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romanarose · 5 hours
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First of all, I’m barking
second of all I love the way you right how he talks, Everett, a couple, Ezra, stories here and there especially when he’s paired with Joel or something but I’ve never seen him written like this but I fucking love it
the cüm on the plate goes
🍽️💦💦
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an Ezra & Cricket One Shot: Brass Knuckled Debauchee Summary: Ezra, after abusing your healing talents, returns to make good on his debt... for a price.
Pairing: Ezra x F!Reader | Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI) | Word Count: 4,752
Content Warning: Smutty smutty smut smut, fingering (f receiving), weight gain, eating, edging, soft!dom Ezra being an overall ass, teasing, begging, crying, malfunctioning prosthetic limb, the occasional swear
Author's Notes: requested by two (count'em - 2!) lovely babes for the 900 Friendo Celebration - thank you to @xdaddysprincessxx and @morallyinept for bringing Ezra some love.
Huge thank you to @strang3lov3 , @noxturnalpascal & @bitchesuntitled for their beta badass skills and to my ever lovely beta fish, @neverwheremoonchild. None of you will understand the depths of gratitude I hold you all in.
No more tag lists - follow @beefnotes + turn on notifications for fic updates!
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You’d cared for him when his appendage was newly parted from his person, after a young woman dumped him off at your meagre midwife’s centre.  
You hadn’t delivered a baby in at least eight cycles, but you were busy tending to broken bones and crushed limbs from the mine nearby, so the idea of caring for a wound caused by a missing arm wasn’t far from your everyday.  
What was far from the standard men in your care was that this one wouldn’t shut up. Truly. You’d never met someone so close to death spew such a narrative. You almost wished to have him out of his misery just to stop his linguistic vomit.  
Thank Kevva for sedatives.  
You didn’t even want to know his name, worried that if you had his, he’d need yours and there was no way someone this sick and wounded that could carry on like he’s memorized a thesaurus wasn’t capable of performing a hex or a curse on you. 
After three blessedly quiet and devoid-of-narration days, the open wound where his arm once hung from was no longer festering and the fever that wracked his body broke. Despite your own desire to keep him silent, you stopped administering such a high dose of the sedative, and you allowed him to regain consciousness.  
For the first little while, all you heard was his steady, deep breathing, so you left the room to grab some water and liquified sustenance for him, figuring that when he would finally come to, he’d be hungry. 
“To what do… do I owe the pleasure?”, you heard croaked as you walked softly back into the room.  
“Oh good…”, you replied flatly. “You’re awake and talking.” 
The remainder of his stay that time had revolved around you doing what you could to keep his mouth occupied enough to keep it quiet; you fed him. By the time he’d left, he’d made you aware of his name – Ezra – and bestowed a nickname on you for lack of giving your own. Cricket. He then made the terrible promise to return to see you and left with a wink and a smile.  
Your whole body bristled at the thought of having to deal with him again. 
***** 
The first return visit he made, his confidence and vocabulary were still obnoxiously inflated. Whining of a bruised rib, you resumed your frustrated feeding to keep him down to two to three sentences and responses between mouthfuls.  
The second time he returned, he stated that he had been ‘brutalized by a deviant, one who you should not even be told of his true form else your fragile and virtuous mind be stained’. There wasn’t a single mark on him, save for a bite on his only arm that looked to be self-inflicted. He enjoyed himself, smiling between bites of food. 
By the third visit – complaining of a sprained toe - you knew that he knew that you knew what you were doing - and vice versa. Despite this, you fed him, and he ate very well. After several days of ‘healing’, he hauled himself up and it was then that you noted his flight suit looking like it was getting tighter around his middle.  
Those visits happened in a fairly rapid succession, but a longer period – more than six cycles at least - lapsed before he darkened your doorway and approached your desk once again. Without even looking up, you knew it was him, having heard his cavalier long-form salutations being crooned out at anyone he passed approaching your unit. 
“What now?”, you sighed in irritation, dropping your head into your hand, not bothering to look up at him – something you would come to regret to save yourself future embarrassment. You didn’t see him close your door and lock it behind him.  
He approached your desk, and his hand came into view along with a mechanical one; the smooth-as-silk tongued devil was now outfitted with a prosthetic arm that looked like it had been stolen from a brass skeleton and had gears added. Your eyes followed the mechanical limb up to the hem of his shortened sleeve, hiding the joint between it and what remained of his actual arm. The new colour of his clothing caught your attention, too, pulling your eyes to his torso. Yes, it was definitely a different colour. He was no longer in the moss greens and soil browns you’d associated with him. Now, he was in a dark blue flight suit with a gold zipper that looked to just be barely holding together.  
