#beta marc spector
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Kabedon-ing Headcanons w/ Moon Knight System
Genre: Fluff (but it might get a leeeetol explicit ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡° ))
Pairing(s): Steven Grant x Reader; Marc Spector x Short!Reader; Jake Lockley x Tall!Reader
Summary: In which you want to kabedon the moon boys
Word Count: 1500-ish
Warnings: Mentions of sex, cursing, (I can't think of any more at the moment)
Author's Note: I thought of this at the late hours of the night (as rats tend to do) ┬┴┬┴┤(･_ ├┬┴┬┴
...anyways, here's a youtube link if you don't know what a kabedon is: https://youtube.com/shorts/YpoqG_VBNas?si=Wywo9pQ2clL6ZbsW
STEVEN GRANT:
You’re both getting ready to go home after your shift at the museum
As he’s fiddling with his coat, you remember a video you saw on the internet and stare mischievously at Steven
“Hey, Steven?” You motion for him to come closer
He stops adjusting his coat, putting all of his attention on you
“Yeah, love?”
“Do you know what a kabedon is?”
He’s a bit confused, eyebrows furrowing inquisitively at your question
“K-Kabedon? What’s that?”
Seeing your shit-eating grin, he gets a little nervous and starts fiddling with his fingers
“You’ll love it,” you say as you take his hands in yours
Honestly, he wouldn’t be that anxious if you weren’t quietly chuckling so hard
“Move by that corner of the wall over there.”
“H-Huh? Oh, okay”
“Put your hands together like this,” you say as you grip your hands together
He’s sweating a little but he cautiously does what you say
“Put one of your hands up, Steven.”
He gulps
“Steven, I’m not going to kill you. Come on.”
Trembling, his right hand slowly lifts up from his hold
You slide your right hand into his, holding his fist
“Now that wasn’t so bad, right, Steven?”
A little bit flustered by your touch, he clears his throat
“I guess not…but what are you–OH!”
You quickly lift your right hand onto the wall above, teasingly pushing poor Steven into the corner with your left arm with a small thud
He’s turning red now, a fluttering mess that’s looking everywhere but your face
You hold your right hand still, with little to no resistance from Steven
You gently prod his chin up to stare into your eyes
You examine his face, from his quivering pink lips to his pinkening cheeks to his messy curls that are a little tousled by the wall, and then down to his widening doe eyes that are locked onto yours
“You’re so much cuter up close, Steven.”
“H-Huh?” He sputters out, his brain still trying to get a sense of the predicament he’s in
“I said,” you repeat louder. “You’re so much cuter up close.”
His words get choked up in his throat, rendering him silent
Thinking you might’ve crossed a boundary, you gently put his hands down and swiftly disentangle your hand from his
“I-I’m sorry, Steven. I think I did something I shouldn’t have.”
You back up a step from his figure, lowering your head in shame
“N-NO!”
You look back up, confusion clearly littering across your face
“Please hold my hand again,” Steven blubbered out, desperation clinging to his words
Oh?
You slowly reach your hands out to Steven, as if one wrong move might startle him again
He clasps your hands together, flustered and still a little bit embarrassed after what just occurred
“Guess you really liked it, huh?” You say, grinning ear to ear as you tug him out of the corner
“Yeah,” he replies, reciprocating your grin
“I guess I did.”
MARC SPECTOR:
“Hey, Marc!”
Marc’s normally-scowling face softens as he sees you sprint to him from across the hall
“Can I try something on you?”
“Hm?”
He eyes you cautiously, trying to figure out your intentions. You aren’t usually this chipper
He sighs.
What can you possibly do anyway?
“Fine.”
You bounce on your feet, beaming as you point to his door
“Can I come in?”
He shrugs, fitting his key into the lock and twisting the handle to open the door
“Be my guest.”
Before he can even walk past his doorway, he sees you quickly kick off your shoes before darting into his living room
“STAY RIGHT THERE!” You scream behind your shoulder to Marc
He furrows his eyebrows, crossing his arms as he waits for you. What the hell?
You come back with one of his chairs in your arms
“Sit down.”
You pat the chair in front of you lightly as you place it right in front of the door
Marc cocks his eyebrow, a slight frown evident on his face
“Why?”
You groan.
“Just do it, Marc.”
“Fine, fine.”
He roughly plops himself down onto the chair, arms still crossed
He kind of looks like a primary school child in time-out, honestly
You’re now just at a slightly higher level than him
Looking down, you can tell that he’s calculating your next move based on the way his eyes are trailing you
“Okay, Marc. Hands together,” you instruct, positioning your own hands together to demonstrate
He grumbles, begrudgingly clasping his hands together
“You know I have things to do, right?”
“Right hand up,” you continue, choosing to ignore his previous comment
He rolls his eyes and lifts his hand up
You quickly slide your hand into the space between his fingers, grasping his fist tightly as you pound it above him against the door
“Hey! Wha–!”
Marc thrashes against your grip but to no avail. You’ve got his hands completely incapacitated
“Not so strong now, huh, Spector?” You smugly tease
It’s rare to see him in such a powerless position…you kind of like it
He growls, continuing to pull against your hand
“Let me go,” he snarls, anger pooling in his eyes
“Make me.” You motion towards his hands with your head. “What are you going to do without your precious hands, Spector?”
He looks down and smirks
“This.”
He kicks your feet from under you, causing you to gasp and fall (not so gracefully) onto his lap, hugging him tightly with your free arm
“I’ll use my feet, sweetheart.”
You can feel his deep breaths against your neck. (It's comforting)
Feeling your heart suddenly quicken in your chest due to your close proximity (and the endearing nickname he just so casually muttered out), you quickly scramble off of him, untangling your hands in the process
“W-Well played, Spector,” you stammer out, flustered from the incident just seconds prior. “You win, okay?”
He lowly chuckles, sensing your embarrassment
“Let me try now, sweetheart.”
JAKE LOCKLEY:
(Author's Note: GOOGLE TRANSLATE IS HAVING A FUCKIN FIELD DAY W THIS ONE LMAO)
You were the last passenger of the day for Jake Lockley
But if he has to be honest, he’d rather spend another hour with you than have to close up and head back to his place
Normally, customers would try to keep to themselves, maybe engage in a bit of conversation before ultimately quieting down to a mildly comfortable silence
But you? Yeah, no. You talked about everything
But it wasn’t like you weren’t passively engaging him in the conversation
You can feel Jake indulging your thoughts and stories with his hearty chuckles and tight-lipped grins from the rearview mirror
So, when he finally parked by your street, you were a bit disheartened that you may never see him again
“Jakey?”
“¿Sí?” (Yes?)
“Do you know what a kabedon is?”
He loses himself in thought for a second before shaking his head
“¿No, qué es eso?” (No, what is it?)
You cheekily stare into the rearview mirror to catch his eyes
“Do you wanna know what it is?”
Sensing your teasing behaviour, he cocks his eyebrows in question but slowly nods his head
“Can you come out of the car?” you ask as you begin to pull the door handle to leave
He tuts his tongue against the roof of his mouth in apprehension
“I promise I won’t mug you,” you jokingly quip, climbing out of his car
Hey, what did he have to lose?
Sighing but getting out of his car anyway, Jake breathes in the cold night air as he closes his car door
It's a beautiful night
He fixes his cap as he turns to face you
“¿Que sigue?” (what’s next?)
You grin, glad that he was going to indulge in another one of your stupid shenanigans
“Okay! So, put your hands together, like this,” you direct him, cheeky grin still plastered across your face as you grip your hands together tightly
“Uh huh,” he mumbles as he mimics your actions
“Then put your right hand up.”
“Mm.” He looks intently at your fingers
“And thennnn…” You purposely reach your hand out to clasp his fist, holding it in place
You then quickly and swiftly raise his hands onto the car’s roof, hearing a soft thud and groan as his body comes in contact with the door
“That happens,” You say, hovering over him
You scan his face for any signs of hurt or discomfort (and also because, let’s face it, he’s a pretty attractive guy)
He cracks a smile, letting you see the canines of his teeth (GOD that’s hot)
“Eso era bueno” (that was good)
“Yeah? I saw it on the internet,” you chuckle in relief as you start releasing his hands from your grasp. “I’ve always wanted to try it on someone.”
Jake intensely scans your chuckling figure through his half-lidded eyes, a smirk now gracing his face
Just before you can react to what’s happening, he grabs you by the waist and pushes toward the car door, eliciting an unexpected gasp from you
“Déjame devolver el favor, hermosa/hermoso” (allow me to return the favour, beautiful)
...
(im going to have to assume that they traded numbers after that ‘cuz no way in hell did they just leave that tension unresolved)
#moon knight#steven grant x reader#marc spector x reader#jake lockley x reader#steven grant#marc spector#jake lockley#DEFINITELY NOT BETA-ED ENOUGH#i wrote this at like 1 am so you know its gonna be unhinged as hell
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On another note: I just finished my switch!Marc Spector x afab!Reader angsty smut with pining extravaganza. So if anyone would like to beta-read a bit over 3k worth of smut in which I use the word 'desperate(ly)' about a million times - feel free to DM me 😅
#marc spector/reader#marc spector x reader#moon knight fanfic#marc spector fanfic#fanfic wip#beta request#beta reader
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Signed, Khonshu <3
Khonshu was a god not known for his humor. His dramatics, yes, his disregard for rules, absolutely, and his disgraced visage after centuries of weak prayer, of course, but not his jokes.
He had heard the rumors and gossip, filtering through the overvoid like fire. Gods talked about how he was too serious, caught up in ideas about human morality and protection that made him… unlikable, to say the least. He objected, of course, but they never listened.
It was only after his separation from Harrow, forceful and bloody, that he came to the conclusion that humor could be a valuable asset in his search for a more loyal avatar. After all, humans enjoyed sociality, and inane, dumb, things that made them smile. It endeared them to people, so perhaps he could incorporate it into his work, and gain a new level of respect from his next servant.
When he discovered Marc Spector (and Steven Grant and Jake Lockley and perhaps more if he dug deep, but Marc is the one who fascinated him), he realized it was time to test his theory. He ran through his spiel, making at least half an effort to appeal to the man’s broken sense of validation and life, but his heart wasn’t all in it. It was the punchline he was working towards.
Khonshu hadn’t been around many modern day human activities. Harrow had always been rather reclusive and unsociable when it came to things like television and… whatever was on phones these days, so that, for the most part, was a mystery to Khonshu. Harrow did, however, frequent several local bars for a quiet drink and a place to clear his mind. And there, Khonshu had witnessed a rather interesting phenomenon: racing.
It wasn’t the bright colors or fast cars that fascinated him, no, those had always been hallmarks of human interest, the next biggest and brightest thing drawing them in, but the… designs. Logos, he was told they were, for advertisers, for businesses, plastered on the drivers in reverence.
How absolutely, ridiculously, human that was, he’d thought at the time, to brand oneself.
But it was only now, as his mind formed his ceremonial suit around Marc Spector’s body, that he truly understood what the reason had to be. It was funny. Simple as that. It was funny to see humans running around proudly displaying the names of those that got them there, like a naively groveling form of worship.
And so, because he had humor, because he was funny, and because he could make jokes thank you very much Osiris, Khonshu added a few extra details to his new avatar’s suit. It almost felt giddy to do, the tendrils of his throat swishing around like a cat’s tail as his mind scrawled his avatar’s tagline down the man’s thighs. And then, of course, because his artistry had to be attributed to him properly, Khonshu added his name over the man’s chest with a flourish.
My Moon Knight
Signed, Khonshu<3
Now all he had to do was wait until Marc Spector discovered his wonderful prank, and the man would be endeared to him through heavy laughter and human idiocy.
His plan was perfect.
*
‘…Marc?’
“Mm.” He barely paid attention to Steven’s plaintive voice as the last thug fell with a thump. Marc shook out his hands, glancing around at the group of smugglers laying at his feet. They weren’t dead, luckily, Khonshu was lenient enough now in their new deal to let him stop at just consciousness.
‘Marc, can you get to a mirror for me please?’ Steven’s voice was insistent, but there was something in it that caught Marc’s attention this time, almost like he was trying not to laugh.
“What, what is it?”
‘I just…’ Oh yeah that was definitely a smile. ‘I just need to check something.’
Marc glanced one more time at the smugglers, but they weren’t getting up any time soon, so he grunted in affirmation and stepped over them to the warehouse window.
“Alright, what’s wrong. I got egg on my face or somethin’?”
He got the impression of Steven shaking his head, and then a repressed giggle broke through the back of his mind. ‘Bugger, sorry, sorry, it’s just…’ Steven paused for a moment, like he was trying to collect himself. ‘Have you ever noticed what it says on your suit?’
Marc raised a brow, glancing over his reflection, but it didn’t look any different than it usually did. “No I mean… it’s got the like… the little drawing hieroglyph thingies or whatever, yeah, but those are like… holy scripture or somethin’ right?”
‘Um… no, not exactly.’
Marc’s neck tickled in embarrassment. “So what? Does he have me walkin’ around with cuss words on me or…?”
Steven laughed again, the sound of him taking a deep breath making the unease in Marc’s chest grow. ‘Ah, no, he doesn’t, he uh… well… Marc it seems like that bloody pigeon signed his name on you.’
