#marc spector x f!reader
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What You Like
Marc Spector x F!Reader x Steven Grant • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • MK Bingo 2024 Masterlist • ko-fi •
Summary: Marc gets in his head about being with you, Steven talks him through it.
🌛For @moonknight-events MK Bingo Spring 2024 Event🌜
A/N: There was a post about Marc talking Steven through his first time with reader, which I adored and couldn't stop thinking about. And then my brain went... but what if... the other way around? (I'm so sure I reblogged the post, or maybe it's in my queue, but I cannot for the life of me find it. Please if you know the one I'm talking about, let me know! I really would like to link it here. Also I'm so sorry I forgot who wrote it as well.)
Warnings: oral, fingering, so much swearing, some self loathing from Marc, I have used 'mate' far too much, as well as 'yeah?', kind of Marc being sort of into Steven talking to him, typos, railroad sentences, please let me know if I've missed a warning!
Word Count: 2213
“She doesn’t like it so much like that, if you tilt your head to the side a little and-”
Marc snaps his eyes open and glares at Steven in the far-off mirror. “Fuck off.” He thinks hard, and Steven doesn’t have to hear him to read his expression.
“I’m just trying to help, mate.” He holds up his hands like all he had done is hold the door open for him or something.
Marc glares harder, about to flip him off when you pull back from the kiss.
“You okay?”
Marc swallows, “Sorry, I, erm…” He hadn’t realised you’d noticed his distraction.
You smile at him and stroke his cheek. "You know, we don’t have to do anything,” you shift a little on the bed, giving him a fraction more space.
“No, no, that wasn’t…” he gives you a small smile in return and leans forward again to kiss you. “Steven, I need you to be quiet now, okay?”
“I was just-”
“Steven.”
He tuts. “Okay, okay, I promise.”
Marc inches a little closer, recovering the space you’d previously offered up. His thigh nudges against yours and you let out a little moan into his mouth as he swipes his tongue over your bottom lip.
He didn’t know why he felt so nervous, anxiety like eels swimming in his belly, you were Steven’s girlfriend (and technically, his now? Or was that too forward?) you’d been in this bed, with this body before. And strictly speaking, Marc had looked in on you and Steven a few times in more… intimate moments. Accidentally, of course.
This should be fine. Practically second nature.
He tries to clear his head, to be more in the moment, and runs his hands down your back as he presses closer, leaning into you slightly to urge you to lay back onto the mattress.
You move with him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pulling him against you. Parting your legs slightly so that he can situate himself between them.
He nips lightly at your lip, licking softly but confidently into your mouth as he just grinds his hardening cock against your core. Oh, and your barely muffled moan is delicious, the way you dig your fingers into his shoulders makes his head spin, if-
“Oh, that’s a good move. She definitely likes that.”
“Steven! For fuck’s sake! I trusted you to be quiet!”
“Sorry!”
Marc tries not to let the interruption show, but he jumps a little when Steven speaks and it’s impossible for you to have missed it. A small thorn of anxiety settles in his chest, piercing between his ribs.
“Kiss her neck, she really likes that.”
“Steven-”
“I’m just giving helpful tips!” He can feel more than see Steven shrug his shoulders. “You’re the one without any game.”
“Without any game? I’ve got more game than you.”
Steven sorts. “Unlikely. When’s the last time you got laid? God only knows. I, however, had sex this morning.”
“Steven.”
“Just saying.”
“Yeah, well, I'm gonna be having sex in a minute, so shut up.”
There was a moment of blissful silence and Marc let out a breath of relief.
You hooked your legs over his hips, urging him closer and bucking up so that you could grind against him. The heavy drag of his jeans sending sparks of pleasure along your spine.
He slips his left hand down, sneaking the tips of his warm fingers under your top and stroking at the soft skin of your side.
“She’s ticklish there.”
“Steven-”
You can’t help but giggle a little, squirming away from his touch and breaking the kiss. “Sorry,” you bite your lip, “I’m sorry, it’s just-”
“You’re ticklish.” Marc finishes and you nod smiling.
“Sorry.” You mouth again.
Marc shakes his head and smiles as he leans back down. “It’s fine, don’t worry.” He moves his hand away from your side.
He’s barely pressed his lips against you for a second before Steven speaks again. “Told you.”
Marc inwardly grunts, rolling his eyes as he kisses along your jaw to your neck. He nips lightly at your skin, before sucking gently.
“Bit lower mate, that’s the spot.”
Marc scowled but followed the instruction, hatching onto the spot Steven suggested and you moan loudly, arching your back off the mattress.
“See, she really likes that. Now if you just move your hand down and-”
Marc clenches his jaw instinctively, letting his frustration bubble over. Unfortunately, your neck is still between his teeth when they snap shut.
You let out a little gasp of pain and Marc nearly blacks out from panic, instinctively moving to jerk backwards and away from you. But your arms tighten on his shoulders, your thighs clenching around his hips.
You whimper and buck against him instantly. “Marc, fuck, please do that again.”
He relaxes, tension easing out of his limbs as he growls faintly and does as you ask.
“It’s okay mate, really. She’s not made of glass.”
“Steven. I’m fucking gonna-”
“Hey,” Steven protested, “look, I don’t mind when you’re watching us go at it all the time, yeah?”
Marc flushed. “I do not.”
“Yes, you do. And don’t think you’re being sneaky about it either. I can tell.”
“I don’t mean to, it’s just…”
“Just what mate?”
“It just… happens.”
“Yeah, right.”
Marc stays quiet, knowing that whatever he says won’t make him look good. He tries to ignore Steven, to just focus on you. To grind against you just right. But he could feel Steven hovering just in the background.
You run your hands through Marc’s hair, pulling highly as you writhe under him and he can’t help but risk a sneaky look up at you, at how your eyebrows are pinched together, eyes closed in pleasure and…
Was it real? Or was it just for show? Did you always look like that when Steven…? He thinks back trying to recall the memories of watching in as much detail as possible.
“Marc.” Steven’s voice is soft.
But he doesn’t answer.
“Stop getting in your head about it, yeah? She’s here with you. She likes you. She wouldn’t pretend to be into something she doesn’t, ‘kay?”
Marc swallows, trying to take Steven’s words on board and calm his quickly spiralling thoughts.
But it doesn’t feel right. Nothing feels right, it’s all stiff and unsettled. Like his joints are just a fraction out of place.
You can tell. He’s so sure that you can tell. Even if you are moaning and writhing against him, you must know. Must sense it. How out of alignment he is. How much of a failure.
“Steven?"
There’s a fraction of a pause before he answers. “Hmm?”
“What does she like?”
He can feel Steven’s frown.
“What does she like? What should I do? You were full of tips a second ago, don’t lea-”
“Move your hand down,” his voice is a little softer than before. Compassionate. And Marc knows his emotions have bled through. “Slower.”
Marc slowly runs his hand down your body, careful not to tickle your side, stopping just short of the top button of your trousers.
“Kiss lower on her neck, just above her collarbone... that’s it.”
Marc feels a little warm at the praise, giddy even.
“And just start to undo her trousers, yeah?”
He flicks the top button open and you whine, bucking up against him. You urge his face up with your hands so you can kiss his lips and slide your tongue into his mouth. A deep shiver runs along Marc’s spine, forcing his hips to buck mindlessly.
You pull back for a second, just to lift your top up and over your head before dropping it to the side and his breath catches in his throat.
“Trousers.”
Marc all but jumps despite the soft tone of Steven’s voice and he quickly snaps his eyes away from your skin to focus on undoing your pants.
You grin at his eagerness and help him by wiggling out of your trousers and kicking them off your feet. You kiss Marc’s neck, your hands moving desperately to his jeans.
“Touch her.”
Marc lets out a little moan as you suck on his pulse point. “Wha-”
Marc’s left hand moves under Steven’s control, slipping his fingers under the elastic of your panties and pressing two thick fingers inside of your heat.
