#Oscar Isaac Character Fanfiction

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐀𝐏 𝐌𝐘 𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐇

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!reader

genre: smut, minors dni

word count: 4k

summary: after finding him wounded in an empty alleyway, against your better judgment, you decide to patch him up in your apartment. you expect that to be the end of it, never to see him again, that is, until you do.

warnings: piv, rough sex, dirty talking, biting, claws make a brief appearance, mild degradation (he calls you slut once), mention of female masturbation

You live in a world without heroes. Yet, the villains roam free. 

You’re used to it by now, walking through the damp alleyways. You hear a shout here and there, always keeping your head bowed as you walk past whatever might be going on. Once upon a time, this bothered you. But after a knife to your stomach and a punch to the cheek, you learned to look the other way around, no matter how painful it might be. Sometimes you find yourself wondering why this might be. You always assumed some type of ying yang situation should be in place, making everything right, but you seem to be living in a world without good. Without light.  

You don’t know what prompts you to do it. You’re walking back from work, the scent of rain and the stench of exhaust thick in the air. All you want to do is get to your cramped apartment before the downpour. 

You think it’s the wind that makes you turn your head, you hate when your eyes water and dry out. When you do turn, you stare into the familiar abyss of the alleyway behind your apartment. It’s truly pitch black. Despite the darkness, you see a faint movement in shadows, a loud sound, a crash. You see a flash of red, blue. Your eyes narrow—what the? 

You know well that you shouldn’t, that whatever was lurking in the shadows would be bad news, but you do it anyway. With a grunt, you open the flashlight of your phone and take a step closer. There’s a man laying on the cold ground, he doesn’t seem to be moving. 

“Hello?” you call out. No answer. “Um, are you drunk or high? Should I call an ambulance?” 

The broad figure groans and your heart nearly lurches. “No,” he mumbles. “No doctors.” 

With a slight tremor in your step, you come closer. You shine the light into his face, his brows furrow, an annoyed scowl etching into his handsome features. Your lips part with a soft exhale. He’s so handsome. 

Then you get a good look at the rest of him—what the hell is he wearing? 

“Do you need help?” you ask, unsure. He doesn’t seem to be bleeding, his eye looks a bit swollen though. Wait, scratch that, you think you spot some blood on his lips. “Should I get you anything?” 

Maybe you sound foolish, but you know better than to just call 911 for a random person. Everyone is a criminal these days. Fuck, if he was a criminal you should call the cops, this city is seriously starting to cloud your better judgment. 

“No cops,” he chokes and coughs, as if he can read your thoughts. “Go away, I’ll be fine.” 

No, he won’t. 

He knows it. You know it. 

“I live right next door,” you answer against your better judgment. “I have a first aid kit. I can patch you up if you want? I don’t wanna brag, but I am a nurse in training.” 

He makes a sound that is similar to a chuckle but the sound quickly fades into a vicious cough. You tuck the phone into your pocket and lean over, “Alright big guy, you’re coming with me,” you attempt to throw his arm over your shoulder but that proves to be more difficult. “Can you stand? Even a little.”

He nods and straightens up a bit. You’re still carrying most of his weight but you manage to get him past the door and onto your couch. 

You must’ve thrown him a little too hard because he lets out a loud grunt, teeth sinking into his bottom lip to stifle the sound. 

“Sorry,” you mutter. “Just wait for me here, I’ll come back with water and the first aid kit.” 

The man makes another sound. You’re starting to think this is his only form of communication. 

When you come back, he’s still where you left him. Albeit looking a bit more alert now, eyes constantly scanning your humble apartment. You can’t really blame him though, you would do the same thing. You eye him warily, then place the glass of water on the coffee table. He glares at it like it’s poison. 

“I’m not going to hurt you.” 

He scoffs, “I don’t think you could even if you tried,” he answers, tongue moving over his bloody bottom lip. He points at the table. “And there’s a coaster right there.” 

“Who are you, my mother?” 

Despite your sharp tone, you place the glass on the coaster and sit on the coffee table, the small first aid kit in hand. “Does that thing have a zipper, or. . . ?” 

His right brow and lip cock up simultaneously. You’re acutely aware that no matter what you do, you’ll never be able to understand what’s going on in that head of his—Not that you want to. He’s a stranger. A man that looks strong enough to hold you by the neck before you can reach the pepper spray nestled in your bag. 

The silence makes you uneasy, and when you finally open your mouth to speak, he leans forward. “Don’t freak out,” he grunts. 

“Why would I freak out—” The rest of the sentence dies in your throat, his suit glitches—glitches—like a damn video game. It blinks once, twice and you swear you can see little particles glimmering on his skin, fading away from reality. Panic flaring in your gut, you look down. 

Pants still on. And here your thought that the entire thing was a one-piece suit. 

“I said don’t freak out,” he repeats, eyebrow raised and head tilted to the side. You snap your mouth shut. 

“I’m not freaking out,” you say, voice shrill. “Who’s freaking out? Not me.” 

His shoulders are broad, arms muscular with thick veins meandering down. You’ve never been a fan of veins popping out but whoever this man was made it look good. You swallow over and over in a weak attempt to wet the inside of your mouth. You fail helplessly. You’re not even aware that you’re holding the first aid kit with an iron grip, knuckles aching from the pressure. His torso is completely bare now.

“I don’t have a zipper,” he says unhelpfully, unaware of you behaving straight out of a 1950s cartoon. 

“I can see that.” 

God, he is the weirdest stray you ever brought over. 

He points at the box, “So do you actually know how to use what’s inside or were you just bluffing when you said you were a nurse?” 

“A nurse in training,” you quip. “And no, I wasn’t bluffing.” 

With great strength, you finally drag your eyes down his torso. There’s a splatter of blood, some of the drops rubbed into his skin and the crimson trail is followed up by a giant slash across his stomach. The bleeding had stopped which was a good sign. You lean closer, your fingers fiddling with the box at the same time, narrowing your gaze you notice the wound is deeper than you had initially thought. 

“Whoever it was that attacked you got you good,” you murmur. Without a second thought, you slide off the coffee table and kneel in front of him, you miss the glint in his eyes as he looks down, miss the way he spreads his legs so you can fit better. 

“How do you know it wasn’t me who attacked them?” 

The rough tone of his voice prompts you to look up. For someone who’s been stabbed, he’s eerily calm. His arms are spread over the backrest, chest slowly rising up and down as his eyes flit across your face, searching. The muscle in his jaw twitches, lips stretching into something resembling a snarl. Suddenly you’re hyper-aware of where you are, the position you’re in. The sound of danger rings in your ears—you don’t even know this man’s name. Your breath catches in your throat, stomach jumping. You don’t know why you initially felt so comfortable with him, as if you were long-lost friends, but you aren’t. You were being reckless. 

“Scared?” he asks, venomous, hunching over your frame, caging you in. Heat radiates from his thighs, a stark contrast to the cold fear gripping your insides. He hooks two fingers under your chin, lifts your head up. Your bottom lip quivers. “You should be. You live in a dangerous world.”

“And you don’t?” you counter, your voice barely above a whisper, your words hanging in the air, challenging his assertion. The question slips out before you can fully comprehend its weight, and you see his jaw tighten as he ponders for an answer.

You meticulously cleanse the wound, removing dirt and debris with steady hands. The sting of antiseptic fills the air, intermingling with the charged atmosphere. You’re not shy with the way you touch him, a simmering annoyance warming your gut. He can take it, you think applying further pressure. He doesn’t make a sound. 

The dim light of the room accentuates the harsh contours of his face, and his piercing gaze feels like it's cutting through your soul. You drag your teth against the smooth surface of the inside of your cheek. You’ve never had a patient stand this still. 

Finally, just as you complete the final wrap of the bandage, he gives you an answer. 

“Not the same one as you do.”

Miguel O’hara was his name. He told you just before disappearing into the neon lights of the dark and cold city. You didn’t think much of it, you were sure you wouldn’t be seeing him again, which meant remembering his name was useless.

But your mind wouldn’t let him go. You tasted his name in the dark hours of the night, hand between your legs, coming as you thought of scenarios where instead of dousing his wound in antiseptic, you took his cock into his mouth, helping him in a different way. His suit left little to the imagination and now that your imagination roamed free, you’re glad that it was. 

Convinced that he’ll never show up again, you continue on normally, half in fear due to the chaos around you, trying to do your best. 

That was until he did show up. 

You step out of the shower, water trickling down your skin, softened by the warm steam. The towel hangs loosely around your chest, on the verge of slipping off. You never quite mastered the art of securing it tightly, but living alone means you don't have to worry about walking around naked if it happens to fall off.

The window cracks open, cold air seeping through, chilling your freshly warmed body. Tension instantly builds in your body, your eyes slowly moving to the window. You see him then. Miguel. He pushes the window open and climbs in, not saying a word. You hold the towel tightly around you—a dream, you think, it has to be. 

With quick, large steps, he crowds your space, forcing your back against the wall. The air is knocked from your lungs, your throat convulsing with a sudden panic. He’s not touching you. 

“M-Miguel,” you whisper. “I didn’t—I didn’t think I would see you again.” 

“Neither did I,” he answers, large hands cupping your waist and pinning you to the wall. “I’m tired,” he adds, words dropping from his lips more like a punch than a plea. Like someone is squeezing the words out of him. 

“What do you need?” 

His eyes drop to your lips, a hungry gaze that sends shivers up your spine. You hold your breath. He’s so close, close enough that you feel his breath on your damp skin. He tilts his head to the side, eyes closing. 

“I need to not think,” he answers painfully slow, tasting every word. “I need to not feel. I need to not worry. I need to disappear for a while.” 

Miguel takes a long, languid breath. Filling his lungs with the scent of your watermelon body wash. His tongue pokes from between his lips, moving over the bottom one. “Can you give me that?” 

His fingers tighten, the soft fabric of your towel bunching in his palm, you swear you feel the bite of nails despite the fluffy exterior. Your eyes search his. You know nothing of him. Only his name that he’d begrudgingly given you. Your pulse quickens, the rush of blood loud in your ears. He’s not here for you, that’s something you need to keep in mind before going any further. He’s here for the release, for the simple act of having another’s warmth surrounding him. You’re an escape. Something simple and easy he doesn’t have to think about when he runs off to deal with whatever he deals with. 

After seconds that feel like hours, you decide you want to give that to him. You don’t mind the hurt you’ll feel after. Letting him take what he wants knowing that’ll affect you more than him. Something about him makes you not care. 

“I can,” you breathe, instinctively searching for his lips with your own. “Do your worst Miguel O’hara.” 

You drop the towel, damp fabric pooling at your ankles. His eyes widen briefly before smiling something wicked. His forehead touches yours, nose brushing your own as his lips ghost an inch away. Your breath catches in your throat, the need growing between your legs. A chuckle drops from his lips reminding you of gravel. You don’t share his humor, you just want to feel him. 

“You don’t want my worst,” he grunts. “You’ll break.” 

“I won’t.” 

He scoffs but doesn’t argue. Miguel doesn’t attempt to probe you wrong, breaking things is meant to have consequences. You either try to fix it or ponder over what you’ve done, he wants none of that. Instead, he presses flush against you, body firm in contrast with the soft swell of your chest and stomach. Your nipples tighten. He crashes into you, tongue hungrily slipping between your lips as his mouth moves greedily.  You feel hands on your chest, kneading, squeezing, pinching. You moan into his mouth, he swallows the sounds, grinding himself hard into you. You’re shaking, his body suffocating. 

“If I touch you,” he says into your mouth, fingers skimming the outside of your thighs. “Will you be soaked for me?”  With a whimper, you nod. He grins, canines looking sharper compared to what they did before, “Such a good little slut,” he growls. 

Contrary to what he’d said, he doesn’t slip his fingers between your legs to see if you’re telling the truth. Instead, he slots his thick thigh between your bare legs, pushing the muscle up until you’re left gasping, your hands flailing as you wrap them around his broad shoulders. The pressure makes you dizzy, the fabric of his suit softer than what you expected, a delicious friction over your aching clit. You moan openly into his neck, teeth scraping against the vein. 

“I’m going to fuck you like this,” he murmurs. “Up against the wall,” his suit fades away, cock hard against the soft planes of your stomach. You shudder as precome smears over the skin. He continues, licking your lips. “Then up against the window, want you to be loud. Want you to scream and tell me to take. . .” 

The emphasis on the “t” sends a million tiny needles biting into your skin. Your chest heaves with the brush of his lips, you want to feel it again, the plush feeling of faux softness on your mouth. But he doesn’t give you that. He smiles a cruel smile, one that chills your skin but lights a fire in the pit of your stomach. He tilts his head. 

“And take. . .” 

You chase his lips, he refuses to give you what you want. 

“And take. . .” 

Your frustration grows, a desperate sound twists through you, and your fingers curl around his neck, knitting through his hair as you give the curls a warning tug. He doesn’t seem to be affected in the slightest. He drags his lips down your neck, hitches your one thigh up his hip, and positions his length against you. He doesn’t look at you, nor say another word. He fills you with one hard thrust, knocking you back against the wall, your body sliding up the rough interior. The stretch of him lingers on the line of being painful. There’s a bite to it, but also a deep pleasure that makes your legs shake. 

“So fucking wet,” he rasps, sinking his teeth into your neck. It feels sharp enough that you think he breaks the skin, blood filling his mouth, but that’s not the case. The feeling quickly passes when his mouth crashes into yours in a messy kiss. He doesn’t wait for you to adjust, he doesn’t care. He takes what you give him and he does so violently, splitting you into two with every thrust. 

He grabs handfuls of your hips, lifting you off the wall before slamming you back down with renewed fervor. He angles each thrust to the point of almost pain. You cry out, a long, desperate noise that almost drowns out his own, panting gruffly. You can feel the heat in your veins coursing through you as pleasure builds, the almost unbearable sensation sending you into overload. Your toes curl, your nails dig into his skin as his name leaves your lips in a plea for him to not stop. His hands grip you tighter as his movements become more violent, eyes locked together as they both reach the brink of ecstasy. 

The look in his eyes, the furrow of his brows, the parting of his lips, the damp curls at the base of his scalp—it does something indescribable to you. You arch your back to give more for him. All your focus narrowing on the feeling of him. 

Suddenly your body strains as he stills, the thunderous rumbling of your orgasm hitting you full force as you feel yourself tighten around his shaft in an attempt to prolong the blissful pleasure. His grip slackens and you fall forward against him, boneless as you feel the last throes of your orgasm lingering in your veins. You lick the salt off his skin, your body grinding sloppily against him. 

“Fuck,” he hisses between gritted teeth, still achingly hard inside of you. “Already?” 

“I—I never came that quick before. . .” you answer with a slight slur of speech, you’re tingling all over. 

You’re not sure but you think you see a hint of pride in those dark smug eyes, “Don’t think you’re off the hook,” he says. “You’re mine until the sun comes up.” 

Miguel is a man of his word. 

He fucks you up against the window, just like he said. Your breasts pressed up against the cold smooth surface as he takes you from behind. It burns. It burns yet you can only beg for more. You scream his name, fog up the window, the rough drag of his cock forcing the roll of your eyes every goddamn time. The feeling of being stretched wide never passes, each thrust like the first time. 

He holds you by the nape, pushes you forward, the pressure only adding to the fire. You figure out soon he likes holding you like that. He enjoys shoving you up against things, adding to the idea that you’re just a fleeting moment and nothing more. When he pulls out you instinctively search for him with your hips. His cock lays heavy over the curve of your ass, he spreads you and presses his cock between the globes, rocking until thick ropes of come land on your back. You shudder, breathless, your vocabulary reduced to only his name. 

You feel a grip on your chin and he turns you enough so that he can slot his lips against yours. Your neck aches but your part for him anyway, allowing the taste of him to flood all your senses. When he parts only a string of saliva connects you, your breathing coming  in heavy pants. 

A second later the world around you blurs and you quickly find yourself straddling him above the bed. The old furniture creaking in protest. You forget how nervous you would be if it were someone else, how self-conscience you would be riding a man but Miguel doesn’t give you a chance to think about it. His feet planted firmly on the bedding, he snaps his hips, burying himself deep into the tight fist of your cunt, over and over, until you’re stupid for him. 

His name rips from your throat, you can’t even think of saying anything else. You attempt to muffle yourself with the back of your hand but he’s quick to yank it back down. 

“No” he utters a low, guttural sound, hands coming up your back. “I said I wanted you to scream.” 

He sounds unhinged, like something snapped inside of him. You feel teeth on your collarbone, nails dragging down your back, sharp, leaving long lines of irritated skin. A pleasurable pain blossoming over your skin. 

You begin to unravel as you thrust your hips against him, his movements setting off white-hot sparks of pleasure like incandescent lightning. Moans rush from your lips as his name is repeated in a mantra and you cling to him desperately, your hands clawing at his back and your nails digging into his skin as you spiral ever faster into oblivion.

Miguel is relentless in the way he drives into you. You can feel him swell inside you, every thrust pushing you closer and closer to the edge. He moves his hands to your hips, pushing and grinding against you as every muscle in his body strains. 

His breathing is quick and harsh against your ear, his voice a hungry growl, “That’s it, take it. You were waiting for this, weren’t you? Hungry for a cock no matter who it belongs to.”  

You can’t answer. 

Miguel’s hips thrust harder, faster—his orgasm crashes through him, his hands gripping your hips painfully as he spills his hot seed deep within you. You find yourself trembling as aftershocks of pleasure ripple through you, your body feeling like electricity as you come down from the high. You clench tightly around him, your own overwhelming orgasm ripping through you, overstimulation making you cry out. 

He spins you both, bringing you to lay underneath him. Miguel collapses against you, breathing heavy as his grip on you slowly relaxes. He holds you for a moment, your heart thrumming as his forehead briefly rests against yours, breaths mingling. Then, with a satisfied groan, he pulls away. You let out a hiss. It feels achingly empty. 

You’re surprised when he starts pushing your legs apart, watching his spend trickling down your folds and making a mess on the sheets. He pushes globs of cum back into you with thick fingers. Your head falls, back arching into his touch. “You made such a mess,” he says, sounding almost transfixed. Cramming fingers inside of you and curling them, your body seizes. 

After that, you’re not sure when he leaves. Sleep takes you and when you wake, he’s gone. No note, no message left behind. The only evidence that he was here is the ache between your legs, and the taces of him still lingering on your thighs. 

You’re sure you won’t be seeing him again. He got what he came for. 

The next night he’s back, climbing through the window for more. 

#miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x f!reader #miguel o'hara x female reader #across the spiderverse fic #across the spiderverse fanfiction #oscar isaac characters #oscar isaac character fanfiction #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you

[exquisiteserotonin]

Ternion

Word count: 3.3K

Pairing: Young Mr. Ben SNL(as a TA, Grad Assistant)xFemale ReaderxProfessor Jonathan Levy Scenes From a Marriage

Rating: E! For explicit (18+ only, MDNI)

Warnings: Threesome, Power Imbalance, Brat Taming, Oral Sex (F! Receiving), somewhat degrading actions

Summary: Your friend and fellow graduate assistant Ben asks you to come over to his place for help with another task that your overbearing advising professor, Jonathan Levy, has dumped on the both of you.

A/N: I don’t typically subscribe to the whole professor student thing, but this was begging to be written and I hope this means I am out of my funk and my damn season of writer’s block is over. I hope you enjoy and as always reblog, comment, engage! I would love to hear from you!

And to my sluts thank you as always for giving me your magic! @magpiepillsjunior @magpiepills @youandmeand5bucks @legendary-pink-dot @pink-whiskey-woman @redhotkitchen @arcanefox207 @for-a-longlongtime

Ternion

Ternion: a group of three, a triad; a section of a paper of book containing three double leaves or twelve pages

Your eyes were beginning to glaze over as you stared at your laptop screen. It was another long afternoon of compiling participant demographics and data from your advising professor’s study in your closet of an office. You closed your laptop a little harder than you should have as you began to pack up for the day. The parking lot behind your building was nearly empty, most students having left for the day. As you drove home, you had visions of cozying up on the couch with your blanket, drinking an adult beverage, and binge watching your favorite tv show.

You were only a few miles from your house, when the infotainment screen in your car flashed with a familiar contact: Ben, your office mate and fellow graduate assistant. Deliberation coursed through the pads of your fingertips and against your better judgment you answered.

“Hey Ben, what’s up?”

“Hey,” his voice echoed with a hesitancy, “Professor Levy asked me a for a favor and I—“

“Are you serious, Ben?” You groaned in exasperation. “This is such bullshit. ”

“I know, I know—I hate to ask but would you come over and help me out?”

Say no. Say no. Say no, your brain said on repeat. Desperation wafted from his hushed voice in a way that immediately unlocked your kindness. You just knew he was pouting, running his hands through his chocolate brown hair while somehow making his already big eyes even bigger, like glassy orbs of whiskey on ice: against your silent protests that he NOT be so easy to say yes to. But aside from that he was also the kind of colleague who’d help you out in a pinch…and too damn attractive for his own good. It certainly made having him as your office mate interesting and frustrating at times.

You gripped the steering wheel before announcing your decision.

“Well, I was legitimately on my way home,” you replied with a deliberately loud sigh. “But yeah, sure.”

It was a bitch move, you knew, but you needed your displeasure to be known. A small part of you felt bad about being so vocal with your frustration. It wasn’t Ben’s fault, but he needed to know the inconvenience of it all. You would not be at your professor’s beck and call. Especially on a goddamn Friday night.

“Just give me some time to head over,” you huffed and added, “I can’t be over there in a snap like Professor Levy would want.

“Hey now,” Ben spoke in a firm whisper that somehow still held a hint of kindness despite your bite, “don’t shoot the messenger.”

You turned the car around and headed to Ben’s house. You found parking on the street and walked up the stairs to the door of his small Brownstone. You pushed the doorbell and found yourself brushing your hands through your waves and cautiously smelling yourself.

Passable. You thought to yourself.

Then he answered the door, emerging in a snug navy blue v-neck and loose gray sweatpants slung low on his narrow hips. A hint of skin teased you between the hem of his shirt and the elastic of his pants. They held onto his hips for dear life with nothing but the insurance of a haphazardly tied drawstring. You nearly whimpered at the sight of him.

What a fucking tease. Get a hold yourself, woman.

You breezed through his door without a word, trying to quell your craving and channel it to the frustration you felt with your advising professor. This was his fault anyway.

“Um…hello to you, too,” he greeted.

Your hands were placed firmly on your hips when you turned back to face him. One of his brows was cocked at you, already waiting for another snarky response. You couldn’t help but pout back at him. He knew you too well.

“Just like him to not give you a weekend off,” you huffed.

“You don‘t even know what I‘m going to ask you,” his voice was low and sterner than you had ever heard before. “I‘m starting to think you like a little fight.“

The way his eyes bore into you was so deep, it was nearly a glare. He held his chin up in the slightest way, arrogant enough that it demanded your attention to his strong neck. It wasn’t long before you felt tiny sparks of electricity traveling over every inch of skin of your body. It didn’t help that he stood with his hips pushed forward in the most arrogant and un-Ben-like way.

“Wow, if only you could give a little bit of that attitude back to Professor Levy,” you said with some bite and unconstrained breathiness.

Conveying the facade of confidence was important. Especially in situations like this.

Ben stepped forward, his shirt and sweatpants clinging against his body in exactly the right way.

“You’re only proving me right,” he purred, now only inches from you.

Do not moan. Do not moan. Do not moan.

“Just give her what we know she needs, Ben,” you heard a polished voice command from the shadows of another room.

A different kind of heat crept over your face and neck after hearing the familiar voice.

What were the chances?

You looked towards the shadows to see Professor Levy swaggering towards you. He pushed forward a few steps, placing his hands in his trousers pockets before leaning against the wall to watch you. His eyes were low and piercing and he licked his lips that rested beneath his salt and pepper beard.

“Of course he’s here,” it came out as the repressed moan you were fighting against.

Professor Levy nodded towards Ben in acknowledgment of some kind of unspoken agreement. Faster than you could think or speak, Ben pulled your body tightly against his, grinding against you as he pressed his lips to yours in a hungry and greedy kiss.

You didn’t expect for Ben’s lips to feel as soft as they did. They were even softer when he parted yours with a firm lick of his tongue. The heat rose within you as his large hands wrapped around your waist, finding your skin beneath your shirt as he pressed your bodies even closer together. With every move he demanded you feel every twitch of his cock for you.

“W—wait!” You gasped, pushing him from you.

Your eyes moved from Ben to Professor Levy, a strange mix of unbridled desire and anxiousness stirring in the lowest part of your stomach. Ben’s thick fingers managed to keep a possessive grip on your hips that you didn’t brush away, despite the way your brain was spinning in want of answers.

“What the fuck are you doing?” You demanded of both of them.

The two men shared another knowing look that stoked the flame of your frustration. Professor Levy raised an eyebrow before removing his glasses and wiping them on a cloth he pulled from his shirt pocket. You couldn’t help but keep your eyes on him as he strutted towards you, his fingers weaving through the gunmetal ringlets of his hair. You rolled your eyes with disdain for his insufferable ways of working, but found yourself burning from your center with intrigue at what those fingers might be able to work on you.

“Always with the snark,” your professor directed the words towards Ben who responded with a shrug and a smirk.