There was a sudden burst of wind, shaking the walls and window panes as Khonshu suddenly materialized, stalking forward like a man possessed.
“Holy shit—!” Marc startled despite himself, mouth half open to ask what the fuck that was for, when Khonshu’s booming voice cut him off in deafening force.
“TOOK YOU FUCKING LONG ENOUGH!”
*
Uh yeah… Anyway! Inspired by these things. @mrcspectr @pizzee here’s my contribution to this lore, if only Marc wasn’t a beta cuck who couldn’t read 😔
#this was not beta read or edited at al any weird typos will just have to do#IDK MAN IDK WHAT THIS IS BUT IT HAPPENED#time to go continue packing#moon knight#marc spector#steven grant#my fic#my-fic#fic
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Steven Grant and I would be bffs and s/os because I too am a geek, socially awkward, and have a fish that I care deeply for.
#his name is sebastian#also known as bass-bass#shut up i can name my fish whatever i want#he’s a red veil-tail beta#and i love him dearly#oscar isaac#moon knight#steven grant#marc spector#jake lockley#stormkobra-5 ramblings#oscar isaac hernandez estrada
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alpha/beta readers needed!
hiiii. so my blog may not look it but i am a writer. i’ve started writing fanfic for one of my beloved fandoms, moon knight, that will be posted on ao3. it will be a y/n type of read. think marc spector x reader.
pleaaase comment if interested! 18+ and complete love for the system required 😛💗 bonus points if you’re poc!
#moon knight fic#moon knight#jake lockley fluff#marc spector fluff#marc spector fic#steven grant fic#steven grant fluff#marc spector#alpha reader#beta reader
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Is anyone interested in beta reading a fic for me?
It’s not fully finished yet, but I feel like something else is missing- I don’t know. I’m still sick, so working on this one has been a lot harder and I feel like I need a new set of eyes on it.
It’s a Steven Grant x Reader, where the reader finds out about everything that happened during MK.
I haven’t decided whether or not to end it with Angst or Fluff yet, but so far it’s just Angst.
<3
#rose’s personal#Moonknight#Steven Grant x Reader#Layla El Faouly x Marc Spector#Steven Grant x Layla El Faouly#Beta reader
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BETA READER NEEDED
Hello, I am in the process of writing an angsty marc spector and steven grant fic. If anyone has watched it, esp ep5, and wants to help me out/ give me an opinion, message me or comment! You don’t even need to edit if you don’t want, just give an opinion on my rough draft. That’s all, and get ready readers!
#moon knight fic wip#moon knight fic#moon knight episode five#mk ep 5#beta reader request#beta reader#marvel fanfic writer#beta reader needed#thank you immensely in advance#angsty marc spector#steven grant angst#angst angst angst and some comfort
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@fasciinating from here
"Guess there's no point in them coming down to look for you if it's just gonna get them stuck here, too." Something he's actually a little grateful for. He'd rather not have more Starfleet dicks to deal with. Currently, with just the two of them, he can most likely continue to bank on Starfuck valuing their continued survival over his duty. They've both got a better chance of it if they work together.
But if there were multiple Starfleet officers?
Well, they could just as easily decide to work with each other and take Marc out of the equation completely. Tie him up somewhere and leave him like that, keep him captive, until they get off planet. Right now, like it or not, Starfuck needs him. He'd rather that not change. Not until he's good and ready for it.
A single nod. "Yeah, mine too. Not sure how fixable any of it is, but I can take a look." Or, more likely, he'll have to let Jake out at some point to take a look. The alter is much better with the inner workings of ships than Marc. Not to mention he actually likes that kind of stuff. Sure, Marc's no slouch, but Jake has always had more of a knack for it. He'll just have to figure out the best place and time to switch without Starfuck noticing.
He squints out into the distance, points at an outcrop of rocks a ways away. "Can't tell from here, but that might be something." He's going to start heading towards it, just in case it is. For several minutes, he's quiet, considering information he hasn't decided is best to share, yet. It's highly possible Starfuck already knows, possible that it's the reason he's here, as well, but he hasn't mentioned it, and the idea of adding a third (possibly more) to their little party isn't entirely appealing.
In the end, he decides to speak up, knowing that if someone dies because he kept his mouth shut, he'd never be able to forgive himself. Just another person he'd be letting down. "There was a distress signal. Caught it before I got pulled down." He keeps his gaze straight ahead as he speaks, doesn't mention that it's the entire reason he'd come by this planet in the first place. "How likely do you think it is they're still alive?"
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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐃
summary: while doing a deal with Marc, Joel comes to collect your debt.
pairing: (mob enforcer!Joel Miller x afab!reader) x dealer!Marc Spector.
warnings: 18+ mdni. dub con -> read responsibly. alt universe. soft!dark. no physical descriptors of reader. power imbalance. threats. debt to the mob. weed. no m/m. oral sex (f&m). rough sex. dirty talk. spit roasting. shotgunning. aftercare. w.c. 4.2k
author's note: honestly, this started out as pure filth/pwp, then it turned into so much more. there is potential for multiple parts, mostly revolving around Joel x reader. don't hold me to it, but like i said, this took on a life of its own, and now i'm madly in love with mob enforcer!Joel.
huge thank you to @ghotifishreads for beta-ing and being such a wonderful, supportive friend.
𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ♁ 𝐎𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞'𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲
The carpet in your tiny living room was slowly developing a hole from your pacing back and forth. You love this apartment. Sure, the faucets drip, and the dingy wallpaper started peeling the day you moved in, but it was all yours.
Since you moved to the big city after leaving home, you took any job you could find. You knew starting out on your own would be tough, but you could grin and bear it. Anything was better than small-town life. You wanted adventure, to see what the world had to offer.
What you didn’t plan on was getting involved with the wrong kind of people.
When you fell months behind on rent, a co-worker mentioned she knew someone who could help.
It was too good to be true, you thought, as you slowly walked into a smokey nightclub around midnight. Uptempo Spanish music played in the background as patrons drank at the bar, loudly singing and chattering. You tread deeper into the club, entering a VIP section where multiple gorgeous women sat on the laps of intimidating, finely dressed men in expensive suits.
Various sets of eyes spot you the moment you cross the threshold, but only one set feels like they’re burning into your soul.
An unnerving man with piercing brown eyes holds your wary gaze. He’s draped in a long, brown leather coat, and streaks of gray pepper his temples. He stands to the side, leaning against the wall, and watches with intrigue as you shift nervously on your feet.
His arms are crossed. A mustache tops his lips, which are etched in a permanent scowl as if he’s a dog that’s been kicked too many times. Still, he’s among the most handsome men you’ve seen since coming to the city.
He pushed off the wall with his broad shoulders, finally breaking his stare, and leaned down to whisper in the ear of a younger man seated at the head of the table, presumably his boss.
“You need a little help, Sugar?” the younger man asked.
His dark hair is a mess of curls, and his cheekbones look like they could cut glass. “I could use some help around the club. There’s always a gentleman in need of some company.” His fingers traced along a woman's nylon thigh as he looked you up and down. His coy lips tugged into a smirk as the group quietly laughed.
The brown-eyed man's face grimaced at the younger man's tone. You want to curl in on yourself. The smoke in the air makes it hard to breathe. “Uh, no,” you start, tonguing your dry lips. “I just need to borrow some money.”
The younger man purses his lips and nods. “That can be arranged. Joel here will take care of you.” He motioned to the older man on his right and looked you over with a curious gaze before waving you away.
Joel, the mob boss's right-hand man, meets you in the dingy alley behind the club. Water drips off the corner of the rooftop from the storm that blew through earlier in the day. A gust of cool fall air blows through, and you hug yourself to keep warm.
You learn that Joel was a no-nonsense man, straight to the point. Clear and precise.
He thrusts a heavy bag into your hands, and the leather handle creaks under the weight. “You sure you know what you’re getting yourself into?” he asks, lighting a cigarette. Orange hues lit his features sinisterly as if he were a demon or creature from hell's depths.
You stood your ground, but the tremble in your voice gave you away. “Yeah, I know what I’m doing.”
Joel’s eyes go soft. It’s the first time he looks human since you first saw him. “That’s what I thought,” he muttered, shaking his head. He blows a long gust of smoke from his nose. “He expects to be paid, with interest, by the end of the month.”
You teethe your bottom lip with a nod as nauseous worry swarms your belly.
“I’ll be keeping an eye on you,” he states, thumbing at his lips. “Just so we know you haven’t run off with our money.”
Your eyes widen, and your knees slightly buckle. “No! I don’t plan on taking off. You don’t have to worry about that.” You trip over your words, frantically making sure he knows you won’t rip them off.
He chuckles at the sight. It’s a deep, dark rumble from years of smoking and drinking, and it makes your cunt throb. “We don’t think you will, but it’s part of the job. Besides, having to keep track of such a pretty face ain’t so bad.” he muses, a light smirk tugs at the corner of his lips.
An anxious, breathy laugh puffs from your chest. You hesitantly wring the leather handle as your eyes fall to the wet pavement.
A horn blares in the distance. Angry drivers yell into the night, breaking the perilous spell between you and the enforcer.
“If you ever need help with anythin', let me know, okay?” he offers before turning on his heel and returning to the club.
“How will I contact you? With a bat signal or something?” You asked quizzically.
He chuckled again, and it set your heart on fire. “Just call the club and ask for me, sweetheart.”
You were truly and utterly fucked.
It was the end of the month. Joel would arrive at 5pm to collect, and you had $50 measly dollars left in your bank account.
You’d squared up with your landlord and then some, paying for a few months in advance to show how grateful you were that he didn’t kick you out on the streets. What you didn’t plan on was getting fired from your job. You desperately tried to find another one, but you knew it was pointless as the end of the month slowly crept.
A knock on the door jars you from your thoughts. You scramble to open it, thankful your dealer was around today. You badly needed a smoke to curb your anxiety and impending doom.
Marc stands on your doorstep, beaming with his classic lopsided smile. “How’s it going?” He asks, making the short trip over to your couch, unbuttoning his long, black, and gray tweed coat before plopping down with a sigh.
“Uh, fine,” you reply quickly. “You know. Same old.”
“Same shit, different day, as I like to say.” He scratches his trimmed beard with a coy grin. He looks really good today. Dark gray hair gelled and tousled.
Nerves tug at your belly. You can taste the bitter doubt in the back of your throat.
Marc was a decent dealer. He let you start a tab when funds were low and gave you extra lighters and papers when needed. You knew to avoid crossing him, so what you had to do was extra tricky.
You sit on the floor across from him as he chucks a bag filled with joints onto the coffee table. Your body itches to feel the smoke burn your lungs.
“Wanna hang for a bit? Smoke with me?” you offer, already reaching for the joint with a timid smile.
Marc quirks a brow. He digs his phone out of his tweed jacket and checks the time. “Uh, yeah, sure. I can hang for a bit.”
You try to light the joint, but the lighter won’t spark.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Marc asks, taking the lighter from your shaky hands.
You silently nod and press the joint between your lips. Just as he lights the spliff, a knock sounds on your door.
You curse under your breath and hand the unlit joint to Marc. “Sorry. I’ll give whoever that is the boot.” He nods and sparks the joint, taking a long drag as you cross the distance to the door.
You yank open the door without thinking. “I don’t want anything you’re selli-”
“Hey there, Sweetheart,” a familiar, deep voice drawls.
You stand like a deer in headlights before the intimidating mob enforcer.
He wasn’t supposed to be here so early. That’s the last time you open your door without checking the peephole.
“What’re you doing here, Joel?” you inquire, leaning in close so Marc doesn’t hear. "I have until tonight to give you the money."
The older man's leather jacket is pulled tight around his rugged shoulders as he leans in your doorway. His salt and pepper curls look damp as if you were his first stop after he got out of the shower.
“The boss has plans later and wants to ensure you're paid up.”
You wanted to scream.
“This isn’t fair.” Your fists clench at your sides.
“That’s life, Sweetheart’.” Joel shrugs. “So, where’s the money?"
It takes every ounce of courage you have to stand your ground.
“No. The boss said I had until 5pm, so I won’t give you anything until then. Now kindly, leave.”
You slam the door, but not quickly enough. A worn boot slides between the frame and the door, halting your escape.
“God dammit,” Joel fumes, shoving the door open, sending you flying back into your living room.
You catch yourself before you fall and watch as the enforcer makes his way into your sacred space. Now you know what it feels like to be on his wrong side. He kicks the door shut with his foot, ready to pounce, but freezes when he sees Marc.
“Miller.” Marc acknowledges from his laid-back position on the couch, joint pinched between his fingers.
Joel’s jaw twitches. “Spector.”
“So, what’s going on here?” Marc asks, gesturing with a curious wave. He then blows a lungful of smoke into the room and flicks bits of burning embers into an ashtray.
“None of your business,” Joel grits before focusing his attention back on you.
You do your best not to cower in front of the large man as he stalks closer. “You don’t want to make the boss angry.” He says, in an eerily calm voice, one that makes your hair stand on end. “Where’s the money?”
“I don’t have it.” You admit, barely louder than a whisper.
His jaw clenches hard. He shakes his head in disbelief, hands perched on his hips. His eyes grow scarily dark. "That’s not what I want to hear.”
“I don’t know what to say. I have a few dollars left in my account,” Your voice wavers.