You gasp in surprise, your thighs twitching at the sudden intrusion, shifting wider to allow him easier access.
Steven strokes two fingers languidly against your walls for a second, enjoying the little tremors and flutters before placing his thumb on your clit. “Can you feel that?”
Marc nods inwardly, “fuck.”
“See how wet she is?”
“So fucking wet.”
Steven smiles, continuing the long, slow strokes for a second before retreating back and leaving their hand once more completely under Marc’s control. He falters for half a second before he quickly resumes the tortuous pace set up by Steven.
You gasp and whine, flinging your head back against the pillow as you arch up your hips towards him, trying to buck and urge him to move faster.
“Go nice and slow… yeah… like that…” Steven whispers in his ear and there’s something strangely comforting about it, something exciting at having him there, right with him.
Marc bites his bottom lips between his teeth, watching your face with rapt attention.
“Nice slow circles and nice slow strokes.”
“Slow circles.” He mutters under his breath, almost inaudible. He glides his fingers back and forth, barely leaving you before pushing back in, revelling in the sound of your wetness.
You buck and whine, grabbing hold of his forearm like you were hanging onto a lifesaver. “Marc- ah, please!” Your words are cut off by desperate half choked sobs.
He continues to circle your clit gently, barely allowing any pressure so that you can only just feel the slightly calloused glide of his thumb. Your thighs started to shake, your movements becoming sloppy.
“Take her panties off completely, yeah? She’s gonna cum in a second, you’re gonna want to see.”
Marc obeyed without thinking, using his free hand to pull them down and groaning softly when you lifted your hips as best you could to help him.
Fuck you looked so pretty laid out all before him- before them.
You moaned particularly needily, already looking fucked out of your head and Marc hissed, unable to stop himself as he hurriedly leant down and flicked his tongue along your clit.
Your little high-pitched cry made him go light-headed.
“Fuck, god yeah, give it to her.” Steven’s arousal bled into his own, making him dizzyingly high. “God, make her cum, make her cum in our mouth Marc, please.”
“Marc, oh god, please!” You whine at almost the same moment, your and Steven’s voice blending together in a harmony that made Marc’s dick throb.
He sucked your clit into his mouth for a moment before running board, flat licks over it, continuing his fingers slow pump as he brought you maddeningly close to the edge.
Steven moaned loudly, “fuck Marc, please, please, need to taste her cum. Then we can fuck her together, yeah? She feels so good, she makes the best little noises,” he groaned again, “she tastes so sweet doesn’t she?”
“So sweet,” Marc mumbled against your pussy as he kept moving, kept sucking and licking and practically humping the mattress with his eyes pinched tight in pleasure.
“Marc,” you whimper and pull on his hair with your free hand, urging him on, “you’re so good at this, so good, ‘m gonna cum-”
“Fuck, Marc, yes.”
He couldn’t help himself, simply couldn’t. Found himself opening his mouth and letting the words spill out before he had even registered them. “Steven’s here too.”
“Oh shit!” You gasp, your voice raising in pitch as your orgasm crashes into you, seizing your limbs in pleasure and whiting out your vision, before leaving you boneless and breathless.
Marc stops moving slowly, trying to prolong your bliss for as long as possible. He bites his lip nervously as he sits up, your release and his spit covering the lower half of his face. Fuck, why had he said that, why had he gone and fucked this all up-
You smile up at him, still trailing your fingers through his thick curls. “Steven’s here too?”
He nods as heat rises to his face. He stares down at your knee.
“Look at her, mate.”
He doesn’t move until you gently tilt his chin up with your hand.
Your soft smile makes his heart ache.
“I’m sorry…” he whispers. “Is that… okay? That he’s here?”
You nod, your grin widening as you sit up and kiss him. It’s messy and deep, and Marc just melts into it. He whines against your lips as you wrap your arms around him, stroking your tongue with his own as you lick into his mouth.
“Now, how about,” you say between kisses, your fingers tugging at the bottom of his t-shirt. “I get you out of these clothes and suck both of your dick.” You pause and pull a silly face at the odd-sounding, but technically correct singular use.
Marc giggles and nuzzles into your neck.
“Say yes mate!”
“Yes please.” He mumbles as he sucks a love bite into your skin.
____________________________________
Thank you for reading!
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#moon knight events#moon knight bingo 2024#marc spector#moon knight#moon knight mcu#marc spector x reader#x reader#marc spector x you#x you#marc spector x female reader#x female reader#marc spector x f!reader#x f!reader#marc spector x fem!reader#x fem!reader#my writing#fanfic#oscar isaac#oscar isaac characters#steven grant#steven grant x reader#steven grant x you#steven grant x female reader#steven grant x f!reader#steven grant x fem!reader
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house of balloons.
Marc Spector x f!reader
Warnings: unprotected p in v, spit, choking, slight breeding kink, Marc’s sweaty neck, cream pie, Dom/sub dynamic if you squint
Word count: 1.4K
AN: nobody asked for this but I’m giving it to you anyway. Beta’d by my bb @moonknightly ❤️
The way Marc was taking his time with you tonight was getting the best of you.
It wasn’t a particularly healthy relationship but it was what each of you could handle. He’d message you in the late hours of the night and conveniently for you, it would be on the nights you were too restless to sleep, in need of what only he could give you.
You don’t think he loves you. You definitely don’t love him, but you love the way he fills you up, his cock hitting the precise spot inside your hot and needy cunt that neither your fingers nor your toys could reach, the smug face he wore telling you everything you needed to know.
Your hands squeezed his shoulders where they were sweaty and bare, his own hands gripping your ass every time you sank down on his cock on the couch in your living room.
One of his hands moved to grip your jaw, thumb tugging on your bottom lip until you opened your eyes in question only to get caught in the most intense eye contact you’ve ever had with him. Marc continued to watch you as he pulled your pliant mouth open wider, and, while keeping his eyes on yours, leaned forward to fucking spit in your waiting mouth.
And God, you were so easy for him, you swallowed it down without hesitation.
At that you both groaned, and he leaned forward to do it again, kissing you tongue first right after letting it dribble down into your mouth. Suddenly, the pressure in your abdomen skyrocketed, your leaking pussy clamping down on Marc’s thick cock. Your spine seized up, hands reaching to entangle themselves in his hair as you neared your climax, desperate to ground yourself against the wave of pleasure threatening to drown you.
“Marc, ohh—“
“Fuck sweetheart, is that what you want? Huh?” He punctuated his question with a squeeze to your jaw, shaking your head a little.
You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want him to squeeze you tighter, choke you a little harder until you passed out. You were getting close to the edge, the wet sounds your pussy made loud in the otherwise silent apartment. You weren’t aware of the noises you were making, completely lost in the feelings Marc was bringing out in you.
“You know, I think about you sometimes. Whether you make noise when it’s just you and your fingers… you’re so loud, honey. How does nobody complain?”
Your thighs burned, for sure to be aching the next day to serve as a reminder of this moment. Pulling his face into your neck from his hair was your attempt at shutting him up, being more aggressive with it than usual but it only served to make him groan with pleasure.
“God, I’ve been thinking about this pussy all day. I think she missed me, too, leaking all over me. Such a mess,” he bit and licked at the junction in your neck. “I’ll clean you up after, don’t worry.”
You squeezed around him tighter at his words while Marc’s hands squeezed your ass on your way down, holding you there for a second before lifting you up and repeating it until he was basically using you like his own personal toy.
“Please,” you managed weakly.
You don’t even know what you’re asking for. Something, anything to free you. You needed the release and he was the only one who could give it to you now. You had a feeling Marc knew this, was using it to his advantage as he continued to grab and pull at your flesh with borderline animosity, channeling all of his feelings from the day and towards you into his large fingers, pressing and pressing and pressing.
“You gotta ask me, baby, c’mon use your words.”
Oh, fuck him.
