#marc spector one shot
Text
PARASITIC
premise: your fingers wrap around his throat to pull his head from your neck. his heart thrumming against your palm. you could end it right now, squeeze the life out of him, wait for another unsuspecting human to fall into your lap. but you won’t.
pairing: marc spector x succubus!reader
contents: p in v, coming inside, somnophilia, light choking, mind control so dubcon, death mentions, blood and slight gore, biting, oral, masturbation, sub!marc i guess, reader is a monster therefore has a monsters body | wc: 2.8k
note: i hope everyone is having the best hornfilled month thus far, i missed writing for my number one emo boy!
KINKTOBER WEEK ONE: succubus, somnophilia.
You know hunger.
You’ve grown accustomed to it—the never ending rumbling in the pit of your stomach that begs you to feed. The ache your teeth get to bite into something, your lungs threaten to stop working if you don’t cater to the hunger. To fill them with something leaking with life—that sweet tang that only humans have to hold onto their meek lives with a determined fist that makes them taste sweeter on your tongue.
It’s been months since you’ve gotten your fill.
The pile of decomposing bodies you sit on like a throne becoming one with the dirt on the cave floor. The drip drip drip of water and the scurry of nails in mud from the rats who share your feast with you, your only company. Nagging noises that only set you on edge and make the craving in your gut worsen.
Feeding off the dead only makes you sicker.
Serves no purpose for what you are. What you were made into. What you became so long ago. What keeps you destitute in this cave and the relic you’re bound to.
Magic put you here, and by magic, you’ll stay and wait.
Wait for your next meal; for the grins of unsuspecting humans to enter a cave they expect to find undiscovered and holding riches where it only holds a death sentence.
A dinner for one.
They come; they always do.
And they always see the same thing; a beautiful woman trapped in a cave, crying and begging for help, so weak and caked with mud, naked and inviting. A potential victim to some, a treasure to others. But they always fall the same and taste the same when you have them pressed against a wall, your tongue down their throat, licking at their insides. Tasting their misery, their fear when the veil is finally pulled back and the horns, jagged teeth, and black eyes come into view. Gone is the innoence of a lost woman, and gone is their want for you.
Fear tastes delicious on your tongue, but the hunger inside your gut gnaws for the carnage that only comes from lust. The little death that you bring when you keep the veil over their eyes. When you lower them to the floor and sink down on their weeping cocks and use their bodies until their nothing but a shell, you’ve sucked dry.
Fucked until their life beats in your belly and you feel full.
Taking bites out of them and wearing their blood like a blanket. The coppery taste makes the opening between your legs clench. An added high to your appetites.
Your life an endless cycle of feeding—devouring—only getting your fill for a while until your body longs for more substance. More death. More life.
And maybe if the kills—the fucking, the blood, the taste of the cords of a neck, the tang of a life being drained through a straw and into you—weren’t so delicious, you’d want something more than kills in a dirty cave. A variety of lungs to squeeze into your mouth like a flimsy can.
Thoughts of leaving the depths of your cave don’t come until you see him.
Until he enters your feeding ground.
Marc.
There’s always a different smell to humans; greed, anger, fear, excitement.
Never darkness. Never shadows cast behind the eyes and a desperation to rid the tar pulling at the bottom of their hearts. Begging to be rung dry of the misery that’s sunk into it. That holds on. That can’t be found at the bottom of a bottle, inside someone's pussy, or through bloodied fists.
It’s all you can smell when he enters the cave.
The two others' scents clouded over by his.
By the deep set of his brow.
By the way anger and grief cling to how he moves. How he steals and claims things within your home like he owns them. Like he’s found the answer to that desperation in his heart. The score that will finally fix everything.
You don’t make yourself known. Don’t put a veil up, don’t hide in the shadows, and wait for your victim to find you.
No.
You’re a breeze on his cheek when you reach your fingers out to brush against his skin, his eyes unknowingly meeting yours. Staring into the black depths of the soul you don’t have—making something quench and yearn for something you haven’t felt since before.
A deep groan rattling in the cave as you let your tongue slip from your mouth, the feathery touch of the tip running along his pulse point—a slap at his neck, a bug to him—his taste sour and sweet and intoxicating.
The perfect blood bag.
A beautiful tortured soul to feed off of.
To play with.
For days, months.
Forever.
The sweetest of treats falling into your lap, you can’t let him go. Refuse to let him become another meaningless body in this cavern. He’s too pretty, too delicious to drain within seconds. To not drain that desperation with a slow, loving hand would be cruel.
And with a helping hand, your relic is placed in plain sight like an offering from the devil; he’s putting it in his pocket, unlike the other jewels that lay clattering in a bag at his side, like he knows. Knows all you can give, take, and lick from his body—that tar soaked heart dug into by your nails until he’s coming and you’ve fixed him—drained him.
You don’t touch him for weeks.
Letting yourself continue to go hungry and crave.
Your insides gnawing at you like a rabid dog trying to let itself free from a cage to bite the hand that feeds it.
And it seems the more you play with him—the more you haunt his mind with dreams of meeting a strange woman in the shadows, her hand around his throat as she rides him, his fingers dug into her skull as he fucks up into her, hard, rough, raw, marks on both their skin red and bloody. The sweetest noises falling from his lips as his hips rock against his mattress, the weak noise of him coming in his pants and waking up in a cold sweat, chest heaving and heart pounding like a symphony of hymns to your hungry belly—the more you wonder whos torturing who here.
The more your teeth ache, the more you feel starved.
So many nights spent beside him in bed watching him sleep, making him dream, whispering in his ear. Never allowing yourself to touch him because you know you won't be able to stop.
He’s a prized treasure you want to take your time with.
To keep.
But allowing yourself a little appetizer won’t hurt. You need it. After all the playing you’ve done with him from afar. A little touch won’t hurt, you won’t let it.
As you round his bed, Marc on his back, his chest moving rhythmically as he sleeps peacefully, the tip of your nail moves along his arm. You can feel the beat of his heart, slow and calm, as you press into the crease of his arm. The thrum making arousal beat it’s own drum between your legs.
His scent even more intoxicating now that you’re closer to him. Now that you’re moving the covers from his body, perched at the side of his bed as you watch the twitches and small beads of sweat move along his frame. The dark briefs he’s wearing cling to his thighs—thighs you want to sink your teeth into—hiding the treat you want to taste tonight.
You don’t need to touch him to make him see you or to plague his dreams once more with the girl from the shadows. But you want to touch. Need to touch. So you press your fingers to this temple and smile at the way his mouth parts with a small gasp when you’ve inserted yourself into his mind. Your fingers grip his jaw with a light hold—lighter than you’ve ever treated a human—as you turn his head towards you.
Watching the contorts of his brow bone as he dreams, the hard swallow, the grunts as you waste no time in getting the dream to where you want it—him fucking you, the girl from the shadows, a dream disguised as a nightmare.
You watch his face for a beat more. Let your fingers run through his hair, trace the pulse in his neck, his bottom lip before you press the lightest of kisses to his parted mouth—letting your tongue run along the chapped skin of his bottom lip for less than you’d like to.
There’s something else you want to taste.
The nails at your feet digging into the mattress as you climb over him, maneuvering yourself so you’re kneeling between his thighs.
He doesn’t stir when you pull down his boxers; why would he? He wouldn’t. He’s too happy in the throes of his dream. Buried deep in the pussy of a monster with a beautiful smile.
The evidence of that, of the enjoyment of the dream you’re casting, leaking at the tip of his cock. Clear and sweet as you bend and gather it onto your tongue. Swallow it down and sigh contently when your stomach flutters in approval.
You’ve watched him wrap his fist around his cock for weeks now.
Even after he’s woken from his dream, his boxers sticky and clinging to him. A vengeful fist wrapped around his spent cock, the scowl on his brow from how oversensitive he is—from the burn you know he feels, the ache and pang of being overused and finding pleasure from it making you bite into your own arm so you won’t reach out and feed off of him. So you won’t stop this beautiful sight.
He looks so pretty like that.
Making himself grip the sheets, grunts and groans, flowing through the air as he fucks up into his fist in anger, frustration. There's a hatred in it, and it makes you yearn.
And when he says your name, a name you whisper against his lips in his dreams but in his ear in reality, it’s better than feeding you think.
But not better than the way he tastes.
Your tongue runs up the length of his cock, a smile at the corners of your mouth when you look up, and his lips have parted more. Fingers dug into the sheets, a whimper stuck in his throat as his hips buck.
Those pretty noises make your hunger greedy the more your tongue moves against him, the tip wrapping around the head, pushing into the slit of his cock to taste the bountiful offering he’s giving you for pleasing his cock.
When you finally put him into your mouth, the guttural noise that falls from his lips as his back bows makes you purr. Makes you pump your mouth faster and harder so he’s reached the back of your throat—a cavern without a bottom—the suction your body contorts to pull more of his noises, more of his pre-come from the very cock you’ve been hungry for for weeks—is animistic. Not fully your style.
But Marc is different.
Marc is potential.
A divine feast.
You know he’s going to come soon.
And your stomach begs for it. Begs for you to keep going until he’s come so deep down your throat that you’ll feel fed for days or weeks. Your hunger sedated by his sweet taste.
But you want more.
Another part of your body begs to be fed—filled by his leaking cock.
You were made to seek pleasure, after all. To share it with your victims, to come as you bared your teeth into their throat or watched the life drain from their eyes with your tongue down it. Your come coating their cock as there’s pulled the last breath of life from them.
Your indulgence in Marc has gone as far as it should tonight. Has gone past what you promised to be just a taste, but you can’t stop yourself from climbing on top of him. From sinking your wet cunt down onto his hard cock, the air caught in his lungs as he fills you. A deep sigh of relief makes your body shake.
And you should leave it there; you should just fuck him until you’re both coming. Not let your hunger get the best of you and drain him before you want to—before he’s ready.
But you want to see his eyes when he’s coming inside you. Want to see the desperation they hold.
“Marc,” you whisper into his ear. Your hips rocking slowly, enough to have his cock moving against the walls of your pussy. Enough to make him stir and whimper. “Marc, wake up.” You kiss at the skin below his earlobe, your tongue coming to lick at the sweat that coats his body, your taste buds mewling.
When he finally comes to, slow and out of breath, he doesn’t freak out. Doesn’t push you off of him when he sits up and wraps his arms around your ribcage. His dark eyes looking up into your black ones.
He doesn’t see the horns, the sharp teeth, or your dark lips and tongue. Doesn’t see that you’re nothing like the girl in his dreams—except you are; you’re she, and he still thinks he’s dreaming. Still thinks you are nothing but an innocent fuck, a hole for him to feel at home in.
To forget those parts of his brain that cause those shadows to gloss over his eyes and that anger that makes him bloody his knuckles and punish himself.
He looks up at you with need in his eyes, desperation, hunger, admiration.
And all you can do is smile.
Cup the back of his head, your fingers digging into his hair, your hips moving again—faster and rougher his time.
His mouth biting and kissing at your collarbone and chest, his fingers digging into your shoulder as he holds onto you as you fuck him. As you bounce on his cock.
It’s so much better than you’ve imagined. Than you’ve watched playout in his mind, than you’ve felt with other victims.
But Marc’s not your victim.
He’s not just a feast.
Something to fuck and eat.
He’s saying your name into your neck, letting his teeth sink into your flesh. Your own purrs and noises mix with the sounds of skin on skin, wetness, and raw fucking that only feels this good when it’s depraved. When someone’s about to lose something.
Not this time, though.
Or maybe even the next.
You feel your lips tingle, a silent plea to press to his mouth and deflate his lungs. To feed on more than just the taste of his cock and the fill of it inside your cunt.
Your nails dig into his back to stop yourself—making him groan, his hips bucking, fingers and mouth becoming rougher against you the closer he gets to coming. The more needy and desperate he is for his release.
There will be dried blood there in the morning. Scratches he won’t be able to explain.
A satisfied noise rumbles in your belly at the image of watching him look at them in the mirror with a scowl.
Your own orgasm on the cusp of soaking his cock.
Your fingers wrapping around his throat to pull his head from your neck; his lips wet and swollen, his pupils blown out, heart thrumming against your palm. You could end it all right now, squeeze the life out of him, and wait for another unsuspecting human to fall into your lap.
But you won’t.
Not even as you press your lips to his, the kiss rough, Marc’s hand at the back of your neck to keep you there. Like he’s been waiting for your mouth to be on his all night. Like it’s what he needed to finally be able to come—his hips thrusting up more sloppy and quick. His breathing more ragged.
“Look at me, Marc.” You say against his lips before using the hold on his neck to bend his head, so he has no choice but to look up at you. To look up at the monster who’s claimed him. Who’s falling into the depths of the darkness in his eyes and squeezing the tar from his heart one dirty dream at a time—one stroke and clench of her cunt at a time.
“Come for me.”
His head nods, a weak noise that sounds too much like your name to be anything else as his hips thrust up one more time before he’s spilling inside. Before you’re coming on his cock from the way his eyes gloss over as he keeps looking up at you. As he clings to your body—this big, tough man.
This killer, this self loathing human, looking weak and all yours.
You don’t let him catch his breath before you press your mouth against his and take it from him. A few puffs—the appetizer.
Your eyes rolling back, hunger sedated, full, warm, fed.
When you pull your mouth back, his eyes are hooded.
His fingers come up to your cheek, thumb pressing into the line of your jaw. “Thank you,” he murmurs before you press your fingers to his temple and make him slip back into sleep.
#marc spector x you#marc spector smut#marc spector imagine#marc spector x reader#marc spector one shot#marc spector x y/n#moon knight fic#moon knight fanfic#kinktober#kinktober 2023#tw dubcon
293 notes
·
View notes
Text
‘falsify’
Pairing: Marc Spector x female reader (no other specifications!)
Word Count: 1400 words
Warnings: swearing, smoking cigarettes, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal penetrative unprotected sex, cum eating, bodily fluids as lube, manipulation, finger sucking, fingerfucking. if i missed anything major pls lmk!
Outline: A little white lie never really hurt nobody. Plus you could only benefit from it.
Author’s Note: based on this request (a thousand months later but it's here!) & this poll, mind the warnings and proceed!
P.S: dividers by @firefly-graphics || banners by @maysdigitalarts
Main Masterlist ・❥・ Marc Spector Masterlist
Marc is kneeling down on the floor, his one arm wrapped around your leg, his leather boots dirtying up your wooden floor. You roll your eyes and breathe a sigh of frustration. This was not your scene. Picking up men from the floor and comforting them is not your forte. You were a woman of little words and big actions.
"You don't mean it..." He pleads, his strained eyes meeting up your strict gaze.
"I've meant worse." You shrug and take a drug of your rolled cigarette. You almost feel matriarchal looking down on him, so you decide to be a little nice, you offer him the cigarette.
"C'mon, pretty boy, get up."
He does as you say, taking the cigarette and allowing it to hang loosely off his lips as he is silently heading to your couch. Remorseful, happier even, there's no joy to his walk but you know his heart is skipping a beat. That's the kind of slut he is. Yesterday you were bent over on that couch getting drilled in it like there was no tomorrow.
As for today? That's gonna be the same scene as well, but it'll most likely be the last time.
It's taunting watching him like that. Smoking, with his hair all messed up, his eyes were red from crying and his eyebags hanging off your most depraved dreams. His jeans are dirty because he could never pick a washing machine out of a crowd and the laces of his boots are loose, there is a small peak of his happy trail as he throws his back on the couch, opening his legs. You've seen his cock before you know how big it is, and you know he needs more room than that.
You're thinking to yourself how he's probably not wearing any underwear, how his jacket on the floor smells just like you, and how his fingers come in so close contact with his lips. Dried and washed up. Just like the rest of him.
You really meant to break up with him, being with him get you nowhere but well fucked.
But you need to break his confidence so he could maybe leave you alone.
Just not tonight.
He is taking the last drag of the cigarette and leaving it on the ashtray. He looks delicious. Ready for taking.
"I love you." You murmur and look straight into the center of his eyes. You know that would get the most reaction from him, you know he'd fuck you so well to prove himself to you, to impress you because you love him, because you're a force together, because -whatever romantic bullshit he wants to tell himself.
Oh, you were selfish. But who could blame you?
The speed with which he gets up from the couch the moment he hears your words and pushes you against the wall marks the decision on your mind as great. You will ghost him tomorrow and he'll never ever find you.
He crushes his lips onto yours, teeth crushing against teeth, noses battling each other, his hand gripping your head forcefully, his hand straight on your pants. He wants you, desperately, carnally, forever. He bites down your neck, sucking your skin, his finger getting inside his favorite body part of yours. He pushes the finger inside, thankful for your love of dresses and cotton panties. Easy access, constant fillings.
Your hands are on his hair, always on his hair, loosening them up, getting lost inside those curls and his lips continue, kissing, sucking down your collarbone, down your breasts. Once on your nipples, he goes on full beast mode, pushing your dress down with his nose and sucking on the buds looking for his favorite brand of honey.
You are using him, using his affection on you, his addiction on you for a good time, for a wonderful boost of serotonin.
But who could blame you when he kneels like that holding on to your thighs and looking up at you with the look of the most obedient child, before he buries his head so far deep inside your pussy, your leg on his shoulder, your hands still on his hair that it makes it all worth it.
Your own personal fucktoy and he didn't even know it.
He sucks on your clit so deeply, two fingers already inside your vagina, and he's moaning at the feeling of your cunt, loving the way she just invites him in like the best lover she ever knew. As if he is her commander.
And the way he loves it when he makes you cum twice always right before he fucks you, just by getting in such close contact with your clit that she ends up dormant makes your plan succeed.
He thinks you love him still. He thinks your feelings were fused by your earlier fight, he truly thinks you'd stay.
He pushes his jeans on the floor and of course, there is no underwear to speak of. His cock, hard, leaking, standing stiff against his stomach and you gulp at the sight. And he chuckles. That cocky chuckle of his.
"Think she can fit all of me in, huh? Don't worry darlin', I'll make sure she does."
And he pushes his cockhead inside, always teasingly, always pausing to look at your face, his hand on your chin lifting it up to make sure he's getting that first breath of hot air on his face. Watching your mouth open and your eyes roll. He loved the effect he had on you, he always thought he was in control.
And he pushes more, shoving two fingers inside your mouth as you willingly take them in, sucking them in, as his eyes dark as the night stays on yours. He sees right inside them and he learns nothing, absolutely nothing.
He thrusts. And it's desperate, punishing, dominating, and romantic at the same time. He sees you as a doll, his doll, you see him as your own personal brand of fucktoy. His lips are hanging open as he's making noises himself, whimpers of the "your pussy is a too wet cause of me" type. He loves to hear that sound of his cock swimming inside your juices.
Marc continues for a while, until he pushes his fingers out of his mouth, moving his hand behind your head and crushing his forehead on yours, the other hand on your waist and then he starts. The main show.
