#because steven and jake can hold it together

[the-witheredroses]

Oscar Isaac Characters Eating You Out

Minors DNI

Featured Characters: Miguel O’Hara, Moon Knight System, Basil Stitt, Anselm Vogelweide, Blue Jones, Poe Dameron, Nathan Bateman, Duke Leto Atreides, Prince John, Santiago “Pope” Garcia x afab!reader (Pronouns and descriptions aren’t used for the reader)

CW: SMUT (did you look at the title?), pet names, slight size difference, fingering, face riding, mention of periods, slapping, toys, anal, dub-con, sub and dom roles, squirting, overstim/crying, untranslated Spanish, and possibly some other things (All are just brief mentions)

These are just some short, dumb little rambles/headcannons of mine, so it’s not written the best. Not proofread or heavily edited.

(Lmk if you want more in the future)

Miguel O’Hara - Across the Spiderverse

Miguel is a tired man, always overworking himself with the Spider Society. All because he’s extremely thorough, never leaving something to be completed at a later date. Because of this, it’s not often he gets the chance to destress.

So, when it comes time to pleasure, he’s just as thorough. Miguel makes sure you feel just as much pleasure as he does.

Of course, because of his lack of free time, Miguel doesn’t care where or when it happens, he’s eating you out.

You’re in his office? Bend over.

You’re on your period? I guess he’s not beating the vampire allegations.

Pick a time or a place, he’s there, willing to thoroughly please you in whatever way he can.

Miguel is on his knees with your legs over his shoulders. His claws gently pricking at the soft of your thighs as he holds you still.

If you squirm too much, he is glaring at you from overtop your heat, pinning you in place with one of his massive hands.

His tongue runs laps in your cunt, teasing your clit and slurping you up. He’s eating you like a starved man, letting out small growls every now and again.

Miguel will refuse to touch himself until you’ve climaxed multiple times. He has the stamina to keep going for hours, and this is just a warm up for him. Besides, he’d rather see either of your pretty lips wrapped around his length over his hand.

When you’re a trembling, sopping mess underneath him, he’ll finally stop. His lower face is shiny as he licks his lips and hungrily smirks at you.

“Don’t think this is over, mi amor. This is just the beginning…”

Marc Spector / Steven Grant / Jake Lockley - Moon Knight

Marc wants you to feel as much pleasure as possible, because while he denies it, a part of him is a people pleaser. He always puts his partners above himself, including during intimate moments.

Marc is experienced and he will take the time to know what you like. Marc practically memorizes your body and what gets you riled up. But if he has the choice, he has you on your knees as he eats you out from behind.

Marc has you bent over as his tongue hits that perfect spot, causing you to tremble and moan in pleasure.

He loves seeing you grasp the sheets as you bury your face in your pillow, to him it’s a sign of validation, evidence that he’s making you feel good.

His hands grab at your thighs and ass as he goes to town. If he feels you try to pull away, he’ll swat your rear until you stay still.

When his mouth starts to ache, Marc will pull up and insert his fingers instead. He’ll move them in the way that has your toes curling and has muffled screams coming from your pillow.

Of course though, he finishes the job with his mouth back on you, drinking up every ounce you give him. He’ll lick his lips clean and kiss your cunt in praise.

“You did so good for me, darling…”

Steven is the most insecure of the boys. He never had the chance to date before, so he’s always worried about making you feel good. He especially worries when he hears how Marc talks about your guys' time together. Steven wants to make you feel just as good.

But Steven isn’t as affirmative as Marc or Jake.

Steven will keep you on your back, his hands feeling his favorite parts of your body. He loves to caress you.

Steven likes to be thorough but also to go slow. He wants you to feel every little moment he makes.

His tongue hits the spots you love, but it’s methodical, careful.

Steven pleasures you as though you could fall apart if he were to be too rough. But if you grind your hips or grab his hair, he’ll go a bit faster.

He lets you have control, his goal is to make you feel good, so why wouldn’t he listen to you?

Despite being focused on you, Steven won’t hesitate to make himself feel good too. Whether it’s with his hand or just humping at the mattress in front of him.

He definitely gets pussy drunk, babbling as dines on you.

“So pretty… so pretty…”

Jake, on the other hand, prefers to be a bit risky.

As much as he loves private moments with you (like the other boys), the thrill of getting caught makes it more exciting for him.

He’ll absolutely eat you out in his car or in an empty alleyway. All because you dressed up pretty for him or gave him that perfect smile of yours.

Jake likes to be quick but efficient with you, at least in public.

Jake sinks to his knees and pushes you against the brick wall. His hand stays on your stomach, making sure you don’t scramble from his grasp.

He’d start slow, intentionally making you panic about getting caught, but as he gets quicker, you become a moaning mess above him.

Jake will smirk as he makes quick work of you, making you finish quicker than you thought possible.

“Tan perfecta/o, mi vida… tan perfecta/o para mí…”

All of them love you so much, so sometimes after a hard day, they’ll each take turns making you feel good.

Steven most likely starts, being that he’s the most gentle. He’s a good warm up and he’s good for calming down without actually stopping. But with the other guys there too, he definitely is being a bit more aggressive to keep up.

Marc and Jake will take their turns, teasing and riling you up. Just between those two alone, your position is constantly changing, there’s no chance you’re getting sore from being stuck in one place.

Each of the boys will make sure you feel good, prioritizing you above all else. They even monitor each other through the many mirrors littered throughout the apartment. They just want their darling to feel good <3

Each will take their time, only stopping when you’re an overstimulated, crying mess.

Soft kisses and cuddling definitely ensue afterwards.

“Our beautiful darling…”

Basil Stitt - Lightningface

Basil, the pathetic, desperate, possessive loner. He will do anything for your attention. He will follow your every order. You don’t even have to touch him, he’ll cum just from eating you out. He loves you that much.

Basil is aggressive as he eats you out, desperate to make you finish. Because if you finish, you’ll stay, despite his scars.

He moans and whimpers more than you do as you pull him deeper into your cunt. His hands grapple at every curve of your body, desperate to make sure you’re real, that you want him.

Why would anyone want a monster like him? Even his own girlfriend cheated on him before his accident happened.

As he tastes you, he desperately chases your climax.

He needs you to feel good. He needs you.

When your legs tense around his head and you start praising him, he starts crying and finishes as well, his seed staining the floor below him.

His head falls against your inner thigh as his tears fall fast. He grabs at you harshly, his fear causing his chest to ache.

“Imsosorry… staywithmeplease…”

Anselm Vogelweide - Big Gold Brick

Anselm is a weirdo, a big horny weirdo, let’s get that out of the way.

Anselm will touch you and do whatever he wants whenever he wants. This kinky switch of a man will eat you out in any way possible, and it’s never simple.

Per his request, he lies tied up with you over him. His arms are completely restrained as he lets you control the situation.

Your glittering heat flutters as he blows on you, smirking at every little reaction you have. He loves your noises, especially when you’re loud.

Eventually you sit on his face, and groaning happily, he licks up into you.

Your hips rock back and forth on his face, his nose hitting your throbbing clit harshly. You’re breathing heavily as Anselm eats you up, his beard scratching the back of your legs as your hips move.

Despite being such an odd man, he absolutely knows what he’s doing, like— he’s extremely talented with his tongue alone. With every squirm and noise you make, he’s watching you like a hawk.

Your high builds and comes crashing down quickly. But when you start to move off, he harshly demands you get back.

“We aren’t done yet, doll. If you don’t get back on, I’ll kill myself.”

Blue Jones - Sucker Punch

Blue doesn’t eat you out for your pleasure, no- it’s to prove a point.

He owns you, just like he owns all the people working for his club. And because he owns you, he has to make sure you know how good only he can make you.

You were in the dressing room when he approached you, his eyes hungrily scanning your body.

Whether out of fear or attraction, you do everything he asks. So when he asks you to strip bare, you do exactly that.

With his head between your thighs, it’s hard to remember that this man could kill you without a second thought. He’s just too talented with his tongue.

Running a club has its perks, including having lots of practice in making others feel good. With all this practice, this man will do anything to make you squirt. He sees it as a sign of victory, that his toy likes him the best.

Your back is arching as Blue hits your sweet spot. Your hips lightly hump his face and nose, chasing your high. His hands grip your legs, letting you ride his face more and more.

You squirt all over his face, causing him to hum in approval.

When you finish, he licks a stripe through your arousal. Blue’s eyes meet yours.

“Bunny, do you act like such a desperate whore with all the clients?”

Poe Dameron - Star Wars

Lover of the sky, Poe is known for being quite flirty. With the constant travel, Poe has had his share of hookups and romantic partners.

Which is why, of course, Poe would do anything to make you feel as much pleasure as possible.

He’s cocky, sure, but when he brags about how loud he makes you scream, you know it’s the truth.

After a long day of travel, Poe is clinging to your cunt.

As his tongue runs laps through your folds, you tightly grip at his curls.

He’s already made you finish at least twice, and he’s desperate for another.

Your cunt is trembling from overstimulation, broken moans escaping your lips as you lazily try to pull him away.

With every faint tug of his hair, he pulls your body closer towards his mouth, not letting you escape.

His tongue circles your clit like a dehydrated man, wanting you to release and give every drop of yourself to him again and again.

When Poe gets you to release over his tongue once more, he doesn’t back off, speaking as he licks every drop.

“Just one more… Can you handle one more for me, baby?”

Nathan Bateman - Ex Machina

Nathan doesn’t eat you out normally, he much prefers using his fingers if he has to.

This man prefers making himself feel good above all else, he only tolerates making you feel good. Which is why he always makes you finish quickly or sometimes not at all, moving on to make sure he can get his pleasure from this exchange.

The only time he has eaten you out was when he walked in on you having a wet dream, mumbling his name as your legs spread under the blankets.

You wake up moaning loudly, Nathan tucked between your thighs, mouth to your aching core.

As he hits your sweet spot, you instinctively grab his head. His buzzed hair provides nothing to grip to as your hips sleepily grinds his face.

Everything feels extra sensitive and good, the lack of previous priority making you extra needy.

His beard provides a scratchy and satisfying feeling as his tongue laps up your soaked folds.

He doesn’t even acknowledge that you’ve awoken, now on a mission to make you finish on his mouth.

His hands grope at your waist and ass, gripping at all the soft flesh he can.

When you finish with trembling legs, he lifts his head, his beard glistening in your juices. His hand palms over his cock as he sits on his knees and stares down at you.

“Get up. It’s my turn.”

Duke Leto Atreides - Dune

Leto is a very busy man, but he does worship you when he gets the chance.

Constantly being needed by everyone, it feels nice to relax and give himself to the one person he wants to: you.

Sure, sometimes you’re under the table servicing him, but it’s not often he gets the chance to do the same for you.

He’s on his knees, worshiping your pussy like it is a divine god. Leto is praying to you with his tongue.

Leto is so focused on you, he can’t even acknowledge his own pleasure before he knows you’ve had some release.

He has to give his baby some extra care while he has the chance <3

His hands touch every inch that he can, worshiping all of you that he can.

Leto’s nose bumps your clit as he watches you like prey, he just loves your blissed out expression.

When you two make eye contact, he makes his assault that much more pleasurable. Whether that’s adding in his fingers or reaching deep into you with his tongue. Man loves his eye contact.

When you climax, he’s smiling and peppering kisses over your inner thighs.

“I still have time, shall we go for another?”

Prince John - Robin Hood (2010)

John is a man of pleasure, and he will devour you as long as he gets some in return. Just… never mention your ex or past relationships, he gets jealous.

He loves different positions and experimenting with you, as long as you’re both having fun or a good time, then he’s more than happy.

John, the whiny man, is begging into your cunt as you two eat each other up.

Your mouth is wrapped around his length as he laps up your warmth.

With each stroke of your tongue, he moves his in tandem. Every moan you gain from him, wonderfully rumbles your pussy.

His hands grasp and pull your ass cheeks, kneading the soft flesh.

John eats you like a starved man, because despite his regal status, you are by far the best meal he’s eaten.

At least that’s what he’d be saying if it weren’t the end to your guys night of pleasure, and John didn’t need an heir.

He probably isn’t the most thrilled to be eating his and your cum out of your pussy, but it's you, so he can’t complain.

Together, you finish and clean each other of every last drop, leaving both of you exhausted.

John pats his shoulder.

“Come, rest your head.”

Santiago “Pope” Garcia - Triple Frontier

Santiago loves to tease you. No matter the situation or place, he will edge you until you’re crying.

He likes seeing you as a whimpering mess, begging for some relief.

You were just on the cusp of finishing when Santiago pulled away, watching as you begged him to let you cum.

He’d chuckle and hold your hands hostage, not letting you get the chance to finish what he started.

As you start to come down from your high, he’d go back in, licking and eating your cunt out.

As you squirm, chasing your release, he’d cage your legs in place with his arms and hands. You’re not allowed to escape him or his constant teasing.

When he finally lets you finish, you’re a trembling mess, your hole clutching at his tongue as he eats every last drop.

“You’re so cute like this… maybe I should go again?”

—————————————————

Thanks for reading!

Lmk if you want me to add more of his characters or do a different set of characters (like Genshin men for ex.)

#miguel o'hara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #moon knight x reader #moon knight smut #moon knight x you #basil stitt smut #basil stitt x reader #anselm vogelweide smut #anselm vogelweide x reader #blue jones smut #blue jones x reader #blue jones x you #poe dameron smut #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you #nathan bateman smut #nathan bateman x reader #nathan bateman x you #duke leto atreides smut #duke leto atreides x reader #duke leto atreides x you #prince john x reader #prince john smut #santiago garcia smut #santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia x you #oscar isaac characters #smut

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Play Pretend

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

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

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

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

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

Word Count: 4909

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

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

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

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

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

He shifted again. Maybe he could-

“You okay?” 

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

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

“Hmmhmm.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He shivers. You know what you’re doing. 

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

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

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

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

Jake’s blush grew darker. “I… erm…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your own tiptoeing around the word makes you wince. 

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

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

He raises an eyebrow at you. 

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

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

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

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

You stroke his cheek as he talks.

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

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

“I don’t want to disappoint you.” 

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

“You could never disappoint me, Jake.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Sorry, sorry,” you mutter between laughter. 

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

You grin and kiss his nose. 

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

“You want me to…?”

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

You smile cheekily. “You watch?” 

He avoids your gaze. “Sometimes.”

“Sometimes?” 

“Almost all the time.” 

“Almost?” 

“99.9%.”

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

“I’m sleeping.” 

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

“Fair enough.” You stroke his cheek again. 

“You don’t mind?” 

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

“I’m definitely not doing that.” 

“Steven won’t care.” 

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

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

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

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

You tut.

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

You poke your tongue out at him. 

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

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

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

Jake nods once. 

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

“In bed.” He interrupts cheekily. 

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

“Driving’s not very comfortable.”

“Jake-”

“Not here anyway, roads are tiny.”

“Jake-”

“And everyone’s an asshole.”

“Okay, that’s true.”

He grins. 

“But, humour me, yeah?” 

He nods. “Consider yourself humoured.” 

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

“I’m on the wrong side.”

“Jake.”

“I’m on your left.”

“Well, we’re in America now.” 

“How did we get here?”

“Jake.”

“Did we fly?” 

“Jake.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This okay?” You ask between licks. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You moan his name, pulling at his shoulders.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You.” You manage to stammer out.