“You will not talk about me like I’m not in the room,” you paused, turning to him and holding your eyes directly to his, “Jonathan.”

He one more large stride forward until he, too, was inches from you.

“I think you mean professor,” he commanded, continuing to advance on you until you backed into Ben.

A moan escaped you as Ben stood like a wall behind you. With your chest heaving up and down, Professor Levy brushed a strand of hair from your face with his long, lithe fingers. Yet they didn‘t stop there. The heat continued to rise from the three of you as the professor‘s hand journeyed down the curve of your body until they met Ben‘s at your hip. They shared a look of longing before turning that desire towards you. And in the strangest turn of events, the professor’s lips were on yours with his tongue paying adoration to your pouty lower lip.

Unable to contain the desire that trembled within, you let out a long, loud whimper as Professor Levy gently trapped your lower lip with his teeth. You already thought the feeling of Ben’s throbbing cock at your lower back was enough to drive you mad, but somehow you knew you were going to be pushed to your limit the moment Professor Levy took your hand to his pants until he pushed your palm to feel him twitch with desire for you.

The part of your brain that held your common sense screamed at you, demanding you not give him the satisfaction. But every other part of it, along with every part of your body, beckoned you to give in. The feeling of Ben’s massive hand moving to the front of your waist was followed by his thick fingers inching towards the front of your jeans. You couldn’t help but pant as you felt his hot breath brush the back of your neck.

“You can’t tell me that this isn’t better than the fight you put up,” Ben’s voice came to your ear in a low growl.

He wasn’t wrong. But ever true to yourself, you bit your lip and replied with a little extra spice, “I think that remains to be seen.”

Your words made Ben snap his hips forward against you with a gravelly moan. Within Professor Levy’s mahogany eyes you could see from his heavy-lidded stare the desire the two men held for each other while searching for their reason to include you.

Professor Levy lifted your chin with a push of two strong fingers, silently ordering you to look squarely into his bespectacled eyes before he spoke, “You definitely need to be taught a lesson.”

You found yourself following him to Ben’s large leather couch, with Ben close behind you, his fingers intertwined in yours. Professor Levy took his place first like a king warming his throne. He smirked as he taunted you by unbuttoning his shirt. He manipulated each button with skillful fingers until he slipped it off and let it fall to the living room floor. He spread his legs wide as he sat, smoothing his hands over the soft fabric of pants that covered his strong thighs.

Ben nibbled playfully at your neck and then your ear with desperate and needy breaths. His warm hands slowly slid beneath your shirt, moving upwards until he massaged your breasts with paws massive enough that they made them feel small. Before you could even think your shirt was gone followed by your bra.

Professor Levy beckoned you to him as he rubbed his thighs, “Come sit here…now.”

This time, you submitted without a fight, feeling the way your skin nearly melted into his as you let your back rest against his chest. His beard tickled the skin of your ear as he licked at the bottom of it. His supple fingertips reached under your arms until they found the altar of your nipples. You rolled back against him as he tortuously began to caress, flick, and pinch them even slower and more skillfully than he had with the buttons of his shirt.

“Ben,” your professor called to your colleague, friend…inevitable lover, “come here.”

You dragged your nails along the waist of his low slung sweatpants while he lifted his shirt over his head. You kept your fingers just above his waistband while he leaned over the couch towards you and your professor. It was mesmerizing to watch how these two beautiful men looked at each other with such intimacy and longing as you lay between them. Your professor took a hand from your nipples and brought it possessively to the back of Ben’s neck, pulling his face to his before licking his bottom lip and pressing onto his mouth for a slow, sensuous kiss.

“Fuck.”

There were no other words you had that could possibly convey the carnal state of desire you had fallen into. Hungrily, you pulled at the drawstrings of Ben’s sweatpants before reaching your hand to the waistband. In a lightning fast move, your professor pulled it away, squeezing your fingers between his.

“Tsk, tsk, not without my express permission,” Professor Levy scolded in a low, buttery whisper.

Slowly, Ben positioned himself at your legs, his hands caressing your waist until he began rubbing your professor’s thighs with you. Professor Levy grabbed Ben’s hand and squeezed it before lowering his eyes to him.

He spoke with unwavering confidence coating every word as he gave Ben a command that sent shivers spiraling outward from your wet center.

“Taste her.”

The wanton darkness that overcame Ben’s eyes and the smirk that curled the corner of his upper lip coaxed your heart and your pussy to throb even more than you anticipated. Your professor’s demand spurred Ben to pull off your jeans and underwear even faster than you could put any thoughts together. You sat naked between the two men in so many more ways than you’d imagined you ever would be. Through your dizzying thoughts, Ben placed a firm grip on your legs pressing them a part.

Any words you thought you could form in your head only came out in quick, pulsing gasps. An unbridled heat spread all over your body as you felt Ben’s broad fingers handle your outer lips until they began to line themselves up at your slit.

“Jonathan, she’s so fucking wet,” his voice was hushed and his breath was so hot against your pussy.

Professor Levy’s response came out in a guttural moan that met your body by way of hands continuing to work on your nipples. The theme of surprise continued as your professor and Ben played off one another in ways that only happened when two people knew each other beyond words. Ben’s nose pressed into your mound as he licked a slow, deep stripe up your center.

“Oh my god,” You cried, finding your professor’s hand with a desperate grasp as Ben began working on your pussy with slow, luxurious and hungry swirls until he moved into a varied and unexpected pace that had you shaking, writhing, and bucking against his every move. Each time his tongue worked on you, he pushed you to the very edge of ecstasy over and over and over again.

He moved his worship to your clit and pressed his face and tongue deeper into you, eliciting a cry from you that filled the room, “Jesus, Ben, fuck oh my—Professor!!”

You pressed one hand through Ben’s waves and gripped Professor Levy’s thigh while riding your high.

“Ben, tell me what she tastes like.”

He lifted his face from your center, lips and chin dripping with your spend.

“Like heaven.”

Ben looked up at you, his eyes glassy with passion and also shining with the gleam of a man hungry for more. The sight of him caused you to whimper. You had never studied his face this way before even though you shared a small space together almost daily. The broad bridge of his nose sloped downward and he breathed you in with a playful smirk before adorning your outer lips with a delicate kiss. You thread your fingers through the disheveled locks of his hair, smiling back at him until your lips opened once more as he teased you with more caresses of his fingers.

“He’s good isn’t he?” Professor Levy growled into your ear.

Your brain was spinning, your body shaking in anticipation of what was to come next. Professor Levy reached an arm over your body, maneuvering his hand towards your neck and without missing a beat, Ben pressed his mouth onto you again sucking at your lips before he dipped his tongue into you again. He continued to venerate every fold with abandon, moaning with each taste he had of you like it were the best meal he’d ever had. You didn’t think it could get any better, especially with the pressure of your professor’s hand at your neck matching the intensity of each manipulation of Ben’s tongue.

And then…

One…two of his broad fingers reached into you, curling into your tight wet pussy while his tongue paid particular devotion to your clit.

“Ah, oh my god, fuck!” You came crying, writhing, and losing any more words the tighter your professor’s grip became.

Ben’s voice vibrated against you with a low, carnal laugh as you felt the slick sensation spill from your center onto the leather beneath you. He then pressed his hands lightly at your lower belly, causing you to shudder with even more aftershocks from your orgasm. You worked through catching your breath and looked down at him. The face he greeted you with as you caressed his wavy locks was that of a bold and satisfied man who knew he could do that to you again.

Ben rose up from the floor and leaned forward until his face was close to yours. You relaxed and leaned your head back against your professor’s as he eased his hold at your neck. In an unexpected moment of tenderness, Professor Levy threaded his fingers between yours.

Ben’s eyes shined as he looked toward you and then your professor. The simultaneously tender and sensual intimacy they shared was amplified in this quiet moment. It felt so private that you were almost embarrassed by having witnessed it.

“Wanna have a taste?” Ben asked as he pressed his thumb still damp from you to Professor Levy’s bottom lip.

Your professor took it, sucking at the tip savoring the taste of you on Ben’s skin. Heavy-lidded with lust, Professor Levy let go of Ben’s thumb and then licked his lips.

“Mmm, sweet,” he murmured with a seductive and low rumble coming from the back of his throat.

Ben stood up and lifted his chin with a proud smirk. He walked to what you assumed was his bedroom and then turned around to lean against the doorway. The way he leaned his elbow above him and his other hand resting at his hip demanded you pay attention to his defined torso. The waistband of his sweatpants sat so low that your eyes had no choice but to travel down the peppering of brown hair that led to the thick treasure you were becoming so desperate for.

A light squeeze of your thighs by your professor was your signal to stand. He walked around you and used his eyes to study every curve of your body. A light touch of his fingers beneath your chin had you breathing hard again as his gaze now demanded that you give him your own. The breath from his mouth danced upon your lips. Yet instead of taking you in for a kiss, he turned from you with his hands in his pockets. You stood naked before both men watching you, waiting for you, bodies reaching for you from a doorway to a room and to a deed that you could never really come back from.

And the decision was clear. There was no way in hell you could turn back now.

You stepped forward. The old, hardwood floors creaked beneath your feet.

“Wait,” Professor Levy called out.

You closed your eyes with a sharp intake of breath and you stopped as he had demanded. Your breath quivered as you waited for what they had in store for you.

He shared another look with Ben, his eyes lowering and the brown of them becoming devilish and dark.

“Get on your knees and crawl.”

#juice collective #friends of the juice collective #pedro pascal character fanfiction #oscar isaac character fanfiction #mr. ben x reader #mr. ben snl #pedro pascal fandom #jonathan levy #scenes from a marriage #smut writing

[wardenparker]

Summer Rose

Professor!Santiago Garcia x female OC Co-written with @julesonrecord

Rating: E for Explicit 18+ Word Count: 6k Warnings: OC is named (Daphne Antonelli) but has minimal physical description. Age gap 10+ years. Both parties are consenting adults. Alcohol consumption, mutual pining, professor/student, oral sex (f and m receiving), 69, sexy mythology references, vaginal sex, protected sex, fingernails/scratching, a bit of biting. Summary: Daphne is having an absolutely terrible day and has missed office hours to turn in her final paper to Professor Garcia. When she turns up on his doorstep to turn in her assignment, the professor she's been crushing on for ages offers her a supportive ear -- and help relaxing. Notes: A little collaboration between myself and my beloved Jules featuring a character we've working on (Daphne) and today's wet daydream of college professor!Santiago. Honestly this is just a bit of porn with the barest thread of a plot, and we're not sorry. Also, just a disclaimer that I have no clue how one finishes a masters degree, but it doesn't matter. We're here for the porn, not the threadbare plot.

Twilight is beautiful on campus. Santiago has always thought so, even before he had the letters after his last name that demarcate him as faculty. He enjoys the blush of the sun fading, the purple of the dusky sky fading to blue-black, indigo, then glitter with starlight.

He likes walking home after class this way; a quiet moment to ease his mind after lectures and before grading. This late in the semester, it will be one of the last walks before the summer term. As he passes through the quiet neighborhood and climbs his front doors, he glances up, spies Orion's Belt in the heavens. He thinks about introducing the story next time he holds his Mythology and Myth-Making class. Did he include it this year? He can't remember. He'd been... distracted.

His phone pings with a text as he sets his messenger bag on the dining room table and undoes his cuff buttons, rolling them up. Too damn hot for this, damn dress code rules... He peers down at the message, and notes it's from an unknown number. His students know to text him if they have an emergency, so he opens it straight away.

Hi, Professor Garcia. I know that it's after office hours, but the fact is...I missed office hours altogether. Would it be an inconvenience to call you and explain? Otherwise I'm not sure how to get my final paper to you. Thanks, Daphne Antonelli (Mythology and Myth-Making)

Santiago lifts an eyebrow. He recognizes the name. Oh yes, he recognizes it. In fact, he's called it to mind more often than is probably appropriate, along with the image of a very beautiful graduate student with a focused stare and drop-dead gorgeous eyes. She was an attentive student, responsive, ready to answer questions but never one to hog the spotlight, making insightful, empathetic, and razor-sharp questions. It was unlike her to miss anything, never mind not visit office hours. They'd spent many such visits over the semester. Short. Professional. Of course.

So why does his heart rate increase, his teeth sink into his bottom lip as he thoughtfully taps the phone screen, spelling out a careful, professional text?

Hi Daphne. As this is your final paper, I would really like to have it ASAP as I am required to submit grades on Monday. Why don't you swing by my home to drop it off?

Feel free to call, he types, then deletes before sending. He wanted to hear her voice. He did need that paper. No reason why he couldn't do both in person. No reason at all.

He had had his graduate students over for a spring dinner after midterms so they know how and where to find him. The bonfire that night had lasted for ages, as tipsy grad students who were feeling feisty with a full meal in their bellies debated the cultural implications of different myth origins and the similarities of some creation myths that they had just been discussing in class. Daphne had been amongst the students that night, animatedly defending her points with unmatched ferocity that was impossible to ignore.

The text that comes through a few moments later takes a while for her to decide on, judging from the continuously undulating bubbles indicating how long she was typing compared to the brevity of the eventual message.

Thank you for understanding. I'll be over shortly so the rest of your night isn't interrupted.

Satisfaction. He tosses the phone down and leans over the table with a slow sigh, taking a look around the room. The same old familiar wall-to-wall bookshelves line the tidy bungalow. The same pendant lamps up, tacky, that he'd meant to change when he bought this place... four years ago. His degrees might be hung in his office upstairs, his clothes are here, he shaves here, but who does he have here, really? Nobody. Warm sheets for a night and then no one. Nothing. There was no reason to bother, really—

And then Daphne. Daphne with her slowly blossoming smile that melted from shy to beaming when he said hello to her on campus. Daphne with her neat notes in the margins, Daphne with the legs that had so often been tucked primly next to his as they leaned over a book or paper together, never touching but so close, close enough so that he could smell her perfume: cinnamon, orchid, incense.

"Fuck," he mutters to the table. There's no way of hiding from himself, not really. He pushes off the wood and stalks to the kitchen for a beer. He cracks it open efficiently and takes a long swallow, Adam's apple bobbing. He wants her. That much is clear. How could he not? She was intelligent, fierce, gorgeous. He could fool himself all he wanted, her coming here was a bad idea. It's been a long semester, keeping her close but not too close.

But, he realizes with a jolt, she's about to graduate. This is her final, his course is over. He is... well, technically by Monday, no longer her professor.

"Fuck," he mutters again, this time to a magnet of a catfish, his only catch from a weekend out fishing with the guys.

It's twenty minutes later precisely when his doorbell rings. There was no sound of a car outside on the street or dramatic slam of a door, but when he opens the door there is a bicycle leaning against his front gate and a frazzled looking student on his front step.

"Hi, Professor." Daphne stands on his step with a mix of anxiety and embarrassment on her face and she digs into her bag right away to pull out a manila folder with his class name and number written on it alongside her name. "I'm so sorry about this. I know it's technically late and that you'll have to dock points for that. It's completely my fault."

"Hey, hey, easy." He lifts a palm and lowers it soothingly, taking the manila folder gently. "There's no need to be sorry, accidents happen." Then, as he knew he would, he asked, "Would you like to come in? It's the end of semester, though. Maybe you have a party you'd rather get to?" He smiles fondly, bumping his shoulder against the doorframe and folding his arms to show off his tanned forearms, shirt sleeves straining slightly.

Yeah, he's still got moves. And he wants to show them off. To Daphne. Who is no longer his student. Who's staring up at him with the anguish slowly sliding from her face. He wants to remove it, stroke her stress away with his thumb, ease it out of her slowly—

Fuck, he's screwed.

"I'm not really – I mean, I haven't –" She doesn't get invited to parties, is what she's trying to say. Not that she doesn't enjoy parties, because she does. She absolutely does. The night they spent here at his house just sitting around the fire talking and sharing a meal was one of her favorite graduate school memories. But she isn't great at socializing with the other students in her program, she's found. There is something a little odd about Daphne, and it has reverberated through her life to keep her just a little on the outside of normal.

Maybe that's why she nods, accepting the invitation with swallowed thanks, and steps inside her professor's house. Her professor who has more than a decade on her in terms of age but has never held his years of experience or knowledge over her head. If they were colleagues, she might have even considered him a friend. As it is, being his student, she's stuck in a sort of limbo with a useless crush and fond memories. "I've had kind of a crazy day," she admits sheepishly. "Even if I had been invited to any of the parties on campus, I don't think I would be going."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that, Daph," he says, with real sympathy. "Is everything all right? I just opened a beer, would you like anything?"

"A pipe burst at my place and my landlord is claiming I'm liable, then my computer crashed in the middle of doing one last edit on your term paper and the tech office gave me grief, it's just...it's been a long day." She barely even nodded in agreement that a drink would be a huge relief, but he is immediately retreating to his refrigerator to grab her a beer. "Oh, and my summer plans fell through today." Her shoulders sag, the stress of the day dragging her down and determined to keep her there. "I'm just lucky I got up to take a shower first thing this morning or else the day would've been even worse."

"Oh, Daph, that's a rotten one," he says, placing the opened beer on the coffee table and settling his hands on her shoulders. "What happened to your summer? Surely you're going off to some incredible internship, you're more than qualified." And she is. He'd have recommended her to any program she wanted, and had, in fact, written her a letter of recommendation earlier in the year. "You know I'm not going to dock points, right?" he asks more quietly. "None of today was your fault, sweetheart."

Sweetheart. That shouldn't burrow into her chest and bloom into warmth like it does, and Daphne's eyes drop to the floor immediately to carefully focus on the toes of her boots instead of looking him in the face. That's your professor. Don't be creepy. "I had that internship lined up in London with the publishing company but they pulled the rug out from under me." She shrugs, feeling more vulnerable in the moment than she wants to admit. "Apparently the CFO's kid decided all of a sudden that he wants to be an author, so they rescinded my offer. He's going to get it instead."

His chest pangs. He hates that there is nothing he can do to fix this for her -- because she's right. That's the cherry on top of an extremely long day, and all he can do then is what feels most natural, which is to lift her chin up with the crook of his finger, his voice soft, gentle. "Hey."

When she meets his gaze, he watches them flicker slightly, scanning his face as he drinks in hers. Her eyes are so pretty. Like fresh honey dripped from a spoon.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he says again, and means it. "You deserve that spot, but you'll find something better, okay? Hey, look at me." She had turned away slightly, embarrassed or perhaps made shy by his praise, but her eyes fix on him again, golden and fringed with thick lashes. "I promise, you will. There's lots of ways into this world, and you're too talented not to break in. Okay? You want to sit down, tell me about it?" His fingers clasp around her delicate elbow, ready to guide her to the couch.

"There's not a lot more to tell, to be honest." Two people with two beers steer almost mechanically toward the couch, and Daphne finds herself being seated on his plush leather sectional just before he sits down beside her. This spring has been chilly and he still has a throw blanket out, which he pulls close to them as if to have it at the ready. "No summer in London means I'm going to have to either go back home and figure out my next step there, or find a new place here and do the same. Because I'm sure as hell not staying in the place I'm in now. As if the landlord weren't bad enough, now the plumbing is going."

"Huh." He trails his arm over the back of the sofa, sipping his beer thoughtfully. "What kinda guy is this-" Asshole, he wants to say, but quells it, "Fellow? Any chance he'll back off? Perhaps once he... calms down, he can be reasoned with." He's approaching the boundary of reason himself. He can see it, taste it, the drip of something sweet down his throat. "Beautiful woman like you? You could convince a man of anything."

The pffft sound that comes out of her mouth goes with a wave of her hand, but she does accept a sip of the beer that he's brought her with a grateful sigh. "The apartment is a piece of shit anyway, if I'm honest. I hate it there. It's just that it's affordable." There's a moment's pause where Daphne's eyes widen in panic and she deflates again with a groan. "I already put in my notice at my job, oh my god."

"Hey, hey, Daphne." He puts his beer down and reaches for her, wrapping one arm around her waist, cupping her flushed cheek with the other hand. "C'mon, it's going to be okay, I promise, but for right now, I need you to relax, okay? Can you do that for me, bebita?" They're so close now, almost nose to nose. He's lost in her eyes again, but he can feel the burning heat of her little cheek in his palm.

She had been so sure she was going to start crying instantly with that realization, but two searing hot hands on her skin steady her. His touch is grounding, pulling her away from the edge of panic and drawing her into his aura so effortlessly that she didn't even realize how close he was until she felt his breath on her skin. "O—okay—" He can't know that the thing keeping her from having a complete panic attack on his couch right now is the fact that all the blood in her body has rushed to her aching clit, but damned if it isn't working. Daphne nods vaguely, trying to keep her head from swimming, but all she feels is his hands on her and the way his coffee brown eyes have turned to oceans in front of her. "Okay," she repeats softly.

"Okay?" Santiago nods, his breath coming a little fast. "I'll help you. I'll help you relax, sweetheart. You tell me to stop any time, okay?" He leans closer so slowly, their breaths mingling. He can almost count her eyelashes. Her nose is sweet and soft as it brushes his, but it's nothing compared to her plush lips. They seal against his and he feels the world fall out from under him. Something deep and ravenous unlocks and spills out all over his inside. He barely chokes down a groan.

There is no doubt that this is the most surreal moment of Daphne's life, and it isn't as though she hasn't been in some weird situations before. It's a miracle that she managed to get her beer bottle onto the nearby coffee table without spilling or knocking anything over, but she needs her hands for this. For a year and a half she's been working on a master's degree and avoiding too much contact with the one professor who makes her mind fog up and her daydreams wander, until finally she had landed in his classroom.

And now on his couch.

Kissing him.

If it were anything besides the most surreal moment of her life, she might have jumped backward or at the very least, pulled away. But Daphne has imagined kissing Santiago Garcia far too many times to do anything but sigh in response and open up for him like a summer rose.

"It's okay," he repeats soothingly between kisses: to himself, to her, to the waiting tension in the room. "I've got you, cariño. I've got you now, there you go, so sweet for me. So pretty. Beautiful, smart girl." He deepens the kiss, tasting her lips slowly, reverently, one hand sliding slowly down her soft sweater to rest on her waist and squeeze gently. He brushes his thumb over the soft material and then flicks it open, wanting closeness, to drag his palm up her thin blouse, wide and slow across her back.

The sound that bubbles out of her is a plaintive moan, unsure but wanting, and one of her hands grasps for steadiness on his arm even as the other instinctively sinks into his curls to keep him close. The battle is want versus wisdom, and it takes longer than she's proud of for Daphne to drag her lips from his and pant for a breath that still has no prayer of clearing her head.

"But." The fog in her mind has settled thick and heavy like the arousal in her core, and even as she's trying to straighten herself out she's still clinging to him with digging fingers and sharp nails. "You'll get fired," she manages to breathe out a few seconds later. Her only real protest being that she doesn't want him to get in trouble over a whim – which is surely all this is to him.

"Baby, no, no," he shakes his head, almost laughing with relief that that is her only concern. "No, you're graduating. I'm not your teacher any more. You handed in your paper. We can finally do what I – what I've been—" Shit. This is going to sound so bad. "What I've been thinking about since I met you," he admits.

Santi leans his forehead against hers, sighing. "I'm sorry. It's so inappropriate, but it's true. I've been waiting so long to kiss you, baby girl. Let me kiss you." He brushes his fingers over her knee, lifting her skirt just a little. "Let me make you feel so good, my little nymph. Do you even know how long you've been haunting me?" His mouth brushes her again, gently, over the corner of her mouth, the edge of her jaw, the flutter of her pulse, which smells delicious, deep and floral, her scent.

His cock aches against his zipper.

"Fuck." This time Daphne groans, sinking further into the couch, and feels herself giggle softly in disbelief more than she's actually aware of making the sound herself. "You've been haunted?" She challenges, eyes burning with courage now that she's heard his confession. Heard him beg. Did he really just beg for her? "Do you know how long I put off taking your class because I didn't know if I could even concentrate around you?"

Using the opportunity of her gently reclining body, Santiago leans in for the catch. "I never could," he murmurs into the hollow of her throat, his hands sweeping her skirt up, revealing her pretty legs, and god her thighs, so plush and luscious in his hands. He takes a moment to stroke there, brush the hem of her panties with his thumbs. "Never. You came in with Eros and made me Apollo." One thumb slips gently under the gusset of her panties. "Are you running, little nymph, hm?"

"Fuck—I—no, I—I don't even think my legs work now," she huffs, all at once tense as a bowstring with desire and measurably more relaxed as the reality of the man she's wanted forever finally touching her exactly where she wants him.

Well, not exactly. But it's not going to take long to get there at the rate they're going.

"What should I..." Daphne's head falls back on the sofa cushion as his thumb strokes her slit and she moans. "Santiago is a lot of syllables to moan."

"Santi. You can call me Santi from now on," he murmurs, removing his thumb from her panties only to twist the thin white cotton things, Jesus, so fucking wet, around his fingers and slide them down, down. He tosses them to the side and shucks off her high heeled boots while he's there, his eyes locked on where she glistens for him, needs him. "But you can call out any god you want to, bonita." He flicks his gaze to hers and smirks. "Show me how much you were paying attention, yeah?"