He pistols his hips in such a fast and brutal way, slapping sounds filling the narrow room, your moans echoing, as he licks his lips together and fastens the pace, over and over again until he feels like a drilling machine inside you. That man could last, he could last all fucking night, just to give you the most full cumshot you'd ever seen.
So you don't beg him, you don't ask him for it, you know he's gonna do it when he pleases, he's gonna empty his load when he feels you had enough, not mattering if you came on his cock five or seven times, he'd continue until he felt like the time was accurate for you.
Oh but when he did it was so beautiful, he'd slow down a little, losing control of his hips as he went and then he'd stare at your mouth and lick your lips, and then he'd begin to unload, and look down as he'd slowly start pulling his cock away with his right hand, his left on your head pushing you to look down at the way he filled you up.
And he'd chuckle "Can't fucking put it all in, huh? dumb little pussy."
He'd scoff and scoop up the spare with his hand and force you to lick it, his cock getting harder the more desperately you'd eat it.
Until he'd do it all all over again.
On the couch,
on the floor,
on the broken bed,
on the bathroom sink,
in the shower,
on the kitchen table,
against the door,
in the elevator.
And you'd never blame yourself for getting on that plane never to be found again that following morning.
If you want to be notified about my future stories please follow my library blog @fluffyprettykittylibrary and turn on notifications!
#selenewrites#marc spector x you#marc spector#marc spector x reader#marc spector smut#marc spector x y/n#marc spector x fem!reader#marc spector one shot#moonknight x reader#moon knight x reader#moon knight smut#moon knight x you#moon knight x y/n#marc spector fic#oscar isaac x reader#oscar isaac smut#moon knight
288 notes
·
View notes
Text
Steven 🌒,Marc 🌓, Jake 🌑, all three 🌕
College AU Series 🌕
🌙 “Is That My Shirt?”
🌙 Coworkers
🌙 Biting
Western AU Series 🌓
🌙 Stargazing
One shots
🌒 F.A.F.O 🌑
🌙 Teasing Steven via text has consiquences
🌒 Stronger Than I Look 🌒
You and your coworker Steven are doing inventory late at night. Being a bigger girl you hadn’t worked up the courage to make a move. But an artifact hidden amongst the trinkets in stock changes things.
🌒 The Giftshoppest 🌒
📨 Steven helping you during an awkward moment in the museum and a bit of flirting ensues
🌓 Caught 🌓
📨 MoonKnight Marc walking in on the reader masturbating while house-sitting for him. She panics but he drags her to his bed where he makes her tell him what she was thinking about
🌒 Impact Play 🌑
🎃 You ask Steven for Impact Play at dinner, Jake steps in to show him how it’s done.
🌓 Slow & Soft 🌓
🎃 Marc had a rough night, you find him in the morning and give him what he needs.
🌒 Praise Kink 🌒
🎃 Steven accidentally discovers a new kink with you.
#moon knight#steven grant#jake lockley#marc spector#moon knight smut#mcu moon knight#moon knight mcu#moon knight fic#moon knight fanfic#steven grant x gender neutral reader#steven grant fic#steven grant x female reader#steven grant x f!reader#steven grant fanfiction#marc spector fiction#marc spector one shot#marc spector x f!reader#marc spector fanfiction#marc spector x you#marc spector smut#jake lockley fic#jake lockley fanfiction#jake lockley smut#jake lockely x reader#jake lockley x you#jake lockley x reader#jake lockely
62 notes
·
View notes
Note
KISS! KISS! KISS!
Hello love ❤️ could you do these prompts if you wanna do ... feel no pressure 😅😅
MOON BOIS PLEASE!!
Imsuchawhoreforthemforgivemeforihavesinnedactuallyidontregretanyofthese
7. Almost kissing but someone walks in 0_0
13. “would you acknowledge my feelings for you if i kissed you right now? you can’t seem to take a damn hint, [name]”
18. they’re teasing each other when one character goes “then kiss me” and is surprised that the other character actually does it.
19. ARGUING!!!!! then a heated “kiss me.” and suddenly their hands are all over each other
The Boss (Moon Boys x reader)
Masterlist | Spotify Playlist | Want to be Tagged?
A/N: HI LOVELY! Thanks for the ask!! The idea I had for this was born out of very very very spicy noodles and I was crying on the inside hahaha.
Word count: 2.3k
☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
Your hands were shaking. You could barely gesture around the exhibits to the group of people around you and you had caught yourself twisting the edge of your blazer one time too many. One lady in the group nodded sympathetically to you, connoting your nervousness to the fact that you were leading around a large crowd in a huge museum. Any other employee would have been scared. Scared that their employer would fire them for not doing their job right.
But your situation was something completely out of the ordinary.
It all started the night before, when you and your boss had been finishing up the day's work, making sure that everything was in order. Your boss, or bosses, were a peculiar bunch. For starters you had three, and all three of them resided in one body, or you could say, mind. There was Steven Grant; the nerdy, enthusiastic, sweet man, Marc Spector; the hard and efficient boss and Jake Lockley; the one who was barely there, preferring to work away from people.
You had taken a liking to all of them, accidentally finding out their situation when you caught Steven yelling at a mirror, only to realize that he had a strong American accent instead of his usual soft British drawl. You had picked up their differences fast, the way their posture was, the expressions on their face, all of the slight changes letting you know who you were addressing. As far as you were concerned, they were fine with your company too, and all of you chatted away happily as the piles of work got smaller and smaller.
Once the pile had about 30 minutes worth of work left, Marc got up and came back with a bottle of wine and two glasses. You stared at the bottle he was holding, noticing that it was an old, expensive red wine that was gifted by one of the museum sponsors. You watched as Marc set down the glasses, pulling the cork off the bottle and pouring a generous fill for the both of you. This was slightly out of the blue and you never usually drank on the job, but Marc smiled sweetly and handed you your glass. You took a sip, savoring the rich aroma and matured taste of the aged wine as you watched Marc from over the rim of your glass. He was pulling off his jacket, draping it onto the chair before loosening his tie and unbuttoning his cuffs.
The one thing that smashed your brain up was how hot your bosses were. They were attractive, almost like they had their own glow from within them that radiated a confidence that you felt like you could never achieve. You try not to stare as he started to fold his sleeves until they were over his elbows and slightly strained at the biceps. He sat down and fully pulled at his tie until it unfurled from his neck and sat limp in his hands. He quickly balled it up and set it aside, reaching for his glass of wine.
“Do you like it?” he suddenly asked, pulling you out of your thoughts.
“Huh?” uh oh, you felt like he had caught you staring and your face flushed.
“The wine, sweetheart.” he chuckled and suddenly you forgot to breathe.
The word of endearment sent sparks down your spine and you felt yourself getting dizzy but you nodded and went back to nursing your glass.
“You’ve done some good work here.” It was Steven now and he was looking at you with a smile. “We couldn’t have done it without you.”
“That’s alright Mr. Grant, happy to help.” you return his smile, happy at his genuineness.
“How many times have I told you to stop calling me that? You can call me Steven!” he laughs and takes another sip and you smile shyly.
After a couple of silent minutes, you heard a tapping against a seat, making you look up. It was Jake now, and he wore a relaxed look on his face, one that you had not seen before.
“Come, sit closer to us, we don't bite.” he says, sounding amused.
You found yourself obeying his simple request, getting up and taking a seat next to him. Jake reached for your glass and set it beside you. While Marc and Steven made you feel somewhat equal to them, Jake made you feel like you were prey and he was at the top of the food chain. He eluded so much swagger that you felt smaller than usual around his presence.
“The boys and I were talking,” he started, keeping his eyes on his glass as he watched the wine swirl, “we wanna do something for you.”
You turned to him, slightly surprised at the predicament before you. You nodded, urging him to go on. He leaned closer to you and you couldn’t help but breathe him in. He smelled expensive, leather and sandalwood radiating off him excessively. You found yourself looking at his eyes, watching his long beautiful eyelashes every time he blinked. You pleaded for your heart to still, fearing that he would hear from how painfully hard it was thumping in your chest.
“We want to give you a promotion, cielo.” he whispered it and your mouth dropped open.
He smiled at your reaction and leaned back on his seat to take in more of it.
“Why?” you managed to make yourself whisper.
“You’ve been so good for us, cielo, you’ll be a good asset to the management. But we won’t take you out of your tour guiding, we see how charismatic you are with the people. We just wanna treat our best employee a little better, you know?” he jabbered away, the slight Spanish accent feeling like a delightful tingle in your brain.
“Thank you.” you said, clinking your glass with his glass that he held out.
You took a sip and suddenly you felt a small gust of wind form the open window picking up a paper that was on the table, sending it tumbling away. You set your glasses aside and quickly get up to grab it, only to find that Jake was doing the same. The both of you grabbed the paper at the same time, the both of you kneeling on the ground.
You made the grave mistake of looking up at his face, suddenly realizing that you didn’t know who you were looking at. You couldn’t tell exactly who it was from the thundering in your ears. You stared into the deep brown orbs, almost like you were leaning into the edge of Tartarus, staring down at Kronos as time slowed around you. You watch as the man’s eyes drop to your lips and you know the both of you are tipping towards dangerous territory, the wine softening your hardened edges.
You felt yourself unconsciously crawl forward, setting your hands on top of the man’s thighs, watching something sharp form in his eyes. You let your eyes drop to his lips, studying its shape and resisting the urge to paint them with the lipstick on your own lips. You wondered if they had drugged you, your brain surged into overdrive as he leaned slightly towards you, tipping his head. His eyes were hooded now and so were yours and everything seemed so blurry.
The sound of the door brought the both of you out of the thick tension that had been brewing. While your head swerved towards the door, Marc was still looking at you, his head completely void at any thought but the feeling of your hands on his thighs. Your grip on your boss’ thigh deepened as your eyes widened at the sight of the security guard who was at the door. You were too frozen to move and you were silently pleading with one of the boys to say something.
Fortunately the security guard beat you to it.
“Oops, sorry sir, I’ll come for my rounds later.” he hurriedly said, shutting the door and scuttling away.
The loud bang of the door shutting made you pull away from your boss at lightspeed, as if he was on fire. You acted quickly, jumping to your feet and gathering your things, shoving them in your bag as fast as you possibly could.
“Wait, hey, sorry.” Marc’s voice? No Steven, might even be Jake
You couldn’t think and you didn’t let yourself look at them, eyes glossy and brain foggy, trying to make your legs move as fast as they possibly could to get you far away from them.
☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
Back at the present moment, you found yourself in a corporate meeting, surrounded by executives, discussing the transport of a new object to the museum for a special temporary exhibition. You bosses were nowhere to be seen and you sat taking notes, trying your best to put all of your attention to the project. The door of the meeting room slammed open, a little louder to you than anyone else sitting in the room and you could physically feel the atmosphere in the room change and you could hear the taps of your boss’ shoes on the tiled floor.
He pulled a chair beside you and took a seat, his clothed calf brushing your bare one. From your periphery, you saw him nod, acknowledging the executives. Your right hand shook slightly and you stopped taking notes, fighting hard to focus on the meeting. Suddenly, a large hand covered yours and pulled your notebook away, making you almost jump. You turned to watch your boss flipping through the meeting minutes that you had taken down.
You noticed very quickly that it was Steven and that he was wearing his glasses that were gradually sliding down his nose. You had to resist the urge to push them up his nose and comb back the stray curl that flopped onto his forehead. Instead you watched as his fingers traced your words on your notebook and his familiar scent that burned your senses.
“All of these plans are looking good. I will decide who will transport the item.” Steven’s voice brought you out of your hyperfocus.
He snapped your book shut and stood up, making you remember something.
“Actually, sir, I’d like to volunteer.” you piped up, standing up to meet his eyeline.
“That would not be necessary, Miss, I have made my decision.” Steven said, almost coldly.
“But I-”
Jake’s intimidating face was enough for you to stop in your tracks and take a deep breath.
“Alright, sir, sorry.” you said and the meeting was dismissed.
You turned to follow the stream of people walking out of the meeting room when a hand grabbed at your wrist. It pulled you into a hard chest and you gasped but played it off with a cough. You turned to stare at your boss as the door shut behind the last person who exited the room.
“Why can’t I take the project?” you whispered, noting how their eyes didn’t meet yours.
“Can't let you take that job, love, it's dangerous.” Steven said, wincing slightly at the word of endearment leaving his lips.
“It's just transporting, I don’t think it's that dangerous, stop tryna shield me. So all you said about me being an asset was just bullshit?” you raised your voice and wrenched your arm from his grasp.
“We’re not shielding you, we just have your best interest in mind. And we were not lying.” Marc said, an edge of desperation clinging to his words.
“Well, you are taking away what I want, Mr. Spector.” you counter, anger creeping up to poison your heart.
“Why can’t you get it through that stubborn beautiful head of yours that we’re tryna protect you.” Jake said tapping the side of your forehead.
“This is not protection. I don’t need protection, I want a little bit of freedom!” you spat.
Steven scrubs his face with his hand.
“Can’t you come to terms with the fact that we care?” Steven soothes you softly, holding onto your hand again.
“This is not care-” you stop as you watch Steven’s face contort in pain as Marc tries to push through.
“Fine then, fuck it, would you acknowledge our feelings for you if I kissed you right now? You can’t seem to take a damn hint through the fog that is your stupid stubbornness.” He breathed, moving closer and holding your forearm.
“What?” He said it so fast that you didn’t have time to process it and you were confused at the turn the conversation had taken.
“Kiss me and I’ll show you how much we really care.” he said carefully and your brain stopped working.
Something clicked and you grabbed onto his tie and pulled him, closing the gap as his lips touched yours. It was like they had set you on fire and all you could think of was them. Marc sighed into the kiss and pulled you closer till your body was flushed with his. Their glasses pressed into your skin and you pulled back slightly, searching their eyes, yanking them off and throwing the pair onto the table beside you before slamming your lips back onto their’s. You didn’t know who you were kissing but from the way they were, you knew that you could be given the chance to learn their patterns with more practice.
Your hands cupped their face, their light stubble scratching against the soft skin of your palms. Your nose found its sanctuary beside theirs as you kissed them breathless, moaning as they parted your lips with a hard lick to yours. Their hands couldn’t help but feel you up at their kisses alternated between soft sweet pecks to full passionate breathtaking ones.
Reblogs are appreciated ~~~
#moon knight x reader#jakeglockley asks#moon knight#steven grant#marc spector#jake lockley#marc spector x reader#steven grant x reader#jake lockley x reader#moon knight fluff#marvel moon knight#steven grant fanfiction#marc spector fanfiction#jake lockley fanfiction#steven grant imagine#marc spector imagine#jake lockley imagine#steven grant one shot#marc spector one shot#jake lockley one shot#moon knight smut#steven grant smut#marc spector smut#jake lockley smut
371 notes
·
View notes
Text
Day 21. Praise Kink - Marc Spector
Kinktober Day 21: Praise Kink - Marc Spector x f!reader
Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, overstimulated, multiple orgasms, fingering, crying, praise kink, dom/sub, squirting, fluff, nicknames, no use of y/n
my main masterlist 📚 // kinktober masterlist😈 // AO3 Link
“Just one more baby, you can do it, you’re doing so well”.
Marc’s praises were the only thing you could concentrate on as you were completely and utterly fucked, not even sure you could tell someone what your first name was.
The two fingers that were delved deep inside your warm wet hole, curled into that delicate spot repeating the same motion that Marc had been continuing to do for what felt like forever, drawing out orgasm and orgasm until you were a mewling mess.
“I can’t” you all but sobbed out, completely overwhelmed.
“Yes you can baby, I know you can, it’s only one more and we’ll be done”.
Somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew he had said this with your last orgasm, and the euphoria and praises that he had rushed out to you when you’d screamed and twitched as you came were worth it until you were back to the start again, spending time building and teasing your body.
Marc knew you better than you knew yourself. Knew when you’d had too much, when you needed a break and he definitely knew when you had more to offer as he stared down at your flushed expression, hands desperately gripping the sheets below, eyes closed in concentration, you could handle one more orgasm.
“You’re doing amazing, keep going baby, I can feel you clenching around my fingers”.
He knew that you loved absolutely nothing more than being praised, you could be in the foulest of moods and all he needed to do was whisper how you were his best girl and you were trembling in his arms.
Your thighs began trembling again, the muscles already feeling like jelly from all the stimulation that had been coursing through your cunt from his well-trained fingers. The tightness returned again like a tidal wave, with no build-up, no warning.
It was like floating freely before intense sharp pleasure came in quick pulses, starting in your abdomen and dispersing over your entire body leaving you jolting on the bed, screaming out.
“Just like that, that’s it you're such a good girl”, those last two words were always the trigger words to your pleasure, back arching up even though you were exhausted, his fingers now ceasing in their fucking as you began squirting down his muscular arm with the pulsing orgasmic pleasure.
You were unsure as to how much time had passed since you heard your favourite words, only waking when a hand trailed against your cheek, lips kissing along your temple lovingly to try and stir you awake.
“Marc?” your voice was croaky from all abuse you’d endured when screaming out.
“Hey baby” his voice was calm like it always was, grounding you down when your anxiety began to peak.
“Did.. did I do well?” you asked trying to match his tone but it just ended up with you sounding quiet and timid.
Marc smiled down at you in his arms, “you did so well, I’m so proud of you, I knew you could do it”. You weren’t sure why but your whole body finally relaxed after hearing him say that like you needed to have his confirmation before closing your eyes, a smile settling across your face.
#marc spector#moon knight#marc spector x reader#marc spector smut#marc spector one shot#moon knight smut#moon knight fan fic#marvel smut#marvel one shot#kinktober#kinktober 2022#mine*
736 notes
·
View notes
Text
Illusion (requested)
gif credits @wysteria-clad
request: Hello I would like to request protective!marc Spector ?!?!?? That’s my pretty boy and I love him.
pairing: f!reader x college!marc spector, implied eventual f!reader x steven grant & f!reader x jake lockley
contents: college!au, mention of DID if you squint, trauma response to abuse, anger issues, alcohol consumption, male dominance, guy disrespecting reader’s boundaries, fighting, kinda friends to lovers, hurt comfort, fluff, kissing
AN: sorry this took me a while @romanarose, but thank you so much for requesting, i hope you like it <3
word count: 3.6k
mcu masterlist | requests are closed
A perfectly crisp autumn day. That’s how Marc would describe you. Comforting and colorful, and the muted smell of pine and cinnamon. He’ll always remember the moment he saw you for the rest of his life; it’s unique to his relationship with you— Steven and Jake have their own first impressions. There’s something he enjoys about having that memory all to himself.
When he meets you, he’s been channeling his anger into a variety of things for as long as he can remember. It’s easier to lean into the rage and self-inflicted criticism. His voice echoes harshly in his head, just like his mother’s had. Sometimes it hurts, sometimes he’s numb to it but it always tells him what he already knows. He’s unworthy of anything but the way people write him off. In turn his behavior might as well help him live up to his reputation.
