#marc spector fanfic
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Honey Trap
AN: Fifth fic for @moonknight-events’ MK Bingo! This is probably a little silly (and likely not very well-written) but it was fun to come up with and write so irdc lol 😌 Hope someone other than me enjoys this!
You stumble across Marc while he's camping in a remote part of the woods and he's (understandably) suspicious of you.
(Un-beta’d)
Rated: M+ (this is smut so, you've been warned)
Prompt: Hiking
Words: 2,427
Pairing: Marc Spector x F!Reader
Warnings: references to death, attempted murder, knives, frottage, please let me know if i missed anything.
AO3
——————
Marc doesn’t trust you.
Your story about wandering off trail and getting lost was plausible, sure, and you looked harmless enough, but he'd been around long enough to know that looks can be deceiving.
Still, what was he to do? If you really were telling him the truth, you needed help. He couldn’t just let you wander around alone in the dark. What if something happened? What if you got injured, or worse, killed? No, better to assume the risk, to give you the benefit of the doubt. Plus, it certainly made it easier to keep an eye on you. You’d been so grateful, thanking him profusely and promising not to be a bother. He’d waved this off of course, trying to ignore the way his stomach flipped when you smiled at him.
It’s late now, the moon full and high in the dark night sky. You’re sitting on the other side of the fire (his fire), your jacket zipped to your chin, arms wrapped around your legs as you try to get as close to the flames as you can without burning yourself. He tries not to keep looking at you, at the way the firelight makes you glow, but every time he looks away, his eyes inevitably drift back. There’s something about you, he’s not sure what but, it makes him feel…uneasy. Everything about you seems normal but he just can’t shake the feeling that he’s missing something. His stomach rumbles at this thought and he briefly considers that he might just be hungry. With a sigh, Marc digs into his bag, searching for the rations he’d packed. His eyes meet yours over the fire as he pulls a packet of jerky out and shakes it.
“Want some?” he asks, holding it out to you.
You hesitate, eyes dipping to study the nondescript packet in his hand. He swallows thickly as you unconsciously lick your lips.
“Thanks,” you say finally, smiling as you take the food from him.
He nods, pulling out another and tearing it open. Marc’s eyes scan the surrounding darkness as the two of you eat, the slight crinkling of the ration packaging replacing the silence.
“So,” you begin, studying the strip of jerky between your fingers. “You come here often?”
His lips quirk slightly at the joke but he just shrugs. “Not really, no.”
You hum, carefully chewing a bite of jerky. “Could’ve fooled me.”
He meets your gaze, unease settling in his gut. “How do you mean?”
It’s your turn to shrug now, pulling another strip from your packet “You just seem very…prepared is all.”
He sniffs in amusement, relaxing slightly. “Yeah well, people do tend to be at least slightly prepared when they plan on camping in the woods.”
You scoff, swallowing your mouthful of food. “I wasn’t planning on camping though.”
“Maybe not,” he agrees, taking a sip from his water bottle. “But you clearly had no idea what you were getting yourself into by coming all the way out here. Seriously, who hikes without a map?”
You snort, shaking your head at yourself. “Valid point. Obviously, I’m an incompetent buffoon.”
Marc bites back a smile, pulling another piece of jerky from the packet. “Well at least you’re aware of it.”
“I’m so aware of it,” you laugh, putting your head in your hands.
He hums, his eyes drifting to you again across the fire, watching as you (presumably) mentally berate yourself for getting into this situation. What would’ve happened had you not run into him? If you had run into someone else? With no supplies, would you even have survived the night? A wave of sympathy washes over him, and he frowns at himself for going soft on you so quickly.
“What brought you out here, anyway? If you don’t mind me asking.”
You look up from your hands, eyes tired but bright as you smile somewhat fondly. “My brother.”
Marc raises an eyebrow. “Your brother?”
You nod, reaching for your pack. You unzip it and pull out an understated urn. His stomach sinks.
“Oh,” he croaks, his throat going suddenly dry. “I’m…sorry for your loss.”
“Thanks,” you whisper, turning your attention to the urn in your hands. “He would’ve liked you, I think. Calling me out for being unprepared and all that. He was always looking out for me.”
Marc grunts, uncomfortable now at the turn the conversation has taken given what had happened to his own brother. “Sounds like he was a, uh, good guy.”
You nod, meeting his eyes over the fire again, the soft smile on your lips making his heart skip. “He was.”
The two of you talk a little more, the topics now lighter and less serious. When you start yawning so often you can barely keep the conversation going though, he decides it’s time for bed. He insists that you take his sleeping bag, knowing your thin jacket isn’t enough to keep you warm until the sunrise. Once you agree to take it, he settles down beside the fire, pulling the hood of his jacket up over his head. Your soft snores meet his ears in no time and he smiles to himself, glad that he was able to help someone without using violence just this once.
He stares into the fire, watching as the flames dance, as they devour the kindling he’d thrown in earlier, as they burn through the sticks and branches he’d collected. His eyes droop, head bobbing gently as he tries to stay awake, knowing he has to keep an eye on things (on you). He thinks he trusts you, or he wants to at least, but he just can’t seem to shake that feeling. Could he really trust himself though? After everything he’s done, after everything he’s seen? Perhaps it’s you who should be afraid of him.
His thoughts spiral, taking him in directions both logical and illogical. He lets himself get lost in it, in the scenarios, in the possibilities, each one more unlikely than the next. At some point, he must doze off, though, because the next thing he knows is the weight of a body on top of him with a knife to his throat.
It’s you. Of course it’s you.
Damn it, he should’ve known, should’ve listened to that niggling feeling inside him that told him not to trust you.
It’s dark save for the moonlight—you must’ve doused the fire before making your move on him.
“I’m sorry about this,” you say, grimacing down at him somewhat apologetically. “You seem nice, and I actually kind of enjoyed talking to you but, unfortunately, I have a job to do.”
Marc swallows thickly, the action pushing the blade a fraction deeper into his skin. “To kill me, you mean?”
Your face loses some of its softness as you shake your head at him. “That depends on how cooperative you are.”
He grunts, saying nothing as he tries to assess just how bad things are for him.
“See,” you continue, leaning in a little closer, the delicious scent of you invading his nostrils. “I need information.”
He waits for you to continue, eyes scanning your face for any tells, any flickers he can use to his advantage. When he doesn’t respond, you sigh in disappointment, frowning theatrically.
“Please, Marc, I don’t wanna have to slice up your pretty face. Just tell me what I need to know and I’ll be on my way.”
He clenches his teeth at your condescending tone. “What do you wanna know?”
You smile softly at him and he curses himself for the way his heart skips a little; what the fuck was wrong with him?
“Tell me about Operation Windstorm.”
He needs to figure out how to get out of this. He can’t just push you off of him, can’t use his legs to flip you over, not with that knife so close to his carotid artery. One wrong move and he’s dead.
So he stalls.
Marc snorts, raising an eyebrow at you. “That’s it? Of all the jobs I’ve pulled, that’s the one you wanna know about?”
You continue to smile down at him, as if you know exactly what he’s doing. “I couldn’t care less, to be perfectly honest but, my client wants to know so, until I get paid, I guess I do too.”
He grunts, resigned to the fact that he has no choice but to give you exactly what you want in the hopes that you don’t slit his throat afterward. So he tells you every detail of that job, answering every question you have, and just when he’s beginning to think this just might not end well for him, he feels the pressure of your blade ease ever so slightly.
He wastes no time, taking control and flipping you over, knocking the knife from your hand and causing it to skitter off into the darkness. Marc traps you beneath him, your arms pinned above your head, his knees bracketing your thighs. You’re not giving up without a fight though and wriggling beneath him, trying somehow to use the position to your advantage. You try to lift your leg, brushing your thigh against his groin; the clench of his jaw makes you smirk.
“Stop it,” he orders, embarrassed by how easy it was for you to rattle him.
“C’mon, we both know you don’t want that,” you tease, looking down at the slight bulge in his jeans. “Has it been a while, honey?”
He growls, your breathy chuckles sending shivers up his spine as you continue to move beneath him. “Shut up.”
“Or what?” you whisper, somehow managing to extricate one of your legs and curl it over his hip.
“Or this,” he says through gritted teeth, grinding his erection against your core in an effort to turn the tables, to work you up the way you’re working him up.
It works, your eyes fluttering, lips parting in a sweet little whimper as he grinds into you slowly, over and over again. He groans when you meet his thrusts (as well as you can anyway given your position), the heat blossoming in his gut. He leans in close, his hands still pinning your arms to the ground as he gets lost in you, in the feel of you, in the way you look beneath him.
“Oh fuck,” you breathe, panting as every press of his hips sends delightful waves of pleasure through your body.
Marc hums in agreement, his lip between his teeth as he hovers over you. You want to kiss him, to taste him, to devour him. So you do, pushing yourself up to capture his lips, your tongue claiming his mouth and pulling another groan from him. You arch into him as well as you can, pulling his body even closer with your freed leg as you continue to move together. The friction is delicious, like heaven, and a part of you never wants it to end. You wish you could flip him over again, ride him fast and hard, his strong fingers digging into your hips as you pull him apart and put him back together over and over and—
Your release slams into you at the thought, a choked moan slipping from between your lips as he keeps moving, prolonging your bliss. Marc watches you as you come, the look in his eyes is greedy as your body shakes, your face contorting into something ethereal, almost otherworldly. When you come back to yourself, you meet his eyes again, your chest heaving slightly as you try to catch your breath. He looks like he wants to eat you alive, the wildness and lust in his eyes visible even in the darkness. You shiver with pleasure, chewing your lip as you let your gaze drag slowly down his body. You wish you could see more of him, his windbreaker doing nothing to compliment his undoubtedly amazing body.
“Who sent you?” He pants, as if he hadn’t just given you the best orgasm you’ve had in years.
Your eyes flick back to his at the question, a lazy smile curling the edges of your mouth as you begin to move against him again, silently begging him to come for you. He swallows thickly, his body tensing with every brush of your hips, his fingers clenching and unclenching around your forearms. His eyelashes flutter as he watches you, his mouth slack with pleasure. Then he groans, giving into you, into this, his body curling even more over yours as he buries his face in your neck. He ruts against you, his movements somewhat uncoordinated as he chases his release.
His body twitches above yours as he comes, his moans muffled slightly by your neck. Just as you’re mourning the fact that you didn’t get to see his face, you notice his hold on you has slackened a bit— enough to turn the tables, you hope. Still dazed from his orgasm, it takes him a moment to realize what you’re doing as you begin to wiggle beneath him, and by the time he does, it’s too late.
Marc grunts as you push him onto his back and straddle him, your hands pinning his muscular arms to the ground. After everything, you should probably kill him—he’s the type to hold a grudge, the type that’ll try to hunt you down—but you just can’t bring yourself to do it. If nothing else, it’d be a waste of a pretty face. Instead, you kiss him, relishing the taste and feel of him one last time before pulling away to smile down at him.
“Thanks for the tumble, honey,” you whisper, climbing off of him with a chuckle.
By the time he comes back to himself, you’re gone and the sun is just beginning to peak over the horizon. Marc groans in frustration, running his hands over his face as he tries to figure out what the hell just happened. He should be pissed, he thinks, for so easily falling into your trap but, somehow, he isn’t. He sniffs a laugh, shaking his head at himself as he moves to get up.
Later, when he’s packing up his gear (including the sleeping bag he’d let you borrow), he comes across a folded, non-descript piece of paper that he knows must be from you. He unfolds it, his fingers fumbling slightly in his haste. For a moment, he just stares, his eyes tracing the lines and curves of your parting words, words that make his lips quirk in a smile.
See you around.
If you enjoyed this, please let me know! I appreciate every single reblog and/or comment. Thank you. 💖
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#my fic#moon knight bingo#marc spector x you#marc spector x reader#marc spector fanfic#marc spector fic#moon knight fic#moon knight fanfic#marc spector smut#moon knight smut
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Kinktober 1. - Accidental stimulation.
Marc Spector x F!Reader.
Tags & warnings. Accidental stimulation + semi-public. (+18)
Word count. 1.4k
Summary. The only space in the car is on your best friend's lap.
Kinktober masterlist.
Dragging Marc out of his apartment was undoubtedly always an odyssey for anyone who tried it. Fortunately, you had a little something hidden in your pocket called 'the best friend privilege' that always resulted in him fulfilling your whims.
That, and the slight feeling of jealousy that invaded him when you spent time with friends who weren't him.
It was a good day for both of you, after all, no matter how big the group of people you went out with was, it was as if you were always in your little world, just him and you. Chatting alone, walking behind the others, and always taking a few minutes to take photos at your request.
In the end, the rest of your acquaintances had already gotten used to it, and as distant as you might seem, they still loved and included you two. So it was no surprise to either of you that after lunch, the arcade, and the movies, they were relentlessly urged to take you back to one of your apartments.
"There's no way we'll all fit in your car." Six people in a car meant for five. You leaned a little after saying it, your eyes calculating the space in the back seat.
"Sit on Marc." The owner of the car shrugged as he jingled the keys in his hand, waiting for a response. It was a lost battle; both he, Marc, you, and the other ones knew that there was no way out other than simply accepting the offer.
"I'm not sure how safe that is." You hummed, pursing your lips before turning to Marc. "What do you think?"
He shrugged too.
"It's a short ride from here to my apartment."
You sighed; if he was convinced, it meant you were being the difficult one.
In a matter of minutes, everyone was squeezed into the car, you on top of Marc, the others having to shrink their bodies to avoid invading each other's space.
"Sit properly," he murmured, irritated by the way you were sitting almost on his knees to avoid bothering him. Because yes, both of you were basically inseparable, but Marc was a bit of a cat when it came to his relationships – sometimes he wanted physical contact, sometimes he wanted to push you into another room so that he could have some space.
He slid an arm around your waist and pulled your body until your back was leaning against his chest. Of course he didn't think through his actions and the consequences they could bring, or at least that's what he realized when the car passed its first stop and he felt you jump on his lap.
He gasped, low enough that you wouldn't hear it.
“Did you have a good time today?” You whispered as your fingers softly caressed his forearm until you reached the only bracelet Marc wore on his wrist. A gift from you.
He only could hope that you wouldn't see how the hairs on his arm stood up at how delicate your fingers were, causing chills to run down his entire spine.
“Mhm.” It was hard to concentrate with your ass pressed against him like that.
The music in the car wasn't loud enough to be annoying, but it was loud enough to cover your conversation as well as any curses that left Marc's lips. Next to him, one of his friends was dozing, the other was scrolling on her phone lazily.
Marc pretended to settle into place and mentally prayed that you wouldn't feel something between his legs starting to wake up, right against the inside of your thighs.
Was it necessary for you to wear that sundress specifically today?
Another small bump in the road and it was enough for Marc's cock to completely harden while you looked out the window and continued making those imaginary drawings on his arm. Of course you felt it, but there wasn't much you could do about it, especially with the way he held you to his body with his arm.
“Fuck.” He muttered, breathless as you shifted in your spot, returning to sit on his hip after the movement of the road caused you to slide down a few inches.
You could feel his hardness pressing between your legs, at one point the clothes being the only thing stopping him from fucking you mercilessly until your legs wouldn't work. His arm tightened around you and you swore the air was escaping your lungs, not knowing exactly if it was because of the way he was crushing you against him or because you could already feel your underwear becoming damp, a heat that you recognized perfectly in your lower abdomen and between your legs.
He pushed your entire body down with his arm, seeking to satisfy himself with that same friction that the pressure of your body gave him, until, of course, that was no longer enough. He pushed his hips up, a discreet movement, somehow, but you could feel it perfectly.
The fact that you weren't facing him gave you the chance to bite your lower lip and silence any noise that Marc tried to snatch from your throat with his actions.
The second push was less discreet, more desperate. He buried himself between your legs as if he wanted to tear both of your clothes and dig into you once and for all.
“Are they ever going to fix these damn streets?” The boy mumbled from the driver's seat. Small cement bumps provoked the car to make an almost vibrating movement for just a few seconds.
Marc almost fainted.
You knew it was too much for him when his forehead rested against your shoulder, his curls tickling your cheek and making you smile with how agitated you both were. You raised the hand that was on his arm to stroke his hair, pushing a few strands away from his forehead.
That would be the perfect position for both of you, or at least that's what he thought. Plunging into you to the hilt, your walls milking him as he listened to you moan his name loudly, with you pulling his hair and moving your hips to your liking, maybe he'd even let you keep that beautiful dress on, just lifting it up and moving your panties just a little to the side.
But for now, he'd have to settle for this. For the playful way you pulled at his curls as if it would bother him.
On the contrary, he almost made his lip bleed by having to silence the groan that was stuck in his throat. At this point your juices were wetting his pants and that was what gave him the clue that maybe this wasn't bothering you much.
Or nothing at all, he himself could feel you putting pressure on his erection as you pushed your ass down. As well as the way you spread your legs almost imperceptibly to let him settle between your thighs.
“You are going to make me cum on my fucking pants.” He whispered right in your ear, and you swallowed hard.
His left hand, which was between the car door and your body, slid under your dress, where he squeezed your thigh, his nails digging into your skin. You looked to the opposite side to verify that neither of the two guys had their attention on you and without looking away you moved your hips slowly.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
By the fourth movement you felt Marc's arm tighten around your waist to keep you still, he scratched your thigh, you could feel it. He let the air out of his lungs in a sigh of relief.
You felt the warm liquid against your skin making his jeans wetter and stickier.
“Was it left or right on this corner?”
"Left." Marc stammered, his voice slightly breaking as his forehead remained on your shoulder. The rise and fall of his chest moved your entire body now that you were comfortably leaning against it.
You chuckled.
A few more seconds of silence and you trying to ignore the way Marc's body shook as the car went over a couple more bumps.
His poor cock was too sensitive and he was getting over stimulated.
"See?"
You and Marc looked back at him in the rearview mirror. You smiled, he didn't.
“It wasn't that much of a problem.” He unlocked the car from the driver's seat. “You have to learn to accept favors.”
“Well, tell that to Marc.” You cleared your throat as you opened the car door. “He had to carry me all the way, he must be exhausted.”
He pinched your thigh and you chuckled again.
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#moon knight#moon knight fanfic#moon knight smut#moon knight x you#moon knight x reader#moon knight x y/n#marc spector#marc spector x reader#marc spector x y/n#marc spector x you#marc spector smut#marc spector fanfiction#moon knight fanfiction#marc spector fanfic
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house of balloons.
Marc Spector x f!reader
Warnings: unprotected p in v, spit, choking, slight breeding kink, Marc’s sweaty neck, cream pie, Dom/sub dynamic if you squint
Word count: 1.4K
AN: nobody asked for this but I’m giving it to you anyway. Beta’d by my bb @moonknightly ❤️
The way Marc was taking his time with you tonight was getting the best of you.
It wasn’t a particularly healthy relationship but it was what each of you could handle. He’d message you in the late hours of the night and conveniently for you, it would be on the nights you were too restless to sleep, in need of what only he could give you.
You don’t think he loves you. You definitely don’t love him, but you love the way he fills you up, his cock hitting the precise spot inside your hot and needy cunt that neither your fingers nor your toys could reach, the smug face he wore telling you everything you needed to know.
Your hands squeezed his shoulders where they were sweaty and bare, his own hands gripping your ass every time you sank down on his cock on the couch in your living room.
One of his hands moved to grip your jaw, thumb tugging on your bottom lip until you opened your eyes in question only to get caught in the most intense eye contact you’ve ever had with him. Marc continued to watch you as he pulled your pliant mouth open wider, and, while keeping his eyes on yours, leaned forward to fucking spit in your waiting mouth.
And God, you were so easy for him, you swallowed it down without hesitation.
At that you both groaned, and he leaned forward to do it again, kissing you tongue first right after letting it dribble down into your mouth. Suddenly, the pressure in your abdomen skyrocketed, your leaking pussy clamping down on Marc’s thick cock. Your spine seized up, hands reaching to entangle themselves in his hair as you neared your climax, desperate to ground yourself against the wave of pleasure threatening to drown you.
“Marc, ohh—“
“Fuck sweetheart, is that what you want? Huh?” He punctuated his question with a squeeze to your jaw, shaking your head a little.
You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want him to squeeze you tighter, choke you a little harder until you passed out. You were getting close to the edge, the wet sounds your pussy made loud in the otherwise silent apartment. You weren’t aware of the noises you were making, completely lost in the feelings Marc was bringing out in you.
“You know, I think about you sometimes. Whether you make noise when it’s just you and your fingers… you’re so loud, honey. How does nobody complain?”
Your thighs burned, for sure to be aching the next day to serve as a reminder of this moment. Pulling his face into your neck from his hair was your attempt at shutting him up, being more aggressive with it than usual but it only served to make him groan with pleasure.
“God, I’ve been thinking about this pussy all day. I think she missed me, too, leaking all over me. Such a mess,” he bit and licked at the junction in your neck. “I’ll clean you up after, don’t worry.”
You squeezed around him tighter at his words while Marc’s hands squeezed your ass on your way down, holding you there for a second before lifting you up and repeating it until he was basically using you like his own personal toy.
“Please,” you managed weakly.
You don’t even know what you’re asking for. Something, anything to free you. You needed the release and he was the only one who could give it to you now. You had a feeling Marc knew this, was using it to his advantage as he continued to grab and pull at your flesh with borderline animosity, channeling all of his feelings from the day and towards you into his large fingers, pressing and pressing and pressing.
“You gotta ask me, baby, c’mon use your words.”
Oh, fuck him.
Pretending to lean closer to whisper in his ear, you switched at the last second to pounce and bite down hard on Marc’s meaty shoulder, not being gentle while gnawing at his golden flesh. A loud groan was heard in your ear, encouraging you to repeat the action on the next space of golden tanned skin available to you. And while his fingers continued pressing bruises into your skin, his thrusts became all of a sudden erratic, pulling you down and grinding you on him, selfishly in search of his own release.
“Inside, inside,” you said breathlessly.
And with one last thrust, his hands still gripping your hips hard enough to hurt a little, he threw his head back. Your cunt fluttered around him as you came on his cock before you felt his warm cum trickling down and around where you were joined.
Marc’s bulging neck and heaving chest enticed you to lean forward again and lick at the sweat beading on his collarbone before he pushed your head away with a hand on your sternum. Sighing and pulling out, you both went quiet watching his spend leak out of you, twitching when he shoved it back inside with two fingers and fucking you with them a couple of times for good measure.
“Mmm.”
Whimpering when he pulled out again, you collapsed on your side against the cushions, focusing on evening out your breathing. Meanwhile, Marc was trying to fight his sudden instinct to stay with you and hold you, curl you up into a ball so that you may fit softly against him the way he dreamed about.
Deciding to cover you with a blanket instead, he quickly got dressed and hovered above you, avoiding eye contact before dropping a soft and lingering kiss on your forehead, only serving to confuse the fuck out of you. He never acted this way after sleeping with you, albeit tonight was a little more … intense, you could say.
You had to admit, it felt nice. Good, even.
Fuck, okay, it felt amazing. And now there was a look in his eye, kind of like he didn’t want to leave, kind of like he wanted to go again, stay the night, whisper sweet nothings to you while you lay in his arms until sunrise. Or maybe you were projecting.
A crease developed between his brows before he swiftly made his way to the door, his walk stiff and jaw set. You were probably projecting. He didn’t want to stay. Why would he? Like you said, you weren’t in love. You were just one of his girls.
“Uhh, yeah, well. See you around.”
Even his tone sounded more awkward than usual. Hovering near the entryway, shuffling, hands twiddling, he looked nothing like the Marc you knew for a moment. His shoulders hunched forward and for a split second his eyes went ridiculously soft.
Unlocking your door and making his way to the elevators, he headed down the hall, hearing a few heavy steps before your door swung shut. Just like that, he was gone.
You don’t know what you thought you saw, or if it was just something you wanted to see. You felt like a child again, a rejected little girl who’s crush wouldn’t play with them on the playground. The one time you let the silly hope shine in your eyes while looking up at the gorgeous man who you’ve come to realize you do sort of have feelings for, at least a little bit, was the only time Marc needed to see it before running away.
You’re not sure how long you lay there naked under the throw with his cum drying on your inner thigh before a couple of unsuspecting and quiet knocks sounded at your door. The weight of the hand behind the door didn’t sound familiar; maybe it was a neighbour who came to complain about the noise.
Wrapping the blanket around you like a shawl, you awkwardly (and sorely) padded to the door, opening it an inch before seeing the man who just bolted from your apartment back and looking uncomfortable. Maybe he forgot something.
“I forgot something.”
Opening the door wider for him, fully expecting him to immediately go looking for his wallet, keys, whatever it was, you don’t intend on watching him like a kicked puppy.
But Marc surprises you. He enters your home, shuts the door and still has that face of confusion on from earlier before he pulls you into his chest, his arms going around your waist as he hugs you close.
“Promised I’d clean you up, remember?” He whispers in your ear.
#marc spector fanfiction#marc spector smut#marc spector x reader#marc spector x f!reader#marc spector x you#Marc Spector fanfic#moonknight smut#moon knight smut#moonknight fanfiction#moon knight fanfic#oscar isaac fanfiction
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Always
Pairing: Marc Spector x gn!reader
Word Count: 1.3k
Warnings/tags: fluff, fluff, fluff, look i think Marc would be into Formula 1, is that just because I love F1... maybe?, sleepy!reader, soft!Marc🥰
a/n: 😬… I’m backkkkkkkk. Not that I think anyone noticed I was gone but I started anxiety meds and they've taken some getting used to. But I opened up my drafts the other day and found this and finished it, so essentially I started making it, had a breakdown... bon appetite?
(not my gif)
The other side of the bed’s cold, your hand swipes across the empty space in search of the warmth that is normally there. Your sleep-addled mind pauses to think—had your boyfriend even come to bed? What time was it? Is that noise in your head? Slowly, you pull yourself up from the warm cocoon of the duvet and your hands rub at your face in an attempt to erase the sleep that still clings to you. Blinking a few times you try to adjust your eyes to being open again as your hands fall into your lap. You can just make out some light in between the gaps in the bookshelf that separates the bed from the rest of the room. Your tired eyes look to his side of the bed again, still empty and the alarm clock shines the time a little too brightly, 6:22am. Reluctantly you move your stiff legs, pushing the warm duvet off of them and whining a little as the cold air in the flat hits them. You pull yourself out of the bed, immediately grabbing the blanket from the end of the mattress to wrap around yourself. The noise you’d heard becomes clearer now, it sounds like someone talking but it’s fast and all mushes together in your head. You take steps toward it, rounding the bookshelf to find exactly what you were missing.
“Hey,” Marc’s voice comes out in a whisper and he sits up the second his eyes clock you, his hand reaching for the tv remote immediately. The volume goes down with each push of the button, “I’m sorry, did I wake you?” You keep taking slow steps towards him, passing in front of the tv and going around the coffee table until you reach the couch.
“Are you okay?” You completely disregard his question in favour of asking your own as you sit next to him, he nods whispering out a yeah and so you move your body to lay down, placing your head in his lap.
