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spicyllewyn · 1 year ago

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Helping you with homework. (NSFW)

Moon system x reader. (+18) Headcanons.

SFW version here!

Steven.

God bless Steven Grant's heart.

Although you didn't enjoy asking for help with things like this, you knew your boyfriend was the right person for your history assignment.

Unfortunately, remembering dates was your kryptonite.

"I'll explain it to you, okay?" He put on his glasses, and you sighed.

How were you supposed to concentrate when he looked like that?

You watched him go to his room and return with at least six different books in his arms.

And you pushed your chair so close that your shoulders touched.

It started well; you were understanding the timeline from prehistory to the Middle Ages.

However, you didn't take into account that once Steven started talking about his hyperfixations, he didn't stop.

By the second hour, you weren't sure if you were still retaining anything, so you did what your instinct dictated.

You slid down your chair and Steven didn't even notice.

Until after a few seconds when the words caught in his throat when he felt your hand on his baggy jeans.

"Love?" It came out strangled almost.

You were on your knees on the floor in front of him.

"Keep reading."

He obediently lifted his hips to let you lower his pants.

You collected a glob of saliva in your mouth before licking along his erection, he still had his underwear on.

The sudden chill from the damp cloth made him shiver.

"Th-Then, let's get into the topic of feudalism."

By the time you pulled his boxers down, Steven was so hard his cock snapped against his abdomen.

Poor baby Steven, he was so sensitive that the brush of the fabric of his sweater made him moan.

It gave him some relief.

“It was a set of…” a sigh. “Legal and military costumes in mediev-ah, fuck.”

You liked when he cursed.

Your tongue licked the length of him again, and Steven gave you more room by spreading his legs a little more.

“Medieval Europe.” He managed to say. “You remember we talked about i-it, huh, love? The beginning of…”

His head was already inside your mouth and Steven swore he could hear the force with which you were sucking.

“Of the medieval era.” You said after you pulled him out with a little 'pop' from your lips.

His fingers wrapped around yours, forcing you to hold him more firmly.

Steven almost sobbed when without warning you leaned forward.

You could feel it in your throat, but you didn't give him a break, instead you tapped his thigh twice inviting him to continue.

"Yes! Y-Yeah, yes, ahh-. T-The medieval era.” You couldn't see him but he already had his eyes closed. “It was between… Mhmm.”

Who was he trying to fool? He couldn't resist you.

And when he gave up, you made your move.

Bobbing your head up and down for him.

Slow, until his hand was placed on your head, pulling you down hard.

Your nose was brushing against his lower tummy.

And the gagging caused the muscles of your throat to squeeze harder for periods of seconds.

He didn't give you rest even when he came.

“J-Just like that, love.” His voice broke as his whole body shivered. “Swallow it. A-Ah-t-take it, it's all for you."

Steven wasn't that talkative in sex but… He always lost control when it came to you sucking him off.

And you obeyed, swallowing every last drop of his warm, delicious cum.

He remained with his back against the back of the chair with his eyes closed, his hand still in your hair.

She was breathing hard, her curls falling over her forehead.

And his cock was still twitching slightly.

The mere image was obscene.

"Love?" It cost him more than he would like to recover.

"Yes, Steven?"

"Why don't you take a nap while I finish this?"

Marc.

"I beg you." "No."

"Marc?" "No."

"Please?" "I said no."

You had been following him around the house for about 5 hours. Usually, you had no trouble completing your responsibilities from start to finish, but on days like today, you didn't even have the energy to turn on your laptop.

And Marc, of course, had already decided that there was no way he would help you with something like this.

In his school days, he didn't even do his own homework.

"Please, please, please." "I said no."

After begging for the 46th time, you finally gave up. The rest of the day passed just as boringly until dinner when you took the last sip of coffee from your cup.

"I'm not going to do it." After a week of constant sleep deprivation, you decided that you could afford to sleep for 8 hours just this once.

Marc looked at you in silence for a few seconds before nodding his head.

"Let's go to sleep then."

You obeyed, and you both went hand in hand to bed. Like every night, you felt him press you against his body with both arms.

The exhaustion in your body made you give in in less than 10 minutes.

But Marc couldn't sleep.

At 12:27 in the morning, he quietly got out of bed.

And at 01:53, you woke up. The fear of not feeling your daily companion almost made you cry like a little kid.

You got up to look for him, and it wasn't difficult at all. The light from your laptop illuminated the entire dining room.

And the sound of the keys echoed through the house.

"Marc?" "No," he replied again. Admitting such gestures was not his strong suit.

Still, he pushed the chair back to give you space, and you dragged your feet to sit on his lap.

You sat in front of the laptop and he continued typing with his arms at the sides of your body.

The least you could do was accompany him while he worked for you.

That and make sure he didn't make any mistakes.

You settled in a little jump on his lap.

And he had to take a breath.

Foolish of him not to assume you had noticed.

Another movement of your hips.

"Why don't you go sleep while I finish this?" His hoarse voice gave you a chill.

"I do not want to be alone." And it was not a lie.

With the tips of your feet you used the ground to have more control and you slowly moved again on top of him.

He growled, though you didn't know if it annoyed him to be distracted or because he liked it.

maybe both.

One hand gripped your hip, his fingers making sure you weren't able to move.

Sometimes you forgot the strength your boyfriend possessed.

"Stay." He ordered, his chin resting on your shoulder so he could see the screen.

And you, of course, with a PhD in testing Marc Spector's patience, did not comply.

You pushed yourself down, your ass pressing against his half-hardened cock.

“Shit, sweetheart.” He breathed heavily in your ear and you leaned your back against his chest.

Before you could know it, you were at his mercy.

He left the keyboard of the laptop and his two hands were placed on your hips. You knew his fingers would leave a mark, they always did.

But you didn't stop him when he began to guide your movements on top of his still clothed cock.

"You can't wait a few minutes, huh?" When your legs were on top of his, he separated them without having to use his hands.

His free hand positioned between your legs.

Every move you made on him resulted in more friction for you.

“Marc, Marc, Marc.” Your breathy voice filled the room.

He was pushing up like he was thrusting into you.

The rubbing of your clothes together began to emit heat because of the speed with which you pretended to ride him.

You both looked like teenagers with little time.

“You are going to make me cum on my fucking pants.” He growled against your neck as he nibbled at it to his liking.

Was he complaining or was it a compliment to you?

Anyway, you knew it was over when both of his hands forced you down as he emptied every last drop onto his clothes.

Your breaths echoed, unrhythmic and agitated.

"Go to sleep." He forced you to stand up. And you turned to enjoy the view. Post-orgasm Marc was always something worth admiring.

His glossy lips and red cheeks made you smile. And without meaning to, he smiled back, running a hand through his hair to push the curls away from his face.

"I'll go to bed when this is over."

Jake.

Spanish was never your strong suit.

And you knew very well that Jake was the one who could help you, but once you asked him, you knew he wouldn't stop bothering you.

He, on the other hand, was an expert in both things: speaking fluent Spanish and teasing you.

"Jake?" "Yes, honey?" "Can I ask you something?"

And as you suspected, he didn't leave you alone all day.

He started with innocent things, pointing to his fork and asking you. "What's this called, love?"

He even sounded like the host of a kid's show at some moments.

But when you lost your temper, Jake did too.

You stopped responding to him and playing along.

Bad idea. If your boyfriend was sure of one thing, it's that a day later you'd be crying in his arms for failing the exam, so he did what any responsible boyfriend would do.

"M-More." You said with a broken voice.

His cock was thrusting deeply into you.

His right hand smacked against your cheek.

It burned deliciously. And it was probably the fifth you received.

"¡Más!" You complained as you corrected yourself while your fingers clung to the bed.

You would have time later to scold him because the mattress was creaking as if he wanted to give up.

"Buena chica." (Good girl.) You wanted to beat the mocking smile out of him.

Even more so when he went back to the slow pace after a few seconds.

Turns out Jake had been in this game for about 40 minutes where he was fucking you to the limit and then suddenly stopping.

You wanted to burst into tears of frustration, but were you going to lie and say you weren't enjoying it?

"Más duro." (Harder.)

His own game played against him when you whispered between moans with your eyes locked on his.

For a moment you thought you had earned another slap, but instead, his hand went around your neck. You knew when he moved faster than you too you were pushing him to the limit.

Even under his body, with his hand forcing you to stay against the mattress, you managed to take control of things away from Jake just by batting your eyelashes for him.

"Más d-duro." You repeated with a broken voice.

And he obeyed.

You were so close

So close.

"Jake, please." Another slap. "¡Por favor! ¡Por favor!"

Your pleas were the straw that broke the camel's back.

"¿D-Dónde lo quieres, huh, a-ah, mierda-, princesa?" (Where do you want it, huh, princesa?) "M-mhm, dentro." (Inside.) And he was so lost in your body expressing the pleasure you felt in so many different ways that he didn't even notice the mistake in your response.

He filled you up.

And then pushed his spend deeper with some more thrusts.

You expected him to come out right away, you both deserved a break.

Instead, he slowly moved his hip again, making you whimper.

“We still have a lot to practice.” It didn't take long for your breathing to change, you weren't even sure you could walk to school tomorrow.

Needless to say, you received an amazing grade for the cheap price of spending those two hours with your cheeks flushing red every time you read certain words.

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m00nsbaby · 1 year ago

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Your camera roll as Steven Grant’s girlfriend.

(And the person Marc Spector secretly loves tolerates)

Inspired by; Already over.

#moon knight #moon boys x you #moon boys x reader #moon system #moon knight x reader #moon knight x you #moon system x reader #moon system x you #jake lockley #marc spector #steven grant #jake lockley x reader #marc spector x reader #marc spector x you #steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #oscar isaac #oscar isaac x you #oscar isaac x reader

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angel-of-the-moons · 1 year ago

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Small Surprises

Moon Knight System (Marc/Jake/Steven) x Single Mother!Reader

TW/CW: Some mentions of past childhood abuse, cheating partner, mostly fluff

A/N: Like the Symbrock one I did, this one will be one whole fic with a few times skips here and there! This fic will also explore a bit more into the autistic side of Steven as a character, based off my own experiences with my autism, tics, habits etc! Also, once again, featuring snippets of the hobby headcanons done by @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction! (I love those headcanons so much they are canon as far as I'm concerned asdfghjkl)

Taglist: @chrishy973 @katitakenway @queerponcho

EDIT: Part 2 is out now!!! Read it here!

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Another droll day at the museum, the same disinterested customers and more nagging from Donna. Honestly, Steven was lucky he got his job back at the museum--though he only surmised it was due to the fact nobody else wanted to work for Donna--but he was grateful for the extra income.

And it definitely helped provide a distraction from Jake's night activities for Khonshu, as well as Marc's from time to time.

But of course, even though it provided a distraction, it wasn't much of one.

That is... until the day a poofy mop of curls bounced into the gift shop, eagerly looking at the wares within with big sparkling eyes. The child couldn't have been older than four--maybe five--as she happily looked at the myriad of items available.

Contrasting to most of the little girls he's seen come in (which, were admittedly few) she didn't immediately run over to the cheap horse figures with the chariots or even the cat plushies.

She went right for things like the plushie scarabs, the statues...

This of course had Donna proverbially chewing her nails as she watched the unaccompanied minor scamper about the gift shop.

"I'm going back to do inventory," She warned Steven. "If she breaks anything, it's coming out of your pay, Stevie."

Steven ground his teeth when she called him that, and waited for her to walk away before muttering. "What little you do pay me, you bloody old biddy."

Steven fixed his name tag and walked up to the little girl, crouching next to her as her chubby little face scrunched in what appeared to be distaste.

"Hey there, poppet. What's got you upset, eh?" He asked, his big brown eyes meeting hers as she crossed her arms with a huff.

"They don't look right!" She complained.

"Oh? What doesn't look right?" Steven asked patiently, a warm smile on his face.

The child pointed to the small canvases and posters of the various Egyptian gods. Namely the ones of Bastet and Anubis, and in particular of the two, one of the canvases depicting Anubis surrounded by shrieking souls and flames.

He himself had raised a complaint with that depiction, as after his own time in the Egyptian afterlife (alongside Marc, and unbeknownst to them at the time, Jake) he knew the afterlife was not like that. While they hadn't met Anubis himself, they were guided and weighed by Taweret.

But he wholeheartedly agreed that the artwork of Anubis was entirely wrong, and frankly, offensive.

"'Nubis isn't like that." She said, stomping her little foot. "He's nice!"

Steven raised his eyebrows at her, tilting his head as some stray curls fell over his face. "Oh?" He asked. "Then tell me little one, how is Anubis?"

"He's--!" She scoffed, rolling her eyes in the typical fashion a child does when they feel like they're explaining something painfully obvious to an oblivious adult.

"He's a good dog-man." She says to him. "He doesn't mess with skulls n' stuffs! He's nice, he helps people who might get lost when they die."

'That's a hefty subject for a kid.' Marc's voice spoke.

"No kidding." Jake remarked. "Where are her parents?"

Steven meanwhile, was positively thrilled that one so young understood that Anubis, while being the god of death, was not evil. And... naturally this sent him into info-dump mode.

"Why, yes! Anubis is good." He held up a finger as the little girl looked at him, awe on her face that he understood what she was saying and was willing to actually talk about it.

"He guided souls once they left their earthly bodies." He explained, grabbing a small replica of an Egyptian temple front. "Once their hearts were weighed, if they were good, he would help guide them to the afterlife. If they were bad..."

"They got ate by the crocko-lion!" The girl finished with a gasp.

Steven suppressed the urge to laugh at how she described Ammit. Jake and Marc meanwhile, held no such compunction and were laughing their asses off.

"I like this kid." Jake said as his laughter died down.

"Yes! They did. But did you know they also had to be judged? Not just with the scales?" Steven grinned at her as she bounced on her heels, the palms of her hands rubbing on her coveralls as she listened.

"Now that subject is very lengthy...." Steven leaned over on the flats of his shoes and plucked a small book about the Egyptian afterlife and mythos and showed it to the little girl. The cover was emblazoned with raised gold print; with images of sarcophagi, and motifs scattered on the front and back.

"But it's always worth a good read." Steven continued. "Now, if you want to know someone else who sometimes assists those who've passed on?"

The little girl plucked the book out of Steven's arms, nodding, her eyes tracking the way his mouth and hair moved. Not once did she make eye contact, instead settling for staring at other features instead.

Steven could understand, sometimes looking into people's eyes was... oof. It was difficult and frankly sometimes it made him uncomfortable, made his palms itch and the hair on the back of his neck tickle.

He stood up, and walked to another shelf, the little girl trailing behind him, the book looking three sizes too large for her tiny body as her little light up sneakers squeaked on the waxed linoleum.

Steven reached down, then, and grabbed a plaster statuette of a familiar feminine shape sporting a hippo head and kneeled back down, showing it to her.

"This is Taweret." He beamed proudly.

