#steven moon knight

[yourfaveiskenough]

steven grant

Steven Grant from Moon Knight is Kenough!

[bowieandqueen11]

Going On A Dinner Date With Steven Grant Would Include...

Request: Hi! I hope you are doing well 🌻I was wondering if I could request a "going on a dinner date with Steven Grant would include" please? If you aren't too busy obviously 🌺Sending my best wishes to you 💫

Of course my lovely, here you go! <3

If you enjoy, please help me out by commenting and reblogging! Thank you!

(I do not own Moon Knight or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @moonknightws.)

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

Steven Grant my beautiful wide holding the galaxy wide eyes man with a face I want to constantly squidge and a soft heart I want to carefully cradle within my own forever, I love you so much you dork. 

My man would 100% be late to your door, bless his heart. When he was rushing out from his flat after literally flinging his satchel through the door after work, he managed to get his suit jacket stuck between the hinges. To top it all off, as he was nervously trying to wipe away the flop sweat on his forehead as he wandered down the sleeting London roads to meet you, he managed to drop his keys down a grate as he fumbled for a hankie. Poor boy nearly fell in head first like a flopping fish as he reached down to straggle them out, if a nearby newspaper salesman hadn’t seen him tipping like faulty scales down into the gutter he’d probably be stuck there all night bless.

He arrives winded at your door, leaning his hand against the bricks and nearly doubled over with the effort to catch his breath as he waits for you to answer the bell. He’s wearing an obviously rented suit, fit to boot with a slightly wonky bow tie and the most iridescent, universe bursting smile on his face. He has some crumped flowers in one hand; he profusely apologises to you for their appearance. Especially when he reaches out to give them to you with fingers trembling like earthquakes: hard enough to drop them onto your steps as soon as an inch of his skin comes in contact with your fingers. He manages to shove the heart-shaped box of hand-made glitter bowed chocolates into your chest, mainly because he’s shaking so much from exaltation from being in such close proximity to you that you fear he’s about to faint onto the street puddles behind him.

When he starts mewling softly and his eyes begin to roll up to the dusted stars, that’s when you do reach forward to grab onto his arm. Thankfully, he manages to brush off his embarrassment as the two of you walk off towards the restaurant at the corner of Leicester Square. With the tip of his tongue he silently mouths thanks to every deity he can think of that you continue to link arms with him, yet he still hitches his breath every time you turn to talk to him in fear that you can feel his pulse hammer like a crack of thunder against your arm as he gazes at you.

Every so often, he manages to gather his whirlwind thoughts enough to shove his pointer finger out and just whisper ‘..that’s a pigeon’, or ‘oh lovely, that’s a wood pigeon’ he’s so sweet :’) He settles his hand back down, and tries to hide the fact that his fingers are twitching closer and closer up your arm like a shy mouse to try and latch up over your fingers and hold your hand. He swallows back down his heart and going on a rant about all the pigeon facts he knows in one long gust of air. He sounds like a winded balloon by the time he’s done, but when you giggle and reach up to stroke back that stubborn curl of hair that keeps falling in front of his eyes, telling him how fascinating and smart he must be, his mouth dropped open in wonderment and his step falters so heavily you end up having to support his weight.

At the restaurant, he tries to be the perfect gentleman and pull out your chair for you. This would have been a great plan, if he hadn’t overestimated how far back he’d need to step and nearly knocked a tray of wine flying out of the poor waiter’s hand. Our little sweetheart, it rattles him so much he spends the whole appetiser shoving breadsticks into his mouth and lowly chewing over the table like a desolately; his head hung low and the hope dwindling from his eyes like fire eats the last snow of ashen winter.

He keeps kicking your feet under the table, fiddling with his napkins as he waits for the main course to arrive that you just can’t bear it anymore. You know he’s not had the best luck, this poor man. You know that he’s lonely, and scared, and confused as to why everyone takes a pick on him. But you also know he’s sweet, and loving, and so desperate, so craving for a connection with someone who will truly try to understand him, that it just breaks your heart into fracturing pieces. You reach out, a shimmering tapered line of hope splaying from your creeping fingers, until you reach him. You give him a moment, allowing him to grow accustomed to the feeling of an adoring touch, before you move past the shaking and collapse your hand over his. He glances at you from behind furrowed eyebrows, all words caught in his throat like sand trapped by the desert sun, his eyes bursting with all the rapture and rhapsody that the measly Universe could dare to even try to contain.

