#marc spector drabble
Note
sigh. I can see "i've got this, you go rest." from the prompt list with the moon boys. specifically marc, maybe you guys have a kid and they wake up crying after a nightmare. marc's been gone but the second you sit up you feel a soft grip on your shoulder, the mumble and he takes care of everything AUGH
You can only feel frustration.
She won’t stop crying, you have tried everything. You’re on the verge of tears too, desperate for that nightmare to slip from her mind so you can both go back to bed and have a peaceful night.
You feel like you’ve been here for hours, and hot tears are still streaming down along her baby round cheeks. Maybe you aren't cut for this, maybe parenting isn’t for you.
You could solicit the boys’ help, ask for back up to anyone that would be fronting at the moment when you wake them up. But you know they have had a long, tiring day serving Khonshu, and you would feel awful waking them up for something you should be able to figure out alone.
So you cradle her head close to you, run your hand through the dark curls that she so evidently inherited from her fathers, and gently rock her in your arms, pacing around her room.
You have tried everything. Her favorite plushie, her favorite song, singing it to her, taking her outside for some fresh air, everything.
But it still won’t do.
“Please, come on” you whine, almost beg, crushed by desperation as frustrated tears gather at the brim of your eyes. You’re not angry at her, you’re almost sure you could never be. You’re angry at yourself for not being able to take care of this properly, maybe you are what’s wrong.
Then you think you’re hallucinating when you feel a soft grip over your shoulder. You turn around, and you’re way too exhausted to even figure out who it is out of the three of them that is leaving a kiss on your forehead.
“I’ve got this, you go rest.” Marc. The half awake mutter is followed by a compassionate smile as he reaches to take hold of your daughter.
Marc gently takes your daughter into his arms, his movements fluid and calm. Marc, the man that believed he would never be good enough, would never be able to be a good father.
You feel some relief as you walk up to the doorframe, your daughter’s cries slowly starting to stop now as Marc hums her a lullaby.
“Thank you Marc” you mumble, your voice betraying the weariness you’re not even trying to hide.
He nods, his eyes expressing understanding. The frustration inside you begins to dissipate, replaced by a profound sense of gratitude for Marc’s support.
You go back to your bedroom and slide under the sheets, and though you want to wait for Marc to come back to bed to thank him again, the heavy weight over your eyelids won’t allow it.
#marc spector#marc spector x reader#moon knight x reader#steven grant#steven grant x reader#jake lockley#jake lockley x reader#marc spector drabble#marc spector drabbles#oscar isaac#jane answers
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TURNING FROWNS
into soft touches
Pairing: Marc Spector x Gn!reader
Warnings: just fluff, poor Marc needs to be comforted from time to time, although gets a bit suggestive at the end
A/N: English is not my first language so I'm sorry if there’s any mistakes, no proof read.
Word Count: 1k
Listen… taking care of Marc by giving him small featherlight kisses and soft caresses when he’s all grumpy and frowning after a hard day and being away from a mission, he ends up reluctantly letting you help him and your touch turns him into a tired, grateful and maybe horny mush.
After returning from a grueling three-day mission, Marc collapsed onto the couch, his clothes clinging to his body with sweat and dirt. Despite the pressing need for a shower and fresh attire, exhaustion rooted him in place, rendering even the slightest movement an arduous task.
His brow furrowed deeply, like the creases of a turbulent sea, Marc sat, amidst the chaos of his thoughts. The weight of the day hung heavy upon his shoulders, each line etched into his features a testament to the battles he fought within.
You slowly approach him and climb on his lap to try to help him relax. Startled by your sudden presence, he jolted slightly, his frown deepening at the intrusion.
"Not right now baby, I'm tired," he grumbled, his voice a weary murmur, as if carrying the weight of the world in each syllable. Yet, despite his protests, his hands found their way around your waist, drawing you closer to him as if seeking solace in your embrace.
With a tender touch, you began to massage his temples, your fingers tracing soothing circles against his skin. The tension in his muscles slowly began to melt away, replaced by a sense of calm that washed over him like a gentle tide. His eyes fluttered closed, surrendering to the serenity of your touch as if seeking refuge in the tranquility you offered.
"It's okay," you whispered, your voice a soft murmur against the hushed silence of the room. "Just breathe."
And as he exhaled, a sigh of relief escaped him, carrying with it the burdens of the day. In the quiet intimacy of that moment, surrounded by the gentle cadence of your breath and the tender caress of your touch.
“I’m here my love, let me take care of you”
As you whispered in his ear, the words washed over him, bringing peace to his rattled soul. Letting out a deep sigh, he let out a faint smile, the corners of his lips curling up as he continued to surrender to you.
You gently trace your fingertips along the furrowed lines of his forehead, feeling the tension slowly dissipate beneath your touch. As your fingers work their magic, his frown begins to soften, melting away with each stroke. His breath steadies, deepening into a more relaxed rhythm as he gives into the sensation.
As you continue to work your magic by massaging his temples, your other hand begins to trail delicately along his jawline, tracing the contours of his face accompanying it with feather-light kisses. Each touch and kiss is filled with tenderness, a silent reassurance that you're here for him, to ease away the weight of the world, Marc cannot do anything but softly hum and let out small sounds of satisfaction.
Your lips brush against his furrowed brow, leaving a trail of soft kisses that slowly erase the creases of worry. Moving downward, you plant gentle kisses along his closed eyelids, coaxing them to flutter open and meet yours with a newfound warmth, a glint of appreciation on his eyes.
And as he finally opens his eyes, there's a softness in his gaze, a gratefulness for your presence and the solace you've bring him, but you let Marc close his eyes again as he sighs and let’s you keep kissing every single part of his face.
Your lips trail across his face, your hands delicately weave through his curls, fingers gently massaging his scalp in a rhythmic motion. With each touch, his tension begins to melt away, replaced by a sense of tranquility that washes over him like a gentle tide.
You whisper words of comfort against his skin, your breath mingling with his as he lets himself be consumed by the soft trail of your lips when you brush them against his cheekbones, the slight curve of his nose, going down to his jaw, stopping on his beard stubble to brush it against your lips before you make your way down to his neck.
Caresses and kisses on his neck pause momentarily as you accidentally make a gentle tug against his hair, and a small gasp escapes your lips, trying to quickly apologize for the discomfort you could've caused. But to your surprise, instead of a complaint, you're met with a satisfied low grunt from Marc. His eyes, still closed in bliss, flutter open slightly, a hint of amusement dancing within them.
“Careful there…” he murmurs, his voice low and tinged with a playful undertone, he squeezes your hips and his hand ends up going down further to your lower back to push your body as close as he can get you to him.
Marc's hands squeezed your hips, pulling you closer, as if wanting as much contact as possible with your body. Leaning his weight back against the couch, he pulled you into his arms and you settled properly on his lap, your weight resting against his frame.
As your soft lips continued to kiss his face, he tightened his grip on your hips, his muscles pulling you into him as your bodies pressed together, your breasts squished against his chest.
He buries his head on your shoulder, you feel his warm and hot breath against your skin, mixed with his musky scent, it sends tingles down your spine. Specially when his hand slowly guides your hips to his, and there’s when you finally notice what your soothing and sweet touches have been doing to him, feeling the hardness against his tight jeans.
“Oh.. Marc baby, weren’t you tired?”
A small hum escapes from Marc's lips when he finds the sensitive pulse point on your neck, sending a wave of pleasure coursing through you. His husky voice, laced with desire, stirs something within you, that has you squirming on his lap and making him chuckle.
“I was… I am…but… I really want this… No I need this” Marc quickly corrects himself. ”Although you’re probably gonna be doing all the work baby, is that a problem?”
A playful grin tugs at your lips as you meet his gaze, your own voice a whisper of desire. "No problem at all," you reply, your tone dripping with anticipation. "I've got you, Marc. Always."