If she can even remember a single name from his class at this point she'll be shocked, and the cool air of his house on her overheated cunt is enough to have her squirming instinctively underneath him. Her brain has pretty much given up the ghost already, overstimulated in the very best way possible far before the rest of her body feels the same. Although she has a feeling that it will get there. "Santi..." Trying it out, there is a sweetness on her tongue and heaviness in her core that really is just a whine waiting to break free. Daphne's hands have found their way to his shirt front, fumbling to free the buttons even while she's nearly shaking with desire. "If you get to touch me, I want to touch you, too."

His lips find hers again, almost impatient to taste her again. "You can touch me, I want you to," he mutters against her lips, lifting her blouse hem from her skirt as she takes care of his buttons. Santiago doesn't pause, doesn't make it easy for her or for himself, drowning himself in the touch of her, the sweet little noises emanating from her throat, the ones taking a running leap on the way to begging for everything he's ready to give. He lifts her shirt over her head and begins tugging down her skirt an inch at a time, his fingers dragging slowly over her hips, her now bare legs.

Nothing is exactly torn away, not specifically, but the pile of clothing that collects beside his living room sofa accumulates quickly and haphazardly — shirts and sweaters and everything else discarded blindly as they drown in kissing each other and swallowing those moans that make their way to the surface over and over again. With that building freedom Daphne finds a buried courage — not that she is a timid lover by any means, but there is an eagerness below the surface here that she hasn’t felt in so long. When the only thing left between them is the flimsy pair of boxers that do nothing to disguise how achingly hard he is, Daph bites down on his bottom lip to pull a groan out of him and soothes it away by sucking on the same spot as her fingers slip under the waistband of his last remaining piece of clothing.

"Fuck," he hisses, hips jumping forward so that the weeping tip of his cock brushes against her hand and he groans. He sits up straighter, caught in a web, aching to touch her – at least take his boxers off, fuck – but loathe to move away from her curious little hand. He settles for sitting up on his knees, staring at the place she's touching him, watching her explore him as though in a trance.

Taking advantage of the momentary shift, Daphne sits up along with him and nudges Santi backward so that he is on his back now instead of her. His curls are mussed and his eyes are so black with lust that he looks positively debauched before she’s even had a chance to touch him very much. Once he’s on his back, though, Daphne hooks her thumbs in his boxers and peels them away, groaning at the sight of him. Harder than diamonds and leaking precum like an eager teenager, a sly smirk rides across her face knowing she did that to him. “I want to suck your cock,” she admits, gaze flickering between his length and his blackened eyes. “You have no idea how many hours I’ve spent imagining sucking your cock under that desk in your office.”

Santiago closes his eyes a moment. Is he fucking dreaming? Or is his most fucked fantasy coming true before his eyes?

"Probably almost as many as what I've spent imagining what that wet little pussy tastes like." His voice is a low rasp, but he pulls himself together enough to halt her hand on his throbbing dick. His fingers squeeze around hers, gliding over the rigid shaft slowly, with control. His breath fans over her forehead. "You want this, baby? Hm? Gonna have to give me something in return. Come here," he urges, a low purr, her very own siren. "Come here and give me a little taste, cariño."

“Even Kama had to worship a lover in order to find his release,” Daph breathes, having spent an entire semester doodling images of the Hindu love god’s sugarcane bow and bird companions in her notes while thinking of all the various ways her professor could be worshipped.

"Kama was burnt alive by Shiva, sweetheart, and I don't plan on doing any different to you. Come here, that's it." Santi helps Daphne turn in his lap, both of them facing the wall. He guides her hips over his face as he lies back on the couch. Thank fuck it was big enough, for this and more, and then her perfect pussy is hovering over his face, tantalizing him. At heart? Santiago likes torturing himself, loves the thrill of giving into pleasure. Perhaps that too, is why he waited so long to take this girl into his bed. Perhaps that's why he's slow and sure as he spreads her lips, flattens his tongue, and tastes her indulgently, from clit to hole.

Daphne's momentary flash of composure is gone again as soon as he tastes her. Her legs shake on either side of his head, thighs pressed to his ears so her moans are muffled but it isn't on purpose. It's just been so long since she had a man between her legs who knew what the fuck he was doing that just having her clit noticed is a vast improvement. Daphne's body sags momentarily before she is shifting all her weight to one hand and wrapping the other around the base of his cock to stroke his base with the pressure that he showed her – the pressure he likes – while she takes as much of him as she can into her mouth.

When he moans it's with a growl into her pussy she can feel vibrate all the way up through her lungs.

She's not fucking sitting, and he knows it's because she's still, however minutely now that her moans are ringing sweet and clear across his living room, in her head instead of fully in her perfect body the way he wants. Licking up her slick almost lazily, he drags his nails lightly up the outsides of her thighs before firmly catching her hips in hand and pressing her into his waiting mouth, his evening stubble scraping across her folds. Only then does he give her a real reason to moan, encouraging her to grind while his laps at her clit with his tongue, filling his hands with all the gorgeous skin he can reach.

"Sit," he grunts, "Fuck, baby, I wanna to go to the field of fucking reeds with this pussy on my face, come on, you can do it, give it to me."

Come on, carińo, I know you can come for me, such a good fucking girl, he thinks, his brain a hazy lightning storm at the sensation of her hot throat squeezing around him as she swallows. Fuck, he could let her do this all night, but he's hungry for her pleasure and he's so close, he can taste it. Santiago lifts her hips with a final loud suck and trails a finger around her slit, teasing, almost pressing, but only just, his thumb running circles around her clit. With a deep breath he lifts his mouth, slips his tongue and a single finger inside, fucking into her with slow, measured movements.

The overwhelming pleasure of having more than just the tip of his tongue inside her pussy has Daphne moaning so earnestly that she pulls off of him cock with a lurid pop. "Dammit—I—fuck, I'm going to cum—Santi, baby, oh my f—" The shaking of her legs and the coil in her core twist down on each other so her thighs tighten and he breathes into her like he's going to devour her whole as she falls apart at the seams.

Oh yes. He really likes hearing her moaning that, but not more than the way she gives in as her orgasm rocks through her, grinding her hips down, into his waiting, eager mouth, helping her ride him through it until the aftershocks ease. His voice is barely a scrape when he lifts her up, his aching cock swinging between his legs as he presses forward, eager for her mouth. "Did so good, baby, such a good girl for me. I need to fuck you. Need to fuck you, baby. How do you want it?"

"Any way." Daphne gasps, trying to wrap her head around any kind of how that's more artful than just sinking down on him right here and now. When she does wrap her head around it, though, she groans in a less ethereal tone. "Let me grab a condom." Like any sensible, sexually active college girl, she carries one in her regular purse. Emergency cock wrap, if you will. She just never thought she'd actually need it.

"Wait, I got it." He scoots up a moment, digging into the small table beside the couch. From the drawer Santi draws out the foil pouch and rips it open, quickly rolling it on before turning his attention back on Daphne, who's watching him with drowned eyes, eyes deep and longing and still so lovely.

"Lie back, sweetheart. You ready for me?" He slowly glides the head over her silky wet folds, smearing her slick across his tip.

Deciding she absolutely does not need to know how many other girls have been fucked on this couch -- possibly at the end of their own courses -- Daph pushed herself up on her elbows to kiss him fiercely. Tonight is not to be wasted. Tonight is to be a fantastic memory. "I'm ready." Her nails drag down the base of his scalp, having caught a near purr from him earlier when she did the same. "I want you to fuck me, Santi."

Almost before his name is out of her mouth, he's pushing inside her with a low rumble, his head falling back slightly into her hands. Her nails scrape sensation over his scalp and down his spine, and her cunt is licking flames over him, so warm and perfect he almost comes right fucking there, but halts, breathing damp against her lips, his teeth nipping her lip possessively.

They hold like that, frozen together in the heat of the moment as he regains his composure and she adjusts to the stretch and fill and thickness of his cock inside her. The only movement, in this long moment of coming together, is the languid slide and tangle of their tongues together as they drown in the intimacy of feverish kisses.

Gradually, Santi comes down enough to get restless, eager again. He nips and bites down over her jaw and descends on her throat, sucking a mark low on her collarbone as his hands pay some long overdue attention to her pretty, heaving tits. Mine.

When the mark on her neck is soothed with his tongue, he sits up slowly, his eyes a glittering black, his lips parted. He looks like he's about to devour her. He takes one of her calves in his hand, eyes never leaving hers, tipping her knee up towards her head and then out, spread wide for him. He grips her ankle in a warm hand. Then, with a grunt, he's pulling back and pitching forward hard enough for their skin to clap obscenely, fast enough to make them both soon begin to tremble.

The position that he's in has him almost entirely out of her reach, just close even to graze her nails over his chest as he thrusts into her at a pace frantic enough to make them both pant and heave. Her back arches off the couch with a keen and her hands grapple with the couch cushions for purchase to hold on tight as Santi fucks her so deeply and insistently that she can practically feel him all the way up in her throat.

"Gripping me so fuckin' tight, baby, Jesus," he says through his teeth, his jaw tight, streaks of pleasure raking down his chest with her sharp, clinging nails. Keeping his relentless pace, he bends forward, pushing her thigh up, testing her limit. When he's low enough he seizes her mouth with his, grinding deep.

"One more for me, pretty girl, one more," he whispers huskily, his other hand skimming down her body to rub at her clit.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, so good baby, oh my fucking god—" Something in Daphne's mind short circuits, and the rambling begins in earnest the higher and higher she climbs toward a second orgasm. Tripping over her own tongue and throwing her hands up over her head as he slams into her so hard that either they are moving up the length of the sofa or the entire sofa is moving, Daph is completely lost in her pleasure. That volcano of pleasure building in her core is damn near ready to explode and the only thing she wants more than to erupt is to take him with her.

The second her expression breaks and she cries out for him, he's gone. He thinks he's done even before she clamps down on his cock like a goddamned vice, ripping his orgasm from him in a half dozen hard but increasingly languid strokes.

His upper body grows heavy, and with a groan he grinds in deeply just once more – never mind why – and leans his forehead on her soft breast, pulling out of her with a sigh. His entire body is basking, floating. If she puts her hands in his hair again he might even fall asleep.

There's a moment of quiet as he ties off and disposes of the condom, and for a split-second Santi disappears around a corner but he comes back with a warm, damp kitchen cloth to clean them both up with before curling back around her on the couch. "Goddamn," she huffs, giggling softly to herself as his arms come around her.

"Tell me about it," he says sleepily, flipping the throw blanket over the two of them as they settle, kiss, explore lazily what before had been greedily consumed. "Still not sure I'm not dreaming," he says, only half-joking, tracing her lips with a smile. "Did I really get so lucky?"

"I'm not sure how you're the starstruck one out of the two of us," Daphne teases, even though it's through a thin veil of honesty.

"Bonita, I've been increasingly starstruck all semester," he chuckles. "You have so much to look forward to. Shit, you're definitely going farther places than I am. I'm just happy to be here," he presses a kiss to her left tit, "To enjoy-" to her right nipple- "The satisfaction of being right." He kisses her forehead and studies her, his lids heavy. "Do you need anything before you fall asleep, baby girl? You wanna sleep here or in bed? I can't let you bike home this late, querida, so don't even try. Besides, you can shower here, my plumbing is fine." He smirks here, as if anticipating the swat he's earned himself.

"It's not that late." Daphne wrinkles her nose at herself. The protest was just good manners. She doesn't actually want to leave. She wants to wrap up in him and breathe in this comfort for as long as humanly possible. When he levels her with a disapproving look, Daph just ends up grinning. "Let's go to bed," she suggests, catching his lips as he drags them along her jaw. "And when I wake you up in the morning with my lips wrapped around your cock again, you'll be glad your back isn't sore."

The laugh bursts out of his chest with delight, easy and real. "All right, baby, all right, and what makes you think I won't beat you to it?" Santi pulls her to her feet, wrapping the soft blanket securely around her shoulders before guiding her upstairs with a hand at the small of her back.

No matter which one of them beats the other two it, they both know they aren't done. Whether it's a weekend, a week, a month, or even more. This night is just the beginning.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

My Masterlist!

#Oscar Isaac #Oscar Isaac character fanfiction #Oscar Isaac fanfic #Santiago Garcia #Santiago 'Pope' Garcia #Santiago Garcia x OC #Santiago Garcia x female!OC #Triple Frontier #college professor au #professor!Santiago Garcia #pwp #really there is barely any plot here #and we're not sorry

[musings-of-a-rose]

Can I pls have "you made me a better person" with Santiago Garcia?

A Better Person

Pairing: Santiago Garcia x f!reader

Word Count: 650+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes: Santi deserved to have some soft fluff love 

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)

**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Santiago Garcia Masterlist

Santi never thought he would settle down. He definitely dated, but no one seemed right, no one made him want to stay and look for no one else, no one made him feel special, important.

Until you came along. 

It was unexpected, a random encounter out in the world rather than at a bar or on one of those dating apps. You’d both reached for the same random flavor of chip on the shelf, Santi nearly choking on air as he took you in, his stomach leaping into his throat. He made small talk, flirted a bit, and oh my God when you laughed, the entire world laughed with you. He asked you out and you seemed shocked, like no one had ever asked you out before. 

That was a year and a half ago.

Inseparable, you and Santi had moved in together after a year, a big step that Santi had never thought to take with anyone else. But now that you’re here? Everyday? He was so happy he thought his heart would burst from his chest. Getting to wake up next to you every day was his own personal heaven on earth, listening to the little sleepy sounds he’d pull from you when he ducked his head under the covers and shifted between your thighs. He didn’t see how he could get any happier.

Well…there was one way. 

It was grocery day and Santi and you were at the store, picking up the things on your list and also checking out some new items. He seemed a little extra handsy today, always wanting to be touching you, his eyes nearly never leaving you. You turn the corner and head down the next isle, pausing to reach up for the same flavor of chips that you’d reached for when you met Santi.

“We gotta have thes-”

Words die on your lips when you turn around, seeing Santi on one knee, gently taking your hand, his eyes never leaving yours. 

“Querida, before I met you, I was lost. I wasn’t the worst guy ever but I also wasn’t great. I’ve done some terrible things and I thought I was destined to just waste away, find no true love in this life. But then you came along and I was instantly drawn to you, falling in love the second you looked at me. I’m still shocked you agreed to go out with me,” He chuckles and you feel tears start to well up in your eyes. 

“Every day with you has been the best day of my life. You made me a better person, a person worthy of your love, and for that, I am forever indebted to you. And I want to spend the rest of my life, and whatever lays beyond, trying to repay you. Querida, will you marry me?”

Santi holds out a small black box, opening it to reveal the most gorgeous ring you’d ever seen, exactly your style. 

“Oh, Santi! YES! YES I would love to marry you!”

The widest smile stretches across Santi’s face as he slides the ring on your finger, standing up with a slight groan that was cut off by your lips on his, applause from the other customers fading in the background as you kissed him deeply, arms wrapping around his neck. He pulls back, putting his forehead to yours. 

“I love you, querida.”

“I love you, Santi.”

Within a few months, you became Mrs. Garcia and never go a day without being loved. 

—----

General Taglist:

@frankie-catfish-morales @chaoticgeminate @janebby @astoryisaloveaffair @balekanemohafe @greeneyedblondie44 @hoeforthefictional @marvelousmermaid @hauntedmama @giuliarogers @icanbeyourjedi @wretchedmo @sunnshineeexoxo @livingmydreams13 @adventures-of-a-noodle @sara-alonso @theewokingdead @punkerthanpascal @giggly-otter @f0rever15elf @phandoz @dirtytissuebox @gallowsjoker @lovesbiggerthanpride @sarahmilesbendrix @booksarekindaneat @mrsudontknowme @swol-bear @charlispersonallyhell @xoxabs88xox @amneris21 @gooddaykate @alindeluce @avengers-fixation @paintballkid711 @harriedandharassed   @ladykatakuri @marrianena  @practicalghost @withakindheartx @batdarkladyvampir @justanotherkpopstanlol   @mermaidxatxheart @alexxavicry @ichigodjarin @justreblogginfics  

#santiago garcia #santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia x you #santiago garcia x f!reader #santiago garcia x female reader #santi x you #santi x reader #santi x f!reader #santi x female reader #santiago pope garcia #oscar isaac #oscar isaac character #oscar isaac characters #oscar isaac character fanfic #oscar isaac character fanfiction #oscar isaac character ff #santi garcia

[flightlessangelwings]

Ktober 2023 Day 28- Blowjob

Poe Dameron x gn!reader

Word count- 1.3k

Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), fwb to lovers, mutual pining, oral (m receiving), semi public, reader works with Poe in the resistance, fluff, no use of y/n

Notes- I actually changed the ideas on this fic a few times before this scenario popped into my head and I loved it! I will always love Poe with all my heart! Prompt list made by me! Enjoy!

@flightlessangelwings-updates is myupdate blog so please follow that too and turn on post notifs to stay up to date on my new fics!

~

The mission was simple: get into the party, observe and gather information on the First Order officers, and report back. You and Poe completed the first two steps with ease; the two of you worked together seamlessly for a long time now. But, once the important work was done, you let your eyes wander, and you couldn’t tear your gaze off of Poe. He looked so effortlessly handsome all dressed up like this, almost like he was nobility. That was his cover after all, and it came as no surprise to you that everyone bought the lie without question. 

Every time Poe looked at you, though, you forced yourself to look away. You didn’t want to be too obvious out in a crowd, especially when the two of you were undercover. Yet, you couldn’t help the way you looked at Poe, and of course you noticed you weren’t the only one with a lingering gaze on his figure.

Poe noticed, of course. Nothing got past him. And the truth was he couldn’t tear himself away from you either. You had become good friends, best friends. And after many missions together, the two of you came to an arrangement: you would hook up for release, but it never went more than physical. 

It quickly became more for both of you, though you each kept your true feelings hidden from the other.

Tonight, however, Poe wanted to change that. “See something you like, sweetheart?” he leaned in and asked you with a mischievous smirk on his face. 

Covering up the way you were blatantly staring at him, you grinned back, “Maybe.”

He rested a hand on your waist as he leaned in closer, “How about you and I get out of here then,” Poe’s tone dropped and sent a shiver down your spine.

The facade broke and you looked at him with an adoring expression. Poe’s eyes bore into your soul as he looked at you with a smile on his face and a softness in his features. Through the banter, you saw the genuineness in him, and it made your heart skip a beat. You couldn’t stand it any longer, you needed him badly. “Come on,” your own tone dropped as you slipped your hand in his.

“Right behind you,” Poe’s smile widened as he let you lead him away from the party and down a darkened alleyway.

You knew the layout of the area by heart in case of the need for an escape. But this was not an escape, it was a rush of desperation. You couldn’t wait until you got back to the ship, you were too needy for Poe to wait any longer. So, you ducked both of you into an abandoned room in the alleyway.

The moment the door was shut, you lept at Poe and crashed your lips together in a desperate and heated kiss. He moaned into you, surprised by your sudden action, but Poe wouldn’t dream of pushing you away. Instead, he pulled you closer so that your chests were smashed together as he deepened the kiss.

Breaking away with a gasp, Poe looked at you with wide eyes, “I like you like this,” he grinned.

You mirrored the mischievous smirk he gave you earlier as you pushed him back against the wall, “In that case,” you started, feeling bold, “I’ll admit I couldn’t keep my eyes off you tonight,” you purred as you slowly dropped to your knees, never breaking eye contact with Poe.

“Sweetheart…” Poe suddenly realized you had the same plan as he did tonight, you just beat him to the punch. 

He murmured your name and caressed your head as you unzipped his pants. You looked so beautiful on your knees for him like that, and the rush of emotions went right to his cock. It jumped free from his pants and you eyed it hungrily, licking your lips as you wrapped a hand around Poe’s length and pumped it a few times.

Poe groaned your name again as you leaned forward and kissed the tip. He helped onto your head with one hand while his other landed on your shoulder. His head leaned back against the wall and a shiver ran up his spine when you finally wrapped your lips around his cock, taking him into your mouth in one movement.

“Fuck!” Poe cried out as the warmth of your mouth engulfed him.

You hummed around his length as you ran your tongue along the bottom, savoring the way Poe shivered at the action. You smirked around him as you bobbed your head up and down, slowing you initially rushed movements. Poe’s moans filled the tiny room as you worked him with your mouth. 

Poe bit his lip to try and stifle his moans, but you were just too good. Part of him worried you didn’t get far enough from the party and you might get caught, but when you sucked hard, every other thought vanished from his mind. All Poe could think about was how wonderful you were on your knees with his cock in your mouth, and how good you made him feel.

As much as you wanted to keep your eyes on Poe and watch his every expression, you couldn’t help but flutter then shut. You savored the taste of his length on your tongue as you ran it up and down. You savored every little moan and whimper Poe let out when you brushed over a particularly sensitive spot. You savored the way he tightened his grip on you. You savored every little detail about this moment.

When Poe tugged on you a little harder, you knew he wouldn’t last much longer. You grinned around him as you worked him faster, sucking harder, taking him deeper down your throat. You pulled back enough so just the tip was still in your mouth and you swirled your tongue around the head a few times before you took him fully in your mouth again.

“Oh fuck… Sweetheart,” Poe cried out as his breaths became heavier, “Shit!”

You speed up the way you bobbed your head and sucked as hard as you could, determined to throw Poe over the edge. And within moments, you got what you wanted as he came hard with your name on his tongue. Filling your mouth, you gagged for a moment before you swallowed around him. Not wanting to miss a single drop, you wrapped your lips tighter around his cock and swallowed several times. Tears filled your eyes as you felt full, but you kept going.

Breaking away with a loud gasp, you let a little bit of Poe’s release dribble down the corner of your mouth as you waited for him to open his eyes. After a few heavy breaths, he did just that, and you took that moment to lick your lips and gather that last bit, putting on a show for him.

“Fuck,” Poe breathed.

Both of you burst into a fit of giggle, and neither of you knew exactly why. Perhaps it was the overwhelming emotions that overtook both of you in the heat of the moment. Perhaps it was because both of you secretly felt more for the other, and you each realized it at the same time without the words needed. 

Poe dropped down to his knees and joined you on the floor. He cupped your face with both hands and kissed you deeply, taking your breath away and tasting himself on your tongue. You moaned into him as you surrendered yourself, fresh tears filling your eyes from the fresh wave of emotions.

When he broke away, Poe looked at you with sincere adoration in his eyes, “Let me repay the favor,” he kissed you again, “Again,” he kissed you, “And again,” another kiss, “And again…”

#fawktober2023 #kinktober #poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you #poe dameron x y/n #poe dameron x gn!reader #poe dameron x gender neutral reader #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron fic #poe dameron fanfic #oscar isaac characters #oscar isaac fandom #oscar isaac character fanfiction #star wars imagine #star wars fandom #star wars fanfiction #star wars fic #star wars fanfic #oscar isaac #oscar isaac fic #oscar isaac fanfiction #star wars #star wars sequel trilogy #star wars the force awakens #star wars the last jedi #star wars the rise of skywalker

[autumnleaves1991-blog]

He’s an Idiot but he loves you - Santiago Pope Garcia x F! Reader

A/N: I legit have no idea if I have ever posted this. I couldn’t find it anywhere on my blog but I loved it, so here ya go. :) 

Pairing: Santiago Pope Garcia x F! Reader 

Warnings: 18 + for language, light angst, fluffy ending. 

You slumped into the chair and sighed, mentally preparing yourself for the afternoon of work. It was hard to concentrate, but you did your best and reached for the power button on the laptop, hand freezing at the flash drive sitting on the top with a sticky note. Watch this. 

You hesitate for just a moment before the curiosity gets the better of you, and you put it into the computer and load the video. You watch your mouth open as the video shows your boyfriend, Santiago, pacing in front of the television at Frankie’s house. You want to turn it off; the fight you two had three days ago is still fresh in your brain, but something stops you. 

“I’m a fucking moron,” he runs a hand through his curls and tugs, “she will never take me back. How the fuck could I say that to her?!” 

“What would you tell her if you could talk to her right now,” Frankie asks, and you watch with bated breath. 

Santi pauses and turns toward the camera, “I would tell her I love her. I’m sorry; I don’t want her to leave me.” He growls and turns away, “Fuck!” he shouts, and you jump, reaching to turn down the volume. “I would tell her I didn’t cheat on her.” 

“How is she supposed to know that? You didn’t call for a week, she was terrified something happened to you, and then when your phone does pick up, it’s another woman.” Frankie knew everything you had come over sobbing the day it happened. 

“It was my informant! I tried,” he sighs, “I tried to explain that to her, but I was just so angry and defensive about being accused of something I didn’t do. I fucked up Frankie, I yelled at her. It made her feel like she had done something wrong. I love her so much. This woman is my world. I want to marry her, have babies with her, get a dog, and now I’ve lost her.” 

“Maybe not pendejo,” Frankie stands and claps a hand over his shoulder. “Let me talk to her, convince her that you are sorry about getting mad at her and that you are innocent. Anyone can see that you love her Pope, and she loves you too.” 

Santi nods and rubs his eyes before walking off towards the kitchen. Frankie watches him walk away and then comes back to the camera staring straight into it and smirking. “Did you hear all that? He’s sorry and an idiot, but he loves you. He needs you, and you need him. You know where to find him.” The screen fades to black, and you wipe the tears from your eyes and reach for your purse and keys. 