Joel drags a heavy palm over his face and sighs. “What were you thinking? How were you going to pay him?” He hooks a thumb over his shoulder to your dealer.
“I, uh, I had a plan.” Your fingers wring at the seam of your shirt, and nausea swarms your belly.
Marc stands and finally joins the conversation. “Yeah, I’d like to know how you intended to pay me.”
You shift on your feet, eyes darting between the two more prominent and influential men.
“I was going to offer to blow you.” The words tumble out so quickly that you wonder if they even heard you.
You wish the floor would open up and suck you in. It was bad enough that you had to resort to blowing your dealer, but now Joel was here to witness everything and most likely drag you to a certain death.
“For fucks sake,” the older man groans.
Marc’s brow shoots into his hairline. He whistles as his eyes drag down your body. “You sure got yourself into a real jam here, huh?” He licks his bottom lip and steps closer. “I think something could be arranged, at least on my end. What about you?” He claps a hand on Joel's back, barely moving the powerhouse of a man. He was an enforcer, after all. This job wasn’t just for anyone.
Joel shakes his head in dismay. His leather jacket creaks as he moves, lightning fast, quickly pinching your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Here’s what’s gonna happen, Sweetheart.” He informs, “Since I’ve taken a likin’ to you, I’d hate to see you get hurt. I’ll pay off your debt.”
The heavy weight you’d dragged around for the last week falls from your shoulders. You didn’t realize you’d stop breathing until the sweet air rushed into your lungs.
“But,” he continues, rubbing his thumb across your bottom lip, “you’re going to pay me back in kind.”
The heaviness returns, except now you’re afraid the extreme weight will crush you.
Joel notices your racing thoughts. “Shh. No need to think,” he murmurs, letting his hand fall to your hip and making himself comfortable. “Just be grateful you’ve got to deal with only me and Spector.”
His eyes are solemn and tender, lost in his thoughts; his gaze travels across your face. You raise a cautious hand to his chest, feeling his heartbeat under the smooth leather. That magnetic pull you felt the first time you met him pulsed through your veins again, and you think he felt it, too.
Then, his features twisted with remorse. "This wasn't what I had in mind, but you've left me no choice, Sweetheart."
In a flash, Joel drags you across the worn floorboards and carelessly tosses you over the back of your couch. The air knocks from your lungs. Your ribs flash bright with pain. He moves too fast for you to protest and tugs your leggings off, throwing them across the small room.
“Best get to work, Spector, if you plan on getting your end of the deal,” Joel threatens the dealer as he crouches down, giving himself a front-row view of your exposed cunt.
“Let’s get a look at the goods.” His large, warm hands roughly spread your cheeks apart. “Fuck me. That’s a sweet looking pussy.” He drags a thumb up the slice of you, making your spine bow as your hands press into the cushions. “Already wet, too. My kinda girl.”
Unconsciously, you strike an elbow back, but an imposing figure grabs your flailing limb, halting your retaliation.
You forgot about the other man in the room.
“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t ever wonder how you’d look with my cock in your mouth,” Marc admits while fisting his length out.
He’s half-hard and already intimidating. You stare up at him incredulously while he grasps his veiny girth and traces your tightly closed mouth with the weeping, dusky pink tip. He smears his pre-cum on your skin, marking you before he begins his corruption.
Joel smacks your ass hard, making you yelp and shoving you onto the dealer’s awaiting cock. You instantly gag as Marc's hips pitch forward once he feels your warm, wet mouth. He curses under his breath, cages your head between his hands, and begins sawing his cock back and forth over your tongue.
His brute thrusts make you gag and spring tears to your eyes. “Come on now. Why the waterworks? This was your plan, after all,” Marc teases, patting your damp cheek.
Without warning, Joel’s tongue dives into your heat. A blazing heat erupts in your belly as he licks from end to end, wild and ferocious, not stopping until he tastes every inch of you.
You instinctively moan from the blissful arousal that begins to pulse from his treatment. He laves at your taint and tickles your untouched rosebud for a beat forcing your mind to somersault before traveling south to circle his tongue around your clit.
“Could eat this cunt all damn day,” he slurs against your throbbing core like he's drunk off you. “God damn, s’fuckin’ delicious.”
Joel sucks the tiny button into his mouth, earning a whole body shiver as you writhe against the couch. He rubs his nose against your soaked folds, making sure to take deep breaths while he eats you alive.
Marc leans to his left while he works his cock ruthlessly down your throat, making you sputter as the bulbous head prods your tonsils.
You hear a click. The sound of paper igniting and then a long, deep breath.
Marc leers down at you while holding the smoke in his lungs. He curls a hand around the back of your head and presses until the auburn wiry strands littering his girthy base tickle your nose. Then, he exhales, blowing a long, winding breath like a dragon down into your face.
Your vision blurs from the vapor. The trapped oxygen burns your lungs, and your body quivers from your helpless position while you gag sickly around his cock. Joel winds his arms under your belly, keeping you steady as you thrash anxiously.
When Marc finally lets you free, you sputter and suck down as much air as you can. A glossy strand of drool connects your lips to his throbbing cock. You sniff and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand as his fat length bounces in your view. “You look fuckin’ wasted, Kitten.” He quips with a languid laugh and takes another hit.
Joel stands behind you, knees cracking as he towers over your vulnerable body. You warily look over your shoulder when he grinds his against the soft skin of your ass.
You’re caught in his wretched stare like a deer in headlights. “Best hope this pussy fucks as good as it tastes,” he threatens, tapping his bulbous, weeping crown on your sticky folds.
Joel gives no warning before he steadily pushes his obscene length into your heat. Your jaw drops with a raspy wail, allowing Marc to fill your mouth again and mute your frantic moans. You feel every vein and girthy inch of Joel’s cock splitting you open, as well as Marc's, as he glides his thickness over your tongue.
It seems to go on forever until they bottom out harmoniously. Joel presses his hips against your ass, and his plush lips pull into a sneer as your core stretches to accommodate him. “Oh, Sweetheart. This cunt is practically chokin’ me.” He provokes with a ragged groan, rubbing his thumb along the glistening, excessively stretched skin that embraces his cock.
A high-pitched whine slithers from your throat before it’s quickly cut off by Marc snapping his pelvis. Joel licks his creamy thumb with a dark chuckle before caging your hips in his steely grasp. He sets a steady rhythm, entirely withdrawing before shoving his cock back in, giving you no reprieve as Marc continuously thrusts his dripping length between your spit-coated lips.
Your body burns. Your mind is warped. Joel's cock keeps brushing against that spongy spot behind your clit. It's all too much. You feel yourself losing strength, giving in. Either from lack of oxygen to your brain or your greedy cunt that's feeding off their wretched pleasure.
"You gonna come, Sweetheart? Can feel her milkin' me real good. Shit-" Joel hisses as your velvet walls squeeze him tight.
Both your holes lock around their cocks as you come. Your eyes roll back, your spine bending like a bow as the harsh wave of desire ripples through you.
Both men curse at the sight and feel of you.
It shouldn’t feel this good being used and tossed around like a toy, but a thick, syrupy heat steadily gathers in your belly. With your head in the drug-induced clouds, every illicit touch sends you higher into a euphoric atmosphere.
“Wanna hit?” Marc offers, holding the joint between his fingers to the enforcer.
Joel finally tears his eyes away from where he’s spearing you open. He nods, stilling his hips, and extends a hand before pressing the joint between his lips. He takes a long drag before splaying his broad body over yours.
You notice him in your peripheral as he watches you choke down Marc’s cock. “What a fuckin’ sight,” he drawls, joint bouncing between his lips. “Swallowin’ his cock like your life depends on it.” He roughly drives his hips forward, his leaky crown cruelly kissing your cervix, making you gag from the agonizing bliss. “Kinda ironic that it does.”
You feel their cocks pulse in unison when you start writhing at Joel’s threat. You knew they wouldn’t hurt you, but the thought was too much to bear in your current state. They quickly make work of your flailing limbs; Joel grabs the back of your neck with a heavy paw, and Marc traps both your hands in his own, caging them against his stout stomach.
They set a brutal pace. You no longer feel in control of your body as they use you to get off. The room echoes with the sounds of gluttony, like feral animals staking their rightful claim on lowly prey.
Marc comes with a growl, caging your head between his hands as you push against his abdomen, and fucks his salty release into your mouth. He collapses onto the couch with a ragged sigh, his engorged cock a shiny mess as he catches his breath.
“Gotta get used to this, sweetheart,” Joel gloats in your ear, working an arm around your collarbone to pull you back onto his cock, forcing you to meet every one of his brutal shoves. “Your pretty pussy is gonna be ruined by the time your debt is paid in full.”
Marc cups your jaw in one of his hands and takes a puff of his joint. He slides a thumb between your sticky, come coated lips and blows the smoke into your mouth. You gladly inhale, letting the drug work its magic. Joel grabs your hips and picks up his speed, greedy for his pleasure.
He comes with a gruff, dark groan, snapping his hips hard against your ass until he's buried to the hilt and pumping his sticky load into your fluttering core.
You collapsed onto the cushions once Joel let go of your hips, your body too weak and drugged to care to move despite your vulnerable state.
“We’re square, Kitten.” Marc grazes your cheek with his knuckles, and a sly grin tugs at the corner of his lips. “But anytime you want a hit and can’t pay, I’ll be more than happy to help you out,” Marc quips before silently nodding at Joel and leaves with a bounce in his step.
"Come're, Sweetheart." Large hands slide under your belly and help you stand on your feet. His eyes soften as he looks over your puffy eyes and swollen, slick coated lips. He cups your cheek and sighs through his nose. "Let's get you cleaned up, yeah?"
A rush of water hits your ears as Joel turns the shower faucet. You stand behind him like a child waiting for their next instruction before he turns back to you with a slight smile.
"Up and over. That's it," Joel says, ensuring you don't bump your elbows as he removes your shirt, folds it, and places it on your vanity. He helps you step into the shower before he sits on the toilet lid and watches you through the clear plastic curtain.
Silence falls over the tiny bathroom as he lets you take solace under the stream.
You melt in the warmth. It eases your aches and dulls your overwrought senses. You stay there until your skin prunes and icy cold water pours from the tap.
He helps you step out of the tub, ensuring you're on solid ground before grabbing a towel hanging on the wall and wrapping you in the soft cotton.
"You'll stay with me until your debt is paid," he said, resting his hands on your shoulders; the weight keeps you grounded as your world turns upside down.
"You won't have to worry about anythin'," he continues, carefully drying your body with a tenderness you didn't expect. "I'll pay your rent, so you still have this place when our transaction is complete."
You know you should be upset. A screaming, raging mess but seeing such a dangerous man on his knees drying water droplets from your body makes you lightheaded with alarming power.
He stands when you don't outwardly react. His lips are pressed into a worried, hard line, his hands are perched on his hips, and a sharp brow wrinkles his forehead. "Okay?"
The vexation that laces his tone snaps you out of the dumbstruck fog. You knew there was only one right answer.
“Yes,” you rasp, defeated.
He smirks, softly chuckling under his breath at your submission.
"I'll be back in a few hours," he says, cupping your jaw like he's drinking from a stream; God knows what brutality those hands have dealt out. "I trust you'll still be here when I get back."
You nod quickly under his grave stare.
He plants a searing kiss on your lips, making you gasp. It's dominating and possessive, like he's christening the start of your new life together by licking into your mouth and claiming you.
He breaks the kiss with a grunt and nudges your nose with his own. "Thatta girl."
He holds your gaze as he slowly walks backward out of the room. "Pack enough for the next week. I'll swing by later to get the rest," he instructs before turning and walking out your door.
You're left standing in your tiny bathroom, panting like a newborn fawn. Your legs wobble as you move to sit on the toilet lid and clutch the towel tighter to your chest; heart smashing against your ribs.
Joel was right. You had no idea what you were getting yourself into.
feel free to scream at me -> 💌
*if you'd like to read more about Joel and reader's new life together, please invade my inbox about them! it helps motivate me!*
->reblogs & comments are extremely appreciated!<-
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#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#marc spector#marc spector x reader#marc spector x you#pedro pascal#oscar isaac
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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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Stranger in my house
Pairing-Moon boys x F!reader ( Secretly Jake x f!reader) Marc Spector x f!reader/ Steven grant x f!reader
CW-18+,MDNI,Angst,Fluff,Insecurities, inaccurate depiction of DID, reader is semi aware of Jake. Protective Marc, Steven being sweet as always. Established relationship with Marc and Steven.
WK-1.6k
Summary-Snippets of a life where Jake struggles to stay in the shadows.
A/N- Dedicated to my moonknight babes. I have not forsaken you.
[Main Masterlist]
Not beta read
You notice him one day.
A year into your relationship and Marc is fed up with Steven and yours overflowing books on the floor of the flat. “We need another bookshelf.” He grumbles at your suggestion because he would just get rid of some if he had the choice.
That’s how you find yourself curled up on the couch with some tea and ironically a book while you watch Marc put together the new shelf you and Steven picked out.
It was ornate with cherry wood accents and came with a miniature ladder to help you reach the top shelf. You didn’t think it would be too complicated but it seems as Marc stares at the pages like they are ancient hieroglyphics, you may have caused a bit more of a headache than you intended.
