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exquisiteserotonin · 9 months

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In the Velvet Light

Rating: E is for Explicit - 18+ only 🔞MDNI🔞

Pairing: Steven Grant x F!Reader, Marc Spector X F!Reader, Jake Lockley x F!Reader (no use of y/n)

Word count: 4.6K

Summary: After you get off work early, you visit your boyfriend Steven, then Marc at the museum, with intention of asking him for an interesting but important request concerning your relationship

Warnings: A little bit of angst, some Spanish, dirty talk, oral sex, somewhat dubcon (if you squint), polyamory (if you squint) knife play, cunnilingus, and a lot of other things that I want to put but I don't want to put in here bc I don't want to ruin the story...just know there are very explicit adult things that happen here OK?

A/N: This is my very first Moon Knight fic and Oscar Isaac character fic. I know I have kept it to Pedro up to this point, but I definitely wanted to branch out. Hope you all love it.

And as always, so much love to my magical sluts @redhotkitchen @imalrightllama @blueheat1-blog @basicoccult @youandmeand5bucks @legendary-pink-dot @sparklefarts38 @arcanefox207

In the Velvet Light

If there were any place in the world that whispered the word peace it would be museums. This was a universal truth, no one could convince you otherwise. The cleanliness, the quiet, the vast spaces, and the tiny corners gathered all in one massive space where no one dared intrude upon the reflections taking root and growing in your brain. It didn’t matter what type of museum: art, science, history. They all gave you the perfect place to let brilliant ideas percolate.

The loud, hydraulic hiss of the bus echoed to the ears of all the passengers as rolled to a stop at the British Museum. It was a stop for locals and tourists alike and today it was yours as well. The sound and smell of the rain on the pavement greeted you as the doors of the bus opened. A breath of excited anxiety escaped you. The way that the raindrops splashed on the growing rain puddles mirrored the way your heart was beating quickly in your chest.

The majesty of the foyer and everything in it always reminded you of how much bigger and older the world really was. You walked amongst the other visitors, several smiling faces from the staff greeted you in friendly recognition.

“How are you today, love?” said a tall, burly security guard with the warmest smile.

You kissed him on either side of his brown, jovial cheeks.

“Hello Ollie, doing well today?”

“Always, love,” every word from his mouth seemed to float out full of kindness, “meeting Steven a little early today?”

A knot formed in your stomach at the question. You would meet Steven for work occasionally, just to surprise him. Today was different, you felt in every part of your body. From the moment you woke up to this moment, you’d been nervous about meeting him today. With a nod and a smile, you answered Ollie’s question and left a tiny skip in your step.

Before losing yourself in the museum, you found a moment to freshen up in the bathroom. It was quiet and dark, nearly the exact opposite of the brightness and bustle of the Great Court. You stood in front of the sink and pulled out your lipstick from your purse. A twist of the tube revealed a vivid red, a color you normally wouldn’t have chosen for yourself. As you smoothed the rich color over your lips, you kept your eyes on your reflection in the triptych style mirror. You looked from left, right, and then back to center, marveling at how different you could look in such a deep color.

I wonder if he will notice. You thought to yourself as you combed your fingers through your hair.

The black hue of your boots stood in stark contrast to the pristine white floors and walls of the court. The rain-kissed sunlight filtered through the tessellating roof, casting warm and shifting shadows on your face, neck, and shoulders. You twirled around, letting the prismatic light bathe you and your pirouetting shadow, helping you to briefly forget the feeling of excited anxiety that continued to settle in the pit of your stomach. You began to draw, doodle, and write whatever came to you, letting it flow from your veins, through the pen, and onto the paper. You laughed at the three cute little doodles you made of your boyfriend.

Nonsense. You murmured silently in your head.

