Hii! This is my first request so sorry if it doesn't make sense and ignore if you not I apologize! Could you write something with the moon knight boys and a reader who gets confused and forgets easily. Or them with a reader who is always tired and sleeps all the time. I love your work and they way you write them!Thank you have a good day/night!🩷
moon knight boys x reader
~400 words
you forget things.
not in a dramatic way,, just little stuff. where you put your phone. what day it is. whether you already ate or just thought about eating. sometimes you zone out mid sentence and lose the thread completely.
the boys notice. they always notice.
steven is the first to adapt.
he starts writing little notes everywhere. not because you asked,, just because it feels right.
you took your meds <3
we already talked about this, love, it’s okay
nap time. don’t argue.
when you blink at him, confused and apologetic, he just smiles and takes your hands gently.
“hey, hey,, no need to be embarrassed. brains are weird. mine comes with… roommates.”
he explains things twice. three times. as many times as you need. never rushed. never annoyed. if you fall asleep halfway through a movie, he tucks a blanket around you and keeps watching like this is exactly how the night was meant to go.
marc pretends he doesn’t notice at first.
but he does.
he starts grounding you without making it obvious,, hand on your back, fingers squeezing yours once, twice, three times. a silent you’re here. you’re safe.
when you apologize for forgetting something important, he shuts that down immediately.
“don’t,” he says, firm but not unkind. “you’re not a burden. you’re tired. there’s a difference.”
he keeps track of things so you don’t have to. appointments. names. time. when you need rest more than answers, he’s already guiding you toward the couch, already pulling you close.
jake is… protective about it.
if you’re sleepy, he makes sure no one wakes you unless it matters. if you forget where you are, he crouches in front of you, meets your eyes, speaks low and steady.
“mírame. you’re with us. you’re okay.”
he lets you nap on him like it’s nothing. arm solid around you, heartbeat slow and grounding. if you drool a little? he doesn’t care. he thinks it’s cute. would never say it out loud, though.
between all of them, you’re never expected to be “on.”
you can be slow. foggy. half asleep. confused.
they fill in the gaps without making you feel small for having them.
and when you wake up disoriented, head heavy, memory fuzzy,,
there’s always someone there to remind you:
you’re loved.
you’re safe.
and you don’t have to remember everything to matter.
Marc: Inside me, there are two wolves. One that doesn't pronounce 'bottle of water' correctly, and the other keeps accidently running people over with his taxi.
having three lovers in one body has never bothered you. they each love you in a different way, you thrive off of it too. your friends talk about how much you’ve been glowing. only if you could tell them about the sex life you have that is absolutely out of this world. let’s just say, having a mirror is a must. the boys love to communicate and spectate when it’s time for sex. all three are generous lovers and fuck you entirely different.
steven, your sweetheart. gentleman by every standard. but when he was was having his way with you he could be a bit bossy.
“i’m talking to you love” steven looked up at you from his favorite spot, between your thigh. his warm breath against your wet folds made your body shiver.
“please steven” you respond to his question you almost forgot about.
“look up at the mirror love, the boys want to have a perfect view” he grins before swirling his tongue around your sensitive clit. he glanced at the mirror behind the headboard. marc and jake cheering steven on.
marc, when it came to him he was a slut for you. in the hottest way possible, as stoic as he is, one thing is for sure and that’s how down bad he is for you.
“that’s it baby. keep riding me just like that” he groans. his hands grip your hips enough to leave the traces of his fingertips behind. “you’re taking me so well” and you could only respond with a moan bracing yourself against him as your speed increased and his thrusts matched the pace you were going.
“arch that back some more baby. the boys want to see those pretty tits bounce” you do exactly as he says, you always do. anything for your boys.
jake, your quiet lover who put you through the mattress every time it was his turn with you.
his hand in your hair forcing you to look in the mirror as he took you from behind.
“look at you cariño, look at how pretty you are taking my dick” he cooed in your ear.
“go ahead and give the boys that pretty little fucked out smile. show them how good jake takes care of you” he bites your shoulder his eyes never leaving his reflection.
mine masterlist • marc masterlist • moon knight masterlist • main masterlist
Summary: Answers begin to unfold about Steven and Marc. Will you heed Elshal's warnings? Can you stay away from him? Will you send him away?
cw: on the fic masterlist • wc: 3.4k • gif does not indicate reader's race or body type
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PREVIOUSLY ON MINE...