“Me?” 

“You.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck, Jake, I-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please what?” You whisper. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His fingers don’t falter though. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Amor…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You snort. “Oh, do you?” 

“Hmm, we’ll have to do it again.” 

____________________________________________

Thank you for reading!

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#jake lockley #moon knight #moon knight mcu #jake lockley x reader #x reader #jake lockley x you #x you #jake lockley x female reader #x female reader #jake lockley x f!reader #x f!reader #jake lockley x fem!reader #x fem!reader #my writing #fanfic #oscar isaac #oscar isaac characters #moon knight bingo 2024 #moon knight events

[moonknixght]

Fooling Steven Grant HCs [afab reader]

CRAZY CONCEPT but just hear me out wc: 760

⋆ The whole thing started the night Steven came over after an extra shift-- to see you peeling off a transparent mask that stuck to your skin. Naturally, It didn't look like a face mask, but instead more like an actual layer of skin.

⋆ Obviously Steven isn't dumb enough to think that it's actually your skin…

"Does this brand of mask hurt when you're removing it?"

Unless….

⋆ ..Unless you've seen countless trends of people playfully gaslighting their boyfriends about 'shedding' after periods. And obviously, this was too good of an opportunity to give up.

⋆ "What mask?"

"Th-? The one you're taking off right now, love."

"Steven… that's not a mask.."

"Wh-"

"It's skin! I'm doing my monthly shedding."

⋆ Oh the confusion in his face was palpable. At first it was like, 'You're joking, right?' kind of bewilderment, denoted by the dopey smile on his face while his brows knitted in confusion.

⋆ but that declined into actual confusion and surprise when he noticed your expressions didn't have any sign of goofing off. Only you were aware of the struggle of holding it together.

⋆ "Girls don't.. shed.. do they?"

"They do, Steven."

⋆ You could almost feel bad for him. But your reassurance kinda made him back off for a bit and retreat back into the bedroom. You were disappointed that he didn't have a crazy reaction.

⋆ But boy were you in for a treat when you came back to the bedroom. Of course, Steven, was obsessively scrolling through his phone, eyes concentrated on the headlines but as soon as he noticed you step in..

⋆ "Doesn't say anythin’ about shedding, does it? No."

He sooo proudly showed off the phone screen to you, but you already saw this coming. You knew Steven like the back of your hand, of course he was going to try sass you.

⋆ "Yeah.. that's because it's a secret. We don't really say it to all men. Because of like.. the salem witch trials. Imagine if everyone found out that women can shed skin like a snake."

⋆ He was going to call it ridiculous, but you somehow made sense, in a very, very odd way. But That didn't mean he was completely going to trust you on this yet, even if he loved you to the end of the world.

⋆ "But what about the men that know? Like.. me."

⋆ "Think about it Steven, I wouldn't be making this so obvious if I didn't trust you enough to hold this huge secret." (that was the first truth in a bed of lies, you did trust Steven with alot of things)

⋆ The best part was that you can see his brain short-circuiting. Steven is one of the most smartest people you know, so seeing such moments is very very special

⋆ Now the thing is, practically, he has small social circle, Which means the people he can ask this to is also minute. Obviously he cant ask this to Donna!

⋆ He's tried Marc but Marc is kinda gullible, the moment he broke this to him, Marc believed it because it wouldn't make sense why you'd lie?

⋆ Surely Jake can help! He's been involved with many women before, right? That's what he claimed. Anyways, Jake admits that it's true. Because god forbid Jake loses a chance to fuck with Steven

⋆ Layla came around the other day, and his mistake was asking her right infront of you. All you had to do was to show Layla the 'look' behind Steven's back, and she caught on easily

⋆ "You told him?" Layla said, just as Steven noticed that she was looking at you

⋆ but that was the nail in the coffin; Steven actually believed that women shed their skin

⋆ It was a quiet month after that incident, that even you forgot about it; until you got your period again and by the end of the week, he actually showed up with moisturizers and sweets because "It looked like it hurt to peel a layer of yourself off" :(

⋆ Steven, your sweet summer child, had bought you care products because he actually believed what you said

⋆ Obviously after that, you let him in on the actual secret that it was just a transparent mask sheet and his immediate reaction was rejoicing that he was right

"I wasn't going crazy then!! Women don't shed!!"

⋆ The absurdity of that sentence was just amazing, that you couldn't help but laugh and subsequently, it makes him laugh too

⋆ Ending the night (and this horrendous lie) by sharing the chocolate Steven bought and talking about it together is most definitely a welcome conclusion <33

#steven grant x reader #moon knight x you #steven grant x you #steven grant #steven grant x y/n #moonknight x reader #steven grant hcs #marc spector x reader #jake lockely x reader #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley x you #moon knight x reader #moonknight x you

[sarahghetti]

there's only one bed; m.k.

pairing: marc spector x reader, steven grant x reader, jake lockley x reader

summary: how the boys handle the "there's only one bed" situation.

warnings: mild angst.

moon knight masterlist | all masterlists

marc

ironically suggests building a wall out of pillows.

“how am I supposed to know that you aren’t going to latch on to me in the middle of the night?” he raises an eyebrow, the mirth in this voice betraying his otherwise serious expression.

you groan, shoving him playfully as he laughs. “just go to bed, marc.”

generally, he takes no issue with the situation—you’re both adults here, you can act like ones too. he takes the side closest to the door and faces away from you from the start.

falls asleep as fast as he usually does unless you’re being really disruptive, in which case he’ll just say your name as a warning without even bother to turn over to look at you.

for all his jokes, when morning comes, he’s the one who latched on to you.

marc stirs awake with his arms wrapped around something warm and a sweet smell in his nose. he doesn’t process it right away, and ends up pulling you closer to fill in the gap between you.

you shift in your sleep, the movement waking him up a little more, and that’s when the realization hits him like a truck.

he rapidly blinks his eyes into focus. while sleeping, he’d travelled across the bed to curl around your back, holding you close to his chest with one arm snaked under your neck, the other around your waist.

immediately, he tries to slip away but to no avail as you grab at his arms and press back into him, sighing contently.

despite how marc might feel for you, he doesn’t let himself enjoy the moment for a second. excuses pile on doubts pile on insecurities, and he proceeds to lay there, perfectly still, mind a whirring mess as you doze away in his arms.

this isn’t his life. he hasn’t felt this way for anyone in who-knows-how-long that he didn’t realize just how much he yearned for the connection, the contact until now.

when you finally wake up, he gives no indication as to what’s going on in his head as he gently untangles himself and sits up. no matter what reaction you have towards him cuddling you, all you get is an apologetic little smile that doesn’t reach his eyes before he starts talking about the day ahead.

as if he hasn’t felt so rested in years. as if he were unaffected by it all, by you, and wouldn’t be thinking about this for nights to come.

steven

unironically suggests building a wall out of pillows.

when you furrow your brows at him, really?, he starts fidgeting on the spot.

“I’m just saying!” steven raises his hands in defense, face flushing a deeper and deeper red the longer you look at him. it takes everything in you not to smile, but ultimately, you can’t help it. “oh, you—you’re absolutely terrible, you know that?”

he keeps going as you both settle into bed because you can’t help but giggle in response, which only makes him playfully insult you some more, which makes you laugh, and the feedback loop goes on for a while until you’re both under the covers, grinning at each other in the dark.

it’s quiet now, and you think that it’s time for both of you to turn in for the night when he pipes up— “seriously though, should we start gathering pillows or are you good?”

your cheeks hurt; you can’t do this again. “god, steven!”

“what!”

it takes a bit for either of you to fall asleep after that, but you stay facing each other as you do.

steven opens his eyes the next morning and sees your face far, far closer than you were last night, your noses lightly pressed together along with the rest of your bodies.

his arms hold you close, and your hands are gently fisted into the front of his shirt. one of his legs is trapped between your own.

“oh.” steven can’t help but to take the opportunity to admire you, especially since it’s not like he’s going to be moving anytime soon. the way the light catches in your hair, the slow rise and fall of your chest, the heat of your breath against his skin.

he has half a mind to go back to sleep; he’s so relaxed just from laying here with you.

when you finally stir awake, he holds his breath, waiting to see how you react.

“morning,” you smile, and don’t pull away.

that sends his poor heart into overdrive, and he just barely manages to reply, “morning.”

you’re unexpectedly cuddling in bed, yet neither of you are willing to move. it’s a shift in your relationship, you can feel it with every brush of his finger against your back, and with the way he’s looking at you—he knows this, too.

the sentiment hangs in the air, daring either of you to mention it until you finally throw caution into the wind. your voice is barely above a whisper. “I’m kinda glad we didn’t build that wall.”

the smile he gives you is warmer than the sun streaming through the curtains, and you think, yeah, you could get used to this.

jake

immediately turns to waggle his eyebrows at you suggestively, which makes you snort.

“get your head out of the gutter, lockley.” you roll your eyes, but smile despite yourself.

he doesn’t cause too much of a fuss after that, and you both quietly settle in soon after.

he’s flat on his back, eyes closed, so still that you think he’s already out for the night. just as you start to drift off, his voice cuts through the silence.

“if you get cold, just let me know.” his tone is innocent but you know better, especially when the smirk on his face is very much the opposite.

you kick him under the covers, and fall asleep with his laughter ringing in your mind.

jake wakes up in the same position except with a line of warmth all along his side and something tickling his neck.

when he looks down to see your head on his chest, hair splayed out and arm wrapped around his middle, he grins.

it’s stupid and cheesy but he can’t help himself—how could he? this is everything he’s ever dreamed of, and he’s going to bask in it while the moment lasts.

and it’s not about being close to just anyone, it’s about being close to you.

because he might joke around a lot and come off as brash at times, but there’s a genuineness behind it all—his true feelings always left unsaid or veiled behind several layers of sarcasm and wit.

so, yeah, maybe he has a bit of himself to blame for the fact that your relationship remains at a standstill, barely veering on the precipice of something more because jake’s too scared to admit any of his actual feelings.

but he’s bolder now as you slumber, shushing you softly when you nearly stir awake. “it’s still early, cariño, go back to sleep.”

he traces patterns into your back to try to lull you back to sleep, and while it is relaxing, something sticks out in your mind.

“what did you just call me?” you mumble, not even bothering to open your eyes.

jake goes quiet for a while, hand still moving absentmindedly against your skin before finally responding.

“cariño.”

he’s used that endearment with you before, and always with that smirk of his. you blow the air out of your mouth, a skeptical pffff.

“yeah, okay.” but you’re fighting against a smile anyway, trying to hide it into his chest.

jake doesn’t call you out on it for once and just holds you tighter, memorizing the scene with every fibre of his being before you both inevitably have to get up.

one day, he thinks—one day he’ll call you that, and you’ll smile and believe him.

#moon knight x reader #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #jake lockley x reader #moon knight #marc spector #steven grant #jake lockley #moon knight fanfic #my writing

[sailorkamino]

Hospital Bed Confessions

relationships: jake lockley x fem!reader, established marc spector x fem!reader, steven grant x fem!reader

word count: 2k

summary: As long as Jake can remember he's only had Marc and Steven to protect - then you came into the picture. Jake is scared to admit just how much you mean to him until you're injured, then he can no longer hide his feelings.

warnings: car accident/hospitalization/injuries, protective (but soft) jake, referenced childhood abuse, non sexual showering together, little bit of jealous!jake, jake has never been in a healthy/loving relationship and it shows.

translations: cariño- dear, princesa- princess, mi vida- my life, muñeca- doll

‘Has Y/N sent her home text yet?’ Steven asks from his reflection in Gus’ II’s and Gil’s fish tank. Jake looks away from the TV, “her what?” His alter looks annoyed, ‘you know what I’m talking about. The text She sends everynight to tell us she got home safe.’

Jake sighs dramatically picking up their shared phone. When he sees the late time illuminated on the screen something twists in his gut. Ever since you started dating Steven, and later Marc, you would send daily texts to whoever was fronting. The amount would vary depending on your workload but there were always three constants: good morning, I’m home, good night. 

Jake clenches his jaw. He tells himself he’s being irrational, clingy even. He tries to keep his voice even when he responds. “No, but she said she was working late.” 

This time it’s Marc that speaks up. ‘She should definitely be home by now. Call her.’ 

“You two are so dramatic,” he grumbles, although he was about to do that anyway. You don’t answer. Jake tries to ignore the worry churning in his gut. You’re an adult, you don’t need him hovering, but something feels off. Marc and Steven are pestering him to go to your flat but he barks at them in Spanish, trying to gather his own thoughts. A notification has them all freezing. 

Jake takes only a moment to read the message before an unreadable expression flickers across his face. He bolts out of the flat, leaving his altars in the dark. If you heard the way he was yelling at the cabbie to hurry up you would be pissed but manners are the last thing on his mind. Once the car comes to a stop he throws some money (including a tip because he’s not a monster) at the poor driver before jumping out. 

He’s practically running through the hallways, ignoring the poor doctors and nurses dodging his path. Finally he finds the room. He bursts through the door but the sight before him makes him freeze. He’s seen, and done, many violent things but seeing you hurt is something he’ll never forget. 

You peer at him for a moment, taking in the unfamiliar stance and the way he holds his jaw, before a tired smile spreads across your cut lips, “Jake.”  He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and approaches your bed. His hands clench by his sides. He wants to touch you, reassure himself that you’re here, but he’s afraid of hurting you worse. “You should see the other guy,” you joke. He doesn’t laugh, eyes becoming impossibly darker. 

“What happened?” 

You blink slowly at him. You know Jake is incredibly protective but you had never witnessed it towards you. Jake has always kept you at arms length so to speak. You would text some whenever he was fronting but he woukd mostly just tell you about Marc and Steven. He didn’t seem to realize that you cared about him just as much, and wanted to get to know him too.

“I don’t know, it happened so fast. I was driving home, I saw headlights then just… pain.” You wince at the memory.

His gaze is much softer now. “Are you in pain now, cariño?”

The pet name has you grinning, despite how sore your face is. “Some, but not too bad. They have me on a lot of drugs.” His eyes travel your scratched and bruised form. He wonders how many more injuries he can’t see and clenches his jaw. “Where are you hurt?”

You hesitate for a moment, knowing he won’t like the answers. “Umm my back is sprained, broken ribs, whiplash, and a concussion… plus I have some cuts but it’s not as bad as it sounds.” Your attempts to soften the blow do nothing as he curses in Spanish (which is actually really sexy but now is not in the time.) His brows are furrowed in concentration and you can only assume Steven and Marc are griping in his head.

You brush your fingers against his in an attempt to calm him down. He looks down to see you weakly grabbing his rougher hand, effectively making his heart stutter. “Fuck, you’re cold,” he hisses, gently running his thumb over your chilled skin. He lets go of your hand (much to your disappointment) so he can remove his jacket and drape it over your body. You breathe in the familiar cologne that all the boys wear, snuggling into the leather.

“Thank you, Jakey.”

He shakes his head at the nickname as he takes a seat in the plush chair beside your bed. You turn your head to look at him playfully. “You know this isn’t how I imagined our first date.” He scoffs in response, "this isn’t our first date." You feel the sting of rejection and consider hiding under his jacket to cry a little but then he takes your hand in his (where it belongs, in your humble opinion.)

