#Jake doesn't have that much sex Marc! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mysecretlittlelibrary · 1 year

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Make It Worth It

Pairing: Moonknight trio x Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: So many okay; body worship, HEAVY praise, multiple orgasms, oral (f,m receiving) unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it <3), creampie, hella petnames, fingering, kinda marking too, oh and cockwarming, a lil bit of a jealousy thing going, vague mentions of injuries

Genre: fluff & smut

Summary: The idea of you going on a date makes your friend confess feelings you didn't know they had

***

Meeting Marc Spector was something you'd consider a total fluke. A mishap with his suit had him limping down the street hardly able to hold himself up. Against... probably your better judgment, you brought him to your apartment- patched him up, got him some food, and let him crash on your couch. He was gone before you woke up in the morning and you honestly expected never to see him again. A couple of weeks later though he popped by to say thank you and introduce himself, you told him he could stop by if he needed help again. You didn't think he'd take you up on the offer but you were fast friends as you became his only confidante. Apparently, the vigilante life is not conducive to friendships, especially when you share your life with another; Steven Grant.

It was a while before Marc told you about Steven and you liked to call him Marc's best kept secret, considering Steven doesn't even know about it. It took even longer for you to meet Steven. Another mishap with Marc's suit had him frantically banging on your balcony door one night. You pulled open the door and he'd practically fallen into your apartment.

"Y/n! Hey!" He groaned.

"Jeez! I thought that stupid bird was meant to protect you Marc!" You crossed your arms.

"Help now, be mad later. Oh! And if I wake up and I'm not me, lie." He barely got the last bit out before he practically fell on you.

"Heavens above you still haven't told him the truth?" You groaned technically to yourself as you shoved a now unconscious Marc onto your couch. Even with him passed out you'd gotten more than enough practice patching him up that you had it so down that you were quick and efficient. He was out for quite some time afterwards, you even made dinner before he suddenly startled awake.

"Who are you? Where am I? What are you doing here?" The unfamiliar British accent immediately told you that night that Steven had woken up instead of Marc.

"Um- this is my apartment so that's where you are, I live here so that's what I'm doing here and my name is y/n. You're Steven right?"

"How did you know my name?" He'd looked at you suspiciously.

"I- I looked at your wallet for ID?" He does have his wallet on him so that lie was totally believable.

"Well why am I here?"

That was the question you were dreading from the moment Marc passed out on you.

"You were hurt so I brought you here."

"Hurt? Hurt how?"

"I- I didn't see it happen. You were hurt when I got to you." You shrugged. It wasn't technically a lie. You didn't see Marc get hurt. The answer seemed to satisfy Steven at the time but maintaining separate friendships with Marc and Steven wasn't something you wanted to keep up long term. Hence, with some gentle nudging, Marc eventually revealed himself to Steven and you ended up having to help the duo navigate the new dynamic.

However, where you thought Steven was Marc's best kept secret; a new player had him beaten. A secret so well kept Marc didn't even know until after you did. And his name was Jake Lockley. Meeting him had actually happened intentionally on his end. Apparently tired of watching the back and forth between you and his alters he stepped in to meet you himself. You'll admit you and Marc toed the line pretty much since you met, flirting with each other but not obvious enough to change your dynamic, and once Steven got comfortable with you it was only too fun to tease him. So in came Jake; the hidden protector, questioning you and ultimately deciding you were safe for them to be around. He even trusted you enough to facilitate his introduction to the other two. Now you've got the whole trio you can call friends and they often tell you how instrumental they consider you in maintaining stability in their shared life. You really enjoy having them around most of the time even with how chaotic it can be covering for, patching up, and keeping track of their system.

Tonight, while you're finishing your makeup for a date, you hear a knock from the living room. You're not expecting anyone right now so when you leave your room and find Moonknight on your balcony you're not exactly surprised. You open the door and the suit disappears as he walks into your apartment.

"What're you all dressed up for?" Marc asks taking in your outfit.

"Hello to you too Marc." You roll your eyes.

"Hello. What're you all dressed up for?"

"I have a date tonight." You say with a shrug heading back to your room knowing Marc will follow you.

"A date? What date? You didn't tell me about any date."

"I don't have to tell you about dates."

"Why wouldn't you tell me though?"

"It's a first date Marc I'm not getting married. You're making it a much bigger deal than it is."

"It is a huge deal. You haven't been on a date since we met!"

"Thank you for pointing out that Marc yes this is my first date in a while. Did you come here for a reason? Doesn't that bird of yours have errands for you?"

"I always come here when I'm done with Khonshu's stuff. This is why it's a big deal you didn't tell me about this date. It throws off our routine!"

"Marc you coming here to eat my food after running around for skelo-bird is not set in stone."

"It is set in stone. If it wasn't we wouldn't do it every time."

"Well it's still early, so when I finish my date I'll text you and you can come back over and your routine will be fine."

"That's not the same."

"I dunno what to tell you sweetie, I have to leave, I'm meeting this guy in like 10 minutes."

"Don't go."

"Marc!"

"Come ooon I'm way more fun than whoever this random guy is anyway."

"You don't even know him."

"Neither do you. So stay."

"Let me get this straight, you want me to cancel my first date in over a year because it's more important that we watch a movie while you eat leftovers? Call me crazy but I'd personally rank those a little differently."

"I want you to cancel your first date in over a year because I don't want you to go on a date."

"Okay I know we're close but I feel like that's crossing a line a little bit. That's not really up to you."

"Princessa, are you intentionally misunderstanding him?" Jake's sudden appearance only further confuses you.

"No Jake. I genuinely have no idea what the deal is here and at this rate, I'm going to be late so one of you better start talking straight."

"He's jealous. He doesn't want you going on a date with anyone that's not... us, really. None of us do."

"All of this is about a crush? Bring Marc back out here." You roll your eyes.

"Look I did not send Jake out here to speak for me!"

"You are such a dunce." You smack his chest lightly.

"What?!"

"You don't want me to go on this date because you three like me and you couldn't just say that?"

"I dunno I guess I just didn't want to risk what we've already got, as friends." He says sheepishly.

"Say the words."

"What?"

"Say exactly why you don't want me going on this date and I'll cancel."

"I don't want you to go on this date because I have feelings for you. Stay home. I can make it worth it in any way you ask."

"Any way that I ask?"

"I'll worship you like a god if you want me to."

"Won't that make that silly old bird of yours a little jealous?"

"Let him be if he is. All that matters is you not going on this date and me showing you my gratitude."

"Alright, I'll call and cancel the date."

"Don't bother. Who cares if he gets ghosted?"

"First of all, I'm nice so I care; secondly that's the shit that gets women stalked."

"Oh please, as if he'd ever be able to hurt you with us around." Marc scoffs.

"Okay, bodyguard. The call will take less than two minutes and you'll have my attention the rest of the night." You say grabbing your phone and stepping into the living room. You notice Marc following you as you call your date.

"Hello?"

"Lewis! Hi, I'm sorry to do this so last minute but something has come up and I'm not going to be able to make it to dinner."

"Oh. Is everything alright? Do you need anything?"

"Uh- thanks but I'll be fine! I just gotta take care of a thing and I didn't wanna leave you sitting there waiting."

"Yeah no, thanks for letting me know. We can reschedule."

"Sure! Soon as I get a handle on things I'll reach out to reschedule." You say, ignoring the look Marc gives you.

"Alright no problem. Good luck with your thing." Lewis says before hanging up.

"You aren't actually rescheduling with him, are you?" Marc asks you.

"Probably not." You shrug.

"Probably?!"

"I already canceled the date for you once."

"You making this hard for me on purpose sweetheart?"

"Not at all. Just not sure how things are gonna go." You smile.

"How things are gonna go? I'm gonna show you that canceling that silly date was the right idea and that you don't need anyone other than us."

"Us? Steven and Jake are in on this too?"

"Of course they are."

"Well, that's a big promise Marc, how do you plan to show me all of that?"

"I'm going to start by kissing you. Is that okay?" Marc asks, pulling you towards him with an arm around your waist.

"Absolutely." You say draping your arms over his shoulder. Marc's free hand comes up behind your head as he kisses you hard. You gasp against his lips and he uses the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. Without warning, Marc lifts you into his arms and easily carries you back to your room, not even phased when you pull away from the kiss to squeal. He tosses you onto your bed and climbs over you with a smile.

"You have no idea how crazy we are about you." Marc breathes out, trailing kisses down to your neck.

"Crazy about me? Is that right?" You ask, a moan punctuating your question as Marc latches onto a particularly sensitive spot to turn purple.

"Completely." He says softly, staring at you so intently you pull him towards you for another kiss to escape the look in his eyes. Marc pulls away to tug your already bunched up dress over your head, leaving you in your bra and panties as he looks you over. "Fucking hell you're even more gorgeous than I could've imagined." Marc groans.

"You spend a lot of time thinking about me naked darling?" You can't help but chuckle at the thought as you take the moment of silence on his end to pull his shirt over his head and drag your nails down his chest appreciatively.

"I plead the fifth." Marc groans and moves to litter your chest in more patches of red and purple as he reaches under you to unhook your bra. His hands cover your breasts as soon as they're free, palms kneading the flesh while fingers toy with nipples. The sudden onslaught of stimulation has little whimpers falling from your lips that Marc decides he can't get enough of. He pulls one of your nipples between his lips, sucking, nipping, and tonguing at it to test your reactions, discovering all the sounds you make from this alone. "You make such cute little noises." He chuckles switching from one nipple to the other, pulling all the same sounds from you. Eventually, Marc trails his kisses down your stomach, soft and slow, like he has all the time in the world. "So pretty." He whispers. He pulls your panties down your legs, kissing your thighs on the way down and back up. "I'm so going to enjoy this." Marc says before burying his head between your legs. He licks a hard stripe between your folds that makes you moan and his arms wrap around your thighs before you can even squirm. Marc's tongue swirls around your clit as he watches you, testing what pulls the best reaction from you. When a certain rhythm has your fingers tugging at his hair he settles into it, intent on making you cum like that. Whimpers and cries fall from your lips in quick succession as he sucks and laps at your sensitive bundle of nerves. You writhe and grind against him, although his grip on your thighs restricts your movement as he works you quickly towards an orgasm.

"Holy fuck Marc!" You groan, throwing your head back and pulling almost too hard at his curls but the man between your legs only lets out a pleased growl at the action. "Fuck I'm close." You pant out and Marc wraps his lips securely around your clit, sucking harshly until your legs tense and your orgasm crashes into you with a silent scream. Marc doesn't even let you fully ride out the high before his fingers slide into your opening. He curls the two digits just right and you can feel the pull in your abdomen when he brushes the spot inside you. Your back arches into him as he works you open with his fingers, his tongue still lapping at your clit, determined to pull another orgasm from you. Your second orgasm hits you faster than the first your entire body twitching while you let out the prettiest whine Marc's ever heard.

"My goodness." Although the voice is muted in your pleasure fogged brain, you don't miss the accent in his words.

"Steven?!" You blink at him, chest still heaving slightly as you try to catch your breath. His eyes are as wide as saucers as he takes in the situation he's just been thrown into.

"Hi. I can't imagine Marc did this on purpose I-" Steven's words trail as his head snaps to the mirror hanging on your closet door. "He did this on purpose." Steven looks at you and then back at the mirror. "Why would you do that Marc?!" You pull his gaze back to you by grabbing his chin,

"Steven, calm down." You say.

"Clearly I've missed a lot because how did you two even end up like this?" Steven asks and your giggle at his confusion quickly turns into a whimper when the action makes you distinctly aware of his fingers still buried inside you. "My god, help me." Steven breathes out at the sound from your lips. "If this was your act of gratitude why am I here?!" Steven asks to the mirror and you suppose Marc told him how you, in his words, ended up like this. Steven makes a face at whatever Marc says next and then turns to you with a look you can only describe as curious. Before you can question it, his fingers inside you move tentatively, making you moan. He's less sure of himself than Marc had been but he watches intently as he slowly strokes your inner walls, enjoying the way you react to him. "You're absolutely breathtaking."

"And you, are simply adorable." You say bringing him down to kiss him. Steven is obviously much more nervous than Marc was and you take the lead in the kiss. You can taste yourself on his lips as you explore his mouth with your tongue. It seems your reactions feed his confidence as his fingers gain speed the longer you kiss him and soon you're moaning too much to actually do it properly.

"I love the sounds you make." Steven sighs. You pull his fingers from you before he can make you cum again and he pouts at you until you guide the fingers between your lips. You suck them clean, enjoying the way Steven takes a shaky breath at the action. You use one hand to undo his jeans and pull them down his legs, pulling his fingers out of his mouth for him to get up and shove them the rest of the way down with his boxers. You lean forward and take Steven into your mouth, swallowing him down as far as you can.

"Oh god." Steven groans and his eyes roll as he tosses his head back. You bob your head up and down his length, swirling your tongue as you go, enjoying the way he moans and shivers.

"I love the sounds you make too darling." You hum dragging your tongue along the vein that runs the underside length of his dick. Steven hisses and you wrap your lips around him again.

"Holy hell you're... really good at this." Steven's praise is breathy and stuttery. You take him all the way into your mouth, feeling him in the back of your throat. Rather suddenly, you feel his fingers in your hair tugging you off of him.

"Now, it was my understanding that we were meant to be showing you gratitude." Your ears perk up hearing the accent change.

"Jake, yeah so I've been told." You hum.

"And yet here you are pleasing Steven instead of him worshiping you." Jake's thumb rubs along your bottom lip.

"Steven is just so much fun to tease." You smile.

"Tease him later princessa, tonight is about you. How lucky we are to have you in our life. How much of an honor it is to kiss you, to touch you, to please you." Jake intentionally speaks slowly, staring at you intently.

"You are... very good with words." You muse.

"Have our actions not supported them?"

"Marc definitely, and Steven- before I got my hands on him, yes. You however haven't done anything but talk." You smirk at him.

"Tell me what you want from me and it's yours. Anything you ask." Jake says.

"In other circumstances that would be... a dangerous promise to make. But tonight, I just want you inside me. I want you to make me cum on your dick."

"With pleasure." Jake pushes you onto your back and tugs your legs to pull you towards him. He wastes no time lining himself up with your entrance and thrusting into you. Your back immediately arches at the fullness of Jake bottoming out and you can't help but moan. "Fuck you're so wet." He groans dropping his head to your shoulder for a moment. Jake sets a rhythm of sharp thrusts, deep but quick.

"Sh-shit Jake! Feels so good." You whine, dragging your nails down his back. He hisses at the sting and his thrusts pick up speed.

"God y/n you're perfect. So gorgeous. Taking this dick like you were made for us." Jake huffs out. One of his hands reaches between your bodies, finding your clit with ease. You squirm against his ministrations moaning as he drives into you repeatedly. "That's it princessa, moan for me, sounds so nice." He grits out, rubbing circles against your bundle of nerves. You grind against him, trying to bring your orgasm on quicker. "Cum for me sweetheart, let me feel you let go around me. Please mi vida." Jake sweetly kisses you as he practically begs for your orgasm and a few thrusts later you're falling over the edge, nails digging into his back as he watches the way pleasure washes over your face. Once your eyes slowly peel open, Jake tightens his grip on your hips and changes the pace of his thrusts, slowing down now.

"You're gonna cum inside me aren't you Jake?" You ask with a pout specifically to get what you want.

"Mierda." Jake's eyes close for a moment. "Is that what you want princessa?"

"Yes Jake, please."

"I told you I'd give you whatever you ask me for." Jake shifts slightly before picking up the pace of his thrusts, they're sloppier now as he focuses on chasing his own release. "I'll pump you so fucking full, you'll be leaking. Fuck you'll look even prettier dripping like that."

"Please Jake, give it to me. Fill me up baby." You whine, grinding against him. His hips stutter and stop buried inside you and you the warmth of his orgasm inside you makes you moan. Before Jake can twist to lay beside you, you pull him onto you comfortable with the weight of him on you. "Don't move yet, let's just- lay like this for a bit, please." You say.

"Thank fuck you didn't go on that stupid date." Jake mutters and you giggle a little.

"Thank fuck you said something or I would've."

"Well, did we make it worth the stay?" "I'd say so." "Good. After a nap you can discuss the details, probably with Steven, he'll have the most to say." Jake mumbles into your neck.

"I'll have to talk to each of you ya know." You say.

"Sure but start with him. All I have to say is I think you're perfect, and we'd be lucky if you date us."

"You're not the only lucky ones." You say kissing the side of his face. Yeah. It might have been by pure chance that you crossed paths with Marc over a year ago but you're glad the rest of your decisions landed you here. Even if it's not the trajectory you saw that first interaction leading to, definitely worth it.

***

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my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction · 2 months

Text

Play Pretend

Jake Lockley x F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • MK Bingo 2024 Masterlist • ko-fi •

Summary: Jake doesn't have much experience in more... intimate matters.

🌛For @moonknight-events MK Bingo Spring 2024 Event🌜

A/N: Okay, so I'm not super happy with this. I don't know. Anyway, I feel like I'm always saying this but my head is really bad with editing atm. I'm sure I've missed so many typos. I'm so sorry.

Warnings: set in Steven's flat (UK), swearing, loss of virginity, p in v sex, fingering, oral sex (both m and f receiving), overuse of italics, typos, railroad sentences, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 4909

Jake shifted a little nervously as he rested his head on your chest, despite the comforting weight of your arm around him.

He was half laying on you as you were sitting on the sofa, his feet resting on the armrest as you both watched… something on TV. You watched, Jake just couldn’t focus. Even though he normally adored being snuggled up on the settee next to you, savoured any time you both had together.

He moved again, trying to keep it as minimal as possible so as to not bother you. Slowly he tensed and untensed his legs, switching it so that one was over the other and then back around again.

There was a deep heat growing at the base of his spine, an ache between his legs. He swallowed. Maybe he could excuse himself to the bathroom, rub one out quickly and then come back to your embrace without getting hard like a horny teenager just because you were close.

It was embarrassingly really. How often this happened. Sometimes you didn’t even have to physically be around, just smelling your scent lingering around the flat was enough at times. The feel of your jumper in the wardrobe when it brushed against his hand as he got dressed in the morning. The photo of you and Marc at the park on the side table. That time Steven accidentally used your shower gel instead of his own.

He shifted again. Maybe he could-

“You okay?”

He jumps despite the softness of your voice and turns his head quickly to look at you, a little wide-eyed. “Yeah?” He answers a fraction too quickly to be considered ‘okay’.

You give him a bemused smile. “You sure?”

“Hmmhmm.”

For a moment you pause, just cocking your head to the side ever so slightly as you regard him and Jack as to practically bite the inside of his cheeks to stop himself from groaning out loud. Why, oh why, did you have to look so adorable when you did that?

“You need to sneak off to the bathroom?” You ask innocently, but there’s a telltale mischief to your eyes that makes Jake’s blood run cold.

“I, erm, what are you talking about amor?”

You gesture with your chin to his not-so-subtle budge in Steven’s sweatpants.

“A…” He shifts again, thinking about grabbing a pillow to place over himself for a second before realising how silly that would be. You already knew what he was hoping to hide. “Maybe.”

You smile and kiss his cheek. “That’s okay, you can go. I’m not gonna judge you. You know I don’t want you to sit here and be all uncomfortable.”

“Hmm.” He gives you a small smile, a light dusting of pink highlighting his cheeks and the very top of his ears. “Sorry.”

You frown a little and speak kindly. “What are you sorry for, silly?” You lightly stroke the shell of his right ear as you talk, just brushing your fingers along the outside and tucking a few errand curls behind it.

He shivers. You know what you’re doing.

“For…” He gestures to his crotch and you giggle.

“I could…” You bite your lip a little a you speak and Jake pinches his thigh to keep control of himself. “Help you out with it? If you want?” There’s a little nervousness to your words, a worry of overstepping a boundary.

While you had been physical with Marc and Steven for a while now, the most you had done with Jake had been to kiss and hold hands. Not that you minded. Jake was his own person and you wanted to go at his pace, take your time with the more intimate side of things. Or, never have that kind of relationship with him at all. You were just happy to spend time with him.

He didn’t really like talking about that side of your relationship, and you didn’t want to push him.

Jake’s blush grew darker. “I… erm…”

You resisted the urge to gently tease him about his loss for words.

“I…” He closed his eyes, blurting out his words and screwing his face up afterwards. “I’m a virgin.”

“Oh.” You said in surprise. That certainly wasn’t what you expected him to say.

He opened his eyes quickly, a tense look of fear pinching at his features and you quickly realised your mistake.

“No,” you say quickly as you reach out and stroke his hands, embracing them in your warmth. “I mean ‘oh’ as in, ‘oh, I didn’t think you were gonna say that’, not ‘oh, that’s a problem’.”

The tension in his shoulders viably relaxed slightly and he gave you a weak smile. Looking down briefly at your hands and stroking your knuckles with his fingers.

“So… you’ve never done anything… sexual before?”

Your own tiptoeing around the word makes you wince.

“Just sort of kissing, I guess.” He looks up to you with his large, soft eyes. “Is that a problem?”

“No, no, no,” you say quickly, “no at all just… yeah, surprising.”

He raises an eyebrow at you.

“Well,” you nudge him playfully with your shoulder, “I don’t know if you know this, but you are very pretty.”

Jake snorts, grinning from ear to ear. “I’ve been told.”

You smile back at him before softly brushing his hair behind his ear again, savouring his little hiver. “You know we don’t have to do anything, right? There’s never any pressure, I want you to know that. I’m more than happy just to be with you like this. I love you, it doesn’t have to be physical.”

He nuzzles into your hand, kissing your wrist. “I know,” he whispers, “and thank you, for saying it out loud I mean.”

You stroke his cheek as he talks.

“It’s not that I don’t want to… and I know you’ve technically been with the body before, it’s just that…”

You stay quiet as you caress his face, letting him take his time.

“I don’t want to disappoint you.”

As the last words leave his lips a little crack forms in your heart.

“You could never disappoint me, Jake.”

He smiles but tuts. “You know what I mean… inexperienced isn’t exactly code for ‘giving their partner’s good time’, right?”

“I’ll have a good time no matter what because I’m with you.” You give him a soft kiss and he smiles.

“That’s not what I mean Amor,” but he kisses you again. “Thank you though, it’s just…” he pauses, thinking carefully on how best to explain himself. Out of the three of them Jake is always the one who thinks most about what they say before they say it. “It’s just, I didn’t want to just… be with someone for the sake of it, I wanted it to be with… someone special, someone I care about. And now…”

“You’re still waiting for that someone special.” You nod solemnly as you tease.

Jake glares at you playfully, ticking your side until you giggle and hold up your hands.

“Sorry, sorry,” you mutter between laughter.

“You should be.” He leans close and lightly nips at your neck. “Be thankful that I’m in a forgiving mood.”

You grin and kiss his nose.

“You are my someone special,” he continues sincerely, “and I want it to be enjoyable for you, I want you to…” he trails off and looks down for a second. You can see that hint of a blush returning.

“You want me to…?”

He bites his lip and swallows. “I want you to look and sound like you do with Marc and Steven.”

You smile cheekily. “You watch?”

He avoids your gaze. “Sometimes.”

“Sometimes?”

“Almost all the time.”

“Almost?”

“99.9%.”

“What’s wrong with the .0?” You say, pretend indignation in your voice.

“I’m sleeping.”

His matter of fact tone takes you by surprise and you laugh loudly.

“Fair enough.” You stroke his cheek again.

“You don’t mind?”

