo, pero qué diablos está pasando?!" you reply, your voice filled with a mix of astonishment and confusion. [Yes, I can, but what the hell is going on?!]

You send a quick thanks to Nat for forcing you to learn various languages.

Marc, his gaze fixed on the swirling red encircling your hand, breaks the silence and draws your attention toward him. "Look," he begins, his voice earnest, "I can explain, as can Steven back there. But please, allow us the opportunity to explain."

His words hang in the air, a plea for understanding and patience. The weight of the unknown still lingers, but there is a glimmer of hope that explanations might shed light on the bewildering situation you find yourselves in.

"You've got one minute," you assert, channeling your inner Natasha with a determined tone. This mirror situation demands clarity, and you are determined to get some answers within the limited timeframe you've set.

Steven takes a deep breath, his voice filled with a mixture of vulnerability and sincerity. "I... I have Dissociative Identity Disorder or D.I.D.," he confesses, his gaze locked with yours. "It's a mental health condition where different identities, or alters, coexist within one body."

He pauses for a moment, collecting his thoughts before continuing. "Marc, Jake, and I... we share one body. Marc is the original host in the system. Each of us has our own distinct personalities, memories, and experiences. We don't always have control over who's in the driver's seat, so to speak."

You listen intently, absorbing this unexpected revelation. The complexity of the situation begins to unravel, and you try to grasp the implications of what Steven has just shared.

"Okay," you say, your voice softening as you take in the weight of their revelation. "I... I appreciate your honesty, Steven. This explains some of the confusion and the presence of multiple voices. But the mirror reflections?"

Steven nods, understanding the confusion his previous explanation may have caused. "The mirror reflections are a manifestation of our internal world," he explains. "For us, mirrors serve as a gateway to communication and connection between the three of us."

He gestures toward the mirror where Marc's and Jake's reflections had been nodding earlier. "When one of us takes control or wants to communicate, the other's reflection appears in the mirror. It's a way for us to interact and share our thoughts, even if we can't always be in control of the physical body."

You glance at the mirror, now understanding the significance it holds for them. The mysterious occurrences and the presence of their reflections suddenly make more sense. Having gained a deep understanding of Steven, Marc, and Jake's situation, you inhale deeply, allowing your powers to recede. The vibrant red ball of magic that had encircled your hand gradually dissipates, leaving you in your usual state.

"I... I think I understand," you say, a mix of curiosity and empathy coloring your words. "Thank you for sharing this with me. It's a brave and vulnerable thing to do."

Steven's eyes reflect a mixture of relief and gratitude as he meets your gaze. The weight of their secret seems to lighten, and a sense of trust begins to blossom between all of you. "Can you explain the magic?" Marc asks, his voice tinged with curiosity and a touch of skepticism. His curl falls onto his forehead, adding to his already perplexed expression. "I don't think people can usually hear us or see us." You shift your eyes toward Marc, acknowledging the genuine curiosity reflected in his eyes. Given the extraordinary nature of the magic you just demonstrated, it's only natural for skepticism to arise.

"It's something that has been a part of me since I was very young," you explain, your voice tinged with a touch of nostalgia. "My earliest memories involve me being able to use magic."

There's a hint of wistfulness in your tone as you convey the enigmatic nature of your powers. The memories associated with them feel distant, like fragments of a puzzle waiting to be assembled.

"I wish I could provide a definitive explanation," you continue, your voice tinged with sincerity. "But the truth is, even I don't fully understand the origin or extent of my powers. They've always been a part of me, and I've learned to control and harness them over the years."

"I can tell you that my powers are connected to my emotions," you add, offering a glimpse into the nature of your magic. "When I feel strongly about something, whether it's joy, fear, anger, or love, my powers tend to manifest in different ways. The magic you just witnessed was an example of that."

Steven's expression softens as he listens to your explanation, his skepticism gradually giving way to curiosity and understanding. "That's... incredible," he admits, his voice laced with a mix of awe and acceptance.

You chuckle and nod your head, feeling a warmth in your heart. "Thanks. Now, can I get an introduction to my husbands?" you ask playfully, your eyes sparkling with anticipation. "I am Steven Grant," he introduces himself with a warm smile. "I work at the gift shop in the British Museum." His voice carries a hint of enthusiasm as he speaks.

From the mirror reflection, you see Marc wave at you, his voice filled with a mix of confidence and a touch of weariness. "I'm Marc Spector. Former U.S. Marine, and a mercenary who's seen more than my fair share of action," he introduces himself, his eyes reflecting the weight of his past. A mischievous grin appears on Jake's face as he leans closer, in the mirror's reflection, his voice oozing with charm. "Me llamo Jake Lockley, hermosa," he says, his Spanish accent rolling off his tongue. [The name's Jake Lockley, beautiful.] You give them your own name, a warm smile gracing your lips as you extend your hand to Steven for a friendly handshake. "It's truly a pleasure to meet all of you, although, I wish it was under different circumstances."

Shaking hands, you are abruptly brought back to the present moment, reality sinking in as you take note of your vintage attire and the man's matching vintage nightwear. The nostalgic garments serve as a reminder that you and this man are in a different time. With your hand still in his clasp, Steven takes a step back from you, observing your appearance with a mix of intrigue and admiration. His eyes sweep over your long light blue feathery robe, noting the delicate elegance it adds to your figure.

