tags: rated T for teasing, domestic fluff, author does not condone touching people's hair without permission, no use of Y/N
wc: 1,078
fic summary: Marc, are you familiar with the term "silver fox"?
A/N: i might have a problem lol
_____________________
“Put. It. Down.”
Marc Spector does not startle easily. So when he nearly falls from his perch beside the bathtub, you’re surprised you have to steady him.
“Jesus, where’s the fire?” Marc picks up the towel and small cardboard box he’d dropped because of your outburst.
Shifting your focus, you zero in on the latter: hair dye, just as you’d suspected.
“So this is what you get up to when I’m away?” You tut, cradling his temples and shaking your head. "What happened to you?"
"What? Nothing, I'm-"
"-I wasn't talking to you," you sigh, resting your forehead against the crown of his head. "How long has he been treating you like this, you poor things?"
“Ha-ha.”
You release his face to study it. "But seriously, how long have you been dying your hair?”
“... For a couple of years. Started to turn gray from stress a while back, and I guess it never stopped.” He fidgets with the loose edge of the container.. “You really never noticed?”
You take the box and set it beside him. “You hid it well.”
You’re not judging him for dying his hair, it’s just… surprising. Marc’s never been one to fuss over his appearance, as far as you could tell. When you first saw his closet, you’d half expected it to be lined with the same outfit ten times, like in a cartoon. Most days, “dressing up” means adding a jacket or blazer.
“Since when do you care? About your hair, I mean.”
He shrugs. “I’m not gettin’ any younger, honey.”
“Neither am I.” You kiss the bridge of his nose. “You got a problem with that?”
“Of course not.”
“Good. Goes double for me, don’t you forget it.” Leaning in, Marc tries for another kiss, but you duck and grab the hair dye before turning away with a mischievous smirk.
“Gotta keep you honest,” you wink and dart out of the room before he can catch you.
_____________________
"Love?"
"Hm?"
"Might fall out if you keep playing with it like that.”
You’d been standing behind Steven for the past couple of minutes, meaning to check in on his preparations for his morning tour but had gotten distracted. Very distracted.
“Sorry,” you sigh, your fingers leaving the wisps of hair at the nape of his neck and trailing down to his shoulder. “It’s just… hm.”
Your conversation with Marc must have taken root: over the past few weeks, you’ve noticed the hair that had been dangerously close to another round of boxed dye abuse steadily turning lighter. A subtle blend of silver strands mix with the darker curls that frame his face, making his hair shine a bit brighter in the light of the desk lamp.
“It’s like starlight,” you finally state, leaning in to rest your head against his.
Steven sputters and puts his book aside. “Starli- that’s a bit much, yeah?” His brow furrows, but there’s no denying the smile tugging at his lips.
“Not if it’s true,” you contend. You adjust the reading glasses that had slid down his face and tuck a stray curl behind his ear. “It’s a good look on you.”
There’s no denying the heat rising to his cheeks when you talk. “This– you don’t–” Steven caves and sets his book down, hopelessly flustered. “Either go away or get over here. Cheeky.”
He makes room for you to settle into his lap, which you giddily accept. Your hands sink back into his curls and he shivers as you scratch his scalp.
“Did I ever tell you I had a thing for my professor, once upon a time?”
“Oh my days–”
You’re not sure who kisses who, but you’re certainly not complaining. Neither is he.
_____________________
The time apart has been agony.
You check your phone for the fifth time this evening. They’ve been gone for what feels like months (it’s been weeks) handling some business in California, of all places. Marc said he’d call when they were on their way home, meaning no news is sad news.
You’re pulled from your pity party by a knock on the door. It’s late, and you’ve already signed for your dinner delivery. Slowly, you get up and grab the bat you keep by the entrance (with a sock slipped over the end per Jake’s advice).
The knocking continues, getting more urgent. You take a deep breath and look through the peephole. A large brown eye stares back and you yelp, dropping your bat. The unmistakable boom of Jake’s belly laughter mocks you from behind the door.
“You’re hilarious,” you groan, standing the bat back on its head and unlocking the door.
You’re ready to lay into him when you open the door, but you’re stunned into silence. Jake’s smile is highlighted by silvery stubble, dusted with black. He adjusts his cap as his dark eyebrows raise in mock surprise.
“What, no hello?”
You tear your eyes away from his jaw. “Hm? Oh. Hi.” You open the door wider for him to step in. “Marc said you’d call first.”
“No fun in that, is there? Besides, you looked ready to handle some trouble.” he shrugs off his coat as you lock the door behind him.
“Trouble, yes. Nuisance, debatable.” You sidle up to him and drape your arms around his waist. You place a kiss on his cheek; it’d be impossible for him to not notice how you let yours drag along the rough line of his jaw.
“I missed you too,” he laughs again. “But man, is it warm in here…”
He tosses his cap and it takes everything in him to not lose it when your eyes widen at the sight of his hair, now more gray than black and curls longer than you’ve seen them before. You’re too enraptured to be embarrassed at your obvious loss for words.
“Your hair…” You reach up to touch it, but Jake grabs your wrist.
“Tsk, tsk, you threaten and barely say a word to me, then go straight for the goods without so much as a ‘please’? What happened to decorum, hm?”
“You fucking tease,” you huff. “...please?”
“Well, since you asked nicely–” Jake can barely finish his thought before your lips are on his, your hand tangled in his starlit hair as soon as he lets go.
“I take it we should cancel Marc’s haircut?” he murmurs as you catch your breath.
Your free hand grazes the scruff on his cheek and you grin. “I wouldn’t complain if you did.”
