#Mar Spector comfort
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His Comforting Touch
Marc Spector x Fem!Reader
Summary: You are on your period. This is the kind of thing Steven usually handles, but Marc was to prove to himself he can take care of you, be there for more than just great sex. Of course, he is really good at sex, and that might be what you need this time.
Warnings: Period stuff, lots of blood, *suffering*, all of this on period; fingering, oral, anal fingering (maybe I have an anal fixation idk what to tell you I love butt stuff), coming in pants (my fav)
A/N: just started my period. Was at work, used the bathroom, caught the literal first few drops before it even touched my underwear. that was the good news. The bad news was I didn't have anything other than one (1) tampon and was already having a bad day. Other good news is what I love about people who get periods is they will give anyone a tampon if they can. I made it.
A/N 2: This is from a chapter from my series Sunshine, Starlight, Sweetheart, Brightside. I wanted to edit this chapter down to make it just a one shot. If you find the dynamics interesting, maybe check out the series but oh my god heed the warnings. Darker stuff. Anyway, if you are currently reading or plan to read Sunshine, don't skip over this chapter when you come to it. There is a LOT I edited out to make sense in a one shot. The actual chapter has a whole other smut scene in the bathtub and a very important argument. Also, the series has an OC, not a reader, so I changed all the names and pronouns to second person, so if I missed a "her" or a "Sam", just ignore that lol. Enjoy!
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My Love <3: I’m hemorrhaging
Marc about spit out his coffee. Logically, he knew that if you were actually hemorrhaging, you wouldn’t be texting him. It didn’t help the panic.
Steven with a V: ?!?!?!?!-M
My Love <3: Hi Marcy Marc! Hope I didn’t scare you.
Steven with a V: Why are you hemorrhaging?-M
You were used to texting Steven. Steven knew what ‘I’m hemorrhaging’ meant. As much as you loved Marc, and as much as the two of you have done some of the most filthy, disgusting things two humans in love can do to each other, somehow you couldn’t manage to be straightforward with Marc that you were on your period. You knew it wasn’t fair to put stereotypes on him, but Marc was Marc. He shoots guns and gets in fights, and was a marine… Steven bought you tampons and pads just to keep at his place in case of emergency, you hadn’t even asked for that. You had expected Steven to answer.
Steven with a V: OH! I see. Sorry, Steven’s resting for the evening.-M
Steven with a V: Are you okay?-M
You didn’t realize how much she’d been just… thinking
My Love <3: Sorry, got distracted. And don’t be sorry Steven’s out, I’m always happy to hear from you, Starlight.
Steven with a V: Do you need anything? I can get you some snacks or bring you Motrin?
My Love <3: No I’m good, thank you baby. I just wanted to complain.
Marc knew this was better as Steven’s department. Everything was Steven’s department. Steven cooked for you, took you on romantic, thoughtful dates. Steven knew what words to say and when to say none. When to hold you and when to fuck you. Marc really had thought maybe, just maybe, that would be his department. But Steven was good at that too. Steven didn’t need to do what Marc did to get you to cum multiple times a night, he could draw orgasm after orgasm from you with his mouth. Marc wasn’t sure if he remembered how to have sex without the slapping and the choking. He’d never say it, but the night you finally got together, he was terrified from multiple angles. The sex and the domesticity. The fact he said he loved you, that you said you wanted to be with him. It was against all his instincts to do this, to be domestic. That, again, Steven’s department. It had not gone well with Layla.
My Love <3: Did you have a good day honey?
You were changing the subject because you knew he was uncomfortable.You knew he couldn’t be what you needed. He needed to change something. He didn’t want to ruin what he had with you like he had with Layla. Marc briefly thought he should talk to Steven about this, Steven would be gung-ho for a heart to heart. But he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t drag Steven into his shit. Again. No, he knew what he had to do. He could make a start with you.
Steven with a V: Can I come over in a bit?-M
My Love <3: I would love that!
What would Steven do, what would Steven do
What would I do for what? He mumbled in the headspace, waking up.
Go back to bed, I got it.
Come on mate, let me help. What’s going on
She’s on her period, I want to help but really, I want to do this myself… I gotta prove it to myself that I can.
Okay, but wake me up if you need me
Will do, buddy
And Marc?
Yeah?
I think you’re really sweet
Shut up.
Marc walked around the store. Okay, what do girls like? Chocolate? Yeah, girls like chocolate on their period. Is that a stereotype? Layla never let him do much besides cook and clean when she was out of commission. Maybe he could do that. You always complained how messy your place was. Marc didn’t think it was actually dirty, just disorganized. You just had so much stuff. You liked memories. Yeah, he could help organize. He could also cook, not well but he could do it. You cooked Steven breakfast, Steven cooked you dinner. Marc looks at his watch. Okay, it’s 4. Plenty of time to get things and cook.
Marc got groceries for matzo ball soup, that used to make him feel better when he was a kid. Even after his mom stopped making Shabbat dinner, or any food in general, his dad was too busy to make anything most days. Marc was left to fend for himself. TV dinners, Kraft Mac and Cheese, chef boyardee… But one thing he could count on is if he was sick, his dad got him Matzo ball soup from the deli. If there was a game on (which there usually would be in Chicago) his dad would actually leave the office in their attic and come watch with him. Sometimes, if there was an important game on, Marc would pretend to be sick just to get his dad to watch with him.
Marc picked up some chocolate cake. Just in case.
He knocked, but there was no answer, so Marc let himself in with their spare key. He took a look around your little studio. You were dead asleep. He set down the groceries and put them away, washed the dishes and cleared away the trash. He took out the trash and the pizza boxes on the floor, making sure to change the bathroom trash as well. You stayed asleep. He frowned, you must really be out of it. He continued picking up the living room throwing away your twisted tea cans and the take out by your bedside that must’ve been lunch. Marc began cooking, when he dropped the pot and you still didn't wake he got worried. He set the almost-finished project on the stove to heat and went over to your bedside, couldn’t tell if you were breathing or not, and started to panic. There was no logical reason to think you were anything other than in a deep sleep, but he couldn’t stop his heart from pounding.
“Hey honey, you okay?” He attempted to stir you with shaky hands.
You eyes shot open with a gasp, and before either of them had a chance to think or move, you shouted.
“Marc!” You gasped for breath, sitting up and grasping your chest. “Oh my god, Marc, shit you scared me!”
“I’m sorry!” All he wanted to do was treat you special, and he managed to scare the fuck out of you.
“No, it’s okay, baby” You took a few beats before looking down. “Fuck.”
Marc followed your line of sight, there was blood leaking on the front of your light blue leggings. “I’ll get you clean pants, baby.” Marc scrambled up, walking to your dresser while you went to the bathroom. “Sweats or leggings, honey?”
“Sweats please, and new underwear. The ugly ones in the back.” You called out. Marc brought it over, knocking on the door.
You only opened the door enough to grab the clothing, but left the door cracked so you could keep talking. “This is the second pair of pants today. I got it at work, it was early. My friend had a spare change of clothes.” You peaked your head out, grinning. “Always gotta have spare clothes in childcare, but my last spare got puke on them on monday.” You tucked back away, digging for items below the sink. “It’s fucking heavy this time, shit fucking hurts. Elena stayed late so I could come home, my stomach hurt so bad.” You were rambling. “I feel like I’m bleeding out, tampons- fuck sorry, this is probably TMI”
Marc made himself comfortable on the floor sitting against the wall. “Honey, not to be too graphic but I’ve seen blood in plenty of other circumstances, and I’ve been married” Marc winced at mentioning Layla, this is why Steven was better at this. You knew, of course, that he had been married, but you never talked about it. Occasionally, Layla would call and Steven or Marc would talk to her, but it wasn’t often. He soldiered on. “This isn’t my first rodeo.”
“Right, right” You sounded like you were convincing yourself. “Well, the tampons seem to bleed out every half hour or an hour. I didn’t think there was this much blood in a person.” The unmistakable sound of a pad opening.
“Do you need to go to the hospital?” Although this wasn’t his first rodeo, he still wasn’t sure how much was normal.
“Not unless it continues for a few days. This is probably just a heavy flow.”
Marc couldn’t help but worry, it was who he was as a person. There was the sound of thorough hand washing, then you opened the door, smiling lovingly at the sight of him looking at you wide-eyed from the floor. “I made you soup.”
You ate a hearty portion, showering Marc with “MMHHHMM” and “Oh my GOD baby this is fucking good.” The sounds were barely distinguishable from the sounds you made during sex, maybe just a little more dramatic.
“Fuck, Marc, that was so good. Good soup” she mimicked the tik tok audio. Marc noticed you wincing and holding your stomach. He pulled you over his lap and rubbed your tummy for you. After an episode, you got up to change your tampon again, and Marc heard her groaning from the bathroom. “Brightside? You okay?”
“Yeah, I opted for just the giant pad, Im sick of the fucking tampon.” You replied through gritted teeth. When you came out, you took more pain medicine and crawled back up into Marc’s arms. “This shit ain’t helping, I need fucking morphine. AH!” a burst of pain shot through you. You whimpered, hiding your face in his chest. “Starlight, it hurts.” You whined, knowing damn well he couldn’t do anything about it.
Marc considered for a moment. “Listen, I have an idea… It might help your cramps.” You looked at him suspiciously. “Ever had an orgasm during your period?”
You sat up, sickened but intrigued. “You want to have sex with me when I’m oozzing blood?”
He shook his head. “It wouldn’t be sex, it would just be me, giving you an orgasm.” You were… tearing up? “Or not! Whatever you need, Brightside…”
Your lip quivered, “You want to touch me when I’m this gross?” Youstarted crying, oh shit.
“Oh baby” Marc took you in for a hug. “You aren’t gross, and I always want to touch you” He held you close, cradling your head with his hand entangled in your hair. You mumbled something he couldn’t hear. “What was that sweetie?”
You lifted your head up, still crying a little “I’m so fucking horny.”
Marc couldn’t help it, he burst out laughing. “Stay here.” Marc stood up, still grinning to himself, and laid down a towel on your bed, then scooped you up from the couch. You felt his strong arms and his chest, flexing to carry you. He laid you down, took off your sweats, and leaned in to kiss you lovingly.
He walked around to the end of your bed, carefully pulling down her underwear and bloody pad and setting it carefully with your sweatpants “Tell me if anything hurts. You’re probably going to be sensitive, but it shouldn’t be painful.” He slowly started working on your clit, attempting to relax her before anything else.
“Marc, I can clean up-” You start, feeling embarrassed about the blood on your legs and vulva.
“Aht!” He chastised. “Relax. Again, this ain't my first rodeo.” He fought his biological reaction to get hard.