"Once you're better I’ll take you somewhere real nice, okay? But you have to heal up first.”

Your heart rises from where it had fallen in the pit of your stomach to flutter in your chest. “I’d like that,” you hum. Your gaze travels to your interlaced fingers, thinking about your words carefully. “To be honest, I didn’t even think you liked me.”

‘Nice going, locker,’ Marc seethes mentally. ‘You hurt her feelings.’

Jake ignores him as usual. “Oh princesa,” he sighs deeply, “I’ll admit at first I didn’t trust you. Nothing personal, I just didn’t want Marc or Steven to get hurt. But then I saw the way you treated them and I started falling for you too.”

This time his altars are quiet. Your voice is soft when you ask, “why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t know how. I’ve never been in a relationship. I’ve never cared about someone the way I care about you. And you seemed so happy with them.”

Your heart melts at his confession. You’re not naive. You know Jake has a dark side. He’s the manifestation of anger and resentment Marc felt as an abused child, but he’s also a protector. “We’re lucky to have you,” you softly confess.

He looks at you in awe for a moment before you notice his lip slightly quivering. He bows his head but you can still tell he’s holding back tears. “Oh baby,” you coo softly, wanting nothing more than to wrap him in your arms and hold him against your chest, or even wipe his wet cheeks, but your injured back and sides won’t allow it.

‘You deserve to be happy too, mate,’ Steven pipes up, only making his eyes burn more. ‘Yeah man, stop shutting her out. She cares about you,’ Marc adds.

“Are you okay?”

He nods slowly, his altar’s words echoing in his mind. “Sorry princesa, I should be the one taking care of you.”

“Don’t apologize, sweetheart. I’m glad you can be open with me.”

He looks at you with so much adoration it makes you shy. Then he gently kisses the back of your hand, “I should probably let Marc and Steven talk to you. They’re worried sick.”

“Okay, but only if you promise to visit me again, amor.”

He grins at the sound of you using his first language. “I promise, mi vida.”

____

Within a few days you’re released from the hospital. Your boyfriends insists on staying with you until you’re better.

“Alright muñeca, bed or couch?” Jake asks. “What about shower? I smell like the hospital.” You counter, leaning into his solid chest. His arm flexes around your waist as he leads (practically carries) you into the bathroom. “Do you need help, princesa?” He asks. You nod shyly.

You lean against the counter as he gingerly pulls your baggy shirt over your head, leaving your chest bare (you learnt quickly that broken ribs and bras don’t mix.) “There’s my beautiful girl,” he coos. You grin bashfully, looking away as he kneels in front of you to pull down your sweatpants and underwear, leaving a gentle kiss on your hip. “Jake!” You protest shyly with heated cheeks as he stands in front of you.

“Sorry mi vida, couldn’t resist. This is my first time undressing you, after all.” He smirks before ducking into the shower to turn it on. He strips himself before wrapping his large arms around you to help you in the shower. You let out a happy sigh as the warm water hits your sore body

“Stand still so I can wash you,” he instructs, reaching for your fruity body wash. “Wait,” you interrupt, making him freeze. “Can you use yours? I like smelling like you guys,” you sheepishly admit. It’s quiet for a moment, and you’re worried you weirded him out, when his lips brush against your ear,

“Marc wants you to know that that’s the cutest thing he’s ever heard.”

You grin at his words, trying to ignore the goosebumps left in their wake. “Tell Marc he’s cuter.”

“Alright, alright, enough flirting through me.”

You bring one of Jake's large hands to your mouth, pecking his knuckles. “Aw baby, don’t be jealous. You know I don’t play favorites with my boys.”

Jake smiles so big it makes his eyes crinkle. Suddenly belonging to someone doesn’t seem so bad, especially when they belong to you too. He wordlessly kisses your neck and reaches for their body wash. You giggle to yourself but it turns into a gasp when he puts the cold loofah on your back. “Did I hurt you?” He asks worridley, movements stilling. You shake your head softly, “no, I’m ok, just surprised me. I’ll tell you if it hurts.”

Once he’s washed your back and shoulders he helps you turn around to face him. He runs the loofah over your front, being extra careful of your broken ribs. He places intermittent kisses across your face and forehead to distract you from any discomfort, mumbling apologizes against your damp skin.

After you’re cleaned off he helps you out of the shower, running a fluffy towel across your body to dry you off. “Alright, let’s get you to bed, mi vida,” he coos as he walks you to your room and sits you on your bed. He grabs you some underwear then moves to your closet.

“What do you wanna wear?”

You immediately point to your favorite stolen item of clothing. “The black jumper.”

Jake takes it off its hanger, examining it closely. “Is this Steven’s?”

“Mhmm, I always take his clothes.” You confess as he lays it on the bed beside you.

“Well Steven isn’t the one who just helped you shower but by all means,” he grumbles to himself as he helps you pull up your panties. You playfully roll your eyes at his childness. “I already told you, baby, I don’t play favorites, it’s just that Stevie wears the comfiest shirts. And besides, I don’t have any of your clothes yet.”

“Oh, so now he’s Stevie?”

“I tried to call you Jakey and you said you didn’t like it.”

“I was lying! Obviously!”

You scoff at his unprecedented jealousy. “Just get in bed, Jakey. I want to watch Encanto.”

____

A few Disney movies later Jake leaves to get you dinner and feed Gus II and Gil. When he comes back he’s bearing gifts.

“This one’s from me,” he explains proudly, presenting an oversized Yankees shirt. “And this piece of trash is from Marc,” he groans comically, presenting a Chicago shirt. You giggle at his dramatics, making him smile proudly.

“Oh and the flowers were Steven’s ideas but I picked out the type,” he adds on, holding out a beautiful bouquet of your favorite flowers. If your body wasn’t in so much pain you’re sure your heart would be beating out of your chest cartoon style.

“I have the best boyfriends ever.”

#jake lockley x reader #jake lockley fluff #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #moon knight x reader #moon knight fluff #moon knight #marc spector #jake lockley #steven grant #moon boys

[ivonhart]

the moon | steven grant x fem werewolf!reader

+ marc spector & jake lockley

— chapter five

| next

| previous

cross posted on ao3

gif credit: @paper-n-ashes

summary: You've always hated the moon. Hated the way it made your body bend and break into a new form every month. Hated the way it tied you to one of the many gods of it. But you couldn't hate what the moon connected you to...who it connected you to.

!! chapter warnings !!: Marc gets a lil slap across his face / dissociation / unintentional s*lf-harm

“Marc…please don’t push me away.” Your plea rang through Marc’s head every moment since he left you in that courtyard. He hated what he said to you. He hated your lack of presence. He hated Steven scolding him. But most of all…he hated himself. By the time he got to Cairo he was quick to begin nursing any bottle of alcohol he could get his hands on, anxiously awaiting the moment you showed up.

He had no doubts that you knew where he was heading and made the preparations. You always did manage to find your way back to him as he did you. Perhaps it was because of Khonshu, because of the work you both did, but maybe…just maybe it was something more. Something deeper.

The moment you reached Cairo you made your way to the hotel Marc was staying at. The bags underneath your eyes grew more and more with each passing day. You hadn’t had a solid sleep since Steven got attacked by Harrow and your body was suffering for it. You didn’t bother to knock on the door and Marc must’ve expected that because he didn’t budge the moment you stepped in.

A wave of smells assaulted your nose, causing it to curl up in disgust. Alcohol. “Marc?” Your voice shot through the silent room as loud as a bomb, but even so, Marc made no movement to your voice aside from a slight twitch of the head. “She looks bloody exhausted.” Steven whispered in Marc’s ear. Because of the Cairo heat you had to wear more revealing clothes, allowing Steven to finally look at the scar.

The scar he now knew some about. Marc didn’t have to check to know it was true. Along with remembering your words that night he also remembered how tired you looked. As Marc drowned in his thoughts you made your way in front of him, lightly kicking his outstretched foot.

“Marc, come on. Get your shit together so we can get ready to find Harrow in the morning.” Your blood lit on fire as you watched the man take another swing from the bottle he was holding. Not even giving a damn about the liquid that dripped onto his already damp, bare chest.

“I don’t need this shit right now. I’m so fucking tired and I can’t handle you wallowing in your pity party.” You kicked his foot again but with a little more power, the words you spoke coming out from between your clenched teeth. Your anger started to make your body feel hotter than it already was because of the heat.

To no one’s surprise, the man didn’t move. Opting to ignore both your words and Stevens’. A guttural growl passed your lips as you finally snapped. “FOR FUCK SAKE!” With a quick turn on your heel you disappeared into the bathroom and a few seconds later you came stomping back out. “Stop acting like a fucking child!”

You said as you yanked the man to his feet, paying no mind to the bottle that slipped from his fingers and shattered on the ground. With the unnatural strength you possessed, you pushed the man through the bathroom and into the shower that was provided before throwing clean clothes on the ground for him to use. “Now, get yourself cleaned up or so help me…” And with that you slammed the bathroom door and started cleaning the mess he made.

You were so consumed in your thoughts that you didn’t even notice the fact the shower had stopped running until you heard his voice. “I’m sorry.” Those words stopped you in your tracks. “What?” You softly asked with your back towards him. “I’m sorry…for what I said.” The glass you had in your hand suddenly pierced through your palm as you clenched your fists together.

The once large pieces breaking into small ones that dug into your skin. Slowly, you turned around with a look of disbelief across your face. “You’re…sorry?” You paid no mind to the warmth that flooded your hand for your mind was too clouded with rage. “FUCK YOU!” You shouted, causing the man to flinch and drop his head. The glass you held fell to the ground as you opened your palms with a growl.

“You don’t get to be sorry!” Marc refused to look at your eyes, causing you to send your hand across his face. “LOOK AT ME WHEN I’M TALKING TO YOU!” The furry you felt made it feel as though your body was on fire. The audacity of that man. When his eyes met yours you could see the shine of tears beginning to form, but you couldn’t care less. Not right now.

“You don’t get to say such things to me and be ‘sorry.’” At this point you were almost panting with how worked up you were. The urge to hurt him like he hurt you was overwhelming, causing the wolf to stir within your mind. Wanting…needing to attack anything due to the heightened aggression you felt.

“I have barely eaten or slept these last few days. I have been attacked by Jackals, concussed, SHOT, and have fucking Khonshu breathing down my neck the whole time. And all the while I was still on Steven’s heels making sure he, and you, didn’t get hurt. ” Steven had never seen you in such a state before. The pure rage that glimmered in your eyes made a shiver run down his spine as he watched through Marc.

Your frantic movements and bared fangs made you almost animalistic…like a wolf ready to fight. “And for you to have the audacity to say I didn’t do anything and I’d be better off dead.” Your mind was moving so fast you didn’t even register what you said until you said it. “It hurt. It hurt so fucking much because of how I care about you.”

A bitter laugh came from your lips as you dropped your head. “In a way not appropriate for just ‘friends.’ If that’s what we even are.” Marc’s eyes widened at the confession. His cheeks grew warm and his heart squeezed in a way he never felt. But, before he could say anything you spoke again. “I don’t want to hear your damn apology.” Your voice was quiet now…almost a whisper.

The exhaustion you felt caused your eyesight to go hazy as any strength you had left disappeared from your outburst. You were running on fumes at this point. “I bet you only said it to appease Steven. He is the best of us.” Marc saw how your body started swaying back and forth and when you tried to reach out you slapped his hand away.

Your hand was fully covered in blood now from the lack of pressure to stop the flow. Not even looking at him as you did. “Don’t fucking touch me.” Despite the soft tone you had, it still shot Marc through the heart. You always reach for him first to hold and now…nothing. Wordlessly, you walked past the man and into the bathroom, leaving a trail of blood droplets along the way.

-

The moment you closed the bathroom door, you collapsed against the nearest wall. Any energy you could’ve had disappeared as you cupped your wounded hand against your chest. Because of the small bits of glass that dug into your skin, your healing abilities were unable to take effect.

So…now you sat in the bathroom with glazed over eyes and a clouded mind, haphazardly digging around in your hand in search of the glass after you dropped your hand to the cold ground. You’re not sure how long you were in there before you heard a soft knock on the door.

A gentle knock that pulled you, slightly, from your dissociated state. “Love?” Love…Steven. It was Steven. You felt your body lightly jolt at the sound of his voice but you made no attempt to move. It was if your body had molded with the ground you found yourself on. The cold tile freezing you in place as the weight you carried crushed you down.

That’s when you heard him again…calling your name. It was faint, fading in and out from the ringing in your ears. Then the pain in your chest began as your eyes stayed forward. It was as if someone reached their hand down your throat and took hold of your heart. Squeezing just enough to make it feel like you couldn’t breathe. You could hear his pleads but they sounded distant.

“Let me in, please. I don’t know how much longer I can keep the body.” Your throat began to close as you heard cries in the distance. Was Steven crying? Why was he crying? Then the wetness came. It rolled down your cheeks and began gathering on your shirt, yet you stayed glued to the spot. You were crying.

Steven could hear it. The sobs that tore through your throat as if it cut you from the inside. That’s when he saw the blood. Without another thought, the man pushed the door open and a gasp left his mouth at the sight of you. There you were…propped up against the wall next to the door, barely breathing as tears flooded down your cheeks whilst cries left your lungs.

And your hands. One peeling the skin apart on the hand you smashed the glass with, resulting in blood to spill across the ground that carried the shards of glass once stuck within. Steven could taste bile in his throat at the exposed layers of skin you clawed apart, but he pushed any nausea aside and jumped into action.

Quickly, the man grabbed the first aid kit and tore your hand away from the wound. That’s when your eyes slowly moved over to meet his…but they weren’t the same ones he remembered. They were vacant, distant, devoid of any light he once saw and so puffy he thought your eyes would become swollen shut. He called your name again, but you simply stared at him. Looked through him as if he wasn’t even there.

“It’s going to be okay. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” Steven’s whispers broke through the fog that clouded your senses and made you realize he was actually here. Actually tending to the wound you inflicted upon yourself. You choked out the man’s name between your sobs as you fell into his arms.

The moment you consumed yourself within his warmth and sent your sobs turned into wails. He knew that the weight of everything that had happened collided within you the moment he wrapped his arms around you. So now matter how hard you held him or how wet you made his shirt, the man refused to push you away.

He wasn’t going to do what Marc had done. Your shivering body was pulled into Steven’s lap as he encased you in him. You got as close as you could to the man and with each passing minute your wails grew quieter and quieter until, eventually, you sat quietly on his lap as he finished bandaging your wound.

Your eyes began to droop as the exhaustion finally caught up to you and as you let yourself fall into a peaceful state between sleep and awareness, something shifted in the man behind you. His smell changed. Changed to a scent unfamiliar to you. But, any thoughts seemed to slip from your mind as the man picked you up and carried you to the bed.

With your senses clouded with sleep you reached towards the closest thing that carried the scent of the men you adored so much. As you pulled the shirt you latched on to, the man watched from the foot of the bed. His hard eyes turned soft at the sight of you finally being able to relax. “Descansa ahora.” Rest now.