The afternoon moved and with it the sunlight filtered through the roof. You followed the golden beams, like you were skipping through a creek trying to find the sunbeams hiding in the shadows cast by leaves on a tree. The little game you made to pass the time had you so engrossed that you didn’t even notice Steven standing in a single beam of sunlight that broke through the glass roof. You couldn’t help but smile seeing him, something about his face. The way his eyes were so bright and open and full of wonder at everything. He wrapped his arms around you, enveloping in an embrace full of warmth and love. You squeezed him tightly as he held you, leaning your head closely to the side of his face, nuzzling your nose into his neck and into the soft curls of his black hair. He sensed something. You knew it in the way his long fingers slowly caressed the sides of your waist as he unraveled you from his embrace. His fingers moved lovingly up your arms, until they laced themselves in your waves while his palms cupped your face.

“Did I ever tell you that I have the best girlfriend ever?” he said very matter-of-factly as the pads of his thumbs caressed the sides of your face.

“Oh my god, I had no idea!” You teased, pulling him by the lapel of his jacket. “Who is she?!”

“I don’t know, but she’s certainly never tempted me with this shade of red before,” he said, bringing gentle fingers to your chin just below your pout.

He scrunched his nose as the most charming grin situated itself on his face before he moved in to kiss you. It was so difficult to explain, but that little crinkle of his nose was something you found so endearingly irresistible about him. The gesture was so perfectly Steven and so perfectly kissable.

“I also know,” he said as he intertwined his fingers in yours as you walked towards the exit of the museum, “that you’re definitely keeping something from me.”

A secretive silence took over you as the sunlight began to wane over the glass rooftop. When he turned to you again, the beams of light waxed and waned with kaleidoscopic triangles of light and dark illuminated his chiseled face. With a light cough, you cleared your throat, a small feeling of guilt settling over your chest. There was no use in hiding things from him, considering your unique situation.

“It’s nothing bad, I promise!” You insisted as you walked outside, your steps rippling your reflections in the puddles the rain left behind. “You know I don’t keep things from you.”

“Not intentionally, no,” he said as his expression suddenly turned to confusion as you continued towards the crosswalk. “Wait, sweetheart, why’re we crossing the street?

Turning to him, you smoothed the wrinkles in his jacket and kissed him, wiping your thumb along his lips where yours had left their mark. He sucked a deep inhale into his chest, and you could see the small glimmer of yearning shine in his eyes. The rain had stopped enough to let the sunset work her magic on his olive skin, highlighting it with warm colors of gold and coral.

“Come home with me tonight,” you whispered as your lips parted from his.

A combination of excitement and trepidation filled the lines around his expressive brown eyes. It wasn’t about sex, you knew that. You had already taken that much needed step in your relationship. Sex was far from being a problem in your relationship. No, you know from how his eyes hollowed in fear that this was something much more.

“Oh, love,” he said letting go of your hands to wring his nervously, “aren’t you worried about---”

You wrapped your hands in his to alleviate some of the anxiety that lived in his shaking hands.

“Steven,” you said, keeping a steady gaze on him, “you trust me, right?”

The inner corner of his eyebrows raised up as he nodded in earnest. It was difficult for him not to hang on to every word that left your mouth. Keeping his hand in yours, you crossed the street just as a bus stopped, ready for you to embark. You led Steven towards the middle of the bus, finding two empty seats. Steven gestured for you to take a seat first. When he sat next to you, you hooked your arm under his, your hand finding its way back to hold his. He leaned towards you, turning to give your forehead a kiss before you rested your head on his shoulder.

Your eyes turned to look out the window, watching as the remaining raindrops trickled down the window. The dusky sunlight reflected off them like liquid gold.

“Why do you have such a hard time opening up to him?” The sound of a subtle New York accented voice, pressed lightly against your forehead.

In the window, you glanced at the reflection of your boyfriend’s face. His thick brows were lower, his eyes narrowed with greater focus, and his jaw and neck muscles were taut with stoicism.

“Marc?” you inquired, still not used to how quickly he could appear without warning.