Slowly, he inserted a single finger in you, working it in and out while your swollen and sensitive pussy adjusted to him. “Ready for another?” He was fully hard, despite his best efforts, and tried adjusting his pants but the friction only made the problem worse.
You nodded, gasping as he filled you, curling his fingers up to hit that sweet spot deep inside. Marc was knelt in front of her, sitting upright, watching his fingers disappear inside you, coming out covered in your blood. “Such a good girl…” He muttered lowly, the mix of blood and slick swirling on his hand. He could feel your walls tightening around him, but he knew you’d need extra help to get over the edge. For now, however, he was taking it slow, giving you time, building you up. He laid down next to you, resting on one arm that played with your hair and stroking your pretty face, while his right hand fucked you. Marc peppered you with open mouth kisses, your tongues dancing together, your mouth chasing him when he pulled away to kiss down your neck, licking up your chin and back to her mouth again. You played with his dark, thick curls, kissing that sensitive spot under his jaw. He took deep breaths, trying to cool himself off. He didn’t want you to feel obligated to touch him, but Christ, he was aching for you. You laid like this for what seemed like forever, touching and kissing so innocently, but his fingers were inside you. When he pulled away, you pouted.
He kissed over your clothes until he got to your pelvis.
“Marc-” You hesitate, embarrassed by the idea of Marc’s mouth on your bloody cunt.
“Don’t even start, pretty girl” Without giving you another chance to be embarrassed, he began sucking on your clit. Marc couldn’t help it, he began moving against the bed to stimulate his cock.
“Oh fuck, that’s good…” You tugged on his hair, pulling him closer. He takes his fingers out, painting part of your thigh as he grips you, his mouth going further down. When you sat up to watch him devouring you, he looked up at you, grinning, lip curling up the way it did only when he was really, truly happy. You knew you shouldn’t be so thrilled to see him covered in blood… but you were.
“Whatcha think’n, Brightside?”
Her heart flutters and you swallow. “Um… that you look really good like that…” You look at him, awestruck as he went back to finger fucking you, but never broke eye contact.
“You like when I’m covered in you, baby?”
You nod.
“Or, do I just remind you of Edward Cullen right now?” He teased.
Your jaw dropped, but a small smile crept up on your lips, even while panting under his touch. “I can explain!”
He gave your messy cunt a kiss, still smiling at you. “It’s okay, baby, I can work past that” He winks, going back to work, before stopping and popping up again, with a mischievous grin. You felt his slicked up fingers slip between you and the towel on the mattress, making you shiver as he grazed over your hole. “Can I have your ass? It’s okay if you don’t want to, but I thought it might help…” Marc gave you a look he hoped communicated that it was completely up to you.
You considered for a moment, but nodded, smiling. “I trust you, baby.”
He kept working your clit as he grinned back, lip curling up again and showing off his adorable teeth, white in the sea of red on his mouth. “Yeah?” He whispered softly, the words magic to him. He promised you safety, and you gifted him you trust. He stopped fighting it, Marc began humping against the bed. The whole scene was so perfect, he couldn’t deny himself anymore. It was messy, it was filthy and it went against what most people might consider normal, but right here, right now? The room was filled with nothing but love, sexuality, trust, caring. How could something like this be dirty? How could this ever be wrong? “You trust me?”
Your hips bucked up, riding the waves of pleasure he gave you. “Inexplicitly, Starlight.”
Marc wanted to kiss you, but that might be a bit of a line she wasn’t prepared for. His mouth went to your clit, left hand began fingering you. Slowly, carefully, he slides a finger up in your ass. “Relax honey.” he coaxes, and you do just that.
You suddenly felt so full, the new sensation sending shivers up your spine. “Fuuuuuck Marc” You threw her head and arched your back.
He smiled as he continued licking and sucking “You like that baby?” Marc rutted into the bed, fuck, he could come just like this. He just might.
All you could do was whimper and nod.
“You like when I touch you like this? You like when I’m in multiple holes?” He fucked his fingers into you, as far as he could reach.
It became apparent that Marc was working himself against the bed, and the idea that he was turned on just from giving her pleasure? That just brought her closer. “Fuck, Marc, mmm fu-ah!, no ones ever touched me like this”
Marc had assumed as much, he knew that before Steven, most of the men essentially used your body to masterbate. But this was for you, to help you. And you really liked it. He knew you were close, but getting there wasn’t the issue. It was the spilling over, the climax. You were writhing, yanking at the sheets that had been pulled off the corner of the bed. The towel beneath her had bunched up, barely doing it’s job anymore but Marc wasn’t going to stop, not when you were so close.
Marc sat up on his knees, trying his best to keep some sort of friction in his pants. He continued working you with his left hand; two fingers in you vagina, his pinky in her ass. You were perfect, enwrapped in pleasure before him. Drawing back his hand, he spat on your pretty little cunt and gave it a slap.
And there it was.
“Marc!” You shout, the last words you said before you became incomprehensible, a babbling mess. You tried to say something, but what? You didn’t know. You felt the tension in her uterus ease as you came down from you high and noticed Marc coming back from the bathroom, kneeling at you side.
“Hey Brightside, how you feeling?” He brushed you hair back from your sweaty face.
“M-much better. Kiss me?” She looked angelic.
How could he refuse? He kissed you, and you realize his face was washed of your blood. You wouldn’t have cared. “I drew you a hot bath, does that sound good?”
You nodded, beaming softly at him “Join me?”
He kissed your forehead “If you’ll have me.” Marc spoke as softly as you thought he ever could.
“Forever and always, baby”
He gently held her throat as he kissed her. “Let me get cleaned up first.”
You frowned at him, confused. That was the point of the bath. He was about to bathe in water that would have your blood and cum- oh. Pushing him back, you look at his pants, there was a wet spot in his dark jeans. When you looked up at him, it was your turn to sport his signature shit-eating grin. “Fuck Marc, that’s hot.”
“Come on, baby” He smiled softly at you as he took her hand and led you to the bathroom, the tub steaming and full of Epsom salt in the boiling water. Just how you liked it. He’d have carried you if his legs didn’t feel so shaky from his orgasm. “Let’s get you properly naked.”
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I hope you liked it! Tagging a few people I know haven't read sunshine/ this chapter (literally no pressure to read it I know it's long as fuck)
@jake-g-lockley @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @in-between-the-cafes @welcometostayingawake @lucianadraven32
#marc spector#marc spector smut#marc spector reader#marc spector fluff#marc spector fanfic#marc spector moon knight#Mar Spector comfort#comfort fic#period fic#i love sick fics#marc spector sick fic#moon knight sick fic#marc spector period fic#moon knight fanfiction#moon knight
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Need You
Marc Spector x f!reader
Word count: 2588
Summary: In the middle of the night, when Marc comes home, is when he needs you the most.
Warnings: S m u t. Nasty, filthy, smut. Specifically: oral (both male and female receiving), riding, and p in v (no protection), let's add praise kink to be safe. Which means this is NSFW. Which means minors DNI. Also language. That's a big one. Marc can't help it.
There's fluff too, probably very cheesy. So bad omg. Smut with no plot. Not beta read. Let me know if ya'll like <3
...
The bed dipped and you stirred, your mind foggy—caught between consciousness and the realm of sleep. Your bleary eyes cracked open, vision hazy in the darkness. You managed a quick glimpse at the digital clock on the nightstand.
3:55 AM.
Your eyes fell shut as you stretched your limbs like a cat under the sun, a tired little whine escaping you. You had work in a few hours.
Turning over, you collided with the warmth of bare skin. Strong arms immediately wrapped around you, calloused fingers burying under your too-large t-shirt to skim down the dip of your spine. A warm kiss to your temple had you sighing in contentment and you breathed in the fresh scent of body wash as your hands slowly glided over damp skin. Your fingers traced the familiar ridges of marred flesh, tiny scars from the past that led up to the thin golden chain nestled comfortably between you both.
"Marc?" His name felt thick on your tongue. You knew it was him by touch alone. He was the one that held you as if afraid of losing you. He’d dreamed about it enough times to fear it, and each time, you reassured him that he wouldn't.
"Yeah, baby, it's me," he muttered, drawing small circles over your skin, "didn't mean to wake you."
"S'okay. Missed you." You buried your face in the crook of his neck, your voice heavy with sleep. Marc hummed, a hand slowly trailing down your back to grab the globes of your ass under your thin panties, giving each of them a gentle squeeze.
"Missed you, too." He said into your hair, kissing your bed-slept strands. You tipped your head back to look him in the eyes. The moonlight peeking through the blinds did little to illuminate his features, but you could make out the contours of his face, the prominent line of his nose. His eyes, dark and hooded, were focused on nothing but you. It was a stare you were well acquainted with. To others, it was deadly. To you, it was nothing but pure affection.
"You okay?" You asked him as you always did after he came home from a mission, reaching up to cradle the side of his face. His stubble was rough under your fingertips, your thumb lovingly caressing his cheekbone. He didn’t shave, probably too tired, but you didn’t mind.
"Yeah," he sighed into your touch, lashes fluttering, "I'm okay. Better now." You could feel the hardness of his bulge through his boxers. He was needy, pushing his length against you in a silent plea for attention. You chuckled tiredly, shifting to press your lips over his eager ones. It started innocent enough, lips fusing like puzzle pieces in a dance you both knew well.
Marc peppered kisses over every inch of your face before gently sucking a bruise onto the delicate skin of your neck. You groaned, your fingers threading through his damp curls, easing him off just a bit.
"What's gotten into you?" You breathed, relishing the way his tongue lapped over the mark he'd left to soothe the ache.
"Need you, baby," he grunted, trailing his plush lips over your face, “need to feel you.”
"Yeah?" You shuddered, a throbbing need blooming between your legs, "then take what you need."
As soon as you uttered those words, one of his hands came to rest behind the nape of your neck, guiding you into another heated kiss. It was filthy this time—wet—tongues and teeth clashing sloppily. Not so innocent anymore.
Okay, so Marc wanted it messy. Who were you to deny him?
The night lamp was quickly switched on, and all thoughts on getting any sleep were left in the dust, not that you minded too much. You ended up between his legs with his boxers gone and your t-shirt flug somewhere, your knees cushioned by the pillow Marc had placed on the floor for you.
"Let me take care of you." You purred, breathing over his cock before spitting on it without hesitation. You watched it run down his length and over the curve of his balls, seeping into the sheets below. Your eyes followed the stream with fascination before you devoured him whole, working your lips back and forth, from base to swollen tip.
Marc was seated at the edge of the bed breathing heavily, one of his forearms propping him up while the other hand disappeared in your hair, guiding you.