-

a/n: JAKE MENTIONED *crowd goes wild* In my first version of this story I had the reader forgive Marc crazy quickly but I thought it'd be better for the reader to snap. Anyway, our girl is going absolutely THROUGH IT (it's gonna get worse :3)

taglist: @n1ght5h4d3-24 / @sunipostsstuff / @blackholegladiator / @ajeff855 / @daughterofthequeen / @faefanatic / @dropdeadbec / @sgt-morgan / @milk-bulb / @dev-angeline / @griffinkid2187 / @mxltifxnd0m / @badbishsblog / @local-mr-frog / @khaleesihavilliard / @rmoonstoner / @thewinterv / @oscarissac2099

#steven grant #steven grant x reader #steven grant imagine #marc spector #marc spector x reader #marc spector imagine #jake lockley #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley imagine #moon knight #moon knight x reader #moon knight imagine

[girlwithwolftatoo]

Hey! How would the moon boys react to fem!reader? Cupping their face in her hand out of the blue?

Weather is more than appropiate for fluff stuff <3

Moon Boys + Reader cupping their face

Marc Spector:

The most reluctant of three. He craves for signs of affection but won't react positively to it at first.

Your hands holding his face makes him feel... weird, a little vulnerable, a little childish. Consider most of his childhood and adolescence he didn't get much love.

"Drop it" he murmurs, but he's not serious. Won't take your hands off, won't turn away, he just struggles with his own feelings.

Little by little, he breaks. He sobs with an expression of embarrasment, as if waiting you'd find it ridiculous or stupid (which of course, isn't the case), and may kneel down as you still cup his face, all defeated and tired.

Listening words of reassurement and compassion is the best for him. Feeling you trust him and love him despite any mistake or flaw gives him the self-confidence he lost so long time ago, and the fact you don't judge him is even more important.

"I'm sorry, I... I know I'm not good foor you..." "You never say that again, Marc. It's a lie. You're good, for yourself and for me"

Steven Grant:

You probably caught him in the middle of a crisis or a panic attack, mumbling so fast his accent becomes thicker and you can barely undestand what he says, and once you put your hands on his jaw...

"What are...? Ohhh that feels better, yes..." he murmurs as soon as the warmth of your hands relax him almost immediately.

May close his eyes just to enjoy your spoils, even will accept to sit and, perhaps, a little massage on the shoulders (he's very ticklish so be careful).

Little by little, his tangled mind takes a straight trail of thoughts, and he vents everything in a more calmed tone. It's not just the flesh to flesh contact, it's the fact you're there, listening him, what helps him to recover quick.

Chances are he may reccomend to take a nap together, just to be sure he'll wake up in a better mood, or simply make some tea for you and him as a gesture of appreciation for what you did.

"Honestly don't know what would I do if you weren't here, love"

Jake Lockley:

For this case I can imagine two scenarios: one, Jake returning early in the morning, all tired and moody, or two, you having to approach Jake to calm him down since he's losing a little his temper and probably about to do something hideous.

If it's the first case, Jake simply walks in, dropping his jacket nd mumbling something about being sick of everything. Once your hands reach his face, he sighs almost in relief, as if he just entered a hot bathtub.

"I'd wish I could spend night here with you instead of outside more often, bonita" he complains and groans like an exhausted dog, allowing you to rub his face. A soft smile appears in his lips, and you know he's back to normal again, like a spell.

The other scenario sounds dangerous, but not because of Jake. As soon as he feels your presence right next to him, something in his mind sounds an alarm and he stops anything he's doing. If you'd got hurt during his watch, he would never forgive himself.

"Jake, Jake!" anyways you need to call him out to be sure he's paying attention. "It's okay, mi amor, it's over". Just a single hand will do, and he cups it into his own hand, gently squitting his eyes.

"Perdóname, princesa, I just... had a bad time" he murmurs, grabbing onto your hand as if he'd never let it go.

#moon knight #moon knight series #marc spector #steven grant #jake lockley #steven grant x reader #jake lockley x reader #marc spector x reader #jake lockley headcanon #marc spector headcanon #steven grant headcanon #moon boys

[ave09]

moon knight headcanons:

they make you cry during a fight

note: once again, my personal headcanons. jake’s kinda sucks because i haven’t seen enough of his character 😭

i have a lot of inspiration to write for the moon boys, so if you have a specific scenario for a headcanon that you’d want to see, please comment or send it to my ask box

also… y’all interested in other oscar character headcanons..? like poe dameron, santiago garcia, jonathan levy, or even a mister miguel o’hara? let me know :)

steven

steven hates arguing. 

but it happens from time to time. 

and he is absolutely wrecked the moment he sees those tears.

“no-oh bloody hell-luv-“

he immediately moves towards you, cupping your face, trying desperate to wipe the tears away.

“darling, i’m sorry—i’m sorry—i never meant-“

would definitely start crying as well, and pull you into a tight hug. 

he holds you close, patting your head, running his hands through your hair, “i’m sorry. for everything.” 

from that day forward, he did his absolute best to have calm conversations and to not argue because he could not bear to see you in such pain ever again.

marc

now this man is very stubborn. very. he’s a master at arguing. 

he lies his way through anything if he can get away with it. 

but one night, he takes it too far. 

when he sees your tears, he is silent. unwavering. 

he knows he fucked up. just like he does everything, or so he thinks. 

it takes a few minutes for him to snap out of it before he moves towards you, slowly, cautiously.

he then will open his arms for you, “c’mere.” 

marc will hold you close, whispering in your ear.

“i’m sorry baby. i’m so sorry.”

that’s how you will stay. just quiet. alone. together.

marc cannot promise that he’ll stop arguing, it’s in his nature to bicker. 

but he can promise that he’ll never cross a line to where he brings you to tears ever again.

jake

for a man with homicidal tendencies, he’s honestly a sweetheart. 

he shuts up the moment he sees you crying. 

begins mumbling in spanish, cursing himself before approaching you. 

jake isn’t a touchy feely type of guy, but he’ll take your hands in his, giving them a gentle squeeze.

“lo siento, cariño. forgive me.” 

he immediately wants to forget about it, so he proposes to do something for you. make dinner for you, help out with chores, he’d do anything to see you smile after what he’d done. 

jake lockley may be a lot of things, but never does he want to be the man who you cry over.

#moon knight #moon knight headcanons #moon knight fic #moon knight x reader #steven grant x reader #steven grant #marc spector x reader #marc spector #jake lockley #jake lockley x reader #oscar issac #oscar issac characters #oscar issac x reader

[vintagegirl01]

Inner Healing

Marc Spector x fem! reader (Steven and Jake are mentioned briefly)

Summary: In the heat of a moment, Marc raises his voice at you. This leads you to get hurt but not for the reason that Marc is thinking.

Warning(s): angst that ends in fluff/comfort.

Marc had a stressful day. Between arguments with Khonshu and the back and forth conversations of his two headmates, he feels as if he’s barely hanging on by a thread.

Currently, the two of you are having dinner together. You’re telling him a story about something that happened to you at work during a zoom meeting. Although, you start to take note of Marc’s zoned out expression on his face. Something that happens when he has a lot on his mind.

Taking this into account, you decide to bring up your concerns to him.

“Marc, are you okay? You haven’t been talking much tonight.”

He nods.

“Are you sure?” You try reassuring him, taking his hand in yours. “I'm here for you, you know?

Your voice starts to get lost with the other voices in his head. Though he’s trying to hold it together, he can no longer keep it in.

“I said I’m fine!!! Now stop nagging and leave me alone!!!”

As soon as he sees that shocked look on your face, regret is instantaneous. As he is about to open his mouth to try to apologize, your reaction is what catches him off guard.

Rather than yell back at him, you nod and take you hand away from his own. “Okay.”

The rest of dinner is eaten in silence as he sees you keep your focus on your plate rather than look him in the eyes.

_________________________________________

As Marc lays in bed, he begins to wonder about the events that happened tonight.

Why did I have to yell at her? She was only trying to help and I made her feel terrible.

“That's what I’m wondering”, responds Steven.

Jake murmurs “Tu es un idiota” as well as a few other phrases that Marc cannot fully understand but gets the gist of what is being emphasized. That he was a jerk to the woman who loves him so much, despite his faults.

As Steven and Jake go on with their reprimanding, Marc is trying to figure out what the next step is. Though he knows he needs to apologize, he isn’t sure how to when the woman he loves won’t even acknowledge him.

Just then, Marc sees you walk into your shared bedroom. Though he’s initially happy to see you, he is shocked to see you grab a pillow and blanket and decides to break the silence between you.

“What are you doing”?

“I’m getting ready for bed.” You say without looking at him.

“Away from me?”

“I figured…after what happened tonight, you want space.”

“Babe, please…”

“It’s fine, you don’t need to explain. I’m sorry…”

“I’m the one that should be apologizing. I yelled at you when you were only trying to help.”

“But you wouldn’t have yelled if you weren’t upset with me.”

“Babe, where is this coming from?”

Though you are reluctant, you decide to bring up your thoughts.

“Growing up, my dad used to yell when he got angry. Sometimes even yelling at me for no reason. Though his feelings were never truly directed at me, I couldn’t help but feel that I had something to do with it. Therefore, I figured that if you yelled at me, it must mean I made you…”

Despite being unable to finish, Marc brought you in for a hug. He now understands. You were upset because you thought you were the cause for his anger. But that could be further from the truth.

It was actually you that made him happy. Something that, since Randall's death, he had not felt. He felt whole again because of you.

Yes, despite how absurd it was for him to say it, you were able to give the impression that the man with DID wasn't broken. For they all loved you back just as much as you loved them all. So that he knows how much you mean to him, even if he has to spend the rest of the night cuddling with you and whispering sweet nothings, he will. Because it is what he intends to do for the remainder of your lives together, as well as tonight.

#marc spector #marc spector x reader #oscar issac hernandez estrada #oscar issac characters #oscar issac x reader #oscar isaac #moon knight 2022 #moon knight #steven grant #jake lockley #angst #fluffy ending #cuddles #moon knight fanfic #moon knight system

[character-babblings]

mdni 18+ only

everyday i wake up

(this is a oscar isaac character home)

welcome to my moonknight headcanons (also, yes i'm always down to elaborate or discuss)

Steven Grant, my sweet boy:

steven is actually working on skills in the bedroom. he's 100% branching out thanks to you. he's an eager and ready to learn student.

he's not entirely inexperienced but he's just so deeply obsessed with you. the way your clothes just always looks so good on your. hugging your curves and always bringing out your eyes. he may be biased but he thinks you're easily the most perfect woman in the whole world.

and the way you moan for him is just as perfect of course. steven 100% prefers to be face to face with you when it comes to sex. he has to see your face when he does anything.

and he's obsessed with how vocal you can get. when he's eating you out (honestly his favorite most of the time). the way your hands play with his hair as he'll lick and lap at your pretty clit.

"oh good steven. you're so good. such a good boy." and he's like putty. you cannot tell me that this man doesn't have a praise kink. bless his heart. he just wants to make you so happy. the way he flicks your clit with his tongue with hooded eyes because he's lowkey playing with himself with one hand while one dances at your entrance.

"steven. i need your fingers. please?" and he's just ready to please as he plunges his fingers in you. hair starting to become wet with sweat as an idea bubbles in his head. inserting two fingers into before removing his mouth.

"you have the prettiest cunt, love. it's so delicious and warm. i can't wait to put my dick in here." he tries. and he damn near cums his pants watching your eyes roll as you let out the most earth shattering moan. his eyes widen as he abandons your pussy all together. he didn't expect that.

"oh? do you like it when i talk like this? that's awfully naughty of you darling..." you're beginning to squirm as you wrap your legs around his torso. "steven just fuck me now please! you whine as you reach to take hold of his face to kiss him. and with that he's back to being a whiney mess at your words.

"fuck alright love."

Marc Spector: Resident dom (fight me. fight me rn)

absolutely dom. only a handful of times have you ever had any control. and that's fine because he 100% knows what he's doing obviously. he's gifted in the eating and bossing department.

he's got you on your knees in front of him just ramming the fuck out of your face and relishing in the gurgles and choking sounds your mouth is making. one hand in your hair and the other on the back of your head.

"oh what a good girl you are. good fucking girl. hey, relax your throat more. there you go little slut. swallow around my dick." he's tapping the side of your face before pulling your face off his dick. "you alright sweet girl?" he asked as he checks your face. he's revels in how ruined your makeup is as you nod at him, you're the one eager to please him now. he smiles almost darkly at you before grabbing you by your neck.

"good. because i didn't forget what a fucking brat you were today." he states as he drags you over to the bed, pushing you on it. "you have five seconds to strip. whatever's left on is getting ripped." he sighs taking his pants off. "you know i love you, but the way you acted today...i should have bent you over right there." he states as you assume the face down ass up position. reaching over to grab your face before

"remember i don't like brats. that shit may fly with Steven but never me. and i know Jake doesn't tolerate it either. so do me a favor. act like your brain actually fucking works." he warns as he lets go of your face. sitting up fully before beginning to pound your shit.

"let me enjoy this, don't make a sound. you make a sound and that's one more orgasm i'm giving you."

Jack Lockley: Hard dom.

(thank god this dude got minimal screentime bc idk how to act)

as aforementioned he's got a 0 brat tolerance. absolutely don't give this man attitude. he won't hesitate to smack your mouth a little or grab you by your face harshly before whispering to behave with a stone hard face.

he also will never hesitate to find a secluded area to fuck you hard in. he's fucked you against the window of both yours and his place for sure. no balcony is safe honestly. he loves to leave so many marks for the other two guys to find. he also has a safe word because when i say he gets rough i mean it.

he's choked you so hard he's made you pass out a hand full of times. then he'll patiently wait for you to wake up before continuing on while you whine and complain wondering why he stopped. muttering about how you're such a whore who only thinks about his dick.

he's giving your face a smack when he detects a little attitude. talking about "what was that? did you wanna say something little girl?!" and making you repeat yourself.

"your brain is fucking gone huh pretty girl? is that why you're talking to me like this?! i know i've fucked you out but talk to me like that again and i promise you that you can watch while i take care of myself." he literally growls as he grabs your hair and brings your head up so his hot breath hits your ear.

"because next time, i won't be nice and let you cum for the rest of the week." he says while releasing you.

(a/n please tell me this is a safe place for my moonlight slut thoughts please please please)

#steven grant smut #steven grant imagine #steven grant imagines #jake lockley smut #jake lockley imagine #jake lockley imagines #marc spector smut #marc spector imagine #marc spector imagines #steven grant #jake lockley #marc spector #moonknight smut #moonknight imagines #moonknight imagine

[custard0nut]

𝐀𝐜𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐲 (𝐇𝐂)

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Marc Spector/Steven Grant/Jake Lockley x gn! reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Small acts of intimacy with the moon boys.

—————

Marc Spector:

When you’re eating together he likes to wipe your face with the pad of his thumb, his reason for doing so is because apparently, you’re a messy eater when you’re actually not. He just needs a reason to touch you tbh.

On days when he’s busy doing some avatar duty, he leaves his sweatshirt or hoodie on your shared bed, so when you’re doing your routine, a part of him is with you. He may or may not have sprayed his cologne on it too.

Since Marc’s been to every part of the world, he would give you those tourist souvenirs unironically. 

"Seriously, Marc? An ‘I love New York’ t-shirt?" “What? The quality is great, baby."

If he wakes up early before you, he will stay in bed longer until you wake up because he loves to admire you. There’s just something so raw about it like time has stopped and it’s just the two of you. 