“I woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep,” you look up at him as he speaks. One of his hands comes to rest on top of your head, “plus there’s a race on.” He looks back to the tv and you follow his gaze, twisting until you lie completely on your side.
“What’s a red flag?” Your head turns so you can look at him again briefly, a little smile graces his face and then you go back to staring at the screen, trying to understand why in the middle of a race none of the cars are moving.
“One of the drivers went into the barrier and they have to stop the race to clean it up before they continue. It just means it’s not safe for anyone to be on the track,” Marc explains it so gently, no annoyance or condescension crosses his tone for your lack of knowing.
“Are they okay?” There’s a slight hint of worry and you almost sound like a scared child.
“Yeah sweetheart, look, that's Albon there.” He points towards the screen and you watch as it briefly shows a young-looking guy speaking with someone else, “it was his car that hit the barrier but he got out of it straight away.”
For a minute it’s quiet, you both just watch the screen as it shows different people. Marc had turned the volume up a bit and you could make out what the commentators were saying now they’d slowed down their talking. Without any prompting, Marc starts to quietly tell you who everyone is every time the picture changes to someone new. He shares little pieces of knowledge with every name and you find listening to him soothing. You knew he sometimes watched these races but you’d never really taken the time to sit down and watch one with him. You’re starting to regret never doing it before, you’d been missing out on this beautiful opportunity to get to know his interests better.
Ultimately, though that tiredness still clings to your mind and the way his voice is quietly lulling you makes you think of the times when Steven reads you to sleep. Just as the race starts up again, your eyes begin to feel heavy, the blinks start getting slower and longer. You’re unsure if Marc’s noticed because he keeps calmly explaining what’s happening as it happens. His fingers had absentmindedly started rubbing circles into your scalp which was not helping the way you were quickly slipping back into your sleeping state. The tv eventually disappears, and your eyes are finally sealed shut again but some conscious part of your brain can still make out the race commentary in the background alongside Marc’s soothing voice.
The next thing you know it’s daylight, the sun shines brightly through the uncovered windows. It hurts your eyes when they open and instinctively you turn your body away from it, glad when you’re met with darkness. You comfortably bury your face into the warmth of Marc’s stomach while trying your best to stretch your stiff limbs without really putting much effort into it. You take in a deep breath before just relaxing for a moment. Your mind slowly wakes as you lay there, coherent thoughts begin to form and you start to feel more awake with each passing second. You could’ve sworn you’d only been asleep for a few minutes. The tv is still making quiet noise in the background and you can feel Marc taking slow deep breaths.
Once your brain has managed to come back to some semblance of consciousness, you slowly pull yourself to sit up on the couch. The sight you’re met with makes your heart melt it doesn’t matter how many times you wake up next to him, each time feels like the first. He looks so peaceful, his head propped on his fist that leans on the arm of the couch. Eyes closed, hair sticking around every which way and lips slightly parted. You admire him for a minute before you think about how much his neck is going to hurt after sleeping in this position. As slowly as you can you twist yourself around again and stand, taking a second for your brain to catch up with your body’s movements. Then gently you tuck your hands under his knees, pulling on the deadweight and turning them to rest on the couch. All the movement rouses Marc from his sleep, the top half of his body reluctantly following the bottom with a grumble.
“It’s okay, go back to sleep.” Quietly you shush him as he continues to wiggle around until he’s settled down on the couch where you were just laying. The crease in his eyebrow slowly relaxes as your fingers comb through his hair, you’re crouched next to him trying to push him back into his little slumber. A long sigh comes from deep within his chest and you just know he’s back in dreamland. With a gentle kiss to his temple, you stand again, grabbing the blanket that had fallen to the floor at some point and draping it over his body. Satisfied with how much more comfortable he looks now you go to pull yourself away to shower and maybe start on breakfast—or maybe brunch at this point, but a hand grazes your leg.
“Stay,” the mumble of a plea falls past his lips as his hand blindly searches for yours. Without a second thought, you give in, encouraging him to lift his head so you can slip back onto the couch. Thoughts of how good a shower would be right now or of what to cook to rid the rumble in your stomach disappear completely. Now you sit with Marc’s head in your lap, mirroring the exact position you’d both been in just moments prior. You take a long moment to just watch him, the way he nuzzles his head into your thighs and how relaxed he looks for a change. Then you’re thinking about how happy he makes you. How lucky you feel to be a part of this moment and how you only ever want to be right here with him, always.
#moon knight x reader#moon knight fanfic#moon knight fanfiction#moon knight#marc spector x reader#marc spector x you#marc spector fluff#marc spector fanfic#marc spector fanfiction#marc spector x fem!reader#marc spector fic#marc spector#moon knight x you#moon knight fluff#marvel fanfiction#marvel fic#marvel fanfic#moonknight#moon knight system
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how each moon boy would react to an argument with you (sfw) – part 1.
summary: what the title says!
warning: angsty angst.
word count: 1.1k
a/n: I’m feeling angsty lately, so here you gooo! ALSO, there’s more context to the situation of these headcanons, but they’ll be revealed in part 2. So don’t go hating on the moon boys just yet.
minors/ageless blogs dni.
Masterlists
part 2
Steven Grant:
“Are you really gonna bring this up now?”
His tone had you looking at him as if he grew another head.
“When else would be a good time to bring this up, hmm? Because I think now is the most appropriate time,”
Steven rolled his eyes as he took off his jacket and sat on the couch facing you.
He had come home from significantly late with no explanation. You found out through social media that he went to an event celebrating Layla without informing you.
“Its late and I’m tired,” he said as he rubbed his face and sighed heavily.
Oh, he is tired?
“You don’t think I’m tired? I understand you have a past with Layla, but the way you go about doing things is exhausting me. All you ever do is talk about her. Everything is Layla this and Layla that,”
You explain to him out of frustration.
“She was right about you,” he says with a hint of sass.
“What do you mean by that?” you asked with furrowed brows.
“I mean that maybe Layla was right about you being controlling. Why do you think I never told you where I’m going. You would’ve tagged along and dampened the mood.
Wow, wow. So, Layla and he talk about you.
“I can’t believe the words that are coming out of your mouth. If you have an issue with the way I am then you should address it to me. Not go and talk to your EX-WIFE about it,” your voice had increased towards the end as you glared at him.
“Its not my problem if you’re insecure,” he said with a shrug.
Each word from him added more cracks to your already breaking heart.
You shook your head at him wordlessly and began to look for your bag and jacket around his apartment.
He sat upright on the couch and watched you with confused furrowed brows.
“What’re you doing?”
Once you gathered your things, you walked towards the door with him now trailing behind you.
“I asked you a question,” he said firmer.
You looked at him with unshed tears and saw his expression soften.
“Leaving,” was all you said before unlocking the door and walking away from him.
Steven cursed under his breath and walked after you.
“Y/n, its late. Stop being ridiculous,”
That ticked your off even further. You abruptly turn around to face him.
“I don’t expect you to be concerned about me anymore. Go ahead and worry about your precious Layla and her thoughts on our relationship,”
You left him standing their speechless as you exited his apartment building. Steven was left feeling an ache in his chest and the weight of his actions and words.
Marc Spector:
“Look at the state of you,”
Were the first words Marc heard upon returning to the apartment. He had been gone for days and you had no way of contacting him.
“Y/n, please. I just want silence,” he said tiredly and sat lethargically on the bed.
“You can’t expect me to not be panicked when you come home with a gunshot wound. Did you even go to a hospital?” you ask in disbelief.
“I can take care of these things on my own,” he groaned and moved to face you.
“Marc, I can’t keep seeing you like this,” you admit to him.
Each time he left that door you would say a silent prayer to ensure he would come back to you.
“You knew what this relationship was going to be like-“
“Yes, but I didn’t expect you to be coming home like this,” you motion to his form.
Marc was growing annoyed.
“This is my life y/n, what do you want me to do?”
Your eyes searched his tired ones as he spoke.
“Exactly Marc, this is your life. I want you to take care of it,”
He scoffed at your words.
“I don’t need you to tell me how to live my life,” he said bitterly.
“That’s not what I’m-“
“Save it, okay? I already deal with enough when it comes to Khonshu. I don’t want to deal with you as well,”
“Deal with me? What? Marc, what have I ever done to make you feel like this? Me being worried about whether your alive or not upsets you?” you asked a string of questions as endless thoughts ran through your mind.
“Just go,” is all he said as he turned his back to you and laid on the bed.
You watch his form, waiting for him to take back his words, apologise… do something – but he just lays there.
You nod to yourself and gather your belongings to leave. It was well into the night and significantly late, but you did as he said and walked out that front door.
He laid in bed with his thoughts, thinking whether pushing you away was the right choice.
Jake Lockley:
You walked into the bar to see him stood rather close to an unknown woman.
With anger running through your veins, you walk up to him and see his eyes slightly widen when he sees your approaching him.
“What’re you doing here?” he asked with a monotone.
“I’ve been waiting for you at home for the passed 3 hours,” you said as calmly as you could.
The woman standing close to him looked surprised at your words but made no move to walk away from the obvious situation.
“You should’ve kept waiting,” he said uninterested as he took a sip from his drink.
You watch him with narrowed eyes as he looked back to you.
“Is this how its going to be? You’re going to act like a total stranger in public and my boyfriend in private?” you asked feeling hurt.
He hummed at your words and sat up straight in his seat at the bar.
“You’re clingy,” was all he said, knowing that those words would hit you harder than anything else.
Throughout your life, you always had someone to be around. Your parents, siblings, friends and now in a foreign country you found solace with Jake spent every waking moment with him when you could. It was normal for you, and he didn’t seem to mind it.
“Clingy?” you asked as you choked back tears.
Jake clenched his jaw slightly before relaxing and putting his arm around the shoulders of the woman next to him.
“You heard me,” he said with a chuckle.
You took in a deep breath to compose yourself. Clearly you were not wanted nor needed here.
“Okay, if that’s what you think. You can have all the space you want from now on,” you said and turned to walk away.
“Is she actually you girlfriend?” asked the unnamed woman.
“One of many, hermosa,” he said under his breath.
#steven grant#steven grant headcanons#steven grant fanfiction#steven grant fanfic#steven grant x you#steven grant x y/n#steven grant x reader#steven grant angst#marc spector#marc spector headcanons#marc spector fanfiction#marc spector fanfic#marc spector x you#marc spector x y/n#marc spector x reader#marc spector angst#jake lockley#jake lockley headcanons#jake lockley fanfiction#jake lockley fanfic#jake lockley x you#jake lockley x y/n#jake lockley x reader#jake lockey angst#moonknight#moonknight fanfiction#moonknight fanfic#angst
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My Knight in White
Marc Spector x fem!reader
Word count- 4.3k
Dialogue prompt- “ that was for saving my life. “
Action prompt- [ KISS ]: after having been saved from immediate danger by the receiver, the sender, in a state of intense emotion and relief, kisses them to express these feelings.
Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), protective!Marc, mutual pining, minor violence, minor character death, harassment of reader (not Marc), damsel in distress, unprotected piv, no use of y/n
About this reader- she is smart but not physically badass, works with Egyptian artifacts but I left it vague so you can fill in for yourself exactly what she does, no specific city where they are is stated either so it's open for you to imagine wherever, no physical descriptions other than body parts
Notes- Posting my October Year of Protectiveness @yearofcreation2023 a little late because of kinktober but I'm so excited to share this! This is expanding on an idea that @melodygatesauthor had months ago who wanted to see a damsel in distress reader and Marc saving her!
@flightlessangelwings-updates is my update blog so please follow that too and turn on post notifications to stay up to date on when I post!
~
“You’re here late,” Marc’s voice broke you out of your thoughts.
You blinked, refocusing your eyes to the world around you. Looking around, you didn’t even realize how long you had been hunched over your desk, studying and cleaning the artifact that had recently been brought in. “Marc…” you breathed as you stretched, your back aching as you became aware of reality again.
He smiled softly as he uncrossed his arms, “You work too much, you know that,” he leaned against the doorway as he watched you.
Marc loved to watch you work. He loved to watch you do anything really, but when you worked, you became so focused, lost in concentration. You handled the old artifacts with such care and respect, he couldn’t help but linger his gaze on your hands. He had never met anyone smarter than you, and he loved to listen to you go on and on about any topic you found interesting. Marc took it upon himself to watch over you, making sure you were always safe even if you never truly knew just how much he looked over you.
“I lost track of time,” you replied as you gathered yourself and packed everything away, “I didn’t realize it’s after dark.”
“And the fact that everyone else left hours ago didn’t clue you in,” Marc smirked.
“Hey,” you playfully chastised him, “I can’t help it, I just got in the zone, you know. Besides, these new artifacts are so fascinating I just can’t tear myself away from them!”
It suddenly occurred to you that you and Marc were completely alone. He was right- everyone else left hours ago. As you stood up and made your way over to him, you took in his handsome features once more. And the way he leaned against the door made your thoughts run wild. The two of you had known each other for some time now, but you kept your true feelings to yourself, afraid of damaging your friendship or losing him.
Marc looked you up and down, “Want me to walk you home?” he offered as he followed behind you, watching you flip the lights off and lock everything up.
“I’m alright,” you suddenly felt nervous. Marc has been to your place many times, but the shiver that ran up your spine made your heart race, “I don’t live that far.”
He furrowed his brow, “You sure?”
“Yeah,” you replied with a soft smile, “Thanks, though,” you stepped in front of him before you turned back, “Good night.”
Marc watched you walk away before he whispered a hushed, “Good night.”
He watched you as you made your way down the street in the darkness until he couldn’t see you anymore. Marc had already decided he was going to follow you anyway, watching over you from afar, but when he saw a group of sketchy-looking men with wicked grins sneer and tail behind you, he knew he had to do more to keep you safe.
You wrapped your arms around yourself as you made your way down the street. You didn’t make it far from Marc when you noticed that a group of men started to follow behind you, and though you couldn’t make out their exact words, you knew they were talking about you. In that moment, you wished you took Marc up on his offer to walk you home, but you couldn’t turn around now. All you could do was hope you got inside fast before they caught up to you.
“Hey sweet cheeks,” one of them called out to you.
Too late.
You glanced over your shoulder and found that they were even closer to you than you thought, and you quickly bolted down the street without a word. That only egged them on more, however, and you heard them laughing behind you as they sped up as well.
“Oh come on, sweetheart,” they sneered, “We just want to talk to you.”
A gasp escaped your lips as you turned down a street, hoping to lose them. But, your plan immediately backfired as you found yourself trapped in an alleyway at a dead end. And you failed to shake them off your tail.
“Please,” you breathed as fear pulsed through your veins, “I’m just trying to get home.”
The men surrounded you, darkness shading their features, “We’ll get you home, sweet girl.”
The others chuckled as they started to reach for you.
“Please leave me alone,” you tried to sound more assertive, but you knew you didn’t intimate them at all. They were all very muscular and taller than you, and you knew you didn’t stand a chance even if you tried to fight back. But that didn’t mean you were going to go down without a fight.
You screamed when one of them grabbed your arm, and you swung your fist into him as hard as you could while digging your feet into the ground. Gritting your teeth, you tried your best to yank yourself from his grip, but tears of frustration filled your eyes when you realized it was useless.
“No!” you cried out as you tried again, your pleas drowned out by their cackling laughter.
Suddenly, your luck changed.
Out of nowhere, something yanked the man who helped you back and he yelped as he found himself flung against the wall of the alleyway. The other men all looked up as a hooded figure in all white descended down and immediately went on the attack against them.
You gasped as you scurried back out of the scuffle, pressing yourself against the opposite wall as much as you could as if you tried to phase through the wall and disappear. Your eyes went wide as you watched the mysterious hero fight off the men who attacked you, beating and punching them down until none of them moved.
The figure then turned to you, and time froze for several moments.
He raised his hands in surrender, “I’m not going to hurt you,” the voice from under the mask said.
You couldn’t help but feel like the voice was familiar. But, you stayed silent.
“Are you ok? Are you hurt?” your rescuer asked as he stepped closer to you, looking you over.
Your hands trembled, but not from fear this time. Taking a deep breath in for the first time in what felt like forever, you finally replied in a hushed voice, “No,” you whispered, “I’m alright.”
As he stepped close enough so you could reach for him if you wanted, you studied his outfit more. He wore all white, but as he got closer, you noticed it looked like linen wrappings, almost like a mummy. A crescent moon symbol adorned his chest and a white cloak covered his head. You could see the muscle definition even through the thick wrappings, and it made you swallow hard.
You had no idea what came over you at that moment- perhaps it was the adrenaline- but without a word, you reached out for him, grabbed him and pulled your bodies closer as you laid a kiss on his mask where his mouth would be.
It caught him off guard, but he didn’t push you away. Instead, he cradled you close, holding onto your waist with one hand and your arm with the other. It felt warm, comfortable, right.
“What was that for?” he asked with a smirk in his voice.
You smiled at him, “That was for saving my life,” your voice was still hushed, your breath taken away, “Thank you.”
He cupped your chin affectionately. Through the mask, he studied you up close. Everything in Marc screamed to take it off and tell you who he was, but he also knew that knowing his secret would put you in danger. And Marc would not allow that. For now, he would be satisfied knowing you were safe, and that he was just in time. He only nodded, not saying anything else before he broke away from you and leapt up into the air, disappearing into the night just as mysteriously as he appeared.
You watched in bewilderment as it took your brain several moments to process what just happened. You touched your lips as you realized that you kissed a total stranger, and one who you didn’t even see his face too. But, as you looked around and saw the men laying on the ground, the adrenaline ran through your veins once more and you ran out of the alleyway and quickly made your way home.
The whole time, Marc watched from the rooftops until you were safely inside.
*
In the following weeks, you threw yourself completely into your work to cope with what happened that night. A mix of emotions constantly filled your head, and you found that pushing them away with the distraction of work was the easiest way to deal with them. There were days where you hardly looked up from your desk, so deep in concentration that the rest of the world was a blur around you.
Marc kept a watchful eye over you the entire time. He knew why you were like this, but when others asked he feigned ignorance. No one had to know what happened to you, and it wasn’t up to him to tell anyway. Instead, he chose to keep an eye on you from afar, like he always did.
Vaguely, you were aware of Marc’s presence in the shadows… and it felt familiar to you somehow. He always kept an eye on you, but after that night it somehow felt different. But, having him close was one of the few comforts you had after your attack. Yet, your mind also wandered toward the mysterious hooded figure who rescued you…
“Hey,” Marc’s voice broke you out of your thoughts.
You looked up with a startled gasp, not realizing how late it got. Again. “Marc,” you breathed.
He looked worried, “Everything alright?” Marc asked, “You’ve seemed… off lately.”
Your eyes darted from his face to your desk a few times as you felt nervous suddenly, “I’m fine,” you knew you didn’t convince him, you didn’t even convince yourself.
Marc sighed your name as he settled down next to you, “You know you can tell me anything, right? I’m here for you.”
Heat rose in your face, “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” you exhaled deeply, “Besides, you’d just make fun of me.”
“Never!” he exclaimed, acting playfully offended before he turned serious, “What’s on your mind?”
The comforting tone in his voice and the warmth of his presence allowed you to let your guard down, “Ok…” you took a breath, “The night I was here late a few weeks ago,” you started, “A group of guys tried to jump me,” your voice quivered and you felt Marc’s hand over yours, “But I was saved by…” you paused as you looked at him sheepishly, “A guy in a hood and something that looked like mummy wrappings.”
Marc’s face lit up as he grinned knowingly at you.
You nudged him playfully as you erupted into a fit of giggles out of pure embarrassment, “See I knew you were going to laugh at me!”
“No, sweetheart I’m not laughing at you,” Marc raised his hands defensively, “I swear!”
Something changed in the air between you as you stared at each other. The light atmosphere shifted and it felt like something heavy lingered between the two of you. Your heart pounded in your chest as you realized just how close Marc sat to you, and your breath caught in your throat as you studied his features. Not to mention that was the first time he called you anything affectionate like that…
“Marc…”
“Listen, I…,” he started, interrupting you.
Leaning in, you were entranced by him and you hung on his every word. Just being near him and laughing like this made all your troubles melt away. You felt safe here, with him.
But, before Marc could continue, a loud crash cut him off.
Both of you jumped up, and you let out a soft shriek. Marc immediately went into defense mode and every muscle in his body tensed. It was late, and the two of you were the only ones in the building. He made sure the doors were locked too, so he knew whoever broke in meant trouble.
“Marc?” your voice shook.
“Listen to me,” he turned to you and placed his hands on your shoulders, “I need you to sneak out of here. Take the back exit and hide somewhere. I’m going to distract them and get a path for you to get out.”
“But the artifacts,” you whispered as you glanced over at the old objects on your desk that you spent weeks cleaning and studying. The first thought in your mind was that these are robbers looking to steal and sell them, and you didn’t want that to happen.
“Things can be replaced,” Marc sounded urgent, “We can get them back. I’m more worried about getting you safe right now.”
Your eyes went wide as you looked at him, stunned. Just as you were about to reply, though, another crash made you jump and Marc pulled you in close to keep you calm.
“It's gonna be alright,” he murmured to you, “Just trust me. Ok?”
You pulled back to look into his eyes again, “I trust you.”
He nodded as he pressed his lips together, “Ok,” how Marc sounded nervous, “Stay low. Stay in the shadows. And just get out. You hear me?”
Swallowing hard, you nodded. Then your brain caught up with you, “What about you?”
Marc smirked, “I’ll be alright. Just trust me.”
There was no time for explanations as another crash echoed in the room- they were getting closer. Marc ushered you out of the door and down the hall before he ran in the opposite direction towards the intruders. You glanced over your shoulder at his retreating figure before you made your way down the hall, crouching low and out of sight as you did so.
As you made your way to the back door, however, you noticed that it was blocked- one of them already made his way there.
“Shit,” you cursed under your breath as you changed direction. Instead, you went up to the roof in hopes of finding a place to hide until Marc did… whatever he was planning to do.
But that plan also quickly backfired.
You ran up to the roof and into the open area there, but you were met with yet another thug who blocked the opposite entrance from where you were.
“Well look what we have here,” he said with a dark grin on his face.
Letting out a gasp, you tried to run back where you came from, but another sinister shadowy man blocked that path. “Where do you think you’re going?” he growled.
“Please,” was all you could whimper as you felt them close in on you.
The men just laughed as they stepped closer, reaching for their guns as they did so. But, before they reached you, one of them was yanked back, slamming into the wall. You looked up and saw the same hooded figure that saved you before swooping down from seemingly nowhere.
More of the thugs appeared from the doorway and they yelled as they pulled out their guns and started to fire on both of you. The hooded figure rushed over to you and wrapped his cloak over both your bodies, shielding you.
You covered your head out of instinct, but as you felt a warm presence, you looked up and found yourself face to face with your linen wrapped savior once more.
“It’s you,” you gasped in relief. The ringing of the guns suddenly sounded distant.
The mask started to peel away on its own, revealing none other than Marc. He breathed your name, “Are you alright?”
“It’s you!” you sounded stronger that time, in total shock that it was Marc the whole time.
“I told you I wasn’t making fun of you,” he flashed a quick smile before he turned serious again, “I don’t have time to explain now,” he said, “I’m going to fight these guys off. You need to hide somewhere until they’re dealt with. I’ll come find you when it’s safe, I promise.”
The intruders and the guns were more pressing at the moment, so you swallowed and nodded.
When Marc found an opening, he pushed you towards the door, “Go!” he shouted as he turned back to the intruders and fought them off.
You ran.
Running on pure instinct, you bolted down the hall and turned a corner into a closet. Luckily, no one was around and you hid yourself well. You crouched in the corner as you listened to the grunts and gunshots in the distance. At one point, you covered your mouth to stifle a scream, suddenly scared for Marc. You fought back tears, swearing to yourself that you wouldn’t cry.
Just as you squeezed your eyes shut and held your breath, the fighting stopped. Silence filled your ears but you didn’t dare move. Your hands trembled slightly against your face as you strained to hear the one voice that would bring you comfort.
And then you heard it.
Marc called out your name as he stood in the hall, frantically looking for you, “Baby it’s alright. You can come out.”
You let out the breath you held, all your fear escaping with it as you leapt up and out of your hiding spot. Down the hall, you saw Marc standing there, his knighty suit still adorning his body but his face exposed. “Marc,” you breathed in relief as you ran towards him.
“Sweetheart,” he sounded just as relieved as he ran towards you with open arms.
The two of you crashed together in a messy embrace, emotions getting the better of both of you. He rested a hand on the back of your head while the other pulled you in as close as he possibly could. Tears flowed from your eyes as relief washed over you, yet the pulse of fear still ran through you after everything that happened. Vaguely, you heard Marc whispering soft words of encouragement and reassurance in your ear.
“Come on,” Marc said, “I’m getting you out of here,” he slid his hand in yours.
“But…” you tried to protest, not wanting to leave any of the artifacts alone.
“It’s ok,” he gave you a soft smile, “They’re dealt with. Right now I want to make sure you’re safe.”
Your heart pounded in your chest as you tried to process everything. So much happened in such a short time, and you weren’t sure how to react to it. Time passed in a daze as you found yourself at Marc’s place, settled comfortably on his couch with a mug of tea in your hands. You felt safe with him, of course, but you felt like you were outside your body.
The two of you talked for what felt like hours. Marc told you everything- all of his secrets that he kept hidden for so long. He promised you that he would always protect you, and he explained why he didn’t tell you before. As he talked, the sound of his voice calmed you, like an embrace of your heart. Your eyes moved from where they stared at the mug to meet his gaze.
“I promise you, baby,” Marc cupped your face, “Nothing’s ever going to happen to you. I’ll keep you safe no matter what.”
Heat rose in your face, and you were sure Marc felt how warm you were. But, as you stared into his eyes, you felt your heart flutter and his charming gleam sent a rush of fresh emotions through you. Without a word, you closed the gap between your bodies, crashing your lips together. Muffled groans echoed between you as you climbed into his lap and Marc instantly helped you closer. Deepening the kiss, you felt a tingle on your skin as you tasted him, and you felt the reverberation of his moan against your body.
“What was that for?” he asked in a whisper, “Not that I’m complaining.”
You smirked against Marc, “I wanted to thank you properly,” you breathed, “With a real kiss this time.”
Marc cupped your face as he gazed into your soul through your eyes, “Baby…” he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in for another kiss.
This time, it felt different. It was desperate and heated, but there was also the warmth and passion behind it. You moaned into Marc’s lips as you rocked your hips against his. He tightened his grip on you as a rush of need pulsed through his veins, and he couldn’t help the way his cock twitched underneath you.
Breaking away for air, Marc saw the look of wanton need in your eyes, and he knew exactly what you were thinking, “Are you sure about this, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice a low rumble.
You cupped his face, brushed your fingers along his dark curls, “I’m sure,” you whispered as you kissed him again, “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” you paused before you sheepishly added, “I’ve wanted this so so long…”
Marc grinned, his face lighting up, “Then let’s do this right.”