"You take me so well, sweetheart," he whispered, eyes lidded as he watched you work, "love how you choke on my cock." And as if to prove his point he weaved his fingers into your hair, shoving your face into his pelvis. He made you sputter and wheeze, tears welling in the corners of your eyes. More spit dribbled past your lips and down his length, as you sucked and sucked and sucked.
"Fuck, baby, you know exactly what I need, don't you?" He groaned, his head lolling to the side lazily. You hummed, letting your glossy eyes flutter just a bit when you glanced up at him, making sure to hold his gaze for a moment before lowering them again. You knew that drove him crazy.
And it did, judging by the growl that rumbled in his chest. He tapped a finger over the tip of your nose, a signal for you to stop. You obediently pulled away with a loud pop, licking your swollen lips free of the salty precome that lingered.
"Fuck, c'mere," Marc snarled, surging forward and lifting you to straddle him. He fell back against the bed, letting your hands roam the expanse of his smooth chest, your fingers lightly grazing over his skin from collarbone to navel and back up again. You openly admired him—the sheen of sweat over his tanned skin, the swell of his muscles as he held you tight, his glazed eyes following your every move.
"You're beautiful," you murmured, carefully taking hold of the delicate chain around his neck before dipping forward to kiss him. His arms wrapped tighter around your form, holding you against him. He smirked into the kiss, the tiniest huff of laughter pouring over you.
"Never been called beautiful before," he said between kisses, giving your ass a nice slap. You moaned at the light sting, grinding your clothed cunt over his slippery cock, desperate to be filled. Marc hissed, his hand pressing down on your lower back to encourage your grinding, the tip of his cock wet and leaking over his stomach.
"Shit," he panted as you pressed your nose against his lovingly, "you wanna ride me, pretty girl?"
“Mhm.” You whimpered, feeling the pad of his thick finger press against your core, relishing in its moist heat before pulling the soaked fabric of your panties aside.
“Go ahead, baby.”
Firmly planting a hand on his chest, you lined up his cock with your entrance before taking a breath and sinking slowly, swallowing him inch by inch.
“Mmmm, God,” you moaned, pausing as soon as you took him to the hilt, “fuuuuck, Marc.”
“My cock too much for you, sweetheart?” You could hear the smugness in his tone despite his panting. His hands flew to your hips, slowly raising them to feel your walls flutter against his length before bringing you back down gently, “You can take it, I know you can—yeah, that’s it, baby.”
You choked out a sob as you rocked up and down his thick cock, whimpering at the delicious stretch. Despite having had him more times than you could count, it still made you breathless at how well he stuffed you, how deep he could reach inside and make you see stars.
"Baby, I think you got it all wrong," Marc grunted, his fingers digging into your skin as he guided you faster and faster.
"W-what?" You pushed Marc's damp hair away from his brow, watching how his hooded eyes were pinned to your face.
"I'm not the beautiful one here. Lookit you, you’re so fucking beautiful like this, so fucking pretty when you cream all over my cock, fuuuck." He looked at you with so much adoration, like he couldn't believe you were his. His chest rose and fell with each breath, and you continued to spear yourself on his length with your lip pressed between your teeth. His words went straight to your core, drowning him in your juices.
Within seconds Marc had you on your back, one of his hands pinning both your wrists above your head.
"So fucking beautiful." He said again, his heated gaze roaming over your body before he dipped down to give you a bruising kiss. His necklace swung in the duvet between your collarbones, the pendant barely skimming the surface of your skin.
You loved being under him, loved the way he moved over you and manipulated your body. He was the musician and you the instrument. He played you sweetly, expert fingers trailing over your skin and down the valley of your breasts to tweak a pert nipple before continuing his journey in search of the treasure held within you. He quickly dragged down your panties—now completely soaked—pulling them down your legs with your help and flinging the flimsy thing somewhere across the room to be forgotten.
"Goddamn." He breathed, dragging his middle and ring fingers over your cunt, spreading your juices over his digits. You were a sopping mess, coating his fingers with every sigh and mewl that escaped you. "You're so fucking wet, baby—you're soaking the sheets."
"Mhm," you moaned, feeling a bit vulnerable stretched out under him. Your thighs were spread so he could inspect you, and all you could see was his crown of curls between your legs, his breath fanning over your cunt until suddenly he spits on it. "Oh my God," you tossed your head back with a groan. Your toes flexed and your thighs shook as you fought to release your hands. You wanted to touch him, desperate to feel his skin under your fingertips.
"Marc," you begged through sobs, though you weren't too sure what you were begging for exactly, "p-please." He smiled, taking pity on you, releasing you from his grip.
"Be a good girl and let me take care of you now, can you do that for me?" He took his cock in hand and rubbed the underside over your messy cunt, tapping it until you were begging for him to put it in.
"I'll be good," you choked, "just put it in me, please, in me, in me, in me—" you chanted until he silenced you with his lips, and in one fell swoop he entered you to the hilt unforgivingly. You’d scream if you could but Marc swallowed all your moans and squeals, silencing you as he moved above you gracefully.
Your hands flew to grip his arms as he practically folded you in half, reaching the deepest parts of you with ease. You ripped your lips away to let out a series of whimpers.
"I know, baby, I know, I got you, doing so good for me," Marc heaved, "so fucking tight." He pressed his chest flush against yours, burying his face in your neck to silence his moans.
You were cockdrunk, mouth hanging open as he slammed into your sopping core with a precision that only he seemed to have. Each thrust brought you closer to the edge, the head of his dick kissing you where you needed it most.
Suddenly your body seized up and your pussy tightened as you came.
You swore you were on a different plane, a different galaxy even, floating away as pleasure rippled through you like an electrical current. You could barely hear him cooing at you, whispering pretty things in your ear as you gushed all over his cock.
"I-I love you," the confession slipped past your lips quicker than you could think it through, too high off your blissful orgasm. You meant it—of course, you meant it—but this wasn't the way you had planned to tell him, blissed out your mind with tears blurring your vision and drool running down your chin.
It had lay heavy on your mind for a while now, ruminating, waiting for the right moment.
This hadn't been your intention.
You could barely react to your mistake, your mind now fuzzy with Marc's pretty whimpers.
"T-that's it pretty girl, that's it," he moaned, his breath warm against the shell of your ear, "you did so well for me, baby, so perfect. You're perfect." He babbled on as his thrusting became more sloppy and uncoordinated, chasing his own high.
"Come inside," you whined, barely finding your voice, "come inside me, Marc, please, I wanna feel you." One hand was buried in his hair while the other dragged down the expanse of his broad back, your nails marking his skin with angry red lines.
"Fuck," he moaned as he slammed into you one final time, releasing his thick spend inside.
He laid atop of you for a few moments, both of you struggling to catch your breath. Your limbs were a tangled, sweaty mess, useless for much else but laying there in a euphoric state.
Marc pressed a kiss over your collarbone before slowly holding himself up on shaky arms, gently removing his softening cock from inside you. His cum trickled out, a stream of white running down from your hole and straight into the sheets to join your juices.
"You're a mess," he tutted quietly, immediately diving down to clean you up with his skillful mouth. Within minutes he had you coming again, his tongue lapping in and around you in search of every drop you had to offer until you yanked him away by the hair from the overstimulation.
"You're gonna kill me." You panted, reaching for him with shaky hands. He chuckled, pulling you in his arms as he smiled into your neck.
"Hope not," he muttered tiredly, holding you in the same position he had you in when he first arrived home, "love you too much."
"Hmm?" Your eyes lose their haziness from earlier, instantly alert and searching Marc's features for any signs of falseness in the statement. But you couldn't. His brown eyes seemed to hold nothing but honesty. You hoped he didn't feel forced to return the sentiment. You knew he cared for you a great deal, but that didn't mean he was necessarily ready to express it.
"Marc," you could feel your brows pull together in concern, "you don't have to—I didn't mean for you—" He silenced you with a kiss, long and sleepy, pouring everything he had with that one action.
"I love you," he said, clear as day, surging forward to kiss your brow. "I love you." He said again, kissing the tip of your nose. "I love you." A kiss on each cheek. "I love you." A kiss to your chin. "I love you." A kiss to your swollen lips before resting his head over yours. And that was that.
You choked, tears springing to your eyes but you said nothing more, just curled yourself into him as he rubbed your back in soothing circles. After a while, you felt your eyes grow heavy and you gave the clock one final glance over Marc's shoulder.
5:21 AM
It's okay, you thought, nothing wrong with calling out from work later that morning.
You fell asleep moments later to the sounds of Marc's sleepy whispers-
I love you, I love you, I love you—
#marc spector smut#moon knight#moon knight fanfiction#marc spector#marc spector x reader#moon knight smut
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Masterlist 3!
Here’s the third masterlist for all of my works!
If you want to check out more of my work, here’s the links for masterlist one and masterlist two
Imagines marked * are smutty imagines!
Imagines marked ` are requests!
Imagines marked ⭐ are personal favorites!