And of course you wouldn’t complain why would you? You’d gladly volunteer for that kind of extra comfort he seeks any day.
I might start a TAGLIST, cause I've been writing more lately? Let me know if you wanna get on it!
Reblogs and comments are kindly appreciated!
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#marc spector x reader#moon knight#Marc Spector Moonknight#Marc Spector Drabble#moon knight fanfiction#moon knight x reader#moon knight mcu#moon knight system#marc spector fluff#marc being grumpy
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Mercenary || Marc Spector
Word Count: 1.5k
Summary: while on an undercover mission, Marc suspects he’s been recognized. In hopes of protecting his disguise, he’s forced to get creative.
Notes: no major warnings; kissing, cursing, and vague mentions of alcohol. Canon? Don’t know her. Pre-Moon-Knight Marc with no mentions of Khonshu or alters. No reader pronouns.
“Darling, there you are!”
You turn at the sound of a nearby voice, surprised to see a man standing just out of reach with his attention and his arms outstretched in your direction.
The touch of his hand against your shoulder sends chills down your spine as you look over the stranger with mannered scrutiny. The evening had been overwhelmed with small talk and cordial chatter, yet the dark eyes staring back at you were an unfamiliar sight.
“I’m sorry, I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else.” Your soft reply is barely audible over the melodic string music traveling through the busy ballroom.
The man furrows his brow slightly before wiping the uncertainty from his features. His broad shoulders pull back and he gives a small grin. His charcoal grey suit and black oxfords don’t offer much significance amongst the sea of champagne socialites in attendance, but his mused hair and the yellowing bruise over his jaw are enough to tell you that he’s a character out of place.
“You’re right, I’m sorry,” he laughs airily. His hand drops slowly from your shoulder, travelling down your arm before he waves over a nearby waiter and grabs two glasses from the tray of tawny bubbling spirits.
“I don’t think we’ve met,” you say, accepting the drink with a gracious smile.
“No,” he clinks his glass against yours. “I would’ve remembered meeting you.”
Raising the glass to your painted lips, you take a moment to study the man in front of you. He doesn’t seem impressed by the room’s ornate décor, nor is he drawn to the sea of lively barons and their engrossed coterie.
Instead, he seems to count the expanse of windows across every wall, eyes jumping over each exit like he’s planning an escape. His presence draws no attention, and he doesn’t acknowledge partygoers as they waltz by. It seems, in fact, that this man is a stranger to more than just your company.
“So,” you drawl, startling the stillness that had settled around the two of you. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m having a lovely evening with a beautiful stranger.”
“Right.” You nod curtly, not missing the glint of mischief in his eye. “But what, exactly, brings you here this evening?”
You lean in closely, eyes locking onto his to gauge his reaction. “You look like a man on a mission.”
His face morphs into a look of surprise. He mulls over your words for a minute, surely weighing his options in his mind. Finally, he sighs, a sly grin creeping over his features.
“You caught me.”
Your eyes widen at his unexpected response, realizing that you were right about this rogue stranger. Thoughts of peril and unknown dangers flash in your mind like a silent alarm, but a small voice insists that he’s no threat to you.
“I’m here on business,” he begins, eyes flickering over the oblivious crowd gathered just out of earshot. “I got close to my mark earlier, but the guards got suspicious. I just need to blend in until the party’s over.”
You nod absently, giving thought to what he’d said. “So, you’re here to kill someone?”
“Not today,” he quips with a click of his tongue. “Too much of a mess.”
Nervous laughter spills from your lips. You fight to contain your sudden reaction, but it’s too much to keep from overflowing. This stranger – charming and entertaining as he may be – is dangerous, and his presence is surely no laughing matter.
Taking a moment to quiet your composure, you miss the way the man’s eyes flicker once – twice – over your shoulder when he notices a group of tall, serious-looking men moving steadily in your direction. His jaw tightens and he quickly ducks his head, deflating the humor from your lungs in an instant.
“Is everything alright?” You ask, tilting your head to meet his downcast gaze.
The man shakes his head stiffly and takes another survey of the room, searching for a way to make an escape. He spots the thicket of slow dancers in front of the orchestra and he’s quick in forming a plan.
“Dance with me.”
“What?” You blink at him with wide eyes, not sure what to think of his sudden request.
“I think I’ve been spotted and I need to hide my face. Dance with me. Please.”
A short nod is enough of an answer for the raven-haired man. He slips the half-empty champagne flute from your grasp, abandoning your drinks on a nearby table in favor of leading you towards the dance floor across the room. The two of you weave wordlessly through the throng of duos until the rest of the room is lost beyond the intimate sway of the masses.
He stops once he’s sure he’s out of sight, jaw tensing like he’s deep in thought. His hand guides yours to rest softly on his shoulder while his other palms aptly at your hip.
“M’not much of a dancer,” he says quietly, almost apologetic in the way his feet immediately begin to stumble into yours.
The corners of your mouth tick upwards as you fight back a grin. With each ungainly step he takes in creating a clumsy waltz, you begin to see more of the humble man behind the disguise.
“That’s alright,” you assure him with a smile. “I’ll lead.”
You plant your feet as confidently as you can manage and use your hold on his shoulder to push and pull him along with your strides.
One foot leads the other and the two of you fall into a fluid, measured step. Before long, you’re moving in a comfortable sway like familiar friends or devoted partners.
“Are they looking for me?” He asks lowly once you’re turned in the right direction to see the party over his shoulder.
Two gruff men in plain black suits roam through the crowd on either side of the room, slowly taking count of each person in attendance.
You suck in a deep breath as one glances in your direction, almost as if he knows he’s being watched.
“Yeah,” you reply in a whisper, nodding your head as subtly as you can. “I see at least four, and they’re heading this way.”
“Shit,” he curses under his breath. “I was trying to avoid making a scene.”
The situation calls for action, but you’re unable to think of any way to help the man beyond what you’ve done thus far. You’re not a spy, or anything else of importance that might’ve granted you the skills to aid in this affair.
Just as one of the guards begins to part through the dancing couples, a wave of panic washes over you. In an act of instinct, rather than tactic, you lean in and press your lips to his, placing a hand on the stranger’s cheek in order to hide his face.
He’s still for a moment before he reacts and wraps his arm around you in a tight embrace. His mouth moves against yours skillfully, eagerly, like this impromptu kiss was planned all along.
The guard is long gone by the time you pull away, breathless and wide-eyed at the realization of what you’d done.
“I’m so sorry-” you drop your hands from his face, taking a step back to put a respectable distance between the two of you. “I don’t know what came over me. I saw the guard coming and-”
“Thank you,” he interrupts your nervous apology with a grateful smile.
“I have to go while they’re still busy looking for me, but really, you’ve been a great help.”
He’s turning to leave before you can think to stop him, disappearing into the crowd without so much as a hint as to who he is or where he’s going next. The mystery of the evening remains unsolved, much to your displeasure.
“Wait.”
You’re pushing through the crowd to follow after him, careless of the odd glances you receive from demure guests in your wake.
When you’re close enough to touch him, you call out another “wait!”, grabbing his wrist to keep from losing him in the crowd.
You’re almost upset with him for leaving so feebly, although you’d never admit it out loud. The thrill of the evening had sparked something inside of you, and the spontaneous kiss had only left you wanting more. But now that the adventure is dying down, you’re beginning to lose your confidence.
When you realize he’s waiting for you to speak, you’re suddenly at a loss for words. The need for excitement has grown cold, fizzling out until you’re left with a dreadful pit in the bottom of your stomach.
“I, uh- I didn’t get your name.”
It’s an anticlimactic end to your meeting, but it’s all you can think to say in the moment.
