#steven grant imagine
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he offers to take his gf’s virginity but cums too fast because he underestimated how good she’d feel
random guys i love under 🤭
this wasnt supposed to be so long but I'm ovulating so
includes: Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington, Marc Spector, Steven Grant, Joel Miller, Bucky Barnes, and Miguel O'Hara
eddie munson - 0.2k
he’d be super cocky abt it. he’d tell you about how good he’ll make you feel, how you’re gonna be crying on his cock, that he’s gonna stretch you so wide that you’ll be able to feel it for weeks after. He has it all planned out in his head too, how slowly he’ll work himself in, how he’ll fuck you for hours and you’d love it.
but he’s got half his dick in you and he’s already throbbing.
your eyes are on his but they keep unfocusing and crossing as he works his way in. he has to turn away from you to stop himself from cumming as you whine about how big he is. he’s frozen inside you for a while, you’re gripping his arms, begging him to keep pushing into you and he had to cover your mouth to shut you up as his dick starts to twitch inside you.
he pushes himself in fully and immediately cums at your shouting moan from under his hand. he’s burying his face in your neck and grunting into your neck angrily as his hips uncontrollably twitch into your unbelievably warm pussy.
afterward, he’s angry at himself and a little distant from you cus he’s embarrassed asf but you comfort the shit out of him and guarantee that you loved it
steve harrington - 0.2k
he's almost as nervous as you are, he hasn’t had sex in a little while because he’s been with you, and he’s never had sex with someone he loves so he doesn’t know if it’s different.
he tries to eat you out, getting a few licks in before you pull him back up and tell him you already stretched yourself. he feels his cock twitch in his pants at the words, at the mental image and he needs you. it takes a while for him to fully enter you because he’s fucking huge.
you keep whining at him every other second, pressing your hand to his pelvis to stop him from sliding in because it hurts too much. he feels bad, ofc he does… but you’re so tight he can barely breathe. his eyes are shut as tight as possible and his hands are crushing your hip bones until you're whimpering at him for more.
you're finally able to take all of him and he’s cumming. he’s looking right at you, a hand in his hair and a look of complete shock on his face as his orgasm ripples through him, prolonged by your frantic grinding and his erratic thrusts.
he's thoroughly embarrassed afterward and tries to explain to you that it’s cus he’s “never been with anyone who felt as good as you”, that in the sea of women he's been with he's “never felt anyone as warm, wet, or soft as you.” he fingers you as an apology, letting you cum in his lap as many times as you'd like.
marc spector - 0.2k
he actually doesn’t really want to. he thinks it’s too important for you to give it to him, he doesn’t deserve it and all his martyrdom but you’re able to convince him to do it for you.
he eats you out first, to open you up a bit and to calm his nerves before actually getting to it.
you’re on top so you can control the pace a bit more, his hands on your hips in case your legs give out. the position is already a little too arousing for him, then with the added thought that you trust him enough to give him your virginity is messing with his head.
he’s louder than usual from the start, eyes already fluttering shut when all you’ve taken is his tip. his hands are shaking where they rest on your hips and repeated curses fall from his mouth. he starts rambling filthy words and praises by the time you’re halfway down and by the hilt, he’s begging you to let him fuck into you before he cums.
he’s frantic with his thrusts after you nod at him but he only gets maybe three full thrusts in before he’s stuttering and apologizing as he empties his balls into you.
he’s angry at himself and distant afterward, feeling like he’s ruined your first time and being dramatic asf. talking about maybe he’s just not good enough for you and yadayada but you convince him otherwise ofc.
steven grant - 0.2k
he’s flustered and so honored. he plans a whole thing, a whole date beforehand, and gets your room all prettied up for when he takes you to bed. it’s super romantic, he's poured his heart into the whole ordeal.
he’s super soft w you, very slow. he fingers you first which is probably where he went wrong, he was throbbing in his pants the whole time. your moans and begs for him to just ‘put it in already’ have his head spinning.
you end up more desperate than he is and you take him much much faster than he had anticipated.
he basically slides right in. his eyes cross once his hips press into yours and you can hear him muttering random things; begs with himself not to cum, random facts that he’s rattling off in an attempt to distract himself but it doesn’t work.
you squeeze down on him at the whole scene, his hot breath on your ears and he whimpers your name pathetically as he fills you to the brim, more cum than he’s ever produced, spilling out of you and soaking the sheets.
he apologizes profusely for about an hour and promises that you guys will re-do everything. he fingers you again afterward, wanting to make you cum. he’s whispering apologies and praises in your ear the whole time.
joel miller - 0.3k
he doesn’t want to, thinks he’s corrupting you and he doesn’t deserve it blah blah. but once you convince him he couldn’t be more honored. he’s doting on you the whole week leading up to it, making sure you feel comfortable, constantly letting you know it’s okay to change your mind. you never do.
he’s so nervous when the day comes, timid with you throughout the whole day, checking up on you every hour until nightfall.
he fingers you slowly, languidly, working you up gently and helping you fall into a comfortable, relaxing orgasm that opens you up to him. he wound himself way too tight in the process. listening to your sweet, soft moans of his name, feeling your frantic hand grip any part of him you can hold, seeing that loving, thankful look in your eyes as you fall over the edge, almost dragging him with you.
you’re too much for him from the second he’s inside you. too wet, too warm, too tight, and too fucking perfect. you’re taking him insanely well, he’s working himself in faster than even he can handle and you’re still begging him for more.
he stops 3/4 of the way because he’s pulsating. he’s holding you down, pressing your hips into the bed because you won’t stop grinding on him. it doesn’t help much because now you’re just moaning, whining, and whimpering his name on repeat. he starts muttering for you to be quiet, to stop saying his name like that but it just has you fluttering on his cock, coaxing his cum from the tip.
he’s grunting out blame on you as he cums like; “i told ‘ya to shut it” and “i fuckin’ tried, baby” he continues to blame you afterward telling you that he’s an old man and you’re too sweet for him. he’s embarrassed but tries not to show it, burying himself between your legs instead. he makes you cum two more times as an apology.
bucky barnes - 0.5k
he can’t even believe that you’re a virgin, let alone the idea that you want him to change that. he’s a bitch abt it ofc, much like joel. denying it at first, trying to get you to change your mind but feeling incredibly special when you don’t.
he hasn’t been with anyone since being iced so he’s basically a virgin as well. he can remember some things but is very scared that women don’t even like the things he knows anymore.
he jerks himself off through the whole day. he’s rendered useless with the thought that he’ll be taking your virginity tonight. he can't stop thinking about how pretty you'll look on his cock, moaning for him, screaming and cumming for him.
he’s already hard from the moment you come home but tries to pretend he isn’t, tries to pretend that he hasn’t been thinking about making love to you since he woke up but you know him. you decide to take him as soon as you get in, right there in the living room, on the couch.
he’s stuttering at you to stop, that you guys should go to the room, take it slower, and so on but he’s doing nothing to stop you, actually he’s helping you pull your pants off as he says it. he’s already leaking onto his thighs when you take his boxers off.
you position yourself over his cock and his breathing is already speeding up and stuttering. you take a little while to get him in, having to adjust to his girth, and moaning about how good he feels the whole way down. his eyes roll back and his metal arm groans with how hard he’s gripping the armrest, leaving indents in the wood underneath.
your hands are in his hair as you grind on him and his head is thrown back. he’s moaning your name and incoherent praises as his stomach tenses rhythmically, his thighs shake and his mumbles become a bit more frantic. he holds his head back up to make eye contact with you and he mutters out that he 'can’t', that 'you’re gonna make him cum' and he 'can’t hold it.' you can see the desperation in his eyes, the honest panic in his voice and it makes heat pool in your belly as you pussy chokes him.
he fills you. pumping rope after rope after rope of cum inside you and moaning like a slut. his hips thrust into you so forcefully that you fall forward onto his chest, feeling the breath from his moans on your ear. he's barely enjoying it, too distracted by the embarrassment that is flooding his body... until you’re squeezing his dick like a vice and moaning his name. his eyes roll back again with a guttural moan, ripped from his chest as he feels a fresh load shoots into your trembling pussy.
he’s still embarrassed after though. that he came before you AND he came twice while you only came once but you assure him it was one of the hottest things you’d ever witnessed
miguel o'hara - 0.5k
he would take forever to accept. he'd tell you that it's too precious for you to give to him, that you should save it for someone more deserving but you want him so he caves.
he tried to treat the day like any other but he gets hard every time he looks at you, visions of you all laid out and pretty for him, his thick cock abusing your poor virgin pussy as you whine for him. he cannot get the thought out of his head, no matter what he tries to distract himself with.
so when he's working you open, fucking you as gently as he can. it's not as romantic as he would've hoped, you're laying stomach down across his lap as he fingers you but it's only because you wouldn't stop moaning in his face when you were straddling him. he couldn't handle it.
you're doing the same thing now though. it's just how he imagined except he's not fucking you, he's got maybe half his dick in you and you're already moaning and writhing under him. begging him for more, telling him how happy you are, and that it feels 'so fucking good'.
his arms begin to shake, unable to hold himself up with how weak you're making him. you keep clenching on him, he keeps asking you to stop and you respond with a helpless "I c-can't help it." that has him twitching inside you. he tries to think about something- anything other than how you're sucking him in. he's almost to the hilt and your hips are lifting off the bed, trying to take more of him.
he lets you. watching as you moan at the way he slides in, rubbing along your sensitive walls. he watches you look down at where you both meet, where your pussy is absolutely devouring him, he watches your mouth drop open in a silent moan and your eyes trail up to meet his before rolling back into your head as you collapse back onto the bed. he can't handle it.
he's groaning- pulling your hips to him, forcing himself deeper as he fills you up- before you even hit the pillows. his breathing becomes erratic as he thrusts into you, every muscle tensed and shaking. he can't seem to shut up either, he's moaning your name out more often than he's breathing. he can hear you whining in response, and he can see you playing with your clit and it makes it worse.
he doubles down and fucks you through his orgasm, ignoring the painful pleasure that shoots through him from his cock in favor of making you cum. he keeps going until you've cum around him twice and he's released a monstrous amount of cum into you.
he's embarrassed and guilty after. he wishes he hadn't cum before you and feels like it was all too much for your first time. he doesn't stop apologizing for the rest of the night, no matter how many times you tell him that you loved it, that it was more perfect than you could've imagined. he only shuts up when you beg him for it again next week.
#so self indulgent#its cus I'M a virgin guys#and i love these guys#eddie munson#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson blurb#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x reader#steve harrington#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington blurb#steve harrington smut#steve harrington x reader#marc spector#marc spector imagine#marc spector blurb#marc spector smut#marc spector x reader#steven grant#steven grant imagine#steven grant blurb#steven grant smut#steven grant x reader#joel miller#joel miller imagine#joel miller blurb#joel miller smut#joel miller x reader#bucky barnes#bucky barnes imagine
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Come Back to Me
Marc Spector/Steven Grant x F!Reader
Summary: Mark leaves on a mission for Khonshu while you deal with a confrontation of your own. Unfortunately, this particular foe is aware of your specific skill set and uses your weakest spot to deliver a fatal wound. Laying there defenseless and abandoned, your final desire is to speak to the love of your life one last time.
warnings: ANGSTTTT!! (the fav), character backstory, flashbacks, character death, reader wound, sadness, despair etc etc, cliffhanger
masterlist!
“M-Mark?” Fuck. Fuck. Your voice was wobblier than you had expected.
“Baby?” You heard some shuffling. “What’s wrong?”
You pulled the phone away to clear your throat. “Nothing’s wrong, sweetheart. I just wanted to hear your voice.”
Despite your assurances, he wouldn’t be fooled. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes,” you breathed. “Yeah, I just wanted to talk.”
The pain was spreading from your side, crawling through your torso like deadly vines. It was nearly blinding. Pulling the phone away from your mouth, you tried to steady your breathing.
This isn’t how you wanted to go. Whimpering in pain and regretting every decision that got you here.
No. What you wanted was to hear your lover’s voice one last time. The warm timbre of his essence. Your favorite sound in the entire world.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” He pressed. “Where are you?”
Your man was nothing if not stubborn. “Yes, baby. I’m okay—“ you really weren’t. “What—what did you do today?”
Marc sucked in air through his clenched teeth, gripping his phone with white knuckles. “It was meant to be a surprise, but I’m coming home for a few days… our leads haven’t gotten us anywhere and Khonshu believes we just need a comfortable place to think.”
You would’ve scoffed at that if your chest and throat weren’t on fire. Khonshu believes?
The big bird knew what Marc would be returning to. He knew you were lying in a pool of your own blood.
The thought sent a surge of panic through your body, even as the pain was beginning to overwhelm you. “No! Uh—um you— you’re already so close. W-what are you stuck on?”
Tears welled in your eyes, it felt like a blazing iron rod was being shoved into your chest and dragged up slowly until every organ could feel the flame.
It was silent on the other end for a heavy moment, before Marc’s deep voice hesitantly spoke your name. His tone lifted, suspended in question.
A shake courses through you, fear beginning to blossom in the pit of your stomach. The last thing you wanted was for him to panic… and now you’re beginning to panic as well.
You weren’t ready.
A sob broke through your lips before you could stop it. As if you even had the strength to.
“Marc,” you sobbed, turning your head to gaze at the phone beside you. As if it would give you one last glimpse at the love of your life.
His breathing picks up frantically. “Where are you? Tell me now.”
On his end, fabric is wrapping around his body at a faster rate than it ever had before. He could feel the strength of Khonshu enter him, the god’s presence filling the void.
The corners of your vision darkened and just when you thought you’d scream from the pain— it was gone. Miraculously, you felt nothing. Absolutely nothing.
Your heart dropped.
“I’m sorry,” a daze washed over you. There was nothing else to do but wait. A forlorn smile graced your paling face. “I’m so sorry, baby. There isn’t much time left.”
“What time?! Stop this shit, where are you? I can make it there as soon as you tell me.”
“There’s not enough time,” you pressed. You were coming to terms with the distant bright light that was supposed to be illuminating your vision.
You would’ve wished that that was what you were seeing as you drifted off, but one wish stood above all the others—
Your desire to be with Marc and Steven.
You barely notice the frantic yelling on the other end of the line before you’re cutting it off weakly.
“I—“ you go to clear your throat but the numbness had spread too far now. “I love you. Every part of you, baby. I just— I just wanted to hear your s—sweet voice one last t-time. Okay? I love you…”
The last word died on your tongue. And the darkness had taken over before you could hear Marc’s broken response.
A strangled yell left Marc’s lips. His stomach was knotted. The shadow of Khonshu appeared in his peripheral vision.
But Marc was rooted in his own grief. His lips were quivering, snot mixing with salty tears as he bared his teeth, shaking from the pure emotion of it all.
Why wasn’t he home? He had vowed to protect you, shield you from the horrors of the world— his world— but it wasn’t enough.
He couldn’t be there all the time, and you’d always reassured him that it’d be okay. That you didn’t feel like you constantly had to look over your shoulder, you didn’t want Marc or Steven to spend every second of their life protecting yours.
It’s his fault. God, the thought made him choke. Hands flying up to grasp at his throat as if he could stop it from tightening. It’s all his fault.
Maybe—maybe it’s not too late. Maybe, just maybe, you’re alive.
He could still feel Khonshu’s presence over his shoulder. “Take me to her.”
It’s silent. The wind breezing past his ears, the serenity of the night sky brazenly mocking his wild panic.
“Now, Khonshu!” He spun around quickly, voice wavering in rage.
If it hadn’t been for the God’s power over him, Marc would’ve been with you. The only person who truly matters to him in this world.
By some beautiful twist of fate, Khonshu unexpectedly relents, nodding his giant head in the direction of a portal.
Marc couldn’t find it in himself to thank him, everything else had faded away until all he saw was your mangled body on the other side of it.
His feet took him across the rooftop at an immeasurable feet, practically flying over the distance, until his surroundings had changed completely.
“No,” he cried, dropping to his knees painfully. Shards of glass pierced his skin as if he weren’t already bleeding out with you. “Baby? Baby, wake up. Wake up!”
Your body was lifeless in his arms, and the embrace felt strange, nothing like how you’d lay in his arms at night. Fingers gripping his necklace loosely, head tucked into the crook of his neck… legs tangled with his as if your bodies were one.
Blood left a trail from your nose to your chin and shaky hands went to wipe it away before pausing in midair to hover over your face…
“Love?”
Bewildered, Steven nearly gave himself whiplash as he snapped his head away from the sight of your bloodied body.
And despite wanting to run away, his hands tightened around your frame, his lungs failing.
Everything burned, his chest, his stomach. God, his arms and legs were going numb.
And where Marc couldn’t go, Steven went.
Denial.
“Love, come on,” his head has turned to you again but his eyes were squeezed shut. “Wake up. The gag has gone long enough.”
No response. Your laughter wasn’t shaking your frame, your voice wasn’t reassuring him that it’d all been a silly, cruel joke.
“Lovie…” he knew how much you hated the name and despite it, absolutely nothing.
Weren’t you going to argue? Playfully punch him in the shoulder as you giggled at him to never call you that again. Weren’t you going to put on that half-assed angry frown that you always did before smiling and pulling him to your lips?
Weren’t you going to kiss him and tell him everything would be alright?
His heart dropped with the realization that you already had.
You already spoken those words sweetly and he’d dismissed them, twisted them into something rageful when all he should’ve done was pulled you into his arms and never let you go.
“Steven,” you tried, grabbing onto his hands with an unusual hint of desperation. Almost as if you knew something he didn’t. “Sweetheart, it’s going to be okay. Everything is going to be alright.”
The sincerity in your eyes practically sparkled or maybe that was just the pure love that you felt for him. But it didn’t get through to him this time, instead his panic and anxiety twisting his words and actions into something else.
“How can you say that?” Steven stressed. “How can you be so positive all time?! Consider the possibility that maybe sometimes you’re just wrong!”
His soul shattered when he realized… it was the last time he’d ever hear those words.
He hadn’t believed in them and now this happened.
Steven forced his eyes to open slowly.
In the pale moonlight, your face was still as beautiful as the first time he ever saw you.
It was early in the morning; the sun was barely over the horizon and the streets of London were not all too busy for this hour.
Thankfully for Marc, the little coffee house that was nestled in the array of buildings on Russell Street was practically empty. Save for the steady stream of customers who would fly in and out with a streaming cup of coffee or tea in their hands.
But tucked in the corner of the large window seat was you.
Exactly as he’d seen you in his numerous hours of laborious research. Hair tucked behind your ears, oversized round glasses slipping off the tip of your nose, lips tucked in concentration, a loose sweater hanging off your shoulders.��
There was a sense of tranquility about you. A stillness despite the bustling customers mere feet from you.
A girl immersed in her own world; a utopia all within the threads of your pale green sweater, the gentle sway of your feet under the table, the hint of a smile at the corner of your lips.
How odd it was to find such astounding beauty in someone you knew everything and nothing about.
Because in your little world, you may have been closed off from the reality around you, but an open book to anyone who cared to look.
And Marc couldn’t see why anyone wouldn’t.
He just hated that he had to be the one to shatter your universe.
“Excuse me,” Marc said when he finally worked up the courage to enter the shop. “Do you mind if I sit here?”
Then you looked up at him and he knew it was a sight he’d remember for the rest of his life, an image that would flash behind his eyelids whenever he closed his eyes.
Your eyes piercingly studied his through your eyelashes for a long moment. The hint of a smile was gone.
“Sure,” you eventually smiled brightly.
A dazzling smile that kept him rooted to the spot a little longer than necessary.
Thankfully, you didn’t seem to mind it. “You’re American?”
Marc finally sat down next to you, gripping his chocolate muffin tightly. “Actually, I’m from Chicago.”
If your chuckle was charming, he couldn’t imagine your laugh.
“Which is in America, if I recall correctly.”
“You do, it is... in America.” God he needed to work on his social skills. He felt like a bug under a microscope. Partly because of your particular line of work, mostly because you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid eyes on.
You shut your book softly. “What brings you to London?”
Marc was sure you would’ve shut him down by now, questioned his intentions or tried to put his ass down. But you were graceful, serene... Seemingly not worried at all about his intentions.
If he’d asked, you would’ve told him that you had a keen eye for vibrant souls. His being one of the brightest you’d stumbled upon.
“Uh, work,” he replied unconvincingly. “What about you? You’re a fellow American yourself, aren’t you?”
“What gave it away?” You were teasing him.
Maybe he could hear that laugh again after all. “Your accent and the whole sweater thing you’ve got going on? Practically screams California.”
Your laugh was surprisingly booming, genuine. He found himself smiling at the sound of it.
It can’t be this easy to fall in love with someone you just met.
“It’s New York actually,” you corrected between fading giggles. “Close enough.”
Embarrassment tinted his ears red. “It’s not.”
Smiling widely, you shook your head in agreement. “It’s really not.”
It’s silent for a few moments and just when Marc thinks you’re going to open your book again, you speak softer than before.
“I’m assuming you sat in my little corner for a reason, Mr. Spector.”
The gravity of your simple statement uncharacteristically flew past his head. Instead, he was a little more focused on trying to hear that twinkling laugh again.
“What’re you doing?” You rose an eyebrow, watching as the man wildly looked around the space you were occupying. From the two adjoining walls to the wooden round table.
“Looking for any indication that this is in fact entirely your corner. So far I see nothing except...” There was no way he wasn’t making a fool out of himself but he was in too deep to stop--
The pin suddenly dropped.
“I didn’t tell you my name.”
A nonchalant expression adorned your face. “People like you don’t seek people like me unless they need something.”
His brain short-circuits.
“People like me...” Marc repeated, his voice lifting slightly as if almost in question.
“I’m aware of every single entity within my range whom fit the qualifications of a very secure database. Yelena Belova, Alexei Shostakov, Spider-Man who happens to be around on a school trip...” you listed idly, twirling the little stick that was stained with your hazelnut coffee. “... Marc Spector.”
The rose-colored glasses were slowly slipping off. His years of servitude under Khonshu’s hand began to harden his exterior until he could finally look at you as a threat. Just to be sure.
“Why would I be on that list?”
You motioned toward the untouched muffin. “Are you gonna eat that?”
“Why would I be on that list?” His jaw clenched.
“Well, why wouldn’t you?” You take a sip. “Moon Knight is an incredibly promising prospect in the eyes of those who protect our world. You’re incredibly powerful.”
Marc scoffed. Is that what he was to you? A potential business deal, a recruit?
“But it doesn’t really matter to me anyway.”
His eyes shot up in interest. The corner of your lips had turned up again.
“I don’t work for any agency anymore,” you explained. “I’m just a girl with an incredible skill set and impressive resume.”
“Humble much?”
There was a knowing twinkle in your eye. “Only when I need to be.”
Your stares met with a shared interest. As if you two were really seeing each other for the first time.
To Marc, your beauty was astounding, ethereal. He could only hope that you’d choose to stay in his life.
“I did come for a reason... I have a mission and I could use someone with your specific skill set.”
“You need help.”
“Well, I didn’t say that exactly--”
“It’s what you meant,” you narrowed your eyes playfully. “Thankfully, I’m a woman of the people. But why should I help you?”
“I’m backed into a corner. I’m just trying to do things right in the best way I can. But I need you to trust me.”
“Trust is gained, Spector.”
“Then allow me to earn it.” The mercenary countered.
You allowed your eyes to look over him. At his open grey button up, his ironed white shirt and black pants. His ebony hair, brushed away from his face, sprinkled with a hint of grey. The scruff on his jaw and the brown of his eyes.
Falling in love with someone you just met can’t be this easy.
Your resolve crumbled and you knew he was going to be in your life for the unforeseeable future. The fluttering in your abdomen pulled you in before you could stop it.
Not that you wanted to.
“So what does this mission entail?”
Slowly, a genuine smile curved Marc Spector’s lips, one that you reciprocated with a blinding beauty that made his heart nearly stop.
And as he walked out of the coffee shop that morning, your number scribbled on a note that was neatly folded in his pocket, there was a sudden change... brief but enough for Steven Grant to suddenly find himself on Russell Street. Confused and a bit frightened, but only for a quick moment--
Until he turned his head and gazed into the large coffeehouse window...
To see you for the first time, with eyes that had adoringly gazed upon yours for hours.
And the sight was like a breath of fresh air, filling his lungs with something he didn’t quite know he needed.
The close-lipped smile that spread from cheek to cheek behind the fist of your closed hand, idle strands of hair that fell to cover your joyous expression, the simple rise and fall of your chest...
And between the moment that he saw you and Marc reemerged to front, Steven Grant couldn’t help but wonder who had made your eyes light up in that way.
Steven Grant wondered if he had the chance, could he make you happy?
But he couldn’t see the light in your eyes anymore. Eyelids rested over those effervescent eyes and a part of him finally shattered.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered brokenly. Bringing your forehead close to his, his lips tenderly touched your warm skin. “I’m so sorry, love. I’m sorry.”
Softly, as if to not disturb you, he reached for your hand, catching a glimpse of the fading paint job he’d done on your nails before he left last week.
“I-I-I can’t, I can’t. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He couldn’t breathe anymore, gasping against your body as he tightened his embrace.
Acceptance.
With a shudder, Marc kept his eyes closed despite the sudden switch.
This way he could imagine that you weren’t dead, you weren’t cold and lifeless. No, you were alive. Finally squeezing in a nap between your tireless research, hours upon hours at the computer, hacking databases and trying everything you could to help the boys.
Yes, yes, he could take a moment to indulge in that fantasy.
Because once he opened his eyes, it was finally over. Marc Spector would have to live without you.
“How wasteful...”
That pent-up anger reared its ugly head. “What?”
If he wasn’t holding onto you, Marc would’ve committed violence against the god.
“To let such a valuable asset go would be a pitiful waste,” Khonshu drawled from behind his avatar.
Marc shook his head at the audacity. “I don’t want to hear this. I--I don’t want to hear this.”
“Perhaps you do, Spector,” the god insinuated. “Feel the warmth of her skin... look at the color beneath her skin...”
This was cruel. “No...”
“Your grief may be premature--” what? “-- her fate lies in no one’s hands but her own.”
He finally looked up. “Stop with the riddles. What the hell are you talking about?”
“Just as I once appeared before you, the goddess Isis requires an avatar. Your lover is still in the fight between life and death.”