You shake your head. “Marc might. Maybe.” You shrug. “You’d have to ask him.”

“I’m definitely not doing that.”

“Steven won’t care.”

Jake nods. “That’s true. Exhibitionist that one, for certain.”

You laugh again and then pause as both of you look at each other for a long moment.

“Why don’t we play pretend for a bit? Help you relax and get out of your head?” You ask.

He thinks for a moment before he opens his mouth, a smirk on his lips. “I think it’s called ‘role play’ amor.”

You tut.

“All I’m saying is I shouldn’t be the one who knows more in this situation-” Jake yelps as you cut him off by tickling him this time. He jumps back from your reach and grins. “Unfair.”

You poke your tongue out at him.

Which he promptly returns before he smiles. “Alright, let's play pretend’.” He sits up straight on the sofa, his hands neatly in his lap as he waits for your direction.

You give him a brief suspicious look, Jake was never usually one to agree and behave without having some ulterior motive.

“Alright,” you say a little suspiciously as you settle down next to him. “You can stop this at any point you want, okay?”

Jake nods once.

“Okay, so,” you give him a little glance and see he’s listening intently. “I’m thinking, ‘where’s Jake the most comfortable?’”

“In bed.” He interrupts cheekily.

You snort. “No. I was going to say, driving.”

“Driving’s not very comfortable.”

“Jake-”

“Not here anyway, roads are tiny.”

“Jake-”

“And everyone’s an asshole.”

“Okay, that’s true.”

He grins.

“But, humour me, yeah?”

He nods. “Consider yourself humoured.”

“Alright, driving. So, we’re in the car, you're driving.”

“I’m on the wrong side.”

“Jake.”

“I’m on your left.”

“Well, we’re in America now.”

“How did we get here?”

“Jake.”

“Did we fly?”

“Jake.”

“Marc’s gonna be pissed if we don’t get some pizza, I can tell you that-”

You shut him up by kissing him deeply. While it may not always be the most convenient method of silencing him, it certainly is the most effective.

He kisses you back desperately, sinking into your embrace and bringing up his hand to lightly caress your cheek as you lick into his mouth.

You know why he’s talking so much. The action so unlike Jake. He’s nervous.

He moans softly as you pull back a fraction, trying to follow your lips.

“I should really be keeping my eyes on the road.” He teases, his voice low and wrecked.

“Well, it’s a good job we’re on the settee then, isn’t it?” You wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer and pressing your lips back to his.

You swallow down his softly whimpered moans and trail your hand down his chest. You keep the action slow, deliberate. So he has plenty of time to feel where you're headed, and to stop you if he wants.

You lightly palm his erection through his jogging bottoms and he hisses in a breath, his hips bucking up towards your touch as he keeps kissing you.

His hands wrap around you, pulling you closer as he trails his lips down to your jaw, pressing soft kisses along the bone before slipping further down to your neck.

You press a little harder, running your hand up and down his clothed length and massaging his heavy balls. His cock twitches under your actions, warm and throbbing.

Jake hisses in a breath, “please.” His voice is so quiet you almost can’t hear him, can distinguish his words from moans as he presses his lips to your skin and sucks lightly.

You tangle your free hand in his hair, pulling lightly at the curls to make him whine as you hook your fingers under his waistband and pull his trousers down.

Jake groans, squirming a little and lifting his hips quickly, grabbing hold of the material and yanking his boxers and jogging bottoms down to his knees, keeping his mouth at your neck the whole time.

The heat coming off his skin almost burns. Even without seeing his face you know that deep blush is back, the one that spreads across his skin like ink and makes you lightheaded from desperation for him.

Languidly you run the tip of your finger down his length, savouring the way his cock jumps and twitches under your attention. The head is ruddy and swollen, a bead of forming precum seeping out from the slit that begs you to swipe it away with your tongue.

You wrap your fingers around his girth, a not quite firm enough grip, and pump him twice in long, slow movements.

He sucks in a breath, shivering and muffling his moans against you, his fingers tightening on your side as if you’ll move away. As if you would ever want to leave him like this, aching and needy.

You dip your hand lower, massaging his balls again and the little sound Jake lets out is the sweetest thing you’ve ever heard.

“Fuck,” you breathe and quickly pull away from his hold.

Jake makes a small sound of distress for a moment, thinking you’re stopping, before he realises what you’re doing.

You lean down, taking hold of his cock and pumping him slowly as you lick along his tip with the flat of your tongue.

Jake groans, throwing his head back against the sofa and balling his hands into fists at his sides.

You repeat the action again, and again. Lapping at his slit and spreading his precum across your tongue.

He gasps, his thigh muscles twitching as he fights to keep still and not buck up into your mouth.

“This okay?” You ask between licks.

“Yes, ah, yes, really okay.” He whimpers, squirming a little and biting his lip. “Please don’t stop.”

“I won’t.” You whisper and lightly suck at his head, moaning as he slips into your mouth, and swirling your tongue around him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” his hips buck up a fraction before he catches himself and forces them back down against the cushions. “Sorry,” his words are muffled as he grits his jaw, bites his lip and tries to not completely lose it after barely thirty seconds.

You hum, pressing your tongue flat against him and let yourself slide further down, swallowing and sucking on his greedily.

“Oh, shi-” he catches himself, fighting every instinct to give in and chase his pleasure. He bites his bottom lip hard, drowning in pleasure and not even trying to come up for air.

His sighs and pants echo around the flat as you move faster, sink lower, until he hits the back of your throat.

He gasps loudly, a string of swears thumping out of his throat in a rush.

Then suddenly, his hands are on your jaw, lightly lifting you back up and off him. “Stop, stop, stop,” he rushes the words together and you move back quickly.

Your mouth is barely off him before he’s pulling you into a searing embrace, his tongue dancing with your own and licking his precum from your lips.

“You, you,” he mutters, one hand pulling at your jeans and undoing the button. “You, need you,” you’re not sure if he even realises he’s speaking, his thoughts bypassing any check system and coming straight out of his mouth.

He pushes you back against the sofa and you let him, let his strong, warm hands guide you and push your jeans and underwear down your thighs just enough so that he can touch you.

He sighs loudly as he strokes between your legs, the sound almost as if you were the one touching him and not the other way around.

You moan his name, pulling at his shoulders.

“Show me, show me,” he mutters into your mouth, “please.”

You grab hold of his hand, pressing his thumb against your clit and showing him the soft circles you like. He follows your directions eagerly, his large dark eyes mesmerised as he watches.

When you press his fore and middle finger towards your slick entrance he moans again, gently pushing inside and shivering.

“You’re really wet.” He mutters, trying to control his breathing. Slowly he pulls his fingers out before pushing them back in, revelling in the sound your arousal makes. “Is that,” he repeats the action, his eyes flicking up to your face, “is that okay? Feel okay?”

You nod, keeping a gentle hold on his forearm. “Just, fuck, thumb’s great, just, sort of curl your fingers a little bit and-” Your sharp moan cuts over whatever you were going to say next as pleasure runs up your spine like lightning.

“Like that?” He whispers, his voice thick and heavy, his pupils blown wide.

You nod desperately, rolling your hips to chase the sensation of his fingers. “Like that.”

He groans a little, pressing closer so he can lightly kiss your neck, alternating between sucking at your skin and looking up to watch your face in a blissed out rapture.

“What made you so wet, hmm?” He mutters into your ear, rocking his hips against you so that his painfully hard cock rubs against your thigh.

“Fuck,” you hiss as the tips of his fingers brush perfectly inside.

“Hmm?” He asks needily, practically begging, as if he hasn’t got you at his mercy.

“You.” You manage to stammer out.

“Me?”

“You.”

“You like sucking my cock that much?” He groans, having to pinch his side with his free hand to stop his eyes from rolling back in his head.

You nod desperately, bucking up into his hand as you chase your orgasm. “Yeah.” Your voice comes out as a pathetic whine and Jake growls.

He watches you for a few more seconds, trying to keep hitting that spot that makes you mewl under him.

Suddenly, he stops, pulling back his hand and you practically sob, tugging lightly on his wrist to try to keep him inside of you.

“Jake,” a deep down part of you wishes you didn’t sound quite so needy, but most of you doesn’t care in the slightest.

“Put your mouth on me again please,” he mutters, his voice rushed and breathless as he urges you down towards his cock with his hand on your upper back.

You nod, moving quickly to lick a long stripe up the length of him that has him moaning like a whore.

You take him back into your mouth quickly, sucking him as deep as you can and further still. Jake’s whimpers spurring you on.

He keeps one hand on your back, nearly at the base of your neck, pressing down ever so slightly to guide your tempo. While he shoves his middle and forefinger into his mouth and groans at the taste of your arousal.

He moans loudly, his chest vibrating with the sound. “Amor,” his voice is thick, on the verge of breaking, “fuck you taste-” he gasps as you sink lower, your own sounds of pleasure echoing along his cock.

He bites back a sob. “Taking such good care of me, you taste so sweet,” he sucks on his fingers, desperately trying to find every single trace of your slink that he can. The wet sounds cut over your own, somehow louder in your ears than your racing heartbeat and your mouth around his hot, thick cock.

Jake’s eyebrows pinch together as the ball of pleasure starts to tighten uncontrollably in the base of his stomach, pushing him higher and higher and so close to tumbling off the edge.

“Amor,” he whines, biting his lip and gently pulling you off his throbbing cock for the second time.

A thin trail of salvia connects you for a brief moment. You pout a little at being coaxed away from him again, Jake savours your expression for a heartbeat before kissing your swollen lips once, twice. His hands on either side of your face, stroking your cheeks as he slips his tongue into your mouth and squirms in his seat.

He breaks the kiss briefly to tug off his own trousers, reconnects your lips with a groan and tries to get your jeans off without moving away again.

You chuckle lightly at his impatient scoff when it doesn’t quite go to plan. He scowls at your clothing, as if it was purposefully being difficult. Swearing lightly under his breath before looking down and tugging them off. You pull your top off at the same time, burning with need. Desperate to feel his skin against yours so keenly that it is almost to the point of pain.

“Lay back please,” he mutters as he tugs your legs free and clambers between your thighs. His hands dig in just enough to send a shiver along your nerves, twisting deeply at your core. His stubble grazing over your skin as he places sloppy kisses on your inner knee, trailing upwards and nipping lightly.

He moves hastily, forgoing any pretence of being able to hold himself together as he gazes at your aching pussy. He darts out his tongue, licking one long swipe through your folds and up to your clit, closing his eyes and moaning at the taste wantonly.

“Fuck, Jake, I-”

He plunges two fingers back inside you, curling them exactly how you instructed and you all but scream. Your breath stolen from you as he flicks his tongue against your clit, circling one way and then the other before latching on and sucking it into his mouth, trying to follow directions from hazy encounters he watched quietly in the headspace.

When you grab hold of his hair, your hips arching up into his mouth he groans, opening his eyes so that he can see the look of pleasure on your face. How you contort under his touch.

He sobs, rutting needily against the sofa, the expression on your face almost too much to bear.

You buck against him unthinkingly, your body taking over as you need to chase your high. His name falls from your lips in whimpered gasps, separated only but pleas and muttered praises.

You guide the back of his head, encouraging him to lap at you in time with your hips and he follows your directions instantly, pressing closer and moaning against you so much that the sensation nearly has you screaming.

Your thighs shake as you bite your lips together, muscles tensing and waves of pleasure begin to build and build and build, threatening to drag you down over the edge in one fell sweep and-

Jake pulls back quickly, the bottom half of his face shining with his slavia and your slick. You groan in frustration as he moves, but let go of him so as to not pull at his hair.

“Jake,” you say, a spike of irritation weaving through your words.

He moans at your tone, his eyes glazing over ever so slightly. “I’m sorry, please,” he rubs your thighs, kneading his fingers into your skin as his own hips rock and buck against nothing but the air.

His cock is red, leaking and almost painful looking with how hard he is. It bobs up and down with every movement, almost pleading with you to take pity.

“Please what?” You whisper.

Jake shuffles back into a sitting position, both feet flat on the floor. He looks at you a little uncertainly for a split second before he pushes the emotion down. “Please come and fuck yourself on my cock.” He says quietly, as if he was truly asking you for a favour and not letting you have everything you want.

You all but jump into his lap, pulling off the rest of your clothing and kissing him hard. He moans against your lips, following every movement desperately as he places his hands gently on your hips.

With the last fragment of your rapidly disintegrating self-control, you manage to pull away from him just far enough to speak. “You sure?”

It’s like he doesn’t hear you, too drunk on your touch for your words to make sense. He moves forward, trying to kiss you again. But you hold him back a little, pressing your hands against his cheeks softly but firmly until his eyes meet yours, his eyebrows pinched in puzzlement.

“Are you sure you want to do this? I don’t want to rush you, we can-”

“Please.” He practically sobs. The break in his voice at the end of the word rings so loudly in the room that you're surprised it doesn’t echo. You’ve never heard him so needy before.

“Please,” he repeats, “I want to, I want you. If… if you’ll have me, if you-”

You cut off any self-destructive thought that was destined to fall out of his mouth with your lips on his.

“If I’ll fucking have you,” you mutter against him, raising up on your knees and taking him in your hand. You line him up with your entrance before you sink slowly down.

Jake gasps, grabbing hold of you and squeezing you tight. His face pressed into your chest as you hold his shoulder, kiss his temple as you ease him inside.

He bites his lip, trying and failing to hold back a whimper, but succeeding in keeping his hips still.

You gently turn his face towards you by his chin as you bottom out, kissing his plump lips once, twice before you speak. “You okay?”

He nods, completely lost in the feel of you squeezing around him. “I’m not gonna last.”

“That’s okay,” you smile sweetly, stroking his hair.

But Jake shakes his head. “It’s not, I want you to-”

“Hey, hey,” you soothe, “I’m having a good time, okay?” You smile and gently take one of his hands and guide it between your legs to your clit. “Here, remember what I showed you?”

He nods, looking up at you like you painted the sky and quickly begins those soft circles that have you clenching around him and moaning softly.

He lets out a choked sob. “Can feel you.” He mutters. “Feel you… squeezing, and fuck, so warm, and wet, and tight and-” he swallows his words, groaning loudly, his eyes closing as you start to slowly move, using his shoulders for leverage.

His fingers don’t falter though.

The stretch of him is so good it burns, pressing hard and deep inside and threatening to crack you open at any given second.

You keep your movements steady, rising up and sinking back down, watching his every expression intently. The bob of his throat. The lines of concentration on his forehead.

His thighs shake, his lip so tightly between his teeth that it’s losing colour.

“You want me to go faster?” You whisper and he grounds, nodding rapidly.

You can’t help but smile as warmth runs along your veins. How much he trusts you to take care of him, how hard he’s trying to stay still.

You kiss him hard, forcing him to stop biting his lip and let out the sweet sounds he’s been trying to hamper. He takes hold of your face with his free hand, caressing your cheek as you slide your tongue into his mouth.

You pick up your pace, truly riding him and he moans.

“Amor…”

“Move with me.” You mutter, rolling your hips and encouraging him to buck up and do the same.

He whines, but nods, kissing you deeping as he fucks up into you as you set a brutal pace.

The slide of his thick cock makes your spine bend, your body moving on autopilot as you chase your high. Your breath catches in your throat as he hits deep. Your fingers tighten around his shoulders, digging into his sweat soaked skin.

Jake's eyes snap open, watching you intently and angling his hips to try to hit that spot again.

“Please, please, please,” he mumbles with every thrust, not sure what he’s asking for but knowing that he’s desperate for it.

You tense, your muscles clenching as bliss begins to burn at the edge of your vision. “Jake, Jake, fuck.”

“Yes, please, please,” he moans, obsessed with how your lips part, your eyes shut as you get close, “please.” His thumb swirls messily over your clit, slick with sweat and your wetness, he pushes you closer.

The slap of skin is nearly as long as both of your moans as you bounce relentlessly on his cock, his balls slapping against your ass cheeks.

Stars begin to swell behind his eyes, pleasure spiralling in the base of his spine. “I can’t, I’m gonna- please!”

It’s a sobbed beg that pushes you over the edge. How desperate he is for you. How needy. How shamelessly open with what he wants.

You swear as pleasure crackles over your skin, burns through your veins as you come. Jake groans loudly, following you a fraction of a second later and gasping as you squeeze his cock, milking him for every last drop he has to spend.

He buries himself deep, pressing his face into your chest. For a second he’s weighty, floating somewhere high above everything, somewhere warm and safe.

And then your hands stroke his arms, your lips kiss his sweaty forehead, and he can feel you, your warmth, your everything holding him tight and keeping him safe.

“You okay?” You stroke his hair softly and smile when he looks up at you.

He nods and grins, pressing his lips to yours in a long, soft kiss. “I think I like play pretend amor.”

You snort. “Oh, do you?”

“Hmm, we’ll have to do it again.”

____________________________________________

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astroboots · 1 year

Text

Min Redux

CO-WRITTEN WITH @THIRSTWORLDPROBLEMSS

Pairing: Marc Spector x female reader x Steven Grant (x hints of Jake Lockley)

Summary: Marc is possessed by a horny ancient sex spirit and refuses the help you're willingly offering. Sequel to Gift of Min but can be read as stand alone.

Content: sex pollen, restraints, Marc being a stubborn bastard.

Word count; 12,800 words (do not look at me)

ASTROBOOT’S MASTERLIST | MOON KNIGHT MASTERLIST

There's a white, pot-bellied goose staring up at Marc expectantly with hunger. He ignores it, pretending he doesn't see it as he turns his head, eyes circling around the park.

If he ignores it, it will give up eventually.

"Oh hello there fella! You're a plump one aren't you?"

Marc resists the deeply ingrained urge to roll his eyes. Of course, Steven would acknowledge the animal.

“I think it wants us to feed it”, Steven says.

Marc hums in acknowledgment. He doesn't want to get into this right now. Doesn't want Steven distracted and excitedly buzz in their head with anecdotes about Geese and the bird wildlife in London when they're supposed to be on the lookout for their contact.

Flicking his wrist, Marc glares at his watch.

8:12am.

Twelve minutes late. You'd think Ancient Egyptian Deities would have some kind of culling process when picking their Avatars. Punctuality should be a bare minimum requirement.

He leans back against the wooden slats of the park bench, hands shoved inside his field jacket against the chill of the London air as a woman with a stroller walks by nearly running over the goose in the process (to Steven's outrage). For the umpteenth time since he sat down, Marc's fingers trace the lining until he catches at the sharp edge of the small golden trinket box, just to make sure it's still there.

Gift of Min. A tiny trinket box that's been sealing away some sex-crazed sprite serving the Ancient God of Sex for decades. One that Steven managed to accidentally free with his uncanny puzzle solving skills in just under a minute, getting himself possessed in the process.

Marc's fingers clutch at the brass-metal, until it's digging into his palms as he squeezes down. Flashes of your bare skin underneath Steven's hands, and the soft curves of your naked form pressed underneath him, pushes to the surface of his mind.

Fuck, he shakes his head. No, his mind is not going there. He needs to stay here, in the present, find the other Avatar and hand this over so it's out of your lives for good.

Get rid of it so that what happened last week won't ever repeat itself. He won’t allow that to happen, won’t risk putting you in harm’s way again.

It's all so vivid and Marc has replayed the memory of it so many times, every detail of it. Every gasp, moan and whimper of your voice. The way your back arched from the floor, the way your mouth fell open. The way your eyes would roll back right before you came… repeatedly. He’s played it like a VHS tape on repeat until it’s been so worn out from replays that the image is filled with static and he almost can't tell anymore if it was entirely Steven's experience or his as well, trapped as he was in the mind space.

Steven rutting into you mindlessly like an animal. Hips snapping against your soft plump thighs. Your legs squeezed tight around his hips, around his cock as you kept coming uncontrollably, again and again and–

"Marc Spector?"

With a jolt, Marc's pulled from his thoughts at the voice. Looking up, there's a man standing two feet away from him with a much too friendly smile on his face for someone that's—Marc flicks his watch—22 minutes late.

The man reaches out a hand in an inviting gesture to shake Marc's hand.

These Avatars always want to make pleasantries and be friends, like they're all part of the Mickey Mouse Club on account of their ostensible connection of being in indentured servitude to defunct Egyptian Gods.

Reluctantly, Marc relents, slipping one hand out of his pocket. The man's hand is bony, his grip tight like he's trying to assert dominance by crushing Marc's hand. Then he lets it go, the smile spreading even wider with that uncanny eager friendliness.

"I believe you have something for me?"

Standing up from the bench, Marc reaches into his pocket again and shoves it into the man's hand.

"Ah there it is. Gorgeous little thing isn't it?" Min’s avatar holds the box up in the daylight, inspecting it as if it were a diamond, then he tilts his head with a confused expression.

"Oh dear," he says.

At first, Marc misses the alarm in his voice, because the man practically sings out the words.

"What?" Marc asks.

Instead of answering Marc, the man hums, turning the trinket box in his hand as if weighing the contents, his friendly smile fading into a slight frown.

"What is it?" Marc repeats, irritated this time.

"Well…" the man shifts the box into his other hand, repeating the same weighing motion. Then the man holds the box up to his ear, like he’s trying to hear the ocean in a seashell.

The Avatar’s inability to give a straight answer has Marc's patience balanced on a tenuous line that he can physically hear as it snaps.

"What is wrong," Marc repeats for a third time through gritted teeth.

"The seal's been opened."

There's a tension in Marc's jaw as he grinds down on his teeth. "There was an accident. Someone opened it. But I made sure to trap the sprite back inside."

"Well whatever you did, you didn't do a good enough job.” The man says it so matter-of-factly like it’s not even an insult, and Marc has to take a deep calming breath, his hand closing into a fist.

“The puzzle sequence wasn't completed when you retrapped the spirit and thus not sealed. It must have escaped." This time, the man flips the panels in sequence of motion, in-out-up-up-down until Marc loses track. The gears in the box whir and the box opens-- and adrenaline ramps up in Marc as instincts have him backing away from the box, holding up an arm to shield his nose and mouth shut.

But there's nothing. No blue shiny smoke like last time.

It's empty.

“Wait so what does that mean?” you ask him, as you stab the fork into the thick double slice of french toast he’s made you. Double dipped in batter drowned in cinnamon sugar, just the way you like them.

Turning on the tap, Marc fills the kettle with water as he puts it on the stove to boil your morning tea.

Except it’s not morning anymore. It’s the afternoon now, almost 1pm. You slept through the whole of the morning, but considering the morning-afternoon-and parts of the evening you endured with Steven barely 48 hours ago, Marc is hardly going to begrudge you sleeping in.

“Don’t worry about it,” Marc says, hoping his reassurance will allay any worries you may have. Because you don’t have to worry. He’s going to fix it—fix everything—and keep you out of trouble this time.

But as he looks up at you, the frown that borders on a glare on your face tells him that was absolutely the wrong thing to say.

Shit, he’s doing that thing again isn’t he? The very thing you told him not to do after the post-possession talk.

His shoulders sag. He sighs in capitulation. Right. Communication. Tell you things.

“I have to find it again. This time I’ll have Steven seal it so it doesn’t escape.”

“It’s been days, it could be anywhere, did they tell you how to find it? Do we have some kind of magical ancient artifact compass?”

Marc’s shoulders tenses at your use of ‘we.’ There’s no ‘we’ here. He’s not getting you involved in this. He’s gonna catch it. Steven’s gonna seal it. That’s the plan.