You open the door and run out to your car, hands shaking as you pull out of the parking lot and over to Frankie’s house. Santi is the only one home, the others out at work or daycare. You run up to the door and knock loudly, and after a moment, when no one comes, you knock again insistently. “I’m coming!” Santi shouts from the other side, and you tremble. He opens the door and freezes, “Querida?” 

You don’t wait and throw yourself into his arms; holding him tight, he returns the embrace, almost bruising you with how tight he holds you. “I love you,” you cry, the tears staining his shirt, “Frankie left me a video of you, and I am so sorry I didn’t let you explain.” He pulls you back, and you see the tears in his own eyes as he rubs them from your cheeks, drawing you in for a kiss. 

“I’m so sorry, Querida, I love you so much,” he chants against your lips, intermingled with his kisses. Everything felt right back in the arms of Santiago, and at that moment, you knew everything would be okay. 

@jedi-mando @idreamofboobear @aerolanya @rebelliouscat @darklingveracruz  @marvelprincess1994 @thirstworldproblemss @spacelatinoss  @martellthemandalor @kesskirata @waatermelon-sugaar @jitterbugs927 @helga1031  @greeneyedblondie44 @oldstuffnewstuff @yespolkadotkitty @heythere-mel @justanotherblonde23 @artsymaddie @aellynera @lucifer- @phoenixhalliwell  @sixshooter665 @chicken-ona-stick @theshireisburning-so-mordoritis  @paintballkid711  @fantasticcopeaglepasta @sarahjkl82-blog @boxdyeblonde @rosiefridayrogersunday @yeah-seems-legit  @mimimi-stuff  @ladyblogger-margie @memyselfandellasworld @peterhollandkait @itspdameronthings @emmy626 @randomness501  @littlebopper96 @alexmarie29 @hell-is-my-second-home666 @thisshipwillsail316 @madslorian @no-droids-on-sunday @glixxr @pedro-pastel @we-can-be-himbos  @sleep-tight1 @sarhabee @its--fandom--darling @im-an-adult-ish @princess76179 @demoncrypt1066 @the-dendrophile-bookworm @amneris21 @deliciouslydisturbed365 @princessxkenobi  @ew-erin  @maievdenoir @withakindheartx @goblinqueen95  @jaime1110 @niki-xie @gooddaykate @simsiddy @its--fandom--darling @gorgeousgrogu   @hopplessdreamer @missminkylove @blufanfictionthings @arellanofelixboys @h-hxgirl @dreamer-101 @fangirl-316 @beesting77 @phandoz @wild-at-heart-kept-in-cage @practicalghost @xoxabs88xox @solemnlyswearss @rosie-posie08   @savagemickey03 @hotchlover @ruhro7 @rominaszh @paintlavillered

@spider-starry @thewayofthemandalorian @poedameronloverx @huxdameron @carstwirs @tanzthompson @gasly-kvyat @omlwhatamidoinghere @h-hxgirl @marvelousmermaid @chattychell @anaaaispunk @mssbridgerton @hanpoppy19 

@omlwhatamidoinghere @linkpk88 @tlcwrites @lv7867 @mudhorn-djarin19 @mssbridgerton @elisabethbathgate @pascal-rascal424 @midnightzonzz  @massivetfsimp @mandorush @marvelousmermaid @rayslittlekitten @wildmoonflower @rosegxoxo   @thewintersoldierswife  @quica-quica-quica @tanzthompson @dobbyjen​ @gasly-kvyat @mandocrasis​ @whovianayesha @h-hxgirl​ @pedrosbisch​ @hearttbreak​ @evyiione​ @anaaaispunk @mssbridgerton Nimue 47@hanpoppy19 @thesirenrealm

#Santiago Pope Garcia #Santiago Pope Garcia x Reader #Female Reader #Autumn Writes #Oscar Isaac #Oscar Isaac Character Fanfiction #Triple Frontier

[ladyxskywalker]

July 2022 (part two)

fandoms featured on this list; moon knight, pedro pascal characters, the batman, the amazing spider man, bridgerton, oscar isaac, charlie hunnam, the originals / tvd, & misc./multi fandom 💫

thank you to the amazing fic writers for sharing some wonderful stories with all of us ! & to the kind readers for their support. 💙

please assume that all works & the blogs they belong to are 18+ only

mature adult content will be marked with a double asterisk **

be sure to check all warnings & tags before reading, feel free to skip if something isn't for you

& of course, enjoy responsibly

all the love xo A ☕

✨️ apologies for this month’s list being a little shorter than usual ! I had some things going on, so some of these are comfort reads, & repeats that I’ve read again, new things I’ve read, or various series that I’ve started. hope you enjoy ! & happy reading ! 🤗

please send me things to read ! favorite fics or something you've written that you're proud of ! 💌

find more monthly fic recs over on my masterlist, Aug 2022 coming soon ! ✨

please let me know if you would like to be removed

✨ new authors & characters added for the first time !

✨ some authors are mentioned more than once throughout the list, check to see if your works are there !

MOON KNIGHT

✨ Jake Lockley

Six Stops by @lcvenderblues (gn!reader)

Love in Bloom, & Sunday Kind of Love by @egcdeath

✨ Marc Spector

Happy Birthday by @writingforcurrentobsessions

✨ Steven Grant

Spirals And Skin by @clints-lucky-arrow (artist!steven) (tattooed!f!reader) **

Tilt, Shift, & Balance by @the-little-ewok (steven x f!reader, marc x f!reader) **

Who Wouldn’t Want That? & Darling, I Fancy You by @yespolkadotkitty (f!reader)

PEDRO PASCAL

✨ Ezra (Prospect)

Clarity by @ezrasbirdie (dentist!ezra universe) (f!reader) **

Daze by @iamskyereads (slice of life) (domestic ezra universe) (prof!f!reader) (cw: children) **

In the Dark (series) by @frannyzooey (cw: age gap) (f!reader) **

Where the Foxglove Grows by @mandoblowmybackout (plus size, neurodivergent, f!reader)

✨ Jack (Agent Whiskey) Daniels

Tangled Up (series) by @writeforfandoms (dragon rancher au) (f!reader)

✨ Marcus Pike

Desperado by @writeforfandoms (f!reader)

Starting Over (series) by @wardenparker , & @absurdthirst (f!reader) (cw: pregnancy, divorce)

✨ Oberyn Martell

Yes, I do? by @toomanystoriessolittletime (modern au) (escort!oberyn) (f!reader)

✨ Pero Tovar

Full Moon Confessions by @artemiseamoon (f!reader)

Risk by @forever-rogue (f!reader) (cw: pregnancy mention) **

✨ The Thief (Casillero del Diablo)

The Painting by @forever-rogue (f!reader)

✨ Misc. Pedro Pascal Characters

Euclidean Geometry by @leslie-lyman (modern au) (poly!relationship) (f!reader) **

How Did You Love (series) by @writeforfandoms (f!reader)

MISC./MULTI FANDOM

✨ Alfred Pennyworth (The Batman)

Penny For Your Thoughts (series) by @eupheme (cw: age gap, daddy kink) (f!reader) **

✨ The Amazing Spider Man (Andrew Garfield)

Approach Shift (series) by @psithurista (f!reader) **

Beautiful Distraction by @flightlessangelwings (gn!reader) **

✨ Bridgerton (Benedict Bridgerton)

Truth Unseen by @make-me-imagine (gn!reader)

✨ Bud Cooper (Oscar Isaac, Suburbicon 2017)

A Softer Side by @leiakenobi (f!reader) **

✨ Clash of the Titans (Draco, Mads Mikkelsen)

Of Gods and Men (series) by @KrystalFlare on fanfiction.net (draco x goddess oc) **

✨ Cobra Kai (Johnny Lawrence)

Challenger by @SecretSecret on ao3 (f!reader) **

✨ Duke Leto Atreides (Oscar Isaac, Dune)

The Sun on Your Skin by @writefightandflightclub (gn!reader) (touch starved reader)

✨ Joel Miller (The Last of Us)

Safe With You by @flightlessangelwings (f!reader)

Under the Cherry Blossom Trees by @flightlessangelwings (fluff, angst) (gn!reader)

✨ John Watson (Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows)

The Doctor Is In by @cinewhore (black!f!reader) **

✨ The Originals / The Vampire Diaries

An Act That Brought You Joy (series) by @Merontheshore on ao3 (elena gilbert x klaus mikaelson, elena x elijah mikaelson, elena x kol mikaelson) **

The Artist (series) (a choose your own outcome story) by @brittishmenorbust on ao3 (f!reader)

Bienvenue (series) by @Merontheshore on ao3 (klaus mikaelson x ofc) (kol mikaelson x ofc) (elijah mikaelson & ofc) **

Endlessly Enough (series) by @brittishmenorbust on ao3 (damon salvatore x f!reader)

Labyrinth: A Bonnie Bennett x Klaus centric universe (series) by @artemiseamoon (bonnie bennett x klaus mikaleson) **

✨ Raymond Smith (Charlie Hunnam, The Gentlemen)

Right Hand Woman by @autumnleaves1991-blog (f!reader) **

✨ Rick Flag (DC, Joel Kinnaman)

Motivation by @loverhymeswith (f!reader)

✨ Roswell New Mexico (2019) (Alex Manes x Micheal Guerin)

here everyone knows (you’re the way to my heart) by @catchingpapermoons on ao3 (malex) **

** be sure to check out part one for star wars, the mandalorian, kenobi, rogue one, & triple frontier fic recs 📖

#moon knight fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #tasm fanfiction #dune fanfiction #the originals fanfiction #oscar isaac character fanfiction #charlie hunnam character fanfiction #misc. multi fandom #pxk monthly fic recs 💫 #pxk monthly reading list 💌

[fake-bleach]

all mine | miguel o'hara x reader

summary: You have an unspoken rule with Miguel O’Hara. He takes care of you, he provides for you, and in return, you let him take what he wants.

word count: 2.2k

warnings/disclaimers: (18+ only!) fem!afab!reader (no use of y/n), literally porn no plot, unprotected piv sex, implications of free use but also not rly, slight choking, dirty talk, roughish sex, no foreplay (straighttt to it), use of pet names (honey, baby, sweetheart, girl, etc), coming inside, i think that's it lolll, !no atsv spoilers!

i know this isn't p but i watched spiderverse last night and had to get him out of my system + i adore oscar isaac <3 working on two joel fics rn so expect those :)

ao3 link | masterlist

The ruffling of your sheets weren't nearly enough to wake you from your sleep. But, the pressure of Miguel's body on yours was.

It always was.

"Hey, baby.. It's me," he whispers in your ear, his hands and arms practically consuming you as they roam across your entire body. With you laying flat on your stomach, his hips and chest press so tightly against you.

It runs chills down your spine; the force of his pent up cock in his rigid suit as the sultry voice fills your hazy mind, barely wakening from your deep slumber. His lips plant desperate kisses on the back of your neck, lowering the more he lifts your flimsy pajama shirt up and up and up.

He never did really like you wearing anything to sleep.

Your sluggish murmurs barely register to him, a soft, “Mmphf," and "Miguel.." making him almost instinctively say the same words he always does when he comes to you.

"Yeah.. Missed you too, cariño." He mutters out, his hands already reaching for your shorts to lower them along with your panties, not taking a single second to waste. The small kisses he plants on your lower back never slow, giving you that bit of reassurance which almost sends a surge of energy through you.

He was always so needy with you; never putting much effort to make any small talk. He was here for a reason and you knew that.

But, you didn't mind it one bit.

The cool air from the sudden exposure on your skin sends shivers throughout your entire body, making you tremble just enough to force a faint laugh out of Miguel's throat.

It's that same laugh that makes you crave him; the deep, heavy tone of it making your eyes flutter open with need already soaring through you and your core.

His fingers trail down to your inner thighs, almost teasing you with the gentle glide of the tips, wanting to force those little noises out of your mouth, which he successfully does. Your faint whines just make him grin, knowing that you need him.. just as much as he needs you.

He drifts them over your soft folds, nearly hissing out at how wet you already were. It makes him chuckle, your whimpers growing louder the more he touches you. "Already soaked for me, honey? Bet you were just waitin' for me to come see you.." He whispers out lowly, his lustful eyes fixed onto your glistening cunt.

His fingers take their time, faintly pressing against your entrance and swiping through your lips, gathering the wet slick that you were so graciously providing for him.

It always makes this so much easier for him.

You moan out, turning your head just enough to catch a glimpse of his body and the movement of his free hand releasing his cock from his suit, and the sight makes your mouth water.

He desperately guides the tip of it through your folds, getting ready to indulge himself into your warm heat. The feeling of his cock pressing into you makes you groan, gripping onto the sheets as butterflies flow through your stomach and core, hole clenching around nothing.

You needed him so bad already, just like you always did.

Mouth falling open, you whimper out, "please.." and all it does is make him laugh, smirking as he glances up at you. "Need me that bad, baby? Barely getting started.." He rasps out, nearly pressing the head of his cock into your cunt, but just enough to get him a taste of you.

He groans out, his hands now moving up to squeeze your ass eagerly before slapping it. The harsh sound and the sting of it makes you cry out, thrusting your hips against the sheets in attempt to get some kind of friction.

"Fuck, missed this pretty pussy.. Gonna cherish it.. fuck it.. just like you need, honey." He lets out with a faint hiss, taking his time to start pushing his cock inside of your tight hole. The girth of him makes your walls constrict around him, gripping onto him tightly as he presses himself into you, each inch making your jaw fall wider and wider.

You've been at this too many times with him, but you never get used to the feeling of him inside of you.

It doesn't take too long until his hips are flush against your ass, the tip of his cock piercing so deeply inside of you and filling you up to the brim. It has you letting out small pants, eyes almost rolling all the way to the back of your head at how heavy the air feels around you, how full you feel.

Your face lays on the bed, the side of your cheek pressed against your pillow as your eyes gaze onto Miguel's hips and large body nearly covering you entirely. He licks his drying lips, staring up at you for a moment to look at your face.

He coos at you, almost patronizingly. "Too much?" he teases, "Fucked you so many times, baby.. n' your cunt's still so tight around me."

His head tilts down to stare at the sight of your walls wrapped around him and slightly pulls out as he lifts your thigh up a bit, just enough to see you clench around him involuntarily. It makes him groan; the feeling of your warm pussy enough to wash all of his problems away.

That's why he was here, anyway.

His hips begin to create an unrelenting pace, slowly yet surely making your entire body push and pull into the mattress over and over again, every force of his cock hitting you harder each time.

The echoing smack of his hips slapping against your ass and thighs fill the room entirely, along with your moans growing louder with each thrust. The recurring sting of his skin leaves you breathless, letting out small gasps as you grip onto the sheets tighter.

Miguel doesn't take a second to rest, making sure he slams his cock into your cunt to the brim, using every inch of your hole as if it were only his to use.

He lets out short, hoarse moans each time he enters you. The squelching noises your soaked pussy gives out makes him smack your ass, your slick coating his cock and nearly running down your thighs.

The sounds make your cheeks burn, his mocking laugh forcing a groan out of you as he moves his body forward to lay his chest on your back now, the weight of him keeping your waist and stomach flush into the bed.

The pressure of him feels intoxicating, your breath hitching as he leans his mouth towards your ear. His grunts are the only thing that you can hear now, along with the faint sounds of the constant slaps of his hips against you. It's so filthy, yet you crave it every time with him.

His grunts now turn into whispers; faint, heavy breaths that you can barely process from how full and fucked out you felt.

It's almost like you're going in and out of consciousness, hardly registering what he was saying, until you hear, "Good fucking girl.. Lettin' me use you like this, fuck, taking such good care of me.."

You whimper out in response, his words making that heat in your stomach and core rise. The praise, yet degrading things that Miguel tells you always leave you wanting more.

His hips begin to slow down now, instead taking his time to pull his cock out of you, letting the tip of it rest against your entrance. Lifting his head from your shoulder, his eyes travel from your bare skin back to your ass. He shoves himself back into you, harder with each thrust so you can feel every inch of him, taking you completely.

You cry out at the intrusion, the harsh force making your eyes roll back as you whine out his name. The push of his cock reaches that spot deep inside of you, forcing your eyes wide open at the overwhelming sensation.

His name on your tongue drives him insane, lifting one of his hands from your ass to reach underneath the weight of your head, wrapping his fingers around your throat. He feels your heart pounding beneath his fingertips, his grip on you tightening just to see you gasp with his eyes fixed on your face now.

He moans your name, his coarse voice making you tighten around him, "There we go, sweetheart.. Think I hit a spot, yeah?" He murmurs out, your groans giving him the answer he needed. The repetitive movement of his thrusts never relent, Miguel making sure that the pace and aim of his cock stay the same.

Your body shudders at the feeling, sending waves of pleasure through your core as you feel him buried to the hilt. You breathe out, desperation seething out through your teeth, "Yeah, Miguel, s-shit, yeah..", feeling your orgasm build up the more he fucks you.

"That's it, honey, let me hear you say it.. Who's fuckin' you this good? Who's gonna make you come, baby?" He pants, thrusts growing faster as he chases his own release, needing to come with you.

Another smack of his large hand on your ass makes you gasp out, eyes shutting tightly as you force the words out of your lips, "You, Miguel, fuck, s'always you.. no one else.."

Your confession goes straight to Miguel's cock, pride growing at the knowledge that you give yourself to him and only him. He grits his teeth, groans slipping out of his mouth while he reaches between your stomach connected to the bed, pressing his fingers against your clit.

"Yeah, baby? I'm the only one who can fuck this pretty pussy, that right?" He urges out of you, hardly processing his thoughts before he can speak them, "You're mine to use? Mine to fuck when I want, huh?"

His words mixed with the pressure of his fingertips on your clit, pressing small, tight circles on it has you moaning out spurs of nonsense; mindless, fucked out noises, with the way his cock slams inside of you over and over again. You feel so full, the heat and coiling inside of your stomach and core increasing.

You whine out, biting your swollen lips, "F-Fuck! Yeah, yeah, m' yours Miguel, all fucking yours.." you breathe out, "Yours to fuck, whenever you want.. Yours to use; whatever you want, Miguel.."

Admitting that shouldn't have felt as good as it did.

You never thought you'd be able to speak like that, much less degrade yourself in such a way; not until he came into your life.

Not until he ruined you for everyone else.

His chest presses tightly against your back, lips back in your ear as he grunts into it, "That's my girl.. knowing your fuckin' place, that's right.." His hands press into the small of your back, forcing your stomach into the bed. You didn't think it was possible for you to feel even more full, but the way he buries his cock to the hilt has you seeing stars.

The quick circles on your clit with the force of his hips has your stomach tightening, coiling up as your walls constrict around his cock, making you come without any warning at all.

Your head lifts, pants and moans escaping your throat with your eyes shut. Miguel's voice encourages you, his fingers on your clit slowing, though his hips never let up. He lifts his chest off from your back to gain better leverage now, hands gripping onto your ass as he pounds himself into you.

The pressure of his cock into your sensitive, spent cunt has you wailing out, whining at the overstimulation. Miguel just uses you and your abused hole, chasing his own release as his cock twitches. "Shit, honey, gonna come, gonna fill you up, fuck," he groans out in rushed breaths.

You clench around him involuntarily, the spasms of your pussy and orgasm hardly to your own control, letting out, "Fill me up, baby, ruin me, please.."

Your words were enough to push Miguel right to the edge, the sudden halt of his thrusts making you gasp out as he buries himself deep inside of you, painting your walls with hot, thick streams of come. He lets himself fall against you, chest pressed into your back with his hips up to the hilt of your hole.

The mix of your heavy breaths and his pants fill your ears and the entire room, the air filled with the scent of sex as you both fall from your highs. Your chest fills with air, heaving up and down with each breath you take as you stare at Miguel, taking in his figure entirely.

You could never truly allow yourself to actually feel for him; you knew that would never be wise, but you can't help the words that escape your mouth.

"Stay tonight?"

Miguel just lifts his head to look into your eyes, giving you a small, tired smile. "Yeah, honey.. Thank you..” he breathes with a press of his lips to your shoulder, “I needed this.”

"I know."

-

a/n: idek if this made any sense bc i wrote it so quick but idgaf i need him <3

-

reblogs are appreciated!

send me requests & i might write it for you! :)

wanna be on a taglist? fill out the google form in my pinned post!

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #oscar isaac #oscar isaac characters #spiderverse smut #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara imagine #oscar isaac fanfiction #oscar isaac x reader #fake-bleach #my writing #i need him so bad

[faretheeoscar]

NEEDY MIGUEL

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x SpiderFemaleReader

Warnings: 🔞 NSFW, Masturbation, brief mentions of sex, oral sex.

AN: English is not my first language, no beta read/grammar corrected.

PART 2 PART3 PART 4 (final soon)

Needy Miguel that comes home tired of another day at the spider society, dealing with more than he can take on.

Needy Miguel that feels the weight of the multiverse on his shoulders and feels empty inside when he opens the door of his room and nobody is there to greet him and comfort him.

Needy Miguel that drags his feet to bed exhausted, disengages his suit and lays flat naked on the bed, his body drained of energy.

Needy Miguel that tries to drift off to sleep but thoughts of you earlier on the day when you were together on a mission start invading his head, making him hot and bothered.

Needy Miguel that even though he’s tired and he know he’ll regret this in the morning gives his already hard cock a couple of testing tugs and immediately moans and squeezes his throbbing member at the thought of how good the curve of your ass looks in your spider suit.

Needy Miguel that dry fucks his fist angrily out of frustration of not having anyone that can satisfy him, not having a warm body against his, at the frustration of not being able to tell you how he feels about you, about not having the opportunity of fucking your sweet cunt instead of his own fist like every other day when he finds himself at this exact same situation.

Needy Miguel that stitches his eyebrows together as he thinks about how your moans would sound probably like heaven as he fucks you senseless, picturing your legs spreading out for him, your inner thighs full of bruises that he left after eating you out and making you come on his tongue at least 3 times before he buried his fat cock deep inside you.

Needy Miguel that decides to finally reach out for the lube and drip down some drops, moaning and arching his back at the sensation of the cold substance against his hot head.

Needy Miguel that likes to edge himself, likes to fuck his fist fast to then slow down and just rub his thumb against the underside of his weeping swollen red tip making his legs shiver and whimper in need.

Needy Miguel that plays with his balls with his free hand, pulls them down, kneads at them, stretches them and brings them together as he feels a sweet relief from that.

Needy Miguel that changes positions in bed and closes his eyes, resting his feet flat on the bed to meet each violent and fast tug of his hand with a thrust of his hips as a loud groan erupts from his chest and resonates all over his penthouse.

Needy Miguel that was too tired to even notice that when he threw his gizmo next to him in bed, he accidentally called you, the live feed option turning on, making you witness everything; hearing each moan and sweet sound he made, praising your name over and over again until finally loads and loads of thick cum ran down his knuckles when he met his release.

Fair for me to say you’re gonna probably have an interesting chat with him tomorrow.

AN: This is my first post writing smut for Miguel, I had a revelation about him after I woke up knowing that I dreamed about him but sadly I don’t remember what it was about 😭😭

Reblogs and comments are kindly appreciated!

Main Masterlist

Fics Masterlist

#miguel ohara #miguel ohara smut #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel spiderverse #atsv miguel #atsv x reader #oscar isaac characters #spidersona #spiderverse oc

[psychedelic-ink]

Blocked By Snow ║ I

a/n: this series is directly inspired by @prolix-yuy 's absolutely gorgeous series something new I can't recommend this series enough 💕 thank you so much for allowing me once more to delve into this world. I appreciate you so much and so glad to have met you 💚

pairing: santiago "pope" garcia x fem!reader

genre: smut, romance, minors dni

word count: 5.8k

summary: With everyone out of town for the holidays, a lonely Santiago wanders the streets. His nightly walk leads him to your coffee shop.

warnings: sex worker!santi, a bit of insecure/shy reader, foodplay, piv, bdsm dynamics, messy oral (receiving), dirty talking

a/n: you don't necessarily have to read the first one shot to read this but it would make more sense if you did 💚

watercolor eyes'verse masterlist | A VERY PSYCHEDELIC WINTER '22

dividers by the lovely @firefly-graphics

Santiago never had enjoyed the cold. 

He hates the way cold pricks at his skin as he walks, a needle-like sensation that makes his body feel perpetually uncomfortable. The empty street echoes with the crunch of snow and every time he takes a step he slightly slips. Which keeps him in a purgatory of an almost falling feeling for the entire winter season. But of course that’s not all. He also sweats easily. He doesn’t have to do much. He could just be walking to the bus stop and he would break out in sweat. Which means that the inside of his coat is always sickly warm, his damp shirt clinging to his skin with his every move. He can’t take his coat off. Because sweat soaked skin combined with cold wind equals a runny nose and lungs full of germs. He just can’t win during these times. Everything’s a hassle. 

 However, he does enjoy the aesthetics of winter. 

Taking in a deep breath, Santiago takes in the sight of the empty streets. It’s late, but even if it wasn’t, it would still be deserted. The city resembles a dystopian wasteland with muddy snow and wet concrete, he loves it. A car passes by and the ground gleams with a yellow light. He takes another breath. There is no sun to force him to smile, to force him to be in a good mood. With weather like this, it was just mandatory to be somber and a little bit sad. He thinks better. He understands his emotions better. 