_____________________
A/N: marvel you cowards give us gray-haired moon knight
addtl tags: @mrs-lockley @lunar-ghoulie @shadystarlightgentlemen @casa-boiardi @nerdieforpedro @queerponcho (lmk if you'd like to be added to/removed from this wee tag list)
Sooooo I've been wanting to share this since December!
Ignore the crappy quality of the pictures, the wrinkles in The Boys, and the unevenness -- as you can tell my kitten - Rumi Moon -- kept trying to help me take these pictures.
I wanted to share because one of the potential prizes for @moonknight-events MK Bingo are one of these sweatshirts. A girl decided she did not want to Wait to see if she won bingo -- she wanted to sit in bed wearing one of her husbands' sweatshirts WHILE she wrote said Bingo prompts -- SOPE she bought herself the Spector sweatshirt, got the Lockley sweatshirt for Christmas from her sister, AND got the Grant sweatshirt from her best friend for Christmas.
In case this is still one of the prizes for MK Bingo -- I wanted to share that these are completely customizable, you choose the name you want, and the color of the text and the fabric. They range in size all the way up to Unisex 5X which are what these are. As far as the sizing goes, some sweatshirt colors run bigger than others. I'm a big girl and Marc's which is in the color "Ash" is super nice and roomy. Steven's and Jake's are a little bit more snug even though all three of these are Unisex 5X. They DO have more than just grayscale colors -- originally I was gonna get Steven's in "Sand" but they were out of that color in my size. I saw a beautiful Jake version with black fabric and purplish pink text. If I'm not mistaken you can even use like a hex code color of your choice.
I will say -- as you can see -- Marc's text in black fades pretty quickly. I have worn him the most cause he's the most Comfy so more washes of his, but it was noticeable even after the first wash. So beware that there is some fading that happens.
They're all SUPER soft and cozy and warm. So IF you're thinking this is the prize you want come the end of the MK Event, I can vouch that they are WONDERFUL. And if you're like me and want to go ahead and buy yourself one -- or three -- feel free to hit me up with any questions you might have.
At this point, I don't even care if I win Bingo now, I'm in it purely for fun and for the great prompts I was given.
All my love!
@spacecowboyhotch && @juneknight feel free to reblog this and/or send me questions you might have about the ordering process for the winner in April!
prompt: Love Note
pairing: steven grant + gn!reader
summary: you've been the best thing to ever happen to steven. He loved doing so much cheesy love things with you, even writing little love notes and letters.
warning: light angst, steven being a cutie, steven speaking a little french, fluff
word count: 1.2 K
author's note: this is my second work for the Moon Knight Bingo hosted by @moonknight-events. the bingo board will be at the bottom of my fics for it. This one is a little short, but it's sweet and I just love steven grant so I hope you all enjoy this! As always, if you like it, please, please, please reblog to share it with your friends! also i'm starting my tag list over so if you'd like to be tagged in future fics for specific characters or for this event or for all fics, tell me in my asks and I'll add you to the list!
Steven Grant has always been a romantic. It’s in his DNA, he’s convinced. He loves the idea of love, the idea of unashamedly showing and professing the love that you feel to the person you feel it for. He’s proud to admit that he has seen just about every rom-com out there. He never misses a new Hallmark movie – yes, he knows the acting isn’t good, and that they’re cheap and silly, but they’re reliable. Love always prevails in them.
Sure, there’s probably a reason that Steven has a romantic heart. If he had to guess, he’d probably say it comes from his relationship with his mother. I mean, Steven was born from Marc’s lack of love from his mother; Steven was there to see all the good times with Wendy, he got to experience all the love from his mother, while Marc took all the times she didn’t love. Perhaps Steven liked the idea of someone loving them unconditionally. Perhaps it was the very concept that someone could love them both, that one of them wouldn’t have to take the bad days, or the days that lacked love, because there wouldn’t be days that lacked love.
Perhaps that’s what made Steven fall in love with you so quickly. Because from the start, he knew you would love all of them, not just one part of them. Even if there were bad days, or hard days, you were still here, showing that you still loved them. It was mind-altering, especially for Marc. But for Steven, it meant the world.
Especially, because now he had someone to express all his love to, someone who appreciated all the ways Steven liked to show his love, no matter how cheesy or silly they were. You adored everything he did.
Steven knew you kept all his gifts. They were in a box in your closet. It was full of date receipts, jewelry, drawings, poems, and all other things he’d gifted you throughout your relationship. One thing that he could never find was all the love notes he left for you. You always say you love them, but he never sees them anywhere. And even though he knows you would never do such a thing, the bad part of his brain wonders if you throw them away, or if you tuck them away and forget about them.
That is until one day. You were in the shower while he was combing through your bookshelf, seeing if you had any new books for him to read. And there’s a book he doesn’t recognize. Have you always had this book? It looks almost like a binder, like a notebook that’s meant to pass as regular book. Should he open it? He supposes it couldn’t hurt. If you didn’t want anyone to read it, you wouldn’t leave it out. And even if he isn’t supposed to read it, he’ll take the blame for nosing around.
Pulling it from the shelf, he flips it open, seeing that there’s pages but they each have sheet protectors on them. Pulling out his glasses, he reads the first page, and he realizes what this is. Thumbing through the rest of the pages, he looks and sees the rest of the protected pages in the book.
His love notes.
You had all of them, sitting on your bookshelf, protected in this little book. Emotion wells in his eyes as he reads them over, feeling relief flood through him as he now knows you did like them, you kept all of them, and you kept them on your bookshelf for anyone and everyone to find it and read it.
“Took you long enough to find it,” your voice sounds from behind him, making him slam the book shut and whirl around, like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t have.
“What?”
“I’m surprised you haven’t found that before now. Figured it would be the first thing you read when you started reading my books,” you chuckle, walking over to him, your wet hair framing your face as you’re wrapped in a towel. You must’ve used him soaps, he can smell it.