IMAGINES
STRANGER THINGS
small ~ jim hopper`
dance with me ~ eddie munson ⭐
starry night ~ steve harrington* (part five) ⭐
at the hip ~ steve harrington` ⭐
triple date ~ steve harrington (part six) ⭐
the freak ~ steve harrington (part seven) ⭐
oblivious ~ eddie munson ⭐
jason doesn’t know ~ eddie munson ⭐
SUPERNATURAL
strange human feelings ~ castiel`
cleaning ~ dean winchester`
HANNIBAL
into fiction`
sob story ~ hannibal lecter
THE BOYS
obsession ~ billy butcher* ⭐
herogasm ~ soldier boy* ⭐
alone on christmas ~ billy butcher
can’t get too close ~ billy butcher ⭐
change in a heartbeat ~ billy butcher ⭐
THE UMBRELLA ACADEMY
life father ~ diego hargreeves`
rescue mission ~ klaus hargreeves’ ⭐
THE LAST OF US (HBO)
friendly neighbors ~ joel miller ⭐
too sweet ~ joel miller
BARRY
attraction ~ barry berkman`
treat him better ~ barry berkman
AMERICAN HORROR STORY
late night sins ~ xavier plympton (1984)*`
VICTORIOUS
lost dog ~ tori vega`
junker ~ beck oliver
HEMLOCK GROVE
i don’t ever wanna see you with him ~ roman godfrey ⭐
THE VAMPIRE DIARIES
roses are red ~ damon salvatore` ⭐
OUR FLAG MEANS DEATH
captive ~ blackbeard/ed teach ⭐
FUTURE MAN
winner ~ josh futturman* ⭐
GAME OF THRONES
littlest lion ~ oberyn martell (part one) ⭐
freedom ~ oberyn martell (part two) ⭐
THE WITCHER
destiny ~ geralt of rivia
DOCTOR WHO
looks of a princess ~ eleventh doctor ⭐
THE GENTLEMEN
the assistant ~ raymond smith ⭐
PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN
spirit of nature ~ jack sparrow`
THE MAZE RUNNER
i’ll keep you safe ~ newt`
MARVEL
how things are now ~ marc spector and steven grant` ⭐
kneel ~ loki*
the most wonderful time ~ bucky barnes
fast ~ pietro maximoff ⭐
1917
early morning ~ will schofield*`
THE UNBEARABLE WEIGHT OF MASSIVE TALENT
happy birthday ~ javi gutierrez ⭐
FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY’S
i need someone older ~ william afton ⭐
the ice cream girl ~ mike schmidt
SALTBURN
new toy ~ felix catton ⭐
partners ~ oliver quick ⭐
THE SANTA CLAUSE
santa’s sister-in-law ~ bernard the elf
8 MILE
one of the guys ~ jimmy smith jr ⭐
PETE DAVIDSON
your gift`
favoritism`
HARRY STYLES
the perfect tree
a star in the making`
sleepy head`
MACHINE GUN KELLY
baby mama` ⭐
my queen*`
getting your attention*`
all the mistakes`
not what it looks like`
can’t keep doing this*`
EMINEM
may the best artist win*`
too close for comfort` ⭐
when it’s wrong but it feels right`
in the dressing room*`
he’s acting different`
we have to stop meeting like this`
every inch*`
let’s surprise the world`
i’m sorry i let you down`
GOODGUYFITZ
wake up call*`
CORPSE HUSBAND
letting go`
they forgot` ⭐
ASHTON IRWIN
home life`
cover me*`
CONAN GRAY
pushing`
MATTHEW LILLARD
accidental drunk confessions`
JOHNNY KNOXVILLE
feeling good*`
ALEX TURNER
more than a song*` ⭐
BO BURNHAM
can’t handle this right now ⭐
look at me*`
KRISTEN STEWART
special customer`
TARON EGERTON
he already has my approval ⭐
ROBERT PATTINSON
my favorite superhero
GERARD WAY
good girl*`
GWILYM LEE
history repeats itself`
RYAN GOSLING
play date`
JOSEPH QUINN
bad idea, right? ⭐
RANBOO
fluffy haired gamer boy`
JACOB ELORDI
height advantage`
MOTLEY CRUE
she is mine ~ mick mars`
CHRIS EVANS
not used to normal` ⭐
SWAGGERSOULS
our next step`
SHIPS
family reunion ~ hermione granger x draco malfoy`
HEADCANONS
showing pedro pascal fan edits ⭐
sitting on jschlatt’s lap ⭐
NSFW ALPHABET
rook (jp capellette)*`
eddie munson* ⭐
billy butcher* ⭐
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Safe Haven
AN: This has probably been done already but I saw a prompt (“Can we stay like this just for a minute longer?”) and immediately thought of Marc so, hope someone other than me enjoys it. It's self-indulgent af, ngl. This is my first Moon Knight fic, please be gentle (I legit agonized for weeks about getting Marc's characterization right 😭).
Without another word, you walk to him, your bare feet padding softly across the floor. He jumps a little when you touch his arm, seemingly lost in his thoughts. His smile is apologetic but strained when he looks at you, his muscles tense. You begin to look him over, your fingers gently tilting his head this way and that as your eyes scrutinize every inch of him.
“I’m okay,” he says again, this time softer, his hands coming up to rest over yours, halting your inspection of his face. “I can’t get hurt, remember?”
Rated: T (for references to violence/blood)
Words: 2,325
Pairing: Marc Spector x GN!Reader
Warnings: hurt/comfort, a little more angst than I’d anticipated (oops), softness, touch-starved!Marc, unresolved sexual tension, yearning, brief mention of blood/injuries.
AO3
——————
It’s late when he knocks on your door.
He looks weary, the dark circles beneath his eyes visible even in the darkness of the hallway.
“Marc,” you breathe, your eyes doing a quick once over of him.
Streaks of blood mar his skin and the sight makes your stomach drop.
“I’m okay,” he says quickly, evidently sensing your distress.
Your eyes flick back to his, the panic rising in your chest dissipating a fraction at the earnestness of his gaze. After a beat, you nod, waving him in and closing the door softly behind him. He shuffles across the room, the sound of his boots rasping against your area rug filling your ears before he stops. After bolting the door, you turn, studying him from across the room. His arms are limp at his sides, head bowed slightly as he stares blankly at the wall. You chew your lip, ignoring the pang of worry that stabs through you.
Without another word, you walk to him, your bare feet padding softly across the floor. He jumps a little when you touch his arm, seemingly lost in his thoughts. His smile is apologetic but strained when he looks at you, his muscles tense. You begin to look him over, your fingers gently tilting his head this way and that as your eyes scrutinize every inch of him.
“I’m okay,” he says again, this time softer, his hands coming up to rest over yours, halting your inspection of his face. “I can’t get hurt, remember?”
That’s not entirely true, though, and he knows it. Sure, Khonshu’s power heals his physical wounds, but what about the others? The ones you can’t see, the ones deep down inside him, the ones he tries to hide, that he ignores. This life is killing him. Maybe not his body, but his soul, his heart. It eats away at him, you know it does, you see it in his eyes, in that look he gets when he thinks you’re not paying attention—he’s haunted.
He’d never tell you that, of course, not when he’s spent most of his life thinking he’s a burden to everyone around him, that he’s an inconvenience. In his mind, he’s already asking too much of you just by coming here, by accepting your help. The knowledge makes your heart ache.
He forces a smile, trying his best to alleviate your concern. You hold his gaze, unable (and unwilling) to smile back, to help him lie to you, to himself. Realizing he isn’t fooling you, he looks away, the corners of his mouth turning down, that little crease between his eyebrows making an appearance.
“Come on,” you say softly after a moment, loosely threading your fingers through his.
He lets you guide him without a fight, trailing behind you as you lead him toward your bathroom. Once inside, you release him, turning on the warm water before grabbing a washcloth and a few towels from the closet. Marc stands in the doorway silently, half in, half out. You gesture for him to take a seat on the closed toilet seat before wetting the washcloth in the sink. He sits heavily as you wring out the excess water, blankly staring at your hands as you work.
Turning to face him again, you briefly pause, eyes flicking over him as if you’re considering where to begin. What you’re really waiting for though, is for him to look at you. It takes him almost five minutes to meet your eyes, to pull himself back from wherever he’d gone.
“Still okay?” you ask, allowing your lips to quirk a little.
He nods, averting his eyes again. “Yeah.”
Sighing quietly, you step into his space, close enough to smell him, to feel the warmth of him through his clothes. He looks up at you from where he’s seated, eyes guarded, yet somehow still pleading (though, for what, you’re not entirely sure). Gently, you press the damp cloth against his cheek, dragging it slowly down toward his neck. You know that he doesn't really need you to do this, that there aren’t any cuts or gashes that need tending to, but he doesn’t stop you, somehow knowing this is just as much for you as it is for him.
His eyes are on you as you work, slowly dragging the cloth back up his neck and over the underside of his jaw. His throat bobs when you take his chin between your fingers, tilting his head to the side as you move the cloth over the other side of his face. His breath skims over your skin as he exhales softly, eyelids fluttering a little at your touch, as if he’s fighting not to close them. Your heart aches for him, aches at the thought that this is likely the only non-violent physical contact he’s had in weeks; it’s one of the reasons he comes to you, you know. He’ll never admit it, will never tell you that he needs this, that he needs your attention, your care, your softness. You keep moving the cloth over his skin long after the smears of blood are gone, if only to give him a little bit more of what he’d never let himself ask you for.
When he starts to fidget, you stop, slowly stepping back and meeting his eyes. They are closed off again and you ignore the sharp stab of disappointment that laces through your chest, mentally scolding yourself for daring to hope that this time would be different. You gesture toward the shower stall behind him, clearing your throat in an attempt to break the tension that’s settled between you.
“You finish up. I’ll, um, go find you some clothes to change into.”
He nods, reaching for one of the towels you’d left for him on the counter. “Thanks.”
You hum in response as you turn away. His eyes are on you again as you leave, boring holes into your back as you close the door softly behind you. A sigh escapes you once you’re on the other side, whether it’s relief, disappointment, or a mixture of the two though, you’re unsure.
You don’t really know how to describe what this is between you and Marc. It’s not a friendship, not exactly. It’s certainly not romantic. There’s trust there, yes, but it’s never gone beyond the longing looks and you giving him a safe place to lay low. There is something there though, a kind of tether, one that keeps you connected to him and he to you. You have a soft spot for him, one that makes it impossible for you to ever let him go, even though you know you probably should. He’s never going to give you what you want, he doesn’t think he can, that he’s even worthy.
You wish he’d try, though. You wish it so much it hurts sometimes.
A pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt are folded and stashed in the back of your closet. Marc had left them the last time he’d been there, and you hadn’t had the heart to toss them. You pull them from their hiding place (still wondering why you even felt the need to hide them in the first place) and stare at them for a moment, your fingers lightly caressing the soft cotton of the shirt. You leave them in front of the closed bathroom door, knocking softly to let him know that they’re there. There’s no response from inside, just the muffled hiss of the spray from the shower. Trying not to linger, you turn away, heading toward your kitchen—gods, do you ever need a drink.
You grab a glass from one of the cupboards and pour yourself a finger or two of the whiskey from your secret stash. It burns your throat as it goes down, warming you from the inside out and you close your eyes with a sigh at the sensation. After a long moment, the sound of someone clearing their throat reaches your ears and you open your eyes to see Marc standing awkwardly in the doorway.
He runs a hand through his damp hair and points at the bottle of liquor beside you. “May I?”
You nod, studying him as he walks over, tracing the lines of his face with your eyes. He looks even more tired in the stark light of your kitchen, the bruises beneath his eyes purple, his jaw clenched, his shoulders more rounded than usual. You bite back a smile at his mussed hair though, his curls far more unruly than you know he likes them to be, and suddenly, you’re struck with the urge to pull a brush through them, to tame them, to quell the chaos (be it inside or out). He’ll say no if you ask him outright, wouldn’t dream of putting you out like that (as if brushing his hair of your own free will is an inconvenience), so you have to get creative.
“Would you do something for me?” you ask, your eyes and voice soft.
His eyes flick to yours as he swallows his mouthful of whiskey, his tongue swiping across his lips to catch any of the excess.
“Of course,” he says, nodding as he looks around the room, as if trying to anticipate your request. “Whatever you need.”
You smile and start to walk out of the kitchen, no doubt leaving him a little confused. When you enter your living room, you nod toward the bathroom. “Mind grabbing my brush? It’s in the drawer on the right.”