Your brain paused to take in what was in front of you.  
“No more chirps for me, sweet Cricket?” 
His raspy, southern drawl sounded sweeter than you’d noticed before as your eyes took in the added weight on his middle. Before looking up to his face, you noted the way the zipper rippled from the strain and the clear indent his belly button made as the fabric pulled taut across his expanse.  
His face. As soon as you took it in, you regretted not doing it first. He’s held you in his big brown eyes’ gaze before, but you’d been able to avoid being trapped. But this time you couldn’t help but let them absorb you. His smile widened as he slightly leaned forward, arms putting further weight on your desk.  
“You seem at a loss for word, Crick-“ 
“You’ve been eating well.”, you managed to croak out in a somewhat aloof-sounding voice, nodding towards his middle.  
He didn’t shrink back at your comment; instead, it seemed to embolden him.  “You started me on a path of decadence that a mere man such as myself isn’t able to easily shake.” 
He stood to his full height, eyes never leaving yours. “Is that all you noticed?”, he grinned, lifting his brass appendage, bringing the crude and simple brass hand to his face, smoothing over his moustache.  
Your lips parted then closed and parted again before you were able to spit out, “I saw y-… I see you got a new… limb.” 
His eyes gleamed at you, seeing his every move had you further in his grasp. You inwardly scowled, chiding yourself on how quickly you were falling under his spell. Narrowing your eyes, you shrugged at him. 
“Looks old.” 
If it stung him, he didn’t show it; he simply kept that smile on his face and continued to look down at you from across the desk. “I’m not its first owner.” 
The pleasantries had only lasted a few more moments before Ezra moved around your desk and hovered over you. 
“I’m here to return the favour, Cricket.” 
“...Favour?” 
“For all the hard work you put into bringing me back to my full health.”, he cooed lowly as his brass hand cooled your cheek with its feather-light touch.  
“It’s nothing... I was just doing my j - “ 
He leaned over you further, cheshire grin pulled menacingly across his face. His voice slipped into a lower pitch and his eyes darted from your eyes to your mouth.  
“Doing your job would have been to send me away when I appeared with erroneous and fabricated injuries and illnesses. You, my sweet Cricket, stepped over and above the threshold of your employment and I intend to repay you for your sweetness in full.” 
You sucked in a few shallow breaths and nervously swallowed. This was a side of him you hadn't seen, assuming that he was a submissive and pliant brat who’d chosen you to dote on him. But no. There was no favour he intended to pay back. He was just sizing you up and wrangling you into his web, and now he was out loud declaring that you were his prey. His eyes were dark and fixed on you, in contrast with the gentle smile on his face.  
“Don’t be nervous, sweet Cricket. You can tend to your own wounds afterwards. Now, let me hear you chirp.” 
His brass arm shot out and gripped your wrist tightly and he pulled you from your seat. Dragging you to the maternity room, he tossed you onto the low soft bed.  
“Ezra!”, you squeaked as your body hit the push mattress below you.  
He dropped to his knees and crawled up, forcing your legs apart, and his belly barely grazed your middle as his face lined up with yours. You let out an involuntary whimper. 
“Oh, sweet Cricket. How badly I wanted you on your back, making those sweet vocalizations your namesake promised me.” 
His flesh and bone hand gently grazed your face and moved to the back of your head, softly fisting your hair, forcing your head to stay still as he traced his nose along the contours of your face. His eyes remained half lidded and he watched as your own rolled back when he pushed his knee into the crux of your thighs, knowing he had all but your verbal consent.  
“This is all you need, sweet Cricket? Someone to light the way?” 
All you can muster as his hold on your hair tightened and his knee applied more pressure was a light whine through your parted lips.  
You wanted to respond, but the moment you opened your mouth, Ezra’s brass arm made a clunk sound and began to shudder.  
“Oh, for Kevva’s sake.”, he muttered, sitting up on his knees as he examined the arm. It made a mechanical sound before it shuddered again, then a higher pitched noise droned as the arm vibrated.  
You watched him sitting between your parted legs as the realization of what he had at his disposal dawned on him. Your eyes widened as he turned and looked at you like a starved man with a wild grin.  
“Sweet Cricket, I think I could go for a bite to eat.” 
***** 
Once you’d gotten some finger foods together and brought them back into the room, you found Ezra laid back in a mountain of pillows on the bed. He nodded his head towards you and raised his hand, beckoning you to him.  