“Steven Grant, or whatever your name is, I shall summon my Master of Wisdom and Master of Scholars. Pray they have a book that speaks of the same affliction as your books do.” You leaned in close to him, staring him down. “Or I shall have you hanged as a spy.”
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Confined to his, or Marc's, chambers for what felt like an eternity, Steven paced agitatedly, muttering to himself. After a while, he paused to peer into a looking glass.
"You're there, aren't you?" He asked his reflection. "You've always been there. I've always known."
The sound of footfalls sent Steven scurrying across the room. He sat down, perched nervously on the edge of a chair, drawing his hands to the center of his chest.
Elshal burst through the door, followed closely by Tyree. "On your feet. The Queen summons you."
Eyes wide and blinking rapidly, Steven flinched as the two Queensguard hauled him to his feet and practically dragged him toward your chambers.
"Please," he croaked, barely a rough whisper, as they neared your doorway. "Please," he tried again, finding his voice. "I'm loyal to the crown, please. I don't want to die. I don't want to, I don't want to-"
They hurried Steven inside your sitting room, where you were waiting, dressed in your typical gown and gold armor combination. Your prized dagger rested at your hip and your smaller, less ceremonial gold leaf crown adorned your head.
Upon seeing you, Steven panicked, almost incoherently murmuring again how he didn't want to die. Suddenly, before you could even speak, his demeanor changed entirely. His eyes fluttered closed for several seconds before he squared his shoulders. His fidgeting, curled fingers relaxed.
He smiled softly. "Your Grace." Attempting to bow, he seemed, only then, to realize he was being detained. Dark eyebrows furrowed as he swallowed hard.
"Steven," you calmly replied, feeling pinpricks in your chest at the doubt beginning to cloud in his eyes. "I've spoken to my Master of Wisdom and Master of Scholars, briefly. They assure me they will not rest until they find the answers I require of them. They have made some small progress, locating some information based on what you found in the Library of the Tributes."
"My queen? Who...who is Steven?"
Elshal jerked his arm roughly. "Enough of these games, Your Grace. I'll take him to the dungeon."
You turned a withering glare to the captain of your royal guard. "You do not presume to give orders to the crown, Captain."
"Forgive me," Elshal bowed her head.
Your concubine met your gaze full on, staring at you unflinchingly, eyes round and questioning. He almost seemed afraid to disappoint you, rather than fearful for his life. "Have I offended Your Grace?"
Elshal, clearly tired of his games, opened her mouth to speak, but was silenced by the raise of one your fingers.
Nodding to your loyal guards to release him, you waited until they retreated a few paces before taking a bold step forward. Peering deeply into his eyes, you placed your hand on his chest, palm resting over his heart. The heat of your palm seeped through the thin layer of his tunic.
"Marc?"
His lip trembled at the intimacy of your touch. He nodded once, the faintest smile ghosting his lips, eyes blinking at you curiously. "My queen."
"There you are," you sighed, relief washing over you.
"It's a trick," Elshal protested through gritted teeth, hand resting on the hilt of her sword.
Ignoring her, you turned to Tyree. "Take the concubine to my private bedchamber and wait for me there. Captain, you will stay."
Tyree complied leaving you alone with Elshal.
You paced back and forth silently for a full minute before revealing the reason for this impromptu meeting, which practically communicated your meaning to Elshal in advance of you stating anything aloud.
"You might be my oldest friend," you told her, staring out a floor-to-ceiling window with a breathtaking view out toward the sea. "I've known you since childhood and you're the only one left, after my mother and father..."
"Gods rest the queen and king," Elshal respectfully whispered.
"Then my sister. My husband." Your eyes misted over in a rare display of emotion. "And...my child." You eased into Elshal's personal space, jaw clenched, even as your eyes misted. "I know you worry for me. You've devoted your life to it - worrying after me, protecting me."
You sighed, steeling your emotions. "So say what you need to say to me here, now. Whatever foolish judgment you think I am using with Marc, say it plainly to me." You pointed your finger and poked it into her armor one time, sharply. "But do not make the mistake of questioning me in front of your subordinates, or my servants, ever, ever again."
Elshal slowly nodded, taking a step back so she could bow deeply. "Please, Your Grace, forgive me."