He flashes a smile that reminds you of when you’d first met. No longer faced with the threat of guards closing in, the man’s cool composure has been restored. With a familiar sly expression, he offers only a fleeting response before he’s whisked away:
“Don’t worry – I’m sure we’ll meet again.”
#calypso writes#Moon Knight#Marc Spector#marc spector fluff#marc spector x reader#marc spector drabble#moon knight x you#moon knight x reader#moon knight one shot#moon knight fluff#marc x reader#moon knight x gender neutral reader#jake lockley x reader#steven grant x reader
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“Your hair is really soft after you wash it” with Marc🥺(can we send in more than one lmfao)
pairing: marc spector x reader
warnings: fluff!
a/n: yeees you can send in more if you want ;)) btw i also combined this with an anon's request for a head massage!
Night has fallen over the city. There’s a calmness to the air that makes you softly smile as you wait for your husband to finish washing up. You pass the time by reading a book in bed, ready to turn in for the evening soon.
The chapter you’re currently on has you completely absorbed that you don’t hear the water in the shower shutting off or notice a shirtless Marc entering the room a short while later. It’s only when he snatches the book out of your grasp and sets it on the nightstand do you finally acknowledge him.
“Babe, I wasn’t done with that,” you huff as Marc crawls onto the bed, settling between your legs and wrapping his arms around your waist. “Although, I guess it could probably wait…”
“Mhmm…” he hums in response, gazing up at you sweetly that it made you forget what you’ve read in the last fifteen minutes. “Hi, baby.”
“Hello to you, too,” you reply as Marc nuzzles his head in your stomach as if you’re a pillow. You feel him breathing in the scent of you, savoring the warmth of your body against his.
Smiling, you thread your fingers through Marc’s dark, damp hair. “Your hair is really soft after you wash it.”
“Thank you,” he mumbles into you, voice thick with exhaustion. “I used your conditioner.”
You lightly chuckle as you twirl each silky curl around your finger. “I know. I’ve been smelling it for weeks now.”
“It’s a really good conditioner. Smells like strawberries, too.”
“It surely does,” you agree, gently drifting your nails through his locks. You then move your fingertips in circular motions on his scalp before moving to his temples, drawing out soft blissful groans from his parted lips. His breaths come out slow and even against your skin, and it’s quiet and peaceful and relaxing—
Then, Marc starts to snore softly, and you hold back the giggle trying to escape your lips, afraid that it’ll wake him from his slumber. Even though you’re beginning to feel pins and needles from where most of his weight is resting on you, you don’t have the heart to disturb him.
It’s rare seeing Marc this way. The usual deep furrow of his forehead and worry lines creasing his face is all gone, serenity now painting over his features. He melts into your hold; finds safety and comfort in the way a home does. Because that’s what you truly are to him— his home, his everything.
You take it all in, embrace the simple delicateness of this moment and let it etch itself into your memory for an eternity.
Nights like this remind you of your abundance of love for him. And as you carefully brush Marc’s hair away from his forehead to press a kiss there, you wonder how life could be any more beautiful than this.
✨ send me an ask with a sentence + a character and i’ll write the next five ✨
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13 with Marc 🥰
"you've worn orange every day of the week." + Marc Spector
Marc notices the change in your wardrobe on the first day, but he doesn't comment on it until the fourth.
On the first day, you wrap a bright bronze colored scarf around your throat before you leave for work. It’s a scarf he’s never seen and is out of the wheelhouse of your usual palette of cool toned greens and blues and grays.
He watches you get dressed on the second day, to see if it will happen again. You are twirling around the flat as you get ready, singing as you dress, as you make breakfast. Marc lies in bed and watches you, trying not to smile.
When you shuck on the squash colored chunky knit sweater, he lifts a brow but says nothing.
He can't really recall you ever wearing anything orange, and now you've worn it twice in a row.
But he doesn't comment on it, you look too cute as you turn to the side in the mirror, wriggling your jeans up your legs. He doesn't comment on it because the color looks nice on you, and because you smile when you kiss him goodbye, your hands on either side of his face as you lean over him in bed, squishing his cheeks between your palms before you leave in a rush of cinnamon and bergamot.
On the third day, he still doesn't mention it. Three is the start of a pattern, but it could still be a coincidence.
You're swinging around the flat again, a whirlwind of positive energy and open arms lately. Your mood has been bright and Marc will not question your happiness, just delighted he gets to witness it. You bump into him, the swing of your rust colored dress tangling around his legs when he catches you, tilting you back to kiss you, a steadying hand on your thigh before he rights you.
There's a buoyancy to you, a light happiness, that Marc is starting to suspect has something to do with your new choice in clothing. It’s an infectious energy, he doesn’t mind it at all. Marc dips his head to kiss the side of your nose. "You look nice,” he murmurs into your skin.
"Bloody gorgeous, you mean," Steven chimes in.
"Gorgeous," Marc repeats.
You smile wider, press your thumb to the center of his chin. "Thank you, Steven."
Marc rolls his eyes, "I said the same thing with less syllables."
"Gorgeous carries a certain gravitas though, Spector,” you says, false in your loftiness. “Like I'm regal or something."
"Okay," Marc says, sliding his hands down your back, digging his thumbs into your hips. "You look divinely perfect. Wonderful in every way."
You pout, "Now you're just making fun of me."
Steven snorts and Marc groans and you laugh and he would do anything to keep hearing you laugh, to keep watching you toss your head back, the long line of your throat mesmerizing.
You smell like apple cider, like the crisp fall of leaves. It’s only slightly intoxicating. “I’ll say thank you anyways, ‘cause I know you mean it,” you quip.
“I do,” he says, earnest about it.
“I love you too,” you answer, pinching his arm and scrunching your nose and then you’re moving away again, picking up your bag and flitting out the door.
On the fourth day, it’s a Saturday.
And still, you’re in orange.
You’re standing at the kitchen counter in a flannel he’s never seen you in before. Gold mixes with maple mixes with pumpkin, a mesh of fall colors that look all the brighter in the sunshine filtering in the window.
A yawn passes your lips, your foot pressed to the inside of your thigh as you balance on one leg.
You look a bit tired, the evidence of the late night you had with Jake scattered around the room, low ball glasses and a pack of playing cards and the lingering smell of cigarettes or a cigar that’s going to royally piss Steven off when he gets a whiff.
“You’ve worn orange every day of the week,” he says, leaning on the counter next to you.
“Good morning to you too,” you say, voice a bit gruff.
“Why?”
You tilt your head at him, lift your the mug in your hands which is shaped like a pumpkin, and then point outside where the trees are a riot of color. “It’s fall.”
It’s so goddamned simple.
It’s fall.
The change of a turning season again.
He hadn’t really noticed, but he’d noticed you. The changing leaves hadn’t registered to him, but your choice in clothing color had.
“Looks good on you,” he says, glancing back into your eyes, away from the trees outside. “Orange. It’s a good color on you.”
You hum and lean into him, tilting your chin into his shoulder. “Makes me happy. It’s my favorite time of year.”
Marc decides, as he sips at your cinnamon infused coffee, and admires the shades of autumn against your skin, that it’s his favorite time of the year too.
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Not who we were - Marc Spector
Pairing: Marc Spector x Significant other!reader
Warnings: mentions of death, murder, blood, and a plot that doesn't make sense as it was written at 1am.
Summary: When you find out who Marc really is, he hopes you'll still love him despite it all.
"I've made some mistakes, no, I'm not gonna lie, I've seen the world fall apart right in front of my eyes. I'm a victim of myself in disguise" - Em Beihold
"This is gonna be hard to explain." Marc's hands, white-gloved within his suit, hold yours as he helps you to your feet.
"Marc?" Your voice comes uneven before you're tearing your hands from his, eyes wider than Marc had yet to ever see them.