Pretending to lean closer to whisper in his ear, you switched at the last second to pounce and bite down hard on Marc’s meaty shoulder, not being gentle while gnawing at his golden flesh. A loud groan was heard in your ear, encouraging you to repeat the action on the next space of golden tanned skin available to you. And while his fingers continued pressing bruises into your skin, his thrusts became all of a sudden erratic, pulling you down and grinding you on him, selfishly in search of his own release.
“Inside, inside,” you said breathlessly.
And with one last thrust, his hands still gripping your hips hard enough to hurt a little, he threw his head back. Your cunt fluttered around him as you came on his cock before you felt his warm cum trickling down and around where you were joined.
Marc’s bulging neck and heaving chest enticed you to lean forward again and lick at the sweat beading on his collarbone before he pushed your head away with a hand on your sternum. Sighing and pulling out, you both went quiet watching his spend leak out of you, twitching when he shoved it back inside with two fingers and fucking you with them a couple of times for good measure.
“Mmm.”
Whimpering when he pulled out again, you collapsed on your side against the cushions, focusing on evening out your breathing. Meanwhile, Marc was trying to fight his sudden instinct to stay with you and hold you, curl you up into a ball so that you may fit softly against him the way he dreamed about.
Deciding to cover you with a blanket instead, he quickly got dressed and hovered above you, avoiding eye contact before dropping a soft and lingering kiss on your forehead, only serving to confuse the fuck out of you. He never acted this way after sleeping with you, albeit tonight was a little more … intense, you could say.
You had to admit, it felt nice. Good, even.
Fuck, okay, it felt amazing. And now there was a look in his eye, kind of like he didn’t want to leave, kind of like he wanted to go again, stay the night, whisper sweet nothings to you while you lay in his arms until sunrise. Or maybe you were projecting.
A crease developed between his brows before he swiftly made his way to the door, his walk stiff and jaw set. You were probably projecting. He didn’t want to stay. Why would he? Like you said, you weren’t in love. You were just one of his girls.
“Uhh, yeah, well. See you around.”
Even his tone sounded more awkward than usual. Hovering near the entryway, shuffling, hands twiddling, he looked nothing like the Marc you knew for a moment. His shoulders hunched forward and for a split second his eyes went ridiculously soft.
Unlocking your door and making his way to the elevators, he headed down the hall, hearing a few heavy steps before your door swung shut. Just like that, he was gone.
You don’t know what you thought you saw, or if it was just something you wanted to see. You felt like a child again, a rejected little girl who’s crush wouldn’t play with them on the playground. The one time you let the silly hope shine in your eyes while looking up at the gorgeous man who you’ve come to realize you do sort of have feelings for, at least a little bit, was the only time Marc needed to see it before running away.
You’re not sure how long you lay there naked under the throw with his cum drying on your inner thigh before a couple of unsuspecting and quiet knocks sounded at your door. The weight of the hand behind the door didn’t sound familiar; maybe it was a neighbour who came to complain about the noise.
Wrapping the blanket around you like a shawl, you awkwardly (and sorely) padded to the door, opening it an inch before seeing the man who just bolted from your apartment back and looking uncomfortable. Maybe he forgot something.
“I forgot something.”
Opening the door wider for him, fully expecting him to immediately go looking for his wallet, keys, whatever it was, you don’t intend on watching him like a kicked puppy.
But Marc surprises you. He enters your home, shuts the door and still has that face of confusion on from earlier before he pulls you into his chest, his arms going around your waist as he hugs you close.
“Promised I’d clean you up, remember?” He whispers in your ear.
#marc spector fanfiction#marc spector smut#marc spector x reader#marc spector x f!reader#marc spector x you#Marc Spector fanfic#moonknight smut#moon knight smut#moonknight fanfiction#moon knight fanfic#oscar isaac fanfiction
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Bad days
Pairing- Steven grant x f!reader, hints of Marc and Jake x f!reader.
Summary- You help Steven relax and cure his bad day.
CW-18+,MDNI,NSFW, porn with a little plot, angst, fluff, Steven being unsure at first, oral m receiving, cum eating, slight sub Steven,Dom reader, Marc and Jake being teases and helpful because it’s them.
WK-2.4k
A/N- Making Steven feel good is like candy to me so I hope you enjoy this.
Not beta read
[Moon Knight Masterlist][Main Masterlist]
You set the groceries down to knock on the door to Stevens flat. You don’t hear any movement on the other side of the door for a few brief moments. You know Steven wasn’t always punctual but he never missed an opportunity for you to cook him dinner.
It was a little nerve wracking at first taking over his job in the gift shop. He was promoted to tour guide at the museum but Donna insisted he train his replacement.
Marc was annoyed in the beginning. How hard could it be to work in a gift shop? He knew Steven had been waiting for so long to be a tour guide and told him in so many words to tell Donna to shove off. Until you walked in.
For once in his life Steven didn’t bumble his way through an introduction. You loved the way he cared so deeply for the regular patrons and cataloged all the items in the gift shop.
He gave you a taweret plushie on your last day of training and couldn’t contain his excitement when you wrapped your arms around him as a thank you.
Ask her now
It wasn’t often Jake made an appearance, but since you’ve come into the picture he was making himself more and more known.
He’s right, ask her
It was a problem for Steven when Marc and Jake were getting along. He has yet to make his condition known to you, but he’s noticed you smirking when he’s talking out loud or having a stern conversation with his reflection in the glass of the gift shop.
“I was wondering if maybe…you’d like to go to dinner with me sometime?”
You said yes before he could even get the words out.
That was a few months ago.
****
Steven noticed you at the end of the hallway as the doors to the lift opened.
I told you to just give her a key hermano
Steven didn’t want to just hand you a key like Marc or Jake would. He wanted it to be special…he already had it made, he just needed an opportunity to present it to you. He’s been so busy with his promotion he’s barely had time for you.
You offered to cook him dinner and he couldn’t even bother to be on time for that.
He looks so tired, even from where you’re standing. You can tell he’s had a rough day and you’re determined to make it better. It’s not often the boys let you spoil them, always so concerned with your needs.
Steven had needs too…he just needed a gentle reminder.
****
“I’m sorry I’m so late, Love.�� He pecks your lips as he drops some scrolls to the ground to fish out his keys.
“It’s okay Steven, I haven't been waiting long.” You bend over to pick up the groceries as he drops his keys.
“Oh bollocks, can’t even open my own door.” You try to grab his shoulder as he picks them up from the floor. He mutters something under his breath about being clumsy and your certain Marc or Jake aren’t helping.
“Steven, honey.” You wrap your arms around him as you slowly grab the keys. “Let me help you.”
Steven wants to protest but your hands are like magic covering his. He has to pinch himself everyday to remind himself he’s not dreaming, when it comes to you. Marc and Jake may give him a hard time but he never lets them forget that you were interested in him first.
He sighs into your touch as you slowly open the door. “You’re too good to me, you know that.” He scoops the groceries in one arm and the scrolls in the other.
“There’s no such thing as too good.” Your lips curve into a smile before you lean in and kiss him and he nearly drops everything in his arms.
“Why don’t you set that stuff down and get comfortable.”
He goes to protest but you place your finger on his lips. “Go wash off this awful day, change into something comfortable and relax.” You kiss him again a little deeper and longer, you can feel him sigh into it as you start to pull away. “I’m not taking no for an answer.”
I would do what she says if I were you.
He pinches himself before he heads off to the bathroom.
****
Steven notes the delicious smell wafting through the flat as he pulls on his favorite jumper and sweatpants. Although he knows whenever he comments on how good it smells you always tell him it’s just garlic and onions.
You’re a picture of domestic perfection as you finish putting something in the oven. You wipe your hands on the small towel as you look up and smile at him.
His feet are rooted to the spot in the living room as you make your way towards him,you look like you want to devour more than just the food. The urge to look over his shoulder and make sure he’s the one you’re looking at is strong.