He mutters something incoherent under his breath ‘déjeme ver’. You don’t bother to ask if he needs help when the scowl on his face deepens even further into an almost unrecognizable version of your boyfriend.
You glance up occasionally to watch the way his back strains against the tight black t-shirt, or the way his ass looks in his jeans when he bends over. Marc and Stevens movements are so unalike and yet even now the way he stands up and straightens as he rolls his neck is so unlike Marc.
You stop ogling to resume your book and find yourself several chapters in when you look up to see it finished. “Oh honey, it looks so good.”
The look he gives you when he turns around is more of a smirk of amusement. You glance down briefly to mark your page before standing from the couch to inspect his handy work. You don’t notice the way he’s watching you as you slide your hands along the smooth wood shelves. You grab a few of your favorite books that were piled on the floor and strategically place them in some specific secret order that no one but you is privy to.
You turn to him and wrap your arms around his neck, waiting for him to scoop you up as he usually does. His hands hover hesitantly at your waist and then he pulls you flush against him. You almost have no room to breathe as you chuckle lightly into his neck. You swear he smells your hair before he abruptly lets you go.
“Hi love, do you like the bookcase?” Your sweet Steven has a slightly wild look in his eyes as waits for your response.
“Of course I do, we picked it out together silly.” You lean in and kiss him on the cheek and he relaxes at your touch. “If you’re listening Marc, I love it, since you disappeared on me.”
“Right ya…Marc. He says you're welcome.”
****
You notice one day
You had spent all afternoon preparing a special dinner and dessert for Marc. The flat is adorned with candles and smells of fresh pasta and apple pie.
When Marc walks through the door you can see it written all over his face. He doesn’t say anything about you making his favorites because technically it’s not his birthday. It’s the day after.
You enjoy each other's company in comfortable silence as you wait for him to finish. He raises an eyebrow at you as you hand him a small box, unwrapped because then it’s not a birthday gift.
He opens it slowly to reveal his watch that broke months ago, the small hand ticking away right in front of his eyes.
You should thank her mate
She didn’t need to do all this for my birthday
Well it’s technically not anymore is it?
He doesn’t say anything but you decide to press on with your plan. Even if it’s not exactly the reaction you were expecting at the very least he’s not protesting it.
“I have one more thing.” You stand from the table and head to the kitchen to retrieve the apple pie on warm in the oven. To you it’s just a dessert, a non cake related dessert that just so happened to be his favorite. Steven helped you with the vegan crust because he was not about to let Marc have all the fun.
You return to the table with a slice and a fork to share. He stares at it for a moment and your heart sinks a little.
“I know what you’re going to say…”
He cuts you off before you can finish, he stands so suddenly it startles you. He kisses you slowly at first, savoring the way you moan into his mouth. His hand is on the back of your head and the other around your waist and it feels so different. It’s like you’re sending him off to war and this is the last kiss you’ll ever share. Your lungs burn from lack of air but you don’t want to be the first one to break.
He pulls away as you look up at him. His eyes are squeezed so tightly shut as he tries to catch his breath.
“Honey,look at me.”
His brow softens as he opens his eyes revealing that deep chocolate brown, with a look that could only adorn your sweet Stevens face.
“Thank you, love.”
****
It goes like this for a while. You noticing him…him noticing you.
You notice as You quirk your eyebrow at him in the kitchen when he picks out the tomato on his sandwich and drops it in the trash like it personally wronged him.
“I thought you liked those?”
He notices After a long day at work in shoes you know we’re too uncomfortable he picks up your feet and places them in his lap. He rubs them at first bordering on painful that settles into something soothing. His fingers brush the bottom of your feet and you flinch at the ticklish feeling. He tsks at you under his breath and you still your movements when you meet his unfamiliar eyes.
You notice When he doesn’t hear you enter the flat. He’s at the kitchen sink washing dishes, shirtless in those gray sweatpants you love. He’s humming some tune you’ve never heard as you place your things down and toe off your shoes. You didn’t mean to startle him as your cold hands met his side and he turned quickly knocking a glass off the counter.
“Mierda quédate ahí!” You don’t speak Spanish but you’re too stunned to move anyway. He grabs you with one arm around your waist and carries you like a duffel bag over to the couch away from the glass.
“Sorry love, clumsy me. I’ll get this cleaned up.” Steven doesn’t look at you as he grabs the broom from the closet.
****
He notices when he slinks in through the window in the early hours. It’s still dark outside as he strips himself of his moon knight clothes, the blood only distinguishable on his hands. As he slips past you to the shower he can see your shallow breaths while you lay out flat on the bed.
After a while you feel the bed dip beside you as you try to calm your breathing. He wraps his arm around you as he pulls your back flush to his chest. His breath is hot on your neck and you can feel his heart beating rapidly against you.
“You’re a terrible faker mi amor.” Your breath hitches in your throat as he speaks the words into your ear.
“You have to slow down your breathing if you want to pretend to be asleep.” His voice a low growl as he places his hand on your chest. You can feel him take slow deliberate breaths as you try to match the rise and fall of his chest. ‘así’
“This isn’t how you lay when you're asleep.” His hand leaves your body momentarily and you miss the heat of his touch. He grabs your thigh behind the knee and pushes it gently until it’s bent. His hand slowly guides you to your stomach while his other arm supports the weight of your head.‘es mejor’
He envelopes you under the blankets and it takes all your willpower not to roll him over and straddle him. You don’t even know him. He buries his face in your neck and sniffs again inhaling your scent. You’re practically skin to skin in your satin slip dress and his bare chest and boxers.
“Is this okay?” His voice barely above a whisper as you nod your head. His lips ghost over your back before he kisses your shoulder. It’s those soft sleepy kisses adorning your body until the real sleep claims you both.
****
You awake to the feel of cold sheets beside you as you feel around for him. A sliver of light hits the room from the bathroom door slightly ajar.
“I swear to god Jake, if you fuck this up.”
Jake -he has a name
It’s mostly Marc speaking idle threats as you listen in to a one sided conversation. Whatever his reservations may be, it's none of your business. You do know that he would never do anything intentionally to fuck this up.
Your boyfriend exits the bathroom still dressed only in his black boxers. “Love…we need to talk to you about something.”
He sits on the edge of the bed as he rubs circles on your legs under the sheets.
“I know.”
They knew…it’s why they can’t be mad when you finally talk about the stranger. You fell in love with him a long time ago. The one they tried to keep a secret. He no longer wanted to be kept in the dark. He loves you too much. This stranger in your house.
@chichimisaki @simpforbritgents @casa-boiardi @missdictatorme @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @melodygatesauthor @missbeverlyhills
Comments and reblogs are much appreciated
Dejeme ver-Let me see
Mierda quedate ahi-Shit stay there
Asi- just like that
Es mejor- that’s better
#moon knight fanfiction#moon knight system#moon boys x reader#marc spector x fem!reader#steven grant x fem!reader#jake lockley x reader#jake lockley fluff#jake lockley fanfiction#moon knight fic#marc spector angst#jake lockely x reader#moon knight x reader#jake lockley imagine#jake lockley x you#steven grant fluff
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Hot Water
Marc Spector X f!Reader
Not Beta Read - Requested by @blueflowerhat
Thank you for being patient and waiting since APRIL 27th for me to get this done haha. You're the real MVP.
Summary
You and your boyfriend Marc have some steamy shower sex.
Tags/Warnings:
NSFW, smut, shower sex, p in v creampie, pwp, rough sex, Marc gets pretty rough so like...just know that.
Word Count: 754
“It’s my turn to wash you now honey,” Marc said, eyes hooded and full of a lust as he looked down at you, water trickling over his broad shoulders from the showerhead.
You bit your lip, feeling his hands, gentle but calloused, trailing over your soft skin, slick with lavender scented soap. You watched with him nothing but adoration in your eyes as he took his time, as though he were savoring the feeling of your body as his hands explored every inch. He worked his way over your collarbone, down your shoulders, until eventually he landed on your breasts. He cupped them in each palm, brushing a thumb over your nipples softly, inciting a soft, breathy moan to slip past your lips.
“M-Marc,” you whined leaning into him, lips grazing the tanned, wet skin on his neck.
“Shh baby,” he pushed you back a little while he ran his hands over you, rinsing the soap from your body, “just relax for me.”
You exhaled heavily, letting yourself go pliant under his gentle caress. A deep sigh of arousal escaped his lips just before he slotted them over yours. Marc grazed his tongue against the seam of your mouth softly, begging you to let him in. The moment you did, he grabbed the back of your head, making you stiffen in response.
“Don’t tense up on me honey,” his free hand trailed down over your stomach, his middle finger stopped just at the tip of where your body split in two.
You shuddered at his touch, “o-okay,” you tried to relax, but the way his finger slid further between your folds made it impossible.
You moaned deeply, arching your back as the pad of his finger touched your clit. Your body shook, arousal built up so high you felt like you could come with the smallest bit of friction. Marc could feel it, the way your cunt contracted over nothing, hungry for anything he could provide. He was impossibly hard, thick cock prodding your abdomen.
“God…fuckin’ need you,” he said in a low growl, pushing you against the shower wall roughly and lifting you just high enough to plunge his fat cock into your soaking wet heat.
You shrieked out a gasp, going from empty to full in one fell swoop. Marc leaned into the nape of your neck and huffed loudly in your ear at the same pace as his thrusts. You grabbed onto his shoulders for stability, though his grip was so tight you could’ve gone limp and he still would’ve been able to hold you up.
“You’re always so tight for me baby, a perfect fit every-fucking-time-fuck!”
The sounds escaping you were a combined moaning scream, and he wasn’t showing any signs of slowing down. Marc leaned forward more, taking one of his hands off your body and pressing it against the cool tile behind you. He shifted, hitting you deeper, something you were certain couldn’t possible until you felt it. You cried out even louder while he slammed against that spot deep inside you that made your body electrify.
“Marc too much!”
“Shh, you’re fine…” He said, continuing to snap his hips against you at an unforgiving pace, “you’re fine.”
“Too fast Marc!”
He held onto you tightly, lowering you both down into the tub and putting your body underneath his. He used one hand to cover your mouth, and the other to grab your hip, going back to jackhammering himself into your cunt over and over again. You felt your eyes rolling back in your head, and your vision starting to fade as the heat pooled in your core. Instinctively you were wriggling, trying to get away from the relentless pounding, but internally your mind was white, so close to exploding. You weren’t going to last much longer, not at this rate.
“Mmph honey you feel so good, you feel so fucking good around my cock. Your little hole is so soft, so warm I…oh god…f-fuck!”
As Marc’s cock twitched, spilling hot cum into your needy cunt, your walls contracted around him, squeezing out every last drop you could. He kept fucking you through your climax, keeping your mouth covered and muffling your screams that a neighbor might mistake for someone crying bloody murder.
Marc’s entire body shook as he pulled back, cock acting like a plug as it popped out of you and leaked his spend out onto the tub floor. He chuckled and kissed your cheek, moving to whisper in your ear.
“Let’s get you cleaned up…again.”
Moon Knight Masterlist
Main Masterlist
#marc spector#marc spector fiction#marc spector headcanon#marc spector x reader#marc spector x you#marc spector smut#moon knight#moon knight drabble#marc spector drabble#moon knight smut#moon knight fanfiction#moon knight fic#marc spector fanfiction
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I need to hear your most out of pocket HC about your fav Oscar characters that there really isn’t much evidence for but you feel in your soul is right. Can be fluff or nsfw!
For example:
I think Nathan actually likes to be topped and degraded. Do I have any evidence for this? No. Do I know in my pussy gut that I am right? Yeah 😌💅
OUT OF POCKET HCS.
OSCAR ISAAC character headcanons
Content warning: just some real filthy shit. Uses female body descriptions. Breeding kink A LOT. Mentions cheating but doesn't get cheated on.
Characters: Nathan Bateman, Marc Spector, Jonathan Levy, Steven Grant, Miguel O'Hara.
Words: a lot.
Not beta read.
Requested by: @boredzillenial
Author's Note: i wish i could've written more bUT MY BRAIN IS JUST EXPLODING. Btw, thank you for requesting! Reblogs and comments are appreciated 💅❤️
MINORS DNI
I swear. Nathan Bateman's head... you know exactly what I mean. LISTEN YOU SAID OUT OF POCKET SO HERE'S THE FANTASY: just... just grinding on it, your clit getting stimulated by his shaved head— he's not completely bald so I'm saying that if you caress his head, it'll still feel prickly.
Oh but imagine... breeding kink Nathan (tbh just in general i think all oscar characters would have a breeding kink)
Slow strokes, in and out of you. Nathan holding you still— not even in bed, he just wanted to fuck you in his office while idk doing research, but you were just standing in the corner of his office doing god knows what and he's accusing you of seducing him. And now here he was, his research forgotten and fucking you on his seat.
"Hm? When are you gonna learn your lesson that you can't just strut into my office and expect me not fuck the shit out of you?"
"N-Nathan, I wasn't even doing anything-"
"Shh... this'll be your punishment, okay?"
But at the end of it, just cuddling while he worked... but cockwarming him.
"Keep my cum in. Don't wanna waste God's seed, right sweetie?"
"Nathan, just shut up."
The moment you told him to shut up, something awakens in him.
"Slap me."
"Are you crazy?"
"Love, sweetie, honey bunny... please slap me."