Your morning raspy voice? He fangirls internally. “Good morning Marc,” “Morning baby” 

Sometimes, without realizing it, Marc’s hands always find their way to have skin-to-skin contact with you. Like he would draw circles on your stomach with his finger while you’re laying down on his lap or pinching your thigh while you’re cuddling on movie night.

Does the laundry for you when he’s around and would never let you lift a finger at all. If he sees you reaching for the broom, you can bet he will swat it out of your hands.

“Ow!” “Oops sorry baby", then proceed to kiss your knuckles as an apology.

—————

Steven Grant:

Nap times are a must! He will buy matching pj's and even turn on the air humidifier or light a scented candle before your nap time. He doesn’t mind if he’s the big spoon or small spoon but he loves being the small spoon. If you’re having a bad day, he will be the big spoon and would pamper you with kisses.  

“It’s okay love, I’m here.”

Leaves candies and snacks around the apartment/your bag/your pockets, he does that just in case you ever get hangry or you just need sugar in your body.

“But Steven, they don’t make candy as sweet as you :(” He suddenly melts into a puddle. 

Brews you a cup of tea/coffee every morning before heading to work, and he would place your favorite mug next to it. 

He has a tendency to link your pinkies together when walking next to you. He doesn’t want to get lost in the crowd.

To heal your inner child, Steven bought lots of colouring books, and you guys would compete to be the best. Gus would be the judge of it. The little guy will swim toward whatever attracts him the most.

“YES! I won again!” “That’s not fair love! You bribe him with food!” Que to him sulking.

One perk you adore about him is when he’s humming softly to himself. He usually does that when making dinner or in the shower, and you would sometimes sneak up on him for a surprise hug. He appreciates that a lot.

—————

Jake Lockley:

He lowkey has cute aggression and would playfully bite you. Your arms and thighs become the victims most of the time. 

“Can you stop biting me?” “Why not? You always bite me when we’re in bed though ;)”

He likes to take a shower with you and massage your head and body with shampoo and soap. Takes his time picking which scented shampoo to use on you because he likes to sniff your hair while cuddling. It’s therapeutic for him.

“Mixed berries or green tea?” “Green tea please.”

Would invite you to run errands with him cause he enjoys your company and plays your playlist in the car. He will either grab your thigh or hold your hand while driving; there is no in-between. 

Since you’re his pretty passenger, you can bet you leave your stuff around purposely. He thinks it's cute.

He will go to any lengths for you, even driving across town in the middle of the night, to satisfy your cravings.

“Okay, I got you your favorite snacks amore,” “Thank you!” “And I demand kisses as payment.”

Self-care Sunday was your thing at first, but now it’s his too. So when he’s running errands alone he would buy skincare for you and him to try out and you were surprised when he came home with a bunch of varieties.

“Which one do you wanna try first mi amore?”

#steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #jake lockley x reader #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight fluff #steven grant x y/n #marc spector x y/n #jake lockley x y/n #moon knight headcanon

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Cheat

Marc Spector x GN!Reader • Rating: T Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • MK Bingo 2024 Masterlist •

Summary: Marc cheats at games constantly.

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

A/N: this is just self indulgent. I'm sorry.

Warnings: reader is from the UK (get ready for some friendly USA vs UK), typos, railroad sentences, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 828

“But that’s cheating!” 

“No, it isn’t.”

“It is!” You try to keep the smile out of your voice, and put on an air of shocked indignation. Marc was notorious for cheating at board games, and card games, and any games where he thought he could get away with it. 

“How?” He asked calmly, crossing his arms over his chest. But there was a hint of glee in his eyes.

“You,” you gesture at him with your hand, nearly breaking into a laugh, “you can’t move like that.”

Marc doesn’t miss a beat. “Yes, you can.”

“You can’t!”

“Who says?” He cocks his head to the side as he asks, his eyebrows pinched together in mock confusion. Though the little twitch of his lip gives him away. If there was one thing he loved more than cheating at games was pretending he actually wasn’t.

“I don’t know Marc, the rules?” 

“I don’t think so.” 

You pull your phone out of your pocket. “I’m looking them up, right now.”

“You’re just going to go and look at ‘pretend rules to suit my argument .com.” He shakes his head, a fake look of disgust plastered all over his features, as if you’re the one that’s going to try to deceive him.

“Firstly,” you try not to laugh, so as not to weaken your position. “That’s amazing, I am looking that up afterwards to see if it exists, and secondary-”

“I mean, it does exist, otherwise how else are you gonna go on it to look up the rules and pretend I can’t move like that?” 

You gawp at him for a second, grinning like crazy at his audacity. “Marc-”

“Hey,” he holds up his hands, “I’m just trying to play fair here, play by the rules-”

“When have you ever played by the rules?” 

“And you’re here, questioning my very legitimate move.” 

“Marc,” you giggle, “draught pieces cannot jump over empty spaces in a straight line.” 

“See, firstly,” he pulls a face, mocking your expression from before, “we’re playing checkers, that might be where you’re confused, because, in checkers-”

“Marc we are playing draughts,” you giggle and hold up the battered cardboard box, which clearly says ‘draughts’.

He shakes his head. “That’s a typo.”

“That’s a typo?” 

He nods, “of course, and-”

“Pretty big typo.” 

“British craftsmanship was never up to standard.”

“I’m gonna-”

“Now, now,” he grins, wagging his finger at you. “Violence never solved anything.”

“Says the American.” 

Marc gasps in fake hurt and puts his hand on his chest, “I’m so shocked that you would lower yourself to insulting my nationality.”

You laugh, “you just-”

“I would have thought such petty insults were beneath you,” he shakes his head in mock outrage. “I mean, I am so insulted right now.”

“You did it first!” You grin.

Marc just shakes his head and stares to the side. “I can’t even look at you right now. 

“Also draughts and checkers are the same game.”

“Now, you're insulting my American heritage, our cultural game of checkers, how could you?” His tone of voice is making it impossible not to laugh. 

“Marc-”

“I just can’t,” he stands, “If you’re not going to respect the game then,” he shrugs, “I don’t think we should play, let’s just end it here and say I won.” 

“No,” you get up, “I’m winning!” 

“Were you? Morally?” He teases.

“Yes!”

He takes a step closer to you. “And in the actual game?”

“Yes! That’s why you started cheating!” 

He leans closer, “I never cheat.” 

You place your hands on his cheeks and pull a face. “Liar.”

“How could you-”

“Don’t make me ask Steven to be the umpire.” You say playfully. 

“Oh yes,” he narrows his eyes at you. “The other Brit, I’m sure he’ll be completely unbiased.”

You laugh, “Fine, how about Jake?” 

Marc shakes his head, an over-the-top motion just for your amusement. “Can’t trust him.”

You gasp, “You can’t trust him?”

“Not in matters like this.”

“But he’s American.”

Marc shakes his head again, “he’s too blinded by your beauty to be impartial.” 

You smile, the sneaky compliment catching you off guard for a moment. “Blinded by my beauty?” 

“Hmm,” he nods, all fake seriousness. “It’s a real problem, luckily, I have developed a resilience to your charms.” 

“Oh really?” 

“Yes,” he nods again, but takes hold of your left hand and places a kiss to your inner wrist. “I am completely immune.” He punctuates the sentence by placing more kisses along your arm and sliding his other hand onto your hip, pulling you closer towards him until your chest is flush with his. 

“Completely immune.” You echo and nod sarcastically.

“Completely.” He nods back and places a soft kiss on your lips that quickly has you melting into him. He stays just as close when you break apart, keeping barely a centimetre of space between you. 

“You’re a terrible cheat, Spector.” 

He grinned. “You love it when I don’t play by the rules.” 

____________________________________

Thank you for reading!

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @cocodiem @oscarisaacsspit @whatthefishh @mbakubabe @romanarose @pimosworld @jake-g-lockley @saturn-rings-writes @boredzillenial @lonelyisamyw-0love @melodygatesauthor @steven-grants-world  @eyelessfaces @angel-of-the-moons @minigirl87 @queerponcho

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[stormkobra-5]

Puzzles

Pairing: Steven Grant x fem!Reader (mention of Marc Spector x fem!Reader/Jake Lockley x fem!Reader)

Fic Type: Drabble

Summary: Steven’s not rough with you, like Marc or Jake. He’s more… Reserved. But he will wreck your shit if you ask nicely.

A/N: So yes this is fluffy Steven smut. No I cannot be stopped and no it is not a part of Red Handed.

Rating/Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, NSFW under the cut, softdom!Steven, sub?Reader, riding, missionary, edging, orgasm denial, squirting, breeding kink, trying for a baby, pregnancy, mention of marathon sex??? I think that’s it???

Steven Grant was a master of puzzles.

Jigsaws he solved within a matter of hours, if that. You’d long since stopped trying to keep track of his 3000-or-more-piece puzzles, always Egyptian-themed, that he’d clear a table for, finish in record time, and then break it up and put it away before reaching for the next one. 

Escape rooms? You figured when you introduced him to the random little escape room app on your phone that he’d be just as stumped as you were. Instead, ten minutes later, he asked you how he gets to the next world. “Steven,” You breathed in astonishment. “You… You beat the fucking game?!” I think it’s a given to say that he’d also completely owned your consoles when you showed him puzzle-based games like Skyrim or Zelda.

Jenga, Ka-Plunk, DnD, hell, even Clue, he blew your mind with how quickly puzzles were solved by his hands. Incomprehensible, astounding, holy fucking shit your boyfriend is a genius. 

Specifically, one of them in particular.

His Rubik’s cube.

The way he moved those goddamn fingers, those fingers that he could bend and flick and curl expertly against you and in you when you needed him too. Those hands alone could make you see stars if he was really intent on doing so.

He hated it when he had to use both hands for the Rubik’s cube. So he oiled it, ensuring that it flipped and moved with the smallest of touches, one-handed. Shk, shk, shk, he’d already solved it twice while you were watching, restarting the process when you asked him that one simple question. “Just one more time, love. Three times, then I’m all yours, yeah?” His soft voice was deeper, huskier, a little out-of-focus because of how deeply he was concentrating– not that you could tell he was. He looked calm, serene… but calculating. Deep in thought.

You were the puzzle this time.

“S-Steven, please–”

“Just a little bit longer, love.” He tossed the cube up in the air in front of your face, just being a showoff at this point. 

Two weeks ago, you’d started talking about raising a family together. At first it had just been uncertain questions, but then you’d started looking into schools nearby, making lists of baby names, adopting a healthier diet, and going to the doctor. Steven was more determined to get you pregnant than you’d expected, tracking your cycles and ovulation periods– hence why he’d made you take a week off work. He’d seemed a bit nervous when he admitted that he called in for you. “Well, love… you’re ovulating now, yeah? I figured now’s a better time than any to–” You’d never heard the end of that sentence, having immediately dragged him to the bed.

 But now there wasn’t an equal flow, like there usually was.

“Don’t cum until I say you can, dove. You can do that, yeah? Can you be a good girl for me?”

He’d laid back, helping you straddle his lap and sink down on his thick cock; it was then you’d realized that he hadn’t cum earlier, that he was holding off, maybe hoping an extremely powerful orgasm might be what it takes to knock you up. You were a puzzle he needed to solve, so like always when he focused intensely, you didn’t even begin to understand what he might be thinking. 

He hadn’t thrust up into you, although he had allowed you to roll your hips, bounce on his length, do whatever you want at whatever pace you wanted– there were only three rules. You couldn’t touch yourself, you couldn’t cum, and you had to keep your hands on his stomach so he knew you weren’t cheating in your blissed-out state.

Slowly, his dark chocolate eyes trailed from the Rubik’s cube to your red, sweaty face. “S-Steven… Please, please…” 

You found it. Right there. That spot where you can easily drive to your ecstasy. Maybe Steven won’t notice if you cum. Maybe he’ll let it slide. But he knew your body better than you did, and when you started to speed up the rocking of your hips, Steven’s free hand flew to your waist, effectively stopping your impending orgasm. “Steeeevvennn,” You whined, reduced to a blubbering mess of begging to barter for your release. Your approaching euphoria was ripped from you, descending rapidly into a cold pit of roiling tension in your lower belly. 

Steven’s hand crawled up your side, brushing painfully close to your breast without touching it and running up the length of your neck. He stopped at your mouth, fingers expertly running over your top and bottom lip gently. “Sh, dove,” He said, all but absentminded as you tried to fuck yourself without fucking yourself on him, “Almost there.”

He slipped his fingers into your mouth, letting you suck on them. You swirled your tongue and bobbed your head, using the same movements as you would when sucking him off, but aside from briefly glancing to your face, he gave no reaction to indicate that it was turning him on at all. His cock barely twitched inside you, and you weren’t entirely certain if he just had that good self-control, or if you’d gone numb from the waist down from fucking like rabbits all day in any position and location possible in your flat.

Finally– finally– he removed his fingers and twisted to toss the Rubik’s cube onto the nightstand, unintentionally shifting himself deeper inside of you, if possible, and eliciting a moan from you; yep, you could still definitely feel everything down there. If anything, you were over-sensitive, rather than under. He stared up at you with admiration and a small smile, massaging your thighs. “You did so well for me, dove. You ready to cum?”

If it were only possible, you would have cum right then. “Yes, please yes!” Maybe in the morning you’d be a little embarrassed about how easily you begged, and so quickly, too– but you had little time to think about it. Effortlessly, Steven rolled you both over so that he was on top, between your legs and still buried deep inside you– maybe even deeper, oh god, you can’t take it–

Steven’s gentle kiss on your forehead was nothing compared to the sheer intensity of how hard he pistoned his hips into you, the head of his cock bumping your cervix and almost making you scream. “Let it out, darling,” Steven urged, “I like to hear you. Please, love?” He punctuated the question with an open-mouthed, heavy kiss on your pulse point right under your jaw, and this time you didn’t hold back. Your wail of pleasure drowned out his soft moans and gasps as he panted for air. Sweat glistened silver on his tawny skin, dripping from his nose, his hair, the chain necklace he wore– gently, you tugged on it, and Steven’s hands flew to yours. He entwined your fingers together before pinning them on either side of your head, driving deeper, faster, harder, until you can’t breathe, you can’t see, there’s only Steven, who kisses you passionately as his thrusts falter. “You can cum now darling,” He breathed into your mouth, moaning as you screamed his name loudly enough to hurt your throat. You soaked the bed, him, hell, you wouldn’t have been surprised if the whole flat was soaked. You’d never squirted before with him, and you wondered if it was what he’d been planning for. 

Steven came with a cry, finishing as deep as he possibly could– a part of you thought he must have shot himself directly into your womb. He let go of your hands, allowing you to wrap your arms around his neck as he held you close, trying to catch his breath. He pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, wincing as his hips rocked of their own accord in the aftershocks of his high. “Can you keep it all in for me when I pull out, dove? We’ve gotta make sure every drop has a chance, darling, every drop.” His hand rested pointedly on your stomach, making you smile and nod frantically.

When you shivered, he immediately reached for a nearby blanket, carefully pulling out of you and ensuring you were warm enough before moving away. When he came back, he very gently cleaned you up before moving you to a hot bath, letting you lay there while he changed the sheets. Before you could even think of moving from the tub, Steven returned carrying his comfiest hoodie and sweatpants he knew you liked to wear, along with a snack oh-so-typical of Steven. 

“Are those… cookies?”