“Come on, Cricket. Tend to your weary traveller.” 
His eyes were glued to you, cascading up and down your form, as you hand fed him. He’d had a few pieces of the savoury pastries when you felt the cool touch of his brass hand slide between your thighs.  
“Curious...”, he mused as he chewed. “… that when I make a certain motion with my appendage, it malfunctions in such an amusing manner that I know you will find benefit in, pet.” 
Your brows furrow in question and before you can ask how that could benefit you in any way, the arm made that clunk sound again. You felt the vibration between your thighs and your eyes widened.  
“Ez – oh fuck!”, you gasped as he pushed his knuckle up against your mound and held it there firmly. 
Your mouth was open, allowing shallow panting breaths to puff out and your eyes were closed with your brows pinched as the shuddering vibrations pulsed against you. You’d never felt anything like this before in your life and you thanked Kevva.  
The low amber tones of his voice cut through to you and pulled you out of your silent prayer. “Now, sweet Cricket. We are both here to derive enjoyment from one another given we both now have the intel on each other’s vices. You can’t go holding out on me to seek your fruition – that is not fair.” 
He pulled his hand from contacting your core, and your eyes snapped to his, a pleading whimper bubbling out from your pouting lips.  
“Uh-uh, Cricket. We will play fair.”, he growled in warning. His smile dropped as his features darkened, and he nodded towards your suspended hand holding a small meat-filled pastry. “Don’t you dare hold out on me.” 
Shakily, you brought the morsel to his mouth and as he took it in and let his tongue touch your finger, his hand once again pressed against your core. 
***** 
Ezra had continued to eat and finished over half of platter. But every time you started to get close to your peak, he would pull his hand away, leaving you a shaking mess. 
“P-please… Ezra, please!”, you begged mere seconds away from ecstasy.  
“I am not finished, sweet Cricket.”, he said with a mouthful. “You will be sated when I have found my fill, and we are not yet there.” 
You could have screamed at him, strangled him in a rage. “Ezra please! I - ”. 
The warning look he gave you stopped any further pleading. Your mind reeled, trying to find some way to get relief. You could kick him out and try to finish yourself off with your fingers, but you knew it would be fruitless; you’d never gotten this worked up on your own before and you doubt that you had anything in this clinic that vibrated at that frequency.  
As you trembled and panted, Ezra watched, amused at how clearly you were seeking a solution to the problem he’d created for you.  
“Cricket…”, he cooed, soothing his biological hand up your arm and to your face. He gently guided your chin towards him. “Sweet Cricket, come back to me.” 
When your frantic gaze met his, his eyes softened and creased as he smiled. “I will not leave you unfinished. I repay my debts, darling nurse.” 
You sighed in defeat, nodded, and took a deep breath. Your eyes trailed down to his noticeably rounder middle that made the already strained zipper pull at the seams of the fabric. He shifted in what looked like discomfort.  
You put down the current half-filled plate of food and reached for the zipper tag, tugging it down. It only got to the beginning of the swell of his belly before you met resistance. You tugged a little harder, but it wouldn’t budge. 
“Suck it in.” 
“Now, Cricket, let’s not be hast-“ 
“I said suck it in.”, you snapped back far more forcefully than intended.  
Ezra froze then nodded. “Sweet girl, I will try, but…”  You saw his middle pull in slightly. “… the profound conundrum I experienced in getting it on…��� 
The zipper finally moved, and he groaned as his stomach expanded. “Sweet Kevva… such relief.” 
You were desperate for him to touch you again, but seeing him fat and swollen before you, knowing it was your work that was filling him out. Ezra watched your gaze turn hungry and almost feral. Granted, he felt that way as he watched you teeter on the edge of falling apart over and over. He wasn’t ready to let the power he held over you go, giving him the drive to get through, bite by bite. But that power began to slip the moment his vulnerable and considerably rounder middle exposed, and it left him feeling uneasy and unsure. 
“A change of flavour… is needed, my sweet Cricket.”, Ezra crooned, trying to exude as much confidence he could muster, despite his self-consciousness lingering in the back of his mind. He swallowed down a moan as your blown-pupiled eyes met his. He pushed a faux-confident smile and spoke softer. “Something sweeter, perhaps?” 
Letting a small huff escape, you nodded and got up from the bed, cursing him under your breath for having this much power over you. 
As you stood in the small kitchen area, waiting for the food rehydrator to loudly prepare the freeze-dried baked goods, you didn’t hear Ezra huff and grunt as he got off the bed and saunter into the kitchen. You weren’t alerted to his presence until his belly hit your back and his brass hand went to your hip.  