He nods again, shuffling over to and then through the door. When he returns, you’re seated on your couch, flipping through the various channels before settling on some mindless show. You motion him over when you notice he’s returned, hoping he hasn’t figured out your true intention. He still looks confused (and maybe a tad suspicious) as he hands you the brush. Your fingers graze his as you take it, and you see this throat bob as he swallows.
“Sit,” you say simply, motioning to the pillow on the floor between your feet.
His brow furrows, the crease between his eyes deepening as he looks between you and the pillow. “What?”
“Please,” you say softly, your eyes pleading. “Sit.”
He stares at you for a moment longer, trying to figure out what the purpose of this request is. His brows unfurrow a fraction when he figures it out, and he looks away, embarrassed. “You don’t have to—”
“I know I don’t have to. I want to.”
He meets your eyes again, his deep brown ones hesitant but curious.
“Please, Marc.”
After a moment, he nods, sighing quietly as he takes his seat on the pillow between your feet. He’s broader than you anticipated, and you have to widen your legs a little to accommodate him. Once you have yourself situated, you get to work, gently pulling him so his back is resting against the base of the couch. He fidgets as he sits, his hands clenching and unclenching into fists in his lap.
“Comfortable?” you ask, leaning forward enough that you can see the side of his face.
“Not really,” he mutters, and you huff a laugh through your nose in response.
You lean back, raising the brush and setting it at his hairline. You pull it through gently, taking care not to pull on any of his curls. His hair is beautiful, you’ve always thought so, have longed to run your fingers through the meticulously styled locks. You prefer it when his curls are like this, unruly and free of the product he uses to keep them in check. It’s softer than you’d imagined, the dark strands like silk against your fingers. He’s silent as you work, his body still tense. Little by little though, he relaxes, his shoulder pressing a little more heavily against the inside of your knee, more of his arm resting against your calf.
Longing wells inside of you as you brush and you chew your bottom lip, as if to stave it off. Not for the first time, you wonder why he doesn’t want this, why he doesn’t want you. Was there something wrong with you? Were you too pushy? Too annoying? Too accommodating? Maybe there was someone else—the thought results in a sharp stab in your chest that you quickly shoo away, unable (or unwilling) to deal with it at the moment.
No. Instead, you settle for this; savoring every touch he allows, every moment he spends in your presence.
You’re finished far sooner than you’d like, his curls untangled and (mostly) lying flat. There’s that one curl though, the one above his right eyebrow that never seems to want to lie flat; it’s rebellious, stubborn, always breaking free from the confines of the styling gel he uses. It’s your favorite, you think, always falling across his forehead or into his eyes, unwilling to be tamed.
“All finished,” you rasp quietly, an inexplicable sadness welling inside you.
His hand wraps around your ankle as you move to let him up. His grip is gentle, but insistent, and you pause, a little shocked at his willingness to initiate this type of contact.
“Can we just…stay like this for a little longer?” he asks, his voice soft and a little rough.
There’s a pang in your chest at his question, one that somehow both cuts and soothes; he doesn’t feel like he deserves this kind of attention, this softness, yet he allows you to provide it nonetheless. Emotion swells in your chest and suddenly you’re thankful that he can’t see your face. You clear your throat, willing your voice to remain neutral.
“Sure.”
He nods in thanks, leaning into you even more heavily than before and something inside you cracks a little. This time, you forgo the brush, instead combing your fingers through his locks, heart stuttering in your chest as he leans into every single touch.
If you enjoyed this, please let me know! I appreciate every single reblog and/or comment. Thank you. 💖
🌟 Masterlist 🌟
i am no longer doing a taglist. please follow @charmingupdates for updates and turn on notifications.
Also tagging a couple of people who were interested in this fic. If you want to be tagged on any future posts, please let me know 🥰: @spacecowboyhotch @ninebluehearts
#marc spector x you#marc spector x reader#marc spector fanfic#marc spector fanfiction#marc spector fic#moon knight fic#moon knight fanfic#moon knight fanfiction#my fic
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Ungesewen | Gahyeon
Fantasy AU
Detective!Reader x Magical Thief Gahyeon
Main Cast: Gahyeon and San
Warnings: Slight horror vibes, mentions of blood and slight gore. Blood magic but no character death you're welcome.
Word Count: 3.8K
Genre: Slight Horror, Fantasy, Fluff with slight hurt and comfort vibes.
Premise: Moving to a vastly different city is difficult in it's own right, somehow it's made jarringly difficult by the arrival of your long time rival and nemesis.
A/N: Alright, here's an original fantasy universe AU, made by yours truly and one of the few times I've managed to get a fic done before a deadline. There might be another couple more fics in this universe if there's enough interest no promises though.
Lethargy siphons at your soul with the crawling nausea of a slug nestled in the back of your skull.
It throbs at the back of your skull, a beckoning whisper to return to the woollen clutch of your bed.
It was rare to have such extravagant accommodation.
Your fingers trail through silk satin sheets, a foreign comfort.
It scratches through your tired mind, an unsettlingly eerie edge, it creaks through your bones and drips into every tired ounce of your body.
Still, you fight off whatever dying vestige of sleep your body could muster.
A question hangs thick in the air, silent and everclear.
What had stirred you from your malformed slumber.
Only darkness greets you as your eyes stumble to life, not a single sound dances through the air.
A simple must, you reasoned to San. Volker City’s more… celebrative nature wasn’t conducive to your work or rest.
Yet, lost in the void it’s unnerving and haunting, your fingers stumble, lost in the dark. Your brain lingers with your worst thoughts against unfamiliar wood, a hand jutting against yours.
You shiver with the tho-
A thud, akin to a fish on dry land, desperate and dying.
Your hand grasps a polished steel valve, a gritted twist and it obeys.
The soft incandescent bloom of gaslight crackles to life, an emerald haze unique to Volker City.
So too was gaslight.
A thud echoes once again, like the shambling desperation of a corpse.
The sickly green haze only heightens the anxious tension that crawls in your skin.
You stumble through your unfamiliar accommodation, battling the edge of sleep.
Or perhaps this was a nightmare?
Hopefully one you would still wake from.
Still the short hall seems to stretch and warp with each step. The green haze obscured more than it revealed.
Gaslight, well and truly.
The wooden floors creak and buckle ever so woefully as you reach the kitchen, a knife glimmers in the emerald glare on top of the counter.
A gripped precaution as your eyes scan past the windows.
A fog rolls through the streets, heavy and dark, made all the more unsettling with the unnatural green edge of gaslight.
It grips deep at your heart with a foreboding clutch.
Another, softer yet desperate thud rings against the front door, the sound of nails digging deep into the fine wood.
The scratching grates and bleeds at your ear, your hands tremble with a shake, a tremor.
Fear was not something you often felt.
Your hand tightens against the knife in your palm, hidden from view as courage slowly comes to a boil in your throat.
Still your hand moves with the slightest trembles as you turn the cold cast iron knob.
It rattles and clicks with an aged warp, almost begging you to relent in your mission.
Slowly, the door aches and creeks open, you hear a choked sputtering breath, like a man drowning on the shore.
That's when you see it.
Blood.
So much blood, even in the light of emerald embers it pools all the same.
Your knife clatters to the floor.
That's when you see her, truly for the first time. Not as a faint apparition or a shimmer in the air.
You see her soft doe eyes marred with pain, blood matts her short black hair, staining her clothes and now you as you pull her into your embrace.
Words play at her decadent lips, choked by blood.
"I'm… Sorry, Spector." Her voice is weak, rubbed raw with pain. She smiles at your nickname, she never would call you by your title.
"I didn't know where else to go." Her hand trails across your cheek, bloodstained and cold.
She flickers under your gaze, like the dying embers of a flame or the mirage of an oasis.
There's a soft almost bittersweet smile on her face as your hand caresses her cheek, "I see you Ungesewen."
Lee Gahyeon, The Unseen.
Ungesewen, The Unseen, a rival, a nemesis.
For many years you never had a face to match the name, an elusive thief with nothing but a title.
A thought you contemplate over a drink, at San’s behest.
It wasn’t often something or someone would manage to elude you for so long, after all with the exclusion of the church, the royal family and some rare individuals. You were all people of the earth and soil.
Predictable and human.
Yet, there lay naught but a spec or trace of a crime, missing art, artefacts and warrants the only mark of a crime having even occurred.
“Still thinking of Ungesewen?” His fingers ply and tug at the sleeves of his poet shirt, Volker city fashion was certainly… romantic.
You offer a soft nod, your finger trails the edge of your glass. The table shudders ever so slightly.
Turbulence no doubt.
It would take you many years to get used to airship travel.
He smiles ever so briefly, illuminated by the amber warmth of candle light, “don’t worry about old burdens friend.”
Still, your hand rubs at your temples, a beleaguered sigh.
He grabs the shared decanter, the shimmering crystalline prison of alcoholic indulgence.
Your eyes linger on oceans of amber; whiskey. A far cry from the wines of Vangeal.
He pulls at the stopper pouring you both another drink.
“Not many people get a new start in Volker City,” the pit of exuberance and technology.
“Not many Vangals abandon the holy city to become a Volker,” a pointed jab nestled between splashes of liquor down your throat. “Let alone join a Malcon family.”
Your brain stained with stupor lingers on him as he preens with a certain pride.
However his smile falters when the candlelit flame flickers and then blooms into an emerald green.
A scowl almost settles on to his lips.
“Duty calls,” his hands fumble through his coat pockets passing you a piece of paper. His eyes linger on the decanter. “Finish it for the both of us.”
Your fingers dance over the piece of paper, “what’s this?”
A chuckle rumbles through his lips, mirth dances with an emerald glint. “Your address my dear Inspector.”
He rises from his seat, “We’ll reach the port within the hour, please try not to stick out like a sore thumb.”
All you can offer is a wry smirk and roll of your eyes, “whatever you say Mr Malcon.”
The port feels little more than a ship on the ocean, your feet dance and wobble underneath your weight.
Too much whiskey drunk looking over old notes.
Your eyes barely adjust to the emerald city, burning with an intense glare, you stumble onto brick roads, a contrast to the dirt roads you grew up with.
Yet everything remains foreign to you, the parchment San passed you meant nothing. A problem made worse with the slightest roll of fog.
Still, you stumble through unfamiliar streets, hoping, praying for some form of signage. Cheers and decadent parties ring through the air, with the roll of horse drawn carriages.
Music saunters through the air, unfamiliar to your Vangal ears. Wind instruments you assume, it clicks slowly through your brain.
Jazz, that’s what San called it.
It was mellow and… groovy?
An odd yet comforting fit against your detective like profession, an odd feeling to explain.