“Marc?” You ask, but he pretends he doesn’t hear you as he moves to the cupboard, to find a teapot.

“Do we know how to find it?” you repeat when he doesn’t answer.

He pretends to busy himself, foregoing the perfectly good teapots he can use that sits in the front and pushes them aside as he continues to search the cupboard.

If he ignores you, you will give up eventually.

Faintly, he thinks he can hear Jake’s (sarcastic) voice in his head. “Jefe, she’s not a Goose. Ignoring her isn’t going to cut it.”

“Stop pretending you’re looking for teapots and ignoring me. I’m just going to keep asking until you answer.”

Shit.

You’re so insistent. Worse than park geese. Worse than Steven and Jake combined.

“No compass,” Marc answers as he pulls out a random teapot in the furthest corner. Dusty from lack of use. He’s gonna have to clean this. With the way Steven cleans this apartment, it might be covered in asbestos for all he knows.

“The guy said it likes cramped small enclosed places. Tiny chests, jewelry boxes, tupperware. Anything that closes with a lid.”

“That hardly narrows it down in London!”

“Like I said, I’ll take care of it.”

Turning on the tap, he runs the teapot under water in the sink, scrubbing the dust and grime. He lifts the lid but it’s been so long since it’s been used the pot is practically sealed shut from dirt, even as Marc pushes against the top.

He can hear you approaching from behind. “You won’t get it open that way,” you offer as you turn the tap and turn it as far as it goes for hot water. Then you take the pot from him, running the lid over the running water, gripping at the base and start to turn it until he can hear it give with a quiet ‘pop’.

“Tada!”

You’re grinning at your success, and Marc has to bite the inside of his cheek to tamper down his own smile at the sight of you. Because fuck, that gloating, I-know better-than-you smile, (which should be aggravating) is infectious.

“See! This is why you need me,” you sing-song, rubbing your success in his face as you lift the lid. He’s so distracted by your easy-smile and glow of schadenfreude he doesn’t pay attention to the quiet hiss of pressure that gives from the lid.

A tendril of blue-white fog rises up, reaching towards you. Before Marc fully processes what he’s doing, he’s already stepping forward into your space. One hand clasps at your wrist as he yanks you backwards and away from the kitchen.

Gotta fucking be kidding him. That fucking thing was hiding in the teapot all this time.

It hits him like a kick in the gut. It’s like swallowing live fire into his throat except it keeps burning all the way as it travels into his chest and digs into the inside of his stomach, settling into every inch of his flesh. It’s the feeling of downing a bottle of whiskey in one sitting with none of the side sickness and nausea that he has to swallow down. It burns and crackles inside his veins.

With the intensity of the heat as it bubbles in his blood, he had expected it to hurt. It doesn’t. Instead it’s molten and slow, oozing through his system like a heated haze. He feels heady as the sensation rushes through him from the curl of his toes to the tip of his nose until it has his scalp tingling. It’s pleasant. Euphoric even if he lets his mind linger on it. He doesn’t.

From a distance he thinks he can hear your voice, and buried underneath the fog, Steven’s concerned babbling. But it’s drowned out by the blood thrashing in his ears. He tries to find you, but his vision is swimming in front of him.

Then he hears it, you’re shouting his name. You sound so worried.

He can feel you. Soft and doting hands cupping his cheeks with a tender touch that has the heat in his stomach reach a boiling point, then you tilt his face upwards to meet your worried gaze.

It’s the same expression on your face when you were tending to Steven not two days ago. Heat spikes in his lower belly, his cock twitching against the constricted confines where it’s trapped under hard denim.

‘Need you’, a voice inside his head, neither Steven or Jake’s but entirely his own, calls out. ‘Want you’.

Flashes of you, your back arching from the floor, trapped underneath him as he thrusts into you invade his vision. The phantom sensation of your wet tightness wrapped around his cock shivers through him and the ache makes the length of him pressed hard against his boxers, twitch and leak against the soft fabric.

Fuck… He can’t put you through that again.

He can’t have you here.

"Leave," he grits out, scooting backwards, dragging himself away from you by the heel of his hands along the wooden floor.

"What?"

"You need to go. Leave!" He barks out.

He tries to get up but fuck, his legs have gone all wobbly like fucking Bambi, can't steady himself, and his faulty balance has you running forwards towards him.

Marc throws out his hands, palms up as a signal for you to keep your distance.

"No! Don't get close to me. You need to go now."

He grabs at the side of one of the wooden shelves, as he steadies himself on his feet and props himself up, but fuck, everything is spinning. He feels like he's drunk, and he closes his eyes to make it stop.

"Marc," you say his name so softly, it makes the heat in his veins grow hotter. There's liquid fire pumping through his blood.

Even with his eyes closed, he sees you.

You underneath him, exhausted and fucked out. Swollen lips kissed raw and tender. Legs shiny and slick, with your come and his, as it drips over his cock in a shiny silvery thread and down the wooden floor below.

Shit! Shit! Stop, don't think of that.

His eyes fly open to the sight of you, the you in front of him right now, your pretty face mere inches from his. Lips so close he can practically fucking taste you already on his tongue from pure sense memory.

He's getting worse by the second. He's not sure how much longer he can keep his body in check. Every inch of him wants to touch you. Fingers itching to dig into your plump flesh. His cheeks tingle and all he wants is to have your thighs pressing down and enveloping his face. His tongue is heavy in his mouth and salivating at the thought of licking every inch of your soft skin, to have the familiar taste of you fill his mouth– fuck, he can’t– he needs something to restrain himself with as a precaution.

His eyes flicker to the bed, and of course, it's not there. Where is Steven's stupid ankle bracelet when it’s actually needed?

Shit.

Wait, the cuffs. Jake keeps some cuffs here, where did he – his eyes roam the space, until he spots the shiny metal glinting from underneath Jake's cap that he's carelessly slung against the shelf behind him.

"I'm not going to leave you here by yourself. Let me help," you say and his eyes linger on your pouty lips, the way they open and close as you bite your lower lip in worry. He wants to sink his own teeth into them until you whine for him. Slip his aching cock between them, until his hard cock is enveloped by your softness.

He shakes his head, taking a step back as he looks around himself, planning his exit route. The front door is behind you, which means he'd have to get past you to get out.

Crap. Stubborn as you are, you'd try to block him in a heartbeat, and unless he's gonna tackle you (out of the question) this is going to get him nowhere.

"You can't help with this," he says, eyes continuing to scan the room until he spots the open door to the bathroom.

You frown, eyes narrowing in irritation. "I can actually. We've been here before Marc. I helped Steven remember?"

And fuck does he remember, can't forget. That's part of the problem.

Your hand reaches for him, fingertips brushing over his fisted knuckles, and the touch of it tingles with a burning ache.

"It'll feel better if you let me help you," you say.

Marc takes a step back, arm reaching behind him, until he feels the cold metal against his hand and grabs the cuff.

"I'm not going to do that to you," he says. Before you get a chance to respond, he's already turning around. He's leaping on his feet, darting to the bathroom and slams the door shut behind him.

His fingers are trembling, cold sweat dripping down his forehead as he fumbles locking the door.

From behind the door he can hear your panicked voice calling for him.

"Marc? Marc!!"

The rickety panel door rattles and shakes against the frame with your effort to slide it open. “Marc, did you lock the door?! Marc!”

You sound so worried, and a small pang digs under his skin when he hears you.

It’s so stupid. He knows you’re safe, that the worry in your voice is meant for him, and yet every instinct in his body is screaming out for him to check on you and make sure you’re okay. He fights it. Eyes darting around the tiny confined space to search for something, anything, permanently affixed to the wall that he can cuff himself to.

“Marc, open the door or I’m gonna kick this bloody thing down. I swear to god.”

Marc doesn’t have much to work with. There’s the toilet, the sink, with nothing he can attach the cuffs to, and the railing to the shower head that looks… flimsy at best. Still beggars can’t be choosers.

Forcing his stupidly shaky hands to bring the cuffs to the shower, he tightens one end to his wrist until he can feel the sharp metal dig through his skin, hard enough that it’s probably going to cause the blood flow to constrict.

Stupid, he’s so stupid, he knows better than this, but his coordination isn’t cooperating and if Marc is honest with himself, the blunt pain helps.

Helps his mind to sharpen and to distract himself from the burning heat that’s riding him hard at the sound of your voice on the other end of the door calling his name.

Helps him to shove down the pathetic need that sings in his vein to tear off the flimsy panel door and run into your arms and beg you to help him.

Helps him find the will in himself to clasp the other end of the cuffs around the metal rod before it clicks satisfyingly to let him know the deed is done.

Safe. the metal click tells him. You’re safe from him now. He couldn’t get his grubby hands on you even if his weak will breaks.

The rattling of the door has stopped now. The room fills with silence and you’re no longer shouting for him. Marc turns back and sees the shadow of your feet under the spring as you walk away from the door. You’ve finally given up on him.

Good. That’s good.

You should get as far away from him as possible. With any luck, you’re already halfway down the stairs towards the tube.

He knows you’re pissed. Probably slamming the front door on your way out. But that’s ok. He’ll take your anger over your worry. He can deal with anger, knows how to handle it like an old shitty friend he wants to cut ties with but never can. What he can’t take is the way you sounded when you were calling for him.

The worry. The care. You always care. And it’s wasted on him. All that’s ever earned you since you got involved with him is trouble.

If you weren’t involved with him then you wouldn’t have been in their apartment that morning when Steven opened the stupid thing. If you weren’t there, Marc would’ve taken over, would’ve taken care of himself instead of — instead of–

‘Steven, fuckfuck Steven–’ the phantom memory of your voice rings hauntingly sharp in his ears. Slurred and honeyed, the feel of you, slick and dripping between your thighs, clamping down tightly on his Steven’s cock.

His whole body aches. Skin flushed and burning and his brain feels feverish and rubbed raw with heat at the fraying edges.

A shower. A cold shower will help.

Marc takes a shaky breath, as his fingers fumble with the taps. Turning the cold water as far as it goes. He thinks he’s prepared for it but he’s not. It’s a shock to the system. The cold water slams down on him with a heavy punch. Cold and piercing and bitter as it wraps all around his feverish skin and strangles his lungs with it.

His eyes are closed, but instead of the blank darkness all he sees are your big eyes staring back up at him. Dazed and out of it, fuckdrunk, on him.

His skin burns. Blood boiling inside his veins until it’s painful. The icy water is still pummelling down at him punishingly, and he’s grateful for it because he thinks he’s going to incinerate from the inside out if it wasn’t. His cock is hard and heavy against the clammy and cold wet denim that’s pressing up against his searing skin. It’s uncomfortable, painful.

The memory of you refuses to leave him. The silky feel of you wet and hot and writhing on his painfully hard cock. Fuck, fuck, why does he do this to himself. One hand comes up to his face, and he scrubs it hard with the freezing water, rubbing his thumb into his eyes to help with the throbbing heat that’s growing at his temple. It doesn’t help. Can’t scrub out the image of you, mouth parted, head thrown back as you squirm on his cock, as you grind yourself on him and come… again, and again, and– again. His eyes slam open, until he’s staring at the grungy white tiles of the wall.

There’s something inside his flesh, burrowing into his skin and veins. An infectious heat that slivers and crawls that drips with hunger and greed. Starved for touch and pleasure, it screams and it roars until it’s all Marc can feel too. He wants it, wants you, and nothing else will do. You and the warmth of your body and the way you always welcome him as you wrap yourself around him.

Shit, he – fuck. fuckfuckfuck.

He takes a long shuddery breath and it fogs against the cold of the room. He’s shivering but if it’s from the cold of the water stinging against his skin or the heat burning underneath it he doesn’t know anymore. Does it even matter?

Everything feels raw and painful. Sore and tangled up inside him. He wants– fuck, no fucking stop. He needs to –

“Marc.” He can hear it again. Your voice calling out his name. Not Steven’s name, his. It echoes and lingers in his mind, soft and sweet. The way it had been when he’d been the one fucking you into the bed between the soft sheets of their bed the night before the incident.

The way you’d whimpered it, while your nails were digging crescent shaped marks into his skin that were still denting the back of his shoulders when he’d looked this morning. Tiny little marks that are evidence of your love for him.

His stomach draws tight, hips hitching up without his permission, desperately searching for any friction… shit shit, it’s not enough and it’s too much, the sensation that spears through his stomach as his cock rubs against the hard seam of his jeans. Heat settles at the base of his spine and the sound that escapes him is pathetic. He’s not sure if it’s a gasp or a sob, but he grinds it down between his teeth, snuffing it out.

Why is his brain trying to murder him like this?

The heat (or the cold, he doesn’t know which anymore but it doesn’t matter, one of them) is making his mind fuzzy. The grout delineating the tiles in front of him is blurring together, and the room, Marc realizes, is starting to sway and swim. He draws in another breath into his chest, but there’s no oxygen in it. He tries again, and this time the sharp jagged breath hurts, like swallowing broken glass and needles. He doesn’t know what’s wrong. The body is panicking.

Jake’s trying to push him for the front seat. Marc can feel it, an insistent presence that lingers at the edges of his mind, trying to gain and take hold. But Marc is much better at resisting him these days. Marc’s not going to let him. He doesn’t trust that Jake will be able to hold himself back when it comes to you. Doesn’t trust that the man won’t selfishly uncuff their body and run straight to where you are. His priorities are different from Marc. Jake’s prime concern is to always take care of their body first, everything else comes secondary to that man. Marc doesn’t trust it. Doesn’t trust him. Not with you. He can’t risk it.

Alarm and anxiety blares bright in his veins, but he can take it. Can endure this. Can–

There’s a loud slam from behind him.

“Marc, Jesus christ!”

The sound of your voice makes him whip around. You’re standing in front of him, the bathroom door’s been shoved to the side, wide open, and you’re holding a butter knife in your one hand and what looks like the remnants of his dismantled door handle in your other.

His heart flutters erratically, a pleasant warmth trickling into his chest. You’re here.

It lasts for a heartbeat and a half, until the realization hits him harder and colder than any ice water could have. You’re here. You’re actually here.

There’s a concerned expression in your face as you take him in for a full second. Then you drop the items in your hand and rush forward to him until you’re standing under the shower with him.

“The water is bloody freezing! Have you lost your mind?” You’re shoving past him to get to the tap and turn it off entirely, as you continue to scold him. “You’re going to get hypothermia”.

Your voice might be harsh, but your hands are soft and doting, palms cupping his cheeks, and your eyes are wide and worried in that way that makes everything inside him tighten. His skin tingles where your fingertips brush up against his cheekbones and it takes everything in him to not nuzzle his mouth against your wrists, chasing into your touch for more.

“You feel like ice. We need to get you into bed, we need to–” your eyes stop at the shower rail and then trail downwards to his right hand that’s cuffed to it in disbelief. Then he hears you take a long exasperated inhale. “Of course, you did,” you murmur, “of course you’d cuff yourself to the damn shower. Where are the keys, Marc?”

His eyes flicker away from your face to stare at the tiles on his left as he grinds his mouth and jaw shut.

You sigh, then you come closer. You’re crowding in on him, pressed tight to his chest, “fine, I’ll just look myself shall I?” You stand on your tiptoes to reach for the small shower shelf behind him, lifting a shampoo bottle to check if there’s a key underneath.

Your hair tickles his nose and the familiar comforting smell of you surround him. You’re soft and warm, and amazing and he just wants to sink his teeth into your bare throat that’s inches from his jaw and bite into you like the sweetest and ripest fruit of Summer.

You shift as you reach for the highest shelf, hips rubbing up against him where they’re slotted between his thighs and fuck–fuck–

Sharp heat shoots through his stomach, white pleasure blinding and intense that rushes to his head and his knees want to fold under his weight. He groans at the touch and you freeze as he does.

For a moment both of you are silent and still. The only thing Marc can hear is his own ragged and hash breathing. His body is trying to acclimatize to the new temperature of the room as the heat from his body is quickly evaporating out of him. But the thing under his skin, poisoning his mind and sanity is still there. He feels like he’s on fire. You’re pressed up against every inch of him, and it is screaming in his ears with an ugly hungry need. Marc feels like he’s burning up. Like he’s going to die, flesh burning away until there’s only ashes left, and that’s okay the burrowing need tells him. Let it burn away every inch of resistance left within him, and then he can have you.

Marc wants that, wants you in any way he can have.

Wants you to grind up on his aching cock that’s so hard it hurts. Wants you to hold him, fingers tugging at his hair until it stings and burns. Want your legs and arms wrapped around him as he sinks inside of you, bury his cock as deep as it goes until he can never leave.

Wants you, wants you, wants you. It echoes with fury and overtakes everything else. There’s no other brain process except this, as his hand clamps down on your waist and grinds you down on him. His traitorous hips hitching up until he can feel that perfect press of your body against his trapped and pulsing cock.

You don’t stop him, hand coming up to the back of his neck and hold him close to you. You’re so fucking perfect letting him rub himself up against you, even when he’s acting like some stupid animal in heat. The pleasure sends him on the tip of his toes, chasing the high and it’s good, it feel so fucking– Fuck!

His eyes slam open, tearing himself away from you. You’re blinking up at him with a confused look.

The fuck is he doing?

With his free hand, he moves you out of the range of the shower until your back is pressed against the opposite wall.

He’s such an idiot, he’s such a fucking stupid– his cheeks burn and prickle, sweat stinging his back underneath the waterlogged shirt. He needs to cool down. Get his head straight. Needs to rid himself of this burning inferno of a hellfire that is roaring under his skin.

A shower, a cold fucking shower. He needs to calm the fuck down. Needs to– Marc moves back towards the tap and turns it back on.

“Marc! No! Stop!”

You’re leaping forward into the shower again, uncaring of being in the firing range of the cold water cascading from the showerhead, as you reach for the tap to turn it off.

“You’re fucking freezing, you need to stop. Marc, I need to get you out of the shower. We need to warm you up. Where’s the keys?”

He ignores you, tries to wrangle you away from the shower with his back and shoulders, wrestling his path to the tap again.

You slap at his hand. “Marc, no!” you bark. “Stubborn fucking –”

He knocks your hand away from the tap, turning it again as he tries to block the ensuing shower from you with his shoulders, and you growl in frustration.

“Fine, fine! You want the water on, it stays on, but you have to let me–” you shove your way back to the front of the tap, turning the hot water on. It takes a few moments but then the punishing coldness turns lukewarm and almost comforting against his stinging skin.

“There,” you murmur and back away enough until you’re both staring up at each other again. The water is hitting you too, drenching and soaking your clothes as you peer up at him cautiously.

“Should I help you take your clothes off? It’ll be more comfortable for you this way,” you say the words slowly, giving him the time to react before you move.

The logical part in him that’s still intact knows he should stop you. Should tell you to leave before he loses the last of his sanity and tries to maul you like an animal again.

But his tongue is heavy in his mouth. All his words are failing him, and as you inch closer to him, all he can do is stare up at you, silently begging you– to go, to stay, to abandon him, to touch him, to run, to help him– until he doesn’t know anymore what he wants, and ducks his head to the ground.

“I can help you if you want to,” you tell him.

His eyes squeeze shut. He’s so fucking useless. He swore to never let this happen again to you, never put you in that situation again and here the two of you are not even 48 hours later, in the exact same fucking seat. He’s no better than Steven at this. Useless at protecting you. Instead you’re the one trying to take care of him. Maybe you’d be better off with Jake in the saddle.

“You shouldn’t have to hel–” he starts, but you cut him off.

“I want to help you,” you enunciate each word and syllable, leaving no room for doubt, as you’re facing up to him in challenge. Then your eyes soften as does your voice. “But I don’t want to force anything on you that you don’t want.”

There’s a brief silence and the only thing he can hear is the water falling from the shower. Then, “Marc, look at me.” You say it softly, it doesn’t sound like an order, but not quite a request either as Marc tips his head up to meet your gaze. “I’m not going to touch you unless you want to. But I’m gonna stay here with you until this passes. I’m not going anywhere.”

He stares up at you like an idiot, eyes drawn to that determined look in your eyes that he knows he can never win against, and he feels his resolve fail him.

“Is it okay if I take off your clothes?” you ask again.

And until he gives you an answer, he realizes, you’re going to ask him again and again. You’re so persistent, more than a goose. He loves that about you and he doesn’t know how to say no to you anymore, even if he had wanted to (which he doesn't, not really).

So he doesn’t, instead he nods.

You move slow, giving him plenty of time to change his mind. Your hands come to the soggy hem of his shirt, drawing it up against his torso and over his head. Fingertips scraping under the bare naked skin underneath as you go, and it fucking tingles. It tingles and burns and smolders until his insides are on fire, and for a second, Marc is sure that his knees can no longer carry his weight and he’s going to tip over and capsize.

He leans down his head for balance, and you’re there to catch him. You ground him, as you always do. He rests his forehead against yours and for a moment, the roaring noise of blazing fire in his veins stops. It’s quiet and calm in his head.

“You okay?” you ask, staring up at him, eyes gentle, as you go slow.

“Yeah.”

His shirt is left hanging on the shower rail, where his hand is still cuffed to it. Then your fingers come to the front of his jeans, nail tapping against the metal button and his cock jerks and strains against the wet and heavy material in anticipation.

Popping open the button, you undo his fly, and the too-strict pressure of the material finally eases. He squirms, “Fuck, baby,” he gasps out, raw and broken.

You hush him, sweet and comfortingly, with your lips pressed close to his ear, “do you want me to touch you?”

His mouth feels thick and dry, everything turned into cotton against the roof of his mouth. He swallows, taking another long breath and holds it deep as he tries to get himself together. He’s weak, useless. Can’t get anything right. Can’t even say no when he knows he should.

“Marc?” you ask again and he inhales deeply to calm himself, then nods.

You smile, sweet and bright, and…relieved. You look so relieved and… happy, even. It makes it better. Makes him feel a little bit less of a colossal fuck up that you’re doing this for him when you’re smiling at him like that. Your head tips up, lips pressing up against his, and that helps too. With his eyes closed, listening to the sound of your soft hums as he licks into your mouth, he can almost pretend to himself that this is okay.

Your hand wraps around his cock, squeezing firm and tight in that perfect way that you know he likes. It's relief and pleasure and warmth all wrapped into one, as everything inside him buzzes with a quiet soothing noise that drowns out the rest.

Your soft lips, drags downwards, mouthing at his neck, teeth nipping at his shoulder. He’s still aching, but it feels good. It doesn’t hurt this time, instead everything lingers pleasantly as your lips drift further down, soft plushness dragging against the sore muscle, down the slope of his belly and–wait! What’re you–

His eyes fly open. He’s staring at the empty walls again. You’re no longer standing face to face with him and his head drops down. The sight that greets him slams into his ribs until he nearly doubles over. Fuck.

You’re on your knees on the wet bathroom floor, tucked between his legs. Staring up at his cock through your water-lined lashes that glitters against the harsh fluorescent light.

“Baby– wai–wait,” his words fumble and trip out of his mouth, brain unable to process the sight in front of him. He wasn’t prepared for this. “You don’t have to–”

“Marc,” you breathe, cutting him off again. From this close distance he can feel the warmth of your mouth gust over the overwrought tip of his cock, and he nearly blacks out. Your voice sounds drippingly sweet and warm. “I know I don’t have to. I want to. Let me do this for you”.

He should stop you. You shouldn’t have to be on your knees and take care of him when he’s the one who fucked up and got himself caught in this mess. There’s a tight lump stuck in his throat that he tries to swallow down so he can speak, but it doesn’t ease and the words aren’t coming to him.