Lets you ride him in your own pace for once, and he tried to stop himself from grabbing your hips and slamming you down on his cock.
"Naughty naughty..."
"Sweetie, please... fuck, you're driving me crazy here."
"Aw, don't you wanna cum in me?"
"F-Fuck..."
He fucking whimpers.
"God's seed shouldn't be wasted, right?"
"I'm never letting you be on top again..."
Marc... oh my Marc. I have a mini series coming soon for the Moon Knight boys where Reader is has such a huge crush on Steven, and becomes his girlfriend after confessing. She meets Marc when he fronted, hates him so much and wants to punch him, but he has the face and body of her boyfriend and didn't want to hurt him. Maybe like an enemies to lovers with Marc and Reader, and Steven being happy that they're getting along. Jake will come later to me idk yet.
Imagine just going to bed in one of his shirts. Drives him CRAZY and the next thing you know, your sleepiness disappears as he fucks into you, just in a brutal pace. He loves groping you, breasts, thighs and all. If you're plus-sized/ chubby, he would hold your waist and giving you a squeeze here and there as he fucks you into oblivion.
Would top a lot but he loves it when you ride him and you get overwhelmed by his size.
"Come on, just a few more inches in."
"Marc... too big..."
Size kink applies to all the Moon boys. Well, because they share a body and uses one dick.
Marc just loves pressing against you. He's pretty experimental with the positions. Aftercare with Marc is just heavenly. Bubble bath, washing your body with a loofa. But then he gets turned on again and fucks you in the bath.
You could exist and just breathe, Marc will get turned on (like Nathan tbh).
Jonathan Levy... ugh dilf. An actual one. Expect a long one (tw: mentions mira)
Usually it's the teacher-student love affair with this guy (tbh real) but seriously you can treat him better than Mira.
Something about you keeps driving him crazy to the point that Episode 4 and 5 of the show didn't happen 💅💅
He sees that you're absolutely nothing like his ex wife. And he loves the breath of fresh air. You loved all the things Mira hated about him.
Jonathan loves it when you cup his face and just stare into his eyes. Loves it when you pack him his lunch and put in notes. Brags about it a lot with his co-workers.
Just imagine being in love with him since childhood, being broken hearted when he married Mira, but one drunken night he realized he shouldn't have been chasing after Mira and turned to look at you. You finally had him.
His daughter adores you. Jonathan sees you being so good with children and he immediately goes "I want one with you."
Breeding kink dude. This guy obviously has one. He loves children. (Personally i would give him a football team because he deserves it) when you do get pregnant, he would be so caring and attentive. You're pregnant with his baby so obviously he would spoil you non stop. He would just smile at you whenever you get mood swings and start to get annoyed when he chews too loud.
Just a lot of fucking. Shower, bed, walls, even inside closets. He just adores you. He couldn't believe he was so blind not to see how much you've loved him and he would spend the rest of his life making it up to you.
"Jon, too tired..."
"Need you so bad, hun... just a few more, please? Wanna cum in you again..."
Mira hates you, but since you're you, you always one-up her and you two may or may not have gotten into a fight and Jonathan found you more attractive since then.
You become possessive of Jonathan whenever Mira's around, but Jonathan actually finds it really hot. Expect more than one round of sex with him on those days.
He never cheats on you even if Mira keeps pushing it. You were one of a kind, Jonathan knew how broken-hearted you would be if he did. Jonathan would purposely treat you like a lady in front of Mira, 100 times more than he usually does (which is impossible he already treats you so well)
Just... you make him a better person. You got him on a leash. He's not going anywhere.
Also he definitely loves risky sex. House filled with guests and you two are in the bathroom. He would even make you moan loudly that it'll annoy Mira who is passing by the bathroom. You enjoyed it when Mira's pissed off. You just hate her so much.
Steven oh Steven. Just imagine trying to seduce Steven, and he's just clueless and continues to ramble on about Egyptian history and all, but you're trying to fuck him.
You want him to clear his table of books and just slam you on the table to fuck you. You go back to reality and he's smiling innocently at you as he kept talking.
You just hear nothing. His voice sounded muffled to you as your eyes scanned his face and stops on his nose... his nose.
Big noses. What Doja Cat said.
"Steven."
"Yes, love?"
"I want you to fuck me right now."
Soft sex with Steven. He doesn't want any position but missionary. He loves seeing your face.
Breeding kink? Yes. You all know this by now.
Falls silent when he cums, eyes rolling to the back of his head. It feels so overwhelming but so good. Loves filling you up to the brim.
Sometimes when you leave a pair of panties out, he would fight the urge to jack off to them. He just misses you so so much.
When you come back, he would push you against the wall and attack you with kisses and hickeys.
He also buys you a matching Koala plush keychain for your keys.
Sometimes you just want him to fuck you mercilessly, just slam you around and use you. UGH IM SCREAMING.
And back to the nose thing, he definitely let you grind on his nose at some point.
"C'mon, love... wanna taste you..."
Something about him nerding out just turns you on. You would suck his dick while he's talking. Even after cumming, you don't stop. You love seeing him overstimulated.
They say home is where the heart is. But god do you love the english 💅💅💅
Did he restrain you to his bed at some point? You told him to. And it unlocked a kink.
But do you know what kink Steven would have? Worship. Take it or leave it.
Messy kisses, his light colored shirts are stained with your lipstick. He ends up with his neck filled with hickeys. His back is scarred by your nails.
Risky sex? Fucking in the museum bathroom. Steven looked so hot behind the gift shop that you couldn't help it. Steven's dad material too, talks to kids really well.
So yeah that's when your breeding kink appeared. You wanted him to get you pregnant. He would be a great father.
"Cum inside me, Stevie. Fill me up."
Loves sucking on your tit while groping the other. He wants to make eye contact with you as much as he could while he does it.
Bree- *gunshots*
This one is obvious though. He has a breeding kink and wants to get you pregnant.
Let's pretend Gabriella's alive here and he sees how good you are with her. He wants to have a bigger family with you.
"Gabby said she wants a sibling..."
Yeah. That's when you know, non stop breeding. Even when you're not even ovulating, he just fills you up. He wants to get you pregnant and see how good you look pregnant.
When you start lactating even before you give birth, he'd suck them out. He didn't want to waste good milk.
He treats you like a gentleman but at the same time you want him to slam you down and fuck you.
He's an old fashioned lover boy, romantic dinner and flowers. Gabriella has a babysitter while you two go on a date. She thinks you two are really perfect for each other. She draws you two a lot and you put them on the fridge.
"Daddy, I saw mommy kissing Spider-Man."
You two choked on your breakfast. Miguel hasn't told her yet about him being Spider-Man. He looks at you and smirks.
"Oh, did she?"
Prepare for a long night of degradation. Pulling your hair and jackhammering into you.
"Such a slut, huh?"
"Dumbass, you're Spider-Man. You can't call me a slut for kissing my husband."
He just fucks you harder. Miguel does get tired easily and lets you ride him.
Just... yes. And yes, he does bite you.
#across the spiderverse#miguel smut#miguel o'hara smut#moon knight smut#marc spector smut#steven grant smut#nathan bateman smut#moon knight#ex machina#scenes from a marriage#jonathan levy#minispidey requests
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Tell Me No
Marc Spector x GN!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | requestinfo• MK Bingo 2024 Masterlist• ko-fi •
Summary: Marc prefers when you take what you want.
🌛For @moonknight-events MK Bingo Spring 2024 Event🌜
A/N: Okay, this is really not going to be for everyone. Please look at the warnings.
Warnings: hand jobs, sub!Marc, Marc having a rape fantasy/ravishment kink, rapeplay, safe words, forced orgasm (but not really forced *dennis reynolds voice* it's the implication), this isn't noncon because both parties have agreed on this - which is also mentioned in fic but I till feel like it could cause distress in anyone that has a trigger, over use of italics, typos, not beta read, railroad sentences, please let me know if I’ve missed a warning!
Word Count: 1592
“Tell me no?” Marc asked softly as he gently touched your arm.
You turned from where you were putting plates away to face him fully.
He swallowed, his fingers still brushing against you, looking down at your feet. His head was tilted slightly, making it even more obvious that he was shying away from your gaze.
Slowly you hooked your forefinger under his chin and lifted his head upwards ever so slightly. Your touch delicate, but firm.
He sucked in a breath, his muscles tensing but kept looking at the floor, his eyelashes practically kissing his cheeks.
“You want that?” You asked firmly, your voice steady but gentle.
He nodded once, a small micro movement.
“You gonna ask for it properly?”
He swallowed again, the action making a gulping sound that clicked around the room. But he took a little too long to answer,
“Or do I have to make you?” You said, your voice still that same constant sturdiness.
He nodded again and you smiled.
It had started as an accident really, a bit of a silly joke when you were still early into your relationship. Sitting on the grass in Greenwich Park, Marc pouting and saying ‘no’ when you tried to kiss his cheeks. You had laughed and backed off every time, not touching him, when he’d bitten his lip and asked sweetly. “Do it anyway when I say no?”
“You want me to kiss you anyway?”
“If you can.” He’d wiggled his eyebrows at you, purposefully making you giggle. But even then you had recognised that he was trying to cover something, some nervousness with bravado. Even if you couldn’t quite put your finger on what.
“Alright,” you smiled. “But what if you really want me to stop? How will I know?”
He had looked to the side, in thought for a moment. “I’ll say dandelion.”
“Dandelion?”
“Hmm.” He nodded.
“You just chose the first thing you saw!” You laughed.
“So what if I did?” He said cheekily.
“I’m afraid I’m gonna have you kisses as punishment.”
“No.”
You couldn’t remember when the name of the game had stuck, ‘tell me no’, but Marc always said it that way, despite him being the one that would being saying the negative. It seemed easier for him to ask you that way.
He had been awkward about it the first time he brought it up in conection to sex. More than awkward. Fumbling over his words and not looking at you, until he had given up in frustration and huffed as he walked off. But he didn’t go off to sulk, instead he wrote down what he was having such trouble saying and handed you the paper.
‘I know it’s weird.’ The word was underlined twice. ‘And you can say no. But what if we play tell me no during sex?’
You had looked up at him. “That’s not weird.”
He paused, his face completely blank for a moment. Error screen. Loading. Clearly he hadn’t expected that response.
“Lots of people have that fantasy.”
He paused, raising his chin ever so slightly in question. A microexpression you were used to.
“Really,” you smiled and touched his arm, reassuring him. “I’m happy to. But we need to talk about it a little before hand, I need to know what you want, okay?”
He nodded. “Okay.”
Marc wanted to act like he didn’t want you to touch him, please him. He wanted you to do it anyway, to force him to come.
You kissed him deeply, pushing your tongue into his mouth and growling when he pulled away.
“Please, don’t.” He said softly, looking down like he was ashamed.
“But I want to.” You pinched his chin lightly between your thumb and forfinger and turned his face back towards you. This time you kissed him harsher, biting at his plump bottom lip.
Marc groaned, allowing himself to sink into your embrace for a moment before he moved his hand away again. “Stop, please, I shouldn’t.”
You kissed him again, grabbing hold of his biceps and walking him backwards towards the bed.
He muffled a moan against your lips, pretending to squirm to try to get out of your grip. He raised his hands, pressing them to your chest as if he was trying to get you off him. But he used no where near half of his strength, his touch practically begging you to manhandle him.
You push him back against the bed, pining him down under your body and straddling his hips. He whines under you, bucking upwards as if he was trying to push you off, but really he was rubbing his already half hard cock against your core.
You bite his lip again, hard and he lets out a sweet moan. The sound turning into a stiffled breath as you nip down his jaw and suck on the sweet spot on his neck.
“Stop, please, stop, no, I don’t want this, I shouldn’t-”
“You’ll take what I give you,” you hiss in his ear and Marc shivers, his eyes rolling back as he groans. “Gonna make you come and make a mess everywhere.”
“No,” he shakes his head rapidly. “Please.” The stress on the word is delicious, the way he looks up at you, begging silently for you to continue.
“Shut up you stupid whore.” You grab hold of his wrists and pin them up above his head with one hand, Marc groans, wiggling his hips a little. It would be so easy for him to move, to get away from your touch. Your fingers are just resting on his skin, not even squeezing. That’s how he likes it. The illusion of being pinned. But knowing he can move at any moment if he really wanted to.
It’s not that he doesn’t want to give up control, he does, he craves it, it’s just that past experiences have made the reality of having his hands tied a little impractical. Even if he knows he’s safe, even if his mind is begging for it, his body still reacts with adrenaline and fear. Panic attacks and gasping for breath. Neither of you want that.
“Stop.” He mutters, shaking his head from side to side, looking at you with wide, fearful eyes that you know are dark with lust and desperation.
“I told you to shut the fuck up.” You hiss, reaching down and pushing your free hand under his jogging bottoms and grabbing his warm, velvety length.
He whimpers, biting his lip. “Stop! I don’t want this!”
“You’re so dumb, you know that?” You run your fingers up and down him a few times, revelling in how he twitches and hardens under your touch. “Saying you don’t want it. Look how hard you are.”
He lets out a sob, arching his spine in a pretend attempt to throw you off.
“Flower Marc?” You ask softly.
“Rose.” He says quickly, his version of green.
You start jerking him off quickly, watching his face as he whines. “Look how much your body wants it.”