Shifting your bodies, Marc stood up and extended his hand. You eagerly took it and allowed him to lead you over to his bed. Excitement bloomed between you and before you even made it to the bed, your hands were all over each other. Kisses decorated your steps as you each tugged at the other’s clothing until you were bare.
You and Marc crashed into his bed, and he quickly laid overtop of you. He paused for a moment, breathless as he took in the sight of you bare underneath him, “Fuck you are beautiful,” he breathed.
“So are you,” you sighed in pure admiration as you grabbed his face and yanked him in for another kiss, “We can take our time later,” you murmured between kisses, “I need you too bad right now.”
“Fuck,” he groaned as he rocked his length along your folds. It didn’t go unnoticed that you mentioned a next time either… But your moan broke Marc out of that thought, and a shiver ran up his spine as he felt his cock against your pussy, “Wet already,” he smirked.
“Please Marc,” you pleaded.
“I’ve got you, baby,” he moaned as he lined himself up with your entrance.
Slowly, carefully, Marc pushed himself into you, causing you both to gasp at the same time. You clawed at his arms, holding on for dear life as the slight burn of his cock stretching you out went jolts of pleasure through your body. Fresh tears filled your eyes at the sensation, and you never felt more alive, more pleasure than ever before.
“Marc…”
He groaned your name as he bottomed out inside you, “Fuck,” he breathed. Marc cradled your face as he rocked in and out of you, slowly at first, but the more you moaned the faster he moved, “You’re perfect,” he moaned, “Shit…”
“Fuck… Marc… You feel so good,” you moaned as you saw stars every time his cock slammed into you.
It didn’t take long for you to feel the tingles of your approaching climax. Your legs trembled on either side of Marc’s body as he thrust into you over and over again and you dug your nails into his soft skin as you clung to him. Incoherent praises flowed from his lips as both your moans grew louder and louder as you lost yourselves in each other.
“Marc… I’m…”
“I’ve got you, baby,” Marc repeated his words from earlier.
Skin slapped against skin as Marc felt his own climax apparach. But, he was determined to send you over the edge first, and with just a few more thrusts of his hips, he got what he wanted. With a loud scream, you came hard, crying out his name as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through you. And fuck you had never looked more beautiful to Marc.
He kept up his pace as long as he could, watching the show you put on just for him and savoring every second of it. But, Marc’s eyes started to roll back as he felt his orgasm quickly build, egged on by the way you clenched your inner muscles around his cock. And with a groan of your name, he came right after you, spilling himself into you as he did so.
Marc collapsed on top of you, completely spent. But, after just a few breaths, he shifted himself, pulling out of you with a hiss before he laid next to you. You let out a whine at the loss, but quickly curled yourself up in his embrace as Marc held you close. You closed your eyes as you rested your head on his chest, listening to the pounding of his heartbeat against your ear.
“Marc, I…”
“Shhh,” he gently hushed you, “Just rest now baby,” Marc cradled your head as he placed a soft kiss, “I’ve got you.”
You hummed contently as sleep quickly took you over. Between the excitement, the danger and the rush of emotions, you suddenly found yourself exhausted and in no time you feel sound asleep in Marc’s arms.
Marc stayed awake for some time, listening to the sound of your heavy breaths. He knew exactly what you wanted to say, and as much as he wanted to hear you say those words, he knew it was better to wait. He gave your body one extra squeeze before he whispered to your sleeping form, “You’re safe with me, sweetheart… I love you.”
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One Call: m.s , j.l , s.g
Summary: Marc, Jake and Steven, your ex’s, ran into trouble and, as a result, are thrown into jail. At a loss, they ( begrudgingly ) use their only call on you in hopes you will bail them out.
Pairings: ex!marc spector x reader , ex!jake lockley x reader , ex!steven grant x reader
Warnings: angst (!!!), they’re all readers ex’s, cussing, fluff, forced proximity, tension, jake being a bit of an asshole, *steven being sad* , kinda unhappy ending but there will be another part, this is part of the ex! moon boys x reader series but can be read stand alone, unrequited requited feelings, not being over your ex and vice versa.
Word Count: 5.8 k
the ex! series: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5)
You should’ve known it was them the moment your phone started ringing. You had awoken with a start, heart pounding out of your chest at the loud intrusion to your sleep. It took you a brief moment to register what the sound was, the thick layer of sleep still hovering in your mind. But then, the familiarity of the ringtone settled into your brain.
You hardly registered the time- 03:27am- before picking up your phone.
Unknown Number.
The words made you hesitate. But only briefly, for then you were answering. “Hello?” Your voice was croaky from just waking up, and you coughed slightly. There was a small silence. You tried again.
“Hi.” Your heart skipped a beat before dropping through your stomach completely. You recognised the voice immediately.
“M-Marc? Why…” You tried to find the right words to describe this moment; why are you calling me? Do you know what time it is? What the fuck is wrong with you? Instead, you settled with, “Are you okay?” A sigh followed from the other end of the call, and you could just imagine him, eyebrows creased, eyes shut in whatever it was that was silently bothering him.
“Look, ‘m fine, just- need’ya to do something for me.” A favour? You hadn’t seen him in at least two months, the last time being in a grocery store. It had taken you weeks to get the interaction out of your head. Annoyance entered your mind, but you quickly pushed it away.
“What is it?” There was another silence, prompting you to now sigh.
“We’re in trouble.” You flinched, swinging your legs out of bed, heart accelerating.
“Trouble? What kind of trouble? Have you-”
“We aren’t in danger, it’s fine, just…” He seemed to hesitate on his next words, and you were tempted to push him, to make him spit it out so you could settle the thoughts racing through your mind. “We’re in jail.” He grumbled, and you realised the hesitancy was embarrassment.
“Jail?! Why? I mean, how?”
“Don’t have time for questions, okay? Can you just come get us?” It seemed as though he had to be prompted before he added a quiet, “Please?”
You huffed, getting out of bed and slipping off your pyjama shorts. “Fine. Where are you?” He began listing all the information you needed, and you quickly scribbled it down on the back of one of your friend’s wedding invitations. “Okay,” you muttered, finishing putting on your clothes and slipping on some shoes, “ ‘m on my way.”
“Right.” He finished hastily, hanging up. You scoffed, almost expecting something else, at least a ‘thank you’. But you reminded yourself that this was just a favour. That you were the last and only option he had to call. You pushed away the feelings that he was using you. You cant be used if you aren’t wanted in the first place.
You hurried out to your car, ensuring you had all you needed before you began the drive to you ex’s.
“Hi, I’m here to pick up Marc Spector? He got here tonight.”
“And what is your relation to Mr Spector?” You hesitated, spluttering on your words slightly before settling on,
“A friend.” The woman at the desk raised an eyebrow, taking you in before sighing.
“Sign these forms and then take a seat. Your friend will be out shortly.” You smiled awkwardly, picking up the papers and muttering your thanks.
In the rush and the confusion, you had forgotten what picking up Marc entailed. You would be seeing him again. His hair, his face, his eyes. You would be reminded of his smell and his voice and his lips. It had been too long, too hard getting over them. It was your own personal purgatory.
You could hardly remember the lilt in Steven’s voice when he was excitedly telling you about the book he was reading. Or Jake’s stupid jokes, sat in the back of his cab in the early hours of the morning. Or Marc-
You jumped when you heard a small cough in an attempt to pull your attention. You noticed the boots first, and it only took you a moment to avert your gaze upwards. His eyes were so familiar yet so cold. You felt as though you had been pulled under water, had lost your breath for a moment and were fighting to surface.
You took in every detail of his face. Some were familiar; the crease between his eyebrows, the slight downturn of his lips, the small scar on the side of his face. Yet, some things were new. Particularly, the bruise covering his left eye, purpling angrily, and the freshly busted lip. You winced, resisting the urge to reach over and smooth your fingers over his injuries until they hurt less.
“You are free to go. You’re lucky your ‘friend’ bailed you out. Could’ve been a lot worse for you tonight, Mr Spector.” You noticed Marc grit his teeth, biting back the words he truly wanted to say. You were relived when he just nodded. He was out of the door before you could talk. You muttered a small ‘thank you’ to the receptionist before hastily following after him.
“Hey, Marc!” You called, and you couldn’t ignore how unfamiliar his name felt on your tongue. You pushed down the sourness rising in your throat as you could his name again. Marc stopped abruptly, and you noticed his body moving in a sigh. His head cocked to the side slightly as if he were hiding from you.
“Hmm?”
“Don’t you want a ride home?”
“I’ll walk.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, I’ll drop you off, I know the way.” The reminder of that fact pained you both, but neither of you showed it. Marc cleared his throat, turning to face you now, but he still averted his gaze.
“Don’t wanna bother you anymore than I already have.”
“We’re past the point of that. Look, it’s fine, I insist.” You could see the dialogue behind Marc’s eyes, the debating and reasoning, before he settled with a small nod and an, ‘Okay.’
The small space of your car left little space between the two of you. You tried to ignore how good he smelt, how nice he looked, even after whatever he had been through tonight. You subtly cracked the window down, just to feel as though you weren’t drowning in him.
Silence settled as you began to drive. It wasn’t exactly awkward, more… uncomfortable. As if you were both about to talk, or scream, or cry at the exact same moment. Marc was set on staring out the window, every now and then his gaze shifting to the rearview mirror, and you could just imagine Steven or Jake’s expression looking back.
You wanted to ask about them. Despite it being a long time since seeing Marc, it had been even longer since seeing the other two. Fuck, your heart ached thinking how close they were to you, yet so far. Marc, too. Suddenly, the overwhelming urge to release everything in your mind overcame you. You couldn’t stay silent, but you didn’t quite know what you wanted to say.
“So…” you started, slowing down as you approached a red light, “Do you wanna talk about it?”
“No.” Good start. You peeked over at him, but all you saw was his reflection in the window, blurred by the street lights and stars.
“Your face looks pretty bad. I mean, shit, not your whole face, just the bruise.” You didn’t miss the way his lip twitched up as if edging into his signature smirk, but quickly fell again, as if he was reminding himself of the situation.
“ ‘s fine.”
“That’s it?” You wondered aloud, moving as the light changed to green. “Look, I don’t mean to pry, I just, prison is a big deal, Marc. I’m…” You hesitated, hearing the implications of your next words, “worried about you.”
Marc tutted, and you worried you pushed him too far. He was stubborn, after all. “Don’t gotta worry about me anymore, okay? It’s fine, just ran into some trouble after a mission.”
You ignored the way your heart wept at his beginning statement, deciding to see how much you could find out. “After? What, someone sent some bodyguards on you or something?” You noticed his silence, the way his eyes averted down to his lap, and worry filled you once more. “Were you Moon Knight? Or was it you?” The thought of him fighting without his superhero alias inserted a sense of fear into you.
Marc sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, and you noticed how pained he looked. “It was Steven.” Oh. Steven? Sweet Steven? You knew he could fight; you’d heard his stories of fighting Harrow and various other things. He was perfectly able. Yet, somehow, you couldn’t picture him fighting. Without the suit, without his alters.
You realised why Marc had been so closed off.
“What happened?” Your voice was quiet, strained.
“Just got back from a mission. It was…” He trailed off, and the sigh told you everything you needed to know. “Steven was fronting, and he was so frustrated. Neither of us could calm him down. We were nearly home but we heard shouting. Screaming. This woman was inside her house as her asshole of a husband was banging on the door. We told Steven not too do anything stupid, to just summon the suit or call the cops, cause he was in such a bad place, y’know?”
You did know, nodding, trying to focus on the empty roads and the story.
“But Steven wanted to help, like he always does. Couldn’t get control of the body as he stormed over. The guy hit him,” He motioned to the bruise, and you winced, “Twice. And then Steven was just… fuck, he was goin’ crazy. Probably would’ve killed the bastard if some drunk guy on the street didn’t pull him off.” Marc’s voice had gotten slightly strained, and you could only imagine the turmoil he would’ve been through, how helpless he would’ve felt. How helpless they all would’ve been.
“B-But… why did you get put in jail?” You hardly had to ask. You knew Marc would do anything, anything, to protect him. But you didn’t know what to else to say.
“Steven snapped out of it. Let me front. I couldn’t let it be under his name, ya know? He has his job; he has a life outside of this shit… It doesn’t matter for me.”
You wanted to say something. You wanted to tell him he was a good person. You wanted to say he did have a life. You wanted to ask to talk to Steven. But then Marc was speaking again.
“The woman, she was grateful, you know, turns out her husband is an abusive piece of shit. But when we were put into the car, I caught sight of the window. There was a kid. Crying. Didn’t know if his dad was dead or what. Steven probably saved the kid’s life, but he doesn’t know that. Steven went after that, can’t feel him or speak to him up there, just… nothing.”
You were at a loss for words. You could feel the pain radiating off of Marc and it made you ache to hold him in your arms and whisper terms of endearments. “I’m sorry.” You didn’t know what you were apologising for, or who you were apologising too. There was so much you wanted to say, but so little ways you could say it.
“Don’t be. He’ll be back. Probably when this bruise is healed, bastard’ll probably avoid havin’ to feel it.” You forced a smile at Marc’s attempt at a joke. But it was all fake. You could read him like a book, even if you had finished the last chapter a while ago. But it didn’t take a genius to see how much he was harbouring.
“Marc… why did you call me?” You didn’t want him to think you were angry; you weren’t. In fact, you were relieved it was you and not anyone else. But you were curious. Out of everyone, why you?
“Your numbers the only one I- we know.” He muttered, and whilst it made sense, you felt a pang of sadness. There was nothing attached to their choice. Nothing present, anyway. It was a convenience.
“I see.”
“Look, I’m sorry I was such a prick earlier. I just didn’t wanna bother you like this, y’know? You don’t need this shit anymore.”
“I don’t mind, Marc. Honestly.”
“But I do. This shouldn’t be your responsibility. You’re too good for this.” He trailed off and your pulse rate quickened. You didn’t know what to say, so you decided silence was acceptable. This time, the silence felt more comfortable. As if you were now used to each other again. You mentally kicked yourself; you couldn’t allow yourself to get used to his presence.
You were driving down a particularly empty street, the prison taking you on the outskirts of the usual busy city life. That, and the fact it was incredibly early in the morning, so early, the sun was still hidden beneath the stars.
You had turned on the radio a while back, letting the music fill the car to disperse some of the tension. You hardly noticed, however, when it started crackling. It was only when the car started slowing down that you took notice of the dashboard. The flashing red light made you curse.
“What?” Marc said, but instantly realised why when the car spluttered to a stop, the radio dying with a whirl. You couldn’t resist the urge to flop onto the steering wheel, letting out a prolonged groan as you realised the situation- you had broken down on an empty road with your ex.
It truly couldn’t be worse.
“Shit.” He muttered, and you agreed, head still on the steering wheel. However, you looked up at the click on the passenger door.
“Where are you going?! Don’t leave me here!” You whined, and Marc rolled his eyes jokingly.
“Not leaving you, just gonna check the car. Just try ‘n call road services or somethin’, yeah? It’ll be okay.”
You nodded, reaching for your phone, nearly crying as you saw the ‘No Signal’.
“Fuck, Marc, I don’t have a signal!” You called out, holding it into the air to no avail. “Marc? I’m coming out.” You opened the door, eyes trained to the phone as you waved it into the air again, a string of curses leaving your lips as the same signal portrayed itself on the screen.
You could see the silhouette of him at the front of the car, figure hidden behind the bonnet. You were shocked he knew even remotely what he was doing. Car’s weren’t his thing.
Oh no.
It finally hit you as he fully came into view. His face was harder, eyebrows drawn together, lips in a tight scowl. You hadn’t seen Jake Lockley in a while. In fact, you hadn’t heard a thing from him. No accidental calls, no awkward run ins. The last time you had seen him, well, you’d been under him.
“Hi.” You started, instantly feeling awkward at your tone. There was no answer. You wondered if maybe, he hadn’t heard you, that maybe he was so wrapped up in the car that he was oblivious to anything else. So, you tried again, this time adding a small, “Jake?”
You heard him sigh, followed by a frustrated, “hm?”
Oh.
“How’s it looking?”
“Fine.” Confusion filled you at his tone. He was being short. It was clear he didn’t want to talk to you, and you couldn’t ignore the hurt it made you feel.
“Well, it clearly isn’t fine if it broke down.” You snapped; you couldn’t help it.
“ ‘k, then it isn’t fine. Lemme concentrate, bueno?” Okay. You rolled your eyes, wrapping your arms around your body.
“Is there anything I can do-”
“No.” Anger flared in your blood. You couldn’t understand why he was acting so nonchalant, so infuriating.
You suddenly missed Marc.
Without another word, you stormed back to the car, making a point of shutting the door so the bonnet rattled. You could practically hear the roll of his eyes, and it provided you with some solace.
He was out there for another 15 minutes. You wondered if it would even be him to front back at the car, and a big part of you hoped it wasn’t. You knew by the sharp tap on your window that it was, indeed, Jake.
You opened the door, trying to appear calm. “C’mere, have to test the engine.”
“I could do that.”
“I will, I know what ‘m doing.”
“And I don’t?”
“C’mon, relajarse. Relax. Let me.” Maybe it was his tone, or maybe it was the way his eyes were suddenly looking into yours from above, but you complied, rolling your eyes as you did so. Jake muttered something in Spanish that you didn’t catch, but you thought that was probably for the best.
You watched begrudgingly as he tried the engine once, twice, before the familiar roar of your car rumbled through the night. You expected him to get out, let you back in the drivers side, but much to your annoyance, he didn’t.
Instead, he motioned for you to get in. You wanted to complain but decided if he wanted to put in the effort of driving, whatever. You were tired anyway.
There was a different atmosphere than when Marc was fronting, and it was evident from the second you sat down. The atmosphere was tense, and the small space of the car felt suffocating, even with the window cracked down.
There was something about Jake, something utterly intoxicating, that pulled you under every time you even thought about him, let alone being in his presence. The implications that came with merely seeing his face made your brain cloudy and heart jittery.
How could you ever truly move on?
You tried not to let the thought in as you trained your eyes out the window, watching the trees and bushes blur into one green smudge. But it was corrupting your thoughts, infiltrating your defence systems.
You snuck a peek over at Jake. You were surprised he had even stuck around this long. A part of you expected him to stop fronting, render control to Marc as soon as he had fixed the car. The question was leaving your lips before you could even process you were speaking’ “Why are you still here, Jake?”
His jaw ticked, eyebrows furrowing slightly. “He wants me to stay.”
“Marc?” And he nodded. “You don’t…” You began but cut yourself off with a sad sigh. Jake didn’t want to be fronting with you and Marc didn’t want to swap back.
“I don’t…?”
“Doesn’t matter.” Jake wanted to push but receded back into his silence. You didn’t miss the way his hands tightened around the steering wheel. You imagined Marc was pushing him to say something, but he didn’t.
He didn’t for a while.
You had adjusted to the silence, accepted that this would be how this night would end. The night sky had become lighter, the sun just beginning to peek out from beneath the horizon. You couldn’t quite believe it was nearly morning. You resisted the urge to yawn, covering your mouth slightly.
“Tired?” His voice shocked you slightly, but you hid it, raising an eyebrow in answer. “That was- of course, you’re tired, Soy un idiota. I’m an idiot.” You smiled slightly, shaking your head.
“You must be tired, too.” He shrugged.
“Who’s wedding?”
“Hm?” He took his eyes off his road for a split second to nod toward the crumpled invitation you had hastily scribbled the address down. “Oh, ‘s a friend’s. Next month.”
“Yeah? Do I know ‘em?” You shook your head.
“It’s a new friend.” He didn’t know everyone in your life anymore.
“I see.” You could tell he was pondering something by the way he was nodding slightly, tapping the steering wheel in succession to invisible music. “You got a plus one?” You couldn’t hide the shock on your face.
“Why do you care?”
“I don’t.” he replied too fast, “Just wonderin’.” You kept your eyes on him for a moment, gaze hard, but you felt a playfulness fill you.
“I was thinking of inviting this guy from work,” His jaw clenched, “But I want to keep my options open, you know?” He hummed, lips twisting up in a smirk.
“That’s what I do.” You had started it, the playful toying, the ploy to make him jealous, but the insulation they had options made your stomach turn. You reminded yourself he wasn’t yours to be jealous about.
“It’s fun having options. It’s freeing.” It wasn’t. Since them, you had gone on a handful of dates and all of them ended with awkward conversation and blocked numbers. But it was worth saying to see his smirk falter.
“As long as you’re happy.” Happy was perhaps an overstatement. You shrugged. “You are happy, aren’t you?” You hesitated. It was easy to say yes. It was easy to end the conversation here, as the car was nearing their flat.
“I’m getting through.” That struck him. All he cared about, still, was your happiness…no, he couldn’t, not anymore. You recognised the road instantly, knew the flat was close. God, even the street felt like home. Like you were travelling back through the trails in your memory. If you shut your eyes, you could imagine you were back in their bed. You can feel the sun on your skin through the cracks in their curtains. You can hear the car horns from a traffic altercation. You can feel their heart beating underneath your head. Nothing bad has happened.
“Hogar dulce hogar; home sweet home.” But not for you.
He parked and turned the engine off. You listened as it died down to silence. This was it.
“So this was…” You tried to find a word to quite describe the night, but settled on, “strange.”
He chuckled and it was addictive. “You could say that.” He unclicked his seatbelt and settled back in the seat for a moment. Like he belonged in your car with you. “Listen, thank you for all this. Gracias.”
“Jake… why didn’t you want to front earlier?” He sighed deeply, and you were worried you had overstepped.
“ ‘s too much. Being around you again, fuck, just brings it all back, ‘s all, Carino.” The term of endearment slipped out, but it was too late, the damage was done. “I should go. Thank you again.” He muttered, wiping his hands on his trousers, making a move to leave.
“Brings what back?” He paused.
“Everything.” He felt it, too. You were surprised to see him already looking at you. Your eyes met but this time, you didn’t look away. It felt all too familiar to be looking into his eyes. And then, his eyes were rolling back. You didn’t have time to comprehend what was happening before he was there.
His eyes held a softness unlike any you had ever seen in your life. You could recognise it from anywhere, but only from him. His body instantly slouched, his eyes whipping away from yours.
Steven. Sweet, sweet Steven.
His hands began to tremble as he raised them in front of his face, looking at the swelling of his knuckles, at the bruises forming on his skin. “I-I-“ He began to stutter, turning to look at himself in the reflection of the glass before abruptly looking away. “I did something bad.”
“Steven-” He jumped as if he hadn’t quite comprehended it was you sat there. He hadn’t heard his name from your voice in too long and it made his heart quiver.
“I-It was like I just lost control, y’know? I don’t- I blacked out for a minute and then there was sirens and Marc-” He cut himself off with a gasp and you felt tears fill your eyes. “Oh goodness, what have I done? I’m terrible, aren’t I?”
“No, Steven, you’re not-” you began but he was already talking again.
“And now you had to come clean up my mess. ‘S not fair, how could I do this to you? After everything, fuck, you don’t need this. You don’t need me anymore.” You were at a loss for words. You did need him. You needed him like you needed air to breathe. You needed him like you needed books to read. You needed him in a way you couldn’t even begin to comprehend, especially since you had lost him. Had lost all of them.
“Listen-”
“There was a kid, y’know? I saw him, in the window. He must’ve thought that I… that I…” And then, he was crying, body shaking in sobs. You broke then, the need to hold him too much, too strong. He melted into your arms, clutching at the back of your shirt as you held him in your arms. He buried his face in your shoulder, and you could feel his tears soaking your skin, but you didn’t mind, not one bit.
You ran your hands over his back, whispering whatever comfort you could string together. Your hands trailed the hairs climbing the back of his neck like you had a million times before, hoping it would provide something that would help, some solace that words couldn’t give. “You did the right thing, Steven.” You whispered as you felt his breathing begin to slow down. His hands became limp on your shirt, instead opting to hold you as tightly as you were holding him. “You always do the right thing.”
“What if ‘m a bad person?” He quivered, voice barely above a croaky whisper. You swallowed harshly, feeling tears sting your eyes at one of the people you cared about most thinking so lowly of himself.
“No, Steven, of course not. You’re… you’re one of the best people I’ve ever know? The best of the best, okay?” He sniffled, and you gently eased his face up, so he was looking at you. “You are a good person, Steven Grant.” You looked into each-others eyes for a while. There was no ounce of awkwardness, no trace of tension. The comfort it brought to see those eyes again was more than any drug, any romcom could ever provide.
You studied his features. Soft, teary eyes, bloodshot and scared, but swirling with adoration and care. The tension between his eyebrows was gone, replaced instead with a smooth, vulnerable expression. But most of all, you noticed the bruises. Unlike with Marc, you didn’t resist the urge to run featherlight touches around them, hoping it would help him heal faster. Somehow, even in this state, he looked angelic. In fact, you had never seen him look bad. Because Steven was good. “ ‘m sorry.” He suddenly broke the silence, instantly looking away from you as if talking to you was too much.
You looked at him confused, running a hand through his hair in encouragement as you whispered a small, “For what?”
“My fault you’re here right now. ‘m sure you have a trillion other things you’d rather be doin’ than sitting here with a sorry sod like me.” You smiled, shaking your head.
“If you think lying in my flat whilst my upstairs neighbours shag is something I’d rather be doing, you’re greatly mistaken.” You felt him smile against your neck and you resisted the urge to press a kiss to his forehead.
“Still, must be better than seeing us.” You shook your head, though he couldn’t see you.
I’ve missed you like crazy. I would do anything to see you, anything. Come back to me. Please.
You settled on, “I’ll always be here to help.” Neither of you said much after that. Not for a while. You were so comfortable, unnervingly so, with Steven holding you, your hands in his hair. It was so intimate, more intimate than anything you’ve had since the break-up. You quickly realised you craved it. That this was the missing piece in your life, that they were the missing pieces.
The sun was breaking through the dark now, a light pink casting a warm glow onto the dull streets. That was what he felt like, you thought. He was the sunrise. You felt yourself drifting off and caught yourself, realising the time in the car had to come to an end. You didn’t want too, but you shifted, and Steven lifted his head, rubbing his eyes slightly.
“Should probably get you to bed, you must be exhausted.” You muttered to him, forcing your hands to untangle from his curls. He nodded, sitting up and you instantly missed the weight and warmth of him on top of you.
“ ‘kay.” You stretched slightly, feeling tiredness settle in your bones but you pushed it away. Steven took in the beginning of the sunrise, and you noticed his lips twitch up in wonder. He was the type of person to get excited at every sunrise, every sunset, every odd-shaped cloud; no matter how many times he’d seen it. He found the beauty in everything. It was one of the things you loved about him. Loved.
“So, just lemme know if you need anything, you can message me. Do you still have my number? I can write it down, or not, whatever you want-”
“You aren’t coming in with me?”
“Oh, ‘m sorry, I didn’t realise you’d want me too.”