Your soft hand gently grabs his wrist as you pull him toward the couch. Perhaps Marc or Jake took control of his legs because he certainly doesn’t remember how he swiftly ended up seated with you on your knees in front of him.
The words are leaving your mouth but he can’t hear anything over the buzzing in his ears as you rub your hands up and down his legs.
“What did you say love?” You smirk and lean up, pulling his face to yours as your soft lips meet his. He could stay like this, just kissing you as he melts into the couch. The stress of the day pouring off him like the rain outside.
“I said…did you have a bad day?” You trail kisses along his jaw and nip at his earlobe as you wait for his answer.
“Yes.” It comes out as a confession, like he’s ashamed to admit that he has bad days doing his dream job.
Your warm hands roam under his sweater along his chest and trail down as you hook your fingers in his waistband. His breathing is coming in too fast and he tries to calm himself down as your body brushes against the obvious tent in his sweats.
“Do you want me to make it better?” It’s a whisper in his ear that he hears loud and clear as your hands wait for permission.
Say yes Steven
Say yes Steven
It must’ve been too long, because his head mates urge him to answer you before you change your mind. As if you ever would.
“Yes…please.” You chuckle at his rushed out response as if you can read his mind and know exactly what they’re saying.
It drives him a little bit wild that you’re giving him this attention. He was always a little more reserved than Marc and not as bold as Jake. He’s never been treated like this. The sole purpose of someone’s desires.
You tug a little on his pants and bite your lip. He lifts his hips to help you as you pull them down just enough to pool at his feet. He’s achingly hard as your hand reaches out to pump him a few times.
He bites down on his tongue to keep from coming at the first touch of you. It’s only been a few days and he’s already so desperate for anything you’ll give him.
The genuine look of enjoyment on your face as you stare at it like it’s an appetizer to a four course meal is something he’ll have to frame in his mind.
The feel of your hand is quickly replaced with your mouth as you slide down the length of him, your plush lips wrapped around his cock as you hum in approval. Finally provided the relief you both wanted.
He chokes back a moan as your tongue slides back up, slowly twirling around the tip. A drop of precum trails down the side and you tilt your head licking it up like an ice cream cone. Not wanting to waste a drop.
Fuck
Your hands are on his legs again as you rub them in time with your head as you bob up and down, moaning around his cock sending chills up his spine.
You loved watching Steven let go. It was exhilarating that you could make someone come undone. The dark look in his eyes is almost similar to Marc’s but you know by the noises coming from him and the way his hands grip the couch it’s your sweet Steven.
Put your hand on the back of her head
“What?” He rasps out above you.
You come off with a pop and take in his unruly curls as the sweat forms on his furrowed brow.
“I didn’t say anything honey.” He stares blankly at you for a moment before he realizes he must’ve spoke out loud.
Idiota
“Sorry love, you can keep going…if you want to—
His rambling is cut short as you take him into your mouth again, not wasting a moment as your lips slide all the way down his cock. Your nose brushes the curls at the base and you gag a little.
“Sorry love…” Steven begins to apologize but you don’t seem to be stopping.
Listen to me and don’t say anything
Perhaps he should just listen to Marc, he’s never…well maybe not never, but he’s rarely led him astray.
Put your hand on the back of her head and Gently…go with her movements.
You glance up at Steven who nods his head as he places his hand on the back of yours. He’s looking at you with those puppy dog eyes like he’s asking for permission to do what you’ve been wanting this whole time. Enjoy it.
You hollow out your cheeks and pull him in deeper as he audibly moans a little louder. His nails scratch lightly at your scalp as he pushes you down a little further. His bold movements turn you on even more than you were before. You breathe through your nose and push past the burning in your lungs to stay on the edge of his pleasure for a little longer.
“You’re perfect, you know that?” He mostly says it to himself as you whine your response because you can't really answer at the moment. Not verbally at least.
You know you probably look a mess as your mascara runs down your cheeks and the drool pools outside your mouth as he takes what he wants. Except he’s looking at you like you hung the moon as his free hand swipes a stray tear from the corner of your eye.
It feels like he’s in the duwat again the way he’s floating between this reality and the next. He struggles to keep his eyes on you as he throws his head back against the couch finally relinquishing all control he had over his emotions.
The sounds of your mouth and the muttering of praises are all he can focus on as the familiar feeling starts to creep up his back and infiltrate his brain.
You can feel his legs tense beneath your hands as the grip in your hair tightens instinctually.
“I’m…im close love, you don’t have to.”
Cállate y déjale
“It’s okay Steven, you can let go.” You half pant out as you resume before he can protest.
You place your hand on top of his and urge him on as he curses under his breath. His hips stutter slightly as he feels himself let go, spilling hot ropes of come into your mouth. You don’t let up as you swallow every drop until he’s boneless beneath you. His cock twitches slightly as you come off, slowly catching your breath. His hand drops to the couch with a thud as you raise up next to him and brush his curls out of his face.
The redness on his neck dissipates with every breath that he takes in. He may have been close to passing out if you hadn’t stopped soon.
“That was…incredible.” He half whispers to himself and you chuckle into his neck as you place soft kisses to his sweaty skin.
“I’m glad I could help.”
The timer on the oven beeps bringing your attention back to the dinner you started when you told him to relax.
“Ooohh, the lasagna is done.I hope you’re hungry.” You bounce up off the couch as he stands and pulls his sweats back on.
He feels like he ran a marathon and food sounds delightful at the moment.
“You made my favorite?” It’s said as more of a question than a statement as he watches you move around his kitchen like you’ve been here all your life.
“I made two actually.” You cut into one and place a serving on each of your plates. “Vegan and meat sauce. I’ll mark them for you so you know which is which.”
I love her
Ella es perfecta
You lick the sauce off your finger and he’s brought back to what you just did for him on the couch.
“I have something for you love.” Steven heads to the room briefly and digs through his jacket pocket before he finds it.
He sheepishly returns to the kitchen island where you’re digging into your smaller portion of lasagna. He’s trying to rid his head of these thoughts for a second as you make the same noises from before as you savor your food.
His hand shakily slides the key towards you and you set your fork down to pick it up. The beautiful brass key looks so big in your delicate hands.
“Is this my prize?” You ask with a mischievous glint in your eye.
Smooth
“Oh no…I’ve been meaning to give it to you for a while. I didn’t plan it this way…it was supposed to be special and well…”
“Shhh. Steven, relax, I'm just joking.” He eases a little at your words, knowing you’re just teasing him. You and Jake had that down better than he or Marc ever could. “I love it honey, thank you for trusting me with this.”
You lean in and place a kiss to his cheek, shorter than he would care for. He never wants you to stop touching him if he could help it.
“Eat up, before it gets cold.”
Before I take the body and eat my own
No me parece
He eats while they bicker, not wanting to waste another precious moment with you.
****
Your phone buzzes in your pocket as you stare out the window of the bus on the way home from work.
Steven: where are you love?
On the bus I just left work, how was your day?
Steven: It was quite dreadful
I’ll be home soon to make it better
Comments and reblogs are much appreciated
Tagging a few who might be interested
@missdictatorme @chichimisaki @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @melodygatesauthor @simpforbritgents
#moon knight fanfiction#steven grant fem reader#steven grant x female reader#moon knight mcu#steven grant x fem!reader#steven grant smut#marc spector x f!reader#jake lockley x reader#moon boys x reader#steven grant fluff#sub steven grant#marvel moon knight#steven grant x f!reader#jake lockley fluff#moon knight fanfic#moon knight x you#oscar issac characters#oscar isaac
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DEVOTION
a/n: this is just pure filth. literally no plot, but it was needed at this point. i've been back on my moon knight shit for awhile now and am working on several fics for them in the new year. so please enjoy the small interlude of smut before i get back to my regularly scheduled angst. (also yes this gif was necessary). everyone thank dia for dropping some of the best lines in this fic. her mind is unmatched.
co-conspirator/writer: @softanon🖤 (this is literally just the conversation we had word for word)
summary: marc needed to relax, but things don't go as you expect them to.
word count: 4.2k+
pairing: marc spector x f!reader
warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, filth, p in v sex, gratuitous oral (m receiving), bondage, slight dom!marc, rough sex, cum eating, cumplay, biting, edging.