“What do you mean?”
“I left that book out for a while for you to find. On the table, the nightstand, almost everywhere. But you never mentioned it, so I figured you never looked at it. It figures that you’d find it as soon as I put it on the bookshelf.”
Steven didn’t really have any words, wasn’t sure what to say. He just looked down at the book, reading over the words that he had written to you.
“You kept them,” he says softly. It’s not really a question since he can clearly see that you did. But you answered anyways.
“Of course, I did.”
“Why?” he finds himself asking. Obviously, it was because you loved him. But he can’t keep himself from asking, as if the notion baffles him.
On some level it does baffle him. The letters themselves are silly, elementary. But still you kept them, even though anyone else would not have wanted to keep such childish things.
“Because you wrote them. You took the time to write down the way you felt. Because they’re from you,” you said like it was simple. Because, to you, it was simple. You loved Steven, so you wanted to keep every little thing he gave you.
He looked at you softly for a moment, just looking at you. What did he do to deserve someone like you?
“What?” you ask softly.
“Nothing, love, just… thinking about how lucky I am to have you.”
“Funny, I think that same thing every time I read those letters,” you chuckle, slipping your arms around his waist.
“Every time? What do you mean?”
“I read them a lot. Mostly at night before I go to sleep,” you admit.
“Really? Why?”
You looked at him with a curious glance, but you looked so patient and amused. “Because they’re from you. They make me feel loved and comforted. They make me think of you.”
Steven’s chest tightens with emotion. Slowly, he slips his glasses off his nose and puts them back in his shirt pocket, placing the book back on the shelf as he slips his arms around your towel covered body, and he just looks at you.
“Je t'aime plus que tout,” he whispers softly as he brushes a wet strand of hair from your face to behind your ear. His heart squeezes when he sees the way you smile brightly at him. He knows that you love when he speaks French, you’ve always found it romantic and beautiful.
“I love you too, Steven,” you murmur back, leaning in to kiss him softly, which he gladly returns. When you pull back you grin and give his ass a playful squeeze. “Now go take your shower so we can read together before we go to sleep.”
“You got it, love,” he smiles wide, giggling softly as he pulls away to walk to the bathroom.
It’s still steamy in the bathroom from your hot shower, the mirror clouded over with steam. Except for the spot wiped in the center of the mirror, where Steven’s face fits perfectly in, and the words that had been written in your handwriting and Steven realizes you had left him your own love note:
Steven, You Are So Beautiful, Inside And Out. Je T’aime.
summary: those drugs your captors injected you with didn’t just knock you out, and now you need Steven’s help.
prompt: SEX POLLEN (w feelings teehee)
pairing: steven grant x fem!reader (brief mentions of marc spector)
contents: 18+/NSFW/MINORS DNI, sex pollen, dubcon, mentions of being kidnapped and drugged, masturbation (fem), unprotected sex, dirty talk, creampie, kissing, cuddling, pining friends to lovers
wc: 2k
disclaimer: as a mod/organizer of @moonknight-events, my participance in this event is purely for promotion and i will NOT be entered into the drawing for any prize.
SP BINGO 2024 | moonknight masterlist
The sound of Steven’s blood-curdling scream will forever haunt you. Even as you sit beside him now, even as he drives you far far away from your captors— as he drives past the hotel you two had been staying in for one outside of the city.
You shift in your seat, having a difficult time getting comfortable. Something inside you seems off, your skin crawling. You chalk it up to the memory of waking up to unwanted hands on your skin, of the skitter of rats near your feet, of being pushed into the corner of a room full of cobwebs. How could you feel comfortable after thinking you were dead? That you would be murdered, never seeing Steven again.
The thought has you glancing over at him once more, eyes tracing the slope of his nose.
Better now that you’re sat next to him. Far from okay. But, things will get better. One day this’ll be a distant memory, one you can hardly remember the details of, except that Steven was there.
You give him a half-hearted smile, shrugging, “Little shaken up.”
Steven reaches out to grab your hand, squeezing it gently. Where the action would usually make your heart flutter, all you can do is notice the relief it gives you. Strange.
“I’m so sorry,” He murmurs earnestly, catching your attention. “Marc was right, I shouldn’t have let you come in with me.”
“I appreciate you believing that I can handle myself. And I can, just not against 4 men that are twice my size.”
—
It grows unbearable in the shower.
You start with scalding hot water, wanting to burn and scrub the night’s events off of you. A symbolic erasing, hopefully, your mind will follow suit. It isn’t long after you’re in the shower that your skin grows feverishly hot. That uncomfortable feeling from before turns into some nagging scratch that sits deep in your belly.
“Fuck,” You breathe heavily, reaching out to turn the nob. The water turns cold, icy cold and for a few seconds, you think you’ve found some relief. You run your soapy towel over the skin of your tummy, up and over your breasts when your breath catches.
That. That feels like true relief.
It throws you— being confusingly turned on after a night like tonight. But you’d woken up groggy, maybe they’d drugged you? Maybe your body was having some strange reaction to whatever substance they’d given to knock you out.
You push those thoughts away as you discard the towel in favor of rubbing your hands over your breasts once more, biting back a soft whine. Flesh on flesh, yeah that’s better. You tug and tease your nipples, leaning back against the tile as you practically tremble from the ecstasy that begins to course through your veins.
Your first peak comes rapidly and unexpectedly just from the teasing touches. The gnawing feeling inside you subsides and you take a deep breath, reaching to turn off the water. Before your hand meets the job you're overwhelmed by that need again. It's louder this time, more consuming as it takes up more of your focus than before.