"She's the nice hippo lady." The child peeped, staring at the statue with rapt attention.

"Yes! Yes, she is! Very nice." Steven chuckled. "But she's also the goddess of motherhood and children, did you know? She protects women when they have their babies, and helps them."

The little girl nodded, "Yeah, I read a thingy 'bout her! She's--"

"Victoria! Oh my god." A breathless voice called from the front of the shop.

The moment Steven lifted his gaze, he could feel his heart catch on his throat when he saw you. Even Marc and Jake went quiet as you approached.

You were wearing some faded-out jeans and a t-shirt with a faded band logo that hugged your figure very nicely. You had a backpack slung over your shoulders and the keychains dangling from it tinkled and clacked as you moved, rushing to scoop up your child.

Steven could easily see that Victoria got her looks from you, those gorgeous inquisitive eyes, her nose, hair texture...

Jake had to give him the mental equivalent of a slap to stop his gawking as he stood up awkwardly, wiping the hand not holding the statue on his jeans as he gave you what he hoped was a charming smile, but judging by your wariness, you obviously weren't thrilled at the sight of your daughter talking to a strange man.

Steven was about to speak up, but Victoria did so instead for him, not reading the tenseness in the situation.

"Steven's my friend!" She beamed, holding the book in her pudgy little fingers, showing you. "He knows about 'Gyptian stuff, too!"

Steven blinked, feeling a blush creep up on his cheeks as you looked at him, raised eyebrows. It took him a moment of awkward glancing away to realize Victoria knew his name because she read his name tag. He hadn't once said it to her. Hell, he only knew her name because you said it when you ran in!

"Ah... Yes. I work here, in the gift shop. Egyptology is a major... um." He struggled to find a word.

"Hyperfixation?" You sigh, the tension easing from your shoulders as you smile tiredly.

"Oh! Yes. I s'pose!" He said, blinking his big doe eyes at you.

"Yeah, Victoria is... well." You chuckle, propping the young child on your hip with practiced ease. "She's obsessed with the stuff! I swear, the stuff she can shove into her noggin with how much she knows of ancient Egypt, it feels like she was born in the wrong era, I'm telling you!"

Victoria smiled happily and snuggled into you, rubbing her cheek on the soft fabric of your shirt with a content hum, almost like a happy little cat.

You didn't pay any mind to her as she rubbed her face on you, instead conversing with the man in front of you.

"Ah... A little scholar to be, eh?" Steven laughed awkwardly.

"Hah, more like she already is one. With everything she knows, I swear she outpaces me in the IQ department." You sigh fondly, brushing a stray curl from your daughter's face.

Steven's eyes anxiously tracked your movements, how your fingers curled, the way your eyelashes brushed your cheeks when you blinked, the way your foot tapped on the floor...

"I'm surprised she talked to you. She's normally very introverted." You hum softly, raising those drop dead gorgeous eyes to lock with his before he awkwardly dropped his eyes to your lips whilst you spoke.

"But then again, if you started talking about this stuff with her, it's no surprise. I'm the only person she talks to about it because nobody else understands."

You noticed his Steven was looking anywhere but your eyes, and how he nervously licked at his lips, his fingers wrapped around the statuette in his hands tapping idly.

"Oh! She's a lovely little conversationalist. Rather well-knowledged as well!" Steven replied, looking at Victoria again, who grinned as she once again rubbed her face on your shirt.

"Honestly, she's more learned than half the adults who try to talk to me about Egypt." He huffed out a chuckle.

His eyes dropped to the picture of Anubis that initially offended the child. "We got into a little debate about how inaccurate those pieces of Anubis are."

"Oh, don't get her started on those inaccurate artworks... She despises them!" You laugh softly.

"Oh, I fully understand why! It's so offensive!" Steven gasped. "Especially to a culture! Anubis is not an evil god by any means!"

"Oh yeah, believe me... we watched a movie the other day and she had a meltdown because they made Anubis the bad guy. She was so distraught it took thirty minutes to calm her down." You smile with infinite patience at your little girl.

"Oh, poor little dear! But I can totally understand that." Steven smiled, finally locking eyes with you as he reached some level of professional comfort with you.

"Mommy, can I get em?" Victoria peeped, interrupting you before you could get another word out.

"Hm?" You hummed at her, raising an eyebrow.

"The book and hippo lady!" She replied, holding up the book.

"Hippo Lady?"

"Yeah!" She said, sounding a little exasperated, pointing to the statue Steven clutched in his hands. "Her! Tawar!"

"Taweret." Steven chuckled softly at her mispronunciation.

"Tawww--" Victoria frowned as she tried to get the word out. "Tawweret."

"Close 'nough. I'm sure she wouldn't mind." Steven smiled warmly, holding up the statuette.

"All right, all right." You laughed, following Steven to the counter so you could check out, having another nice chat about what he and Victoria discussed. He even tossed in a little keychain that held a preserved scarab beetle in epoxy, much to Victoria's delight!

What you didn't know as you left the shop, was how positively smitten he was with you already.

That was your first meeting with Steven Grant.

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A few weeks crawled by, and every other day you were at the museum, letting Victoria lead you by the hand as she animatedly discussed what every object or picture meant, and you struggled to keep up, making mental (and a few digital) notes on what she was talking about. Of course, she insisted that after every tour, you stopped to say hi to her new "bestest friend" Steven.

You were thrilled that you found someone who operated on the same wavelength as your daughter, knowing that it was hard for her to make connections with other children, let alone adults. But Steven and Victoria took to each other like ducks to water.

And hey, he seemed harmless enough. Cute, too, beneath that mop of curls. You even started researching more just to be able to tag into the conversations between your daughter and her unlikely friend.

Today, you were at the local grocer and Victoria decided that she wanted to walk with you instead of riding in the trolley on her tablet like she normally did. You were happy, but ensured she kept her noise cancelling headphones over her tiny ears to make sure she stayed comfortable.

You had picked up a pack of steaks to examine the cuts when Victoria slipped your hand free of hers and darted off, squealing, "Steven!"

You almost dropped the steaks when Victoria darted down the aisle and wrapped her arms around the legs of the man she ran towards.

One minute Marc was looking at a box of matzahs, the next, he had a child clinging to his legs.

His whole body froze as he looked down, immediately going rigid as the little girl looked up at him, babbling something he didn't quite understand because of how quickly she was speaking.

He did make out the name "Steven".

"Uh--" He said awkwardly.

"I'm so sorry!" You say, hastily bringing the trolley up to the two. "She just got excited to see you, and..."

Your brows furrowed as you looked at him. He looked like Steven Grant, but he didn't feel like Steven Grant. His normally messy curls were combed back neatly, his flannel hanging open with the sleeves rolled up and T-shirt untucked from his pants. His big brown eyes were wide, looking at you with a face that simply pleaded "Help me".

"Uh..."

"I'm... Marc." He said in an unmistakably American accent.

"Oh. Oh!" You lean down and scoop up Victoria, hastily plopping her in the trolley, willing yourself to ignore her little wobbling lip as you messily search up her favorite video to watch on her tablet to prevent the simmering meltdown you could see just beneath her surface.

"I'm... I'm sorry. You just look like someone we know from the museum, and..." You sigh, rubbing your hands together as you cringed.

"Steven, yeah..." Marc said, giving a stiff smile in return as he dropped the box of what looked like crackers into his basket looped over his elbow.

"You..."

'Play it cool, Marc...' Jake's voice softly warned.

"We're, uh, brothers. Triplets. All identical." He spat out with haste.

"Oh! Well... That's... That explains the looks, huh." You smile, hoping to ease the awkward tension. His explanation didn't sit well with you for some reason, as to why he suddenly blurted it all out. But you chocked it up to him trying to explain to avoid upsetting Victoria.

"But, yeah. Um... Your brother, Steven? He and Victoria are like, best friends now. She looks forward to seeing him whenever we're at the museum." You chuckle softly.

Marc's eyes soften as he smiles, giving Victoria a gentle look. "Yeah, uh, Steven's told me about her. She's a smart kid, huh?"

"Oh, yeah. A real genius." You smile at her as she starts tapping away at her tablet, selecting one of her drawing apps and beginning to scribble.

"Sometimes I can't keep up with her."

"Hey, that's good. She'll go places." Marc replied.

Your smile falters a bit. "Yeah, if people will give her a chance..." You mutter.

Marc was about to ask what she meant, but he kept his mouth shut, watching as Victoria was engrossed with her tablet, her little feet wiggling and tapping on the sides of the trolley as she moved her mouth silently, mouthing words to herself.

"She's... Eh." You rub the back of your neck. "She normally doesn't come to the store with me. She says she can hear the lights buzzing and it upsets her, which is why she has to wear her headphones. I mean I can't hear the lights or anything, but all I need to know is that she can..."

"Yeah, Steven is the same way sometimes. It makes him twitch so he has to wear headphones when we go shopping..." Marc said, frowning.

"Yeah. That's something I'm kind of amazed about. Victoria doesn't really have any friends outside of well, me... and your brother? Steven and her are just... man, they're like two peas in a pod!"

Marc stays quiet as you smile fondly at your child, and he notes the relief in your expression as you recount that your child was able to finally connect with someone. It warmed his heart to know that Steven was able to socialize with someone who shared the same mannerisms, even if she was just a kid.

His eyes flicked down to your hands as you put your hands on your hips, and noted the lack of wedding ring and a ring tan line.

'Focus, cabrón.' Jake snickered.

"She's autistic. It was a pain to get her diagnosed, but we managed. I could tell she was different. Namely how she would act with fabrics." You sigh.

Now that grabbed both Marc and Jake's attention. If Steven were aware and co-fronting, he was sure he would be rapt as well. Steven explained the fabric thing to hime a few times, but being in the same body it was still hard at times to understand that Marc or Jake could feel one thing but Steven could feel another.

"Uh... Fabrics? You'll have to forgive me, but..."

"Oh! It's a sensory thing." You explain, rolling your hand. "With her, it's fleece, or satin-like textures. They irritate her and make her fussy. As a baby I never understood why she flipped out when I would put her little socks on her until the doctor explained it when she was older. But for some people it's cotton, or microfiber... The way Victoria describes it is that it's, uh..."

"Scratchy." Marc murmurs.

"Exactly!" You snap your fingers.

"Yeah, Steven is the same way. Though he's not like that with satin, he usually prefers cotton--the super soft kind? Or silk." Marc nods, shoving one hand in his pocket.

"Yeah... It's thankfully easy to shop for her, she prefers cotton and soft microfiber. It's why she rubs her cheek on my shirts or pants. Some people mistake it for being affectionate--and don't get me wrong sometimes it is--but usually it's a grounding thing." You sigh softly. "It helps her calm down."

"Ah... Sounds hard. What about her dad? He know how to handle it?" Marc asked curiously.

He immediately felt bad when he saw how your expression fell, and you glared at the ground.

"He skipped out on us while I was pregnant. I caught him in our bed with someone I thought was my best friend the day I found out she was a girl." You spit, angry and full of venom.

Marc cringed. "God, your best friend? In your bed? That's a whole extra level of degeneracy..."

"I know! Ugh! I swear, if he wasn't stronger than me I would have stabbed him that day!" You groan.

Marc rocks his head back in shock at the admission. "You were gonna stab him?"

"When you're five months pregnant, hormonal, tired, and sore and walk in on your fiancee doing the deed in your own bed? Yeah, emotions get high." You run a hand through your hair, smirking as you looked back at him.

"Grabbed the knife right outta the block and lunged at him. Chased em both half naked out of my flat."

'Shit, I'd be in love. That sounds sexy as hell.' Marc could just imagine the grin that would be spread across Jake's face at that.

Marc laughed, unable to contain himself, both at the retelling of your story and Jake's remark.

'You got problems, Jake.' Marc shot back mentally.

'Pot, meet kettle...'

'Touché...'

"So it's safe to say, he's out of the picture, huh?" Marc says, his laughter dying down into a soft chuckle.

"Oh yeah. Had his parental rights severed, and kicked his sorry.... well. I tossed him out and told him that my "best friend" could deal with him and his lazy antics, considering I pay for the flat."

"Yikes. Sounds like a real dirt bag."

"Oh yeah, he was. I have no idea what I saw in him, to be honest... And knowing that Victoria isn't "normal" like other kids, I feel like he would treat her badly, or... hurt her." You say, shaking your head.

"Hey, if he shows up and does that just call me." Marc grunted. "I hate it when people do that crap to kids. I'll knock his teeth down his throat."

The words slipped out before he could stop them, and the weight of them almost made them feel oppressive as glimpses of his abusive childhood shone through. The memories of his mother swinging her arm down, the crack of the leather belt, the red, bloody welts in his skin...

'Ay, hermano. Come back, don't think about that.' Jake's voice said gently, urging that door in his mind shut. 'That's not your life, anymore.'

Marc blinked and looked back up at you, his eyes locking with yours. And the concern on your face... he felt so undeserving of it. He wasn't sure why, but...

"Ah... I mean... Let's just say I have experience with that sort of thing. So I'm..." He struggled.

"No, no, I get it. My dad was a piece of shhh..." You cringed as the word almost slipped from you, casting a short glance to Victoria, making sure she couldn't hear you. "Er. He was bad. So yeah, I totally get you."

"Oh... Sorry, people get weirded out when I..." He rubbed the back of his neck.

"Disassociate." You finish for him. "I used to do the same thing when it came to my dad. It gets easier once you're free of it, I promise."

The soft, sweet smile you give him was strong enough to make his heart jump into his throat.

'Wow...'

'Ask. Her. Out. Steven won't do it, so you do it!' Jake urged him.

Marc choked suddenly, coughing awkwardly to clear his throat at Jake's further commentary.

"You okay?" You ask him.

"Y-Yeah, I just... Uh..." He cringed again. "It's... allergies! I've been dealing with them since we dusted the flat, and... Yep. Allergies."

You chuckle softly at him as Victoria tugs on your sleeve and whispers in your ear.

"Oop, mama duty calls. It was nice meeting you, Marc." You grin, giving him a short handshake.

"Yeah... You too." Marc replied as you walked off, giving Victoria a wave as she peeked over your shoulder as you push the trolley away.

'Allergies? Smooth, Marc. Really smooth. How the hell did you ever bag Layla with romantic skills like that?' Jake sighed sarcastically.

'I swear Layla probably only married you for your dick, man. You're so BAD at romance.'

Marc knew Layla did love him, at one point but with all the drama of being Moon Knight, it quickly snuffed that relationship... They were still close of course, but they'd never open up to another intimate relationship again. Which was fine, none of them minded particularly.

Especially not now. Not now that there's a cute single mom with and adorably--scarily--smart little girl on her hip to occupy those thoughts.

And that... was your first time meeting Marc Spector.

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Now, meeting Jake was different. Completely different. You technically "met" Jake weeks after you met Marc and built a rapport with him.

One night, Jake was sitting in the window, munching on some saltines he'd spread with sunflower butter as he read some old knitting patterns in a book he'd picked up at a resale shop.