He pulled you in with his gaze. It was one of concern, but in a different way from Steven’s. When he looked at you with that furrowed brow and discerning expression in his eyes, it was easy for you to see that he understood without words the feelings you were going through. A small, but grateful and earnest smile grew on your lips before you gave him a kiss. He didn’t melt quite the same way Steven did, but you could tell from the gentle caresses on your fingertips that he was letting himself relax.

“Don’t you think it’s a little bit unfair to be talking to me about stuff that bothers you and not him?” Marc asked.

“Marc, it’s not like he doesn’t find out anywa---,” you started, but Marc was so quick to interject.

“Nah, no it doesn’t work that way, sweetheart,” he insisted while shaking his head at you.

You took note of his words and lingered on ‘sweetheart.’ It was one of the terms of endearment that both Steven and Marc shared for you. You could never explain to anyone how your relationship (or was it relationships?) worked. You were in love with more than one man who shared the same face and the same body, but with distinctive personalities, distinctive lives. When you wondered how you’d introduce your friends or your family to him, telling them the truth was the worst possible option.

Ok, friends, I’d like you to meet my boyfriend, well boyfriends, really. He has, they have Dissociative Identity Disorder.

No, that wouldn’t work at all.

“I’ve just been anxious,” you explained to Marc, expressing all that floated in your head in the least number of words possible. “We’ve been together for a while now and it always feels like I’m having to navigate something new.”

You caught Marc briefly looking at the window.

“He’s listening, isn’t he?” You asked.

Marc nodded with a raised brow and a shrug of his shoulders. The gesture told you that Steven “listening in” on your conversation was inevitable.

“Look, you don’t need to be scared about telling us anything, everything even,” Marc assured you with a gentle squeeze and massage of your thigh.

It was unexpected and sent shivers up your core, reminding you of why you were so anxious in the first place. Another glimpse of Marc looking in the window caught your eye. You wondered what knowing glances they shared with one other. What did each of those glances mean when they were clearly shared about you?

“I know, you’re right,” you acknowledged.

“So, tell me, tell us,” Marc uttered before giving you a gentle kiss, “we’ve got a long ride home.”

The long, stop-and-go bus ride was tolerable because you had Marc with you. When you arrived at your bus stop, you felt Marc’s fingers tighten in yours. Each step that you both took echoed on the cobblestone streets that led to your flat. And with each step that you took, Marc’s hand squeezed yours harder, an unspoken indication of his growing anxiety. Marc dug his hands into his pockets and took a deep breath as you unlocked your door. Before you walked in, you took his face gently in your hands. You looked deep into his eyes, searching for every part of him in those glossy brown globes of his.

“Do you trust me?” You asked the same question you asked Steven.

He rested your forehead against yours and nodded, kissing the inside of your palms.

He followed you up the short set of stairs to your inside door. You flipped on the wall switch, filling your living room with warm light. Marc walked around your flat, taking note of the decor, a mix of mid-century, bohemian, and Scandinavian. A smile spread on his face with the thought that all of it was so perfectly you.

“Make yourself at home,” you whispered softly in his ear, “I’ll be right back.”

Everything in your bedroom was perfect just as you had planned it to be. The terracotta-colored bed sheets were freshly washed. The lamps on your nightstand gave off a dim but romantic glow better than any overhead light could. You had even cleaned the circular mirror that hung over your dresser and the large arched, floor length mirror that rested against the opposite wall. Before you returned to Marc, you undressed from your work clothes and put on a purple, gauzy and lace chemise, paired with a slinky lace thong, with a deep teal kimono over it. You looked at yourself in the mirror, running your fingers through your waves and putting on a sheer gloss over your red lips. You understood, all of this didn’t make any sense. You knew he’d be ripping it off you in a matter of minutes, but he’d never been to your home. This was going to be something you made sure you would remember.