He can pinpoint the moment he wants all of that to change. It’s not when he first sees you, it isn't even the first time you say something to him in class. As the weeks pass you always sit a few chairs down from him and murmur some variation of hello. He finds comfort in it, the way you smile at him and treat him like he’s anyone else.
You can’t deny that you’re drawn to Marc. There’s something about him, something soft and permeable underneath all that hardness. On the days you truly catch his gaze you feel like you can see him. You want to crack him open, bask in that warm gooey center that no one but you tries to get to. But it'll take time, you know that there's a reason he keeps people at a distance. In time, you hope you won't be on that list, that you’ll be an exception to his antisocial rule.
Mid semester, there’s a group project, and the professor has been kind enough—for Marc, cruel enough—to allow students to pick their own partners. He knows that he won’t get picked, people would rather do the project alone than work with him. While you’re kind to him, he doesn’t expect you to ask him to be your partner.
But that’s exactly what you do. You lean over the two seats between you, a gentle smile on your face when he looks over at you.
“Do you wanna pair up?”
Marc looks at you like you’ve grown two extra heads, and if you weren’t so confused with his reaction you would’ve laughed, “You wanna work with me?”
“Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I?” You look at him with genuine bewilderment.
“My reputation?” He suggests, glancing around the room as other students in the lecture hall pair up with each other.
“I like to come to my own conclusions. And you and me…we’re friends.”
With each day that you work together, Marc grows happier with his decision to pair up with you. You’re a breath of fresh air, the heavy weight that’s always sat on his chest feeling lighter when he’s with you. The two of you always meet up in a cozy corner of the library, and you always have coffee and snacks— sweet chocolate, salty pretzels, and an ever changing fruity option. You wanted to be thorough the first time you brought some and he’d dug into all three so you keep bringing them. His coffee order was easy to guess, black, two sugars and none of the frills.
Halfway through the process Marc starts to overthink your gestures, feeling guilty that he’s given nothing in return and starts to bring food himself. Pizza, burgers with all the fixings on the side, tacos. And through this language of food, your feelings for him grow deeper.
He knew he never stood a chance, that the skip of his heart the moment he saw you walk into class was an indicator of how he would feel for you if you ever got close, and he was right. He was right, and it stings, the pain of knowing he’ll never have you burns deep in his gut. But you couldn’t want him, not with who he is. It’s hard for him to imagine that, even when you dismiss his statements like that.
Friendship is one thing, a relationship? Another realm entirely.
After working together on the project you sit right next to him now in class, and when you’re handed your grade of a 100% you turn to him with this sly smile on your face.
“We should celebrate our phenomenal grade.”
“Should we?” He asks skeptically but he’s grinning because your smile is infectious.
He doesn’t let himself think of it often, but he could get used to this. The sight of you smiling and happy at his side.
“Yes, absolutely, and I know just how.”
“How’s that?”
“There’s a party this weekend.”
His mouth turns down into a frown of disgust, “You lost me.”
“C’mon, we can meet up there, huddle up in a corner and make fun of people,” You lean in, wagging your eyebrows at him.
“Parties aren’t really my scene.”
“Nothing’s your scene, you’re a recluse. Please, Marc?”
You give him full on puppy dog eyes, clasping your hands together. The pout of your face is impossible to resist, and for a moment he thinks about what it would be like to press his lips to yours, kissing it away. If he’s being honest with himself, it wouldn’t have taken all of that. Even with his complaining, he planned on saying yes because he wants to spend time with you.
“There’s no other way we can celebrate?”
“If you come and you absolutely hate it, we can go to my favorite diner.”
“Fine.”
“I’ll text you the address and time. See you then?”
“See you then,” He replies, a mixture of nervousness and excitement in his chest.
Your nerves are all over the place as you get ready for the party. You want to wear something that’ll get Marc’s attention. A short skirt with tights underneath and a long sleeved shirt with just the right amount of cleavage. And while you love the way you look by the time you leave the house, once you make it to the party, you realize that you’ll draw the attention of multiple men, not just Marc.
You entertain the guy who’s slinked up to you at first, he seems nice enough, and happy enough to pursue the drinks and food with you in the kitchen. You’ve never seen him before, which isn’t uncommon at a university of your size. Jason’s a political science major and talks a good game so the two of you chat back and forth easily between sips of stale beer and pizza. It isn’t until after someone convinces a lot of folks, Jason included, to do shots that he starts to get handsy.
“You’re so hot, did I tell you that before?” Jason asks with a smile that makes your stomach turn. He’s waltzing towards you with another beer in hand.
You try to move away from him, but after just a few steps back you’re against the wall, “No, you didn’t. And maybe you should sit down, you seem a little wobbly.”
“Oh, I’m okay. Thanks for being worried about me baby,” One of his hands finds your waist, groping the skin exposed.
“Maybe you could back up,” You suggest softly, but your throat is getting a little thick, your chest tight with anxiety.
“Come on baby, let’s get to know each other a little better,” He goads, pressing his lanky body against yours.
He reeks of alcohol and is unbearably hot. You attempt to push him away with the success, “Jason, come on, have some class.”
“You teasing little bitch, you think I wanted to sit here with you and just talk?
“Take your hands off of her. Now,” Marc barks from the other side of the kitchen, startling you.
And though you’ve always enjoyed the sound of Marc’s voice it’s never sounded better than it does in this moment.
“Marc,” You breathe, relieved by the sight of him.
Jason glares at Marc and then you, “Who the fuck is this? Your little boyfriend? Listen, your girlfriend’s a slut, she was making eyes at me all night. Now when it’s time to pay up she’s confused.”
“I won’t say it again. Take your hands off of her.”
“Or what?”
Marc takes a deep breath, shrugs, and then moves with a quickness. It all happens so fast, you’re in his arms, and across the room in no time. When you look over at Jason, he doesn't seem as if he’s been hurt at all, but there’s a nervousness in his eyes that wasn’t there before.
“Are you okay?” He tries to ask it in a comforting manner but his voice cuts through the air like a knife.
It’s in his eyes though, his concern for you and you give him a nod, soft smile, “Yes, thank you.”
“Good, sit tight.”
He tries to step around you, and get closer to Jason but you put your hand on his chest and he flinches, something you’ve never seen before. If he weren’t so angry he would crumble under the fear that bloomed in his chest from your move. He keeps his focus on Jason, removing your hand and maneuvering you in a twirl with ease.
“Marc, don’t,” You call, whirling around to watch him charge at Jason, who takes a few steps back towards a door that leads out of the kitchen and onto the porch.
“No, this guy thinks he can get away with doing whatever the fuck he wants. Not gonna happen,” You can’t see his face but you can feel the anger radiating off his body in waves as he pushes Jason into the wall, his grip on his shirt firm.
“Marc, please,” You plead softly, voice unsteady. “Please, can you just take me home?”
His hold on Jason stays tight as he looks back at you, getting a good look at your face. All he sees is fear and his heart sinks into his stomach; the last person he’s ever wanted to frighten is you. He knows first hand what it feels like to be afraid of someone like this. He moves quickly, letting Jason go and grabbing your hand to leave all in one move.
You hadn't driven here knowing that you’d have a few drinks, but Marc’s completely sober– he’d only showed up at this party because you’d asked him to. He leads you to his car in complete silence, opening the door for you and checking to make sure you’re in before he closes it.
The anger is rippling off his skin in hot waves, and you aren’t sure if he’s just mad at Jason or if he’s mad at you. You spend most of the ride in silence, picking at an invisible piece of lint on your tights. He doesn’t look at you, doesn’t turn on any music, just focuses on getting you to the address you whispered to him when he slipped into the driver’s seat. The silence starts to creep into your lungs and you feel as though you’re choking on the words stuck in your throat, so much so that you finally have to say them even if he is mad at you.
“I’m sorry I got you into all of this. You were sure you didn’t want to go and I made you.”
“I’m just glad I was there to make sure nothing happened to you. That’s what matters. Don’t worry about me,” He doesn’t spare you a glance but you can hear the sincerity in his voice.
The atmosphere in the car changes, and the rest of the drive is filled with a new, comfortable silence now that you know he’s not furious with you. He offers to walk you in once he parks in the lot of your complex, following you up the single flight of stairs to your door. You can feel his eyes on you, watching your every move and you fumble with the keys a few times before letting him in. He stands in the middle of the room with his hands in his pockets, watches awkwardly as you sink into the fuzzy blue couch. He isn’t sure what to do or what to say, he doesn’t want to leave but you look overwhelmed, eyes closed as your arms circle you. He’s about to announce his departure when you sigh, and he waits for you to say whatever’s on your mind.
“Will you stay?” You ask softly, keeping your eyes downcast. When he stays silent you hurry to say, “Just for a little bit.”
It’s the last thing that he expected to come out of your mouth. He looks at you for a beat, surprised before sitting down on the couch, training his eyes on the floor, “I’ll stay as long as you want.”
You don’t move toward him, but you don’t move away and some of the tension leaves his body.
“I’m sorry I scared you,” He murmurs once he feels the silence stretches too long.
You over at him like he’s offended you, “You didn’t scare me.”
He makes a disagreeable sound in the back of his throat. “You don’t have to lie.”
“I’m not lying.”
He has to look at you then, to make sure that your eyes match your words. To his surprise, all he finds is sincerity and relief rushes through him. He can’t remember the last time anyone looked at him the way you are right now, not even when his father tried his best to comfort him through all the pain.
“I’m not afraid of you Marc, I never have been. I told you, you’re my friend. I care about you.”
He wants to say it back to you, wants to take the next step and say that he wants you as more than a friend. But given everything, he stays silent, continuing to regard you with that guarded expression on his face. He can’t let his mask slip, needing to keep the invisible wall between you intact. Being vulnerable doesn’t come easily to him anymore, not when he was violated by someone who was supposed to love him unconditionally.
When you realize he isn’t going to say anything back, you continue, “I just didn’t want you to be who they think you are. That’s what I was afraid of.”
His eyes narrow, “Who’s that?”
“Some angry guy who doesn’t care about anyone.”
He feels exposed, knowing that you know the dichotomy of his makeup. That you know him.
“Maybe that’s who I am,” He says it defensively but both of you can hear the lack of conviction. He’s pushing you away with the last of the smoke and mirrors, and there isn’t much left.
To Marc’s surprise you laugh, shaking your head at him, “You wouldn’t be here with me, apologizing for scaring me if that were true, would you?”
“No,” He breathes softly, almost sounding confused.
You train your eyes on his, as you move closer to him, your leg brushing up against his. Your voice is even softer than before, “Marc, I don’t know what happened to you, and I’m not asking you to tell me. But I’m here for you. I’m not going anywhere.”
He makes no move to break the contact but his frown sets deeper into his stunning features, “What makes you think something happened to me?”
You raise your hand, just to caress his face and he flinches hard— it’s not something that either of you could brush off. Your eyes soften, tears welling up in your eyes as you lower your hand. You know the signs, understanding exactly what that means. The two of you continue to look at each other, the room quiet and still.
“You can touch me,” He murmurs, his voice low and rough.
“No, it’s okay, it’s-“ Before you can finish your sentence he takes your hand into his, presses it firmly to his cheek and closes his eyes with a shaky breath.
You’re incredibly warm, your scent so saccharine and delicate, and the comforting touch of another is something he hasn’t had in years; he instantly melts into it. With that, you begin to explore, running your fingers down the curve of his cheek, trailing the slope of his chin. You follow that all the way up to his forehead, pushing your fingers back into his curls, your eyes widening at how soft his hair is.
So enthralled in being able to touch him like this that you don’t notice how he watches you. He’s drinking in every detail, watching the way your eyes shine in the dim glow of the moonlight. He’s always found you captivating, but this might be his favorite expression on you yet, eyes full of wonder, a tender smile on your face.
“You’re so beautiful,” He doesn’t mean to say it, but he’s thinking it over and over, it pours out of him.
He says it so gently, it takes your breath away for a moment and now all you can do is look at him.
“Did I say the wrong thing?”
A sheepish smile pulls at your lips as you shake your head. “No, I just…” You take in a shuddering breath, “…can I kiss you?”
He blinks a few times, digesting your request with a furrowed brow. When his eyes refocus on you, his expression changes, his tan cheeks staining with a soft pink flush, his eyes clouding with a hunger that shoots straight to your libido. You’re getting ahead of yourself there, especially with how he reacted to just a simple caress of the cheek.
“Marc?” You prompt gently.
“Yes. Sorry, yes. Please.”
You plant yourself firmly in his lap, cupping his cheeks with a caring touch, and his hands find your waist with a firm grip that makes you want to grind against him. The kiss starts sweet, but as your tongues twist and caress each other it morphs, growing steamy. There’s an undercurrent something erotic pulsing through spirit of it. And while you both feel it, neither are ready to go that far.
You want to take your time, get into every crack and cranny of him so that you can eventually take him apart. Marc’s just scared, terrified that taking charge in anyway will fuck this up. That’s all he’s ever known, destroying everything he’s ever held dear.
“Sorry we didn’t get to go to the diner like I promised,” You murmur when you pull away and he chuckles, greedily pressing his lips against yours again.
“I don’t know, this is pretty nice too.”
That’s an understatement but he can’t seem to find the words to convey what this moment means to him.
“Yeah, it is,” You lean into him, tucking your face into the crook of his neck. You're a little nervous to ask the question on your mind. Hiding your face and breathing in his clean, minty scent gives you a confidence boost.
“Do you maybe…wanna stay? We could go in the morning and get breakfast.”
“Really?” You hear rather than see his surprise.
“Really,” You tell him, pressing your lips to the skin of his neck.
“I would love that,” He whispers into your hair timidly, and your heart squeezes for him.
You lean back to look at him, “Let’s head to bed then, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
You rise up first, holding your hand out for him with a toothy grin and he takes your hand gladly, his head spinning a little from how tonight’s events have gone. Once in your bedroom, you start to strip, facing away from him and he turns away, wanting to give you your privacy. You peek over your shoulder as you slide into an oversized t-shirt, can’t help but huff a laugh at how much of a prude he’s being, standing there in his jeans and t-shirt.
“You gonna get ready for bed?” You ask gently, turning to face him.
“Are you done?”
“Yes I’m done, baby,” The term of endearment is like soothing water on his hot skin.
As soon as the words are out of your mouth he turns towards you, his eyes roaming your body before flicking cautiously over to your bed. It’s been a long time since Marc has slept in the same bed as anyone. Sometimes with his little brother, later on once he passed with his father. He’s been away from that type of vulnerability for a few years now.
“Do you want my help?” You offer, your expression patient.
“Yes,” He replies after a beat, his voice uneasy.
Slowly, you walk over to him, making sure he can see all of your movements and that you make no sudden moves. You run your hands down his chest and stomach soothingly before reaching for the hem of his t-shirt, wagging in a silent question of on or off.
“You can take it off.”
Scars. Not many, just a few here and there litter his torso, and you don’t let your eyes linger. Your touch stays tender, gentle, eager to explore. Marc’s grateful for that.
“Pants?”
“Off, please.”
You reach for his belt, unbuckling it with no hurry before unbuttoning his pants and sliding them down. And once he’s just in his boxers you grab his hand, lead him over the bed and slide under the covers. When you look up at him he hesitates for a moment, and you hold your hands out in encouragement. The soft look on your face puts his mind at ease and he slides in next to you, turning you around and tucking you into his arms with a pleasant hum.
He likes your warmth. Your comfort. He could drown in it.
You let out a sigh of contentment, snuggling further into him, “Goodnight, Marc.”
His mouth dips to kiss the skin beneath your ear, arms giving you a squeeze, “Goodnight, baby.”
if you’d like to be on my moonknight taglist, let me know!
moonknight taglist: @laurensprentiss, @angelfxllcm, @in-between-the-cafes, @honeybrowne, @ninebluehearts, @rmoonstoner, @hotchs-bitch, @later-gators12, @foreverinwanderlustt-blog, @aleeb, @julydaydream, @mona-has-friends
#marc spector x reader#marc spector x female reader#marc spector x fem!reader#marc spector x f!reader#moonknight x reader#moonknight x you#marc spector imagine#marc spector one shot#moonknight one shot#moonknight fanfiction#arson writes marvel#not cm
826 notes
·
View notes
Text
Strawberries and Cream | [S.G.] [M.S.]
Pairings: Steven Grant x Black!Female!Reader, Marc Spector x Black!Female!Reader
Summary: It's valentine's day and your boys surprise you with breakfast in bed
Word Count: 3.4k words
Content Warnings: Swearing, established relationship, fluff, fluff, and more fluff
( Masterlist )
A/N: Wowowowow, this took so long! Apparently, I don't know how to write anything other than angst, so it took me like six stories until I had one with just fluff. I had a lot of fun writing this though. HAPPY BELATED VALENTINE'S DAY! (And Black History Month, that is why we're here)
You woke up on the fourteenth, thrumming with excitement. The sun’s gossamer rays crept into the room, and you basked in the honey glow, letting the warmth soak into your skin. You wrapped yourself tighter in your sheets to fight off the chill and realised you were alone.
Usually, you would wake up feeling a little clammy and pressed into the mattress by a snoring hunk of muscle who had rolled over onto you in the night. But this morning, the furnace you were accustomed to waking up under was nowhere to be seen.
You slowly sit up and look around. There’s a different book on the nightstand. Which tells you they at least came home last night. Steven had just finished reading Don Quixote with you, and it seems your next bedtime story was Flowers for Algernon.
You heard something fall to the floor in the kitchen, then a string of curses. You would have panicked, maybe considered that your apartment had been broken into, but you recognised that voice…and the other.
“Steven cut it out. We only need one chef in the kitchen.”
“Yeah, well you forget I’ve had your food. And it’s not good mate.”
“Whatever, you don't even eat real food.”
“Cows are cute and I don’t want to eat them! But that’s beside the point. Crepes are tricky and you’ve already ruined the batter, just let me try and fix it, yeah?”
“I didn’t ruin anything. That extra egg was just- just good protein.”
“Well, now they’re gonna be too eggy! It’s gonna taste like an omelette!”
“Oh, shut up it’s fine. Everything is fine!”
Peering around the corner, watching them switch back and forth, you almost giggle. They're frantically whisking away, the mixing bowl tucked into their chest, pinned by their arm. Pinched between their fingers was the compact mirror you kept in your purse, but it seemed backseat driving was no longer sufficient.
They're covered in flour, and there's a bit of batter splattered on some of the cabinets, and across their cheekbone. Chaotic Domesticity. It was a good look on them.
They don’t see you when you step out of the hallway, “I’m sure it will be delicious, my loves.”
Your voice startles them slightly, and they almost drop the bowl. You quickly try to discern whose fronting. His brows are high, and his jaw is slightly slack. You step around the island divider and wipe the spot you noticed earlier, hoping it might calm him down.
“Steven, if they taste like omelettes, then I will be delighted to have omelettes. But crepes are great too. And so is that cafe down the street. Whatever works out, as long as you guys are there to eat them with me.”