He thought he could knit something for both you and Victoria and have Steven give it to you, it would be a good way to start actually flirting, to hopefully open up that door for all of you.

But of course... well. He knew Steven was way too shy to ask you out on a date, and Marc was too chicken shit and awkward about the subject to bring it up himself.

And so, it fell upon Jake Lockley to find a way to get closer to you, two. He understood that many single mothers found it tricky to date, especially with a child like Victoria. It would require immense levels of trust to get past those walls you would have put up to protect both you and Victoria, especially after you'd told Marc about Victoria's biological father fucking your best friend the day of your ultrasound.

He could just imagine how your poor face fell when you closed your front door, hearing the ridiculously high-pitched, false moans and the squeaking of the mattress as that miserable excuse of a man was having his way with your supposed "best friend"...

All while your hands would have clutched the pictures of your unborn baby girl, tears bubbling up in your eyes as you screamed at them while they scrambled to cover their shame.

And then.... as you told Marc, you would have grabbed the knife and the rest was history; bidding goodbye to that cheating bastard and woman you once trusted.

You were strong, loving and oh so patient with your daughter and her needs. Jake found your whole being attractive, honestly. He hadn't seen you angry, but he just knew you were a badass if you wanted to be.

He chuckled as he picked up his knitting needles, and began to loop the soft, thick yarn through each line. He was sure to pick yarn that wouldn't upset Victoria and her sensory issues, so he picked the softest yarn he possibly could, selecting enough to make the both of you matching jumpers.

Victoria's would be a little big, to allow for comfort and her to grow into it as she wore it. He could just imagine how adorable she'd look with the sleeves hanging over her little hands, squirming and giggling as you two played together--

Jake's hands stopped knitting.

Shit. He had it down bad for you, too.

When he looked down, that's when he noticed the green laser pointed right at him...

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You were there, simply cleaning up the mess from dinner as Victoria happily colored on her dry erase board, drawing the shapes and hieroglyphs she saw in the book Steven selected for her.

She had been quiet and engrossed in her little art project for so long that you jumped and almost dropped a plate on the floor when she squealed loudly.

"Mommy, it's Steven! Or Mister Marc?"

"Huh? What?" You looked around your flat, for some reason your brain told you to look inside instead our our the window where her little finger tapped the glass excitedly.

"No, there!" She insisted. "Over there!"

You walk over to her and lean down, looking out the window.

And sure enough, across the street, in the building across from yours, an apartment had the curtains open with the lights on.

In one of the windows, at a desk, sat a man. The streets were close enough together that you could make out some details. The shadow of a mustache being the first thing you zeroed in on, and then the immaculately slicked-back hair.

He looked like he was... knitting? This man, who looked like Steven and Marc. Marc and Steven both mentioned on different occasions that they had a brother named Jake, maybe this was him?

And wow! So close by, too!

Victoria waved her arms, trying to get her attention, but the man was so absorbed in his task that he didn't notice her try to get his attention. When her little disappointed sniffles could be heard, you snap your fingers.

"I got an idea!" You say, dashing to the end table by the front door and rummaging through the various keychains you'd accumulated. It was a guilty habit of yours, you found.

But then you pluck up the laser toy and run back to the window. It takes shaking it once or twice for the green light to illuminate, but when it does, you shine it directly through the window and at the man's chest.

Then, he looked up.

You break out into a happy grin when he spots the two of you, and Victoria giggles with unabated glee as she waves some more, her whole tiny body moving with every shake of her overly excited hand.

You see the man smile back and he waves at the both of you.

"Hey, baby, why don't we use your board to say hi?" You suggest, rubbing her shoulders.

"Yeah!" She giggles, grabbing the board and erasing her painstakingly re-created drawings from the book, and messily scrawled the word:

Hi :)

The man laughed and looked around until he grabbed a notebook, scribbled something with a marker, and held it up for you two to see.

Hello

You chuckle as Victoria hands you the board, knowing that your writing is neater than hers is, and with how excited she is, she was bound to mess up.

You quickly and clearly write something down and turn the board to face the window.

Steven or Marc?

He smiled at you and scribbled back.

Jake

Marc n Steven told us about you. Hi!

They've told me a lot about you, too.

"That's Jake, honey. Remember what I said? How Steven and Mister Marc look alike? He's the same way." You explain to Victoria.

"Oh." She sighs. Poor little thing seemed dejected that once again, she misidentified someone as her "bestest friend".

You lift your eyes as Jake showed what he put on the notepad next. It was a badly drawn cat with a happy face on it.

You can't help but laugh and grin, nudging Victoria to look at what he drew for her.

"It's a kitty!" She gasps, snatching the board from your hands to draw pictures for him.

You spent much of the evening that night with Victoria and Jake drawing pictures back and forth, writing messages until he ran out of paper.

That's when you put down your phone number and told him to text, to make it easier on Victoria.

Victoria, upon realizing this, dropped her board and snatched your phone, starting a video call with Jake and chattering his ear off. He seemed to take it in stride, engaging with her. Not on the same level as Steven, but something about how he handled it gave you the impression he had experience with kids, or even worked with kids.

He didn't talk down or dumb anything down for her, he spoke to her calmly and clearly like he would anyone else, and the fact he was so sweet was endearing to you.

He was even teaching her little words in Spanish. For some reason, she liked to repeat the word "cat" because she liked how it sounded, and it was "funny".

That was how you met Jake Lockley.

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It was now half a year since you'd indirectly met all three "brothers" and quickly, the pressure was beginning to mount on them to reveal the truth to you as their crush developed more and more into full infatuation with you and your darling girl.

But they still hadn't asked you out, yet. They'd come close a few times, but it was never when Jake was in control so Marc and Steven backed down at the last possible moment. Every time Jake was in control it wasn't a "good moment" for them to propose a date with you. But now?

It was late in the year, the harvest festival being over with and the holidays around the corner with Christmas, as usual, dominating all others. Snow and ice encased everything. It came early this year, and Victoria couldn't be more thrilled. (She could build snowmen with her friends, Steven, Mister Marc and Mister Jake!)

You and Jake would text, and he gave in and told you that he, Marc, and Steven all actually lived together and he would "let" Steven or Marc use his phone so he could video chat with Victoria and you.

You didn't know the boys all shared the same phone regardless.

It was nice having a social life again, even if it was small. Outside work and ensuring a comfortable upbringing for your little girl, you'd forgotten how nice it was to have friends. Even if those friends consisted of three identical, quirky brothers who lived in the flat across the way.

The day was coming soon, for when they would have to confess to you about the true nature of their identities. And the three unanimously agreed that they would tell you about Moon Knight.

For your safety, and Victoria's. They didn't want you to agree to date them (if you ever would) only to find out they snuck out in the dead of night to do the bidding of some creepy ancient bird god who could frankly do with a wardrobe update...

They just didn't anticipate that day to be today. Of course, Steven would rather have broken the news to you over a nice dinner in the corner booth of a quiet restaurant. Or even on a nice walk through the park...

But no. No, it had to come out when you decided to pull out your phone and go through your texts or the day as Victoria sat in Steven's lap on the couch of your living room.

Jake had sent a meme earlier in the day, of a little cat wearing a sombrero and you chuckled. You sent a meme back in reply, of a snail holding some maracas on some drawn-on arms.

That's when Steven twitched when the phone in his back pocket vibrated and chimed with a silly little ringtone.

You blinked at him as he fished it out of his pocket, careful not to knock Victoria off balance as he checked it. He awkwardly cleared his throat and gave you a strained smile as he set it on the coffee table in front of you.

"You okay..." You say, eyeing the very familiar phone. They could just have the same model and case...

"Oh, yes, just an email alert, luv. Don't worry 'bout it!" Steven chirped, quickly shifting his attention back to Victoria as she practiced her reading from the book in her hands.

You squint at him suspiciously. Your finger hovered over the send button when you selected another silly little image...

But you decided to call instead.

That's when a song began to chime. One you recognized very well as Steven's favorite song...

♫"Lonely is a man,

Without looove~"♫

'God damn it, Steven! You forgot to put it on silent again!' Marc's panicked voice shouted inside their headspace.

'Ay, hermanito, not now!' Jake groaned.

Steven began to sweat profusely as Victoria handed the phone innocently to him, urging him to answer it, not making the correlation with the song, or your phone number...

Steven shakily held the phone to his ear and answered.

"H-Hello..."

"Steven." You deadpan, raising an eyebrow and tapping your finger on your arm.

'Shit shit shit shit.' Marc hissed.

'Busted.' Jake almost sang.

You look at Victoria, hesitant to interrupt her time with Steven, but you wanted answers. Why is it that none of the men ever agreed to all meet up in person to hang out? Why did you only ever see one at a time? Yes, work was a convenient excuse, but every single day?

And then there's the phone!

Yeah, you weren't letting Steven wiggle free from this talk, even as Victoria pouted and trudged back into her room to play with her toys.

You almost feel like a cop in a bad movie, the way you lean back with your arms crossed, almost like you were an interrogator in a police precinct.

Would this make you both the bad and good cop?

You felt so bad, knowing that this kind of behavior would only freak Steven out, so you relaxed your jaw and posture, leaning away from him and giving him breathing room as his sweaty hands began to pat nervously in the memorized tune of that specific song that was just playing.

"I'm not blind, and I'm not dumb... So start from the beginning." You sigh. "I don't want anything to come out and upset Victoria, but I have to know who I'm letting around my little girl."

Steven licked at his slightly chapped lips, taking his bottom lip between his teeth briefly.

"Okay..." He peeped.

'Just take it slow, Steven.' Marc urged him gently.

'I can take control, if you want.' Jake offered.

"No, that's too much right now." Steven muttered aloud, without thinking.

You tipped your head to the side. "What's too much?"

Steven jumped and covered his mouth, his big doe eyes wide as can be, like he's a little boy who was caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out.

He despised awkward situations like this. He could never tell what to say to keep someone happy and to avoid them getting angry with him...

"Steven, I'm not mad. I'm honestly confused. Please... Just... Tell me everything, okay? I just wanna know some things." You say, leaning forward to put your hand on his knee, your ever so patient eyes sweet and understanding.

Yeah, those eyes were his undoing.

"Do you know what Dissociative Identity Disorder is?"

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Whatever you had originally expected to hear from Steven, finding out that he, Marc and Jake all shared the same body was a lot to absorb. Especially after Steven blurted out about their superhero alter ego that apparently did bidding for an Egyptian god?

Steven expected you to be mad, braced himself for it, but instead, he and his two headmates were knocked entirely off center when you made the remark that if Khonshu ever got to be too much for the boys, they should lock him in a room with Victoria and her never-ending questions.

That would shut him up for a little while, surely.

Another thing you weren't expecting was the date proposal from Steven (and of course Marc and Jake).

You hesitated, at first... But...

They were so kind and sweet. They already have shown so much care for you and your daughter... And you were honestly happy to realize that you weren't crushing on different guys, that your feelings were no longer awkward and conflicted.

Or wait, were you crushing on different men? Yes they were completely different identities, but they shared a body, and... oh, this was gonna take time to learn more about.

Your first date was for later that week. Steven informed you it would be Jake, taking you out, as he felt like a "bloody awkward fool" and was afraid of messing it up, and Marc was just as bad at those social situations.

But you agreed, and when the date rolled around, you and Victoria were bundled up, all ready to go to the charming little Italian restaurant somewhere in town where apparently Jake was friendly with the employees there.

Victoria skipped in the snow, struggling to match her pace with yours, making sure her footsteps were measured so her prints mirrored yours exactly as she walked on her little tippy toes.

As you approached where Jake had his car parked, he smiled, his mustache quirking up as he scooped Victoria in his large gloved hands, laughing when she dragged her fingers over his hairy upper lip, comparing the stache to a caterpillar.

You stifled a snort and covered your mouth as you watched Jake buckle Victoria into a booster seat in the back of his car.

"Where did you..." You blinked. You fully intended to run back to your flat and grab the booster seat you owned, but you were surprised to see Jake already had one. A rather expensive-looking one, at that.

"Ay, cariño, you didn't think I'd let the little chiquita ride unprotected, did you?" He smirked at you, his dark eyes glinting mischievously.

"But, I have one. You didn't have to..."

"Hey, if it makes it easier, I'll be happy to foot the bill." Jake hummed, leaning in to check Victoria's buckles as she played on her tablet, snow-caked shoes kicking lazily as she did.

Normally, Jake was insane about his car. He always made sure his fares cleaned their damn feet off before getting inside. But for you two he willingly made the exception.

"Now, c'mon mamacita." Jake grinned at you once more as he enabled the child lock and closed the door on Victoria's side. "We got lunch to get to, right?"

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You couldn't remember the last time you were on a date. Actually wait, you could. The night you got pregnant. One of the only times Victoria's sperm donor was ever romantic with you, and he proposed the next morning after.

Yeah, you knew how that story ended.

But now it looked like a whole new book was being written right in front of you, as cliché as it all sounded.

Jake had treated you both well, engaging happily and drawing with Victoria on the activity mat the restaurant provided as you sipped your glass of red wine, watching; your heart was fluttering in your chest as you watched how happy she was interacting with them.

After a while, he went back out to his car and returned with a sparkly red gift bag for the two of you and you immediately felt your heart lurch up from your chest and into your throat.

He knitted the two of you matching jumpers. A mama cat and her kitten, of course, he managed to do it in an Egyptian style, much to Victoria's glee as she ripped off her regular jumper in favor of the one Jake made, immediately rubbing her face on the sleeve with a happy giggle.

You couldn't help but smile warmly as Jake helped her pop her head through the top, and you decided to slip yours on, yourself.

God, it was almost surreal how Hallmark it all seemed. Not one, but three men interested in you, a lonely single mother. All three men who adored your daughter and treated you both with respect. All three men, who shared the same body and nighttime secret.

And you found yourself falling just as hard, and somewhere in the back of your mind wondered if--if--you had met them first... would they have been Victoria's father(s)? Would they have rejoiced in your pregnancy? Gone to your appointments, held your hand in the delivery room? Would they have helped the doctors weigh and print Victoria for the very first time?

Your mind was knocked out of the what-ifs when your phone jingled, catching Jake's attention.

"Oh, it's Victoria's pediatrician. I have to take this." You sigh sadly, not wanting to step away from the cozy atmosphere in your booth.

Jake smiled at you and winked, "Go ahead and take it. I got her handled."

You smiled back, hoping the flush to your face wasn't as obvious as you feared as you got up and answered the call.

Jake continued to play and draw with Victoria, letting her explain how some of her learning games worked, what apps were her favorite, and who her favorite cartoon characters were.

Honestly, if anyone thought Steven was great with Victoria thanks to their same autistic traits? Jake was good simply because he was a natural with kids. Marc was, too, but he was a bit stiff and nervous. He needed to be eased into it just a bit more.

"Hey.... Psst. Mister Jake." Victoria whispered to him, blinking her big, bright, gorgeous eyes up at him.