Your hand comes to the side of his thighs, dragging the drenched denim down his legs and discard them into a sloppy pile in the corner of the floor.

He gazes down on you, how the shower has drenched your oversized sleepshirt, until the white of it has gone see-through. The drenched cotton cling onto your skin and the curve of your breasts and his cock bobs up and strains against his stomach at the sight. Shit.

Embarrassed heat climbs his cheeks, and judging from the smile tugging at your cheeks, you definitely noticed his reaction. You lean up, mouth brushing up against the length of his cock and press a kiss to the swollen flesh. White blinding heat streaks through his chest and his stomach draws in tight. He can’t think.

It’s here again, that hungry ember that scalds hot in his veins. It’s overwhelming, his toes curl against the tiles, breath catching sharp in his lungs until he feels like the ground is going to swallow him up. His knees are giving out, the hard tiles gone soft and weightless beneath the sole of his feet. He’s panicking again. His hand flings out, clutching at your shoulders, fingers digging in, it’s too hard and too rough, and he shouldn’t be doing that – shouldn’t be doing anything of this, but he can’t help himself.

One of your hands comes to rest on top of his, and you tilt your head just enough to press a soft kiss to his knuckles.

“It’s okay, Marc. it’s okay,” you say, and with those words, the panic in him dissipates somewhat. Enough to have his fingers ease their hard grip on your shoulders, as you lean your back closer between his thighs.

Try as he might, he can’t pretend he doesn’t want this, want you. Your mouth is inches from his cock, and he can see the incriminating precome welling up at the tip, where it shines slick, giving him away. His breath constricts in his chest, as he waits for you.

You lean closer, and he catches the pink tip of your tongue as it darts out to lick at the liquid dribbling down the length of him. His spine seizes up at the barely there contact, an ugly noise tearing from his throat.

“Marc, you okay?” you ask, and when he blinks down at you, lips slick with him, he feels undone. “Should I keep going?”

Marc swallows down the whimper that is lingering dangerously at the tip of his tongue that wants to leap out. He nods a little bit too frantically in response and he barely has the time to meet your eyes, and how it glitters with pride at his reaction. Then your lips part and you envelop his cock in the perfect sweet warmth of your mouth.

An electrical static noise crackles in his head. Your mouth is so fucking good. Soft silk wrapped all around him. Your tongue slides softly over the ridge of his cock and sweet aching bliss twines through his limbs. It’s slow and languid, the tip of your tongue darting out with soft, fluttering licks against his oversensitive flesh as you take your time and try to murder him. You’re succeeding too.

Heat carves through him sharp and intense. With the way his heart is trying to pound its way through flesh and muscle and out of his chest, he’s pretty sure he’s only got minutes to spare before his heart entirely gives out and he drops dead on the bathroom floor.

You’re so ridiculously gorgeous. Eyes half-lidded as you stare up at him with unwavering attention.

It’s bliss. It’s torture. It’s heaven and hell. Marc doesn’t know up from down anymore. All he knows as his cock slides between your lips, wet and slippery and so fucking good, is that he doesn’t want it to stop.

For all the composure he’s trained into himself for years and decades, he can’t seem to find an ounce of it to draw from in this moment. He never can as far as you're concerned. His hands fists at his side, every muscle in him tensing, trying to stop the way his hips cants up with small thrusts into your mouth. But it’s not working. His body is betraying him, refusing to stay still.

Good, it feels so– The burning flame under his skin is back, the whole of his body is wracked in warm pleasant shivers and he wants to curl into your touch.

You hum, a small quiet little sound as you suck on the tip and he can feel the pleasant vibrations of it skitter up his entire spine. He jackknifes forward, pressing further into your mouth and fuck, he can feel the head of his cock nudge against the resistance of your throat. He stops there. Makes himself stop, ignores how every muscle in him is screaming for him to move. His cock pulses eagerly on your tongue, desperate for friction. But he ignores it.

He can’t have this for himself. Doesn’t deserve it.

“Come back up here, need to make you feel good baby. Let me- fuck let me make you feel good,” he says, even as his balls are drawing up, cock going somehow even harder, swelling and throbbing on your tongue.

Marc swears, bites down on his lip hard until he tastes blood, and clenches every damn muscle in his body as he backs away, and slides himself out between your lips. Somehow, miraculously, he manages to hold on. His damn dick jerks and bounces spasmodically, oozing precome all over the damn floor as he struggles for control. And through it all you just smile indulgently up at him, eyes gleaming, the pearly edge of your teeth digging into that perfectly plump lower lip.

He wonders if you even fucking heard him, because you’re leaning back in towards him, and wrap your mouth back around his cock. That inescapable fire is building at the base of his spine, threatening to burn him to the ground, but he can’t let himself come yet. He can’t because then it will be over, and you’ll have given this to him, and he doesn’t fucking deserve it.

Marc doesn't deserve you, period. But he definitely doesn't deserve to have you on your knees like this for his miserable ass. Doesn't deserve that warm, worshipful mouth, slicking and sliding so perfectly over his aching cock. Perfect lips stretched tight around him as you struggle to take him as deep as you can. Doesn't deserve the way your hand alternates between clutching at him and petting so gently over his skin. Doesn't deserve the loving look in your eyes. Has to close his own eyes against the sight of you or this is all going to be over in about half a second.

But somehow that's even fucking worse, behind closed eyes it makes the feeling of it all the more acute. There's nothing there to distract him. He can't escape the feel of your clever tongue and perfect wet heat of your mouth wrapped around him in the blank darkness. The way your tongue curls around him. You’re moaning just slightly with each press forward, and he can feel the vibrations of it along every throbbing inch of his dick. It's fucking killing him.

“Let me–I can’t stop, I can’t–” He’s sobbing, the sound raw and needy as it wrenches out of his throat. Pleasure sears through his entire back.

He's trying to hold still. He's fucking trying. But his legs are fucking shaking. Trembling thighs threatening to dump him on his ass any second, and he can't seem to control the way his hips are hitching forward in tiny abortive thrusts, seeking more even as he knows he should be jerking back, pulling away, and convincing you to let him make you feel good instead. but you don't seem to mind at all.

Fuck, you seem to love it, moaning louder every time he loses the battle with his instincts.

This is so wrong. He’s not in his right mind, not in control. You should be shoving him away, but instead you’re clutching at his ass with one hand, fingernails digging in as you encourage him to thrust harder, deeper. Tiny sharp bites of pain that just seem to add to the maelstrom of pleasure twisting and building in his gut.

Marc opens his mouth, determined to make one more attempt at convincing you, but then you swallow around him, moan around him, and all that comes out is a guttural groan.

"Ba-baby-," he stutters out. He tugs on your hair, trying desperately to be gentle, but he's not entirely sure he manages it. You let him pull you off, one torturous inch at a time, and he barely manages to stop the thrust of his hips, the instinctual need to chase your mouth.

You look up at him, all wide eyes and slick, swollen lips. One long shiny string of spit or precome of both still connecting the two of you.

Oh shit, how is he supposed to resist when you’re looking at him like that? Like he's actually worth a damn, when you’re the one who's worth anything, everything. He can’t, he was crazy to think he ever fucking could.

"Marc," you say, tone mildly reproachful. Your voice is hoarse... from swallowing his cock, and for a second, he thinks that's fucking it for him.

Close, so fucking close. It’s pushing and clawing at every stitch and seam inside of his skin and he is unraveling. No wonder Steven lost it. No wonder he gave in. Marc can taste his climax at the tip of his tongue, dangling precariously on the fine thread of his fragile sanity. He squeezes his eyes shut. Tries to block it out.

“Let go,” you hum, and you press your mouth to the trembling muscle on the inside of his thigh that makes him jolt up and nearly swallow his tongue. “You don’t have to hold on anymore. I want you to come. Want you to come in my mouth.”

Fuuuuck.

You kiss your way up, and he’s trying desperately to hold on, to hold back. But he can’t, not when he feels your tongue trail the underside of his cock with a long wet and devoted line. Not when you’re kissing his hips. Not when you put that perfect mouth of yours back on his cock and swallow him down.

Your hand wraps around the base of his cock, where your mouth can’t reach, giving it a firm stroke downwards, and his toes tingle. His whole body is shaking uncontrollably now. The pleasure is almost unbearable. his muscles jerking and twitching uncontrollably with every slide of those pretty lips.

That insidious flame flickers at the base of his spine ominously. Warning him of what’s to come. It feels too fucking good, he can’t deny himself of this anymore. His orgasm swells up, large and looming, rushing out along every nerve ending and won’t be ignored.

“Baby, fuckfuck, please– I can’t–can’t,” he opens his eyes, and looks down on you and fuck that’s such a mistake. You’re looking up at him, a dark pitch that bleeds into your blown pupils. His eyes slam back shut again because he can't survive the hungry look in your eyes.

But it’s already too late.

His orgasm is consuming, large and looming as it’s trying to eat him whole. It wraps around his flesh and licks down to the marrow. From the curl of his toes, searing through his thighs until it’s permanently carved somewhere deep into his ribs, as he comes down your throat. Leaving nothing but a tingling ache in its wake.

It feels endless, the way he keeps pulsing into your mouth. Cock twitching against your lips, riding out his oversensitivity at your lapping tongue.

He’s moaning and whimpering, toes skidding along the wet tiles as he desperately tries to find his footing. There’s nothing left but his undeniable surrender. Letting you take as much as you want from him. Until he’s empty and the blazing blue flame in his veins is sated and wrung dry from your attentive tongue.

There’s clarity again. The dust and smoke clears until there’s only a faint smell of ashes lingering in the back of his mind and he feels like he can think again. His muscles ache with the soreness, and as he takes a long inhale, oxygen floods his head with a rush. Sweet fucking relief, he can breathe again.

It doesn’t last very long. His eyes open, to see you smile up at him, bleary eyed and messy, drenched hair plastered on your forehead. The water from the shower is still running down your face as you’re trying to catch your breath.

You look like a mess. He did that to you, and you look so fucking good like this.

It’s all it takes, and the insidious heat licks at his bones, corrupting his blood again. The hunger in him returns with a devastating scream in his flesh. His mouth salivates, like what came before was only an appetizer. Now he’s gotten a taste and he’s hungrier than he was before.

It makes him gain a new sympathy for Steven and the hell the man must’ve gone through with you two nights ago.

Fuck what’s wrong with him. Marc’s already gotten one release. That should’ve sated him. But he can already feel the simmering hunger gain hold again. All it did was make that selfish hungry monster inside him more insatiable. The greedy need claws at his veins, refusing to be ignored anymore.

There’s a knowing look in your eyes that makes his heart seize up. “Do you need more? Do you want to go again?” you ask.

He swallows around the constricting lump of guilt lodged deep in his throat, blinking up at you, unable to answer. Unable to open his mouth to ask. You’ve given him too much already, he can’t ask for more.

“It’s okay, Marc. You can ask me.”

You say it with that voice. Breathless, filled with love and affection, like you’d offer him the world if he asked you for it, and it’s not right, he’s the one that should be doing that. The one to give you everything. Yet somehow he keeps finding himself in this seat where he’s the one taking and you’re the one giving.

“I’m here,” you tell him. “It’s going to be okay, I’m not going anywhere until you’re okay.”

Shit. His chest squeezes tight. The feeling is so large and overwhelming his veins are overbrimming with it. But he never knew how to tell you with words. So he shows you in the only way he’s ever known.

He drops down to his knees, ignoring the strain in his shoulder from the hand still cuffed tight to the shower. His free hand reaches for you, cupping the back of your neck to pull you in, His mouth slant over yours, and he swallows the sweet affectionate hum between your lips.

I love you.

That’s what he’d say if he knew how to.

I love you and I want to be everything to you.

He cups your face in his one free hand, thumb smoothing over your cheekbone as he tilts you up to his mouth and kisses you. Your mouth parts, letting him lick into into your mouth properly. You still taste of him. Tart and salty, and the taste of him on your tongue makes him lightheaded.

Needy heat rolls over his back, and he can feel it again. The demanding hunger that is consuming his insides. The one that wants him to sink his teeth into your soft and pliant flesh, lick and nip at every inch of wet skin you’ll let him as he tries to swallow you whole. It’s not enough. Kissing you isn’t enough. He wants you pressed up against every inch of him. Wants your body lined against his, your legs spread wide as he settles between them. Wants your back arching up against him, breathless and keen as he buries himself inside you.

He leans further down, pressing you downwards until he has you flat on your back against the cold and hard tiles, and he should do better by you. Should take you into bed, where it’s soft and warm. Nice and sweet. Not fuck you against the dirty floor of Steven’s dirty bathroom like some savage.

But his body isn’t listening to him, surging down to reclaim your lips as he grinds his hips and cock against the softness of your stomach. He’s hard again, or maybe he never went down for the count, he doesn’t know. All he knows is that he’s aching for you. All of him dying to be buried inside of you to the hilt.

Pleasure sparks deep in his veins at the contact, and he does it again, grinds himself needily into you, smearing precome over the fabric of your already soaked sleepshirt. God he’s such a mess, he’s ruining your clothes.

He forces himself up again, kneeling over your body, as he stares down at you. He’s made such a fucking mess of things… of you. Your face is wet from the shower, hair matted against your forehead, and your shirt is soaked and opaque clinging wetly to your skin underneath. The sight of you makes his mouth dry with heat.

Behind him, the spray of the shower is raining down lukewarm water over his back. It should calm him, that’s why he turned the damn thing on in the first place, but it doesn’t. He can’t even feel it anymore, can barely hear the sound of the shower drizzling down like rain. Instead it’s all turned to static noise inside his head.

The only thing he sees is your pretty face look up at him, warm and affectionate, and so fucking loving, and he feels sick with want over you.

“Baby, you gotta tell me to stop,” he forces out, and his hand draws down between his legs to grip his aching cock, that’s throbbing in time with his heartbeat.

“If it gets too much– you have to–”

You rise up to meet him, curling one arm around his neck until you’re face to face, so close that your nose nudges his. Your hand reaches down between you, wrapping your hand over his, and your eyes never falter from his, as you shove your panties to the side and guide his hand to notch his cock against your entrance.

Fuck, you’re dripping. He’s not even inside, and he can feel you slick and warm and wet against the head of his cock.

“Can you feel that?” you murmur, against his lips. “How wet you got me? I need this too. Need you to fuck your cock inside me, Marc.”

Shit.

He snaps. Plain and simple.

He thrusts down and into you with a long and deep consuming stroke and it’s fucking everything.

Ecstasy rushes into his bloodstream with a heady sugary rush, and he chases it with his hips, burying his cock inside as deep as you can take him, until it nudges something sweet and blissful that has you clawing at his arm with a gorgeous sob ripped from your throat.

And it’s so good, so fucking good, he wants to crawl into that sound and nestle into it. He drags himself out of you, until only the overwrought tip of his cock rests inside you, watching you bite down on your lip to muffle your sounds, and that won’t do. Marc wants to hear you. Wants you to scream so loud his ears ring from pain with it. Fuck, he wants to go deaf with it. Wants the sound of your voice obliterate him until it echoes in his ears til the day he dies.

His arm moves to your leg, curling around your thigh to pull you in closer towards his torso, canting you upwards, tilting you at that angle that he knows will make you cry for him. Then he slams forward, his thighs tense, burning with the pleasure that threatens to incinerate him. You’re so fucking tight around him. It’s heaven if Marc ever believed in one.

Your fingers tighten down on him, nails digging into his skin and the biting pain only makes the pleasure of it all the more ripe and sweet as you clamp down around his cock.

He can’t stop. Hips thrusting into you with a demanding pace like his body is no longer his own, just a conduit for him to chase that mad pleasure that skitters to his brain and has him want to go harder, deeper, until he’s lodged so deep inside that you can never rid him of you.

It’s a selfish need that Marc would never allow himself to give voice to. He keeps it jammed under a lid and pretends it’s not there. That deep gnawing hunger that wants you all to himself and never have to share. The possessive streak in his veins that wants to mark you, fuck himself so deep into you until you can fucking taste him in your throat.

Your legs are wrapped all around him, clamping down around his torso until he’s sure you’re constricting his lungs from the sheer force of it and he almost can’t breathe. “Shit, baby–fuck, you’re so– I–” he grinds down on his teeth, and doesn't let himself say the words, swallowing down the groan that tears through his throat.

So good, he thinks to himself. You feel so fucking good. So warm and wet and blissfully tight around his cock. He loves you. Loves you so fucking much and he can’t stop, won’t stop– Never want to stop fucking his cock into you.

Then he sees it. That all familiar tell that lets him know you are close. Every muscle in your body goes taut, and you’re squeezing down almost rhythmically and so tight it knocks the fucking breath out of his lungs. “That’s it baby, come on my cock for me.”

Your eyes roll back, mouth parting as your back arches upward.

And there you go. You’re so fucking beautiful.

You come hard and punishingly tight as you squeeze around his cock.

The pleasure swirls hot and hungry inside his gut, and it’s all it takes to push him right over the edge with you. He spills himself inside, pulse after greedy pulse as he fills you.

He barely manages to catch himself with a palm braced next to your head on the tiles as he tries to come down.

There’s no relief this time. Not like last time, however brief it was. This time his climax only serves to fuel the pathetic need in his chest. Like someone threw gasoline over an open fire and now it’s spreading everywhere and there’s no extinguisher in sight.

More, the hunger inside his veins scream out. Again.

Wants to feel you come again. Wants to feel you squeeze tight around his cock, as your lips part and moan out his name in bliss again. Want to feel your slick drench his cock as you come again and again and again and again.

He’s still hard.

He thrusts forward, and you cry, high pitched and broken and the sound makes the blood in his veins sing.

You're slick and excruciatingly tight, but his come drips out of you, easing the tight press of his cock no matter how hard you squeeze down on him.

“It’s okay baby,” he hushes, and you sob in reply even as he bends down to press a kiss to your temple. “It’s okay. You can take it for me. Doing so good. You’re being so good,” he coos, as he cants his hips and pushes into you as deeply as he can again.

Closer. He needs you closer than this. Wants his hands to touch and grip every inch of your skin. He brings his other arm to wrap around your waist, and something tugs and restrains him from behind. It locks up his shoulder, and no matter how hard he pulls forward, he can’t quite reach you.

You blink up at him, eyes narrowing in confusion as you watch him before your eyes widen, hand reaching up for him. “Marc, wait– you’re–”

His free arm shoots out around your shoulders and reels you close as he captures your mouth, swallowing down your words. He’s trying to come down to you, to press you down against the floor with the weight of his body, and wrap his arms around you, and never let go. Hold you so tight to him until you can never leave. But something won’t let him. No matter how hard he strains forward the strength holding back his arm won’t budge.

There’s a metallic groaning noise that protests as he continues to pull against the resisting strength from behind him, as he rolls his hips relentlessly into you, chasing the pleasure. It digs sharp into his wrist with a jagged pain, but he doesn’t even care. Marc wants to hold you close, wrap his arm around your leg and squeeze it tight to his hips and lock you there.

He rips against the hindrance, with an impatient and angry snarl. The strain and resistance finally gives, and he’s free to put both his hands on you. His arms lock up tight around your waist.

There's a cacophony of sound somewhere in the distance. Of broken dishes and sharp crashing noise, but he doesn't care. The roof could be collapsing right now and it wouldn't make any damn difference to him so long as you were still here with him.

“Fuck! Marc!”

It doesn’t even register until he hears your agitated shout. He looks up in a daze at you, Your wide and alarmed eyes. Something’s wrong.

His head whips back, tearing himself away from you prepared to leap into action at the culprit. But that's not what he sees.

There’s debris on the wall. Bare cement in the large torn cracks of the tiled walls. There’s jagged pieces of cracked white porcelain on the floor. Debris and parts of the wall along with the showerhead and the metal rod he handcuffed himself to is lying in ruined shambles below, as the shower spits out water all around like a death rattle.

Well fuck.

Fuck– what is he…

Shit!

He’s completely lost control. The familiar dread and anxiety bleeds into his veins, and he can fight it all he wants, but it’s already here.

It wasn’t supposed to go like this. He was the one who was supposed to be able to keep it together. The one who was supposed to protect you from this and keep you safe from harm. The bitter acrid taste of failure lingers on his tongue and drips down his throat until it reaches his lungs. Embarrassment clings to his cheeks and burns like fire. His body wants to curl into itself and hide, until he’s so small no one can see him anymore, least of all you.

“Marc, it’s okay,” you say as you plant an elbow against the slippery floor to you can raise yourself into a sitting position. Until you’re both at eye level with each other.

“It’s okay. Just ignore it. We’ll clean it up later,” you murmur as you crawl closer to him, until your face is within inches from his and you press your mouth to his cheek. Then you climb into his lap, the firm press of your warm body straddling his thighs and he looks up at you in dazed awe.

“Do you want to keep going?” you ask.

Despite the fact that he knows he shouldn’t. That he shouldn’t ask this of you, he still nods, whimpering at the reassuring press of your body against his achingly hard cock.

“As many times as it takes, okay?” Your fingers circle around the base of his cock, and he chokes on a moan, as you position him against your entrance. You’re slick and warm and fucking dripping for him.

“Let’s keep going until you feel better. I don’t want you to hold back anymore. Is that okay?” you say.

He doesn't understand how that's a question. Of course it's okay, it's more than okay, it's all he wants. All he ever wants. He nods, and you smile at him. That warm and affectionate smile filled with love and it fills him to the brim. He feels like his heart is going to give out again. There's no more space for shame anymore, the way your smile crowds his vision and every inch of space inside him.

You lift your hips slightly, then you lower your knees, slowly sinking down on his cock until he’s buried all the way inside you, squeezing down around his cock in that perfect way you do, and he can’t fucking think.

You’re looking down at him like you’re expecting him to answer and he doesn’t even remember how to open his mouth and use vocal cords anymore, fuck he doesn’t even remember what the question was.

“Marc,” you repeat,

He still doesn’t know what you’re asking him. But it doesn’t matter does it? When it comes to you, he’s never going to say no to you. So he answers you with the only answer he has.

“Yes.”

It must be the right answer you were looking for, because you’re looking at him in that way again, smiling up brightly at him, like he’s worth a damn, worth everything to you. He knows that you’re wrong about that. He doesn’t deserve it. But it fills his chest with something sweet and heady. An antidote to the poisonous fire that’s still burning hot and bitter in his veins. He doesn’t fight it. Doesn’t fight the warm buzz that’s trickling slowly into his veins and lets himself bask in it.

After all, who is he to say no to you?

You roll your hips against him and your eyes flutter close with a gasp as his cock hits something deep inside, and both of you moan at the feeling as he tightens his arms around your waist.

You lean closer, lips pressed to his ear, “I love you, Marc” you whisper in the hair above his ears and his whole back shudders pleasantly.

He tilts his head upwards, his nose brushing up against your chin and cheeks as he tries to find his way back to your mouth.

Marc might not deserve you. But you deserve everything you want and more, and if Marc is one of those things (for whatever unfathomable reason that he will never understand)… then that makes things a little bit easier for him.

He wakes with a pounding headache.

The muscles in his shoulders and back are stiff and sore, cramping up with a sharp throb as he tries to get up. Every limb aches. He feels like he was hit by a fucking truck going at full speed down a highway.

“Morning,” your voice greets, as your hand comes to his forehead and rests there as if you’re checking for his temperature. It’s soft and soothing, a balm to the ache in body and he fights every instinct to not nuzzle into the palm of your hand. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” he replies. His voice scrapes against the lining of his throat, like something crawled up in there and died.