Deception was a skill Marc was certain Khonshu had mastered but yet, he found nothing but the truth in his tone. He felt the god’s sincerity.
Shock stilled his body, mouth slightly open as he stared into the night sky and then slowly back at you.
Despite his aversion to serving a god, the only thought running through his mind was the desire for you to come back to him.
In any way, he’d have you.
Otherwise, neither he nor Steven would make it.
“This is up to you, baby,” Marc whispered into your hair. “But fight. Please... fight. Come back to me.”
Please.
Come back to me.
The voice bounced off the walls of the chamber, echoing until it faded away.
It was the voice that would always bring you back.
“You have a choice to make,” a different voice reminded you, sweet and smooth. “Be my apprentice and help me restore the world to what it once was.”
You were on the tip of the iceberg, held back from what you’d seen Marc and Steven deal with for years but itching to get back to the broken man that was begging for you.
“What does that even mean?” You groaned.
Isis gave you no further explanation than what she’d told you before. You glared at her for another moment before feeling a phantom pain shoot across your body. Well, metaphysical body.
You realized you’re running out of time.
“So I do this or what? Die? I love how you all deal in absolutes,” your snark was still intact. “Any room for negotiation?”
The Goddess of Magic and Fertility towered over you, mighty with large wings that spanned the length of the golden chamber. Eyes that pierced into your soul, quite literally, and a beauty that wasn’t made to be seen by mortal eyes.
It was easy to tell why. Such beauty was captivating, breath-stealing and enough to send any man or woman to their knees.
But yet here you stood, slightly annoyed and about three feet under.
Unamused, Isis blinked expectantly.
Please... Air caught in your throat. Baby...
The decision suddenly wasn’t hard at all.
And it seemed as if Isis knew it as well.
“Will you be my apprentice and help me restore the world to what it once was?” She repeated.
The other half of your soul was missing and you knew how to soothe the agonizing pain for the both of you…
“Yes.”
#marc spector angst#steven grant imagine#steven grant x reader#marc spector x reader#moon boys#moonknight#moon knight#Marc Spector#Steven grant#jake lockley#oscar Isaac#marvel#f!reader#angst#character death#character wound#mgparker
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NSFW Headcanon Request: Steven Grant (Moon Knight)
Steven Grant + Recording: (prompt list here)
(Part Two Here!!)
- When Steven Grant bought a little camcorder and stand a few years ago, he had very innocent reasons in mind. Yes, the stand was set up so the camera pointed straight at his bed, but it was to capture exactly why we woke up so exhausted from a night of tossing and turning alone, not for anything more fun than that.
- Naturally anytime you were coming over, he'd carefully stash the device away, not wanting to creep you out or do anything to risk making the most important person in his life uncomfortable. He knows just how lucky he is to be the man that gets to worship your body, and even though he'd die for the chance to relive every one of your intimate encounters, he thinks it's way too weird of a question to ask.
- That is until one night you surprise him at home, on your way back from a girl's night and missing your sweet, nerdy boyfriend. He's over the moon when he opens the door to your bright, smiling face, quickly surrendering to your hypnotic kiss as you lead him to the bed he was all but ready to settle into for the night alone.
- Your hands are pushing his shirt off his shoulders, while his hands slide up your dress, clawing at your thighs until they spread enough for him to fit between them, when you first notice the blinking red light.
"Steven, gorgeous, how long have you had a camera in your bedroom?" Instantly he's mortified, apologising and tripping over his own feet as he launches off the bed, practically crawling across his bedroom floor to turn off the device,
"I'm so sorry love, I didn't realise you were coming, and it's to help with my sleep walking, and I swear I always put it away whenever you're here, I'd never violate your privacy like that." He's struggling to take in breaths as each sentence catches in his throat, tears prickling the corners of his eyes as he watches you pull down your skirt and hop off the edge of his bed, picking him up off the floor and bringing your hands to softly cup his face.
"It's okay, I believe you. I trust you Steven, I was just surprised is all." Your gentle words slow his heart back to a steady pace, the tender press of your lips to his enough to reassure him that this isn't the breaking point he always assumes is right around the corner. Each kiss is quickly followed by another, Steven completely entranced by you, enough so that he doesn't notice as you press the record button again, throwing the camera a showy wink as you lead him back to bed again.
- It's not until a few days later, texting Steven from a hotel during a weekend away that you let him know about your little tape. He's desperately fighting the urge to plead over text for you to come home early, settling for telling you just how terribly he misses you, three little words hanging on the tip of his tongue, not quite bold enough to let them loose yet. You echo his longing sentiment, telling him just how much you miss the feel of his hands on your skin, his touch on every part of you, and tell him maybe he should check his camera before he takes himself to bed.
- He's sceptical as he takes his camcorder off his stand, flipping the little screen to face him and scrolling through the hours of footage until he recognises the night he last had you over. He has to cover his eyes with embarrassment as he watches himself tumble out of bed to stop the recording, but his eyes dart wide open when he watches you turn it straight back on, the playful look in your eye immediately flushing all his blood down his body.
- He realises he's holding his breath in his attempt to hear every single sound you make as the two of you step across the screen and climb back on to the bed he's now propped up in alone. He knows it was your decision, but he still feels voyeuristic and dirty as he watches your dress slide down your body on the screen, his free hand slipping into his pyjama bottoms as his on screen counterpart slides his hands over your chest, earning a happy moan that has him hardening at the first touch.
- His mouth hangs open and he watches intently as he settles between your legs, turning up the volume as high as he can as you start to pant and moan at the feel of his tongue exploring your centre. His hand has picked up its pace now, chest heaving as he watches your back arch off the bed, nipples hard in the cold night air.
- He almost loses it the first time he notices you smile right into the camera as you moan out his name, a private performance just for him that makes his heart throb almost as hard as the manhood he's now furiously rubbing. He can feel him cross the point of no return as he watched himself plunge deep inside you, your legs wrapping tightly around his hips leaving no room between your two bodies, his lips desperately chasing yours. His screen self lasts longer than lonely Steven does, spilling across the empty bed as you let out the needy high pitched whine you do every time he pulls out of you to change positions. He sits there, dick pulsing in his hand as he watches your ass bounce as he slams his hips against yours, finally both spent and collapsing alongside you.
- Feeling utterly beat he almost puts the camera away, until he notices you creep out of the bed towards the bathroom, stopping in front of the focused lens to mouth three little words to him before stopping the video. If the sensitive soul hadn't already been in bed, he would have immediately collapsed to the floor. Frantically he picks his phone back up, impatiently waiting through the rings until he can finally tell you that he loves you too.
#writing#fanfiction#one shot#requests#steven grant x reader#steven grant fluff#steven grant imagine#steven grant smut#steven grant imagines#steven grant#moon knight imagines#moon knight x reader#moon knight imagine#moon knight headcanon#moon knight smut
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press your tulips to mine
steven grant x female!reader
wc: 4.6k
warnings: mutual pining, steven is a shy babygirl, marc playing wingman (but he's kinda terrible at it cause he's also falling in love), no jake (the crowd is booing), no khonshu, steven still works at the museum, post mk s1, no use of y/n
an: rewatched the whole of mk last night and needed to write about my dearest stevie :)) don't forget to repost to support your fav writers
summary: Steven's apartment has become overrun with more bouquets of flowers than any one man could ever find use for, but they would continue to pile up as long as the pretty girl at the flower shop continued to melt him with that syrupy smile each time he walked in.
Steven Grant had never given much thought to flowers.
Sure, he could offer a momentary appreciation for a flicker of yellow growing out the cracks in London sidewalks or maybe if he passed a house with a particularly impressive rose bush he could smile, but beyond that flowers remained mostly inconsequential.
Steven never had girlfriends in high school, or - to be frank - thereafter either.
He’d never had to pick out a bouquet, one that he would need to consider: does this match her eyes? will it match her dress? how does it smell?
In the face of discovering that he was unalone in the occupancy of his five foot nine frame and fighting in the name of an Egyptian moon-god, Steven had less time than ever to consider his frighteningly barren love life or the lack of interest in flowers on account of it.
Isn’t life funny? In the way that we look so far beyond ourselves for answers, when sometimes they’re just around the corner.
Specifically the corner one street over from the museum.
Steven had walked the path to work plenty of times. A designated route. In the days when he still worked at the gift shop, the same route now that he’d been bumped up to tour guide.
Until one otherwise unimportant morning when construction bound his usual way, forcing him a walk further around the block: adding another four minutes to his trip and a view of the quaint shops down Little Russel street.
He hadn’t been down there in months. His last venture had been in search of a pharmacy for sleeping tablets, when Khonshu was still a nightmare and Marc nothing more than a migraine.
Steven noticed first that the pharmacy no longer stood. In fact, the previously white brick face of it’s stand had been painted a lush lemonade-pink. The Petal Parlour.
Almost immediately, in just about the same breath, Steven’s eyes found a woman leaned over a broom and sweeping the edge of the shop step. She was humming, he could just make out a Stevie Wonder tune.
The morning light flickered off your hair as if off the face of a pond out in a beautiful garden. An elderly man passed your work, uttering a greeting, and you'd perked up with a melodic: "good morning Mr B!"
Steven's footfalls stalled down the sidewalk. A man crashed into his back, strewing the contents of his messenger bag around him. "Watch where you're going, asshole!" He'd seethed at him.
By the time Steven had looked up, you'd already retreated back into the shop. He could make out your outline through the stained glass front.
There hadn't been a day since that Steven had taken his normal, considerably shorter, route to work. He got up five minutes earlier each day, brushed his teeth, made a cup of tea and let the memory of you swim behind his eyes. He could hear Marc's sighs every time.
Most mornings you were inside. Steven would deflate when he rounded the block to an empty corner, but he refused to consider it a total loss because - more often than not - he could make out your figure beyond the window fiddling with petunias on a shelf or smiling at a customer.
Some mornings, when he found himself most lucky, you'd be outside the shop. Usually clipping stray leaves off the rows of bouquets that glimmered happily at the people passing down the street. When it rained, Steven was privy to the way your hair clung to your forehead and the smudge of black mascara beneath your eyes. In the sunlight your arms were exposed from under a pink work shirt and a soil-stained apron.
It went like that for nearly a month. Between Steven and Marc's alternating schedules, he learned to appreciate the slim sightings of you he could manage. Marc didn't make it any easier, mind you, with the way he would whine and complain into Steven's ear.
"Jesus, Steven, just go up to her and say hi!"
Once or twice, Marc had managed to gain control of Steven's legs: teetering him drunkenly in your direction.
The fright would rise quickly up in Steven's chest, steering his legs back in the direction he was walking. You'd looked up one of those times, meeting his eye and spilling out a soft laugh that dissolved into a syrupy smile, but he'd rushed off before you could say anything.
Steven's face stayed red that whole day. "See. That wasn't so bad, was it?" Marc jeered.
"That was mortifying." He muttered back.
The bus rocked beneath his feet and his palm was growing sweaty around the pole he was using to steady himself. Frost was creeping up at the edge of the window he was watching out of.
"Okay, so all you're going to do is go in there and ask for ... help with something." Marc clarified again, his voice echoing around Steven's head.
He'd been bugging Steven since he was brushing his teeth before bed the previous night, something about how "I can't handle any more of this, please Steven. Put me out of my misery."
"Help with what?" Steven whispered. A woman looked up at him from her seat. He smiled shyly, turning away from her.
"I don't know ... tell her you're looking to buy some roses. Tell her it's someone's birthday."
Steven nodded slowly to himself. "Okay ... okay."
Marc had worked hard over the last twelve hours at convincing him. The endeavour was initially futile, but after Marc threatened to go in there and ask her out himself with a - frankly insulting - cockney accent, Steven was left with limited options.
He rounded the corner with wobbly legs and The Petal Parlour loomed in the distance. A bunch of sunflowers taunted him with swaying faces.
It drew ever closer and Steven's heart was beating loudly in his throat. The pink brick was crossing his vision now, his footsteps growing heavier, faster, past the floral print on the window--
"Steven don't even think about it--"
Against Steven's will, his legs knotted around each other: collapsing his body in the direction of the white painted door. It crashed open and Marc, more than Steven, caught his body before it hit the tiled floor inside the shop.
"Oh my god, are you alright?"
The shop was cramped now that he'd gotten his first glimpse inside and the three people crowding the space had their eyes on him.
As if appearing from a mirage, you pressed past the people towards him. He nodded frantically, the scalding touch of embarrassment burned his cheeks. "Yeah, yeah ... I'm fine."
Your earrings jingled from where your head was tilted to inspect him. Ringed fingers pressed down over your soil-covered apron. "Okay then, if you're sure."
Your concerned brow dissolved slowly and that syrupy smile he'd seen pointed in other's directions was suddenly overwhelming him with it's warmth. "Well then, can I help you find anything? Are you looking for some arrangement in particular?"
Steven nodded dumbly, he was fidgeting with the edge of his coat. "Yeah ... I'm looking for, uhm..."
"Birthday!" Marc called from somewhere deep in his mind.
"Birthday!" Steven spluttered loudly. There followed a quiet moment of confusion dripping between you and him.
"Jesus, Steven."
Your giggles crumbled into the space before Steven had the ability to conjure more words.
"I-- I'm sorry, I'm being rude ..." Laugher spilt between your words and your cheeks were turning a soft pink, "you want something for a birthday?"
An embarrassed smile had reached up into the corners of Steven's mouth. He liked the tinkle of your laughter, half convinced he could get drunk off the sound. A molecule of pride floated in his chest knowing that he was responsible for it.
"Uh, yes. Sorry, yes." Steven nodded, fidgeting with the bag strap over his shoulder. "Someone's birthday."
"Well, we just gotten some new arrangements in this morning ..." You turned on him, steering across the little shop to a orange, yellow and pink stacked shelf. He followed you tentatively, trying to pretend that he didn't smell perfume where you moved past him. Pretend that it wasn't making his knees buckle.
"They're pretty." He said quietly. You smiled again. You're pretty, he thought.
"Focus!" Marc's sharp voice sliced through his thoughts.
"Who's birthday is it?"
Steven's tongue lodged back into his airways. "Uhm--"
"Oh shit ... uh, say--!"
"My girlfriend's."
"Not girlfriend, you idiot!"
"Oh, alright--" Your hands fidgeted with your necklace, eyes wide.
"My sister." Steven interrupted you again, the argument in his brain between his thoughts and Marc’s voice was rattling his resolve. "I ... not my girlfriend, I don't have ... I don't have a girlfriend."
"You don't have a sister either." Marc quipped.
Steven ignored him. You were watching him with another smile flirting at your lips. "Okay, well, do you know what kind of flowers she likes? Or have an idea of what you want?"
Steven shrugged, head wobbling into a shake. "Uh no ... what kind do you like?"
You seemed taken back by his question. "Oh. Well, I like the tulips. The yellow ones, especially, but they're tough to find around here ... they have tons in Netherlands and Turkey, which not many people know because everyone thinks of them--"
Steven was sure you could see the little birds floating around his head, and how his pupils turned to tiny black hearts: maybe that's why you stopped.
You blushed a velvety red.
"I'm sorry ..." you turned back, hiding your warm face to wave your hand over the shelf of stacked bouquets. "We have some orchids and some irises if you think she might like them?"
"Yes." Steven nodded, hands folding over each other. His eyes were trailing the outline of your profile, savouring the closeness he'd finally been granted. "Those ... they're beautiful. She'll like them."
Your eyes twinkled where you nodded and it made his stomach churn. "Great."
He lingered patiently by the register while you wrapped the flowers with careful hands.
"Say," your gaze flickered up between him and the brown paper. "Do you work around here? I'm sure I've seen you passing in the morning sometimes."
Steven's breath tripped in his throat. She noticed me?
"Yes, now answer her." Marc's voice rung again.
"I-- yeah, I work by the museum actually." His voice stumbled nervously from the back of his throat.
"Oh really? That's so cool!" Your voice lilted with a pitch of interest. "I really like their exhibit on the liberation of India from English colonial regimes. I've only been once or twice though."
Chest buzzing delightfully, Steven nodded. He knew the one you were referencing, it was a couple corridors down from the Egyptian exhibits.
"Well, you should definitely come see the Ancient Egyptian section. The exhibit is huge and we have hundred year old pieces, sarcophaguses and vases and slabs of cave walls with carved hieroglyphics. I work there and it's really the most fascinating--"
"Let her respond, Steven."
But you seemed content to allow him to continue his splurge, your eyes warm and gentle where it caressed over Steven's face. He stopped talking, winding off embarrassed.
"So, uh, yeah."
"You've made a very good case. Maybe I will come visit." You nodded, fingers stroking absently at the edge of the counter. "If you promise me a tour?"
Warm blood rose up from his chest and pooled in his cheeks. "Of course. Anytime."
You handed him the flowers over the stretch of counter. "I never caught your name?"
"Steven." He said quickly, dejection gathering in his throat at the fact that your interaction was nearing a close. "G-Grant. Steven Grant."
You nodded. "Nice name. It's very James Bond."
"Thanks."
"Ask her name!" Marc poked at the back of his brain.
"Uh-- and you are?"
"Oh!" your eyes fell down to your chest where the corner of your stained apron was obscuring the sharpened edge of your name-tag. You shifted it for him to see.
Steven's eyes followed over the letters, he tried your name out on his tongue. It tasted sweeter than he thought a name ever could, rolling off his lips like a song or a bird whistling on a summer evening.
"It's ... it's a beautiful name."
You blushed, eyes moving back to the keyboard for momentary solace before paralysing him with your warm gaze again. "Thank you. I guess I'll see you 'round Stevie."
His mind whirred with how casually the little nickname slipped from you. "Yeah, yeah you will ..."
Leaving the store, Marc called from between the sludge of Steven's muddy mind.
"Good job, Stevie."
-
Steven was consumed by the interaction the whole rest of the day and when then next morning loomed overhead, he could hardly believe his luck when you were pinching together some lilacs out on the front step where he passed.
Half convinced by the nauseating twist in his stomach to just march quietly past, the decision was made for him when you glanced up from the flowers and offered him a friendly wave: “good morning, Stevie!”
His brain dissolved into a warm, gloopy mess. “… Morning.”
-
In the coming weeks, Steven’s apartment had become a botanical garden of epic proportions.
Vases and cups and pots, and whatever he could fit a flower into, lined his kitchen counters and his shelves and his bathroom sink with every possible kind of flower that The Petal Parlour had to offer.
Marc grumbled most days, in search of a coffee mug or apartment keys between what he described the “Amazon jungle in here.”
But Steven paid him little mind. It was a harmless jab and Steven noticed in the reflection of the shop’s stained glass window how Marc watched you too, eyes glazed with a soft affection. He mentioned nothing of it to Marc.
Steven had begun frequenting the shop when he could, on mornings he got up early enough or afternoons when the day’s work brought soil stains across your ruddy, tired cheeks.
He’d bought flowers for every possible celebration to be had in London, seemingly nabbing an invite to each one. Bat mitzvahs, birthdays, weddings, farewells, funerals: he’d bought bouquets for one of each kind.
Each visit would play out similarly. He’d step into the shop, maybe once a week or every other week - with Marc muttering somewhere in his mind, we’re hardly gonna be able afford groceries at this rate - and you’d beam at him from behind the counter or from beneath a brightly coloured shelf.
“What’s up, Stevie?”
The nickname made him shiver every time.
“Let me guess … Christmas in July?” You’d tease.
When he’d find you behind the counter, that was his favourite, because you’d lean lazily over it. It blessed him with the view down the slope of your nose, the smell of your fading perfume, the jingle of your clinking earrings.
“Baby shower.” It comes out almost as a question, curling upward at the end.
You’d giggle softly. “Right. Boy or girl?”
It had been long enough that Steven could just about draw out your work schedule.
Fridays you didn’t work, Sundays and Tuesdays you only clocked in the afternoon. He tracked it with the little greetings he got, or didn’t get, as he passed on the way to or from the museum.
“You know,” Marc was fronting an early morning in August, subjecting Steven to a cup of coffee. He hated the stale taste it left in his mouth. “We’re quickly approaching, if not already long surpassed, the point where you need to actually ask her on a date. You know that right?”
Steven remained quiet in the depths of Marc’s mind.
He stayed like that until Marc had cleaned out the mug and stuck a wet toothbrush into his mouth.
“Can I please just get ready for work now?” Steven muttered after nearly twenty minutes of silence.
Marc huffed, letting his eyes roll back and the toothbrush dangle from his lips.
Steven shook out his shoulders, Marc was always so tense. “Thank you.”
It was only when he’d passed the flower shop that he remembered that it was Friday. A group of school kids were expected at the museum around nine that morning.
He was almost grateful for your absence, it allowed him to wallow in Marc’s words for at least one more day. He should ask you out, god does he want to.
The day passed like most of them do.
The school children were rowdy and mostly impartial to the magnificent feats of Ancient Egyptian architecture, but he took another tour around two o’ clock with three couples and a family who were significantly, thankfully, more engaging.
Steven had just wrapped up the hour, on the tail end of explaining how do we know what hieroglyphics mean? to the man who’d asked, when a flitter of shifting fabric floated past the back of his head.
Emerging like a bottle-green wet dream, Steven's gaze found you drifting under the arch between rooms. Your eyes alight in searching, they caressed momentarily over each framed painting and encased ornate vase.
He'd never seen you in anything more than your tight pink work shirt, which - don't get it mistaken - did enough damage to his psyche on it's own, but he immediately knew he'd never recover from the little green dress that clung to your frame.
A square neckline reached past clinking necklaces, long sleeves brushed along your palm - a job Steven desperately wished was his own - and a ruffled edge that teased an upper expanse of thigh which he'd never before been gifted a view of ... and if you shifted just a little, bent just slightly over--
"Hey, thanks a lot. The tour was great."
The middle aged man's face reappeared into Steven's view: dirtied spectacles pressing down the edge of his sweating red nose.
Steven stuttered, eyes flickering between the man's face and your figure in the distance. "Y-Yeah, of course ... anytime, mate."
Your eyes found him, waving a hand.
Uninterested in letting the American tourists keep him from you any longer, Steven slipped past them towards your nearing frame.
"Stevie, hey." You beamed up at his face, hands playing with the strap of your bag: clearly unsure. "You-- well, it was my day off and I thought maybe I could take you up on that tour, but I just saw the board and it says you'd already finished your last one--"
"Hey, hey," Steven shook his head. "No, I'm ... I'm glad you came. I can take you if you'd still like, I'd love to show you around? It will be like a private tour."
He swore he could dissolve under the shine of the smile you gave him. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“Oh—“ you started digging into the bag draped down over your shoulder. “That reminds me …”
Your hand emerged with a single white flower. It’s petals were wide with a barely there yellow dot in the centre.
“I thought it would match the jacket you always wear.” A hand reached out, tugging gently on the corner pocket of his grey trench coat and slipping the flower in so it stuck half out happily. “It’s a white daffodil. Nicked it last night before I closed up.”
Steven’s chest was clenching up with a tightness that felt like his last remaining decisions in this life were to either immediately faint, or kiss you until the oxygen deprivation lead him to faint anyways.
“I—“ His fingers caressed gently at the edge of it’s petal. “Thank you.”
“Give her a compliment, Steven.” Marc’s voice startled him. He was a rare presence when Steven was at work.
The idea prodded at Steven that maybe it was the sound of your voice that had drawn him out.
“You … you look beautiful, by the way.” Steven pressed out, “the dress, it’s — it’s very nice.”
With nervous hands at the edge of the skirt, your looked quickly between the dress and Steven's face. "Ugh, this old thing. Just thought it would be a good idea to get out of my work uniform for a bit."
"I agree ... a great idea." He nodded, "You wanna ... get started?"
"Of course."
Steven lead you over the same route that he walked three times a day, four times on weekends, but somehow still felt itchy between the rooms. He figured it had to do with you gaze pressing curiously over his face, it made his neck hot and he prayed you couldn't see it.
When he spoke, you leaned close into his frame: eyes flickering between his trembling lips and the artefacts he was describing.
"That's so cool ..." you'd whisper to yourself at different points, sometimes a "that's crazy" or a "that's kinda gross", and Steven was drinking in your reactions like a man parched.
The tour closed off at the spot it usually does, with the replica of the Rosetta's Stone near the West Exit. By then, the sun had already sunk behind the backdrop of summer London and Steven's nerves were downright shot.
Your perfume was sending him on a chemical high and he's sure Marc heard every one of his desperate thoughts about the way your fingers tightened around his arm when they'd bump past other visitors moving room to room.
With the dress swaying merrily at your sides, you recounted points of the tour with animated hands flying ahead of you.
"And the way they managed to get those tombs so far underground? Not to even mention the complex tunnelling systems, how much work that would actually take to figure out--"
The tiny birds had returned to flying in circles over Steven's head, Isn't She Lovely was playing absently from somewhere in the depths of his mind.
Your excited hands came to find your sides and you huffed yourself into silence.
Following beside him, Steven lead you two out under the arched gates towards the steps of the museum. The moon twinkled between streetlights, and Steven avoided its gaze. Like he could feel Khonshu’s presence over his shoulder.
“Well, I’m glad you enjoyed it.” He smiled at you, a smile that just about suffocated him.
“Enjoyed it?” You laughed. “It was amazing, I mean, you were amazing.”
He laughed softly too, but didn’t respond.
The silence was beginning to turn stale.
“Now is as good a time as it’s gonna get.” Marc pestered.
“Well I should—“ you pointed obviously over your shoulder, before finding the face of your wrist watch. “My bus will be leaving soon.”
Steven nodded. “Yeah … yeah of course. I had fun, you should come by more often.”
“It was … it was very sweet. Taking me on the tour when you probably had better things to do.” Your hand curled over his forearm again, “You’re very sweet, Steven.”
“And you’re very beautiful.”
The words found the air between them before Steven even knew what he’d said.
Your lips parted slightly in surprise, cheeks brushed with a warm pink: “I— thank you, Stevie.”
Steven nodded, not looking at you and suffocating on his own embarrassment. “I’m gonna— need to go finish up inside.”
An unmistakably wounded look passed over your face. It dissolved as quickly as it had appeared.
“Sure.” It was curt. “I’ll see you round the shop.”
“Steven, if you do not stop her so help me God—“
A flurry of hot and cold feelings were chasing up and down his chest: he watched your figure turn and worked to do the same.
The outline of the museum had barely returned to his frame of vision when the cold hand of his subconscious reached out and dragged him down into it’s icy black depths: now watching the view of his eyes as if from a foggy tape recorder.