He keeps missing his mouth and accidentally stabbing his ear with his fork because he keeps looking at you like that. You know, the way he’s been peeking at you from over the museum counter for over a year now. The kind where you can see the love grow: he blossoms and glazes over his whole countenance, wrapping the man up in tangled vines of adoration until they pierce and wrap around his veins, sweet petals blossoming in his blood until he consumed by the bliss of life. It beams out of his every pore as he smiles over at you, knees nearly shaking the table from how hard he’s bouncing them. 

He tries to share his dessert with you! He snorts laugh when you bump your spoon against his nose, trying to reach up with his golden retriever tongue to wipe it off (but failing miserably bless). You rub it off with your thumb, before pressing one of your raspberries against his mouth and placing it gently on his tongue. He freezes, cheeks beginning to flush a shade similar to the fruit as you linger against his lips, and he can feel the pressure every time he chews. He keeps flicking his eyes down to gaze at your lips, feeling as if he’s on the verge of choking if you even try to pull away from him.

He starts to open up a little more on the way back home; the two of you end up running and yelling down the wonky cobbles of London’s alleys, playing an impromptu game of tag down the boulevards. He even musters up the courage to introduce you to his bestie Crowley the golden statue man! The fire from the nearby street entertainers flickers and flings behind his misty eyes as he gushes about you to his friend. Before he gets up to leave, he (not very subtly) leans in to Crowleys’ side and whispers against his ear about ‘how he’s finally found the one, mate. You always said it would happen. You knew they were the love of my life, yeah, and you were right.’

He does see a cute puppy on the way back to your flat, though, and gets distracted enough to start bending over and following it down for the street for a bit. You find it so endearing as he retreats further into the distance, yet his ‘aww’s and ‘look at this lil’ puppy!’ gets louder and louder. He’s sheepish when he does his scrunkly little run back to you, but you just take his hand in yours and place them both within your trouser pocket. He settles into your hip for the rest of the walk, feeling as if his heart was about to explode into a golden shatter of a million glittering scarabs, laughing and talking and shyly peeking at one another as star crossed souls do.

He does stop once with a loud ‘oh’ to wrap his jacket around your shoulders though.

When he finally leaves you at your doorstep, you hop onto the step above him and smirk as you tap two fingers against your cheek, signalling him to press a kiss there before he leaves. He near melts as he reaches his head up, eyes closed in bliss and his whole body alight, yet he never expects you to cup his chin and turn his head until he’s kissing your lips. He whimpers against your mouth, trying to open his lips and kiss you back properly, but only ends up near clashing teeth with you. He tries again, managing to pucker his plump and needy lips again to press against and entrap your top lip, his tongue bumping clumsily against your own as he sighs in pure euphoria. 

He doesn’t want to pull away, and eventually ends up getting a squeal stuck in his throat when you finally manage to gingerly cup his burning cheeks and pull him away to breath. He doesn’t go very far though: he’s grinning from ear to ear, his eyes still shut as you glance at him. This quickly turns into him collapsing down onto your front step, and he has to just sit there with you rubbing the broad expanse of his back for a moment to try and calm down. He’s begun to cry he’s so over the moon the sweet little meow meow

[thatgenderfluidmonstrosity]

Moon Knight Headcanons!

~Hand Writing Edition~

Marc’s handwriting wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t great either. His hand would shake if he tried focusing for too long. He wasn’t much of a writer anyway. The subject of what he wrote wasn’t held up by much, so all he would usually write were reminders for Steven and Jake. That’s why he would usually leave the professional writing to Steven

Steven’s handwriting was a mix of neat and messy. If his mind was moving a mile a minute, then he would jot down everything. Sometimes it would end up being pages and pages long. He would write and erase and continue writing till he was satisfied. Sometimes he’d be able to hear Marc if he co-fronted, complaining about how it was barely legible. If he wasn’t in much of a rush, it would look neater, more planned out. He’d be able to keep track of a single thought for longer than a second. Of course the matter of the writing always sounded good no matter what. It was something he could always pride himself in.

Jake’s handwriting (in terms of neatness) was possibly the best in the system overall. His was nice and neat no matter what, almost like it was printed. He hadn’t spent much time practicing good handwriting, it just came naturally to him.

Layla’s handwriting was about average, her strokes being calculated, but not much else. She did prefer to type anyway. And she was a master at that, her hands gliding over the keyboard. Sometimes the Moon System (Whoever was fronting) would just stop whatever they were doing to listen to the fast clicking of the keyboard.