He can hear you laugh quietly at his reply, and despite how crap he feels, the sound seeps into his chest and the stiffness melts just a little bit. The bed dips as you sit down on the edge next to him.

“How long was I out for?”

“Not too long. Just a bit. You needed the rest,” you answer, and it's entirely too vague for his liking.

He anchors his elbow into the soft bedding below and despite the angry creak of the mattress and the protesting groan in his bones, he tries to get up into a sitting position. His head feels lightheaded with the sudden altitude, like he’s about to throw up all over the sheets. It’s like he’s experiencing the world’s worst hangover, the second time in less two days. As soon as he gets his hand on that sex sprite, he’s going to fling it into the surface of the sun. Don’t care how upset that will make Min’s avatar.

Bringing his hand to his face, he rubs at his temples and the blunt throbbing pain that’s killing his head, when it occurs to him. His wrist feels light and unimpeded, there’s no sharp metal digging into his wrist. He stares down at his now bare wrist, then he looks up at you in confusion.

“Jake told me where the key was,” you answer.

He frowns, but holds his tongue. That means at some point while Marc was still unconscious, Jake must've woken up without him being aware. Marc doesn’t love that. He’s still not completely at ease with Jake being around you. Especially when he’s unconscious and can’t keep an eye out to step in and protect you if something were to go wrong.

As if something hasn’t already.

Marc is such a hypocrite, talking about protecting you as if he isn’t the very wolf at your door, fangs poised at your throat.

Your thumb smooths over his knuckles, as you nudge his leg with your knees. “Should I make you some coffee? Maybe some breakfast. Can whip up some omelets for you.”

He shakes his head. “No I gotta get up. Try to catch that thing before it does more damage again.”

He should tell you to leave. It’s not safe for you here. But he knows you’re going to fight him tooth and nail over it.

“Oh, there’s no need for that,” you say as you rise from the bed, “stay there for just a sec will you?”

You walk up to the Gus trio’s tank, sliding a few books around, and pick something up before you make your way back to him, holding an all too familiar brass-metal box in the palm of your hand outstretched to him.

He can see from the shape on the golden lid the puzzle sequence has been properly completed, just like that obnoxious Avatar had shown him. Locked and sealed.

“How did you–” he sputters out in shock as he eyes it.

“Steven sealed it for me.”

He blinks, feeling a little bit stunned as he takes the box from you. “How did you get it back in there in the first place.”

“You said that it liked small cramped spaces with a lid. I figured it couldn’t have gotten far from the flat like last time. So I just started opening every single item in the place with a lid. It hid in an empty shoebox this time.”

Marc grits his teeth. “That’s dangerous, it could’ve possessed you.”

You wave your hands dismissively at his concerns. “It’s alright. I had a fly-swatter,” you answer, like that answers everything and Marc’s just being silly.

“You what?”

“A flyswatter. I just swatted at it until it finally got back into the box. Had to chase it around the flat, reopening every jar and box in the flat for a good hour or so until it got the hint.”

He wants to scold you, want to point out everything that could’ve gone wrong and how you should have just ran out of the apartment and gotten yourself to safety. It’s a speech he’s made a hundred times before, but you never listened then either, and those times you didn’t have the upper hand with the argument, given that he passed out and you saved the day.

So he bites his tongue.

“Hey,” you say softly as your hand comes to cup his cheek. “Everything worked out fine alright? It’s a happy ending. You don’t have to look so sad.”

He bites the insides of his cheek. Flashes of you under him, soft and moaning, legs spread and wrapped around him, invading in startling technicolor.

“I’m…” he wants to say sorry, but the word won't come. His hand curls into a fist to his side with unease. “That shouldn’t have happened. I shouldn’t have let you stay and do that for me”.

“Marc, it’s not a punishment for me to have sex with you. This shouldn't come as a surprise to you by now, but I like having sex with you.”

He doesn’t answer you, just stares blindly at his feet at the end of the bed, as the guilt crawls in his gut and tries to consume him. Maybe he should let it. It’s what he deserves after all.

You scoot closer to him, an exasperated but fond look in your eyes as you take his hand in yours. “You see Marc, when two adults love each other very much,” you sing-song and start to jokingly explain to him about the bird and the bees.

Despite himself he can feel the smile tugging at his lips, and the gnawing anxiety fades a bit. You think you’re so fucking funny sometimes (and to Marc you are), but he isn’t going to let the laugh that wants to push up against his throat betray him. You meet his smile with your own, and that helps to take away the last of that sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“Can you promise me that next time something like this happens again, you won't run away… or lock yourself in the bathroom to deal with it all by yourself? We’ll handle it together alright?”

Marc meets the look in your eye. It's the same one that he keeps finding somehow even though he never quite understands why, of love and adoration for him.

A part of him wants to fight it, push it away because he doesn't deserve it... But your soft voice echoes in his ear. The weight of your arms wrapped around his shoulders still lingers from before. 'I love you', you had told him, and whether he deserves your love or not is maybe not the point. You love him regardless. And who is he to say no to you?

“Yeah,” Marc nods. “Together.”

a/n: to be notified of new writing updates follow astroboots-writes and turn on notifs.

Happy Moon-aversary everyone!!! I can't believe I'm still here a whole year after this show premiered. When I first saw that trailer with Oscar Isaac's strange british accent I remember telling @thirstworldproblemss I was sceptical and then I watched about 5 minutes of Steven on screen and went "oh no, I'm in love with this man" and the rest is history.

I hope you guys enjoyed this piece as much as I enjoyed writing it, thank you so much for taking the time to read it I appreciate all of you so very much.

Dedications and credit: To my co-worker, co-clown and the love of my life @thirstworldproblemss she's had a busy few months and she is everything to me please go over and send her some love if you have time!!!!

Also to my muse @guruan who draws horny sketches and the most inspiring artpieces that makes me write near 13k of blowjob for this man. That blowjob scene was particularly inspired by THIS sketch. Send her love! Send her reblogs, send her everything you have and more!

#oscar isaac #moon knight #marvel #marvel mcu #marc spector x you #marc spector x reader #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight fic #moon knight fanfic #steven grant #jake lockley #marc spector #moon knight x reader #moon knight x you

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winniethewife · 1 month

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Thank you for the headcanons winnie😭❤️

You just give the best and most accurate headcanons ever!

Congratulations on the 300 followers, btw😍 You deserve more!

For the second request, I wanna throw off the boys😌

I mean what's the point of requesting if there won't be anything smutty right?!

So, gimme gimme *grabby hands* the headcanons about how our moon boys would react when they are mad and the reader gets turned on by that😃

*looks at the camera breaking the 4th wall* Y'all...Lets do this. Give Mani what she wants.

Pissed/Cross/Enojado

Moon-Knight Smut head canons (Female reader)

Warnings: Smut under the cut, Angry sex, phone sex, degradation, mild violence, general toxicity,

Marc

Marc was pissed off. He had just had a pointless fight over the phone with some guy about something. You weren't paying attention to details.

you were a little more focused on the tingling between your legs

Marc doesn't get mad very often, if ever. So you had no idea what his angry raised voice would do to you.

When he comes into the room he continues to rant and rave, trying to release some of the built up tension That's when he notices your squirming

"Baby are you...are you turned on right now?"

After you hesitantly tell him that yes you are turned on by his behavior, he's taken a back. He doesn't really know how to respond.

It isn't until the next time he's pissed off at something that it comes into play.

You heard him growl intensely as he walked through the door and before you can even ask what's wrong, your back is against the wall and his lips are on yours. His hands grabbing you like you're the answer to all his problems

There's nothing that's going to stop him from taking what he needs

Your pants torn off, his weeping cock at your entrance, as he bites at your neck.

"God...Fuck...Need this...Need you"

Steven

Steven Hardly ever gets Cross. Unless its about work, and Donna.

He was going on and on over the phone to you about how much he was done with Donna and all the shite he had to do as a giftshopist.

you couldn't help but enjoy his irate rambling. a little too much even.

your hand drifting down your body as you listen to his voice, coating your fingers in your slick as you rub your fingers between your damp folds

"And I told her that she should shove it where the light don't shine, or at least I wanted to but...Love? are you alright? it sounds like your whimpering?"

you stop in you tracks and try to figure out how to answer his question. you decide honesty is the best policy and tell him that your touching yourself.

You can hear his breath hitch. he couldn't help it the thought of your fingers inside of you.

"I can be at yours in half an hour. Don't move"

the phone line clicks. and you follow his orders. When he comes rushing in the door you can see the outline of his cock in his pants as he looks at you desperately.

"So...you need me that badly love? well. Let me help with that."

Jake

Jake, knew he had fucked up the second he had thrown that plate. but he was so angry.

as the plate had whizzed past your head you knew you should have been scared, but instead you found your cunt clenching around nothing and your mouth going dry.

"Dios mío, Sstás bien? I'm so sorry, I don't know...what came over me." Oh, my God, are you okay?

He rushes to hold you and be sure you are alright but wasn't expecting this reaction, the way you melted in his arms, the soft moan that escaped your lips as his hands touched your hips. at first he gets more mad, you are turned on by this? of all things?

His grip tightens on you and the way he huffs in anger before quickly bending you over the nearby counter. yanking down your pants as he starts to mutter curses under his breath.

"Putita, just want to be fucked is that it? you like this? You like me like this? well lets see how you feel after this. eh?"

he pushes two fingers into you with frustration, not caring that your not wet enough, not caring as you cry out from the stretch of your walls.

you cry out, the feeling is so good, but almost too much. As he finger fucks you he lets out all his anger on your poor little pussy. bringing you to your climax again and again and again.

"Te gusta cuando estoy enojado? Te mostraré enojado!" Do you like it when I'm angry? I'll show you angry!

300 follower celebration

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melodygatesauthor · 1 year

Text

Vampire Moon Knight Headcanons

Moon Boys X f!Reader

Photo Edits were made by ME. You can use them for anything you wish, but please TAG ME. Thank you! (p.s. They were supposed to look badass but look how cute their teefs look).

This was an anonymous ask, but I've been brewing some thots with @welcometostayingawake and @360iris on headcanons with the Moon Boys in a vampire AU! They also inspired some of these ideas!

Summary: Headcanons on each Moon Boy and how they would be if they were vampires.

Tags/Warnings: NSFW, vampire!Marc-Steven-Jake, Blood (duh), minor blood play, smut, vampire feeding, blood drinking, cock-warming, sex, human/vampire relationship, technically age gap because they're vampires or whatever, reader beware it's bloody so there will be some freaky shit, Reader is a human, dacryphilia, little bit of spit kink.

Word Count: 1.6k

Marc:

Fighting -

We've already seen Marc in action fighting, but if his girl is getting harassed, or threatened, he goes feral as a vampire. Unlike Jake, he will do his best to keep himself from actually killing someone, mostly for yours and Steven's sake, but it depends on how threatened you are. You're too precious for him to bear the thought of losing you. He might just go against his better judgement and...snap.

Feeding -

Feeding is just as much an intimate experience as sex. Marc already feels like it's a terrible idea for you two to be together, you being human and him being a dangerous vampire, but he can't seem to get you to leave. When he needs an extra boost of strength, or help with recovery after a particularly brutal fight, he will turn to you for feeding, guilt etched in his eyes.

Since you'll be losing some blood, and probably get cold, and temporarily his own body will be warm, he will suggest huddling together. Not in a traditional sense though, he wants to feel your body, and he wants to heat you from your core. So you'll sit chest to chest, you upon his lap, cock sheathed in your soaking channel as deep as he can go.

Marc will start out saying things like, "it's only going to hurt for a second alright? Just...promise me you'll tell me if it gets to be too much?" It does hurt, but not for long, and then you relax, feeling his cock pulsate inside of you during your warm embrace.

He moans while he feeds, softly, slowly churning his hips while he does it. He realizes finally how fatigued you are, he went too far, drank a little too much. It happens sometimes, and all Marc can say is, "sorry baby, got a little carried away there, you just taste...you taste so good."

Fucking -

Feeding does turn to more as Marc finishes drinking from you. You're weakened now, so he can be strong, but his cock is raging inside of you, thickened with desire, pulsating with a burning need. He knows you're tired, but insists, "you don't have to do anything baby, just lay there for me."

He shifts you onto your back, hovering over you. You're lightheaded from blood loss, but that doesn't stop it from forcing quiet moans from you while fucking into you gently. His face is buried in your neck, resisting the urge to take more than he should. You smell so good, he's drooling over your shoulder.

He's trying so hard to keep his composure, saying things to you like, "that's my good girl, I know you're tired, just a little longer and then you can rest," and "there you go baby, fuck, you feel so good, just a little bit more."

When he kisses you, it tastes of iron, but you don't mind, it is your blood after all. Marc holds you tight when his thrusting becomes ragged and then jolts while he fills you with his cum. You whine, gushing over his cock, pained from the bruising grip the vampire has on your spine.

Steven:

Fighting -

Steven refuses to kill, yes even for you, but he will make someone wish they were dead if they try to hurt you. You've never seen Steven like this, beating someone within an inch of their life and warning them never to touch you again. You wonder if he just doesn't know his own strength, or if he knows it perfectly well and is just insanely overprotective.

Feeding -

Just like he's a messy eater, Steven's a messy feeder too. He prefers to avoid live feeding, it feels...wrong to him, but sometimes it's a necessary part of his condition, like before a big fight or after he's sustained injuries, and you're happy to provide.

He will hold the other side of your neck for support and whisper, "it'll only hurt for a second love...just a little taste s'all I need...just a little." There's a sharp pinch, you wince, but then you relax, even nudging further into his sharp fangs. Steven's lips are soft as he sucks out your plasma. Like Marc, he moans, but he will sit back, eyes dark and hooded, looking at you like he's drunk. He'll gulp before going in for more.

He'll say things when he comes back for air like, "that's it love, I'm almost done," and "you're doing so well, I'm nearly finished darling."

At some point when he looks at you, he's covered in blood all down his chin, and all over his chest. He doesn't wear a shirt during feedings, he knows he's messy. You wonder, once he's finished, how much of it he actually drank versus how much of it was covering his body.

Fucking -

During the feeding, he's been rubbing his erection on you hungrily. He knows you're weak, so like Marc, he's not expecting much out of you, but he needs you. He needs anything, the palm of your hand, the friction of the smooth skin along your thigh, hell if he could just slide his cock between your pussy lips, he'd be satisfied.

"Love, please..." He's say, rutting himself against you, "please let me have you."

You'd groan, feeing weak from the loss of blood. Steven wouldn't waste time, thrusting into your limp frame.

"S-sorry love, it'll be quick, I promise I just need...oh my...just a minute..." He'd say as he pounded into you.

You start to think he really doesn't know his own strength. He's so rough, slamming into your body hungrily, unable to control his primal urges to claim you. You are his after all. He's left his mark on you, just like the other two had. You belong to them.

When he comes, filling you to the brim with his spend, he's loud, moaning like an animal into your ear. Your body trembles under his, cunt clamping down in waves over his girth while you feel pure euphoria.

Jake:

Fighting -

Despite his love and care for Steven, he doesn't follow the alter's strict no kill policy. Jake doesn't hold back when he's fighting, especially when it comes to his princesa. If something were to ever happen to you, his long and meaningless existence (until knowing you that is) would be for nothing. While Marc feels remorse if ever having to kill, even for you, Jake feels nothing other than pleasure. He saved you, and to him, there's nothing more worth taking a life for. Perhaps if anyone in the vicinity hears the screams, they'll think twice before committing a crime around Jake Lockley.

Feeding -

When you first offer your body to Jake for feeding, he asks if you're sure when you say, yes, he says, "mm, mi amor, I don't think I'll be able to stop myself once you let me have a taste."

He's not as soft or apologetic as Marc or Steven, in fact, he doesn't even warn you about the pain, he just bites. When he drinks from you, it's not sloppy or messy at all. Jake likes it best when you're sat in front of him, your back to his chest. He also likes to touch you while he feeds.

His hands are wandering, touching your tits, pinching your nipples roughly, drawing whiny breaths from your lips. He likes to run his fingers over your clit. After a while you start looking forward to feedings with Jake, knowing how good it feels when he touches your body. You wonder if that's the intention.

"You taste so good mi amor." He tells you, holding you close, feeling his erection against your rear. "I can't wait to feel you."

He's so confident in his ability to avoid making a mess that he wears his white button-down shirt the entire time, with the sleeves rolled up past his elbows of course. He likes kissing you when he's done feeding. He says that your lips feel better with blood on them.

Fucking -

Weak or not, Jake has you on your knees, holding the back of your head in place while fucking your mouth. Your throat is a little dry, so he doesn't hesitate to hold your head back, draw a combination of blood and spit together in his own mouth and drop it into your throat before continuing to thrust into your face with his length.

Jake loves it when you cry. His cock is gagging you, forcing tears down your cheeks, and you're tired, wrecked, and just in need of rest, but he's pushing you to keep going anyway.

"Oh, you look so pretty when you cry bebita." He says, urging you on. "My beautiful princesa."

When he can see you aren't able to handle his oral assault any longer, he picks you up, lays you down flat on your stomach, climbs over you, and thrusts into your cunt from behind.

Close isn't close enough, he's laying down, keeping one arm at your side to support his body, but the other is underneath you, squeezing your chest. Jake likes to mark you with little bite marks on your shoulders while he fucks you relentlessly.

After he comes, forcing both of you to become a moaning, whimpering mess for a moment, he likes to lift up your ass and eat his spend out of you, followed by marking your ass cheeks and inner thighs with teeth marks, reminding anyone who might find you that you're spoken for.

Side note: Steven hates when he has to spend at least an hour the next day bandaging you up because of Jake's carelessness.

AO3 LINK

TAGLIST (please let me know if you would like to be added or removed): @my-secret-shame, @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction, @thatmomwitchfriend, @alexxavicry, @welcometostayingawake, @jake-g-lockley, @campingwiththecharmings, @steven-grants-world, @lia275, @minigirl87, @ahookedheroespureheart, @ninebluehearts

#vampire moon knight #vampire steven grant #vampire marc spector #vampire jake lockley #vampire moon knight agenda #moots #moon knight x reader #steven grant x reader #jake lockley x reader #marc spector x reader #steven grant smut #marc spector smut #jake lockley smut #moon knight smut #steven grant #marc spector #jake lockley #moon knight #dotm fic

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oddballwriter · 5 months

Text

Appetite

Summary: You have a very high and demanding libido and the boys both are willing to and victim of needing to satisfy it.

Warnings: The reader's gender, exact anatomy, and pronouns are never mentioned but they are a power bottom and or are the ones getting penetrated but are very much in control of the situation. Sub!moon boys and dom!reader if you squint. Groping. Ass slapping (Marc's ass). Overstimulation. Riding. Implied creampies/ not pulling out (wrap it before you tap and or get it). Reader giving oral. Edging.

Author’s Snip: I'm on my freak shit tonight. Never let me listen to S.H.O. by Baby Tate and Sexy Naughty Bitchy by Tata Young while ovulating or else fictional grown men are getting fucked. Submissive bitches, this one is unfortunately not for you.

Notes: I wrote Jake's part three different times and had to write it after getting off my flow so if it sucks (lol) I'm sorry.

I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! And don’t be afraid to request.

Word Count: 1,328

The boys love you and everything about you. But one thing that they weren't expecting to come along with you, was your libido. Not that there was anything wrong with you having a huge one. After all, no one who partakes in sex ever complains about it. The problem was what that entails for them and maintaining it.

"Baby, please," Marc says under his breath while he feels you hold him from behind and kiss his neck as he washes the dishes from the two of you having finished dinner. Marc wasn't dumb, he knew you were eyeing him up after you came back from work and he had dinner ready for you, and he knows that you know that holding and kissing him like this riles him up.

"What? I'm not doing anything right now," you say as you give the gap between his neck and collarbone another sensual kiss. "Maybe after you're done washing the dishes we can do something if you want." you suggest, teasingly wording it like he's the one who had the dirty idea.

"I would be getting it done faster if you weren't feeling up my waist like that." Marc claps back, making it clear that he can see and feel your hands moving around. "I could be making it worse." you tease as your hands lower a bit and nip at his skin.

Marc stills for a second, trying to keep back a labored breath that would give away that your little touches are getting to him. Well, it's not that good because he knows that if your hands got any lower then you'd feel his hard-on against the fabric of his pants. "Why don't you just take care of it yourself?" Marc suggests, "We were at it last night. Wasn't that good?" Marc mentions.

"But what if I want a second round of last night?" you question as you squeeze him a little tighter. Marc feels cornered, but in a sexy way that really shouldn't be getting him this much. He felt like a fly that was watching itself be rolled up into the spider's silk, or even a mouse getting coiled by a snake. He knew that he had nowhere to run but also didn't hate it either.

"You had plenty of rounds last night-" Marc tries to bring up but the tail end of his sentence is drawn out a bit as he feels your hand travel down his stomach towards the belt of his pants and your pinky finger break through the waistband. He feels his blood rush downwards and also upwards, making his cheeks out in a blush over letting himself slip up. He can sense your smile and doesn't say anything when you reply with "You were saying?" in a smug and snarky tone.

"Just let me finish the fucking dishes first. Please." Marc pleads. "Go to the bedroom or something. I'll wash my hands and be there. Just let me do the damn dishes." Marc says to add to his plea so that you'll stop with the teasing.

Marc almost breathes a sigh of relief when you unsnake your arms form around his body, but you leave with a "I'll be waiting." paired with an extra nip and kiss at his neck and slap on his ass.

Hearing the boys moan and overall vocalize their pleasure during sex was something that you loved to hear. But Steven was one of your favorites.

His whines and moans as he came blocked out the sound of the documentary film that you were watching on TV. It was a rerun of something that both you and Steven have watched a few times. So in your mind, you didn't need to hear what they were saying.

Steven let out shakey breaths as he recovered from his high, his third one, to be exact, with you doing the same. He made an attempt to pull away and pull out of you but your grip on his shoulder stopped him from going completely out, making Steven whine.

"Again." you demand as you even out your breath. "But we've already gone three times, love." Steven begs. "Come on. One more time, to make it even." you insist. You sit up just a little from your position on the couch so that you can place your mouth next to his ear and kiss it, knowing full well that that's his own weak spot, and using your free hand to teasingly stroke his stiff cock that's outside of you so that it stays hard.

Steven moans at the touch and feeling on his ear. He knows that you're telling him a lie and that you'll make him keep going till he's nearly passed out, but most of his blood is somewhere else rather than in his brain to help him think clearly. And even then the thoughts that he's having with his other think of head is winning the popular vote.

He's too busy trying to think through his clouded mind that you try to help him out in making the decision for him by pulling him closer to you, making him slowly go back inside of you. Steven shutters and lets out even more small quiet moans as he feels your walls glide along him again. His poor thing is aching from use but he can't seem to get himself to stop wanting to keep going.

Steven makes an attempt to go round four but he can't seem to do it,. So you, again, take the initiative and push him back so that he's now the one lying on the couch and then startle him. Steven gives you a look that shows that he knows you really aren't going to let up any time soon.

"Shit~" Jake moans out as you give him head in the backseat of his car.

In the small space, Jake and you can only hear the sound of you bobbing your head and the battered breaths and moans coming from Jake, which is a thing that weirdly gets Jake off more when you two get down in the car.

"Slow down, god." Jake pleads, feeling himself start to come the longer he lets you go on. You look up at him and pop your mouth off but keep him going with your hand stroking him at the same pace. "What's the matter? I thought we were in a spot where no one would see us?" you mention while you glance up at him from your place on the floor of the car.