Santiago stops and pulls out a box of Marlboros. Frankie would’ve had his head if he’d seen, but thankfully —and maybe a bit unthankfully— his friend wasn’t in town. Him and Ms Jackson had gone away for the holiday season, wanting to spend it away from the city’s hustle and bustle. Still standing still, Santiago takes a deep huff of his cigarette and hisses out the smoke, watching it curl into the sky. Will and Benny were also away, beckoned to come back home by their mother. So that just left him. Alone to aimlessly wander the streets. 

He resumes his steps with nicotine filled lungs. Memories of you floods his mind, you were the last client he had for a while. No one really calls for him or the guys anymore, the calls are mostly for the girls, which he doesn’t mind but he just can’t stop thinking of you. Santiago was hopeful you would call again. But his hopes for it diminished after two weeks. Then he remembered you talking about your struggling shop and how it was getting harder and harder to make rent. 

So maybe that was why you hadn’t called. Or you just found someone else. The possibilities were endless, he could’ve also called, but just because it worked out fine for Frankie didn’t mean that it would work out for him. 

His teeth sink into the butt of the cigarette, half smoked now. Santiago still remembers how nervous you sounded when you first made the call. How nervous you were when he arrived. He doesn’t remember much about your home, he only remembers how you looked when you came on his tongue, fingers, and cock. 

Santiago takes another deep inhale of smoke. 

He still thinks of you sometimes, especially on nights where he’s bored or too lazy to hit the bars. Santiago often imagines his fist as your pretty pussy, fucking it until he’s oversensitive and whimpering from his own hand, cum drooling down his fingers—

A sudden shiver climbs up from the bottom of his spine and knocks the air right out of his lungs. The skin above his lower stomach tingles. Maybe he should head home, pour himself a glass of scotch and show himself  a good time. 

Then, with the corner of his eyes, he sees a bright neon light. He looks up and throws the half smoked cigarette to the ground, grinding it down with the tip of his shoe.  Cafe Watercolor the sign says, it’s bright and pink and doesn’t go with the cold winter aesthetic he had made for himself. Santiago peers inside with narrowed eyes. It looks cute enough, with lots of colorful and tasteful decor. He sees pastries gleaming behind glass and his lust is replaced with hunger. 

Santiago’s fingers hover an inch away from the glass door when he sees you; His eyes go wide, lips parting with a soft gasp. You’re struggling with the faucet. He watches you with unblinking eyes, you hit the tap a couple of times and soon water begins to pour from the nuzzle. Starting to wash your hands, you let out a breath of relief. 

Never one to back down from whatever life throws at him, he pushes the door and flinches as a soft chime announces his presence. 

Your face is priceless. 

You turn to him with a smile —presumably expecting a random customer — and your smile wavers with a subtle twitch of your lips. Your eyebrows go all the way to your hairline. Your gaze is somewhere between being astonished and fearful. At least, that’s what Santiago thinks he saw, but the emotion disappears just as quickly before he can pinpoint what it was.

“Santi,” you breathe out, the soft tone of your voice going straight to his cock. Between being hungry and cold, he was having the weirdest boner ever. 

“Hey there, sweetheart.” he grins and takes a step inside. “I saw you through the window and thought I should come in and say hi.” 

“Hi,” you let out a nervous laugh. “You…You really came here just to say hi?” 

He grins, “Well to be completely honest I saw the pastries first, then I saw you. So, if we’re going to be technical about it, no.” 

“Oh,” your eyes drop to the display of baked goods. You’re still smiling which calms Santiago’s worries that he might’ve been accidentally rude. “Which one did you have your eyes on? It’s on the house.” 

“Really? I mean I can pay– In fact I want to pay,” 

“No no it’s completely fine!” you dismiss him with the wave of a hand. “Tell me, which one did you want?” 

He finds the sparkles in your eyes endearing. Never in his life had Santiago thought that him picking out a desert would be the source of such glee. He walks closer to the display; he sees pies, cinnamon rolls, eclairs, donuts and much much more. It’s surprising how such a small place can produce such a variety of deserts. He points to the eclairs with a soft smile. 

“Would you want coffee too?” 

“Sure, but bring one for you too. I would love to catch up if you’re not busy?” 

“Free as a bird.” your lips crack in a bittersweet smile. “I’ll be right there.” 

Picking a table near the large windows, Santiago shrugs off his coat and drapes it behind the wooden chair. It takes you a while until you join him. He can hear muttered curses and pleas coming from behind the coffee machine. The urge to go and help bubbles inside of him, blood pooling underneath his nails as he forces himself to sit. He doesn’t want you to think that he’s trying to undermine you, especially not in your own cafe. 

Instead, he takes this opportunity to examine his surroundings. It really is a nice place. The wall behind the counter consists of black marble that reaches all the way to the ceiling, a soft yellow light is attached to it, giving the whole cafe an eternal autumn feeling. The rest of the walls are a soft shade of beige. Santiago noticed wooden frames attached to the wall, painted over the same color to give it a more rustic feel. He wonders if you did all of this on your own or if you had help. He hopes that you did. Artwork of every kind was also scattered across the walls.    

After further inspection he realizes that he’s actually been here before —well not been, but more walked past— Your apartment must be close because he recognizes the crooked street sign. It starts to snow outside. His eyes flicker from one snowflake to another, watching them like a cat. 

“Here we go!” you say triumphantly as you place an eclair and a steaming hot mug in front of him. Sitting down, you take another mug off the tray and place the tray on top of the table next to you. “Sorry that took me a while, the coffee machine has been giving me trouble lately,” 

“It’s fine,” his eyes drop down to the mug, staring at it as if the dark liquid might have poison in it. 

“Is everything alright?” 

He doesn’t want to trouble you, “Sorry, yeah it’s just…uh–” 

“Come on, you can tell me.” 

“Can I have milk?” 

You stare at him a brief second before bursting out laughing. His cheeks warm up. Santiago clutches the mug, looking offensively at his reflection in the black coffee. Noticing his withdrawal, you place a hand on his wrist and give it a soft squeeze. Your gaze softens, your laughter only leaving a ghost-like smile on your lips. 

“Sorry sorry. I just didn’t think you would want milk in your coffee, in fact I had an eternal debate going on while I was making it. I thought to myself ‘should I ask him if he wants milk?’ then the other voice in my head said ‘No no he’s too cool for that.’” 

Santiago raises his gaze, an amused smile tugging at the corner of his lips, he cocks an eyebrow. 

“First of all, how can someone be too cool for milk?”  he shakes his head, his lips parting with a chuckle. “And second of all how on earth did you come to the conclusion that I was cool?” 

“Well, I think you’re cool.” You shrug, such a simple action, yet he’s entranced by the simplicity of it and your words. You actually believed in what you had said. “As for your first question, I don’t know. I feel like everyone has an issue with milk these days. I have, like, a million different types of milk. I miss it when it was just soy, almond and lactose free. Those were simpler times.” 

“Don’t worry whole milk is just fine with me,” 

You switch his mug with yours and his brows furrow with confusion. 

“I already put milk in mine and haven’t had a sip yet so you can have it instead.” 

“Are you sure? Don’t you want milk in yours?” 

“I’m fine with it, don’t worry.” you take a sip to demonstrate, but he can see the twitch of your eyes as the bitter liquid hits your tongue. “See. I love it. Anyway, how have you been?” 

Santiago allows you to live in bliss thinking that you fooled him. 

“I’ve been doing good, work is pretty much the same nothing new,”

“I’m glad.” 

Santiago hates the way you suddenly recoil, both emotionally and physically. You lean back into your chair, as if you’re trying to escape him, and warm your palms against the porcelain surface of the mug. He’s not sure what to make of this. Is this just a normal awkward pause or are you suddenly bothered about what he does for a living? He’s hoping the latter isn’t the case but anxiety rolls in his stomach anyway. 

“What about you? How’s the cafe running business going?” 

It’s a sad smile that you’re giving him. You trace the rim of the mug with your thumb, your gaze watching the snow. You begin to explain to him what’s been going on; the faucets are messed up but you don’t have the money to fix them, the coffee machine is on its last breath and the bills keep piling up— Santiago nods along, adding his two scents where it’s needed and finally bites into his eclair. 

He moans. “Holy shit—”

“What’s wrong?” 

Your voice is panicked and he would feel bad if the fucking eclair hadn’t tasted so good. The pastry melts in his mouth. The chocolate gave him a buzz of pleasure no desert ever had before. He lets out another muffled moan, his eyes falling shut without realizing. 

“Sorry,” he chokes out, swallowing. “This just tastes really good. Did you make this?” 

“I did, yeah,” then you quickly add. “You really like it?” 

“Of course I do. It’s the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth,” a mischievous smile curls at the corner of his lips, he moves his eyes across your slowly and licks the chocolate off his lips. “Well, maybe not the best thing.” 

You stare at him with blown wide pupils. Your mouth falls open and your fingers twitch around the mug. Santiago is ninety nine percent sure that if he looks under the table this very second your thighs would be rubbing against each other like two sticks trying to ignite a fire. Knowing this only makes his smile wider. There’s nothing he enjoys more than making an overworked woman fluster. However, teasing you is even more fun. You’re so expressive —something that he noticed the first time he came over— and he thrives in it.  

Santiago’s mind buzzes with a forming idea. With an unwavering smile, he turns the half bitten eclair towards you. Your eyes move between his face and the pastry, your confusion makes his cock twitch. 

“If you don’t believe me,” he says slowly, squeezing the side of the eclair so that more cream comes out. “Have a bite and see for yourself,” 

Santiago is convinced that he can hear your heartbeat. Raising his eyebrows, he inches the desert closer. Your lips open up for him. His world falls into slow motion. He sees the pink of your tongue and your taste hangs heavy on his tongue, you refuse to break eye contact as you bite into the fluffy pastry. Cream stains the corner of your lips, pulling away, you lick the sweet remains away. 

Now it was Santiago’s turn to become flustered. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, the length of his cock catches against the rough surface of his zipper, his throat rattles with a choked moan. You think you’re sly with the way you smirk at him, but he’s never one to shy away, and seeing that you failed to properly lick the chocolate away, he swipes it away with the pad of his thumb then licks it clean. 

He convinces himself that he stepped out of line, as harmless as his flirting might be, he isn’t sure how you feel about it. 

What he doesn’t expect is for you to invite him upstairs to your apartment. 

He’s even more surprised when he realizes he’s actually been hoping for the invite.

Your apartment is the same as he remembers, the only exception being the Christmas decorations. 

With a shy smile tugging at your lips, Santiago allows you to guide him into the depths of your apartment. You’re definitely a lot more outgoing compared to when he first met you. He likes the change. 

He wonders if you’ve been with anyone else after him. Have you delved deeper into the BDSM pithole? Have you experimented more? 

The thought makes his head spin. 

“Would you like anything?” you ask politely. 

“Do you have any more of that cream filling?” 

“What?” 

He swallows down when a bubble of laughter surfaces. The look you’re giving him is priceless; Your eyes wide, eyebrows raised, and breathing uneven. It’s truly a sight to see. 

“I just wanted to try something out, if it’s alright with you,” 

“Yeah… yeah!” you rummage through the fridge. “I think I might have some leftovers,” And alas you pull away from the fridge with a nearly full piping bag. “Will this be enough?” 

“That’s plenty.” 

He stalks towards you similar to a predator nearing its prey, he slowly takes the piping bag from your hand, purposefully brushing his fingers over your knuckles. There’s a silent command in his eyes, and without voicing it out, he moves his lips; Open up. 

And, fuck, you actually do open your mouth. 

The pink of your tongue moves past your lips, Santiago’s eyes go wide, a smug smile etched into his face. He lifts the piping bag up and squeezes a dollop onto the flat of your tongue. Normally, if it was anyone else, they would’ve closed their lips and tasted the sweetness of the cream. But not you. You know better. You’ve been learning ever since that fateful night. You won’t do anything without his say so, and to have that control —that trust— it does something to him. Suddenly he wants to stop the game and ravish you right here in the kitchen. He wants to make a mark of himself. A mark that would linger even when he’s gone. 

But instead a growl rattles his chest, he leans forward and flattens his tongue against yours, tasting the cream. The moan you let out urges him to lick you clean, he sucks the tender muscles into his mouth. It marks the start of the most deprived kiss of his entire life. He inhales the air from your lungs, whenever you peel away from him, gasping for air, he squeezes more cream between your lips. You taste so sweet, so shamelessly you. 

His one hand grips your waist, forcing you to grind against him as he devours your mouth in a literal sense. Your moans bleed into one another, neither of you knowing from whom the lewd sounds are coming from. His hand slides up from your waist and settles on your breast, he squeezes hard. A whimper joins the sinful symphony. 

Your body trembles, your nostrils flare. He can’t help it as he squeezes a bit more cream into your mouth, the quick action serving as a moment for you to breathe. He closes the distance immediately after, some part of his brain —the one that still holds some awareness— reminds him of the time Will got really into Greek Mythology. Santiago always listened to him with half an ear, but a word echoes in his mind as he dives in for another kiss and another.

Ambrosia. The food of the Gods. 

That’s what you are. So sweet and tender and addicting.     

Santiago might’ve suffocated you if he hadn’t stopped, and deep down he knows that you’d allow him to.  

It’s more of a shove instead of a gentle push back. Both of them pant heavily, their chest rising and falling with strained breaths. He notices the piping bag is still half full, it’s a surprise really, he feels that he’s been piping cream into your mouth for hours. 

It’s you who breaks the silence. 

“That was…wow,” 

“You’re quite articulate, aren’t you?” he grins, licking his lips. Then his smile thins, a look of worry crossing his face. “Do you…want to do this? I definitely want to but I need to hear you say it. I don’t want you thinking I ambushed you.” 

“Oh I definitely want this,” your smile soothes him. “I actually wasn’t sure if you wanted to.” 

“Why wouldn’t I–” he clams his mouth shut, not really eager to dive into something that might make you uncomfortable (but he does take a mental note to address it later), he points at the both of you, poor finger frantically moving between bodies. “So we both want this then?” 

You nod but there’s something in your expression he quite doesn’t get. “What is it?” 

“It’s just…oh god, this is so awkward to ask but this— This isn’t— I’m a bit tight right now, as you probably guessed, and I can’t really—” frustrated, your hands suddenly shoot up into the air. “I’m such an idiot, sorry if I misread anything. I’m really shit at human interaction nowadays.” 

It takes him a moment to understand what you’re trying to ask him, the lingering taste of cream sours on his tongue as he’s not sure what to make of it. 

“Don’t worry, it’s completely free of charge.” he says, voice stale. Relief washes over you, which makes him realize that maybe you were just being insecure. A twinge of guilt flares in his heart. “I do like you, you know. It’s my fault if I hadn’t made that clear enough,” 

“No no, it’s just me being completely insecure. You were clear it’s just, I needed to ask or the thought would eat at me all night. It’s just…you’re really pretty,” 

Santiago snorts, his hand coming up to cover his mouth immediately. “I’m flattered, querida, but what does me being pretty have to do with me not wanting to be with you?”

When you struggle to find the words, he closes the distance and grabs your hand. You gasp as he presses your open palm against the outline of his erection. His mouth finds the crook of your neck, kissing the skin tenderly, he guides your hand up and down his length. His chest heaves. 

“Is this proof enough that this pretty man wants to be with you?” he murmurs, the breath accompanying his words wetting your skin. “If you need more proof I think we need to head to the bedroom.” 

“I definitely need more convincing,” you answer with a smile, a bit of playful nature hidden beneath your words. 

“Lead the way,” he says with a grin. 

However, before you move Santiago notices your eyes linger on the still half full piping bag. Your eyebrow raises with curiosity. Taking a step closer, Santiago wraps his arm around your waist and urges you to move, his lips touch your ear. Warm and soft. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m not done decorating you yet.” 

Only ten minutes in and you’re already a sticky, whimpering mess. 

The empty piping bag is casted aside to the floor. He had kept his promise and decorated you. He’s encircled your pebbled nipples with cream, squeezed trails down your stomach and drew lines across your folds. You were a delight and he was going to savor every last bit of it. 

He starts from your nipples that seem like cherries with heaping amounts of cream. Santiago rewards himself with a taste, tongue moving in languid circles, he refuses to touch you where you really want him to. You grow needy, impatient. Your back arches with hope. Cream accidentally stains the corners of his lips but he doesn’t mind. He nips at the swell of your breast and looks up to you between heavy eyelashes. 

“Behave,” he murmurs, mouth full. 

“B-But…Santi, please. I need you so bad that it hurts,” 

He hums. He hides his amused smile by licking the cream off of your other breast. You let out a soft whimper and your fingers twitch against the sheets. You’re so responsive to him. He has been with his fair share of women, but none of them behaved the way that you did. You acted as if you would die without his touch, without his mouth and sinful tongue. It drives him mad, which leads him to drag his open palms up and down your thighs, goosebumps rise across your skin. 

“Tell me how much,” he purrs, the slow drag of his tongue making you moan. “I want to know exactly how you’re feeling and maybe then…” he inhales. One hand moves towards your sex, fingers ghosting over your folds. “I’ll fuck this pretty pussy until you’re stupid,” 

“I feel like I already am,” you confess with a weak smile, the words go straight to Santiago’s cock, a bead of precum dripping to the bed. “When you tease me, it feels as if a thousand needles are pricking into my skin. Ever since our first meeting I can’t stop thinking of you Santi. I think of your lips, your scent, your—” 

You cut yourself at the very last second, looking away with slight embarrassment. Santiago looks down, kisses your nipple and allows his tongue to circle it.

You sigh his name out like it’s a breath of something warm and sweet. 

“My cock?” he finishes for you. “Go on.” 

When you say nothing he stops, he purposefully exhales a warm breath against your wet skin. Your jaw goes slack, eyes fluttering, your hips spread for him without further prompt. The next breath you take is shaky but you manage to speak, voice laced with undeniable want. 

“I did some research, you know…about BDSM. And—” you swallow. “And I always think of how it would feel if it was you doing those things to me. Tying me up, whispering filth in my ear, using me however you please…” 

With minimal movement he ruts against the bed, the grind of his hips slow, the soft surface of the blankets providing excellent friction. He whimpers into your skin. 

“Have you tried any of it…with anyone?” he really didn’t want to ask but he needs to know, he’s not sure why though. A weak laughter drops from your lips, his gaze meets yours. 

“I chickened out,” you sigh. He feels your nails at your nape and it forces a shudder up your spine. “I got scared.” 

“Scared of what?” 

“Of being that vulnerable in front of someone, I didn’t want to accidentally get hurt or…say something to the wrong person,” 

The memory of the first night the two of you shared lights within his head; You’d said that you loved him. He didn’t think much of it to be honest, a lot of women said a lot of things when with him. He would never hold something like that above someone’s head, or make a big deal about it. But he also understands why you must’ve hesitated. 

Santiago has a million things he wants to say to soothe you. The words overwhelm him, dance and roll into a snowball on his tongue. Saliva fills his mouth, he rolls his tongue against your tit before answering. His tongue loosens at the feel of your skin. 

“What about me? Are you scared of being with me?” 

“No.” you chuckle at the look of surprise he gives you, you cover your face with the back of your hand. “This might sound stupid but for some reason I fully tursted you ever since the first time I heard your voice.” 

“That good, huh?” 

Santiago hides his smile by kissing —and licking— a slow trail down from the swell of your stomach to your left thigh. Your skin glistens at where there used to be cream. He kisses your folds nice and slow, tongue dipping in between, his eyes nearly roll back when he tastes you. The sweetness of the cream elevates the taste, he cleans you up and delves deeper, the tip of his tongue circles around your entrance. He feels your nails on his scalp. Your thighs shake when he moves up to your clit, closing his lips around the sensitive nub, he sucks and licks. His name falls from your lips again and again, moans and mewls becoming louder and louder. 

“Want you to come in my mouth,” he groans. “You think you can do that for me?” 

When nothing but a whimper leaves you, he digs his nails into your skin as a warning. 

“I–I want to. I can, please don’t stop—” 

“That’s my girl.” 

The way you shudder doesn’t go unnoticed by him. He pulls you against his face closer, a soft yelp tearing from your throat when he does. He throws your thighs over his shoulders and eats you out like a man starved. His cock throbs, begging for attention and friction, a wet patch steadily growing on the sheets. Slick drips out of you like nectar from a fruit, he groans into you, the reverberation making you twist and turn. Your body trembles under his palms, he knows your orgasm is within reach. 

Sucking on your clit, he lifts his gaze. Your eyes are squeezed shut, lips parted; Santiago truly believes that every person looks good when receiving pleasure —how could it not with the way stress dissolves from your body— But you, you look extraordinary. 

“Come on baby, give it to me. I want you flooding my mouth,” 

“Fuck— fuckfuckfuck— Santi—” a sharp gasp tears through the air, your hands frantically search anywhere they can cling on. Your body twitches and you finally give him what he wants. 

The taste overwhelmed him, his tongue moving along your slit over and over as you gush into his mouth. He swallows eagerly, drops of it drip down the corner of his lips but that doesn’t stop him. Santiago doesn’t stop until you’re whimpering for him to, your hands weakly tugging at his hair. 

“That was gorgeous,” he says, voice dripping with uncontrollable lust. Before speaking again he places a tender kiss on your pelvis. “Now do you want that cock you’ve been missing so much?” 

“You’re such a tease you know that, Santiago?” 

“So I have been told.” 

Santiago moves up your body, bringing your legs with him. He leans in as if he’s going to kiss you, a Cheshire cat-like grin spreading across his face. 

“Do you want to taste yourself on my tongue?” 

“God. Yes, please,” 

He licks the seam of your lips before pushing his tongue into your mouth. You groan at the taste of yourself and he swallows every bit of noise you make. He presses the head of his cock  inside, filling you up inch by inch. Your pussy hugs him so tight, it’s nearly suffocating. Santiago makes a choked out sound, his lips falling away from yours, he finds himself mouthing at the curve of your neck. He can feel how wet you are for him, your slick coating his cock. He hears the wet squelch as he buries himself into your warmth inch by inch.

Slowly, Santiago pulls back, his fingers curving around the back of your knees. Black dots dance across his vision. 

“Fuck, you feel so good. You’re squeezing me so tight,” he swallows, his voice dropping. “Tell me how it feels,” 

“So good,” you say, a choked out moan following. “So good. Please move.” 

Deciding that he’d teased you enough for one night, Santiago moves. His own chase of pleasure is prominent in his movements; Frantic, fast, rough. Your head falls back, eyes squeezed tight, you brace your hands against the headboard. 

“Yes…Santi—Yes, yes,” 

His gaze drops down to witness the mess. You have him completely soaked, a sheer ring circling the base of his cock, he pounds into you again and again. Pleasure rakes across his skin, his stomach drawing tight. 

“Thank you—” your voice is broken, shattered. He looks up, a slight worry to his gaze. Then you utter the words again. “Thank you, thank you, thank you—” 

His balls throb and he nearly comes while inside. Shit shit shit. He quickly pulls out, the drag of his cock heavy between your folds, your eyes roll back, a whisper of his name sinfully falling from your lips.

“Why’d you stop?” you slur, hands searching for his skin. You let out a pleased hum when you managed to grip at his shoulders. “Did you come?” 

He chuckles, “Not yet but nearly did.” his thumb strokes the inside of your knee. “Can you come for me again, pretty girl? Want to feel it.” 

You breathe out a yes and he steadily slides back into you. It’s more difficult than he thought, you’re so warm and tight and wet. He was stupid for him to think that he would last. Without a word he lets go of your legs. He guides you so that you’ll stand on your hands and knees, his one hand moves between your legs as the other slowly slides up your back and rests on your shoulder. As he resumes his thrusts, he leans over you, his lips tracing shapes across your damp skin. He draws quick, short circles around your clit, you writhe underneath him, moaning and begging for release. It makes him dizzy. 

It doesn’t take you long after that. The tell tale signs of your nearing orgasm as clear as day. Your body locks up, thighs staggering uncontrollably as he fills you again and again. Your breathing is frantic, your chest heaving as your orgasm shatters through you, wetting his cock and thighs. Santiago is quick to pull out, his mind hazy with lust, he strokes himself over your ass. He comes with a groan, hot ropes of cum stains your skin. You call out to him when you feel it, thanking him again and again. His cock twitches. Honestly, if you didn’t look so worn out he might’ve gone for round two. 

But for now, he’ll stop. For your sake. 

And maybe a bit for his knees sake.

“I’ll be right back with something to clean us with,” he says, giving your ass a soft smack. “Don’t go anywhere,” 

“Does it look like I can move?” you answer with a lazy smile. You flop to your back and stretch. “Everything you need should be in the bathroom.” 

The Christmas lights that burn bright in the living room bathes the wall in a soft color. A rainbow illuminating the darkness. Santiago thinks of himself as lucky because there was no way he could’ve found his way to the bedroom, especially since his eye sight wasn’t what it used to be. Hints of cinnamon lingers in the air, he can also vaguely smell chocolate but he could have been imagining it. 

Santiago smiles when he finally spots the door of the bathroom. For the first time in a while he feels content, happy. The rain clouds above his head finally start to clear up a bit. 

Lost in thought, Santiago doesn’t see the small stand right next to the door. Shit! Fuck—Fuck! Pain spreads from his foot to his leg. His mouth clamps shut as he tries to keep the noise he makes to a minimum, his skin burning with the need to scream. He inhales deep, fast breaths, nostrils flaring everytime he fills his lungs. 