His eyes then wander up to your hair, which has been meticulously curled in a style reminiscent of the year they are in. The waves cascade down, framing your face and adding a touch of timeless sophistication to your overall look.

As Steven takes in your attire and coiffed hair, he can't help but be captivated by your beauty. It's not merely the physical aspects that enchant him, but the way you carry yourself, exuding an aura of confidence and allure.

There's a certain glow about you, an inner radiance that shines through, making it clear that you possess a beauty that transcends mere appearances.

In this moment, as you both stand there, still relative strangers despite the intimate connection forged by your shared powers, Steven finds himself drawn to your presence. He feels a subtle stirring of curiosity, a desire to unravel the layers that lie beneath your enchanting exterior.

Marc and Jake share a knowing look as they catch Steven's lingering gaze upon you. Smirks creep across their faces, a silent acknowledgment of his unspoken thoughts and the emotions he harbors for you.

The sweet serenade of the doorbell fills the room, abruptly pulling you both out of the enchanting moment you shared.

Startled, you and Steven exchange a glance, your gazes filled with curiosity and a touch of confusion. Who could be at the door so early in the morning?

With a shared nod, you both make your way toward the front door, eager to unravel the mystery that awaits on the other side. The possibilities swirl in your mind, each one tinged with anticipation and a hint of apprehension.

☼ Please note that I do not wish to have my work translated or published on any third-party reading websites. I claim the rights to my work.

☼ Where I don’t have any rights to the characters, many ideas and OC are my own creation. Please respect that.

taglist: @lalalily03, @cicithemess2000, @elliewilliamswhore

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bastardmandennis · 8 months

Text

even if it’s a false god (marc spector x fem!reader)

Summary: Your neighbor, Steven, asks you to feed his fish for him while he's away. Instead, you meet who you think is his brother, Marc.

Word Count: 6.9k (nice)

Warnings: oh boy. SMUT! (literally get out of here if you're not 18+ pls), afab reader, no y/n, brief mentions of a wound/blood, mentions of Steven/reader friendship, no layla (devastating tbh), men begging (woo), PIV sex, creampie, unsafe sex (wrap it before you tap it). riding, mentions of masturbation, oral (f receiving). one (1) singular slap. vague allusions to the moon knight system/konshu but not really important tbh, drinking of alcohol, i think that's it but pls let me know if i missed anything!

A/N: good lord. this has been drumming around in my head for TOO LONG. i just wanted an excuse to use ^this gif (only slightly joking). title comes from the song false god by tswift (even tho im mad at her rn) bc i am just a simple uncreative girl, okay? pls enjoy and let me know what you think!! xoxo

There in the low light, sitting at your kitchen table, is–fuck, it’s Steven. He doesn’t look good, sweaty and dirty and tired. He doesn’t notice you at first, too busy trying to reach over his shoulder for something. His shirt is on the floor, shredded, along with the bottle of vodka you keep for “emergencies.” What the fuck? “What the fuck?” you echo and he finally looks up at you. You drop the shoe and kick it to the side. “Steven, are you–what happened?” “Not Steven,” he grunts, and oh the sound of his gruff voice should not be turning you on right now. “Marc,” you breathe. His dark eyes snap to yours, hand paused awkwardly over his shoulder. You can’t even be too mad at him for breaking in here in the middle of the night, not when he’s looking at you like that, all broody eyes and pouty lips. Fuck, he’s pretty.

All day, there’s been a nagging feeling in the back of your mind that there was something important you forgot to do. At work, you go through your emails, your calendar–nothing there. On the bus ride home, you stare out at the passing scenery, wracking your brain trying to figure out what the hell you’re forgetting. It’s driving you crazy.

It’s not until you reach your apartment door, digging through your bag for your keys, that you realize what it is. You pull out a second set of keys, this one with a small teddy bear charm dangling, and it hits you like a ton of bricks. Fuck. You were supposed to feed your neighbor’s fish for him while he was away.

You drop your work bag and sprint up the stairs to Steven’s apartment. Please don’t be dead, please don’t be dead. You don’t think you’d be able to handle the disappointed puppy dog look he’d give you when he comes back and you have to tell him you killed his beloved fish. The way his arms would wrap around himself in comfort, sleeves covering his hands, the way he always did when he was upset. Upset because of you this time.

Your heart sinks when you make it to his door, panting. Oh this is not good. You can’t remember when exactly he’d said he’d be back–in your defense, he did call you at 2am on a Monday, his voice uncharacteristically gruff as he’d asked you to take care of Stev-my fish for me, apparently taking your mumbled mhm as a concrete sign of agreement. When you’d woken up for real later that day, his keys were sitting on your kitchen table, a note reading Thanks. scrawled out in unfamiliar handwriting. Weird, but Steven was a bit of an odd duck, popping in and out to say hey at all hours, whenever he was awake (which seemed like all the time). The man either slept like the dead or not at all, no inbetween.

You quickly go through his keys, unlocking the top two deadbolts before reaching the main door lock. This one sticks–you shove your shoulder against the door and it bursts open. You tumble into the apartment.