You’re sent into an orgasm-chasing frenzy, spreading your legs and dipping your fingers between your folds to rub at your clit. Each high you pull from yourself ends with you shivering and shaking, your moans echoing off the walls. But it’s not enough and you grow impatient even as you attempt to satisfy yourself again and again.
There’s a knock at the door that makes you jump, and then Steven’s voice floats through the door, “You alright in there, honey?”
Steven.
You need him. Steven could help you, he could make you feel good. You barely have the mind to turn off the water as you step out of the shower, heading straight for the door and throwing it open.
Steven’s mouth drops open, eyes going wide as he takes in the sight of you completely bared to him. He’s dreamed about this one too many times— Marc has too, but this was the last thing he’d expected when he’d come to check on you. You take a step towards him and he realizes that he’s been standing in place, ogling you.
“I—oh—um, I’ll just,” He mumbles, turning away and covering his eyes for good measure. He starts to apologize, though you were the one to present yourself this way he feels guilty. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—“
You reach for his shoulder, “No, Steven, touch me. Please, touch me, I need you.”
“Oh, gods above. I can’t just…on a night like tonight, where you’ve been made vulnerable,” He reasons, though he doesn’t move out of your hold.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me but Steven, I need you to help me. Please,” You whisper desperately, stepping forward to press your body against his.
Steven whimpers, shuddering when he feels the way you lean in to bury your nose in his curls and inhale his scent. How you’re affecting him so deeply when you’re the one begging is beyond him. He feels helpless— to you and your needs. Helpless to the feelings that have been blooming inside of him for you since the moment he and Marc had laid their eyes on you.
“Help you?” He murmurs, voice lying somewhere between caution and eagerness.
“Touch me. Take me. Make me cum on your cock,” You whisper into his ear, letting your hands run up and down his arms.
Steven gives out a rough laugh, “Honey are you—“
“Sure. I’m so sure, Steven. I’ve wanted this so long just please,” You ramble, not caring that you’re exposing the crush you’ve been nursing.
Steven ignores the way Marc tells him to resist— he can detect the jealousy, the longing in his alter’s urging. He ignores honor and dignity and manners, turning around to scoop you into his arms. His mouth is hungry as it skates across your skin to find one of your nipples. He sucks feverishly, one of his hands dipping to slip fingers between your folds. You keen at his touch, spreading your legs wide for him. It almost makes him dizzy, the way you’re giving him so much power. But you’ve trusted him with taking care of you and he refuses to mess this up.
“God, you’re so slick, darling. Did you touch yourself? It wasn’t enough?” He murmurs, guiding you back into the bathroom and against the wall.
“No. Made myself cum so many times,” You breathe, gripping his curls and pressing his face more firmly against your chest.
Steven gets the message, taking turns swirling his tongue around both your nipples. His hand doesn’t stop, teasing your clit in time with his mouth.
“Gotta take good care of you then, yeah?” He mumbles between flicking his tongue over your stiff bud.
You nod eagerly, chest heaving up into his mouth, “Yeah, with your cock Steven.”
“What are my mouth and fingers not good enough?” He teases, even as he uses his free hand to drop his boxers and sweats. They bunch around his knees, and he doesn’t bother to take them off fully— somehow growing just as needy and desperate as you are in a matter of minutes.
“Good enough and not enough.”
“Sounds a little impossible, doesn’it?” He asks with a soft chuckle.
You glare up at him, growing entirely too impatient. “Never took you as a tease, I always imagined I’d be Marc.”
“You’re certainly right, I just want you to be sure,” He admits as he hoists you up against the wall with ease, wrapping your legs around his hips.
You groan in frustration, pivoting your hips up greedily, “I am sure, and I’m also pretty sure I’ll spontaneously combust if you don’t fuck me right now.”
“Love a headstrong girl,” He whispers into your ear, rubbing the head of his cock against your clit in a move that makes you shiver. You open your mouth the beg him once more but then he’s pushing himself deep inside of you, spreading you open.
“Steven,” You mewl softly, mouthing at the curve of his jaw, eyes rolling back at the taste of his skin.
“I’ve got you, love, right here, gonna make you feel so so good,” He reassures you with gentle rocks of his hips. His head dips and then his mouth is on yours, the hunger inside of him much more apparent as he devours you.
This is scratching the itch, the sweet drag of his cock through your walls starts to alleviate that gnawing inside of you in a way your fingers couldn’t. You kiss him back with matched fervor, hands running up his arms and shoulders to knot in his curly hair, holding him to you so that you can take and take and take. You need every drop of him—every taste, every inch of him, every touch. You need…more.
“Harder.”
Steven tightens his grip on your hips, sinking more firmly onto his heels so he can increase the intensity of his thrusts. It still isn’t enough.
“Deeper,” You whine, tugging his head back by your hold on his curls.
His head falls back into your grasp, his speech soft and breathy, “Darling—“
“Fuck me, Steven. Like you mean it.”
With your spurring, Steven pins you more firmly against the wall with his chest, dropping one of his hands to your cunt so that he can open you up for him even more. His thrusts grow even harder as he reaches deeper inside you, the tip of his cock pressing against the spot inside of you that makes you a little breathless. He can feel the way this change makes you tighten around him, and he groans, pleasure blooming more urgently in his groin. He’s getting close and he can only hope that you are too.
“God, that’s fucking good,” You gasp, resting your head back against the wall as the room begins to spin.
“So good, love, so tight and sweet,” He agrees, kissing his way down the column of your throat. He marvels at how soft and supple your skin is against his lips. “Perfect little pussy, can’t believe you're letting me have it.”
“Make me soak your cock,” You beg, guiding his mouth to yours again, desperate to taste him again. His mouth is so soft, lips full that feel perfect against your own like the two of you were made to fit together like this.