"Yeah? What is it, gatita?" Jake hummed at her, grinning.

She waved her hand, urging him closer as she whispered conspiratorially, cupping her hand over his ear, "Look where Mommy's standing."

Jake lifts his gaze to find you among the crowd of people, where you stood on your phone, talking to the doctor about Victoria's upcoming appointment. He tracked where Victoria was pointing, and that's when he saw it: the mistletoe.

He knew immediately what Victoria was hinting at.

"That means you gotta kiss my Mommy." She whispered to him again.

"Oh, I do, huh?" Jake teased, poking her in the side. "And what if I don't?"

"Then Imma make you!" She squeaked and giggled.

"Oh, dear, then in that case I definitely have to do it, eh?" He chuckled.

"C'mon." Jake said, scooping Victoria up and holding her on his hip. "Let's go give another present to your wonderful mamá."

As they got closer to you, he caught the tail-end of your conversation.

"...yeah. Next Wednesday at 3pm. See you, then, Doctor Wilson. ...Of course! Happy holidays." You say cheerily, ending the call.

When you turned around, you saw Jake holding Victoria against him as he walked closer to you.

The sight really shouldn't have taken your breath away the way that it did...

But if you thought your breath was taken before? It was entirely robbed from you as Jake leaned in, wrapping an arm around your waist as he tipped his head down to kiss you, his mustache tickling your nose and upper lip.

You were so taken aback that you didn't hear the whooping and laughing from the workers of the restaurant as the scene unfolded in front of them, congratulating Jake.

Victoria squirmed and squealed and laughed and laughed, rubbing her face on Jake's leather jacket as your lips finally parted and your jaw dropped.

"What's the matter, mamacita? Cat got your tongue?"

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God, dating those men was the best decision you ever made. Even with them being Moon Knight.

They were kind enough to always say goodnight to Victoria before they went about their business, giving you a soft kiss before whichever one was in control of the body departed.

You had only been dating a short while, it was now entering February and you were all spending more and more time together. Marc, Jake, and Steven had all spent the night once or twice in their own time.

Nothing sexual happened, but it was so nice to fall asleep with someone wrapping their arms around you. It was even better to wake up and see Victoria snuggled onto his chest, his arms caged around her protectively, flexing when she made any movements as his unconscious body ensured she wouldn't roll off of him and--god forbid--onto the floor.

It was a few days before Valentine's, and Marc had spent the day with you and Victoria. He had gotten much more comfortable around her, falling into a natural and gentle routine unique to them. Just like she had with Steven, and Jake. And above all, they handled her autism well.

Steven was exceptionally good at helping distract her during her meltdowns, whereas Jake could cradle her, singing little songs in Spanish as he rubbed her back. Marc would start by talking to her in a low, gentle tone, urging her to just breathe, and talk, explaining what was upsetting her and what would work best to help her calm down from it.

But right now, Victoria was in the midst of a battle against sleep.

"Don' wanna sleep." Victoria sniffled into Marc's jumper.

"I know, babydoll, but you'll feel loads better once you do, mkay?" He murmured quietly to her as he padded, barefoot into Victoria's almost obnoxiously canary-yellow bedroom.

"I can make some apple pancakes for you in the morning, hm? How's that sound?"

He dodged the minefield of toys scattered about and chuckled softly at the shelf where her little ancient Egypt memorabilia sat meticulously organized alongside her books and drawings on the subject. A half-finished paper sarcophagus lay on the desk in the corner, a project Steven had started with her two days ago that they intended to finish together.

Marc laid her down and she nodded, rubbing her eye. "Okay..." She mumbled in agreement.

Marc picked up the plushy scarab that Steven bought from the gift shop and handed it to her, tucking her in all nice and warm.

"There you go." He said softly to her, kneeling next to the bed. "Snug as a bug in... well. Blankets, right now, huh?"

He grinned when Victoria giggled groggily at his pun, squeezing the beetle plush she named "Digger" and snuggled under the blankets, her feather lashes brushed her cheeks as she began to drift off.

"See you in the morning, babydoll." Marc said softly, giving her a kiss to her forehead before standing.

His finger had just flipped the switch to turn off the lights in her room, so only the salt lamp dimly illuminated her bedside, when he heard her peep as she rolled over.

"G'night daddy."

He felt like his heart stopped beating as he shakily closed the door, dragging his suddenly very heavy feet through your flat as he made his way to your couch, the weight of that word landing on his shoulders.

He felt like Atlas, carrying the world on his back as he dropped down onto the chocolate brown cushions.

You walk over, having finished dishes from dinner, wiping your hands on a tea towel. Upon seeing his shell-shocked expression, you sit next to him in concern as he covered his face with his hands, his arms shaking and skin pale.

"Marc, sweetie, what's wrong?"

"I..." He said, his voice breaking.

You lean in, reaching out to brush a hand through his mop of curls, letting him take his time. Maybe Steven or Jake was trying to front? You've seen how taxing it could be on them when it happened so suddenly. One time Steven had seized control in the kitchen from Jake and he fell and cracked his head open on the counter! Poor Victoria cried when she saw how much he was bleeding, scared that he was dying.

It took a lot of hugs and kisses to convince her otherwise...

"She... God. Fuck." Marc swore softly, sniffing. "She--she called me daddy."

Your jaw dropped and you gawked at him. Was Victoria already so attached to him? To them? But then again, she's never had a father figure, before, either, and suddenly having not one, but technically three men in her life doing all the things a dad should do? You can understand why she would--hell, why you would...

He dropped his arms and you could see the beginnings of tears clump in his beautiful eyelashes, heavy weights of emotion settling deep in his chest.

He looked up at the ceiling, trying to blink the tears away. God, he didn't deserve all of this. He didn't deserve this... this domesticity. Guys like him just didn't get to have a life like that. Not with everything he's had to do as a soldier, a mercenary... in Khonshu's name.

He didn't deserve such a beautiful woman, or the idolized gaze of her sweet and innocent baby girl.

'You're too hard on yourself, Marc.' Steven said to him in their headspace.

'Yeah, hermano...' Jake murmured.

"Marc, honey..." You say, leaning in and adjusting your position, so your head lay on his chest. You spread your hand over his heart, feeling how it hammered in the muscle of his chest.

"I just... What the hell did I do to get this?" He asked softly, bringing his arms around you to bury his nose in your hair.

"Well, I think it all started the day a certain little girl wiggled free of me and ran into a gift shop..."

Marc chuckled, squeezing you tight.

"Would you want us to?" He whispered. "Would you want us to stay? Would you be okay with that? I know it's soon, and--and I'm not saying we move in or anything like that, but..."

"I think it would crush Victoria if I ever shoo'd you boys away, honey." You assured him, tipping your head up to give him a sweet kiss.

You feel the tension slowly bleed from his body and his expression softens into a heartbreakingly sweet smile, his dark eyes sparkling with a warmth that you haven't seen before as your lips parted.

"Then we'll stay. As long as you both will put up with us." He said to you, his voice so quiet you almost couldn't catch his words.

"How do Steven and Jake feel about her calling you daddy?" You smile slyly.

Marc grins and drops his head back with a laugh, listening to the bickering of his headmates as his anxiety ebbed away.

"Oh... They're arguing over who Vicky is gonna call daddy next."

"We need to think of nicknames for you guys so she doesn't confuse you." You laughed with him.

Your laughter was cut short when you heard Victoria's door click open, and out she waddled, blanket clutched in one arm, Digger firmly squeezed into the crook of her elbow and her thumb was in her mouth. She only sucked her thumb when she was frightened, or severely anxious.

"Baby, what's wrong?" Marc asked, shooting to his feet even before you could, at her side in a split second.

You joined him and put your hands on her shoulders, looking into her drowsy and not-entirely-awake eyes. "Did you have a bad dream?"

She shook her head, mumbling something around her thumb.

"What is it, kiddo?" Marc inquired next.

She pulled her thumb out of her mouth with a pop.

"There's a bird-man in my room."

#moon knight #moon boys #moon boys x reader #steven grant x reader #steven grant #marc spector x reader #marc spector #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley

1K notes · View notes

mlqueen89 · 24 days ago

Note

Hi! Can I request Thanksgiving with Marc Spector? Pls make it smutty

UHM. YES, ANON. YES. Sorry it took me so long, but here you gooooo! ♡

pairing: marc spector x f!reader (moon knight)

rating: 18+ (minors dni)

warnings/triggers: smut, fingers in “pie”, oral (m & f receiving), (unprotected) p in v sex, slight dom behaviour, dirty talk, cream pie.

word count: 5,231

summary: november prompt request. marc has a kink for finger sucking which might definitely make you late for thanksgiving dinner with your family.

A/N: wanted to get this one out before American Thanksgiving. here you go guuuuys, enjoy smutty marc—thanks anon for requesting this one! p.s.: pleeeeeease read this at the dinner table or in front of your family and think about smutty marc. lemme know how that goes. also sorry, cause i don’t think i could write anything short to save my own damn life.

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“Pumpkin or apple?” You peered at the beautiful pies lined up behind the glass at the bakery, shifting your weight from one foot to the other as you balanced your phone between your cheek and shoulder.

“What?” Marc’s response crackled through the phone, and you could hear the faint sounds of a crowded grocery store in the background. Marc had offered to brave the Thanksgiving rush crowd that morning, leaving you at your shared apartment, apron tied around your waist, staring at a variety of ingredients and a mommy blogger’s recipe.

It had taken you three reads of the entire recipe, flour already spilled on the front of your old band tee, before you decided that there was a perfectly good bakery a fifteen-minute walk from here. Better to play it safe.

“Pumpkin or apple.”

“You said you’d bake it, didn’t you?” His voice took on a cautious edge, the kind he reserved for tense negotiations and life-or-death situations.

You laughed, dry, incredulous, catching the curious glance of the teenager behind the counter. “Marc, baby,” you drawled, straightening and pacing toward the large plate glass window, “do you remember what happened the last time I tried to bake a pie?”

“Are you talking about the fire or Steven being sick for a week?”

“Exactly,” you replied, ignoring that the question was an either or situation. His response was enough to prove your point.

“So…”

“So, I’m going to play it safe this time...” You studied your freshly manicured nails, the deep merlot polish shining in the mid-November sun streaming in through the bakery’s front window. “I’ll just take it out of the box, put it in a pie plate and—”

“Bob’s your uncle,” Marc finished and you could almost hear the smile in his tone. It still made your stomach do that stupid little flip it did, the same one you’d felt on your first date with him.

“Glad we’re on the same page,” you replied, the same smile in your voice as you nodded at the teenager to box up the pumpkin pie.

“Look, I’m cutting it close,” Marc said, his voice taking on that familiar clipped efficiency that you found strangely sexy. “I still have to grab the bread rolls and that canned cranberry sauce your uncle likes.”

You suppressed a gag. “How is it possible that someone willingly eats canned cranberry sauce?”

“Maybe it’s, I dunno—nostalgic?” He offered lightly.

“Or a very loud cry for help,” you muttered, tucking the boxed pie under your arm as you made your way to the register. “Anyway, just don’t be late. You know how my mom gets.”

“Oh, I remember,” Marc replied dryly, and you could practically hear him bracing for what was to come later that evening, sitting in a tiny split-level your parents refused to sell, all 19 of your family members crammed inside.

“Just—this is the first time you’re meeting my family, and it’s Thanksgiving—” you began, trying your best to underpin your nervous energy. You were sure Marc had clocked it from the moment you woke up last week with the odd stomachache and nauseated feeling that came only with the burgeoning terror of yet another family gathering.

“Hard to forget,” Marc sighed. You could hear the shuffle of activity on his end of the line, probably weaving between aisles and other patrons with the precise, purposeful strides that were very typical of Marc. “You’ve only reminded me six times this week.”

“I know it’s a bit—” you waved your hand even though you knew Marc couldn’t see it, trying to conjure the words clouding your mind, “much. It’s just because this year can’t be like last year.”

Even though you had been with Marc officially since before last Thanksgiving, this was the first time your family was meeting him.

Last year’s planned gathering had been efficiently derailed by what your family simply referred to as “The Great Turkey Incident,” which in reality was not simply just a series of near—catastrophes involving a broken oven, a kitchen fire, food poisoning and your sister swearing off hosting any family gathering for all of eternity. Your mother still choked up when you mentioned it, your father subsequently had to be medicated for high blood pressure. You assumed the latter had nothing to do with “TGTI,” but your dad swore up and down it did, in his thickest Bostonian accent, which only surfaced in moments of high stress or anger.

This year, your mother announced in August, would be better. Less chaotic. Normal or at least in the neighbourhood of normal. It remained to be seen, however, if that was at all possible. Property value in the Normal Neighbourhood had skyrocketed in the last year or so.

On one hand, Marc’s specialties were vast, especially when it came to making and keeping you extremely north of happy. Being normal, through no fault of his own, just wasn’t exactly one of those specialties.

As you stepped out of the bakery, into the November chill, you stopped, gathering yourself. “You’ve got this,” you amended softly, a bit for yourself and some for Marc too.

“What? Charming your entire family or surviving the day without anyone finding out about my… extracurricular activities?”

“Both,” you teased, your smile pulling up the corners of your lips until your cheeks hurt. How you’d gone so many years of your life without loving this man was beyond you.

“Great.” Marc’s response was quick, the hint of dry humour rolling through the phone, “piece of cake.”

“Pie. Piece of pie,” you shot back, “pumpkin, specifically.”

You smiled despite yourself, pulling your coat tighter as a chilly November breeze swept down the street. “It’s just… important to me, Marc. They’ve been waiting to meet you for ages, and after everything that happened last year…”

“I get it,” he said, his voice softer now. “But you don’t have to worry. I’ve got this.”

You stopped on the corner, letting his reassurance settle over you. Despite his gruff exterior and his tendency to run headfirst into danger, Marc Spector had a way of grounding you when you needed it most.

“See you soon, babe,” Marc sighed, and though his words were casual, there was something calming in the way he spoke, the cadence of his voice a soothing sound.

“Oh! Don’t forget the flowers!” You reminded him, just before he could hang up, as you dashed across the street toward your car, a death grip on the pie box.

There was a long pause on the other end, so long that you pulled the phone away from your face to see if he’d accidentally hung up. “Flowers?”

“Just��trust me. It’ll win my mom over.”

“I’ll do my best,” he said, a note of reluctant determination in his voice.

“Thanks, baby,” you smiled, making a kissing sound before you hung up the phone and carefully deposited the pie into the passenger seat and belted it in like precious cargo.

Tucking your phone away into a pocket, you shifted into the driver’s seat, hands on the wheel for a moment as you looked at the bustling street and sidewalk outside. This Thanksgiving was bound to be memorable—whether for all the right reasons or for another chapter of family chaos, you weren’t entirely sure. But if anyone could handle it, it was Marc Spector.

You hustled up the stairs to your second floor apartment, precious pie cargo gripped tightly in your hands as you pressed against the stubborn front door.