And right into Steven. He’s bare chested, a pair of pajama pants slung low on his hips. Holy shit, since when was Steven ripped? He’s got a few days’ worth of stubble covering his clenched jaw and dark circles under his eyes. His hair is gelled down carefully instead of in its usual wild fluffy curls.

“Steven,” you whisper. He’s still gripping your elbow and you quickly straighten up. “What are you do–”

“Should be asking you that,” he says. His voice is flat, no trace of his usual cheery accent to be seen.

You blink. Study his face, the scowl etched there, the pull of his brows. This isn’t the Steven you know–the one who always greets you with a smile and a quiet heya when you pass each other in the hallway. The one who knocks on your door in the middle of the night with some ancient translation he’s finally figured out, waving his notes excitedly at you. The one who brings you a doughnut on his way home from work sometimes. It’s Steven’s face, for sure, but you’ve never seen this angry expression twisting his features. It feels wrong, it feels…dangerous.

You nod toward the fish tank, where Gus is still swimming happily. Thank god. “Steven didn’t tell me his…brother…was coming to feed Gus,” you say. “I’ve been, um, watching him?”

He takes a step back, not meeting your eyes. “Right, he–he told me you’d be here.” A beat, and then, “Did you need something else?”

You can’t stop staring at him, how familiar yet alien the man standing in front of you is. You see glimpses of Steven, when he crosses his arms across his chest, but then he speaks, his voice gruff, flat, American, and the illusion is broken. He raises an eyebrow and you shake your head.

“Sorry, it’s just…Steven didn’t tell me he had a brother,” you say. “Not that–I mean, not that we’re super close, you know. I just moved in like, three–no, four months ago now, so we see each other around. Sometimes.”

You want to slap yourself for babbling–something about his intense stare, the way his dark eyes roam your face, makes you want to run and never come back. You feel rooted in place, waiting for him to pounce, and you don’t fully hate it.

His lips twitch. You want to see him smile, see if it’s the same crooked grin Steven usually sports. “Ok-ay, well, I’ll just go now,” you finally say when he doesn’t answer.

You spin around, eager to get as far away as possible when you hear him call out to you.

“Marc,” he says. “I’ll see you around.” The smile he gives you is small, more tightly controlled than Steven’s, but it still makes your heart race. Get it together.

You wave and practically sprint back to your apartment, slamming the door and leaning back against it. That could not have gone any worse. Your heart won’t stop pounding and you try to convince yourself it’s just from all the running, not the way you felt Marc’s eyes follow you out the door.

—-

You don’t see Marc–or Steven–for the next few days. You set alarms now, one before work and one at night, as a reminder to feed Gus. And if you make sure you look extra presentable when you get to Steven’s apartment, an extra coat of gloss and mascara thrown on, it’s definitely not because of Marc.

Right.

But each time you’re let down, the apartment as empty as you left it the time before, no sign of either Marc or Steven. You find yourself taking a few minutes every visit to straighten up some of the many books scattered around, pointedly avoiding the half-made bed in the middle of the room.

One time you’d dropped the can of fish food and it had rolled over to the bed, getting caught in the pile of–what is that, sand?–scattered around the edges. You’d huffed, crouching down to get it, only to come face to face with a long ankle restraint tied to one leg of the bed. Your face heated, even though no one was there to see you.

You tried not to think of Steven using it on someone—poor, sweet Steven, who you’ve known for three months now and will barely make eye contact with you. No, this seemed like something more up Marc’s alley, and you can’t help imagine his rough hands tightening the restraints across your ankles, holding your legs spread open for him as he kissed and bit his way up to your–

No. This is so wrong.

But it wasn’t wrong enough to stop the heat pooling in your stomach, the damp spot on your panties you tried to ignore. And if you touched yourself later that night, made yourself come imagining big hands and a harsh voice in your ear, well. That’s no one’s business.

Another three days pass, and you’re starting to get worried. There’s still no sign of Steven, and you don’t think he’s ever been gone this long–what is he even doing? It’s not like this is a work trip, right? Do museum gift shop workers even get leave from work? There’s mail beginning to pile up outside his door, and when you deposit the stack on the kitchen counter during your next visit a small envelope catches your attention.

Marc Spector is written on the front. There’s no return address. Weird–you’d just assumed he and Steven would have the same last name. You quickly place the envelope back with the rest of the mail. It’s not your business, you scold yourself. But that doesn’t stop you from googling Marc Spector when you get home and–nothing. Not even the usual abandoned Facebook page, the years-old photo tag from some distant relatives. A search of Steven Grant brings you to the wiki page for some Indiana Jones-style 80s movie. Another dead end, of course.

You consider calling the police, reporting Steven (and Marc) missing, but what could you even say? Hey, my neighbor and his mysterious secret twin brother are missing, no I don’t know where they could be, I’m just here to feed his fish, I don’t even have either of their phone numbers. It sounds crazy just thinking about it. Jesus. You toss and turn that night, finally telling yourself that if you don’t hear from Steven by the morning, you’ll go back to his apartment and look for a number for someone to call for help. You slip into a restless sleep soon after, images of Steven’s big puppy eyes and Marc’s scowling face flashing through your mind.

Bang.