If he wasn’t completely focused on you before, he is now. Every thought in his mind is on making you feel good, on giving you exactly what you need. He rubs your clt with his thumb this time, with firm but gentle pleasure, and you fall apart around him like it's your destiny. You still find yourself unsatisfied, needy for something but before you can say anything Steven cums, gritting his teeth as he continues to fuck you, making sure that his seed is nice and deep. It's only then, when you feel him filling you with warmth that a strange sense of peace washes over you. You’ve never felt more satiated in your life.
“Fucking hell,” He breathes, resting his forehead against yours.
“Thank you. That was— thank you,” You murmur, pressing another kiss to his lips.
Steven kisses you back eagerly, sure that this is it. That it’ll be the last time he gets to kiss and hold you like this, his last taste of your mouth. The last warmth of your smooth skin. He guides himself out of you and then lowers you both to the floor. He tries to let go of you and give you some space, but you get comfortable in his arms, pressing your cheek to his.
“Is this okay?” You ask tentatively, not meeting his gaze.
Steven brings you more firmly against him, dropping a tender kiss onto your forehead, “It's perfect.”
[𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓶𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓼𝓽'𝓼 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽]
[ 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐊𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 ]
AO3 | SPOTIFY | PINTEREST
summary ☾
⤏ khonshu was unfamiliar with the concept of self-care, but it would seem that he's unexpectedly well-versed in others.
pairing(s) ☽ khonshu/reader | promises kept!verse
word count ☾ 2.9k
a/n ☽
⤏ my fourth entry for the moon knight bingo hosted by @juneknight and @spacecowboyhotch over at @moonknight-events. I will eventually crosspost this to the main fic for promises kept on ao3 when it will best fit the chronological progression of the chapters.
⤏ this took a turn I didn't anticipate. khonshu kind of got away from me, tbh. have a flirty old bird I guess? (@angel-of-the-moons I feel like you might enjoy this one.🤭)
☽ MASTERPOST ☾
☾ PREVIOUS ENTRY ⤎ ☥ ⤏ NEXT ENTRY ☽
What are you doing?
The rumbled words emerged from the shadows hemmed up in the corners of the bathroom more like a disinterested observation than a question.
“Would you care to take a guess?” you offered, opening your eyes and glancing towards the dimly lit silhouette having knelt in front of the door.
The warm, humid room was cramped and ill-suited for more than one person to occupy it at one time, but that fact didn’t seem to have stopped Khonshu from materializing at your side—likely in pursuit of tracking down your exact location since you weren’t in the living room or your bedroom like you usually were at this hour. It was a slow night in London, for once—the police channels had been quiet all evening, so you hadn’t felt the need to be prepared for the moon god’s urgent beck and call. Ru was winding down from school and homework with Lizzie watching her favorite baking show, and your portable speaker played music at the necessary volume to disguise your murmured responses to the lunar deity’s incredulity.
Bathing. In the dark. He tilted his skull. The electricity is not malfunctioning.
“It’s meant to be relaxing.” You raised a hand out of the steaming water to indicate the row of flickering candles lining the broad posterior lip of the tub flush against the wall. “And I can see perfectly well.”
He leaned forward, hands planted on his thighs not unlike a child, and you noticed that his staff was propped against the door frame. You are…self-soothing?
He must have picked up that term recently, as you’d definitely never heard him use it before. “Sort of. More like self-care. Liz offered to keep Ru entertained so I could get a breather until supper’s ready.”
Hmm. Khonshu sank back into his haunches. So you simmer yourself…and to what end?
You chuckled, pulling your legs up and folding your arms across the tops of your knees—modesty was a foreign concept to the ancient being, having associated with a culture that dwelled in the desert and thus rarely utilized complete coverings save to block the harshest of sunlight—and while you’d mostly grown accustomed to his penchant for invading your privacy at inopportune times, you didn’t particularly want to explain the entire premise to him with your chest on full display. “Hot water benefits the human body in many ways—relaxed muscles, improved moods, and the like—not to mention the positive effects of aromatherapy and inhalation of steam.”
Is that why you’re steeping a tea bag?
“It was a bathbomb wrapped in cloth with flowers and stuff in it—that’s why the water’s purple. It’s scented with lavender and chamomile. Smell it?”
How could I not? It has fumigated the entire room.
You shrugged. “At least it’s nice—better than BO, anyway.”
His shoulders scrunched in the only approximation of a frown you’d been able to determine. I see little point in any of this frivolity.
“Have you ever had a spa day, Khonshu?”
The inexpressive dimensions of his skull could not morph to adapt to his dripping dubiety, but it didn’t have to—his once uncanny stillness spoke enough to it.
“It’s nice,” you continued, ignoring his skeptical grunt. “With all those priests and priestesses fawning over you in your temples, I figured you’d have been pampered a time or two over the course of several thousand years.”
We were only allowed to interact directly with our avatars—we oftentimes utilized them as oracles, or spoke to the priesthood through statues, visions, dreams, or signs. Khonshu pushed his shoulders back. They would tend to our sculptures and reliefs as if they were our bodies, make offerings to them, enact rituals in our names, but…nothing quite like this.
“That’s a shame. I think a deep-tissue massage would do you a lot of good.” You reached for the exfoliator and the bar of soap and lathered up the perforated weave in order to scrub yourself so you’d at least look semi-productive. “Maybe some moisturization wouldn’t hurt…last time I saw your elbows, they looked crusty as hell.”
At first you thought you might actually have rendered him speechless, but you should have known better—another cursory peek in his direction revealed that he was merely observing.
I do recall a similar practice, he responded, tapering his beak down towards you, although it was generally utilized in preserving the khat of the mortals that journeyed west.
You rolled your eyes. “Of course. It wouldn’t offer you much of a vast improvement, then, huh? There’s not a whole lot I could do for a mummified bird.”