“You’re meant to be relaxing,” you said, watching as Marc paced around the living room for what felt like the millionth time that night.
“I am.”
You scoffed, setting your glass of water down. “You’re going to wear a hole in the floor if you keep going.”
He didn’t find your comment amusing, opting to ignore you in favor of doing another lap. After days of donning his suit and title as Moon Knight, you asked him to stay home. To relax with you until the next day where his routine would start all over again. Except you never accounted for the fact that relaxing was not a term Marc understood well. In fact, you were fifty percent sure that he didn’t know what it meant in the first place, constantly exerting himself in favor of actually resting.
Eventually your patience would run out—you knew that much. So, when he decided to turn around one more time, heading straight for the kitchen only to do exactly what he’d been doing for the past twenty minutes, you snapped. Getting up from where you sat, you reached for his arm, gripping it so tight he froze midstep. Normally you held a tight reign over your emotions, never allowing them to slip free. You just couldn’t handle seeing him unable to do the one thing you wanted for him.
“Please sit down before I tie you to the chair.”
If he wasn’t listening to you before, he was now. “Tie me to the chair?”
“Yes…” The incredulous expression he wore faded, a new one taking over. One you’d seen before. His lips curved upwards, eyes lighting up as he took in the sight of you slightly frazzled and on edge.
“You want to try?” His smile widened and you couldn’t decide between kissing him or actually going through with what you planned.
Tying him to a chair shouldn’t have been too difficult. Sure, he possessed immense strength and powers, but you had one thing over him he never saw coming. You smiled, tilting your chin up—the defiance burning in your eyes—and you saw him waver. You watched his eyes dilate, his chest heaving as he inhaled a sharp breath. He was captivated by you, a sight he’d never tire of seeing. Which made tricking him easier for you than even he anticipated.
“I really do Spector,” you breathed, emphasizing his last name in the way you knew he liked.
He liked knowing that he was what you wanted. That while you loved Steven and Jake as much as him, it was Marc that met you first. Marc that made your head spin in that first kiss, brought your walls down with a single look, and captured your heart with his gentle touch. He belonged to you. He knew that from day one.
Tugging on his shirt, you pulled him towards you, capturing his lips in a kiss that melted him. You’d always say kissing Marc was entirely different from kissing Steven. Where Steven hesitated, Marc took, he devoured you—leaving nothing behind. He yanked you closer, his tongue sliding against yours as you breathed a heady moan into his mouth. Marc would never tire of your taste, always craving the flavor of your favorite tea on your tongue, the slight mint of your toothpaste.
All that together mixed with the perfume he bought you and suddenly he was at your mercy.
He stumbled, feeling you push against him until eventually somehow you ended up in the bedroom. Kissing you stopped time; everything ceased to exist except you. You and your soft hands and warm skin. He moaned, palms sliding up into your t-shirt, delighted to find out that you had forgone wearing a bra today. That combined with the fact that it was his t-shirt you wore made his head spin even more. He was throbbing in his sweatpants, his heart racing so fast he was certain you could hear it.
One last push sent him tumbling into the overpriced desk chair you bought him (well technically Steven but sharing was a part of the deal), followed by you climbing on top of him. He didn’t care where he sat, couldn’t even coherently tell you with confidence where he was. All his brain let him comprehend was your tongue that slid along his, your hands that tugged off his shirt before they reached behind him for something.
By the time he realized what exactly you were doing it was too late. He pulled back, accidentally nipping too hard on your bottom lip, as you finished adjusting the leather belt that was wrapped around his wrists. Binding them together.
His eyes flew open to see your pleased smile as you adjusted your spot in his lap. Purposely grinding down on his hard cock to hear that soft grunt you loved. Normally it was you at his mercy, willingly complying to everything he wanted. But to finally be helpless to you (or as helpless as he could be with superpowers), made his whole body heat up. His cock throbbed when you licked along the prominent vein in his neck. A gasp leaving his lips at your touch.
“Relax,” you murmured, pulling away from his head that tilted up towards yours in an effort to catch your lips in a kiss.
“Baby c’mon,” he replied, his words tinged with a pleading tone he’d never used before.
He watched your eyes light up, your smile deepening at the sound of him begging and he knew he was done for. He’d give you anything to get you to look at him like that again. The unfocused look in his eyes told you exactly what he was feeling. After all, he’d seen the same look in your eyes each time he gave you an orgasm so intense it caused your brain to short circuit.
Not feeling the need to respond, you slid out of his lap until your knees hit the floor—his leg parting unconsciously to give you room. The sight caused his mouth to part, his chest heaving with every breath he took. Marc wanted to render you incapable of speech. He wanted to watch you fall apart in his arms while you came on his cock. He wanted you, and he tugged on the tight bind the belt had on his wrists.
Your eyes snapping up to meet his gaze with a glare stopped his movements.
“I said you need to relax,” you sniped, hands sliding up his thighs and stopping right below the waistband of his sweats.
“Let me fuck you and I will,” he replied, grinning breathlessly at the sight of your eyes unfocusing for a moment. “This was fun, but I promise I’ll relax much more if you—”
The words died on his tongue as his breath was punched out of his chest, a groan ripping from his throat. Marc’s head fell back against the chair the second you pulled his sweatpants down and took his cock into your mouth. There was no warning, no foreplay where you stroked him until he was a mess in your hands. Somehow that made all of this hotter. You wanted him to relax your way by giving him this.
He gasped when you pulled back only to engulf him in the wet heat of your mouth again. His gaze fell back down to you and he had to refrain from cumming then and there. Your eyes were glassy with tears, spit trailing down your chin as you came up for air every now and then. Marc was leaking, practically dripping down your palm and that somehow made all of this worse. Yet he silently begged you to keep going. The taste of him was salty and intoxicating, causing you to moan with each spurt of precum that landed on your tongue.
Licking at the head of his cock you watched his mouth fall open, a whiny breathless moan hitting your ears. His hips jolted with each lap of your tongue, a broken please falling from his lips. Pumping the rest of him steadily you watched him grow closer to the edge. Each drag of your lips along his cock—tongue pressed to the thick vein that ran beneath it—dragged him towards a climax that would leave him incoherent. He could practically taste it on the back of his tongue.
“Fuck baby,” he gasped, his head tilting back as his hips attempted to thrust up into your mouth. “I’m—shit—‘m gonna cum.”
He felt the familiar tug in his stomach and right as you sunk down lower on his cock, taking him into your throat with a muffled moan, he knew he was done for. A shout left his lips, but was cut off suddenly, the feeling now fading. He whined, eyes focusing on you sitting back on your heels with a shit eating grin on your face.
“What the fuck?” he whined. “Why…why did you stop?”
Pressing your head down on his thigh you watched his cock jolt from your close proximity. “You wouldn’t listen when I said you needed to relax.”
“So you decide to edge me?” he asked, trying not to snap at you.
You giggled, kissing his clothed thigh. “Had to make sure you were paying attention.”
If he wasn’t so keyed up he would have melted from that sound alone, but his body was thrumming with the loss of an orgasm. His arousal now spread like liquid fire through his veins. He wanted to cum. No fuck that. He needed to cum. Tugging on his restraints again, he felt tempted to summon up a part of the suit—just to break himself free. But you blowing air on his cock, your hand wrapping around him again, silenced that thought immediately.
“Are you going to relax now honey?”
He’d do whatever the fuck you wanted. “Yes,” he breathed, watching wide eyed as you wrapped your already swollen lips around his head.
A shiver wracked his whole body at the soft kitten licks you were giving him, his eyes threatening to close.