Something scrapes across the floor and then you hear a muffled curse. Your eyes spring open, heart practically beating its way out of your chest as you try to orient yourself in the dark room. You fumble for your phone on the nightstand–dead, because of course you forgot to plug it in last night. A loud crash from the kitchen has you shooting up out of bed, grabbing for the only weapon-like thing available. You grip a high heel in your hand, ready to stab whoever decided to make the mistake of breaking into your apartment and interrupting your sleep.

“What the fuck?” you echo and he finally looks up at you. You drop the shoe and kick it to the side. “Steven, are you–what happened?”

“Not Steven,” he grunts, and oh the sound of his gruff voice should not be turning you on right now.

“Marc,” you breathe. His dark eyes snap to yours, hand paused awkwardly over his shoulder. You can’t even be too mad at him for breaking in here in the middle of the night, not when he’s looking at you like that, all broody eyes and pouty lips. Fuck, he’s pretty.

“Can you–” he gestures impatiently to his shoulder. You walk over in a trance, trying not to feel self-conscious in your sleep shorts and tank top, coming to a hesitant stop behind him. There’s a gash running across his shoulder blade and you gasp. A trickle of blood rolls down his back.

You flutter your hand around the makeshift rag he has pressed there. You can’t stop staring at his back, the shift of muscles as he tries to hold his other hand in place to stop the bleeding. He’s so broad and warm, heat radiating off of him into the chilly air around you. You make a noise in your throat and he huffs.

“Oh fuck, what–what is this?” you ask. Stupid question. You press down on the rag–is that one of your shirts? that fucker–and he groans, shifting in the chair.

“Just–can you just help,” Marc rasps. He twists around to meet your eyes, careful not to jostle your hand on his shoulder. “Please.”

Yeah, you’re fucked. It shouldn’t be this attractive, listening to him beg for your help, twisting in your kitchen chair in the middle of the night. You can’t help but think of other places you want to hear him beg and a flush creeps up your face.

“Okay, yeah,” you finally say. Clear your throat and think of the bare bones first aid kit underneath your bathroom sink. “But maybe you should just go to the hospital–”

“No!” His voice booms through the room and you freeze. “No, it’s–it’s not that bad, please.” His voice is soft, pleading. “Just a scratch, promise.”

A scratch? But he looks so confident–“okay,” you whisper against your better judgment. “Stay here, let me get my, uh, kit.”

His shoulders slump in relief. “Didn’t have anywhere else to go or I would’ve. I didn’t want to bother you but, Steven–” He pauses. “Steven clearly trusts you, so I figured…you’re my best option here.”

His words send butterflies through your stomach. You tear your eyes away from his clenched jaw, mumble something again about getting the kit. You’re relieved to find everything you need tucked away, praying it’s not as bad as it looks. You couldn’t sew to save your life, but for Marc you’d try. And if it’s really bad, well tough shit—you’d find some way to drag him to the hospital.

He’s drinking from the bottle of vodka when you come back, head tilted back as he swallows deeply. A drop escapes from the corner of his mouth and you track it down his neck until it disappears beneath his tank top. You clear your throat and he turns to look at you, hissing when the movement pulls his wound open.

“Stop moving,” you scold, ripping the bottle from his hand and placing it on the table next to you.

You’ve seen enough survival movies to know that disinfecting the wound is the basic first step, but really, what the hell can you do after that? You don’t have any medical experience, can barely handle your own papercuts–let alone a huge open wound on someone else. You take a shaky breath, feeling slightly hysterical; here’s this man you barely know practically bleeding out in your kitchen in the middle of the night, waiting for your help, instead of going to the hospital like a normal person. Plenty of time to freak out later, once Marc is gone, you remind yourself.

He’s silent in the chair, shoulders tense. His tank top flaps open where his skin is split–oh Marc, what have you gotten yourself into?

“I’m gonna,” you clear your throat. “Can you, um, take your shirt off? I can’t see.”

“Sure, doc,” he grumbles. You roll your eyes at the jab–you are technically a doctor, of philosophy though, not medicine, but you’re not sure if he knows that. You help him lift the shirt from his back, making sure it doesn’t catch on the edges of the cut. Thankfully he’s right, it’s not as bad as it looks. It’s shallow enough that you’re pretty sure you can get away with just cleaning it up and covering it with gauze, no sewing necessary.

“This is gonna hurt,” you warn. He grits his teeth and nods, turning his head away to stare out into the living room.

You grab a clean piece of gauze, douse it in vodka–no rubbing alcohol in the first aid kit, but this’ll be better than nothing. Your other hand runs down the non-injured side of his back, hoping to soothe him a little. Instead he tenses up even more, spits out get on with it. So you do, pressing the vodka-soaked gauze right onto the cut, ignoring his groan of pain. Wipe away the smears of blood left behind–thank god it wasn’t still actively bleeding, just needed to be cleaned and wrapped up.

He hisses when you dab the edges of the cut, reaching his hand out behind him. You pass him the bottle silently, trying to ignore the pull of his throat, the way his thick fingers grip the bottle. Steven would never drink with you, no matter how many times you’d offered. Marc doesn’t even flinch at the sting of vodka, and you wonder idly if this was some parent trap twin situation–they really couldn’t be more different.