"Enough, Captain. I acknowledge your obedience." Once she stood, you motioned for her to sit down. "Do you have any further concerns, aside from being worried about the state of my concubine's mind, and the fact that he might speak the language of the enemy? Anything that would present a viable threat to me, or explain his behavior here?"
Her eyes dropped to the floor. "No, Your Grace."
"And," you went on, "if he were a spy or some sort of agent of the enemy, wouldn't these antics only draw suspicion? Why would he invent or fake such a condition of the mind?"
"I know not. I only know I do not trust him."
You stood, satisfied. "Very good then. It is your job to trust no one. Excellent work. As for Marc, I would like to know why he seems to be two men in one. Even if he is mad, I should wish to know why, and who at the House of my Tributes should be punished, if need be, for not informing me. Do you not think my course of action wise?"
"It is, Your Grace, please, just...allow me to stay close, to watch over you and this...concubine. Please."
"As you wish, Captain."
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You returned to Marc and dismissed your guards so you could speak with him alone.
His eyes brightened as you neared him.
"Marc," you smiled at him, motioning for him to sit down. "How was your morning?"
Scanning his mind quickly, Marc realized that he wasn't sure he remembered anything past falling asleep with you last night. "Any day in the presence of my queen is a gift."
"But we have been separated this day," you reminded him, scooting closer on the bench and taking his hand. "Do you remember what separated us? Why you suddenly leapt out of my bed early this morning?"
Marc, accustomed to a lifetime of covering his lapses in time, found himself at a loss. What had he done this morning? He simply could not remember. "I am sorry, Your Grace, for...this morning...if I've displeased you." Generalities typically covered all manner of missed moments and missteps.
"You do not remember," you whispered, observing each movement of his handsome face - how his mouth twisted as he tried to conjure what to say or how to explain. The purity you saw in his eyes - how ardently he seemed to want to please you. And a twinge of fear in the tense muscles of his body, prepared to receive harshness from a woman of power.
At a loss, Marc swallowed, shifting in his seat. "Are you angry with me?"
"No." You gently smiled, squeezing his hand. "But I want to talk to you about Steven."
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The two of you talked well into the afternoon. You shared what happened with Steven. He hesitantly confessed the missing pieces of time in his life, and the strange reactions from those around him after he came back to himself, such as making new friends or being told he spoke differently.
You laughed sweetly, letting him know that he did sound entirely different when he was "Steven."
Your Master of Scholars arrived at your sitting room, perplexed as you asked your concubine to join you.
But you commanded her to speak freely, so she did, reporting that she had discovered a couple reference books which referred to something called the dissociation of souls, whereby it was suggested that more than one soul, or person, may possibly dwell together in the same fleshly body.
"'Tis usually dismissed as blasphemy," the Master informed you both, closing the old, dusty book, before wiping her wrinkled hands on her long, shimmering gray robe. "However, I am more a woman of science, if I may speak plainly to Your Grace."
"You may indeed. So you believe there may be truth to this information? This...disorder?" You prodded, watching as Marc's countenance fell with each word spoken.
"If it please Your Grace, I do. If I may suggest that we speak to the Master of Surgeons. Perhaps she has treated a patient with a similar...presentation."
"Very well, Master. I thank you for your candor."
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Marc sat a the small table in your chambers, head in his hands, bowed in shame, ignoring the late afternoon luncheon set before him.
Your heart swelled with pity for him, not in the sense that you found him pathetic, but you truly felt for him. You wanted to comfort him, and somehow, his happiness had begun to matter to you.
You called his name, easing down beside him.
Mustering his courage, he lifted his eyes to acknowledge you.
An ache bloomed in your chest at the sight of him, sitting there so forlorn, eyes glossy but too stubborn to shed a tear, dark eyebrows pinched like an angry child. His lips pulled into a sharp line, jaw locked, hands squeezed into fists. His entire being clenched with an unbearable tension.
"May I ask Your Grace where you will send me?" He choked out in a strangled whisper.
Watching him carefully, you inhaled deeply, measuring your words. You must think responsibly and not simply respond emotionally. Although, all you could think about was how you wanted to pull this beautiful man into your arms, into your bed, inside you, to drown him in worthiness and adoration and affection. In safety.
"Where do you think I should send you?" You neutrally responded.