His nose and mouth pressed against the back of your neck, whispering filth as his hand cupped your breast and squeezed. 
“You leave yourself so vulnerable, sweet Cricket... back to the door, not an ounce of concern…. any rapscallion of low morals could take advantage… of your sweet, supple figure…” 
You let out a light, breathy whine gripping his hand as he kneaded your breast. As much as you wanted his hands on you, you wanted his mouth on your own more, so you pushed your body back against his, making enough room between him and the counter for you to turn around. His brass hand stayed on the curve of your waist, not offering any resistance, and his other hand cupped your cheek, holding it in place while he kissed you softly. His lips moved against yours like he was able to read your mind, or maybe even needed this point of contact as badly as you did. His mouth parted and his tongue pushed for entrance into your mouth, and once it was granted, the kiss fevered and boiled over. You felt your core throb with need and want, soaking your pants and already ruined underwear, and he crowded you against the counter. So wrapped up were you in his mouth and teeth and tongue, that you didn’t feel his brass hand move from your waist. 
In one swift move, Ezra shoved your pants down in the front enough for his brass hand to slip with no barrier into your folds. The cool touch you would have expected from it was long forgotten as the metal now met your body temperature. Still engulfed in the kiss that was beginning to rob your breath, the telltale clunk barely registered in your mind until the vibrations started. Sending a jolt through your body, you pulled your face away from his and let out a shrill gasp.  
The timer on the rehydrator went off, and Ezra chuckled darkly, watching your brows draw together and your eyes flutter.  
“The rules stay the same, Cricket. Sweet or savoury, I will have my fill and you will have your petite mort. But one will meet the other at the same time.”, he said in a wickedly soft tenor. “Now, you can begin holding up your end, sweet girl.” 
Once again, Ezra ripped away any power you might have had or believed you had, edging you with each bite, withholding his metal hand’s vibrations from the moment his mouth was empty to the moment your hand shakily pushed another bite past his lips. Overstimulation mixed with the pent-up fury of being denied an orgasm had you panting rapidly, tears threatening to spill over. High pitched whines and shuddering whimpers were all you could produce, and it was music to Ezra’s ears.  
“You… create the most… glorious cricket song…”, he mused softly as he chewed the mouthful. “Keep chirping, sweet girl…” 
You were coming to a point where you weren’t sure you would make it. Your brain felt like it was filled with the static from a communicator’s blank channel and your hearing and sight felt fuzzy. The coil tightening in your cunt was hitting a painful level, causing you to drop the next pastry you’d picked up with your shaking hands. 
As soon as it hit the floor, Ezra tsk’d you, and pulled his hand right out of your pants. The pained sob that burst from you from the loss of contact was loud and harsh, and the tears finally spilled over, staining your cheeks.  
“P-please… I… I can’t!”, you cried out, jutting your hand out clumsily to grab his wrist as he pulled back. His dark eyes scanned your desperate ones, pausing momentarily, before his gaze shifted to one of pity and amusement. 
“You can’t what?”, he mocked with a cruel grin. “Can’t what, sweet Cricket?” 
A rasped and pained whine peeled out of your throat as your head fell to his shoulder, and his hand gripped your hair and pulled back, forcing you to look at him. You looked ruined. Your cheeks flushed and eyes wet and lidded, your lips parted, turned down and chin quivering. He shoved up back and up onto the counter. 
“Oh, come now, sweet Cricket. Don’t look at me like I won’t give you your due.”, he whispered, ghosting his mouth over yours. His brass fingers traced lurid shapes along your inner thighs, causing your body to shiver and that coil painfully wind up in your core once more.  
“I asked you for something sweeter, pet,”, Ezra mockingly cooed as he pulled back, your face involuntarily following his to try and capture his lips against yours. He shook his head, smile tugging at one side of his mouth. “Something sweeter and you dropped it on the floor. It’s precious currency, Cricket, and you mishandled it.” 
Your eyes followed his, stuck in the trance he’d put you under. He could have told you to do anything, given any order and you would have obeyed to your detriment. His brass hand moved to your throat, long, metal fingers grasping just tight enough to keep you precariously seated on the edge of the counter. His thicker middle forced you legs open wide, and his other hand took its place between your legs and without warning, he shoved two fingers into your core.  
Your mouth and eyes widened as a wrecked gasp escaped you and your hands went to grab onto what ever meaty part of him you could grab for stability. Ezra hummed in response as the pads of his fingers felt the walls of your cannel twitch and flutter at his intrusion. 