He melts in your hold a little; his face tilting into your palm. But then he jerks it away very suddenly. You’re confused as he backs away.
“Oy! This was supposed to be a surprise!” He’s upset but not with you, just in general. However, his expression falls into a frown that breaks your heart a little. “We had a whole plan.”
“It’s alright, dear. I won’t look at anything else,” You say as you throw your hands up to cover your eyes. “Just tell me what you need me to do.”
He chuckles at your antics, and you feel a little brighter. He explains that they planned to bring you breakfast in bed today. You shuffled back to your room and closed the door that way they would feel like they would get a little more privacy.
You tidied up a bit, picking up some clothes from the floor and remaking the bed. You stepped into your ensuite, brushed your teeth, and washed your face, then you let your braids out of your bonnet and tended to them accordingly. With nothing else to do, you wandered to the bookshelf in search of a title to pass the time.
Alice had just met the dodo and sacrificed her thimble when you heard a knock at the door.
“Are ya decent?” You heard Marc’s gruff voice call out.
You chuckle at the absurdity. You were currently wearing his shirt and his boxers in your shared bed in your shared apartment. He had seen you naked plenty of times.
“Based on previous reviews, I’d say I’m more than decent,” you tease.
You hear his laughter in the hall, and you inflate with a bit of pride. He cracks the door and loudly “whispers” through the gap.
“Steven wanted to wake you up with breakfast. Is there,” He sighs, embarrassed to ask, “Is there any way you could pretend to be asleep?”
You chuckle, knowing Steven can hear everything Marc says right now. “Of course. Anything for my boys.”
He shuts the door again, and you feel like you’ve been transported to the days of your childhood. Those times your parents would come into your room to tell you goodnight and tuck you in. But then you would immediately hide in your impenetrable fortress made of cotton and down and stay up reading for just a little longer.
After a few chapters, you could hear your parents walking towards your door to ensure you were asleep. Your heart would pound in your chest as you fumble to turn off your flashlight and try to hide your book under your pillow so your parents wouldn’t know you had gotten lost in the Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane yet again.
You feel a bit of adrenaline course through you as you scramble around. You're frantically searching for a bookmark and spot a receipt sticking out of a jeans pocket in the laundry. You shove it between your pages and toss the book under your pillow. Then you yank the blanket up, high above you and tuck the edge under your head. You watched the blanket cascade back down in a slow wave, like the rainbow parachute from elementary gym class.
You scrunch your eyes closed, as tight as you can- when you hear a gentle rapping on the door. It slowly creaks open again, and your name is whispered into the air, but you don’t respond. You’re supposed to be asleep. You’re not fallin’ for that.
Your lips are folded into your mouth as you try desperately not to giggle, staying as still as possible. You can hear steps approaching their side of the bed. They set a few things down and let out a long dramatic sigh that you recognise as Steven’s.
“I know you’re not asleep.”
You remain still.
“Really?”
He sounds more amused than irritated, so you continue the bit. You know Marc is definitely getting a kick out of this.
“Your food’s gonna get cold, and Marc and I worked too hard for you to let it go to waste. Now, come off it. Let’s see that beautiful face.”
Steven hears a muffled sound from the covers, but it’s indecipherable mumbling.
“Didn’t quite catch that love.”
You huff and tug the blanket under your chin.
“I said, If you wanna wake me up, you know how. I expect a proper waking up.”
As soon as the words are out of your mouth, you pull the blanket right back over your head. Steven grumbles but doesn’t complain. The sound of fabric ruffling and hitting the floor fills the room, and you can’t fight the grin spreading over your cheeks.
The rush of cold air on your back as the covers were pulled back was well worth knowing you had won. He slides in next to you and tucks himself in. Already your body seems closer to equilibrium, just having him near.
He pulls at your shoulder so you're laying on your back, and his arms immediately worm around your waist as his head rests on your chest. Your hands naturally come up to hold him closer, one draped over his back and the other tangled in his curly hair. You released a content sigh at the feeling of him snuggling into you as your nails pass through his curls.
You almost forgot what brought you into this situation in the first place. You are so at peace, intertwined with your lovers. But then Steven starts trailing kisses across your shoulder and up your neck. They are sweet and tender, feather soft. Each one pressed into your skin with consideration and devotion.
He reaches your cheeks, and one of his hands cradles your jaw. The way his fingers drag across your skin makes you feel like a precious stone, and the way he looks into your eyes makes you feel like a star plucked from the heavens.
He tugs gently at your chin, and your lips part as he ever so slowly leans in. You’re sure he can hear the way your heart is racing. The way it whispers his name every pump.
His nose bumps against yours, and you feel the faint sigh that leaves his lips against yours. You nudge your chin closer, trying to close the gap, but he manages to move just out of reach while staying just as close.
“I’m waking you up, darling,” he reminds you with a small smirk.
You whisper out a small okay that sounds pathetically desperate even to your ears, but you can’t find it in you to care. Because now his lips are brushing against yours. His slightly chapped lips set off every nerve ending in your own. His tongue darted out for just a moment to run against your bottom lip, and you gasped at the contact.
He dipped his nose under yours, and the torment began on the other side. He kissed your cheek, and you were about ready to snap. Had you been standing, you would have stomped your foot in frustration, and Steven would have laughed at your childish response. But he was teasing you relentlessly (which was already out of character for your sweet boy, who is always so eager to please), and it was getting harder to breathe under the covers.
His head is tilted so that it is almost perpendicular to yours. He moves his hand to cradle your cheek, his big hand almost covering the whole expanse of your face. He smiles sweetly at you before finally diving in.
Then it happened. His lips attached around your parted lips and created a seal. He blew a big puff of air into your mouth, and your brain reacted in the same way you think it would if you had been shot. Your eyes bugged out of your head, your arms instinctively failed out, and you made a sputtering, gagging noise. Your cheeks comically inflated for a second before all the foreign breath shot out of your nose. It was like a forced sneeze.
While you were effectively stunned, Steven was full-on chortling, completely cracking up. You’re not entirely sure what “guffawing” means, but you’re sure that’s what this is. You think he might actually damage something, bust his gut or something. It would serve him right, swift justice. You had recovered enough from your initial shock to finally respond.
“STEVEN MICHEAL GRANT! I cannot believe you did that! You not only faked me out but you- you...I don’t even know what you did! But it was horrible!”
The man you are scolding does not seem to care as he lies on his back, clutching his stomach and kicking his feet like a little schoolgirl. You playful smacked his chest as you sat cross-legged beside him in protest. You were upset, not because it happened, but because it happened to you. You didn’t want to admit how funny the joke was. Nor that you wished you had thought of it first.
His rolling laughter is cut short when his body suddenly stiffens, and his neck straightens with his chin pointing to the ceiling. The face that meets your gaze is a little hardened, tougher. His jaw is almost always clenched, and his brows are millimetres from furrowed. Sometimes it blows your mind how these two men can come from the same brain- cohabitate in the same body- when they are also so different. When they look so different.
This is the same face, the same hair, the same muscle and skeletal structure, biologically, the same man, and yet, they are entirely different. Their goals and aspirations are much more copasetic than they were before, but they are still different. They have different tastes in music and food. They have different favourite colours. They have different hobbies and skills. They know different languages. It’s wild.
But also they are similar in a lot of ways too. They are both shit dancers. Absolutely no rhythm to be found. But plenty of enthusiasm. They both like the smell of citrus. Neither of them really believes in multivitamins. You tried to get them to take some vitamin D (they are mostly active at night! They need it!), but even Steven thinks they're silly.
He promised to drink more orange juice. You didn’t have it in you to tell him orange juice packed vitamin C and not D and instead thanked him for making an effort.
They also both loved you. Like a lot. And that was pretty crazy to wrap your mind around too.
Marc’s eyes locked with yours and you watched as his lips danced around his face, chasing off a smile. You gave him a warning look, but it had the opposite effect. He burst into a fit of snickers. He at least had the courtesy to try to hide it behind his hand. He sat up and tried to cover his tittering with the most obviously fake cough you have ever heard.
“Sorry, had a little tickle in my throat.”
You roll your eyes and lightly check his shoulder with yours, “I know you were the mastermind behind that. My sweet little Steenie Baby would never do that to me. You’ve corrupted him. Truly a terrible influence.”
Marc throws his head back in a laugh (possibly an evil one, you couldn’t tell). He kisses your cheek in an effort to win you over, and you hate to say it works. He pulls you into his lap, and you settle into his chest. His arms rest under yours as he links your fingers together.
You tilt your head to the side as Marc takes his turn to pepper you with kisses and remind you how much he loves you. When he’s satisfied that his message got across, he tucks his face into your neck. There he stays, pulling your arms across your waist so he can still hold your hands while he presses your body as closely into his as modern science will allow.
You sway along to a song that isn’t playing. Or maybe it’s not playing through the air but rather through your hearts. Perhaps the shockwaves of each throb are travelling through your bodies, having a private conversation you’re not meant to hear. A secret serenade.
After what seemed like both forever and not nearly long enough, Marc left his hovel with a huff.
“Steven says if we don’t eat right now he’s going to go ‘absolutely mental.’”
You giggle and offer an apology to Steven while Marc leans over and sets the tray in your lap. It's a cookie sheet that they folded a towel around, so it wasn’t as cold or ugly. You smile as you admire its contents. A single red rose beside your plate, which was covered by a large bowl flipped upside-down, behaving as a lid of sorts. You unveiled your dish and gasped at the beauty before you.
Where you expected (maybe edible) plain crepes, you were instead presented with a large stack of hearts dyed to look pink and layered with some sort of white cream and strawberry slices. The top layer was adorned with little tuffs of the cream on the outer rim, with whole strawberries in between.
You looked at Marc in utter disbelief, and he beamed at you, pride pushing his chest forward. “Happy Valentines Day, Sheyfele.”
You grabbed him by the cheeks and crashed your lips into his. The kiss was quick but steady and sure. “Thank you, both of you. I love you so much.”
You’re sure they can see your eyes becoming glassier, but neither comment on it. You extend the favour.
“We love you too…Now please try it. Steven really is losing his mind here.”
It’s delicious (the sweet cream hides the little bit of egginess well), and you share bites with Marc for a while. He goes to readjust; prop up the pillows behind him. Marc had been putting his body through the wringer since he walked out his front door all those years ago. While he is definitely still young, his body isn’t what it used to be. He fluffs his, then reaches to grab yours.
“What’s this, baby?” He holds up a book with an amused smile.
You laugh at the memory, “Oh, I was reading that this morning, but then you asked me to pretend to sleep, so I just hopped under the covers as quickly as I could.”
He hummed in acknowledgement as he thumbed through the pages. A small slip of paper fell out, and as Marc examined it closer, he felt his heart in his throat.
“Hey (y/n), where did you find this?”
You glance at the paper and answer between bites.
“It was stickin’ out of your pant pocket.” You point to the pair hanging out of the hamper, “I’m sorry, was it important? I didn’t mean to steal it.”
You worry for a second that you might have upset him. You try to make light of the situation. “Imma strong believer in the ‘anything is a bookmark’ philosophy. You guys know my rule: use the first thing you see.”
Marc nodded in agreement, “Yeah, yeah, I know. Did you uh- did you see anything else? When you found this, I mean.”
You shook your head no. “I don’t meddle in any of the crazy shit you bring home, baby. I am not interested in accidentally gettin’ some pharao curse or getting hunted down by some god.”
Your answer gives him relief, and he laughs alongside you.
He tucks the paper back into your book and kisses your shoulder to grab your attention.
“Would you like Steven to read to you while you eat?” You excitedly nod your head, and moments later, you hear Steenie’s sweet voice.
“Alright, Alice in Wonderland; a classic. Good choice, love.” He kisses your temple, and you feel the same swell of pride in your chest that you would get when your teacher rewarded you with a little gold star. “Now, where were you?”
As you tear into your breakfast (sharing, of course) and Steven reads to you, you get hit with a feeling of gratitude. You feel at home here- with them. You feel safe and cherished. You feel more than joy; something better than happy. You feel contentment, fulfilled.
You had never been one to believe in fate before, but you thanked whoever was out there, whoever had heard your desperate prayers on your lonely nights. You thanked them for delivering…and then some.
Your boys were also feeling that gratitude. They couldn’t believe they had found someone so truly beautiful inside and out. A woman who was damn near fearless, with a kind heart, sharp intellect, and tremendous patience. You were a treasure to behold.
Every morning they wake up expecting to be back in the dusty old flat with only books and a fish for company. But then, when they open their eyes, there you are, and it feels like the most extraordinary gift they’ve ever been given. Your love is something deserving of its own fable or myth. Your story should be told in reverie. A story passed down for centuries, like that of Osiris and Isis.
But they also feel a little scared. They have big plans today. Plans to spoil you and fill your heart with joy. Plans to woo. Plans to convince you that they are worth it- that they’re worth you. Plans to prove to you that you are all they will ever need- all they will ever want. Plans to get on one knee. Plans to beg you to give them this chance at a happy ending. Plans to promise you yours.
Plans to pull a ring box from the back pocket of those pants dangling dangerously out of the hamper. Plans to slip the dainty gold band with a honey-warm, citrine gem- that he got on a mission last week in Bolivia- onto your finger. Plans to admire how it glows against your skin, and how despite its magnificence, it could never outshine yours. Plans that would have been ruined if you could read the Spanish receipt in your book.
Taglist: @barbecuetiddy, @fanfics-instead-of-depression, @heejinw0rld, @ilovemoonknight, @Isshecrazyorissheclever, @purple-amaranthe, @jedisstark, @rudy-the-winged-wolf, @scorpiolystoned, @wannapizzamymindposts, @whoreforklitz,
If you want to be tagged in future Moon Knight fics but don't want to do the whole taglist thing again, just comment or reach out and I'll add you to it :))
another A/N because whatever: I will be doing a little /headcannon break down thing for this because I'm kinda throwing some in there with no real explanation, but feel free to send me asks about any confusion. I love answering those!
I'm also gonna start linking those to the original fics too, so you (and new readers) can find them
#rancid writes#black!reader#steven grant x fem!reader#marc spector x black!reader#steven grant x reader#steven grant x you#steven grant x black!reader#marc spector x reader#marc spector x you#marc spector x fem!reader#moon knight system x reader#moon knight x reader#moon knight x you#marvel x reader#steven grant fluff#steven grant one shot#marc spector fluff#marc spector one shot#steven grant#marc spector#moon knight#moon boys#moon knight system#reader insert#black writers
191 notes
·
View notes
Text
Sleeping Buddies-Steven Grant x Reader
(GIF credit to @marveldaily)
Summary: Unbeknownst to Marc, Steven has a girlfriend. This girlfriend also doesn't know that Marc exists, as well as Steven's odd sleeping rituals.
Characters: Steven Grant x Reader, Marc Spector x Reader
Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name
Warnings: Just fluff and it's long
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Did you really have to be that harsh on those guys?" Steven moaned as he sat up in bed, his body aching.
"Oh, I'm sorry, would you have preferred to be beaten to a pulp back there?" Marc snapped back.
"Alright, alright, I get it. I thought the suit was supposed to be all healing, why am I aching?"
"You slept in a weird position last night."
Steven just shook his head, slowly walking towards the cupboard with cereal in it. As he poured himself a bowl, he heard his phone ding, smiling when he saw who's name popped up.
"(Y/N)? Who's that? And why are you smiling so much?"
Steven ignored him, unlocking the phone and instantly tapping on the notification. He had two messages from her, both sweet, just like her.
'Good morning 😊 hope you're OK after what Donna said to you. That sounds terrible! Sometimes I wish I worked at that museum with you just so I could give her a piece of my mind! 😡 I can't wait to see you this weekend, I've really missed you xx'
Marc was really confused as he read the text. How did he not know about this woman? And how did Steven manage to even talk to a girl?
'Hi, are you OK? I tried to face time earlier but you didn't answer. Obviously it's fine if you're busy, but I'm guessing your sleep is messed up again. Maybe we can go to a doctor together about it? If you want that is, no pressure my love. Anyway, I hope you're sleeping well, I'll message you in the morning as usual. Sweet dreams xx'
"Steven, do you have a girlfriend?"
"Yeah, I do, actually. Why do you sound surprised?"
"What does she look like?"
"None of your business! Besides, it's all messed up now, innit? Now you're in the picture, and how would she react to that? This relationship is still new, I don't want to ruin it."
"You've got to tell her at some point."
"I know but-"
Steven was interrupted when someone knocked on the door. He wasn't expecting anyone or anything to be delivered today. Maybe it was the postman that had a parcel for his neighbours who weren't in. Steven took the blue strip off the door, hiding his body behind the door, he was still in his pyjamas after all. However, his mouth dropped open when his girlfriend stood there.
"Holy shit, Steven."
"(Y/N), h-hi, what are you doing here?" he fully opened the door, forgetting how he looked.
"Sorry, I know I should have called or text before coming over. I just...I was starting to worry about you."
"You have to tell me how you picked up this girl."
"Worry? Why would you worry?"
"It's four in the afternoon. I was supposed to text you this morning and during work like I usually do but I was late today, and then I had to basically cover everyone else so I didn't have time. I've felt so bad."
"No, no sweetheart, why would you feel bad? I'm the one who's been sleeping all day."
"It's a good thing you're not at work today."
"You remembered my schedule?"
"You sent me a copy of your rota, just in case sleep gets the better of you."
"Steven, she's way out of your league."
Steven was slightly offended by Marc's words, but he knew it was true. He too had been shocked when (Y/N) started a conversation with him. She was gorgeous, and one of the best things about her was how caring she was. (Y/N) never asked too many questions about his sleep trouble, she just made sure she was able to help in some way. Even if that meant giving Steven his space and not staying over at each others places.
(Y/N) admitted (just to herself) it hurt that she couldn't lay in bed with Steven. They couldn't watch a film snuggled up on the sofa for fear Steven may fall asleep. Although it wasn't the most important thing, (Y/N) did want to sleep with Steven, as in, make love with one another. Not because she was horny, but because she loved him and she felt that sex was another layer of connection between a couple. However, (Y/N) wasn't going to risk pushing Steven away over sex, he meant so much to her.
"Can I come in?"
She had been at his before for dinner, multiple times, but that's when Steven cleared away the sand and hid his leg shackle under the bed. He totally forgot about that as he invited her in, eyes popping out of his head when he turned around after closing the door. It was too late, she had already seen it.
"Steven, what's this?" she asked, not sure how to take it.
"It's...it's for the sleep, I swear! I used to get up in the middle of the night, end up hurting myself. And, and the sand is to see if I have stepped out of bed. Oh, and this," he held up the crumpled blue tape in his hand,"I put this on the door so I can figure out if I've left the flat."
"You do all this because of your sleep habits?"