"Yeah, it's me." It comes as a sigh, his suit falling away to reveal the man you know. "I know this looks crazy, and sure, I don't think there's anything else to call it, but you gotta trust that I didn't have a choice."
There's more than one dead body surrounding you, and with his words, you can't find yourself to be calm. You'd watched him kill each and every one, and you had nothing close to an idea why, and somehow that makes it worse.
"They're...all dead." There's a shake to your voice, and you take multiple involuntary steps backward, wishing only to get away from the scene and perhaps wake up from the nightmare at hand.
"I know, but—"
"You killed them." You can't let him speak. You don't want to hear an excuse for all you've witnessed, and yet Marc tries to finish his sentence still.
"Look, you know me. You know I wouldn't do this without reason. I've got a job to do here, and I'm not proud of it—" he continues though you don't hear the rest. It's too hard to process, and it's most definitely not the time to explain such things in depth, with the blood from strangers that lie before you seeping into your shoes. But he talks and he talks, Egyptian gods and the possible deaths of many others weighing against the man you love had he not complete this mission he's on. How he never intended you to get caught up in the mess he's made.
But you don't understand it, and you only hear the key points, or at least some of them. The rest you find yourself blocking out in favour of a small panic attack.
"Honey, look, I know it's a lot, but we gotta go, like now." Marc's got a hand on the small of your back, the other on your shoulder as he leads you away to what he would claim to be safety, and you don't know when he got this close to you.
"Marc, please don't touch me." Separating from him is hard, but you push him back, making your own way through the streets, though you don't know where you're headed. "I don't know what's going on, and your bullshit explanation has done nothing to plead your case, but I need to be as far from you as possible right now."
"I agree, you do, but I need you not to hate me first." Marc's right on your heels as you move, and somehow you find yourself still following his directions when he ushers you this way and that. When you reach a secluded ally you pause, turning back to face the man you thought you once knew.
"How long? How long have you been doing this?"
The look in Marc's eyes says enough, yet he answers you anyway. "Way before I met you." He sounds sad, down further than you've ever seen him as he continues. "When we met, I wanted to stop. And I tried, but there were some things I've had to wrap up, loose ends that I need to tie. But I wanted to get out, I did." Marc seems to pause, as if he can hear someone else, something else other than the quiet of the ally. His face contorts in what seems to be anger for no longer than a second, before his eyes are back on you, the soft and devastated expression taking over again.
"I thought I had you figured out." You can hear the disbelief in your voice, the sound of it enough to break a piece of Marc away. He's tough, and he's been through more than one person can bear, yet he finds this might be one of the worst feelings he's yet to encounter. He watches your eyes, scanning them for some sign of the love you'd once held for him and he finds it there, though he sees it fading.
"How can I ever believe a word you say?"
"I never lied, not outside of this, everything about us was real." He's sincere, and he hasn't felt this vulnerable in years, yet Marc can feel you slipping away. "Everything I kept from you was to keep you safe. I needed to keep you safe." He takes a step forward, placing his hands on your shoulders. They're bare and cold, the night air reaching out to your skin.
Marc had been through this before, and his methods had always been based around pushing people away, but there was something about you that made things different. And when Khonshu told him to let you go, he couldn't bring himself to do it. Now he might be losing you just like the god had wanted, though this time it's not under Marc's control.
"Please, I need you to trust me. I know how it looks, and I know how hard this will make things for us, for you, but I need you to trust me."
Your eyes are glassy, and you're looking right through him as if you don't know him at all. Yet you nod, the action pulling the weight from Marc's chest for now. He slides a hand down your arm, slipping his hand into your own as he leads you back through the streets to the place you'd once called home with him.
You're silent the whole way, and Marc doesn't make any attempts to force words from you. Instead, he walks with the silence, as if it's an old friend of yours and an enemy of his. The front door is old, the paint peeling and the doorknob creaking as Marc leads you inside, and somehow that's the first time he's noticed the deteriorating state of the place. It hadn't mattered before, when the structure of his relationship with you had been so strong, he didn't need anything else.
"Do you want some water? coffee?" He's acting like Steven, he thinks, but he's sure he's still in control here. He knows he is.
"I just need to sleep." You sound tired, and he believes you, watching as you shuffle to the bedroom, eyes blank as you move. He doesn't follow, setting up a bed on the couch for the night. He knows you well enough to expect you need space, and right now he's willing to give it. Had this just been a regular fight, Marc would have tucked himself into bed with you no matter your protests and pulled you in for a hug until you forgave him, at least for the night. He knows it's not right to do that now.
The couch isn't comfortable, but he doubts you're getting much better sleep than he is. Not after all you'd seen that day. He tries to drift off and an hour or three passes before he finds that he actually can. He has no dreams, no nightmares, and the peace is a relief. When he wakes the next morning it all comes back, a tidal wave of shame and concern overtaking him as he recalls the way you'd looked at him, spoken to him. You were a skeleton of the person he once held dear.
He moves quickly about the apartment when he wakes, making coffee as quietly as he can, and moving to the room he's supposed to share with you, peeking inside. It's dark, and the curtains are still drawn despite the late hour, but Marc sees it. His eyes find the empty bed, the broken lamp on the floor, fallen from the bedside table. The picture frame that holds Marc's favourite photo, you and him, together now seen through broken glass. It wasn't done by you, and at the sight of your shoes still beside the bed, he knows it's all wrong.
Marc had never cursed quite like he did then, the anger that harbours itself deep within him curling out into the open. He shouts to Khonshu, to Steven, and to whoever will listen as he wonders where you are, rushing out the door before any kind of protest or plan can be made. He knows what's happened, though he doesn't know how he slept through it, and he knows it's his fault.
You were seen with him last night, and he'd shown just how much he cared for you. That was the perfect advertisement for leverage. But by some form of luck, It's not hard to find you, or your kidnappers, and whilst Marc is seeing red beyond that of proper thought, he is capable of locking his eyes with yours, a silent communication, and a promise.
There's a knife to your throat, held by one man, and a gun pointed to your head by another, and Marc knows the killers just don't understand. Because what comes next is a violent, fast-paced frenzy. You don't know how he does it, but the second the knife falls from your throat, you're ducking down for cover and hoping that a gunshot won't ring out by your second captor. But it all goes by so fast, and when you do hear a bullet fire, you don't feel it pierce your skin. Your eyes lock on the shooter, ears ringing from the sound as you watch bullet after bullet fired at the man you love. You do still love Marc, despite it all, and perhaps that's why the scream that leaves you is so devastatingly loud.
Marc thinks you're hurt the second he hears it, heart-stopping for mere moments before he's finishing off the gunman and racing to your side with not a scratch in sight. Your eyes are wide and when he's within arms reach you're grasping at him, hands running over his armour as it falls away to reveal Marc himself, t-shirt and jeans in near the same condition as the day before.
"Hey, I need you to calm down for me." Marc's voice is steady, and you don't understand how he's still alive. "Are you hurt?"
Your brows furrow as you watch his features before your eyes drift back to his torso, where you swear the bullets hit him. "You were shot, like ten times."
His hands run over your arms, pushing you back from him so he can check you for wounds. "I had amour and a little help from someone more powerful than a pistol, you, however, did not. So, I need you to tell me, did they hurt you?"
All you can do is shake your head in response, eyes scanning his face with the worry that he holds for you all the same. You can't remember why you hated Marc before, and with all the violence that unfolded over the last 24 hours, you can't find yourself being bothered by it. So instead, you leap forward into him, a hug so tight that Marc gasps from the grip.
You find yourself crying, and the morning sunlight falls on the both of you, highlighting the tear stains that appear on Marc's shoulder. He's hardly holding it together himself, the touch enough to release all the tension in his bones. He squeezes you tight, your arms around his neck as he kneels on the harsh ground, enough to keep him steady.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."