Khonshu scoffed, but said no more.
You began to wash your body in earnest, starting with your face, then moved down your neck, shoulders, arms, torso, pelvis, legs, and feet. You tried to reach around to tend to your back in the same way, but you winced as the action tugged at sore muscles beneath your shoulder blade—a scuffle with a carjacker the night before had resulted in him collapsed unconscious in the street, and you hadn’t trusted the police not to run him over in their haste to capture him (as well as a glimpse of you in their ever-persistent effort in pinning down the identity of their local do-gooder vigilante), so you’d had to drag him onto the sidewalk with…mixed results. The man had been big enough that he could have carried the car away with him, if the whim had so struck him, instead of hot-wiring it.
Allow me.
You startled as Khonshu’s hand curled over your arm to grasp the porous swatch of sudsy material. You watched, enraptured, as the gauze binding his flesh receded like sand slipping through an hourglass to reveal the pockmarked, ashen skin underneath—but you had only a glimpse before he withdrew with the stretched loofa.
Give me your back.
You twisted adjacent to the length of the tub and leaned forward obediently, deigning not to comment upon it. You supposed that wet wrappings wouldn’t be a pleasant sensation for anybody.
Khonshu imitated your earlier actions, although he was unexpectedly gentler. He dragged the loofa in rhythmic circles from the nape of your neck steadily down, from side to side, to the small of your back—then, to your continued surprise, he placed the fabric on your thigh before cupping his hands in the water and pouring it over your skin to wash away the suds. He then wiped away the rest, the roughened texture of his fingers softened by the soap and water, the pliability of your skin, although you noticed this touch lingered far longer.
You said nothing as he began to explore the typography of your spine and ribcage, seemingly subconsciously. To be such a hardass about almost everything, as well as an unforgiving sparring partner, you had almost forgotten how careful he could be. A foolish notion, really, as you were fully aware of how he treated Ru like porcelain on the verge of shattering—he always had. The methodicality of it lulled you into a trance-like state, your eyelids drooping as you leaned into both of his hands, now working in tandem to press and stroke the tension out of your muscles.
…When was the last time someone had touched you like this? You couldn’t recall. Your ex-husband hadn’t usually utilized this intimate a method of aftercare, even while you’d been trying for a baby. You’d been too busy with Ru and chores during the day to schedule an appointment, although you suspected that a deep-tissue would do you a world of good—Khonshu’s armor always healed your wounds if you wore it long enough, but it still often left you stiff if you’d hyperextended yourself during combat.
Khonshu dug the heel of his palm into that one incredibly tender catch under your shoulder blade. You sucked in a breath and winced, your entire back going rigid against the pain that lanced up into your neck. His displeased grunt was much closer to your ear than you’d anticipated, and you opened your eyes to glance up at him out of your periphery to see that he’d hunched over you.
You did not tell me that you were still in pain, he finally rumbled sternly. Why did you release the armor before you were healed?
“I am healed,” you told him, “just a little sore. It’s normal. I guess it doesn’t stitch everything back together exactly where it was before.”
He grumbled in refutation, but tapped his fingertips against the arch of your spine. Relax. It will only grow worse if you are tense.
“It’s not exactly—comfortable!” you squeaked, jerked forward to avoid the insistent digging of his fingers.
Of all the methods he could have used to steady you, reaching up and curling the length of his hand around the column of your throat was decidedly not what you would ever have expected. Your pulse leapt against the perfectly measured, unoppressive pressure he applied, and—in spite of the copious amount of heat flooding your face—you had to admit that it worked to keep you as still as a statue.
An inexplicable warmth—tingly like the slow creep of magic his armor provided to alleviate your wounds, but far more concentrated (and if you didn’t know any better, you’d have remarked that it almost felt like lidocaine)—wreathed his free hand as he began to knead the tightness out of the problem spot. You groaned softly as he did so, the vibration of the sound resonating through his hand and tickling your throat in turn, squeezing your eyes shut as you twitched on reflex to avoid the pain. Even with his magic’s numbing ability, the injury must have been worse than you’d initially anticipated because it swept right around the curve of your ribs and under—
“Hey!” you gasped, lurching away from those long, beguiling fingers as he followed the muscle to your torso and almost brushed the underside of your breast. This caused the blade of his palm to dig into your jugular, pitching your voice into a broken, if muffled, squeal. “Whoa, watch it—that’s off-limits!”
You’ve a rib out of place, he deadpanned.
“I could have my sacrum detached from my pelvic girdle, but that doesn’t mean I’d let you fondle my ass to fix it, either,” you hissed, trying to pull away, in vain.
Why must you be so stubborn? he groused, pressing his palm into your side directly over the rib in question. His soothing power sank into your body, and you had a hard time resisting the relief it brought. I had no intention of groping you.
You’d thought your face couldn’t grow any hotter, but you were promptly proven wrong. You told yourself that it was strictly the proximity of another person that was causing your uncontrollable reaction, that it had been years since the last time you’d been in such a compromising and vulnerable situation, not that it was Khonshu specifically. (You had always been shit at lying, even to yourself, admittedly.) “I, uh…sorry. Just…wasn’t expecting that.”
I did not mean to startle you. The curve of his beak descended over the slope of your opposite shoulder and the golden, emblematic crescent moon bound over his chest brushed against your back. …Just know that if I ever touched you in such a manner, there is no question that you would be anticipating it, Srit mwt.
You mouthed a curse and dropped your head as much as you could manage with him still holding you in place in hopes to hide your utter mortification. He should not have been having this effect on you. Khonshu was many things, but sexual was not a word you had mentally associated with him at any point.
You remembered, idly, that your research into his mythos had revealed that he was regarded as a god of fertility.