You pull the bottle out of his hands, placing your lips where his just were, ignoring the bite of the still-cold vodka. The alcohol rushes through you, warming your veins and settling low in your stomach.

“Should you be drinking on the job?” He sounds amused. You scoff.

“Not even my job,” you mumble. Press a little too hard on the edge of his cut with the gauze accidentally-on-purpose, just to hear him bite back a whimper and pull away from you. You grab his shoulders and manhandle him back into the seat. “Hold still, ’m almost done.”

It’s silent besides the sound of you cutting the medical tape and Marc’s labored breathing. There’s so many questions brewing in your mind, but you bite your tongue and keep working, not wanting to upset him again. You press one last piece of tape to his back, hoping your patch job will last until–if–he finally decides to go to the doctor.

“All done,” you finally say, tapping his non-injured shoulder. Marc grunts and twists around to try to see what you’ve done.

You shove him back into the chair. “Don’t, you’ll undo all my hard work.”

“Thanks, doc,” he mumbles. Then he sits up straight like he’s going to get up and leave, without any sort of explanation for what the hell is going on. A flash of anger rises in you and you try to bite it back.

“Why?” you ask. He stops lacing his boots and stares at you. His eyes are just a little darker than Steven’s, you notice, a little sharper–more wolf than puppy. You shake the thought away.

“You gonna tell me what happened? Where Steven is?” You throw your hands up in frustration, letting them land on your bare thighs with a smack. His eyes drop to your legs and back to your face so quickly you almost miss it.

Marc runs a hand through his hair, disrupting his neatly gelled curls even more. “Steven is…away.”

“Away,” you repeat. He nods quickly, inching towards the door like he wants to make a run for it.

“But you know when he’ll be back.” It’s not a question.

He pauses, brows scrunched. A scowl pulls at his lips. “Yeah, I do.”

He makes another move to the door and your anger rises again–how dare he come into your house, uninvited, in the middle of the night, to demand your help, and give you vague non-answers to what you think should be pretty simple questions. You move quickly to stand in front of the door, stopping him with a hand to his chest. His heart beats quickly beneath your palm.

“I don’t get to know that? I’ve been here, waiting, taking care of poor Gus for what, almost two weeks now? I should’ve never said yes, should’ve never got–”

His lips, warm and firm against yours, stop your train of thought. Your eyes fly open in shock, mouth frozen, before he runs his tongue over the seam of your lips and you melt into his embrace. Stupid traitor body.

You twirl your fingers through the curls at the nape of his neck and yank and he groans, pulling you even closer as his chapped lips meet yours again. You can feel him harden against your thigh and that snaps you out of it. You pull back, ignoring the question on his face, and slap him. Hard.

The only sound in the room is both of your heavy breathing, and then:

“What the fuck?” He looks confused, bringing a hand up to touch his cheek. “What–”

“Doesn’t feel good, does it,” you say bitterly. “Being lied to. Not getting a straight answer.” You can’t look at his stupid, kissable face right now. You don’t even know him really, this stranger with your cute neighbor’s face. How stupid of you to even get involved.

“Oh honey, I–you don’t,” he takes a deep breath and grabs your limp hand. “Look at me, please? I’d tell you if I could, promise, I don’t–don’t want you to get hurt, understand?”

Your mind whirls, trying to process the kiss and his words and the kiss. He smells so good somehow, despite everything, a little sweaty and a little smoky. You exhale shakily and he steps closer, nudging your chin up to look at him. His brow furrows as he searches your face. When he swipes his thumb across your cheekbone your pulse leaps.

“Are you…in danger? Did you bring who-whoever did that to you back here?” You should be angry at him but you’re just bone-tired, now that the adrenaline is fading.

“No, no, of course not,” he says. He notices your hesitation and adds, “But I could…stay with you tonight, if you want? Just to, you know, make sure. Least I can do.”

His eyes are huge, pleading–even if you wanted to say no, you know you couldn’t.

“Fine,” you say, like you’re doing him a favor. You point to the mess of bloody gauze and assorted clothing strewn across the kitchen. “But you’re cleaning this up tomorrow.”

“Yeah yeah, don’t worry about it.” His face is soft in the early morning lighting, a little sleepy. A little more like Steven. You want to run your hands through his hair again, mess it up even more.

Marc is a silent shadow as you lead him to your bedroom, kicking a random shirt under the bed as you go. You sink down to the mattress with a groan and he watches with sharp eyes from the doorway.

You want to be mean, tell him since this is his mess he’s gotten you into, he can stand there all night for all you care. But then you notice how dark the circles under his eyes are, the way he sways in place, leaning heavily on the door frame–when’s the last time he had a good night’s sleep? you wonder–and a pang of guilt hits you.

Heart pounding, you pull the blanket up beside you, scooting to one side to make room for him behind you. When he doesn’t move you pat the empty space, gesturing for him to get over here.

He hesitates, until you snap get in already, before i change my mind, and he finally lowers himself down next to you with a grunt, careful to avoid pulling his bad shoulder. It’s quiet, the occasional sounds of the city outside filtering through the open window. You close your eyes and try to relax, try to ignore the fact that Marc is here in your bed. With you. He fidgets, fingers brushing the side of your bare thigh and you freeze.