“Oatmeal cookies,” He specified, sitting on the edge of the tub and carefully handing you your plate. “With raisins. Better for you and the baby, innit?”

You flushed up to your hairline, touched by the gesture. “Honey, we don’t even know if I’m pregnant yet.”

“You will be,” Steven said excitedly, setting the milk (yes, he even brought you milk) on the sink so that he could kneel on the outside of the tub, staring at you fondly with his chin resting on the edge. He caressed your face, smiling when you leaned into him to press your foreheads together. “We’re gonna get you pregnant this week, love, I can feel it.” He kissed you softly, before his face contorted thoughtfully as he pulled slowly away.

“Steven?”

“Orange juice,” He said, abruptly standing.

“Huh?!”

He grabbed the glass of milk on his way out of the bathroom. “Orange juice is better than milk, right? Or, maybe not? Maybe they’re equal? You wouldn’t want them at once, love, so; orange juice, yeah, and a banana? I’ll just drink the milk then, don’t wanna waste it, and I’m not sure if I could pour it back into the container without makin’ a bloody mess…”

You listened to his rambling move about the flat as you nibbled on your cookies, smiling to yourself. You and Steven wanted this baby more than anything; and you wanted it even more since Marc and Jake were both scared but excited at the prospect. You looked at baby clothes together, you had everything planned out, and now you were finally, actually trying without any kind of protection to conceive.

Steven may have planned the week, but they were all so sweet, so supportive, so protective, ensuring that you eat right, drink right, sleep right, rest, bathe– 

–and you loved them with all your heart.

The next morning, when you were making the bed, you found his Rubik’s cube half-finished on the nightstand. A smile made its way onto your face as you realized he’d never completed the puzzle last night in favor of completing you.

A couple weeks later, when you and Steven read the positive results of the pregnancy test, you realize, amidst all the cheering and hugging and crying, that with all of his planning, trying to get you pregnant was yet another puzzle he had solved, effortlessly.

With the help of Marc and Jake, of course.

————————————————————————

Thanks for reading! :3

Tags: @dameronsknight @sylkisdagger @atzlena @gucciboots @pastel-0-princess @poeticsorcery @rosaren2498 @love-on-the-murder-scene @wintergirlsoilder2 @blackcat-midnight-thatsme @multifandomsw @bookloverfilmoholic @khaotic-kris @hb8301 @soggumm @simonsbluee @adamcarlsenslvr @bluestuesday @magnet-girl @rosellacwrites @dweeb-central @ilymorepls @drwhofangirl1963 @loonymagizoologist @auszimbo @tealrivers @laters-gators12 @izbelross @xcatnapsx @child-of-the-moon-gods @djarinsgirl27 @sokoviansorceress @eerievixen @cold-buffet-ham @upbeat-cascade @stark-kirk-rogers-grant-blog @candydancey @rqmanoff @jakelcckley @sharin4readers @lovely-cryptid @marc-spectorr @rmoonstoner @oscarisaacsspit @marc-spectorr @lovely-cryptid

#moon knight #steven grant #marc spector #jake lockley #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #jake lockley x reader #steven grant x fem!reader #steven grant x reader smut #steven grant x fem!reader smut #oscar isaac #oscar isaac hernandez estrada

[astroboots]

RED FLAGS ║ PART 7

CO-WRITTEN WITH @THIRSTWORLDPROBLEMSS

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

Summary: Your subconscious is trying to tell you something important about the choices you have to make. Or alternatively: is it still a threesome if the two men are alters?

Content: Stefon voice: This chapter has everything: angst, vaginal sex, anal sex, threesomes, DP sex.

Word Count: 8,165

Series Masterlist | Astroboot’s Masterlist | Thirstworldproblemss’ Masterlist

[PREVIOUS] - [NEXT]

You stare up at the shadows on the ceiling above your bed, willing yourself to fall asleep. 

But it’s simply not happening. 

Every time you close your eyes to the darkness, your brain takes it as an invitation to play a slideshow of this evening’s highlights. 

Marc showing up at your door, Marc holding you on the DLR, Marc's face inches from your own in front of the fish tank, Marc tucking you into the taxi. The images play behind your eyelids over and over and over again like a broken merry-go-round until you’re dizzy with it and dart up from your bed to pace the distance of your flat for a good twenty minutes, calming your jittery nerves enough that you can lay still long enough, close your eyes– only for the reel to start again.  

Get up–walk around–lie down–replay–and so it goes. Again and again and again. 

You don’t get much sleep that night.

Friday morning comes early. 

You must’ve fallen asleep at some point because you wake to your alarm blaring, but your sore back and the heavy dull ache behind your eyes tell you it was not nearly enough rest. 

One look at the clock informs you that you have 15 minutes to get yourself together and out the door or you’ll be late for work. It’s a mad scramble, and you earn yourself a bruised shin courtesy of the bloody ottoman, but you make it out the door and to the tube just in time, dashing down the stairs and squeezing yourself through the already-closing doors as the morning commuters around you grumble.

Pressed up between a grumpy construction worker and an even grumpier 20-something office worker, you’re holding onto your belongings for dear life as the train sways, trying to make sure you’ve got everything you’re meant to, when you realise the jacket in your hand is not one of your own. 

It’s Marc’s. 

There’s no need for another layer in the overpacked warmth of the train, and it’d be too hard to manoeuvre yourself into it in the minimally-available free space anyhow. You drape it over your arm instead, the way you might if you were just… holding it for a friend. There it stays for the entirety of your commute until you exit the station into the damp chill of late Autumn London fog so heavy it’s nearly drizzling. 

You glance at the jacket. The sensible thing to do here would be to just put the bloody thing on, but for some reason you can’t quite bring yourself to do it. Instead, you shiver your way through the two block walk to your office, arriving cold and clammy and feeling all together out of sorts.

On top of that, your sleepless night and slapdash makeup application are apparently not doing you any favours, because once you arrive at work, no less than three of your coworkers ask if you’re ill. With as polite of a smile you can muster, you push off their concern and get to work.  Busying yourself with small, mindless tasks, you manage to get through most of the morning without thinking overly much about anything. 

That lasts right up until 11:47am when your phone pings out, rattling against the surface of your desk. 

Steven Hiya love! 🥰 What did the sushi 🍣 say to the bee 🐝?

Steven’s silly random texts usually bring a smile to your face, and this one still does, but today it’s accompanied by a sickening swoop of your stomach and a heavy feeling that weighs you down, slowing your fingers so that it takes you twice as long as usual to type a response.

You I don’t know… What did it say?

Steve Waaaasa-bee!!!!! 🤪🤪🤪

You Oh my god! 

Steven Speaking of which, how do you feel about sushi for dinner tonight? Shall I get us some from that Eat Tokyo place on my way to your office? 🍣🍱😊

You glance at Marc’s jacket where it’s sitting, innocently folded atop your purse by the side of your desk, and tear your eyes away. Guilt over your actions yesterday comes crashing down on you all over again like a ton of bricks. You can’t imagine sitting with Steven in his flat eating dinner under the watchful eyes of Gus 2.0, The Imposter while lying to his face about what you did last night. The very idea makes your already unhappy stomach turn. 

You Sorry. I have Friday social drinks with the team tonight and I’m getting the side eye for having missed too many. Raincheck? xx

Drinks with your team is predictably awful. 

It’s a longstanding social obligation at the end of each week that you’ve never enjoyed. Too much boozing and Graham from two cubicles down tends to get handsy and start hovering too close once he’s on his sixth pint. You’ve happily foregone it most weeks since you started dating Steven. 

Tonight though, it’s the lesser of two evils and the perfect excuse.

Since it’s Friday, the pub closest to your office is an overpacked mess. The floors are sticky from spilt beer, and the rancid smell of what must either be old cider or piss has permanently seeped into the cracks of the wooden beams. You’ve entirely lost count of the number of elbows jammed into your back, and your voice has gone hoarse from shouting to be heard over the unnecessarily loud music and cluttered conversation taking place all around you.  

The evening drags on. Sleep-deprived and exhausted, you find yourself zoning out, eyes drawn to the large fish tank in the corner of the pub. It’s a standard collection, a few guppies, a fat Gourami fish that shimmers red and a handful of goldfish swimming about. 

One is almost orange in its goldenness, nothing like Gus’ more stark golden hue. Another one has the same colouring as Gus but is too skinny to pass, the third one… hmmm. That one is a bit more promising. It isn’t one finned, but it’s the right size and colour, and one fin is even a bit smaller than the other, so maybe– 

Oh god, what are you doing?

Are you seriously scoping for another replacement fish right now? You need to stop.

Shaking your head to snap yourself out of it, you turn your attention back to the conversation at your table. 

“My son’s gotten into a phase where he won’t stop watching Finding Nemo on rerun,” Poppy from accounting is saying next to you. “He loves that movie. Wants me to make him a Nemo costume for Halloween this year. Must’ve told me twenty times to ‘make sure it’s only got one fin.’”

A shiver works its way down your spine. The words feel accusatory somehow, even though you know that she couldn’t possibly have known what you were up to yesterday. You’re also pretty sure Nemo technically had two fins, one was just smaller than the other, but you’re not about to correct her when it’s all you can do to push down the image of Gus that’s trying to swim up to the surface of your mind. 

From across the table one of the other accountants chimes in, saying how their kids love the movie as well, and then it’s a pile on of enthusiasm, everyone blathering on about their kids watching Nemo on rerun. 

Nodding vaguely, you pretend to be following along in the conversation, but you keep having flashes throughout of the Imposter Fish and his two whole fins swimming around in Gus’ tank like he owns the place. Your skin prickles like you’re about to break out in hives. 

You stand abruptly, nearly knocking your chair over in the process, earning yourself concerned and questioning stares from around the table. 

Shit. 

“I’ll… um… I’ll just grab another round for the table, shall I?” you blurt out, trying to salvage your dignity or at least the situation, then escape to the bar. 

Ordinarily it would take an eternity to get the bartender’s attention on a busy night like this—a good twenty minutes to be spotted in the crowd, if you’re lucky. But tonight, on the one night when the wait would have been a welcome reprieve, the bartender spots you almost instantly and prepares your order with similarly unwelcome speed. That’s how you find yourself stacking pint after pint in your arms, cradling them as best as you can as you reluctantly start back towards your table not five minutes after you left. 

You’re struggling to balance the drinks and evade the throng of people as you make your way through the crowded room when you spot him, and it feels like your heart stops. 

There’s a man by the fish tank, his back leaning against a wooden beam. You only see him out of the corner of your eye at first, but the stiff, almost militant posture and rich black curls, slicked back but starting to unfurl from the heat and humidity of the pub, are unmistakable. 

Why is he here!?

Time slows to a crawl, and you forget to breathe as the longest second you’ve ever experienced in your life stretches out and out and out until the lack of oxygen in your brain has you convinced that it’s Marc you’re staring up at. You walk forward, even as the firmness of the floor beneath you gives. All you can see is his wide back covered by the brown canvas jacket, identical to the one Marc had lent you last night. But that can’t be right, because you still have it. It’s on your chair, isn’t it?

Time has never unfolded so slowly as you watch the man turn his shoulder, presenting a full view of his face only for you to see that his eyes aren’t gorgeously brown. Nose, nothing at all remarkable or unique. His jaw is round instead of the ridiculously cut sharpness you’re so used to seeing. 

There’s not a single feature in the man’s face that is as sharp or striking as Marc and Steven and with that realisation time slams forward then resumes its normal pace. Your stomach drops, landing on the sticky flooring near your feet. 

You don’t want to be here. 

Turning back to your table, you drop off the ordered drinks, as you murmur an apology about needing the loo.

Mumbling ‘excuse me’s and ‘sorry’s as you dash through the throng of crowds, you push your way to the ladies room at the far end of the pub where you find your salvation through the door marked with a silhouette of a woman. 

There’s a row of stalls, but you don’t bother checking each for cleanliness the way you usually do. Just make a beeline for the furthest one, thankful that it turns out to be unoccupied. You flip the lock and sit down on the rim of the toilet, eyes flitting over the bits of used gum that’ve been rolled up and tacked onto the cracked tiles. There’s soggy bog roll pooling around your shoes courtesy of a previous visitor, but you scarcely care, too relieved to have some space for yourself to just breathe for the first time this evening, without interruptions or anything to remind you of Gus or Marc or Steven. 

That reprieve barely lasts for two seconds. 

As if on cue, the main door to the ladies slams open. A group of women pours in, all shouting zealously, and there’s no sound isolation to protect you from hearing every bit of the conversation from where you sit.

“Pet, listen to me. If he loved you, he wouldn’t be lying to you now would he?” comes a shrill, concerned voice.

“It’s not like that. You don’t understand, he was just worried about how I’d take–” Before she even finishes her sentence, another voice cuts in, even shriller than the first.  

“No! I don’t care what his excuse is. No partner worth a damn would lie to someone they’re in a relationship with. You need to dump that liar!” 

The words plunge into your chest with a painful twist that tears through your insides, making your cheeks and eyes both burn. The universe certainly seems set on hammering some point home tonight, but this is really just a bit unfairly on the nose now, isn’t it? 

Hunching over in the cramped space of the stall, you dig your elbows into your knees and hide your face in your hands. You don’t want to be listening to this. Can’t handle it right now. Just can’t.

Quickly, before they have time to say more, you stand and smooth a hand over your clothes and hair, as though making yourself a smidge more presentable might somehow smooth out some of your inner turmoil.

Taking a deep steadying breath, you exit the stall. You hesitate for a moment before approaching the sink and hurriedly washing your hands, not quite willing to sacrifice personal hygiene or the appearance, at least, of normalcy. By now, the group of women have converged on their unlucky friend, cornering her against the far wall as they continue to rant on about lying liars who lie and exactly what liars deserve. (The worst, apparently, as far as these ladies are concerned.)

Oh god. You have to get out of here. 

You do, hastily fleeing the loo and fighting your way back to the table. You must look as rough as you feel, because you don’t even have a chance to open your mouth before Poppy shoots you a concerned look. 

“Are you alright?  You look as if you've seen a ghost.” 

“Um… No, actually.” Grabbing the lifeline that’s been offered, you make a dramatic showing of feeling ill, “I’ve been feeling a bit under the weather all day, and it’s really caught up with me now. I’m going to head off early tonight.”

You nod your way through the condolences and well wishes, picking up your handbag and gingerly retrieving Marc’s jacket from the back of the chair as you make your polite goodbyes by rote, and then exit the pub as quickly as possible given the crowd.

Outside, the rain is bucketing down. It’s standard weather for London this time of year, but tonight it feels like one more bit of pointed commentary by the universe, and you huddle miserably under the pub awning.

You just want to go home. 

Steven’s place is only two stops away by tube—if you leave now, you can be there in less than eight minutes. But even as you think it, you realise you can’t go to his. As much as you want Steven, want to burrow into the comfort of his embrace and never come out again, that wouldn’t be fair to him.

Instead you unlock your phone and pull up the Uber app. 

It’s Friday, in the centre of Soho, and the only Uber that accepted your request is 30 minutes away (having to make a drop that is nowhere nearby, despite what the app is telling you) not to mention the surge in pricing. You confirm anyway, unable to bear the thought of braving the crowded trains for the long commute back to your flat.

Then you wait.