Shit, shit, shit, this was it. (Y/N) was going to think he was a freak, she didn't see how crazy he was. He could envision it now. She was going to rapidly pick up her things and scurry out of there, deleting his number and him out of her life forever. He couldn't lose her, she was the best thing in his life right now.
Steven was wary as she slowly approached him, he had no idea what she was going to do or what her reaction would be. (Y/N) looked upset, and he didn't know what that meant. She snaked her arms around his waist, cuddling him close as she rested her head on his chest.
"I'm so sorry Steven. You should have told me about this, I could have helped...somehow."
Steven was so relieved, instantly hugging her back. He didn't realise how much he needed a hug right now. (Y/N) rubbed circles on his back, soothing the tension away. How had he found someone so perfect?
"What? She's not running away? Steven, you've literally found the ideal woman. Either that or she's as crazy as you and me."
"So, you're not running away?" Steven squeaked out.
She squeezed him."No you donut. I'm staying, and I'm going to help. In future, just let me know when you need help, OK?"
"I will."
"So, I was thinking, since I'm here, maybe I could stay over?"
(Y/N) had just come out with it, she had been so nervous about asking. It was a sensitive subject, but she knew she had to just ask, otherwise it would never happen. The wait felt far too long as she saw Steven thinking about it. No, don't banc down now, see what he says!
"You're taking too long to answer buddy."
"Yeah, yeah why not? As long as you're OK with my...sleep habits."
(Y/N) grinned as soon as he agreed, and Steven couldn't ignore that. There was guilt creeping up. It was normal for couples to stay with one another, he kept avoiding that. He just hoped that Marc would take a break this evening and actually let him sleep. Now all he was worrying about was (Y/N) actually being here.
"Uh, I'm afraid the place is a bit messy, I haven't had much time to clean up. And I don't have any food for us."
"Oh, I mean, I can stay another night-"
"No, I didn't mean for you to go away! I, I was just, um, trying to cover myself, like, just explain why my life is such a mess."
She giggled."So dramatic. Why don't we just order a takeaway, and if you want we can tidy up the place whilst we wait?"
He nodded, surprised when he quickly pecked him on the lips. (Y/N) went to grab her phone, looking up where was best to order from. Steven quietly excused himself to the bathroom, letting out a breath as he locked the door. He had to calm down, he was going to have a heart attack otherwise.
"Steven."
Marc startled him, making Steven whip around to look in the mirror. Marc didn't look impressed.
"Would you stop stressing, you're going to start sweating."
"How can I not stress? You're here with me, (Y/N) has shown up, and we've never spent the night together."
"Never?"
"No!"
"She seems sweet, she's gorgeous too."
"Oi, don't look at her, alright? What if I do something wrong?"
"If she's stuck around after seeing the leg shackle, I think you can't do anymore wrong."
"Babe, you want the usual?" (Y/N) called.
"Yeah love, yeah that would be great. Thank you."
"Right, you're going to go out there and have a nice evening, simple as. I don't know why you're acting like this."
"Because I love her!"
Steven started to smirk."You haven't told each other yet, have you?"
"No, didn't want to scare her away."
"Again, I think she would have run after the restraints."
"Yeah, you're right. I've faced monsters and bad guys, this will be a piece of cake."
Marc politely nodded, not wanting to crush Steven's tiny bit of confidence. Steven was smiling to him, straightening out his top and tidying up his hair. He missed Marc shaking his head as Steven left the bathroom, seeing (Y/N) already starting the dishes he had left.
"You didn't have to do those." He said as he stood next to her.
"You look like you need some help babe. No offence."
Steven was hesitant, but he wrapped one arm around her waist, hesitantly kissing the side of her head. She knew he was still new to PDA, so this was very sweet of him. Leaning into his embrace, she almost squealed when he rested his head on top of hers. When he suggested drying up, (Y/N) told him to leave it, drying her own hands before guiding him to the sofa.
"Can I ask about the shackle? Like, how did you decide to use one?"
"I don't know really." they sat opposite each other, but their legs were tangled up, holding hands still."It just got really bad at one point, I was a danger to myself."
"That's terrible. So you've been going through this by yourself?"
He nodded.
"Well, I'm here now. I'm going to help you. Everyone deserves a good night sleep."
"Oh, sweetheart you don't have any of your things with you!"
(Y/N) glanced down at her clothes, almost smacking her hand over her face in stupidity."Ah, yeah, well, I wasn't really expecting to stay."
"You can borrow my stuff if you like."
"Is that OK?"
"Yeah. I'm sure I've got a spare toothbrush too, don't really fancy using the same one do you?"
"No, not really. Thank you babe." she leaned over to kiss him."Do you mind if I get changed into something comfier now?"
"Yeah, yeah. Uh, let me, let me find something for you."
Although he had offered his clothes, he had no idea what to give to her. A t-shirt was fine, maybe a jumper to throw over if she was cold, but what about the bottom half? He only had a spare pair of jogging bottoms, and though they would be huge in her, it was the best he could do. He couldn't deny he was excited to see her in his things, she was going to look so cute.
And once she emerged from the bathroom, he couldn't help but shyly smile at her."You look adorable."
(Y/N) flet herself blushing, he was too cute."If you say so babe. I'm glad you think that anyway."
Marc kept quiet as the couple spent time together, observing Steven's behaviour. He was still dorky and shy, but it was as if they had been together for years. Steven sometimes made bold moves, kissing her randomly, pulling her back into hugs, playing with her hair, they even fed each other; he hadn't seen him this confident before.
Steven did the washing up this time, glancing back at (Y/N) on the sofa, who had now picked up a book to flip through. He caught Marc staring at him in a nearby mirror.
"So, things are going well."
Steven didn't reply, not wanting to look crazy in front of his girlfriend.
"OK, I know you're not going to speak to me but I can feel your heart beating and it doesn't sound healthy. You're just sleeping beside each other, it's not like she's expecting you to have sex."
Steven fumbled with the plate he was holding, quickly recovering before throwing a smile at (Y/N).
"You've got a good one here, Steven. She's in love with you."
It felt weird to hear Marc being sentimental. Why was he being so supportive? Wouldn't he want (Y/N) out of the picture to make it easier for him? But that word, love, Steven wasn't sure if it was the right time. Especially after the things she had seen in his flat.
Steven heard her yawn, looking over his shoulder to see (Y/N) snuggling deeper into the oversized jumper. He remembered she had been at work all day, she hadn't had a day off yet. He wasn't tired, seeing as he slept all day, but he would pretend to be to let her sleep sooner.
"Tired?"
She lazily nodded as she rubbed her eyes."Sorry, long day."
"Don't apologise. We can get snuggled up if you want."
"Snuggled up? Really?"
"Aren't you wide awake?"
"Nah, I can nap. Or I could read for a bit whilst you sleep. I've got a night light I can use."
(Y/N) stood up, stretching as she spoke."Steven Grant, you are the most adorable and sweetest thing I have ever seen."
He blushed, fiddling with the ends of his sleeves. (Y/N) kissed him again before going to brush her teeth, the pair sharing a shy smile before closing the door. Steven rushed to the bed, wondering how on Earth he was going to get rid of all the sand in more or less two minutes. He tried to scoop some up into a cereal bowl but there was too much. He froze when he heard the door open.
"What are you doing?"
"Um, I'm trying to get rid of the sand. For you."
Did this man have any faults? (Y/N) walked over, resting a hand on his back."You don't have to do that. If it helps you then we'll leave it."
"You sure? What if you forget and step in it?"
"It's just sand babe, I can brush it off."
"Thanks. That's really nice of you."
They settled into bed, both a bit sheepish about the ordeal. Why were they stressing? They were adults, two adults who were dating and simply sharing a bed. Nothing was going to happen. Well, Steven hoped nothing would happen, he didn't want to freak (Y/N) out.
He couldn't help but watch as she sat up in bed to take off the jumper, the t-shirt underneath riding up below her bra line. His head whipped away from her once she had taken it off, trying to think of something else. (Y/N) laid down, pulling the duvet up as she buried herself in it. Steven was also under the covers, but had picked up a book from the bedside table, as well as his glasses.
"I love your glasses. You should wear them more often."
Steven chuckled softly."I think I look a bit like a nerd."
"And that's a bad thing? It's cute, yet sophisticated and handsome at the same time."
"Thanks. Perhaps I will wear them more."
"You sure about staying up? I can stay awake for a bit."
"You're shattered love. I don't mind. This is how I spend my evenings anyway."
(Y/N) hesitated before speaking, looking up at Steven with her big eyes."Could we maybe cuddle up whilst you read? You can always push me off if you want."
"And why would I do that?"
(Y/N) shimmied up to him as Steven lowered himself. She rested her head on his chest, one arm draped over his stomach. Steven had an arm around her back, the other holding his book.
"Comfy?" he asked.
"Yeah. I might have to request sleeping like this every night."
"Would you want to stay over again?"
"Are you asking me to?"
"I think so."
"Don't feel forced Steven. I mean, I would love to spend more nights with you."
"Then that's settled then, innit?" he placed a kiss on her forehead, mbefore reaching down and kissing her lips."Goodnight love."
"Goodnight. Don't stay up too late."
Steven had been reading for a while, absentmindedly rubbing gentle circles on her back. She was asleep in minutes. He had to pause his reading a few times to check she was actually breathing she was so quiet. Like always, he didn't feel tired at all, giving up on reading and instead stroking back (Y/N)'s hair.
He wanted to continue this relationship. He really did love her, he had to admit it. However, he didn't want to say it out loud in case he jinxed it. This whole situation with Marc was so complicated and crazy, he didn't know how to go about it.
"Relax, for one night."
Marc was right. He had to at least enjoy this night with her. Leaning over to the lamp, he turned it off, cautiously lying down with (Y/N). She stirred but didn't wake. She held him tighter, wrapping one leg over his. And he didn't panic, Steven embraced it, holding her close.
Steven felt like he had blinked and woken up, though he was used to feeling tired all the time. A smile instantly appeared on his face as (Y/N) woke. Her hair was messy, eyes puffy, yet she was still the most beautiful thing Steven had ever seen.
"Good morning." Steven whispered.
She propped herself up to properly see him."Morning. How did you sleep?"
She had just woken up and her first thought was him.
"Better, still not great though."
"That's still good though babe, better than having a terrible night sleep. And you didn't use the shackle."
"Oh, I totally forgot about that."
"See? There's some progress already."
She slid off him so they were laying side by side, facing each other.
"You're amazing, do you know that?" Steven gushed.
"What? Why?"
"Because, you just are. Someone else might have ran away when they saw what state I was in. But you stayed."
"Yeah, well that's because I-" (Y/N) stopped herself, she was easily going to say it. Oh well, might as well come out with it."Because I love you."
Steven's breath got caught in his throat. She said it. She just said it. She loved him. (Y/N) loved him. Marc could have laughed at Steven's expression, almost wanting to nudge him to say something back before she thought he didn't feel the same.
"I love you." Steven replied, taken back when she dove forward to kiss him.
Their kiss was passionate and long, though Steven kept his hands in a respectable place, and (Y/N) decided against straddling him, no matter how tempting it was. They were breathing heavier when they finally parted, lips feeling puffy, bodies feeling hot.
"I love you." Steven said again.
"I love you."
"It feels good to say that."
"Have you been wanting to say that for a while?"
"Uh, yeah."
"Me too."
They giggled together. They felt like teenagers.
(Y/N) gave him a peck on the lips before sitting up."Mind if I go have a shower?"
"Course."
As she stood, Steven's eyes widened. In the night she had taken off the joggers, leaving her in just his t-shirt, which had also somehow ridden up over her bum, showcasing the thong she had on. (Y/N) knew it had happened, she just didn't feel the need to fix it; and Steven didn't care if it was on purpose or an accident.
"If you don't join her in the shower, then I will."
#Steven grant#Steven grant imagine#Steven grant imagines#Steven grant one shot#Steven grant x reader#Steven grant fanfic#Steven grant fan fic#Steven grant fanfiction#Steven grant fan fiction#Marc spector#Marc spector imagine#Marc spector imagines#Marc spector one shot#Marc spector x reader#Marc spector fanfic#Marc spector fan fic#Marc spector fanfiction#Marc spector fan fiction#Moonknight#Moonknight imagine#Moonknight imagines#Moonknight one shot#Moonknight x reader#Moonknight fanfic#Moonknight fan fic#Moonknight fanfiction#Moonknight fan fiction#Marvel#Marvel imagine#Marvel imagines
888 notes
·
View notes
Text
A SUNDAY KIND OF LOVE
a/n: i've been feeling stressed because i can't seem to finish any of my long fics due to writers block or burn out. so i decided to write a small thing for marc spector, because i really miss him and steven. also mainly cause this is my dream romance scenario.
summary: a sunday kind of love...that was all you could have wanted with him.
word count: 678
pairing: marc spector x reader
warnings: none, fluffy as fuck.
Hints of sunlight beneath the midnight blue hue of the curtains gave way to a combination of warmth and cold. A perfect encasing of the morning afternoon where sleep crept up one’s spine and the scent of coffee from outside wafted through the room. The blanket was too comfortable to remove. Almost as if this was your armor against what remained of the frigid morning air.
An internal war of waking up and slumbering fought in the back of your mind as you cracked open your eyes. Like a cat unwilling to stir from a nap, you slowly allowed all six of your senses to return to you. The remainder of your body, still stuck in the grasp of sleep. A yawn escaped you, tears filling your eyes as you stretched slightly, the curve of your spine cracking softly.
You were unable to fully surrender to the waking world. You couldn’t. The cocoon you were a part of felt too much like the embrace of a lover. While your lover was gone, vanished for the day, you were still in their arms in your imagination.
The door cracked open slightly, the shuffle of someone attempting to walk lightly across the wooden floors, echoed behind you. That small bit of noise brought you out of your sleepy state, eyes opening fully as you fought against the exhaustion that still wracked your body. It turns out working late hours didn’t bode well for your state of being. Rather it left you immobile, barely able to lift your head to see the dark head of hair as he stripped off his jacket.
“Marc?” Even your voice sounded different, far more gravelly than when you were wide awake. Although he claimed to love the sound of you first thing in the morning—claiming he’d never heard anyone hotter.
“Shit,” he mumbled, turning to look at you like a deer caught in the headlights. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”
A lazy grin spread across your lips, the scent of coffee stronger now. “Mm, did you bring me coffee?”
“Steven’s idea.”
“Bullshit,” you huffed, digging further into the sheets that still smelled like him. “C’mere it’s cold.”
Though you couldn’t see him, you knew he wore a smile as he pulled off his shoes, letting them thump on the ground one at a time. The blankets shifted, his scent now combining with the richness of the dark roast he knew you loved. If you could, you’d bottle it up just to smell it all day, to be reminded of the man who owned every part of your soul. Who promised you forever with the hope that you’d say yes.
As if on instinct, he reached for your left hand, twisting the delicate ring that sat there. The movement made you smile, your eyes fluttering open to see his brown ones watching you with a look that continued to steal your breath each and every morning. The look that made you feel loved and beautiful. Leaning in closer you pressed a soft kiss to his lips. Savoring the flavor of the coffee he already sipped.
“Go back to sleep,” he murmured, brushing his thumb along your bottom lip.
“I have to get up for work.” The dreaded words that left a pit in the bottom of your stomach.
He still smiled though. “I called in sick for you.” Your eyes opened again, seeing the mischief that you could only claim as Marc’s. “So if they ask you have the flu.”
Sighing, you sunk into his embrace, feeling warmth encase your heart as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Love you,” you mumbled, being lulled by the steady beat of his heart.
“Love you more baby.”
Eventually you’d have to get up, join the sun in its ascent into the sky, but for now you could remain in your own haven with him. Falling asleep to the music of his love, the warmth of his touch. Sunday would come and go, but this was your forever. That alone was enough for you—forever.
#marc spector x reader#marc spector x you#marc spector x y/n#marc spector#marc spector one shot#moon knight#moon knight fic#my writing#my ass has been feeling super duper lonely lately#so out came this#popping in to post this before i sleep
197 notes
·
View notes
Text
forbearance
premise: it’s a little game the two of you like to play; how long can marc hold out from giving in, and how convincing can you be to have him finally give you what the both of you want.
pairing: marc spector x (f)reader
word count: 1.1k
warnings: eighteen+ content, thigh riding, marc being a little mean, dirty talk, pain kink, hair pulling, established relationship, tiny illusions to degradation kink, a bit of tantalolagnia from both reader and marc (aka a teasing kink).
etc: remember when i talked about writing this months ago? lmao well it’s finally here and we have kinktober to thank!!
kinktober 02 | kinktober masterlist
Sex with Marc was always a game. A game of strategies mixed with a resistance he found pleasure in; how long could he hold out, not allow himself to have what he truly desired—did he deserve it? Did he deserve you under him and withering? Your mouth around his cock? Did you deserve it?
Had the two of you slipped into that part of the game where the lines of pain and pleasure mingled together, the perfect mix. A cocktail of desire and resistance that was enough to be fun—enjoyable—but not enough to leave an ugly mark at the end of it; the bruised indents of the ghost of Marc’s fingers around your neck not included.
And maybe that’s why the two of you liked this game so much. Marc loved to resist and you loved to tease, to tempt, until he couldn’t take anymore and your nails were leaving marks in his skin and his cock was abusing your pussy to the point of incoherent sobs in the pillow.
Pleasure. Pain.
Temptation. Forbearance.
Equal parts that drove you both to that edge of sanity.
Tonight was no different. That little game of restraint in full swing as touches, glances held for far too long that sent a fluttering in your stomach, that tick in Marc’s jaw that told all he didn’t when your teasing words hit a nerve—a heavy silence settling between the two of you that felt more of a threat than any of his words could.
The boiling point overflowed once the two of you settled into your room. Once there was no need for his hard exterior to be on display for the public, dealers, and clients. In private those tells of the day, those ones only you could see and understand were just part of your game; built up until you were in private and Marc gave in, or you begged him with your mouth around his cock and his fist around your throat.
You had thought maybe tonight was going to be one of those nights.
That he would slam the door with the heel of his boot and bend you over the nearest surface, a release of frustrated air leaving his lungs when he slides inside of you—finally, after resisting all day, after all of the temptation.
But you should have known better. Should have known that Marc was in a tortuous mood. That tonight was not going to be easy, that the game would still continue once he sat and his arm looped around your waist to pull you into his lap: your hips straddling one of his thick thighs. His palm running up the slit in the dress he told you to wear for today's dealings, the dress he knew would make it hard for any man to say no to you in—everyone but him apparently.
Because when you try to press your mouth to his he’s grabbing a fist full of your hair and pulling you back, a whine hissed from your lungs. A look of confusion and need on your face, while Marc’s holds stoic, cold. Unbothered even though your knee close to his crotch can feel his hardness pressing against his jeans.
“How bad do you want it?”
If it weren’t for his cock and that look of pleasurable meanness you’ve seen displayed in his dark eyes so many times before, you’d never guess—by his tone—that he was enjoying this, that the question wasn’t a threat but something dancing along the lines of want.