“Yes, please. If you want too.” You paused. Seeing their flat? Being in that space again? The thought made your heart flutter and stomach churn. But you nodded, deciding he needed your help more tha your heart needed peace. The steps up to their flat was so familiar, you could do it with your eyes closed. You knew every bump, every turn, every creaky floorboard. You were at the door before you knew it, and Steven was jingling the keys in the lock.
“Sorry about the mess.” He said, and you smiled.
It was messy, yes, but messy in the way that felt exactly like home. It smelled the same. It looked the same, apart from the new curtains you were sure Steven had picked out. You felt like you were unlocking a piece of your heart with every step you took. You spotted his desk, piled with all sorts of Ancient History books, papers of various missions they’d been on, and Steven’s new name badge with the words, ‘Tour Guide’ formally placed underneath. You let your fingers trace it, a grin breaking out onto your face.
“Congratulations.” You said, holding it up so Steven could see what you were talking about. He smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Oh, yeah. Thank you.”
“How’s it going?”
“It’s… wonderful. I love it. Donna quit, and the new manager, Kathy, she promoted me.”
“That’s amazing, Steven, truly. ‘m so proud of you, you deserve it.” You couldn’t stop the praise, and you watched his cheeks tint in a blush.
“You always said I could do it.” He said, and you nodded. “You always believed in me.” You always would.
“It’s cause I knew you could. It’s all down to you.” You stayed smiling at each other for a moment before Steven yawned. You shook your head, putting his name badge down and clasping your hands together.
“Let’s get you to sleep.” He chuckled, nodding and rubbing his eyes. Steven went to the bathroom as you set up his bed, plumping his pillows and straightening his duvet. You ignored the ache in your heart at the sight of your side of the bed, lingering your hands on the pillow as you remembered all the times you had been in their bed. You broke from it at the sound of the bathroom door unlocking.
He came out dressed in his pj bottoms and a jumper. He took note of his now tidy bed and smiled, wanting nothing more than to lay you down and hold you. He didn’t say much as he got into bed, tucking himself under the covers and sighing deeply. You didn’t know where to look, where to stand. You figured you could leave when he got into bed. You only shifted slightly when Steven grabbed your hand gently, tugging you toward him.
“Stay with me?” He whispered so quietly; you almost didn’t catch it. You felt a lump rise in your throat. You didn’t even have to ponder it as you nodded, slipping into the side of the bed, your side, next to him. He turned over, facing away from you as you swung an arm over waist. You felt his muscles untense as he grabbed your hands to the front of him, stroking the skin softly. You rested your cheek against his back, nuzzling the skin to provide as much comfort as you could.
“Thank you for taking care ‘f me.” He whispered tiredly, on the cusp of sleep. You tried to stop your eyes watering, a single tear slipping out which you quickly wiped away.
“Thank you for letting me.” His grip on your hands loosened and his breathing became heavy in a way you recognised instantly; he was asleep. You pulled your hands out from him, careful not to make too much movement. The bed creaked as you rolled out, but he didn’t even flinch. You straightened out the sheets, reshaped the pillow. You thought about him. And then about Marc, and Jake. What they meant to you, still, and what you feared they always would.
You couldn’t help but look at him one last time. He looked at peace, finally, like an angel. You couldn’t resist the urge anymore, leaning down to place a soft kiss to his forehead. “Goodbye, Steven.” You whispered, stroking his hair before making your way out of their flat.
The sun had risen completely now, gold cascading over the buildings. A new day. You turned one more time. You wished you could reverse time, go back to when you were happy and at peace with them. But, alas, that was impossible. So, with your heart yearning, and your stomach turning, you left.
You awoke in the late afternoon, thoughts plagued with the events from the night. As hard as it was, you hadn’t wanted it to end. You had never been happier than when you were with them. The thought haunted you. You turned, stretching deeply as your limbs refused to move too much. With a sigh, you reached over for your phone. You scrolled through your notifications, not paying too much mind, until you saw the familiar number beaming on the screen.
You sat up instantly, clicking on the message and reading it:
Thank you for everything.
You didn’t know which of your boys had sent it, and you didn’t care. You held the phone to your heart, trying to absorb the remnants you had left of them. And whilst it was just a message, you couldn’t help but feel an odd sense of hope. Perhaps this wasn’t it. Perhaps they felt it too.
You smiled, shutting your eyes, exhaling a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding. Finally- a new day.
tags: @daddyjackfrost @rmoonstoner @midgardian-witch @dalia-12-3 @kotonei-molyneux @lovepeaceorelse @lokilover476 (please do let me know if you don’t want to be on this taglist, it is quite old now so feel free to message me and i’ll remove you!!!)
#marc spector angst#jake lockley angst#steven grant angst#marc spector x reader#jake lockely x reader#steven grant x reader#angst#moon knight angst#moon knight x reader#moon knight#marc spector fanfic#jake lockley fanfiction#steven grant fanfiction#marc spector#Steven Grant#jake lockley
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Praying for Love
Marc Spector X Stripper f!Reader
Not Beta Read - For the @moonknight-events Bingo Event!
Prompt: "Beg."
Summary:
Marc comes to the club where you work every week religiously. He always asks you the same question, and you always give him the same answer, no matter how pretty he looks when he's begging.
Tags/Warnings:
NSFW, stripper reader, dirty talk, begging, teasing, lap dance, coming in pants, drinking, mentions of (Marc) being drunk.
Word Count: 1.1k
You stood between Marc’s legs, dancing the same dance you did every other night he waltzed into the club. He grabbed onto your hips, his hands squeezing tighter than usual.
“Marc, you know you’re not supposed to–”
“I didn’t come here for a lecture, honey.”
You bent over, planting your ass in his face the way he liked. You felt him tuck some bills into your panties right in front of your cunt.
He chuckled, “oh, you’re wet, having a good time?”
You turned around and looked down at him, “not as good a time as you,” you nodded, staring right at the bulge in his pants.
His cheeks flushed, and he scowled coldly at you. Despite being a difficult man, Marc was one of your favorite, and best customers. He was easy to pull a few hundred dollars out of every night with the simple act of making him think you loved him. The man was so desperate for affection and touch he’d be willing to spend any amount just to have you lie to him.
That’s not to say that you didn’t care for him in some way. You weren’t heartless, but you cared about him the way a grocery store clerk might care about the old woman sharing her life story at the checkout line unprompted. You could call it natural human empathy. Marc was a sad man, and you were trying to pay rent. The two of you had a symbiotic relationship.
He didn’t want a real relationship anyway.
You carded your fingers through his lightly gelled hair, climbing into his lap one leg at a time and straddling him. You lowered yourself so you were brushing against his bulge, rubbing your cunt along the hard length of him. You bit your lip.
“So hard for me, Marc, so big,” you leaned in, kissing the skin right below his earlobe.
“Fuck, honey,” he whispered in a raspy tone, the smell of alcohol heavy on his breath.
You churned your hips more, whining into his ear and making sure to sound desperate. He liked when you really acted like you wanted him. It wasn’t far from the truth. Of all the men you’d danced for in the bar, Marc was in the top five that you’d consider actually sleeping with. You weren’t going to though. You had a strict policy of not sleeping with your customers. They tended to get too attached.
That didn’t mean you couldn’t ruin a pair of pants or two though. It always kept them coming back for the hopes that next time you might give them more.
“When are you gonna let me fuck that pretty little cunt, hm?” He asked in a low grumble.
You chuckled, “maybe if you beg real nice I’ll consider it.”
Marc sneered at you, lip curling up in a snarl. He grabbed your asscheeks roughly, eyes locking onto yours while he looked at you from under his lashes. He always got a little rough when he was that drunk, and you liked it.
“Just fuck me, come on.” He rubbed the meat of your hip, trying very clearly to keep his composure.
“You gotta do better than that,” you whispered, grinding your crotch even harder against his.
“Fuck, just take it out, please, just sit on my dick for a second baby. Just a goddamn second. I won’t tell,” he looked up at you, eyes pleading desperately.
You dragged yourself along his clothed bulge again, watching his eyelashes flutter so pretty.
“You want this?” You rocked yourself on him again. “You want my pussy baby?”
You moaned in his ear, peppering soft kisses along his jawline in between each breath you took.
“Beg,” you demanded.
He growled and held your hips against his lap tightly, rutting upward and breathing heavy.
“I’ll give you a thousand dollars just to let me stick the tip in. Just let. me. fuck. you.” He breathed.
You tutted, rolling yourself over him more, moving your body in a dancing motion like you were supposed to all along.
“Is that all you think I’m worth? A thousand bucks?” You chuckled. “I’m not a cheap whore, try again big spender.”
You bit your lip and you could tell you were starting to get under his skin. He pressed his lips together in a thin line, you felt his cock getting impossibly hard underneath you. You could hear his breathing grow more ragged. If looks could kill, Marc Spector killed you ten times over just now.
“Honey, I’m not gonna last much longer and I know you want this. That little pussy of yours is so wet, why don’t you give it what it wants, hm?” He tucked his fingers into the leg of your panties, under the bills he’d put in there and he brushed his knuckle against your swollen clit.
You leaned in and whispered, “baby boy, I’ve been wet since my shift started a couple hours ago. You’re not special for making me horny. I do this job for a reason.”
His brow turned up and stitched together in the most pathetic look you’d ever seen on a man. He sucked in his bottom lip and looked up at you, eyes pleading desperately.
“What do I have to do,” he conceded his ego, and for that you almost - almost - gave in.
“Be a good boy and come for me,” you said against his ear, flicking his lobe with the tip of your tongue.
As if his body was under your command, he came, cock twitching wildly against the zipper of his pants. You sighed, kissing his neck and nipping at the skin as if to leave a little mark for him to enjoy in the mirror the next day when he was sober and regretting his life choices. He jolted, holding you tight against his lap, his cum soaking through onto your thighs. After a moment, Marc’s breathing returned to normal after a moment, and his chest stopped heaving against yours.
You leaned back, grabbing his hand and pulling his finger from your panties. You brought his hand up to your mouth, popping the arousal slick digit into your mouth, sucking it free of your juices before kissing it and putting it back down at his side. You left him with a kiss on the cheek and a tap on his nose with your index.
“I’ll be back next time, honey, and next time I’m gonna feel that cunt,” he slurred on his way out the door.
“I’ll look forward to it,” you smirked, knowing full well that you’d have the same song and dance next time, and every time after that.
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#marc spector fan fiction#marc spector fanfic#marc spector x reader insert#reader insert#moon knight reader insert
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Got one inside the pants, the other on your- (Marc Spector x F!reader)
Prompt: Dirty Talk
A/N; Happy Valentine’s day <3
Warning: Smut under the cut, Fingering, PinV, Unprotected sex, Good Girl, Babygirl, other petnames, choking
Words: 579
Marc already had his fingers deep inside her as he leaned her over the back of the couch, his mouth attached to her neck, her pants pulled down past her hips, his other hand palming his bulge as he fucks her with his fingers. He had just come home and needed her the second he saw her. He growls lowly into her skin as she moans. His thumb making circles on her clit as he moved her fingers in and out of her.
“Fuck baby, wet for me already?” His voice tickled her earlobe as he spoke to her, his voice dripping with desire. “That’s it babygirl, let me take care of you. Let me fuck you with just my fingers, then my cock, Fuck you sound so pretty. Keep moaning like that for me…good girl, that’s my good fucking girl.” She can’t help it, she loves it when he gets all needy for her, when he needs her so bad he can’t even be bothered to make it all the way inside the door before she’s bent over the nearest piece of furniture as he says all those horribly wonderful things. He pulls out his hand, licking her slick from that hand while using the other to pull his cock from his jeans, Not even bothering to pull his pants all the way off in desperation to get to her.
“M-Marc…” She whimpers his name as he looks into her eyes, he takes his fingers from his mouth and puts them against her lips, a single look telling her exactly what to do. She opens her mouth taking his fingers in her mouth and sucking on them. He smiles.
“Good girl.” He growls before thrusting into her, letting himself bottom out inside her, letting her adjust around him. He hisses softly. “Fuck baby, you’re so fucking tight, Just like that. Mgh. Yes… that’s it. Fuck. I’m gonna fuck you so good you aren’t gonna walk right for days. Fuck you so hard that you feel me inside you until morning. Right baby? Yeah, You love this cock, Need this cock. My cock, My girl.” He starts to move, at first a slow but steady pace, all the way out, all the way back in, again and again, but its only a moment before he’s rutting into her like it’s the only thing keeping him alive. She moans on this fingers, Her nails digging into the couch, she feels the knot of pleasure wound tight in her lower stomach. She was so close, she ever so slightly bites down on his fingers. He groans as he fucks her harder and faster seeking his own release in her tight walls. He moves his hand from her mouth to around her neck, putting just enough pressure on her neck to delay the blood to her brain, and restrict her breathing slightly “Fuck baby you feel so damn good, Fuck I’m gonna fill you up baby. Ngh. Yes, fuck yes. That’s it baby cum with me baby, cum with me…there there there there…Fuck” Marc kept whispering every filthy idea that came up in his mind as he coated her insides with his spend, releasing the pressure on her neck as she clamped down on him, gasping for air as her body shakes with pleasure. He starts kissing her softly, the marks on her neck truning a deeper red as he gently kisses her, muttering into her.
“Such a good fucking girl…My girl…Mine”
Bingo Masterlist
Tag: @moonknight-events @juneknight @spacecowboyhotch @burymesanti @silver-night-m @justafandomgvrl
#moonknightevents#moon knight#moon knight fanfic#moon boys#oscar isaac fic#oscar isaac fanfiction#Spotify#x reader#smut#marc spector fanfic#marc spector#marc spector x reader#marc spector moon knight#marc spector smut#moon knight smut
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Celebrate (Marc Spector x fem!Reader, Steven Grant x fem!Reader, Jake Lockley x fem!Reader)
Author’s Note: Hey everyone! So, I have had this done for a while and just never posted, so better late than never, amirite? And besides, we can all always use more Oscar Isaac and the Moon Boys in our lives. Enjoy! :)
Summary: The boys realize that they've never celebrated your birthday with you, despite being with you for well over a year and you celebrating their birthday. When they find out when it is, nothing will stop them from giving you a birthday for the record books.
Warning: Fluff (established couple with all the Moon Boys, super sweet affection, kisses, a very important question), angst (negative emotions about birthdays), implied smut
Other Characters: None
Word Count: 3,348
Steven, Marc, and Jake love you. They loves everything about you, from how you talk, to how you have a ‘lucky’ something for every category of item you own, to how big your heart is. But there is one thing about you that particularly irks them.
In the year and a half that you have been together with them, they has yet to find out when your birthday is. For all they knows, they could have missed it twice! Hell, you’ve remembered theirs twice and have done incredibly loving things for both.
They have tried everything—Steven even tried to sneak a peak at your license once, but turned out to be in a different wallet. Steven only knew his lack of knowledge wasn’t by virtue of him not trying extremely hard, because Marc and Jake couldn’t find out either.
Jake enjoyed playing around with the fantasy that you were a secret spy or assassin who stepped away from the action to lead a normal, quiet life. Steven and Marc were ready to quickly dismiss it when they remembered that they served as an avatar for the Egyptian God of the moon. In all honesty, there was a chance that Jake could be right.
“Did you know that in Ancient Egypt, Pharaohs didn’t celebrate birthdays on the actual day?” Steven asks as he hands you a dish from the suds. “They celebrated their coronation day since it was when they were born into the role of ruler.”
“Interesting,” you respond as you use the towel to dry the plate.
“It’s a bit sad, though, innit? That other people didn’t celebrate their birthdays. It wasn’t a common thing.”
“Well, I mean, I guess people make a big deal out of birthdays and place a lot of pressure on them. Maybe the Egyptians had it right.”
“But it’s an important day, you know? Someone fantastic was brought to the world, that’s worth celebratin’.”
You have a feeling you know what he’s getting at. You choose to remain quiet.
“You’re worth celebratin’, (Y/N).”
You feel tears sting at your eyes, and you suck in your bottom lip to prevent yourself from crying.
“Why haven’t you told us when your birthday is?” he pleads softly.
You dip your head and shrug. “My birthday . . . I don’t know,” you mutter. “I have a lot of mixed feelings about it, and I don’t know how to say them without sounding whiny.”
Steven tilts your chin up with a sudsy finger so your eyes lock onto his.
“We’re all ears,” he says tenderly.
You let out a sigh, but Steven’s finger refuses to let your gaze leave his.
“No matter how old I got or whatever new friends I made, my friends and colleagues and even my exes always forgot my birthday. I always made it a point to remember theirs, get a gift, a card, whatever, because—it’s the friggin’ day they’re born! And then I always had these small, wistful expectations there’d be something done for me like a surprise, but it was always nothing. Once I got into my college years, I’d have these hopes and expectations of what I’d have done by that birthday, and most of them never came true. My ‘have a first kiss’ goal was deferred for eight years until I was 25.” You close your eyes and give your head a little shake. “I’m just always disappointed by my birthday with other people and myself. Never a real reason to celebrate.”
Steven dries his hands and wipes away yours tears with the pads of his thumb as he pulls you in for a loving hug.
“Will you tell us when your birthday is, love?” Steven whispers into your hair. “Please?”
Unable to resist his tender embrace, you tell him the date, and he pulls back to scan your face. “That’s Thursday,” he states.
“Yeah,” you nod. “It is.”
You don’t expect him to cradle your face in his hands while he kisses you deeply. “Boy, do we have some idea’s stewin’ in our brain,” he beams as he gives you another kiss. “And you know what? Since I missed it last year, you’re gonna have a half-birthday celebration that is gonna knock your knickers right off of you.”
“My knickers?” you laugh, your hurt feelings quickly leaving your body.
Steven whistles and moves his hand like a plane to emphasize the absolute absence of panties you’ll have before he hops up and rubs his hands together in excitement.
“Oh,” he says as he holds up a finger. “This is why we couldn’t figure out your birthday, right? You’re not secretly a spy or assassin?”
You laugh at the implication, the sadness rolling off of your body. “Jake’s idea?”
Steven nods.
“Well, I’d tell you, but then I’d have to kill you, and I’d hate to ruin that pretty face of yours. And then there’s the issue of getting rid of the body, and we’re on the fifth floor—.”
“See, I know you’re jokin’, but part of me is actually a little spooked right now,” Steven says.
“No, hon. I’m not a spy,” you giggle, moving to kiss his cheek and push his curly hair back. “Sorry to disappoint Jake.”
Steven breathes a sigh of relief and dips his head as you hold onto him. "Oh, thank the gods!"
You’re vaguely aware of the shifting on your mattress as you continue to enjoy a cozy slumber under the comforter with your head on the pillows. After a bit, you feel another shift on the mattress along with the warmth of another body whose smell you know all too well.
“Happy birthday, my love,” Steven whispers with a gentle kiss to your cheek.
You let out a tired moan as you roll into Steven’s body, wrapping an arm around his middle and burying your face into his chest as you try to pull yourself back into a deep sleep.
“Come now, I’ve made you your favorite. And I have a nice big mugga mornin’ Joe with your name on it,” he encourages.
You unbury your head slightly, looking up at him with still heavy eyes. He smiles as he looks down at you, kissing your forehead.
“I knew if the kisses didn’t do it, the coffee would,” he chuckles.
As you sit up in bed, Steven twists his torso and places a breakfast tray on your lap, presenting you with waffles, fresh cut fruit, and veggie sausage.
“Thank you, hon,” you tell him, pulling him in for a kiss.
“Anythin’ for the birthday girl,” he hums, placing a kiss on your neck that sends goosebumps throughout your body. “I still wish you could’ve taken the day off.”
“Trust me, if I didn’t have these big meetings, I’d probably just stay in bed with you three.”
“Don’t give Jake any ideas—he’d find a way to make those meetings cancelled,” Steven chuckles, stealing a strawberry for himself. You know there’s nothing particularly aphrodisic or phallic about a strawberry, but watching Steven’s lips move around the red fruit and how his tongue licks away the juice sends your head spinning. Steven catches you looking at him and smirks. “Yes, love?”
“Oh, nothing,” you blush as you move to take a bite of the waffles in front of you.
“Mm, likely story,” he hums as he licks his lips once more, bringing his lips to your pulse point for a chaste kiss.
“I don’t know that I’m gonna be able to finish these, hon,” you chuckle as you take a closer look at the stack. “You made eight?”
“I’ve seen you devour a stack of waffles with no issue before.”
“Yeah, on a weekend where I don’t have to go do a full day of work later.”
“Then lucky for you, I am here to help,” he smiles, stealing your fork to snatch a bite of waffles for himself. “Bloody hell, I’m a good cook.”
We continue to sit in bed and eat the fluffy breakfast food until you have to get ready for work. As you fix your hair in the bathroom, Steven takes care of the dishes; he finishes drying them as you move from the bathroom to put on your clothes. As you slide on your sweater, Steven shuffles into the bedroom.
“Let me walk you to work today?” he whispers as he lifts out the hair tucked into the collar of your sweater.
“I want to say yes, but then I wouldn’t want to go in or have you leave,” you respond just as quietly. “Especially after a morning like this one. It’d be the bed predicament on the sidewalk.”
Steven brings his lips to yours slowly as you wrap your arms around his waist. The kiss is tender and lazy, much like how you wish you could spend the day with one another. Steven lets out a defeated sigh as his lips part from yours, resting his forehead against yours.
“Text me when you get there?” he asks as his fingers play with your hair.
“Of course,” you tell him. "Love you."
Steven hands you your purse, letting you adjust it on your shoulder before he places more quick kisses on your lips, murmuring a "Love you more," as you attempt to make it out the door.
“What?” you chuckle as you put your purse on the table by the door. Jake is leaning on the kitchen table like a puppy that needs to be let out.
“I can’t wait for my girlfriend to do part two of her birthday?” Jake smirks as he suavely moves over from the wooden surface and meets you at the door, his hands on your waist as he plants a passionate kiss on your lips.
“And what would part two be, exactly?” you smile as you bite your lip, keeping them just out of reach of his so you don’t spend the rest of the night making out in the kitchen—although, you wouldn’t be opposed to it.
“I can’t give away all of the details, mi corazón. Now, go to the bedroom, put on what’s laid out, and then we’ll go to part two.”
You smirk at him and scrunch your eyebrows playfully as you try to figure out what he has planned. You do as he asks, nonetheless. Lying on the bed, you see a beautiful sky blue satin dress with an asymmetrical hemline and silver strappy heels. You slide on the dress and it fits like a glove—so much like a glove, you can see the line of your underwear underneath the fabric. Lightly chuckling to myself, you slide off your panties and take off your bra. Usually, you’d be opposed to going full commando, but when you see yourself in the mirror, everything looks better—the dress was made to be worn on your body without undergarments. You slide on the heels to finish off the look and quickly comb your hair to revitalize it from the day. When you meet Jake back in the living room, he licks his lips and smirks as he looks at you, giving you bedroom eyes as you move closer to him.
“Now will you tell me what we’re doing?” you coo as you run your hands up and down his chest.
“No,” he smiles as he pulls you in for a searing kiss, squeezing your ass for scientific reasons, you’re sure.
“You’re not wearing anything underneath this, are you?” he breathes against your lips.
“Not a stitch,” you hum as you move his hands off your rear, taking a step back and opening the door with your things in hand. “Lead the way, Lockley.”
He gives you a bedroom smirk and mutters a string of Spanish curses and erotic notions under his breath—something about not realizing how sexy you’d look and what he’d rather be doing to you.
“Don’t worry, babe, I think all of you boys will be able to do those kinds of things later,” you assure him as you pull him down by his tie for a kiss. “Patience is a virtue.”
“Not when vice looks as good as you in satin.”
Jake captures your lips in a passionate and lusty kiss that still maintains an air of chastity to it—his mind on the mission of the surprise, but his heart veering towards your shared bed.
“Come on, cariño,” he rasps as he takes your hand and leads you out of the apartment and down the stairs.
“I don’t even get a hint?” you try again as you walk along the sidewalk.
“Tell me what you think we’re doing.”
“Really? Twenty questions on my birthday?”
“Play along,” he chuckles.
“Fine,” you sigh dramatically as you lace your fingers with his. “It’s definitely somewhere fancy?”
“Is it, though?”
“I’m dressed to the nines. I don’t see how it can’t be somewhere fancy.”
“Or I wanted to show you off.”
“Okay,” you say, processing Jake’s cheeky remark, thinking of all the possibilities. “Well, dinner would be too obvious, so it clearly can’t be that.”
“Clearly,” he chuckles. “Come on, cariño, I thought you knew me better than this.”
“Ouch, gut punch!” you say, poking at it side. “I’m still thinking. You are an expert at being sneaky, I’m trying to process my options.”
“Well, you should come up with one soon. We’re almost there.”
Knowing the area, you scan through all the storefronts you can bring to your mind, when something clicks with your ensemble.
“Jake Lockley, are you taking me dancing?” you hum as you look over to him, his eyes sparkling in the dim London light.
“It took you long enough to figure it out,” he chuckles as he guides you to the left into a little courtyard that is all done up where other couples are waiting to start the lessons. “We’re gonna put those hips of yours to a different kind of work. Just for a short while, at least.”
“I’m sorry I don’t have anything fun or culinary up my sleeves,” Marc says as the two of you walk hand in and through the quiet park, the path lit by beautiful old street lamps.
“You don’t need to apologize for anything,” you tell him. “I know how much effort you all put into today. It’s nice to wrap it all up with dinner and a little stroll.”
A gentle breeze begins to pick up, and Marc immediately shrugs off his bomber jacket to place on your shoulders. You want to protest, but you love having things that he wears on your body—the warmth form his frame, the smell of his skin and cologne, the silent gesture of love.
“Thanks, baby,” you tell him softly as he presses a kiss to your cheek.
“Did you have a good day today?” he asks, matching your tone. “I know you mentioned your meetings—.”
“Yeah, the meetings from hell,” you sigh as you roll your neck, the mere thought of them bringing tension to your body. “Not only could they all have been emails, but they were ridiculously long and were so unproductive that we knew less by the end than we did at the start. Debbie led both.”
“Oh no, not Debbie.”
“Mmhm. Don’t get me started with that one.” You let out a long sigh and rest your head on his shoulder. “But it’s all worth it, because I get to come home to an amazing system of men who love me.”
He rests his cheek on top of your head. “We love you, too, baby.”
“How about we go home and take a bath? Wind down from the day. Get naked and wet together.”
“Mm, two of my favorite adjectives.”
“Maybe we can add some other adjectives you like to that mix,” you chuckle, lightly checking his hip with yours.
Taking a turn off the path of the park, you hop on the sidewalk and make the short walk back to the flat, snuggling close in the old elevator as it drags its way up to the top floor.
“You want me to put on a kettle for tea or coffee or something?” you hum as you unlock the door, tossing your keys into the dish as you make your way in. “Or are we going to save all the warm water for—what are you doing?”
In your living room, Marc is perched down on one knee, a little open box in his hands as he looks up at me with his rich brown eyes.
“We were actually gonna do this next week,” Marc starts, his voice soft, the edges brimming with emotion. “But we thought this might be a really great way to end your birthday.”
“Baby . . .”