You don't respond, but you don't have to. He can feel you, and with every shaky breath you take, he knows he's forgiven. Somehow, somewhere deep inside you, you found it in yourself to do it. Forgive him for the lies, for the harm, and whilst the trust will take time to build back, he has your body clinging to his, your heartbeat in time with his own.
AN: i don't particularly like this fic, and it doesn't make much sense plotwise at all, but I haven't posted in so long, and it's all I have.
MARVEL TAGLIST: @mellowladyangel @5kyyy @avyannadawn
MOON KNIGHT TAGLIST: empty
MARC SPECTOR TAGLIST: empty
#marc spector#moon knight#marc spector fanfiction#marc spector fic#moonknight#khonshu#steven grant#marc spector moon knight#marc spector fanfic#marc spector x reader#marc spector imagine#marc spector x you#marc spector x y/n#marc spector x gender neutral reader#marc spector x fem!reader#marc spector imagines#marc spector drabble#marc spector angst#marc spector fluff#moon knight fanfic#moon knight fanfiction#moon knight x reader#moon knight fic#moon knight show#marvel#marvel fanfiction#marvel fic#marvel imagine#mcu fanfiction#marvel moon knight
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Hello dear!
This is for your birthday sleepover (HAPPY BIRTHDAY congrats BTW for 7k)
Can you do Moonknight and under the smut category Number 24? “Have they ever touched you like this?”
Love you!! ❤️❤️❤️
𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐎𝐮𝐭
smut prompt 24 “have they ever touched you like this?”
pairing: Marc Spector x (female) Reader
summary: you’re dating Steven and have only recently been introduced to Marc, and well, Marc had some questions about your relationship with Steven…
warnings: smut, fingering, minors DNI
This is for people 18+ only. Minors do not read on. By clicking ‘keep reading’ you are hereby agreeing that you are 18 or older.
You’d been dating Steven for a while now. Long enough that he’d finally opened up to about Marc, about the other alter that would sometimes take control of his, well their, body. It had been an adjustment at first but after spending time with Marc you couldn’t help the feelings that developed for him too. There was just something about him, something so alluring and dangerous; a complete contrast to softness and safety of Steven.
Gradually you found yourself being drawn to Marc, drawn to him in a way that was so much more primal than with Steven. Steven was always so soft and so gentle, always so afraid of taking things too far and so never really taking anything anywhere at all.
But with Marc... with Marc you wanted more. And he was willing to give it.
Which is how you ended up here, today, in a heated make-out session. It was then that you suddenly felt his hand wander down your body, moving across the curves of your waist. You didn’t think much of it until his hand suddenly moved lower, moving to cup you over the thin panties you were wearing. Your body freezes and you snap your legs shut, closing your thighs over his hand. Marc looks down at you, a slight concern settling behind his confused gaze.
“What’s wrong?” He asks gently.
“I- I just-“ you stammer quietly, your cheeks heating.
“Has Steven ever touched you like this?” Marc hums darkly, quickly realising what the issue is.
You look at him with wide eyes and shake your head meekly.
“Mmmm,” he groans, his face twisting into a look of mock sadness.
“It’s a shame, because this body has excellent fingers. You’ve been missing out, sweetheart,” he whispers as he starts to kiss down your neck.
He trials hot, wet kisses across your neck, just focusing on making you feel more at ease as he keeps his hand completely still between your legs. When he finally starts to feel you relax, your thighs slowly beginning to unclench, then he starts to steadily move his hand again. He moves his palm to cup your clothed pussy, palming you lightly but not moving too much, careful not to do too much too soon.
“Do you want me to stop?” He whispers against your skin, making his way back up your neck to your jaw.
He looks down at you earnestly, awaiting your response, your permission. You take a deep breath before shaking your head again, slowly opening up your legs again. His fingers start to move, pushing between your folds until he finds your clit, starting to gently rub you over your panties. You gasp and mewl at the new sensation, your hips involuntarily bucking up into his touch.
“Good,” he smirks against your neck. “Because we’re just getting started…”
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A/N: thank you for the request darling! I know it’s a short one but still, I really hope you like it!! <3
Taglist // Join My Nightmare Realm // Ko-fi
#stranger nightmare#hope hooray#marc spector#steven grant#oscar isaac#marc spector smut#steven grant smut#moon knight#moon knight smut#marc spector x reader#marc spector x you#marc spector imagine#marc spector drabble#marc spector x y/n#marc spector x female reader
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This isn’t a request(unless you feel inspired) but I was reading the prompt list you reblogged that has “I broke his heart cause he was nice” as one and the way my mind immediately went to sweetheart Steven Grant. I don’t why I’m torturing myself thinking of someone saying that!!!! Like, Steven is so broken and Marc/Jake are both desperate to find out what happened and you pop off with that line. The devastation!!!!!!!!! Argh.
I couldn’t stop the suffer spiral and I want to drag you with me! ❤️
pairing: Marc Spector x gender neutral reader (no other specifications!)
word count: ~900 words
warnings: unresolved angst.
summary: Marc needed to pick up Steven's broken pieces but first he needed to understand.
a/n: hi nonnie!!!! I love your mind and I loved this slash of wonderful torturous angst, I hope you like this short piece :D Steven doesn't make an appearance in the story but it's implied they had a romantic relationship that got resolved.
The phone hasn't stopped ringing. It's been five hours since you left Steven's apartment in London and now you were here next town over sitting on your couch. Your phone only stopped ringing enough for the landline to blast.
You knew who it was. But there was nothing else to be said, you wanted out, you got out. That's how it is, that's how it works where you are from and this is how it should also work for Marc. Insane how now he seems incapable of accepting an answer. Yet if he was the one pushing you or Steven away it would have been your fault because he's just so broken.
Unfortunately, he's going to have to learn that you can't have it both ways.
Your relationship started with Marc, in dark alleys, sharing a cigarette together before ending up sharing sweat and bodily fluids. It evolved to one with Steven, one morning you woke up and saw him there watching you in almost horror but incredible care. Marc let you in on his condition because after that Steven wouldn't stop talking about you.
And you agreed. Made you feel all innocent and pure, like the man your teenage self could have wanted.
At first, everything was nice and sweet but you weren't the type to stay somewhere for long, never the type to commit and it was your time to move on.
You had already warned Marc about this. Warned him so that he could also prepare him for the inevitable heartache. For two weeks now. He either ignored you or dismissed you until you finally told him. Bluntly.
That was the last Tuesday. And today just like the other days your phone is ringing, ringing... Steven can't seem to get over you and now Marc's after you. Should have been more careful maybe.
But it was the first time you heard banging on your door.
"Open up, Y/N!" Marc shouts from across the wooden door and his tone is full of anger and spite.
"Or what?" You shout back slightly amused.
"Or I will break this door down with my bare hands."
He would. Kinda hot though you'd love to see it. You get up and slowly unlock the door before opening it, his fist going immediately for the door pushing it wide open, followed by his hand on you pushing you inside the apartment and closing the door behind him.
Aggressive. Typical.
"I need you to explain."
"Marc, I have already said everything there is to be said."
"Did you have to break his heart?"
"That's hardly my fault. You should have prepared him. I am not responsible for him."
"Why did you break his heart?"
This conversation could be endless, you needed to cut it right there and then. Marc was acting purposely too dumb to realize. You are not for people like Steven. Never have been and never will be.
"I broke his heart 'cause he was nice." You spit out, eyes unfazed.
Marc breathes out, tilting his head just a little, and narrowing his eyes. Oh, he hates you now, he hates how much you are right.
"You wanted to hear the truth and that's it." Your stance doesn't change not even for a millisecond whilst Marc's face is getting redder.
"I'm not that kind. I'm not good. I can't play house, bake cookies and bat my eyelashes. I'm not the person you bring home to your parents for Sunday tea. I warned you that this would happen and you'd end up having to pick up his pieces."