Marc stiffened his shoulders, turning to where you were bounding down the steps of the museum, heels clicking on each jump.
He chased down after you, skipping two steps at a time.
“Marc, don’t! You’re gonna scare her!” Steven was shouting now, rattling his already shaky consciousness.
He called your name where you’d just reached the sidewalk. You turned up to meet his face.
In barely fractions of a moment, Marc was able to find some sympathy for dear Steven.
Now that he was faced with you himself, as opposed to the blurry lens he’d been cursed to only peer through before, he wondered how Steven ever conjured up the courage to say more than three words to you.
“Steven?”
The light of the street-lamp was flickering in little circles off your eyes in the dim street and Marc was half convinced to abandon Steven in the darkness.
He didn’t.
Rather, he slipped back down into the shadows where he felt Steven surpass him again.
Your brow bent deeper in confusion, “Are you alright?”
If he had time, Steven might have taken a moment to huff at Marc for not even bothering to turn away when he forced himself back to the front, spared you from the sight of his eyes rolling back in their head. But no, you probably thought he was possessed.
“I, yes, that doesn’t matter—“
He could feel ice cold adrenaline pumping down from his brain. Like he did in the seconds before a fight, when the suit would crawl up over his skin.
“Your eyes,” your hand came close up to his face, hesitant enough to just float in its orbit. “They rolled—“
“Will you go on a date with me?”
You blinked up at him. Once, twice.
The silence was reaching far past the limits that it did in all the romance movies Steven had seen and his palms were growing itchy with the passing seconds.
“When?”
Steven’s head was reeling. He hadn’t thought that far, but why quit while he’s ahead?
“Now. Right now, tonight.”
The surprise was fading from your face, replaced with eyes that were glowing around the corners and a smile that made his heart skip every second beat.
“Don’t you have work?”
“You haven’t answered my question yet.”
“If you promise to still come visit the shop ... I would love to go on a date with you, Stevie. Right now.”
Warmth was flooding back into Steven’s hands. “I’ll set up a tent outside on the sidewalk …” he breathed, “you won’t be able to get rid of me.”
“I’ll hold you to that.”
Steven nodded. Almost tripping on the step up behind him, “I’m going to tell them that I’m leaving. Just wait right here …“
He’d already moved up two steps, legs buzzing with untamed exhilaration.
“Steven, hold on just one sec—“ when he turned, you’d surpassed the small steps separating you.
He’d barely a chance to turn all the way back around when your index finger hooked between his neck and the collar of his shirt and your lips were on his.
They were warm and soft and Steven had no idea what he was doing.
With his experience being limited to the pool of:
A. The girl he’d pecked in first grade on the swings in the playground.
B. A drunken make-out at a college party for a college he didn’t even attend and,
C. His (mostly Marc’s) ex-wife,
It was nothing short of a miracle when his hand came up to find the side of your neck. When he pulled your waist flush against his.
“Atta’ boy.” He ignored Marc.
You pulled back, Steven was pleased to notice your reddened, wet lips.
“Sorry,” you whispered close against him, voice half-drowned out by the rumbling of taxis in the street and people passing by. “Been itching to do that for a while.”
-
taglist:
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#steven grant x reader#marc spector x reader#jake lockley x reader#moon knight fanfiction#steven grant x you#marc spector x you#jake lockley x you#steven grant#marc spector#jake lockley#khonshu#steven grant x female reader#steven grant fanfiction#marc spector fanfiction#moonknight fic#moonknight#steven grant imagine#marc spector imagine#jake lockely x you#jake lockely imagine#jake lockely x reader
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Fit to Burst
CO-WRITTEN WITH @THIRSTWORLDPROBLEMSS
Pairing: Marc Spector x female reader x Steven Grant
Summary: Marc decides to teach you a lesson when you mistake him for Steven.
Rating: really fucking explicit
Warning/content: Marc's dirty filthy mouth, Steven's over-eager mouth, Marc is wee bit jealous, cunnilingus, overstimulation, refraction period? — we don't know her, established relationship.
Word Count: 3.5k (I have no excuse, pure self-indulgent filth)
Astroboot's Masterlist | Thirstworldproblemss' Masterlist | Moon Knight Masterlist
“Does that feel good, love? Think you can come for me again?”
You don't know how many orgasms he's pulled from you already. Everything sounds like it’s underwater. You can't tell if it’s Marc or Steven fronting right now. If it's Marc who is talking to you, or Steven, taking you apart inch by inch, one devastating orgasm at a time.
Love. He called you love. Steven calls you love. This must be Steven.
Steven’s lips come to the inside of your thigh, pressing gentle kisses meant to soothe, but the sandpaper brush of his stubble makes everything inside you that more wound up, your nerves raw like everything is going to splinter.
“You taste so fuckin’ good,” he murmurs, and the soft caress of his breath is searing against your skin, wreaking havoc on you. The low rumbling of his voice, so uncharacteristic of him, is dipped in hunger and greed, and it skitters up and down your spine until it's difficult to breathe. It's a perfect counterpoint to his surprisingly skilled mouth and fingers on you, to the heat spreading under your skin and building to an explosive pitch between your legs.
“Want you to come all over my mouth, yeah?” he says, with none of his trademark shyness, before he dives back in, tongue laving at your slick folds.
You can’t help but give him what he wants.
You come, your cunt clenches down, spasming around the thick girth of his fingers where he has you stretched open. Everything else disappears for a moment, your body weightless with pure unadulterated bliss. You are so disorientated that you are almost certain you are floating in zero gravity. You can’t even hear your heartbeat anymore. Can’t feel it thump against the cage of your chest. For all you know it might have stopped entirely. All you’re capable of feeling is an abstract tingling sensation that buzzes pleasantly in your veins.
Then you hear his voice, soft and adoring, from somewhere above. His fingers slip out of you, and you whine--even overwrought as you are, you feel empty at the loss.
There’s a gentle palm with soft-worn calluses stroking down the side of your ribs. Comforting kisses press your thighs, as he murmurs quiet praises about how good you are for him and how pretty you look like this.
You can’t help but snort a laugh at that last bit, not sure what he’s on about because you’re sure you look anything but right now. Your hair is soaked with sweat and clinging to your temple; your face, sticky and clammy. You’re certain you must look a complete mess as you lie here in a shambled heap on your bed. Your vision is so blurred you can barely see the white of your ceiling, but you're still able to make out the man above you, gazing down at you like you’ve hung the moon in the sky.
“Think you can give me another one, love? Jus' one more, yeah?”
Fucking hell. This man…
He doesn’t even give you a moment to gather yourself. You barely have a chance to nod before the saliva-slicked thumb gently presses down on your clit again. For all his sweet cooing and gentle touch and care, he is always merciless in his pursuit to make you come like there’s a prize for him at the end of it.
"Fucking finally," he huffs under his breath, and if you weren't so completely out of it, you'd tell him it's his own fault for dragging that last orgasm out so long.
As cliche as it sounds, you’re so blissed out of your mind you can’t tell anymore, where the pleasure begins and ends. All you feel is clever fingers already curling inside you again; a greedy hand cupping your breast; a hungry mouth nipping at the hollow of your throat. He’s everywhere, and you spread your legs wider, open yourself up, so he can have every single inch of you.
The bed shifts, and you blink rapidly, trying to clear the watery edges of your vision. After a moment, your eyes finally refocus on the man in front of you.
He’s kneeling above you, cock in hand, as he gives it a slow lazy stroke that makes your mouth water. A slick sheen of sweat graces the muscular line of his shoulder, bathed in amber gold of your bedroom light.
“You alright, baby? Want me to keep going?” The look in his eyes is as gentle as ever he checks in on you to make sure you’re okay. Makes you feel precious and cared for.
The only thing you can do is nod.
“You say stop if it gets to be too much,” he rasps out as lines himself up against you.
The first thrust is deep and consuming, and you cry out as the perfect stretch of him has white sparks burning behind your eyelids. You’re so worked up, everything makes a little bit less sense; mind almost a little bit numb. You can barely think straight and you think to yourself ironically, this is probably why they call it being cockdumb.
And it's not being made better by the way that he’s running his fucking mouth.
"So fucking perfect,” he murmurs into your ear, rasped and breathless as he nips on your ear. “You feel so good wrapped around my cock. So wet and warm. Fuck, you're so tight right now. Always so tight after you come for us."
He stays there, buried inside you to the hilt to allow you some reprieve and to accommodate around him. You can feel his eagerness to move in the way his cock twitches excitedly inside of you. Can tell he’s resisting that very urge when he grips the bedsheets tightly with his fingers until they go bone-knuckled. It strikes heat and pleasure all at once into the pit of your stomach. It’s so good; too much; and it teethers on the edge of the overwhelming.
A warm hand comes to cup your cheeks. He’s consoling you, brushing away the hair in your eyes, and the touch of it grounds you. “Does that feel good, baby?”
His eyes are ridiculously gorgeous, deep and rich, you find yourself easily lost in him. All you can see is his sweet half-smile, one corner of his mouth curling upward just for you. All you want to do in your overwrought state of mind is to please him, to praise him on how good he always makes you feel, so you do.
"So good. Feel so full. No one fucks me like you do, Steven."
He stills.
From above, you see it, the moment his expression changes. Gone is the indulgent softness. The curl of his full lips turned into a scowl. Those deep rich eyes bleed into sternness fixed with a dark glower. You realise a bit too late that Marc is the one inside you now, not sweet Steven.
You try to think back. When did his voice change? His accent? His eyes are narrowed instead of wide adoring affection. Everything about his body language is different, must have changed before this, and how stupid is it that you didn’t notice until now? As much as you hate to admit it, you're just a little bit out of it; a little bit come dumb from how the two of them have made you come again and again.
The next thing you register is the emptiness inside you as he slips almost entirely out of you; until only the blunt tip rests inside you. There’s a look in his eyes, a flash of something determined and almost dangerous, as he adjusts his hips against you.
There’s no warning as he thrusts all the way back inside, in one long and slick stroke back inside you. Deep and hard. It strikes something absolutely fucking devastating in you until it steals away your breath and makes you cry out.
“Fuckohfuck, Marc!”
“That's right, baby.” He leans over with his lips to your ear, voice low and dark and demanding as he rolls his hips, and then grinds deep within you. “Say it again. Who fucks you like this?”
Everything’s sharp and bright inside you; the rush of pleasure that comes with every thrust mind-numbing. You don’t know how Marc expects you to give him an answer; can’t even stutter out the ‘you’ that’s right on the tip of your tongue. Instead all that comes out is a pitiful sob.
"No? Still not good enough for you?” Marc demands.
You thought at first, with what little brain power was available to you, that he was jealous, and maybe there’s some of that in there too, but there’s something else. Something almost teasing that makes you think he’s not even all that upset about your mistake. The bastard that he is, he just wants to capitalise on the opportunity to push you to your limit.
“Our girl is so greedy, isn’t she?” he continues mercilessly, ”Always wanting more. How about—" two hands come to rest on the inside of your thighs, lifting you off the mattress until your legs are hooked over his shoulders as he presses the delicious weight of his body on top of yours, folding you nearly in half. "How about this?"
His voice is pure savage glee, a kid that gets to play and pull apart his toy in whatever manner he wants. Your fingers twist into the sheets, trying to grab on tight because it feels like you are falling off the edge of the very world. Then Marc rolls his hips into you at the devastating new angle and it knocks the breath out of your lungs, tipping you past that very edge.
It doesn't matter that you're ready to repent. Doesn’t matter that you’re trying to moan your explanation in between insistent, merciless strokes. "That's not— fuck, ooooh shit, Marc, I didn’t mean—"
That man is not letting up, and with how hard you came just mere minutes ago, he's already got you so keyed up that you can feel that all familiar pressure and heat settle against the line of your spine with an alarming speed.
There’s a brief hesitation in his rhythm, like his concentration was broken for a moment, and you catch him glancing at the mirror. You wonder if Steven's there telling Marc to stop. Steven’s always looking out for you; would do anything for you, and that includes taking care of you in bed. But when you turn your head sideways, the mirror shows you the same perfect reflection of reality it always does.
If Steven's there, you can't see him. Instead, all you can see is the image of yourself being split open by Marc. How Marc towers over you, with his lean stature. The firm muscles on his back sloping down to the generous curves of his ass like he was a carved marble statue meant to depict the ancient Greek deities themselves. Those thick raven curls furl with heat and sweat against his forehead. He’s so fucking beautiful it’s unfair.
“You looking for Steven to save you?” Firm fingers grip the edge of your jaw, forcing your gaze back towards Marc. “Well too fucking bad. Steven’s not here. You’re stuck with me.”
Alright, nevermind. Definitely jealous then.
Marc’s next thrust drives a strange squeaking noise from your lungs, and you’d probably be embarrassed if you weren't so far gone.
"What was that,—” Marc taunts, huffing out a dark laugh between thrusts, “—did you want me—to stop?"
His voice is unbearably smug, and you almost want to tell him to stop just on principle, but fuck that. You don’t want him to stop. Even though it's so fucking much that it borders on the unbearable. You shake your head frantically. You never want him to stop.
“That’s what I… thought,” Marc grits out, thrusting hard on the last word.
He’s driving up against something perfect and molten inside of you, and heat rises up in you like a tide, seething under your skin. You think you might actually be going to come again, but the sensation is immense, nearly unbearable, and you clutch at Marc, whimpering as it threatens to swamp your already overwhelmed and overstimulated system.
“It’s alright. You’re alright, baby,” he rasps out, not even slowing down. “You can take it, can’t you? Take it for me like a good girl.” Then he tilts your hips up even farther, and that’s it. You’re done.
Fierce, electric heat explodes outwards, crackling rapturously through your limbs, submerging you entirely until you lose track of reality for a minute.
When you come back to yourself, Marc is still thrusting into you. The rhythm of it is soothing, drawing out your pleasure in a way you’ve never known before, like you've hit a plateau rather than travelling up and down a mountain. Distantly you note that everything is a slick mess. That you are soaking Marc’s cock with how wet your cunt is for him. You can feel it leaking out of you with every press and retreat of him inside you, dripping down over the curve of your ass onto the bed sheets.
Then, out of nowhere, Marc does stop.
The sound you make is damn near inhuman. Fuck, why?? Why is he stopping when all you need is more of him?
Your eyes flutter open to see Marc staring at the mirror, his full attention focused on his reflection. On Steven.
You don’t know what Steven is saying to him, but whatever it is, has Marc chuckling.
He turns away from the mirror with a toothy grin full of mischief, and he leans back down towards you, pressing his mouth close so he can whisper in your ear like it's a secret; like Steven can't always hear him no matter how quiet he's being.
“He wants me to fuck you harder. Stretch you all the way open on our cock. Make you come again.”
You have no way of knowing if that’s true or if Marc is just saying that to get a rise out of Steven. You can’t exactly hear Steven’s end of the conversation. But it doesn’t matter, because Marc’s doing it.
You don’t know if you want to escape the sensation or demand more of it. But you can’t do either. In fact, you seem to have lost control of your body completely. All you can do is shudder and whine under him as Marc follows Steven’s alleged request and pushes himself hard and deep inside of you—oh God, just like that—again and again.
The pleasure twines and spreads slowly though your heavy limbs until you're completely drunk on the sensation of Marc's cock driving into you. He’s reduced you to a heap of bones, flesh and skin without any sentient thought left in your brain. Until you have lost all other sensation to the point where you almost miss the way that Marc is murmuring a string of filth into your ear.
“That’s right, baby. You’re not done yet.”
You can’t look away from him, the way that sweat is dripping down his collarbone, the mesmerising rise and fall of his chest as his breath is rasping in and out of his lungs.
“Gimme one more,” he says. “You come on my cock one more time, then I’ll fill you up. Make a mess of you, and Steven can clean you up with his tongue.”
This man is the devil.
You don’t know what that makes you when you’re so aroused by the picture he’s painting for you.
You’re exhausted. Every inch of you feels tender. You have been strummed and plucked and pushed over the edge again and again until all of you has become one single raw overwrought nerve. At this point you’re not even sure you’re physically capable of coming again. But still, white heat sparks and cracks and invades your numb limbs until you’re thrumming with it.
He's rutting into you, hips in an uneven jerking place, grinding as if he needs to get deeper, as deep inside you as he can to stake his claim and never leave. And fuck, you wish he could. You want him to fuck you like this forever and never stop.
Your cunt flutters around the thick girth of him involuntarily, and it does something to Marc too. He gasps and swears, hips stuttering forward into you, and it's almost enough.... almost... almost...
"Marc..." your voice breathy, pleading, barely recognizable to your own ears.
"Fuck," Marc huffs out. His hips stutter in its pace. If you didn’t know any better, from the way he closes his eyes for a brief moment, as if to gather himself, you’d think his trademark control is slipping. But then he seems to rally himself and pulls back, almost all the way out.
You clutch at him. If he stops now, if he dares to deny you, you swear to god, you will actually kill this man, or failing that, die on the spot in protest. Your fingers digging into the firm meat of his shoulders, sobbing his name. You need—more, need everything, need him, need to—
“Shh,” he hushes you with a soothing coo, comforting fingers brushing back the sweat-slicked hair clinging to your forehead. “I'm right here, baby. Let go, I've got you.”
His tone doesn’t match his actions. Marc thrusts back in, driving so deep you can fucking taste it, and you dimly realize that you're screaming as the pleasure streaks outward, tearing your world apart.
It’s a flickering light that is dimming and finally dies out from the surge of electricity. Your brain completely loses all higher functions and all that is left is the rush of heat that spreads all over you. It pours and pours until you’re lightheaded and the whole room spins with it. Everything feels blissfully tight; too much and just enough. Then you come.
When you open your eyes, you see those gorgeous dark eyes rolling back, baring the long line of his throat and it’s a beautiful fucking sight. The sharp edge of his jaw, pink pouty lips all shiny and slick from you. You swear those thick sweat soaked curls glisten in the dim light. He’s so ridiculously gorgeous, you can hardly believe he is real.
Marc isn’t far behind you. His cock pulses, spilling warm heat inside of you with a strained moan. Every muscle in him goes rigid against you.
Then Marc collapses onto you, arms wrapped all around you as he lands on top of you on the bed, his firm weight resting on top of you. Both of you are a boneless and sweaty tangled heap against the mattress. His firm chest is pressed against you, so close the beat of his heart is hammering against your skin.
In the silence of your bedroom, your harsh, panting breaths echo as if you just finished the most harrowing marathon of your lives. There’s a gentle hand stroking the plane of your back. It’s so gentle, the touch of it so adoring that you’re not sure if it’s Marc or Steven, but you don’t think it matters much at all.
As you come down, your senses slowly flicker awake. You can feel the soft gentle comfort of a reassuring touch running along your thighs. A warm hand petting you over the wideness of your hip bones, soft stroking caresses to coax you back down from your high.
Eventually, your breaths slow, and he pushes himself up, and away from your chest with shaky arms, until you can see his soft gorgeous face that is practically glowing as he smiles down at you. Utterly boyish, utterly charming.
Steven, you realise. Steven’s back…
“You alright there, love? Was Marc too rough?” His thick brows knit together in worry. An expression of guilt bleeding into his handsome face.
In your exhaustion, you find yourself still breathless as you try to answer him, “Yeah. No, I’m alright,” you pause, and lower your voice, feeling suddenly, inexplicably shy. “I… I liked it."
At your response, that worried expression breaks out into a beaming grin that makes your heart leap and skip several beats with unadulterated fondness.
“Good. That’s good, yeah.”
Steven is a fucking sight onto himself. Your eyes trail downwards, from his chest, that’s glistening with sweat down to his torso and— bloody fucking hell. Your eyes widen at the sight. You don’t even know how, but Steven’s already hard again or maybe he just never went down for the count at all. His other hand is fisting his cock, a slick mess of white lines of cum that’s dripping down the aching length of him as it twitches and jumps with undeterred eagerness.
“Then, um…. Sorry to ask, but do you think…” It’s Steven’s turn to look down bashfully, then back up at you. His cheeks are flushed with a deep pink; hair, a tousled mess with a pleading expression in his eyes, that you cannot possibly turn down.
“Do you think we could go again? …please?”
Dear fucking God, these men. Steven may be all sweet and polite about it, but deep down he’s just as greedy and demanding as Marc. Maybe worse.
You’re not sure how you’re going to survive these two, but you’re going to enjoy the ride.
Dedication and Credits:
@thirstworldproblemss to my most beloved and brilliant co-writer, who stays up with me all night and all day to prawn like no one has prawn ever before. I never have more fun than when I am in a google doc with you, screaming about the beauty of this man and writing out the exact same suggestions to each other at the same time.
@frannyzooey for succeeding to make me cry on a Tuesday afternoon in the office with her kind words and support. You're someone that I'm endlessly proud to call a friend, for your humour, your kindness and your warmth. You are just one of the best humans and I hope you wake up everyday and know that and if you don't, I will remind you everyday.
#oscar isaac#steven grant x reader#steven grant x you#marc spector x reader#marc spector x you#moon knight x reader#moon knight x you#moon knight#moon knight tv#moon knight fanfic#moon knight fanfiction#moon knight fic#steven grant#marc spector#marc spector imagine#steven grant imagine#marvel#cici writes#moon knight imagine#cici moon knight
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morning banter
summary: something about you and marc? he wakes up early, and you most certainly do not.
word count: 1.2k
warnings: language, my shitty spanish (i’m trying okay)
a/n: took a quick break from b+h for a lil marc spector drabble!!! hope you all enjoy
Es tan temprano para esta mierda, Marc. Jake’s annoyed Spanish drawl smacks into the side of Marc's head. The combination of his drowsy, slow mind and that Marc knew next to no spanish caused the said man’s eyebrows to crinkle. “What the fuck did you just say?” He can barely hear his own voice, but he knows Jake can.
Don’t worry about it.
“Jake.”
Marc. Only Jake would pitch up his name in a high voice: it’s a mimic.
“Hey! I don’t sound like that.”
Yeah you do.
“No, I don’t! Back me up, Steven.”
Don’t bring me into this.
C’mon, Stevie— Jake cuts off abruptly, probably the doing of Steven.
“Jake,” Marc resists the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Just tell me what you said.”
Go to sleep, puta.
“Okay, I know that one,” Marc hisses, toiling you in closer to him. “Rude.”
You deserved it.
“You wanna know what you deserve?”
Oh, yeah, Jake taunts. What’s that?
“A fucking pun–”
His voice goes legato as soon as he senses you moving, causing him to fall silent. You curl tighter into a ball, spiraling the covers more into your fists and tucking them again beneath your chin. Jake, by some miracle, also goes quiet, as if somehow his words could expel themselves out of Marc’s mouth and to your ears.
But, the soft exhales are the only noise you left out, and if you heard them, you didn’t show it. Marc’s shoulders roll back from where they were hunched, surely Steven’s gentle gesture to the position he hadn’t even realized he’d been in.
Would it kill the two of you to just be nice to each other? The Brit muses.
Absolutely. Jake’s response is automatic.
“One hundred percent true.” Marc chimes in.
HAH! Steven ejects the exclamation in triumph. Now I got the two of you agreeing.
“Sure, whatever.”
Only time we agree is when you finesse us into it, hermano.
Marc slides his arm out from where it was wrapped around your waist to give the two a thumbs up in agreement with Jake, reluctantly.
Or, he tried to.
“Noooooo…” You groan groggily, tightening your hold.
Marc freezes. “Baby?”
“Mmmmm?”
“I- I didn’t know you were aware.”
“Well,” you snuggle closer into his chest, his warm embrace. “You ‘n Steven ‘n Jake aren’t exactly quiet when you argue.”
He sighs, guilt pooling in his stomach. “Listen, ‘m sorry. You know how we can be.”
“Yeah, I do. And I love you all,” you reach back, squeezing his bicep reassuringly. “But I also love my beauty sleep.”
“You don’t need to sleep to be beautiful.” He ducks his head to place a featherlight kiss to your neck, savoring the sigh you let out in return.
“You’re sweet, but we both know that’s not true.”
“Do we?”
“Mhm,” you turn, nudging Marc’s arms off of you as you face him. “‘M a menace without it.”
“That’s true,” he chuckles when you slap his arm, letting out an effortlessly beautiful smile. “But it’s nothing a cup of nice, warm coffee can’t solve.”
You giggle softly. “That’s true.”
“C’mon, sleepyhead,” He moves to slide you both out from under the covers. “Let’s get going.”
“Nope.” You let him go, rolling to burrito yourself in the covers again.
“Nope?” He inquires, rounding the bed to stand over you.
“Nope.”
His shadow covers your shut eyelids and you know he’s bent over your face. “I’ll make you coffee to apologize for waking you up, baby, I promise.”
You scrunch your nose. “Tempting, but no.”
“Not even because I’m asking you?”
“Not even if you were on your knees and begging.”
“Oh?” The sentence your half asleep brain had kindled clearly took him by surprise.
You huff, flipping over in the bed dramatically. “Go away, I’m tired.”
“What’s so great about this bed that I can’t give you, huh?”
“Well,” You take a deep breath, and some small, rational part of your brain tells you that maybe the spew of words about to come out of your mouth is what he wanted to happen all along. “The bed is warm. It’s cozy. The covers are just the right heaviness and just the right thickness to provide optimal warmth and the right amount of pressure to keep me sleeping like a bear in hibernation. ‘Nd my pillow is the right firmness, but has my desired amount of sink to put me out as soon as you turn off the light and wrap your arms around me. Even though that only happens sometimes.”
Marc huffs in frustration. “Hey!”
“Yeah, Marc, my bed is always here on time. It never goes anywhere, and the only life it’s saving is your sorry ass right now.”
“Uncalled for.” He runs a hand through his hair.
“Thought you liked a bit of banter.”
“I like a kick or two,” He leans over and pulls your shoulders to level on the bed and your eyes to meet his own. “But not at eight in the fucking morning.”
“Neither do I,” You reach up, pulling his face in for a kiss.
He gives in almost immediately, setting a knee on either side of your legs and scooping his arms underneath your body to pull you up.
“Nuh uh,” you pull away and unwrap his arms, flopping back onto the bed. “Sleepy. Time to sleep.”
“You can't leave me hanging like that!”
You yawn, pulling the covers up to your chin again. “I can and I did.”