[mariajbee]

[scoobycool9]

I may have seen the eras tour film and I may have noticed one of the dancers looked kind of like Oscar Isaac ( specfically Steven from Moon Knight) and I did focus on the music and wherever he was at the same time

[little-cereal-draws]

Moon Knight aroace headcanons (pt 2)

Steven:

Aromantic and asexual

Didn’t know until he was an adult

When he was in elementary school, there were a few girls he fancied. He mostly preferred to just watch them from across the classroom and was too shy to talk to them but once he did give one of them a flower he found

His big goal was to ask one of them to come over to his house so they could play together but he never did it

Looking back on it, he didn’t really have a crush on them, it was just aesthetic attraction and he didn’t know that wasn’t what a crush was

When he got to high school, people started dating and going to parties and hooking up and honestly, he couldn’t wait until he had a girlfriend of his own. He was so excited

He had read his fair share of romance novels and knew that there would be some big moment when sparks would fly and he would gaze into some girl’s eyes and they would both know it was meant to be

Yeah… that never happened. Not even a little bit

He waited and waited and waited but he never got that moment of connection and it started seeming more and more hopeless the closer he got to graduating

Kids were hanging out with their partners and going to parties with them and to be honest, he didn’t have a lot of friends to begin with so when they all started leaving him to hang out with their partners, it was so isolating

By the time he got to senior year, having a girlfriend was equated with having a friend in his mind, having someone that would spend time with him

He didn’t know what he was doing wrong. He was nice, polite, helpful, a good listener, and always made a point to remember dates and events important to his “friends” to show he really did care but he always seemed to be on the wrong wavelength as everyone else

He couldn’t even make platonic connections, let alone romantic ones. He would listen, laugh at jokes, make his own jokes, add on to the conversation with relevant comments and people seemed to respond well. They laughed, agreed, added on, did everything a conversation with a friend or partner is supposed to have, but as soon as they had nothing else to talk about, they all moved on to go hang out with their real friends, forgetting him

He was so very lonely

He doesn’t remember going to college but he knows he didn’t date anyone then either

At this point, he realized he had a lot of other problems. Sleepwalking, anxiety, generally being a mess, so he decided to take a step back and fix himself first. Get his life organized and career going first

Realizing he wanted to be a tour guide and teach people was the breakthrough that really had him happy and hopeful again

Unfortunately, he had no education credentials (or drivers license, birth certificate, or any other proof he existed, which was strange) so he was very lucky to land that cashier job at the museum at all

There were girls at work he thought were cute and wanted to talk to so bad but he always stopped himself. Why would they want to talk to him?

Literally only once, he asked a museum receptionist out and was rejected. It hurt pretty bad, cementing the idea that he would never have anyone to share his time with

After that, he just ended up watching from afar like when he was a kid

Again, looking back on it, it was just aesthetic attraction mixed with loneliness and the desire for companionship in general, not romantic attraction

Meeting Layla was the first time his heart felt something that wasn’t desperation and ache. She made him happy and alive. He wanted to spend as much time as he could with her and felt excited whenever she was there. Surely, this must finally be his moment of connection?

No. It wasn’t.

They kissed outside the tomb and it was the best day of his life. Getting to see real life ruins and artifacts with the prettiest (and only) girl he knew? Heaven. He wished everyday could be like that

He really really liked Layla but when he lay in bed thinking, there were never any romantic fantasies. Never any thought of kissing in the moon light or getting married or moving in together or any of the typical thoughts

There were also never any sexual fantasies. He never wondered what she looked like naked or how sleeping with her would feel. It literally never crossed his mind until he realized that that’s what most men would think of when they lay awake at night thinking about a girl

Honestly, that idea kindve grossed him out. It seemed invasive and if he found out someone was thinking about him that way, he would feel violated. He didn’t tell them they could think about him that way so he shouldn’t think about Layla that way; he loved her too much to feel like he was violating her trust

The things he did think about though were things like holding her hand in a museum, showing her all of his books, telling her all the interesting things he knew, getting lunch and eating it in the park, going to a concert. Things that could be considered dates but really just felt more like meet ups

After much online and soul searching, he realized that it was ok not to have a romantic relationship and friends could do typically “romantic” things if they wanted

He told Layla how he felt and she agreed that would be a good relationship for them to have

So now Steven finally has a best friend he can hold hands with and occasionally kiss and he’s never been happier

Marc (pt 1) Jake (pt 3)

[offtophic]

Steven: I was thinking about getting my own place, but I can't really afford three bedrooms.