You watched as Marc awkwardly walked around your small living room, pacing around wondering if he should sit or remain standing. It was almost Steven-like. As you glided back to him, he stopped in his tracks, paralyzed by the vision of you.

“So, this is what you were hiding?” Marc growled, as he admired you, grabbing you by the ass and pulling you towards him. “Don’t think Steven will be too upset about it as long as he gets a turn.”

Marc pulled you into him, rubbing his hands up and down the light, lacy fabric until he grabbed your ass again with his large hands. With his right hand, he grabbed the supple muscle of your thigh and lifted it to his waist. Keeping your hands on his face you kissed him fervently, sucking on his bottom lip until you were pulling it gently with your teeth.

“Quiero hablar con Jake,” you stated with conviction as you ran your fingers through Marc’s dark curls.

Suddenly, he stopped and backed away from you, his brow knitted together in disbelief, “You have no idea what you’re asking me.”

“Yes, baby, I do,” you assured, pulling him to you again as walked backwards to your bedroom.

Marc stood before you, his eyes dark with disappointment and anger. You let your kimono drop to the floor and moved to him, bringing your face close to his. He took a strong, commanding grip on your wrists when you tried to push his open button-up shirt away from his shoulders.

“What do you think this is some kind of joke?” Marc snarled through gritted teeth. “Do you have any idea what he’s capable of?”

“Marc, you and Steven said you trusted me,” you said as you planted kisses on his neck and jaw. “It’s been hard, but you’ve told me that I should trust you and be open with both of you, all of you---why should Jake be any different?

“No, not up for discussion,” Marc shook his head.

You pressed your forehead to his and moved your right hand up his chest and then to his face. You eased him into a gentle kiss, slipping your tongue until he was weak in the knees.

“Let me talk to Jake,” you requested again, gripping his face tighter with your hands.

Marc looked at you resolutely to protect you from what he perceived as dangerous.

“You owe me this, Marc,” you affirmed through gritted teeth.

“Then you’d have to make me,” Marc growled, bringing his face as close to yours without touching it.

His breath was hot and touched your painted lips with angry disappointment. Anger and frustration took over you and you lifted your hand, slapping him in the face. An immediate feeling of guilt took over you and you apologetically began caressing the curls that touched Marc’s forehead.

“Oh god, Marc,” you gasped, “I’m so sorry.”

Slowly, he lifted his face and focused his dark eyes on you. His eyebrows were angled downward. He lifted his hand, wrapping it around your wrist in a nearly painful grip. The light and shadows that traced the map of his face revealed eyes darker than you’d ever seen on Marc or Steven. The corners of his lips were turned slightly downward and the vein at the side of his neck was prominent from the tightness of his jaw.

“Not Marc, hermosa,” he growled as he grabbed a hold of your other hand, tossing you on the bed.

“Jake?” You gasped, looking at him as he grazed lustful eyes over your body.

“Sí, claro,” he replied, his voice low and wanton as he stared up at the round mirror above your dresser.

You weren’t sure who he was looking at, Marc or Steven, maybe it was both. Your mind and body completely focused on the man crawling over you on the bed. His hands explored the peaks and valleys of your body. His touch had its own quality that you had never experienced or imagined. With Steven, he made you feel like a queen always willing to serve you and remind you how beautiful you were through gentle, loving touches, and aftercare. Marc was decidedly more confident in himself, though your physical pleasure was always a priority, and he reveled in making you come especially on his tongue. No, this touch had no resemblance to theirs and you trembled beneath it.

Jake’s lips curled up into a devilish smile as he tightened his grip on your wrists. He brought his lips to your neck and pushed your legs apart with his strong thighs. Your breaths came out in quick gasps as he rolled his hips against you, allowing you to feel his cock growing in his jeans.

“Are you scared of me, muñeca?” His breath was hot against your skin.

“I—I don’t---,” you couldn’t find the words to confess how you were feeling, but every inch of your body quivered.