For a second, a naive, small second, you think he’s going to leave you be. Your brain relaxes, you feel yourself on the precipice of sleep, the hypnotic, rich swirl of unconsciousness sucking you deeper into its whirlpool. But then you feel the covers lift, and Marc’s— frighteningly cold— fingers are dancing along your sides to a tune you illustrate with laughs. You slap his hands away, reaching out towards the lure of sleep that now sneaks away to taint another victim.
“You ready to get out of bed now, sweets?”
You groan, turning to face him in defeat. “You fucker.”
He throws his arms mockingly. “What’d I do?”
“You manipulated me! I hate you.”
“I did no such thing. What are these accusations?”
“You knew I would get worked up,” you sit up in the bed now, and Marc shrinks ever so slightly under the weight of your deadly stare. “You knew that would wake me up.”
“Hey, let’s calm down–”
“You knew that if you pushed the right buttons, you would get what you wanted.”
Marc’s face is ghastly, and he looks two steps away from summoning his suit and flying away.
“I warned you earlier about this, Marc, were you listening?”
He nods frantically. “Of course–”
“I’m a menace when I get woken up early.” You launch off the bed, and you might as well be Moon Knight yourself with your accuracy.
The takeaway from this event? For Marc, it’s to never try waking you up before you’ve recharged fully, or to have some coffee made ahead of when he was to attempt it. For you, though?
It’s that Marc shrieks like a little girl.
translations (HELP I FORGOT):
es tan temprano para esta mierda - it’s too early for this shit
puta - bitch
i felt very fancy using these
#moon knight#jake lockley#marc spector#steven grant#steven grant x reader#jake lockley x reader#marc spector x reader#marc spector imagine#steven grant imagine#jake lockley imagine#moon knight tv#marvel#marc spector fluff#marc spector x you#oscar issac#oscar isaac hernandez estrada#oscar issac x reader
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FOR SCIENCE | SUBJECT 1
In which the Moon Knight alter system presents a unique opportunity to settle the nature versus nurture debate, once and for all...
Steven Grant x afab!psychologist!reader (8.0k+)
RATING: EXPLICIT (18+, mdni)
WARNINGS: fetishization of mental disorders (DID), psychoanalysis, potentially unethical scientific practices, SMUT (dom/sub dynamics, fingering, oral (f! and m!receiving), unprotected p in v sex, creampie, intense overstimulation, non-ejaculatory orgasm, cumplay, cum eating, praise kink, dirty talk, use of the stoplight system)
NOTES: steven is my baby. he deserves the world. i hope i did his character justice.
DISCLAIMER: although i’m incredibly knowledgeable about psychology, i am NOT a professional. all psychoanalyses made throughout the course of this storyline are entirely my own, based on my own interpretations of the characters. in a similar vein, i am also not an expert on DID specifically (although i am well-read on mental disorders and diagnoses), so i apologize for any incorrect terminology or misrepresentation. don’t hesitate to call me out if i say something wrong!
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CASE STUDY: STEVEN GRANT
ROLE IN SYSTEM: Caretaker / Internal Self-Helper
ATTACHMENT STYLE: Preoccupied
CHARACTERISTICS: timid, introverted, sensitive, unassertive; inferiority complex; the epitome of a people pleaser.
SPLIT FROM HOST: assumedly a result of simultaneous emotional and physical abuse from mother.
TRAUMA RESPONSE: alter likely emerged as a way to maintain the childhood innocence of the host; a personification of the word 'hope'.
SEXUAL PRESENTATION: shy, reserved, submissive, responsive, doting; views relationship as transactional (i.e. his only value is derived from what he can provide to a partner, whether that be physically, fiscally, materially, or emotionally); incredibly receptive to praise and validation.
Silence.
It filled the room and weighed heavy in the air—only interrupted by the buzzing of the filter in Gus’ fish tank near the center of the apartment.
You swallowed.
Why did it have to be Steven first?
You knew why. You’d made the decision deliberately, carefully—Steven was the softest, most vulnerable and hesitant. The most emotionally mature, but also the most emotionally fragile. Sensitive, caring, empathetic, loving—he really, truly cared. That’s why he had to go first. This was more than just an excuse to have sex with you—this was intimacy, passion, a closeness he so desperately craved. And you knew, deep down, he’d be comparing himself to his other alters. Envying their confidence, their forwardness, their unapologetic sexual prowess. Steven had always felt inferior—you needed to prove to him that that couldn’t be farther from the truth.
But still. As much as you cared for him, as much as you were looking forward to getting to know him physically, in that moment, you desperately wished for a hint of Marc’s initiative, or even a sliver of Jake’s assertiveness.
Steven was sat on the couch, hunched over, elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. Nervous energy pulsed from his body in waves—his clear stress wasn’t doing anything to help with your own trepidation.
You shuffled beside him, crossing one leg over the other at the ankles. You drew in a breath.
“Do you... do we need to go over anything again?”
He flinched at your intrusion on the silence—without sparing you a glance, he offered a brief shake of his head.
“Well, I think we should go over it one more time, just in case. So. Today is—is about you. Whatever you say goes. Obviously, I have my limits, but, I mean, I really don’t see that being much of a problem with any of you—except maybe Jake...”
You digressed, but the mention of his alters clearly ruffled Steven’s feathers, even if he hid it well. You continued.
“And—and you’ll be fronting the whole time. No co-consciousness, or interruption from the others. Right?”
Steven nodded again, more firmly this time.
“Okay. And lastly—well, I’ve thought about it, and—and I think we should be fine without condoms.”
That got Steven’s attention. His head turned to you, eyes wide with bewilderment.
“What?”
You looked away abashedly, a blush creeping up your cheeks.
“I just—I’ve got the implant, and well—Marc gave me documentation confirming that you’re negative for any STI’s, which—so am I. So I figure—unless you’re gonna be having sex with anyone else in the time this experiment is being conducted, then—then I think we should be fine... for now.”
“You told us we had to be abstinent in the week between each experimental window.”
You laughed at this, amused at the incredulity in his voice.
“Oh, so you were planning on seeing someone else in between, then?”
His face flushed with alarm as he attempted to backtrack.
“Wha—no! No, I didn’t mean—you just—you said we should refrain from doin’ anything, as in—anything. So I just—”
“Relax, Steven, I’m just teasing you.”
You giggled, reaching to grip his bicep reassuringly. Your fingers making contact with his body seemed to jostle him—he stared down at the place your fingers wrapped around his arm, electricity crackling from your fingers and lighting a fire in his belly. He swallowed.
His sudden attention to your presence grounded you back into reality as well. You felt the taut muscles of his bicep flex beneath your hand, the parting of Steven’s lips and fluttering of his lashes making your breath stumble.
When he looked up at you, finally, his eyes were dark—lustful, desirous. Still, there was a sense of restraint within him, his diffidence preventing him from moving unto you further. You realized that you would likely have to make the first move.
“Steven.”
You spoke softly, drawing him in.
“Are you—do you feel ready?”
For a moment, he looked terrified, like a deer caught in headlights. He glanced away from you for a moment, trying to reason with himself, to will the anxiety away. You squeezed his arm.
“You don’t have to do this, Steven, really. It’s not too late to change your mind.”
“I want this.”
“But Steven, really, it’s alright—”
“No, you don’ understand—I really, really want this.”
His words were breathy, but certain, the desire in his tone undeniable. You felt your breath hitch at his confession, and before either of you had time to worry about it anymore, you closed the gap between you, pushing yourself up against his side and tilting your head so your lips met his. He whined into your mouth, his initial hesitance wearing off and making way for his insatiable hunger for your touch, your taste, you.
His hands reached to grip the back of your head, fingers threading in your hair as he pulled you closer, forcing your lips to meld against his deeply. You leaned into him, allowing yourself to shift into his lap, your thighs straddling his. As you settled your weight onto him, he audibly groaned as your core pressed against the hardening tent in his pants. Your hands traveled up his chest and along his shoulders as your tongue explored his mouth. He fought back with equal fervor, and you could sense that there was a hint of desperation in him—as if he was finally acting upon the months worth of repressed sexual tension between the two of you.
You pulled away with a gasp, coming up for air as you lifted your chin slightly, away from the chase of his lips. Instead, they began a sloppy assault on your throat, mouthing and teething at the supple flesh of your neck and down into your collarbone. You let out a breathy moan as Steven lavished your skin with attention, quickly gaining the confidence to suck a mark into the juncture between your neck and shoulder. You keened.
“God, Steven.”
The sound of his name falling from your lips was heaven. He pulled you back down for another searing kiss, and you offered an experimental nip to the swell of his bottom lip. He groaned.
“Christ, you’re a minx.”
His voice was throaty, gravelly, and you giggled at his comment as he pressed kisses to the corners of your mouth and the surrounding flesh of your cheeks.
“Should we... do you want to move to the bed?”
You asked quietly, and the man stiffened, clearly enticed by the proposal.
“Yes. Gods, yes.”
You regretfully pulled yourself from his lap and he followed immediately after, reaching for your hand as you guided him back towards his bed. It was neatly made, the corners tucked in and the blankets pressed. For some reason, it made you want to cry. You’d been at his flat plenty of times before, but never had you once seen his bed made up so tidy. He did that for you.
As you reached the end of the bed, you hesitated. You had taken the lead, carefully easing Steven into the interaction, but now, you needed to see what he wanted. You looked to him.
“What—where do you want me?”
He swore he almost blacked out at the sheer compliance that your tone offered. He had to squeeze his eyes shut tight in an effort to slow the rapidly building arousal in his groin—you hadn’t even fucking touched him yet.
“Would you—could you just lay down f’me, love?”
You smiled at him gratefully, offering a small nod at you followed his careful instruction. You shuffled up towards the head of the bed, turning to lie flat on your back with your head propped against the pillows. You looked at Steven expectantly—he was just watching you, fists slowly clenching and unclenching at his sides. Christ, you were a sight to beheld.
Cautiously, Steven lowered onto his hands and knees and crawled up towards you, allowing himself to hover over your body with his own, his waist slotting between the parting of your legs. He rested on his elbows, forearms framing your head as he gazed down at you. The sheer reverence and devotion in his eyes was almost too much to bear.
“Bloody hell, you’re gorgeous.”
He mumbled, fingers moving to stroke your hairline, tracing the curvatures of your face. You smiled softly before tilting your head upwards to close the small space that remained between you. These kisses were softer—slow, gentle, repeated slides of his lips against yours. It made you feel lightheaded.
You reached for the hem of his jumper.
“I—can I?”
You questioned against his lips, and he nodded slowly, sitting upright to help you pull the top up and over his head. He flung it to the side carefully, and you spread your hands out against the warmth of his torso, the ring finger on your left hand just barely brushing his right nipple. He hissed as the feeling of your cold hands pressed into his abdomen, but at the same time, the sensation was intoxicating. You let your fingers slide up towards his chest, skating across both of his hardened nipples before wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him back to you. He happily obliged, malleable under your touch, but you could feel his fingers twitching as if desperate to touch you. You pushed him back slowly, reaching to take off your own shirt.
“Wait.”
Steven panicked, and you froze, a flash of hurt cresting your face. But he just smiled gently.
“Can—let me.”
He offered, and you laid back, letting his fingers skim the flesh of your stomach as he gripped the hem and pulled the fabric away from you. You sat up briefly to allow him to pull it completely off, revealing your simple white lace bra beneath it. You watched him drink you in, completely infatuated. His hands skated up your sides, over the curve of your hip and across your ribs, but they halted before they reached any further. You nodded in encouragement.
“It’s okay, Steven. You can touch me.”
A whimper escaped his mouth as he slowly reached up the palm at your breast, still contained in the cup of your bra. He could feel the peak of your nipple through the fabric as he massaged the flesh carefully, kneading and squeezing. The sigh you let out spurred him on, and he reached behind you towards the clasp, eyes scanning your face for any sign of discomfort. Instead, he was met with a warm smile and nod, and his fingers worked to unclip the material beneath you. After a few brief seconds of his fumbling, his brows furrowed in frustration.
“What the—bollocks, why’s it so bloody hard to undo?”
Your saccharine giggle melted his annoyance as you offered him assistance, reaching behind you to unlatch the hooks. When it was finally unclasped, the cups loosening their hold on your breasts, he let out a shaky breath, gripping the straps and watching them glide down your arms until you were topless beneath him.
His movements were slow, deliberate, as he watched your body react to his touch. Tracing beneath the swell of your left breast, dancing across the valley between them, repeating the movement on the right side. Goosebumps trailed in his wake as he stared, utterly entranced at the softness of your skin and the rhythm of your breathing.
His eyes met yours once more, and stayed there as he slowly leaned down and pulled your right nipple into his mouth. You mewled at the action, back arching just slightly as his other hand came to cup your other tit, massaging it gently as he sucked at your flesh. He switched sides, lavishing your other nipple with equal attention, and even offering an experimental nip to the swollen bud, earning a cry from you—a mix between a sharp pain, quickly soothed with the swipe of his tongue.
You hardly noticed when his lips began pressing kisses lower across your chest, your breasts, across the expanse of your stomach, until his lips were skating over your navel, just above the button of your jeans. His dark eyes found yours, and he offered you a silent question, to which you immediately nodded. His trembling fingers reached to undo the button—with which he had much more success than your bra—and pulled the zipper down. As he slowly coaxed the fabric away from your skin, he pressed two hot kisses against each of your hip bones before pulling the pants completely off and discarding them nearby.
His hands roamed the newly exposed skin of your thighs, fingers creating divots in the soft flesh with his firm grip. He leaned down and pressed his lips against your calf, sliding them upwards until he reached your inner thigh. You whimpered at his proximity to where you needed him most, but he evaded you by switching to mirror the same path on your other side. Your toes curled in frustration.
“Steven.”
You huffed, head thrown back, and his head popped upwards, eyes wide with concern.
“Stop teasing.”
His gaze softened, and you felt his lips press right above your pubic bone, where the waistband of your panties was settled.
“Sorry, m’love, I couldn’t help it. I’ll make it better, I promise.”
His fingers gripped the waistband of your underwear and pulled them down your legs, successfully leaving you completely bare beneath him. You had half the mind to feel insecure at the exposure, but when you caught sight of the look on Steven's face, his eyes transfixed on the sopping folds of your cunt, any hesitance was thrown out the window.
“Fuckin’ hell.”
He whispered, letting the pointer finger on his left hand just barely graze between your pussy lips to gather some of your wetness, causing your hips to jolt. He let out a short ‘ha’ sound at your reaction to his touch.
“Is this—s’this all f’me?”
He looked at you again, lips parted and eyes hooded. You nodded vigorously.
“Yes, Steven, yes—all for you.”
He rewarded you with a groan, his finger offering another, firmer swipe through your folds, easily sliding through with the slick of your arousal. The tip of his finger caught on the hood of your clit and your hips jumped again. Instead of removing his finger, he slid it back downwards, slowly circling the entrance of your pussy with careful ministrations. Before you could even ask, he pushed his middle finger deep inside you, curling forward, and almost instantly, the pad of his digit nudged at the most sensitive part of you. You cried out at the abrupt sensation, hips unconsciously grinding down against his hand. He smiled wickedly.
“Ah—there you are.”
He mumbled to himself, repeating the motion once more to ensure he had located the spot where your sensitivity peaked. Again, your body followed the movement of his hand, and he easily added a second finger, slowly beginning to pump them in and out of you, all while continuing the well-received come-hither motion. You squeezed your eyes shut, core muscles clenched as pleasure spread from your cunt upwards, and then his thumb found your clit and you were reeling.
“Oh, fuck, Steven, shit—oh God, I can’t, m’gonna—”
His free hand came up to stroke your hair tenderly, eyes peeling away from where they were watching where his fingers sank into you to ogle at the face you'd make as you climaxed.
“That’s it, love. Doin’ so well. C’mon, give it to me.”
Your orgasm reached its peak, toes curling and back arching as you let out a salacious, pornographic moan, thrusting in time with Steven’s diligent fingers as he coaxed every last drop of pleasure from your dripping folds. Your skin buzzed with sensitivity as the waves of stimulation rippled through you—your breathing was labored when you came down from your high, sinking back into the mattress and grounding yourself back in reality.
Steven pressed a kiss to your lips, which you accepted gratefully, although your energy was significantly less than his—he didn’t seem to mind. He pulled away, just barely, noses brushing together in a moment of intimacy. You felt dizzy.
“So good, Steven—make me feel so good.”
You rambled, hot breath fanning across his face. He glowed at your praise, pressing another soft kiss to your lips. Even after your first orgasm, your hunger for him was nowhere near sated. Your walls were clenching around nothing, desperate for the hot drag of his cock inside of you.
Something resembling a whimper came from the back of your throat, and Steven’s eyes found yours, softening.
“I know, darling, I know. S’alright, I’ve got you. Let me take care of you.”
Your fingers trailed down his stomach and covertly ghosted over the skin right atop the waistband of his jeans. Fuck, he still had his jeans on?
You reached for the button, and Steven took the hint, pulling them off of himself rather ungracefully and tossing them to the side. He was left in just his boxers, and when your hand stroked over the hard outline of his cock within them, he hissed, almost as if he were in pain. He recoiled from your touch just slightly, and you felt brief concern at the reaction. He squinted one eye open at you, wincing.
“Careful, please, love, I—don’t want this to end too quickly.”
“Whatever you want, Steven, I’m yours.”
You breathed, fingers caressing the side of his face and beneath his jawline. He grunted at your words, still fighting to maintain control of his body. It only served to turn you on more. When your fingers once more reached for the band of his boxers, he interrupted you with a kiss.
“Patience, love, s’alright.”
"Want you so bad."
You cried against his mouth, absolutely desperate, and you felt the stutter of his exhale as he pulled away.
“I know, I know, but I—Gods, ’m sorry, but I just have to taste you.”
You barely had time to process his words before his head was between your thighs, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the inner flesh between them. Your eyes fluttered closed just as he licked a long, experimental stripe between your folds, making you jerk up towards him involuntarily.
Your cunt was puffy and swollen from your previous orgasm, but Steven wasted no time diving in. He let the tip of his tongue dance around your bundle of nerves, suckling it into his mouth and humming at the taste. The vibrations traveled all the way through you, and you moaned, head thrown back in ecstasy. You tried to force your legs from caging him in, but when he noticed the strain in your muscles, he tucked his arms beneath your thighs and let your knees rest on his strong shoulders, allowing him an even better angle with which to pleasure you.
He changed course, tongue now prodding at your entrance, pushing in and out carefully and slowly. At the feeling of your walls clenching, Steven jostled just slightly, the bridge of his nose rubbing against your clit just right. You cried out, fingers flying to fist at his dark curls, pulling him back in against you.
“Fuck, do that again, Steven, please.”
Steven wasn’t one to deny you of what you wanted. He obliged, repeating the motion, his tongue penetrating you rhythmically and his nose pressed against your clit in a way that had you seeing stars. You thighs tightened around his head, and you felt more than you heard the groan that it pulled from him. You were suddenly teetering on the edge of another orgasm.
“God, Steven, gonna make me cum, don’t stop, please—”
Steven maintained his pace, smart enough to know not to speed up or slow down or change up his rhythm at all as your toes curled. You briefly opened your eyes, and the sight in front of you toppled you over the cliff—Steven’s dark eyes staring up at you, the lower half of his face buried in your cunt, his hips rutting up against the mattress unconsciously as he watched you come undone. You practically sobbed as the shockwaves overwhelmed you, your thighs squeezing Steven’s head and holding him in place as you tugged at his hair. He happily lapped up your arousal, the taste of you lingering on his tongue when he finally pulled away after you had stopped squirming.
You tasted yourself on his lips when he kissed you, and the sight of your slick coating his chin and smeared across his cheeks was one of the most attractive things you’d ever seen. You smiled at him with hooded eyes, still coming down from your high.
“Please, will you fuck me now, Steven?”
You pleaded, and Steven groaned, pressing his still-covered cock against the heat of your pussy.
“Oh, yes, please, can I?”
He asked for confirmation, because of course he did, he’s Steven, and you nodded feverishly, watching with lustful eyes as he pulled his boxers down, his length finally released from the confines of the fabric. It stood at full height, long and big but not too thick, and you practically felt yourself drooling at the sight. His head was flushed a deep reddish purple, sheened with precum that had accumulated there. There was a prominent vein that ran up the underside of his shaft, and all you wanted to do was run your tongue along it. Steven caught you staring and grimaced, moaning lowly.
“Christ, darling, you keep lookin’ at me like that and ’m not gonna be able to last.”
His hand reached down and gave a few strokes to his cock, pumping it as he moved in towards you. He leaned down over you once again, eyes finding yours, and you felt the tip rub up and down your folds a few times. Steven’s lips were parted in pleasure, his breathing ragged. You felt the head of his cock barely breach the entrance of your pussy.
“Is this—are you sure?”
He asked you one final time, fingers reaching to stroke your hair. Instead of answering, you pulled him in for a sloppy kiss, and slowly, slowly, he pushed into you.
The groan that escaped him was hellish, sinful, practically animalistic as he sheathed himself within you, pushing in to the hilt until he was buried completely in the warmth of your walls. Your eyes never left his face, absolutely living for his expressions of pleasure—his pinched brows, parted lips, heavy breaths. His eyes were squeezed shut as he held himself there for a moment, offering you time to get settled. You didn’t need time. He had opened you up plenty, and your wet channel practically swallowed him with need.
“Alright?”
He breathed, checking to see if you were experiencing any discomfort. You nodded at him and offered a roll of your hips upward, your clit rubbing up against his pubic bone deliciously. He whimpered, pulling his cock out just enough before rocking back into you. You mewled, pressing your face into his shoulder as he repeated the motion, pulling out a bit more each time as he gained confidence and momentum. Soon, he was thrusting into you steadily, each move punctuated by barely audible ‘uh, uh, uh’ sounds from his lips as he lost himself in the feeling of you.
“Yes, Steven, fuck. Fucking me so well, such a good boy.”
That awoke something in him, and his pace faltered just barely, hips stuttering as he let out a high-pitched whine.
“Shit, shit, don’t—you can’t just—I’m not gonna last, Y/N, fuck.”
The look on his face was pained, sweat sheened on his forehead from how hard he was restraining himself. You wanted—you needed to see him fall apart.
“Want you to cum for me, Steven.”
You hummed, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, and he whimpered, shaking his head as he continued pounding into you.
“No, please, not yet, want—want you to cum on my cock.”
He sounded desperate, frantic, but you could feel within yourself that you weren’t going to get there soon, and he couldn’t hold out much longer. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him into you as you cradled his face in your hands, forcing his eyes on yours.
“Need you to cum, Steven, please—please, please, need you to cum for me—”
You clenched your muscles, walls clamping down on him, and with a sharp cry of your name, his cum spilled deep inside you, cock fully nested in your cunt as his spend coated your walls and filled you with warmth. His hips kept thrusting into you, almost of their own volition, forcing his seed deeper and deeper into you as he grunted with each move, face contorted in a look of sheer bliss.
Your hands were stroking his back, fingers tracings patterns on the soft skin as he collapsed on top of you, burying his face in the crook on your neck, his cock still sheathed within you.
“Good boy.”
You whispered repeatedly, lips pressed to his temple as he caught his breath and tried to slow the rapid thumping of his heart.
“Such a good boy.”
He let out a sigh, nose pressed into the side of your neck as he closed his eyes, allowing himself a few moments to sit in the moment and really feel it. The softness of your body beneath him, the comforting swirl of your fingers on his back, the quiet hum of praise eliciting from your lips. He wanted to live in this moment forever.
You shifted, just slightly, from beneath him, and he immediately jumped into action. He pressed a chaste peck to your lips before pulling out of you slowly, taking a second to appreciate the view of his cum leaking out of you before he made his way to the bathroom, grabbing a warm wet washcloth to clean you up. When he came back, he just had his boxers on, but the toned taupe of his skin still made you blush. His eyes regarded you warmly, reverently, as he wiped away both of your combined arousals from your folds, touch gentle and careful. When he was done, he reached onto the floor to grab his jumper, sitting back up and offering it to you. You smiled graciously, holding your arms in the air like an expectant child as Steven slipped it over your head, pulling your arms through and straightening it down over your body.
God, you looked good in his clothes.
He crawled beside you, nestling in next to you, body curling to fit the curvature of your side. His head found its place in the crook of your neck, the smell of your skin sweet, and he hummed in contentment, relaxing into you. You smiled softly, reaching up to stroke his hair.
“Is... Is this what you’d normally do after sex?”
You asked carefully, hesitantly, afraid to lose the intimacy of the moment. Steven bristled at your words, just slightly, before he sank further into your embrace.
“I mean... in what little experience I have, yeah, I’d say so.”
He offered, voice laced with grogginess, his eyelids drooping. You giggled quietly at his sudden exhaustion, finding the sight quite endearing.
“So you want me to stay, then?”
He lifted his head at your question, worry reflecting in his big brown eyes.
“Did—do you not want to?”
He asked hurriedly, preparing himself for your rejection, but you shook your head defensively.
“No, no! I’m just—this is about you, and what you want out of sex. Do you... I mean, would you expect me to spend the night?”
Steven’s stare was reminiscent of a puppy as he looked up at you, seeming almost lost. Hesitantly, he nodded his head, confirming that he wanted you to stay with him. You smiled softly, pressing a kiss atop his forehead.
“Great—then I’ll stay.”
He relaxed back into you, eyes closing almost immediately, his breaths slowing. After a few minutes, you’d assumed he’d fallen asleep, but then his voice called out softly in the silence.
“M’sorry, by the way.”
Your brows furrowed.
“Sorry? For—for what?”
A long sigh. He buried his face further into your shoulder, hiding himself.
“I didn’t get to—I mean, you weren’t able to—I wanted you to, you know—before me.”
Oh.
His innocent avoidance of vulgarity melted your heart, as it was obviously something he struggled to speak about regularly. You pulled your head back, turning to face him, and he lifted his eyes, cheek smushed against your collarbone. You smiled at him, a hand coming to stroke his cheek.
“Don’t be sorry, Steven. It was perfect.”
You assured, and although he would normally never believe it, something in your eyes was genuine. His lips turned upward at the corners.
“Yeah?”
He asked, excited at the prospect of your validation, and you laughed shortly, smiling wide.
“Yeah.”
With that, Steven let his body meld against yours, finally allowing himself to relax completely and relish in the feeling of being so close to you.