“No!” He shakes his head rapidly, even as his words turn into needy moans.
“Fucking look.” You hiss.
He keeps his eyes closed.
“Don’t make me hurt you.”
He groans loudly, having to tense his muscles and fight against his body with an iron will to stop himself from coming at your words. He knows you’d never actually hurt him, never lay a finger on him that wasn’t wanted, that wasn’t there to cause pleasure. But the threat of it, your tone. It feels too good.
He looks down to where you’re touching him, how your sliding your fingers over his cock and teasing his slit. He moans loudly, trying to choke back the sound.
You pull his t-shirt up higher until the material is grumbled up at his chest, and then go back to squeezing his cock, pumping your hand up and down the burning length of him. As you get to the tip on every stroke you twist your wrist just a little, tighten your grip ever so slightly.
Marc’s hips jerk up, his thighs tense under you as he wiggles, trying and failing not to give in and chase the sensation.
“Please don’t,” he moans, “don’t want to come, please.”
“You’ve got no choice in this.”
His sounds increase, sweat beading on his forehead as he relentlessly bucks upwards into you grip. Every nerve is on fire, every thought bleeding out of his mind onto the matress, only the pleasure of your touch remaining.
“Please don’t make me,” he whines, so close that he can almost taste it, almost touch it.
“You’re gonna come Marc, you’re going to give it to me. Understand?”
He groans loudly, the sternness of your voice tipping him over the edge. The command making his body obey without his say in the matter.
He comes loudly, spurting all over his stomach in hot, thick squirts that splash all over his skin, staining it white.
You slow your hand, but don’t stop. Still stroking him evenly.
Marc gasps, shivering with aftershocks. His breathing is heavy, his eyes a little unfocused as he opens them to look back up at you.
You smile, leaning down quickly to kiss his temple.
When you move back he has his lip between his teeth, his thighs twitch under you. You recognise that look.
“You’re gonna come again Marc.”
He shakes his head. But there’s a glint in his eyes, the hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth. “No.” He pouts.
“It wasn’t a question.”
____________________________________________
Thank you for reading!
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cozy night in
marc spector x f!reader
wc: 6,700
content: EXPLICIT!!!! explicit as hell. pwp, allusions to lacy underpants that idk counts as lingerie, Marc spector is a brat is its own warning
notes: thought this was gonna be a quick pwp. I was wrong. shout out to @the-force-awakens for beta-ing & leaving comments like [paraphrase] AKRJSD MARC SPECTOR TAKE ME NOW
ao3
There isn't much you like better than a quiet Friday night in. As fun as it is to go out, to dinner and a show, to this quiet little bar a few blocks away where you and Marc (or Steven or Jake) can sit cozy in a booth, unbothered and enjoying each other's company and the pleasant buzz of alcohol, nothing beat this: coming home to Marc quietly cooking dinner, the radio turned on and quiet, something acoustic and relaxed, the only music the three of them can agree on.
Nothing beats leaning to kiss Marc's jaw in greeting, relishing the quirk of his lips. Washing your face and changing out of your work clothes into comfortable leggings and a shirt, well-worn and soft and smelling of their aftershave.
It's nice to go out, tuck your hand in Jake's elbow, Marc's hand, around Steven's waist, show each other off with the subtle brag of I get this beautiful person all to myself. You like going out with them, especially with Marc who prefers to stay in, because it's such a testament to him, who he is, how much he wants to make those he loves happy.
But it's better like this.
There's the quiet tap-tap-tap of drizzling rain on the window, and you're grateful it hasn't turned into a storm. Marc doesn't like storms, and as you step up behind him, winding your arms around his waist and pressing your face to the back of his neck, you don't want his rarely-relaxed shoulders to tense again.
One of the things you like the most about Marc is his silences, how he doesn't expect you to talk constantly and doesn't pressure you to speak when you can't, and how he knows you do the same for him. Especially when it's been a long day, ending a long week at work, and you just need time to be quiet, snuggle into Marc as he cooks, moving as little as possible.
It's not until you heave a huge breath and lift your head, feeling a little more like a person, and peer over his shoulder to see what he's cooking - pan-fried salmon, oven roasted vegetables, that creamy macaroni and cheese recipe you love that takes a special brand of cheese Marc has to hunt down from across town - that he speaks.
"How was your day?" Marc asks quietly, touching his fingertips to the back of your hand at his diaphragm.
"Mm. Long," you say, kissing his shoulder, and releasing him to gather plates and pour drinks. "Glad it's over. Our internet kept going offline which only put us more behind schedule."
Marc makes a sympathetic sound as he takes the plates and serves up your dinner, and you follow him to the couch with two glasses and a new bottle of that cheap white you prefer that Marc must've picked up today as well.
"How was your day, baby?" you ask, settling next to him. He hands you your plate and clicks on the TV before answering.
"Fine. Normal. Went back to sleep after you left, got around to cleaning. I dunno how Steven lived like this," Marc grumbles, but it's good natured, and you giggle, scooting closer as you take a bite. Steven's messy tendencies never failed to grate on Marc's careful neatness.
Still, they'd come to a sort of understanding, and Marc didn't upset Steven's chaotic system of mess as long as he got to clean to his heart's content (which was often and for a long time).
The pair of you settle into companionable quiet, the TV volume quiet, subtitles on the low-stakes action movie you've seen a million time to keep you company while you eat. By the time you're finished, you're pleasantly full and mildly sleepy, ready to cuddle with Marc until bed. Marc pats your thigh and takes your plate, standing to take the dirty dishes to the sink, washing up.
You wish he'd relax, leave the dishes for later, but he likes to take care of you, and he has a thing about germs, so you leave him in peace. The quiet sounds of running water and clanking dishes are domestic, homey; you look over your shoulder to catch sight of Marc at the sink, head bowed as he meticulously scrubs the frying pan.
God, you love him. You love all three of them, but you'd met Marc first, and he'd always have a special place in your heart reserved for him.
Marc rinses the pan, grabs the towel off his shoulder, and turns to look at you as he dries it. He raises his eyebrows when he catches you staring, and even though you feel your face warm, you don't look away, raising your eyebrows back at him.
"You're missing the movie," Marc says pointedly.
"Seen it a million times," you say, shrugging and fighting back a smile. Marc looks doubtful.
"It's more interesting than watching me wash dishes."
"Is not," you frown, turning around to sit on your knees, properly facing him. "I'd rather look at you. I'd watch you do taxes."
Marc's face twists up in exasperation, turning around to put the pan up and drain the sink. You don't press the issue, because he still has problems taking blatant compliments and accepting affection like that, but you'd never lie to him, especially not about this. You give him a minute, wait until he's wiping down the counter for the third time before you talk again.
"I'd watch you do plenty of boring things. Or interesting things. I like to look at you, Marc," you say softly, smiling in an attempt to convince him.
Marc exhales, shaking his head as he sets the towel down and turns to face you, crossing his arms over his chest, which only makes him look more broad than he already is.
"I'd rather look at you," he says. He takes a few steps closer, though he's still too far away and out of reach and you suddenly want him in your arms. "I'd rather look at you when you're too busy to look at me."
"You like that, huh?" Your own voice surprises you, abruptly small and breathless. Marc takes a few more slow steps, even nearer, close enough to touch, but you don't move yet. His head dips in a nod.
"Like when?" you ask before he can say anything, hands gripping the couch cushions to hide the trembling. Fuck, you've never wanted anyone the way you want him.
Marc's mouth twitches upward, and he uncrosses his arms, tracing the line of your jaw with his fingertips before curling under your chin, and tipping your head back.
"Like when you read," he says. His voice is a quiet rumble but it's the only thing you can hear. "Or when you cook. Or when you're asleep."
His expression shifts, a little more teasing, more playful. "Or when you shower."
"Perv," you mutter, not meaning it, narrowing your eyes at him regardless. Marc starts to bend down and you hold your breath.
"You like it," he mutters, breath warm against your face.
But moments before his lips touch yours, you blurt, "Why d'you like it?"
Marc pauses, thumb stroking your chin, and you honestly don't expect him to give you an answer, already trembling in anticipation of his all-consuming kiss.
"Because it means you trust me."
The words are barely audible, and you hardly have time to process their meaning before he closes the distance, mouth firm and warm against yours. The meaning clicks belatedly, as Marc licks at the seam of your mouth until you open, and you clutch at his shirt helplessly. You want to break away, tell him that you do, you trust him with everything, love him so much, only - he's merciless, your Marc, ruthless in the way he kisses you, and he doesn't give you a second to think.
Not for the first time do you curse your need to breathe - Marc seems to sense you're at your limit, lungs beginning to burn, so he pulls away from your mouth, but you immediately miss his lips on yours. You suck in a breath, chest heaving to try and catch your breath, but it turns into a gasp - Marc has turned his attention to your jaw, the line of your neck, and scrapes his teeth along the tendon there just as you inhale.
Fuck. He had no right to be this good a kisser, no right to have you melting into his touch and still craving more seconds after he'd first kissed you with intent.
He slips his hands up your shirt, caressing your waist and drifting higher, and you know he finds the surprise when he pauses, drawing back from your neck, raising an eyebrow and giving you a look.
"Now what's this?" Marc asks, voice low and rich with desire, fingertips tracing the lacy band of your bra. Finally, the tables turn and you manage to catch your breath. You smile, sly, and look at him from under your lashes,
"Just something for you," you say, and giggle breathlessly when Marc moves to pull your shirt up and off. The sudden cool air that washes over your newly bared skin sends goosebumps rippling across your arms and chest - or maybe it's the way Marc is looking at you, and the dark blue bralette you'd changed into;, comfortable, just lace and elastic, but something for Marc to enjoy.
He hadn't so much told you how much he liked you in lace, and rich colors like the deep blue you wore now, but he didn't need to say it. Actions speak louder than words, especially when it comes to Marc Spector.
"Baby," Marc rumbles, brushing one hand across the swell of your breast so gently you might've imagined it, "You're killing me here."
"God, I hope not," you say, breaking into giggles again when Marc groans, overdramatically exasperated, and hauls you to his chest. He stands up, taking you with him, and you shriek in surprise as he takes you right over the back of the sofa, winding your legs around his hips - as if he'd ever let you fall.
Marc deposits you on the bed, and though he isn't laughing, he's smiling, shoulders twitching as he stands over you, pulling his shirt over his head in a quick yank that never fails to send a thrill down your spine - but you count it as a win, getting Marc to smile like that, laugh his private little understated laugh.
"What am I supposed to do with you?" he says, almost to himself as he undoes his belt, but you answer anyway, squirming to get more comfortable.
"I can think of a few things," you say, looking up at him from beneath your lashes as you stretch out.
"Yeah, I bet you can," Marc says, rolling his eyes fondly as he shoves his jeans down and kicks them off. And then he's standing at the foot of the bed in nothing but his underwear, and you can see the half-hard bulge of him. Your mouth waters at the sight and you half-heartedly push up onto an elbow, but Marc's hand closes around your ankle and tugs, pulling you down the bed and closer to him.
You shriek again in surprise, which fades into giggles as you knock your heels into the back of his knees, trying to urge him closer. Still, you love it when he towers over you like this, when you're flat on the bed and he's still standing. You can't figure out how he's real, the chiseled features and healthy strength on his body; you're mesmerized by the flex of muscle and tendon when he reaches for the waistband of your leggings, belatedly lifting your hips to help. When you look at his face again, his eyes are already on yours, warm and dark as he drags your pants down, but not your underwear.
Marc drops your pants to the floor, sliding his palms up your newly bared skin, hiking your knees around his waist. He leans down, palming your hips, the matching blue lace, and nudges your noses together, but doesn't kiss you. Waits until you're huffing an impatient breath and tipping back your chin and whining out, "Marc-" before he seals his mouth to yours.
He kisses you for a long moment, warm and slick, licking into your mouth, stroking your sides. All you can do his wind your arms around his shoulders, dig one hand into his hair.
"What do you want?" Marc murmurs, breaking away for a moment, pressing the words into your cheek along with a kiss. "Hm, baby? Tell me so I can give it to you."
He's hardly touched you and already you feel worked up, borderline overwhelmed and squirming - Marc knows damn well what you want (anything he'll give you) but he likes to hear you say it. Likes to draw the words from you when you're strung out and wanting.
You're not that far gone.
"Marc, c'mon-" is as far as you get before one of his hands at your hip slips down, squeezing the softness of your thigh, and then in. His thumb finds your clit through the fabric of your underwear and he presses down until you whine.
"What was that, baby?" Marc asks, amusement in his voice, and you huff, annoyed, and snap,
"I want you to touch me, Spector."
Marc chuckles, slips his thumb further down and effortlessly finds your entrance - or at least, where it's hidden and inaccessible through your underwear.
"Isn't that what I'm doing?"
Teasing asshole that he is, Marc only presses his thumb down, until your hips are bucking up, and then pulls his hand away. He pats your hip, mockingly sympathetic, then reaches to pull your hands down from around his shoulders, and rises to his full height.
You try to snap his name - Marc! - but it comes out like a whine, breathless and pleading - "Maaarc-"
Marc chuckles again, pushing the gusset of your underwear aside, staring down at where you're wet and dark.
"Want me to put something in that pussy? You want me to fill you up, make you full? That what you want, baby?"