Marc had texted you about five minutes ago complaining about being at the back of some absurdly long lineup at the cashes, so you figured you had about 30 minutes to shower, get dressed and pull off the great pie lie.

Depositing the pie on the kitchen island, you hurried to the bathroom, stripping layers of clothing in a trail on your way. The hot spray of the water a welcome calm before the storm that would Thanksgiving with your family. Even when there weren’t disasters to speak of, there were differing opinions on everything ranging from politics to sports, celebrity dating drama to conspiracy theories. It was enough to drive even the most sane person, absolutely, stark—raving mad. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t just north of wary introducing Marc into this mix that was already a powder keg.

Maybe this year, you’d pitch that next year, your family could celebrate Canadian Thanksgiving instead: early October, no arguments over politics, singing Kumbaya and sharing maple flavoured desserts while saying “sorry” a lot. That was how Canadians did it, right?

You were in the middle of thinking maple dappled, northern thoughts under the warm cascade of water when you heard the telling sound of the sticky front door of your apartment opening, followed by the sound of Marc’s voice, calling your name.

“Shower!” You called, though you were sure that Marc would be able to follow the trail of clothing even if you hadn’t answered

By the time you’d wrapped up the shower and stepped out from the steamed room, you found Marc in the kitchen, his eyes peering into the pie box curiously, the lid lifted carefully. “I think you’re going to owe me for enabling this lie,” his eyes were still on the pie box as you padded into the kitchen in your towel. Replacing the lid daintily, he handled the dessert like it was ticking, wired with red and blue leads and affixed with a countdown clock before his eyes flicked up to you. You didn’t miss the way he assessed your clothing situation, or lack thereof.

It was one of the many things you loved about this man, he made no show of hiding that he was always one opportune moment away from fucking you.

“First of all,” you started, folding your arms across your chest, “it’s not a complete lie: it was baked by someone, just not me. So, more like pie-adjacent authenticity. If my mom buys it, then I think I owe you—a thank you.”

Marc raised an eyebrow, “a thank you, huh? That’s all I get for being complicit in a fib to save you from culinary embarrassment?”

“Depends,” you smirked, stepping closer to peak into the top of one of the paper bags on the counter, “did you pick up the flowers?”

Marc smirked, tipping his head to a small bouquet of seasonal blooms sitting on the counter. “I think you’re just trying to distract me from the conversation—we were talking about how much you owe me.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t keep a straight face as Marc stepped in closer, narrowing the space between you. “Fine. Thank you, Marc. You’re my Thanksgiving hero.” You feigned a swoon.

“Damn right, I am,” his voice dropped an octave, his hand finding your toweled waist, pulling you across what little distance remained between you. He dipped his head to your neck and you moved to allow him access, your body responding as if moving with him as he explored your body came as naturally as breathing, as easy as the path of orbit, the innate pull of gravity.

You eased into the touch of his lips, losing yourself in the feeling of him against your skin, suddenly hyperaware of the fact that you could feel the heat coiling low, between your legs, the wetness that had nothing to do with your shower growing.

“Marc…” you huffed as his hand left your waist and tangled in your damp hair at the nape of your neck, his other hand finding the top of the towel tucked against your body. “Careful…” you teased, but you were breathless as the words came out, no real urgency or command in them, “we still have to leave on time and you’re not exactly dressed for a first-time dinner with my family.”

“Plenty of time,” he murmured against your skin, his fingers hooked at the top of your towel, a single, gentle tug the only thing between you and the hungry man who stood before you, waiting to devour you completely.

If you didn’t have anywhere to be, you’d have shed the towel, found his belt and been on your knees in front of him, your mouth aching to be around his thick cock. But you did have somewhere to be and around the haze of the way Marc set your skin on fire under his touch, just on the edge of a losing battle between desire and responsibility, you knew you couldn’t. You’d attend dinner, stay an appropriate amount of time and then make sure to congratulate him for surviving your family on the drive home down a darkened stretch of backroad.

“You’re making this really hard for me….” you breathed out in a cross between a huff and a groan, pressing your hands flat against his chest and pushing without much effort, almost as if you wanted to say you’d put up a fight and had lost. There was always Christmas dinner, that was right around the corner, right?

“I was about to say the same thing.” His voice was a little more than a growl, a rumble in his chest you could feel beneath your palms, still flattened on his chest.

“Marc, baby,” you whispered, a small yelp interrupting your next words as he nipped at your jaw just below your ear, he was good. Too good. Marc had a way of making you forget where you were, of making everything around you melt away until it was just you and him, him and you, locked in perpetuity, together. “This isn’t going to get you out of wearing a tie….”

Marc groaned, his head falling to your bare shoulder and you turned to press your nose to his scalp, his soft, dark curls smelling of sandalwood and something distinctly him. “It was worth a shot….” he muttered after a moment before he kissed your collarbone and swiftly turned you around, giving you a slight, gently nudge toward the back bedroom. “Now go get dressed before I change my mind about taking that towel off.”

You sighed, pressing your knees together for a moment before you looked back at him over your shoulder, his hand pressed against the countertop for support, the bulge in his jeans clearly visible from where you stood. “Marc?”

His response was little more than a strained hum of acknowledgement, his eyes drawing up to you.

“Wear the tie Steven likes,” you smiled, partly knowing the playful tease would wedge somewhere under his skin, a small little dig, “it brings out your broody eyes. It’ll give you more of the boy-next-door look and less of the guy your mom warns you about.”

You carefully opened the lid of the pink pie box, using a knife to tactfully slice the tape holding it closed.

When you made it to the back bedroom, still in your towel, you thought briefly about touching yourself, loudly enough to entice Marc to finish what he started. It took you half a minute to decide against it, instead picking out Marc’s favourite pleated skirt, the one that was just barely appropriate for a family dinner. The one he’d fucked you in over the back of your couch after he brought you home from your third date together at that cute mini putt place downtown.

If you couldn’t fuck him now you’d make him sweat through the dinner, make him think about all the ways he wanted to fuck you when you got home.

You were only slightly disappointed that Marc was in the shower when you headed back into the kitchen. Quickly though, the disappointment faded to dread when you realized that you still had to plate the Lie Pie, the Pumpkin Pretense.

You were trying to lift the pie out of the box, when you felt hands on your waist, “you’re not playing fair,” Marc’s voice was next to your ear, his breath warm against your neck sending a shiver down your spine, his chin resting on your shoulder.

“Jesus, Marc!” You jumped, your hand slipping off one side of the pie, your index finger and thumb dipping into the custard pumpkin filling and pieces of the perfect crust crumbling into the top of the pie. You froze and you could feel Marc stiffen at your back.

Marc broke the silence first. “It looks more… uh—realistically baked by you?” He rubbed the back of his neck and you huffed, carefully setting the pie back down in the box. You felt Marc leave your back and watched from the corner of your eye as he shuffled over to the cutlery drawer. “It’s okay—it’s fine. We’ll just, smooth it down and crumble some of the other edges and—”

You noticed that Marc was shirtless, his dark hair damp from the shower, a white towel tied around his waist. Suddenly, you felt like the skirt wasn’t diabolical enough. Your man naturally exuded “fuck me” vibes. You’d absolutely dine on this image of him through dinner. In fact, at this rate, your eyes raking over the hard lines of muscle banding his shoulders and arms, the deep cut of his abs trailing below the line of the towel, you’d be the one opting to skip Thanksgiving dinner and beg him to undo you.

When he moved back behind you, a butter knife in hand to remedy the situation, you could feel the outline of his cock, fitting just between your ass cheeks through the thin materials of the skirt and the towel. You swallowed thickly.

The thought made you smirk, Marc always wanted you and that thought alone drove you crazy with want. Still, you tried to remember that this was supposed to be the year that your family met him, this was supposed to be the big leap in your relationship with him.

“Okay, so just—,” you pointed to the spot on the pie where you could see the divots from your fingers. Marc moved the knife over to the spot you’d pointed to, carefully trying to figure out how he could make it look like a more natural flaw. “Yeah, I mean, I’d just kind of—”

Without thinking, you stuck your thumb in your mouth, carefully sucking off the custard as you pointed to the offending dents in the pie with your other hand. You noticed when the knife in Marc’s grip faltered and his knuckles whitened against the handle. You were sticking your index finger between your lips when you turned to look at him and froze, his face so close to yours, but his eyes were on your mouth and the finger currently trapped between your lips. You could hear his breathing hitch for a fraction of a second, his eyes darkening as his own tongue moved to whet his lips. Behind you, you could feel the length of him twitch against your body and it was enough to make the coiling heat pulse low, between your legs.

In a fraction of a second, he’d abandoned the knife on the counter with a clatter, grasping your wrist as he pulled your finger from your mouth and stuck it in his up to your second knuckle. Slowly, he pulled it from his mouth, careful to relish the taste of the sweet dessert on you.

“You had to go and do that, didn’t you?” He huffed lowly as your finger left his mouth, clean, the sound almost a rumble in his chest and you leaned your head back against him. You definitely weren’t going to make it in time for dinner, but you’d known that when you slipped into the skirt. You were playing a dangerous game around Marc and he’d broken first.

“Marc…” you tried to sound exasperated, but his name came out as a whine as his rough hand slid up your thigh and dipped under the hem of your skirt. You could feel his hard cock against your ass through his towel as he pressed himself against you tightly. Instinctively, you pushed back and ground yourself against him and he groaned in response, his arm banding around your waist and anchoring you to him.

Reaching behind yourself, you wriggled to reach his length, but he moved just out of your reach, your fingers just brushing the rigid outline of him beneath the towel.

“Careful, gorgeous,” he murmured in your ear, a low warning, “not too fast. I’ve been wanting you all fucking day—”

Your head swam, the thought of him inside of you, pumping, pulsing, stretching you, bottoming out on repeat blurred all else. His fingers reached for the line of your panties under your skirt, and paused when they found none. You could feel his smirk against your neck as he alternated between kissing and nipping.

“Looking for something?” You hummed, teasing. Pleated skirt and no panties—you’d been asking for it, waiting for him to discover it. Though, to be fair, you hadn’t expected he’d find out this soon, not while you were still at home, at least. In testing his resolve, you’d set a trap for yourself, overestimating your ability to keep yourself from him.

Marc didn’t pause for long, his fingers following the lines of your already slick pussy until he found your swollen clit and began to massage in long, generous strokes. You sighed, humming as you melted into his touch.

“Can’t decide if you’re a bad girl or a good one….” Marc’s voice was low, his hips rutting against you as if he couldn’t help himself, couldn’t keep from the pleasure he felt as his shaft rubbed against the towel that rubbed against you. You responded under his touch in kind before the sound of a grunt that escaped him had you turning in his arms to face him.

“I can decide for you,” you murmured, low, your tone just on the edge of sing-song, husky with want. You just wanted him inside of you, any way you could get him. You began to sink to your knees in front him, your fingers hooked on the top of his towel. It came away easily, the cotton pooling at his feet, his cock springing out, erect.

Coyly, from your knees, you looked up at him through your lashes as he looked down on you, his pupils blown wide. You kept direct eye contact as you ran your tongue, wide and flat on the underside of him, tracing the path of the pronounced vein from base to ridged tip, slowly.

The deep moan that you pulled from his lips was enough to undo you, your hand wrapping around the base of his shaft as you slowly guided the length of him inside your mouth.

“Fuck, baby. I—I just—if you,” his words were choppy, interspersed with muttered curses, grunts and groans as your tongue made careful paintings on the underside of his pulsing cock, the taste of precum filling your mouth with each pass. “I’m going to—fuck, baby—”

Marc pulled you up from your knees before he dropped to his, throwing one of your legs over his shoulder before he set in on your wet center.

Holding yourself against the counter behind you, you arched your back, biting your lip against the moan that sounded more like a plea for more. As you reached for an edge of counter to grip, the tips of your fingers nudged the abandoned pie box. “Marc—fuck, fuck, fuck—” You pressed yourself up on the tips of the toes on the one leg that was still planted on the ground, your toes on the leg over Marc’s shoulder curling until your foot threatened to cramp.

“You said boy-next-door,” Marc huffed out a small laugh, the edges of his voice tinged with need as he lightly kissed your throbbing clit. He knew exactly how to drive you to the edge of madness and hold you there until you begged him to throw you over. “Is that what you want me to be right now?”

“F—oh god, fuck the boy next door,” your words were without heat, your tongue heavy, your mind a swirl of fog; you were malleable in his hands, you’d do anything he asked if he just said the words.

“Oh, is that what you want? I can get Steven out here if you—” Marc teased, stopping the perfect alternation of tongue and nose, thumb and light, maddening suction with his lips against your pulsating center. Before he could finish, you ground your hips into his face, cutting off his next words as you pressed your pussy against his mouth, encouraging him to continue with a moan as he licked a stripe between your folds carefully. Marc was nothing if not tactical, precise.

“Marc,” his name came out strained as you braced yourself against the counter at your back, your leg hooked over his shoulder as his fingers dug into your ass, pinning you in place, “please…”

You could feel yourself ascending, reaching the peak, your hips gyrating against each stroke of his tongue as he ate you out.

“Say my name, baby...” he murmured, his finger slipping into your wet cunt, his chin and mouth slick with you as he looked up at you from under dark lashes, his deep brown eyes blown wide. His gaze held yours, your chest heaving with each deep stroke of his thick finger, before he added another and you gasped, stretching around them. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips before he dipped to pepper light, noisy kisses on your clit.

“Marc—” you barely formed his name, your hand leaving the counter to grab a handful of his beautiful hair. “Please, I need you, now, right now—holy fuck—.”

Marc hardly ever lost control, hardly ever cracked, but when he had you, naked and begging for him… you felt powerful, like you held kryptonite, the kind that would bring Marc to his knees, quite literally.

Marc stood, holding you steady as your leg slipped off his shoulder and you lost your balance. Grabbing a nearby stool, he lifted you swiftly onto the edge of it, wedging himself between your open legs, the tip of his weeping cock nudging your slick opening. He held himself there for a moment, his hands on your hips, steadying you, his eyes holding yours as you wriggled, chest heaving, on the verge of begging for him to fill you.

“Say it again,” Marc’s eyes, dark with lust, held yours and you complied.

“Fuck. Me.” You breathed the words, low and clear, his thumb rubbing through your folds rhythmically, “please.”

Marc didn’t need to be told twice, his hips thrusting up into you, his length filling you as you gasped. Each thrust pulled him out nearly all the way, the long strokes, paired with the pressure of his pubic bone send you cascading over the edge. Marc wasn’t far behind, his pulsing cock emptying inside of you as you squeezed around him and you both breathed out the sounds of release.

“Well—” you sighed, content as you carefully balanced on the edge of the stool, your breathing evening out as Marc stood before you naked, still erect. “I think we’re definitely going to be late now.”