“Are you going to be good for me?”
The words didn’t even register in his mind before he nodded frantically, his hips pushing up into your mouth when you took more of him.
“Yes,” he panted, his hands tightening into fists. “I’ll—oh fuckfuckfuck baby that’s so fucking perfect. You’re perfect.”
The words were falling out of his mouth faster than he anticipated, his head now empty of only one thought. How it felt when your cheeks hollowed, tongue licking at his slit each time you pulled up. The pressure was building once more. Blinding pleasure spreading through his body at a rapid pace as you built and built his orgasm. For a moment he forgot that you had pulled away before—he allowed himself to relish in what was to come.
Only for it to fade away once again.
He cried out as if in pain, his cock throbbing so painfully that he was sure you saw it. It was red, leaking, and begging to be put back in your mouth. Yet you still shifted back to where you were before. Only this time you didn’t wear a grin; your eyes were dazed, watching the drop of precum slip down to his balls. Your chest was heaving with each breath and you had half a mind to let him finish. To finally indulge yourself in the taste of his spend.
However, you were too fucking stubborn to give in now.
“Fuck please,” he begged, desperate for some reprieve from the onslaught of pleasure.
But then he saw it. The sinful mischief in your eyes that had his toes curling. Marc knew what he was in for whenever you looked at him like that. The last time he had almost cum in his pants from the sight of you in lingerie so see through you might as well have been standing before him completely bare. His breath caught in his throat, your name a moaned prayer falling from his lips.
“Marc,” you teased, finger trailing down his cock lightly to watch it jump. “You’re so pretty like this.”
“Yeah?” he asked, trying to keep hold of the thin strand of control he had left. “I’m even prettier when I cum.”
He heard the sharp intake of breath and knew he had you in his hold. Or at least that’s what he thought. You tutted, pulling away entirely before once again taking him into your mouth. His whole body jolted as if he was electrified, the blinding pleasure he sought now being shoved his way as you doubled down. The wet sounds of you pumping his cock filled the room, combining with his whimpers and moans. He couldn’t tell up from down, whether he was on the precipice of cumming or being torn away from it even further.
You moaned, your hips rolling forward into nothing, and that nearly sent him over the edge. Tears tracked down your cheeks, spit now spilling down your throat. He had never seen a sight so beautiful before. You tightened your grip, sucking the head of his cock into your mouth, and he cried out—his balls drawing up so tightly it was accompanied by a slight sting of pain.
“Fuck!” he shouted, hips jolting up and causing you to gag as he hit the back of your throat.
He was right there.
Then as it did before…the feeling began to fade.
You practically heard his control break in half, his head snapping up—eyes meeting yours with a hardened expression you’d only seen him wear when he was fighting. The black of his pupil began to glow white, the familiar wrappings now trailing up his arms as you heard the belt snap, clattering to the ground.
He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to.
His gaze held you in place as you tried to scramble back on the floor to somehow escape the consequences of your actions. A guttural growl tore from his chest, his now bare hand latching onto your leg and yanking you back until you were spread out on the floor underneath him. Pulling at your shorts, he managed to get them down to your ankles, allowing you to make the final choice and kick them off all the way.
“Marc,” you started, the remainder of your sentence dying on your tongue as he fixed you with a glare.
“No,” he spit out. “You wanted me to relax. So I’m going to relax.”
There was no room for you to argue. Not that you wanted to either way.
Hoisting your leg over his shoulder, he gave you no warning as he lined up his cock and pushed into you in one thrust. You cried out, fingers searching for purchase on his forearms as he pulled back until just the tip remained inside of you. His hips shoved forward, filling you up until you were barely able to breathe. This wasn’t him tenderly making love to you, this was him chasing his release while breaking you apart beneath him.
“Ah—Fuck! Marc, r-right there.” Your head fell back, eyes squeezing shut when he sped up, his pace brutal and unforgiving.
Fingers wrapped around your chin, gripping tight in order to tilt your head towards him. “I want you to look at me,” he rasped, his voice deeper than before. “Can you do that baby? Can you be good for me?”
Your words being thrown back at you sent a thrill shooting through your body—your pussy clenching down around him. He groaned, hips ramming into yours with a fervor that mimicked your own. While you liked being in control, seeing him like this, fully ripped apart from your actions, was far more appealing. His eyes squeezed shut, mouth parting as he unexpectedly dropped his weight on you, striking against that spot that made you see white.
Choking out a sob, you dug your nails into his bare back to find something to ground yourself. You were drowning in him and he loved it. His lips slotted messily against yours, spit trailing down your chin, and he moaned when he tasted himself on your tongue. Marc no longer had control of his actions, too desperate for a release that had been out off for far too long. Yet you loved it all the same.
“You’re dripping for me,” he murmured, fingers dropping to swipe through your folds and press against your clit. “Did you like sucking my cock that much? Hm?”
His words barely registered in your mind before your whole body tightened. A breathless grunt was punched out of him as your pussy clamped down around his cock, your orgasm nearing with each stunted thrust of his hips. You keened in his arms, your head falling back—mouth dropping open—and he almost gave in entirely. If there’s one thing Marc loved more than anything else, it was seeing you fall apart on his cock. Tonight however he would deprive himself of that experience.
Because his stubbornness outweighed yours every time.
“No!” you gasped, head shooting up as he pulled away entirely. The pleasure began to melt from your body, leaving you feeling empty and hot. “Please. Marc, please. I want to cum. I’ll be good for you. I promise—” You were babbling, saying anything to finally make him give in, but deep down you knew this was his own form of payback.
“I know baby,” he breathed against your lips, thumb running along the top of your cheek. “I’ve got you.”
His hands gripped your hips, turning your body with practiced ease and pulling you to your knees. Your chest was against the floor, head turned and cheek pressed down to see what he was doing. Although you knew what he was doing.
Marc got to his knees, gripping his cock to slide against your dripping folds before finally pressing into you again. This way he sunk into you deeper, hitting spots that made your toes curl before he even began to move. You moaned, pushing back until his hips met your ass, smiling at the sound he let out. Both of you may be stubborn as hell, but when it came to this—being so full of him that you would feel it for days to come—you finally relented.
Pressing a wet kiss to your spine, he started the previous pace from before. He shoved sounds you didn’t even know you could make from your chest with each thrust, as pleasure streaked down your spine. You felt the way he stuttered when your walls began to tighten around him again; knew that he was on the very precipice of cumming. With a shaky hand you began to touch yourself, rubbing your clit in time with his thrusts—causing your pussy to clamp down even tighter.
“Fuck,” he grunted, fingers digging in painfully into the skin of your hips. “I fucking love you.”
You cried out unabashedly, uncaring if the neighbors heard you. “Marc!”
“Yeah?” His hand gripped the back of your neck, using the leverage to push you back onto his cock. “I’m the one making you feel good.”
He felt it before you did, the familiar tightening of his lower abdomen, his cock throbbing as the orgasm began to wash over him and he tried to stave off. Just a bit longer to finally give you what he denied you. Baring his teeth, he fought against the sensations, forcing himself to be edged one more time. Fuck, even now you still held a tight grip around him, still the one in complete control and he loved it. That alone made him nearly fall off the edge of the cliff.
“Oh shit,” he groaned, getting ready to pull out and spill over your ass as he usually did. Your hand digging into his hips stopped him.
“Cum inside me please,” you whimpered, tears tracked down your cheeks from the amount of pleasure wracking your body.
“What?” His eyes went wide.
A slow smile crept up your lips, eyes lighting up with the same mischief as before. “I want you to cum inside me.”
Marc wasn’t sure he heard you correctly, but his body was already working towards exactly that. His right hand slapped against the floor beside your head, forehead dropping to press against your temple as he gasped for any amount of air.
“Gods. Fuck.” he grunted, hand reaching up to grip your chin—meeting your lips in a messy kiss.
“No gods,” you hummed. “Just me.”