You try to answer. Try to tell him yes, fuck yes, Marc - but you can only moan, eyes glued to his other hand that reaches into his own underwear.
Fuck you've never seen such a gorgeous cock. It's not fair, it's not fucking fair that Marc Spector and his alters are the perfect man. It can't be real that you get this. Anxious with anticipation, you fist your hands in the sheets, watching as he strokes himself languidly, still staring at your aching cunt. You think your chest might cleave in two from the strength of the want coursing through your body, and tip your head back, slamming your eyes closed.
Distantly, you hear Marc spit, hear the wet sound of him stroking his cock again. Fuck fuck you need him inside, need him inside before he changes his mind and fucks you open with one, two, three fingers and tongue before he gives you his cock, draw it out like he likes. All at once you feel the fat head of him rubbing against you, burning hot. Marc pushes - lets the fattest part of him breach you - stops moving with you stretched around him, quietly groans and you want to hear it again, stops moving even as your cunt clutches at him desperately, trying to pull him inside -
"That's all you get for now," Marc says hoarsely, pulling out, and taking your underwear with him, even as your eyes shoot open.
"Marc, oh my god," you snarl, and he resolutely ignores you as he goes to his knees on the floor, pulling one of your legs over his shoulders. He doesn't move, though you can feel his breath against you, and then - Marc fucking inhales, breathes in the smell of you.
"So fucking impatient," Marc complains, and ducks his head to taste you.
There's not a lot better than this, in Marc's opinion, not a lot better than settling on his knees with his face buried in the apex of your legs, soft thighs tensed around his head. He drags the flat of his tongue up your pussy, opening you up to him, groaning at the musky taste that he'll never get enough of. He pulls away, folding one arm under your thigh, keeping you from squirming out of his grip as he runs his palm up your other leg. You haven't shaved in awhile, and your legs are starting to grow soft and fuzzy again, and he loves it.
Marc rubs his cheek against the softness of your inner thigh, lets his hand drift up your thigh to squeeze your hip, then slip around and down, swiping through your folds to circle your clit. You make a breathless sound, jerking your hips up in search of more, but Marc holds firm, presses first his lips, then his teeth to your thigh, and ducks back to taste your cunt.
He rubs your clit with the pads of his fingers, searching for the essence of you inside with his tongue, then changes tactics, taking his slicked up fingers and pressing them deep. It pulls a kind of wheezing sound from you and Marc strains to look up at you without pulling away. You've got one arm thrown over your face, the other hand desperately grabbing the sheets, chest heaving.
(It makes him think of a few nights ago: he'd gotten home late to find you sleepy but awake, laying in bed waiting for him. He likes fucking you when you're sleepy because you're so much more responsive and he can draw words out of you with every stroke of his things between your legs. He'd cradled you close, pressed up against your side, fucked you slow and deep with his fingers and he'll never forget the way you gasped, "Full, feels full," when he'd asked you what it felt like.)
"Fuck," Marc groans, tucking his face back down between your legs. "Fuck, that's it. Good girl." His words are muffled even to himself, and he has no idea if you can understand him or not, but you moan regardless, and he doesn't really care.
He can tell you're getting close, from the aborted, jumpy little thrusts your hips keep giving, from the way you start to hold your breath. Marc pushes you right up to the edge.
And then stops, removing his fingers, turning his head away. Distantly, you're cursing his name, writhing and trying to get him back where you want him, but as much as you try to play at being demanding, Marc knows you like submitting too much to actually be upset.
The dim lighting catches on the thin sheen of sweat on your skin, the dampness collecting in the folds of you, in the crease where your thigh joins your hip, and Marc ducks his head, licking away the salt of you.
"Marc," you say, sounding far away, and when he lifts his head to look at you - take in your expression, needy and pleading - he thinks he falls just a little more in love with you. "Marc," you say again, hands reaching for him clumsily, caressing his shoulders, carding through his curls.
"What is it, baby," he murmurs, lifting his hand that had been curled around your thigh to catch your wrist, kissing your palm, the pounding of your pulse. "What do you need?"
"You know what I need," you complain, practically growling as you tug on his hair harshly. Marc just chuckles, not bothering to remove your hand from his hair even though the pressure on his scalp almost hurts - but it's good. Keeps him right here with you.
"What do you want then," Marc asks, pressing deceptively gentle kisses to your hips, your belly beneath your navel. Your stomach jumps and dips as the wash of his breath, and he can just make out the faint whine that falls from your mouth.
"Want you to kiss me again," you admit, lifting your bashful gaze to meet his. And fuck - he'll give you anything you want. He doesn't know how you haven't figured it out yet.
"I can do that," Marc tells you, moving until he was level with you, hand still slick with your wetness curving around your hip as he cups your cheek with the other.He doesn't make you wait this time, dips down to kiss you, languid.
One of Marc's favorite things about this - sex - was how it immerses every sense. Not just touch, though he could never get enough, your hands on his, gripping his shoulders and waist, grabbing hair, his hands on your skin, anywhere and everywhere, but the rest of them. The way you look when you moan and arch your back and your eyes flutter. The way you sound, the hitch of your breaths, the slick sound of his tongue in your mouth. The way you taste, fuck, the way you smell.
But fuck he loves the little sounds. Loves being this close to you when he dips his middle two fingers inside your dripping cunt. When he's this close, Marc can catch the breathless whines and moans before they have a chance to escape. This close, Marc can watch your face screw up as he adds his pointer finger, fucking you with three now.
"There you go," Marc mutters when your hips start to roll against his hand, grinding against his palm and clenching around his fingers, "fuck, just like that."
His name escapes you mouth in a little puff of air, your hand in his hair slowly relaxing until you slide your hand down to clutch the back of his neck. Your eyes flutter back and - that right there. That’s one of his favorite expressions on you, focused yet a million miles away, too caught up in the pleasure coursing through your body to pay attention to him, to watch him watch you. This is what he meant earlier, when he told you - confessed to you that he liked it when you weren’t looking back at him.
A groan escapes Marc’s mouth before he can stop it, wrecked and torn from his throat, but you don’t seem to notice, or at least acknowledge it. He ducks his head, suddenly frantic with the need to taste your skin, dig his teeth into your neck, sharp points of pain to counter the warming bliss between your legs. As always, the touch of his teeth to your skin has you gasping, then moaning, unashamed and loud. Marc gets lost in it, marking up the long line of your throat, realizing almost too late that he’s gotten carried away. You’re fucking close; he can tell by the quiver of your thighs around his hand, the jerk in your hips.
“Not yet, baby, hold on,” Marc murmurs, voice rough as he eases his fingers out of you, soothing you even though he’s the one that has you whining and squirming and calling his name -
Fuck, Marc had to admit this was one of his favorite things, when he holds you at the edge, has you stripped down bare and aching - when he dangles you in front of your release, just to hear you call his name, plead with him to let you come. Marc liked to deny you, and deny you again, but more than that, he loved to give it all to you, give you everything and more until all you can do is cling to him, and him alone. He didn't keep your release, or anything from you because he didn't want you to have it. To the contrary, there was nothing Marc wanted more than to give you everything you have ever wanted.
He’d admit it to himself, and only himself - Marc liked when you were desperate, but only when you needed him to give you what you want, what you need.
He always would.
“Marc, Marc, baby, please, just - I want - I need to, Marc-”
You’re babbling, nearly past coherency, bravado peeled back with your bra, and dropped to the floor. You must've been more tired than usual tonight, or this is what you wanted the whole time, to already be this far gone. Marc shushes you again as he slips down your body, burying his face between your breasts, just for a moment, before turning his head to suck a mark on the swell. You keen when he takes the nipple in his mouth, when he carefully covers the other with his palm, and squirm against his thigh parting your legs. Abruptly, Marc is very aware of his own nakedness, his cock hard and aching and leaking near your hip. He closes his eyes, groaning, and allows himself to grind back against you, just once.
Fuck fuck, he loves you. Can’t get enough of you. Pulls off your breast to say, “I know, I know, honey.” He keeps his voice low, gravelly and thick with want. “I know you need to come, don’t you? Need to come all over me?”
“Fuck,” you gasp, “please, please-”
“It’s okay, you did good, such a good girl for me,” Marc continues, kisses your collarbones, your jaw, bites your bottom lip. “I always give you what you need, right? My good girl. Don’t I give you what you need? C’mon, tell me.”
Your eyes blink open, lashes damp, eyes wide and blown out. You say, “Always give me what I need, Marc.” And your voice breaks, and so does Marc’s resolve.
“Yeah I do,” Marc growls, and pats your hip. “Now turn over, baby. I’ll give you what you need.”
You move, half rolling over on your own power, limbs clumsy, half Marc maneuvering you where he wants you, until you’re on your belly, hands trembling as they curl in the blankets. You peer over your shoulder at him, eyes half lidded, as he runs his hands down your spine, strokes your sides. He likes the way your skin feels, soft and unmarred as much as his is. Sure, you have scares here and there, a few on your forearm that had worried him until you assured him it was from your parents’ cat, but all in all - you are warm, soft, supple under his own calloused and scarred hands. He curls his hands around your hips, squeezing, and then pulls you back towards him, onto your knees, and palms the round of your ass.
“There you go,” Marc mutters, needlessly wetting his fingers before sliding them back between your legs, where you are dripping, soaking wet. A choking sound slips from your mouth as you jerk back against him, and Marc hisses when the motion brings your ass in contact with his dick.
He doesn’t need to open you up - not when he can feel the seeking clench of your pussy when he brushes against your entrance.
Marc pulls his hand away, absently petting your hip, shushing you softly to counter the needy sounds that spill from your mouth. He slides his hand around from your hip to part your folds, taking himself in hand with the other, and eases inside. You gasp, arching your back, muscles bunching when you try to grind back, force him all the way in, but Marc grasps your hip, keeps it slow. Waits until he’s half inside the blisteringly hot clutch of your cunt before shoving himself the rest of the way.
It’s almost too much for him, nearly too much for you as well if the wail you let out is anything to go by, and Marc lurches forward, groin shoved up against your ass. He plants a fist in the mattress near your head, the only thing keeping him from collapsing on top of you and rutting helplessly to his climax. Even still, his own panting chest is pressed along the length of your back and he can feel every shift of your body, of the muscle under your skin.
“Marc, Marc, Marc-” you chant, words cutting off into a low moan when Marc pulls out and shoves back in. And again. And again. And again, until you sound like you can’t take a full breath. Your hand comes up, clasping his wrist, squeezing and holding on like it’s the only thing keeping you tethered to reality. And then your forehead is pressing against his inner wrist, and your eyes are slammed shut, and Marc thinks he can feel the throb of your pulse around his dick.
Fuck - the idea has his hips stuttering, briefly losing his rhythm as he grinds into you for a second longer. He can tell you’re close, that it won’t take much to get you there, and by God, he’ll get you there.
Marc lets go of your hip, belatedly realizing just how hard he’d been grabbing it, winding his arm around your waist and holding you tight, fitting his chin over your shoulder to first nip your jaw, and then talk you the rest of the way.
It doesn't take a lot, especially when you're this close, when you can hardly pay attention to what he's saying but that's never stopped him before. Marc opens his mouth and lets words spill out, lets them out the way he so rarely ever does - just like that baby, I know I know, you're close, so good, pussy so tight taking all of me like this and just a little more baby, you can take more, take me deeper, lemme in, lemme fuck you open, lemme fill you up and taste it after and fuckfuck c'mon, come for me baby I know you want it, been so good waiting, come on my cock baby, c'mon c'mon -
Somewhere between taking a breath and the spill of words, you lock up beneath him, back arching impossibly further, nails digging into his wrist as your mouth drops open and your eyes roll back and you wail as you come around him.
And it feels so fucking good, Marc almost blows his load right then and then, hissing and swearing, his hips stuttering against yours as he tries not to think about the way you're clenching and squeezing around him and the way he can feel you start to drip down his balls. Fuckfuckfuck.
Marc sits back, petting your spine, your waist and hip. He slides his fingers through the sweat pools in the dip of your back, licks the salt of it off his fingertips, then carefully pulls out. When he rolls you onto your back, you're still blissed out, chest heaving as you catch your breath, eyes glazed and half lidded as you distantly stare up at him.
His lips twitch, something like fondness filling his chest like a balloon, and he crawls back over you, covering you with his body as he dips down to kiss your slack mouth. It takes you a moment to reboot enough to kiss him back, soft and pliant and rendered loose-limbed from your climax.
Marc pulls back, barely-there smile gracing his lips, and whispers, "There you are. Think you have another one for me?"
He's going to be the death of you. It's not even the most orgasms he's coaxed from your body before, not even close, but it was a long day and you were already sleepy before this - Marc Spector is gonna kill you during sex one day and you just hope he's not so smug about it that he forgets to miss you.
But he's smiling softly, stroking your hips and waist, the swell of your breasts, and it's not like you could ever turn him down, not really.
"Okay," you murmur, slowly bringing up your arms that feel like lead to curl around his shoulders. "Like this though. Wanna kiss you during."
"Yeah, okay," Marc agrees softly, sliding his hand down your leg, nudging until you curl your leg around his hip. "Like this," he says, brow furrowing as he carefully pushes back in.