"We are," Jake repeats as he focuses on not coming just yet, "But if you keep doing it like that I'm gonna...~" he can't finish his own sentence and even think about the last word, or else he will actually lose it. He looked and felt like he was trying to hold in a sneeze.

"I thought you liked it when I made you come fast." you question as you lick the precum from his tip that was leaking out. Jake shivers from the feeling but recollects himself. "I do." he confirms, "You just used me up too much last night and I don't think I've made it back yet." he explains.

"Well then I guess I'll just make you come once." you say before you go back to sucking him off, but this time with a pace that doesn't send him over the edge just yet.

After a while, he starts reaching it again and is more willing to have it happen. Jake starts talking under his breath saying "That's it. Just like that.". Just as he starts reaching his limit and about to get to a point where he can let it all out, you pop your mouth off his cock again. He looks down at you in shock that you suddenly stopped.

"Well, I don't want you to come yet." you smile as you watch Jake lose it and start up again.

#moon knight #moonknight #moon knight x reader #moonknight x reader #marc spector x reader #marc spector #marc spector smut #steven grant x reader #steven grant #steven grant smut #jake lockley #jake lockley x reader #jake lockely smut #sub!steven grant #sub!marc spector #sub!jake lockley #sub!character

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goaways-stuff · 2 years

Text

ABC's of Sex with Steven Grant

pairing: Steven Grant x gn! reader (mentions Marc and Jake x reader)

warnings: SMUT. LOTS OF IT. slight switch Steven and Reader, professor kink, hand kink, bondage, virgin! Steven, mentions of mental illness and DID, I believe there's some canon level violence, read at your own risk

Summary: A headcanon style fic about the diff aspects of sex with Steven Grant

A/N: I do not have DID myself, so of there is anything that I get wrong/ any harmful stereotypes please call me out. I have done research on DID and do my best to keep it both accurate to real life as well as the show. But I can still get things wrong, so don't hesitate to point anything out :) I also apologize for any writing mistakes

dividers by @firefly-graphics

A=Aftercare

(what he's like after the deed)

Steven is the king of aftercare. He's littering wherever he can reach with kisses, praising you, thanking you. "Fuck, darling, that was amazing, you're amazing," He'd say. If the two of you are up for it, he'll draw a warm bath. You'd bathe each other off, trading compliments and "I love you's." He would get you a little snack and a drink if you wanted, brushing light kisses over any marks he made, a silent apology even though he knew you loved the marks. If neither of you felt like taking a bath, he'd eventually pull himself away from you and return with two warm washcloths as well as a dry one. He'd clean himself off, then you before drying the both of you. He'd leave once more to put the washcloths in the hamper and return for a final time with water for the both of you. He'd slip back in bed with you, holding you tight, as if he was scared you'd go. You returned his praises from earlier, and the two of you traded many "I love you's" before drifting off to sleep.

B=Body Part

(favorite of his and favorite of yours)

Before meeting you, Steven didn't really have a favorite body part. He didn't really have an accurate picture of himself. He knew what he looked like, but things were just off. After meeting you, he'd truly come to sometimes love his looks. Specifically, his hands. Mostly due to your fascination with them. You'd stare at them as he talked, always holding them or fidgeting with his fingers, and he always let you. He also loved how his hands looked roaming your body, squeezing you ass, or bringing you to pleasure inside you. Honorable mention of his curls. He loves when you play with them and put them up into funny hairstyle and pull at them with his head between your legs.

Steven doesn't think he could answer what his favorite body part of yours is. If he was asked, he'd probably go on a long ramble, saying different body parts and the things he liked about each of them. Nope, he definitely could never choose. He loved your tummy, whether it be chubby or skinny or ripped- it didn't matter to him. He loved your thighs, how they squeezed his head when he would give you head. He loved to lie on his back and use them as pillows while reading on his bed or on the couch. He loves your eyes and how they sparkle when you tell a joke or talk about something your passionate about. He loves your smile, and he loves that very often, he's the cause of that smile. You neck, shoulders, ass, hips, nose, hair- you were perfect in every way to him. He could never ever choose.

C=Cum

(where, how much, what he's like, etc)

Steven is the most vocal of the three when he cums. He moaning, grunting, whining. He's praising you for how good you make him feel, how perfect you are. He'll cum wherever you want him to. Inside, in your mouth, on your face, chest, thighs- wherever. He loves all of them. He cums a lot, like you had never seen a bigger load. He was a bit embarrassed at first, but when you swallowed it all down after sucking him off, he actually became quite proud of it.

D=Dirty Secret

(what was he hiding from you until you found out yourself?)

He likes being in control sometimes. Steven spent his whole life being seen as a pushover, as someone people could walk all over, so when given the chance he will show you how much of a pushover he isn't. Don't get him wrong, he loves when you're more in control sometimes, but others he just wants to fuck you until you're crying his name. He wants to leave his marks on you. Who would ever guess that soft, ever so sweet Steven could be so dominant in bed?

E=Experience

(how much/ little does he have?)

You were Steven's first actually, he had been on some dates, but never anything past a makeout sesh. The first time was a bit awkward, but he was so eager to please you. He would ask what made you feel good, let you guide his hand, whatever he could do to learn. He caught on quickly, Steven was a fast learner after all.

F=Favorite Position

(self explanatory)

It's depends, if you're feeling more in control that day, he loves having you on top of him. Being able to see all of you, he loves being able to grab your ass and guide your hips down on him, unable to stop himself from bucking his hips up into yours. If he is feeling more in control, he'll go for the good ole missionary. He just feels so close to you that way, it makes him feel in control. He can pin your arms down and fuck you a proper way into next Sunday. He can reach down and pleasure you more with his hand. He loves how you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him closer. He also loves seeing your face when you cum. Truly, what gets him off is you getting off. He relishes in your pleasure.

G=Goofy

(is he more goofy or serious in bed?)

Steven has definitely shared some more goofy moments with you in bed, much more than Marc and Jake ever have combined. He's a bit clumsy and has taken a few falls, gotten clothes stuck, and other moments that honestly embarrass him, but make you fall all the more in love with your favorite dork.

H=Hair

(does the carpet match the drapes?)

Since they all share the same body, it's the same for all of them, keep it trimmed and neat- only shaving for special occasions (anniversaries, birthdays, valentine's)

I=Intamacy

(what is his version of intamacy?)

Steven is the most intimate of the three. While Marc and Jake have come a long way, Steven has always had a deep intamacy with you. He's honest about things, wants to share all of what happened to him- tell you everything, and you do the same with him. He loves making love to you telling and showing you how much you mean to him. How much he loves and adores you. He loves hearing every little detail about your day, he'll read you to sleep, come up behind you while you're cooking and rant about how amazing you are. His intamacy extends much beyond the bedroom as it's something he's always longed for.

J=Jack Off

(how, when, where, why does he jack off, if he does?)

Before you, Steven was used to many lonely night with his hand. He would jack off sometimes to keep himself awake, imagining the touch of someone else there with him who loved him despite of what he thought at the time was his sleeping disorder. Now he has you, he doesn't need to jack off- at least by himself. Steven is a pretty big fan of mutual masterbation, but he can't ever keep his hands to himself for too long.

K=Kinks

(what's he into?)

Steven had never really explored his kinks until he met you. He discovered his praise kink, he loved hearing how good he was doing and he returned the same to you. He loves having his hair pulled and sometimes even being tied up. When he's in control, he found out he's what's called a "soft dom." He uses your own pleasure to dominate you, he asks nicely for you to do things for him. He had to admit, he loved seeing you tied up as well, completely at his mercy. He would tell you how pretty you looker for him. He would pleasure you until tears were streaming down your face. "Doing so good for me, baby, so so good. I'm so lucky to have such a sweet little angel, yeah?" Honestly, out of the three of them, you were the best for Steven. To Marc and Jake, you were a big time brat. Smarting off to them, directly disobeying their orders in order to get punished. But with Steven, he just always asked so nicely, making you easily bend to his will. Marc and Jake were honestly a but jealous sometimes about how easily you obeyed Steven, but they also wouldn't trade your brattiness for the world.

L=Location

(where's his favorite place to do it?)

Steven would do it nearly anywhere with you, but his favorite is just the plain old bed in his apartment. It's comfortable, easy to access, and he can fall asleep cuddling you after the deed in it. Though he has to admit, he loved fucking you spread out for him on his desk after you gave him head while he was stuck in a book for an ungodly amount of time.

M=Motivation

(what gets him going?)

Seeing you in his clothes. He had no idea how much that would turn him on. It had been laundry day for you, and you were out of clothes. Lucky for you, Steven's had just come out of the dryer. They were warm and smelled fresh and you found yourself throwing a sweater on with only your last pair of clean underwear. When Steven came home, he swore he nearly creamed his pants at the sight of you. That night, not much sleep was acquired by either of you, and ever since then Steven is constantly letting you wear his clothes, almost to the point where you no longer wear yours.

N=No

(what are his limits?)

Steven could never actually hurt you. He knows that some pain feels good to you, and he's more than willing to do that, but anything to harm you is a no for him.

O=Oral

(is he a giver? a taker?)

Steven is a giver. 100%. He will stay down there as long as you let. Like you will literally have to pull him off of you. He loves feeling your thighs on either side of his head, bringing you pleasure with his mouth. He loves hearing you moan and feeling your body twist and squirm with pleasure. As much as he loves the sights and feelings of you giving him head, he loves giving it to you more.

P=Pace

(how fast, slow, rough, or gentle is he?)

He will go at whatever pace you ask him to. If it's one of those nights where you just need to feel each other abd be in each other's embrace, he'll take it slower, make sweet love to you, show you how much he loves you. Bit as soon as you ask him to go harder or faster, he's right there with you, fucking you into next Sunday.

Q=Quickie

(how's feel about them?)

He's not the biggest fan of them as he prefers to savor the moment and spend as long with you as the both of you can take it, he knows that sometimes a quickie is all either of you can take or have time for. A quickie before a mission also always boosts his confidence.

R=Risk

(is he willing to get a little risky during the frisky?)

He's willing to do nearly anything for you and that includes taking risks in bed. Though, if things don't go exactly how planned, He's profusely apologizing, even if it wasn't his fault. "Oh my God, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, love Are you okay? Shit, I'm sorry. Lemme help you, yeah? You alright?" No matter how many times you tell him that you're okay and that it wasn't his fault he keeps checking in on you, and you can't help but feel so loved by your sweet boy.

S=Stanima

(How long can he go for?)

It completely depends. The first time you had sex, he came in his pants while you dry humped him. He just couldn't help it, you felt so good and looked so hot, it just happened. But he can also stave off his own pleasure and release for quite awhile. He'll work you up and make you cum until you see starts with his mouth, with his hands before finally sinking into. He loves to edge the both of you, stopping when either of you get close until you're both begging for release.

T=Toys

(does he own any for himself? for you?)

He never had any until he met you. With you though, he loves using them to aid in pleasuring you. Whether it be vibrators, cock rings for you or himself, dildos, literally anything you want- he will get it for you.

U=Unfair

(is he a tease?)

Steven is unfair without always knowing it. He talks with his hands and you can't help but watch as you remember how they feel inside you. He'll roll up his sleeves revealing his gorgeous forearms. Turn around and show off that gorgeous ass. He's such a turn on and most of the time he has no idea until you're literally jumping his bones about to lose your mind over how horny you are.

V=Volume

(how loud or quiet is he during the hanky panky?)

Steven is the loudest of the three, especially after learning how much his noises turn you on. You loves sucking him off and hearing his cries of pleasure. His whines of your name. You loved making him so desperate that he would finally lose some of his gentlemanliness and fuck you until you screamed his name. He will praise you with how good you feel. "Oh fuck, you feel so good, love. So good for me, yeah? So fuckin tight around me. Feel good for you?" You're nodding your head frantically as your words have just become swears, pleas, and Steven's name. "Look at you, look so good like this. Fucked dumb, huh?" Steven took notes from Jake and Marc on dirty talking.

W=Wildcard

(Random headcanon about him. Go!)

Steven has a major professor kink. You'll come up to his desk while he's in the middle of his studies of ancient Eygpt, asking him innocently to tell you what he's reading about. That will start one of his long rants. He's using his hands to talk and there's a sparkle in his eyes that's only there when he's talking about something he holds so dearly. It always starts off innocent, but his ramblings of his vast knowledge of Egypt just turn you on and at some point you're looking at him with hungry eyes. You move your hand to his thigh, rubbing it gently as you nod your head along to whatever he's saying, no longer able to actually pay attention. You breathing becomes more labored as you watch is hands, thinking about feeling them all of your body, inside you. When he finally stops for a breath, you take your chance. You look up at him with doe eyes. "Professor Grant, I just don't think I'm getting this part," You say, pointing at whatever book is on his desk. "Do you think we could go over it again?" After that, it's over for Steven. He has you bent over the desk, reading it out loud to him as he fucks you. He doesn't let you cum until you finish the chapter or whatever and makes you start over everytime you stop for an extended period of time or just fuck up a pronunciation of a god's name.

X=X-ray

(what's going on down there?)

Steven is big and thick. Marc is Jewish, so he's most likely circumcised. His cock is a few shades darker than the rest of his tanned skin and the tip is almost purple-ish (especially when he's aroused)

Y=Yearning

(how horny is he?)

Steven is better at hiding it, but he is a horny bastard just like Marc and Jake. He's almost embarrassed every time he gets aroused, but he can't help it around you. All you have to do is walk into a room and he's staring at you in awe, as if you were the most beautiful piece of artwork in existence. And to him- you are. He just can't believe he got so lucky. He's just lil ol' Steven, and you- you're YOU. So yes, he will take you whenever and where ever you want it.

Z=Zzz

(how fast does he fall asleep after the deed?)

Even though it usually wears him slap out, he keeps himself awake for you. He's determined to make sure you're fully taken care of before he succumbs to sleep. Hell- he'll even wait for you to fall asleep before he finally does. This man is the master of keeping himself awake, no matter how tired he is. You of course, reassure him over and over that you're all good, that he needs his rest, but he's always doing just one last thing for you.

#steven grant x reader #steven grant x male reader #steven grant #steven grant smut #steven x reader #moon knight #moon boys #moon knight headcanon #moon knight smut #mr knight #mr knight x reader #steven grant x y/n #steven grant x you

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mahalshairyballs · 2 years

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You know, thinking about Matt being able to hear heartbeats thing, it's not always properly used imo

People have already talked about how heartbeats aren't really reliable to detect if someone is lying or not. Matt here is like a living lie detector with this, and we know how unreliable lie detectors are. Maybe Matt uses a more holistic approach to detect lies and doesn't just use heartbeats. Combining heartbeats with sensing if someone is sweating, hearing the minute changes in their voice, how they're moving etc., could be a way more reliable way to know if someone is lying. I'm pretty sure that's what Matt does, it's just not usually shown that way.

Heartbeats however, and those other clues too, could help Matt detect what other people are feeling pretty reliably. For most, not necessarily all, emotions Matt could've learned to read the physical signs they give off that he's able to detect. Obviously that means he's able to know if someone is stressed or relaxed, or having an anxiety episode.

I wonder how often this ability of his is used in Daredevil fics

#daredevil #matt murdock #daredevil/moon knight #matt murduck x marc spector #like Matt will pretty much guess they have DID by just all the small differences between them #well Steven underestimated Matt's abilities and thought Matt wouldn't recognize their body as Steven #then Matt *knows whose body it is by their scent*#Matt : why do you speak with tgat accent ? and why is your heartbeak so different ? and why are you moving so unlike yourself ?#well Matt doesn't totally gets it rifht but he'd know pretty fast something is going on #none of them can impersonate the other with him either #he knows #I was just thinking about Jake/Matt cuddling after sex #and Jake's mostly good with touches now but there's still work left to be done #so after some time of cuddling Matt feels Jake's heartbeat going up #he senses his growing anxiety #so Matt could never say 'I didn't know you were uncomfortable' he'd always know #Matt Murdock/Jake Lockley

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ninebluehearts · 2 years

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Orange kinda love

Summary: Cheese doesn't like Jake. Jake doesn't like Cheese. A few situations in which your boyfriend and cat fight for your attention at the worst times..

Warnings: Cock blocking, oral sex (f receiving), minors dni

A/n: Poor Jake, man. Getting cock blocked by Marc and Steven before, and now by a damn cat 😂💕

Tag list: @hot-mess-express1

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A few months ago, when you were experiencing a depressive episode, your therapist recommended adopting a cat. "You can't just stay inside alone all day. You need someone to care for. A reason to get out of bed, ya know?"

And you knew she was right, it was just that you didn't know if you could handle the responsibility at the moment. So, you agreed to go home and think it over. But not even two days later, you showed up to a local shelter asking to see their cats. As you walked along the long aisles of kennels filled with kittens of all kinds and colors, you couldn't help but feel disappointed. You didn't feel a connection with any of them.

As you reached the end of the aisle, ready to turn around and tell the assistant that you'd changed your mind, something orange caught your eye. You walked over to the last kennel on the wall and looked inside, seeing a giant, orange ball of fluff. "Excuse me? How about this one?" You asked the assistant, reaching inside of the kennel with your finger to stroke the cats fur.

The orange cat sat up and licked his paw for a moment, then looked straight at you. He had these big, green eyes that were so intense for such a small creature. He rubbed his face against your finger, his loud purrs vibrating your entire hand.

"Oh, that one? Um, he's a little old. Are you sure you don't want a kitten? We have plenty of orange ones." The assistant said, gesturing back down the aisle.

But it was already too late. In just two minutes, this cat crawled it's way into your heart and refused to leave. "No, I'll take him."

So, after signing a million pieces of paper work and an expensive trip to the pet store, you finally got to bring the cat home. And as you laid in bed that night, the orange furball curled up on the pillow next to you, you couldn't help but notice how happy he made you already. How could such a small creature bring you so much joy?

You reached over and gently pet his side, kissing the top of his head. "Your name is Cheese now." You mumbled, smiling at his thunderous purrs. You rolled over and went to sleep, finally relaxed enough to do so.

Two years later, your boyfriend Steven asked you to move in with him. You met Marc a few months after you adopted Cheese, then met his alters soon after. Both Marc and Steven loved Cheese and got along with him just fine, it was Jake that had a problem.

See, Cheese had no problems with Marc or Steven showing you any kind of affection. In fact, he would come over and sit with you guys, curling up on either of your laps and going to sleep.

But when Jake was fronting? Cheese was up your ass. He wanted to be with you at all times, only sitting on/around you, following you everywhere. He did not like it when Jake even kissed your cheek. And Jake was at his wits end with this damn cat. So when you agreed to move in with them, Jake had plenty of mixed feelings about it, but at the end of the day, if he could wake up every morning with you in his bed, he'd put up with your annoying cat.

Considering how small your apartment was, it didn't take you and Marc very long to transfer your stuff to their flat. Both you and Cheese had little to no problems with the move, easily making yourselves at home.

You and Jake were sitting on the couch watching Jaws, Cheese taking up the space between the two of you by sprawling out on the cushion. Jake was grinding his teeth the entire movie, trying not to murder your cat. He's been there since he caught Jake kissing your neck and he showed no signs of leaving anytime soon.

Jake paused the movie and sighed, staring down at the feline between you. "Muñeca will you please stand up for a moment?" He turned to look at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Why?" You asked, though you still stood up.

Jake reached over and grabbed your hips, pulling you onto his lap. "Much better." He mumbled, burying his face against your neck.

You immediately wrapped your arms around his shoulders, enjoying the comfort of his hold. Cheese got up and stretched, arching his back comically, before jumping off of the couch and disappearing down the hallway.

It wasn't long before Jake laid you back on the couch and slowly started removing pieces of clothing from both of your bodies, the movie long forgotten. He was working on creating a rather large hickey on your collarbone, when both of you could hear a quiet scrape, scrape, coming from the kitchen.

Jake sat up and glanced over towards the kitchen, only to find Cheese on the counter with his paw on a glass cup, pushing it towards the edge. "Hey! Knock that off!" He yelled, watching as Cheese completely ignored him and pushed the cup off of the counter, a loud CRASH echoing throughout the room.

"Cheese!" You called out, standing up to put your clothes back on. Cheese ran over to you, rubbing his face against your calf with a 'meow.'

Jake walked over and started to sweep up the mess. "Fucking cock block.." He mumbled.

"Hm?" You hummed as you scooped Cheese into your arms, scratching behind his ears.

"Nothing, mi amor."

Knowing that Cheese wasn't gonna give up easily, Jake decided to play dirty. One night, after he took you out for dinner and a movie, Jake ushered you back to your bedroom, trying to beat Cheese there. Once you were both inside, he closed the door and locked it.

Jake turned and looked at you, lust clouding his vision. "I need you, mi vida. Right now."

"Take me." You whispered as you crawled onto the bed, yanking your short black dress off of yourself and into the laundry basket. You thought it was strange that Jake shut and locked the door, given that the two of you lived alone, but you didn't think much of it.

Jake walked over and crawled onto the mattress, practically ripping his shirt off of his body. "Someone's eager." You said, biting down on your bottom lip as your eyes raked over his body, drinking in his toned abs and his strong hands.

'You better watch out, Jake. Cheese knows you're home.' Marc teased, watching them from the mirror on the dresser.

"Shut it." Jake muttered, flashing a glare towards the mirror.

"What?"

'"Nothing, mi amor." Jake grabbed your ankles and yanked you towards him, satisfied with the high pitched squeal you let out. He pressed his tongue against your knee, licking all the way up to your thigh, his fingers tugging at the lace straps of your underwear. "Tell me how much you want it, cariño." He mumbled, nipping at your inner thighs.

Cheese sat at the door, gently pawing at it.

"Fuck, I want it so bad." You moaned, tangling your fingers in his hair. "Please."

"Good girl." Jake pulled your underwear off and lazily folded them, shoving them into his pocket, before leaning down and gently licking up from your core to your clit, maintaining eye contact the entire time.

"Fuck!" You moaned out, arching your back up. "Yes, right there baby-" All of the sudden, there was a loud, high pitched meow coming from the door. "Cheese?" You glanced over at the door, considering getting up to open it for him, but Jake wrapped his arms around your thighs and held you there.

He only stopped for a second to mumbled, "Ignore him." Before going back to lazily flicking his tongue along your clit. And with the way his tongue was making you moan, Cheese's meows were easily drowned out and forgotten.

Jake was holding back a grin, knowing that he won this time. But right as you were on the brink of your first orgasm, Cheese reached his paw under the door and gripped it with his nails, pulling and scratching at it with an impossible amount of strength for a cat.

'I told you so.' Marc said with a sigh.

'Ignore 'em.' Steven mumbled, too focused on the way you were spread out just for them.

Jake looked up at you, a pleading look in his eye. "Ignore him."

"But he's lonely." You said, running your hand across his cheek. "Just let him in real quick?"

"He's gonna get in the way." He whined.

"Jake." You stuck out your lower lip.

Jake stared at you for a moment, but sighed when Cheese meowed again. "Fine." He got up and opened the door, shaking his head when Cheese immediately ran in and jumped on the bed. "Maldito gato." He mumbled as he walked back over to you. Cheese may have won this time, but Jake would be damned if he was gonna let him win again.