“Fashionably late?” Marc shrugged, bending to gather the forgotten towel off the floor. As he straightened, he stepped up to the counter, reaching across to grab the bouquet of flowers. “At least we have these and the—” Marc’s hand swept across the counter, misjudging the distance between him and the pie box.

The low thud of the pink box, pie still inside, hitting the tiled floor in the kitchen quickly wiped away the post-sex haze and you looked up at Marc, his eyes shifting to the floor and back to you, apologetically.

You shifted your weight as you and Marc stood on your parents’ porch, catching your breath after rushing from the car. Marc adjusted the cuffs of his shirt, still looking annoyingly put together despite the… delay. A delay that lead you to be a whole two hours late, between that and the pie clean up.

Meanwhile, you were still hoping no one would notice the hastily fixed flyaways in your hair or the slight flush on both your faces. You had left the skirt at home, put on some panties and changed into a more family appropriate green dress.

“You ready?” you asked, glancing at him, the glow of the yellowed porch light catching the angles on his face. “Remember, if my cousin Alex asks you about anything to do with his Art History classes, it’s okay to let Steven take the wheel for a bit…”

Marc smirked, his eyes raking over you appreciatively in a way that always made you feel loved. “More than ready. But next time, sweetheart, maybe we shouldn’t start something when there’s a ticking clock involved.”

You gave him a pointed look, though your lips twitched with amusement. “You’re the one who couldn’t keep his hands to himself.”

“You were wearing that skirt. I think you knew exactly what you were getting yourself into,” he teased, leaning in for a quick peck, “it’s not like you tried to stop me.”

Before you could retort, the door swung open.

“Finally!” your mom exclaimed, throwing her arms wide. “I thought I was going to have to start without you.” Her eyes lit up as she took Marc in. “And this must be Marc.”

Marc straightened, offering his hand with a charming smile. Oh good, he was trying the Steven approach first before laying into the smolder. “It’s great to finally meet you, Mrs—”

“Oh, none of that Mrs. nonsense,” your mom blustered, swatting his hand away to pull him into a hug instead. Marc stiffened for a beat before relaxing into it, casting you a slightly wide-eyed look over her shoulder.

Your mom pulled back, beaming. “I’ve heard so much about you. Now, come in, come in! Dinner’s almost ready, and everyone’s starving. Where’s that pie you were bringing?”

You froze for half a second before slipping seamlessly into a casual smile. “The pie?”

“Yes, the pie,” your mom said, hands on her hips. “Pumpkin, wasn’t it? You said you’d bring it. You texted me about it this afternoon—”

Marc opened his mouth to speak, but you jumped in, shooting him a sly grin. “Oh, uh—there was a pie shaped accident… a tragic end, really. I was really proud of the way it turned out too.”

“Tragic end?” your mom repeated, eyebrows arching.

Marc cleared his throat, stepping in smoothly to fill the gap. “Completely my fault, actually. I wasn’t paying attention, and it ended up on the floor. I promise to make it up to you—I’ve got a knack for desserts. Next time, I’ll bake something myself.”

Your mom looked between the two of you, her lips twitching as though she didn’t quite buy the story but wasn’t going to press. “Well, accidents happen,” she said, waving it off. “But next time, you’re on pie duty, Marc.”

Marc smiled, his charm dialed up to full. “It’s a deal.”

As your mom led the way to the dining room, you leaned into Marc, whispering, “Nice save.”

“You owe me,” Marc smirked down at you, his hand brushing the small of your back.

“Pretty sure you’re the one who owes me, pie destroyer.”

His low chuckle followed you both into the warm chaos of Thanksgiving dinner.

Tags: @silvernight-m

A/N: i make all the banners and dividers myself. if you want to be tagged - hmu here

#marc spector #marc spector x reader #marc spector fanfiction #marc spector smut #moon knight smut #marvel smut #november prompts #pumpkin pie #oscar isaac characters #oscar isaac smut #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight fanfic #moon knight x reader #smut #moon boys x reader #steven grant fanfiction #steven grant #steven grant smut

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bitchyfoxymama · 2 years ago

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Pegging The Moon Knight System - F!Reader

Warnings: SMUT, pegging, sex,

this came from a convo me, @howaboutcastiel and @mccn-bcys had, i said pegging the moon boys and we threw around ideas. enjoy

Steven Grant

“You want to do what love?”

“I want to peg you”

Loves it, like will ask you to do it when spicy time happens

Literally is a sobbing mess

So cock drunk he can't even form sentences

Tears stream down his face as he reaches his orgasm

Mommy kink they all have it haha

Marc Spector

Is a no at first until you both sit down and talk about it and he sees you do it with steven first

Lets you try it for the first time and actually finds it enjoyable

Gripping the sheets moaning out loud

“Fuck” he lets out the most delicious grunts and moans as you pick up speed

“You like when i fuck you dumb on my cock dont you baby?”

Loves when you domme him, enjoys just being able to let go and enjoy being taken care of.

Is babygirl

Jake Lockley

Loves it the most out of the 3 of them.

Enjoys when you are rough with him, loves the hair pulling

However

If you are slow and sensual with him?

This man is gone

Loves that when you are fucking him you slowly rub you hands against his cock.

Whimpers, this man, the same man who is Khonshus fist of justice? WHIMPERS as you fuck him.

Loves when yall do it infront of the mirror so he can show off for Steven and Marc

#moon knight x reader #moonknight x reader #moon boys x reader #moon knight system #moon boys #steven grant x you #marc spector x reader #steven grant smut #steven grant x reader #steven grant x fem!reader #marc spector x fem!reader #marc spector imagine #marc spector smut #jake lockley x fem!reader #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley smut #bitchyglitterfox writes #marvel cinematic universe #marvel smut

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springtyme · 2 years ago

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𝐒𝐚𝐠𝐞'𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ♡

The Bear

Sydney Adamu

Carmen Berzatto

Michael Berzatto

Richie Jerimovich

Chef Luca

Video Games

Task force 141

Joel Miller

Arthur Morgan

Criminal Minds

Spencer Reid

Aaron Hotchner

Emily Prentiss

Derek Morgan

Stranger Things

Steve Harrington

Eddie Munson

Succession

Roman Roy

Kendall Roy

Shiobhan Roy

Peaky Blinders

Tommy Shelby

Arthur Shelby

John Shelby

Saltburn

Farleigh Start

Felix Catton

Spiderverse

Miguel O'hara

October writing challenge 2024

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urrockstar-xe · 11 months ago

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Steven's first v-day - s.g x gn!reader

posted feb 2nd, 2024 11:38 pm (barely made it!!)

day 2 of counting down to valentines day! I'll also be doing marc and jake versions :D hope u enjoy xo

summary: it's Steven's first valentine's day!! reader has to make it special! oh but so does Steven, of course. Not proofread, possible use of Y/n.

this is my first moonboys fic! although it's steven focused there is mentions of jake and marc also being romantically involved with reader!! if anything i wrote pertaining to DID is offensive or not cool please let me know!!

masterlist

wordcount: 0.9k

For years Steven had essentially been locked up inside Marc’s mind unknowingly, of course he caught blips, little pieces of Marc’s life, and short memories that Marc purposely shoved down to the deepest depths of their brain, yet even now with Steven fronting on his own much more often he still was missing so much.

Steven had yet to experience any holidays, though knowing Marc wasn’t exactly a fan of any of them, he still wanted to see them for himself, feel them for himself. Even though Marc and Layla hadn’t really celebrated Valentine's Day during their marriage, Steven still felt he was missing out.

Which of course is when you come in, Steven’s first real partner, he didn’t get you all to himself, but despite sharing you with Marc and Jake, Steven knew he was your very best friend, taking out romance completely you had always been close with him. Making him feel special and loved when he needed it most, and now he has the privilege to replace “love” with “my love” when speaking to you.

Steven just had to make this day special for you. Marc had his day earlier in the month, Jake planned for next weekend but Steven, Steven insisted he get the 14th. He needed the full experience even if it meant fighting with Donna to get off work early on a Wednesday afternoon.

Steven spent all of Tuesday night at the shops, getting chocolate and your favorite snacks, options just in case you didn’t like the snacks or candy you did previously.

He loaded everything up into a pink basket, half believing it was actually an easter basket. Steven ignored the suspicious feeling about the basket though, dismissing it as unimportant before moving on to buy two of the books on your TBR, ignoring every mirror in the place and snarky remarks from Marc and sarcastic jokes from Jake about Steven outdoing both of them.

It’s only Valentine’s Day, Steven.

But it was so much more than that.

But he did ditch the easter basket.

What Steven had yet to realize was that you thought so too.

Today was just as special for you as it was for Steven, because of Steven, actually.

Yes, you had loved the sweet night in with just you and Marc, but with Steven and Jake, you had planned for just a little more, it was practically Steven’s first Valentine’s Day, it had to be special, just like your Steven was.

You had hung heart-shaped decorations up on the few lights in Steven’s apartment, a vinyl you had just bought him on the record player playing softly in the background as you threw a few rose petals across the kitchen counter opting that it would be an easier cleanup then anywhere else in Steven’s cluttered (but of course, comfy) apartment.

Looking around you were pretty stumped on what to add for decor, before deciding to rummage through some of Steven's cabinets in hopes you'd find a vase, if so, you could buy him flowers, you couldn't think of anyone who would love them more.

“Yes!” you shouted happily as you found a vase hidden behind the bowls, now why would he have them with the bowls? You ignored the questions in your head and seemingly missed the sound of the front door opening and closing due to all of your excitement.

“Oh my days” that you heard, the sound of Steven’s voice filled with surprise and adoration filled your ears as you turned around, not even attempting to hide your disappointment in not being able to get Steven any flowers but the moment you laid eyes on his wide eyes, and agape mouth all of it melted away, quickly replaced by a smile.

“Surprise!” You lifted your arms as if to gesture to your surroundings as Steven finally turned to look at you. “Oh, my love, this is” He paused as he looked around again before continuing. “This is incredible.”

You gasped at the flowers in his hands, rushing over to him and pecking his cheek before taking them from him and quickly rushing back to your vase. Well, Steven’s vase really but finders keepers and all that.

Steven looked back at you, almost in a daze as he followed your movements into the kitchen. “You got off early, I wanted to get you flowers but-” Steven cut you off as you set the pretty bouquet in the glass, “We can share” he abandoned the bag of miscellaneous snacks on petal covered counter and instead used his hands to pull you away from the fresh flowers by your waist.

“Happy V-day, Stevie” You smiled at him, earning one back in return. “All this for me?” Steven’s voice was quieter now that you were closer, soft eyes gazing at you most lovingly.

“It’s your first Valentine’s Day, had to make it special for you.”

Steven responded with a hug this time, shoving his face in the crook of your neck as your hands moved to hold onto his old grandpa sweater.

“Hey, are there any sour strips in that bag?” You asked, words muffled by his shoulder as he chuckled, leaning back just enough to see that look in your eyes that matched his perfectly.

“Of course, there is, love.” “Oh, he loves me!” Your excited words earned an actual laugh this time and a nod of agreement. “I grabbed as many of your favorites as I could remember, only the best for my first Valentine,” Steven said, releasing his hold on you to begin emptying the bag of goodies. You didn’t take too long to join his side, quiet ohs and ahs as he set everything in front of you.

“I was planning on cooking tonight, surprise you with dinner when you got off, but now maybe we could do it together, yeah?” Your soft tone only added to his smile.

“What’s for dinner, my love?”

#steven grant x y/n #steven grant x you #steven grant headcanons #steven grant fluff #steven grant x reader #steven grant x gender neutral reader #moon knight x reader #moon boys x reader #steven with a v #Spotify

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ofstarsandvibranium · 1 year ago

Text

Seven: Thursday

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Moon Boys x F!Reader

Summary: You’re a workaholic, but now that you’re on a week’s vacation, your lives are going to take FULL advantage of your presence aka the Moon Boys keep you in bed for a whole week.

Warning: smut - semi-public, teasing (reader's a little bratty in this one), a little bit of dom/sub tones, grinding, p in v

Series Masterlist

You've finally allowed your loves to take you outside of your shared apartment.

"Just a few hours outside, honey. Get some vitamin D."

You smirked at Marc as he led you outside, "Oh, I think I've been getting more than enough D, Marc."

He playfully rolled his eyes at you as he wrapped his arm around your waist and kissed your temple, murmuring, "Behave."

"Or what? I'll get a spanking? Don't threaten me with a good time, Spector."

Marc groaned, "You're going to be insufferable, aren't you?"

You shrugged, "This is what happens when you make me go outside instead, we could be inside going at it like rabbits. But whatever."

______________

Marc brought you to a new cafe that opened up a few blocks from the apartment. You'd seen it passing by at one point, but never had the time to check it out. Since you're not working for the week, this was the perfect opportunity.

He ordered himself a sandwich and you a panini and a strawberry cake. Your usual drink of choice, but with a flavored syrup that they had available.

You and Marc now sit in the back corner, away from the rest of the cafe patrons.

Marc watches as you sip your drinking, testing the flavors. You nod, approving of its taste, "I like it!" you slide your drink across to Marc and he takes a sip. He nods like you and murmurs, "Good."

You then take a bite out of your panini, giving the most sinful moan. Marc, sipping from his own drink, starts to loudly cough to cover your sounds.

Oh, she's going to be trouble today, it seems, Steven says to Marc.

You smirk at him while you chew your food and he frowns at you, "Baby?"

"Hm?"

"What're you doing?"

"Eating. This is a really good panini, hon. Try it," you hold it out to him and he shake his head, "I'm good."

With eyes like a hawk, Marc watches as you continue to eat your food. When you go to drink your beverage, you "accidentally" spill some on you. The liquid falling down your cleavage.

"Whoops!" You pull down your shirt a little more to show more of your breasts to Marc, "Silly me," you say as you wipe yourself down.

Marc sighs and runs a hand down his face, looking over his shoulder to make sure no one was watching you, "Really? We're going to do this?"

I think you are, Marc, Steven snickers.

You 'innocently' bat your eyes at your love, "Doing what, hon? I'm just eating. Can't help it if I'm a bit clumsy."

"You're being a brat," he states.

You smirk at him, propping your arm on the table and resting your cheek against his hand, "What're you gonna do about it?"

If that's how you're gonna play, then two can play at that game. He smirks back and shrugs, "Nothin'." He goes to eat his sandwich and you pout a little, hoping to get a rise out of him.

Aw, she's so cute when she pouts!

Stop it, Steven. We're not falling for it! Marc mentally scolds his alter.

_______________

After brunch, you and Marc stepped onto the bus to take you further into the city where you two would walk around and maybe head into some shops.

The bus was surprisingly crowded for a weekday, so you and Marc were huddled into a corner. Marc's back to the wall of the bus, you standing in front of him. An idea popped into your head and you 'stumble' back against Marc. His hands go to your waist and he murmurs, "You okay?"

You smile over your shoulder, "Perfect." You don't step forward, rather you press yourself up more against Marc and start grinding on him a bit. You didn't want to make it obvious to the other passengers though.