“Uh-huh,” you responded lamely, swallowing and surrendering to him just so that it would be over sooner. You’d planned on soaking for a while after washing up to enjoy the hot water, but now all you wanted to do was curl up in bed and scream into your pillow until your heart stopped drumming itself into a tattoo against the inside of your thoracic cavity.
Then the god of the moon had the the nerve—the fucking gall—to chuckle; a low, raspy noise that carried into your ribcage like a subwoofer ricocheted sound through a vehicle. You needn’t worry. I do not extend such invitations lightly…and I am not particularly inclined to commence anything that could not be completed.
Fuck. Honestly.
You were familiar with the banter the pair of you had shared over the years of serving as his avatar, but you’d never known him to…was he flirting with you, or were you imagining things? Surely not. He despised humans, humanity in general, thought himself above mere mortals to the point that he only associated with whomever he’d selected to be his Fist at any given time (as far as you were aware, anyway).
This was new. It was foreign and unexpected and completely out of character for him. Just when you’d thought you had pinned down his personality, he’d gone and revealed another aspect of himself—like a phase of the celestial body he represented. It didn’t make you uncomfortable, per se (quite the opposite, in fact, if you were to be totally honest with yourself; you’d made somewhat suggestive remarks to him in passing before, mostly for humor’s sake, but he’d never before responded in kind), but it was disarming you in a way for which you never could have prepared yourself.
He had seen you naked before—numerous times, in fact, much to your chagrin, since he couldn’t be bothered to at least knock on something before he appeared out of thin air—but he’d never acted like he’d even noticed your body, nor had he ever cared about the modern concept of modesty. You’d learned to live with it, had grown accustomed to him appearing at the most inopportune of moments. You’d just assumed that he might not even feel any attraction whatsoever, or at least not towards you.
Was that assumption incorrect? Had you misread his body language all this time? Was he just worryingly skilled at hiding any reactions he could have had? You hadn’t a clue—you didn’t know what to think, especially since you swore you could feel each individual crease on his cool, coarse palms against your heated flesh. He was a dominant entity, controlling out of necessity given the nature of his creed, but you’d never thought that it could carry over into a context quite like this.
…Of course, you’d never thought he’d offer to help you bathe, either, but here you were: naked, wet, and as vulnerable as one could be, trying very hard to hide exactly what he was doing to you simply by touching you comparatively chastely in sharp contrast to what the tone of his voice might have indicated.
You cleared your throat, realizing that you’d been quite a little too long. You could almost hear his smug grin—if he were even capable of displaying it in his primary, decayed shape. “...Thanks. For the…for the help. I feel a lot better now.”
Impatient, as always, he tutted. Just a moment.
“No, really, I’m good, you’ve worked your ma—gic!”
The sharp, high noise that escaped you as his hand compressed your rib and set it back in place with a dull click was worse than you could’ve imagined. Khonshu, mercifully, withdrew as quickly as he’d approached, leaving you reeling and dazed. You sucked in a breath, gritting your teeth against the urge to cringe, and probed your side experimentally.
There. That wasn’t so bad, now was it, hmm?
“If you weren’t a literal deity that could smite me from this plane of existence, I would offer you some very choice words on the quality of your bedside manner.”
That has never restricted you before. Khonshu’s spindly form creaked as he stood and straightened to his full height (or as close to it as was possible, given the bathroom’s low ceiling), leaving you shivering in the humid air he stirred in his wake. Although I doubt you will complain that I finished the job that you failed to allow the armor to finish.
“Well,” you started indignantly, “I guess I can count on you to finish everything I don’t, then, huh?”
A beat of silence passed, and that was arguably worse than anything he could’ve said in reply.
You dropped your head into your hands and groaned. “Forget I said that.”
He had the audacity to laugh at you. Should you ever require assistance, he crooned, all you need do is to call my name. I will hear you at any time or place.
You reached a hand back to deliver him a solitary finger, refraining from the urge to crawl into the drain and drown yourself. “I think I’ve had about enough of you tonight, thanks.”
If that’s all you can take, then I worry that you couldn’t—
“Shut,” you ground out, “the fuck up.”
Khonshu laughed as he slipped back into whatever the hell sort of fifth dimension he lived in when he wasn’t plaguing you with his insufferability.
You and Steven go ice skating and accidentally stimulate Steven, but let's be honest, it wouldn't take much to turn that sweetheart on. This is part of @moonknight-events Bingo. There is no description of the reader and no use of y/n.
I used Google translate for the French words
Quelle surprise - I'm surprised
Oui mon amor- yes my love
Salope- bitch.
Please enjoy and feel free to comment and reblog ❤️
Warnings:-
⚠️ 🔞 🤬 over 18s only
Male receiving oral, cum eating.
Word Count:- 1290
London in winter time is a mixture of miserable bitter weather and fun activities. You're currently standing at the bottom step of the National Art Gallery wait for Steven, who, as per usual, is running late. You let out a chuckle as Steven stumbles out from behind a Victorian Greco column for the Galleries stunning entrance, the lights dancing of the creamy stonework, making the building stand out against the velvety inky sky of evening.
Your warm breath making patterns in the cold air as you call his name Steven stops in front of you, looking exasperated and dishevelled. You smile up at him, taking in his rosy cheek, goofy smile, and sparkling dark eyes, a stray chocolate curl popping out of his Egyptian hieroglyphic patterned woolly hat.
“Hiya love” he says excitedly, kissing you and rubbing his nose against yours as he speaks. “You ready, my love?”
“Yep sweetheart. I’ve been looking forward to this all day.” You reply as you zip his navy jacket up and sort his scarf. “That’s better. Can’t have you freezing on me, sweetheart.” You giggle as Stevens face flushed “sorry love. Didn’t have time inside to get sorted because of Donna.”