Just when you think he’s finally asleep, his voice breaks the silence with a low whisper. “Thanks, doc. Really.”

“Of course.” Your voice is just as hushed as his. You reach out in the dark for his hand, brushing his pinky with yours. He links his finger with yours and that’s how you finally fall asleep, Marc’s warm body next to yours and a small smile on your face.

—-

He’s gone the next morning of course–it’s almost noon when you finally drag yourself out of bed, the spot next to you cold and vacant. The kitchen is spotless, no sign of any of last night’s struggle, and a box of donuts from your favorite cafe sits on the table. A note is shoved under the box in what you recognize as Marc’s messy scrawl: Steven told me these are your favorite. Thank you.

It shouldn’t make your stomach swoop, this little act of kindness, but it does. You think about Marc while you get ready to go out, staring at your messy sheets where you can imagine the imprint of his body lingers. You think about him during dinner with your friends, when you see a man with dark curly hair at the table behind you kissing his date. You think of the long line of Marc’s throat when you take shot after shot at the bar, pretending the heat in your stomach is just from the alcohol. You think of him when you crawl into bed afterwards, a little tipsy, and imagine you can still smell him on your pillow. You fall asleep too quickly, with your hand down your pants and his name on your lips.

You wake up the next morning to a (thankfully) manageable hangover and a text from an unknown local number:

Be back soon! Thank you again for watching Gus! xx

The reminder of Gus makes you groan; if it was anyone else, you would’ve given up by now, pawned the fish off to someone else to worry about, but then you think of Steven’s happy little smile for you (if he ever comes back) and later that night you trudge your way up to his apartment.

The bottom lock sticks, again, but this time there’s no shirtless Marc there to catch you on the other side–you stumble in and kick the door shut angrily behind you. And then you notice someone in Steven’s bed.

He’s kicked the covers off, a thin sheet crumpled around his bare waist and a hand resting just above the waistband of his briefs. The ankle strap is tied tightly around his leg and you feel your cheeks heat up. Stop being a perv and just leave, jesus–you’re just turning to quietly slink back to your apartment when you hear it: he murmurs your name, brow furrowed even in sleep.

You stop, thinking you’ve been caught creeping. “Steven?” you whisper. “Marc?”

He turns, thrashing around with a low whimper. The sheet drags even lower and you avert your eyes. You should leave for real, he’s definitely not awake, and you don’t even want to think about trying to explain yourself when he wakes up and sees you just standing there looking at him.

And then you step on a creaky spot on the floor and he bolts upright. He’s sweating, bare chest glinting in the low light as he looks around, wild eyes finally landing on you hovering in the doorway.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” you joke. A scowl pulls his features–okay, definitely Marc.

“How–but you…” he trails off. He looks around, disoriented, and then he drags his gaze back to you sharply. “Did you see Steven at all?”

“N-no,” you stammer. “He’s okay though, right?”

“He’s fine,” Marc promises. “Should be back, uh, soon?”

“Yeah, that’s what he said last week,” you mutter. He just looks at you helplessly, and you take that as your cue to leave.

“As fun as this has been,” you say, “I’m gonna…go. I’ll leave the keys, since you’re here. Tell Steven I said hey, whenever you see him.” You run your fingers along the fluffy bear on Steven’s keychain one last time before turning towards the door.

Then, in a voice so low you almost miss it, Marc says, “Wait, please. You can–you can stay, if you want.”

“Stay and…?” you trail off. “What, to watch you sleep?” He looks at you again, eyes so wide and pleading and so much like Steven it makes your heart break. “You’re serious.”

“I, um.” he rubs a hand across his jaw, scratching the thick stubble. “Had a nightmare. It’s usually better when there’s someone here, with me.”

You feel a spark of jealousy at his words, imagining the revolving door of different girls he’s probably gotten into his bed with that cheesy line, how many he’d sweet-talked into giving it up for him. Girls like the brooding angsty thing, right? But then you look at him a little longer, see the sheen of sweat sticking his curls to the side of his head. The perpetual dark shadows under his eyes. The way he’d called your name in his sleep. So you agree.

It’s dark, the light of the moon outside guiding you towards the bed. He’s laying on his back watching you with an arm behind his head, the picture of relaxation, and you can’t help the pulse of desire you feel. Stop it, stop it, stop it. You stand awkwardly at the edge of the bed, unsure how much or how little you should keep on. What’s the protocol for sleeping in bed with a guy you barely know for the second time?

Marc solves the dilemma for you–he reaches for a shirt on the side of the bed, passes it to you without a word. You recognize it as one of Steven’s museum shirts, the Really Makes You Sphinx one with the faded cartoon sphinx in the middle. Your fingers brush his as you reach for it and you shudder, quickly pulling the t-shirt over your head, shucking your pants and socks off as you do, and climb in next to him.

His fingers brush your bare thigh as he turns to look at you. You shift and he just looks at you, dark eyes watching your every move like a hawk. That feeling of danger is back, every instinct telling you to get out of there, now, but this time instead of running away from it, you want to run to him. You want to let him ruin you.

“Alright?” he murmurs softly and you nod.