He felt your hand dig into his hair, holding him close to you as his hips rutted into you in sloppy strokes. Each drag of his cock along your walls sent you even higher—the echo of your slick and skin slapping against skin became a filthy symphony to your cries of pleasure.
“Cum for me gorgeous,” you breathed, watching his face contort, eyebrows pulling together.
His mind went blank, vision blacking out and body going taut. Euphoric pleasure ran through every inch of his body as he finally let himself go. A cry of your name was muffled into your shoulder, arms giving out while his whole body shook from the waves of mind numbing bliss that filled him. He spurted into you, filling you until some began to spill out and drip down his balls, and you begged for more.
The breath caught in your throat when he broke for you—his cock pulsing inside of your wet heat. You wanted to shout, tell him how much you ached for him, how much you belonged to him, but the words were stuck in your throat. He hadn’t made you cum, but somehow you were flying just as high as he was. Unable to form a coherent thought.
Your walls clenched around him when he finally caught his breath and pulled out slowly. A trail of his cum dripping down your inner thighs.
Whimpering, you tried to fight off the urge to finish yourself off, because if there’s one thing you knew about Marc it was that he refused to let sex end until you finished. That still didn’t stop your eyes from shutting when your body practically shook from the overstimulation of being edged yet again. He heard you though…loud and clear.
“Oh baby,” he breathed, hand running gently up your thigh.
“Please…” You were silenced by his hands sliding up to your ass, spreading you for his eyes to see.
“Look at you.” His fingers swiped through his cum that steadily dripped out of you. Only to drag it towards your clit that pulsed with need. “Beautiful.”
Gasping, you pushed back onto his fingers, desperate for any amount of attention he gave you. But soon it wasn’t enough. Your body was so worked up that his fingers alone couldn’t bring you to that edge and he knew it. You sobbed his name when he pulled away, nearly on the verge of bursting into tears. Only for your back to bow, a moan ripping from your throat, when his mouth sealed over your pussy.
“Fuck!” Your nails scratched along the floor, legs shaking as he sucked your clit into his mouth.
He moaned against you, the vibrations going straight through you and causing your toes to curl. It wouldn’t take long at all for you to violently fall over the edge. Which is why he sped up. Slipping two fingers into your pussy, he sought out the spot that would send you to the quick end. Each swipe of his tongue forced a moan from your chest—the breath leaving your lungs faster than you could keep it.
Marc was licking you clean of the mess he made and that single though alone paired with his fingers striking gold finished you off. Your mouth dropped open in a silent scream, eyes rolling back as your body convulsed with the power of your orgasm.
For a moment you lost all sense. The blood rushing through your ears and white flashing behind your tightly shut eyes. But when you came to you found Marc still going. Drinking down every last drop of you and him combined with a fucked out dazed look in his eyes. You knew if you didn’t stop him now he’d continue until you were unraveling beneath him, but your legs were already shaking from the strain of being on them.
“Wait,” you panted, hand shooting out to grip on his wrist. “I-I can’t.”
His teeth sunk into the skin of your ass in response. “You taste so good.”
That brought a smile to your face. “You don’t taste so bad yourself, Spector.”
Gently, he turned you until you were laying flat on your back, his chest pressed to yours as he laid over you. His lips met yours in a soft kiss, tongue sliding along yours. You moaned at the combined taste of you and him. It made your head spin.
Exhaustion riddled your body and you could see that it was the same for him. Tomorrow he’d have to go back to being Moon Knight; somehow having to find a way to sleep in between giving Jake and Steven the body. But tonight…right now, he was yours. Yours to love, yours to care for. So, you pulled him closer, your leg slinging over his bare hip as you kissed him languidly—relishing in the closeness.
#marc spector x f!reader#marc spector x reader#marc spector x you#marc spector x y/n#marc spector#marc spector smut#moon knight#moon knight fic#moon knight smut#my writing#posting this unhinged and unedited#fuck it#we live and die by the pen
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Entrée
Marc Spector X F!Reader / Steven Grant X F!Reader
Rating : E / 18+
Word count : 1650 (ish)
Warnings : Explicit, Soft Dom!Marc, lil bit dirty talk, PIV, unprotected sex, established relationship, F!oral receiving, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, cum eating
Prompts/Summary : Smut prompts : "If you insist", "Make me", "Tell me how you like it." / Teasing Marc while making dinner gets you more than you bargained for.
A/N : If you like this fic please don't just hit the like button. Hit the reblog button and tell me your thoughts! Support your content creators with reblogs!
"Tell me how you like it, Spector," you tease in your most sultry tone, winking as you gesture to the spices you have picked out on the side.
"Will you please behave for just five minutes?" Marc scolds, rolling his eyes as you laugh.
You'd been teasing for a while now, wondering how much it would take to break his patience. Which it turned out, was quite a lot. But you know the last hour you've been getting to him. The pace of his breathing has changed, his temper is shorter, his eyes are darker.
You turn to fully face him, giving him the challenge you hope will break him.
"Make me."
There's a long quiet silence at first, where Marc puts down the knife he's been using to prepare vegetables, wipes his hands and takes a deep breath. For a split second you think you might have pissed him off, but then his eyes flicker up and down your body as he licks his lips, raising an eyebrow in question.
"Well, if you insist."
You turn to run, not wanting to give in so easily, but Marc is quicker. His arms are around your waist, pulling you back, pinning you against the counter before you've fully finished the thought of making him chase you through the apartment.
"We're supposed to be making dinner," you remind him with a victorious grin, as he presses his body against yours, pinning you in place.
"You started it. I'm ending it." He doesn't give you a chance to defend any of your actions, before he kisses you, hard.
Marc doesn't do things by half. He's all or nothing. And right now, when he kisses you, it's all. He consumes you, his tongue hot and slick in your mouth, his hands gripping your hips, fingers digging in, his body pressing yours into the edge of the counter, leaving no space between you.
You take it, everything he offers you. You sink into his kiss, your fingers tangling in his hair, tugging gently to pull the softest of moans, your body compliant to his wishes, moulding yourself to fit against him.
When he finally breaks away you're breathless, dizzy, hot, and wanting nothing more than to drag his mouth back to yours.
"Take it all off," he commands, tugging at your top before standing back to give you some space.
You open your mouth to tell him to do it for you, to challenge him, but there's a look in his eyes that makes your pussy clench in anticipation.
Leaning over you switch the oven off. Marc laughs softly with a nod.
"Good plan."
"Lucky you got a girl with a brain still in her head," you wink at him, watching him give an affectionate sigh.
"Clothes. Off," he repeats, taking a step of warning towards you. Disobeying his instructions probably wouldn't work in your favour, and for a moment you think of all the delicious ways he might make you pay for it, but that was for another day. You could only wind him up so much, and right now, he's probably had just about enough.
With a smirk, you lift your top over your head, throwing it to the floor. Your bra and pants follow suit.
You slide your panties down slowly, making him wait, slowly removing each leg, before standing with them dangling from one finger. You raise an eyebrow at him and lick your lips.
"This how you like i-," you cut off with a squeak of surprise as he suddenly spins you, taking both your hands and pressing them down against the counter stepping up close behind, pinning you in place.
It sets an unspoken rule. Don't move.
"Think you're clever teasing me all evening?" He asks, his warm hands releasing yours tocaress your ribs, running his palms down your sides, slowly, sensually, mapping you out before he delivers a surprising slap to your ass. It doesn't hurt, but you yelp anyway.
"Can't say you're making me regret it yet," you half sigh, with a cheeky grin, as he presses his lips against your neck. Marc lets out a dangerous laugh, his breath fanning out against your skin.
He only replies with one word.
"Yet."
~
It's been hours, you're sure. How many times has he brought you to the edge — with his fingers, his mouth, his cock — only to stop right before the drop? Too many times.
"Tell me how you like it," Marc growls in your ear, pressing you against the counter, his cock twitching inside you.