“Good Kevva, sweet girl…”, he groaned, watching your face contort. “As much as this contraption of a limb can bring me such sadistic joy at your expense, my own digits needed to feel the silken walls of your inner sanctum.” 
As he pumped his fingers in and out of you, he dropped his forehead against yours and hummed again, answering your repeated whining pants and moans.  
“Keep chirping, Cricket… sing me your evening song… that’s it….”  
As you felt your peak come careening in, he felt your walls convulse and slicken up. The soft tenor he’s just lulled you into a steady rhythm with fell away and the low chuckle followed by his fingers being removed made you scream out and dig your nails into the fattened flesh of his upper arm and shoulder. 
“EZ-EZRA! PLEASE! FUCK-PLEASE!”, you sobbed out in a shriek.  
His brass hand’s hold tightened around your throat, and he shoved your shoulders flush with the wall behind counter roughly.  
Your desperate eyes looked him over as best as you could, given the position he had you in. His bloated and full stomach moved with each laboured breath he took and the strain he put himself under to wreck you was fully apparent. You could feel the outline of his clothed hard cock seated against your thigh and the sweat beading on his forehead. He wiped his face and parted his lips to take in deeper breaths; his irises were indiscernible from his pupils as he looked down at you. 
You had never known need like this, and you felt as though you were going to succumb due to your lack of orgasm as a final line in the life that Kevva had written for you. 
“P…please…” 
“Is it my cock you want to be impaled on, pet? You want to whine and mewl while I rut my quiver bone into your sopping celestial cavern?”, he coolly growled, but there was a slight waiver in his voice. You saw the same desperation in the dark abyss of his eyes. 
You nodded dumbly and he scowled, baring his teeth, and tore his brass hand off you, trying to make quick work of getting his flight suit off his shoulders. The arms were tight around his fleshy arms, and you shakily sat up and tried to help. Once his arms were free, you tugged the material over his waist, taking note of the roll of flesh sitting just above his waistband, showing just how much he had been indulging. You gave it a squeeze, revelling in the sound he made, sucking his breath thru his teeth at your fingers.  
“Marvel the fruits of your labour, Cricket… The destination you set me on course to has made me beyond redemption and unfit for galactic adventuring…”, he grunted breathily, shoving his flight suit off his legs before kicking it off entirely. “You have effectively rendered me useless beyond what effect I am able to wield on you.” 
He shoved his mouth against yours before you could respond or ask what he meant, sucking you into a bruising kiss. His hands gripped your hips, pulling your twitching cunt flush with his weeping, hard cock, knocking the plastic plate that held the desserts onto the floor at his feet. Fumbling slightly, he pulled back and gripped his member, before lining it up with your entrance and pushing it in all at once. The sting of his intrusion melded perfectly with the relief of finally connecting, and the sound you made caused Ezra to almost break. His eyes softened and his brows tented, body tense at the gentle yet firm, warm hold you had on him.   
“I’m af-afraid I’ve pushed too far to allow for… for niceties and gentle welcomes, sweet Cricket…”, he panted against your face, teeth clenched as he tried to focus and draw this out as long as possible.  
“Please move...”, you begged in a strained whine.  
“If I move to fast, sweet Cricket, I will... end this fortuitous connection with an... an early release, and that would render me- fuck!... render me less than a gentleman...” 
“You’re no gentleman... now shut up an-and fuck me!” 
It seemed that your tight walls and frantic begging were too much for Ezra, and he pulled out with a grunt, followed by a whine as he came onto the plate on the floor. The vulgar sounds of his panting breaths mixed with the sploot of his spend had you seeing red. 
“You asshole!”, you screeched, shoving him off you.  
He panted and held his hands up in surrender as you charged at him. 
“Cricket... forgive me! You’re too sweet... your sacred cavern was too - “ 
The slap you landed across his face stopped his fancy wordplay. “You fucking bastard!” 
Ezra’s eyes flashed in anger, and he stood to his full height, towering over you.  
“That was uncalled for, Cricket.”, he snarled. “I will take the wrath of meeting an end without you by my side, but I will not allow you to besmirch my good mother with a question of my paternal lineage.” 
You stared at him, eyes wide with anger at his audacity, and before you could say another word, he tackled you to the floor. You tried to fight him off but the moment you heard the clunk of his brass arm and felt two metal fingers punch up into your slick heat, you ceased your struggle.  