"Cheese, no!" You pulled the stick of butter away from him again, gently picking him up and setting him on the ground. "You know you can't have butter. I don't want to upset your belly." You said, continuing to spread butter onto your toast

Jake staggered into the room, heading straight for the coffee maker. As the machine started doing it's job, Jake wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. "Buenos días, mi amor." He mumbled, nipping at your ear.

"Good morning, darling." You turned your head enough to where you could kiss him. Jake slid his tongue along your bottom lip, slipping it into your mouth when you opened it for him.

"Meow" Cheese stood on his hind legs, digging his nails into Jake's leg.

"Ay!" Jake yelped, jumping back. "I'm telling you, cariño, he doesn't like me! I don't know why!" He reached down and rubbed his thigh, glaring at Cheese.

"He doesn't hate you, he just wants to protect me. That's all." You said, holding back a laugh while you stroked Cheese's back. "Hey, can you make sure he doesn't get on the counter? He's a butter fiend and I need to use the bathroom." You walked over and kissed his cheek, snickering when you heard his salty grumbles.

Jake stood there, stirring a spoonful of sugar into his coffee, blocking out Steven and Marc's laughter in the headspace.

"Meow"

Jake turned around and sighed, staring down at the orange cat in front of him. "What do you want?"

Cheese walked over to the counter and sat on the ground in front of it, looking at Jake then back to the butter; to the butter then Jake.

"No. She said not to give you any. Why should I, anyways? You're a fucking cock block. Fuck you." He turned back around and continued to stir his coffee, but Cheese meowed again, this time rubbing his face against Jake's calf.

Jake sighed, shaking his head. "Fine. But if I do this, you have to leave me to my business, got it?" He looked down at Cheese, who just blinked up at him. "Good enough for me." Jake bent down and picked up the cat, setting him on the counter and cutting a nice, thick slice of butter for him.

Cheese immediately started licking it as though you didn't feed him three times a day. "Ay, you really like butter." Jake mumbled, gently running his hand along Cheese's back.

Cheese started purring, arching his back against Jake's hand.

'Is he actually purring right now?' Steven asked, watching in amazement as Jake actually bonded with Cheese.

'Damn, who knew butter was the answer?'' Marc said, equally as amazed as Steven.

"Jake! What the hell!" You said, rushing over to pick Cheese up. "He can't have butter! Why would you let him eat that?"

"He'll be fine, cariño. Let the boy eat some damn butter." He said with a laugh as he reached over to pet Cheese behind his ear.

"Wait, you guys are getting along now?" You asked, feeling Cheese start to purr again as Jake pet him.

"I guess so."

Later that night, when you and Jake were making love, Cheese laid in a nearby chair, dead asleep. He never messed with you or Jake once, leaving you be. Jake wished he gave the damn cat butter sooner.

[Spanish -> English]

Muñeca - Doll

Mi amor - my love

Mi vida - my life

Cariño - dear

Maldito gato - damn cat

Buenos días - Good morning

#moon knight #steven grant #jake lockley #marc spector #moon knight imagine #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley smut #jake lockley imagine #Jake lockley gets cock blocked #poor baby #marc spector mentioned #Steven Grant mentioned #jake lockley x female!reader #Cheese the cat #💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙thoughts

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my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction · 7 months

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Personal Time [3]

Marc Spector x F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • Kinktober 2023 Masterlist • Day 9: Pegging

Summary: Marc (nervously) asks for a turn. Or: Steven asks for him.

A/N: So this is actually a part 3 to my series Personal Time, but you don't have to read that to read this. All you need to know is that Steven has a strap that the reader uses on him.

Warnings: anal fingering, anal sex, pegging, anal sex with a strap on, begging, Marc being a bit of a nervous sub, Marc not communicating very well, (there is one part where Marc is uncomfortable but doesn't voice it, however the reader notices), switching who is fronting due to feeling overwhelmed, typos, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 3255

As you walk into the bedroom Marc shifts uncomfortably, a little flush of panic running along his skin. He visibly jumps and tries to shove a box under the bed. But he didn’t quite get the angle right, negating the smooth slide-in he had been hoping for. He hits the box harshly with the palm of his hand. Still, it does not yield.

You stop in the doorway, just watching the scene play out for a moment before Marc looks up at you in trepidation.

There is a second where you mistake his wide eyes for Steven, as you are so used to that honesty of expression coming from him.

“I was…” Marc speaks quickly, the words blurring together and then just trails off as he tries to think of a reasonable excuse. Part of him thinks now would be a pretty good time just to tap out and let Steven or Jake front, but then his alters would see what he had been looking at and, and…

You recognise the box by his knees instantly. But can’t resist a little tease. “What you got there, Marc?”

He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Just, erm, I was just looking for…” Why can’t he think of one fucking object? Any fucking object. “Socks?”

“Socks?”

“Yeah… socks.” He doesn’t even sound remotely believable to his own ears.

You nod, trying to hide your smile. “Socks. In a box? Under the bed? Not in the drawer?” You point to the aforementioned furniture. “Where you, Jake and Steven keep them?”

Marc’s mouth goes dry. “No… I had a pair and they, I dropped them under the bed so I was just… looking for them.”

“Socks to wear?”

“Yes.” He answers a little too quickly.

“What’s wrong with the ones on your feet?”

“They… I wanted to change them.”

“Oh, okay, I’ll help you look then.” You say, trying your best to sound serious.

Marc practically does a double take. “Help me?”

“Yeah,” you walk over and sit on the edge of the bed. “You said you’d dropped some socks? They’re not in your hands so you obviously haven’t found them yet.” You smile sickeningly sweetly. “Have you?”

The deer-caught-in-the-headlights look he gives you is almost too much to take.

You smile gently. “I know what’s in that box Marc.”

“I, er, do you?” He speaks a little too quickly. “I mean, of course, you do because…”

“Because me and Steven use it… which is why it’s clearly in Steven’s box.”

“You and Steven use it,” Marc repeats, though why he’s not sure. He is well aware of how the contents are used.

You nod.

“Does it, erm…” A light flush breaks out along the tips of his ears. He swallows, looking down at the floor before taking a deep breath and trying again. “What’s it like?”

That wasn’t the question you were expecting. “What’s it like?”

“Yeah.”

You pause for a moment, and can’t resist just teasing him a little longer. “Don’t you think you should be asking Steven that?” You raise an eyebrow at him as you lower your voice, leaning slightly closer.

Marc’s blush intensifies instantly. “I…”

You don’t think you’ve ever seen Marc trip over his words quite so much in all the time you’ve known him, and you can’t help but find the situation undeniably endearing.

“He enjoys it.” You say, taking pity on him. “I do too.”

Marc swallows, an audible sound, and nods. “That’s good, I mean,” he screws up his eyes for a second. “I mean…”

“Marc Spector.” You tease and slowly slip down onto the floor next to him. Carefully you place your hands on his shoulders, giving him a second to move away if he wants to. When he doesn’t you inch forward and trail your lips over his neck. “Are you saying you want to try Steven’s little toy?”

He shudders under your embrace but gives you a little glare when he opens his eyes. “I wouldn’t call it little.”

You can’t help but laugh.

Marc doesn’t bring up the subject again for a few days, but he does tiptoe around it. Doing his very best to be subtle rather unsubtly.

Until, in the middle of dinner, when Steven bluntly blurts out: “Marc wants you to peg him.”

You almost choke on your food. Not at the suggestion, of course, just the offhand way Steven says it.

You raise your eyebrows at him and Steven smiles.

“He- bloody hell, mate,” he turns to his reflection and scowls. “Fuck off, you do. He wants you to peg him, he’s just too much of a scary cat to ask and-” Steven tuts and rolls his eyes at Marc dramatically. “You are.” Before turning back to you. “So he’d like- oi, fuck-”

Suddenly Steven’s blasé disposition dissolves into an almost frenzied panic as Marc fronts.

His eyes are a little wide, his breathing a little hard. His eyes flick to the side, obviously getting a bollocking from Steven.

“You want me to peg you?” You say calmly as if you had simply asked him to pass the pepper.

Marc takes a moment. “Erm, I, yes.”

“Okay.” You nod and carry on eating your dinner.

‘See?’ Steven says from the headspace. ‘I told you.’

Marc gives him a glare.

It was unsurprising that Marc was more reserved about the matter than Steven. He was used to doing what was asked of him, following orders, not asking for something for his own pleasure.

But you had managed to talk about it, or, to put it more correctly, gently coax out what exactly he wanted.

You kissed him softly on the bed, both of you naked except for the strap and harness. Marc had asked that you wear it from the get-go just so he could get used to it. (You gently reminded him that he could back out or stop anything he wasn’t comfortable with at any point, which just earned you a scowl and grumbled, ‘I know.’)

Slowly you trailed your hand down his chest to his stomach. You dug in a little at his side, purposefully hitting a ticklish spot.

Marc squirmed and snorted, quickly clamping his mouth shut to stop the giggles and gave you a look. You were sure his expression was meant to discourage you from trying the same thing again, but it had very much the opposite effect.

However, you gave him a sickly sweet smile, kissed his nose, and didn’t try to tickle him again.

You continued to trail your hand downwards and slowly took his length in your hand, hard and waiting for you. You pumped him up and down a few times and Marc closed his eyes, biting subtly at his bottom lip as he breathed in deeply.

Compared to Steven, Marc’s reactions to anything pleasurable were stoic, and compared to Jake, Marc looked practically dead.

You opened the lube bottle with your other hand, giving yourself a little silent moment of triumph as you flicked the cap open with your thumb on the first try. Marc opens his eyes as you let go of him and you pour a generous helping onto your hand.

“Just gonna prep you okay?”

Marc shifts and nods. He doesn’t so much as avoid your gaze but try to look around it.

“Marc, baby, we don’t have to do this if-”

“Please,” he mumbles, a little dusting of pink on his cheeks. “I want to.”

“Okay.” You kiss his cheek and he moves his legs apart, bending his legs so that his feet are flat on the mattress.

He doesn’t look at you, preferring to lay his cheek against the pillow and stare at the kitchen. You think about talking him through it, telling him to relax, and because of Steven’s (and yours and Steven’s) explorations the sensation wouldn’t be as alien to the body as it would be if this was the first time. But you get the feeling that your words would be unwelcome at the moment.

Instead, you carefully watch his face for any sign of discomfort as you press lightly at his entrance. Despite Marc’s promise to stop you if something hurt, you’re not completely sure if he would. At least, not at first.

He jumps a little at the sensation of your finger.

“You okay?”

“Hmm.” He continues to stare to the side, biting his lip ever so slightly.

You decide not to chastise him, or ask for his attention, knowing this is the way he settles into new situations.

Carefully you slide your forefinger inside and Marc jumps again, the tight ring of muscle clamping down on you. He bites his lips together tighter. You pause, barely halfway in.

“Marc-”

“Please don’t stop.” He mumbles, the flush deepening on his skin. He blinks rapidly and you do as he asks, slipping in to the last knuckle and angling to stroke his prostate.

He gasps loudly the second you touch it, his hips jerking upwards and dick twitching against his stomach.

His eyes close and he grasps at you, squeezing your free hand. You give him barely a second before you move, deep and slow as you press against the nerve in a way that Steven has told you feels wonderful.

This time he groans, deep within his chest as he bucks up against you, moving up so that he can grind back down onto your finger. Quickly you add another and press deep, stretching and curling to stroke and circle in a pattern that brings him close to madness.

“Oh shit.” He mutters, gasping and moaning.

You watch him for a moment, letting him rock and buck mindlessly as he chases the pleasure. Every muscle tense as he writhes under your touch.

“Nice?”

“Hmmm, yeah,” he breathes, his eyes still shut tight.

“Uh, uh, uh,” you let go of his hand and take hold of his jaw and chin, turning his face towards you and pressing on his plump bottom lip with the pad of your thumb.

To your surprise you don’t have to coax him any further, his eyes flutter open to look at you through his long lashes. He moans softly around your thumb, darting his tongue out and flicking over the tip before sucking it into his mouth.

He moans even louder as you add a third finger, tears of pleasure building in the corners of his eyes and he throws his head back.

You let your thumb slide out of his mouth, not wanting to hamper his ability to speak, but keep a gentle, but firm, hold on his jaw.

Sweat beads at his temples and you can’t help but get distracted by how beautiful he looks like this. Muscles tense as he bucks and squirms with every touch, embracing and chasing his own pleasure. More out of his own head than you’ve ever seen him.

His breathing hitches, as his soft, guttural whines grow louder and louder.

He bites his lip hard, threatening to break the skin with the amount of force he’s applying.

You gently massage your thumb over his bottom lip, coaxing him carefully, and he finally lets go with a sob. “That’s it, let me hear how much you like it.” You whisper and Marc groans loudly, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.

You press on his bundle of nerves fully, no longer teasing, pressing firmly with every stroke and touch and Marc shudders.

“Gonna cum.” He moans, rocking back with your movements.

You grin. “You can cum.”

He shakes his head rapidly, “No, I, no,” he opens his eyes, dark with lust and puts his hand on your forearm, you slow and then still your movements immediately. Despite how Marc still rocks against your fingers.

He takes a deep breath, “wanna- fuck- wanna cum on the strap, wanna feel it.” He goes to bite his lip nervously again, but you stroke him softly with your thumb as you pull your fingers out.

He whines at the loss, his hips trying to chase you even as you withdraw.

“Okay,” you soothe, “I’m just gonna lay down and-”

Marc shakes his head rapidly. “No, like this.” He blinks rapidly and then swallows, his voice surprisingly timid. “Please.”

When you’d talked about it before, you’d both planned that you would lay down on your back and Marc would straddle your thighs and take the strap. That way he would have total control over the pressure and pace and if he didn’t like something he could move away quickly. So, this sudden change took you a little by surprise.

“Are you sure?”

He nodded his head quickly, “Yes, I want you, want you to be on top. And…” he paused, his eyes frantically searching yours for something. Reassurance.

You kiss his lips softly, barely moving back a centimetre. “You want me to take care of you?”

He moaned softly and nodded. “Yes.” His voice barely audible.

You kiss him again, slow and deep, before you sit up on your knees and pour more lube over the strap.

Marc watches you with what you would have assumed was nervous interest as you spread the fluid over the length, but you notice the way his dick twitches against his stomach, leaving a shining trail of smeared precum over his skin.

You slow your movements a little, dragging it out a little longer than necessary and delight when Marc moans softly, his eyes fixed on your hand.

Languidly, as if you didn’t have Marc quickly becoming a quivering mess beneath you, you inched forward. The base of the strap in your hand as you guided in between his legs. He shifted a little, spreading wider and subconsciously giving you better access.

You push in carefully, watching his face for the smallest reactions, any hint of discomfort.

Marc swallows, sighing as the tip notches at his entrance and hesitantly puts his hands on your waist. Urging you inwards instead of pushing you away.

“Relax.” You mutter as you start to sink inside.

He wriggles under you, trying to do as you asked. The sensation is odd, unusual. But not unwelcome.

The pressure starts to feel a little uncomfortable after a few inches like he is stretched a little too wide. But he swallows again and grits his jaw.

You notice immediately and stop.

Straight away he looks up at you in surprise.

“Marc?”

“Hmm?”

You touch his face softly, stroking his cheek before leaning down and kissing him roughly. Your lips demanding and distracting. He kisses you back with equal vigour, letting out a surprised whimper when you take his cock in your hand and start to rub him from base to tip.

He groans, rocking his hips and sinking back into the sensation. His movements push the strap a little deeper with every buck. The tip just brushing against a spot that makes him see stars.

He swears into your mouth, moaning loudly and angling his hips underneath you, lifting them up a little to push the strap more firmly against that delicious part inside.

You get the hint.

You start thrusting steadily, and shallowly, not sinking the full way in. But just enough to nearly touch the part he wants you to. Your hand slows around his cock as you grind your hips.

Marc moans, breaking the kiss to nip at your neck and whimper. “Please, please, please,” his words tumble over each other as he holds you tightly, wraps his legs around your hips and squeezes, trying to urge you to go deeper, harder, to hit that pleasure that is just on the edge of his vision.

“Please, please,” you don’t think you’ve ever heard him beg this softly, or this desperately.

You push deeper and he sobs, “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” his voice raises up at the end as you bottom out, not giving him a second before you slowly inch back out and then in again.

The words come pouring out of his mouth in half-formed sentences and breathless sobs as you start to fuck him in earnest, angling each thrust to hit perfectly inside.

His dick twitches again, his balls drawing up as he feels a massive wave start to build in his stomach.

“Oh fuck,” he hisses, “please,” he grabs your hips tighter, pulling you flush against him so that you can’t get any deeper. He rocks his hips against you, not letting you pull out as little huffs of air escape his lips.

“Like this?” You swirl your hips in a figure of eight and Marc practically screams.

“Yes, yes yes, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

You grind against him, the base of the strap rubbing perfectly against your clit as you pick up the pace.

He moans loudly, no longer caring about what sounds he makes, too lost in the building ecstasy to even begin to think of anything else.

A little roughly, you pull his left leg from around your waist and manoeuvre him so that the back of his thigh presses against your chest as you lean down.

Marc tenses, the new angle making him convulse in pleasure. “Oh fuck, baby, please!”

“That’s it,” you coo, feeling your own orgasm close as you keep rutting against him. “You gonna cum for me?”

“Yes!” He sobs, eyes screwed shut in bliss. “Baby, I’m gonna-” His own moan cuts himself off as the wave crests and swallows him whole. Every nerve in his body sings out in pleasure as he cums, electrifying up his spine as he shoots his load all over his stomach.

“Fuck.” You hiss as you keep rocking against him, keep hitting that same spot to draw out his pleasure as long as possible.

Marc moans, his back arching off the bed. Contant ‘I love yous’ falling from his lips.

Seeing him so lost in bliss is what finally pushes you over the edge. You cum hard, clenching your teeth together to quiet your moans only so that you don’t dampen the sound of his.

Finally, as you come back to yourself, you kiss his neck softly, running your lips over the spot just below his ear. Even though your limbs feel like jelly, you manage to keep yourself upright.

Marc holds onto you tightly, breathing hard.

You stroke his hair softly and give him a minute. However, when he stays quiet, a little knot of worry starts to twist in your chest.

“Marc?”

He blinks roughly, and it’s not Marc who looks back at you.

“Jake?”

He smiles. “Marc’s out for the count, sorry.”

The little knot quickly builds. “Is he okay?”

“He’s fine.” Jake soothes, running his hands up and down your arms and smiles. “Really good, just got a bit overwhelmed.”

Guilt cuts into your chest, but Jake continues before you get a chance to say anything.

“Hey, hey now.” He leans up and kisses your lips. “It's nothing you did, well…” he laughs. “You know what I mean. He just had a really, really good time.” He gives you a cheeky smile and you relax a little.

“He’s okay?”

“He’s better than okay.”

You smile weakly and nod.

“Seriously,” Jake cups your cheek in his hand, “he just got overwhelmed with positive emotion,” he looked at you for a second. “Makes a nice change. Really.”

Your smile strengthens a little.

“Though I have to admit, I am upset with you.” Jake pulls a face.

“What?”

He shifts his hips a little, pushing against your hips and the strap. “When is it my turn?”

____________________________________

Thank you for reading! (Using a different tag list for kinktober so I don't overwhelm anyone.)

@flightlessangelwings @steven-grants-world @lonelyisamyw-0love @eyelessfaces @angel-of-the-moons @campingwiththecharmings @minigirl87 @whatthefishh

If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

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marksbear · 1 year

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So I have been saving this idea in my brain for a while till you open again requests. But I was thinking about Sub prince steven grant who is the 3rd of the moon triplets(had to think of something hope this makes sense)who is getting a arrange marriage to Dom prince of the sun. They meet to hopefully get to know each better in secret before the wedding and get along. On one of their meet up they get really close and kiss but reader asks for more. Steven hesitates but says yes and leads to Steven making out with reader while sitting on his lap and grinding on him. But since today secret meeting place is readers kingdom library they have to keep it quiet but reader has already decided he wants to marry Steven for love and not for their kingdoms and so he makes him cum many times in the library while whispers in Steven ear that he cant wait for their wedding day and steven is trying so hard to keep quiet but just can't because of reader.( if you like this idea I have many more for sub prince steven if you like to hear them. Idk maybe like a mini series but only if you are okay with that)-50%🐻‍❄️

I would love to hear more! I would also love to make a mini series as well too! Thank you so much I love this idea! 🐻‍❄

Warnings! SMUT, Royal AU, semi public, overstimulation, fingering, handjob, loud Steven, floor sex, prince Steven and Y/n. Arrange marriage.

SUB PRINCE STEVEN GRANT X DOM PRINCE MALE READER

“Prince L/n and King L/n have arrived!” A servant stood by the door inside the meeting room while the three royal triplets stayed in their seats while the queen nodded dismissing the servant.

“Well Steven, aren't you excited?” The queen asked, looking at her youngest son. Before Steven could answer his older brother Marc buts in.

“I don’t know why he has to get married, especially to the prince of the sun! Weren't we at war for years and now this.” Marc exclaims, rolling his eyes before adding “How come Jake didn’t have to have a marriage arrangement unlike me and Steven.”

The middle child Jake only laughs and mocks Marc. As the two argue and bicker, Steven is in deep thoughts wondering how the prince would treat him or what he's like. Steven only saw the prince once when they were children. Steven doubts that Y/n still had the same baby face and small frame.

As Steven day dreamed he doesn't notice royal guards opening the large doors welcoming people inside.

"King L/n and prince Y/n! Welcome!" The queen greets, bowing her head a little.

Steven looks to his side looking at the king and prince with shock. Y/n seemed to grow up and mature. Y/n grew up and looked to fit the role as king unlike Steven.

Everyone in the room were polar opposites. The moon kingdom wore dark shades of different colors like black, grey, blue and purple while the sun kingdom wore different bright shades.

As king L/n stat at the end of the table chair his son sat in the middle across from Steven.

"Let's make this quick. I hate all the darkness in this palace." The king says before adding."I'm hoping that both boys know the important situation. " The king announces eyeing down his son's new bride.

"Yes all my sons know the importance of this. But I hope that you will control your hot-headed temper during this." The queen responds back with a sassy tone.

The king only rolled his eyes and crossed his arms grumbling something under his breath while the queen took control and started to talk about the benefits of the marriage.

"I hope that the boy knows that my son won't lay with him. The marriage would only be for professional reasons." The king says side eyeing Steven.

As the king and queen from the two kingdoms spoke about the arrangement the son prince kicks his leg forward hitting Steven's leg.

Steven's eyes look away from his mothers and to Y/n's. Y/n only shakes his head "no" showing Steven his disagreement with the last statement.

Y/n gives Steven a wink before looking away focusing back on the meeting.

TIMESKIP

It was only a few days later Steven was inside his chambers reading a book until he saw a shadow in the window in the corner of his eye.

Steven's first thought was to get the guards as he stood up his chair fast facing the widow. Steven watches as the window opens and watches a foot comes out.

As the figure steps inside Steven stays close to his door.

Finally once the figure was fully inside the candle light inside the room lighted up the figures face and body revealing who they are.

"P-prince L/n! What on earth!" Steven blurts out watching the prince only smirk in response.

"My father was right about one thing during the meeting. This place sure is dark." Y/n says ignoring the question before adding "And please just say Y/n theres no reason as to why my future husband uses my last name."

A light blush appears on Steven's cheek to be referred as a husband.

"I'm here to know you better. I bet we both don't want to marry a stranger now Steven." Y/n answers the question before walking closer to Steven.

"But I am here with a question to ask." Y/n says standing close in front of Steven making the man blush even more. "Well what is it?" Steven responds back.