“(Y/N), I don’t think I need to begin to tell you how much we all love you. If I did, we’d be here for a hell of a long time, I’d loose feeling in my legs from the knee down, and you’d offer to help me walk over to the bed, just like how you are always there to help me and Steven and Jake with whatever comes up. You see us as whole people. You make us feel whole. You have the biggest, most caring heart that a person can have, and you love so selflessly . . .” Marc sniffles and furrows his brows as he tries to keep his cool. You take a few steps toward him, kneeling down and wiping his tears away with your thumbs.
“Marc,” you say softly, his name on your tongue dripping with emotions.
“We can’t imagine our lives without you in it, and we never want to,” Marc continues. “Will you marry us?”
“Of course,” you practically sob, wrapping your arms around him and holding him tight. He holds you back just as firm, neither of you saying a word. Marc is the one who eventually breaks the embrace, moving to take out the ring out of the box to slide it on your finger slowly.
“It’s a pink sapphire, but it looks purple, and you love purple—,” Marc starts.
“—and gold jewelry looks so lovely on your skin, cariño—,” Jake continues.
“—and it’s a vintage settin’ so there’s no ill-environmental effects,” Steven finishes. “Happy birthday, my love.”
“You guys are sure?” you sniffle, your teary eyes frantically scanning their faces. “Are you sure you guys love me? That this is what you want?”
“Mi corazón, where is this coming from?” Jake asks softly, brushing tears off of your cheek. “Of course this is what we want. We’ve never felt this way about anyone before. We only want you, amore.”
“It just doesn’t feel real. It feels like a dream.”
“It’s very real, love,” Steven says, gentle hands on your shoulders as he leans forward to place a sweet kiss on your forehead. “And you already said yes—there’s no take-backs.”
You let out a wet laugh as you move back in to kiss Steven—he always knows just what to say to bring a smile to your face.
“Well, I guess if there’s no take backs.”
As Steven leans forward to kiss you again, and you feel distinct shift just before we part, and you’re met once more with Marc.
“Is it still a yes?” he asks carefully.
“Of course it’s still a yes. I’ve got the three best guys in the world—why wouldn’t I want to make it official?”
Marc smiles brighter than you’ve ever seen in your life. He leans forward to kiss you once more, his arms wrapping around you tightly and picks you up, much to your surprise. The two of you continue to kiss as he walks you to the bed and lays you down on the mattress, only briefly parting from you to brush some stray hairs off of your face.
“Happy birthday, baby,” he whispers, his forehead resting on yours, allowing you to feel his eyelashes brush your cheeks.
“I love you all so much,” you whisper. “Thank you for choosing me.”
Marc gingerly kisses the tip of your nose. “Forever and always.”
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Eat You Up
AN: Third fic for @moonknight-events’ MK Bingo! Hope y'all enjoy 😌❤️
PWP. You're watching a movie with Marc and get a bit...distracted.
(Un-beta’d)
Rated: M+ (this is smut so, i mean, you’ve been warned?)
Prompt: Biting
Words: 985
Pairing: Marc Spector x F!Reader
Warnings: pwp, kissing, frottage, biting, licking, sucking (aka giving hickies), sub!Marc, slight praise kink.
AO3
——————
You’re beside Marc on the couch, head resting on his shoulder as you both sit and watch that movie your co-worker kept recommending. It was okay, a little predictable but enjoyable all the same. Not enough to hold your attention though, sadly. Truth be told, you’re having trouble focusing on anything but him, on anything but Marc—on the warm, solid press of him against you, on the familiar scent of him surrounding you, comforting you—
You turn your face toward him, your nose brushing against his neck. His arm tightens around you at the touch, pulling you closer, and you let him. You both resettle, your hand now resting against his chest as you nuzzle your nose against a random spot at the base of his neck. His skin is soft, like velvet, and you can’t help it when your eyes involuntarily fall shut, savoring the feel of him. You bury your face there, inhaling deeply, your lips grazing over his collarbone. He smells so good, warm and clean and a little woodsy. It makes your mouth water, and you can’t stop yourself from licking tentatively at his skin. You sigh softly at the familiar taste of him, his skin salty yet somehow still sweet.
You hear his breath hitch, feel his body shift beside you and smile softly, gently nipping at his olive skin. His hand clenches slightly where it rests on your shoulder, bunching up the fabric of your shirt, his throat bobbing as he swallows. He doesn’t try to stop you though, so you continue, licking and nipping at that same spot.
You do get a little carried away, giving up all pretense of watching the movie as you crawl into his lap to straddle him. Your knees are on either side of his hips, his fingers twisting in the back of your shirt as you gently grind against him. He groans softly as you bury your face in his neck again, his head falling to rest against the back of the couch.
You start off soft and slow, gently sucking at his skin, your tongue soothing the marks left behind. Marc is completely at your mercy, his hands drifting down to settle on your hips as you devour his neck. Your teeth graze over his bruised skin and he shivers, his hips pushing up into yours involuntarily. You moan softly at the friction between your legs, the vibration against his skin making his grip on you tighten.
You nip at him again, this time a little harder, your lips surrounding the bruise as you add a little suction. Marc hisses, his fingers digging into your sides, and you wonder, just for a moment, if you could make him come like this, with just your mouth and teeth and tongue—
“Baby,” he groans, lifting his hand to cup the back of your head, wordlessly asking you to slow down.
You relent, pressing a kiss against his abused skin before pulling back slightly to meet his gaze. He looks wrecked, hair mussed, lips parted, his breaths leaving him in pants. You smile softly at the sight, reaching out to push your hand through his curls. Marc leans into it, his eyes heavy lidded as they lovingly rove your face.
Your gaze is drawn back to the bruises on his neck, the color of them darkening more and more by the minute. You chew your bottom lip, eyes glued to the marks, all scattered across the base of his neck like a necklace—you like them, like seeing them, that reminder that Marc is yours and no one else's. Yours. He’s yours.
A molten heat wells inside you at the thought and settles in your core. You drag your eyes back up his delectable neck, licking your lips at the expanse of unmarked skin. You make it as far as his mouth before you lean in, claiming his lips in a deep, languid kiss. His groan is muffled as you shift, sliding forward slightly to press yourself against his front, your arms winding around his neck, fingers plunging into his hair. Marc pushes his hips up into yours, using his grip on you to drag you over his clothed length. You can’t help but moan, pulling back from the kiss with his bottom lip between your teeth. He groans, eyebrows furrowing slightly before you release him with a pop.
He gazes up at you, his beautiful brown eyes full of love and unslaked lust, and suddenly you want nothing more than to watch him fall apart. You lean in, pressing your foreheads together, your mouth hovering over his as you start to move in his lap. His eyes fall shut in pleasure, his breath leaving him in huffs.
“So good, baby,” he slurs, his hands grasping your hips as you increase your pace.
He meets your movements with his own, grinding his cock up against your core. You gasp in pleasure, moving faster, harder, pulling grunts and groans from between his lips. You’re close, so close, and so is Marc, you can tell by how slack his jaw is, by the look he has in his eyes, the one that borders on adoration.
“Come for me, Marc,” you breathe, nipping at his kiss-bitten lips.
He comes with a gasp, his hips stuttering as he continues rutting up into you, prolonging his release. A shuddered breath leaves him as he settles once more, his body going limp beneath you. You watch him come down with a soft smile on your lips, reaching out and brushing a few wayward curls from his damp forehead.
He meets your gaze and smiles, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles against your hips.
“My turn,” he breathes, soft smile morphing into something more devious as he gathers you in his arms and quickly stands from the couch.
You yelp in surprise, then laugh as he practically runs to the bedroom.
If you enjoyed this, please let me know! I appreciate every single reblog and/or comment. Thank you. 💖
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𝙎𝙪𝙣𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙚 | 𝙈𝙖𝙧𝙘 𝙎𝙥𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙤𝙧
Pairing: Marc Spector X Fem! reader
Summary: You and Marc had been working together on a mission for the gods you were both in service to. And when Konshu and Isis have a disagreement, naturally their avatars would too. Only, this time, your argument leads to something much more...eventful.
Warnings [18+ activities]: Mentions of the Egyptian Gods, arguing, swearing, brief physical fight (shoving each other and him pinning you to the wall), SMUT, P in V sex, Porn with a drizzle of plot, pet names (sunshine, baby, sweetheart), dom! reader (mostly), switch!Marc, degradation with some praise kink if you squint, choking, unprotected sex (wrap your willy before you fuck her silly), oral sex (m and f receiving), handjob, edging (m receiving), face riding, fingering, rough sex, etc cause I got carried away lmao.
Word count: 4.5k+ (I'm not sorry cause this is some of my best work fr)
(not my gif but I wish he was mines)
"Shut the hell up!"
"Oh fuck you, Spector!"
Isis and Konshu stood behind you and Marc, both sharing looks of annoyance at your bickering.
You and Marc had been working together under the advisory of your Gods for the past two months. And about half of that time was spent on you and Marc arguing.
Of course, Konshu and Isis disagreed with each other occasionally, but once you two caught wind of it, it was merely a spark added to the powder keg that was your and Marc's partnership. You used the smallest point of disagreement to fuel explosive arguments that often drifted away from the initial point.
Now, the initial point of disagreement was whether or not the two of you should venture to Arthur Harrow's London village and steal the scarab that led to Ammit's tomb.
Of course, Marc and Konshu wanted to. But you and Isis thought it to be an irrational idea that could lead to your deaths, seeing as Marc couldn't keep a hold on his alter.
"If Steven comes back to the surface at the wrong point, he could get us killed, Marc!" you argued, already having met Steven on a separate accidental occasion.
"That won't happen. I have him under control, worry about your own problems," the dark-haired mercenary spat from across the room, venom lacing his every word.
"My own problems?"
You angrily walked over to where he was packing his stuff for his departure.
"Yeah, your own fucking problems."
Marc began moving to meet you in the middle of the room, throwing his open duffel bag to the floor in frustration.
"Well, right now, my fucking problem is the fact that you're so damn eager to get this over with that you're not using your head, Marc!" you shouted, your voice bouncing off the walls of your spacious apartment, "I'm not letting you get us killed, I don't give a shit how experienced Konshu says you are."
Marc scoffed, a stupid smirk airing its way onto his clean-shaven face. "And how the hell would that happen, huh, Y/L/N? How would my plan get us killed?"
You resisted the urge to smack the smirk off his perfect face- no, not perfect. Admitting that Marc Spector had a perfect face was admitting to yourself that in your spare time you had been observing him and had been quite fond of what you've seen.
And you wouldn't give the lonely-and possibly horny- part of your brain that satisfaction.
"Because we have no fucking clue what we're walking into!" you bellowed, "Right now, Harrow has no idea that we know what he's up to. So if we just strut into his village and try and steal the scarab, which will most likely lead to us having to fight his guards and showing our faces, we'll be giving ourselves away AND on his home turf too."
Tense silence passed between the both of you as Marc took in and analyzed your words.
You placed your arms on your hips, waiting for a response from the angry mercenary.
You were surprised, however, when you caught his brown eyes briefly drift down to your lips. The glance was no longer than a second, but with your job, you couldn't miss something that minuscule even if you tried.
"You're wrong," he lowly countered after a few more seconds.
You sharply exhaled, now feeling your ears burn a bright red from anger. "What?" you seethed, daring to take a step closer to Marc.
Konshu and Isis sent each other knowing glances before disappearing together, leaving you two alone in the barely furnished apartment.
"You heard me, sunshine," Marc taunted you, knowing that you hated when he used that nickname, "We're going with my plan."
"Don't call me that."
Marc walked forward and came to a stop before you, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "Or else what?" he whispered as his surprisingly pleasant scent invaded your senses.
Before you could slip and give in to the part of you that wanted to lean forward and kiss his plump red lips, you extended one of your arms and shoved him away from you. "Kiss my ass, Spector."
You immediately regret your choice of words.
"I bet you'd like that," he raised a brow at you.
You would. You most certainly would. Not that you'd ever admit it out loud.
"I wonder what your ex-wife would think about you saying stuff like this to women you work with."
The smirk immediately disappeared from his face. It was replaced with a look that could freeze hell twenty times over. And you couldn't help but smirk at the sight of it.
"You bitch," Marc seethed.
"What? You didn't think I'd find out, did you? Turns out being related to a former S.H.I.E.L.D. agent has its perks," you grinned triumphantly, "You couldn't even keep your marriage stable, I don't know why I ever expected anything different for this mission."
At this, you could almost see steam fly out of Marc's ears. His eyes were nearly red when he lunged forward and wrapped both his hands around your neck. Before you could respond, the curly-haired merc slammed you against your own living room wall continuing to squeeze the air out of your lungs.
Marc panted as his face hovered above your own, merely inches between your lips, allowing his cool breath to fan over your face.
"Shut. Up," he lowly growled through gritted teeth. His tone could've convinced anyone that he was angry and boiling with rage, but in his eyes, you could see something else:
Lust.
Your constant insults and threats were driving him crazy in a way he never thought he could enjoy until now.
You smirked maniacally up at him, the lack of airflow shooting straight between your legs. "You keep choking me like this, I might end up making a mess on my own floors, Spector," you whispered.
"Go ahead, do it, you fucking slut," he spat.
You may have been desperately horny, but in no universe would you let anyone talk to you like that and get away with it.
Not for free anyways...
So you skillfully grabbed each of his hands and ripped them off your throat before extending your own hands and wrapping them around Marc's neck. His eyes widened in surprise as you switched your positions, making sure to slam him harshly against the wall.
"If we're gonna do this," you began, panting from your own arousal, "you don't get to be in charge, Spector," you leaned close enough for your lips to graze his earlobe, "I do."
You grabbed his ear in between your lips and gently nipped it, gaining a groan from the man. You'd never imagine him to be this submissive, especially not this fast, but it seems there's a lot you didn't know about Marc Spector.
"Look at you," you harshly whispered, your lips trailing down his sharp jawline, "groaning like a bitch in heat and I barely touched you."
Marc sharply inhaled while you sucked marks onto his stubbled jaw. He could barely concentrate long enough to snap back at your remark.
You used your free hand to slide up beneath the incredibly tight t-shirt he had been wearing and couldn't help but smile at the shiver that your touch sent through his body.
"You like when I touch you like this?" you cooed with pouty lips, intentionally taunting him, "You like the way my hands feel right...here?" your hand traveled further south with your words. A strangled groan sounded from his throat when you briefly palmed his growing erection through his tight jeans.
You could see him fighting his instincts to overpower you and take back control as you pressed chaste kisses on the corner of his mouth.
Soon enough, he gained back focus and brought a hand forward to grip your waist through the tank top you had been wearing. He used his hold on you to pull you flush against him in an attempt to relieve the tension in his jeans.
The sheer strength in his grip made your mouth briefly snap open and a low moan escaped your lips.
Now it was Marc's turn to smirk at you.
But you wouldn't give up the reigns that easily.
You quickly freed yourself from his hold and took a few steps back.
Marc's chest heaved as he watched you with furrowed brows, buzzing with curiosity and possibly excitement about your next moves.
A small grin soon found its way onto your face. Taking care to make a show of your movements, you slowly lifted your arms to remove your top.
Marc's dilated brown eyes followed your every move.
Once your shirt and bra were removed, you were left topless gaining a ravenous stare from Marc.
Not giving him a chance to pounce, you turned around and walked towards the soft couch on the other side of the room.
Marc followed behind you eagerly, all the while appreciating the view of you from behind, (something he had caught himself doing many times before.)
"Take off your clothes and sit down, Spector," you commanded him with a sure yet airy tone. Marc was shocked to find himself quickly obeying your orders, but with eyes like yours and a voice like that, you'd be able to get him to lift up a planet with ease.
It took Marc mere seconds to do what you asked. You followed suit by removing the rest of your clothes except your underwear.
The brunette man sat in the center of your couch with his arms splayed across the back, looking up at you with a cool expression on his face. But his eyes betrayed his true eagerness.
You took a few steps forward to meet him and carefully positioned yourself to straddle his naked legs.
The moment your skin met his, Marc sharply inhaled and brought his hands to grab your ass cheeks.
"Somebody's eager," you taunted as you began to torturously grind your clothed front against his firm member.
"I can feel your wetness through your panties, sweetheart. You want this as much as I do."
He had a point there.
You then brought your hands up his toned abdomen and at rest on each side of his neck before leaning in to press your breasts against his chest.
"Well, then," you softly spoke, "let's get on with it."
An unseen force pulled your lips crashing down against Marc's soon after. Your teeth and tongue clashed deliciously, neither of you being able to get enough.
You felt him rub his large palms against the smooth skin of your bare waist, leaving goosebumps in their wake.
You rocked your covered pussy particularly hard against Marc's pulsing erection. This gained you a low moan from him, which you took as an opportunity to shove your tongue in between his wet lips, deepening the already heated kiss.
Your hands tangled within Marc's hair, your mouths continuing to move in a perfect dance, before you felt a sharp sting against your ass.
This gained Marc an impressed yelp from your lips. "Stop teasing," he scowled.
You couldn't help but laugh at the desperation in his tone. "I'll do whatever the fuck I want, Marc Spector," you smiled, your fingers lightly swiping over his swollen lips.
It was almost as if you were in a dream sequence when you looked down at the adonis of a man beneath you. His chocolate eyes were fully locked onto yours while he gripped your hips with the force of a thousand suns. You were positive it would leave bruises the next day but you couldn't care less. His defined chest and arms glistened with a light sheen of sweat, and you suddenly felt the urge to lick them.
"Like what you see, sunshine?" he smiled up at you, trying to hide the fact that he had been taking in your features and was in awe of them as well.
"Hmm mhm," you confessed, "Let me show you just how much," you said, starting to slide off Marc's lap and onto your knees before him.
"Hey," he called out in an attempt to stop you, "You don't have to do this if you don't want to." You were surprised to hear that his tone was genuine.
But it just made you want to suck his cock even more.
"I really want to," you nodded with a teasing grin.
"Besides, I would never pass up the opportunity to hear you groaning and twitching like a little bitch, Spector," you taunted him as you softly gripped the base of his large dick. You were almost scared by his girth and length, never having been with a man with anything close to it before, but you did not allow your face to betray your shock.
"Is that a challenge?" Marc referenced your teasing.
"Sure, why not," you shrugged.
Marc made himself comfortable and rested his hands behind his head with a pleasant smile. He could tell from your expression that you were intimidated by his size and that made his grin grow wider.
You made sure to hold eye contact with him as you slowly licked up the small pool of precum that had gathered around his tip. You held back a moan at how good he tasted
His resolve nearly broke the moment your tongue touched him.
You wasted no time and wrapped your eager lips around nearly half of Marc's length, catching him by surprise.
"Fuck!" he sharply groaned at the sudden motion.
You quickly removed your mouth from around him. "Would you like me to stop?" you asked, damn well knowing the answer.
"Absolutely the fuck not," Marc panted. He then brought one of his hands to rest in your hair and guided your lips back to his throbbing cock.
But you immediately slapped away his hand. "Keep your hands to yourself or I will put my clothes back on and go to bed," you lied, wanting to establish even more control over him.
"You wouldn't fucking dare," Marc quickly sat up.
"You're right, I wouldn't," you didn't spare another second before attaching your lips back onto Marc's cock.
This time you were determined to unravel him even more, so you began to bob your head up and down on his length. Drool soon ran down the side of your lips as you were barely able to fit Marc's cock into your mouth, and you were nowhere near the base.
But he was still losing it.
From the side of your eye, you could see Marc gripping your couch harshly, taking deep and controlled breaths.
You decided to make things even harder.
Releasing his cock from the onslaught of your mouth, you slid back up onto the couch and resorted to using your hand to cover more ground.
As your hand gripped Marc's cock and began to stroke, you kissed along the side of his neck, causing him to swallow harshly in an attempt to hold himself back.
"Come on Marc, let go," you whispered as you quickened your hand's jerking pace, "I know you want to," you added before licking a stripe below his ear.
You were driving Marc insane. And he could barely form words to let you know it, but you could see it.
Your hand began to work Marc's cock even faster while you continued to litter his neck with kisses and bruises, causing his breathing to pick up. He began thrusting his hips upwards to meet your downward jerking, desperate for more friction and release.
"Cum for me, Marc," you urged him before turning his head towards you for a deep kiss on his lips.
"You're too fucking good at this, Y/N," he softly groaned, taking care to hold your stare.
"I'm good at a lot of other things too," you grinned.
The sounds of your hand jerking off Marc's cock echoed in your apartment as tides of pleasure coursed through him.
"Fuck I'm gonna-"
But Marc couldn't finish his sentence because at that moment you swiftly removed your hand from around his dick.
"What the hell?" he complained.
"Oh, I'm sorry were you really gonna cum before me?" you tilted your head.
Marc's eyes narrowed in your direction, his sharp jaw clenching in annoyance at your denial of his orgasm.
"This is my house, Marc, I come first," you held back a giggle at your double entendre.
You were elated to see Marc grow even more eager at your words.
Before you knew it, you felt your body be dragged from the arm of the couch and into the middle, and your legs pushed open soon after. The tear of cloth sounded through the room when Marc swiftly removed your panties and threw them to the side.
A moan slipped from your lips as you watched Marc wet his lips and then his fingers. This man was sex on legs.
"Oh fuck," you groaned when he leaned down and licked a stripe up your dripping pussy.
Your moans grew sloppier as he began to eat you like a man starved while massaging your clit with his fingers.
"Yes, oh God, yes don't stop Marc," you panted, your hands soon finding their way into Marc's messy curls.
He slowly inserted two fingers into your hole. "You're so fucking tight, sunshine," Marc commented as he skillfully used his fingers to pleasure you.
"Keep going," you replied before bringing his head back into your pussy.
But Marc surprised you once again when he removed his hands and mouth from you completely and picked you up, as if you were nothing more than a feather, and carried you to where your large bed lay in the corner of the room.
You giggled once he dropped you onto the soft mattress, watching him slide above you. He wore a gorgeous smile on his face as he held you in place and pushed a strand of hair away from your face.
His stare was so meaningful and intimidating that you found yourself blushing.
"You are so fucking beautiful," he softly spoke.
"So are you," you found yourself replying with a smile, and meaning it.
Marc leaned down and pressed his lips against yours. But this time, the kiss was softer and more gentle.
You found yourself enjoying the intimate act more than you expected and leaned into the kiss. A foreign feeling bubbled in your stomach as you continued to kiss Marc.
But you soon felt him pulling away.
Not long after, however, you felt something smooth and wet against your breasts.
You opened your eyes to see him sucking one of your perked nipples into his mouth while his free hand played with the other. Your body tinged with pleasure as Marc switched between your tits, even lightly nipping at your nipples a few times.
All the while his eyes never left yours.
You reached down and ran your hand through his hair, which was now moistened with sweat. "I want to sit on that pretty face of yours," you suddenly suggested.
"You read my mind baby."
You both quickly moved into the proper positions, with your body hovering above his hungry mouth. He roughly gripped your thighs and looked up at you through his thick lashes.
"Tap on my legs if I'm suffocating you," you softly told him, "I'd rather you not die before I get to fuck you."
Marc, however, was not the least bit concerned and harshly pulled you down onto his lips.
"Shit!" you loudly squealed as his tongue immediately went back to work on your clit.
You soon gripped his head and began rocking back on forth on his mouth.
The mercenary moaned his approval at your movements which shot straight through your pussy and made you gasp.
"I'm gonna cum already, fuck," your chest heaved.
Marc's hand moved up to squeeze your ass as you picked up speed, riding his face even harder.
You grew worried about him running out of air beneath you and slowly tried to lift yourself up, but Marc's grip on your butt kept you in place.
He wouldn't mind dying like this, he thought to himself.
Your moans grew high pitched and Marc's tongue moved at a more rapid pace initiating your orgasm.
The repeated brush of his perfectly pointy nose against your clit was all it took for that dam to break.
"Holy fuck-" you slammed a hand over your mouth to hold back a scream as you came all over Marc's mouth.
He had no issue swallowing every bit of your slick that he could, holding you upright while your legs quivered on the sides of his head.
A few seconds passed and you realized that Marc was fully prepared to continue devouring your cunt despite the severe orgasm that rocked you.
"Ease up, soldier," you giggled down at him, forcing your legs free of his hands.
"You taste fantastic, sunshine," he finally relented. You moved over to lay by his side, trying not to get lost in the way he looked at you.
"You eat pussy like a demon," you both laughed, your hand caressing the side of his face.
Marc wrapped a hand around your waist and pulled you in for a kiss.
He swallowed the moan that left you as your own taste flooded your senses.
His kisses were intoxicating.
Marc slowly shifted to hover over your body, not yet breaking the sloppy kiss.
But you caught his shoulder and shoved him onto his back before positioning yourself on his lap. "Uh, uh," you smirked, leaning down to press a wet kiss to his neck.
Marc used one hand to smack your ass while the other lined his painfully hard cock with your entrance. "You gonna let me fuck you, or what?" he grinned up at you, his gruff tone and rough accent making you wetter.
You shut him up promptly by reaching around and gripping his dick, gaining a deep groan from him. You then slowly guided him into your soaking cunt, loudly moaning from the stretch.
It was initially painful but with Marc pressing kisses to your neck and whispering praises in your ears, the pain disappeared quickly.
"There you go baby," he slowly guided your hips up and down his length.
Your shared moans echoed all throughout your room as you began riding Marc's cock even faster.
By now, he was fully inside you and with every thrust, he hit your g-spot perfectly.
"You feel so good around me sunshine," Marc wrapped his arms around your back, cradling you closer to his chest.
His words caused you to briefly clench around him which only drove him to fuck up into you harder.
But then you used all your strength to push him flat onto his back before diving down to wrap your hands around his neck.
Marc was grinning like a maniac as you choked him while bouncing on his cock.
He never thought he'd enjoy being controlled but seeing you take what you want, and use him just the way you want, made his head spin.
Freeing himself from your grip on his neck, Marc secured his hold on you and switched your positions.
Your eyes widened as Marc was now on top of you, smirking while his hands found their way around your neck. "My turn," he whispered before ramming his fat cock into your sopping hole.
"Marc! Fuck!" you loudly moaned, pleasure attacking you in waves as Marc set a brutal pace inside you. That coupled with the lack of air from his grip around your neck had your orgasm slamming into you.
"Cum on my cock baby, I got you," he talked you through it.
Marc then used one hand and reached down to skillfully rub your clit, hoping to push you farther over the edge.
You felt tears of pleasure spring from your eyes as Marc's relentless pounding and his fingers prolonged your orgasm into another one.
He eased the pressure on your neck and slowed his thrusts before leaning down to kiss where your tears met your cheek.
"You're doing so good for me sunshine, keep going," he grinned, using a hand to wipe away the layer of sweat that formed on your forehead.
You took a deep breath and grinned up at him. "That was fucking intense," you panted, your legs still twitching as Marc began slowly rocking into you again.
"Well don't slow down on my account," you urged him.
A deep chuckle rumbled from his chest at your demand. But things took a turn when he pulled out and flipped you onto your stomach.
Marc held both your hands behind your back with a vice grip as he fucked his length back into your sex.