“See, sweet Cricket? I may be a wayward traveler, but even I know the dangers of leaving a woman on the precipice of completion... “ 
“Don’t stop... please... don’t stop...”  
The vibrations of his arm and the smooth curves of the worn metal fingers found a rhythm that had you seeing stars.  
“I plan to keep demanding your company each time I move through this sector, and-” 
“Oh Kevva... Ez-Ezra!” 
He leaned forward and ghosted his mouth over yours, speaking in a low, husky growl, “... if I were to fail you now, what kind of welcome would I receive the next time I darken your doorway?” 
Your eyes rolled into the back of your skull and your body arched off the floor. Pent up energy burst from your burning cunt, sending wave after wave of precious release through your body. The scream that peeled out of you was dampened by Ezra kissing you forcefully. 
His movement slowed and he slowly pulled his brass hand from your core. You were greeted with his grin as he looked over his brass hand. 
“You’ve polished only two fingers for me... there are three more.”, he cooed, placing a delicate kiss on the end of your nose. “Next time.” 
“N-next time?” 
He nodded and stood up with a grunt. You sat up carefully, and it seemed you both took note of the plate on the floor, covered in his cum. The chastisement was on your tongue, but never became words out loud as you were struck speechless as you watched him pick up the plate and fling it out the window.  
He turned back to you, standing naked in the kitchen, fat and sweaty, with a grin on his face.  
“There is always a next time, Cricket.” 
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romanarose · 5 hours
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Messages of support and strength from Rafah, Palestine to the US student movement.
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romanarose · 5 hours
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머피페냐🤗
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romanarose · 5 hours
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BARK BARK
Hi :) if no one has ask, what about 7?
7. Do the Moon Boys take morning showers or night showers? Or baths?
from Moon Knight Asks
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These baby boys....
~nsfw below the cut (hello it's bath time) hand job, Marc is needy, whimpering is involved | 1168 words | not beta'd
☾ ⋆*・゚:⋆*・゚☾ ⋆*・゚:⋆*・゚☾ ⋆*・゚:⋆*・゚
Marc was in the military and lived on the go (and then on the run) for years. He's < 5 min. showers, in and out, done. This can be morning or night, depending on what is needed, depending on who else is fronting.
The other two aren't far behind him.
Steven's apartment doesn't have a bathtub. Steven loses track of time constantly anyway. So Marc makes sure they're all clean and tidy. (Marc is the neat one after all).
Marc is unaware of Jake, just as Steven is unaware of them both.
So they each simply take the showers needed.
Then they meet you.
The first time you draw a bath for Marc, he doesn't know what to say. You go all out with bath salts and bubbles and luxurious oil. Candles are lit and soft music fills the bathroom, floating out tauntingly into the night, beckoning him back home to you.
"What is all this?" He skeptically questions, having practically tumbled back in through the balcony doors after serving Khonshu. "Are you taking a bath?"
"No, baby, it's for you." You bounce on your toes, dying to spoil this man of yours. Running your hands over the ancient bandaged fabric covering his delicious but eternally tense muscles, you pull your bottom lip between your teeth.
"Make this disappear."
That, he's happy to do.
It takes a little coaxing but soon enough, Marc sinks beneath the bubbles and rests his head against the tub's edge. His eyes drift closed as he starts to relax.
"You coming in?" He asks you.
"No, it's for you." It bears repeating with Marc.
He pouts for a minute, but as you ease behind him and start massaging his temples, he relents.
You work your nimble fingers down his neck, soothing away the tension he holds there - in his shoulders where emotions are trapped, even in his chest, just below his collar bone.
He’s so locked up, your fingers start to ache before you loosen the muscles much at all. Marc is in heaven, half asleep as you give your hands a quick break and wrap your arms around his neck from behind.
Your sweatshirt is damp but you don’t care. He needs this.
You whisper soothingly on his ear and he does drift to sleep for several minutes. You hold him. Treasure him - until the water cools enough to wake him.
You turn the tap back on, warming him up while you rake your fingers through his hair. He tries to sit up, but it feels too good, so he drops back down to where he started.
“Let me wash your hair,” you breathe on his ear, sending a shiver all over his body and desire pulsing between his legs, making him stir with want.
Your fingers, now rested from earlier, gently scratch his scalp as you massage away the grime of the day.
One hand catches in his dark mess of curls, making you accidentally tug his hair with more force than you intended.
He groans.
“You like that, baby?” You murmur against his neck.
He feels you smiling and a strained, “yeah” slips past his lips before he can stop it.