"Would you like to meet up in secret? Until our wedding happens we should keep in touch and get to know each other. Because I just can't keep climbing this damn castle tower." Y/n says playfully before looking deeply inside Stevens eyes.

"Where would you like to meet next and when?" Steven asks looking at Y/n carefully.

"Outside your kingdom there's a forest that I would love to explore with you. Theres not a lot of forest by my kingdom since the temperatures we have." Y/n says.

"A-aren't you just asking me out on a date?" Steven stutters out watching a bright smirk form on Y/n's face.

"Yes. I'm asking you prince Grant, Would you go on a date around the forest tomorrow." Y/n says a bit more properly.

"Uhm-- yeah! T-that sounds nice." Steven blurts out nodding his head as well.

"Perfect then! Now I have to go. Bye Steven see you tomorrow." Y/ says ruffling Steven's hair a bit before leaving from the same way he came.

Steven rushed to the window looking outside of it making sure Y/n's ;eaves safely.

TIMESKIP

Y/n and Steven sneaked around the sun kingdom. Hiding when they saw guards or different royal servants. Weeks had gone by with their secret meet ups this time Steven decided to come over to Y/n's kingdom.

"Y/n! I-I think they saw us! We should leave before we get caught! Y/nnn please listen were gonna get caugh---" Steven ramble gets cut off by Y/n's hand.

"Shhh! Hush Steven... We won't get caught." Y/n says covering Steven's mouth stopping him from keep rambling about being scared of being caught.

Y/n lets go of Steven's mouth and takes his hand leading him into the library.

Steven looks around the library in shock. The library was huge compared to Steven's own in his room. Inside the library besides rare books it had trophies from battles. What really caught Steven's eye was the stand of different decorated swords with paintings of the kings above them.

Steven was caught in a trance staring at the empty sword case and empty painting frame which Y/n saw and decided to speak up about it.

"That one is saved for me once I become king and die. It's a tradition my kingdom has had for years. It brings my kingdom luck from each king watching over us."

Y/n says before dragging Steven away and to a far place in the library. Once Y/n found one of his favorite places he let go of Steven's hand and laid down in the pile of blankets and pillows.

The spot had many blankets and pillows which made it soft and comfortable to lay on.

Y/n took off his shoes and laid down in the middle waiting for Steven. Steven does the same taking off his shoes and lays down with Y/n beside him.

Once the two were comfortable they talked and talked with one of another getting more and more comfortable with the other. They talked about their royal life and then their more private life.

They even spoke their thoughts about how they actual felt about the whole marriage.

As they talked and talked they kept getting closer and closer. They looked at each other more longingly looking the other up and down when the other wasn't looking.

Eventually Y/n sat up with Steven doing the same as they stared at each other. Slowly enough Y/n raised his pinky to graze Steven. Steven's eyes nervously look at Y/n's hand watching Y/n grab onto his hand.

Y/n leans in moving his face closer to Steven. Steven wanted to move in as well, but his head felt parallelized. Steven swallows the lump in his throat before moving in. The two princes foreheads were against each other.

With one last deep breath Y/n moves in first closing the distance between them kissing Steven on the lips.

Steven quickly melts into the kiss, closing his eyes as lets Y/n kiss him. Y/n pulls away looking at Steven carefully.

"More... I want more please." Y/n asks looking at Steven like a lost puppy. "I- uhm..." Steven hesitates as he moves his head back away from Y/n. Steven heart aches seeing a small frown grow on Y/n's face.

"Okay! Yes- i'll give you more." Steven breathes out watching a smirk form on Y/n's face. Y/n wastes no time pulling Steven hand back towards him kissing him deeply.

Steven kisses Y/n back with the same passion moving closer to Y/n. Y/n's hands move towards both sides of Steven's waist holding him tight. As they swap kisses back and forth Y/n licks Steven's lips signalling him to open his mouth. Nervously Steven opens his mouth letting out a quiet moan as Y/n's tongue moves inside his mouth.

Steven crawls into Y/n's lap not breaking the kiss as he does it. Steven is on Y/n's lap holding onto his shoulders as they make out. Steven begins to move his ass down on Y/n grinding onto him.

Y/n holds Steven's waist holding him down as he grinds back onto him. Steven lets go of Y/n's shoulders and moves his hands to Y/n's face cupping his cheeks as they makeout. One of Y/n hands let go of Steven's waist and moves it onto Steven's bulge palming his cock through his pants.

Steven quietly moans inside Y/n's mouth as Y/n touches him. Y/n pulls away from the makeout with a string of saliva following. Steven's mouth hung open with his tongue out panting.

Y/n's hand moves inside Steven's pants rubbing Steven's hard cock through his underwear. Steven's cock was already hard and throbbing as he grinds his cock into Y/n's hand. Y/n pulls both his hands away and takes Steven's shirt and pants off for him leaving Steven in his underwear.

Y/n pushes the clothes to the side as he lays Steven down on the blankets. Y/n hovers over Steven taking off his shirt and pants. Steven looks up at Y/n with lust in his eyes. Y/n moves back down kissing Steven's exposed body. As Y/n's lips kiss and nibble on Steven's body moans escapes from Steven lips.

"Shhh~ We have to keep quiet remember." Y/n says in a hushed whisper as he moves his hands down across Steven's body. Once Y/n's hands find the band of Steven's underwear they slowly pull it down letting Steven's hard cock spring free.

Y/n pulls the underwear fully off throwing it where the other clothes are. Y/n spreads Steven's legs open and dives his hand in between them grabbing onto his hard cock.

Y/n's hand began to lazily jerk off Steven's cock using his thumb to rub the tip. Y/n's hand moves up and down at a slow pace mostly teasing Steven's cock.

Steven's cock twitched inside Y/n's hand already about to cum. Y/n began to jerk off Steven faster twisting his wrist and tugging on it. Steven's cock ached and twitched as Steven bit onto his lip trying to contain his moans. Y/n stops moving his hand and wrap his hand from Steven's cock before using his pointer finger to trace around his cock.

"Can you cum from me? I want you to cum early for me baby." Y/n asks circling his finger around the tip.

Steven uses one of his free hands to cover his mouth as he feels the knot in his stomach tighten.

Y/n plays around with Steven's cock for a while before wrapping his hand around it again jerking it off again. Steven begins to moan and whimper into his hand like crazy, with a few more moans Steven shoots his load all over Y/n's hand painting them white. Steven's body began to tremble as he cums hard. Once Steven was out of his high Y/n let go of Steven's cock and holds Steven's legs open.

With using his cum covered hand as lube Y/n uses one of his fingers to prep Steven. Y/n's finger circled around Steven's hole teasing him for a while before pushing it inside. He moved the finger inside Steven slowly thrusting it in and out.

Y/n finger curled and moved inside Steven as he moved it in and out. Steven weakly moaned and whined out feeling his now sensitive cock grow hard again. Once Steven was loosened up enough Y/n added another finger and began scissoring him. Steven's walls tightened around Y/n's fingers as he grinded his hips down onto them.

Y/n took the opportunity to lean in and whisper into Steven's ear. "I can't wait for our wedding day."To which Steven nodded his head in agreement.

Y/n's fingers began to push further and further grazing Steven's prostate in the progress. Steven let out a loud moan which caused Y/n to use his free hand to cover Steven's mouth.

"Shhh! I'm starting to think you just want us to get caught." Y/n teases before fucking Steven faster with his fingers hitting his prostate repeatedly.

Steven's eyes began to water as he moaned and cried into Y/n's hand as his cock twitches again signaling that hes gonna cum again.

Y/n fingers abused Steve's prostate more and more causing Steven to shoot his load all over himself. As Steven was cumming Y/n kept scissoring Steven spreading him open.

Once Steven calmed down Y/n pulled his fingers out his fingers and took off his own boxers putting them where the rest of the clothes were. Steven stared at Y/n's cock before letting out a yelp.

Y/n laid Steven down on his stomach while his ass was in the air. Y/n held Steven's waist in the air as he lined up his cock to Steven's hole. Steven had his face pressed up against the pillow as he tried to catch his breath.

Slowly Y/n pushed the tip inside Steven causing him to let out a loud moan. Y/n thrust the tip in and out only fucking Steven with the tip so he can get used to it. Steven held onto the blankets for dear life as he rocked his body against Y/n's.

Stevens walls tightened around Y/n's cock as Y/n thrusted deeper inside Steven giving him more and more of his cock.

Once Y/n's cock was inside Steven halfway Y/n thrusted his entire dick inside Steven causing him to shout and moan in pleasure.

Y/n's hips snapped back and forth at a fast pace gripping onto Steven's waist no doubt leaving a mark later. Y/n's cock split Steven in half. Steven's moans were uncontroable.

Rough skin slapping against each other filled the library as the two princes fucked. Steven's cock was more than sensitive at this point. But somehow it was still hard. Y/n's thrust were rough and fast rocking his hips back and forth into Steven's wasting no time at all.

Steven felt Y/n's cock twitched inside him and that made him almost cum at the thought of Y/n cumming inside him.

Y/n's thrust became faster and sloppier feeling his orgasm nearing. Y/n moved Steven's hips up and down matching the same pace as his thrust.

"Steven! Oh fuck i'm cumming! I'm cumming!" Y/n blurted out with a few more thrusts cumming deep inside Steven with Steven shooting his load at the same time. Y/n thrusts slowly become into a stop as he rides out his orgasm inside Steven.

Y/n gently let go of Steven's hips and wrapped his arms around him laying down beside him, but cock still buried deep inside him.

Steven's whole body was wrecked as he weakily laid inside Y/n's arms.

Steven's eyes slowly began to close from exhaustion as Y/n talks to him.

"I don't want to just marry you now Steven." Y/n breathes out catching Steven off guard, but before Steven could ask questions Y/n adds "I want to marry you for love. I just want love from you not anything you can offer me from your kingdom."

Y/n reaches his hand out and turns Steven's head to face his kissing him deeply.

"Just marry me Steven. Not my kingdom. Okay?"

"Okay... Just promise me you'll do the same."

"I promsie."

THE END

#steven grant x male reader #steven grant x reader #steven grant #marvel x male reader #prince x male reader #moonknight x male reader #moon knight #x male reader #x top male reader #x dom male reader #male reader #the bear club

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davosmymaster · 2 years

Note

If you could make a fanfic where the reader is fond of Steven but not that much of marc ... The two moon boys likes the reader and include Jake if you want upto you! But happy ending for all of them !

Here you go! Hope this is what you wanted <3 (I'm sorry for the delay)

TAGS AND WARNINGS - +18, Minors DNI, no smut but mentions of sex/sexual themes, angst, fluff, no beta-read, no Jake this time (sorry)

PAIRINGS - Steven Grant x fem!reader ; Marc Spector x fem!reader ;

WORD COUNT - 2.9K

SUMMARY - Guilt is eating Steven alive because you won't let Marc love you the way you let Steven. But sometimes mixing guilt with alcohol is enough to fix things.

HIS NAME

Marc's watching. Just watching.

As a matter of fact, he's been watching all night. He watched when you and Steven were invited to go for drinks after work, he watched when Steven agreed to go to your apartment because you needed to get changed and you had some clothes he could use too, and he definitely watched as you got out of the shower with round drops of water still falling from the ends of your hair and into your back, collarbones and shoulders. He also just watched when Steven followed you into your room.

These days, it feels like that's the only thing he does; watching.

Marc's so ahead in the headspace, so painfully conscious, that if his body wasn't moving without his orders and his vocal cords weren't talking without his words, he would be sure he was fronting.

He isn't, though. Yet Marc can not only watch but also smell and hear and taste. He hates it, because Steven has no idea how to drink alcohol and he mixes everything with anything and now his breath smells of gin while his mouth tastes sickly sweet. When Steven drags the body from the dance floor to their table in the reserved area, Marc can feel the vibration of the music on the table.

He knows he's whining, but he's not eighteen anymore and he already left his crazy partying years behind. The music is bothering him. It's so loud that he can hardly hear his own thoughts.

With a blurry eyesight, Steven picks up his glass from the table.

Stop drinking so much, Steven, he says. You'll throw-

"Oh, shut it," Steven tries to mutter but he is actually talking louder than he thinks. His words come out slurred. "Let me have some fun with my girlfriend."

It hurts. It hurts so much that he wonders if Steven can feel the sharp pain of an invisible knife slicing his throat open. Marc hopes he doesn't, but of course he does. Even if he couldn't sense him, Steven is smart enough —although not sober enough to help it, apparently— to know that his words have hurt Marc, deeply.

"I'm sorry."

But it's too late. Marc's silent, his lips sealed with painful stitches that he wouldn't be able to get rid of even if he wanted. Both of them know Marc won't say a single word for the rest of the night.

Steven frowns, concern dying his expression. He's been trying not to think about the situation between you and Marc for a while now, but it's getting harder and harder to ignore.

Steven looks at the glass in his hand. It's almost full, but even then, he takes it to his lips and empties the contents into his stomach; ignoring the painful burn in his throat.

It's not enough, though. He wants to forget. He wants his consciousness to just shut the fuck up.

He staggers between people, weaving his way through bodies covered in a thin layer of sweat, and clothes that fit too tight. He needs to get to the spot where you're still dancing in that cute and sexy —somehow it's both, even if Steven doesn't understand quite how— little black dress. Once he gets there, he doesn't even have to touch you. You see him and your eyes light up like bulbs, as if you hadn't seen him in years instead of seconds. Your arms reach out for him, they surround him and force him closer. He can smell your perfume.

Marc can, too.

His whole body feels wobbly as he follows your lead. Steven's hands instinctively fall on your hips, moving to the rhythm of the music. He closes his eyes. He feels the music. He lets himself go. He lets all the worries go. Steven focuses on your smell and your touch and the music that moves both your bodies back and forth as if washed by the waves in the open sea.

Your fingers get knotted in his hair and before he can moan, you're drowning his sounds with your own lips and tongue. You kiss him as if you've never kissed him before, as if he would soon disappear. His wet and heavy tongue licks yours, and you savour the sweet taste of the soda in his mouth. One of his hands suddenly grabs your nape and there's no room or time to breathe as he chokes you with his kisses.

A flash of thought runs through your mind; your coworkers —many of them labelled as friends too— must be incredibly grossed out at the sight. Not because there's any sight not worth seeing, but because you've been making out with Steven longer than you've been dancing. And having in mind you've been on the dancefloor for the last hour and a haf, that's to say something.

"Steven..." you call his name, finally breaking away from the kiss.

"Yeah...?"

He rests his forehead against yours, not daring yet to open his eyes. His cheeks are flushed because of the alcohol and the kisses and the public setting that he's so not used to, his face covered in a thin layer of sweat that doesn't bother you not one tenth of what it should. His whole body is pressed against yours; and in that situation, it's really hard not to think about the big and obvious problem that you can feel against one of your thighs.

Steven never gets tired of you, never. He never gets tired of neither your body nor your intellect nor your persona. He likes to refer to your relationship as love at first sight, and just like love, everything else unfolded just as quickly. Despite dating for almost a year now, the intensity never wears off. You go at it like rabbits. And Steven enjoys it —maybe way too much—, that is, until the thought of Marc pops in his brain.

Steven is madly in love with you. Steven also knows Marc is just as madly in love, but you've never seemed to care about Marc as you cared about Steven. And as days go by, and Marc sees the wonderful life Steven has built for himself while he has nothing, no one at home waiting for him to come back, no one checking on him when he's sick... Well, let's say he doesn't find many reasons to front anymore.

Instead, Marc watches. He gets what he needs through Steven —no matter how fucked up that could sound, he can't be bothered to care at this point—. As long as he is conscious enough, Marc can feel your kisses on his own lips, the sweet smell of your perfume in his nose, your curves and edges under his open palms, your naked and warm body against him.

But when you moan, you say Steven's name and never his. That's the only thing that brings him out of his stupor in moments like those. He feels like he's been kicked in the stomach every time, but Marc prefers that having nothing.

Steven feels guilty. He's starting to feel sick because of the alcohol, but the more he thinks about Marc the sicker he gets, and the more he wants to drink. When Marc confessed that he was the host, Steven knew what that meant; he was supposed to protect Marc. Since that day, Steven felt a strong sense of protection towards him.

But now? Now he was being an arsehole and a coward and selfish and a piece of-

"Steven..."

Cold hands on his face are what bring him back into himself. Your cold hands. And he can't help but think that it should be Marc the one being drowned in kisses and not him.

Without Marc, he wouldn't even exist.

"Steven, what's wrong?"

Only then does he realize that he had been squeezing his eyes shut as hard as he could. As his body partially relaxes under your touch, his brain still spinning inside his skull like a blender, his face moves closer against your hand.

He looks into your eyes, but he knows what he will find before he does. Concern.

"Darling, are you alright?" you move closer, if that's even possible. Your other hand holds his back to keep him steady over his two feet. "Talk to me."

Steven shakes his head.

"I'm... Guess- I'm... bit dizzy," he says.

His eyesight is blurry around the edges, but even where it is not blurry, he can hardly process the image. Steven feels as if he was watching the world through a dirty mirror or an unfocused lens. Maybe both at the same time.

It almost feels as if he's being pulled back from the front.

"I told you not to drink that much," Marc says, his voice low like a whisper; as if he was trying to talk after not opening his mouth for a long while. Steven's not the only one who can feel the effects of alcohol in the body. "Breathe through it. It's okay."

Steven is so mesmerized that he can hardly process the fact that you are dragging him out of the place. The club has a few floors, so when you reach the back of the room, you push open one of the heavy emergency exits. Thankfully, there's a draught flowing through the flight of stairs. Even if no one is supposed to be there, the staff has left the windows open; and when you look at Steven you see him squinting at a couple making out in the corner of the staircase landing.

At the sound of the door slamming shut behind you, both of them jump in fear.

"Sorry, we won't bother you," you say, taking Steven's hand and walking up to the next flight of stairs. Once you reach the big open window, you make him sit next to it, shutting it a little bit just to make sure he doesn't fall. "Just breathe, darling," you say when his head lulls to one side, now resting on the wall. You brush his hair back and he sighs relieved.

"Thank you," he says. His half-lidded eyes look at you with so much adoration that your heart hurts. "You're always so good to me."

You chuckle at his words.

"What you deserve."

He must feel very tired, because instead of his usual big smile, only one of the corners of his lips turn upwards, forming a crooked smile. Your fingers keep stroking his hair and massaging his skull, but he barely acknowledges it with a sigh.

His eyes barely open again, only half the way; and you have to squat to have him at eye level. He whispers.

"Why don't you like Marc?"

Steven, what the actual fuck?

He tries to ignore the angry American man inside his brain and focus on your reaction. He thinks that, maybe, if he can figure out why don't you like his alter, then he might be able to fix it. Maybe then he can make the two of you to get along, at least.

You squint in his direction, your lips forming a thin line.

"Did he ask you to say that?"

Thank you, Steven. Marc says, and even though the voice in his head sounds angry, Steven can feel Marc's dread in his own chest. He can feel the knot forming in his trachea, the way it gets harder to breathe. Marc would be really close to shedding a few tears if he was fronting, and that makes Steven even sadder.

"No, no. Not at all," he says, slowly, still slurring the words. "He's not here," he lies. "I just wanna understand..."

I don't know what you think you're doing but you need to stop this bullshit right now.

Your gaze softens, and that's how he knows you've swallowed the lie. Steven looks at you with puppy, restless eyes and a drunk —literally— expression. He keeps staring at you, waiting for an answer, and you keep brushing his hair out of his face and caressing his skin.

"Don't worry about that now, darling."

"Please," he begs, his eyes quickly flooding with tears. Half of them are his, half of them come from the helplessness Marc feels towards not being able to stop this whole scene.

A wrinkle appears between your brows as your expression turns into half concern, half sadness.

"I want to get to know him better," you say. "Steven, I love you. And I really like him too. But he doesn't seem to be interested. He's always hiding from me. At first, I tried, but he never seemed to reciprocate and at this point in my life, I'm done trying to run after people who don't put any type of effort into a relationship," you say. "I know how much you love him, and how much you want the three of us together but he is obviously not interested. And I'm sick and tired of trying."

Needless to say, Steven has his jaw on the ground. In fact, his lips are parted and he didn't even know. He watches as you bite your lower lip, trying not to look as defeated and hopeless as you are feeling right now. But Steven sees right through you.

"He's actually listening," the words escape his mouth, and he sees your eyes widen and your lips part as if you were about to scream. But he quickly tries to calm you. He grabs you by your shoulders and just the sudden determination in his eyes, the sudden clearness, makes you believe everything will be okay. "Listen, he feels the same way. He likes you. I'll let you talk to him, okay?"

Both Marc and you talk at the same time.

"No, Steven," you shake your head, panic quickly running through your veins before the idea of talking to him now about this.

Don't you fucking dare. Marc threatens, the same panic clouding his mind.

But before you can blink, before any of you can talk Steven out of it, he closes his eyes and he's gone.

You know Marc has the body before he even opens his eyes. You know it by the way his breathing pattern changes, his shoulders fall forwards, his expression becomes somber, more tired if that's even possible, the wrinkle between his brows deeper.

"Ugh..." is all he says.

He falls forward, and you grab him by the shoulders so he doesn't fall to the ground.

"Marc?"

After a split second of being a dead weight against your chest, and you positioning him back against the wall, he brings a hand to his forehead. He groans.

"Oh fuck. I told him not to drink this much."

He presses his fingers against his forehead, as if he could go through the skull and massage the muscle behind it. He squeezes his eyes shut as hard as he can, trying to ride the waves of pain and nausea. He might throw up in a while.

But then you chuckle at his words. Your chuckle sounds shy and when he opens his eyes, he sees you covering your mouth. He wishes he had enough strength in his body to smack that hand out of your face.

"I told him that, too."

Marc squints in your direction. It's the only way in which he can properly look at your face while trying to isolate the image of your face from the static that surrounds his whole perception.

"I thought you couldn't stand me," he says, and he hates how vulnerable he feels, how the alcohol makes him sound like a five-year-old. "I thought you hated me."

"No, no," you bring both your hands to cup both his cheeks. "I'd never do that. I thought you didn't like me. I tried for us to get along... and get to know each other-

"I thought you would hurt Steven when he met you," he confessed, eyes seeming a little more focused. "I tried not to get too attached, but it obviously didn't work and when I tried to reach out to you, you didn't seem interested anymore; not even to be friends. I thought you hated me," his eyes quickly welled with tears and he tried to turn his head, get rid of your hands cupping his cheeks, all so that you wouldn't see him crying. "I fucked up. I'm sorry."

You shook your head, and looked for his eyes that kept running away from yours.

"Marc, look at me," you say. He shakes his head, but you insist and he, in the end, has to look in your direction. "We can start over, okay? Would you like that?"

With your thumbs, you wipe the tears from his cheeks. Marc nods, a sparkle of hope lightning up in the inside of both his pupils.

"I would love that," he says.

You smile, and he loves that, for the first time, he gets to see that smile directed at him. He can't help it, though. He doesn't know if this is the alcohol getting hold of his body or he himself lunging forwards. All he knows is that, before he can register it, his lips are gently brushing yours. He feels the taste of you on his own tongue, your shivering body under his own hands.

They get hooked on your waist like glue. He brings you closer, both chests collapsing against each other. He pulls away from the kiss just a split second, so he can slightly and gently tilt his head to the side, all so he can kiss you deeper. And he hears it.

A soft moan falls from your lips. It's his name.

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