“Marc,” you begin, attempting a teasing smile but it’s ripped away with a tug of his fingers.
“How bad. Do you want it?” He repeats with venom. With no remorse at the tight hold he has in your hair, the pull making your scalp itch with pain.
“Bad—ahh—so bad,” you whine.
“Prove it.” The palm at your thigh continues its trail up your form until it’s settled at your hip, a movement of fabric and a heavy push and your clothed cunt is flush with his thigh. The difference in heat between the two body parts makes the wet lace of your undies stick to you uncomfortably. “Show me.” His fingers dig into the meat of your ass, pulling you forward so you grind against his thigh, “convince me to give it to you.”
The urge to protest, to just use your words to beg him for what you want, die somewhere in the back of your brain as that first buzz of pleasure wracks through your body. And when he untangles his fingers from your hair, leaning back against the couch, a wave of his hand at where your pussy pressed to his thigh—an unspoken ‘go ahead’.
That ache in your clit from wanting him all day, from his fingers in your hair, from that quick drag—and the look of frustrated hunger in his eyes—is enough to have your hands resting at his shoulders as you begin to rock your hips back and forth. The fabric of your underwear catching perfectly against his thigh and rubbing against your clit.
Your heavy breaths lead into heavy moans as Marc’s eyes keep themselves stationed on you; your eyes that you can barely keep open, the heady delirium of pleasure quickly kicking in. His gaze following the push and pull of your hips as they move along his thigh.
You wonder if he can feel how wet you are, if your pussy is soaking through his jeans and leaving a stain of your arousal.
Proof of how much you want him.
“Who knew you’d look as good as you do doing this, almost as pretty as when you’re riding cock.” You can feel the strain he keeps on your ass, his nails digging into your flesh. An added delight of pain that makes you choke on gasps. Your hips stuttering at more pleasure being added against your heated body.
“Wish I was riding your cock right now,” you hum.
“Do you? You look like you’re having just as much fun doing this.” There’s a hint, the smallest of upticks from the corner of his mouth, “think you can come like this?”
You nod without hesitation, can already feel that build up starting in your lower belly. Can feel the throb from the inside of your pussy to be filled, to have something to clench around as you reach that precipice.
“Or would you rather come on my cock? Should i make you wait? Leave you hanging until you’ve soaked my entire leg and can barely speak because you need to be filled.” His fingers grip hard into the meat of your cheek making you moan louder, hips rock faster, that throbbing turning into a pulsate ready to give way.
“Please, need you so bad, Marc.”
Marc smirks, “cock slut.” The insult sounding like a command to your needy insides. A flame burning in his eyes as he watches you come undone.
#marc spector smut#marc spector x you#marc spector x reader#oscar isaac smut#marc spector x y/n#moon knight smut#marc spector x fem!reader#marc spector x reader smut#marc spector imagine#marc spector fic#marc spector one shot#marc spector x f!reader#kinktober#kinktober 2022
629 notes
·
View notes
Text
Perusal
Pairing: Marc Spector x female reader (no other specifications!)
Word Count: 1000 words
Outline: You were just trying to read your book in peace, Marc had other things on his mind. Maybe you could mix those things together.
Warnings: heavy nipple play, cock warming, vaginal sex, daddy kink, not beta read.
Author’s Note: This idea popped in my head one morning. Thanks to @silver-pieces for choosing Marc for this scenario :)
P.S: dividers by @firefly-graphics || banners by @maysdigitalarts
Main Masterlist ・❥・ Marc Spector Masterlist
NSFW UNDER THE CUT. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.
On a quiet Sunday morning, you are sitting on the couch, legs tangled in one another, wearing nothing but your boyfriend’s white t-shirt, a book between your hands. The sunlight is illuminating your face, eyes reading each of the words carefully, a cup of a warm beverage sitting on the coffee table. You tilt your head a little to look up at the sun, cracking your neck a little as you are repeating the words you’ve read in your head.
Murmuring a line or two before immersing yourself back into your book. One of your favorite things to do was to read poetry and you did that as often as you could. With a deep breath, you continued, until you felt a touch. A kiss on your head and then two large palms coming to your shoulders massaging you tenderly. His eyes examined your book and in the same breath, his hands traveled to your breasts.
“Marc..” You breathed, your voice getting short immediately.
“Shhh, keep on reading.” His hands groped your breasts, warming them entirely, his mouth coming to breathe hot air down your neck. Pushing your hair aside, his lips then started leaving a trail of kisses on your exposed neck.
“Marc, I can’t.” You whimper again and try to close your book to turn your attention to him. Marc was the type of a man to be very aroused in the mornings, there was something special about sunlight that just filled him with the need to take your body over and over again until you were begging him to get out of bed. You know he wanted his meal, your pussy warming his cock while he thrust and thrust against the bed holding your head between his hands, staring deep inside your eyes. That was the definition of a good morning for him.
“Read for me. I wanna hear your voice.” Hot breath fills your ear, an almost silent growl hiding under his voice. Exhaling a deep breath, you open your book again and begin to recite. His hands are exploring your body slowly yet needily till they reach their favorite destination. Your breasts. You stop as you let out a hiss. Sometimes you felt like his hands belonged on them, mere placeholders just for him.
“Read.” He repeats, his breath warm against your ear, exhaling while he is cupping your breasts, your nipples instantly perking up under the thin fabric. You try to clear your throat and sit up straight while he is kissing your neck again. You open your mouth to start reciting the first lines of the book you were previously reading. His fingers are moving in circles around your nipples while he is softly biting at your skin. His body is hidden by the back of the couch and you wanted so bad to touch him as well, explore his body.
Determined to win this round, you clear your throat and read some more lines, slowly pronouncing the words as he is now pinching your nipples. “Marc!” You yell out in protest, losing the book from your hands. He was a tease and a menace all in one. Yet you could never have enough of him.
“Continue.” He says on a serious note slapping both of your breasts at the same time. You gasp out loud, the stingy pain electrifying your body and building up your arousal. You breathe heavily again and then open the book and start reading again while he is rubbing soft circles again, with no urgency at all.
“Doing so well for me,” Marc says breathing down your neck. “I love hearing your voice.” He chuckles as he gropes your breasts again. Right now you wanted nothing more than to have him claim you, fill you up, shut your mouth with his cock. Anything than to keep on reading.
“Come and warm my cock for me while you keep on reading for me.” Not exactly what you had on your mind.
“Marc…” You whine out again, feeling yourself getting wet at just the thought. He lets go of your breasts, and they feel so empty without his touch.
Marc quickly sits next to you on the couch and now you can see him fully for the first time. Soft morning light crept in through the half-open window. His muscular body was on full display, as his dangling chain, got lost inside his chest hair. The truth is he loved to sleep naked or better yet buried deep inside you. How you expected him to wear anything when he got up from bed, probably expecting to find you in the shower, was beyond you.
His erection stood tall and proud against his belly, and you momentarily wanted to get tangled right there in the small hairs on his belly. You make a move to set the book aside but Marc only shushes you and instead, he grabs you by the hips, turning you around to face him -of course, he wanted full access to your breasts- and he immediately moved his hands to line up his cock to your entrance.
“My baby girl likes reading, huh? Makes her so fucking wet.” He chuckles, his low baritone tone causing an uproar inside you. Oh, he had you in the palm of his hands and there was nowhere else you would rather be. At the feeling of his large cockhead pushing inside your velvet walls, you let out a moan, and try to somehow balance yourself.
“Good girl. Taking daddy’s cock so well. “ His face is illuminated, warm and so tender. And he is so handsome, like a Greek statue come to life. Momentarily you thank every god that made him fall inside your path that fateful day you met him. Lost in your daydreams, you groan when you feel him sinking you all down inside his cock.
“I wanna hear the rest, come on. We don’t have all morning.”
You try to chuckle while you are breathing heavily and then you return your attention to your book. Clearing your throat first before reading out loud the next lines, his full attention focused on your voice. You knew what he wanted, he wanted to tease you, to randomly spasm inside you and work your body to his pleasure and then complain you didn’t warm his cock well enough for him. You knew him far too well by now. Yet you continued, while he seemed interested in what you read.
And when your book was over, he fucked you right there on the couch, legs wrapped tight around his waist burying you deeper and deeper into the cushions.
Marc did really love reading. Especially when you were the one reading for him.
Maybe only then.
If you want to be notified about my future stories please follow my library blog @fluffyprettykittylibrary and turn on notifications!
#marc spector smut#marc spector x you#marc spector x reader#marc spector#marc spector x y/n#marc spector x female reader#marc spector one shot#marc spector fluff#marc spector imagine#moon knight#moon knight x reader#moon knight smut#moon knight imagine#moon knight one shot#moon knight fanfiction#moon knight series#moon knight x y/n#moon knight x you#moon knight tv#selenewrites
715 notes
·
View notes
Text
Prompt || Marc is a teacher, Y/N is their student. Y/N is doing something graphic with a pen and their mouth whilst Marc is trying to teach a class. — Requested by anon
Pairing || College Professor!Marc Spector x Student!Female!Reader
Word Count || Less than 700
Contents & Warnings || Smut — NSFW, 18+ Only, Minors DNI, major age-gap (reader is early/mid 20’s, Marc is early/mid 40’s), sexual thoughts and acts, teasing.
Random prompt event || Masterlist
Professor Spector's classes were one of your favourites to attend. His love and enthusiasm for Egyptian mythology made the subject more exciting and fun due to his teachings. But today, for some reason, you weren't too keen on paying attention like you should be doing; instead, you wanted to tease your hot professor.
You loved to tease Professor Spector whenever you had the chance. Ever since you found a slight clue that he was into you, you had gradually started to tease him in almost every class, and today, you wanted to take it further than you ever had previously.
As you did almost every class, you sat right in the front to have a perfect view of your professor and, him you. He was older, much older and the most handsome man you'd ever laid eyes on. Each time you studied him, studied his looks and demeanour, you had to stifle a whimper and clench your thighs together.
Today, you had dressed up in the tightest long-sleeve top, accentuating your breasts, and you wore the shortest skirt known to man.
With a pen in hand, you wrote down notes in your book while licking and biting your lips whenever he would look in your direction. You could see that he found it frustrating, watching you in those tight-fitting clothes and giving him suggestive looks and making those gestures that made his dick harden.
He had to shake his head multiple times to get back on track with the lecture and tried not to look in your general direction altogether, trying not to focus on the erotic distraction.
A small part of you was sad that he stopped looking, but another was happy. You had managed to get the desired reaction out of him, and now you wanted to take it even further.
With the slick pen in hand, you started tracing the tip of it on your bottom lip and, ever so slightly, put your tongue out to give it a lick. Still, you could see him flicker his eyes over to you every so often, licking his lips more than usual. He couldn’t help it when you looked so tempting.
He shot you a glare, a warning that if you kept it up, you would be in big trouble later. Oh, that’s exactly what you wanted. You smiled innocently at him, like you were oblivious to what you were doing.
At that moment, he looked away again and got on with the lecture. Luckily, the other students hadn’t been too suspicious of his unusual behaviour.
You looked around the room, ensuring no one was looking down on you. When you were sure everyone had their attention towards the front, you took the pen in your mouth and started sucking on it, imagining it was him. Due to your clothing of choice and where you had chosen to sit, you could easily spread your legs and give him a view of your damp panties. With your other hand, you rubbed up and down your thigh.
At that moment, Professor Spector lifted his eye from his notes and met your innocent, sweet eyes. He was stunned, stuttering his words as he watched the pen move in and out of your mouth and your hand move up and down your luscious thigh.
Luckily, he was saved by the sound of the bell ringing. The class was over, and that was for the best because there was no way he could have continued teaching when all he had on his mind was the image of you bent over his desk and him having his way with a naughty schoolgirl.
You stopped all movements and started packing your bag, but you stayed behind, waiting for the other students to pile out of the auditorium.
When everyone had left, Professor Spector came over to where you were sitting. With his palms on the surface in front of you, he leaned down till he was level with your face. Lust and desire were evident all over him.
“Meet me in my office. I’ll show you what I do to students who misbehave….”
I don’t do taglists anymore so please follow @bucky-barnes-diaries-library and turn on notifications to never miss out on my writing!
Thank you for reading 🖤 Feedback through a comment is highly appreciated! Or let me know through an anonymous ask if that feels more comfortable. As well as a reblog to share my work with other people!
#professor!au#marc spector#marc spector x reader#marc spector x y/n#marc spector x you#marc spector x f!reader#marc spector smut#marc spector one shot#moon knight x reader#moon knight x y/n#moon knight x you#moon knight smut#moon knight one shot#oscar isaac#oscar isaac x reader#oscar isaac x y/n#oscar isaac x you#oscar isaac smut#marvel#marvel smut
561 notes
·
View notes
Text
At the Campsite || Marc Spector x fem!Reader
Summary: your new, fitted shorts have Marc going wild while on camping with you
Warnings: smut without plot 🔞
Word count: 846
Author: Rouge
You've yearned for it and craved it. And you couldn't have been happier when Marc agreed to go camping with you. Preparation took a few days because you needed to buy a new tent and sleeping bags, as well as some other items and food to bring with you.
Marc would do anything for you, even if he wasn't thrilled with the idea at first.
You chose a campground with a variety of cycling and hiking trails.
When the two of you arrived at the location, you began erecting the tent. You couldn't shake the feeling Marc was constantly scrutinizing you, and you began to wonder if it was because of the new shorts you bought for the trip. "Marc, could you help me with these steel profiles?"
"Sure," Marc replied, eager to assist you with the tent. Even though he didn't like the sudden idea of camping in the middle of nowhere, he couldn't say no to you. "Should you go take care of the fire? This is something you can handle, baby."
Your reply was a quick nod. "That's a good thought."
It took you a long time to collect some brambles for tinder. After gathering some large stones, you excavated a small pit and circled it with stones to protect the grass from catching fire.
"Well, well, look at you, I'm beginning to think you're a pro camper," when you got back to your feet, Marc ruffled your hair.
You simply smiled at him and went to look for marshmallows in your backpack. "Do you want to eat?"
Marc's gaze never left you, especially your stick out ass when you leaned against your backpack. "I like your new shorts," he said lightheartedly.
You quickly turned your head to face him. "Do you? They're just material shorts."
"Which hug your ass so nicely," Marc got closer and placed his large palm on your buttock, squeezing it.
You let out a loud gasp as you stopped looking for the items in your backpack and turned fully to wrap your arms around his strong neck.
Marc yanked one of his hands under your ass and easily picked you up in the blink of an eye.
You wrapped your legs tightly around his hips to keep yourself from falling. "Did my shorts just turn you on?" You inquired teasingly.
"Mhm," was the only response he could muster.
Soon after, you two found each other in the tent; you laying down on the sleeping bag, Marc hovering over you, kissing your neck, his hands slipping under your t-shirt. When one of his hands reached into your shorts, he discovered you didn't wear underwear. Marc cracked a grin. "Aren't you being a naughty girl today?"
You nodded, rolling your hips at the sensation of his thick fingers rubbing against your clitoris. "You know I like to be a bad girl every now and then."
Marc didn't waste any time and quickly removed your t-shirt, followed by your shorts.
With a loud grunt, you reached for his belt and unfastened it with your skilled fingers.
Marc assisted you by pushing his jeans down his legs along with his boxer shorts while you wrestled his shirt off of him.
Marc yanked one of your legs around his hip, lining his cock with your entrance, pushing into you with ease because you were dripping wet at the time.
Your head rolled back as you muttered a quiet fuck.
Marc thrusted into you in slow but powerful thrusts, making sure to bury his entire shaft in your core every time. With time, his groans turned into moans.
As you gazed into his beautiful, brown eyes, you wrapped one arm around his neck and the other around his right bicep. "Marc... Just like that, love."
He leaned in to kiss your lips, the kiss sloppy and messy as he moaned loudly into your lips.
You snatched a handful of his thick hair as he quickened his pace, sliding in and out of you faster than ever before.
"I love you," he said quietly, the first drops of sweat forming on his forehead. "So warm and wet for me."
You wrapped your other leg around his hip, allowing him to penetrate you even further than before. It was met with his grunt of endorsement.
You soon felt your walls spasming around his throbbing cock, tightly hugging it. You moaned his name and proceeded to milk his member with your warm, thick release.
Marc lasted for a few more seconds before backing himself out of your pussy. He jerked himself a few times before cumming on your belly with a deep grunt, his head rolled back. Soon, Marc rested his forehead against yours, and you cupped his cheeks, your thumbs rubbing against his light stubble as you both panted heavily, coming off the peak.
"I love you," you whispered.
He chuckled deeply, kissing the base of your nose. "I love you too, Y/N."
"I think I should wear shorts more often, if they make you go that wild," you joked, licking your lower lip.
#Marc Spector#Marc Spector x reader#Marc Spector smut#Marc Spector x reader smut#moon knight smut#moon knight x reader#Marc Spector x you#Marc Spector drabble#Marc Spector one shot#Marc Spector fic#moon knight drabble#moonbois#moonknight drabble#moon knight fic#writers on Tumblr#drabble#one shot#fiction#moon knight writing
392 notes
·
View notes
Text
Desperation
Steven Grant x reader (mention of Jake and Marc)
Summary: After a week of you teasing him, Steven becomes pent up and needy in the middle of the night
Warnings: smut! (18+)
A/N: this is my first fic im posting on here, so my apologies if it’s not that great. I hope you all enjoy it though!
It wasn’t often that Steven got a good nights sleep from what you knew, but he usually would stay relatively quiet as to make sure not to disturb your slumber. Though tonight seemed to be different.
As he stared up at the ceiling, he couldn’t help but let his thoughts ponder to you and how he began to come more and more desperate for the touch of your hands, roaming around his body, knowing each and everyone of his sweet spots that make him melt like putty. In Stevens defense, you had been teasing him throughout the whole week, sometimes bending over just a tad too far in a skirt that was a bit too short or when you would place your hand onto his thigh, rubbing it up and down slowly, getting just mere inches away from his crotch to only pull away at the last second. You knew exactly how to drive him insane and he enjoyed every second of it.
Steven moved his attention to you, curled up on side of the bed facing away from him, peacefully sleeping. He would even go as far as comparing you to an angel. He bit his lip, pondering as to what his next move should be. Would he be able to keep to himself for the rest of the night or give into his own desires?
Just go for it, dios mío
I’m with Jake with this one buddy, I mean just look how pretty she looks
Steven frowned, ignoring the comments from the others in his head. He took another moment to collect his own thoughts, debating on whether he should or shouldn’t disturb you.
Taking a sharp breath, he decided to go with the former, quietly moving himself to your body, to the point where your back was pressed up against him. He buried his head into the crook of your neck, placing a multitude of soft kisses onto it. In a matter of minutes he was fully erect, his boner confined in his boxers, and he began had to hold himself back from humping himself on you.