Your mind was already racing with ideas for tomorrow’s trial.
POINTS OF CONTENTION:
- being open to unconditional care without obligation of reciprocation
- feeling adequate and worthy of affections
- accepting praise and compliments without denial or doubt
TREATMENT:
- receive without giving
- deserving of everything and anything (should not have guilt over being pleasured)
- high praise and validation
Twelve hours, that was the deal. You needed at least twelve hours apart before you could begin the second phase of research. Partially to record the data you needed and begin developing a profile, but mostly because you knew that both the boys and you would need time to recuperate before going at it again.
Especially Steven.
Standing outside his apartment door, you were somehow more nervous this time around than you were yesterday. You’d spent the night with him, wrapped in each other’s arms, and you’d left early that morning, promising to return in the evening after the appropriate time had elapsed. You’d showered, eaten, relaxed, but mostly, you’d planned. The key to this study, you’d realized, wasn’t actually the sex at all—it was about challenging the alters, exploiting their vulnerabilities. Exposure therapy.
Sexual interactions are intimate. They are reflective of some of our deep-rooted, unconscious desires, and are significantly related to events that occurred in our childhood that shaped our attachments styles. Certain sexual preferences, turn-ons, fetishes, and kinks, are indicative of different cognitive dispositions. You were trying to figure the boys out—using what they wanted to get to what they needed.
You had predicted Steven’s diagnosis from the start.
When the door to his flat swung inward, his eyes were crinkled at the corners from his smile. He looked soft—rosy pink cheeks, mussed brunette curls, baggy sweats—almost as if he’d just woken up. You returned his grin, slipping past him and into the threshold of his flat.
The door slammed shut behind him, and you turned to him, surprised to be met with a slow, deep, passionate kiss, his lips lingering on yours for just a moment before he pulled away.
You blinked.
“Wow.”
You whispered, slightly reeling. You could feel heat rising to your cheeks. Steven looked down sheepishly.
“Oh, goodness, I don’t—m’sorry, love, I wasn’t really thinking, I just—missed you, s’all.”
He confessed, rubbing at the back of his neck bashfully. His words pulled at your heartstrings and you walked into him, wrapping your arms around his torso and resting your chin on his chest so you were looking up at him.
“No, don’t be sorry, just—took me by surprise.”
You smiled.
“Hell of a welcome, though.”
He smiled, letting out a nervous breath.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
You nodded, tilting your head upwards to capture his mouth with your own again. He hummed against you, one hand coming to cup the side of your face and the other pulling you in closer by your waist. His tongue swiped at your bottom lip, and you immediately submitted, parting your lips to grant him full access. He started walking backwards towards the couch, but you pulled away to stop him.
“Bed.”
You whispered, your fuck-me eyes almost making him feel faint. He nodded obediently, kissing you again, and changed direction, guiding you to the other side of the flat. The back of Steven’s calves collided with the mattress and he fell backwards into a sitting position onto the bed, but you stayed standing between his parted legs.
“What’re you doin’, love?”
He asked, laughing almost nervously. You just smirked down at him, leaning over to capture his lips once more. You hands were on his shoulders, traveling down his back and around his neck. His found your hips, fingers digging into the flesh there as you continued your passionate making out. Finally, you pulled away, but stayed close, nose still brushing his. His eyes were closed.
“Steven.”
You whispered, and he hummed in acknowledgement, an expression of contentment on his face.
“Are you ready?”
His eyes fluttered open, his gaze focusing in on you. Your lip was pulled between your teeth, as if contemplating something.
“Ready? For... for what, exactly?”
You leaned a bit away from him, standing up to your full height. You looked down at him, stroking his hair comfortingly as you addressed him.
“We’re—I’m gonna try something, okay? But I need you to know that you can stop me at any time. Do you know the stoplight system?”
His big brown eyes looked up at you, and he shook his head.
“It’s a technique for safe words. So if I’m doing something and you want me to stop, you say red. If you need me to slow down, you say yellow, and if you’re doing okay and want me to keep going, you say...”
“Green.”
He finished for you, slightly breathless with anticipation. You nodded down at him proudly.
“Yeah, you’ve got it, good boy.”
You heard the way his breath caught in his throat at your praise, and you pressed a soft, quick kiss to his lips.
“So—are you ready?”
The way he looked at you—eyes filled with such wonder, such reverence, such infatuation—filled you with so much pride and confidence. God, you wanted to ruin this man.
“Gods, love, you’re makin’ me a bit nervous.”
He admitted sheepishly, but his breathing stuttered as you slowly lowered yourself to your knees in between his legs, placing one hand on each thigh and coaxing them farther apart. He was watching you intently.
“Don’t be nervous, sweetheart, it’s okay. But remember—you just tell me if it’s too much, okay?”
He slowly nodded, waiting earnestly for your next move. You reached for the hem of his shirt, lifting it off of him and tossing it to the side. His pants followed shortly thereafter, leaving him only in his boxers. You could see just how hard he already was for you—excitement bubbled in your stomach.
He reached for your shirt, but you tutted at him condescendingly, gently guiding his hands away from you.
“No, sweetheart—this is about you.”
You whispered, returning to your position on your knees in between his legs. He was leaning back, his arms stretched out behind him as he held himself up, watching you. Your fingers were stroking at the skin of his upper thigh, where the leg of his boxers ended. Slowly, your fingers passed over his bulge with a barely-there touch, and he hissed at the ticklish sensation, the muscles of his thighs rippling with strain.
While his head was tilted back and his eyes were closed, you took advantage of his temporary distraction and leaned forward to place opened-mouth kisses on his cock through his boxers. The warm heat from your breath passed over him and he groaned, watching as you finally reached up to remove the final barrier between you.
He shifted his hips up to help, and you pulled his boxers down his legs and off of him completely—now, he was completely naked before you, and you were fully clothed.
Perfect.
You settled back in between his legs, fingers slowly creeping up his inner thigh and towards his weeping length. You looked up at him through your lashes, where he was waiting with bated breath.
“Listen to me—you’re gonna cum whenever you want to, whenever you’re ready, okay, Steven?”
He whimpered in response as your fingers skirted around his base. When he didn’t verbally answer, you stopped.
“Okay, Steven?”
“Yes, yeah, alright, yeah.”
He nodded frantically, acknowledging your instruction, and you rewarded him with a grin.
“Good boy.”
Your fingers finally wrapped around the base of his cock and he sighed, groaning as he watched you lean forward and allow a string of spit to dribble through your lips and down onto his awaiting length. You coated your hand with the slickness and started a slow, steady pace, pumping him with a slight twist of your wrist. He whimpered, particularly sensitive when your thumb stroked at the sensitive head at the end of your long up-and-down strokes.
“Shit, Y/N, oh, Gods...”
He whined, his hips slowly starting to react to your pace by thrusting upward into your fist.
“There you go, Steven, doing so well.”
You praised, speeding up the pace of your hand a bit. His lip was pulled between his teeth, as if focusing intently, and you let your other hand come up to cup at his heavy balls. This earned a low groan from him, his hips jolting with each twist of your wrist.
“Shit, shit, you’ve got to slow down, or else—oh, fuck—”
“It’s okay, sweetheart, I wanna see you let go. It’s okay.”
You whispered sweetly, maintaining your speed but tightening your grip just slightly. The muscles in his abdomen were visibly straining, and you could tell he was close.
“Come on, sweet boy. Cum for me.”
He let out a breathy whine, and you could feel the tightening of his balls as his stomach clenched.
“Oh, fuck, I’m cumming, Y/N, oh, mmmmh—”
You kept pumping him as thick spurts of white spilled from his tip, dripping down the sides of his pretty cock as he throbbed beneath your touch. You allowed his spend to drip over your fingers and knuckles as you continued stroking him, pace slowing just slightly, but not entirely.
His head was thrown back, still reeling with aftershocks, and—fuck.
He jolted when he felt the hot sting of your lips, tongue swirling over the head of his cock, cum still dripping over your hands as your wrist twisted around the base. He cried out, hips thrusting upwards, his legs spasming involuntarily as you began bobbing your head up and down repeatedly, eyes on his face as you watched his face scrunch up in pain.
“Oh, Gods, fuck, fuck, what are you—oh, Gods, s’too much, I can’t, stop, please—”
His hands were fisting at the blankets atop his bed, trying his best not to bury his fingers in your hair as you pulled off of him with a gasp, but your hand kept going.
“You gotta use your words, sweet boy.”
You reminded with a sympathetic tone.
“If you want me to stop, use your words.”
You leaned forward to clean up his release from the sides of his cock, tongue gliding at the same speed as your hand. He was hissing through his teeth, legs still kicking every once in awhile with overstimulation. He wasn’t responding, so maybe you should stop, maybe—
“Fuck, fuck—green! Green, I’m—it’s green.”
He cried, and you wrapped your lips back on his cock, starting to bounce your head once more. The cries that were escaping him were delicious—pathetic whines and whimpers, begging incomprehensibly as you tried to keep his cock hard beneath your touch. It was working, because you could see his abdomen clenching again, and each of his panted breaths was paired with a short grunt.
“Oh, fuck, I don’t—oh, gods, it’s—m’gonna cum again, oh, shit, oooh—”
You pushed down on his cock as far as you could take him, and the second he hit the back of your throat, he felt his orgasm rock through him. His legs curled around your back instinctually, holding you in place as his hips thrusted into your mouth. This was different, though, this—his muscles were contracting, balls tightening, but it wasn’t accompanied by his cum down your throat. You gagged on him and he practically yelped, one hand finally reaching up to grab at your hair. He pulled you off of him, and you gasped for air. Your face was red and there was spit smeared across your cheeks and down your chin. When you looked up at Steven, his eyes were red and there were tears in his eyes. Your hand was still on his cock, pumping slowly. His legs were still twitching.
You stood up, finally releasing him, and he collapsed backwards onto the bed, arms eagle-spread on either side of him, panting. But then he heard the sound of clothes hitting the floor, and when he looked up at you, you were undressing.
He stared at you incredulously, and you smirked at him, discarding your pants and panties simultaneously, leaving you completely bare. You approached the bed again, swinging your leg across Steven's waist to straddle him. You held yourself up just a bit so you were hovering over his cock.
“What, you think we’re done already?”
You teased, sinking down to rub your dripping folds over his still half-hard length. His hips jumped at the feeling.
“No, no, I can’t, not—”
He whimpered, and you leaned forward to shush him, giving him a quick kiss. His bottom lip quivered.
“Such a good boy, Steven—you can give me one more.”
You nodded encouragingly, and he whined, his head pressing back into the mattress with frustration. Your hand reached to stroke at his chest.
“Words, Steven. Say the word, and I’ll stop.”
You offered, suddenly serious, and he took a few deep breaths, tears trailing down his cheeks. When he opened them again, he looked wrecked, but he met your gaze.
“Green.”
It was barely a whisper, but you heard it. You reached down to wrap your fingers around his slick length once more, stroking him to coax him back to full height. He was still mostly hard, as his second orgasm had occurred in the midst of his refractory period, so fairly soon, his tip was prodding at your awaiting entrance and you stifled a mewl.
“There we go, sweet boy. You ready?”
His brows were pinched, but he nodded, and you slowly, carefully sank down on him, burying him into you all the way to the hilt. He was crying now, sitting upright to wrap his arms around you and hold you close against him as you gave him a moment to adjust. His face was pressed into your shoulder.
“Doing so, so well, for me, Steven. Just give me one more, okay? Whenever you want, whenever you’re ready, give it to me.”
You encouraged, lips pressed against his ear, and you slowly lifted up your hips, sinking back down onto him as he whined into you.
“Oooh—oooh—”
“Shh, shh—I know, sweetheart, I know.”
You cooed, cupping the back of his head with one hand as you continued to roll your hips, grinding back and forth against his lap. You were entirely focused on Steven and helping him reach his peak, but still, the way the tip of his cock prodded at something deep inside you was addictive.
“Such a big cock, Steven, fills me up so good.”
He was panting, you could feel his thighs trembling beneath you as you bounced on him, picking up your speed.
“Being such a good boy. Can you give me one more, huh? Think you can?”
He was sobbing, hips jolting every time your weight came to settle back down onto his balls, skin sticky with sweat as you held him close to you.
“Oh, please, please, please, I’m so close, oh fuck—please, I can’t—”
You bounced on him harder, feeling the ripple of tension in his shoulder blades as his body was wracked with sobs.
“Oh, yes, gonna cum, gonna cum, Y/N, gonna—oh, oh, oh fuck, fuck, fuck fuck—”
His teeth sank into the flesh of your shoulder as his cock pulsed within you, and you granted him the kindness of stopping the roll of your hips so he could thrust into you, his seed painting your walls and filling you with warmth. You could feel the hot, wet tears from his eyes against the skin of your shoulder, and you held him close to you, cradling his head against you and rocking him gently.
“Good boy, Steven, so proud of you. Did so, so well for me. My sweet, sweet boy.”
You peppered kisses to the crown of his head, burying your face in his curls as he clung to you desperately, and you stayed there until you felt the drumming of his heart slow and his breathing even out. You slowly, carefully peeled yourself away from him, his softened and sensitive cock slipping out of you as you shakily got to your feet. He whined at the loss of contact, reaching for you, but you shushed him.
“I’ll be right back, okay?”
You followed his lead from yesterday, cleaning yourself up in the bathroom before bringing a damp rag to wipe away the arousal that was drying against his thighs. He hissed at your touch, but you gently cleaned him up, returning to the bathroom again. You considered slipping his jumper on, but for some reason, you felt the need to be as close to Steven as possible. You’d pushed him to his limit, and you wanted to be there for him in every sense of the word.
When you came back to the bed, you gestured for him to crawl up towards the pillows. He obliged, albeit a bit shakily, and you pulled the covers back for him as he curled up beneath them. You joined him immediately after, fitting your body to the curve of his back and wrapping your arms around his warm abdomen. You pressed a few gentle kisses against the back of his neck, the top of his spine, across his shoulders. He hummed in response.
“You feel okay?”
You asked quietly, words muffled in his skin. He scooted away so he could turn to face you. His eyes were red, but there was a glimmer of calmness in them—the high-strung Steven looked truly relaxed.
“Feel floaty.”
You laughed at his drawled words, hands reaching up to cradle his face in your hands. Your thumbs stroked against each of his cheeks gently, soothing.
“You really did so well, Steven. Thank you.”
Your eyes were soft, and you saw the way his lips quirked at the corners at your approval.
“I’m sorry you didn’t get to—I mean, if you’d still like to—”
You sent him a glare, and he immediately silenced himself, gaze casting downward and away from you.
“No. This was about you, Steven, about you feeling good and that’s it. It was perfect. I loved it.”
His eyes brightened.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
You assured, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose. He sighed, shutting his eyes briefly as a warm, fuzzy feeling overtook him.
“S’just—wish I’d gotten the chance to—”
“Next time, Steven, okay?”
You regarded him carefully, tone gentle. His brows furrowed.
“But—my turn’s done. S’just—Marc and Jake, and then—”
“Next time.”
You reiterated, and when your words finally sank in, the smile that lit up his face was one of the most beautiful things you’d ever seen. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close to him, embracing you tightly like he never wanted to let go.
TAGS: @kezibear143 @gingermous
#moon knight smut#moon knight x reader#moon knight#jake lockley#marc spector#steven grant#steven grant smut#steven grant x reader#marc spector x reader#marc spector smut#jake lockley smut#jake lockley x reader#marvel smut#marvel imagine#moon knight imagine#steven grant imagine#marc spector imagine#jake lockley imagine#moon knight series#projectionistwrites
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Steven Grant Core
#moon knight#steven grant#steven grant x reader#moon knight x reader#steven grant imagine#steven grant x you#moon knight system#moon knight x you#marc spector x reader
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Praise Worthy
Pairing: sub!Steven Grant x f!Reader
Summary: You accidentally call Steven your ‘good boy’ and he loses his goddamn mind.
Word Count: 1.5k
Warnings: 18+ smut, minors dni, praise kink, sub!Steven, dom!reader, handjob, referenced oral (m receiving), p in v, overstimulation, some dirty talk, slight choking kink if you squint really really hard, includes some inspiration from this ask
a/n: I'm still a whore for Steven Grant apparently but this is really soft
He was so pretty like this.
Laid out beneath you, his olive body a gorgeous contrast to the bleakness of the bed cloths. His arm was bent at the elbow, hand brushing the side of his head, and his eyes blown with a combination of admiration and love. If it weren't for the fact that you were already straddled over his waist the look would have sent you to your knees.
His hair was tousled, curls falling against his brow and he adorably jerked his head to keep it from his eyes.
You couldn't quite believe he was yours.
With slow, deliberate movements, your fingers brushed his temple and traced his skin until you reached the sharp dropoff of his jaw. You stroked back along the defined feature, Steven smiling as you did. His dimples deepened and his eyes crinkled at the corners when you swiped your thumb across his cheeks blushing warmth.
“What are you doing?” He asked timidly.
You shrug somewhat dismissively, as if the answer was the most obvious thing in the world. “You're so beautiful.” You kissed his lips. “And I want to remember you like this. Want to commit all of you to memory.”
He turned his head to hide his burning cheeks and flustered smile and you were amazed by his ability to be so humble. To be surprised at the idea of you finding him so desirable. Your hand found his jaw and guided his gaze back to yours. His eyes darkened.
You did an admirable job of masking your shock as he tilted his head and gently took your thumb into his mouth. You pressed against the soft pad of his tongue and he whimpered. It was difficult not to when you were looking at him like he was the reason the sun rose every day.
“Shit Steven...” you breathed and his cheeks hollowed. He released your thumb with a pop, a lewd string of spit trailing after it.
Tracing your hand back down his neck to the plain of his chest, you watched the hardened muscles ripple against your touch. Steven managed a shuddering breath. A whine followed each exhale, a delicious sound that caught in his throat.
“That's it, love,” you praised. “You sound so pretty.”
You drew circles against his hips before finally taking him in your hand. His head fell back against the pillow, his back arching off the bed as he bucked into your palm. The sound he made was sinful.
“Gods, you're perfect.”
You kept your movements deft, tightening your grasp with each stroke. Your other hand remained in his hair, chocolate curls winding around your fingers like fine twine. With a careful tug, his eyebrows knit together and his mouth fell slack.
“Please– please, d-don't stop. Please... ”
“I won't, I won't,” you promised. “Not when you're being so good for me.” Your hand fell to his throat, giving an experimental squeeze. He responded so beautifully to your touch. Each moan, each whimper of your name filled you with a sense of divinity. He was yours. All yours. “My good boy.”
Steven gasped. His body tensed beneath you and your hand stilled. It took a few seconds for your own words to catch up with you. A combination of embarrassment and utter mortification set in once they did.
You pulled back enough to catch a glimpse of Steven's reaction and found his eyes already trained on you. His mouth parted slightly, lips glistening and of course you thought of him like that. Of course those words sprung to mind. How could they not when he was so obedient, so responsive, so good.
Intimacy was something you were introducing Steven to slowly. You didn't want to overwhelm him. Didn't want to push your own desires. And you'd been so careful to not let anything slip. But now–
“Shit, Steven I–”
“Call me that again.”
Your eyes widened. “What?”
“Call... call me that again.” His voice was painfully sweet and shy and hoarse from pleasure. You swore there were tears in his eyes. “Please.”
“It doesn't bother you? I know it's not something we've discussed–”
Frantically he shook his head. His hands reached for you, grasping at the swell of your shoulders. “No, no I want to be yours, wanna be your good boy, please–”
His words were the single most liberating thing you'd ever heard. It was as if a switch was flipped.
You nodded at his request, then, you pulled his head back. The muscles of his neck tensed beneath already bruising skin. You kissed and nipped at his neck before closing your lips above his pulse. You continued to work him slowly in your hand.
“love, please ah–”
His whole body convulsed beneath you. “Shh, baby, I've got you, I'm going to take care of you, going to make you feel good, okay?”
He nodded breathlessly, lips parting as you quickened your strokes, thumb brushing over his tip. He strung your name together desperately. His release hit him hard and you watched on as his expression twisted in unbridled pleasure.
“That's it, baby, that's it.” You kept working him through his high. “Gods, look at you-”
Your movements didn't stutter nor did your words of praise as you made him come again; with your hands, your mouth, over and over.
He'd become so susceptive that now, even with your hands holding his wrists gently above his head and you mouthing lazy kisses against his neck, you could feel him rut against your thigh, riding out what must be his fourth orgasm.
You pressed your hand down against his chest, thighs on either side of his own. His breath shook with anticipation.
“Is this okay?” You checked in and Steven answered with a quick nod.
“Use your words, love.”
“Yes,” he whimpered. “Yes, just please, please, fuck-” A sob left him as you sunk down on him. The pleasure you felt as he filled you was almost as satisfying as his expression; brows knit together, teeth digging into his bottom lip.
He was a work of art.
“You're so beautiful like this.” You kissed his shoulder as his breathing began to even out, giving him the chance to adjust. Then, you began to slowly roll your hips against his. Steven cried out, his hands (that had, for the most part, obediently stayed where you'd pressed them against the pillow) shot up to grab your hips. Your hand found his throat again and Steven's eyes rolled back in his head.
“L-love, please I–” he managed. You quicked your pace and his hips rutted up to meet you. “Faster.”
With a smirk, you did as he asked. You leaned down to kiss his jaw. “I wish you could see yourself, Steven. See yourself as I see you.” Your nose brushed against his ear. “It's not a bad idea, huh? Maybe I'll try it soon, have you fuck me in front of a mirror so you can see just how stunning you are like this.”
Steven gasped. You could feel his thighs trembling beneath you. “You're so beautiful, baby, so good for me. My love, my good boy.”
Your words once again pushed him over the edge and he clung to you as the pleasure rolled over him in crushing waves.
He panted against your neck, nails leaving small crescents in your skin. With a breathless laugh, you kissed his temple. A few blissful moments passed in silence. Then,
“I know you're tired but you can give me one more, can't you, love?” you encouraged.
Exhaustion was painted over every inch of Steven's body. His eyes pools of chocolate brown now, his skin sleek and hair damp. An occasional tear still trailed down his cheek.
He nodded.
Falling back onto the pillows, it took Steven a long moment to catch his breath.
Quietly, you slipped out from under the covers. In the short time it took you to journey to the bathroom and back, the cool air of the night had already settled against your skin.
Upon your return, you found Steven's body still strewn out across the bed, akin to something you'd seen depicted in age-old paintings of beauty and splendor.
With the washcloth you'd fetched from the bathroom, you took your time to clean both of you up before joining him with a content sigh. His head moved to rest against your shoulder almost instinctively and likewise, you threaded your fingers into his curls. You then trailed your hand down his back, absentmindedly drawing patterns on the plane between his shoulders.
“I enjoyed that,” he confessed eventually and you smiled to yourself. “I– I want you to call me that more often, if that would be alright?”
His voice was shy at the request.
“Trust me, love.” You pacified him with a kiss. “That won't be a problem.”
Thank you for reading! <3
Moon Knight tag list: @bakerstreethound @yoditopascal @moonlighy @linkpk88 @spideysimpossiblegirl @noahspector @malaanii @ineedmorejakelockley @drmeowingfangirl @loonymagizoologist @othersideoftheparadise @doozywoozy @mywellspringoflife
#sometimes therapy is writing moon knight smut#steven grant x reader#moon knight x reader#marc spector x reader#steven grant imagine#moon knight imagine#steven grant x you#jake lockely x reader#steven grant x y/n#🍋
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Steven to the Rescue
Pairing: Steven Grant x fem!reader
Category: Hurt/comfort, fluff, domestic fluff
Warnings: none
Content: Hurt/comfort, fluff, domestic fluff, kissing, making out in public, reader has a terrible horrible no good very bad week and steven is there for her, Steven’s love languages are acts of service and physical touch, reader getting princess treatment, reader is kinda corporate girlie coded, steven being smooth, steven can cook, steven might be slightly ooc bc he is my silly putty and i am bending him to my will
Steven loved his job. He loved going into work everyday to consume any and all things related to egyptology. It’s what makes him able to withstand the abuse from Donna– which is lessened now that he’s been promoted to tour guide and she technically isn’t his supervisor anymore. But today, he simply does not want to go.
He’s been watching you pace around his kitchen nervously for the past five minutes, checking your phone, watch, and laptop in quick succession. It had been… a less than stellar week for you.
Firstly, your job has been stressing you out by offloading duties onto you that weren’t in your job description because someone else had quit unexpectedly. Then, there was an error with your bank and your paycheck wasn’t deposited so you had to wait an extra 3 days to pay your bills. On top of it all, your phone service provider was having some sort of nationwide glitch so you barely had any service.
Not only did you have twice the workload but you weren’t getting any of your work emails on time. Plus, you had to be in constant contact with the bank to sort out their issue. It’s why you’d come over to Steven’s flat before work, to use his internet and hopefully get a better signal. Plus, you two wanted to see each other.
Steven had made some cranberry muffins and vegan egg bites for the two of you but your plate remained untouched while you paced around, waiting for a bar.
“Love,” Steven murmured, reaching out to grab your elbow. You looked up from the laptop you were cradling in your arms and Steven nearly sighed out loud at the sight of your eyes. Beautiful, but so so tired. The universe has been running his favorite person ragged and it hurt him to see you so downtrodden by life. “You really should eat something before work.”
You sighed and sat down your devices, trading them for a muffin. Steven cracked a smile at how your demeanor visibly changed once you took a bite. You always swore Steven put some kind of happy elixir into his food because it never failed to bring your spirits up. You gobbled up one muffin and reached for another.
“Thank you for breakfast.”
Steven leaned over and kissed the side of your forehead.
“You’re welcome, darling. Hate to see you so out of sorts.”
With you finally eating, Steven finished getting dressed. He had to go into work earlier than you did so he let you stay and finish doing what you needed to do. Before he left, he wrapped his arms around you and gave you a soft kiss.
“I’m off then, darling. You’ll be okay here?”
You gave him a reassuring nod as you swallowed a bite.
“Yeah, I’m gonna finish up in a little bit. I have a feeling today is going to be better.”
Steven beamed at you. He kissed you once, twice, three times and he knew if we went for a fourth, he’d cave and stay home with you.
“Right, I’d better get going before I lose my job again.” But Steven made no move to leave. He was staring at you with that dreamy look, the one that had been perpetually fixed on his face ever since you two started dating two months ago. Steven was the perfect boyfriend. Gentle, thoughtful, and he adored you so much.