“Thought so,” you cheekily return, curling your fingers through his waves and tugging with force. This exposes his delicious neck to you. His throat bobs in anticipation. Your tongue tastes his skin, gliding over his throat. Slowly. Tauntingly.
You lick a trail to his mouth. The tip of your tongue traces his lips, which part as you lick your way inside.
He growls and sucks on your tongue and you lose your balance. Water sloshes and his hair gets a delicious tug.
He easily takes over the kiss, his tongue thrusting hotly over yours while your hands go to work - one tugging roughly at his wet curls, while you push the other down his soft middle underneath the bubbles.
He relaxes into the kiss, if that’s possible, thinking you’ll touch him where he craves.
But you don’t.
Your fingernails tease, gently scraping his hip bones, the tops of his thick thighs - anywhere except where he needs you. You explore the ridges and valleys of his muscled chest, the soft skin you love to squish teasingly, but never where he wants.
Tearing his mouth from yours, he reaches up with a wet arm, grasping needily at your sleeve.
You resist. He could use force. He’s the avatar of an ancient being and he’s strong. Thoughts of your arms pinned over your head while he fucks you deep and slow make you shiver.
He doesn't show off his strength - he only moans.
You tut condescendingly, using the pad of your thumb to tease the tip of his cock. He whimpers.
You darkly chuckle against his ear, toying with the slit before withdrawing even that bit of relief.
“Wait, please,” he groans, gripping your wrist to push your open palm over his aching cock, there below the bubbles.
“Please what?” You whisper, you lips nibbling hotly at the skin behind his ear.
He growls in frustration, his body jerking and splashing the water. “Fucking - just touch me, please.”
Still you pause.
Marc Spector is begging you. This grumpy, tense, fierce warrior is chanting your name like a song - like a prayer. His voice is broken - his eyes, pleading.
“Baby, please. Please touch me.”
You slip your hand into his hair again and pull hard, the way he likes.
Your knees are weary from the hard bathroom floor, but you don’t care. Your mouth opens over his and your hand wraps around his cock. He's so hard for you, so thick and needy. The thrusting of your tongue past his lips is almost rougher than the way you grip him.
The sudsy, oily bubbles help your hand glide down where you twist your wrist and squeeze, dragging back up - down and up, a little faster with each stroke. He likes it rough. You can't hurt him.
But he would like it if you did.
Marc tears his mouth from yours - he can’t breathe - it’s so damp and humid in the bathroom and he feels so fucking good.
“Faster,” he begs you, gripping your wrist almost threateningly, wrapping his hand over yours and helping you. Water sloshes messily as his hips fuck up into your shared grip.
"Fuck...yes...baby," he pants. You can't remember him being quite this vocal before.
This was not the way you saw relaxing bathtime going, but as his eyes flutter closed in ecstasy and he groans out his release, you realize you’re not disappointed in the least.
His warm spend drifts away in the now cold bath water. His panting finally slows and his lazy eyes blink open. The tension has melted away from him completely.
His tongue darts out to wet his lips as his gaze rakes over your drenched sweatshirt.
"You're soaked."
You wet your lips. "Yeah. I really fucking am. What are you gonna do about it?"
☾ ⋆*・゚:⋆*・゚☾ ⋆*・゚:⋆*・゚☾ ⋆*・゚:⋆*・゚
Moon Knight Masterlist
Main Masterlist
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romanarose · 5 hours
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hey! can you make the swirls dividers in black?
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Please like and reblog if you use or save.
Dividers List
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romanarose · 6 hours
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JUSTIFIED: S04E09: The Hatchet Tour
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romanarose · 7 hours
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Pedro Pascal as Billy in the short film “Iris”, 2009.
*I made those gifs myself, so if reposting, please credit! 💜
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romanarose · 7 hours
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romanarose · 7 hours
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Hello fellow sloppy bisexuals how is not putting away the laundry going
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romanarose · 7 hours
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Ben knows he’s gay, but doesn’t realize he’s in love with Frankie, but Frankie knows he’s in love with Ben, but doesn’t realize he’s gay
funniest character dynamic in the world to me is when you have one guy knows hes gay but doesnt realise hes in love with his best friend and another guy who knows hes in love with his best friend but does not know hes gay
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romanarose · 7 hours
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I’m trying :(((
“Get a load of this guy” likeee I’m trying!!!!!!!!!