Marc knew what you were doing. His nails digging into your waist and he leans forward, lips against your ear, "Princess, you better behave. I mean it, or you won't get anything at all today."

Maybe we can-

No, Steven.

You sigh in defeat and step forward to create some distance, but you're pulled back by Marc. He murmurs to you, "Oh no. You stay here, don't need everyone to see my hard on that you caused."

You giggle, but then gasp when Marc pinches your side.

_______________

Marc's arm is around your shoulders as you both walk down the streets of London. Tourists and locals alike pass you, minding their business or taking in the sights and sounds.

You then spot a boutique and you're pulling Marc inside before he can do anything.

"Wha-hm."

You smile at him, "I just want to look around," you say as you run your fingers along a scantily mannequin, red lace covering very little of it.

Marc clenches his jaw, "Sure you are."

He follows you around, not making any indication if he sees something he'd very much like to rip off you.

You rush over, picking up a black barely-there open cup crotchless teddy, "Do you think Steven would like this?"

Bloody hell. That's practically nothing. Steven says in Marc's head.

You grab another, a very strappy, open cup and crotchless teddy, "Can you see what he thinks of this one?"

Marc stares at you intently, eyes not blinking until suddenly he shakes his head and looks around, "Wha-oh."

You smile gleefully at Steven, "Hi, lovey." You place the sets onto a rack and wrap your arms around him, pressing your lips to his.

Steven pulls away and gives you a stern look, "Now, lovey, I know what you're doing."

"I'm not doing anything, Steven," you say nonchalantly, going back to the pieces you pulled, "I wasn't serious about this pieces, by the way. Maybe we can find something you do like."

Steven gulps and nods, "Y-Yeah, Sure, love."

He follows you around, either giving you a yes or a no on different items that catch your eye. You end up with a good amount, bringing them and Steven with you to the dressing room. He sits on the bench while you try each of them on.

You try on the most modest of the bunch, moving towards the more revealing ones. You did this on purpose, of course, hoping that, with each one, you'd rile Steven up more and more.

You knew you were successful too from the way that Steven's hands were covering his crotch. He was fidgeting in his seat.

"I think this one is it," you say, modeling the white floral teddy. It oozed a sense of innocence and sensuality.

"Bloody hell," Steven groans, wiping his now damp forehead.

You dressed back into your clothes, but before stepping out, you fall to your knees in front of Steven, hands running up his thighs, "Do you need help with that, Steven?" you nod to his crotch.

"We shouldn't, especially since Marc-"

"Marc's not in control right now. You are," your hands inch up towards the tent in Steven's pants, "So, I ask again, do you need help with that?"

Steven mindlessly nods and you immediately work on undoing his jeans, bringing him out of his boxers and pumping his length up and down.

"Fu-" you slap your hand over his mouth.

"Don't want to get caught, do we?" he shakes his head, "Good."

You continue to jerk him off and his chest heaves with every breath. You take off your own pants and underwear, straddling his lap. His eyes widen and you immediately say, "I think this will both help us, don't you think?"

You grind yourself down onto his length and Steven's head fall back, bumping against the wall of the fitting room. He immediately sits up and you bury your face in his neck, giggling, "Careful, lovey."

You move your hips, running your slit along Steven's length. Steven's biting his lip hard, keeping himself from moaning. He pulls you closer to him, mouth going to your shoulder so he can bite down.

You hiss at the pain, but you also find it pleasurable. You continue to move, teasing yourself and Steven as you start to have his cock nudge your entrance.

"Fuck me, Steven. Please? I need you so bad?" you whimper in his ear.

Steven looks to the mirror and see Marc shaking his head, disappointed in his alter's weak resolve.

Don't.

Steven immediately ignores Marc, taking himself in his hand and lowers you onto him.

You moan into his shirt, hoping the music playing within the store is loud enough to hide your sounds of pleasure.

You move slow against Steven, not wanting to make the room shake or creak to reveal what you two are doing.

"So beautiful, lovey. So sweet for thinking of me. Looked so gorgeous."

"Steven," you quietly whine his name.

"Marc's so upset with us," he says with a chuckle, "We're definitely in for it."

"Don't care. He was being mean," you say in pants, still riding Steven in a slow pace.

"If I recall, you were also being a cheeky thing, weren't you?"

You giggle, "Maybe."

"Shit, right there," Steven gasps, "Please tell me you're close?"

You nod, desperate for finally having some release since Marc had denied you earlier. You reach down, rubbing at your clit for more pleasure, "Fuck, yes. So close."

"That's it, lovey. Good girl. Give it to me," Steven begs, his hands gripping you like his life depended on it.

"Shit," you gasp, cumming as you continue to ride Steven.

"Right there, right there. Oh fuck, Y/N," Steven groans, cumming with you. You continue to move, helping you both through your orgasm.

Your movements still, leaving you and Steven breathing hard. You lean back to get a look at his face. It's damp and slightly red. Your chuckle and peck his lips.

You slowly climb off him, grabbing your pants and underwear, sliding them on.

You grab the last set you tried on and watch with a grin as Steven stands, tucking himself back in, and zipping up his pants.

He approaches you, hands grabbing your face and pressing a kiss to your lips with more love and less lust.

Against your lips, he murmurs, "Marc says you're in trouble."

You snicker, "Trouble is my middle name," you reply with a wink and step out of the fitting room to purchase your new set.

#steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #moon boys x reader #moon knight x reader #fem!reader #f!reader #smut

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pimosworld · 1 year ago

Text

Bad days

Pairing- Steven grant x f!reader, hints of Marc and Jake x f!reader.

Summary- You help Steven relax and cure his bad day.

CW-18+,MDNI,NSFW, porn with a little plot, angst, fluff, Steven being unsure at first, oral m receiving, cum eating, slight sub Steven,Dom reader, Marc and Jake being teases and helpful because it’s them.

WK-2.4k

A/N- Making Steven feel good is like candy to me so I hope you enjoy this.

Not beta read

[Moon Knight Masterlist][Main Masterlist]

You set the groceries down to knock on the door to Stevens flat. You don’t hear any movement on the other side of the door for a few brief moments. You know Steven wasn’t always punctual but he never missed an opportunity for you to cook him dinner.

It was a little nerve wracking at first taking over his job in the gift shop. He was promoted to tour guide at the museum but Donna insisted he train his replacement.

Marc was annoyed in the beginning. How hard could it be to work in a gift shop? He knew Steven had been waiting for so long to be a tour guide and told him in so many words to tell Donna to shove off. Until you walked in.

For once in his life Steven didn’t bumble his way through an introduction. You loved the way he cared so deeply for the regular patrons and cataloged all the items in the gift shop.

He gave you a taweret plushie on your last day of training and couldn’t contain his excitement when you wrapped your arms around him as a thank you.

Ask her now

It wasn’t often Jake made an appearance, but since you’ve come into the picture he was making himself more and more known.

He’s right, ask her

It was a problem for Steven when Marc and Jake were getting along. He has yet to make his condition known to you, but he’s noticed you smirking when he’s talking out loud or having a stern conversation with his reflection in the glass of the gift shop.

“I was wondering if maybe…you’d like to go to dinner with me sometime?”

You said yes before he could even get the words out.

That was a few months ago.

****

Steven noticed you at the end of the hallway as the doors to the lift opened.

I told you to just give her a key hermano

Steven didn’t want to just hand you a key like Marc or Jake would. He wanted it to be special…he already had it made, he just needed an opportunity to present it to you. He’s been so busy with his promotion he’s barely had time for you.

You offered to cook him dinner and he couldn’t even bother to be on time for that.

He looks so tired, even from where you’re standing. You can tell he’s had a rough day and you’re determined to make it better. It’s not often the boys let you spoil them, always so concerned with your needs.

Steven had needs too…he just needed a gentle reminder.

****

“I’m sorry I’m so late, Love.” He pecks your lips as he drops some scrolls to the ground to fish out his keys.

“It’s okay Steven, I haven't been waiting long.” You bend over to pick up the groceries as he drops his keys.

“Oh bollocks, can’t even open my own door.” You try to grab his shoulder as he picks them up from the floor. He mutters something under his breath about being clumsy and your certain Marc or Jake aren’t helping.

“Steven, honey.” You wrap your arms around him as you slowly grab the keys. “Let me help you.”

Steven wants to protest but your hands are like magic covering his. He has to pinch himself everyday to remind himself he’s not dreaming, when it comes to you. Marc and Jake may give him a hard time but he never lets them forget that you were interested in him first.

He sighs into your touch as you slowly open the door. “You’re too good to me, you know that.” He scoops the groceries in one arm and the scrolls in the other.

“There’s no such thing as too good.” Your lips curve into a smile before you lean in and kiss him and he nearly drops everything in his arms.

“Why don’t you set that stuff down and get comfortable.”

He goes to protest but you place your finger on his lips. “Go wash off this awful day, change into something comfortable and relax.” You kiss him again a little deeper and longer, you can feel him sigh into it as you start to pull away. “I’m not taking no for an answer.”

I would do what she says if I were you.

He pinches himself before he heads off to the bathroom.

****

Steven notes the delicious smell wafting through the flat as he pulls on his favorite jumper and sweatpants. Although he knows whenever he comments on how good it smells you always tell him it’s just garlic and onions.

You’re a picture of domestic perfection as you finish putting something in the oven. You wipe your hands on the small towel as you look up and smile at him.

His feet are rooted to the spot in the living room as you make your way towards him,you look like you want to devour more than just the food. The urge to look over his shoulder and make sure he’s the one you’re looking at is strong.

Your soft hand gently grabs his wrist as you pull him toward the couch. Perhaps Marc or Jake took control of his legs because he certainly doesn’t remember how he swiftly ended up seated with you on your knees in front of him.

The words are leaving your mouth but he can’t hear anything over the buzzing in his ears as you rub your hands up and down his legs.

“What did you say love?” You smirk and lean up, pulling his face to yours as your soft lips meet his. He could stay like this, just kissing you as he melts into the couch. The stress of the day pouring off him like the rain outside.

“I said…did you have a bad day?” You trail kisses along his jaw and nip at his earlobe as you wait for his answer.

“Yes.” It comes out as a confession, like he’s ashamed to admit that he has bad days doing his dream job.

Your warm hands roam under his sweater along his chest and trail down as you hook your fingers in his waistband. His breathing is coming in too fast and he tries to calm himself down as your body brushes against the obvious tent in his sweats.

“Do you want me to make it better?” It’s a whisper in his ear that he hears loud and clear as your hands wait for permission.

Say yes Steven

It must’ve been too long, because his head mates urge him to answer you before you change your mind. As if you ever would.

“Yes…please.” You chuckle at his rushed out response as if you can read his mind and know exactly what they’re saying.

It drives him a little bit wild that you’re giving him this attention. He was always a little more reserved than Marc and not as bold as Jake. He’s never been treated like this. The sole purpose of someone’s desires.

You tug a little on his pants and bite your lip. He lifts his hips to help you as you pull them down just enough to pool at his feet. He’s achingly hard as your hand reaches out to pump him a few times.

He bites down on his tongue to keep from coming at the first touch of you. It’s only been a few days and he’s already so desperate for anything you’ll give him.

The genuine look of enjoyment on your face as you stare at it like it’s an appetizer to a four course meal is something he’ll have to frame in his mind.

The feel of your hand is quickly replaced with your mouth as you slide down the length of him, your plush lips wrapped around his cock as you hum in approval. Finally provided the relief you both wanted.

He chokes back a moan as your tongue slides back up, slowly twirling around the tip. A drop of precum trails down the side and you tilt your head licking it up like an ice cream cone. Not wanting to waste a drop.

Fuck

Your hands are on his legs again as you rub them in time with your head as you bob up and down, moaning around his cock sending chills up his spine.

You loved watching Steven let go. It was exhilarating that you could make someone come undone. The dark look in his eyes is almost similar to Marc’s but you know by the noises coming from him and the way his hands grip the couch it’s your sweet Steven.

Put your hand on the back of her head

“What?” He rasps out above you.

You come off with a pop and take in his unruly curls as the sweat forms on his furrowed brow.

“I didn’t say anything honey.” He stares blankly at you for a moment before he realizes he must’ve spoke out loud.

Idiota

“Sorry love, you can keep going…if you want to—

His rambling is cut short as you take him into your mouth again, not wasting a moment as your lips slide all the way down his cock. Your nose brushes the curls at the base and you gag a little.

“Sorry love…” Steven begins to apologize but you don’t seem to be stopping.

Listen to me and don’t say anything

Perhaps he should just listen to Marc, he’s never…well maybe not never, but he’s rarely led him astray.

Put your hand on the back of her head and Gently…go with her movements.

You glance up at Steven who nods his head as he places his hand on the back of yours. He’s looking at you with those puppy dog eyes like he’s asking for permission to do what you’ve been wanting this whole time. Enjoy it.

You hollow out your cheeks and pull him in deeper as he audibly moans a little louder. His nails scratch lightly at your scalp as he pushes you down a little further. His bold movements turn you on even more than you were before. You breathe through your nose and push past the burning in your lungs to stay on the edge of his pleasure for a little longer.

“You’re perfect, you know that?” He mostly says it to himself as you whine your response because you can't really answer at the moment. Not verbally at least.

You know you probably look a mess as your mascara runs down your cheeks and the drool pools outside your mouth as he takes what he wants. Except he’s looking at you like you hung the moon as his free hand swipes a stray tear from the corner of your eye.

It feels like he’s in the duwat again the way he’s floating between this reality and the next. He struggles to keep his eyes on you as he throws his head back against the couch finally relinquishing all control he had over his emotions.

The sounds of your mouth and the muttering of praises are all he can focus on as the familiar feeling starts to creep up his back and infiltrate his brain.

You can feel his legs tense beneath your hands as the grip in your hair tightens instinctually.

“I’m…im close love, you don’t have to.”

Cállate y déjale

“It’s okay Steven, you can let go.” You half pant out as you resume before he can protest.

You place your hand on top of his and urge him on as he curses under his breath. His hips stutter slightly as he feels himself let go, spilling hot ropes of come into your mouth. You don’t let up as you swallow every drop until he’s boneless beneath you. His cock twitches slightly as you come off, slowly catching your breath. His hand drops to the couch with a thud as you raise up next to him and brush his curls out of his face.

The redness on his neck dissipates with every breath that he takes in. He may have been close to passing out if you hadn’t stopped soon.

“That was…incredible.” He half whispers to himself and you chuckle into his neck as you place soft kisses to his sweaty skin.

“I’m glad I could help.”

The timer on the oven beeps bringing your attention back to the dinner you started when you told him to relax.

“Ooohh, the lasagna is done.I hope you’re hungry.” You bounce up off the couch as he stands and pulls his sweats back on.

He feels like he ran a marathon and food sounds delightful at the moment.

“You made my favorite?” It’s said as more of a question than a statement as he watches you move around his kitchen like you’ve been here all your life.