"Fuck yes, harder Marc," you shouted.
Marc pulled your upper body to his chest with both arms and pounded into you with fury.
"This is what you wanted right?" he sneered into your ears, maintaining his thrusts.
"Yes, yes, God, yes-" you babbled.
His pace eventually grew sloppy, telling you he was reaching his own orgasm soon.
You turned your head to see his brows furrowed in concentration as he tried to hold back. "It's okay Marc," you kissed beneath his earlobe, "I need you to cum inside me, lemme feel you."
Marc's breathing began to pick up at your plea. "Shit," he panted and thrust into you one more time. The force with which he fucked into you was enough to garner another orgasm from you instantaneously.
A pathetic whine left your lips as you felt his cock twitch before painting your walls with his warm cum.
He pressed a chaste kiss to your shoulder as you both came down from your highs. Marc slowly withdrew from your heat with a satisfied groan. He then guided you to carefully lie down.
Spent from the day's activity, you complied and tried to rid your mind of its haze.
You managed to catch the sight of Marc walking into your bathroom and couldn't fight the smile that appeared when he returned with a damp rag.
"You didn't have to do that for me," you said as he gently spread your sore legs and used the rag to clean the remnants of him.
"Why do you refuse to let people take care of you?" he smiled with furrowed brows, continuing to clean between your legs.
"No, you buffoon," you rolled your eyes, "I was going to go pee anyways, so you're literally wasting your time."
"Oh."
You laughed at his dumbfounded expression. "Thanks though," you quickly kissed his forehead before making your way to the bathroom.
And then it was his turn to laugh when you stumbled into the closest wall in an attempt to walk normally.
His laughs continued despite your protests but he stood and approached your crumpled figure.
"Need a hand, sunshine?" he teased you.
You glared up at him through your lashes and reluctantly accepted his help.
"Didn't I tell you to stop calling me that?" you raised a brow as he guided you to your bathroom.
"You didn't seem to mind it when I was fucking your brains out, sunshine."
A/N: I started this in June and finally finished it even tho it's fucking December LMAO
Remember to comment, like, and reblog! And feel free to send in more requests! ( to my dom!Peter Parker request, I'm making it happen I promise)
#marc spector x reader#marc spector smut#marc spector#marc spector fanfic#marc spector x you#marc spector fanfiction#marc spector x y/n#oneshot#smut#moon knight fic#moon knight x reader#moon knight smut#moon knight x you#moon knight#marvel smut#marvel fanfiction#marvel#oscar issac smut#moon knight x y/n#moon knight fanfiction#enimes to lovers
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venus, planet of love
pairing: steven grant x f!reader
tags: 18+ graphic smut with plot, mentions of marc and khonshu, mentions of therapy and brief panic attack depiction, all the fluffy feels, mutual pining, idiots in love, inexperienced!steven and reader, the l-bomb and lovey dovey sex, aftercare, about 9k word count teehee, friends to lovers
summary: art models are surprisingly hard to come by in london. maybe they just don’t want to work with you. maybe they’re intimidated. steven thinks you’re pretty and marc thinks it’s time to act on it. who knew steven grant would be up for a portrait?
note: first moonknight fic!!! here’s to many more :) feedback and reblogs are 100% appreciated, thanks!
- masterlist - steven grant playlist
“It just looks so smooth, like I want to touch it.”
“What? Her arse?”
The Rokeby Venus stands out as striking against the patterned red wallpaper of the gallery. The painted depiction of Venus is a stark paste of white, sensual and vividly nude as your eyes follow the curvature of brushstrokes on her backside. The soft greys, reds and creams compliment the fleshy paraphernalia of the painting; your starry eyes wander in a mixture of awe and engrossment, while your fidgeting friend beside you finds his gaze on another work of wonder.
“I’m appreciating the art, Steven. Not the arse.”
The corners of your lips tweak into something in the sorts of regale as you deliberately scribble onto your notepad, the sound of the number-two pencil against paper filling the eerie solitude of the museum. Steven’s attentive stare follows the tiny scrunching of your nose and soon, he finds himself amused at how your expression slowly shifts into unmistakable concentration.
It’s endearing.
Especially when he sees the tip of your tongue poke out from between your lips, nestling against the bottom of one of your front teeth.
Adorable.
“Oh, you’d loathe the ancient Egypt exhibit then. Not a tad bit of arses there.” Steven finally catches your eye, your head lifting from hunched shoulders to listen to him. His comment draws a quiet chuckle out of you, to which you motion for him to go on. He doesn’t hesitate. “Well, I mean, nudity had a proper place and time then. The Egyptians prided themselves in — in fashion, in jewels and beads, fabric and linens. Really, nudity was practically associated with work or oftentimes, social status. Royalty loved to dress up. You don’t see many naked ushabti, yeah?”
The strewn sentences leave him with a deep exhale, mouth parting as he gauges your reaction carefully. You’ve always adored his bursts of passion. Youthful, exciting, like the first tall flame of a new candlelight.
Steven makes an effort to ignore the image of Marc harshly rubbing his temples in the golden frame of the painting.
“I don’t think Velázquez intended nudity to be the central theme.” You mindlessly tuck the notepad into the tote bag on your shoulder. The movement causes your elbow to brush against Steven’s forearm, and he gulps roughly at the tingling of his skin. “Nor do I think it’s completely about Venus.”
“Whaddya think then?”
You quirk a brow at his question. “I think… I mean, it’s obviously an allusion to sexuality and the aesthetic of it. But not sex. More like—”
“Beauty.”
You glance at him briefly, voice getting caught in your throat as you lose your train of thought just by looking at him.
“Yeah. Beauty, women, attraction, it’s all very speculative…”
His side profile is something you’ll never get used to. The singular curl that unravels down his forehead knocks the wind right out of you, the dark chocolate strand begging to be wrapped around your finger and the rest carded through your palms.
Sometimes, you think he deserves a museum exhibit of his own, dedicated to his constant busy mind and to the soft yet simultaneously roughened details of his face.
Maybe most of the time, actually.
Steven doesn’t notice the stumble in your body language, too swept up taking the painting in for what feels like the hundredth time but really, his mind can’t stop replaying how ‘sex’ had rolled off of your tongue so beautifully, and now how Marc won’t stop fucking pestering him about growing some balls and manning up tonight.
His watch beeps and pulls you both from your respective trances while Marc sends him a hard glare through the reflection of the watchface. “Oh, bollocks.” Steven sighs out, jaw clenching as anxiety takes over the tranquility of his features.
You turn to him with knitted eyebrows. “Problem?”
“Yeah, think we’ve got to run.” He frowns, gesturing for you to follow him to the front of the exhibit. “Donna’s gonna have my head tomorrow for bringing you ‘round again, love.”
“S’not like I’m breaking and entering.” You playfully smirk at him as you clutch your bag, jutting one foot in front of the other as he hastily takes you through the employee exit and resets the alarm on the door. “And if I did want to rob this place, I would’ve done it by now. No offense.”
“None taken.” He breathes out through a winded laugh, fiddling with the zipper at the bottom of his collared jacket. He treads carefully beside you in the alleyway. “Mind you, as long as you leave the gift shop out of it, yeah?”
The streetlamps cast shadows over your face, but he finds himself gazing at you even through all the darkness.
A lingering stare. An appreciative smile. A mirroring in how you both tilt your heads to the side ever so slightly. But Steven sees the second hand embarrassment on Marc’s face transcend into the golden swirls of puddles on the cobblestone, his eyes screwed shut as a pained scoff leaves him.
Could’ve kissed her right now, Steven.
Your toothy grin is all in one airy and lighthearted. Despite Marc’s unmistakable jabs, he’s proud of at least one thing:
Making you smile.
“Of course, silly.”
No one really expects a friendship between an art student and a gift shop-ist from the National Gallery to work in a manner that is so effortless, so easy, as if it were like clockwork.
Except, the hour hand and the minute hand will never line up.
Because you’re semi-convinced that Steven doesn’t harbor any sort of attraction towards you, nothing more than feelings of friendliness and a dash of awkwardness. But then there’s that other part of you, the part that notices the stolen glances, how he looks at you all doe-eyed and regardful even when you have nothing to say, how he remembers your breakfast order every single day despite having trouble with his own, how your number is the only other emergency contact in his phone besides his mom who hasn’t called him back once. Hell, you’ve even been friends long enough to earn an alligator emoji beside your name. What a rarity.
Just friends. That’s all it could and should be.
Steven thinks you’d never date a bloke like him. Marc is sold on the idea that you have feelings for Steven, in which the tension, he states, is painfully and terribly obvious. It’s difficult to watch, even from that other dimension. And Khonshu, well, that guy just thinks that the three of you are all bloody idiots.
You try to push down the odd fluttering of your stomach when Steven opens the door to your car for you. He always does. You’re used to the chivalry, the old-fashioned kindness, but something about how he’s doing it tonight — hand hovering over the small of your back, then over your head as you dip into the driver’s seat while he watches you intently, wrinkles smoothing over his tan skin and eyes softening.
You look up at him before he shuts your door. “Tea at mine?”
“Only if I get to make it this time.”
You scoff in offense, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water as he comes around to the passenger side then buckles himself in. “What was wrong last time?”
“Honestly, Y/N?”
“Yes, honestly!” You slightly turn up the radio, raising your brows at Steven as he immediately changes the station.
He sputters through a chuckle before he can even finish his sentence. “Tasted absolutely rubbish, I tell you!”
“Piss off!”
Abruptly, you both laugh heartily at that, shoulders bouncing as Steven recalls the memory of how awful it not only felt in his mouth, but how awful the brew looked in general. He finds himself unable to tear his eyes away from your face. Unable to stop replaying your sweet giggle that he drew out of you over and over again, and how his name falls from you like a bubbly chant as you reach over the console and slap his arm. Unable to stop his fingers from twitching against his thigh because he just wants nothing but to reach out and tuck that annoying wisp of hair behind your ear and tell you how much you truly mean to him.
The moonlight looks pretty on you.
Steven likes the comfort of your flat more than his own. There’s something remarkable about seeing a bed without ankle restraints and chains, or having sand stuck to the soles of his feet as he pads around the kitchen for once. Just you, him, an ugly red sofa, and the mess of unfinished canvases on your floor. Your lips twitch when he reaches around to help you get something off of the top shelf in your cupboard, his large palm gently pressing against your upper back when he pulls away to hand you a porcelain cup.
You pour from the teapot. Steven adds an acceptable amount of milk. One long sip. Sigh of relief. Another sip. Then, smile at each other behind your delicate cups.
Like clockwork.
His kind voice feels warmer than the tea in your hands. “I enjoyed today.” Steven admits, leaning back against the counter and crossing his ankles as he speaks into his cup.
You study the sincere tenderness in his dark irises. “I did too.” For a moment, the silence is nice. It’s comforting. You’re a safe haven, even as he fidgets nervously, drumming his fingers against the cool surface as you reluctantly look away from each other. Yet the longer you linger in the quiet, the louder the thoughts in your mind get. Your pinched voice comes out rushed and unsure. “Are you still seeing that therapist?” Steven tilts his head, unable to recognize your tone.
“Seeing her? What do you mean?”
“Like, um, the sessions and stuff.” You chuckle softly, waving a dismissive hand at that with widening eyes. “Not in — in that way. I mean, are you?”
Why is she asking?
“Oh, goodness. No. Absolutely not.” Steven‘s dark eyebrows shoot upwards. His hold on the porcelain teacup tightens, knuckles tensing. “Why’s that?”
You blink rapidly. “Just wondering.”
“We weren’t compatible. Professionally.” He sends you a close-lipped smile. It’s demure, and for some reason, nostalgic. “She had this — this big, caged bird in the room with us. Like a bloody parrot or something.” Then, he shrugs, eyes darting across the room with what seems to be an amused smirk as if you’re supposed to understand this implied sort of inside joke. “Wasn’t very soothing. Probably gonna find someone else in the time being, you know, hopefully with a… nicer therapy animal. Preferably one that doesn’t repeat everything that I say.” You nod slowly, taking another sip while he clears his throat. “And you? How’s your project coming along, dear?”
You snort. “Haven’t even drawn a single thing.” Your shoulders deflate as you sigh dramatically. “Due in a week, not a single idea in mind, canvas still as empty as ever.”
“You’d think it would be easy to find a model. Plenty of nudists in London.”
“Yeah, well, none of them want to be painted.”
“Then they must be intimidated.”
A tiny clink fills the air when you set the cup of tea onto the table behind you, arms crossing over your chest as you tuck your hands by your hips. The flat feels chilly beneath the illumination of the kitchen lamp. Steven feels too far away. But at the same time, he’s here. Here, in the tiny room, by the stove, dark circles beneath his lower lashes like he hasn’t slept in years, muscles straining against his jacket.
“And why would they be intimidated?”
If Khonshu could swallow him whole, this would be the perfect time for it. If Marc wanted to take the body, he’d let him. But the alters stay out of it, and for once, Steven longs for their interference. He can’t escape the way you stare at him, innocently chewing on your bottom lip as you await his response patiently. You don’t prod, just let time pass. Steven doesn’t know which is worse. The fridge rumbles. The shower next door shuts off. The cars outside whizz by. The moon peeks out from the blinds. There’s a wailing siren in the distance, but nothing is louder than the heartbeat drumming against your chest as Steven swipes a wet thumb over his mouth and gazes out the cracked window above your sink.
“Because — well, you’re a talented painter. You’re good, good at what you do and you — you’re intentional.” He locks eyes with you in the midst of his ramblings. “You’re purposeful in how you study people, how you look at them, memorizing every flaw and every detail between. You capture beauty, um, that — that I can’t even see and I don’t know how…” He lets out a nervous laugh, jaw clenching under the weight of gritted teeth. “I don’t know how anyone can just sit there and watch you paint without melting on the spot.”
Keep going.
“Steven…”
“You intimidate because you’re beautiful. And beauty makes people nervous, Y/N.” He clasps a hand over his heart, not because the words strike him deeply, but to stop himself from reaching out to touch you.
You collect your weight from the table, using your heel to slowly push yourself towards Steven and stand in front of him. You curiously toe at his white sock with your own, avoiding his gaze as you uncross your arms from your chest and entangle them behind your back with a frown.
“Do I intimidate you?”
Khonshu isn’t even in the kitchen anymore, and Marc is speechless. He can’t even watch.
At first, Steven’s voice comes out as small. And had you not been watching the parting of his lips, it easily could’ve been mistaken as the wind knocking against the walls. “Yes.”
“Is it because you think I’m pretty?”
“I think you’re more than that.”
“Honestly, I don’t think I am.”
Steven chuckles, shaking his head. His pupils are heavily dilated, darker than normal. “Trust me, you are.”
“Prove it.” You pick a stray thread off of his shirt, goosebumps erupting across his soft skin as your cold fingertips leave him. His eyes follow the motion before they flicker back to your face. “Sit on that sofa and let me paint you.” Steven can’t pinpoint the emotions behind your words. Close to playful. Far from joking. He doesn’t know if you’re being serious, but you’re grasping at paintbrushes with a glowing smile and quickly tying an apron around your waist that leaves him blushing shamelessly.
“You do not want to paint me.” He awkwardly huffs out, raising his hands at you before you’re pouting at him. “Y/N, it would just be a waste of canvas.”
“And why would I not wanna paint you?”
You pull your hair up into a ponytail, ignoring how Steven’s gaze trails up your exposed arms and the curve of your shoulders. You inhale deeply, and just from the way your throat flexes in the shadows, Steven suddenly brings himself to sit on the mass of pillows atop of the velvet couch. He watches you drag an easel out from your closet, placing it right by the footrest and the swiveling stool across from him. There’s a cart filled with discarded jars of scotch, tubes of different paint mediums and a wooden palette marked with an array of clashing colors beside you, an attest to the acrylic staining the Persian rug beneath your feet.
“Because I’m just me. Just Steven.”
Your eyes pop out from over the canvas.
“Well, I think ‘just Steven’ is perfect.”
He winces, lines creasing together on his forehead. “So what do I do now? Just — just pose, or…” He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, teeth making indents on his bottom lip. “Do I smile? What do — what do your models usually do?”
“Well, most of the time, they’re usually half-naked and tend to be as still as a statue.”
“Oh.”
You peer back at him again, gaze full of sincerity and concern as he self-consciously situates his position on the couch. “But you don’t need to follow the naked part. Just the latter, okay?”
“Alrighty then.”
He can feel the warmth of your smile radiating even from six feet away. “Relax your jaw. Don’t look so scared, the more natural the better.”
His pupils dart around the room, taking in your flat as if it’s the first time he’s been here. He can’t look at you. He can’t. Not when you’re concentrating on him like that, scouring the details of his features, the lines and moles that mark his face, the exhaustion, surveying the slump of his spine like that was meant to be beautiful to you.
Would you capture all his flaws and blemishes then turn them into compliments?
“I told you I’m intimidated.” Steven quips, squaring his shoulders when he sees your paintbrush take the first glide across the blank canvas.
“And I told you that there’s nothing to be intimidated about.”
“You know, I quite hate it when you get down on yourself like that.” He glares at you with a heavy shrug. Even when he’s clearly upset at you, Steven has a certain calmness to him.
He’s the striking resemblance of lightning without the explosiveness of thunder.
You don’t say anything, just swirl a mixture of colors onto the battered palette as you return back to the painting. He can see your tongue prodding against the inside of your cheek, rumination coating your mind in the same manner that hues of beige, black and pink coat his portrait. Steven lets the silence talk. He lets you bask in the quiescence for the sake of your art, for the sake of peace and his embarrassing desire to get this over with. But at the same time, he doesn’t want this to end.
Sure, he hates the fleeting eye contact. But come tomorrow, you won’t be staring at him like this — won’t smile at him with such tenderness and intention, won’t let your gaze wander for longer than a best friend would. Come tomorrow, you’ll have breakfast together while an ABBA record echoes from the living room, then you’re driving him to work with morning road rage and leaving for a nine a.m. lecture as if domesticity didn’t have an effect on you like it did on Steven.
There, you won’t study him like he’s the most interesting creature on the planet. But come tomorrow, he’ll continue to read you like you’re the rarest text of Egyptian lore.
“You intimidate me too, you know.”
Could you hear the cogs in his brain? Was this an answer to all of his speculations? Curiously, Steven turns his feet towards you. His ears perk up, full brows raising at your unanticipated statement. “What?”
“Yeah.” You sigh out tiredly.
“Now why would I do that?”
This time, your face is completely blocked by the easel. You make it purposeful so he can’t discern your expression, even as the brush moves in slow and heavy strokes against the canvas.
“I suppose for the same reason you find me intimidating.“
The sound of wet paint dabs onto the surface and drowns out your shallow breaths in the midst of Steven’s surprise.
“You find me… pretty?”
The scoff at the end of his question makes you cringe. Maybe you’ve said too much. Maybe you’ve stepped a line, or maybe he thinks this is all too odd.
Your lips flutter upwards solemnly as you repeat his exact words from earlier.
“I think you’re more than that.”
His heart could absolutely burst from his chest right now. He’s helplessly pinching at the bridge of his nose, unsure where to put his hands and why his hair suddenly feels so flat against his head. The couch beneath him is stiff, uncomfortable against his arse as he realizes that he’s been sitting in the same spot for too long. And now, Khonshu is simply leaning over your shoulder to look at the easel, thrumming with critique and amusement as the God towers over your hunched frame on the stool.
“Damn it.” Steven groans, placing a fist over his chest as he fidgets erratically. His eyes narrow, lips pursing together as he tries to blink back the chaos in his mind and fights off the urge to hand the reins to Marc. “God, I think I’m having a panic attack right now.”
“What?” You immediately place your brush down, peeking around the side of the canvas as Steven tries to even out his breathing. The stool nearly clatters to the floor when you stand and take long strides to his aid with wide eyes. “Do you need some air? I can — I can open a window, or — water? Water would be good?” He nods feverishly, tearing his gaze away from you and directing it to the stained carpet. You rush over to the sink, flicking on the tap and clumsily filling up a mug that Steven had given you from the gift shop. “Okay. Here, here.”
The dinosaur pun on the front isn’t so funny anymore when water sloshes over the rim as you hand it to him. He takes loud gulps as you cup your hand below his chin and catch the excess from the corners of his mouth.
“Thank you.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to — are you okay? What happened back there?”
You called me pretty, he wants to say. You don’t think I’m awful-looking, he wants to say. You think that I’m worth a second glance and worth all those lingering stares that I thought were parts of my imagination, he wants to say.
But instead, he saves those remarks for another time, and settles on one that seems fitting for the moment.
“I got intimidated.”
And you laugh. It’s brief and small, yet large enough to mend the brokenness of Steven’s haywiring brain when you set his mug down on the footrest and look down at him from where he sits awkwardly on your couch. The overhead light creates an unconventional halo behind your crown of hair, your shadow embracing the sunken essence of Steven’s face as he quietly admires you.
You send him a lopsided smile, dimples creating crescent moons around your lips and the bulb of your nose as anxious fingers twitch at your sides. “I’m no Venus.”
“Goddess or planet?”
He draws another chuckle out of you.
“Goddess, I think.”
“Well, Y/N, gods and goddesses are fairly overrated anyways.”
You bite your lip. “And if I’m a planet, then what does that make you?”
Steven lets his stare drop from your face, curls dropping against the shine of his forehead as he dusts away the lint on his pants. You study his distracted form, leg brushing against his bent knees as your stance hovers over him. He sighs shakily at the sensation, but then your fingers shift to wrap around the roughened hands that are interlocked together in his lap, thumbs hesitantly ghosting over his knuckles with a shyness he’s never seen on you.
The notion causes him to ever-so-slightly lift his head. Those big, brown eyes meet yours in the humming of your living room, and the hand that’s wrapped around his own slowly travels up to the underside of his jaw. You can feel his muscles move beneath your gentle touch when his warm cheek leans into your palm, staining his skin with paint.
“Must make me the idiot who sits in the observatory all day, all night, watching in awe through a telescope.” He closes his eyes when your fingers trace his skin, shifting higher and higher until you languidly card your nails through his dark curls. His head tilts back submissively with the soft action, nose pointing up at you as bliss falls upon his features. “Sounds a bit creepy now that I say it out loud.”
“You know people say that Venus is hellish, right?”
His eyelids flutter open, long lashes tickling you. “You’re pretty hellish to me.”
“I’m offended.”
“Don’t be.” He whispers, resting his hand against your outer thigh.
Both of your heads follow the motion, as if his body had betrayed what he was trying so hard not to do — touch you, feel your heat against his, let his touch wander where his mind shouldn’t. But he can’t rewind time, and he certainly can’t stop how his palm stretches over your upper leg until it rests upon your hip.
“Steven…” You stroke his cheek with amorous yearning, smudging the space underneath his eye with a shade of pastel pink.
“Don’t — don’t say my name like that, love. Please, don’t.” Air escapes from his nostrils, his words fall from his lips in a longing tone laced with subtle desperation. But nothing is subtle anymore. Not with how he looks up at you like you’re the brightest star in the universe, staring at you like how you stare at famous masterpieces in a museum or even the works of art that never get noticed, but when they are, everything just makes sense. “You say it like…”
Now this all makes sense.
“Say it like what?”
“As if it’s more than my — more than just a bloody name.” Steven’s eyebrows furrow deeply, yet somehow he looks softer.
“More than just Steven with a V?” He laughs at that, a deep rumble that vibrates through his belly and throat as his eyes never leave yours. “Hey, I like saying your name.”
Your fingers against his bottom lip bring him back to this painless reality, and the tension isn’t so unbearable when you stain his sun-kissed skin blue in the dull light above the sofa.
“No… not that.” Both of your hands cup his cheeks, ears tucked into the spaces between your curling digits as you caress his chin with your thumbs. Your pupils lull him into hypnosis, and he finds himself unable to stop gazing at the constellations in your irises. “You say it as if you like me.”
Fucking hell, Steven.
His hands tighten around your hips, anchoring you.
“I do like you.”
“No, like — like more…”
“More than a friend?”
“Yeah.” His blinks grow rapidly while his face contorts into something of shock and perplexity, teeth on display as he shoots you a panicked look. “Do you?”
“Do I? Steven, I’ve…” An exhausted chuckle racks through you.
A pathetic noise of protest bubbles out of him when your palms leave his jaw. The cold isn’t so welcoming, and neither is the rest of your flat when you turn your back on him to tousle your hair with pent-up frustration. Meanwhile, Khonshu lingers in the hallways and curiously sorts through your vintage records. Marc wants nothing to do with this and resorts to plugging his ears.
Steven, here and now, is alone — alone with you and a giant, undeniable problem with the word ‘FEELINGS’ stamped right on top of it. He’s been decent about how to deal with emotions. He knows where his heart is, what makes his brain light up and what grows butterflies in his stomach. And even when you pace the room in worrisome, dizzying circles, all of the above outweighs the anxiety that shelters his bones.
“Y/N, dear, will you please sit down?” You don’t listen. He allows you two more laps around the couch and footrest until he beckons to you again. “Y/N.” Another two, then Steven himself is trailing behind your haste steps. “Y/N, what is the matter with you?” He takes the liberty of grabbing your wrist, pulling you back before you can escape once again. He squeezes your arm. Once, twice, till he understands that you’re fully listening. “Stop it, you.”
Normally, he’s the one running. But something about the way you look at him makes him want to stay, something about how your lips part and how you roll your bottom lip between your teeth then let it bounce back to its natural position makes him all hazy-eyed and helpless when your own eyes flicker to his mouth. You don’t know where to look, yet you strive to take in every single detail of him because you’ve never stood this close to one another.
You’re breathless, while his chest rises and falls steadily. You’re stepping on Steven’s toes, but he doesn’t mind. The hand around your wrist travels up your elbow, keeping you anchored when his other one does the same to your opposite arm. “Stop.” He whispers, warm breath fanning over your face as he shakes his head at you.
“You stop.” Your eyes gravitate to his mouth again, plump lips pouting with temptation as you subconsciously take a step closer towards each other.
Does he want this as much as you do?
His knuckles run along your cheek and your droopy eyelids grow heavy at the tender feeling. Steven’s fingers find that annoying wisp of hair from earlier, and he takes it upon himself to tuck it behind your ear. You try to stifle a moan when his nails card along your scalp, mirroring your gesture from before. But a whimper eases its way out of you, followed by a shaky sigh when your voice denounces you. His movement stills for a moment, but then both of his hands are cupping your face and his forehead is pressing against yours in a manner that is so indescribably intimate, you can’t even believe it’s real.
“You’re so pretty.”
There’s that desperate whisper again.
Your mouth reaches for his. You can feel him holding you by the back of your neck, lips unmoving and lacking confidence against yours. It’s a short kiss, nothing too heated, but when you try to pull away through mumbling apologies, he can’t help but grab you by the chin and bring you back to him for seconds.
You gasp into his mouth, the button of his nose resting against your cheek when you regain your self-control and hold onto his shoulders for leverage. “I’m sorry.” You blurt out.