The wetness pooled in one eye enough to deliver one tear onto his soft cheek. "Is there a place for a mad man to live out his days and not be...touched?"
You frowned, uncertain of his meaning. "You no longer wish to be a concubine? Or do you mean abused?"
"Please," he hoarsely whispered, head dropping once more to his hands. "I do not want to be touched by anyone but you." Pushing off his chair, he knelt down in front of you, desperately clutching the long skirt of your gown. "Forgive me, my queen. I know I have disappointed you. I know I am not worthy to be near you. But I beg you do not send me to the brothels. Or the prisons. Although I know I am unworthy to make any request of Your Grace. I cannot...I cannot..."
His shoulders heaved as he seemed to struggle for breath.
If Elshal heard any of this, she would surely barge in and return her blade to his throat.
"Marc," you shushed him, caressing his cheek gently. "I do not wish to send you away."
He gasped out tearfully, shaking his head in disbelief as he he blinked up at you. "You do not wish to?"
"No." Pushing a stray curl away from his eye, you drew his face up to yours, leaning in to kiss his mouth tenderly. "I told you. You belong to me. You are mine. Come here."
You guided him up off the floor to sit beside you. "We shall learn more soon enough about the time you are missing and about this other part of you. About Steven. But I do not think you are mad."
"You do not?" He breathed, shuddering in relief as you took his hands in your own. You kissed each one and touched your forehead to his, tenderly rubbing your nose against his cheek.
"I do not," you confirmed.
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If for nothing else, then for the sake of Elshal's sanity, you slept alone that night. Or you planned to, anyway. Marc was escorted to his own chambers, which he then occupied rather forlornly.
He sank down on the edge of the bed, angry with this Steven who somehow took over his body, and upset with how his broken mind had already likely cost him the best position in life he could ever hope to attain. The crushing weight kept him from even lying down, let alone resting.
You rested no better in your own room, struggling to refrain from having Marc brought to you. You wished to lie with him, to feel the weight of his body against yours, to lose yourself in passion, if only to free your mind of the day's worries, and lull your body into a satisfied slumber.
You were the queen, you deserved any pleasure you wished. But still, you restrained yourself. Just for this night.
Perhaps you should take some time to clear your head. The days and weeks after attaining a new concubine always kept you distracted by pleasure until your council begged your attention on matters of state.
Yes, you would convene your council tomorrow. You would focus on pressing business and leave your Masters to research their books and patients and colleagues.
You would heed the warnings of Elshal. But not without explaining things to Marc.
Perhaps.
Dressing yourself in a silk robe, you paced agitatedly in front of your windows, pausing momentarily to gaze up at the twin moons. Their ethereal, crescent glow did nothing to soothe your agitation. With a huff of determination, you draped a heavier cloak over your robe and flung open your bedchamber door.
Elshal practially leapt into action, asking what disturbed you at this hour.
"Captain, surely your shift must have ended by now. When did you last sleep?"
She swallowed guiltily, knowing she should have rotated off her shift by now, if not a half day earlier.
"Take me to him. My concubine," you ordered. "Then you will take a day for rest."
Elshal's eyes flashed in defiance, but she had tried your patience already this day. Normally, Tyree would guard you from the early morning hours, while you slept, until around midday, while you attended to matters of state and held countless meetings. Elshal would attend to you during the afternoon and evening hours, when your activities turned more personal in nature. She would normally remain until you were asleep.
They rotated shifts with Lieutenant Rena, who helped in the training of Queensguard when Elshal and Tyree were otherwise occupied.
But recently, Tyree had been assigned to Marc. Elshal saw it as a demotion, but Tyree considered it an honor to guard the Queen's prize.
The two of you walked silently in step to Marc's chambers, and you were pleased to see Tyree not at the door, but asleep where she should be. Lieutenant Rena stood proudly at attention as you approached, but her eyes cut to her captain as she wondered if she missed an order to bring the concubine to the queen.
"Lieutenant," you greeted with a small smile, "I will join my concubine. See to it that the captain retires." You reached to grasp Elshal's arm, so she did not feel you were disappointed. "I thank you for your loyalty and your service. Please reassign the shifts and get some rest."
Lieutenant Rena idolized Elshal, and could only hope one day to receive such personal warmth from the queen.