Trapping you beneath his legs, Jake reached into his back pocket to pull out a switchblade. You wiggled beneath him, but stilled yourself as he opened the knife and began tracing it lightly on chest. You closed your eyes, knowing you should feel nothing but paralyzing fear, but your body betrayed you as you rolled your pelvis upward in desperation for him. With a quick swipe of his blade, he cut a slit down the middle of your chemise, ripping the rest of it from your body with his bare hands. A moan escaped you as he tossed the remnants to the floor.

“Oh, you like this, hermosa,” he groaned as returned the blade to his back pocket, getting harder the more you writhed beneath him, “this is why you wanted us to come with you.”

His hands worked at your tits, massaging them, squeezing them with heavy hands, and pinching your nipples until you were crying for him. He painted a hot wet trail up your body with his tongue until he wrapped his mouth around your right nipple, swirling it in mouth, drawing out continuous moans from your lips. A quick nip of his teeth at each nipple sent a wave of ecstasy through your body and you could do nothing but yelp out his name.

“You want me to fuck you,” Jake growled as he pulled his shirt off over his head and as he unzipped and pushed his jeans off to the floor, “You’ve been wanting me to fuck you.”

He pulled your hips towards the edge of the bed, where you were met with his mouth planting hot, wet kisses on your mound through your lacy purple underwear. He took two long fingers caressing the center of the lacy fabric, your desire growing with each stripe he traced there.

“Dímelo,” he said as he curled the tips of his fingers at the edge of your underwear.

They were so close to your center, so close to touching exactly where you wanted him. But not close enough.

“Say it,” he demanded while he continued to taunt you with his fingers.

“I want you to fuck me,” you breathed out, “---need you to fuck me, Jake.”

He paused with a low, deviant laugh that came from the back of his throat. You pressed yourself up on your elbows, needing to see his face after your reply. His eyelids were low with the most wanton desire as his gaze shifted to the large mirror that rested against the wall between two, long arched-shaped windows. The moon beams were bright through the window, and you saw them glimmer in his eyes before he said anything again.

“Don’t worry, hermanos,” he said, his voice rumbling against your center, “I’ll take good care of her.”

The sound of ripped lace reached your ears and just as quickly, Jake’s mouth was on you in a slow open-mouthed kiss. All you could do was gasp as he slipped his tongue through your folds licking with slow, broad strokes of his tongue from the bottom to the top. He worshipped at your clit with slow, torturous circles until he licked down to your center, repeating the movements all over again. You bucked against him with a moan and moved your hands to lace your fingers in his curls.

“Estas tan desesperada por mi,” he uttered, tightening your grip against his hair so that your hands couldn’t move.

He pushed face further into your mound, the tip of his nose touching your clit as he his tongue dipped deeper through your folds, trading endlessly between broad, delectable strokes and swift, tight swipes that tortured you with each exchange. The beat of your heart pounded to your ears and all your nerve endings felt like they had gathered around your swollen pussy as he hummed against it. He wrapped his soft lips against your clit, rolling his tongue against you at first and then sucking every bit of your slick in his expert mouth.

“Fuck---Jake---feel so good!” you cried out, trying to push your hips towards him for more.

A deep throaty hum left his mouth as he began to slip one, then two fingers into your slick. His tongue never let go of its ownership on your clit as his fingers thrusted in and out of you, stoking the fire inside of you. Like some kind of poetic synchronicity your toes curled just as he curled his fingers in you, feeding your fire and sucking at your clit like it's the only thing he’s ever needed. In a matter of seconds, you came with a line of breathy cries of his name while he clamped his arms around your writhing hips.

“Move up, cariño,” he said, slapping at your pussy and helping you with a slight roll of your hips sideways.

His eyes kept their intense and libidinous gaze on you as you trembled and rolled in the sheets as he pulled off his black boxer-briefs. You licked your lips as he crawled towards you, cradling you in his arms as his right hand gripped your face as he kissed you. You knew your lipstick would be a mess by the way he devoured your mouth, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

“Need you---need your cock, Jake!” you cried, your fingers reaching out to him through the waves of your bed sheets.