“No, no,” He kisses you again, pupils wide and hands grasping at your belly when realization washes over. “Forgive me, I don’t — I didn’t mean to—“
“You didn’t mean to kiss me?” You smirk. The teasing grin is immediately wiped off of your features when Steven pulls you closer and tighter, almost as if you’d slip away from him anytime soon. “Are you going to do it again?”
“I think I want to, unless you don’t want me to, Y/N.”
“Of course I want you to. I want you, Steven.”
He chuckles in disbelief. “You do?”
“Well, I kissed you back, didn’t I?”
He gets lost in your eyes for the millionth time tonight. His accent draws out thick and frustrated when he finds the courage to pull your lips back onto his.
“Oh, fuck it.”
You moan instantly when his fingers undo your ponytail and tangle through your hair, flawed palms grabbing at each other’s clothing like you hadn’t felt the touch of someone else in ages — like you hadn’t felt Steven touch you in a fashion that is so sexual, so passionate and needy as if he’s been needing you all his life.
You kiss down his jaw, reveling in the soft sighing that he casts against your ear when you near his throat. He pinches himself when your mouth latches onto that sweet spot by his shoulder. It’s real. You’re real, with your hot tongue against his neck, with your chapstick molding him into shea butter and beeswax, with your paint-stained fingers dancing across the hem of his jacket like a tease. It’s real when his arms wrap around your frame, and your back immediately arches in response to his embrace while he ponders the skin beneath your shirt.
“You can touch me.” You whisper against his mouth with swollen lips and nudging noses. He sighs at the consensual phrase, coffee-colored eyes never once leaving the comfort of yours. “S’okay, Steven.”
“Are — are you sure?”
“I am.”
The couch creaks beneath him when he reaches over and gingerly holds you by the jaw, thumbing at your earlobe with hopeless adoration. It feels like two teenagers kissing each other for the first time. Awkward tangled limbs. Noses accidentally bumping and twitchy eyelashes poking at sensitive flesh. But it feels so natural, especially when your body reacts to Steven’s affections as if it has always known him.
He kisses you. A lot.
And he kisses you some more until you’re practically sliding off the couch and resorting to becoming labyrinths of desperation on your rug.
Your shirt rides up as Steven drags a large palm over your ribs, tracing the bone beneath your titillating skin. His head rests on your stomach, lips pecking the area around your belly button and down your hip bone until you’re eager for his mouth again. “You’re unreal, Y/N.” He groans in pleasure when you tug on his hair, smiling when you roll on top of him and straddle his lap. “Two years of my life I’ve spent pining after you.”
You giggle, “Try three. I win, yeah?”
“Oh, so now it’s a competition?”
“I’m just saying maybe you’ve been Venus all along.”
He smirks playfully, shrugging from where he lays on the floor. “I think we both know I prefer ancient Egypt over ancient Rome.”
“Planet.” You breathe out, fighting off the urge to close your eyes when his hands finally make contact with your lower back. “The planet, not the goddess.”
Steven’s arm extends upwards, pushing your hair away from your face when you look down at him with a dreamy gaze.
“Goddamnit, you’re so pretty.” You sigh in content at the praise. “My Venus.”
The pet name nearly makes you melt.
No artist in the world could replicate the masterpiece of your skin against his. No artist could etch every detail of you and depict it in a manner so accurate or perfect — every mole, scar, freckle and fold as if you were carved from Venus’ hip at birth. No painting could hold the same beauty of Steven nervously taking your shirt off, unable to capture the quiet chuckles when your head gets caught in the fabric. Venus’ figure can’t compare to Steven’s tawny chest, faint abs rippling under your nails and lips as you kiss your way up to his pecs.
Surrounded by pools of each other’s clothes, your burning bodies lay beside one another as sensual messes on the floor, rutting against each other gently and needily as Steven hikes your leg over his hip. You grind your mound against his crotch, gasping into his mouth when he holds you there.
“You’re so fucking sexy.” He remarks, gripping onto your waist before he suddenly looks to you for guidance. “I-I really… fuck, I really do want you.”
His touch is featherweight, flightless but not even close to fleeting when he takes the time to voyage the muscled wings of your back.
“In what way?”
He exhales shakily, wetting his lips. “All of them.” You tuck your head under his chin after pressing a brief kiss to his temple. His voice rumbles against your body. The richness of his accent drops to a deeper octave when you reply in a high-pitched moan, hips grinding onto his front when his fingers find the waistband of your underwear. “Teach me how to take care of you, love.”
“Touch me. Just touch me like you won’t ever stop.” Steven studies the desperation in your glassy eyes and nods softly, stroking his finger on either side of your cheek. Yet, past the swirls of loving lust in his expression, you recognize that something’s bothering him. “Hey, you okay?”
“Yeah,” He says almost too quickly. “Yeah, I am. Are you? I just, um…” He laughs sheepishly, stroking the side of your head. “I’ve never done this before.”
“You haven’t?”
“I never… got to that point, really, with anyone.”
“Well, if it makes you feel better,” You shift closer to him, resting your forehead against his as you look at him through your lashes, “I’ve never had someone inside me.” And Steven moans. Loud, deep, desperate. You would’ve clenched your thighs together had Steven not hoisted your leg higher over his hip. “I’ve done stuff, but… never been fucked. Never been…” You sigh blissfully when his fingers trace the curve of your buttock. “… properly filled up by anyone.”
“You’re going to k-kill me, love.” He glances down at your clothed core, fingers begging to reach for you.
“I’m sorry, I know. I know.” You kiss him, earning a needy groan from the man. “Go on then, touch me, baby.”
“Tell me if I’m doing it wrong. Tell me if it’s not what you want.”
Agonizingly slow, his digits dip down the waistband of your panties, cotton rubbing against the back of his hand as he curls his fingertips towards your cunt. The gentle notion makes you gasp once more, especially when he spreads your folds apart to expose the hood of your clit. His middle finger circles leisurely over the sensitive nub with feathery touches.
“Steven, fuck… yeah, that’s it.”
His voice hitches in his throat as he gauges your reaction. “Oh, love, you’re — oh, you’re just dripping, aren’t you?” You guide his hand further, the pads of his fingers dragging your slick against your wet entrance. “Y/N, you gorgeous, gorgeous thing.”
“Feels good.” You scratch at his shoulders shamelessly, rocking on the heel of his hand for more friction. Your eagerness spurs Steven further and so he increases the pressure, skimming his fingers over your folds and pressing ever-so-tantalizingly near your hole before he returns back to your clit. “Tease.”
“I don’t even know what I’m doing and you’re calling me a tease?” He smirks proudly, repeating the gesture until he’s drawing a moan out of you each time. The outline of his dick protrudes against his boxers, and only then does he realize how hard he is for you. “It’s good, yeah?”
You’ve never seen him so smug.
Yet you like it, and you can’t fucking help but want more of it.
“Shit, yeah. Yeah, it’s — it’s… oh, Steven.”
Your sentence is interrupted midway when he pushes his finger inside you, slow and deep enough to rip a whine right out of your throat from the stretching sensation. He inhales loudly, eyes fixating on your mouth when you hopelessly sigh against his neck. You shift your knee higher up his leg, giving him more access to finger you. He hums at your facial expressions, mirroring them when you suckle dark marks just beneath his jaw.
It brings an innocent smile to his face thinking how he’ll have to show up to work tomorrow with remnants of you all over him.
Steven mouths at your shoulder, leaving glistening patches of saliva in the wake of his fumbling kisses. You rock against the heel of his palm, mewling as he drags his fingers against your walls and he muffles his own pleasure against your skin.
“You’re so perfect.” He groans, fucking his digits in and out of you. The noises that leave your cunt and his throat are sinful, but nothing beats the image of you resting your head on his arm, his hand cupping your mound while he fingers you on the floor impatiently. “Fuck, Y/N. You’re making quite the mess, aren’t you, dovey? God, your moans are so fucking sweet to listen to.”
“Steven, your fingers...” You watch his wrist snap against you, juices squelching around him. You nearly sob from the intensity. “You get me so wet.”
“That’s good, Y/N. That’s good. I love pleasing you, you know that.” You clamp down onto the crook of his neck, teeth stifling your wrecked moans as he curls his middle and ring finger against that spongy spot inside you. His touch is generous, obviously eager to satisfy you, and accompanied by his weathered hands, you can feel your orgasm approaching soon. “Can I tell you something?”
Your voice comes out broken, mind fuzzy as your cunt tightens around him. “What?”
“Those… those two years, I…” He moans in tandem with you when you nibble at his bottom lip. “I, fuck, it wasn’t just pining, Y/N.”
“I have n-no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I think I — I think I’m in love with you. And not just because I’m…“ He laughs. “… inside you right now, but I think I’ve been in love with you from the moment you spoke to me and — and fuck, being able to hold you like this only confirms it.”
And just like that, you come undone all over his thick fingers.
“Oh, fuck! S-Steven!”
You cry out into his chest, bite marks tattering his skin as you hold him tight and gracelessly grind against him until you lose control over your climax. Your body shivers from your orgasm, gradually and slowly, which usually never happens from anyone else’s hands other than your own. Steven’s confession hangs heavily in the air even as he coaxes you through your high, fingers scissoring carefully in and out of you.
Soft praises leave him in whispers, and he shares his affection for you with gentle pecks to your temples.
A couple minutes pass by until you’re able to catch your breath, or at least, compose yourself.
“Was I imagining that or did you just say you love me?” You look up at him with big eyes, voice hushed and fearful as he wipes the sweat away from your brow with his thumb.
He gulps, lashes fluttering dreamily when you cup his cheek with a shaky hand. “S’real.”
“Tell me again.”
“I love you.”
“More than best friends?”
Steven adores the childish glimmer of curiosity in your innocent gaze. He chuckles quietly, nodding. “Best friends included and more.”
“I love you, best friends and more.” You rub your nose against his before your stare drifts to his swollen lips. “But the next time you confess shit like that, don’t do it when you’re fingering me.”
He flashes you a weak smile. “Alrighty, miss.”
Although, Steven is unprepared for when you untangle yourself from his arms and settle between his thighs, nails raking over his muscled calves and mouth grazing over the bulging front of his boxers.
Your next words simultaneously fill and take the air from his lungs.
“Do it when you have your cock inside me.”
Marc nearly takes control of the body himself at that exact moment, and Steven immediately thinks he’s going to pass out when you tug his boxers down his hips to free his aching prick. His reddened tip is already leaking with pre-cum, thighs jolting beneath your slow and open-mouthed kisses to his skin.
“You really are hellish.” He whines when you wrap your middle and ring finger along the middle of his cock, lips suctioning around the base. A long moan drawls from his throat as he rests his head back against the rug, eyes screwing shut when you run your warm tongue along a prominent vein.
“Am not.” You chuckle, pressing a chaste kiss to the head.
He stifles a groan, forearm coming up to cover his eyes as you take just the tip of him into your mouth. “Oh, my god, Y/N. F-Fuck, yes.” You hum in amusement, the back of your throat sending the vibrations right to his cock. “That’s good. Really fucking good. Oh, fuck.”
You grin widely, but remain careful not to use any teeth on him. “You’re very needy, you know that? But, oh, you’re just doing so well for me, aren’t you?”
The mocking tone of your phrases make him squirm. He’s gripping onto a fistful of the Persian rug, wrinkling it with scarred knuckles.
“Please.”
“Please?”
“More. Touch me more.” He shakes his head at you, chin pressing against his chest as he stares down at you with a defeated expression. “Please, love.”
You’d be lying if you say that the way he looks at you doesn’t make you wet. You’re practically a puddle of desire, and Steven is melting jelly in your hands when your head quickly bobs down his thick length.
He’s sputtering out a string of swear words, cursing more than you’ve ever heard him in your years of friendship. You can tell he’s trying his best not to cum prematurely, not that you’d care anyways, but with how his soft stomach ripples and flexes with each deliberate swirl of your textured tongue, you know he’s struggling.
And just when you’re about to give him that moment of release, you feel Steven pulling you back by the hair. Disappointment flashes over his features briefly when your mouth leaves him, but the boyish longing on his face quickly shifts into attentiveness when he catches a glimpse of the confused glint in your eyes.
“Everything alright?” Your hands find his face once more. It becomes so natural in this new, sudden dynamic together — touching him, feeling him against you like you’ve always wanted. “Was it too much?”
“No, no, it was amazing.” He assures you, fingers pushing back the matted hair on your cheeks. “You’re amazing. I just don’t — I don’t wanna finish and leave you unsatisfied.”
“You could never leave me unsatisfied, silly.” You bite your lip feverishly, thumb stroking his chin for comfort.
He smiles. The tension of the conversation seems far from innocent now, especially when a near-indiscernible side of Steven appears as the words leave him confidently:
“I want to be your first, though. The first man inside you.”
“Steven…”
“Only if you want, Y/N. Whatever you say goes, no matter what.” His hands grab yours, sweat sticking to each other’s skin. “It would be nice to have you be my first. And me as yours. I mean, it sounds so juvenile to want no one except you, but it’s the truth.” He lazily kisses across your knuckles, paving his way around the tendons with his lips. “I want to have sex with you, and I want to remember it.”
“Is he here right now?” Steven freezes and his jaw goes slack at the question. He can tell you’re nothing but concerned once your eyebrows knit together deeply. “Is Marc here?”
It’s the first time you’ve asked about Marc Spector without Steven bringing him up on his own account.
“Why? Did you want — do you want him instead?”
“No! No, I don’t. Not for this.” You smile with brief panic, tracing the bridge of Steven’s nose to put his worries to rest. His frown gradually fades with the soothing motion. “I just want to make sure it’s you. Everything we do here, I want it to be with you.” You ruffle his hair teasingly once he sits up. “No offense to Marc, by the way.”
Steven chuckles, “I’ll give him your regards.”
“Well, he has yet to talk to me.” You shrug casually, grabbing onto his biceps as he pulls you onto his lap.
“He’s just shy.” He grins against your lips. His palm travels up the swell of your breast until he’s softly kneading the ball of flesh and rolling your nipple between his fingers.
Your breathing quickens, eyes fixating on his hardened erection. “Shyer than you?”
“Oh, incredibly.” Steven jokes, shaking his head.
He can just imagine Marc’s downturned expression of disbelief.
“Tell him…” You nip at his earlobe, moaning against his cheek. “… that I’m already spoken for.”
“Are you now?” He’s abrupty cut off by his own gasp when your arm reaches behind and you wrap a fist around his dick, pumping him slowly in your firm grasp. “Rude. I was talking.”
“Were you? I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you.”
She thinks she’s so funny, doesn’t she?
“Stop a-apologizing and…” He hisses when you twist your hand, grazing the pad of your finger over his slit. “F-Fuck, Y/N.”
“There we go…” You grind against his tip, pre-cum smearing across your folds. “What do you want?”
“Want you to use me, darling. However you’d like.”
“So eager for me, Steven.” You breathe into his mouth, noses nudging against each other as you line his cock up with your entrance. “You haven’t even fucked me and yet you’re practically begging for more.”
“God, you talk so filthy for someone with such a gorgeous face, yeah?”
“I guess I truly am hellish.”
And yet nothing about this feels like hell.
Especially once you sink down onto his length, the heavy tip of his cock ready to stretch you out. It’s only slightly painful — a brief sting, the awkward shifting of bones so that Steven can sit back and have your thighs on either side of him, the echoing of your quiet whimpers beneath the soft light as you take every inch of him into your core. Your slick spreads onto his thighs and balls, wetness coating his digit as he instantly reaches for your clit like its become second nature.
“You — you’re really tight.” He groans, looking down at where your cunt swallows him whole.
You laugh wryly, whimpering when his hips subconsciously rut into you. “And you’re really big.”
Steven tilts his head back and looks up at you with a hazy smile, raising your chin with his thumb and pointer finger. For a split second, you think it’s Marc — the darkness in his eyes, the sudden dominance dripping from his tone, but it’s a big mistake on your part to second-guess him once he finally thrusts into you.
“Say it again, love.”
It’s completely Steven — his wandering hands, grasping and grabbing at flesh, grounding you, feeling every crevice and fold of your body like it’s a sanctuary that he’s been dying to enter.
“You’re so big.” Your mouth gapes, eyes widening when you submit to his touch and let him take you. “Oh, fuck. Steven, please.”
“Yeah?” He grunts gruffly into your neck, teeth marking the virginal expanse of your throat. “You like it this way? My lovely Y/N enjoys getting fucked on the floor of her own flat?”
“I love it.” You meet his strokes halfway, tits bouncing in his face as he leans forward on his knees and wraps your legs behind his back. “Oh, s-shit. Mmm, right there — right there feels so — so good, Steven. Fuck!”
Steven bites down onto your shoulder when he lays you down onto the rug, cock burying itself deeper inside your cunt while he puts his weight on top of your body. His whiny moans are muffled, gasps and slaps filling the ambience of the messy living room. You’re sure that the neighbors below your studio can feel every force of Steven’s hips pounding into you — hard, slow and full.
You scratch down his spine, red marks drawing angry lines across his tanned muscles. Juices are running down your inner thighs and cream coats his cock as he fucks you needily. While his skin is stained with paint, your skin is littered with his stinging handprints. He spreads his palms over your ass, carefully maneuvering you up and down his length as you sob into his chest.
“Oh, Y/N, you’re everything I could’ve dreamed of.” Steven pants out incoherently, nipping at your jawline. “This pretty cunt… jus’ wrapped ‘round me. I could get used to this, you know that?”
Your throat feels raw from your mewling, the exhausted and desperate need to cum written all over your features. “You can have me anyday and anytime. I want you to…” You swallow roughly. “… fill me up, Steven. Take me whenever.” Your tone grows hushed, breathy whispers ghosting over the shell of his ear. “I wanna see how drunk you can get off of my pussy.”
“Holy f-fuck.”
You laugh together, even during the heated moment. “You love it when I talk dirty, don’t you?”
“I just love you. Anything you say, anything you do, it just absolutely riles me up.” His hand finds the nape of your neck, pulling you to him till your foreheads are touching and your naked bodies beg even harder for release. “God, dovey. You’re a perfect work of art.
“Mmm, I-I’m close.” You gasp out, nails digging into his shoulder blades when his cock begins to hit that unforgivable spot inside you.
Steven takes a moment to pull out of you, running himself against your folds until he dives right back in. His tip prods and prods at your walls, your wetness leaving his prick damp with each deep stroke.
“Fuck, Y/N. S’good, I can’t — oh, hell, I can’t think anymore.” He whines, arms resting on either side of your head as he pounds into you.
“Stevie.”
He shushes you tenderly, thumb sliding across the corners of your eyes to wipe away the brimming tears. “I know, darling. I know. I’ll get you there, promise.” His breath fans out across your lips, and you take advantage of your proximity to reel him in for another drowning kiss.
His thrusts grow sloppy, hips losing their graceful rhythm as he continues to snap into you. He beckons your name like it’s a song on loop, while your tiny whimpers turn into loud wanton groans of lust. He pulls you back into an embrace and sits up again, hooking his arms under your knees so that they’re bent and your ass hovers over his lap.
The position leaves you vulnerable when you hold onto his torso for dear life, fluids making a mess between your bodies.
“I love you.” You croak out, opening your eyes to gaze into Steven’s dilated pupils. “Best friends and more.”
“And I love you.” You moan in tandem, feeling yourselves near your orgasm. “My sweet, perfect Venus.”
You clench around his hard cock, cumming intensely on his length as he cries against your neck. His hands are everywhere, but all you can focus on is the way your cunt contracts around him, tugging and milking him till he discovers his own high. This time, Steven doesn’t shy away from moaning and allows himself those deserved minutes of relief as you ride out your orgasms together.
“Oh, my god.”
Momentarily, neither you or Steven move from the rug. He keeps you on his cock, too scared to face the emptiness that’ll come once you leave him. But it seems that you share the same sentiment, sighing against his bicep as you draw circles on the back of his hand.
He decides to break the comfortable silence.
“I do okay?”
Steven can feel your smile form against his skin, eyes sleepy and droopy from where your head lays. “You did so good.”
“You wanna get cleaned up?”
“Please.”
With ease, Steven helps you off of him, already missing the comfort and warmth of your core as you both shakily rise to your feet. For a split second, it’s awkward — your palms shift to cup your naked breasts, while his limbs fumble to fetch you a quilt from the couch till he realizes his own indecency.
But then you share another bubbly laugh and offer the other half of your quilt to Steven, who doesn’t hesitate to cozy up beside you and have you lead one another to the bathroom. You take him under your clothed wing, ankles bumping together clumsily as he finds the light by the sink and quietly flicks it on.
He unravels himself from the quilt first and sits by the edge of your bathtub while he waits for the water to heat up. You watch him lovingly from the doorframe, tired and hair matted, but nevertheless, Steven thinks you look ravishing.
“Come on now.” The Londoner makes grabby hands towards you, taking the blanket from your hickey-covered frame and folding it neatly by the bathroom counter.
You sit with him in the tub — back to his chest, his back to the tile, your hands interwoven amongst the soapy suds and lavender, chamomile-scented bubbles.
A soft sigh. A gentle kiss to the top of your head. An adoring chuckle as your lover brushes his nose against your ear and tells you stories of how the sun loved the moon.
Like clockwork.
Steven is everywhere. On your lips, the scent that wafts through your closet, your bedsheets and the Persian rug in your living room, in how you make your tea, in what mug you drink water out of, what songs you play to start your morning.
But most of all, he lingers in the unfinished painting on your easel. Jaw sharp and nose prominent, eyes youthful yet wise, lips pillowy and inviting.
He is in the shades of brown, pastel pinks and the added hue of orange from how his marked skin glistens in candlelight.
He is your Venus.
Not the goddess, but the planet.
Either way, neither of them are able to truly equate your love for him.
#steven grant#steven grant x reader#steven grant x you#steven grant smut#steven grant fluff#steven grant fic#steven grant fanfic#steven grant fanfiction#steven grant imagine#moon knight x reader#moon knight x you#moon knight fic#moon knight fanfic#moon knight fanfiction#marc spector x you#marc spector x reader#marc spector fic#marc spector fanfic#marc spector smut#moon knight smut#moon knight#marc spector#marvel fic#mcu#oscar isaac
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“you have a daughter?” with single dad! marc pls🥺🥺
Pairing: Marc Spector x f!Reader
Word Count: 2k (we're off to a strong start lol)
A/N: Just opened up my askbox for some requests!
Warnings: fluffy, a little angsty, marc is a bit of a nervous mess bless him
Marc, she’s come to find out, was the guy to take it slow.
He took his time with her, bought her flowers and pretty necklaces with jewelled pendants that he gave her when he took her out to dinner.
She’s never been charmed the way Marc has managed to charm her.
He walks her to her door after taking her out, kisses her cheek and then asks if she’d like it if he kissed her on her mouth.
The stories her grandmother told her of the dashing, charming men that wooed her off her feet when she was young finally start to ring true to her ears.
She feels that maybe, after years of looking, she’s managed to find a real treasure worth holding on to.
She feels that maybe all those ruined dates and talking phases and endless swipes on the dating apps were worth it, if it meant that one day Marc would stumble into her life like he always belonged there. She’d do it all over again, ten times over, to get to Marc.
Marc, she’s come to find out, is worth close to anything she’s able to give, and he always asks so little from her in return for all he does, as if she was worth all that he gives her and more.
He’s flurrying about his kitchen now, having banished her to the living room with a glass of wine and a quasi-demand to make herself at home, despite her insistence on helping. Dinner would be ready in just a couple of minutes, he said. He’d already set the table.
Marc, she’s come to find out, was the guy who liked having things done his way. Found it easier to take on the load himself than to let others help.
It’s the first time he’s invited her over to his place. The first time that he asked her to have a date night in, with soothing music and soft lights, just the two of them together.
Marc, she’s come to find out, was an utter, sappy romantic at heart.
She wonders if tonight will be the night he’ll take her to his bed, she wonders what the brown of his eyes will look like shrouded in desire and lust.
Her cheek is still tingling from where he’d kissed her, the small of her back warm from the heat of his palm. His cologne lingers in the air. There’s an anticipatory ache in her thighs and she tries to distract herself from it.
Her eyes are wandering, not looking for anything specific except for him, but because she’s scared that would be too weird, she looks out the window. She’s soaking in the view of the London skyline, dingy and dark from the near consistent rain they’ve had all week.
In Marc’s place, she barely feels a shred of the cold seep into her bones. There are only warm, yellow lights on, nothing too direct. She might as well be looking at a hyperrealistic painting.
She goes to set her glass down when her eyes fall on the picture frames, hung up beside the window. The wood is stained a deep brown that reminds her of Marc’s eyes, as all brown things usually do.
She hadn’t meant to pry, but now her curiosity has been stoked to life. The oven timer goes on and off, there’s a waft of something savoury as he opens and shuts the door.
The girl is too similar to Marc to be able to pass it off as a niece or a coincidence. The same head of dark curls, matching noses and bushy, unkempt eyebrows. She’s sure this is what Marc would have looked like, when he was a child, had he been a girl.
There’s a picture of her as an infant, still in the hospital and in a younger Marc’s arms, dark circles under his eyes and a nervous smile on his face. It’s the unmistakable traces of new fatherhood, she feels as if she’s seen thousands of pictures just like it, the same words, in different handwritings.
First day of school, mile-wide grin, heavy, sombre eyes from her father that were jarring against his smile. The girl’s pulled tight into his frame, Marc seems to be holding on to her as if she were a shadow.
Eyes flitting up and down, she takes in the rest of them. Days at the beach and nights at home. Milestones stacked on top of each other. Dance recitals, a small bouquet of roses clutched in her hands, held proudly in Marc’s arms.
They even grinned the same way.
Marc’s daughter was well-loved.
Happiness like that could never be faked.
She drifts back towards the kitchen. Marc’s curls, normally neat and tamed back are loose and carefree now.
He tugs on them when he’s nervous. Gives them two or three harsh pulls before drifting down to rub at the skin of his neck, exhales a nervous breath.
She’s underestimated the effect his presence can have on her. There are drawings on the fridge, drawings she hadn’t noticed, not until now.
She feels as if her lack of attention should be justified. Marc is pretty. Pretty in a way that makes her breath hitch, her head somersault on itself. She’s always a little tongue-tied during the first few minutes of their dates.
She knows now that it wasn’t just because of his little belly that tucked out comfortably when he sat down, or the crooked angles of his nose. Tenderness and patience radiates out from inside him, the kind people usually only get when raising children with love.
The thud of his knife against the cutting board, slicing through lettuce and cucumbers is comforting. Though she’d made him promise not to go all out, not to bother himself too much for the dinner, Marc has done exactly that.
“Hungry?”
“Hm?” There’s a dog in one of the drawings, a cat in the other.
“Just gotta finish the salad.”
She knows that it’ll be fruitless to offer to take anything to the table. She wants to ask him if he’d like some wine and is instead surprised by the words that flow out of her mouth. “You have a daughter?”
He freezes. A cucumber slides off his knife. It may have well been a scene out of a sitcom. She would have laughed, had it not been for the hold Marc already had on her heart.