As unusual as it was for a queen to visit a concubine's chambers, it did happen on occasion. Marc's chamber was small, but adequate. Beautifully furnished and by far the nicest quarters he'd ever known.
You slipped in quietly, hoping not to startle him. You found him staring out his window, whispering softly. Hesitating, you listened before announcing yourself, in case he was praying.
You heard him utter the name Steven, followed by the assurance that Steven could talk to him if he were there. Not wishing to intrude into a private moment, you cleared your throat and spoke his name.
He flinched, gasping out before quickly bowing.
"I didn't mean to startle you. Forgive me." You drifted toward him carefully, removing your outer cloak.
Eyes frantically scanning around you, Marc checked for your Queensguard, wondering if you were here to seize him. But surely he would be brought to you. Why were you here? Alone?
"You could not sleep either," you went on, soothingly caressing his forearm, drawing it slowly around your waist. Waiting until he graced you with his beautiful, moonlit eyes, you slipped into his arms, pressing your silk covered breasts against his bare chest.
His mind struggling to keep up with the sensations in his body, Marc inhaled shakily. "No, I could not sleep. Should I have come to you?"
"Yes, I should have summoned you." Slipping your arms around his neck, you twirled your fingers into his thick mess of curls. "But I am here now. Are you not pleased to see me?"
The breadth of his chest expanded with labored breath, which passed through his plush, pliable lips. "Always pleased. And...terrified. Begging your forgiveness," he whispered, hands bunching the soft silk covering the curve of your back.
"Why terrified?" You whispered, breath curling alongside his cheek.
Folding you closer, Marc touched his forehead to yours. "I thought you were here to arrest me. But I do not see your guard."
"No," you murmured, pulling his flimsy nightclothes away from his waist. "We are alone and free from interruption."
Marc hissed, gasping out as you caressed up the hardening length of him. Emboldened by your touch and the privacy between you, he pulled loose the tie of your robe and reached to push it from your shoulders. It pooled at your feet, separating your bodies for an agonizing moment before you crashed into one another, hands gripping, mouths fusing, bodies grinding.
You didn't make it two steps toward the bed before you sank to the floor, taking his body inside yours as you tumbled down, writhing wildly together.
Marc groaned at the sudden sensation of your wet heat sucking him in, disoriented by the darkness and delirious with desire. He gripped your shoulders as you rode him furiously, cursing before moaning out your name. Your real name.
"Say it again," you ordered, harshly panting as you worked yourself over him, rolling your body deliciously as he impaled you deeply. Pushing your fingers into his hair, you pulled, using the leverage to rock faster.
Marc's head fell back, exposing the corded column of his throat, while you licked and sucked as he murmured your name again and again. Your body seized in pleasure, which you chased with abandon, using his beautiful body to service you.
The clench of you around his length, the sounds of your ecstasy took him over the edge with you, and you mewled in delight as he spurted hot and wet inside you.
Your bodies collapsed in a boneless heap, sated and wet and spent. Panting harshly as you lay together, coming back to yourselves, Marc felt you shiver as the late night air kissed your skin.
He tried to speak but numb, syrupy, fizzing pleasure kept him on the floor beneath you. He gave into it, holding you and breathing for long, indulgent moments before finally reaching for your silk robe. He pulled it across your back, covering you tenderly.
"My queen should not remain on the floor," he whispered, smoothing his hands up and down your body as he tucked the robe around you.
"Do not advise the queen when she is enraptured," you murmured out a protest.
"The queen is very stubborn, I'm afraid," Marc lowly teased on your ear. 'If she will permit me to say so."
Lifting your head, you smiled at him lazily. "The queen does not have the stamina to silence you."
Pleased that you allowed him to speak plainly, Marc caressed your cheek, bringing your mouth to his. "Will you let me take you to bed? I want to hold you. This floor is too cold."
Pushing yourself up and stretching like a satisfied cat, you nodded. "Yes, take me to bed. I am too weary to return to my chambers."
Moments later, sated and cleaned up and tucked side by side in Marc's bed, you reveled in the feel of your lover's body against you, his arms enclosed around you, his warm breath on your neck.
"I will not send you away," you whispered as the two of you drifted off. "Only, do not betray me. Never do that."
"Never," he swore.
next chapter
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mine masterlist • marc masterlist • moon knight masterlist • main masterlist