“Go,” You told him. “I’ll be fine, really.”
Steven gave you one last squeeze before walking out the door.
—----------
Steven was finishing up a tour with a school field trip and he was buzzing from how well it went. Usually, preteens were their own unique breed of nasty– making inappropriate noises, laughing obnoxiously, and just generally being awful but a boy and girl had been asking tons of insightful questions, spurring Steven on and letting him flex his breadth of knowledge. And if there was any snark, the teacher shut it down expeditiously so Steven could continue.
It was probably the best tour he’d given since he started working there.
Plus, earlier in the morning, the curator had pulled him aside and said they were looking for someone to give virtual tours that they could record and post online. If he got it, it would mean a pay bump and more benefits.
Things were finally going his way!
The group was just starting to shuffle off for lunch when Steven spotted you, standing off to the side of the museum entrance. His whole face broke out into a grin and his heart skipped a beat, but that elation faded when he saw your eyes.
You had been crying.
As soon as everyone was gone, Steven crossed the room to you. You both reached for each other. His hands fell to your hips and you clutched his bicep.
“Love, what’s happened?”
You tried to smile but your eyes were bloodshot and puffy. You were holding back tears and you looked like you were on the precipice of a complete breakdown. Like if someone pricked you with a sewing needle, you’d pop.
When you spoke, it came out small and broken.
“I tried to call you but my phone—” Your voice died on the word and Steven’s grip tightened around you.
“Darling?”
“I came to ask for a favor. My apartment… they called me while I was at work. A pipe burst.” Your lip quivered. “All my stuff is ruined.”
Steven’s eyes widened.
“No.”
You nodded, fat tears spilling down your cheeks.
“They said it’s gonna take three weeks to fix it.” You started wringing your hands nervously and took a steadying breath before you spoke again. “I was hoping I could stay with you.”
Steven’s answer is an immediate yes.
“Absolutely, love. Anything you need.”
He couldn’t stand it anymore and he pulled you into a tight hug. Your head fell lamely against his chest and he felt your tears soaking through his shirt but he didn’t mind. Not one bit. You peered up at him, face hot and flushed with tears.
“You’re sure it won’t be a problem? We haven’t been dating that long and I don’t want it to be…” You floundered, searching for the right word but Steven knew exactly what you meant. He caught your hand with his and brought it up to kiss the back of it.
“It won’t be. It'll be like a slumber party, yeah? We’ll bake cookies and watch films. It’ll be fun.”
You nodded but Steven could tell you weren’t convinced. After the week you’d been having, what reason did you have to believe anything else was going to go right for you? You looked like you were a single moment away from shattering entirely.
“Do you want to leave now? I can take the rest of the day off. I can find someone to cover my afternoon tours.”
You shook your head and wiped your eyes.
“No. No, I have to go back to work. We have an important meeting.” You sniffed. Steven’s heart broke seeing you like this. You just looked so defeated.
Steven thought hard for a moment. How could he make this better for you? How could he lighten your load?
“How about this? I’ll pick you up after work. We’ll stop by your flat and get anything we need and then we’ll go back to mine, hm?” He brushed the falling hair out of your eyes. “We’ll get a takeaway, watch your favorite show, I’ll even let you braid my hair if you like.”
You chuckled a bit.
“Can we get dessert?”
Steven kissed your forehead.
“Anything you want, love.”
You nodded and a genuine smile returned to your face.
“Alright, well I better get back. I’m on my lunch break and it’s gonna take me 15 minutes to get back across town.”
Steven stopped you before you could leave.
“Darling, have you eaten lunch?”
You looked sheepish when you shook your head. Steven wouldn’t be having that. Wordlessly, he laced your fingertips with his and lead you down to the employee lockers. He opened up his where the only contents were a book of Egyptology, his spare glasses, a Tawaret funko pop, his lunch box, and a picture of you taped to the inside.
He pulled out his lunchbox and placed it in your arms.
“Steven, no.” You gasped. “I can’t take your lunch.”
You took his lunch.
No matter how much protesting you did, Steven insisted, waving off your concerns with a promise that he would get something from a food truck at lunch. He hailed a taxi for you before you could argue any further.
“Steven, I don’t have cab fare.” You said with wide eyes as the taxi pulled up. “Remember? My bank–”
He pulled out his own wallet and handed the driver his bank card.
“Can’t have my beautiful girlfriend going across town on public transport. Someone might steal you away from me.”
You flushed. Your stomach was doing happy flips from feeling so taken care of. Steven took his card back from the driver and tucked it away. You were full on crying now as you wrapped your arms around him and weeped into his chest.
“It’s alright, love.” He murmured in your ear.
You pulled back to kiss him. It was eager and much too sloppy to do in broad daylight on the steps of his place of work but you couldn’t help yourself.
“Thank you for going to all this trouble for me.” You mumbled as you pulled away.
“It’s no trouble at all, love.” He opened up the cab food for you and didn’t shut it until you were inside. “I’ll pick you up at your office at the end of the day, okay?”
You nodded and Steven leaned his head through the window to give you one last kiss.
“Last chance to play hooky with me for the rest of the day?”
You giggled and shook your head.
“Tempting, but no. I’ve got to go be a grownup.”
Steven smiled at you and mouthed a silent “okay.” He stepped back onto the curb and once the road was clear, your cab pulled out into the street.
Once Steven was out of view, you opened up his lunchbox. He had a habit of overpacking in case he was stuck on the bus for a while and needed a snack, which came in handry because you were starving. You ate his sandwich, chips, soda, half a bag of grapes, and a cookie.
At a red light, your driver turned back to you.
“Your boyfriend is so sweet!” She swooned.
“You don’t know the half of it.” You giggled. “This is his lunch.”
She gasped.
“Shut up! That is so cute! Oh my gosh, you’re so lucky.”
You grinned.
“Yeah. I am.”
—-----------
The rest of the afternoon went painfully slow for you.Thankfully, you got so busy with work that you temporarily forgot you were broke, without a phone, and temporarily homeless.
When it was finally time to go, you headed toward the front desk, intending to use the landline to call Steven but when you stepped into the hall, he was already there. You had to do a double take at first because you thought you might have been dreaming or seeing things. But no, this was real life.
Steven Grant, your nerdy, sweet, perfect boyfriend was chatting to your office receptionist with a bouquet of flowers in his hand.
“I never realized the museum was free! I always thought it cost money, that’s why I haven’t brought my kids.” The receptionist said, embroiled in a conversation with Steven.
“Loads of people think that, actually but yeah it’s free entry. It only costs money for tours. Though, if you’re bringing your little ones, I can’t recommend the tours enough. You get loads of extra information that just reading the pamphlets won’t give you. Not to toot my own horn but I give a pretty educational tour if I do say so myself.” Steven said with a relaxed smile. Ever since he’d been promoted to tour guide, he’s been so much more sure of himself. He’s still the goofy, sweet, bumbling nerd he always has been but the constant exposure to his passion has cushioned him in a cozy little bubble of Egyptology, vegan baking, and you. How could he not feel content?
“I think I’ll take them next weekend.” The receptionist said as you arrived at the desk. “I’d like a tour with you as well.” She looked up from scribbling the museum information on a Post-It note and saw you. “Oh, here you are, darling! Does this sweet man belong to you?”
Just as she asked, Steven held out the bouquet to you. Red roses, pink tulips, white calla lilies, and some hydrangeas to fill it out.
“He does.” Your cheeks hurt from smiling so hard. You took the bouquet from Steven and smelled the flowers. Steven gently pulled your purse strap off of your shoulder and took his lunch box out of your hands, holding them both and holding his free hand out for you.
“Are you ready, love? The cab’s waiting.”
Do not cry. Do not cry in your place of work. Do not cry because your boyfriend is being so sweet and you’ve never felt this cared for in your life.
To avoid your voice coming out high and squeaky, you nodded and took his outstretched hand. Bidding goodbye to the receptionist, he led you out the doors and into the cab, leading you home.
*****
It feels strange.
You’re not sure why. You’ve spent the night at Steven’s flat before, had dinner, read books, spent all night in his bed, but this felt different.
You were standing in Steven’s bathroom, hair damp from your shower. The second you got back to his flat, you’d made a beeline to the shower, eager to scrub all of your misfortune off. And you felt so strange, so out of place.
It was a little more intimate knowing that you’d be here for three entire weeks, which put a decent amount of pressure on a fairly new relationship. You and Steven would be seeing each other in undesirable states, have to give each other space, and somehow maintain the dynamic of your relationship despite these new circumstances.
You unloaded the grocery bag of toiletries that you picked up from your flat on the way here. Thankfully your hygiene essentials and skincare weren’t damaged. The same couldn’t be said for your clothes, though.
At least it was the weekend and you didn’t have to worry about outfits for work. You could just lounge around in the sweater and boxers Steven had given you, or nothing if you preferred. Steven certainly wouldn’t mind.
“Love?” Steven’s voice came through the bathroom door. “The food just got here. I’ll queue up a movie for us.”
“Alright.” You called out. “Be out in a minute.”
“Take your time, darling.”
What on Earth did you do to deserve that wonderful, wonderful man?
After changing, you stepped out into the living room where Steven had arranged the takeout boxes, poured you a glass of wine, and queued up “Tangled” on the TV.
“Steven…” You plopped down on the couch next to him. “We could’ve cooked, you didn’t have to order out for me. I don’t want you going to any trouble for me.”
Steven looked at you with a glimmer in his eyes that only love could be the catalyst for. He took your chin between his fingers and angled your face to meet his lips in a sweet, slow kiss.
“Darling, why would it be any trouble to care for you?”
And just like that, as quickly as a match burns out, all of your anxieties and apprehension faded away. You didn’t feel out of place in Steven’s flat or mistreated by the universe. Here, in Steven’s arms, you only felt loved.
#steven grant#steven grant x reader#moon knight#mr. knight#marvel#steven grant x you#oscar isaac#steven grant imagine#steven grant fanfiction
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⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ.
「 ✦ moon knight boys ✦ 」
╰┈➤ 18+ none of these stories belong to me! this is a masterlist of all moon knight boys stories i’ve read and reblogged! just thought it would be nice to have them all in one spot! (if your fic is on here and you wish not to be, please let me know!) some will have summaries if provided <3
┌──────────────────┐
MASTERLIST ✩ OSCAR ISAAC CHARACTERS ✩ 4/18/24
★ @mgparker
☼ comeback to me
☾Mark leaves on a mission for Khonshu while you deal with a confrontation of your own. Unfortunately, this particular foe is aware of your specific skill set and uses your weakest spot to deliver a fatal wound. Laying there defenseless and abandoned, your final desire is to speak to the love of your life one last time.
☼ should’ve listened
☾ your tendency to put your loved ones above you puts you in what would’ve been a deadly situation, had you not been an avatar of the goddess of the sun.
★ @starryevermore
☼ more hearts than mine
☾ marc and jake have made it clear that they don’t like you. but your heart is not the only one being broken by their actions and the consequences that follow.
☼ not what he thinks pt2
☾ steven overhears something, but he doesn’t understand what he heard.
★ @spacecowboyhotch
☼ proper date
☾ steven gains some knowledge about how he and reader met…and some about himself.
☼ the honey girl
☾ sometimes the meddling of old men pays off.
☼ unlikely
☾ a look into how marc and reader met.
★ @moonlight-prose
☼ kiss me once
☾ dating steven grant came with its challenges. between being a superhero, sharing the body with a man you hardly knew, and his forgetfulness, you felt dizzy. so when your date goes awry, you take matters into your own hands.
★ @loud-mouth-loser
☼ not him
☾ you’ve been steven’s best friend for a while and have had a crush on him as long as you’ve known him. unfortunately, his eyes are on layla, his alter’s wife. let's just say, you’re not the only one put off by this. this is a story of how you and marc bond over your sorrows
★ @sarahghetti
☼ can you pretend to be my boyfriend
☾ the boys pretend to be your boyfriend in order to save you from a creepy stranger.
★ @popquizhot-shot
☼ magic
☾ you were married to Jake and after the events of moonknight, the boys get to know of jake and of you. Steven adores you but Marc just sees you as a friend. Right?
★ @runa-falls
☼ reciprocation2 pt 3
☼ request
★ @soft-girl-musings
☼ salt and pepper
☾ Marc, are you familiar with the term "silver fox"?
★ @romanarose
☼ misunderstanding
☾ When the boys come home early and see boxes all packed and furniture on the street, Marc jumps to the worst option. Clearly, you're leaving him.
★ @primosworld
☼ blueberry pancakes
☾ You’re frustrated with Jake not being apart of your relationship so you take matters into your own hands.
★ @projectionistwrites
☼ imploding the mirage
☾ You’ve been escaping into yourself more and more often, and the boys are starting to notice. How are you supposed to explain to them that you don’t want to live in the moment, when the version of your life inside your head is so much better than reality on the outside?
★ @heartthrobin
☼ press your tulips to mine
☾ Steven's apartment has become overrun with more bouquets of flowers than any one man could ever find use for, but they would continue to pile up as long as the pretty girl at the flower shop continued to melt him with that syrupy smile each time he walked in.
☼ my bleeding dream, my shadow in the light
☾ you were convinced, no: you were sure, that Jake Lockley couldn't stand the sight of you. then why was he consistently banging at your door in the middle of the night, dripping in blood and begging to be stitched up?
★ @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction
☼ what you like
☾ Marc gets in his head about being with you, Steven talks him through it.
☼ embrace
☾ The reader is dating them but is kind of scared of Jake (is very quiet and weary around him, doesn't like his physical touch) because he was cold and mean to her when they first met (he wanted to "protect" Steven) but now all he wants is to hold and love her. The opportunity finally arrives when she's sick and needs his help. (He forcefully fronts bc he's not letting this opportunity go to waste)
★ @bibli0thecary
☼ in the stars
☾ steven finds it hard to believe that you’re gone, while marc is forced to live with endless regret, and jake continues to blame himself for everything.
☼ no one can hurt you
☾ they would never bring you into the face of danger, but what if danger comes preying on you?
★ @ichorai
☼ dlz
☾ jake lockley wasn't your husband. steven and marc were. jake was just... he was just there. a ghost living in your house.
☼ love dog
☾ your neighbor was delusional. he cried a lot, spoke of nonsensical happenings, and always appeared somewhat lost. you found yourself to be rather fond of him
★ @foli-vora
☼ there’s always tomorrow
☾ Steven needed a wingman. Or maybe he already had one, he just didn’t know it.
★ @petertingle-yipyip
☼ so long london
☾ Dating Steven was always a bit of a gamble. So when a beautiful woman comes to town claiming your boyfriend as her husband, you find a whole new side to the man you love..
★ @peterman-spideyparker
☼ celebrate
☾ The boys realize that they've never celebrated your birthday with you, despite being with you for well over a year and you celebrating their birthday. When they find out when it is, nothing will stop them from giving you a birthday for the record books.
★ @freelancearsonist
☼ wingman
☼ oh, bollocks
☾ reader is a teacher, au where steven got promoted to tour guide and is living his Best Life, lots of fluff and pining
★ @pulchritudinousrogers
☼ missed date
☾ Set before the events of Moon Knight, you work in the museum like Steven and have been crushing on each other for a while but neither of you have even approached each other. Marc steps in to help Steven out, but things don’t go well.
★ @marc-spectorr
☼ the morning after
☾ as steven watches you sleep, he starts to wonder whether you deserve to be with a man as broken as he is.
★ @foreverinadais
☼ the break up
☾ in which y/n is going through a break-up with the moon boys and happens to be serving when one of them is on a date.
★ @howaboutcastiel
☼ not my intention
☾ They notice she gets anxious and startled very easily, but when they bring it up she always brushes them off so they don't pry. They don’t know she's previously been in an abusive relationship. And maybe they're at an office party and some guy comes to her when she's alone and the boys get jealous since it's obvious he's trying to flirt with their girl.
★ @pinchofhoney
☼ just one word
☾ You may not be aware of their existence having only met Steven, but no Marc Spector alter will let anything happen to you.
★ @marvelsswansong
☼ clumsy
☾ you're extremely clumsy. Steven worries. Marc finds it amusing. Jake gets protective. But they all love you for it nonetheless.
★ @astroboots and @thirstworldproblemss
☼ red flags
☾ Sweet as he is, dating Steven means you have to be willing to ignore a few red flags along the way.
★ @grantspectortrash
☼ suited and booted pt2 pt3
☾ you live across the hall from Steven. For whatever reason, he has to use your shower before going to a work event. You get the pleasure of seeing him in a suit.
★ @mknightgrant
☼ silence
☾ You should’ve stopped asking questions.
★ @mkfluffluv
☼ a future without you
☾ marc lost you to the snap and after 5 years of dealing with his grief by maiming people, he finally gets you back.
☼ keep the secret?
☾ marc and steven had gotten themselves sick. luckily for them, they have a wonderful and loving partner who’s willing to take care of them(you). unbeknownst to you, another person is taking care of them in their own way. (yes it’s jake.)
★ @little-worm-grant
☼ uncomplicated
☾ Deep down you knew Jake wouldn’t be calling if he didn’t think he needed you. Or maybe that’s what you told yourself to make it more tolerable to be out of your warm bed at this hour.
★ @mccn-bcys
☼ just a touch of your hand pt2 pt3
☾ when you turn eighteen, an ink stain appears on your skin wherever your soulmate touches you for the first time. the boys each are dealing with their stain in their own way.
★ @missdictatorme
☼ open my eyes
☾ Jake and Steven were more than happy when you agreed to be in a relationship with them, but Marc barely fronts when you're near. Will he warm up to you over time?
★ @wysteria-clad
☼ our little thing
☾ you have a specific thing with each of them. It's not like you don't do it with other two, but you do enjoy a little act of intimacy that is special to each of them.
★ @m00nsbaby
☼ the already over
☼ weightless
☾ The feeling of being trapped goes beyond the ankle bracelet that keeps him tied to the bed.
★ @bruhstories
☼ canonic jar
☾ marc is exasperated by you, but he needs to behave because you're steven's girlfriend.
★ @oswildin
☼ good day
☾ You and Steven work at the museum together, little did he know you had a crush on the man. After getting yourself into trouble, you and Steven are both punished with an evening in inventory.
☼ take on me pt2
☾ You end up on an accidental date with Steven, but it ends up being the best date you could’ve asked for. It leads into more, but things aren’t as simple as they appear. With adoration strong for the man, you take a chance on him.
★ @eyelessfaces
☼ formal wear
★ @bensolosbluesaber
☼ the jake problem pt2
☾ Jake hates you. Like really hates you, which wouldn’t be a problem if you weren’t dating Steven and Marc. But maybe, just maybe, Jake doesn’t hate you
hopefully all links work, let me know if not <3
#moon knight#moon knight x reader#steven grant#steven grant x reader#steven grant smut#steven grant angst#steven grant fluff#steven grant imagine#marc spector#marc spector x reader#marc spector imagine#marc spector fluff#marc spector angst#marc spector series#marc spector smut#jake lockley#jake lockley x reader#jake lockley imagine#jake lockley smut#jake lockley fluff#jack lockley series#jack lockley angst#moon knight boys#moon knight system
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gone too long
Pairing: Steven Grant x F!Reader
Prompt: Masturbation
Warnings: 18+ MDNI, some angst (im sorry), masturbation, pillow humping, panty sniffing, piv, unprotected sex (lmk if I forgot anything)
WC: 3.2k
A/N: probably too long and emotional for kinktober but its my first time so bear with me please
You’ve been away for almost a week now. Steven tried to be good, he tried but it’s been so hard without you. He goes to bed alone, hard, surrounded by your scent and wakes up the same way.
He spends hours in the night writhing around in bed. He can’t sleep anymore, you always used to get him off after he came home from work and again before bed to help him sleep but now he just spends his time missing you, squeezing his throbbing cock, and crying for you as he palms himself to the edge of orgasm, unallowed to get himself over the edge.
He wakes up in more pain than when he went to sleep. His dreams are all about you, some sexual, some domestic, but they all make him hard. He cries for you some more before starting a painfully cold shower and setting off for the day.
If you were coming home tomorrow it’d be a different story. Steven would’ve stayed good, he would’ve waited for you, but he’s had a particularly hard day today, and amid all the commotion he forgot that you wouldn’t be there to comfort him. He’s thinking about you the entire bus ride home but it never clicks. He thinks about how he’ll stop you from cooking and order takeout, he’ll ask you to ride him as you guys wait, he’ll make sure you take it slow, savoring the way you guys feel together, how your bodies mold into one another perfectly.
He fattens up in his pants as he unlocks the front door, he swears he can hear the TV on inside. He thinks about how you’ll tell him all about whatever new show you’ve found while he undresses you.
He’s met with the most hollow feeling when he opens his door and reality stabs straight into his heart.
Tears well in his eyes as he takes deep breaths, trying to calm himself. He keeps breathing slowly as he takes his shoes off, and as he puts his coat up. He starts breathing out through his mouth when the hollow feeling doesn’t leave, he keeps it up as he unpacks his bag, setting everything back in its proper place for the weekend, and he starts up a pot of tea. It’s all futile though, because his tears come pouring out the moment he sits on the bed, your faint scent gets pushed out of the cushioning and the hollow feeling becomes part of his bones.
He can’t even function for the rest of the night, he turns the stove off through his watery gaze and buries himself in the blankets. Surrounding himself in your scent as he cries himself to sleep.
He’s soft and sensitive when he wakes up, a state you know how to handle perfectly. But you’re not home. He has his usual morning delirium as he reaches out for you, reality slapping him as he feels your cold side of the bed.
He rolls over onto his stomach, burying his face in your pillow- the only thing on the bed that still smells like you.
Three more days.
His cock is already twitching against the mattress as he huffs your scent, he whines at the stimulation. He wants to be a good boy. You asked him to wait for you, you said he could touch himself but you wanted his balls full for you. But you must not have understood how hard this would be for him. His hips are already grinding into the mattress.
She won’t find out. Can’t. She’s not here.
He reaches out blindly for your side dresser, knowing you keep spare underwear in there. He feels something a bit hard and his head raises quickly to see what it is. His cock spasms at the sight.
His mind flashes back to two weeks ago. One night, you and Marc were a little too drunk and way too needy. He pulled your panties to the side, fucked you, and let you soak it in your juices as he came over your stomach. He was too tired to clean you up so Steven took over after Marc fell asleep. You were sleeping so in an attempt to cause less of a commotion he just threw your panties in this drawer. He must’ve forgotten to get rid of it.
Fuck.
His hand is shaking as he brings it up to his face. There are dried white streaks of your arousal running all over the crotch, a small circle of it from where your pussy cried for him. He can’t help but moan at the sight and brings the fabric to his nose. It still smells like you, like her. His tongue is darting out to taste it before his brain has even finished processing your smell. His cock spurts out loads of pre-cum into his briefs as he starts to thrust against the bed again. He pushes your pillow down to his crotch with one hand as the other holds your old, dried panties to his face.
He feels so dirty as he does this, almost disgusted with himself but pleasure clouds his mind over as he feels the softness of your pillow on his pulsing dick. It’s comparable to how your pussy feels to him, not as warm and nowhere near as wet but just as soft.
He’s face first on the bed, your panties directly over his face the way your pussy would be, his tongue prodding at where your pretty little hole should be. He’s groaning out your name in half sobs, wishing you were here, wishing you were the one touching him because as good as this all feels… you still feel so much better.
He feels the molten pleasure work its way up his spine, he feels his balls begin to throb with the load they’ve prepared. He feels it coming, he can feel how much there’ll be and a pang of guilt that he’s not saving it for you. He knows how much you love when he fills you up, how whiny you get when you’re packed full of his load, how you mutter his name on repeat, begging him to fill you up.
But the thought just works him further to the edge, he can feel his muscles tighten as his dick starts to pulse, he feels relief just out of reach, and a small guilty smile spreads over his face at how good this is going to feel. His mind races through scenes of you, unable to choose one to cum to, your name rests on the tip of his tongue as his hips stutter into the pillow one last time before
nothing happens.
He can feel his orgasm at the tip of his cock, right there and he wants you. He forms scene after scene in his head of how many different ways you’ll touch him when you get back. He thinks about how many times you’ll make him cum, how you’ll coo over his overfilled, swollen balls, how you’ll apologize to him as you fuck him into oblivion but nothing gets close to how he feels when your hands are on him. He needs you.
The realization is accompanied by a teary whimper of your name into the pillow.
The teary whimper is followed by an angelic sound of “Steven?”
His head snaps up and he’s scrambling out of bed before he can rationalize the fact that you’re not supposed to be home for another four days.
But you’re actually here.
You’re smiling at him as you place your coat on the rack, your boots already off and eyebrows raised as you wait for him to make his way over to you. He’s standing in the doorway frozen. He thinks he’s lost it, that he was right, all these days without you did drive him insane.
I told her this would happen.
His eyes well with tears as he tries to will himself to see the truth. His fists are bunching at his sides, angry at the hope he felt when he thought he heard you calling his name, having already been riled up at his futile attempt at relief.
You’re growing concerned under his indecipherable stare. “Steven?” He gasps and his eyes widen. You approach him slowly and cautiously, worried at this odd reaction. He takes a hesitant step toward you and gasps at the small amused smile that blooms on your lips.
“Are you okay, Stevie? I wanted to surprise you but you seem-” You pause to look him up and down, finally taking him all in and noticing the bulge and wet patch in his pants. Your expression changes from shock to sultry disappointment. “You seem like you’ve been bad.”
His eyes are still wide and watery. “Are you really here?”
Your mask drops with a sad smile. “Of course I am, baby. Did you miss me that much?” He envelopes you in a hug, burying his face in your neck, inhaling your scent with a shaky groan.
“I m-missed you so much. I’ve been good.” He’s already got that distant, airy, aroused tone as he speaks. “I didn’t cum. I- ” He’s started to grind against you already, his bulge pressing itself into your thigh over and over as he grips your shoulders. He’s moved to the top of your head, inhaling the scent of your conditioner. “I wanted to- I tried.”
His voice breaks at the end and you can’t stand it anymore. You grab the hair on the back of his head and roughly work him to your lips, relishing in the loud moan that breaks from his throat as your lips meet his. He’s trying to lick into your mouth immediately and you let him, you’ve missed the way he tastes. Only, when his tongue presses into yours, he tastes different… something familiar but it’s not him. You pull away confused and Steven’s lips chase yours with a whine. You have to hold his face away from yours to get his attention.