Layla:... Why do you need three bedrooms?

Steven: I don't want Mark touching my stuff!

[sibsteria]

Steven ‘’An Empath’’ Grant

Prompts: ‘’aww, getting all shy are we? what happened to the attitude you had earlier?’’

Summary: After a particularly hard day, Marc needed to use you, but he goes too far as you use a safe word. But you have Steven to take care of you.

Character: Marc Spector x fem!Reader x Steven Grant

Warnings: smut, degradation, marking, rough pnv, harsh words, hurt/comfort, basically my diss towards degrading, angst- kinda heavy

18+ MINORS DO NOT REACT

His calloused fingertips gripped the back of my neck, pushing my head further into the pillow below me. His other hand, lay flat against the curve of my back, inflicting the occasion smack to my ass, red and raw from his doings.

His guttural moans bounced off the cracked walls surrounding us, as I bounced into the mattress.

His dry words and discipline creeping into my ears.

‘‘You’re such a dirty little slut, aren’t you?’‘ He let out creaking moans from the deep of his chest between the breaks of his words.

‘‘My whore-’‘ Moan. ‘‘That’s all you’re good for.’‘ Moan.

His hand wraps around my knotted hair, giving a taught yank towards him, my scalp burns.

‘‘S’all I need you for-’‘ Moan. ‘‘all you’re worth.’‘ Moan.

I can feel the tears coming on, he’s never been this harsh before, Marc’s never said anything this...mean. There’s such venom behind his voice, it shatters me.

His accent drums against my ears, so different from Steven’s soft rumble, so intense.

‘‘All I want you for-’’ Moan. ‘‘my toy-’‘ Moan. ‘‘an easy fuck-’‘ His hand cracks down against me, stinging the cheek he had chosen.

I can’t help it as I break down, tears flooding their ducts and streaming down my face, melting against the drool and wetting the soft sheet of the pillow.

‘‘Aww, getting all shy are we, slut? What happened to the attitude you had earlier?’‘

I sniffle my nose, violently as I scream out something I never thought I’d have to say-

‘‘STOP!’‘ I feel disappointing as my cries reach his ears. ‘’Please, Marc, just stop!’’

He stills, immediately halting his actions, pulling out in fast time.

My heart hammers against my chest as I pull myself up, hiding my disgrace.

‘‘Y/n-’‘ I don’t want to hear his words, using a discarded cover, I wrap it around myself and make haste to the bathroom. I slide down against the tile, cold against the bare sin the duvet couldn’t reach.

I can hear his heavy footsteps follow me, I click the lock, I don’t want to talk to him right now.

‘‘Y/n, I’m s-so sorry, I-’‘ He stops. It’s silent for a moment. A few shuffles sound from outside the door.

‘‘I think that’s enough of you, for now, mate.’‘ Steven bites, I feel my shoulders lift, I’m so overjoyed to hear his voice right now.

‘‘Y/n, darling, it’s me. It’s Steven. Can I- can I talk to you please? You don’t have to bu-’‘ I cut him off before he starts his sweet ramblings.

‘‘Yeh.’‘ I muster up, tightening and adjusting the cover donning my figure.

‘‘Good good, no hurry!’‘ 

I twist the lock, pulling open the creaky wood. I shift myself out, unsure of where to go until his soft hand grasps mine. His touch is light, as he is himself, contrasting the the dark from his other half. I notice his boxers and shirt, he must have covered up from how Marc left him.

He hands me one of his shirts, of gentle fabric, it smells of his linen cleaner and aftershave. A comforting scent.

He takes me to his couch, consciously knowing I wouldn’t want to return to the bed.

He gestures for me to change, turning around as to respect me.

‘‘You don’t have to turn, you know? You’ve seen me naked more than I’ve seen myself.’‘ I sniffle, I know he’s blushing behind that head of curls, bringing a subtle smile to my face.

‘‘I-I know love, but I just don’t want you to feel...uncomfy? That’s the word, innit?’‘ His gentle regard for my wellbeing always makes my heart soar.

‘‘T-thank you.’‘ I’m still trying to calm myself down, trying not to hiccup or cry.

I lift his thin shirt over my head and let it fall against my thighs, I tap his shoulder to let him know he can turn.