“I made two actually.” You cut into one and place a serving on each of your plates. “Vegan and meat sauce. I’ll mark them for you so you know which is which.”

I love her

Ella es perfecta

You lick the sauce off your finger and he’s brought back to what you just did for him on the couch.

“I have something for you love.” Steven heads to the room briefly and digs through his jacket pocket before he finds it.

He sheepishly returns to the kitchen island where you’re digging into your smaller portion of lasagna. He’s trying to rid his head of these thoughts for a second as you make the same noises from before as you savor your food.

His hand shakily slides the key towards you and you set your fork down to pick it up. The beautiful brass key looks so big in your delicate hands.

“Is this my prize?” You ask with a mischievous glint in your eye.

Smooth

“Oh no…I’ve been meaning to give it to you for a while. I didn’t plan it this way…it was supposed to be special and well…”

“Shhh. Steven, relax, I'm just joking.” He eases a little at your words, knowing you’re just teasing him. You and Jake had that down better than he or Marc ever could. “I love it honey, thank you for trusting me with this.”

You lean in and place a kiss to his cheek, shorter than he would care for. He never wants you to stop touching him if he could help it.

“Eat up, before it gets cold.”

Before I take the body and eat my own

No me parece

He eats while they bicker, not wanting to waste another precious moment with you.

****

Your phone buzzes in your pocket as you stare out the window of the bus on the way home from work.

Steven: where are you love?

On the bus I just left work, how was your day?

Steven: It was quite dreadful

I’ll be home soon to make it better

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated

Tagging a few who might be interested

@missdictatorme @chichimisaki @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @melodygatesauthor @simpforbritgents

#moon knight fanfiction #steven grant fem reader #steven grant x female reader #moon knight mcu #steven grant x fem!reader #steven grant smut #marc spector x f!reader #jake lockley x reader #moon boys x reader #steven grant fluff #sub steven grant #marvel moon knight #steven grant x f!reader #jake lockley fluff #moon knight fanfic #moon knight x you #oscar issac characters #oscar isaac

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daphnefisherofficial · 4 months ago

Text

bugna: TAKIPSILIM | destiny's twilight

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

Pairing: MCU Moon Knight System (Marc/Steven/Jake) x Avatar Fem!Reader

masterlist | previous | next chapter

(A/N: This update took a lot longer than expected, because I really wanted to flesh out Darius Carter's character here. As we discovered in the latest chapter, he is the avatar of Anubis and the past life of our moon boys (Marc, Steven and Jake). I can't wait for you to finally meet him and discover how he first met our beloved Mira (you) and became an avatar. Sooooooo, I will no longer keep you waiting. Enjoy!)

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE - LIEUTENANT DARIUS CARTER

The year was 1914, and the world was on the brink of an inferno. The scent of gunpowder and the sound of marching boots echoed through the continent, war slowly rising on the precipice as the entirety of mankind braced itself for a conflict of an unprecedented scale. As the avatar of Mayari, the goddess of the moon, your immortality has not shielded you from countless conflicts that you have witnessed over centuries. But something about this one felt different.

As the majority of Europe has been set ablaze with the flames of war, you found yourself walking on foreign soil, far from the shores of your own homeland. Leaving the tranquil halls of Harvard University where you had just earned your medical degree being a pensionada, you have answered the call of duty in the first world war as you were dispatched to the epicenter of battle.

Not as a warrior, but as a healer.

It was a time of uncertainty, and your only duty was to save lives and alleviate the suffering caused by the horrors of war. It was a daunting task, but you were determined to do your part.

It was in a military outpost in France where you crossed paths for the first time. The air in the barracks was thick with anticipation and a hint of apprehension as fresh soldier recruits started to fill the encampment, their faces a mix of youthful enthusiasm and the dawning realization of what lay ahead.

You stood among the medical personnel sent by the American Red Cross, observing the nervous yet determined faces of your comrades as you were being introduced to one another and your regiment officer. Your crisp, white medical uniform felt heavy with responsibility, yet you bore it with the quiet strength of someone who had seen far more than her youthful appearance suggested.

It was here that you saw him for the first time.

His towering stature caught your eyes immediately, standing tall and proud among your peers as his striking hazel brown eyes seemed to pierce through the haze of bodies and chatter. He stood out, not just for his imposing presence but for the way he carried himself—confident, yet with an air of humility.

His olive brown skin was littered with nervous sweat as he saluted, his military uniform crisp and new.

"Lieutenant Darius Carter, reporting for duty," he said, his voice steady and confident.

“At ease, Lieutenant”, the regiment officer said, patting the young soldier’s back encouragingly before his eyes fell on you and your colleagues. “You will be in charge of this unit, together with our friends and allies from the American Red Cross. Why don’t you introduce yourselves?”

It was there, amidst the sea of young, eager faces, that your eyes met for the first time. Darius found himself tongue tied as you stepped forward, his heart pounding loudly in his chest as he witnessed you raising your right hand to salute before introducing yourself to your superiors and your fellow army recruits altogether.

“Myrna Katigbak, reporting for duty,” you spoke, managing a polite smile despite yourself as you felt a hundred pairs of eyes on you. And yet, Darius's gaze stood out from the rest of your comrades, his eyes sparkling with bold admiration as he felt a strong connection in that moment, an inexplicable pull towards you that he couldn’t possibly ignore.

Something about your enigmatic presence drew him in. Having grown up in a family with a deep connection to Egyptology, you were like an undiscovered pharaoh’s tomb to the young lieutenant waiting to be unravelled. And like any archaeologist and Egyptologists he has known his whole life, he has made it his first mission to seek you out and fulfill his quiet curiosity.

The next time you saw Darius Carter, it was in the makeshift soup kitchen. The scent of broth and bread filled the air as you ladled portions into bowls, your hands moving with practiced efficiency. Your fellow medics and soldiers, both weary and hungry after their intensive training, lined up at the long table with gratitude etched on their faces as you started to distribute lunch.

The young lieutenant was but a few steps away from the long table as the line progressed, almost chickening out as he neared. As he slowly approached, you looked up and met his gaze fully for the first time. Handing him his bowl of soup and a half loaf of bread, you noticed him trying to linger, his eyes bright with a mixture of hope and shyness as he struggled to find the words to speak.

“You can come back for seconds later, Lieutenant Carter”, you smiled, amused by his poor attempt at small talk which you find endearing.

“Right, thank you, Miss Katigbak”, he stammered as he ended up butchering the last name of your latest alias.

“You can just call me Myrna”, you corrected with an amused smile, bidding him goodbye as your attention shifted to the next man in need of sustenance. “I don’t expect everyone to get my last name right”

Darius internally groaned as he mildly shook his head, managing a soft chuckle despite himself as he continued moving forward and out of the lunch line. He found himself sitting at a nearby table, still gazing longingly at the long table where you were as he started to eat. As the hours slowly progressed and the early afternoon finally made its way, the number of people in the soup kitchen slowly dwindled until the only ones left were him and you.

This time around, Darius no longer allowed his nerves to get the best of him. With careful steps, he approached you once again, his eyes emanating the same spark from when he first laid eyes on you.

“Excuse me, Miss Katigbak”, he asked, finally pronouncing your last name correctly with his rich, baritone voice that resonated pleasantly in the empty vicinity. “May I help you with anything?”

“You got it right this time,” you nodded in his direction as you started preparing your workspace for your upcoming chore. “And yes, you can help by carrying those empty bowls from the lunch tables and I’ll wash them here.”

He eagerly obliged, his movements careful as he balanced multiple trays of empty bowls on his hands. As soon as they piled up, he worked alongside you and shared your dishwashing workload. It was a mundane task for a soldier like him, but it didn’t matter as he had you to keep him company.

Besides, observing you from afar was becoming his favorite pastime. Your smooth and flawless skin was the first thing he noticed, a warm, sun-kissed brown with golden undertones that radiated health and vitality. Your hair, ebony-black and rich, fell in long, soft waves around your shoulders, framing your face perfectly. Your facade possessed a delicate heart-shaped contour that added a touch of youthful charm, along with high cheekbones and small, slightly upturned nose that accentuated your femininity. Your lips, full and naturally mauve, curved into a smile that reflected the warmth of your spirit, a genuine expression that made him feel at ease.

But it was your eyes that truly captivated him. Almond-shaped and chestnut brown, they glistened with warmth and mystery, capable of conveying joy, sorrow, and strength in a single glance. Framed by long, thick lashes, your gaze had an intensity that made those who met it feel uniquely seen. Your naturally arched brows added depth to your expression, giving you a look of quiet confidence.

“You never did go back for seconds, Lieutenant Carter” you spoke out loud, slightly startling Darius from his own reverie.

“I’m sorry, what?” he asked, his voice warm and earnest as you ended up laughing at his amusing response.

“I meant you could go back in line earlier after finishing your meal to get a second serving of soup and bread”, you ended up explaining in which Darius sighed with pure relief. “I was waiting for you”

“Oh, right”, he seemed to relax at your friendly tone. “I’m too shy, unfortunately, so I will most likely die of hunger before I ask you for seconds, Miss Katigbak”

“You can just call me Myrna”, your amusement grew as you observed his quiet awkwardness which you find endearing. “Miss Katigbak is too formal and besides, it’s only the two of us here”

“Myrna it is”, Darius nodded, testing your name in his lips. “And please call me Darius, Lieutenant Carter is also too formal”

“Sure, Darius”, you obliged, prompting a warm smile from the lieutenant. “And now that introductions and our collective nerves are out of the way, care to tell me why you’re really here?”

"Well, to be honest, I was hoping to engage you in a conversation since we’ve first met”, Darius scratched the back of his head, his gaze locked onto yours. “I've heard that you're a medical graduate, and I thought I might pick your brain about a few things."

"I'm happy to help, but I have to warn you that I'm not the most exciting conversationalist”, you laughed softly. “I spend most of my time tending to wounds and doling out soup."

“That’s quite all right”, Darius's eyes sparkled with interest. "In fact, I have a penchant for Egyptology. Did you know that the ancient Egyptians were pioneers in the field of medicine?"

“Egyptology, you say?” you couldn't hide your surprise. "That's an unexpected interest for a soldier. But I must admit, it's a topic I find intriguing as well."

“I could spend all day talking about it if you’re interested”, Darius started, his positive energy overflowing at finding an outlet to share his interests. “I came from a family of archaeologists and Egyptologist, hence my knowledge”

As he started going on about his recent discoveries in the history of Egyptian medicine, you slowly fulfilled his curiosity by answering his questions in correlation to your current expertise, marking your longer interactions with the young lieutenant. He didn’t keep the conversation one-sided and challenged your insights, asking about your journey from America, your studies at Harvard, and your impressions of the war. You answered every question with polite brevity, finding his earnestness both charming and amusing as the two of you find companionship amidst the harsh reality of the ongoing war.

Your paths crossed once again in the crucible of battle. The frontlines were chaotic and brutal, the air filled with the deafening sounds of gunfire and explosions, serving as a constant backdrop to your work as a medic. You and Darius found yourselves deployed and stationed together with him as the commanding officer of your sector. As a medic, you worked tirelessly to fulfill your duty to save as many lives as possible and tended to the wounded from your unit, often under fire.

It was during one of these intense battles that you truly began to see the depth of his character.

Darius was brave, almost to the point of recklessness, always throwing himself into the fray to protect his comrades. It was after one such skirmish that he found himself injured, and you were the one to tend to his wounds. As you worked, he watched you with a mixture of pain and admiration.

"You have a steady hand," he remarked, his voice strained but appreciative.

"Years of practice," you replied, focused on your task. "Hold still, this might hurt."

He winced but remained silent as you cleaned and bandaged his wounds. When you were finished, he looked at you with gratitude. "Thank you, Myrna. I don't know what I'd do without you here."

You smiled softly. "It's my duty, Darius. Just as it's yours to fight."

In the days that followed, your interactions grew more frequent and meaningful. You shared stories, hopes, and fears, finding solace in each other's company amidst the horrors of war. Your connection deepened, and it became clear that Darius's feelings for you were more than just admiration.

One fateful day, your barracks were under siege, almost overrun by enemy forces. The chaos was overwhelming as German soldiers started to storm the base. Recognizing the dire situation, Darius Carter ordered your unit as its commanding officer to evacuate.

“Myrna, take the others and head to the trucks”, he said, handing you a slip of paper with coordinates. “You and the rest of the surviving sector will be taken to the rendezvous point.”

“Understood, Lieutenant”, you nodded, saluting Darius as you started to help your fellow medics and other soldiers escape first, ensuring they reached the safety of the military trucks stationed on the outskirts. As the alarm sounded, signaling the order to retreat, you urged the remaining few of your comrades to make haste, barking orders left and right as you refused to leave anyone behind.

“Darius, you need to go”, you shouted amidst the chaos around you, seeing the lieutenant fought bravely as he clutched his rifle close, firing shot after shot at the advancing German soldiers merely a few feet away.

“I’m not going anywhere without you, Myrna”, he declared, his voice firm with resolve.

“I’ll be right behind you”, you insisted and started to push him away to safety, but he held his ground unwavering.

“No, I’m not leaving you!” he shouted, his eyes locking onto yours with pure determination as his tone left for no argument. “We’re in this together”

You sighed in defeat, allowing him to stay by your side knowing there was no time to debate. The situation grew more perilous by the minute as it became clearer that the enemy was closing in on the barracks. But you and Darius continued to stand your ground, determined to aid your fellow comrades and guide them to safety.

Together, you fought your way through the turmoil as the chaos and destruction intensified, dodging bullets and explosions while glancing left and right to ensure each other’s safety. The moment of truth came when the last of the military trucks departed, and the two of you finally decided to make your escape.

The barracks were in shambles, and you could hear the sounds of enemy soldiers drawing nearer. The two of you made a run for it, racing toward the outskirts where an abandoned motorbike was stationed.

But fate had other plans. Just as you were about to reach the vehicle, a group of German soldiers appeared on the scene, hot on your heels. They spotted your position, and before the two of you could react, shots rang out followed by a sharp crack that rang out. Darius staggered as he cried out in pain, clutching his shoulder where a bullet had struck. You watched in horror as he fell to the ground, the world seeming to slow down around you.

Panic coursed through you as you knelt beside him, trying to assess the situation. The German soldiers closed in, their weapons trained on you both. Your heart pounded wildly in your chest as you let your own instinct take over. There’s no way in hell that you will let him die on your watch.

Without hesitation, you drew upon the ancient powers bestowed on you by your patron goddess Mayari, summoning her very essence that lay dormant within you all these long years until this precise moment. In a blinding flash, your form shifted as the ceremonial armor slowly materialized in a shimmer of moonlight, replacing the former medical uniform enveloping your body.

You, Myrna Katigbak, a simple medic, began to change before Darius’s wide eyes. The initial shock and disbelief he felt witnessing your transformation slowly turned into awe, marking the beginning of your intertwined fates being woven together.

END OF CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

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