Wind sails from your chest as you stumble into something, a robust brick wall? Your back meets brick, solid and painful.
You miss the old dirt roads of home.
Rain trickles slowly through the air, a soft mellow dance against your skin. Soothing compared to the alcoholic heat that flushed your veins.
You catch the outline of someone, hazy and blurry. Perhaps due to your own inebriated state and the fog.
“Sorry,” you mumble dusting yourself off, your eyes linger on parchment.
Directions.
Only now, can you make out the outline in slightly finer detail, a young woman with a short bob of hair.
“Excuse me Miss?”
She turns to you, her face is the glimmer of a blur, you feel it rather than see it.
The lingering edge of confusion, the way her head tilts to the side confirms it. Her head shuffles around the vicinity, looking for anyone else you were trying to talk to.
“I hate to be such a bother, but could you kindly help me with some directions,” you offer the parchment to her.
She stiffens suddenly before she takes it, there’s a soft nod. You feel the swell of a smile.
Or at least you hoped.
“Follow me Inspector,” there’s an edge that sticks out to you, prickles at the base of your mind.
Your feet wobble underneath you as you stumble, you expect a face full of dirt… though you guess in this case brick and blood would be the painful alternative.
Soft hands catch you with their embrace, your hands catch against leather.
“Is this how you come on to a lady?” she remarks, still her voice carries a lot of her expression, teasing bite, a lick of a smile.
“My apologies, Miss…”
“Lee, Gahyeon Lee.” You feel her sweltering warm gaze against your skin, suddenly you realise how much time you spend on work. The soft tender embrace blossoms soft nervous kisses against your skin.
San did say you needed to get out more.
“Sorry Mis-”
“Gahyeon is just fine,” She pulls you closer, hoisting your arm over her shoulder. The close proximity sets your heart a light unlike any other.
A rare nervous edge ticks away at your heart.
She practically walks for the two of you. “What brings you to Volker City?”
Your eyebrows shift with surprise, did you make it that obvious?
“Work?”
Probably your need for directions.
There’s a soft chuckle against her lips, “I see, I see. Though I find it interesting to see a Vangal Inspector so far from home.”
Rain trickles against your brown leather coat, a gift from San.
The latest in fashion he said.
You were just glad it did well in the rain.
“I’m surprised you can tell I’m from Vangal.”
You can feel her smile at your words, hoisting you through each step.
She’s surprisingly strong.
“No one quite makes the lost dog look like a Vangal…” You feel her eyes shift over you. “Plus, the Red Flowers don’t come to the Emerald city.”
Still there’s a weird hesitation that you can barely make out in her face, the slow fade of liquor from your veins helps ever so slightly.
“Tell me about yourself Gahyeon.”
She scoffs, almost surprised by the question. “How about a deal?”
“You have certainly piqued my interest Miss Gahyeon? Is this how the denizens of Volker City operate?”
She smiles, “only the interesting ones.”
“Very well, I shall oblige. What are the arrangements?”
“A question for a question, an equal exchange is all I ask.”
A smile bristles at your lips, “I expected something a bit more cutthroat.”
“Maybe I just like you?”
Your heart stumbles in your chest, still your voice holds firm for better or for worse. “Very well, Miss Gahyeon, since I’m a guest in your homeland you may go first.”
Her strides become shorter, pace slowing to a crawl as she thinks.
“Hm? What’s the case that’s stuck with you the most?”
Your teeth grind against your tongue at the thought, a scowl settling on your lips.
You feel the briefest chuckle bounce through her chest and into her throat, “that bad huh?”
Your voice seethes against your teeth. Yeah… But it’d have to be a string of burglaries.”
“Huh, you seemed like a murder mystery type of person.”
You scoff slightly. “Murder carries a high price that few are willing to actually pay.”
That had a motive at least.
“Why a string of burglaries though?”
A sigh rolls through your lips, “because it was the one case I couldn’t solve.”
There’s another tilt of her head, a telling sign of surprise for her. “Only one? That’s better than most Spector?”
“Spector?”
“Yeah, a nickname.”
You had to admit it wasn't too bad, it also had nothing to do with relishing in an almost supernatural closeness to her.
Have you always been a hopeless romantic?
San would probably agree.
“I’ll allow it.”
A tender warmth crackles to life in your chest, a chuckle of smile parts her lips. You can only imagine crescent eyes that rivalled the moon.
Slowly the sounds of the Emerald City faded in the throes of your conversation, the sound of your boots the only companion.
“Still, it weighs on me like a weight I can’t relinquish.”
You feel the squeeze of her hand against your shoulder, reassurance. “There is always one mystery we cannot solve.”
“The motive is what gets me, it’s usually the strand that I pull on to unravel the mystery.”
“Don’t let the murderers hear that dear Spector, otherwise they might get ideas.”
She elicits a small chuckle with her words. Still, her eyes linger on you. “Perhaps the act itself is the motive?”
Perhaps the fog was weaker or your intoxication, replaced with a different fervour. Her finer beautiful details dance across your eyes.
Soft delicate rose-like lips, your mind lingers on what their embrace would feel like.
A touch of heaven?
An entrancing whirlpool you barely fight your way out of, your eyes return to her, beautiful and decadent.
Her eyes widen, as her body stiffens against yours.
For a moment you’re scared she’s gonna drop you.
Has she caught you staring? Your eyes cut away like the flick of a knife, words choke and stumble out of your voice. “The act itself?”
Smooth.
You barely clear your throat in time to avoid choking on your own air.
You can feel the slightest shake in her voice, “uh? Maybe the ah, thefts are a claim to existence? Like a flame burning what it can with the last embers.”
“To prove it existed?”
Her eyes return to yours, a soft delicate nod. A primal part of your brain begs to caress her face.
A notion you barely fight off, for better or for worse.
She offers a soft almost awkward smile under your lingering gaze, gone is the confidence from earlier.
You clear your throat once again.
“What is it that you do Miss Gahyeon?”
“Me?” Her eyebrows know together, only know do you realise you missed out the beautiful symphony of her features, her cheeks puffing ever so slightly as her eyes drift to the moon. “I’m a… collector I suppose? Of various curios… Basically anything that catches my mind.”
You laugh ever so softly, not wanting to pull her out of her delicate dance. “Perhaps you should worry Miss Gahyeon?”
She stiffens once again? “...Why is that Spector?”
There’s an odd lingering of nerves.
“Perhaps the Ungesewen will target your store?”
Her eyes brows raise ever so slightly as her features soften, a rigidity you didn’t notice until it was gone. “Oh…”
Her eyes dance over the streets before a smile blesses her lips. “Wouldn’t that mean I’d get to spend more time with you, Spector?”
A deadly stab at your heart, unprecedented and uncalled for. Still, her smile blooms brighter, a smile with deep-seated roots.
Still your heart melts in its embrace, your brain tickles with the idea of stealing a kiss. Sadly words crest at the edge of your ears, a steep cliff face.
The end.
“Looks like we’re here, Spector.”
She hides it well, but there’s the hint of sour disappointment that hangs at the edge of her beautiful lips, a dagger that only burrows deeper.
She relinquished whatever hold she has, your legs are firm, though you wish they weren’t. There’s the briefest flicker of her image, like a dying flame or a mirage in the desert.
A trick of the light? Or the warp of a tired mind.
“It was a wonderful time getting to know you Spector,” her fingers scrunch against your coat. “It… truly was.”
There’s a tenderness that belies a deep abyss of sorrow, one you don’t have all the pieces to understand.
Perhaps you’re looking too deep in a shallow puddle.
Water is often a mirror after all.
Still, you muster what you can of a smile. “The pleasure was all mine Gahyeon.”
Her smile blooms once more, still, you catch the sour edges cusping the sides of her beautiful soft lips.
Your head tilts to the side, “is something amiss?”
Her mouth opens then clamps shut, the slightest huff flares past her nose. “I… It’s not often, I have company, let alone someone willing to talk to me.”
A smile tickles your lips, “I didn’t realise Volker City was lacking in reputable companions…”
Your words hang in the air, hung by the thread of your own trepidation.
Just bite the bullet.
“Especially someone as beautiful as you.”
The green hue of the emerald flame nearly obfuscates her blush, still she preens under your gaze tucking a loose strand behind her ear.
There’s a determined look on her face as she strides closer to you. Her eyebrows knot together.
“People just tend to forget about me is all, Spector.”
“Perhaps it was them who didn’t need to be remembered.”
Her fingers tug at the lapel of your coat, straightening your collar as she goes, slowly her hands crest your neck, there’s a glimmer of a decadent smile, pure and rivalled in its brightness. Your mind lingers on confidence unthought of, to pull her close and bask in her embrace.
Words melt against your ears, blurred and muffled as her eyes linger on your left lapel, confusion knots your eyebrows, a question probably.
Your mind rattles and rings as you’re caught off guard by a sudden presence.
Her lips melt against yours, soft and delicate, yet strong and hungry. You pull her as tight as you can, hands tugging desperately at her waist mirrored by her ravenous hunger pulling you into the tender embrace of her lips.
Still your mind rings and rattles, lips left wanting more as you open your eyes.
Gone with the green emerald fog.
You can taste the words muttered at the edge of your lips. “You know you look better without the badge Spector.”
An odd comment you’re left to ponder in the suddenly cold loneliness of the night.
Your brain prickles with the same edge…
Your eyes catch your lapel, empty and naked much like San suggested, no Inspector’s mark to bear.
Inspector.
That’s what she called you.
Ungesewen.
Her blood pools in your hands as you desperately cling to her, her breathing uneven and ragged.
Still she smiles as you look deep in her eyes.
“Indeed you do Spector,” There’s a whimper of a chuckle, a flash of pain lingers on her face. “Took you long enough.”
Questions linger like a swarm of locust, cast aside by her fading life. “What happened to you?”
She wheezes with the softest smile, “someone else… saw me,” her breathing falters and struggles for a fraction of a moment. “Silver and black hair… I think?”
You tear at your shirt desperately as you search desperately for her wound.
“Were you?” No, surely not.
There’s a weak shake of her head, she gulps back against the pain.
Her blood shimmers almost metallically, like liquid gold or silver, with a reddish tinge. Still, she flickers in your grasp.
Her abdomen, a deep wound, big enough to fit a small hand in.
No wonder she was finding it so hard to breathe.
Still you catch the glimmer of something actually metallic, a shard almost like obsidian. Your brain prickles with curiosity that was better left unsatiated.
Her fingers fumble with a key, old bronze worn at the edges. Her breath grows more ragged with each second, somehow growing colder and paler.
Like touching a ghost.
There’s a barely mustered smile, “my collection…”
Tears well ever so slightly at the edge of her eyes. Your hand clamps over hers forcing her to keep her key.