When the pain finally starts to subside a bit, he leans against the stand. His fingers twitch, the sound of paper crumpling reaches his ears. Raising an eyebrow, his gaze drops to the stand. He can barely see with the light now  shifting from red to blue, he waits for the yellow ones to come back and as it does, his breath gets stuck in his throat. 

“What the hell?” he whispers, eyes going wide. 

He spots at least five overdue notices, bills and notes for other made expenses. It doesn’t look like you can even last a month. 

The lights turn back to blue. 

His lips now a tight line, Santiago heads to the bathroom and picks up everything he needs to clean you up. He isn’t a fan of sticking his nose into other people’s business, but he can’t stand the idea of your dreams shattering like this. Especially not when you were so enthusiastic about every little thing you made.

He’ll have to make some calls tomorrow. 

Thank you all for reading! I'll probably post part two in either the end of december or january.

For some reason writing this was super duper hard??? Whenever I thought that I would finish it, I just didn't?? I've been struggling with this for a week, maybe even two, and I have no idea why. Actually, no, I think it had something to do with writing all of it from Santi's POV. Especially the smut since I'm so used to writing reader's pov but yeah, it was a challenge. However, I'm happy that I did it! Now that I know this weakness I can zero in on it sdcsdcs Thankfully, part 2 will be reader's pov so I can relax a bit

Anyways, hope you guys enjoyed it! I appreciate each and one of you, thank you for sticking around 💚

#santiago garcia x reader #santiago pope garcia #santiago garcia #santiago garcia x f!reader #santiago garcia x you #santi x reader #triple frontier fic #triple frontier reader #oscar isaac characters #oscar isaac character fanfiction #sw!santi #sw!santiago au

[exquisiteserotonin]

In the Velvet Light

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

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

Word count: 4.6K

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

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

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

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

In the Velvet Light

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello Ollie, doing well today?”

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

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

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

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

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

Nonsense. You murmured silently in your head. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No, that wouldn’t work at all. 

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

You caught Marc briefly looking at the window. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[musings-of-a-rose]

Not sure if your still taking prompts but could you do a Steven X Reader in the hospital?

Emergency Contact

Pairing: Steven Grant x f!reader (nickname: Poppet)

Word Count: 1320+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes: I wasn’t sure if you meant a hospital or the psych hospital from the show, so I just made it a regular hospital. I really could’ve continued this in a way but wasn’t sure if that’s what you’d want!

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

Main Masterlist

Moon Knight Masterlist

“I’m on my way.”

Steven hangs up the phone and waves to his manager as he heads towards the exit.

“Have to go. Emergency.”

“Can’t it wait until after your shift? This will earn you a mark on your record!” She yells after him as he walks out the door.

He can’t bring himself to care about marks or his mediocre job with the call he just received. You were in the hospital. You were injured. He has to get to you. 

Splurging on an Uber, he spits out the name of the hospital to the driver and he takes off, arriving much too slow for Steven’s liking. It wasn’t the driver’s fault - London traffic is terrible and he’s worried.

Pulling up to the hospital, Steven tosses some money at the driver, apologizing for his rough demeanor as he runs into the hospital. His eyes quickly scan the room, looking for admissions. A scowling woman sits under the sign, obviously displeased with her lot in life. Steven runs up to her, choking out a quick greeting before asking for you.

“Slow down sir. Can you repeat that name?”

He does, growing more annoyed with each slow click of the keyboard as she types it out, confirming the spelling from Steven. What feels like an eternity later, she looks up at him.

“Room 421-B.”

“Thank you!”

Steven runs towards the elevators, hearing the woman from admissions yelling behind him. “Sir! Please walk, sir!”

Steven jams his finger against the elevator call button, wiping his sweaty palms on his pants as the lights above slowly move up, bringing the elevator with it. The ping sounds and the doors open, people flooding out as Steven tries to fight his way in, being shoved and grumbled at. Finally he’s inside and he jams the 4 button, the doors slowly closing and bringing him up.

The elevator stops and the doors open, Steven barely waiting for them to open before he’s squeezing his body between the cold panels, eyes scanning the signs on the wall for the rooms numbers. Taking off to the right, his walk turns into a borderline jog as his eyes scan the signs on each of the rooms. 

“419…420…421!”

He stops, nearly slipping on the floor with the abruptness of his full stop. Scrambling inside the room, his eyes see an empty bed and then a curtain divider pulled halfway around the other to divide the room. Steven walks up to it and yanks it back, his eyes raking over her body.

“Steven?” She calls his name, his abrupt appearance surprising her.

“Poppet? Are you ok?” He hesitates to move to her, but she beckons him over, lifting her arm, a wire following it. 

“I’ll be alright-”

“What happened?” He stands by her bed, looking her up and down for signs of injury, noticing a myriad of scrapes and cuts, and long bandages wrapped around her ribs.

“They just need to keep me overnight for observation. Make sure there’s no internal bleeding-”

“Pop-” Steven looks at her, gently taking her hand in his and encasing it between his warm palms. “-what happened, lov?”

She takes a deep breath. “Well…I was walking to get some lunch a few blocks away. You know, that cafe I love? Anyway I passed by this woman getting mugged-”

“Oh no they mugged you too? Are you alright?”

“No, Steven. I mean yes, I’m fine but he didn’t mug me. I yelled after him and he wouldn’t let up. So…” She makes a little punch in the air and Steven’s eye grew wide.

“You physically assaulted him?”

“Well, yes! It was citizen defense!”

“You could’ve been ‘urt, lov!”

“Why are you like this? You taught me how to defend myself!”

“I- no I didn’t!”

“You did. It was several months ago. You just, walked in and told me I needed to know how to defend myself.”

“I don’t know how to fight though.”

She nods. “That’s what I said. You seemed…different. Said you were having an off day. Anyway, we spent weeks in the gym, you teaching me how to throw punches and…you don’t remember?” She pauses in her explanation when she sees the look on his face.

“If you got lessons somewhere, it’s fine, Poppet.”

“But I didn’t? It was you.”

Steven finally notices the bandage on her head and he smiles warmly at her. “Alright, Pop. I taught you how to fight then. Did they ‘urt you? Did you hit your head?” He shifts his body to sit on the edge of the bed, still holding her hand. 

“I’m ok. He got a couple jabs in my ribs but I got him good. They arrested him… I’m sorry, Steven. I didn’t think they’d call you at work-”

“Hey, hey. I’m your emergency contact. That’s what they’re supposed to do.”

She nods, looking down at his large hand over hers, his thumb rubbing circles into her skin.

“Steven?”

“Yes?”

“Would you…would you stay with me?”

His eyes soften. He could never say no to her. “Of course, Poppet.”

She scoots over and his eyes grow wide, round and slightly terrified as she pats the bed next to her. 

“Oh come on, Steven. I won’t bite.”

He swallows hard, breathing heavier before he nods. “Right. I’ll just…scoot on up ‘ere, then.”

He sits on the bed and stretches his legs out, slowly leaning back against the raised bed. She turns to her side, cuddling right into his side, her arm with the monitor attached to her finger wraps around him and he swears he feels her hum, taking in a deep breath of him as she cuddles into him. He hesitates a few moments before lowering his arm around her, very conscious of the slit in the back of her hospital gown so as to avoid touching her skin directly. The last thing he’d want to do is make her uncomfortable. 

A few minutes pass and he swears she can hear his heart beat out of his chest. He’d always had a crush on her - she listened to everything he said, asking questions and actually looking up the resources he recommends. She always sought him out, even sneaking him into the artifacts room when something interesting would cross her desk. They’d been friends almost instantly, but if Steven were honest with himself, he wants more. There’s no way that she could feel-

“Steven?” His name is whispered from her lips and she doesn’t look at him, patiently waiting for him to reply.

“Yes, lov?” His response is a whisper, matching her tone.

“I don’t want to be friends.”

Of course she doesn’t. He’s an idiot to even think-

She sits up, turning her body towards him, her face startingly close to his.

“No longer friends?” He asks, trying to keep the pain in his voice to a minimum. 

She shakes her head, her eyes landing on his lips before finding his gaze. 

“I-”

And suddenly, his world stops. She brings her lips to his, kissing him softly before bringing her hand up to cup his cheek, the plastic from the monitor on her finger cold against his rapidly heating skin. She pulls back, her face inches from his, their noses still touching as she watches him, his eyes slowly opening to meet hers.

“Not…not friends?”

She giggles as her head shakes. “I want you, Steven. I want to be with you, listen to that big brain of yours, feel you, have you. All of you. If…if that’s what you-”

His hand palms the back of her head as he pulls her close to him, their noses bumping as he turns his head to deepen the kiss. His hand slides down her back, forgetting about the opening and his fingers dust across the exposed skin through the slit in her gown and she gasps under his touch. 

“Oh Poppet. I don’t think you realize how long I’ve waited to hear you say that.”

—----

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[dreamingofbucky]

THE REPORT

Miguel O'Hara x Spider!F!Reader (one shot)

summary: You failed to report to Miguel after a mission and he makes it a living hell for you. to teach you a lesson, he makes you meet him after everyone's gone home and has a special punishment just for you.

tags/content warnings: slow burn til it isn't, grumpy!miguel, cockwarming like that's the whole plot, consensual smut. p in v. fangs. praise kink, size kink. age gap (reader is 20, mig is almost 30 idk). reader is a sister figure to gwen.

Word Count: 6.1k

author’s note: not beta read. this was so fun to write! hope you enjoy <3

-

Living in Spider Society was chaotic, but you loved it. You enjoyed it so much, but there were times you liked to visit other universes and even your own. You haven’t been back to your own universe in months due to work though. 

You’ve been to Gwen and Hobie’s ones countless times, even stayed multiple nights. Albeit you being a few years older than them, about to turn 21, they were your closest friends in Spider Society. They got your humor, they understood your mess, and they’d fight for you. 

With Jessica Drew being older and busy with her own relationship, and then Peter B Parker with MJ and Mayday, you were glad you had these Spiderteens to hang with. You felt like an older sister to them sometimes which helped with the whole identity crisis you had the first month moving to Earth-928 and feeling so alone. 

And then there was Miguel. He was technically your boss and he was so cold, so standoffish toward you. Even after he recruited you, you’ve seen him less and less around missions unless you had to go to his office to report any difficulties with anomalies. You felt miniscule under his gaze most times. But then… even as much as you hated to admit how he made you feel though at random times when you felt his gaze linger a little longer than normal. 

It’s probably been a week since the last time you had to go up to his office to relay a report, yet the grumpy man’s eyes were everywhere in Earth-928. You felt his eyes everywhere. Your spider senses went haywire whenever you felt him near. But it was more than just a tingle to you. It was a strange feeling you couldn’t pin down. But you brushed it off anytime that specific feeling came around. 

You did have some hard times though in this new universe you called home. You had your own Peter back in your own universe until he passed. It was your canon event, after all. Something you still hated thinking about. 

It was hard at first acclimating to Spider Society seeing so many Peter Parkers. Yours wasn’t Spider-Man, since you were the one in your universe, but the name was hard to adjust to hearing all the time, every day at work. That was the one thing you and Gwen had in common which was why you both were glued to the hip most of the time like real sisters. 

Some might say it’s just trauma bonding, but you did ultimately feel like Gwen was like a younger sibling to you at this point. And no one really understood the hard adjustment to Spider Society like she did. It was comforting. 

“You’re thinking again,” Gwen says, pulling you out of your thoughts. Her pink-blonde hair fell in front of her face as she busied herself with a journal. She liked to journal a lot more recently ever since she’s been spending more time with Miles. 

You remembered her mentioning when she saw him after a year apart that she found his own journal of doodles. It was so obvious the crush she had on him, but you didn’t push or ask any questions. 

A smile comes to your face as you see her doodling nonsense. You couldn’t admit that she wasn’t the best artist, but you let her have her vice whenever Miles was busy and off on different missions or even back in his universe to finish school. His parents still didn’t know he was Spider-Man, so he wasn’t around Spider Society as often as Gwen would like. 

“No,” you counter. “Just letting my mind rest. Had a long week.” 

Gwen’s bright eyes drifted up from the journal before a smile etched on her face. “Did you send your latest report to Miguel yet?” 

Your spine stiffened at the sound of his name. “No, why? Was I supposed to? I thought Hobie was in charge of that this week?” 

Sometimes Gwen, Hobie, and you would rock-paper-scissors whoever did the reports for the week. This week was supposed to be Hobie’s. 

Gwen shakes her head. “No, I clearly remember Hobie mentioning it’d be you. He’s not even around today.” 

“Oh,” you plainly stated. She was right, he wasn’t in this universe today. Had some protest to join back in his own universe. He invited you and Gwen, but you both wanted to be around in case you were needed. You urged Gwen to even spend the day with Miles, but he apparently had something to do with his parents. 

Gwen whistles. “Miguel is gonna be looking for you then.”

Your eyes widened at that. “Fuck, no he can’t. I didn’t even prepare anything! We went two days ago, how am I supposed to remember each detail of what we did? Fuck, I’m going to find Hobie and–” 

“Chill!” Gwen laughs. “Just go see him and let him know. Hey, maybe bringing an empanada will lessen the blow.” 

You rolled your eyes at that before standing up. The room you both were in was quiet and not many spider-people were around. Gwen and you liked to come in here to either debrief, talk about Miles, or just sit in silence while she doodled and you thought. 

You cherished her, you cherished every one of your spider friends. Well, except now with Hobie. Because now you’re for sure going to get a scolding from the boss man. 

“Good luck,” Gwen sing-songed as you shook your head and laughed. But inside you were dying, your heart was starting to race as you left the room. You made your way through the building until you got to the elevator. The ride up was short and you even forgot the empanada. 

Your fingers laced together at the front as the doors opened and you walked on the floor where his office was. It was unusually quiet. And darker than normal.

There wasn’t any big anomaly that had to be contained today or else you’d know. So where was everyone?

By the time you reached his office, you craned your neck up to see his platform high up and he was there standing, staring at a screen. He hadn’t noticed you yet, due to his inability to have spider senses, and you take your time looking at him. 

His broad shoulders were facing you and you noticed his hands on his slim waist. You lick your lips at the sight. It wasn’t something you were proud of. 

Call it hormones. You closed yourself off to any romantic flings or relationships the moment you moved here, but you still had those urges. 

And they so happened to heighten whenever you were around the one person you shouldn’t have those urges around. Your attraction to your boss wasn’t something you expected, especially with him being a few years older than you… okay, he was definitely older. He never mentioned his age, but you overhead he was probably closer to 30. Which made him almost a decade older than you. 

Your thoughts drift to a week ago when you saw him in passing. Spider-Woman was briefing you for a mission when he caught on to the conversation and halted his steps. He interrupted that conversation to scold you, letting Jess know that you wouldn’t be joining her that day. 

You didn’t understand why. It wasn’t like the anomaly wasn’t someone you couldn’t handle. But you had to follow his orders and ultimately stayed back while he and the other Spiders went. Even Gwen and Hobie went. 

That was a low blow on Miguel’s part. You’d at least thought he’d make the non-teens go on a mission together. You can’t remember the last time you went on a mission where Miguel was present. It felt like some days he didn’t even want you around. 

As you think about Miguel, you hear shuffling up above you and you blink, brushing away the thoughts and focusing on what you had to do. 

You shoot out a web to his platform and bring yourself up, landing on your feet. He finally turns at the noise and gives you a side-eye. 

“What are you doing here?” He asks. 

Your fingers find each other again as you fumble for a response. Here goes. “I-I had that report to tell you about. I thought Hobie was going to give it, sorry for the delay.” 

His shoulders rise and fall with each breath before he turns around. His hand goes in the air behind him, waving off the screens he was just looking at. You caught a glimpse of another universe and Spider people shooting webs. 

He had an eye on everything. 

“That was supposed to be given directly after you returned from it,” he scoffs. He takes a step toward you and you try to hold your ground. Your breathing increases and his lips twitch. 

“I know! Just a simple miscommunication, that’s all,” you try to laugh it off, but his stern face is anything but finding it funny. 

“Do you know what I think?” He simply asks. The hairs on your arms stand as you look at him. His eyes smooth over your face, looking all over. They stop for a brief moment a little lower, on your lips, for more than a second. 

“What do you think?” You ask breathlessly. 

He takes another step closer, now inches away. He’s so tall compared to you, he’s basically caging you in at this moment without even knowing. You gulp. 

“You’re supposed to be an example to them.” 

“What?” 

“You heard me,” he grimaces. “You’re older than them, yet you seem to act their age. It’s evident in the way you completely forgot to send in that report on time.” 

“It happened once! And by accident! Like I said, it was because–” 

“Take responsibility,” he spits. His hand goes to his hip and now you’re on the verge of hyperventilating. You didn’t expect a lecture when you came here. You expected Miguel to throw a fit, yelling at you, and then banishing you from his office within minutes. But you’re still here. 

“Okay, I will,” you finally state. You feel deflated from the conversation already and you’re starting to get impatient at his obvious anger. Or annoyance. He seemed to be either angry or annoyed by you everytime you’re around. 

“Okay, let’s hear it.” He crosses his arms over his chest, his elbows brushing against your chest in the process with how close he is. You take a deep breath. 

“I’m taking responsibility for not giving you the report on time. I apologize, boss.” 

He nods before turning on his heel and returning to his screen. You’re left confused and you even raise a brow at the odd reaction. 

“Don’t you want the report now?” You ask, kicking your heel at the ground. 

“No, not right now. I’m busy. Come back later.” 

“But I had plans with Gwen,” you start, but he snaps his neck back at you and his eyes glow red. You stop talking immediately. 

“Come. Back. Later.” He hisses, fangs showing. 

“Right, will do,” you stutter out before attempting to run off that platform. Your two left feet make you trip and fall, making you have to shoot out a web to catch yourself before you planted face first on the floor below. 

You didn’t dare to look up and see if Miguel saw that, you left as soon as your feet hit the ground. 

By the time you went to regroup with Gwen, she wasn’t where you left her. It took you a moment to walk around the building before you found her outside, sitting and staring at the scenery. You climbed the structure she was on, upside down, before shooting out webs to anchor you, and lowering yourself and sitting next to her. 

“How was it?” She asks, looking at you. 

“Not so well,” you confess. 

“Really? What happened?” Her eyes widen. 

You shrug. “Not much, actually. I apologized and took responsibility for not giving it to him on time.” 

“But? Your face looks like there’s a ‘but’ somewhere in there,” she laughs. You nudge her shoulder with yours and you frown. 

“Yeah, there’s a but. He didn’t want the report. Told me to go back later tonight to give it to him.” 

“That’s great!” Gwen smiles. 

“How’s that great?” You ask, raising a brow. You decide to look out in front of you both and see the vast city before you. Although you’re upside down, you never get tired of the view. 

“Because you have time to do the report and then give it to him, duh. You don’t have to verbally give it to him on the spot.” 

“I don’t know,” you finally breathe. You place your palms behind you and lean back. Gwen does the same, mimicking you. 

“You know, Jess mentioned that he’s a big softie under all that anger and macho-ness.” 

“What?” You laugh, wondering why the hell she’s steering the conversation this way. 

Gwen nods with a smile curling on the tips of her lips. “Yep. It kind of reminds me of those stupid sayings where if he makes fun of you, he likes you.” 

Your body stiffens and you shake your head. “Gwen! What are you talking about? Miguel?” 

There is nothing behind the reasons why he’s cold to you or why he’s made it seem like you aren’t worth being around. If he had any inkling of attraction toward you, you’d know. Spider sense or not. 

“See tonight, then! And please let me know. I kind of made a bet with Jess… I have to win.”

You groan. “What?! You guys are betting on the most impossible thing. There is nothing there. He hates me, but like actually. There is no underlying meaning.” 

“Sure,” Gwen laughs. “Anyways, Miles said he’s coming back tomorrow so we might have to raincheck on that girls night.” 

“I thought that was tonight?” 

“I figured we’d have to move it to tomorrow night the moment you mentioned Miguel needing to see you tonight. He’ll probably make you handwrite that damn report all night.” 

You lean your head back and stare at the city above you. “Fine, raincheck. But nothing is going on, you’ll see.” 

“Hmm,” is all Gwen says before you shake your head and laugh. You both stay watching the city in silence for a little longer before you go on with your day, dreading for the night to come. 

***

“Miguel?” You call out into the darkness of his office. His platform is dark, with no sign of life from him or anyone. 

Suddenly, you hear a fizzle in the air and then Lyla pops up into thin air. You almost yelp, hand flying to your chest. 

“Hey! Miguel let me know for you to meet him in his quarters.” Lyla floats around you, disappearing and reappearing at random spots. Her pink glasses lower on the bridge of her nose as she takes a good look at you. 

“His place?” You repeat, your mouth suddenly feeling dry. You’ve never been called to his quarters. He had a place of course in the city, but it was known that he’d stay multiple times a week at the floor of the building that acted as a penthouse for when he needed to be on call for anyone. 

You were terrified that you did something else wrong and that’s why he decided to have this meeting in a more private location. You gulp, looking at Lyla. 

“Don’t look so scared!” She laughs. “Come on!” She yells before disappearing and reappearing a few yards away closer to the elevator. 

You follow with no argument before you both get into the elevator and it skyrockets a few more floors up. The elevator dings and you see Miguel in normal clothes, not his suit. It didn’t occur to you that he can wear something else besides his suit. You’ve never seen him without the suit, so this was weird. 

Miguel hears your steps and he looks, a look of concern on his face. You instantly cross your arms over your chest, as if trying to hide yourself from his gaze. His eyes drift from your toes to your eyes before he looks at Lyla who appears in front of him. 

“She’s here, boss,” she sing-songs before Miguel grunts. 

“Thanks, Lyla. Now pause all updates unless it’s an emergency. Forward any updates to Jessica if there are any.” 

“Only if you say it,” Lyla teases, twirling around Miguel’s body. 

Miguel groans, rolling his eyes. “Lyla, do it.” 

“Nuh uh, I need to hear it boss,” she pushes. This makes you giggle at the encounter but you shut your mouth as Miguel gives you a stern look. 

“Please, Lyla,” he finally says with a bite to his words. 

“Already done, boss, but I loved hearing that,” Lyla says before evaporating into thin air. The silence fills the room as you stand there, rocking back and forth on your heels. 

“Where’s your suit?” He finally asks, heading to the kitchen. You follow blindly, unsure what else to do. 

“I-uh, didn’t think I’d need it.” You looked down at your sweats and long sleeve, wondering if you should’ve looked more presentable. It was past dinnertime, way past that to be precise, the sky was dark outside his floor to ceiling windows, so it didn’t make sense to wear anything else. You wanted to feel cozy too. The softness of the clothes calmed you a bit with the anxiety of what Miguel might say. 

You tried to write the report earlier, but your mind was a mess. You’d have to apologize for that again you were sure of it. 

“You didn’t, just wanted to ask,” Miguel chuckles as he reaches inside his fridge and pulls out a water bottle. He turns to you and raises it, looking at you with a questionable face. You nod as he tosses you it and you open it, taking a few sips. You hear the crack of his own and his gulping. 

You didn’t realize how much of a cottonmouth you had until you started drinking the cold water. 

“So the report, do you have it?” He asks, heading toward you. 

“About that…” you start. His jaw clenches and his eyes go red for a moment before they go back to the pretty brown. 

“You didn’t do it?” 

You shake your head, swallowing the lump forming in your throat. “No, I-I tried to. I swear, I can do it right now, just let me get my computer or a pen and paper.” 

That’s when he laughs again. You’ve never heard him laugh before. It was like music to your ears. Your heart picks up its pace at the sound and the way his eyes crinkle at the motion. His teeth bare with the laugh and you notice the fangs popping out. 

An inappropriate thought of him sinking them into you comes to the forefront of your mind and you suck in your breath and clench your thighs together. He pinches his brows, looking at you at the sudden sound you swore he wouldn’t be able to hear. 

“Ven aquí,” he beckons as he waves you over to the other end of the place where a living room holds a few couches. The place isn’t decorated and it looks like it was just created as something to show, not live in. He sits on the edge of the couch and you walk over to him, keeping a few inches away. 

You can practically feel his body heat emanating and your body betrays you as your knees get wobbly and you have to clear your throat. You curse yourself for having these reactions toward your boss in his private place. 

Lyla couldn’t even interrupt you both as much as you’d like. You didn’t want to be scolded. You wanted to take the punishment of finishing the report in front of Miguel and then go home.

“Your heart is racing so fast,” he murmurs, causing you to gasp. Heat pools in your belly and your cheeks start to burn. He cocks his head to the side before sighing and running a hand through his hair. His biceps flex under his shirt and you bite your lip. 

“It’s just hot in here,” you lie, fanning yourself to prove a point. 

“The AC is on,” he counters. 

“Of course,” you squeak. You try so hard to lower your heart rate, but it’s not helping being so close to him. 

“Do you want to know what else I can observe?” He asks, looking up at you from beneath his lashes. Your ears are pounding as you intake a sharp breath. 

“What?” You whisper. 

He rises, getting close to you. He lifts a hand and traces a finger underneath your chin, causing you to tremble and your lips quiver. “I can smell the way your sweat is protruding. And it’s not from fear.” 