"You can't be that heartless." Honestly, you feel as if you're talking to a wall.
"I can."
"That's not you." Is he really that dense?
"It is. You just happen to think you're the only one who can do whatever he pleases and have no one question anything because you're so goddamn broken? You don't know anything about me."
"He was supposed to stay innocent. I was supposed to protect him." Marc is trying to relax his stance, to swallow his anger and his frustration.
"Then you should have never let him meet me."
"Yeah, so that's on me?" He's full of hatred again, you can tell by the way his eyes darken and his body gets tense.
You nod your head. What happens now is well beyond your concern.
"You could have been nicer about it."
"I am nice about it. I haven't slammed the door in your face yet." He stares at you, then back at the door, then at the top of his boot that's touching your slipper.
"I was wrong about you." He breathes steadily wanting to push his anger away.
"I was the one who was wrong about you. Thought you could actually handle a situation."
"You're cruel."
"No more than you."
He shakes his head, forces a polite smile on his face, and turns around to open the door. One push and he is out.
"I'm sorry." He whispers so low that only your heartbeat could match it. He lets go of the door handle and jolts outside, rushing down the stairs.
You were sorry too. Just not for the same reasons.
follow @fluffyprettykittylibrary for updates!
#selenewrites#selene answers prompts#marc spector x reader#steven grant x reader#moonknight x reader#moonknight angst#marc spector x you#marc spector angst#marc spector fic#marc spector drabble#marc spector#moonknight#steven grant#moonknight fic
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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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𝓓𝓪𝔂 9 - A Slow Foreplay || Marc Spector x fem!reader
Masterlist
Summary: Marc heats you up slowly, taking his time to play with your boobs.
Warnings: smut (nipple play, cumming without penetration)
Word count: 962
Author: Rouge
A/N: the prompt for today is: Nipple Play
Marc's eyes glisten at the sight of your beautiful eyes, already filled with need, lust, and nerves.
“Hi, Y/N,” Marc says, grinning. Your rapid breathing is slowed by his confident voice. He holds out his hand and guides you into the room.
“Hi,” you reply briefly, biting your lower lip.
Marc doesn't let go of your hand, he pulls you toward him, past him, spinning you around; it feels uncontrolled, but you gave him your complete surrender when you crossed the threshold and now you trust Spector implicitly. An involuntary moan follows the thump of your back against the door. Mark's passion for you and your body is sparked by the look in your eyes.
Marc lifts both hands above your head, effectively pinning you in place with his body. No fighting or overpowering here, which pleases and disappoints Spector; he holds your wrists tightly with one hand and runs his unoccupied hand behind your head, into your hair, and kisses you deeply.
Your head is controlled, his lips are on yours, his tongue explores and dominates you; you kiss him back, then yield, demurring to the sensations, to the feeling of warmth building inside, half embarrassed and half loving how wet you are already for Marc, wanting that moment to never end but at the same time wanting to be fucked hard as soon as possible.
He is tightly hugging you, applying pressure with his hips, making sure you can feel the unmistakable hardness of his cock across your hip. Your wonderfully pert breasts and rigid nipples are exposed by Marc's hand sliding down the elasticated top of the dress; he ends the kiss to marvel at the sight, taking the hard nipple between thumb and forefinger while cradling your breast in his warm hand.
When you roll your head away from his, you let out just the most perfect mew of arousal, exposing your neck and ear to his warm lips and sharp teeth.
His lips are at your ear and he whispers softly, his voice full of lust and promise. He tells you how hot you are, how much he needs and wants you, and how he will fuck you senseless.
Your breathing is rapid again.
His fingers release your nipple as he runs his tongue around and over it; he flicks his tongue around the hard nipple and draws it into his mouth, rolling it over and over, grazing his teeth over it, creating sparks of pleasure in your vulnerable body as he does this. He gently eases your dress down towards your hips, over them, and then lets it fall to the floor; his hands firmly grip your hips, making your prettiest, most revealing knickers crinkle under the pressure, as he kisses your hips and feels fingers in his thick hair.
Admonishing, he stands over you, fully clothed while you're all but naked. As he leads you to the bed, you step out of the dress, stopping by its side, eyeing the improvised restraint already in place. His hand runs over the curve of your ass before gently positioning you in a seated position as he slides your knickers off.
The only guide you have are Marc's eyes, which command as firmly and unambiguously as if he was speaking. Your plump, wet, quivering pussy is offered up to Marc as you look up at him with beautiful, submissive eyes.
A few seconds later, he firmly tightens your wrists together above your head, testing the restraint. "You are absolutely fucked,” Marc whispers into your ear as he lowers his head to kiss your cheek.
When he caresses and kisses, he runs his hands over the restrained body, and your nipples harden, but they don't interfere too much with his eager hands.
As Marc positions himself between your spread legs, your pussy is perfectly presented to him, your plump, smooth, full lips glistening enticingly already. The man leans forward and reaches for your breast. He holds it tightly, the pert flesh sensuously in his hand, eager to focus more attention on your breasts by firmly rolling your nipples. Marc squeezes your nipples tightly between his fingers as he grinds his clothed, hardened erection against your dripping pussy.
“Marc,” a tiny whisper escapes your lips as you roll your head back.
While he grinds his hips into you, Marc smiles as he wraps his mouth around one of your nipples. His tongue flicks against it and soon Marc is sucking on it slowly.
You moan louder and tug on the restraint that keeps your arms above your head, unhappy about not being able to touch him. “Marc, I’ll cum, baby,” you tell him, your voice barely audible.
His head rises up and he leans toward you for a kiss, one hand cupping your breast and slowly, gradually squeezing it; shortly, he returns to sucking your nipple, his fingers pinching your second, hardened nipple.
You also start grinding against his crotch; the sight of his throbbing erection sends shivers up your spine and you can only utter his name as you whine. The restraint is strained to its limit as your body writhes in perfect pleasure, followed by a loud gasp. “Oh my God, Marc, I'm cumming!”
Your nipple is still in Marc's mouth as he feels himself cumming within his jeans. He catches your nipple with his teeth before sucking harder than he ever has before, grunting at the same time.
You whimper under him, still grinding your pussy against the damp spot on his jeans, licking your lower lip as you watch his blissful expression.
He reaches for his pants to adjust his cock as he whispers, "I love you. Are you ready for more?”
Nodding, you look Spector in the eye with an innocent smile on your lips.
#marc spector x reader#marc spector x you#marc spector#marc spector fanfiction#marc spector smut#marc spector x reader smut#moon knight fanfiction#moon knight fic#moon knight#moon knight x reader#moon knight smut#moon knight x you#marc spector drabble#paperpanda kinktober#kinktober 2022
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Snowy Nights
Marc Spector x Reader
Summary: As the snow fell down outside, you and Marc cuddle up by the fireplace getting ready to have a cozy night in.
“Marc! What’s taking you so long?” You yelled out from the couch. As snowed outside, you felt as though it was the perfect night to sit by the fireside and watch some Holiday movies on TV. The thing was you had already been sitting on the couch by yourself for ten minutes and you wanted your boyfriend next to you to snuggle.
“Hold on Babe!” Marc shouted from the kitchen and then a moment later he appeared into the living room. He had to mugs in his hand that as he got closer, could instantly smell that they were cups of hot chocolate. “Made us some hot chocolate to warm us up.” He smiled while he situated himself down next to you, handing over the cup he made for you.
“Have I ever told you that you're the best boyfriend ever?” You complimented before taking a sip hot the sweet drink. The minute the liquid hit you mouth your eyes widened for a moment, not because it was hot, but because of the distinct taste of alcohol that took you by surprise.
“Did you spike the hot chocolate?”
Marc looked at you with a mischievous smile. “Yep, my own special concoction.” He took a sip of his own drink and let out a refreshed sigh. You furrowed a brow at him.