She keeps her gaze steady on him, watches intently as he sets down his knife and looks at her.
There’s nothing she can tell from the expressions in his eyes, the hardened tilt of his mouth. She’s come to accept that it will take months before she’ll feel confident in reading the man in front of her, one who spoke so much with his body.
If she gets to take months to learn his language.
It’s an unpleasant little tumour of a thought. She swallows to apologise, to grab at whatever the string was that has managed to tie her tightly to Marc and make sure it stays there.
His throat bobs up and down. Marc speaks before she gets the chance to, “Yeah, I have a daughter.”
“What’s…” she wonders if it’s appropriate to ask, and the question dies on her lips.
“Maya. She’s seven now.”
Maya. She rolls the word around her head like a marble, tries to connect it to the photos and drawings hung up around the place. “She looks just like you.”
He laughs, an awkward, fumbling thing. It’s like a flat ball. “We get that a lot.”
“Well, it’s true,” she smiles and tentatively reaches for his hand. It’s a little rough, a little wet from the freshly-washed vegetables; she wonders if he would like it if she bought him some cream, something with glycerin. “And you’re both very beautiful.”
He pauses, emotions fighting on his face until he settles for steering the topic away from him, “You really don’t mind?”
“Why would I?”
He shrugs, casts his eyes away from her. The pressure of his hand in hers fades ever so slightly and she stumbles forward to make sure it stays.
“I don’t mind,” she swallows, rounds over the counter so she comes to stand beside him and looks up at him. “I really don’t. And I’d love to meet her, whenever you think it’s time.”
There’s a familiar expression in his eyes, one that she’s able to figure just from the sheer amount of times he’s looked at her with it on.
“I don’t lie about these things, Marc.” She leans up and kisses his cheek, squeezes his hand at the same time. “And I understand why you didn’t tell me sooner.”
He pauses, mouth hardened into a firm little line, “You like kids?”
She nods. There’s the footprint of her lips on his cheek, a faint brush of rusty pink that plants a little seed of possession inside of her.
“Good.” His voice is gruff, serious like a boulder of sandstone.
“Sorry for springing it on you like that, I saw the photos and-”
He shakes his head, his free hand comes to rest on her waist. Water seeps into her clothes and onto her skin and she revels in the feeling of it, a physical trace of his touch on her.
It amazes her how quickly he can quiet the static inside her mind. “I meant to tell you tonight.” He sighs, his breath rolling over her face, a stitch forming on his forehead. “Forgot about the pictures.”
She presses away the stitch, smiles and delights when he smiles back, retracted and tight, the corners of his eyes wrinkling like well-loved and sunkissed linen.
His phone starts to ring, turns their soft bubble into shattered ice. The grimace returns to his face, “Sorry.”
The cadence of his voice is soft, soft in a way that’s never been directed at her, when he answers the call and goes into his room, “Hey baby…” It sounds like honey, syrupy and nutritious, she feels if she listens hard enough she can hear the gentle hum of bumblebees underneath. “I miss you too.”
She’s finishing the salad when he returns, cutting the rest of the vegetables the way he’d started and hoping that she’d done a good enough job.
His gaze falls back to her hands, “Sorry.”
“Nothing to apologise for,” she slides everything off the cutting board and into the bowl, sets everything aside and comes close to him. “Is she alright?”
“Yeah,” his fingers are tentative as they reach for her again. Her hands come on top of his and press down. A never ending cycle of reassurance. “She’s at my cousin’s. Told her to call before she goes to bed.”
The thought that he has the place to himself tonight makes her stomach flip-flop on itself.
She dares to cup his face between her hands. She’s never done it before and finds the feel of his clean-shaven skin addicting, “You’re a good father.” He stiffens in her arms but doesn’t move out of them. The picture of young Marc in the hospital with his daughter rises again in her mind, “Thank you for making me dinner.”
He frowns, eyebrows furrowing together like two fuzzy caterpillars, “You haven’t fuckin’ eaten it yet.”
It makes her laugh, and she lets him go, kisses him on his pouty mouth. The way he moves is like a butterfly coming out of its cocoon.
He’s all business now, rushing about the kitchen to finish the food. Her eyes fall back to the drawings, flit over to the curly head of his hair, “Do you want some wine, Marc?”
Thanks for reading, if you liked it, please consider leaving some feedback! I don't usually respond to, but I obsess and re-read reblogs and comments constantly.
Masterlist here, requests here.
#maria's requests#marc spector#marc spector x reader#marc spector x you#marc spector x y/n#marc spector x female!reader#marc spector fluff#marc spector angst#marc spector fanfiction#marc spector fanfic#marc spector fic#marc spector x f!reader#marc spector imagine#moon knight fanfiction#moon knight#moon knight imagine#moon knight fic#oscar isaac
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how each moon boy would react to an argument with you – part 2.
summary: what the title says!
warning: fluff – like I said in part 1!
word count:
a/n: okayyyy, i saw the impact of part 1, i’m sorry for the angst! so here is some fluff to make it all better
minors/ageless blogs dni.
Masterlists
part 1
Steven Grant:
It was a sleepless night for him without you.
He laid in bed and stared at the ceiling aimlessly as he though back to the argument.
You were right, he shouldn’t be going to his ex-wife about issues in a private relationship.
He looked over to his nightstand and saw that his alarm clock read 2:35am.
He groaned in frustration and got out of bed to get dressed.
He had to make things right, tonight.
The corner store on your street was thankfully opened and he went into the store with the determination to get your favourite snacks.
The store had flowers, which he of course bought and in the corner of his eye he saw something shiny and knew he had to get it too.
You awoke from your sleep groggily when you heard constant knocking at your front door.
Upon opening it, you saw Steven standing there with his hands full and his hands full.
“What’re you doing here?” you ask feeling the emotions from hours ago resurfacing.
“Uh… well I came to apologize,” he said it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
With a roll of your eyes, you stepped aside to let him in.
He walked in with a small smile, behind him were helium balloons which said, ‘happy birthday’ and ‘congratulations’.
You couldn’t help the small smile that made its way to your lips, but you maintained a neutral expression and locked the front door to join him in your living room.
His posture was tense as you watched him leave the contents in his hands on the nearby table. He still held the flowers in his hands as he walked to you.
“I’m sorry for everything I said and previously did. You’re absolutely right in being upset,” he said and looked at you with sincere eyes.
You knew he meant the apology, but his words and actions still tugged at your heart.
“Steven… “ you said tiredly, “I don’t know if I can-“
“No, please don’t say that,” he knew the words that were waiting to be said.
He couldn’t bare to hear them.
“I hurt you, and I shouldn’t have an I know asking you to stay with me is a lot. I just… for the first time in my life I have something I’m genuinely happy with,” he said with that all too familiar smile.
You understood his reasoning, but you needed him to understand yours as well.
“Communication in this relationship isn’t the strongest, and we need to work on that,” you said to him.
He heaved a sigh of relief.
“Tell me what I can do, and I’ll do it,”
“Layla… “ you said her name softly.
“She’s gone, I-I realised that it was extremely wrong of me to talk about you to her. I feel as though I had an obligation to compensate for the sadness I brought her previously, but i cant do it at the expense of you. it also not my place to do so,” he said truthfully.
You listened to him intently.
“Doing all of that made me blind to the fact that I was hurting you. I’m sorry, darling, so so sorry,” he made his way to you and grasped your hand with his free one whilst the other held the flowers.
“I can’t say that it’s okay, but I hope you don’t repeat this,” you said looking at him with unshed tears.
“Of course, I would never hurt you like this again,” he said honestly.
“You better not,” you say sternly but with a hint of humour.
With that being said, Steven held you close to him and didn’t want to ever let go.
Marc Spector:
He waited a few days, watching you from afar to make sure you were okay.
You were functioning well and doing things you’d usually do, but Marc could see through the front you were putting for everyone to see.
Pushing you away seemed like the best thing to do at the time, but having you away was like living without the sun in his dark world.
He needed you.
Which is why he found himself sitting in your apartment and waiting for you to come home. He’d entered your apartment by using his spare key.
It had since been 2 hours since you were supposed to be home.
Marc knew your schedule by heart.
He was about to go out and look for you when he heard the keys being put into your front door along with your muffled voice.
“Thanks for the chat, I really needed it,” you bid goodbye to whoever was outside and locked the door behind you.
Your apartment was still dark as you move around to leave your daily belongings in their respective places.
Upon turning the lights on, you saw Marc’s figure out of the corner in your eyes sitting on the couch.
You turned to him with a frown.
“If you’re here for your things, they’re in that box on the kitchen counter,” you said in a monotone, wanting to speech through the process of this one last meeting.
Marc wordlessly awoke from where he was and walked to you, the entire time he maintained eye contact with you.
He stopped walking till he was right in front of you, a hairs width away.
“What makes you think I came here for my things?” he asked in a hushed tone.
“What else would you be here for?” you said to him challengingly.
He smirked and looked to the side before looking back at you.
“You think I’d let you go that easily?” he said with a raised brow.
“You did that night,” you scoffed and folded your hands, causing him to step back.
He nodded with a clenched jaw.
“You know I didn’t mean anything I said,” he stated with sincerity.
“Sure you didn’t,” you breathed a sigh and walked away from him to the box on the counter.
He followed behind and trapped you between him and the counter before you could reach for the box and hand it to him.
“You wasted no time in gathering my things,” he said with a humourless chuckle.
“Hmm, I wouldn’t want you to deal with me any longer,” you used his words from that night.
“Y/n… “ he said trying to make you understand.
“No Marc, I can’t keep playing this game of push and pull,” you admitted, sounding tired.
“I’m not playing games,” he said offended.
You turn to face him, his body still trapping you between him and the counter.
You raised a brow at him.
“Okay. I admit, I’ve made mistakes and I’m sorry for that. Very sorry. But you’re the one thing that grounds me. I know what I said that night was out of line,” he finally apologizes.
You look at his expression intently. You can tell that he means his words.
“I need more than an apology from you,” you stated.
“Name what you want and I’ll do it,”
“I want you to be careful and take care of yourself. I know in that mind of yours you don’t care about your wellbeing, but if you care for me then you’ll take care of yourself,” you move your gaze to your hands as you talk to him.
“Of course I care about you, and if that is what you want, consider it done,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead and brought you in for a hug.
Jake Lockley:
“Mi corazón…”
“Go away Jake,” you said as you exited the grocery store.
He had been trying to make you speak with him for the passed week and all you’ve been doing is ignoring him.
Serves him right for what he did.
What you didn’t understand was why he was trying to talk to you.
“Just one moment, please,” he said sounding exhausted.
“Go bother one of your many girlfriends,” you said bitterly.
“You’re the only one,” he grabbed your shoulders and turned you towards you and hindered you from walking away.
“Jake,” you say in a warning tone.
He looks up and down the street before pulling you down an alley way. You try to protest, but he puts a hand over your mouth.
“You will listen to me,” he snapped.
You nodded tiredly and his hold on you loosened but it remained there.
“I was on Khonshu’s orders to get important information the night you came into the bar,” he said with annoyance.
Even though Jake had been the most easy to work with when it came to Khonshu, he maintained hostility when it came to you and Khonshu.
He knew you wouldn’t like Khonshu’s request, but he had to comply since it was part of the deal.
“That woman who was with me is the daughter to a man who is an avatar,” he explained further, hoping you would understand.
You studied his stoic expression. He was being truthful.
“Why didn’t you tell me before doing it?” you asked feeling hurt that he didn’t seem to trust you.
“It was too dangerous to tell you and I needed you to be safe, mi luz,”
“Well, look at the outcome of you not telling me,” you said with sadness.
Jake looked at you with equal sad eyes. The week spent without you was torture, he had an argument with Khonshu and wanted nothing more than to seek comfort from you.
“I know, mi corazón. I’m so sorry,” he said and pulled hugged you tightly.
It was rare to see Jake be so affectionate, but you know your time apart had affected him. It did the same to you.
You melted into the hug and wrapped your arms around him.
tagging those that commented on part 1:
@milkypompon @hellomynameisells @brighterthanlonelywords @the-witheredroses @secretdazeobservation @stressed-cherry
#steven grant#steven grant headcanons#steven grant fanfiction#steven grant fanfic#steven grant x you#steven grant x y/n#steven grant x reader#steven grant fluff#marc spector#marc spector headcanons#marc spector fanfiction#marc spector fanfic#marc spector x you#marc spector x y/n#marc spector x reader#marc spector fluff#jake lockley#jake lockley headcanons#jake lockley fanfiction#jake lockley fanfic#jake lockley x you#jake lockley x y/n#jake lockley x reader#jake lockley fluff#moonknight#moonknight fanfiction#moonknight fanfic#fluff
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Happy Birthday, Marc
Pairing: Marc Spector x afab!reader & Steven Grant x afab!reader
Word Count: 3k+
Summary: You think birthdays are something important, a chance to celebrate your favourite person, to give them anything they want and make them feel good. And maybe Marc will look forward to his birthday from now on.
Warnings/Tags: 18+ smut bby, unprotected p in v, fingering, a little manhandling, it's fluffy i'm ngl, use of the nicknames baby & sweetheart
a/n: besties i'm ngl i'm exhausted and i've probabaly missed things in order just to post this cause I started writing it like a week ago and just got the urge to finish it. So i'm sorry if i'm missing tags and stuff, let me know if there's things missing. But I hope you like it anyways, love you, appreciate you and now i'm going to sleep
“Marc,” it comes out in a breathy whisper and your lips are pressed back to his skin before you’re even finished drawing out his name. For once, by some miracle, you’d woken up before your boyfriend so it was only right to wake him in the best way you know how. It was also just coincidentally his birthday and you think today should be all about him and things that make him feel good.
Continuing at your slow pace, you place kisses on his cheek, moving down to his jaw and then his neck. If he was awake he’d call you a tease, especially with the way you’re straddling his waist, and definitely for your choice of clothing—or lack thereof. You’d maybe went online and bought yourself a cute, new underwear set and maybe you’d planned to buy it the week before Marc’s birthday. Now, you just have to hope it will be Marc fronting when he wakes, not that you’d complain if it was Steven or Jake.
You call his name again, hoping that will somehow unconsciously pull him to front as you gently tug on the neckline of his tshirt so you can press kisses to his collarbone. Your hands move delicately against his skin too, lightly brushing over his arms or holding his face and they sneak under the hem of his shirt to feel the relaxed muscles there.
“Baby.” This time his body stirs a little, a deep, quiet groan escaping him. A smile creeps its way onto your face as you sit back to admire him. He looks so pretty like this, hair all tousled against the pillow and face completely relaxed, the frown lines that seem like a permanent feature faded with sleep.
Your hands are still resting under his shirt against his stomach, slowly creeping higher before coming back down. His body begins to wriggle every time your featherlight touch runs across his sides and a giggle bubbles in your throat when he half-heartedly swats your hands away. Mercifully you stop your hand's cruel pursuit and go back to pressing tender kisses to his neck. You quietly call out for Marc again between kisses and this time he shifts more, the quiet groans turning more into little whines. The sounds only spur you on more, holding his chin in your hand so you can switch sides. Your ministrations continue until you feel his hands anchor themselves on your hips. He’s pushing you down more into his lap, the contact forcing a whimper out of you.
You keep his face delicately held in your hand and go back to kissing his cheek. His hands start moving up your sides, shivers running up your spine at the movement.
“Well this is some way to wake up,” his voice is groggy and any other time you’d smile and egg him on to talk more until the rough tone faded but it’s not the voice you’d hoped for. You physically deflate, your head briefly sinking into the pillow over his shoulder before you sit up again. Fighting the urge to quietly moan when you accidentally grind against him.
“What’s wrong, love?” The sweet British accent you’d normally swoon for only causes your pout to grow. Upon your withdrawal from him, Steven’s eyes had shot open, the creases between his eyebrows harsh again.
“I was hoping for Marc,” you sound like a spoilt child. You know that’s not how it works, you can’t just request who you want at that moment. And anyway, you love all of the boys equally so it shouldn't matter. Never do you want one of them to feel inferior to the others but the quiet oh that leaves Steven has you panicked you’ve done just that. “No! I didn’t mean I don’t want you, Steven! I want you, trust me. It’s just… it’s silly. I wanted to do something for Marc because it’s his birthday.” Your voice dies out before you even finish. You’re looking everywhere but into his eyes and suddenly you wish you had more clothes on to cover up.
“Oh love,” Steven props himself up on his elbows, fingertips just grazing your knees. “You know how Marc feels about his birthday.”
The more seconds that pass the more silly you feel for trying to do anything.
“I know.” It comes out meekly, your eyes fixed on your hands that pick at the threads of Steven’s old shirt.
“Hey,” suddenly Steven sits up, his hands soothingly cupping your cheeks and your gaze moves straight to his face, “if this is what you do for Marc’s birthday, well then I can’t wait for mine.”
Your face cracks, the sad exterior fading the longer you look at Steven's cheery features. The man seems to have a way of always making things better.
“You know,” his eyes flicker to your lips only for a moment, “just because Marc’s not here doesn’t mean you have to stop.” Steven's rare boldness always surprises you, “it’d be a shame to waste all of this.” He leans back just a little so he can rake his eyes over your body, his hands moving down to your waist and pressing you impossibly closer. It causes you both to let out a satisfying sigh.
“You do have a point…” you let your own eyes trail down his body as your hands slowly pull up the hem of his shirt, exposing more of him. You quickly grow impatient with your own actions, tugging his shirt up and instinctively Steven raises his arms so you can pull it off. You’re both moving in the second his shirt is off, lips crashing against one another in a hasty, messy kiss. You’re sinking further into his hold as his hands grip onto you for dear life. It’s completely impulsive when you grind yourself down in his lap. It clearly takes Steven by surprise because his head falls back and a low grunt escapes him. You do it again, this time placing a kiss on his jaw and he holds you down, one of his arms wrapped securely around you. He’s back to looking at you and already he’s wrecked, panting, and disheveled. Still, even in his tight grip you manage to roll your hips, the friction feels so good and you crave more of it.
“Right, as pretty as this is, take it off now.” He snaps the elastic of your underwear causing you to squeal and jerk in his lap again. It’s ungracious and desperate the way you climb out of his lap and tug your underwear down your legs. It seems Steven’s just as desperate as he awkwardly pulls off the sweatpants he’d slept in until he’s completely naked.
Steven looks into your eyes with pure adoration, his hands touching your thighs delicately as you settle back in his lap. You sit back on his thighs and Steven’s hands curl around to rub your back. He even blushes and has to look away when you hold his face and smile at him, a glimpse at the sweet Steven you’re used to. His head rests on your collarbone and automatically your hand slips around into his hair, gently combing through the wild curls. The soft moment has you relaxing in his hold so much so your body flinches when Steven’s hand unexpectedly grazes the inside of your thigh. Then he has you gasping in seconds, his fingers running through your soaked folds. His movements have your body rising, almost like it’s trying to get away from his touch. The hand in his hair tightens, especially as he begins to circle your clit, and your other hand grips his shoulder so much your fingers ache. The stimulation is enough to have you breathily moaning already then he’s raising his head to look at you with that dopey grin before he pushes two fingers into you, causing your jaw to drop. There’s a welcome sting before your senses are steeped in pleasure. Steven’s fingers build a pace slowly, his thumb now brushing against your clit each time he sinks into you.
Steven looks at you like you’re the pyramids like you’re some unexplained wonder in the world that very few people get to experience. The eye contact becomes too intense that you have to close your eyes and your head instinctively rolls back. You allow the pleasure to consume you, your hips now grinding against his hand and whimpers of his name filling the room. You’re so lost in the growing feeling of your climax creeping closer that you don’t hear him speak, let alone hear the change in accent or the way his grips got a little tighter. It’s only when you feel a sharp bite to the top of one of your breasts that your head snaps back down with a yelp.
“Look at me.” That thick Chicago accent is prominent in your ears now. “Keep your eyes right here, sweetheart,” and he smirks when you dumbly nod your head.
“Marc.” You’re panting now as he moves a little faster and rougher than Steven had. It’s his turn to be impatient, he’s trying desperately to use speed and more force to pull your orgasm out of you quicker. It takes a second for your body to adjust to the change but then you’re crying out for him, begging him to keep going. Your hand's can't stay still, they keep moving to touch him anywhere; his shoulders, his back, his neck, and then they finally rest on his face. Your fingers dig into his cheek and his jaw and you keep your eyes on him like you were told.
“That’s it,” he hits the perfect spot that has you squeezing around his fingers, “just a little more baby.” Marc keeps his speed steady now, using his arm that's wrapped around you to assist in grinding your hips. Your head’s spinning now, your heart thudding in your chest and you can’t think straight. Now, you’re kissing him or at least trying to between cries of pleasure. Marc chuckles as you gasp and clutch onto his shoulders when he ceases movement of his fingers. He continues to rock your hips and instead moves his thumb faster against your clit. Your forehead is pressed against his, your eyes are screwed shut and you’re climbing higher until you’re plummeting off the edge.
“Couldn’t miss this,” Marc’s taking advantage of your hazy state, nuzzling himself into your neck, “gods I can’t wait baby. I need you now.”
Your mind is still somewhere in the clouds, not really comprehending what he’s saying but you’re nodding. You trust him enough to let him do anything to you.
Marc’s moving eagerly, his soaked fingers slip out of you which causes a whimper to escape you. You’re pretty much a dead weight, your body feeling too heavy to move but that doesn’t stop Marc. He moves you like you weigh nothing and you let him manhandle you, flipping you over onto your back so he can be on top.
“I love you so much, baby.” You’re smiling up at him when he says it, head still all floaty. He looks so ethereal like this, his eyes focused on his hand that’s now stroking himself. His toned chest heaving quicker now. “So lucky to have you,” his free hand pushes one of your thighs down, exposing you more to him. Normally you’d hate being this exposed, you’d want to cover up and hide yourself away but Marc looks at you like you’re it. You’re everything he’s ever wanted or needed like he would physically wither away without you.
It’s different from the way Steven looks at you, everything about Steven is gentle and soft but Marc’s more meticulous and complex. Marc’s gazes say more than he thinks he can articulate, his eyes always full of love whenever he looks at you. Only in truly intimate moments like this does he let his guard down enough to be able to share all those feelings that swim around in his head.
“Need you, baby.” Your eyes fall shut when he drags the tip of his cock through your folds, quiet whimpers flowing past your lips as he slowly pushes himself in. Your hands loosely cling to the sheets and unconsciously you’re bearing down your hips toward him, unexpectedly forcing him deeper. Marc’s hand slams down on the mattress next to you, a curse sharply coming out of him. You open your droopy eyes to see he’s closer now, leaning over you completely with his furrowed brow and tense features. It’s hard to keep your eyes open, Marc seems to have this power to make you feel fuzzy no matter what.
“Hey,” you’re blinking up at him the second you hear his voice, “look at me.”
It’s not a command like the last time he said it, no, it’s more like a plea. He wants you to look at him like he’s the only person to ever exist, or that he’s the best person to exist and you do. You look at him as if it’s the last time you could lay your eyes on him, soaking up every detail and trying to portray all of the love you feel for him.
Your hand moves up to hold his face again, the other finding purchase on his side. You raise your head just enough so you can kiss him, it’s only brief but a smile creeps across his face. Marc lowers himself to rest on his elbow so he can kiss you again, over and over while he slowly starts to rock his hips. The gentle pecks quickly turn fervent as his thrusts pick up their pace. He’s not going too fast but it’s consistent and deliberate. His free hand lovingly rubs the outside of your thigh that’s crept up to encase his hips.
You can feel the familiar tightening warmth already blooming again. The hand that was cupping his face moves into his hair. The messy curls slip through your fingers as you pull him impossibly closer.
“I-I need-ah-I love-“ you can’t even form a coherent sentence. You want to tell him that you need him, that you love him, that he is truly all you’ll ever want. You’d planned all these things you wanted to say to him, how exactly you wanted to pour out all the good things he makes you feel. You wanted to make him feel loved, to maybe replace some of those bad memories he holds with new happy ones. You were supposed to be the one making him feel good and here you are an intelligible mess because of how well he’s treating you.
“I know-I know, baby.” He’s breathing so hard, panting from exertion. The hand that’s resting on your thigh holds on a little firmer, a sign he’s found a rhythm that works for him. Marc kisses you again, it’s surprisingly tender for the situation you’re currently in. It is however cut off quickly when he lets up the prettiest sound. His forehead thuds against your shoulder, a mixture of moans and grunts freely falling past his lips. It drives you insane in the best way possible, you think maybe you could get off on that sound alone.
“Hey-hey, look at me. Look at me.” You’re almost whispering, practically sounding like you’re begging. You tap your fingers against his head to grab his attention more. He’s a sight to be seen when he lifts his head, half-lidded eyes and lips parted and heaving in air. Loose curls flopped against his forehead and the crease between his eyebrows is so prominent now. You don’t care about anything other than the way he looks right now. You don’t care how many times you get to see him like this, you want to memorise every single time.
Marc stutters on his words, his mind clearly just as muddled as yours. You can tell his body is tiring despite his hips moving faster as he chases his climax. Your body feels frozen pressed against his, you can only cling onto him. You squeak out his name as the hand on your thigh tightens, almost certain there’ll be fingerprints imprinted there for the rest of the week.
Suddenly, he’s mumbling out the sweet nicknames he calls you, his face screwing up even as he fights to keep his eyes on you. Then it’s sweeping him under, his energy spikes and he thrusts a little harder. His orgasm washes over him completely, you catch his eyes slightly rolling back as they close before his head falls back against your shoulder again. His hips keep moving as he cums, slowing the longer he goes until he just stops moving completely. Your hand moves out of his hair to soothingly rub his back as he comes down from his high. You can feel his breath panting against your collarbone, his chest heaving still. You turn your head so you can press a kiss into his hair, whispering words of love into the dark curls.
“I’m sorry.” Your face instantly scrunches when you hear the apology, waiting to hear the reason why. “I couldn’t miss this. I needed you so bad.” You laugh once before pausing and doing it again until you’re full-on giggling. Marc lifts his head with that same furrow of his brows for a different reason this time. “What?”
“This was for you,” his eyebrow cocks up a bit at that. His eyes just briefly glancing down at your chest, still covered in the nice-looking lingerie. Your hand slips back to hold his cheek again, your thumb rubbing back and forth lovingly as you look up at him. “I wanted to do something special for your birthday. I know it’s silly and we don’t-“
“Oh we’re doing this every year now,” Marc’s smirking at you now and the insecurity is flushed out of you, “however you’re gonna have to make it up to Steven.”
“Me?!”
“Poor guy’s a mess, you can’t just leave him in that state sweetheart.” He laughs when you begin protesting that it’s not your fault. Marc’s chuckles die out as he looks down at you smiling up at him. Your heart thumps in your chest still when he looks at you. It doesn’t matter how long you’ve been together they all still have a way of making you feel giddy with just one look. You push up unexpectedly to kiss him briefly, your head falling back against the pillows so you can look at him again.
“Happy birthday, Marc.”
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