It feels good to have him inside you again, and you'd be perfectly content to enjoy the pleasant friction that sparked through your body of Marc chasing his own release, but he'd never allow that, not if you were okay with coming again. You think he thinks if he makes you come enough times, it somehow makes it okay for him to let go, like he has to make it worth it for you in order for him to be vulnerable.
Yeah, it's a depressing thought. You're working on it with him. Just not right now.
His cock hits something up in your guts that sends pleasure sparking through your nerves, from the pit of your stomach and through your back, all the way to your fingertips, and your sigh turns into a breathy moan. You know Marc prefers to have you bent over, to take you from behind, knows that's when he feels closest to you, but you prefer it like this.
Marc, braced over you, muscles shifting and flexing with every thrust, the dim lighting catching on his skin, the sweat that's gathered there, making him glow golden. His face bent close to yours, furrowed with concentration, eyes occasionally slipping shut, then wide open again as he looks at you, the familiar warm brown of his eyes blown dark.
You like it like this, like having his face in easy reach. You slide your hands down, press your palms to the sides of his face, drawing his attention back to you, and his mouth. His lips meet yours as he snaps his hips, and you gasp, surprised, and you think you can taste a smile before he dips his tongue inside your mouth.
Something shifts in the mood, the atmosphere, and all at once Marc is just a little more intense, panting as he fucks into you, punched out sounds bursting from his mouth before he can swallow them. You clutch at his face, keeping him close, though you're hardly kissing, more open mouths pressed together and exchanging breaths.
"Fuck," Marc chokes, voice low and rough. He's gone to his elbows, nearly pinning you to the bed as he snaps his hips against yours, quicker than you think should be possible. "Fuck, gimme another."
"Marc," you say, clutching his face, his neck, shoulders. "Marc." It's all you can say, pressing your bent knee to his hip and thigh.
Marc moans your name in return, worming his forearm under your shoulders, then leans his weight on that elbow, and slides his other hand down your body, between your legs. His hair is damp with sweat, curling and hanging loosely over his forehead. He looks so good. He looks like how you imagine a Roman god would look, brought to life. Mars, Pluto, Neptune. It's not fair.
It's not fucking fair, is the thought running through your mind when Marc presses the pads of his fingers to your swollen clit, and you come again with a jolt. This time, you're nearly silent, and it feels like losing track of time, like reality fades away and it's just you and the warm bliss coursing through your veins.
Slowly, you realize Marc hasn't stopped thrusting, if anything, increasing his pace, marginally. It draws out your own orgasm, but there's nothing you want more than for Marc to come, to watch him reach his climax, feel his body tense and feel him spill into you, listen to his breath hitch, hear him choking on a gasping moan that sounds like a sob.
You want it, you want it so badly, so you clutch at his face, and moan his name, "Marc, Marc, come for me, please come, Marc, I want it, wanna feel you come in me, pleasepleaseplease-"
He breaks as soon as you start to beg, throwing his head back as his hips stuttering against yours as his control snaps, and he comes. Just like you'd imagined, hoped, Marc makes that choking sound, ripped from deep in his chest, as he fills you.
Arm buckling, Marc nearly collapses on top of you, just managing to avoid crushing you under his weight, shifting himself to the side so he was more on the bed than you. Still, you like it when he covers you, enjoy the warmth and weight of him.
Right now, you do the same, shifting your arms to wrap around his waist loosely as you try to catch your breath, as Marc does the same. He still hasn't pulled out, and you hope he stays in for as long as he can, because this had to be the best part of sex - when you are both finished, sated and too tired to move, when you are curled together and still joined. One.
You don't move even when Marc shifts his weight, adjusting your hips to stay connected. You can feel his gaze but you don't look back just yet, still staring up at the ceiling under guise of catching your breath still. You don't look when Marc starts to pet your hip in soothing, repetitive stokes. You don't look when that hand slips between your legs, to touch the slick folds parted around his cock, and feel his seed leaking slowly out.
Only when Marc palms your thigh, holding you open, carefully pulling out, do you look at him. His gaze is focused between you, at his softened dick and the mess he's made of your pussy.
"Probably shouldn't have done that," Marc rumbles, voice slightly hoarse. You raise your eyebrows at him meaningfully. He glances at you, huffing when he sees your expression, and winds his arm around your waist, tugging you onto your side, flush against him. "I know you're on the pill, but still."
You just smile, snuggling close. Marc curls his hands around the back of your neck, sliding up to cup your head, and it makes you feel precious, cared for, when he touches you so gently, so thoughtfully. Even when he tilts your head back to kiss you, soft and meandering at first, before slipping his tongue against yours again. It doesn't last long, though you lick at the spit connecting your mouths when he pulls away, just to watch his eyes darken.
"Let's get you cleaned up," Marc murmurs, cupping your cheek. He swipes his thumb over the swell of your cheek. "You need to sleep. You look wore out."
As he pulls away and rises to get a towel or washcloths, you speak: "Gee, I wonder why that could be."
Your voice is rough, and Marc just shoots you a look over his shoulder as he stands, and you hum, settling back against the pillows, content with his reaction. You watch him bustle around for a moment, soaking up the sight of him perfectly naked and comfortable, and feel just as comfortable in your own nudity at the moment, though your eyes drift lower and lower.
"I'd watch you like this too," you say slowly, sleepily, and so quietly, you don't know if Marc hears you.
You don't realize you'd closed your eyes until you feel Marc's hand on your forehead, at your scalp, hear the murmur of his voice.
"Brought you some water, baby. You need to drink some."
You whine, sleepy, and crack your eyes open. Your legs feel less sticky, and he must have wiped you off while you dozed. You don't want to move, you think, looking up at him, leaning over you, looking so concerned.
"Come on," he coaxes again, tugging at your arm, and you go this time, sitting up just enough to get a few sips of water down. When Marc is satisfied with your intake, he puts the glass on the nightstand and crawls in beside you, tucking you in under the sheets and next to him.
Sighing, content to have him against you again, you snuggle into his chest. What an excellent start to your weekend. You will sleep soundly tonight, pleasantly worn out, sleep in without a care in the world for your alarm, and undoubtedly be woken by one of the boys between your legs, either Jake or Steven wanting their turn, or Marc wanting seconds, but for now, you'll sleep, and so will Marc.
#dameronalone reader fic#18+#Marc spector x reader#marc spector x f!reader#marc spector smut#marc spector x you#moon knight x reader#moon knight smut#pls rb + comment if you've read this far <3
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✧ MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT ✧
a/n: this fic is without a doubt probably the filthiest thing i've ever written. i had to pause when i was writing cause i felt like i was getting too unhinged. but it's marc spector so are we really surprised i wrote my filthiest thing with him? a massive thank you to @sunflowersteves for beta reading it for me (and screaming with me).
day five - guided masturbation + intercrural sex | kinktober 2023
summary: "in fact you were used to sleep evading you, but something about falling asleep in their bed made things better."
word count: 1.2k+
pairing: marc spector x f!reader
warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, sleep deprivation, exhaustion, intercrural sex, guided masturbation, cumplay sort of, minor dirty talk.
The alarm clock on the side of the bed was taunting you—laughing at how you couldn’t fall asleep. Part of you wanted to chuck it into the other room and be done with it, but you knew Steven had to get up the next morning. He couldn’t risk being late for work again. Which meant you were stuck, staring at the red glowing numbers in the dark—watching them flip higher every minute.
You had been fighting sleep for an hour yet nothing seemed to be helping. No amount of counting sheep, tossing and turning, or even trying to read one of Steven’s history books helped you. So there you were. Stuck in an exhausted haze, waiting for your body to eventually shut down.
This wasn’t abnormal by any means. In fact you were used to sleep evading you, but something about falling asleep in their bed made things better. When you were here, you found that your body melted into the soft sheets—your mind finally settling down. Tonight however seemed to be the exception.
“Dammit,” you sighed, twisting over to your side and trying to force your eyes to stay shut.
A groan sounded behind you—thick with sleep. It caused you to freeze, your body stiffening for fear of waking up Steven. That is until an arm wrapped around your waist, dragging you back towards the hard body behind you—the warm breath you knew now hitting the back of your neck. His nose nudging into your hair. The sensation was soft, achingly familiar, and you fell into his hold without any fight. Already knowing he was seeking you out in his sleep.
That is until—
“You keep tossing and turning and I’ll have to tie you down,” he joked, sighing against your neck.
The voice was so clearly American, meaning you hadn’t disturbed Steven, but instead woken up the man who might be able to help you sleep.
“Sorry,” you whispered, feeling his palm slide along your stomach. “I couldn’t sleep. Brain’s too wired.”
He mumbled something too low for you to hear—his body shifting even closer, the warmth seeping into your skin. “Should have said something baby.”
You sighed, body shivering, when his hand skated lower, dipping beneath the oversized shirt you wore. “Didn’t—oh—want to wake up Steven.”
The grin against your neck was prominent as his fingers trailed along your now wet panties. “Steven’s asleep.”
“I didn’t know—”
He slipped under the fabric, fingers sliding through your slick and groaning at the feel of it. “Fuck you’re soaked.”
Something shifted in the air, sparking to life as he circled your clit and suddenly you didn’t want to sleep. Instead you allowed the feeling he brought out to consume you—wrapping you up in its hold so tight you’d never be able to escape. Yet you didn’t want to. You wanted to drown in the sensations—allow your entire self to be nothing but this.
He grunted, shifting behind you as he shoved down his sweats—the feeling of his hard cock pressing against your lower back sending shivers down your spine. Your mouth went dry, heart racing as he maneuvered you, his hand cupping your breast in his palm. Rolling his thumb over your hardened nipple.
“Alright baby,” he said—the rasp evident in his voice. “Wanna try something?”
You nodded frantically, willing to do whatever he asked of you. Marc often took control when it came to sex, but you weren’t one to argue. You trusted him, felt safe within his hold, and that was all you needed. All you wanted.
His hand slipped down, grasping yours and leading it down to your throbbing clit. Just the slight touch of your fingers had a moan tumbling from your lips—your body alight with that burning flame that threatened to consume you. Something about following his lead only heightened every single touch. Turning you into a pliable version of yourself. Someone he could mold.
“F-Fuck,” you whimpered, grinding back against him as he held your hand still, barely brushing where you needed it most. “Marc I need—”
Teeth scraped your ear, his hand shifting your hips back. “I know what you need. I’ve got you baby.”
His cock slid between your thighs and you could feel your pussy gush, coating your skin in slick as he fitted himself closer. A soft grunt echoed in your ear when he thrusted forward, his hand pushing yours down finally. He guided you towards your clit, letting you gather up the wetness that practically leaked from you—swirling it around the aching nub.
“That’s it,” he grunted, shifting forward and sliding between your thighs with ease. “Touch yourself for me.”
You moaned raggedly, fingers gripping the sheets as you followed his lead, rubbing figure eights along your clit as his cock continued to fuck the soft meat of your thighs. The sounds that reverberated through his chest right into yours made your body shake. A new kind of high building with every swipe of your fingers.
“M-Marc I’m—” You gasped, eyes squeezing shut. “Fuck, fuck—”
“Yeah?”
Something pulled tight in your stomach, spreading throughout your body and nearly sending you over the edge, but Marc had other ideas. Rolling onto his back, he dragged you with him until you lay on top of him. Your body pressing him down into the mattress. A yelp escaped you, but it was quick to shift into a moan when he wrapped his legs around your thighs, keeping you right where he wanted you.
“Other hand,” he panted into your ear, gripping both of your hands now and leading them to your aching cunt. “That’s it.”
“Oh—fuck—” you garbled, bucking into your touch when he sunk two of your fingers into your entrance, keeping the pace as he gripped your wrist.
He thrusted up, the head of his cock peeking out—precum dripping along the top of your thigh. Heat spilled through your body, curling tightly around your nerves and nearly setting you aflame as he continued. Bringing you even higher than you expected. Moans tore from your throat, echoing off the walls of the flat, which only seemed to spur him on further. A throaty groan was pressed to your neck, his lips sliding along the sticky skin damp with sweat—his tongue licking up the salty taste.
“Gonna cum,” he grunted, plunging two of his own fingers into your cunt. “Wanna feel you.”
His name was a ragged sob on your lips, your eyes rolling back when his fingers curled perfectly, nudging along the spongy part of your walls. He sped up, fucking your thighs as if he was buried inside of you until you felt it. The hot sensation of his cum spurting along your thigh, coating your already wet pussy as he lost himself in bliss.
Your breath caught in your chest, eyes squeezing shut as you followed him, a searing heat burning through you. He continued to pump his fingers, drawing you even higher until a loud shout bounced off the walls. No doubt alerting Steven’s neighbors to what was happening. He smiled, kissing your jaw when you came down, practically melting into his hold and sinking against his body.
“That was…” You panted, reaching for his hand that trailed shapes along your stomach.
“You tired now?”
You smiled. “Yeah.”
“Good,” he breathed, nipping at your jaw. “Go to sleep baby. I’ll clean you up.”
“But Steven—”
“Will wake up when his alarm goes off.”
You nodded, allowing your eyes to slip closed, sleep pulling you in softly. But not before you heard him mutter three words against your ear, his arms tightening around your torso.
#marc spector x f!reader#marc spector x reader#marc spector x you#marc spector x y/n#marc spector smut#marc spector#moon knight fic#moon knight smut#my writing#kinktober 2023
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