“If I remember correctly last week when you had that nasty hangover you were never going to drink again?” You teased, taking another sip of your drink.
Marc shrugged, “Hey, God hates a quitter.”
You laughed and snuggled up closer to him, giving him a peck on the lips.
“I love you.” You spoke softly, staring into his deep brown eyes.
“Love you too honey, but if you keep staring at me like that then we might just have to call it quits on the movie and go straight to the bedroom.” He flirted, a subtle smirk on his face.
You quickly leaned away from him and grabbed the remote that was next to you, then faced the TV. “Nuh uh, not until we watch The Grinch first.” You started to scroll through the TV services to pull up the movie.
“I thought you had watched that with Steven last week?” Marc asked curiously.
“Hey it’s my favorite!” You retorted, pressing the play button on the screen and watched the movie start to roll up. “Now if you sit through this with me without complaining then maybe I’ll treat you to your own private little show later.” You glanced over at him with a smirk, watching his eyes light up at the idea.
“......You know did I ever tell you how much I love this movie? It truly is a classic.”
#Moonknight x reader#Marc spector x reader#Marc Spector#Marc Spector Drabble#Marc Spector x reader drabble#Marc Spector fan fic#Moonknight drabble#Moonknight x reader drabble#Moonknight fluff#Moonknight x reader fluff
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hi!!!🥰
can I request headcanons of living with Steven in his flat? Like domestic fluff. Please and ty💓
Headcanon Time with~:
Steven Grant!
Living with Steven is definitely an interesting day-to-day
His flat is filled with books, mainly on Egypt, which is a topic he will gladly talk about for hours on end
He will always have a grin on his face, unintentional or not, the smile that tugs at the corners of his lips as he talks
His hands waving animatedly as he happily talks about topic to tpoic on egypt and the Ennead
This man- He cannot cook though
Yes, he may have a few cook books with recipes
But he doesn't know how to cook most of them
He can make a few simple items, sandwiches, cereals, soups
Not 'fancy' dinners though-
Making meals for him when he comes home from the museum, the smell filling the apartment with music playing-
He loves it
Steven Grant is a huge cuddler and there is no doubt against it
Throughout the night, he wishes he could actually sleep and cuddle with you
But after everything- He will cling to you like a koala bear and refuse to let go
The restraint at the end of his bed still stays for reasons but he will always be up to cuddling
To have your head on his chest as he reads or talks about his day
His chest rumbling softly as he speaks, the sound of his heartbeat with him rubbing your back or playing with your hair-
He tries to sleep still but blankets will always end up tangled or at the foot of his bed
He loves cuddling you and he would do it all day if he could
#steven grant drabble#steven grant x you#steven grant x reader#steven grant headcanon#steven grant moon knight#moonknight headcanons#requests open#moon knight#jake lockely x reader#marc spector drabble
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Callie, my looooooove, are you still doing the blurbs??? If so, can I have this line: "I can't pretend anymore" + Marc Spector?? 🥺🥺🥺
pairing: marc spector x reader
warnings: slight angst with a happy end :)
a/n: sorry for the delay!! writing has been so difficult to do lately but hopefully i can work through the rest of these prompts 😭
It's such a cliché, Marc thinks. Him standing outside your flat in the middle of the night, waiting for you to answer the door with his clothes drenched from the pouring rain, but he couldn't bring himself to care.
He knows better. He knows that if he doesn't do this now, he may never work up the courage to do so again.
The sound of the locks undoing on the other side fills the silent air. Marc's heart pounds in his chest. All the words he's rehearsed over and over start fading to the back of his mind.
It takes you maybe ten seconds to open the door, but the moment seems to last longer than that.
And when he finally sees you, he's suddenly rendered mute.
"Marc? It's one in the morning, and you're soaked to the bone," you say through a thick haze of exhaustion, your eyes barely open.
He feels guilty for disturbing you.
"I know, and I'm sorry," Marc breathes out too quickly and too low. "But I-I couldn't sleep."
Your brows knit together as you look up at Marc, confused. He half-expects you not to care. Hell, he seemingly didn't care about your feelings when he decided to ignore you for the past month and a half. It wouldn't surprise him if you told him to leave you alone and shut the door in his face. He deserves it.
"Why not? And why come over all the way here? I thought you were mad at me."
That tears a hole in Marc's heart. He could never be mad at you, yet it's the impression he had left when he began pushing you away with no explanation.
He wholly regrets it now.
Marc swallows, the question not lost to him, but he doesn't say anything out loud despite the answer already sitting on his tongue. He mulls over it again and again, the reason why he's here. What has caused him to be distant to you— caused him many restless nights.
Why couldn't he sleep? Simply put, it's because of you.
He loves you, and it scared the hell out of him.
So Marc ran. He ran as far away as he could, thinking that the distance would help. Hoping that these feelings would fade in time but all it did was make things worse.
He ended up hurting you— leaving you in the dark and putting the blame on yourself as the reason why he had gone.
God, he hated himself for that the most.
"I didn’t mean it. I-I didn’t mean to make you feel that way," Marc replies solemnly. His voice is soft and tender, almost like the way your gaze takes him in. "I'm sorry for everything."
"I-I don't understand… what–"
Marc strains away from the last bit of cowardice holding him back. With a shaky exhale, he steps forward, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek, warmth immediately spreading throughout his palm.
Your gentle eyes graze over his features; he could see traces of worry in them.
"Marc…" You whisper his name, and only then does he realize how close you are— how close your lips almost touch.
"I can't pretend anymore," he confesses, his breaths mingling with yours.
Marc slowly closes what little gap there is between you with a chaste kiss, one that is as soft and sweet as you are.
When you start kissing him back not too long after, relief loosens his tense muscles, replaced by something so warm and delicate. Something familiar, something that is just you.
The kiss deepens until you soon break away for air. Marc forgets how sopping wet he is still— dripping curls sticking to his forehead as his sodden clothes cling onto him uncomfortably.
But none of that matters.
Nothing does, except for you.
"You never have to pretend with me," you murmur into his skin, gentle like a comforting caress.
Marc can't help the slip of a smile on his lips as he holds your hand in his.
He’s there now.
And he’s there to stay.
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I feel that Marc would definitely be one of those fathers with the crazy dad instincts even without the suit
Like he'll feel the baby starting to roll off the bed even with his eyes closed. The instinct is so natural to him that it takes him by surprise sometimes
Some dad!Marc Spector content for you
It's a gloomy day.
The kind of day where the sky cracks open, splits right up the middle, and mourns.
Marc doesn't find solace in the sound of rain, in the quiet taps of water skating along the window pane.
It brings up memories he'd rather not reckon with again.
Thunder rumbles, and he squeeze his eyes shut tighter, breathes through his nose and out through his mouth.
He's trying, and failing, to take a nap.
Marc tries focusing on something else, the patter of you in the kitchen, the sound of something being cooked - the sizzle and splat of oil jumping in a pan.
He can hear you humming, tuneless and mumbling, the hush of your feet over the floor.
The thing that most brings him down to earth though, brings him back into his own skin, is the quiet breathing of his daughter next to him.
It's even, quiet breathing, not at all disturbed by the storm raging outside the window.
He hopes it's always like that for her, that nothing ever scares her.
She shifts a little, rolls, and Marc moves, darts out a hand to catch her, his heart galloping in his ears.
His baby just gives him a toothless smile, giggling with sudden alertness. A mountain of pillows and a mesh security rail would have kept her on the bed.
He'd forgotten about that.
"You tryin' to give me a fuckin' heart attack, kid?"
Jake is close at hand, cursing in Spanish - cursing at him and his kid for making him worry.
She smiles still and Marc rolls his eyes, "You're gonna be a handful aren't you, sweetheart?"