The awning isn’t nearly wide enough to protect you from the rain, and frigid water rebounds off the concrete, splashing onto your feet and legs and soaking through your shoes until your toes are swimming in the cold dampness of your socks. 

Marc’s jacket is folded neatly over your arm, still dry. You think about how warm it was in the cab last night, how it smelled of him, but even with the chill seeping through your jumper, you still can’t bring yourself to put it on. For a brief second, you consider going back into the pub where it’s warm and dry, but being cold and wet seems like the preferred option at the moment. It feels like what you deserve.

This is a right proper bloody fucking mess, and it’s all your fault.

You and Marc almost kissed. Might have done if he hadn’t pulled back. You might have betrayed Steven—the man you love. And for what? 

You’re attracted to Marc. You can admit that much to yourself. 

You try to tell yourself it’s just because you’re attracted to the body he shares with Steven, but you know it’s more than that. 

You’ve grown to care about Marc independently of his connection to Steven. You look forward to the quiet mornings you spend with him. Enjoy watching his micro-expressions while you prattle on about your days during breakfast. The small quirk on one side of his lip, when you tell him something he finds amusing. The way he grunts like a displeased pug when he spots another mess that Steven has left in the kitchen.  

Impossible though it had seemed to begin, he’s become your friend. There’s no denying that after your ridiculous caper with the fish last night—you’d only go that far for a good friend, a trusted one. 

Someone you really care about. 

Someone you almost kissed.

You huff out a choked laugh and bury your face in your hands, disgusted with yourself all over again.  

But it’s not really even about the almost-kiss, is it? Though that’s certainly bad enough.

It’s about the fact that you’re lying to your boyfriend—mostly by omission, but sometimes also… not. That you’ve been lying to him for so long that it’s somehow become a “normal” part of your everyday life. So routine you’d almost forgotten you were doing it.

It’s about the fact that Marc—your friend Marc—came to you for help, and you were so eager to help him that you didn’t stop to consider the consequences. That now you’ve gone from lying to Steven—your boyfriend Steven—to actively helping to deceive him.

Somewhere along the way, you stopped seeing Marc as the antagonist in the story of your lives together. And now you've allowed yourself to become his co-conspirator against Steven, which is exactly the opposite of what you wanted. 

You’re deceiving Steven for Marc. Going along with him because he says it’s better for Steven that way. But is it? Is it really better? You don’t think so, but… you don’t know.  

You believe that Marc wants what’s best for Steven.

You believe Steven deserves to know the truth about himself. 

Two truths, but incompatible ones. And you’re the one stuck in the middle. It’s an impossible choice. No matter what you do now, you’re going to be betraying someone. Choosing one of them over the other. 

And you don’t know how to live with that.

Bile rises in your throat, and you have to close your eyes and swallow hard. You dig your fingers into the material of Marc’s jacket, twisting it in your hands as you curl into yourself.

You’re so caught up in your misery that you barely register the slosh of tires against the rain, looking up just in time to see your Uber pull up to the curb. Hunching your shoulders, you hug the jacket and your bag to your chest, shielding them from the flood of frigid water that drenches you as soon as you leave the protection of the awning, and quickly make your way across the sidewalk.

Climbing hurriedly inside the vehicle, you close the door behind you and set everything on the seat beside you, guiltily smoothing out the wrinkles in Marc’s jacket caused by your rough handling.

“Bloody hell, sweetheart, you’re soaked. That’s London weather for you innit?” the driver remarks, and you look up to see him watching you in the rearview mirror.

He’s not wrong. You feel like a drowned rat, as you catch sight of your reflection in the darkness of the passenger window. 

“Same as always, isn’t it?” you manage, hoping that will be the end of the forced pleasantries, and you’re grateful when he hums in agreement and turns his attention to the road.

The air in the car is warm and stuffy after the wet chill of the outside, the leather seat hot and sticky against your back even through your wet jumper. Your face feels overheated, and you lean your forehead against the coolness of the windowpane, staring blindly out through the rain-fogged glass as the car pulls away from the curb.

The evening traffic outside seems endless. The road is chockablock, and you’re stuck in a sea of red and amber tail lights blinking blurrily behind the rain-streaked darkness of the window. Your head rolls against the glass with the rocking motion of the vehicle as it starts and stops with the flow of cars outside, and the old motor rumbles on, making you drowsy.

Worn out from the lack of sleep last night and a day of emotional turmoil, you don’t even notice when your eyes slip close and you drift quietly off to sleep. 

The car comes to a halt in the middle of a roundabout. In the rearview mirror, the driver pulls his cap down, covering his eyes and muttering under his breath that “this is as far as we go.” 

Looking out the window, you’re confused. There’s nothing you recognize as being anywhere near your flat, but somehow you’re already turning the door handle and stepping out of the car. 

You’re in the middle of the road, traffic on all sides of you. Before you have a chance to turn around and protest to the driver, the car is already pulling away, exhaust fumes your only goodbye. 

At least it’s stopped raining.

Across the wide street, the St. Martin’s Theatre is lit up in gold. The marquee banner spelling out ‘M.O.U.S.E.T.R.A.P.’ in bright glowing red neon. You start to walk ahead, but nothing is quite as it is or where it should be. Tottenham Court road, which is always busy and buzzing with life, is entirely abandoned. Empty of people. 

Next to you, you spot a pastel-coloured bubble tea shop. They’re a dime in a dozen in London, and it does nothing to help you make sense of where you are. It’s not until you reach around the corner and arrive at the familiar teal-coloured facade of Cafe Babka (one of your regular date spots with Steven) that you start to place yourself. 

If you turn right up ahead, you’ll reach the British Museum. It is an hour away by tube from your flat. Still, as you make the turn, your building stands there in its square concrete familiarity. You can even see your small balconette on the fifth floor.

There’s a sensation like skipping a track on a record—you don’t remember entering the building or taking the lift up to the fifth floor, but suddenly you’re walking down the hallway to your flat. 

Steven is there outside of your door, and the hallway lights up when he greets you with a bright smile and a small wave of his hand. His eyes are as sweet as always when he moves to kiss you. 

Then you’re inside your flat, Steven moving with you towards your bed, mouth never leaving yours. Did you unlock the door? You can’t remember, but does it matter? How can you care about details like that when Steven’s lips are on yours like this, soft but hungry.

Somehow, you don’t stumble or run into any of your furniture as he walks you backwards with his kiss, the ottoman and its usual threat to your shins and balance are suspiciously absent. In fact… nothing is where it should be.

You’re disoriented. 

Maybe it’s a testament to how good of a kisser Steven is that you’re losing all spatial awareness, but that can’t be the whole explanation. Something is off, but you can’t stop long enough to consider it, too distracted by the way Steven keeps pressing kiss after sweet lingering kiss to your lips, by the heat building low in your belly for him. Can’t stop to think until you find yourself pressed down against the mattress.  

Linen sheets stretch endlessly out underneath you, wider than your own double mattress and lower to the ground. There’s sand underneath your foot where it’s hanging off the edge of the bed, and when you look up, you’re met not with your drab white ceiling, but with a large square of wooden planks overhead surrounded by wide open eaves and wooden beams. 

This isn’t your flat, it’s Steven’s. 

But still… Something's strange. Not quite right. The room seems to swim, lines and contours of the timber overhead blurring together. You drag your eyes to the walls, trying to clear your vision, but no matter how hard you concentrate on the many many books Steven has adorning his dusty shelves, none of them have titles on their thick spines. 

That’s not right either. 

In fact, everything in Steven’s flat is reversed, like you’re Alice, gone through the looking glass. Shelves that are meant to be on the left are on the right. The kitchen is by the exit instead of the far end. The fish tank looms large over the living room, expanding to eat up half the space of the flat. Gus doesn’t seem to mind though. He’s swimming in happy circles around his new, two-finned tank mate as if he’d never known anything different. Every so often one of them swims close to the corner, and the flash of a reflected fin tricks your eyes into thinking there’s a third fish.

There’s a part of you that wants to pause, take a moment and attempt to make sense of things. But Steven is there, anchoring you to the bed, not giving you a moment to consider your observations or try to connect the dots as he continues to kiss the breath out of you. 

His hands are roaming your hips and thighs now, caressing every inch of your flesh that he can reach. One comes up to cup your breast lovingly, your nipple drawing up tight under his palm. Another hand lingers delicately on your throat, and he continues to stroke your hips all at the same time. 

It’s good, so good. So much. Overwhelming to the point where you don't even fully register that there are three hands caressing you when, biologically speaking, Steven should only have just the two. 

Greedy and determined, those nimble fingers grip into your hips then drift down between your thighs, sliding along the seam of your cunt. Steven groans low and needy against your lips at the wetness he finds there, and he parts your slick folds, gently pressing two fingers into you. 

Moaning into his mouth at the pleasurable intrusion, you arch your back in open invitation, encouraging Steven's curled fingers to find that perfect place inside. Aching heat rolls over you in waves, streaming out along your limbs until you’re nearly numb with it. You bend further back, not sure if you're trying to chase the sensation or escape from it. As you do, a warm, firmly-muscled chest presses against your back, and you hear a rasped groan in your ear. 

“Fuck, you’re eager for us.” 

The tone is brusque and even, rough and warm like sandpaper made of velvet, and nothing like Steven’s. Electric heat shivers up your entire spine because you recognize the owner of the voice. 

With a turn of your head, you meet his eyes. It’s all narrowed darkness as Marc holds your gaze for a long moment. His thumb catches under your jaw, tilting you up to him, and then he closes the distance between you, leaning in to press his lips to yours. 

Finally.

The brush of lips is soft and measured. Completely unlike Steven’s hungry and eager kisses. Marc has far too much restraint for that. Instead his kiss is slow and controlled, his hand cradling your jaw, thumb caressing your cheeks like he’s savouring the moment. Savouring you. 

Somewhere in the back of your mind, an alert pings. A tiny, niggling doubt that makes you wonder what Marc’s doing here, how this can be happening. But you ignore the thought. Don’t question it, because god, you fucking want it. Want him. 

Want to be exactly where you are.

You're caught, sandwiched tight between the two of them with little space to spare. Regardless of which way you move, to the front or the back, you only end up closer to them both. 

When you push yourself forward, Steven’s fingers slide deeper inside you, his cock twitching against the softness of your stomach. When you push back, Marc’s hardened length meets you, pressing insistently against your lower back as he lazily thrusts against you. 

There's nowhere for you to go, and that's fine. Better than fine. It's bloody perfect, because there's nowhere else you'd rather be than trapped between these two men.

Steven licks and nips his way down your breast and stomach in a long line of open-mouthed kisses. White heat tingles and simmers under your skin where his lips have touched, burning you up from the inside out until you’ve all but melted into the mattress from his attentions. 

The sharp bump of his nose nudges at the inside of your thighs, and he looks up at you with pleading eyes, begging you to spread your legs for him. Before you even have the chance to comply, Marc’s calloused hands are already there, sliding down and in along the inside of your thighs, spreading them apart until you’re wide open for Steven. The two men moving in perfect simpatico.

Then Steven’s mouth is on you, hot and eager and perfect. 

His tongue dips into your pussy without hesitation, licking a wide strip up around your clit and then back down again, and you cant your hips up and onto his tongue. He doesn’t resist. Steven’s always so generous, so trusting and giving in bed. He lets you—encourages you to try and fuck yourself on his beautiful, persistent mouth. Gorgeous, pleasurable heat flickers along your spine, searing into your limbs until you feel it everywhere. 

“He’s good with his mouth, huh?” Marc murmurs into your ear, sounding almost admiring. 

Opening your mouth, you try to say yes, but your throat is dry with the blinding heat, and nothing comes out, not even a moan. Electricity sparks, shimmering through you with every soft and long lick of Steven’s tongue on you.

You twist your fingers into the bedding beneath you, and the eaves in the ceiling crack and pull around the edges with the motion. The harder you grip the sheets, the deeper the shadowed lines carve into the wood, until they’re giant crevasses, wide enough that you can see the night sky through the gaps. 

The pale moon peers down at you, surrounded by bright stars scattered against the blackness. You don’t think you’ve ever seen the stars shine so clear in the light-polluted London sky in all your life, and you dig your fingers in further into the bedding, unwilling to relinquish the view.

“It’s okay. I got you.” Marc’s voice is cajoling and sweet, the same soft tone he used when he held you in his arms to keep you steady on the overground. A part of you wishes he would always speak to you this way. “Think you can come for us?”

You close your eyes, nodding in reply because you think you’d do anything he wanted as long as he asked you so sweetly. Pleasure is already building steadily under the press of Steven’s talented mouth, your orgasm already looming on the horizon.

“That’s it, baby. You’re doing so good,” Marc murmurs.

Everything is ratcheting higher and tighter inside of you, building and building until it’s almost too much. Too good. The feeling rocketing through you is so overwhelming that you can't think, can't move, can’t speak. Would scream or sob or shriek if you could still fucking breathe. 

But somehow you still haven’t fucking come. Your orgasm caught somehow, suspended in limbo. It’s like you waited too long, flew too high, and now you're trapped right on the fucking edge, teetering torturously without ever falling over.  Sparks dance at the edge of your vision, and you feel lightheaded like you’re going to pass out. 

“Come for us.” 

Marc’s voice cuts through the cacophony of competing sensations with that single simple order, and everything else disappears. 

Your world narrows. There's only the firm weight of Marc’s body anchoring you to the bed. His low, encouraging voice in your ear, whispering praises. Steven’s mouth working hot and eager against you, and the soft warmth in his eyes as he stares up at you with rapt attention, pupils blown wide.

Static fills your ears, and then you come hard on Steven’s tongue. 

The pleasure floods your system, blotting out the rest, until your vision darkens and everything sounds like it’s buried underground. 

There’s nothing here. Just emptiness. Darkness a mile wide, like the insides of a music box snapped shut. 

Are your eyes still closed?

Slowly, your vision repopulates again. Your surroundings filled in like a child playing with a paint-by-numbers app. The bed. The bookshelves. The fishtank. Steven. Marc. 

Marc whose gentle hand cups your cheek, drawing you up to meet his eyes. “How do you want it?” he asks. “You want Steven to fuck you?” 

Steven who is still draped between your thighs. His tongue drags over his lush bottom lip, savouring your taste, eyes dark and ravenous as he leans back in to lap gently at you again. He’s nowhere near done with you yet. 

You huff out a noise, some strange merger of a moan and a hum, meant to be an affirmative, because of course you want Steven.

But your gaze is fixed on Marc’s face, watching the corner of his lips curve. Not snide, or mocking, never that. It’s the same unfeigned, half-smile you’d seen in front of the fishtank the other night, and your head buzzes with lightheadedness at the sight of it. 

“Or you want me?” he asks. 

You whine at his question, because you do. Of course you do!  

But Steven is right there too, resurfacing from between your legs just barely long enough to press an indulgent kiss to the inside of one of your thighs and ask, "which is it, love? Me?"

He turns his head, nose brushing up against your clit as his mouth parts, licking into you, with a ravenous moan. His words are muffled by your body as he continues to speak, “Or do you want Marc's cock filling you up?"

You don’t answer him. Can’t answer him. It’s an impossible choice. 

How can you choose one of them over the other?

Next to you, Marc leans closer, pressing a kiss to your temple, nose dragging along the back of your neck, as he speaks.