“Please,” she begs the soft familiar sour edges to her lips.
“And strike my greatest rival off the record? How else will you be remembered?”
Her eyes flutter weakly, soft and unfocused barely cling to your words, she smiles. Her hands crests your cheek. “By you… the first… person to see… me.”
Her eyebrows knot together, delirious and lost.
“War Smith?” Her eyes clamp shut as she fights back more building pain.
The words melt through your ears with a foreign familiarity.
Fitting, yet not.
Your hand clutches your dagger, thankful you were no longer in Vangeal. Your dagger bites through your skin in a desperate plea.
Your fingers trace barely familiar runes and sigils.
Blood magic.
Carved deep with the edge of your knife to cement it, Vangeal would not answer your call so far from home.
Her hand catches against yours, “what are you doing Spector?”
“Saving you.”
You feel the presence of something more in the air, a dark heaviness.
“To those who would heed my call, a bargain made in blood.” Slowly the flames dampen around reduced to smouldering cinders.
The only light guided by the moon into your abode.
“To those who wish harm, a promise scarred across my skin.” Even the gas lit flames down the street shudder and weaken with your words.
Your eyes close shut.
Your mind boils like water brimming with steam, with power. You feel a veil so thin, you feel the touch of so much more.
Ancient strings bounce and dance in your mind, music unheard for centuries.
An answer.
You feel the cold chill of lands long forgotten etched with snow and ice. A beam of light clings desperately in the night sky. The air hangs thick with war.
The War Smith answers with a price you can’t understand.
Gahyeon’s screams tear through the air like the sharpest blade, fear lingers in every crevice of your soul as pain flashes across her face.
Perhaps you made the wrong choice in desperation?
You watch as the emerald flame flares back to life brighter and stronger than ever before, threatening to burn down everything.
A simmering rage hangs in the air before it’s violently snuffed out with an orange hue like that of the sun.
The obsidian shard crawls out of Gahyeon with ratifying pain as blood slowly crawls back inside of her like a living sickly creature leaving behind a silvery metallic liquid.
Gahyeon mouth opens almost to scream in pain, surprised by the sudden influx of warmth as he body slowly knits back together.
Her features dance endlessly as she adjusts to the new sensations.
You watch as you feel a strand of silver liquid climb up your body knitting itself together across your scarred hand.
The piece of obsidian lies on your floor yet all you can think of is Gahyeon. Her hands linger touch at her skin, smooth and perfect.
Like no wound was ever there.
Your home is a mess of dagger etched floorboards and silvery liquid. The Volkers would probably want a word with you in the morrow. But as you cradle her in your embrace you’d take whatever may come and gladly pay the price for her to be seen.
#happy gahyeon day#dreamcatcher imagines#dreamcatcher x reader#dreamcatcher scenarios#kpop imagines#dreamcatcher#girl group imagines#girl group scenarios#dreamcatcher imagine#kpop scenarios#girl group#gahyeon x reader#gahyeon imagines#gahyeon scenarios
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The Tourist: Jamie Dornan’s Best Screen Roles
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In most cases, an actor being cast as a character without a name doesn’t signal great things for the career. Nobody’s queuing up for an autograph from ‘woman in lift’ or ‘angry hot dog customer 2’. Jamie Dornan’s lead role in BBC crime thriller The Tourist bucks that trend. In the six-part series, Dornan plays “The Man”, a nameless (at least to begin with) Irishman who loses his memory when his car is forced off the road in the Australian desert. With barely a clue to go on, he has to find out who he is, what’s he doing there, and most importantly, why somebody’s trying to kill him.
Dornan is great in The Tourist – intense, funny, unpredictable and convincing at every stage of his character’s gradual discovery. It’s comfortably among his best performances so far, and one of the better received projects Dornan’s starred in (it’s fair to say that the Fifty Shades film trilogy, the 2018 Robin Hood and last year’s Emily Blunt-starring Irish romance Wild Mountain Thyme were not critical darlings). The Tourist fans looking for more Dornan need look no further. Here’s a selection of his best on-screen roles so far.
The Fall (2013 – 2016)
This Belfast-set BBC thriller, currently available to stream on BBC iPlayer and Netflix, made Dornan’s name before he brought Fifty Shades’ Christian Grey to the screen in 2015. In the Allan Cubitt crime drama, Dornan plays Paul Spector, a serial killer of women who leads a double life as a family man and bereavement counsellor. Dornan stars alongside Gillian Anderson, who plays Supt. Stella Gibson, the detective tasked with hunting Spector down. He’s intense, she’s relentless, and their cat-and-mouse dynamic kept audiences rapt for three series. There are apparently plans for more from Gibson’s character in a possible future return to the drama, though without Dornan.
The Siege of Jadotville (2016)
This multiple Irish Film and Television Award-winner dramatises the true story of the Irish Army unit posted to the Congo in 1961 as part of a UN peacekeeping mission. Mercenaries and Katangese soldiers laid siege to the unit, which resisted surrender until eventually being taken and held prisoner, before being freed in a prisoner exchange. The war drama‘s mission was to right the wrong done to the unit’s reputation by a military cover-up about the truth of the siege. Dornan won acclaim for the role of Commandant Pat Quinlan, unit leader, and the film’s action scenes were roundly praised. The Siege of Jadotville is available now to stream on Netflix.
Barb and Star Go To Vista Del Mar (2021)
Serial killer, army commandant, S&M billionaire… we could be forgiven for thinking that Dornan’s roles tended towards the humourless, but here comes Barb and Star Go To Vista Del Mar to prove us wrong. Written by and starring Bridesmaids‘ Kristen Wiig and Annie Mumolo, the bonkers comedy tells the story of two Nebraska women who get tangled up in a super-villain revenge plot while on a resort holiday in Florida. Dornan plays Edgar, love interest to Star (Wiig) and henchman to the villainous Sharon Fisherman (Wiig in a wig). It’s daft, absurd fun and features Dornan pouring his heart out to various seagulls in this instant classic pop ballad. It’s available to stream on Hulu in the US and Disney Plus in the UK.
Death and Nightingales (2018)
Back to serious Dornan. This three-part BBC drama currently available to buy on Amazon Prime Video was adapted by The Fall‘s Allan Cubitt from the acclaimed 1992 Irish novel by Eugene McCabe. Set in Ireland in the 1880s, it’s the story of Beth Winters (played by The Nevers‘ Ann Skelly), step-daughter of a staunch Protestant, and pregnant by Catholic rebel Liam Ward. It’s a dark period drama that explores religious division in Irish history, with strong performances from Skelly, Dornan and co-star Matthew Rhys.
Once Upon a Time (2011 – 2013)
ABC fantasy Once Upon a Time offers some escapist fun for Dornan fans, if not for his character whose storyline saw him under the control of evil queen Regina. Season one cast the actor as modern-day sheriff Graham Humbert, whose fairy tale counterpart was Snow White’s Huntsman – a brutal recluse raised by wolves who fell under Regina’s spell. Think romance, fight-scenes, forest backdrops and ultimately, tragedy. The long-running series is available to stream on Hulu in the US and Disney Plus UK.
Belfast (2021)
Kenneth Branagh’s semi-autobiographical comedy-drama stages the director’s childhood memories of 1960s Belfast, amid a backdrop of first love, community mistrust and religious division. Jamie Dornan stars opposite Outlander‘s Catriona Balfe as the Irish protestant parents of young Buddy, played by newcomer Jude Hill. The film came out in cinemas in November 2021, and has already been nominated for and won several awards, as well as being talked about as a potential Oscar nominee. See Dornan use those pipes in this clip of his character serenading his girl with pop hit ‘Everlasting Love’.
See also: A Private War (2018) in which Dornan plays Liverpudlian war photographer Paul Conroy opposite Rosamund Pike as American journalist Marie Colvin, plus a short early role in Sofia Coppola’s 2006 film Marie Antoinette playing Count Axel von Fersen, the young Swedish lover of Kirsten Dunst’s French queen.
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The Tourist is available now to stream in full on BBC iPlayer.
The post The Tourist: Jamie Dornan’s Best Screen Roles appeared first on Den of Geek.
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2018-03-10 04 GAME now
GAME
Attack of the Fanboy
More Details on the Final Fantasy XV and Tekken 7 Crossover Coming on March 14
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My Favorite Album #196 - Ella Thompson (Dorsal Fins, GL) on Renee Geyer ‘Moving On’
One of Australia's busiest and most accomplished singer/songwriters Ella Thompson (GL, Dorsal Fins) joins me to tell the story of how Aussie soul legend Renee Geyer became her childhood mentor, the lessons and advice Geyer taught her and why neither of them fit comfortably in Australia's musical landscape.
Plus, should singers smoke?
Listen in the player above or download the episode by clicking here.
Subscribe to the podcast in iTunes here or in other podcasting apps by copying/pasting our RSS feed - http://myfavoritealbum.libsyn.com/rss
My Favorite Album is a podcast unpacking the great works of pop music. Each episode features a different songwriter or musician discussing their favorite album of all time - their history with it, the making of the album, individual songs and the album’s influence on their own music.
Jeremy Dylan is a filmmaker, journalist and photographer from Sydney, Australia who has worked in the music industry since 2007. He directed the the feature music documentary Jim Lauderdale: The King of Broken Hearts (out now!) and the feature film Benjamin Sniddlegrass and the Cauldron of Penguins, in addition to many commercials and music videos.
If you’ve got any feedback or suggestions, drop us a line at [email protected].
LINKS
- Ella Thompson on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and iTunes.
- Ella’s band Dorsal Fins are on tour now. Get their great new album ‘Digital Zodiac’ here.
- Buy ‘Moving Along’ here.
- Jeremy Dylan’s website, Twitter, Instagram and Facebook page.
- Like the podcast on Facebook here.
- If you dig the show, please leave a rating or review of the show on iTunes here.