Carefully, he maneuvers her back onto her back, and props himself up onto one elbow.
He's still getting used to her, getting used to being a dad, thinking that it might be something he could be good at if he let himself.
This is fine, the hard years will come later, when he looks into her eyes and sees a mirror of himself and his brother.
He'll have help though, from you and Steven and Jake. You're already a great parent.
For now though he tries not to think about it, rubs her belly gently and counts her breaths, listens to you taking a break, cooking and singing lowly, so out of tune with the storm outside.
Steven checks in, and then Jake.
The baby falls asleep again, and Marc hums a little, a song he didn't know he'd forgotten, memories of things from before his brother's death, bed time stories and songs.
Sleep devours him quickly after that, bites into his skin and doesn't let go.
Things will be okay, with you and with his daughter.
The rain doesn't hold as much power as it once did.
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cold mornings
A/N: just a small something while I continue working on a fic, I hope I can finish it soon because I'm liking it so far!!
also this was totally Inspired by something someone else wrote about the reader watching Steven shaving (if I can find it I'll link it here because it was just so good and so sweet). I hope you enjoy!!
the work that inspired this is called even without a beard!! by the amazing @hoedamn-eron
tap tap tap
was the sound the razor made when you cleaned it out, you were sitters on top of the bathroom counter next to the sink filled with water and soap, the cold tiles against your bum in this particular cold morning.
and yet he felt warm, his hands were to the sides of your body, leaning for you to have a clear view of his face as you shaved away the scruff that was starting to grow back.
your hands were gentle, guiding his chin to move to your heart's content, his eyes were closed. it amazed you how calm he remained as the sharp object against his face was managed by you, so close to him and out of reach, out of his control.
it also amazed you how fast he had to do this, his beard starting to grow back after three days of being shaved, it was a cycle without end.
Jake almost begged for them to let him grow it out, to just let him have that but both Marc and Steven refused even when he said he would settle for just his moustache.
they said no and that made two against one, so a clean face it was.
"just tell me if I hurt you" you reminded him, gracing once more the razor through his cheek and he hummed as a response.
"it's actually nice" he tilted his head as you commanded and felt the coldness of the steel running down his skin. "relaxes me"
"I could literally cut you with this Marc" you cleaned the razor on the sink and placed it besides you to roll up the sleeves of Steven's jumper, the one that was a tad bit too big on you and yet you continued to hang up on it.
"but you wouldn't" he opened one of his eyes making his whole face scrunch up, the corner of his lips tugging up in a smirk.
"how are you so sure?" you raised and eyebrow before continuing with your work.
"because I know you..." his voice was low, almost a whisper but thanks to the closeness it was loud and clear "you don't have the guts"
you gasped, moving the sharp object out of his face and after a beat of silence you hummed, it was true, you wouldn't knowingly hurt anyone. he opened his eyes and smiled, his gaze fell from your eyes to your lips and before you could even say anything he pressed them against his in a quick kiss.
he peeked a glance right past you to the mirror and one of his hands moved from your side giving your thigh some light pats. he took your hips pulling you down from where you were placed.
"we're all done" he ran his finger through his hair, combing it back.
"wait" you grabbed him by the arm before leaning to grab a small bottle "don't forget the aftershave"
he kissed your temple when you handed it to him, you left him all alone in the bathroom heading towards the kitchen.
"do you want something to drink?" you yelled loud enough for him to hear.
"the coffee pot is on!" he responded to you the same way only for him to walk out of there seconds later.
he wore only a pair of pijama pants with the star of David hanging from his neck, he murmured a thank you when you handed him his mug and you looked at eachother's eyes while drinking up the warm liquid.
what a nice way to start your day.
#marvel#moon knight#moon knight system#fluff fanfic#marc spector#marc spector x reader#drabble#marvel drabble#moon knight fanfic#moon knight fanfiction#marc spector x you#marc spector fanfic#marc spector fluff#marc spector drabble
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Prompt 1 || Marc Spector and Y/N engaging in exhibitionist sex, getting turned on from the shocked (or lustful) gazes of the crowd as they consummate their love in front of a live audience. — Requested by anon
Prompt 2 || Y/N to Marc: I don't want you to be gentle. I want you to break me. — Requested by anon
Pairing || Marc Spector x Female!Reader
Word Count || Less than 700
Contents & Warnings || Smut — NSFW, 18+ Only, Minors DNI, mention of alcohol and drugs, explicit content/language, pet names, exhibition kink, unprotected vaginal sex, degradation, choking, mention of bodily fluids.
Random prompt event || Masterlist
The club you and Marc were visiting tonight felt electric, everyone feeding off each other’s dancing and intoxicating state, either from the alcohol or other substances.
The alcohol in both your systems made you that more touchy with each other as you had found a seating area with a curved couch and a small round table.
The short dress you wore gave Marc easy access to your bare thighs as you made out. He feels up your thigh, inching closer to your most intimate area. In no time, he starts rubbing over your damp underwear, stimulating your clit how you love it. You moan against his tongue at his expert moves.
You palm his growing cock through his pants—needing it hard and perfect for you to sit on. You didn’t care at all that you were in a semi-public place. The alcohol and atmosphere of the club makes you not think about anything other than Marc’s touches. Luckily, the darkness of the club created a cover of somewhat privacy so that you weren’t recognisable.
A few people had started to notice the action and watched you both closely, shocked and slightly turned on as you and Marc explored each other. You caught them staring and felt a surge of confidence at their lustful glances.
You unzipped his pants to get his cock out and climbed on top of him.
“Are you sure you want to do this here?”
You saw the fire in his eyes—needing and wanting to take you right here and now, but still wanting to be respectful and ask.
You grabbed his chin between your fingers and looked him right in his lust-filled eyes.
“I need you right fucking now, Marc. I don’t want you to be gentle with me. I want you to break me.”
In a swift movement, you pulled your panties to the side and lined him up with your entrance. There was no hesitation in your actions as you sat down on him.
Marc emitted a loud moan as he was situated entirely in you. The loud thumping of the music drowned out his cries. You braced yourself on his shoulders and started to move up and down on his cock. Marc’s harsh grasp on your hips aids your movements. One of his hands grabbed your neck hard—fulfilling your wishes of wanting him to be rough.
“Is this what you wanted?”
He squeezed harder, making it hard for you to breathe and form words.
“Y-yes.”
“Turn around.”
He let go so you could turn around and sit on his cock—having your eyes now averted to the people watching you.
You went slow at first, but he slammed you down on him repeatedly, thrusting hard into you, making you cry out each time he filled you up.
One of his hands went around your waist to keep you close to him, and the other found its rightful place around your neck again. You were overwhelmed with pleasure as he took you for everyone to see.
“You’re such a fucking whore for enjoying this. Enjoying strangers watching how you fall apart on my cock. Are you gonna show them how you come, sugar?”
It didn’t take much more for you to come around his cock, convulsing on top of him, your cries drowned out by the loud music thumping from the speakers. Your pulsating walls enticed Marc, and he came as quickly as you did—moaning your sweet name.
After working through your orgasms, you both stilled. You leaned on him while he was still situated inside you. After calming down for a moment and were both starting to sober up, you realised what you had done and started laughing—people still watching the two of you.
“Oh no, how do we get out of this situation, Marc?” you questioned in between laughs.
“We better be fast!”
You got your “situation” sorted as best as you could, considering the circumstances, and bolted out of the club while giggling like children.
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#moon knight#moon knight x reader#moon knight x y/n#moon knight x you#moon knight x f!reader#moon knight smut#moon knight drabble#moon knight one shot#marc spector#marc spector x reader#marc spector x y/n#marc spector x you#marc spector x f!reader#marc spector smut#marc spector drabble#marc spector one shot#marvel#marvel smut#steven grant#jake lockley
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