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romanarose · 7 hours
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Don’t you worry I’ve been in the monkees tumblr fandom since I rejoined tumblr so I’m LIVING FOR IT
12 year old me took one look at davy jones in 2009 and said he’s the one, proceeding to confuse my entire family for the next decade
can i put mike into a Blender 🙏🙏
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romanarose · 7 hours
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The fact a post aboutThe Monkees has defunct shit hole website is absolutely insane to me
can i put mike into a Blender 🙏🙏
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romanarose · 7 hours
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can i put mike into a Blender 🙏🙏
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romanarose · 7 hours
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Thank you 🥹🥹🥹
Gone Soft
Jake Lockey X reader
Masterlist
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Summery: You give Jake Lockley a task he is less than thrilled about.
Warnings: Couple brief references to rough sex.
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“Ow!”
“I’m sorry! You know I don’t like doing this.”
You laid on the bed you shared with Jake while he straddled you, leaning over. His face was furrowed into a frown. 
“I know, but I can’t do it either!”
You had tasked Jake with plucking your eyebrows, unable to do it yourself.
“C’mon, keep going!” You coax him. “Beauty is pain!” You smile up at him.
He sighed. “You’re beautiful the way you are, it doesn’t have to be painful.” He plucked a few between your eyebrows, and planted a kiss when you winced.
You kiss Jake’s perfectly large nose while his face was close enough. “Men always say that, but you have no idea how I look with all this” You circle your face, inferring all the routines you do to try and keep up appearances. 
“I don’t care about that, mi vida.” Jake sat up, smoothing out your eyebrows, tender touch over the red skin.
“Can you keep going please? You always make them so much more even” You pouted up at his beautiful face.
Jake shook his head, but smiled, going back to work.
You continue to tease him. “Funny how you throw a fit about plucking my eyebrows, but you’ll choke me within an inch of my life in bed”
Jake burst into a rare bout of giggles, touching his forehead to yours, eyes closed shut as he cringed. “Well, you don’t have to phrase it like that.”
You laughed with him, taking the moment to feel his curls and revel in his breath against your face. 
When his laughs subsided, he brushed your hair from your face, scanning your eyebrows. “Almost done mi sol, I promise”
Jake tried to be as careful as possible, but stilled as he saw a tear run down your face. “Amor! That’s it.” He sat back, putting down the tweezers. 
“No Jake!” You pleaded “C’mon, I just have a sensitive face!”
“That’s not a thing!” He insisted, voice a few octaves higher than usual. “I’ll pay for you to get your eyebrows waxed from now on, if it’s that important to you.”
“I can’t get my eyebrows waxed, Jakey, my acne medicine makes my face too sensitive, the wax strips tear my skin off!”
Jake’s face softened. “I don’t like making you cry, amor.”
“Babe.” You gave him a pointed look. “I was literally crying with your dick down my throat last night.”
He considered your words, then smiled. “Fine, but next time we’re finding numbing cream to help.”
You pull him close, taking his perfect lips in a loving kiss. “Thank you, amor.”
Jake went back to work on the last few hairs, kissing over every bit of skin he had to hurt.
When he was done, Jake sat up, pretending to whip his brow with a ‘whew!’. He took your chin in his hand, turning your face as he checked his work. He didn’t like doing this, but he was nothing if not thorough. “Bonita!”
You sit up, taking him in a tight hug as you squeal. “Thank you Jakey!”
You feel him turn, looking over to the side and frown. You follow his eyeline, frowning as well when you don’t see him looking at a mirror. You knew who he was talking to. 
“Khonshu?” You ask, holding him tighter. You weren’t afraid of Khonshu, but you knew the effect he had on Jake. You couldn’t do anything about the Moon Knight situation, but you could be their support when they needed you.
Jake turned back to you with a kiss. “He’s gone now.”
“What did he say?” You feel the strong muscles of his back, holding tightly to him.
“He said I’ve gone soft.” Jake buried his face in your neck, smelling your shampoo and taking in your scent.
“And have you?”
Jake held your face in his hands, kissing your forehead, the crease between your eyebrows, your nose, and finally your lips. “For you? Most definitely.”
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Ive been in a soft! Jake lockley moon these days, what can I say!
Im tagging a few people I thought might enjoy, but if you'd like to be tagged in all my moon knight fics, comment here!
@lucianadraven32 @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @milkymoon2483 @itspdameronthings
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romanarose · 8 hours
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Oh, to be that chair thingy
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OSCAR ISAAC
Scenes from a Marriage (ep. 5, "In the Middle of the Night, in a Dark House, Somewhere in the World")
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romanarose · 8 hours
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“Get a load of this guy” likeee I’m trying!!!!!!!!!
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