CHECK OUT OUR OTHER EPISODES
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189. Middle Kids on My Brightest Diamond ‘Bring Me The Workhorse’ (2006)
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178. 2016 in Review: What the hell? ft Jeff Greenstein, Rob Draper & Cookin on 3 Burners, Melody Pool, Lisa Mitchell, Emma Swift, Brian Koppelman, Mark Hart (Crowded House), Davey Lane and Alex Lahey
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175. Matt Farley (Motern Media) on why The Beach Boys ‘Love You’ is better than ‘Pet Sounds’
174. Lisa Mitchell on Regina Spektor ‘Begin to Hope’ (2006) and her favorite albums of 2016
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171. Showrunner Blake Masters on Drive-By Truckers ‘The Dirty South’ (2004)
170. Taylor Goldsmith (Dawes) on on their new album ‘We’re All Gonna Die’, loving LA and the albums that inspire him
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168. Guy Clark biographer Tamara Saviano on ‘Dublin Blues’, Guy’s songwriting process and his musical legacy
167. What does Trump mean for music?
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164. Jimmy Vivino on the birth of the Max Weinberg 7, his relationship with Conan O’Brien, country music and the future of rock’n’roll
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161. Harts on Around the World in a Day (1985) by Prince and jamming with Prince at Paisley Park
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158. Peter Cooper on Pretty Close to the Truth (1994) and why we need Americana music
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140. Imogen Clark on Heartbreaker by Ryan Adams
139. Jesse Thorn on Fresh by Sly and the Family Stone
138. Stephen Tobolowsky on The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars by David Bowie
137. Ben Blacker on Blood and Chocolate on Elvis Costello & the Attractions
136. Jonny Fritz on West by Lucinda Williams
135. Adam Busch on A River Ain’t Too Much to Love by Smog
134. Kelsea Ballerini on Blue Neighbourhood by Troye Sivan
133. Natalie Prass on Presenting Dionne Warwick
132. Josh Pyke on Badmotorfinger by Soundgarden
131. Kip Moore on Born to Run by Bruce Springsteen
130. Koi Child on Voodoo by D’Angelo
129. The Cadillac Three on Wildflowers by Tom Petty
128. Julian McCullough on Appetite for Destruction by Guns n Roses
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124. Brian Koppelman on The History of the Eagles
123. Benmont Tench on Beggars Banquet by the Rolling Stones
122. Jimmy Vivino (Basic Cable Band) on Super Session by Al Kooper, Mike Bloomfield and Stephen Stills
121. Holiday Sidewinder on Pat Garrett & Billy the Kid by Bob Dylan
120. Ben Blacker on Aladdin Sane by David Bowie
119. EZTV on The Toms by The Toms
118. Jess Ribeiro on Transformer by Lou Reed
117. Whitney Rose on Keith Whitley Greatest Hits
116. Best Albums of 2015 with Danny Yau ft. Jason Isbell, Dan Kelly, Shane Nicholson, Tim Rogers, Will Hoge and Julien Barbagallo (Tame Impala)
115. Phil Spector’s A Christmas Gift For You with Jaime Lewis
114. Xmas Music ft. Kristian Bush, Lee Brice, Corb Lund and Tim Byron
113. Sam Outlaw on Pieces of the Sky by Emmylou Harris
112. Jason Isbell on Sticky Fingers by the Rolling Stones
111. Ash Naylor (Even) on Houses of the Holy by Led Zeppelin
110. Burke Reid (Gerling) on Dirty by Sonic Youth
109. Lance Ferguson (The Bamboos) on Kind of Blue by Miles Davis
108. Lindsay ‘The Doctor’ McDougall (Frenzal Rhomb) on Curses! by Future of the Left
107. Julien Barbagallo (Tame Impala) on Chrominance Decoder by April March
106. Melody Pool on Blue by Joni Mitchell
105. Rusty Hopkinson (You Am I) on ‘Nuggets: Original Artyfacts from the First Psychedelic Era’
104. Jeff Greenstein on A Quick One (Happy Jack) by The Who
103. Dave Cobb on Revolver by the Beatles
102. Justin Melkmann (World War IX) on Coney Island Baby by Lou Reed
101. Kacey Musgraves on John Prine by John Prine
100. Does the album have a future?
99. Corb Lund on Gunfighter Ballads and Trail Songs by Marty Robbins
98. Bad Dreems on Unknown Pleasures by Joy Division
97. Davey Lane (You Am I) on Abbey Road by the Beatles
96. Dan Kelly on There’s A Riot Goin’ On by Sly and the Family Stone
95. Ash Grunwald on Mule Variations by Tom Waits
94. Stella Angelico on The Shangrilas
93. Eves the Behavior on Blue by Joni Mitchell
92. Troy Cassar-Daley on Willie Nelson’s Greatest Hits
91. Lydia Loveless on Pleased to Meet Me by the Replacements
90. Gena Rose Bruce on The Boatman’s Call by Nick Cave
89. Kitty Daisy and Lewis on A Swingin’ Safari by Bert Kaempfert
88. Will Hoge on Modern Sounds in Country & Western Music by Ray Charles
87. Shane Nicholson on 52nd St by Billy Joel
86 - Tired Lion on Takk… by Sigur Ros
85 - Whispering Bob Harris on Forever Changes by Love
84 - Jake Stone (Bluejuice) on Ben Folds Five by Ben Folds Five
83 - Pete Thomas (Elvis Costello and the Imposters) on Are You Experienced? by the Jimi Hendrix Experience
82 - Dom Alessio on OK Computer by Radiohead
81 - Anthony Albanese MP on The Good Son by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds
80 - John Waters on Electric Ladyland by The Jimi Hendrix Experience
79 - Jim DeRogatis (Sound Opinions) on Clouds Taste Metallic by The Flaming Lips
78 - Montaigne on The Haunted Man by Bat for Lashes
77 - Guy Pratt (Pink Floyd) on Quadrophenia by The Who
76 - Homer Steinweiss (Dap Kings) on Inspiration Information by Shuggie Otis
75 - Best of 2015 (So Far) ft. Danny Yau, Montaigne, Harts, Joelistics, Rose Elinor Dougall and Burke Reid
74 - Matt Farley (Motern Media) on RAM by Paul McCartney
BONUS - Neil Finn on The Beatles, Neil Young, David Bowie and Radiohead
73 - Grace Farriss (Burn Antares) on All Things Must Pass by George Harrison
72 - Katie Noonan on Blue by Joni Mitchell
71 - Harts on Band of Gypsys by Jimi Hendrix
70 - Tim Rogers (You Am I) on Bring the Family by John Hiatt
69 - Mark Seymour (Hunters and Collectors) on The Ghost of Tom Joad by Bruce Springsteen
68 - Jeremy Neale on Graceland by Paul Simon
67 - Joelistics on Graceland by Paul Simon
66 - Brian Nankervis (RocKwiz) on Astral Weeks by Van Morrison
65 - ILUKA on Pastel Blues by Nina Simone
64 - Rose Elinor Dougall on Tender Buttons by Broadcast
63 - Sarah McLeod (The Superjesus) on Siamese Dream by The Smashing Pumpkins
62 - Keyone Starr on The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill
61 - Chase Bryant on Defying Gravity by Keith Urban
60 - Brian Koppelman on Southeastern by Jason Isbell
59 - Michael Carpenter on The Beatles White Album Side 4
58 - Pete Kilroy (Hey Geronimo) on The Beatles White Album Side 3
57 - Mark Wells on The Beatles White Album Side 2
56 - Jeff Greenstein on Colossal Youth by Young Marble Giants
55 - Laura Bell Bundy on Shania Twain, Otis Redding and Bright Eyes
54 - Jake Clemons on Surfacing by Sarah McLachlan
53 - Kristian Bush (Sugarland) on The Joshua Tree by U2
52 - Kevin Bennett (The Flood) on Willis Alan Ramsey by Willis Alan Ramsey
51 - Lee Brice on Unorthodox Jukebox by Bruno Mars
50 - Davey Lane (You Am I) on the White Album (Side 1) by The Beatles
49 - Joe Camilleri on The Rolling Stones by The Rolling Stones
48 - Russell Morris on The Rolling Stones by The Rolling Stones
47 - Mike Rudd (Spectrum) on England’s Newest Hitmakers by The Rolling Stones
46 - Henry Wagons on Harvest by Neil Young
45 - Megan Washington on Poses by Rufus Wainwright
44 - Andrew Hansen (The Chaser) on Armchair Theatre by Jeff Lynne
43 - She Rex on BlakRoc by The Black Keys
42 - Catherine Britt on Living with Ghosts by Patty Griffin
41 - Robyn Hitchcock on Plastic Ono Band by John Lennon
40 - Gideon Bensen (The Preatures) on Transformer by Lou Reed
39 - Harry Hookey on Blood on the Tracks by Bob Dylan
38 - Rob Draper on Faith by George Michael
37 - Best of 2014 ft. Danny Yau, Andrew Hansen, Gideon Bensen (The Preatures) and Mike Carr
36 - Doug Pettibone on Wrecking Ball by Emmylou Harris
35 - Ross Ryan on Late for the Sky by Jackson Browne
34 - Michael Carpenter on Hard Promises by Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers
33 - Davey Lane (You Am I) on Jesus of Cool by Nick Lowe
32 - Zane Carney on Smokin’ at the Half Note by Wes Montgomery
31 - Tony Buchen on Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band by The Beatles
30 - Simon Relf (The Tambourine Girls) on On the Beach by Neil Young
29 - Peter Cooper on In Search of a Song by Tom T Hall
28 - Thelma Plum on Stolen Apples by Paul Kelly
27 - James House on Rubber Soul by the Beatles
26 - Ella Hooper on Let England Shake by PJ Harvey
25 - Abbey Road Special
24 - Alyssa Bonagura on Room for Squares by John Mayer
23 - Luke Davison (The Preatures) on Green Onions by Booker T and the MGs
22 - Neil Finn on Hunky Dory by David Bowie and In Rainbows by Radiohead
21 - Neil Finn on Beatles for Sale by the Beatles and After the Goldrush by Neil Young
20 - Morgan Evans on Diorama by Silverchair
19 - Emma Swift on Car Wheels On A Gravel Road by Lucinda Williams
18 - Danny Yau on Hourly Daily by You Am I
17 - J Robert Youngtown and Jon Auer (The Posies) on Hi Fi Way by You Am I
16 - Lester the Fierce on Hounds of Love by Kate Bush
15 - Luke Davison on Green Onions by Booker T and the MGs
14 - Jeff Cripps on Wheels of Fire by Cream
13 - Mark Holden on Blue by Joni Mitchell (Part 2)
12 - Mark Holden on Blue by Joni Mitchell (Part 1)
11 - Gossling on O by Damien Rice
10 - Matt Fell on Temple of Low Men by Crowded House
9 - Pete Thomas on Are You Experienced? by Jimi Hendrix (Part 2)
8 - Pete Thomas on Are You Experienced? by Jimi Hendrix (Part 1)
7 - Sam Hawksley on A Few Small Repairs by Shawn Colvin
6 - Jim Lauderdale on Grievous Angel by Gram Parsons
5 - Mark Moffatt on Blues Breakers by John Mayall and Eric Clapton
4 - Darren Carr on Ten Easy Pieces by Jimmy Webb
3 - Mark Wells on Revolver by The Beatles
2 - Mike Carr on Arrival by ABBA
1 - Rob Draper on Highway 61 Revisited by Bob Dylan
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