He gives a simple side grin, taking my forearm and sitting me down on his old albeit plush sofa.

He swipes up the cover from the floor, draping it over us both, a tentative arm reaches around my shoulder as if he is testing the waters. I melt into him instantly, hiding my red face in his chest. He snuggles up closer, letting me press against him.

He frowns down at me, upset at his little friend for making me feel like this.

‘‘Love-’‘ He starts but I couldn’t help the tears- again.

I eventually start hiccupping through the crying.

‘‘I-I’m s-sorry, St-even.’‘ I attempt to apologise for my state but he shushes me.

‘‘No, no, don’t be sorry, that was his fault, yeah? He shouldn’t of gone that far.’‘ He strokes the tangled mess of hair that lay limp from my head.

‘‘I just- why did he have to b-be so mean?’‘ I move away from his shirt, trying to prevent myself from dampening it.

‘‘I swear, I will kick his teeth him, for making you feel like that. You’re all I have and I don’t want him- Fuck’s sake! I don’t want him scaring you off! You’re my only happiness. I love you. You were mine first and I don’t want the smarmy bastard fucking it up.’‘ He gets himself all worked up, a trait I’ve come to recognise.

‘‘Oh my- Listen, Steven, babe. Nothing could scare me off, I mean look at our situation, not exactly the norm. I love you, surprisingly I love him too, he just...I wonder if he loves me.’’ I feel my features tremble again as I try to ground myself, to stop fucking crying.

‘‘Y/n, do you want to go to sleep? I can see you’re absolutely drained, we can talk about this tomorrow, if you want? I can’t function when you’re upset. I feel like I can’t help-’‘ I give him a gentle, chaste kiss, pulling away ever so slowly. 

‘‘You help. A lot. The most. You make me feel safe.’‘ I cup his cheek with my hand, I feel some wetness, a few frustrations tears have escaped him. ‘’I could use some sleep.’’

He shoos me off the couch, I tilt an eyebrow, confused. He lays down, patting his chest, I give him a look of awe.

‘‘Ste- no. You’re gonna be so sore tomorrow, love.’’ I shake my head at him.

‘‘Darling, you’re not heavy and even if you were...’’ He grins at me before nodding his head, ‘’Worth it.’’

I cup my mouth with my hand, this time my eye threatening to cry over his sweetness.

He takes my hand with his, lacing them as I shuffle further in to the couch. I straddle his thighs before slowly laying atop his broad chest, he tangles our legs together before shaking out the cover over us.

His arms wrap around my upper back, a hand meshing with my hair and the other laying limp against me.

He kisses my forehead, multiple times, as if he can’t stop himself. I can feel myself hazily drifting off, I listen to the rain pelt softly against his window. I feel the beat of his heart and the heave of his chest. The soft stroking of my hand, a therapeutic massage, relaxing me into subdue. I smell him- intoxicating, I nudge his jaw with my nose, burrowing into the safety of his neck.

His breath hitches as I press my lips against his jugular for a moment, before he speaks.

Whispering, ‘’I’m so in love with you.’’

a/n I may make a part two of Steven kicking off at Marc, hmmmmm xo

[mariasabanahabanabana]

Créditos a quién corresponda

( credits to their respective author / Créditos ao seu respectivo autor)

[dog4]

[higanbana-arts]

Some drawings I won’t be finishing or fixing any coloring but-- I didn’t upload here so, here they are.

PLEASE DON’T:

Repost my art!

Follow my twitter (if you’re underage)

WHERE TO FIND ME:

instagram | twitter | fb page | twitch

[i-have-attachment-issues]

Moon Knight in general has taken over everything I do

I have bored my friends with everything I keep talking about already

Once I finish the fanfic there’s no saving me 🧍🏽‍♀️

[kemisuu]

Hear me out, Khonshu x reader and the reader just went “Can I see the night when I was born?”

Akkakdjoanedxjakesktsak IT'LL BE REAL CUTE??

Mom, I’m attracted to pigeons now

He’s super cute tho❤️

[preposterous-mcu-quotes]

steven (grant): and anyways after me and mark came back to life we were completely in sync

crowley: 

steven: we defeated harrow in just about 15 minutes while only blacking out once! 

crowley: 

steven:  anyways after that we-

crowley: do you... do you ever stop talking?

[stitched-mouth]

I made a Steven x Layla x Reader smut/threesome! Read it here!

Layla is a Dom.

[alexcollix7]

you’re so golden