"Quelle surprise," you mutter. Steven smiles happily “Oui mon amour” you both laugh “enough of Madame salope, she’s not spoiling our night sweetheart” Taking his hand you walk of towards Tottenham Court Road underground looking forward to your evening together.
Oyster cards at the ready you both head through the barriers to catch the tube to go to Waterloo train station. The Bakerloo line was busy commuters heading home, exasperated Christmas shoppers, and loved up couples like you and Steven heading to Hampton Court Palace. As if sensing your uncomfortableness of the busy carriage, Steven instinctively wraps his arm around you and kisses your nose, his scarf tickling your chin as you smile and snuggle against him.
At Waterloo Station, after checking your connection, the Christmassy smells moreishly filling both you and Stevens nostrils. “Come on love let’s get 2 hot chocolates for the train. You roll on the balls of your feet as you wait in line at Starbucks. Steven speaks calmly and with appreciation in his voice to the barista. As you both carry a almond milk praline hot chocolate away from the counter you hear the staff say how nice it was to deal with Steven and how they wished every customer could be like him Stevens cheeks flushing pinky red at the compliment.
“See you really are a sweet boy, sweetheart* taking his arm heading for the train to Hampton Court Palace. “I’m just me” he mumbles. Sitting on the train together, listening to Steven, listening to historical Christmas facts, and drinking the hot chocolate.
“you’re a walking encyclopaedia sweetheart. You really should go on who wants to be a millionaire” Steven, not listening, continues to chat and explain about Chanukah and his, Marc’s and Jakes beliefs. You listen carefully to him and get him to explain when you weren’t too sure. The 36 minutes of the journey pass quickly. You can listen to Steven talk for hours, loving his beautiful voice.
Once out of Hampton Court Station, the bitter air stings your face as you draw your scarf tightly around your neck. Standing at the start of the walk way up, you both look at the Palace light up and colourfully decorated as the noise of the ice skaters is hear hum of laughing, shouting and fun fill the air. You look up at Steven lovingly and squeeze his hand “Thank you for this sweetheart” The coloured lights twinkle and fade against his face and eyes, and you share a sweet and tender kiss. “anything for you love, now let’s get our skates on literally” he chuckles as you roll your eyes.
Having collected 2 pairs of ice skates you help each other to put them on as Christmas music adds to atmosphere listening happily and not paying attention as you lace up Stevens skate you unknowingly pulled him forward slightly and as you moved to stand up your nose brushes against his clothed cock and Stevens eyes flutter and a soft whimper escapes his velvety plush lips. “You ok, sweetheart?” his eyes snap open, and a look of embarrassment covers his handsome features “no love, all hunky dory” as they kiss his lips, the wetness glistening in the Christmassy lights.
You raise an eyebrow but shake it off, giggling as you walk like bambi onto the rink, grabbing onto the side as you almost fall flat. Steven follows suit, but he’s as graceful as a Swan. Soon you’re both moving in sync around the ice having fun. Hand in hand, you circle around, and, trying to be smart, you decide to try spinning, and as quick as you try, you fall on your back side. As ever your knight in shining armour Steven rushes to pick you up and the angle he’s at means your cheek brushes against his cock, his hard cock.
“Have you been hard this whole time sweetheart” licking your lips. Steven swallows hard “yeah pretty much love”
Standing up and looking at him with a soft smirk. “come with me, my love.” Skating to the edge of the rink and leaving to change your skates to your boots hurriedly with Steven and handing them back to the woman at the counter. You grab and pull Steven away and walk down a gravel path, and push him into some trees and shrubbery. The darkness engulfing you both.
Steven stammers “what you doing, love?” as you unbuckle his belt and undo his jeans pulling his hard weeping cock out his boxers giving his shaft a few strokes with left pointer and middle on top and thumb under the shaft giving just the right amount of pressure for Stevens eyes to clamp shut and his body to shiver.
“All it took was for me to accidentally rub my nose against your clothed cock and you get stimulated sweetheart?” Smirking up at him as he nods biting his lip. “have you been aching to cum my love?” Steven jerks his cock further into your fist. A soft whimper leaves his lips “please love, don’t torture me more than I already am. Please”
You kiss the head, swirling your tongue around him, tasting him, letting out a satisfied moan around him. As you start bobbing your head you feel his hand grab your hair as he starts moving you faster against him his thrusts matching as the fucks your mouth, grunting as he stops moving holding you in place as he cums covering your throat with his warm creamy seed your nostrils filled with his musky scent it still amazes you how each of them taste and smell different. You run your hand down his softening cock squeezing the last drops in your mouth before swallowing as you then tuck him back in and fastening him up.
Steven breathes heavily against the tree he’s leaning on as you stand up. He smiles and leans into you licking a dribble of his cum from the side of your mouth swallowing as he kisses you.
“That was amazing love” his cheeks all rosy as you adjust yourself, taking his hand and walking back onto the gravel path to walk to the exit and start your journey home.
“anything for you, my love, I think I should make this a yearly tradition from now?” You squeezing his hand “definitely my love. We will.” As you get to Hampton Court Station, Steven looks like he’s concentrating, which means he’s talking to Marc and Jake. “Um love! Marc and Jake want to know when it’s there turn?.”
Congratulations to the randomly selected winner of this bingo event: @reallyrallyauthor!
Each author received an entry for each bingo completed, and a winner was selected via random number generator. Thank you so much to everyone who participated! We had an excellent turnout! 🤍
Thank you @moonknight-events for organizing this and for giving me such a good bingo sheet!!! Image will be updated and fics will be added as I post them.
As with everything else on my blog, this is 18+ only so minors please do not interact even if some of these don’t have smut!
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