“Steven, what is that?” He’s too delirious to understand what you’re asking, he just tilts his head like a puppy. You try not to let your endearment show through, attempting to be stern. “What’s that taste?” You can see his recognition flash over his face as he realizes what you’re asking but he starts shaking his head slowly and pulling you back in. “It’s just you, darling.”
You let him kiss you as you process, his words paired with the vaguely familiar taste let it click. You’re moaning into his mouth and pressing your thigh back into his weeping cock, earning a grateful moan from him.
You walk him back to the bedroom desperately. You’ve been yearning for him as much as he has for you. You spent nights rolling around in bed, clit pulsing for him, unsatisfied with your ministrations. You tried fingering yourself but your fingers were nowhere near as long or as thick as his, you couldn’t hit the same spots he could. You tried. You push him onto the bed with a grunt and notice a pair of undies where your pillow should be. Confusion flies over your face before you look back at Steven, noticing his red face.
‘I tried’
The memory of what Steven said earlier finally makes sense to you. It also explained his desperate, disheveled state, why he was leaking and yearning for you.
Arousal shoots between your legs like a jolt of electricity as you picture the scene; Steven grinding against- your pillow it seems- as he sniffed and licked at your panties.
That’s why my taste was on his tongue…
Steven’s face is still burning red, looking anywhere but at you, as his hips uncontrollably twitch up for you, it brings a fond smile to your face. You take off your pants, matching him in your bottoms, and place yourself on his clothed bulge with a moan. You meant to tease him but it was already affecting you more than you anticipated. His hips are already thrusting into yours, his hands on your hips to hold you- press you down into him. He’s moaning out for you, whining about how good you feel but still trying to hide his face in his shoulder.
You give in and swivel your hips against him, earning a whole new level of volume from Steven. His hands aren’t just resting on your hips, they’re running all over your body wildly, grabbing and groping anything he comes across. You lean down to his ear and begin your questioning.
“So what are m- shit. What are my panties d-doing over here, S-Steven?” His name accidentally comes out as a moan as he drags your clit right over the tip of his dick. He’s not even looking at you, his eyes are fixed on where he’s rubbing you against himself, the way his tip dips into your soft skin and leaves streaks of his pre all along the fabric. His jaw is dropped open and little pants make their way past his wet lips.
You can see this feral look in his eyes that you’ve never witnessed. He’s told you drunkenly how badly he craves you but you’ve never actually seen it, you’ve never really believed him. Like this, though? You can see what he was talking about. You can tell that he’s zeroed in on how good you’re making him feel, you don’t think he even heard you, too entranced with how he’s moving you along his cock.
Your pussy clenches at the thought and he can feel it. He falls back against the bed with a groan before propping himself up on his elbows to pull you both back against the headboard. He whimpers at the momentary loss of friction but smiles once he can collapse onto the board while still staring at you. His hands come back to grip your hips, upset that you’ve stopped moving your hips without his help but you stop him. You lean forward on him, pressing most of your weight on his tip, he gasps and grips your arms with a moan. “Please! Oh Gods-”
You silence him with a short kiss, pulling away before he’s satisfied. He starts to mumble pleas to you again but your finger is pressed into his lips, he licks them, tasting your finger in the process and moaning at the taste of your skin. “Stevie…” You pause and he sighs at the sound of his name on your lips. “Did you use my underwear to get off?”
His eyes widen and dart to where they lay, exposed on the bed. You feel his cock twitch under you and you have to bite your lip to hold in a whine at the way it rubbed over your clit. He’s embarrased but turned on at the fact that he thought you’d never find out but you still did. The way that he could never hide anything from you, the way you don’t seem upset at the fact you caught him.
“I needed you so b- bad an’ you- an’ everything smells like you. I- I’m sorry.” He drops his head onto your shoulder as his hips slowly grind into you. “ ‘M sorry, alrigh’?” His accent gets heavier as he grinds into you more deliberately. “I just- I jus’ -oh I needed you so b-bad.” He whimpers into your neck, trying to muffle himself in there. You’re lost in the feeling, in his words as he humps his cock into you. He’s kissing along your neck, sometimes just licking at your sweat and moaning at the taste. His hips were starting to twitch and stutter into yours, his moans pitched up and his hands began to bruise into your skin. “I’m-”
You lift off of him. “No- Wh-y? P-please.” You ignore his plea and pull your shirt and underwear off as he scrambles to do the same. “Are we gonna-?” You smile at him softly and prepare for your confession.
“I couldn’t get off without you, Steven.” You shift your weight nervously as he just stares at you. “I- My fingers aren’t enough anymore.” You whine at him and his cock jumps, leaking onto the sheets as he reaches out for you. He pulls you into a kiss and fumbles to take your bra off. He lets you climb over him again and moans into your mouth as you line him up with your soaked hole. “Put it in. Put it in- shit. P- put- ” He’s cut off by both your moans as you sink onto him.
“Fuck I can t-tell your- fuck.” He whines out as you as you squeeze around him. “Your little fingers aren’t enough t’properly stretch you f’me hm?” His eyes roll back and his eyebrows draw inward as you grind onto his cock. You try to keep a steady pace but his tip is slamming right into your G-Spot, pressing into it no matter what he does, no matter how you move. Your legs give out halfway through a thrust and your body slams down onto him. He groans your name and hugs your body close, planting his feet on the mattress and fucking into you slowly.
“S’it too much?” You moan his name into his ear and his cock jumps inside you. “Fuck I’m-mm” His words get drawn into a whine as his thrusts slowly lose rhythm. Your pussy begins to clench on him, arousal coiling in your stomach at the telltale signs that he’s gonna cum. Steven’s hand comes to cradle your head into his neck, stoking your hair softly and whispering soft assurances and begs for you to cum around him.
“‘M right here. I’ll take care of ‘ye, keep you nice an’ safe. C’mon. Give it t-to me.” Your orgasm explodes inside you like a solar flare. It bursts in your stomach and ripples throughout your whole body, moans are shoved from your mouth, almost deafening Steven with their volume and pitch but they only push him over the edge. His cock twitches violently inside you before releasing a torrent of cum. He tries to stay semi-calm as his orgasm crashes over him, his stomach won’t stop tensing under you and his mouth can’t shut. He can’t hold any of his moans in as his balls empty themselves inside you.
He feels like it’ll never end, he’s at his peak for what feels like years. He can hear you distantly whining about how full you feel, about how much he’s filling you up. His hips have a mind of their own as he ruts into you pathetically, doing anything he can to prolong his euphoric high. He feels tears spring to his eyes, unable to believe that you could make him feel so good. He feels your lips over his mouth that’s propped open on a silent moan. He’s panting out whines down your throat as you whisper praises to him.
“W- It won’t stop. It- f-feels so go-od” He’s gasping at you as he speaks, his entire body shaking as his cock spurts out more ropes into you. You’re leaking all over his thighs, unable to hold all the cum he’s pumping into you. He moans out your name one last time before his body goes limp, and his cock finally stops spitting into you. He’s incoherent for quite some time, fading in and out of consciousness.
He always whines out for you when he wakes up, sniffing and huffing until some part of you comes in contact with him. Once it does he’s pulling you into a crushing hug and doesn’t let go for at least another hour.
Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed it, here's the rest of my Kinktober Works, and be sure to check out my Main Masterlist!!
#steven grant#steven grant imagine#steven grant smut#steven grant x reader#steven grant x you#steven grant x y/n#steven grant x reader smut#moon knight#moon knight smut#moon knight fanfic#luvrxkinktober#kinktober#kinktober 2023
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NSFW Headcanon Request: Steven Grant (Moon Knight)
Steven Grant + Foreplay + Massage: (prompt list here)
Author's note: Here's a bit of Steven smut while I'm juggling all my Succession requests, please always feel free to send my these headcanons for him, I love him so 🥰
- If there's one thing in this world Steven Grant wants, it's to make you feel good. As good as you can possibly feel, any time you want to feel it. And so the first time you mention feeling a little achy after work, Steven would immediately be looking up how to give your partner a massage at home, trying not to think about just how much he'd enjoy getting to rub you all over after a long day of being apart.
- He'll go all out, lighting candles around his little London flat, investing in some deliciously scented oils, and draping a silk sheet across his bed to make it the comfiest possible place for you to drape your body for him.
- When you come home to the soothing, cosy atmosphere, you can feel the stress start to melt away already, Steven blushing as he takes your coat and asks if you want to lie down for him. Naturally you agree, stepping out of your shoes, and slowly shedding clothes until finally your underwear is discarded on the floor, making Steven's hand tremble with excitement before he's even been able to touch you.
- You make a joke about Steven being a little overdressed, watching him nod excitedly and pull his shirt over his head, struggling in his frantic movements as you lay down on the satin sheet, letting your head rest on its side so you can catch the occasional glimpse of Steven pacing to and fro, making sure everything is perfect before he lays a hand on you.
- With a deep breath he finally straddles your hips and places a hand on each of your shoulders, warm oil coating your skin as his thumbs begin to knead away any tension the work week has formed there. You let out a content sigh that has Steven's shorts tightening around him, not sure he really thought through just how long he's going to be able to spend that close to you. As his hands trail down your spine you moan again, his touch surprisingly effective at melting away your stress.
- "You feel so good Steven." You sigh as he repeats the action again, feeling him tense up at the praise, an obvious erection starting to press against your bum from where he's sitting over your legs. He's so grateful you can't get a better look at him right now, eyes wide, short of breath, thighs feeling shaky as he tries to focus on rubbing the smoothe oil over your back, resisting the urge to let his hands drift that bit lower.
- You don't try and stop the way your hips buck against him as he traces circles into your lower back, hearing the slight gasps escape his lips even as he tries to fight them. What you can't hear is the relentless inner monologue happening inside Steven, demanding that if he doesn't take his shorts off in the next ten minutes he's going to lose control of his body. Finally he relents, desperate to take the chance to feel more of you, to make you let out even more of those pretty sighs.
- "Just getting more oil love." He mumbles quietly as he hops off your hips, quickly shrugging off his remaining clothes and almost moaning in relief as his hard manhood springs free. Applying a fresh pour of massage oil to his hands, he mounts you again, this time not wasting a second of letting it drip over the curves of your ass, squeezing your cheeks in his hands and watching a drop run down towards your entrance. One hand continues cupping your cheeks, while the other traces the path of the droplet, running slowly over one sensitive hole all the way to your enticing slit.
- Suddenly your thighs are resting over his, propping your hips up to give him a better view, his fingers teasing your folds, watching as you react more and more to his touch, the massage oil starting to mix with your slick on his hands. His free hand returns to rubbing circles over your lower back, melting away any straining muscles as one finger dips inside you, before returning to rubbing all around your sensitive pussy, repeating the cycle with a second finger, slowly teasing you open as your sighs grow more and more needy.
- As the pleasure starts to build and you wonder if all your massages from Steven are going to have a happy ending, he moves his expert fingers to your clit, rubbing broad slick strokes over the bud, feeling your core tense against his massaging hands.
"Are you enjoying your massage love?" He teases as your thighs start to twitch against his, watching intently as your walls start to clench around nothing, your sighs building to panting moans,
"Yes Steven, you feel so good! Fuck!" You cry out as the pressure inside you releases, your body limp and relaxed as the waves of pleasure wash over you, feeling yourself dripping onto Steven's muscular thighs in your excitement.
"That's a great idea sweetheart." He chuckled with a mischievous tone that made your stomach flip, realising exactly what he meant as you felt him spread your cheeks and ease his way into your sensitive slit, his fingers never quite able to prepare you for just how full he made you feel.
"Good girl." He cooed as he bottomed out inside you, the angle deeper than he'd usually hit at first, leaving you moaning and squirming against his strong hands.
- He'd be slow and leisurely as he started fucking you, adjusting himself so he could drape his chest over your back, pinning you down as his hands continued their selfless exploration. Trailing up from grabbing your ass, they'd skirt along the sides of your body, only making you wriggle more beneath him, the sensation driving Steven insane as his hips picked up their pace, wanting to feel you clench down again for him. As his climbing fingers moved past your waist, they slipped round to your front, palming your heaving chest and massaging again with renewed vigor.
- Steven would just about die anytime he got to touch your breasts, but to caress them with warm scented oil, kneading your curves as your back arched you into his touch, he was genuinely surprised he didn't finish that very second. He could feel your second orgasm quickly following your first as he flicked and teased your nipples, the extra sensitivity of his slick hands setting every part of you alight, his name falling from your lips again and again, not a single other thought able to fit in your brain.
- Sure that he wouldn't be able to last much longer in your warm, wet embrace, he starts to move his hips faster, the leverage of holding your chest enough to let him really pound into you, the days of his soft and sweet love-making long forgotten for tonight as he slam into you again and again. Between the satin sheet and slippery oil he's rubbed into every part of you, you can barely hold onto anything, his towering body above you completely in control of you and your pleasure, grabbing desperately at his thigh for something to ground you as your hips started to tremble again, interrupting his brutal rhythm with your overwhelming release. You could feel a tear slip down your cheek as your pussy clenched around him, body shaking as he coaxed every drop of pleasure out of you before finally letting himself spill inside of you, his cum mixing on your skin with your own excitement and the sweet scented oil.
- Still hovering over you, he'll help you roll onto your back so he can steal a sweet kiss, drinking in the blissful expression on your face and making a note to offer you a massage more often.
"You're amazing Steven." You'd let out in a contented sigh, watching his face light up as he thinks the exact same thing about you.
#writing#fanfiction#one shot#requests#steven grant x reader#steven grant fluff#steven grant smut#steven grant imagines#steven grant imagine#moon knight imagines#moon knight x reader#moon knight imagine#moon knight headcanon#moon knight smut#moon knight#steven grant
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Steven and a breeding kink (๑ᵔ⤙ᵔ๑)
nsfw, minors dni!
“Oh-fuck, that feels good, yeah? ‘S okay if I fill you up? You want it?”
He’s rambling at this point, rattling on and on about how good you feel wrapped around him and how you’re the only one for him. You can feel his breath against your neck as he leans his head on your shoulder in an attempt to hide himself from you-try to have some decency, good lord, Marc says.
Steven’s rutting into you with no other thought in mind, one goal set. It’s clear in the way he has you pinned under him, encasing you in his arms. He’s not usually this pushy, taking what he wants, but you don’t really mind.
“I think you’d look lovely-“ he stops himself, pausing to breathe and lifting his head from your shoulder.
You know what he’s thinking. You always do with Steven, “Lovely how, Steven?” You whisper against his lips and he’s lost his train of thought again. This is dangerous. You could get possibly any and everything out of him.
There’s a whine building in his throat, waiting to move again, “Full of me. You know,”
“I think so too,”
“Really?” There’s a dumb smile on his face now, his cock twitching at the idea of you plump and ready to burst all because of him.
Smirking up at him, you pull him down to your neck again, “Do it, Steven. Wanna make you a daddy,”
He lets out a breathless whine at your words, and follows your orders.
#steven grant#steven grant smut#steven grant x reader#steven grant imagine#moon knight#moon knight x reader#moon knight smut#marc spector#jake lockley#marvel#marvel x reader#smut#imagine#srry for posting my deepest darkest desires on here#but u guys get it
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MIRROR'S EDGE
CO-WRITTEN WITH @THIRSTWORLDPROBLEMSS
Pairing: Marc Spector x female reader x Steven Grant
Summary: You offer Marc a trade: something you want for something he wants, but you quickly realise you may be in for more than you can handle.
Warning/content: Pure pornography, edging, orgasm denial, Marc’s dirty filthy mouth, cunnilingus, overstimulation, Steven being a loveable cock blocking meow meow, established relationship.
Word Count: 6.4k (all of it porn)
Astroboot's Masterlist | Thirstworldproblemss' Masterlist | Moon Knight Masterlist
Marc can be intense. Overly-serious. Intimidating.
There is that semi frown, a grim, set line of his lips that never breaks into a smile. Narrow, scrutinising gaze set across rich, expressive eyes. His expression is permanently serious. Grumpy and surly even. But for all of his brusque mannerism and frosty behaviour, Marc, in his own ways, can be surprisingly indulgent with you.
Tucking you in, up to your shoulders with the quilt to shield you from the cold when you’ve fallen asleep on him. Leaving you small gifts, odds and ends he thinks you’ll like that appear at random, no note or card, no credit taken even if you confront him directly about it. Making repairs or doing chores surreptitiously, when you’re not looking.
He wants to indulge you without the flourish or the attention. It’s probably why the only place and time he openly pampers you without restraint is when he has you naked and bare. When his mouth is drowning between your thighs or his cock buried into you to the hilt of himself.
In those moments, it’s always about you. You and your pleasure as he pulls orgasm after overwhelming orgasm out of you. It’s almost as if any pleasure that he allows himself to have in the moment is only if it’s incidental to yours. As unrelenting as he can be, when his hips snap into you with a demanding pace, you also know that he’s going easy on you.
You see it in rare flashes in that dark hungry gaze. In the moments leading up to your orgasm, those suspended seconds where you’re hanging by a balance on the edge of tipping over. You can see it then, how there’s something more he wants, before he snaps out of it with the shake of his head and pulls himself out of the trance as you fall apart before him. If you could, you would want to prolong that moment for the both of you, when his eyes are bare and open, honest with his needs. Because it’s like he’s always holding back with you. Scared that if he takes you apart the way that he wants to, you’d break like fine porcelain in front of his very eyes.
You see that same look in his eyes now, as you pull back momentarily from where you’re straddling his lap on the sofa, sharing heated kisses. That guilty, greedy look, like he wants more than you’re giving him, but won’t let himself take it.
“I won’t break,” you tell him. He looks up with a plastered on confused gaze pretending he doesn’t know exactly what you mean.
“Whatever it is you want to do to me. You can. I won’t break.” You swear you can almost see him emotionally withdrawing before your eyes, so you press on, “You get to ask me for things too. You know that, right Marc?”
He doesn’t answer, just shakes his head, mouth set in that familiar downturned line that says you won’t get anything more from him. You probably should have expected this reaction. Marc never asks you for anything for himself. Not ever. You think he feels like he doesn’t deserve to ask for anything. He guards his needs like a secret inside a penitentiary.
“What if....” You scramble for something to offer that might get him to agree, “What if we trade? You tell me what you want from me in bed, and I’ll tell you something I want from you.”
Marc's eyes narrow in an attempt to look sceptical, but not before you catch the flash of almost-predatory interest.
“...and I'll even go first," you offer to sweeten the deal, praying he'll take the bait.
He doesn’t agree. But he also hasn’t said no yet, which, from Marc, qualifies as a confession in your book that he wants what you’re offering. It won’t take much, just a little push in the right direction, and you'll have him.
"There is something I want to try with you," you stall, watching him carefully, trying to gauge his reaction for interest. You don't have to fake the heat that rises in your cheeks when you can see Marc's hands flexing at his sides. Dragging your eyes up from those thick fingers that so often bring you so much pleasure, you look up at his face from under your eyelashes just in time to catch him licking his lips.
"Tell me," he demands. He's leaning in, gaze focused and intense in a way that sends a shiver of anticipation through you.
"Not unless you promise you'll go next."
His eyes soften for just a moment, and the corner of his mouth hitches up just a hair, which from Marc is almost as good a full laugh. You feel a flash of triumph because you know he’s going to agree even before the words leave his mouth.
"You drive a hard bargain, pretty girl. Alright. Me next. Now tell me."
“It’s... um... Well I– That is...” You fidget with your hands in your lap. Now that you’ve lured him into agreeing, you realise that you didn’t think this through. What are you going to ask for? What could you possibly want that Marc and Steven haven’t already given you? Especially when they’ve given you pleasure above and beyond your wildest dreams already?
Marc seems to mistake your floundering for hesitance, and some of the sharp focus in his gaze fades into an open expectant expression (well, as open as Marc’s expressions ever get anyway). He reaches out and takes both your hands in his larger ones.
“You can tell me. Anything you want, baby. Just tell me and it’s yours.” His eyes and hands, both warm.
“I… um…” And God, he really does mean that, doesn’t he? Marc is less openly affectionate than Steven. Less open period, but you know he’d move heaven and fucking earth to give you anything you wanted. He does it every day and won’t even let you thank him for it—pretends it wasn’t him if you try. That’s just what he’s like.
You look up at him, into those big brown eyes, and you get a flash of those very same eyes staring down at you, feverish and greedy, as he brings you to the brink in bed. You can almost hear the low, eager rasp of his voice as he asks you if you’re close. That suspended moment when you can see the leashed hunger, the need for something more in him. And you know what you want.
“I want you to edge me.”
Silence. There’s silence.
The intense focus is back. You can feel the weight of it on your skin, the heat of his burning gaze. The way Marc’s staring at you it’s a wonder you don’t spontaneously combust. You almost feel like you could.
“You want me… to edge you.” His voice is neutral, but his body language is anything but. You can see the tension in his body, in the rapid rise and fall of his chest and the way the muscles of his jaw flex.
You nod. “If… if that’s alright with you as well?” You hate how uncertain your voice sounds all of a sudden. Not sure where this sudden timidity has come from except that his gaze is stripping you bare, exposing you until you are unable to hide from him.
“Yeah,” Marc huffs out with a laugh. An actual, honest to God laugh. “Yeah. That’s alright with me.” The corner of his mouth is turned up as far as you’ve ever seen it, but his eyes are all dark heat and promise as they bore into your own.
“But if we do this? I’m not gonna let you off easy. You understand?” His voice, low and rough, burns its way through you along with the realisation that he wants this. That you were right.
You’ve finally figured out some small corner of Marc’s wants beyond just you, and you get to give it to him. Or, rather, let him give it to you. The knowledge thrills you, makes you want to give him even more.
“I don’t want you to let me off easy, Marc. I want you to ruin me.”
He groans, deep in his chest, and you think you hear a muttered, “Fuck. Gonna ruin me,” before his lips are on yours, desperate and devouring.
With far too much ease, he slides a firm strong arm around your waist to pull you to him. His other hand urges you to wrap your legs around him, helping you to lock them around his waist, and then he’s lifting you up in his arms and carrying you across your flat into the bedroom, his lips never leaving yours.
Before you know it, Marc is lowering you onto the bed and following you down. The reassuring weight of his body settles over you, holding you down, pressing you into the mattress.
Popping the button open on your jeans, he drags them down your legs and off. His firm, calloused hand skates a smooth path along your skin on the way back up, dragging along the outside of your calf to your knee, then your thigh before he gently spreads your legs for him.
The broadness of his palm covers your mound, cupping you through your knickers, and you become acutely aware of just how wet you are. The touch feels heated, intoxicating, even though he hasn’t really done anything to you yet. From the curved smile on Marc’s lips, you're sure he can feel the way you’ve already soaked through the cotton fabric of your knickers.
The heel of his hand grinds down against you, and the pressure is delicious, relieving the ache that’s already built for him between your legs. You can’t help wantonly canting your hips up, seeking more contact, more friction, just more of him. But his hand is already moving away. His fingers find the edge of your knickers, trailing along the ticklish skin there, and then he’s pushing them aside.
The tip of one finger parts your soaking folds, sliding a slick line to your clit, and your whole body jolts at the electric contact.
“Fuck. So wet already. You always get so fucking wet for me,” he murmurs against your neck, mouth sliding hot and open against your skin as he makes slow precise circles over and over on your clit. Then his hand dips lower, sinking two thick fingers into your cunt, in a perfect filling slide.
It punches the air out of you, leaving only a sweet ache in its wake. Your mind feels raw around the edges, fuzzy with the sharp spike of heat spearing through you. The heel of his hand rests over your clit as his fingers curl into you, unerringly finding all your sweet spots at once.
He could make you come like this after only a few moments—has done just that many times before. This time he draws it out, instead, fucking you slow and thorough with his fingers, as though determined to wring every drop of pleasure out of you. And God, he is.
You’re panting, as wet as you’ve ever been. So wet you’re probably dripping down his fingers to his wrist, but you’re too far gone to even be embarrassed because it feels so fucking good. Your body curls into his touch as he fills you just right, two talented fingers working inside you.
The pleasure is devastating. Your leg kicks out, toes curling into the sheets. You’ve foregone all sense of shame, grinding yourself up up up against his palm in a desperate attempt to push yourself over the edge that’s dangling just out of your reach.
You’re close, so fucking close. Your impending orgasm searing through your spine like it is ready to burn a hole through your flesh. You just need a little bit more, and Marc is giving it to you perfectly… Until he isn’t.
Marc stops.
He pulls his hand away, the full thickness of his fingers slipping out of you and leaving you empty and needy, and it’s like a bucket of cold water dumped over your head.
Oh right, edging. You asked him to edge you.
You watch him through half-lidded eyes, breath panting as your lungs squeeze painfully tight in your chest. His fingers are glistening with your slick in the light, as he puts them to his plush pink lips and slips them in between to suck them clean.
“That was a close one wasn’t it, baby?”
Pulling down your knickers from your legs, he drags them off your ankles, before leaning down against you. He starts from your chest, pressing, burning kisses against your breast and the ends of his curls tickle your heated, sweat-slicked skin as he makes his way down your stomach, tongue sliding down your hips as he dots kisses to your thighs, spreading your legs even wider for him.
He stops there, holding himself above you, so close, the tip of his nose is nudging against the apex of your thighs. There’s a beat of a second, an excruciating wait for you. You don’t know what he’s doing until you hear the inhale of a breath, his shoulders rising as he’s breathing you in, inhaling the scent of you. Then you feel it, the warmth of his breath ghost over your oversensitive clit, until he finally puts his mouth to your pussy.
You can feel the way his jaw tenses as his mouth works you open. His tongue is a slow obliging slide through your slick folds as he hums into you. Soft and wet as he parts you.
“Taste so good,” he murmurs, scraping his chin against the inside of your leg, until the stubble burns pleasantly against the oversensitive skin. It’s an overwhelming, visceral sensation that makes your body jolt, stomach clenching. You nearly kick him in the face, but Marc is way ahead of you, hand firm on your leg as he pins you down.
“Easy. Easy there, baby. We’re just getting started.”
It’s so slow and so insistent as he laps at your cunt. The bright flair of pleasure and pain that shoots through you is unbearable at this point. Your fingers dig and grip into those soft curls, pulling them tight until it must sting against his scalp, just the way Marc likes it. Hoping it’ll spur him on and drive him to distraction and just let you come.