“Or maybe our pretty girl doesn’t want to choose, hmm?” His arms are against your sides, bracketed you in as he presses you down with his body. “That’s it isn’t it? You just want everything.”

And god help you, he's right. He's so right. You want them both. 

You try to take a deep breath, try to inhale because you want to tell them so, but there’s no air in the room. That should be a problem, you think, but it’s not. Even though you’re not breathing, haven’t breathed for fuck knows how long, you feel fine. 

So much better than fine. 

You’re weightless, practically floating. Could easily drift away if Marc wasn’t pinning you down. Your orgasm is still pulsing between your legs, warm and insistent, but you can’t feel the pulse in your veins or your heart, even though it should be there beating its way out of your chest. 

Marc is still watching you softly. Steven too. You nod at them, have to let them know.

“Greedy girl,” Marc says, voice soft and indulgent in a way that makes the words feel like the highest praise. 

Wrapping his fingers around your arm, Marc rolls you onto your side facing him. Strong arms wrap around you, caging you against him, as those dark eyes bore into yours. You can barely imagine that there was ever a time that you used to be intimidated by this man, scared of him even, because all you want now is to be closer to him. 

Lucky for you, that’s just what he gives you. 

Like he can read your mind, Marc’s hand settles on your hip and slides down, down, down the length of your thigh until his palm reaches the bend of your knee. Warm fingers wrap around the joint and pull, hiking your leg up over his waist, opening you to him. He drops his face down to press a soft kiss to your shoulder, then urges you closer still, slotting one thick thigh into place between yours, watching you all the while. 

There was a time when you would have quailed under that direct stare, but when you see that ferocious intensity there now, it sends a skitter of elation down your spine. 

Relishing his attention, you preen for him as his hand skims up the back of your raised leg and over your hip. Your eyes follow its path, watching as he takes himself in hand and aligns his cock with your slick wet entrance. 

You’re a mess for him, dripping and swollen cunt providing no resistance as the blunt tip of his cock pushes in, slow and measured. Marc is unhurried, barely rocking his hips into you, and it’s maddeningly good. It’s all shivery heat and unbearable pressure as he eases his way inside, not stopping until he’s buried to the hilt. 

You can’t remember where you are anymore. Your surroundings blur together, and all you know is the perfect weight of Marc inside you, the warmth of his thighs pressed against yours. It’s just you and him in this place, and you could easily get lost in this, forget everything else, but… Something’s not right. 

Something important is missing. 

“Wait, wait,” you gasp, turning your head to look behind you, but there’s nothing there. No furniture, no room… nothing. You turn back to Marc, “Where’s Steven? I–I want–”

The question doesn’t have time to settle before everything fades back into existence, the bookshelves, the fishtank, the bed seemingly appear from nowhere. There’s a weight shifting behind you on the mattress, and when you turn to peer over your shoulder again, Steven is there, an adoring smile on his face.

“I’m here, love, right here. Not going anywhere,” he tells you when you clutch at him.  

Steven’s chest is pressing up against your back, all solid and firm-cut muscles that you never get to see during the day when he’s half-drowning in his oversized clothes. 

He has one hand resting on the curve of your hip, gently pulling you back as he presses in closer behind you. You can feel the fat head of his cock nudging hot and slick along the cleft of your ass. 

“Can I? Is that alright, love? Want to be inside you.” His voice is desperate, filled with need, and fuck, who are you to deny the man you love?

You nod, and feel Steven repositioning himself behind you. His hand disappears from your hip, and his cock slides against you with more purpose, spreading precome across your skin as he lines himself up. His mouth skims your shoulder, and the shuddering breath he takes burns pleasantly across your skin before he grips your hip and presses in. 

His cock slips into you more easily than you expected, barely easing inside before he retreats, then presses in again, a bit farther this time. His mouth lays hot kisses and tender words across the skin of your shoulder as he works himself inside you slowly, inch by thick inch, stretching you open and filling you to the brim. 

If there was any space left inside of you, you’re sure that you would be breathing, but you can’t. Can’t even fit air inside your lungs. And oh fuck, Steven isn’t even all the way inside of you yet. Fuckfuck. You don’t know if you can–

A warm hand comes to your cheek, cupping it with a tenderness that makes your heart ache in your chest. 

“It’s alright, you’re alright. You’re doing so good, baby. You can take it for us can’t you?” Marc coos. 

You nod with a whine, trying to distract yourself with the softness of Steven’s touch. How he’s palming every inch of your skin he can reach, the slope of your ribs, the curve of your breast. His worshipful mouth on your neck. The softly murmured “I love you”s that he sears into your burning skin with his lips. 

And that’s a bit easier. 

Between Steven’s profuse adoration and Marc’s encouragement, it’s almost too easy to surrender the last bit of your doubt and give into them both. 

“There we go. Good girl,” Marc murmurs. He presses an indulgent kiss to your cheek as a reward, and Steven takes over praising you, “that’s it. I knew you could do it. Knew you could take us both, love.” 

Then they begin to move.

It’s a gentle rocking rhythm, barely shifting you back and forth between them, but even that is still so fucking much. 

You’re overwrought. 

Overfull. 

All of you feel overexposed like a tender nerve. 

But there’s nothing else for you to do but take it, shaking and shuddering between them as you take everything they have to give you. All you can think about is how full you are of both of them, stretched so thin to your limits to the point that you swear Marc and Steven must be able to feel each other through you with every slow, deep, maddening thrust. 

Somewhere in the distance a bell rings. You turn your head and crane your neck, chasing the sound. The motion presses you back against Steven, who is right there, nuzzling into the side of your neck, nose pressed tight against the pulse. 

His mouth glides over the side of your throat, hot and slick, and you lose yourself to it. The touch is consuming. The edges of his teeth flirt with your sensitive flesh, and then slowly sink in, biting into your neck. The pleasure is sharp and stinging. It’s almost enough to make you forget. 

But the melody of bells ringing from afar grows increasingly louder. You try to ignore it but you are about to rip your hair out at the incessant clang. 

“Ignore it,” Marc says. He cradles your face, lips tracing the contours of your jaw. “Focus on us.” 

It isn’t hard to follow Marc’s commands. Not when his hips cant up and thrust back into you, a deep and mind-numbing slide. For once, you find yourself only happy to obey his words. 

But the sound comes again, and you were wrong before. It's not bells, it's the doorbell buzzing. Someone's at the door. 

There’s the sound of metal scraping against wood and then the metallic thump-thump of the lock sliding open. You try to squeeze down on Marc’s shoulder for his attention, but it only seems to spur on Steven who lifts his hips, thrusting himself inside you as deep as he goes. 

“Wait,” you gasp, because no matter how good Steven feels inside, you’re still distracted by the stranger trying to get into the flat. “There’s someone at the door.”

“There’s no one at the door,” Marc says, pulling back slightly. 

The words have a sharp impatient bite, scolding you in that tone that’s so customary from him. You want to frown, make a snarky retort, but he drives himself deep inside you, and pleasure streaks through your limbs until you nearly scream from it. 

There are footsteps approaching.

A shadow stretches out in the corner of your eye. 

Soon it looms over you, blocking out the muted light in the room, and the air around you shifts. There’s someone else standing at the end of your bed, observing you. You open your eyes and look up. Raven curls and thick brows that frame those familiar gorgeous brown eyes. 

The ringing persists, blaring out. It’s not bells or the door buzzer. It’s a siren, flashing and waving red, warning you of danger. 

The man looks like Steven. But you know it’s not him—the warmth and adoration reserved for you in those beautiful brown eyes is entirely absent. 

It’s not Marc either. Marc doesn’t look at you like you’re some distant curiosity. You’ve seen annoyance, irritation, even anger reflected back at you in his eyes. But he’s never looked at you like you’re nothing to him.  

You realise that now. 

Panic grabs hold of you, and you sit up quickly, pulling at fistfuls of the sheets that you desperately cover yourself with. You scoot backwards in the bed, clambering up along the mattress, hands fumbling uselessly behind you, reaching for something to grab onto. You’re expecting the firmness of Marc’s chest, the warm touch of Steven’s hand, but there’s nothing. 

When you turn to look, the bed is empty. Marc and Steven are no longer with you. 

It’s just you and him now. 

The man moves towards you, mouth twisted into a predatory smile. The alarm calls out to you again, but it’s too late to warn you now. You’re already trapped—can’t look away from him. 

“Hear that?” His tone is flat, voice is devoid of emotion. It sounds neither like Steven's nor Marc’s voice. “It’s time to wake up.”

He comes to the side of the bed, looming over you as he reaches down.

You flinch back, but he’s too big. Too close. 

You can’t escape. 

Gripping the covers tight, you hunch into yourself, cowering, trying to brace yourself for whatever he’s going to do to you.

But then he reaches right past you. 

Doesn’t touch you at all as he retrieves something from the bookcase at the head of the bed, and lays it gently across your lap.

You look down to see a bundle of brown canvas fabric, all soaked from rain and wrinkly from your rough handling. 

It's Marc's jacket.

“Don’t forget this, sweetheart.”

With his words, darkness swamps you and everything disappears. There's no light, no warmth, no space—only a blank void slowly being filled with the soft hum of a motor running and the sounds of traffic honking nearby. 

Your eyes are still closed as your consciousness is dragged back to an awareness of the sore stiffness lodged in your neck. 

You open your eyes with a startled gasp, and then you have to inhale great lungfuls of air into your heaving chest, possibly the first time you’ve actually taken a breath since– oh.  Since you fell asleep. You were dreaming.

Slowly but surely, you become aware of your surroundings. The cracked and dry leather seats, the grey felt of the low ceiling, the complete lack of any naked men in this space with you. You’re in a car—not in Steven’s flat or his bed. You’re still in the Uber. 

It was just a dream. 

Your skin tingles with the memory of being pressed against warm, firm muscles, and the space between your legs still pulses a phantom ache. The echo of Steven’s mouth on you, Marc’s thick length pressing into you, the overwhelming fullness of having them both inside you at once makes you throb. Your face is burning. 

You glance at the front seat where the driver seems oblivious. Absent-mindedly you notice that he isn’t wearing a cap as you pray to the universe that you didn’t make any embarrassing sounds during your semi-public sex dream about being manhandled into a threesome by your boyfriend and his alter. 

Dear god, what the fuck is wrong with you!? 

The sound of bells fills the air just like before, and for a moment you wonder if you’re still trapped in the dream. 

“Hey, sweetheart, your phone is ringing.” 

The words jolt you from your thoughts. You’re an idiot. It’s not alarm bells, it’s your bloody ringtone. 

Grabbing for your handbag, you plunge your hand inside, fumbling blindly until you finally manage to locate your phone. You quickly fish it out, swiping a thumb across the screen to answer.

“Hello?”

“Hi, love. It’s– uhm, it’s Steven.” His voice comes through the phone, nervous and rambling, and it instantly sends your anxiety skyrocketing. “I’m sorry, I know it’s late, and you’re out with colleagues, and I’m sorry, I didn’t want to disturb, but I didn’t know who else to call–” 

“Steven!” you interrupt when he shows no signs of getting to the point. It comes out louder and harsher than you intend, and you then force yourself to soften your voice as you encourage him to gather his thoughts, “It’s okay, Steven. Just– What did you need?”

“Could you… um… Could you come over tonight, please? I need to talk to you.” 

~ CONTINUE ~

Dedication: to my one and only, the ewe to my ram, my beloved who stays up with me until 4am (her time) to discuss the significant differences between precum and precome (and how the latter clearly denotes sophistication and class 😂😂😂) to our crazy asses that extended this from a three parter to a five parter then an eight and ten parter and now we're looking at twelve parts and if there is more to come then god help us all. I love you always @thirstworldproblemss. xx

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

[winniethewife]

But your heart got teeth (Moon Knight System X GN!reader)

Prompt: Biting

Words: 645

Steven was the first they bit. It was a confusing moment for the British man who was just sitting next to them on their comfortable couch as they watched a nature documentary. They were cuddled up together, Steven fully focused on the film when he feels…teeth? He looks over to see his partner lightly biting his arm absentmindedly.

“Um…Love, What are you doing?” He asks with a slight laugh. They look up at him innocently their teeth still gently resting on his skin. They pull away lightly kissing the spot they had left the slightest dents in his skin. They looked almost like a mischievous kitten.

“I bite you because I love you!” They said simply before yet again sinking their teeth into him again. Steven cocked his head to the side and smiled at them.

“That’s an interesting way to express your love, but it’s quite adorable…” He laughed slightly, reaching over to caress their cheek. Leaning over to kiss the top of their head before settling in to watch the rest of the movie while being gently gnawed on.

~

Marc was the next to experience their weird affection. They were lying in bed on a lazy Sunday morning, he was listening to an audiobook and fidgeting with the fidget cube they got him for his birthday the month prior. His free hand holding theirs as they also had their headphones on and were busy on their phone playing some kind of rhythm game. Marc slightly zoned out as he listened to the voice of the woman reading the book, he feels his other hand move in theirs and then, seemingly out of nowhere, teeth. Marc looked over at his partner with a raised eyebrow to see the side of his thumb in their mouth as they continued to play their game. He couldn’t help but chuckle quietly to himself before pausing his audio book and rolling over on his side to look at them. Noticing the movement they looked over at him, his hand still between their teeth.

“Hey. What cha got there?” Marc asks with a smile. They smile and bite down slightly harder then let go slightly.

“You, silly.” They give him a grin as they reply. Marc laughs and shakes his head slightly.

“I can tell. Is there a reason you are trying to eat me baby? I didn’t think Cannibalism was really your style.” His brown eyes looking into theirs with a playful twinkle. They sigh in mock disbelief.

“Its not cannibalism Marc. My love language is bite!” As they say this they happily put his hand back in their mouth and return to their game. Marc snorts with laughter and pulls them in for a cuddle.

“You’re strange…but I like that about you.”

~

Jake wasn’t about to be caught off guard with this. He knew from the others that it was coming and he thought to get ahead. So when he got home from driving he found them making some food, humming to themselves as they listened to music and cooked. He walked up behind them and put his arms around them, he carefully planned his next move, waiting until they finished cooking and spun them around gently swaying to the music then, with a mischievous smile takes their hand and bites down on their wrist. They looked surprised for a second then smiled brightly. They let out a small giggle as Jake smiles and tugs with his teeth like a dog pulling its toy around, before letting go with a soft chuckle and a curious look. They follow suit, leaning in to gently kiss then bite the tip of his nose.

 “Mi corazón, the bites mean love yes?” His voice quizzical as he pulls them in by the waist.

“Yes. I bite with love.”

“Good. Now let me show you another kind of love bite…”

Bingo Masterlist

Tag: @moonknight-events @juneknight @spacecowboyhotch @silvernight-m

#moon knight #marc spector #x reader #jake lockley #steven grant #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #jake lockely x reader #moonknightevents #moon boys #moon knight x reader #Spotify #gender nuetral reader #oscar isaac #oscar isaac x reader

[melodygatesauthor]

Vampire Moon Knight Headcanons

Moon Boys X f!Reader

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

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

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

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

Word Count: 1.6k

Marc:

Fighting -

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

Feeding -

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

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

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

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

Fucking -

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

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

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

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

Steven:

Fighting -

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

Feeding -

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

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

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

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

Fucking -

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jake:

Fighting -

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

Feeding -

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

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

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

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

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

Fucking -

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

AO3 LINK

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

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