More than ready to oblige, he crawled over you and growled in your ear, “All fours, muñeca.”

His hands massaged your ass before, caressing up and down your waist before he gifted you with one, two, three strong slaps of his firm hand. Shuddering with ecstasy, you looked up and saw the mess he was making of you in your large mirror, your lipstick smeared and your face moaning with desperation for his depravity. It was like being hypnotized as you watched yourself and him in the mirror. A long thread of saliva left his mouth and dripped down to your ass, and you were suddenly wiggling back for him. He teased you with a few quick slaps of your pussy with his hard, bobbing cock and he coated his cock with a few pumps of his own saliva he’d pressed to his fingers with his tongue. And with decadent groans, he began to push into you.

You’d felt this cock many times before, you reminded yourself with closed eyes, as Jake slapped into you with a few shallow thrusts. But you’ve never felt it quite this way, as he pulls back almost completely before he is bottoming out into you with an unrestrained grinding of his hips, making sure you can hear the slap of your hips and your soaking pussy against him.

“Oh god, fuck, so good, Jake” you cried as you pressed your face against your sheets and pushed back against him.

“Face up, cariño,” he ordered as you felt him swiftly wipe his thumb against your asshole, “want you to see your face when I make you cum all over my cock.”

A moan escapes you at the novel feeling, one that Steven or Marc had never done for you. Jake made a few more quick slaps on your ass as you scrambled to lift yourself back onto your hands. His loud groans continued to fill your bedroom as he thrusted in and out of you with a varied pace you couldn’t anticipate, driving you mad.

“Jake, please---please fuck me like I’m your whore,” you begged through filthy cries for him.

The second those words slipped from your lip, Jake’s hand slid from the attention he was giving your asshole until he was caressing your back and pulling at the waves of your hair. His thrusts felt unimaginably deeper as he kept a strong grip there, thrusting and throbbing against the walls of your tight cunt.

“Fuck, look at you!” He groaned as his thrusts became faster and faster as they continued to hammer deep inside of you. “Look at her, a fucking mess, acting like a whore for me.”

You couldn’t help but look, feeling almost bad that you knew Jake was speaking, no taunting Marc and Steven. The way your tits bounced, the way you clutched at the sheets, and the way your mouth hung open in an unending moan for him. The sounds that echoed from your cunt were wet and obscene.

“I---Jake---Jake I’m gonna cum!” you cried, trying to reach back to him as the walls of your pussy quivered and clenched against his long, thick shaft.

With vigorously deep thrusts, he emptied inside you with a luscious and raspy moan, “That’s it, mi amor, take it all.”

With one final groan he pulled himself from you, swiping one thumb to your asshole before sliding one quiver-inducing stroke to the folds of your sensitive pussy. Together you collapsed in a mess of sweaty, love-soaked limbs. Resting right leg open against his thigh gave him a chance to caress your legs with an unexpectedly soft hand. You used this moment of silence to catch your breath and regain your composure, not sure what to expect afterwards from Jake.

“That was...unexpected,” you sighed looking over at a smirking Jake, whose eyes were closed in post-coital bliss, “are they---,”

“They’ll get over it,” he responded quickly to your unfinished question about Marc and Steven, “besides you said, ‘all in’, right? I’ve just shown them it’s ok to push you to your limits.”

You turned to Jake, propped yourself on one elbow, and turned his face towards you with a gentle, but teasing hand, “Tsk, oh darling, you’ve only just scratched the surface.”

#oscar isaac characters #oscar isaac character fanfiction #moon knight #jake lockley #steven grant #marc spector #jake lockely x reader #jake lockely x you #marc spector x reader #marc spector x you #steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #moon knight system #juice bar collective #juice collective

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