Your thighs are shaking. Your stomach too and every muscle in your body is trembling, pulling taut like you are at the end of a race and can finally see the goal before you. The pleasure is almost painful, and you forget to breathe, seeing spots dancing in your vision.
“More, Marc, please—oh fuck, just like that, please don’t stop, I’m almost—”
But he doesn’t give you more, just keeps to the sedate pace he has set for the both of you. A spike of dread shoots down your spine as you now realise what you’ve actually signed up for.
White, hot bliss spills through you with each move of his mouth, but your climax remains just out of reach, promising to be so ripe and sweet that you can nearly taste it on the tip of your tongue. No matter how much you writhe and squirm against him, Marc doesn’t let up, holding you firm against the mattress, until you’re right on the trembling edge.
And then he stops.
God, this is so unfair, you can’t—Oh God, you can’t—fuck.
He hushes you, a sweet cooing sound into your ear as he rubs your inner thigh soothingly to let you climb down from the precipice.
“It’s okay. You’re okay. I’ve got you, baby,” he murmurs. You’re not stupid enough to believe for one second that it’s altruistic of him, its only purpose is to let you calm down just enough for him to wind you up again like a tight bowstring holding back just enough so you don’t snap.
Everything aches, splinters burrowing under your skin. Somehow, Marc knows, he soothes the sting with his soft lips, pressing them against your skin until it subsides. The edge of his teeth skirts against the inside of your thighs before biting down. Replacing the ache with an even harsher sting that has you arching into his mouth for more.
You can no longer tell time anymore. Time is just an abstract concept, as Marc repeatedly leads you by the hand to the brink of orgasm, climbing up that white peak only to abandon you there, pulling away from you to admire the view.
It’s torture and pleasure all wrapped up in one confusing overwhelming parcel. He takes you to the edge and pulls you back twice more with his hands alone before he adds his mouth into the equation again. Everything is a blur after that, you can't feel the mattress pressed to your back, and you swear you are floating out of your body.
The pleasure slows again, hot and molten until it drips syrupy sweet between your legs onto his tongue. You’ve already given in, don’t try to move without his permission, no resistance left in you and you don’t know why he still hasn’t let you come yet.
“Marc– Oh God. Please! Just let me—”
He cuts you off before you’re able to finish your nonsensical blabbering. It’s just as well, in your current state of mind you’re hardly able to string up anything coherent.
“You asked me, remember? What I wanted. This is it.” Those expressive eyes are burning into yours, predatory and hungry like he is about to devour you whole. “This is what I want. Want to have you falling apart from my fingers. In my mouth. On my cock. Begging.”
All you’re capable of is whining in response, and he keeps talking with that low rasp in his voice.
“Beg for me, pretty girl. Beg me to make you come.”
You do exactly that. You’re well beyond the point of shame or inhibitions. The only thing left in you that passes for a higher function is your need to come.
“Fuckfuck, Marc, please. Please just let me come. I need it. Oh God. I need to come.”
"I don't think you do," Marc says, lips curving upwards, as he raises himself onto his knees, "Not yet."
You make a high pitched noise of denial, reaching for him as he moves away, but he ignores you.
"You knew what you were doing when you asked for this." Those deft fingers make quick work of his belt, and he shoves his trousers down over his ample hips before dragging them off entirely. "You came to me, not Steven."
In the mirror, you can see the carved muscles of his arms and back flex as he pulls off his shirt, and then he's naked in front of you, all smooth tanned skin that looks almost golden in your bedroom light.
"Warned you I wasn’t gonna let you off easy."
And God, he did. But you can't bring yourself to care when he's looming above you, wrapping one hand around his hard cock that's slick and shiny-wet with pre-come dripping from the flushed tip. You’re practically salivating at the sight of him.
"And I’m not done with you yet.”
Strong fingers circle your ankles, and he yanks you down toward him, under him. Dropping down to cover your body with his, Marc notches the fat tip of his cock at your slick entrance.
You brace yourself for penetration, already anticipating the sweet stretch of him, but it doesn’t come. You roll your hips up, desperately seeking the angle that will get him inside you, unable to understand why he’s not already fucking you.
“Did you want something, baby?” Marc smirks down at you as you writhe underneath him. He’s clearly enjoying himself, the bastard. “Maybe you should try asking nicely.”
“Please,” you manage to pant out, more needy whine than actual coherent sound.
“Please what?” Marc demands.
“Marc, please,” you whimper.
“Use your words, baby. Tell me what you want.” He’s still wearing that fucking smirk, and he’s gazing down at you expectantly. If you didn’t know any better you might think he really doesn’t know what he’s asking for, but his next words remove all doubt. “You want my cock in you? You’re gonna have to say it for me.”
“Your cock. Want your cock. Need you to fuck me. Need you, Marc. Please.” You force the words out, half pleading, half almost annoyed, but his eyes light up as soon as you start speaking, gleaming with something like pride, but darker, more urgent. The look on his face is captivating.
“That’s my girl.” And then he pushes into you, and you forget about everything except the weight of him inside you.
The first slide as he fills you up with his cock is fucking heaven. A sweet aching stretch that sends pleasure singing out along your every nerve. Your thighs tremble where they bracket his hips, nearly numb with the tingling heat that’s spreading quickly outward.
You can’t stay still, your body arching against him without any input from you, clenching down around the delicious girth of him, and you swear your eyes roll back in your head, your vision flickering.
With that infuriating control of his, Marc lets you writhe on his cock for a moment before he pulls back, nearly all the way out. Your hands fly to his shoulder in a desperate attempt to keep him close. All you hear in your ear is a dark chuckle, and then he slams himself back in. It’s so mind-meltingly good your vision darkens and you swear you see fucking stars from it.
He doesn’t stop. He drives himself into you with harsh, deep thrusts. The pace is hard and fast. Pleasure rockets through you with each press of his hips into yours. It spreads up your stomach, twining along your legs and up your stomach and wrapping your chest in warmth, coalescing into a tight knot of bliss that ratchets tighter with every stroke. You can feel your orgasm building, and you arch up to meet each of his strokes, straining for completion.
Then he stills. Thrusts deep and holds there, and it’s almost enough.
Almost...
Would be enough if he would just–
But he doesn’t, and your orgasm starts to slip away. As close as you had been, it feels like torture, and your breath comes out as a sob. You think… you think you might actually be crying this time, tears stinging your eyes at the loss. Anger sparks in your blood. Never mind that you asked for this, wanted this.
You need to come.
Your cunt clenches and squeezes around the hardness of his cock and it twitches and jerks in response. Those beautiful eyes of his slam shut, as he bites out a curse. It’s the closest to a loss of control you’ve seen from Marc all evening.
So you don’t stop doing it, fuck, you don’t think you could will yourself to stop squeezing around him even if you wanted to. Muscles contracting and clutching down in a way that’s beyond your control when you’re rewarded with a half-aborted thrust. You’re not sure if you’re trying to tempt him into fucking you again, or if you’re just that desperate that you think this alone can make you come. Either, both, you don’t even care, too blitzed out on adrenaline and the withdrawal of pleasure. You don’t care how you get it as long as you get to come.
It’s maddening, your hips are desperately trying to seek some friction that will be enough to push you over, trying to chase your orgasm. Almost—fuck, almost, pleasure shoots through your stomach, sparking along the line of your spine. Even if Marc doesn’t help, you’re sure you can get there by yourself. Your muscles lock tight, and the pleasure hums and sings through your veins. You’re gonna, fuckfuck, you’re gonna—
Before you can, he pulls out of you, and you cry out, your empty cunt clenching around nothing as you shudder and pant your way through the aching loss. Every nerve screaming for the release he’s denied you.
"Oh no you don't. That's cheating, pretty girl. You don't get to come that easily."
A sob tears through you, and you don’t even care how pathetic you must sound. “Please, please let me have your cock.” You sound like an actress in a bad porno, but it doesn’t matter how ridiculous you sound if it gets you what you want.
It seems like your desperate attempt was all for nought. Marc doesn’t move any closer. The look in his eyes, the mischievous curl of his lips tells you that there’s no chance in hell he’s going to give into you.
"You gonna be a good girl for me? Hold still while I give you my cock?"
"Yes, Marc. Yes! Please just..."
"I don't think you are. Only good girls get fucked like that. Show me you can be a good girl. Show me you can take more for me."
His eyes burn into you, pupils blown so wide that they’re almost pitch black in their intensity. As much as you need to come. As much as you’re sure that you are going to die if he denies you again. You want this more. To be the centre of this man’s attention, the object of his devotion. To have his intense gaze fixed on you like you’re the only thing that exists to him in this moment, you wouldn’t trade it for the world. You don’t ever want it to stop.
You think you understand it now. Why Marc wants you to beg for him this desperately. Why he refuses to let you off easy and won’t give in, stringing out these moments when you are on the precipice of your orgasm, desperate and floundering. Why he’s driving you to this unbearable point only to withhold it from you again and again, even as you’re shamelessly begging for him until your voice is hoarse, each cry burning and scratching in your throat.
What is begging if not a desperate declaration that you need him? That when you’re both stripped of overthinking, down to your most basic self, until only need and want are left, you need him.
That’s why he wants to hear you say it now, when he’s worn you down to the point where you have no filter.
He won’t believe it otherwise.
Because deep down, Marc fundamentally views himself as someone who is unwanted. This is the one moment, when you’re shameless, needy and blissed out of your mind, with no pretence that he can allow himself to accept otherwise.
So you meet his dark, greedy gaze, and you give him what he wants.
“Fuck. Marc, please. Want you.” You're panting, barely coherent, but somehow you manage to get the words out. “Please! I need you. Need you to make me come. Please please please, Marc. I want you. Just want you. Please.”
"I know you do, baby.” He pets a hand across your hair, his eyes soften, and you can see that he actually believes you. “Know you do.”
Pleasure strikes hot and deep as he thrusts back into you. And it’s fucking perfect. That sweet burning ache builds immediately, deep and consuming, and you only want more. You’ve grown addicted to it. To him.
He’s not stopping, hips thrusting into you, and blissful pleasure swirls tight and insistent somewhere deep in your belly.
This is it. You’re sure of it now, this is it. Marc is going to let you come.
Your eyes clench shut, too overwhelmed to keep them open as you let the sensation take over.
And then it stops.
Again.
Oh God, you can’t. You’re going to die. This man is actually going to murder you with orgasm denial.
"One more time. Just one more time for me, then I’ll make you come. You can take it for me, baby." His voice is gentle, coaxing. The softness in direct contrast to the way you’re crying and begging now, nearly hysterical.
“Nononooo, Marc, please. I need– Oh God. I can’t– Please. Please!!”
Despite his promise, he doesn’t move. Holds there, locked deep inside you. You don’t even have it in you to resist or be angry anymore, because you are sure that you have already died and this is hell and you are being punished by some malevolent god.
Instead, his warm hand comes to cup your cheek, thumb rubbing against the apple of it.
“You alright there, love?”
That’s different. The intonation is different from Marc’s flat one, a valley that rises and falls. You blink. Eyes fluttering open to gentle brown eyes filled with open adoration and so much love.
Steven… Steven’s here in Marc’s place.
“You sounded… a bit not good... Did Marc take it too far?” There is genuine worry for you in his eyes as he looks down on you, even though you both know that Marc would never do anything to hurt you.
And oh bless. Your sweet Steven heard you begging and crying and has swooped in to save you like a white knight. It makes you wonder how desperate you must have sounded, how loud you must have been crying out for him to think you were truly in distress.
“Want me to make you come?” Steven asks with such sincerity it makes your heart swell with affection.
If you weren’t so keyed up, you might stop and explain the situation. If you weren’t so out of it, legs aching with muscle strain from your exertions of being denied over and over again, you might refuse his offer and ask for Marc back.
But you are pushed beyond the point of rational thought. Marc’s stripped you of every conscious thought, until your prefrontal cortex has incinerated any brain cells that may have once been there. Your decision-making skills are shattered. All you care about, all you can think, taste, feel, is your desperate, consuming need to come.
So you nod, instinctively saying the only word you are capable of saying throughout this evening.
“Please.”
Steven breaks out into a beaming smile, boyish and sweet that lights up the whole room with it.
You reach up and tangle your hand in his hair, pulling him down to you so that you can kiss him hard.
“Steven,” you pant into his open mouth, “Need you to move.”
“Right.” He says decisively and starts to pull out, but then he gasps and his hips immediately stutter into you with an abortive half thrust. He shivers and drops his head down against your collarbone, panting hard, only to raise it again a moment later with a sheepish smile.
“Sorry, sorry,” he murmurs apologetically. “A bit far gone, at the moment I guess. He was closer to the edge than I thought. But let’s see what I can do for you, love."
His hips pull away and a whine leaves your lips, before he thrusts back in—your half-whine turns into a choked dying sound as you feel him deep and hard, filling every inch of you.
“Fuck, fuck, Steven.”
He groans, hips adjusting his angle, hands pulling greedily into your thighs as he lifts you to him, until he strikes something devastating inside you that has your muscles locking tight in euphoria. It’s like he knows, because he thrusts into you, just like that, again and again with a hard and rough pace.
His pace falters only for a second as his head whips into the direction of the mirror, catching his own reflection and then he frowns.
“Just a tick,” Steven mutters, and for some unfathomable, unthinkable reason he slips out of you, moving away from you, one leg already climbing out of the bed.
The sound that comes from you is inhuman, as you claw and dig your fingernails into the meat of his arm hard enough to break his soft skin. “Steven! No. Don’t stop.”
“Sorry, love. I’m sorry, just— Sorry. Just give me a moment.” He climbs the rest of the way out of bed, and you don’t understand what he’s doing or where he’s going, refusing to ease your grip as he pulls the sheets to drape it over the silver surface of the mirror.
If you were more coherent, you might spare a moment to consider why Steven is covering up the mirror, but you aren’t. Your mind solely focused on the fact that Steven is going to satisfy the desperate aching need that burns hot in your stomach. To finally give you the climax you’ve been denied so many times.
He climbs back into the bed hurriedly, almost snagging himself against the covers. Then he’s back, notching himself at your entrance and slides all the way inside, until he’s flush against your hips. The reassuring heat of his skin pressed alongside every inch of yours as he grinds his cock deep. Sparks of heat lick your spine as he grinds into that perfect spot.
It doesn’t last long. Edged as you have been, brought to the precipice of your orgasm again and again until you’ve lost your mind with the pleasure and torture of it, it doesn’t take long at all. You can already feel the telltale sign of warmth pooling in your belly, spreading outwards.
Steven doesn’t stop. You know he won’t. Steven is always desperate to please you, doesn’t have it in him to deny you of anything, and you love him for it. His hips slam into you, again and again, with a frantic pace, deep and indulgent, just like you need him to.
You want to tell him that it’s good. Perfect. Praise him for always taking care of you, but you can’t form the words. All you can do is cling to him as everything inside you ratchets higher, tighter, so much more intense after being denied for so long.
Pleasure spills and spills, flaring out against every inch of your skin, flooding your senses. It’s chaotic and too much, bright spots blinding your vision as you come, harder than you ever have in your life.
Steven still isn’t stopping, pushing deep into you as his thrust doesn’t slow its momentum. You try to ride out the pleasure, bucking your hips as you grind up against him, but it won’t stop. Oh fuck—it’s not stopping. “Steven, Steven—I’m… fuck I’m—” The blinding bliss spikes through your blood, hot and piercing. You’re not sure if it’s the start of a second more intense orgasm or if your first just never ended. It’s all blissful heat and sharp-edged pleasure, spearing throughout your body until it erupts in your veins.
It’s pitiful the way you’re sobbing, whining and keening for him, as he continues relentlessly with his strokes, until you feel him spill into you with a broken gasp.
Maybe it’s because you’re so completely overcome or maybe you’ve lost your sense of time, but it feels like he comes for ages, body tense and heaving above you. Finally, he stills, collapsing down onto you, and you lay there like that for a long moment, panting into each other’s skin.
Eventually, Steven bestirs, lifting himself up on an elbow to grin down at you.
“That was… Wow. I mean, that was amazing, is what that was. You’re amazing.” He presses a sweet kiss to your forehead and lips and then moves away from you.
Even as over-sensitive as you are, you barely flinch as he withdraws. Instead, you feel sleepy and sated, reality gone blurry and faded at the edges, and you struggle to keep your eyes open.
You blink, and then Steven is there. He has a warm, damp cloth that he uses to gently wipe you down, murmuring quiet praise and affection all the while. You drift off with the cotton-soft sound of his voice in your ears.
By the time he rejoins you in bed, you’re dead to the world.
You wake up to the morning sun filtering through your bedroom window. Muscles still aching from the previous night, you stretch and open your eyes, only to meet dark eyes bearing down on your sleeping form.
Marc does not look happy.
His eyes are narrowed, brows drawn with more than just his perpetual semi-frown. His gaze is intense. If you didn’t know him as intimately as you do, you would describe it as intimidating.
“Took you long enough to wake up,” he says, with an unmistakably sarcastic drawl that tells you you’re in trouble. “Steven must have really worn you out.”
Climbing out of the bed, he walks over to the mirror, movements brusque as he tugs the sheet off. Once the silver reflection reveals itself, he turns back to you, pulling at your ankle to drag you to the end of the bed, before he settles himself back onto the mattress.
With one strong arm, he lifts you up and into his lap, handling you like a weightless ragdoll to position you where he wants you to be. He manoeuvres you until you’re sitting in his lap, leaning back against his chest, and pulls you back until he’s pressed tight against your back and you’re both facing the mirror.
His hand wraps around your throat, and even though there’s hardly any pressure, your pulse jumps excitedly to meet his thumb resting against the hollow of your throat. Tilting your face to his, he licks into your mouth, claiming it thoroughly. Possessive, hard. He doesn't let go until you’re out of breath.
“I wasn’t done with you when Steven interrupted. Guess that means we have to do it all over again, baby.” He narrows his eyes at himself in the mirror. “And I’m not tagging out this time. You hear me, Steven.”
You can see Marc observing you in the mirror. That dark hungry gaze reflected back at you. He doesn’t look away, doesn’t try to snap himself out of it. Fully allowing himself to give in to the bare primal need in him without restraint.
“You remember what I told you last night?” he whispers into your ear, and his breath fans hot and burning against your hairline. “Still not gonna let you off easy.”
One hand skates alongside the inside of your thighs, nudging your legs with his knees as he spreads you open, putting you on a debauched naked display for the mirror.
For Steven.
For Marc.
“Make sure you beg real pretty for Steven and me this time,” he taunts, and his fingers part your slick folds, spreading you wide and glistening in the mirror and making a depraved display of you.
Excitement buzzes in your blood. You knew full well there was going to be a consequence when you asked Steven to make you come. That you weren’t going to escape without repercussions. But that’s alright. You’ll take whatever punishment that Marc deemed fit. No holds barred, nothing but joy and excitement singing in your veins as Marc decides to take from you exactly he wants.
It’s just what you wanted.
Dedication and Credits
To my eternally suffering co-pilot @thirstworldproblemss for spending her incredibly busy time clowning around with me and my horny self. For being the best co-writer any gal can ask for. For being the absolute best partner ping-ponging ideas, sharing one single brain cells and sharing brain-wave transmission. For looking at a wonky sentence I wrote that I am about to yeet out, and knowing exactly what I actually wanted to say (even though that's not what I wrote) and fixing it with her sheer brilliance and genuis. For just being shrimply the best.
To my parachute buddy @the-ginger-hedge-witch for the encouragement and helping me fix my tattered pieces. Her legendary: The Crush featuring everyone's favorite emotionally blocked DEA agent Javier Peña are the things that dreams are made of.
#oscar isaac#marc spector x reader#steven grant x reader#moon knight#moon knight fanfiction#moon knight fic#moon knight x reader#moon knight x you#steven grant x you#marc spector x you#moon knight tv#marc spector imagine#steven grant imagine#moon knight fanfic#marvel#marc spector#steven grant#cici writes#cici moon knight
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Our little thing
paring: Marc, Steven, Jake x fem! reader; established relationship.
warnings: none, domestic fluff.
a/n: soft moon bois <3
summary: you have a specific thing with each of them. It's not like you don't do it with other two, but you do enjoy a little act of intimacy that is special to each of them.
a/n: Can we appreciate Oscar in the first gif? I'm looking disrespectfully Also, I believe the third one is Jake.
gif credits: @nightofthecreeps @kingjackless @waititi
------------
Marc:
Shaving his beard.
"So serious" he smiled at the sincerity on your face. Your eyebrows furrowed in pure concentration, your fingers slowly glided the razor down his left cheek with one hand, your other hand cupping the other side of his face for support and fingers casually resting on his neck. You were sitting on his lap, facing him.
You stopped, glancing at his playful eyes with a glare. "Stop, smiling" you chided him playfully. "What if i cut you accidentally?", you asked, putting down the razor.
When you playfully asked him if you could shave his face one day, he nodded sincerely, warming your heart in a new way you didn't know was possible. It was a subtle act of trust, the way he trusted you with a sharp blade near his throat. And it implied 'I want your touch even when I'm doing mundane things'. Your heart fluttered at the thought of sweet intimacy. Soon enough, it became a little routine for you and him. Everytime he wanted to shave his face, you did it for him.
A sweet little gesture between you and Marc.
"I can't help it, baby. The serious pout on your lips is cute"
"Yeah, yeah. If you don't stop talking, I'm gonna cut your handsome face" you carefully swiped a dollop of shaving cream off his cheek and smeared on his nose.
He wasn't a very playful guy but around you, he couldn't help it. With you, happiness came easily. Every laugh of him was unrestrained, so natural and carefree. You brought out that side in him often.
Few seconds passed. Marc's eyes glinted with mischief. Already knowing him, you tried to move back and get off his lap, but he had faster reflexes. He grabbed your face and pressed his cheek all over face, smearing the shaving cream on your nose, cheek and forehead from his face.
"Marc!" you laughed. You grabbed his chin pulling him closer for a kiss. One, two. And you went back to work. "That's your bribe, now stay still" you fixed him with 'I'm serious, now, babe'
"Yes, ma'am"
You couldn't help but smile at that. You managed to finish shaving his face, but not without exchanging few more kisses inbetween as bribe.
Steven:
Him sleeping on your chest.
The moment he walked into the bedroom, you knew something was up. You watched the gloomy expression on his face, which made your heart sink.
"Hey, what happened?" you lowered the book you were reading, closing it and placing it on the table next to you.
"I'll talk about it later. Y/n, love, can I have a hug?"
The way he asked you was soft. His voice was painfully soft.
"Come here, honey" you adjusted your back into the pillows for a better and comfortable position. Your open arms invited him, which he gratefully accepted.
His legs made way to the bed, he lied down next to you, burying his face between your breasts.
You wrapped your arms tightly around him, your fingers stroking his back in comforting manner. "It's alright, it's alright, darling" you began to gently run your fingers into his soft curls. "I've got you" you pressed a light kiss on his head.
You felt him relax under your touch and comforting word. His grip around your waist tightened, you felt him shake and shudder.
Is he crying?
Your heart hammered faster. "Steven, honey...hey, it's alright, it's alright, baby", you threaded your fingers into his hair. You hated seeing him like this.
Whatever made him feel like this...you wanted to rip it off and shred it.
"Bullocks, I must be some sight to see, huh?" he tried to joke but his voice was strained, threating to let out a cry.
Gently taking his face between your soft palms, you placed a kiss between his eyes. Another one on his nose, and one on his lips, shushing him and wiping his tears away with a gentle swipe of your thumb.
His breathing became regular, his body once again relaxed in your warm presence and gentle couch.
You continued whispering sweet nothings in his ear, playing with his hair, until you could hear his steady breathing. He fell asleep. You smiled down at him. You didn't dare to get up with him sleeping on your chest. Very carefully and slowly, you moved one arm to grab the book on the table.
With him finally calmed down from his breakdown, you resumed playing with his hair and continued your reading, occasionally pressing a soft feather kiss on his forehead.
Jake:
Showering together.
The particular mission was rough.
Jake Lockley wanted nothing more than to run into your arms, have a couple drinks and sleep.
He wasn't the one to openly admit his needs and wants. You were aware of that.
Tonight you wanted to take care of him and make him feel extra special and loved.
You decided to have a warm shower.
"Jake" you kissed his lips. "Walk with me?" you took his hand, leading into bathroom.
A tiny smile eased into his face.
Victory. You cheered mentally. Keeping your eyes fixed on his dark ones, you slowly discarded your clothes. When he wanted to do the same, you grabbed his hand. "Let me take care of you tonight" you whispered in his ear.
"Princesa, I-" you cut him off with a passionate kiss. And began to undress him. "You always make sure I'm adored and taken care of, let me do this for you tonight, yeah?"
He reached out his calloused hand to touch your cheek. You smiled, leaning into his touch.
"Whatever you say, mi corazón"
How can he say no to you?
.
Your hands rested behind his neck. "Come here"
At your command, he craned his neck, his face hovering centimetres away from yours. "You are cute when you are bossy, Y/n/n"
"Gods, you are so damn handsome"
The hot steam from the water and the water droplets dripping off his hair, face only confirmed your statement.
You leaned closer, brushing tip of your nose against his.
Many men shuddered at the mere sight of him. But with you, he melted. The very source of his love, his sweet, sweet love.
He wasn't used to being taken care of. When you uttered those sentence, it felt strange to him, alien even. But he trusted you. He would do anything for you. He would move the stars if you asked him to.
You squeezed the shampoo bottle into your palm, lathering the shampoo into nice foamy texture. You moved your hands into his hair, slowly and gently massaging his scalp and washing his hair.
He repeated the same to you.
The hot water was soothing to his sore muscles.
"I want to kiss every part of you" you admitted, moving your hands down reaching his chest, peering at him through lashes laden with water drops.
"What's stopping you, mi amor?", with a wanton smirk plastered on his face, he picked you up bridal style and carried you out of the shower and towards bed.
Jack Lockley did not have drinks that night, but he got something way better—you.
Sometimes it was baths, sometimes it was showers, but quickly it became your little thing with him.
#marc spector x reader#marc spector imagine#marc spector#steven grant x reader#steven grant imagine#steven grant#jake lockley x reader#jake lockley imagine#jake lockley#moon knight x reader#moon knight imagine#moon knight#wystie-verse
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