“How’s your shoulder?” you finally ask. He turns to let you see it, the barely-healed scar that he’d sloppily taped over. You run your fingers around the edges of the tape, then down his spine, notch by notch, and he shivers.

“All good thanks to you, doc,” he says. You hum and he turns to look at you, tracing the knuckles of your hand mindlessly.

“Do you want to talk about it? The nightmare?” you blurt out.

His face hardens and he pulls his hand back to pick at a loose thread in the sheets. You miss the warmth immediately. “Not particularly,” he says after a moment, and you don’t push it.

“Yeah, okay,” you whisper. “Let’s just–here, lay down.”

You stretch your arms above your head, listening to the crack of your joints–you really hadn’t slept well last night, between the drinking and thinking about Marc…you’d been sloppy, too uncoordinated to get the angle of your fingers right and you’d fallen asleep even more frustrated. It all comes rushing back now, seeing him in person, rumpled and sleepy and dangerous but–vulnerable. It’s intoxicating and you shift to rub your thighs together, hoping for even a little bit of friction.

If Marc notices, he doesn’t say anything. Maybe you’re only imagining his heated gaze on your bare skin, the way your shirt–Steven’s shirt–lifts as you stretch. And maybe you can blame the sudden perking of your nipples on the chilly room, definitely nothing to do with Marc. Nope.

He leans back with a grunt, waving off your concern when you look at his injured shoulder. You hesitate, just for a second, but then your desire to sleep–just sleep–with him wins out. He watches you crawl over with half-lidded eyes, dragging a hand around your waist to pull you in even closer. He settles over you with a sigh, one arm right under your breasts, so close you can feel the steady thumping of his heart against your back. His breath is warm against the back of your neck, and when he whispers you okay? in your ear you nod and hope he can’t see the goosebumps there.

At first you’re stiff, not used to being this close to someone, and then his breathing evens out and he–he presses a kiss to the side of your neck, barely a brush of lips but it sets you on fire. You feel his lips pull into a smile against your neck as you fidget in his grasp.

“Go to sleep,” he groans. “’M tired, know you are too.”

You whine, pushing yourself back into him, hoping to change his mind, to get him to do something, but he just kisses your neck again, says nope, goodnight, and that’s that. You try to ignore the throbbing of your clit, the way your panties are sticking uncomfortably to your body and focus on the deep pulls of his breath behind you. Eventually you settle, lulled to sleep by Marc’s warm body behind you, holding on to you so tightly like he’s scared that’ll you’ll disappear when he wakes up.

—-

You were cold when you left your apartment, but you’re suddenly warm, almost uncomfortably so. Light streams through the curtains and you crack an eye open. There’s not much noise outside yet–it must still be early. You just settle back down into the bed, and then you hear a light snore behind you and remember where you are.

Your eyes fly open. Steven’s apartment. With Marc.

He’s even a cute sleeper, mouth open slightly as he snores. His brow is still slightly furrowed, even in his sleep–jesus, does he ever relax? His usual slicked-back curls are all over the place, fluffy and mussed from moving around. If you squint, he looks just like Steven. You resist the urge to smooth a piece of hair back from his face, laying back down and staring at a small crack in the ceiling.

Marc makes a noise and you think you’ve woken him up but he’s still sleeping, arms reaching out for you. You scoot closer and he yanks you back against him, throws a leg over yours to hold you there (as if you’d even want to leave) and that’s how you fall back asleep, cuddled up to Marc as the early morning sunlight streaks in through the window.

The next time you wake up, it’s to Marc’s hard cock pressing against your back.

It takes you a moment to process what’s happening. Steven’s apartment. Steven’s bed. Marc. Nightmare. Cuddling. And–

The desire from last night comes flooding back in a rush–you wiggle back just a little, just to see what’ll happen. You can feel the wet spot on the front of his boxers as it drags along your exposed skin. You’re so warm, bursting into flames just at this simple contact.

Marc grunts, shifts again so his arm is around your chest, fingers grazing your nipple. You whimper at the light contact and roll your hips back again, intentionally. He’s so hard and firm and you try to shift to get the angle just right when you feel his breathing change. He’s awake now.

“Marc,” you whimper, and he noses along the back of your neck, tweaking your nipple.

“G’morning to you, too,” he says, voice rough with sleep. He grips your hips tightly and rolls his hips, letting you feel how hard he is. Even through your layers of clothes, he feels big.

“Please, Marc,” you whine, reaching back to grab at his hair, and he groans, flipping you over so he can settle on top of you. His hips are perfectly aligned for you to grind up into him, the friction so good but still not enough.

“Driving me fuckin’ crazy, the way you keep saying my name,” he huffs. “First time I saw you, had to stop what I was doing and just fuck my own hand–feel what you do to me, huh baby?”

You’re burning up, at his words, at how close he is, trying to get your shirt off without moving him out of place. He grins, wolfish, and swats your hands away, rolling it up and off your body. His eyes are everywhere on your newly exposed skin, leaning down to mouth at the side of your breast, pressing light kisses as he goes. He bites down lightly and you moan.

His eyes are molten, so dark as he watches your reactions. The way you arch up into his mouth when he sucks a nipple. How your fingers twist in his hair and yank him up to your mouth. He kisses you like he’s on a mission, like he knows exactly what he wants from you. It’s hot, the way he takes control.