“Oh,” you whisper again. 

He bares his teeth, fangs glinting. “I can also smell you to the point where it’s driving me fucking crazy right now.” 

“Smell me? Like my sweat and my scent?” You raise a brow. You’re not sure where he’s getting at this. Is he trying to intimidate you? Cause it’s working. 

“I can smell your arousal,” he chuckles, getting closer to brush your chest with his body. You widen your eyes. 

“Oh, uh, I’m so sorry,” you apologize, not knowing what else to say. You try to clench your thighs together, but that doesn’t help with the growing feeling between them. Your pussy is basically singing for him to touch it. You do your best to push down those thoughts, it’s utter humiliation that he can sense those things. 

His thumb brushes your bottom lip and your knees almost give out at the gentle touch. It’s all confusing you to the point where you’re not even sure this is happening. 

“You look confused,” he mutters. 

“I-uh, I’m not sure what’s going on. I thought I was going to be lectured. I thought you’d send me away to finish the report or something,” you admit. 

“You won’t be going on any missions anytime soon, how’s that for a lecture?” 

Your heart drops at this. “What? How is that fair? I’m not the only one who missed a report, I’m sure!” 

His hand drops from your face and you miss the feeling of it instantly. You stare at him and your anger is starting to increase. Scrunching your brows together, you exhale loudly. 

“It’s completely fair for the way it was handled.” 

It wasn’t wise for you to keep talking back to your boss, especially being alone with him. There wouldn’t be anyone around to save you if he started one of his rage arguments. 

“The report can be done now, how about that?” he finally breathes. He retreats back to the couch and leans back, thighs spreading. His frame is large and your eyes immediately go to his core and then his crotch. You gulp, knowing you shouldn’t be looking in that region. 

He says your name sternly and you look up before seeing a smirk pass his lips. 

You shake your head and straighten your posture. “Of course, boss. Where do you want me to do it?” You ask, looking around for a desk or maybe he wanted you to complete it on the kitchen island. You still needed a paper and pen or a computer. 

He makes a slapping sound and you turn toward it, seeing him slapping his thigh. You stare at him incredulously. 

“Miguel?” You whisper. His eyes are no longer the light brown you remember from moments before. They've gone a little darker and red is seeping into the sclera. You gulp. 

“Aquí,” he states firmly. You oblige, getting closer and bumping your knee with his before you stand in between his spread thighs. 

Your heart continues to race and you’re surprised you haven’t passed out from it. He pats his thighs again before he leans up for a moment, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and pulling you in so easily. He lifts you up like you weigh nothing before you’re straddling his thighs, legs on either side of his. 

It happens so quickly all you can do is gasp and then balance yourself by placing your hands on his shoulders. His very broad, strong shoulders. Your fingers clasp them tightly and you swallow. 

“Isn’t that better?” he whispers. You bite your lip, not sure how to respond. His hand lifts to brush your cheek before pushing strands of hair behind your ear. The movement is delicate and completely opposite of how Miguel holds himself in public. You’ve seen him swat a butterfly once that wasn’t even bothering him and his grumpy persona is all you know. 

“Tell me,” he demands. You part your lips. 

“Yes,” you finally admit. His hands move to your waist and press hard, enough for you to gasp. Your fingers dig into his shoulders and he hisses. 

“What are we doing?” You ask, courage finally bubbling out of your chest. 

“I’ve noticed things about you, reina,” he whispers, holding you tighter. 

“You have?” 

He nods. “The way you look at me. Your heart races when you’re near me. Your pussy craves my touch, I can smell it everytime.” 

“What? No, it’s not–” you scream but he pulls you closer on his thighs until your core brushes against his. You feel something right under your pussy and you realize it’s his erection. 

Your hips instinctively roll at the feeling and you groan, biting your lip. 

“See? You can’t deny the way your body is wanting me. I can’t lie and say I haven’t thought about it too. That I don’t feel the same way.” 

“Miguel,” you squirm underneath his hold but that only makes your hips roll even more into his erection and it sparks something in you. It feels so good and a moan leaves your lips. He grunts, fangs hitting his bottom lip for a moment. A slight red dot forms from the incision. 

“Besame,” he asks, smoothing his hands up to your torso, over your arms and then to your cheeks. You feel intoxicated from his touch. 

He wants you to kiss him. You can’t deny that, you’re already so far gone now. Without a delay, you nod and lean in, crashing your lips to his. A moan escapes your lips while a hiss leaves his. You feel a slight prick from his fangs and you gasp. 

“Sorry, reina,” he says, licking your bottom lip. 

You take a few deep breaths, lifting a hand from his shoulder to run it through his hair. You don’t do it gently, call it payback for the fang bite. But it only rouses him more, your fingers grasping harshly at his strands. He pulls you in then again to kiss you and then pushes his tongue into your mouth. He kisses you with fervor and you let him. Your hips begin to roll over his erection and it hits the spot you need it to. 

“Take these off,” he slaps your ass and hooks his thumbs into the waistband of your sweats. You nod before lifting yourself and he pulls them down. You shift awkwardly until your sweats are off and then you’re straddling him with just your panties. His calloused palms touch your thighs and he groans. 

“Fuck, your skin is so soft.” He murmurs before smoothing his hands over your thighs before moving to your panties. 

“Do you want me to take these off too?” 

He shakes his head, lifting a hand. You see a talon come out from his finger and he’s quick to cut the fabric of your panties. You gasp and he smiles. 

“Hey!” You yelp. 

“My turn,” he moves on, moving his hands to pull down his own pants. You have to lift yourself again, your panties falling from the motion. You watch as he slides his pants down enough until they’re past his knees. You finally look down and gasp, not expecting him to be bare underneath. No boxers, just his erected cock ready for you. A glint of pre-cum is at the tip and your mouth salivates at the thought. 

His hand goes to his cock and he starts to move it up and down. He hisses through the movements before he licks his hand and continues the motions. You widen your eyes. 

“Are you ready for your report?” He breaks your thoughts. 

You lock eyes with him. “T-the report? Right now?”

He nods. “Sit on my cock, reina, and give me the damn report.” 

Your cheeks burn and you look around the room, wondering if this is some kind of dream. You lift your hand to your other arm and pinch. It hurts, so you know you’re not dreaming. 

He’s still fisting his cock as he waits patiently. His eyes are redder than before and he licks his lips. 

“Miguel,” you whisper. 

“You’re so wet for me already, I know it,” he laughs. 

He wasn’t wrong, but your brain was turning into mush. You muster the courage to finally do as he says. You lift yourself enough to hover over his core and his hand moves from his cock to your pussy and you gasp from the feeling of his fingers running along your wet folds. 

“Fuck, you’re going to be a tight fit. But I can’t warm you up, I’m sorry,” he mumbles. 

“Wait, why?” 

“Another punishment, now sit on my cock before I change my mind about everything.” 

You didn’t want to know what else he planned for your punishment and you knew it wouldn’t be nearly as enticing as this. He’d probably make you work at the cafeteria or some shit. 

“Okay,” you meep, finally lowering yourself onto his tip. You hiss at the feeling of his wet tip entering you. 

“Come on, you got this,” he coos as his hands move to your waist to help lower you down. Inch by aching inch, you lower until you’re full of him. His girth practically splits you in half and you bite your lip, holding in a cry. 

“You’re so pretty like this, sitting on my lap with my cock stuffed inside you.” 

You let out a deep breath. “You’re so big, Miguel, I need a moment.” 

“Take your time, you’re not leaving anytime soon.” 

Your heart skips a beat at that thought. It takes a moment for you to adjust to his length before you’re ready to roll your hips. It feels like the world has flipped upside down and you’re in heaven. Sparks run all along your spine and throughout your body. 

His cock twitches inside you and you start to roll your hips, closing your eyes. 

“Open your eyes,” he demands. You whip them open and stare at him. Your hands dig into his shoulders again as you roll your hips again, causing him to groan and tighten his hold on your waist. 

“Now, the report,” he repeats. 

“Oh, yeah, uh–” you mumble out. Your mind can’t concentrate on that damn report as your pussy clenches around his cock. He stills your movements. 

“We can only continue if you start talking,” he says. 

That’s when you realize what he’s doing. He’s not going to take you off his lap until you’re done with the report. You’re not sure if you’ll be able to handle that. Your orgasm is already rising to its peak with the small movements. He’s so big, hitting your g-spot perfectly. Each roll of your hips sends you closer and closer to your release. 

“Okay, well,” you start. “Hobie and I were able to handle the Vulture from Earth-673. It was good and–ah–we got him contained.” You say, biting your lip to keep from coming. 

“And?” Miguel presses, lifting his own hips to drive his cock a little more into you. An exasperated pant leaves your mouth at this. He’s cruel. 

“And that was it, that was all we did. Nothing else happened,” you mumbled out quickly. 

“That’s not what I saw on the screens,” he hums. He moves a hand to roam down between your cores. His thumb presses gently against your clit and you clench his cock before whimpering. 

“Miguel!” 

“What else happened?” 

You try so hard to think back to the mission that happened days ago. You curse Hobie for not sending the report or reminding you that you had to do it. 

That’s when you remember something. You smile. “Gwen was handling that train cart that fell off the platform and then Hobie and I focused on the people on the ground. We got them all.” 

“And what else?” Miguel starts to circle his thumb over your clit at a faster pace. You groan and hang your head back. His movements stop. 

“Miguel, please,” you squirm, trying to get back that friction against your clit by rubbing yourself over his abdomen. He hisses and shakes his head. 

“You forgot about the canon event you didn’t stop,” he reminded you. 

That didn’t seem like important information to tell him. You all worked hard to prevent canon disruptions. It was an obvious task that didn’t need to be vocalized. He raises a brow. You take a deep breath and nod. 

“Y-yeah,” you mumble. “We allowed the canon event to happen successfully.” 

“Good girl,” Miguel coos before placing his thumb back on your clit and his other hand grasps your waist tight enough and he lifts you enough to slam you back down on his cock. You scream, falling on him and wrapping your arms around his neck. Your hands bury in his long hair. 

“So good for me,” he whispers in your ear as you roll your hips some more, chasing that high. 

“I’m close,” you whine. You feel his lips graze your neck and before you know it, you feel pain and little stabs at your skin. His fangs sink into your skin and that only causes you to moan loudly and squeeze his cock even more. He grunts before removing his fangs from your neck. 

“You did so well for me, you can come whenever you want to, reina,” he whispers. And before you know it, both hands go to your waist and he’s lifting you up at an alarming pace and slamming you down on his cock. 

You’re both panting loudly, the only sounds in the room are your cores slapping and your pussy drenching him in your arousal. 

“Fuck! I’m going to come,” you whimper. 

“Come all over my cock, baby,” he stutters as his pace of slamming you down grows sloppy. You nod and lift your head to look at him. His eyes are less red and his features have seemed to go a little softer. 

Before you know it, you’re screaming and coming over his cock. He doesn’t stop though, he continues to jut into you until his hips still and his hands shake on your waist. You feel the warmth spread inside you and you know he just released inside you. 

“Fuck,” he sighs. 

You lay your forehead against his chest and his hands are soft to the touch as he rubs your bare back underneath your shirt. You shudder underneath his touch, but you try to calm your breathing. Your pussy clenches around his softening dick and he groans. 

“I can get off,” you whisper, attempting to lift your hips, but his hold on you tightens. 

“No, not yet.” 

“Why?” You giggle. You lift your head and you’re nose to nose with Miguel. His eyes dance around your face before he answers. 

“I think you need to repeat the report once more.” 

“What?!” You scowl. 

“I’ve got you here now, what’s the problem? You can’t repeat the same thing you just said? Or are you too cockdrunk to think of anything?” 

You didn’t want to tell him that he’s right. The last few minutes are a blur and the mission of a few days ago is at the back of your mind already. You whimper as his hands lower to your ass and squeezes. You try to lift your hips again, but he slams you back down on him. The friction only causes your arousal to rise again. 

Fuck, you’re never going to leave are you? 

His erection starts to grow again in you and he smiles like a jerk. 

“The report, repeat it. If you stumble once, you’re starting over. I have all night.” 

You roll your hips, fully drowning in him and obeying his every command. You’re too far gone at this point to fight. 

You nod, biting your lip before starting the report again. You mumble a few times and you curse yourself as he takes a moment to lift you and slam you on his cock a few times. You scream his name relentlessly before having to start the report over again. 

You don’t get off his lap until the sun peeks from the horizon and filters through the penthouse. 

#marvel au #miguel fanfic #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara atsv #atsv #atsv fanfic #atsv x you #miguel spiderman #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #across the spiderverse fanfiction #oscar isaac #oscar isaac characters #miguel o'hara fanfiction

[pimosworld]

Bad days

Pairing- Steven grant x f!reader, hints of Marc and Jake x f!reader.

Summary- You help Steven relax and cure his bad day.

CW-18+,MDNI,NSFW, porn with a little plot, angst, fluff, Steven being unsure at first, oral m receiving, cum eating, slight sub Steven,Dom reader, Marc and Jake being teases and helpful because it’s them.

WK-2.4k

A/N- Making Steven feel good is like candy to me so I hope you enjoy this.

Not beta read

[Moon Knight Masterlist][Main Masterlist]

You set the groceries down to knock on the door to Stevens flat. You don’t hear any movement on the other side of the door for a few brief moments. You know Steven wasn’t always punctual but he never missed an opportunity for you to cook him dinner. 

It was a little nerve wracking at first taking over his job in the gift shop. He was promoted to tour guide at the museum but Donna insisted he train his replacement. 

Marc was annoyed in the beginning. How hard could it be to work in a gift shop? He knew Steven had been waiting for so long to be a tour guide and told him in so many words to tell Donna to shove off. Until you walked in.

  For once in his life Steven didn’t bumble his way through an introduction. You loved the way he cared so deeply for the regular patrons and cataloged all the items  in the gift shop. 

  He gave you a taweret plushie on your last day of training and couldn’t contain his excitement when you wrapped your arms around him as a thank you. 

  Ask her now

  It wasn’t often Jake made an appearance, but since you’ve come into the picture he was making himself more and more known. 

  He’s right, ask her

  It was a problem for Steven when Marc and Jake were getting along. He has yet to make his condition known to you, but he’s noticed you smirking when he’s talking out loud or having a stern conversation with his reflection in the glass of the gift shop. 

  “I was wondering if maybe…you’d like to go to dinner with me sometime?” 

  You said yes before he could even get the words out. 

  That was a few months ago. 

  ****

  Steven noticed you at the end of the hallway as the doors to the lift opened. 

  I told you to just give her a key hermano 

  Steven didn’t want to just hand you a key like Marc or Jake would. He wanted it to be special…he already had it made, he just needed an opportunity to present it to you. He’s been so busy with his promotion he’s barely had time for you. 

  You offered to cook him dinner and he couldn’t even bother to be on time for that. 

  He looks so tired, even from where you’re standing. You can tell he’s had a rough day and you’re determined to make it better. It’s not often the boys let you spoil them, always so concerned with your needs. 

  Steven had needs too…he just needed a gentle reminder. 

  ****

  “I’m sorry I’m so late, Love.” He pecks your lips as he drops some scrolls to the ground to fish out his keys. 

  “It’s okay Steven, I haven't been waiting long.” You bend over to pick up the groceries as he drops his keys. 

  “Oh bollocks, can’t even open my own door.” You try to grab his shoulder as he picks them up from the floor. He mutters something under his breath about being clumsy and your certain Marc or Jake aren’t helping. 

  “Steven, honey.” You wrap your arms around him as you slowly grab the keys. “Let me help you.” 

  Steven wants to protest but your hands are like magic covering his. He has to pinch himself everyday to remind himself he’s not dreaming, when it comes to you. Marc and Jake may give him a hard time but he never lets them forget that you were interested in him first. 

  He sighs into your touch as you slowly open the door. “You’re too good to me, you know that.” He scoops the groceries in one arm and the scrolls in the other. 

  “There’s no such thing as too good.” Your lips curve into a smile before you lean in and kiss him and he nearly drops everything in his arms. 

  “Why don’t you set that stuff down and get comfortable.” 

  He goes to protest but you place your finger on his lips. “Go wash off this awful day, change into something comfortable and relax.” You kiss him again a little deeper and longer, you can feel him sigh into it as you start to pull away. “I’m not taking no for an answer.” 

  I would do what she says if I were you. 

  He pinches himself before he heads off to the bathroom.

  ****

  Steven notes the delicious smell wafting through the flat as he pulls on his favorite jumper and sweatpants. Although he knows whenever he comments on how good it smells you always tell him it’s just garlic and onions. 

  You’re a picture of domestic perfection as you finish putting something in the oven. You wipe your hands on the small towel as you look up and smile at him. 

  His feet are rooted to the spot in the living room as you make your way towards him,you look like you want to devour more than just the food. The urge to look over his shoulder and make sure he’s the one you’re looking at is strong. 

  Your soft hand gently grabs his wrist as you pull him toward the couch. Perhaps Marc or Jake took control of his legs because he certainly doesn’t remember how he swiftly ended up seated with you on your knees in front of him. 

  The words are leaving your mouth but he can’t hear anything over the buzzing in his ears as you rub your hands up and down his legs. 

  “What did you say love?” You smirk and lean up, pulling his face to yours as your soft lips meet his. He could stay like this, just kissing you as he melts into the couch. The stress of the day pouring off him like the rain outside. 

  “I said…did you have a bad day?” You trail kisses along his jaw and nip at his earlobe as you wait for his answer. 

  “Yes.” It comes out as a confession, like he’s ashamed to admit that he has bad days doing his dream job.

  Your warm hands roam under his sweater along his chest and trail down as you hook your fingers in his waistband. His breathing is coming in too fast and he tries to calm himself down as your body brushes against the obvious tent in his sweats.

  “Do you want me to make it better?” It’s a whisper in his ear that he hears loud and clear as your hands wait for permission.

  Say yes Steven

Say yes Steven

  It must’ve been too long, because his head mates urge him to answer you before you change your mind. As if you ever would. 

  “Yes…please.” You chuckle at his rushed out response as if you can read his mind and know exactly what they’re saying. 

  It drives him a little bit wild that you’re giving him this attention. He was always a little more reserved than Marc and not as bold as Jake. He’s never been treated like this. The sole purpose of someone’s desires. 

  You tug a little on his pants and bite your lip. He lifts his hips to help you as you pull them down just enough to pool at his feet. He’s achingly hard as your hand reaches out to pump him a few times. 

  He bites down on his tongue to keep from coming at the first touch of you. It’s only been a few days and he’s already so desperate for anything you’ll give him. 

  The genuine look of enjoyment on your face as you stare at it like it’s an appetizer to a four course meal is something he’ll have to frame in his mind. 

  The feel of your hand is quickly replaced with your mouth as you slide down the length of him, your plush lips wrapped around his cock as you hum in approval. Finally provided the relief you both wanted. 

  He chokes back a moan as your tongue slides back up, slowly twirling around the tip. A drop of precum trails down the side and you tilt your head licking it up like an ice cream cone. Not wanting to waste a drop. 

  Fuck

  Your hands are on his legs again as you rub them in time with your head as you bob up and down, moaning around his cock sending chills up his spine. 

  You loved watching Steven let go. It was exhilarating that you could make someone come undone. The  dark look in his eyes is almost similar to Marc’s but you know by the noises coming from him and the way his hands grip the couch it’s your sweet Steven. 

  Put your hand on the back of her head

  “What?” He rasps out above you. 

  You come off with a pop and take in his unruly curls as the sweat forms on his furrowed brow. 

  “I didn’t say anything honey.” He stares blankly at you for a moment before he realizes he must’ve spoke out loud. 

  Idiota

  “Sorry love, you can keep going…if you want to—

  His rambling is cut short as you take him into your mouth again, not wasting a moment as your lips slide all the way down his cock. Your nose brushes the curls at the base and you gag a little. 

  “Sorry love…” Steven begins to apologize but you don’t seem to be stopping. 

  Listen to me and don’t say anything 

  Perhaps he should just listen to Marc, he’s never…well maybe not never, but he’s rarely led him astray. 

  Put your hand on the back of her head and Gently…go with her movements. 

  You glance up at Steven who nods his head as he places his hand on the back of yours. He’s looking at you with those puppy dog eyes like he’s asking for permission to do what you’ve been wanting this whole time. Enjoy it. 

  You hollow out your cheeks and pull him in deeper as he audibly moans a little louder. His nails scratch lightly at your scalp as he pushes you down a little further. His bold movements turn you on even more than you were before. You breathe through your nose and push past the burning in your lungs to stay on the edge of his pleasure for a little longer. 

  “You’re perfect, you know that?” He mostly says it to himself as you whine your response because you can't really answer at the moment. Not verbally at least. 

  You know you probably look a mess as your mascara runs down your cheeks and the drool pools outside your mouth as he takes what he wants. Except he’s looking at you like you hung the moon as his free hand swipes a stray tear from the corner of your eye. 

  It feels like he’s in the duwat again the way he’s floating between this reality and the next. He struggles to keep his eyes on you as he throws his head back against the couch finally relinquishing all control he had over his emotions. 

  The sounds of your mouth and the muttering of praises are all he can focus on as the familiar feeling starts to creep up his back and infiltrate his brain. 

  You can feel his legs tense beneath your hands as the grip in your hair tightens instinctually. 

  “I’m…im close love, you don’t have to.” 

  Cállate y déjale

  “It’s okay Steven, you can let go.” You half pant out as you resume before he can protest. 

  You place your hand on top of his and urge him on as he curses under his breath. His hips stutter slightly as he feels himself let go, spilling hot ropes of come into your mouth. You don’t let up as you swallow every drop until he’s boneless beneath you. His cock twitches slightly as you come off, slowly catching your breath. His hand drops to the couch with a thud as you raise up next to him and brush his curls out of his face. 

  The redness on his neck dissipates with every breath that he takes in. He may have been close to passing out if you hadn’t stopped soon. 

  “That was…incredible.” He half whispers to himself and you chuckle into his neck as you place soft kisses to his sweaty skin. 

  “I’m glad I could help.” 

  The timer on the oven beeps bringing your attention back to the dinner you started when you told him to relax. 

  “Ooohh, the lasagna is done.I hope you’re hungry.” You bounce up off the couch as he stands and pulls his sweats back on. 

  He feels like he ran a marathon and food sounds delightful at the moment. 

  “You made my favorite?” It’s said as more of a question than a statement as he watches you move around his kitchen like you’ve been here all your life. 

  “I made two actually.” You cut into one and place a serving on each of your plates. “Vegan and meat sauce. I’ll mark them for you so you know which is which.” 

  I love her 

Ella es perfecta

  You lick the sauce off your finger and he’s brought back to what you just did for him on the couch. 

  “I have something for you love.” Steven heads to the room briefly and digs through his jacket pocket before he finds it. 

  He sheepishly returns to the kitchen island where you’re digging into your smaller portion of lasagna. He’s trying  to rid his head of these thoughts for a second as you make the same noises from before as you savor your food. 

  His hand shakily slides the key towards you and you set your fork down to pick it up. The beautiful brass key looks so big in your delicate hands. 

  “Is this my prize?” You ask with a mischievous glint in your eye. 

  Smooth

  “Oh no…I’ve been meaning to give it to you for a while. I didn’t plan it this way…it was supposed to be special and well…”

  “Shhh. Steven, relax, I'm just joking.” He eases a little at your words, knowing you’re just teasing him. You and Jake had that down better than he or Marc ever could. “I love it honey, thank you for trusting me with this.” 

  You lean in and place a kiss to his cheek, shorter than he would care for. He never wants you to stop touching him if he could help it. 

  “Eat up, before it gets cold.” 

  Before I take the body and eat my own

No me parece 

  He eats while they bicker, not wanting to waste another precious moment with you. 

  ****

  Your phone buzzes in your pocket as you stare out the window of the bus on the way home from work. 

  Steven: where are you love?

      On the bus I just left work, how was your day?

  Steven: It was quite dreadful 

           I’ll be home soon to make it better 

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated

Tagging a few who might be interested

@missdictatorme @chichimisaki @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @melodygatesauthor @simpforbritgents

#moon knight fanfiction #steven grant fem reader #steven grant x female reader #moon knight mcu #steven grant x fem!reader #steven grant smut #marc spector x f!reader #jake lockley x reader #moon boys x reader #steven grant fluff #sub steven grant #marvel moon knight #steven grant x f!reader #jake lockley fluff #moon knight fanfic #moon knight x you #oscar issac characters #oscar isaac

[flightlessangelwings]

My Knight in White

Marc Spector x fem!reader

Word count- 4.3k

Dialogue prompt- “ that was for saving my life. “ Action prompt- [ KISS ]: after having been saved from immediate danger by the receiver, the sender, in a state of intense emotion and relief, kisses them to express these feelings.

Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), protective!Marc, mutual pining, minor violence, minor character death, harassment of reader (not Marc), damsel in distress, unprotected piv, no use of y/n

About this reader- she is smart but not physically badass, works with Egyptian artifacts but I left it vague so you can fill in for yourself exactly what she does, no specific city where they are is stated either so it's open for you to imagine wherever, no physical descriptions other than body parts

Notes- Posting my October Year of Protectiveness @yearofcreation2023 a little late because of kinktober but I'm so excited to share this! This is expanding on an idea that @melodygatesauthor had months ago who wanted to see a damsel in distress reader and Marc saving her!