Slowly you began to stir awake, but still not very much coherent as to what was going on around you. From what you could tell, Steven was just trying to wrap his arms around you to bring you closer to him, which seemed innocent enough. It wasn’t until you snuggled yourself back into him, your ass pressing up against his crotch, did you realize that what Steven wanted was far from innocent.
Steven let out a low groan from the contact your ass and his crotch was making, which made you open your eyes.
“Steven? …What do you think your doing?” You said in a low voice, still very sleepy.
“Well, uh, (Y/N) I just-“ Steven stammered, unsure of how to explain himself. You rolled your eyes and pulled yourself away from him so you could turn over and face him. The soft moonlight from the window shined down onto him, making him slightly visible in the otherwise pitch black room. Steven let out a small whimper from the loss of contact, and his big brown eyes looking into yours, practically screaming ‘fuck me’.
“Oh poor puppy, my teasing got to you didn’t it?” You muttered, showing a sign a sympathy for him. Steven gave a slight nod, your tone giving him hope that you would show mercy on him and help him achieve the release he so desperately needed. “Well since your so desperate, why don’t you grind into my ass baby. Make yourself cum,” you once again proved to move back into your original position, so your ass was towards his crotch, “Show me how much you need me.”
Steven gulped. He wanted to object, but also feared that you would simply go back to bed if he did, and then just leave him to figure out his problem completely on his own. Therefore, he quickly obeyed your order and moved his crotch up against your ass once more, beginning to grind up against it. Soft moans escaped his lips because of how blissful it felt to finally gain some friction down there.
“That’s it baby, keep going. Such a good boy.” Your words of encouragement only excited him more, his movement become more faster and more erratic. He could feel his climax slowly began to build up. His moans were like melodies to your ears and you could tell he was starting to get close.
“You feel…f-feel so good…please let me cum, please..” Steven begged, letting his hand roam up your body and onto your boob, grabbing onto it lightly.
“You wanna cum for me puppy? Yeah? Cum for me.” You growled as moved your arm up to reach behind you, grabbing onto Steven’s hair while turning your neck to look over at him. You then pulled him his head down towards yours and passionately kissed him, capturing all of his moans into your mouth.
Finally, Steven was able to reach his high, parting away from your kiss and letting out a practically pornographic moan as he came in his boxers. Letting go of his hair, you continued to mumbled words of praise as he slowly came down again, placing his head into the crook of your neck.
“You did so good for me baby,” You cooed, “How about we get you cleaned up and then get some rest, and if the morning I’ll wake you up with a treat.”
“Mmmm…what’s the treat?” Steven slurred, becoming much more sleepy after being able to fulfill his desires.
“Well I suppose you’ll just have to wait and find out, won’t you?”
#moonknight x reader#Steven grant x reader#jake lockley x reader#marvel#marvel x reader#Steven grant one shot#Jake lockley one shot#Marc Spector one shot#marvel one shot#marvel fan fiction#moonknight one shot#moonknight fan fiction#Steven grant x you#steven grant x y/n
299 notes
·
View notes
Text
Birds of the Same Feather, Fuck Together
SUMMARY: You had your own demons you needed to deal with on a daily basis. It was a good thing you had Steven, Marc, Jake, and even Khonsu to help you elevate your symptoms from time to time.
PROMPT(S): “against the window? are you insane?”; “I thought we’d agreed to share her”
CHARACTERS: Steven Grant x Wife!Reader; Marc Spector x Wife!Reader; Jake Lockley x Wife!Readerl; Khonshu x Reader
WARNINGS: Smut. Unprotected P in V. Choking. Slight Exhibitionism. Creampie. Violence. Assault. Unhealthy Mental State. Marital Arguments. Shitty Work-Life Balance. Asshole Co-workers. Khonshu being...Khonshu.
WORDS: 6,218
REQUESTED BY: @emmy626
A/N: Holy fuck was this long. Thought about separating each one of the boys for this one and a crack! one for Khonshu since I'm still a coward to write monster fucking with that man--but soon. real soon. Hope you guys enjoy~
MASTERLIST || JOIN THE LIBRARY ||
The thing about Steven was how gentle he could be, sassy at times, but oh so gentle when it comes to you. Now that most of the blackouts were resolved and understood, things in your shared apartment were more stable--at least for the most part. When you've met his other alters, you've learned to accept him for who he was, for all of who everyone was. Khonsu on the other hand, it took a while for you to accept him as part of the whole setup up, he might not be an alter, but there were times where the God of the Moon and Time.
You loved Steven, loved every single thing about him. Loved all his alternates the same way as him. Equally and irrevocably. It was a part of him that you can never leave without just as much as he could never.
"Brought you chocolates."
A smile broke from your lips the moment you stepped out of your office and he was the first person you had come face to face with. A box of chocolate in his grasp. His gentle smile resting on his features. His fluffy hair resting on his forehead and you were already aching to just brush your hands through them. Stepping closer to him, your free hand come to hold onto his own free hand as the both of you made your walk towards his apartment.
"How was work?" He inquired.
"Same old, same old." You sighed, not wanting to tell Steven about how much of an ass your boss was and how every single one of your co-workers were leaving their tasks for you to finish up while they continue on with their daily gossiping. It was getting on your nerves but you didn't have it in you to say anything--the pay was good, but it was getting too much some days. "Just happy I got to be with you for the weekend."
You were actually excited. Not only because you have the entire weekend to spend with your husband, but the fact that this weekend would mark your one year anniversary since you've two gotten married. Being to have him all to yourself was all you could ever need for now. You wrapped your tired arm around his waist, head resting on his shoulder as you both continued on your way back to your apartment. It was quite a long walk, better to have taken the bus, but you just wanted to spend some time with your husband instead of dealing with other cranky workers on their way home.
In the chaos of your shared apartment, you felt most at peace. Placing the box of chocolate your husband had given you on the table. You had made your way towards where your husband was in the kitchen. His focus had been on preparing tea for the both of you while you unwind for the weekend. You slipped your arms around his waist, relishing in his warmth and enjoying just being able to touch him like you did right now.
"You want to talk about it, Love?" He inquired to which had been how you both found yourselves cuddled on the sofa, ignoring the growing cold tea on the coffee table.
You finally spoke about your day, how much of a shitty people you had the misfortune of working with. You continued on with explaining how their constant ridiculing affected you mentally. You both needed the money, with the both of you wanting to save before you finally start a family, quitting was not an option. Not with the things going on with Steve and the rest of his alters.
Your husband listened, never once interrupting you, lips kissing your forehead whenever you felt the most frustrated during the anecdotes of today's work day as well as the nightmare of the past few weeks. His hands rubbed against your back, nails gently scratching against your back. When you no longer spoke, your face nestled against the crook of his neck, you tried to fight of the stress and it was in this moment your husband had pulled you on top of him, arms wrapped around you. The warmth of his touch slowly but surely elevating everything that has happened throughout the day.
In the silence, things turn more heated as you kissed him--hoping to forget the rest of the week and try as you possibly could to just focus on your husband. To act like you were just newly weds all over again. The life that was always been simple, the promises and the plans you had made for each other, the domestic bliss of your every day life with him.
"Come on Stevie, go harder on me. I won't break." You moaned, trying to urge your husband to fuck you harder on the sofa, but the fear in his eyes of hurting you still present in his features. This was your love, the man that would do anything and everything in his life to ensure you wellbeing was prioritized. It made you fall and fall more in love with him--but this moment, all you needed was to be fucked, thoroughly so.
"No." He continue to refuse, his hips more dangerously slow this time. "Please, take it slow and let me love you like you deserve to be loved."
Before you could plead for him, he thrusted inside of you up to the hilt taking the breath right out of you in the process.
His hands cupped your face, pulling you into a kiss. His movement continued on to be slow with an even pace. Ramming you right into the sofa, tears slowly ran down your cheeks at all of this pent up sensation you were feeling. The shitty weeks you had at work, how you never felt you were worth shit because of them--to this, to the look on your husband's eyes as he continuous to fuck you to whisper you praises, about the things you had never seen about yourself that he could see. He appreciates and hopes to God each day that you will never tire of.
"Come for me, Love." He pleaded against your lips, his movement growing faster, the sensation of his cock sliding in and out, exactly where you need him to be. "Let go."
And you did, releasing in time for him to spill himself deep inside you. The sensation and all that the both of you had planned for the weekend finally placed you at ease. Pulling him on top of you, you could only smile, relieved to have this--to have him.
"You'll have your time with her." You heard your husband muttered making you turn to face him, amused with what he was arguing with his other alters this time.
"What is it this time?" You asked, rubbing his back, legs wrapped around his waist, still not prepared to have him pull away from you.
"Jake said, and I quote: 'I thought we’d agreed to share her', needy bunch they are." He muttered making you giggle and pepper your husband's face with kisses.
"Give me a few more minutes and you could share me all you want for the weekend." You assured him already feeling him harden back all over again for you.
"Why don't you say that to my face again instead."
Mid-argument, you wouldn't think Marc would front--but here he stood after you spoke the things you know you didn't even mean. The deep frown rested on his lips as he sat on the single-seat sofa in front of you. Arms crossed against his chest, legs spread wide and with you still standing he intimidated you to a fault. You didn't even know how the argument with your husband started. You were in the last leg of your patience when it comes to your co-workers, Steven wasn't helping as he continued to insist on you quitting. You couldn't not after things with whatever he was dealing with his alters aren't making much of a progress and your work was the only stable things the both of you had for a while.
It was questions about how he could provide for the two of you now, as he was banned from the National Museum after the stunt he pulled and you were certain he was blacklisted everywhere else within a 5-mile radius because of a bird brain for a God that fucked everything up for the both of them. You were angry, rightfully so for the people around you, but Steve didn't deserve it, now that you're facing Marc instead of him, you realized it as well.
You were quiet now, all the outburst you had in you had magically faded away. Embarrassment was quick to replaced all the anger you've felt.
"You got two options, either you calm down and we talk this through or keep talking and I fuck you into submission. Either option works for me and Steve doesn't seem to mind either way with the way you were talking to him."
You blinked, unprepared still for Marc to face you now.
"I'd like to see you make me, Spector." Your brain was yet to filter your stupidity and you found yourself manhandled by the man in one fluid motion.
Clothes torn up, naked and edged for the life out of you, this was the last thing you would have expected Marc to do with you.
"Hands against the window, Y/N." His order held no room for argument, but the fact that you were naked and could barely stand on your two feet after his torturous tongue and finger brought you over and over to the edge without any hope of end once again pulled the filter between your brain and your mouth.
"Against the window? Are you insane?" You questioned and Marc was quick to shove you face first into the glass window. A part of you was thankful your shared apartment was a good few floors up and the only chance either of you would get caught in this situation was if they looked up and focused on your floor's window.
The busy street of people heading home could not be bothered and you hope it would stay that way for whatever your husband has planned for you.
Hands resting against the cool window, you waited with bated breath for what he would do. His rough hands gently nudged you forward until you're practically glued to the floor ceiling window. You shivered at the sensation of the cold window against your nipples. Before you could turn to see what he has planned, the radiating pain against your scalp had your full attention as Marc fisted your hair and maneuvered your head until your cheek was smooshed against the window.
"Are you gonna continue to be difficult, Baby?" He inquired, the head of his cock lined against your entrance but he was yet to make any action of slipping in. "Because I can do this all day and not even break a sweat?"
You refused to say another word, not trusting yourself to say the right thing and stop the torture that was of your own doing. Instead, you shook your head, wanting to stop the never ending torture your husband was willing to throw at you without hesitation.
"Use your damn words, you love to use it to hurt us, remember?"
The first line of sob escaped your lips now. You didn't mean to hurt them, most especially Steven. You were projecting the anger you had from work to him, to everyone of them and it was finally coming to hit you in full force. You didn't mean to hurt any of them, it was never your intention. And you just found yourself crying and but unable to tell all three of them how sorry you were and how you would be compromising when the opportunity to do so finally arises.
Marc had now wrapped his arms around your torso, slipping deep inside you and a whimper was there to replace your sob. Relief of finally being able to feel him inside you. The familiar sting of his cock stretching you to your limit was slowly but surely helping you out of the darkest part of your own mind. Hands holding onto your waist as he continued to shove himself deep inside you.
All the anger and tribulation you had felt for the day had slowly faded away and your mind was brought back to the present. To this man, whose one and only intention in your relationship was to make you safe, happy, and sane to live the day to day as the world might see it fit.
His hips continued on slamming onto you, every intention on splitting you in half for all you were worth.
Your breath continued to fog against the window, no longer did you feel self-conscious with the little fact that there was a possibility someone could see the both of you.
Slowly, you could find yourself creeping into the familiar release, but as you felt your wall begin to tighten his movement begin to slow and you found yourself sobbing for him. Pleading for him for your release but it was left in deaf ears as he slowed his pace. He pulls out and you felt him move away from you, the absence of his warmth brought you further into tears now at this point. But you didn't move, no longer had any fight in you nor did you have any voice of protest to make.
You closed your eyes, listening for anything to give you a clue of your husband's whereabouts, for whatever plan he might have for you. You didn't have the strength to move, to turn and see him and prepare yourself for what he has left for you.
"What does it feel like when you don't have any control of yourself and of the situation that could be easily resolved with the right communication? Fucking hurts doesn't it?" Marc inquired. "Now think what I feel, what Steven feels, hell, even Jake is quiet when you said what you said." he spat.
"I'm sorry." The two words was all you needed to say before you were pulled back into your husband's arms finally pulling you in for the first kiss since the whole argument started. "I didn't mean to…it's just everything and everyone and I don't know what I need to handle first."
You continued to sob in the arms of your husband. He continued on to kiss you, slowly growing faint as he clung to you just as much as you did to him. He had his eyes closed now. A sigh of relief finally escaping his lips as he settled at you.
"We can't keep doing this, you can't keep using Steven as a punching bag when shit happens at work. We're here to listen, you know we are always here for you because we love you, through sickness and health, till death takes me first." He points out.
You found yourself snorting at his words, there was always this never ending joke between all four of you that they were far too certain with the fact that they would die first--may it be from whatever mission or job they might find themselves involved in, or whatever crazy illness or curse Khonshu might throw at them if he doesn't get what he wants. It scares you sometimes when you are alone at home and they are out somewhere, the reality of it actually happening--and yet you continue to choose to be a shitty wife just for the hell of it.
"I promise to communicate more." You whisphered after a moment. Finally having the words to say what you needed to. "I'll try and take less shifts if I can so I don't stress myself out."
"Good." He smirked eyes opening back up before he held you up by your thighs and thrusted into you, back slammed against the window and you feared that his strength could get the better of him.
You wrapped your arms around his shoulders to steady yourself as he finally returned to his former steady pace and from the way his brown eyes grow black as he was ready to chase his own release along with your own. Your breast squished against his chest as he practically glued himself to you as he continued to fuck your through the window. His breath grows rugged now, warmth fanning against your cheeks as you whimpered at the brutal pace that was bringing you right back up to the peak.
"Don't you fucking dare stop, Spector." You threatened before you finally stilled, muscles clenched, milking him for all it was worth. Relief washed over you, finally slipping into your much needed release.
"Fuck." He growled spilling deep inside you, before halting all together and resting most of his weight on you. "Promise me you're not gonna make Steven pull away." he whispered.
"Promise." You whispered, nuzzling against the crook of his neck. A promise you were now more than willing to make.
Unlike Steven and Marc, Jake wasn't about to stand around and let everyone step all over you. Nah, if anyone fucks with his girl, he fucked them right back. He didn't know exactly how it happened, but with him fronting and assigned to fetch you from your office, it was the biggest mistake Marc and Steven had ever decided to do for the day.
Unlike Marc or Steven--especially Steven, his eyes was not only focused on you the moment you had stepped out of the doors. He had eyes everywhere. He notices the smallest of details that Marc or Steven might have disregarded because of their focus solely on you. But not him, he loved you, adored you and the only woman he could openly admit he was more than willing to worship for as long as he was alive. He saw the smallest nudge one of your co-workers had done that almost had you missing your step had he not been quick enough to catch you.
He doesn't say much about what had happened, but he knew you didn't want to acknowledge it as much and fearing he might make a scene that would ruin whatever reputation you still had in the office you work in. But he remembers faces, got a few people he knows that might help with putting a name to those faces. He will deal with it later, his attention was solely focus on you at this point.
"How's work, Mi Amor?" He inquired, face softening with how you were quick to wrap your arms around his torso--ignoring the fact that the both of you were still standing in the middle of the reception hall.
"Tiring, but got shorter shifts for the next few months." You explained against his chest, pulling away an inch to crane your head to look right up at him. "Can't say the same for the rest of the colleagues that need to pick up what I'll leave behind." You shrugged.
"Fuck them." Jake spoke without an ounce of hesitation in his words, caring less now at this point if anyone in your office hears you.
"Now we know who she's spreading her legs for and why she's slacking."
Just like lighting, he moved, quick to place his hand around the man's throat. He could deal with you telling how much of a piece of shit your co-workers were. He could deal with how they constantly throw most of their own work right at you because you could and you wanted peace to remain in the office. But this, the filth in the man's words was the last thing he wanted to hear--the last thing he wanted you to hear.
"Jake, don't." You pleaded, holding on to his hand that still held onto the poor sorry ass excuse of a man by the throat, one single squeeze and he could break his neck without much of an effort.
"What's your fucking name?" Jake questioned, eyes solely focused on the man. The man who--from the wet puddle that formed on the floor and the wretched stench after, had pissed and shit himself. "Make me wait another second and I'm gonna make sure no one fucking recognizes your body when I'm done with you."
"Greg." The bastard whimpered. No longer was there the bravado from his initial statement.
"Here's what's gonna fucking happen, Greg. You and everyone that is in the fucking vicinity of my wife will not harm even a single hair on her fucking body, you will not speak shit that you do not even know about her, and the next time my wife comes home with tears in her eyes because you and the rest of your fucking flock of clowns that can't do their work properly--we're gonna have a talk." Jake's threats were what aroused both Marc and Steven out of whatever slumber the might have and what a fucking way to wake up to. Him, in the brink of breaking your co-worker's neck for your honor.
Hearing no verbal confirmation, he cracked his free hand, ready to beat him up just to get a point, but the piece of shit was practically crying and agreeing to whatever condition he might have and apologizing to you for all the shit he has put you through.
"Get out of my face, You puta." He spat finally letting go of the man's neck and watching him make a run for it.
The next thing he knows, he was held by the ear by you. Blushing profusely for the incident.
"Are you fucking serious, Lockley?" You snapped, dragging him out of the reception and into the busy streets of London, by the ear of all places.
"Gotta protect what's mine." He muttered rubbing his ear as soon as you let go.
"Protect me? You were practically pissing at me for your territory." You snapped, hands up in the air in your frustration. "I don't even fucking know if I have anything to go back to in the morning because of your stunt."