“Can I put my mouth on you, please, can I? Been dreaming about getting my mouth on you, on this sweet little pussy. Tell me what you want, baby, please.”

“Yeah, okay,” you croak. As if you’d say no to him. Marc grins, a huge smile that you can feel as he presses one last kiss to your neck before settling down at the foot of the bed. His broad shoulders push your legs open even more and for a moment he just runs his hand up your inner thigh, letting his warm breath fan over you until you’re squirming in his grip.

You reach down and tug his hair when he tries to muffle his whimper in your leg. “Stop teasing.”

And he listens, finally, pausing only to roll your soaked panties down and throw them into the corner of the room. You have a brief moment of panic when you think about Steven finding them later, and then every thought flies out of your head when he leans down and licks a wide stripe from your dripping hole up to your clit. A low moan tears from your throat.

He hums against you when you rake your hands through his hair and pull a little harder this time. He groans, sucking your clit lightly between his lips and you practically leap off the bed. One of his hands comes to hold you down, spreading across your hip and pressing you further into the bed. You can’t escape it, can’t escape him–the rough scrape of his stubble, the steady pressure around your clit, the way he gently presses a finger into you at the same time and rubs at the spongy spot there.

The hand not holding you down is under him, working his boxers off and fisting his cock–he’s flushed, practically dripping and he pulls back to swipe two fingers through your slick and use it to lube himself up. It’s so dirty and hot that you can’t help but grab him, pulling him up to kiss you, tasting yourself on his lips.

“See,” Marc says, smug. “Knew you would taste good. Even better’n I dreamed about.”

You blush and grab at his arms, trying to get him to move, to let you get on top. It’s like trying to move a solid wall, he’s so broad, and he laughs as you struggle. He tucks a sweaty strand of hair behind your ear, placing a kiss on the corner of your mouth as he flops back. Marc reaches up to pull you closer and you don’t miss the wince he tries to hide when his shoulder lifts.

You stop moving immediately and he whines. Loudly.

“Thought you said your shoulder was better,” you say faux-seriously. Roll your hips on him slowly, letting his cock settle in between your bare lips. He grips your hips in his sweaty hands.

“It’s fine, you can fix it again after–please, I need you,” he groans. His eyes never leave your cunt, watching as you drag your slick over him again and again. You lift your hips, hovering over him, and he grits his teeth at the loss of contact.

His grip on your hips tightens, trying to pull you back down, but you sit up out of his reach. He thrusts up into you, leaving a smear of precum on the inside of your thigh that glistens in the morning light.

He looks wrecked, flush running down his cheeks to his chest. He can’t sit still, running his hands over your bare skin, pleading with you to do something, please, c’mon. Finally you take mercy on him, gripping the base of his dick and lining it up to where you’re practically dripping. You sink down slowly, feeling the stretch, the way his thighs tense with the effort of holding back.

He bites back a groan and you can’t help but let out a small whimper. He’s so warm and solid and thick inside you–you clench down, just to feel his cock pulse inside you, his fingers digging into the meat of your ass.

“Oh god, please,” he begs. “This’ll be over–fuck–over too quick if you keep doing that.”

“Shit, Marc,” you groan when he shifts his hips, angling the wide head of his cock to catch perfectly on that spongy spot inside you. You roll your hips over him again and again, leaning forward to kiss him. The angle catches your clit just right and you cry out.

“Gonna come on my cock, baby? Go ahead, please, ruin me for anyone else. Never even wanna look at anyone else, yeah, just you. Fuck, you’re–you’re so good to me, feels so good,” he babbles.

Marc shoves his hips up once, twice, reaching down to roll your swollen clit between his fingers. The pressure is so good, exactly what you need and you come with a cry of his name, suddenly.

When you open your eyes again he’s already watching you, a tiny smile on his face that quickly shifts into a look of need when you clench down on him again. You can feel him twitch inside you when you cup your breast in your hand, swirling a finger around your nipple. He groans.

“Please, baby, where do you want it? I can’t–please don’t stop.” He’s staring at the slick leaking out of you onto his dick, the squelch when you lift yourself up and down so loud in the room, a harsh fuck tumbling out of his lips.

“Come in me,” you say, and that’s all it takes for him to throw his head back with a groan, muscles locking as he holds you down on his pulsing cock, letting you feel the surge of warm come deep inside you. You can feel it leak out when you lift yourself with a groan and flop back on the bed.

It’s quiet for a moment as you both catch your breath. He rolls over to face you, cupping your jaw in his hand, kissing you slowly. You melt into his arms, letting his steady breathing lull you back to sleep, and then your eyes fly open and you pull back.

“Maybe don’t, um, tell Steven I was here?”

He gives you a crooked grin, eyes crinkling. “Don’t worry, honey–’m good at keeping secrets.”

masterlist here

#marc spector fic #marc spector x reader #marc spector x you #marc spector #moon knight #moon knight fic #marvel fic #steven grant #marc spector smut #this was literally 20 pages in google docs im screaming #literally the longest thing ive ever written lowkey proud of it #listen i just KNOW mr people pleaser marc would beg during sex. idc argue with the wall #lexi writes things

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