@flightlessangelwings-updates is my update blog so please follow that too and turn on post notifications to stay up to date on when I post!

~

“You’re here late,” Marc’s voice broke you out of your thoughts.

You blinked, refocusing your eyes to the world around you. Looking around, you didn’t even realize how long you had been hunched over your desk, studying and cleaning the artifact that had recently been brought in. “Marc…” you breathed as you stretched, your back aching as you became aware of reality again.

He smiled softly as he uncrossed his arms, “You work too much, you know that,” he leaned against the doorway as he watched you. 

Marc loved to watch you work. He loved to watch you do anything really, but when you worked, you became so focused, lost in concentration. You handled the old artifacts with such care and respect, he couldn’t help but linger his gaze on your hands. He had never met anyone smarter than you, and he loved to listen to you go on and on about any topic you found interesting. Marc took it upon himself to watch over you, making sure you were always safe even if you never truly knew just how much he looked over you.

“I lost track of time,” you replied as you gathered yourself and packed everything away, “I didn’t realize it’s after dark.”

“And the fact that everyone else left hours ago didn’t clue you in,” Marc smirked.

“Hey,” you playfully chastised him, “I can’t help it, I just got in the zone, you know. Besides, these new artifacts are so fascinating I just can’t tear myself away from them!”

It suddenly occurred to you that you and Marc were completely alone. He was right- everyone else left hours ago. As you stood up and made your way over to him, you took in his handsome features once more. And the way he leaned against the door made your thoughts run wild. The two of you had known each other for some time now, but you kept your true feelings to yourself, afraid of damaging your friendship or losing him.

Marc looked you up and down, “Want me to walk you home?” he offered as he followed behind you, watching you flip the lights off and lock everything up.

“I’m alright,” you suddenly felt nervous. Marc has been to your place many times, but the shiver that ran up your spine made your heart race, “I don’t live that far.”

He furrowed his brow, “You sure?”

“Yeah,” you replied with a soft smile, “Thanks, though,” you stepped in front of him before you turned back, “Good night.”

Marc watched you walk away before he whispered a hushed, “Good night.”

He watched you as you made your way down the street in the darkness until he couldn’t see you anymore. Marc had already decided he was going to follow you anyway, watching over you from afar, but when he saw a group of sketchy-looking men with wicked grins sneer and tail behind you, he knew he had to do more to keep you safe.

You wrapped your arms around yourself as you made your way down the street. You didn’t make it far from Marc when you noticed that a group of men started to follow behind you, and though you couldn’t make out their exact words, you knew they were talking about you. In that moment, you wished you took Marc up on his offer to walk you home, but you couldn’t turn around now. All you could do was hope you got inside fast before they caught up to you.

“Hey sweet cheeks,” one of them called out to you.

Too late.

You glanced over your shoulder and found that they were even closer to you than you thought, and you quickly bolted down the street without a word. That only egged them on more, however, and you heard them laughing behind you as they sped up as well.

“Oh come on, sweetheart,” they sneered, “We just want to talk to you.”

A gasp escaped your lips as you turned down a street, hoping to lose them. But, your plan immediately backfired as you found yourself trapped in an alleyway at a dead end. And you failed to shake them off your tail.

“Please,” you breathed as fear pulsed through your veins, “I’m just trying to get home.”

The men surrounded you, darkness shading their features, “We’ll get you home, sweet girl.”

The others chuckled as they started to reach for you.

“Please leave me alone,” you tried to sound more assertive, but you knew you didn’t intimate them at all. They were all very muscular and taller than you, and you knew you didn’t stand a chance even if you tried to fight back. But that didn’t mean you were going to go down without a fight.

You screamed when one of them grabbed your arm, and you swung your fist into him as hard as you could while digging your feet into the ground. Gritting your teeth, you tried your best to yank yourself from his grip, but tears of frustration filled your eyes when you realized it was useless.

“No!” you cried out as you tried again, your pleas drowned out by their cackling laughter.

Suddenly, your luck changed.

Out of nowhere, something yanked the man who helped you back and he yelped as he found himself flung against the wall of the alleyway. The other men all looked up as a hooded figure in all white descended down and immediately went on the attack against them.

You gasped as you scurried back out of the scuffle, pressing yourself against the opposite wall as much as you could as if you tried to phase through the wall and disappear. Your eyes went wide as you watched the mysterious hero fight off the men who attacked you, beating and punching them down until none of them moved.

The figure then turned to you, and time froze for several moments.

He raised his hands in surrender, “I’m not going to hurt you,” the voice from under the mask said.

You couldn’t help but feel like the voice was familiar. But, you stayed silent.

“Are you ok? Are you hurt?” your rescuer asked as he stepped closer to you, looking you over.

Your hands trembled, but not from fear this time. Taking a deep breath in for the first time in what felt like forever, you finally replied in a hushed voice, “No,” you whispered, “I’m alright.”

As he stepped close enough so you could reach for him if you wanted, you studied his outfit more. He wore all white, but as he got closer, you noticed it looked like linen wrappings, almost like a mummy. A crescent moon symbol adorned his chest and a white cloak covered his head. You could see the muscle definition even through the thick wrappings, and it made you swallow hard.

You had no idea what came over you at that moment- perhaps it was the adrenaline- but without a word, you reached out for him, grabbed him and pulled your bodies closer as you laid a kiss on his mask where his mouth would be.

It caught him off guard, but he didn’t push you away. Instead, he cradled you close, holding onto your waist with one hand and your arm with the other. It felt warm, comfortable, right.

“What was that for?” he asked with a smirk in his voice.

You smiled at him, “That was for saving my life,” your voice was still hushed, your breath taken away, “Thank you.”

He cupped your chin affectionately. Through the mask, he studied you up close. Everything in Marc screamed to take it off and tell you who he was, but he also knew that knowing his secret would put you in danger. And Marc would not allow that. For now, he would be satisfied knowing you were safe, and that he was just in time. He only nodded, not saying anything else before he broke away from you and leapt up into the air, disappearing into the night just as mysteriously as he appeared. 

You watched in bewilderment as it took your brain several moments to process what just happened. You touched your lips as you realized that you kissed a total stranger, and one who you didn’t even see his face too. But, as you looked around and saw the men laying on the ground, the adrenaline ran through your veins once more and you ran out of the alleyway and quickly made your way home.

The whole time, Marc watched from the rooftops until you were safely inside.

*

In the following weeks, you threw yourself completely into your work to cope with what happened that night. A mix of emotions constantly filled your head, and you found that pushing them away with the distraction of work was the easiest way to deal with them. There were days where you hardly looked up from your desk, so deep in concentration that the rest of the world was a blur around you.

Marc kept a watchful eye over you the entire time. He knew why you were like this, but when others asked he feigned ignorance. No one had to know what happened to you, and it wasn’t up to him to tell anyway. Instead, he chose to keep an eye on you from afar, like he always did. 

Vaguely, you were aware of Marc’s presence in the shadows… and it felt familiar to you somehow. He always kept an eye on you, but after that night it somehow felt different. But, having him close was one of the few comforts you had after your attack. Yet, your mind also wandered toward the mysterious hooded figure who rescued you… 

“Hey,” Marc’s voice broke you out of your thoughts. 

You looked up with a startled gasp, not realizing how late it got. Again. “Marc,” you breathed. 

He looked worried, “Everything alright?” Marc asked, “You’ve seemed… off lately.”

Your eyes darted from his face to your desk a few times as you felt nervous suddenly, “I’m fine,” you knew you didn’t convince him, you didn’t even convince yourself.

Marc sighed your name as he settled down next to you, “You know you can tell me anything, right? I’m here for you.”

Heat rose in your face, “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” you exhaled deeply, “Besides, you’d just make fun of me.”

“Never!” he exclaimed, acting playfully offended before he turned serious, “What’s on your mind?”

The comforting tone in his voice and the warmth of his presence allowed you to let your guard down, “Ok…” you took a breath, “The night I was here late a few weeks ago,” you started, “A group of guys tried to jump me,” your voice quivered and you felt Marc’s hand over yours, “But I was saved by…” you paused as you looked at him sheepishly, “A guy in a hood and something that looked like mummy wrappings.”

Marc’s face lit up as he grinned knowingly at you.

You nudged him playfully as you erupted into a fit of giggles out of pure embarrassment, “See I knew you were going to laugh at me!”

“No, sweetheart I’m not laughing at you,” Marc raised his hands defensively, “I swear!”

Something changed in the air between you as you stared at each other. The light atmosphere shifted and it felt like something heavy lingered between the two of you. Your heart pounded in your chest as you realized just how close Marc sat to you, and your breath caught in your throat as you studied his features. Not to mention that was the first time he called you anything affectionate like that…

“Marc…”

“Listen, I…,” he started, interrupting you.  

Leaning in, you were entranced by him and you hung on his every word. Just being near him and laughing like this made all your troubles melt away. You felt safe here, with him. 

But, before Marc could continue, a loud crash cut him off. 

Both of you jumped up, and you let out a soft shriek. Marc immediately went into defense mode and every muscle in his body tensed. It was late, and the two of you were the only ones in the building. He made sure the doors were locked too, so he knew whoever broke in meant trouble.

“Marc?” your voice shook.

“Listen to me,” he turned to you and placed his hands on your shoulders, “I need you to sneak out of here. Take the back exit and hide somewhere. I’m going to distract them and get a path for you to get out.”

“But the artifacts,” you whispered as you glanced over at the old objects on your desk that you spent weeks cleaning and studying. The first thought in your mind was that these are robbers looking to steal and sell them, and you didn’t want that to happen.

“Things can be replaced,” Marc sounded urgent, “We can get them back. I’m more worried about getting you safe right now.”

Your eyes went wide as you looked at him, stunned. Just as you were about to reply, though, another crash made you jump and Marc pulled you in close to keep you calm.

“It's gonna be alright,” he murmured to you, “Just trust me. Ok?”

You pulled back to look into his eyes again, “I trust you.”

He nodded as he pressed his lips together, “Ok,” how Marc sounded nervous, “Stay low. Stay in the shadows. And just get out. You hear me?”

Swallowing hard, you nodded. Then your brain caught up with you, “What about you?”

Marc smirked, “I’ll be alright. Just trust me.”

There was no time for explanations as another crash echoed in the room- they were getting closer. Marc ushered you out of the door and down the hall before he ran in the opposite direction towards the intruders. You glanced over your shoulder at his retreating figure before you made your way down the hall, crouching low and out of sight as you did so. 

As you made your way to the back door, however, you noticed that it was blocked- one of them already made his way there.

“Shit,” you cursed under your breath as you changed direction. Instead, you went up to the roof in hopes of finding a place to hide until Marc did… whatever he was planning to do. 

But that plan also quickly backfired. 

You ran up to the roof and into the open area there, but you were met with yet another thug who blocked the opposite entrance from where you were.

“Well look what we have here,” he said with a dark grin on his face.

Letting out a gasp, you tried to run back where you came from, but another sinister shadowy man blocked that path. “Where do you think you’re going?” he growled.

“Please,” was all you could whimper as you felt them close in on you. 

The men just laughed as they stepped closer, reaching for their guns as they did so. But, before they reached you, one of them was yanked back, slamming into the wall. You looked up and saw the same hooded figure that saved you before swooping down from seemingly nowhere.

More of the thugs appeared from the doorway and they yelled as they pulled out their guns and started to fire on both of you. The hooded figure rushed over to you and wrapped his cloak over both your bodies, shielding you.

You covered your head out of instinct, but as you felt a warm presence, you looked up and found yourself face to face with your linen wrapped savior once more.

“It’s you,” you gasped in relief. The ringing of the guns suddenly sounded distant.

The mask started to peel away on its own, revealing none other than Marc. He breathed your name, “Are you alright?” 

“It’s you!” you sounded stronger that time, in total shock that it was Marc the whole time.

“I told you I wasn’t making fun of you,” he flashed a quick smile before he turned serious again, “I don’t have time to explain now,” he said, “I’m going to fight these guys off. You need to hide somewhere until they’re dealt with. I’ll come find you when it’s safe, I promise.”

The intruders and the guns were more pressing at the moment, so you swallowed and nodded. 

When Marc found an opening, he pushed you towards the door, “Go!” he shouted as he turned back to the intruders and fought them off.

You ran. 

Running on pure instinct, you bolted down the hall and turned a corner into a closet. Luckily, no one was around and you hid yourself well. You crouched in the corner as you listened to the grunts and gunshots in the distance. At one point, you covered your mouth to stifle a scream, suddenly scared for Marc. You fought back tears, swearing to yourself that you wouldn’t cry. 

Just as you squeezed your eyes shut and held your breath, the fighting stopped. Silence filled your ears but you didn’t dare move. Your hands trembled slightly against your face as you strained to hear the one voice that would bring you comfort.

And then you heard it.

Marc called out your name as he stood in the hall, frantically looking for you, “Baby it’s alright. You can come out.”

You let out the breath you held, all your fear escaping with it as you leapt up and out of your hiding spot. Down the hall, you saw Marc standing there, his knighty suit still adorning his body but his face exposed. “Marc,” you breathed in relief as you ran towards him.

“Sweetheart,” he sounded just as relieved as he ran towards you with open arms. 

The two of you crashed together in a messy embrace, emotions getting the better of both of you. He rested a hand on the back of your head while the other pulled you in as close as he possibly could. Tears flowed from your eyes as relief washed over you, yet the pulse of fear still ran through you after everything that happened. Vaguely, you heard Marc whispering soft words of encouragement and reassurance in your ear. 

“Come on,” Marc said, “I’m getting you out of here,” he slid his hand in yours.

“But…” you tried to protest, not wanting to leave any of the artifacts alone.

“It’s ok,” he gave you a soft smile, “They’re dealt with. Right now I want to make sure you’re safe.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you tried to process everything. So much happened in such a short time, and you weren’t sure how to react to it. Time passed in a daze as you found yourself at Marc’s place, settled comfortably on his couch with a mug of tea in your hands. You felt safe with him, of course, but you felt like you were outside your body.

The two of you talked for what felt like hours. Marc told you everything- all of his secrets that he kept hidden for so long. He promised you that he would always protect you, and he explained why he didn’t tell you before. As he talked, the sound of his voice calmed you, like an embrace of your heart. Your eyes moved from where they stared at the mug to meet his gaze.

“I promise you, baby,” Marc cupped your face, “Nothing’s ever going to happen to you. I’ll keep you safe no matter what.”

Heat rose in your face, and you were sure Marc felt how warm you were. But, as you stared into his eyes, you felt your heart flutter and his charming gleam sent a rush of fresh emotions through you. Without a word, you closed the gap between your bodies, crashing your lips together. Muffled groans echoed between you as you climbed into his lap and Marc instantly helped you closer. Deepening the kiss, you felt a tingle on your skin as you tasted him, and you felt the reverberation of his moan against your body.

“What was that for?” he asked in a whisper, “Not that I’m complaining.”

You smirked against Marc, “I wanted to thank you properly,” you breathed, “With a real kiss this time.”

Marc cupped your face as he gazed into your soul through your eyes, “Baby…” he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in for another kiss.

This time, it felt different. It was desperate and heated, but there was also the warmth and passion behind it. You moaned into Marc’s lips as you rocked your hips against his. He tightened his grip on you as a rush of need pulsed through his veins, and he couldn’t help the way his cock twitched underneath you.

Breaking away for air, Marc saw the look of wanton need in your eyes, and he knew exactly what you were thinking, “Are you sure about this, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice a low rumble.

You cupped his face, brushed your fingers along his dark curls, “I’m sure,” you whispered as you kissed him again, “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” you paused before you sheepishly added, “I’ve wanted this so so long…”

Marc grinned, his face lighting up, “Then let’s do this right.”

Shifting your bodies, Marc stood up and extended his hand. You eagerly took it and allowed him to lead you over to his bed. Excitement bloomed between you and before you even made it to the bed, your hands were all over each other. Kisses decorated your steps as you each tugged at the other’s clothing until you were bare.

You and Marc crashed into his bed, and he quickly laid overtop of you. He paused for a moment, breathless as he took in the sight of you bare underneath him, “Fuck you are beautiful,” he breathed.

“So are you,” you sighed in pure admiration as you grabbed his face and yanked him in for another kiss, “We can take our time later,” you murmured between kisses, “I need you too bad right now.”

“Fuck,” he groaned as he rocked his length along your folds. It didn’t go unnoticed that you mentioned a next time either… But your moan broke Marc out of that thought, and a shiver ran up his spine as he felt his cock against your pussy, “Wet already,” he smirked.

“Please Marc,” you pleaded. 

“I’ve got you, baby,” he moaned as he lined himself up with your entrance.

Slowly, carefully, Marc pushed himself into you, causing you both to gasp at the same time. You clawed at his arms, holding on for dear life as the slight burn of his cock stretching you out went jolts of pleasure through your body. Fresh tears filled your eyes at the sensation, and you never felt more alive, more pleasure than ever before.

“Marc…”

He groaned your name as he bottomed out inside you, “Fuck,” he breathed. Marc cradled your face as he rocked in and out of you, slowly at first, but the more you moaned the faster he moved, “You’re perfect,” he moaned, “Shit…”

“Fuck… Marc… You feel so good,” you moaned as you saw stars every time his cock slammed into you.

It didn’t take long for you to feel the tingles of your approaching climax. Your legs trembled on either side of Marc’s body as he thrust into you over and over again and you dug your nails into his soft skin as you clung to him. Incoherent praises flowed from his lips as both your moans grew louder and louder as you lost yourselves in each other.

“Marc… I’m…”

“I’ve got you, baby,” Marc repeated his words from earlier.

Skin slapped against skin as Marc felt his own climax apparach. But, he was determined to send you over the edge first, and with just a few more thrusts of his hips, he got what he wanted. With a loud scream, you came hard, crying out his name as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through you. And fuck you had never looked more beautiful to Marc.

He kept up his pace as long as he could, watching the show you put on just for him and savoring every second of it. But, Marc’s eyes started to roll back as he felt his orgasm quickly build, egged on by the way you clenched your inner muscles around his cock. And with a groan of your name, he came right after you, spilling himself into you as he did so.

Marc collapsed on top of you, completely spent. But, after just a few breaths, he shifted himself, pulling out of you with a hiss before he laid next to you. You let out a whine at the loss, but quickly curled yourself up in his embrace as Marc held you close. You closed your eyes as you rested your head on his chest, listening to the pounding of his heartbeat against your ear.

“Marc, I…”

“Shhh,” he gently hushed you, “Just rest now baby,” Marc cradled your head as he placed a soft kiss, “I’ve got you.”

You hummed contently as sleep quickly took you over. Between the excitement, the danger and the rush of emotions, you suddenly found yourself exhausted and in no time you feel sound asleep in Marc’s arms.

Marc stayed awake for some time, listening to the sound of your heavy breaths. He knew exactly what you wanted to say, and as much as he wanted to hear you say those words, he knew it was better to wait. He gave your body one extra squeeze before he whispered to your sleeping form, “You’re safe with me, sweetheart… I love you.” 

#marc spector #marc spector x reader #marc spector x you #marc spector x y/n #marc spector imagine #marc spector fanfiction #marc spector fic #marc spector fanfic #moon knight fanfic #moon knight x reader #moon knight x you #moon knight x y/n #moon knight imagine #moon knight fic #moon knight fandom #moon knight fanfiction #marc spector moon knight #oscar issac characters #oscar isaac fandom #moon knight #oscar isaac #oscar isaac fic #oscar isaac fanfiction #marvel fic #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel fandom #marvel #moon knight comics #marvel moon knight

[eyelessfaces]

come out

jake lockley x reader

summary: you don’t see Jake very often, he still doesn’t feel confident and comfortable enough to front frequently; his visits are not a regular occurrence but when it’s him, you know it. you couldn’t be mad at him. not when he had been hidden in this body for too long, feelings buried deep as he watched Marc and Steven express them freely from a distance while he had to drown them down and suffer in silence.

warnings: ending fades to implied smut, sexual innuendos

tags: tooth rotting fluff, literally no plot just fluff, soft!jake, seriously this man needs to be held

word count: 0.9k

The back of Jake's knuckles brushed lightly against your cold cheek. You stirred as you rubbed your eyes, still hazy from sleep.

You knew it was Jake from the soft and aching look in his gaze– you don’t see Jake very often, he still doesn’t feel confident and comfortable enough to front frequently; his visits are not a regular occurrence but when it’s him, you know it.

You smiled endearingly at him, brushing back the curls falling over his forehead.

“‘Morning, Jake” you murmured, smoothing your hand along his bicep as his elbow was propped beside you, planted into the mattress.

Jake felt his heart flutter at the demonstration of you recognizing him so easily.

“‘Morning cariño” he whispered as he leaned to leave a kiss at the bridge of your nose. “How’d you know it was me?” he asked, letting his fingertips travel down the side of your face.

“An intuition” you affirmed, leaning into his touch. “I missed you.” you breathed out, heart aching as the words escaped your lips.

“I know” he complied as he shamefully closed his eyes and nodded. “I’m sorry querida” he apologized, looking right back into your eyes, searching for a trace of blame in them.

There was none.

You couldn’t blame him, you couldn’t be mad at him. Not when he had been hidden in this body for too long, feelings buried deep as he watched Marc and Steven express them freely from a distance while he had to drown them down and suffer in silence.

“I know it’s hard for you,” you said, mirroring his actions and bringing your hand to the side of his face. “But I don’t want you to push yourself too much. Take your time, okay honey?”

He nodded, a pained look covering his face, and nuzzled your hand leaving a kiss at your palm.

“Thank you” he mumbled against your skin before leaving another kiss there.

You chuckled and buried your hand into his curls. “What are you thanking me for?”

“For being so considerate. For understanding me.” he affirmed, smiling weakly. “Us.” he corrected himself.

You hooked your hands behind his neck and brought him down to your lips. He kissed them with as much passion and devotion he could give you, cherishing the intimacy and rarity of the moment.

His necklace dangled under your chin and you lightly tugged on it, drawing a sharp gasp from him before he smirked into the kiss and flicked his tongue over your bottom lip in need to feel you even more.

It didn’t take long for him to lick into your mouth, tasting you thoroughly until he ran out of breath.

He pulled away but remained close, nuzzling your neck as you ran your hands along his bare back, nails softly scraping against his warm skin just the way you knew he liked.

“I love you” he mumbled into your neck. He had wanted to say it, but he hadn’t expected the words to escape his mouth so easily. It needed to be said anyways.

He left a kiss in the crook of your neck, punctuating his previous words.

You felt your heart skip a beat, and one of your hands mindlessly traveled to his curls like it was a reflex. You scraped your nails against his scalp, and soothingly swiped your thumb over his shoulder blade with your other hand.

“I love you too Jake” you replied, looking down at the man buried into your neck.

He adored when you held him like that; just you and him, nothing else around, no one else around, no Khonshu, no danger, no blood to shed– just him resting in your arms, cherishing his turn at fronting without it being an emergency to protect his alters; just him living his life with you, taking the time to breathe. He could get used to it.

“I would love to see you come out more often,” you affirmed as he looked back at you. “I know it’s hard and I’m not putting you under pressure but–”

“–Yeah” he nodded, pinching his lips. “I know” he said in a whisper as he dived to kiss your lips again, his fingers holding your chin while he did so. He pulled away, threading his fingers through your hair as he remained leaning over you. “Truth is– I want you all the time” he said with a small grin growing at the corner of his mouth. “All the fucking time.” he added through gritted teeth.

“Well… You can have me all you want now” you whispered with a small chuckle, and you knew from there that the atmosphere had changed. Jake stopped his kisses and stayed still for a moment. Did you break him?

“...Jake?” you called, confused at his silent state. Jake wasn’t very talkative but this was strange.

“...All I want ?” he finally asked back, his dark eyes carefully examining your face.

You chuckled softly. “All you want.” you affirmed, stroking the back of his neck.

A small smirk grew on his lips. “Mmmh okay. Interesting. Very interesting” he hummed as his hands met your hips, gently kneading the skin there before diving right back to your neck, leaving open mouthed, warm kisses there.

You almost choked on air at the sudden feeling of his teeth nipping at your skin– you should have expected it, it’s Jake after all.

“Jake!” you exclaimed, uncontrolled giggles escaping your mouth.

“I better take advantage of that free time then, mh?” he asked before kissing your cheek, tangling his legs with yours.

“Yeah you better” you teased, only hoping all of this will get him to front more often.

It was only a matter of time before Jake finally felt legitimate fronting as much as Marc and Steven did.

—

moon knight taglist:

@apollo-enthusiast @scarabgrant @lockleysgrl @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @missmarmaladeth @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt

#jake lockley #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley fic #jake lockley x y/n #jake lockley x you #jake lockley fanfic #jake lockley fanfiction #jake lockley imagine #jake lockley fluff #marc spector x reader #marc spector x you #marc spector x y/n #marc spector imagine #marc spector fanfiction #marc spector fluff #marc spector #oscar isaac #oscar isaac characters #moon knight #moon knight x reader #moon knight imagine #moon knight fluff #moon knight angst #marc spector angst #marc spector fic #jake lockley angst #steven grant #steven grant x reader #steven grant fic #steven grant x y/n