What he failed to tell you, and the rest of his alters was the small little fact that he knows your boss. And all the shit he's gotten himself involved with over the years, firing you would be the last of his agenda--especially if he knows who you were married to. He did not need to tell you that, knowing this was the safest job you could be in as of the moment--shitty co-workers, but safe from whoever might use you against him when the time comes.
"I think when they find out the shit he's saying, they're gonna turn a blind eye if you they want you to not report that for harassments." He shrugged as a matter of factly only earning an eye roll from you as you started walking towards the apartment with him following quickly behind. Marc and Steven's voices berating him for his action kept him company all throughout the journey back.
He knew perfectly well you were fuming, but not enough to actually explode on him--which was a surprise for once. He would have thought you would just lose it in the office. But somehow your 'conversation' with Marc a few days back finally got to you. Things around the apartment was getting more easy for everyone involved, less work meant less stress on your end which meant less tension back home when both of you just want to relax and sleep the night away.
He didn't realize the door to your shared apartment was locked until the moment he turned the doorknob.
"Really mature, Mi Amor." He muttered under his breath, pulling out the key from his pocket.
'I don't blame her for being annoyed. Not one bit.' Steven points out to which Jake just continued to ignore for now. It wasn't the time and the place.
He took his time walking inside your shared apartment. Initially it always screamed that of your place as well as Steven, but every since you had found out about him and Marc, you had made it a point to ensure that they were both included in everything in the place. You all had your own coffee cups, with names and all. Everyone had their own towels, toothbrush, hell even their own respective space in the closet and space in the vanity for whatever was in their vanity table. You made this place a home to Steven just as much for him and Marc and that made him fall more and more in love with you. He had his doubts, you know it just as much as everyone else did, but further and further, through all your own faults at times, you made him feel love when all he had known all his life was anger and hatred for the life they had for themselves.
Seeing no sign of you in the living room, he made his way to the bedroom, halting in his step at the sight of you undressing. His eyes glued to your supple skin, your bare ass that he wants nothing more than to mark with his handprint.
"Don't get your hopes up, Lockley. I'm still mad." You muttered slowly unhooking your bra, the last remaining article of clothing you had left.
"I ain't apologizing for keeping you safe, Mi Amor. You know me and you know my ways." He stood his ground and the fuck he would even dare apologize for it. You've dealt with worse without him knowing.
"If I told you to kill someone, you won't hesitate will you?" Your question was rhetorical but his silence was enough of an answer to your question. "Oh my god, that's not how it works in life, Jake."
"You spread your legs to me when I damn well please, but it is no one's business but our own." He snapped. "If you can't earn their respect from working hard and picking up their mess then fear will make sure they know their place in this food chain, Y/N. That is what the real world is like."
You simply rolled your eyes at him and made your way to the bathroom to which Jake was quick to follow, halting by the door frame and you turned on the shower without him, you were still facing him at this point. Defiance still written on your face.
"I'm serious, Jake. I'm not in the mood after your stunt in the office." You muttered but his eyes was focused on your soaking body from more than just the water washing over you. The wetness between your legs was more than that.
"I said nothing, Mi Amor." He smirked, eyes darkening at all of the idea he had for you.
"Jake…"
"I'm a starving man here, Y/N. I can look since I'm not allowed to touch." He smirked knowing it wouldn't take much to break you at this point.
"Just get in the shower, Lockley before I change my mind." You snapped finally turning to face away from him, hiding the evident blush now painting your features.
And that was how Jake found himself in, showering in a far too scalding temperature of the water and consumed by you and your kisses.
"We're gonna get the sheets wet!" You protest, barely dry from the shower you had with your husband as he carried you bridal style straight to bed.
"I'll change it after, don't worry about it."
All that was important in this moment was him and how quick he can have himself balls deep inside of you.
Somehow with you, now laid on the bed, your still wet hair fanned on the bedsheets, all he could ever want was this. The smile on your face, no matter what shitty thing he might find himself having to do for the sake of the agreement, here you were. With your own demons, but helped each and every part of him with his own--of the neglect and abuse he had to endure at the hands of his own mother for something he never intended to happen as a kid.
You didn't need much of a preparation, you were slick and ready for him. He pushed himself until he was balls deep inside you just like what he always wanted. He was rough, he held you by the neck. Not tight to cause you to lose conscience, but tight enough to constrict your airway. His other hand held onto your leg wide, until your knee was touching your shoulder. He pounded over you over and over again. The sound of the bed continued to squeak, the headboard slamming onto the wall over and over again, and your breathy whimper continued to escape your lips.
"I will kill anyone and everyone that would even think of looking at your general direction." He spat jerking himself over and over again deep inside you, the sensation of hitting your cervix brought him close to the edge. "I am Vengeance, for you and for whatever Khonshu would want from me." He snarled.
Letting go of your neck, he lifted your other leg and practically bent you in half as he continued to fuck you even faster, dragging you right towards the much needed release alongside him.
"Come on, Mi Amor." He growl. "Where is the fight in you?" He taunts. "Where is the fucking fight just moments ago when I threatened that sorry excuse of a man."
"I'm close." You sobbed instead, hand rubbing against your core and Jake just found himself watching. The desperation in your eyes as you continuous to chase your orgasm.
His spat all the profanities he could, how he owned you, how you will be painted in the blood of all of his enemies, and how he would make you watch him skin the next person that would even dare try to hurt you. How you tightened at the last two brought him into chaos and satisfaction.
"Fuck!" He groaned as you've finally found your release, how you were now gripping onto his like a vice and he continued on with his movement until he felt the first spurt then lines after lines after.
Your eyes rolled back as you finally stilled.
Silence lingered in your bedroom and only now did he hear the sound of his neighbor knocking to keep it down and something he chose to ignore for now.
He peppered your legs a few kisses before finally bringing them back down and rubbing your side while you come down from your high. You were panting just as much as he was as he finally pulled away with a pop and the sight of his cum pooling between your legs almost brought turned him rock hard all over again.
"You're staying here tonight." You pointed out finally turning to look at him. "If you even think of doing the stunt you've done in the office now, I swear to God I'll be the one to talk to Khonshu to kick your ass."
He rolled his eyes falling onto the bed and pulling you to his naked chest. He wasn't gonna do it.
"Promise me."
"I promise I ain't gonna leave the apartment tonight." he muttered.
"That's not what I want you to promise, Jake."
"I ain't gonna promise something I'm not gonna keep. I'm here tonight, in bed with you for your beck and call, so be happy about that." He grumbled.
"Jake!"
"One more word, Mi Amor and that mouth of yours will be busy with something else instead."
Silence. That's more like it.
"You're an asshole, Lockley."
Always wanting to have the last word.
Since you've learned about your husband's extra curricular activities every night, you've gotten more comfortable with late nights. The array of self-defense lessons you've gotten from both Marc and Jake had also been helpful. Steven was more into helping you talk your way out of numerous trouble you might find yourself getting involved in. Your confidence had been a little better now, no longer did you have your self-doubt about yourself and with how you work. You have your husbands to thank for it. You were trying hard to better yourself and help him with his own day to day trials and being able to be there for them when they need you the most was the first real reason why you needed to take the first step for your own betterment.
"I'm surprised they've let you out all on your own."
Turning from where you were walking, you know perfectly well the owner of the voice.
"Following me is far beneath you, Khonshu." You pointed out, gazing at one of the buildings to see him settled. "Never thought of you as a Voyeur too." You teased watching as the older God had descended down and surprisingly turned into the image of your husband.
"Still a worm, I see." He sneers to which you roll your eyes and continue on your walk to the convenience store for something to eat while your husband was out--well technically he was here, but you really are confused as hell if it's really him or if Khonshu is just fucking with you at this point.
"Still a bird brain I see." You quipped hearing him follow you far too close for you to be comfortable with--even if this was your husband. "Is that really my husband or is this another one of your party tricks?"
"Unfortunately, I have to carry this bag of potatoes back to you." He grunts.
You smiled, holding onto the God (your husband's) hand in appreciation. He might be a little grouchy from time to time, but you appreciate that he still cares for your husband and would rather he be taken home in his own terms than left to fend for himself. It seems the God has a soft spot for them.
You've made your way to the convenience store with your hand still holding on to his own, from an outsider's perspective, all they could see was normal and far too handsome man for his own good. But you saw differently from the reflection. You held onto your husband's rough but gentle hands but the reflection was showing that of Khonshu is his form. You should have been scared by such fact but you didn't. Your husbands trusted you enough with the truth of his line of work, and with all the rhyme and reason when it comes to the God, you know perfectly well he has a soft spot for you--you might just buy him his own set of stuff for the apartment when you have the free time.
"Brought you gummy worms as well." You point out once the both of you headed out of the convenience store with the plastic bag filled with far too many unhealthy snacks.
"Why am I not surprised."
"You'll love it, Birdman." You teased right back as the both of you finally made your way back to the apartment and handing Khonshu the bag of gummies, you had ordered him to strip to his underwear and sit on the bed while you inspect the damage of this night's mission.
"Is this a daily occurance for all of you?" He inquired, trying his best to keep a straight face while chewing the extremely sour gummy worms.
"I need to make sure there's nothing that needs stitches." You pointed out, lifting his arm seeing the bruises starting to form. "I know he's sort of--but not really, invincible at this point, but it helps me to know they're all fine." You explained, trying to feel for his ribs, checking if there was anything broken and you rose a brow at how the God who was still possessing your husband's breath had hitched at your touch.
You continued on with your inspection, the God no longer focused on his gummies, but instead on the way you were touching him. How your hands would be gentle still, fearing something might hurt or if he was sore. You rolled your eyes and pushed him down onto his back without much of a fight from him. He's got it bad.
"Get out of the body Khonshu so I could talk to my husbands." You requested, hand cupping the evidently growing erection confined in his boxers.
"A tease you are, Y/N." He muttered eyes rolling and the familiar scream of Steven was there to replace it as he sat up and ready to fight.
"Where am I?" He questioned looking at his surroundings before easing himself as he caught sight of you. "Love? What happened? I blackedout."
"Khonshu was nice enough to bring you guys home." You assured. "Kicked him out of your body before he gets any funny ideas." You continued.
"A tease!" You and your husband turned to see Khonshu floating by the window watching your conversation.
"I knew you were a voyeur, Birdman." You teased confusing your husband further and Khonshu finally decided he has enough and left you both alone for some much needed privacy for the night.
You'll thank him some other time.
#jake lockley x reader#jake lockley smut#jake lockley x you#jake lockley x reader smut#jake lockley x y/n#jake lockley fic#jake lockley x female!reader#jake lockley one shot#stuckybarton 2k celebration#marc spector x reader#marc spector smut#marc spector x you#marc spector x reader smut#marc spector x y/n#marc spector fic#marc spector x female!reader#marc spector one shot#steven grant x reader#steven grant smut#steven grant x you#steven grant x reader smut#steven grant x y/n#steven grant fic#steven grant x female!reader#marc spector oneshot#khonshu x reader#khonshu x you#khonshu x y/n#khonshu one shot#khonshu imagine
886 notes
·
View notes
Text
Unlikely
summary: a look into how marc and reader met.
pairing: gn!reader x marc spector
contents: boxing, flirting, kissing, discussions of DID, fluff
an: this is the companion piece to this fic, and serves as a prequel to it. there won’t be any interaction between marc and steven, though marc will be thinking about steven. gif credits are @moonknightyws. you could say marc is ooc for being this open or maybe he’s so into reader he doesn’t have a choice <3
word count: 1.4k
mcu masterlist
One question is what starts it all: “Are you always this pissed off?”
You’ve been warming up a few punching bags down from the man with tan skin, a set jaw, and furrowed brows who could probably rip his own punching bag in half if he wanted to. You’ve seen him before, too many times if you’re being honest and your curiosity finally gets the best of you. You ask him this question, deadpanned but he catches the slightest bit of humor in your eyes before turning away. He’s not sure why he answers.
“Yes,” He huffs, landing another crushing blow to the punching bag he’s pummeling.
“Violence isn’t as cathartic as it once was. In fact, it can make things worse.”
He gets it and he doesn’t. Marc knows that he’s attractive, that he can attract attention, good and bad. You’re flirting with him, or maybe just trying to make a friend but only he knows that you’ve chosen the wrong person. The wrong persons. There’s too much of everything pent up in his body, some of it not even his own.
He should let you go. He should be incredibly rude to you and let you go. Typical he could, he would, but there’s something different about you already. But, there’s too much in the way. Khonshu’s requirements. Steven’s eventual return.
He can’t help but think about how good Steven would be to you if he could get his shit together. Maybe you could help Steven get his shit together. Maybe you could help both of them get their shit together. Maybe the pain wouldn’t suffocate him if he had someone like you, soft and helpful by his side. But, he really should scare you away.
He tries and fails to keep the edge in his voice, though he’s still got his face set in that glare, “What would you suggest then?”
You lean against the punching bag that’s now just slightly swaying, “Do you like fried chicken?”
If he wasn’t so tense he’d laugh at your question, “Yes.”
You treat him to a smile, it’s bright, sweet, and a little mischievous, “Music?”
“Sure,” He answers slowly with narrowed eyes.
“Water?”
The answer to that is complicated, but he doesn’t want to get into that right now. Or ever. He feels inclined to answer honestly, “Depends.”
“There’s this food truck festival on the weekends, down by the water.”
“That’s what you’re suggesting as a defuser?” He sounds skeptical, insulted even but you’re persistent.
“You might actually enjoy yourself instead whatever this is. I mean you come here at least twice a week to beat the shit out of this bag. The same one every time, you don’t even give the poor thing a break.”
“I don’t think you have any room to talk, that means you’re here just as often as me.”
“I’m here for my fitness, and you’re here to…”
“Beat the shit out of this bag,” He provides and you laugh, making his chest fill with an unfamiliar warmth.
“Like I said, you might enjoy yourself doing something other than that.”
He shakes his head, and his eyes almost grow somber, “It’s unlikely.”
“We could wager something,” You suggest, hoping that maybe a bet will get him to open up. With the way you’ve seen him train, you assume he likes to win, even at the little things.
“I’m not sure there’s anything I want from you.”
“Aren’t things we’re not sure of worth exploring?” You challenge, your tongue flicking out over your bottom lip.
Your words earn the smallest of smirks from him and he gives you a tight nod, “I’ll go with you.”
“Fantastic. I’m (Y/N),” You offer him your hand and he takes it, shaking firmly.
“Marc.”
___
The bet that turned into a date was 4 months ago, and now Marc wakes up in your bed at least twice a week. It was impossible to stay away from you, your laugh is infectious, your eyes saccharine.
For the first time in a long time, regardless of the circumstances, Marc feels safe. Safe enough to be honest with you about Steven. It’s hard to describe but he can recognize the signs. As the pressure from Khonshu grows, the more he thinks about his past. It means that Steven can pop out of the woodwork at any time to grant him some reprieve.
The two of you are laying in his bed for a change on a Saturday morning. As always you’re in his clothes, they’re worn and smell like him, it’s what you prefer.
He sits up in bed, his face set into that signature deep glare, “You trust me right?”
“Of course, I trust you,” You answer quickly with no doubts, but Marc hesitates, breaking eye contact for just a moment. It’s not something he does often, and the extra edge in his voice lets you know something is up. You sit up next to him, resting your head on his shoulder. “Hey, what is it? What’s wrong?”
“There are some things you need to know for this to work. It’s complicated, that's why I don’t do this but I…” He looks away, running his hand up and down your bare thigh. “I trust you and I want this to work so I have to tell you this.”
“Marc, the last thing I want is for you to do something you’re not ready for. If this is too much, if I’m too much, then just be honest with me.”
His expression softens into this tender look you never thought he’d be capable of, “You being too much is the last thing on my mind. It’s the opposite.”
“You’re not too much. A little intense, but I like that about you.”
There’s a long pause as Marc thinks about the way to do this. He decides that ripping off the bandaid is the best option. Whether it goes well or not, being direct will bring this conversation to resolution quicker.
He blows out a deep breath before speaking, “There’s more than just me.”
You lean back to get a good look at him, “What do you mean?”
“In my head, there’s more than just me,” He repeats.
“Like a different voice? A different personality?”
He shakes his head, “A completely different person. His name is Steven.”
You get that look on your face that indicates you’re processing and he lets you sit in peace, his anxiety heightening as each second passes. You know he’s being serious, Marc’s not one to bullshit so you think it through slowly, accepting the information. There’s not much else you can do, not when you feel so deeply for him. If you’re being honest with yourself, you’re falling in love with him. You know he’s not ready to hear that, but it’s true.
A question pops into your mind, “Has he always been there?”
“No.”
Marc doesn’t offer any more information about Steven’s origin and he doesn’t look like he wants to, so you propose a different question, “What’s he like?”
A soft, almost fond smile spreads across his face, “He’s gentle. And a nerd.”
“One could argue that you’re a nerd with all your…gadgets,” You gesture to his piles of electronic equipment and he rolls his eyes.
“I am not a nerd.”
“If you say so,” You put your hands up in defeat when he gives you a look. “So, tell me more about him.”
“He’s British.”
“He’s British?” You repeat, with a raised eyebrow.
“And he’s the reason I have that stupid fucking fish,” Marc nods his head over to the tank, rolling his eyes.
”Hey, I love that stupid fucking fish,” You attempt to push him back into bed with your hands but he’s quicker and stronger, gripping your hand and pulling you into his lap where you gladly get comfortable. “When will I get to meet him?”
“It’s hard to say. He has a mind of his own,” He pinches your thigh playfully when you giggle at his accidentally play-on-words, “That is not a pun, don’t laugh.”
His grumpiness makes you laugh harder, and he falls back into the bed wrapping both of his arms around you until you’re finished.
“Marc?” You peer up at him, resting your chin on his chest.
“Hmm?” He hums, bending down to kiss the tip of your nose.
“Thank you for feeling like you could tell me.”
“Don’t get sappy,” His eyes betray what he says, full of a soft, hazy affection.
You take his words as permission to do something else with your lips and wiggle up his body until you can kiss him. His lips are firm and urgent, his arms tightening around you as he thrusts his tongue into your mouth to claim it. Ready and willing you submit to him, letting him kiss you as hungrily as he wants to, trapped in his arms. There’s no place you’d rather be.
if you’d like to be on my moonknight taglist let me know!
mcu taglist: @laurensprentiss, @angelfxllcm, @in-between-the-cafes, @honeybrowne, @ninebluehearts, @jitterbugs927, @later-gators12
#gn!reader x marc spector#marc spector x gn!reader#reader x marc spector#marc spector x reader#marc spector x y/n#marc spector x you#moonknight x reader#marc spector one shot#marc spector fluff#moonknight one shot#moonknight fanfiction#moonknight fan fiction#arson writes marvel
261 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
discount-limeade
Conrad *
cathmasart
CATHMASART
thou-babbling-brook
babblingbrook
life-is-a-curse
Bookworm
bugheadlovin
All Things Bughead, Lili Reinhart And Cole Sprouse