You whimper in response. Your body is slick with sweat, the effort of just staying on your feet making your legs tremble. He's held you here, right on the precipice for so long, his questions aren't registering in your hazy brain any longer.
"Tell me," He rolls his hips once more, slow and deep.
"Marc!" You whine, throwing your head back onto his shoulder. He can't possibly think you can formulate a coherent response in this state. All you can think about is the throbbing ache of need in your cunt, the way his cock is stretching your walls, and the warmth of his palm as he squeezes your breast.
"I want you to tell me how you want it, baby." His tone is softer this time, taking a different approach, trying to draw it out of you. "I want to hear you say it. Tell me what you need, how you like it."
You realise he's not going to give up. The only way he'll allow you to cum, is to answer.
"I like it when you fuck me," you slur, trying to remember how to talk.
"I'm already doing that." He gives a breathless laugh at your gasp when he gives a slow roll of his hips, pressing his cock up against that blissful spot inside you, the one that he's too damn good at finding. "You know that's not what I asked."
Marc chooses the exact moment you open your mouth, to give another devastatingly slow roll of his hips, making you choke on your words.
"I can do this all night," he mumbles, stilling again and bringing his mouth to your shoulder, sucking a mark there to join the others already littering your body.
You answer with the only thing you can currently think about.
"Like it when you make me cum," you finally manage to pant out.
Surprisingly, Marc lets out a soft chuckle, leaning his head against your shoulder, bringing a smile to your lips.
"Well, you asked what I liked," you mumble, somewhat shy now about your answer, as it clearly wasn't the one he was expecting.
"I did, and since you answered so sweetly..."
He draws back his hips, until only the tip of his cock remains inside you, before thrusting back in, deep and hard, setting a punishing pace.
You cry out in pleasure, falling forward onto your elbows, thankful for the counter supporting your weight.
"That's it, baby. Taking it so good. This what you needed?" He growls, low and deep in your ear over the sound of flesh on flesh filling the kitchen.
"Yes! Please Marc. Please!" You beg hopelessly, your body taunt and trembling, practically sobbing with pleasure.
It's difficult from your position, but you just about manage to wedge your arm between your body and the counter, pressing your fingers against your neglected clit. Marc's hands are busy, his fingers digging into your hips as he holds you steady for each deep thrust.
The touch is all you need to go hurtling over the edge, his name a broken mantra on your lips, your back arching against him, your cunt clamping down, riding out your high in thunderous waves.
Your vision goes white, your body stiffens then goes limp, and you're pretty sure the only thing holding you up through it all is Marc's body pressed tightly against yours. Nothing else exists in the world except the two of you and the overwhelming pleasure.
It takes a long moment to come down from your high, but when you are able to manage coherent thoughts again you realise Marc's cock is still hard, buried and throbbing inside your still pulsing cunt.
He seems to have some sixth sense as to what you're thinking as he leans in, licking a warm trail up your neck as you move your hand back to the counter, trying to support your weight as your legs threaten to give up.
He leans in close, his breath ghosting across your ear, "I hope you don't think we are done yet, baby? That was just the starter."
~
Marc draws it out as long as possible, denying his own release until he can't hold back any longer. He finally gives in, letting out a broken moan as he spills inside you in long, slow thrusts, before he half collapses against your back.
As his breathing slows and evens, he brushes his nose against your back, up between your shoulder blades before he nuzzles your neck sweetly.
"Beautiful," whispers a soft British accent.
"Steven?" You smile, still a little giddy from your… well you don't know how many 'nth orgasms.
Steven hums in answer, his fingers trailing lightly across your ribs, and down to press his fingers to the mess between your legs.
You gasp as he brushes your sensitive clit, bucking your hips against his hand.
"You've made quite the mess," he comments, running his fingers across your slick cunt. "I didn't realise what Marc meant at first when he said I could pick dessert, but I think I understand now."
"Dessert?" You sigh, still on the way down from your recent high, confused when Steven pulls out and away from you.
"Stay there, darling." He instructs gently.
Out of the corner of your eye, you see him kneel down on the kitchen floor, taking one of your thighs in each of his hands. You frown, twisting slightly to look at him
"Wha-ohhh!" Your entire body trembles as he buried his head between your legs, his tongue flicking out to taste your soaked folds.
He groans as though tasting a gourmet meal.
"Can you go again, love? Give us one more?"
Your body is exhausted, your head in the clouds, thoughts fuzzy and unclear, your muscles ache, the counter digs into your thighs, Steven's fingers against your skin are too much, the dinner spoiling.
"Yes. Yes, Steven."
~
Dinner ends up in the bin, Marc orders take out, then Steven runs you a bath. You offhandedly remark that you still don't have any regrets about teasing them.
Marc promises the night is still young.
-----------------
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cozy night in
marc spector x f!reader
wc: 6,700
content: EXPLICIT!!!! explicit as hell. pwp, allusions to lacy underpants that idk counts as lingerie, Marc spector is a brat is its own warning
notes: thought this was gonna be a quick pwp. I was wrong. shout out to @the-force-awakens for beta-ing & leaving comments like [paraphrase] AKRJSD MARC SPECTOR TAKE ME NOW
ao3
There isn't much you like better than a quiet Friday night in. As fun as it is to go out, to dinner and a show, to this quiet little bar a few blocks away where you and Marc (or Steven or Jake) can sit cozy in a booth, unbothered and enjoying each other's company and the pleasant buzz of alcohol, nothing beat this: coming home to Marc quietly cooking dinner, the radio turned on and quiet, something acoustic and relaxed, the only music the three of them can agree on.
Nothing beats leaning to kiss Marc's jaw in greeting, relishing the quirk of his lips. Washing your face and changing out of your work clothes into comfortable leggings and a shirt, well-worn and soft and smelling of their aftershave.
It's nice to go out, tuck your hand in Jake's elbow, Marc's hand, around Steven's waist, show each other off with the subtle brag of I get this beautiful person all to myself. You like going out with them, especially with Marc who prefers to stay in, because it's such a testament to him, who he is, how much he wants to make those he loves happy.
But it's better like this.
There's the quiet tap-tap-tap of drizzling rain on the window, and you're grateful it hasn't turned into a storm. Marc doesn't like storms, and as you step up behind him, winding your arms around his waist and pressing your face to the back of his neck, you don't want his rarely-relaxed shoulders to tense again.
One of the things you like the most about Marc is his silences, how he doesn't expect you to talk constantly and doesn't pressure you to speak when you can't, and how he knows you do the same for him. Especially when it's been a long day, ending a long week at work, and you just need time to be quiet, snuggle into Marc as he cooks, moving as little as possible.
It's not until you heave a huge breath and lift your head, feeling a little more like a person, and peer over his shoulder to see what he's cooking - pan-fried salmon, oven roasted vegetables, that creamy macaroni and cheese recipe you love that takes a special brand of cheese Marc has to hunt down from across town - that he speaks.
"How was your day?" Marc asks quietly, touching his fingertips to the back of your hand at his diaphragm.
"Mm. Long," you say, kissing his shoulder, and releasing him to gather plates and pour drinks. "Glad it's over. Our internet kept going offline which only put us more behind schedule."
Marc makes a sympathetic sound as he takes the plates and serves up your dinner, and you follow him to the couch with two glasses and a new bottle of that cheap white you prefer that Marc must've picked up today as well.
"How was your day, baby?" you ask, settling next to him. He hands you your plate and clicks on the TV before answering.
"Fine. Normal. Went back to sleep after you left, got around to cleaning. I dunno how Steven lived like this," Marc grumbles, but it's good natured, and you giggle, scooting closer as you take a bite. Steven's messy tendencies never failed to grate on Marc's careful neatness.
Still, they'd come to a sort of understanding, and Marc didn't upset Steven's chaotic system of mess as long as he got to clean to his heart's content (which was often and for a long time).
The pair of you settle into companionable quiet, the TV volume quiet, subtitles on the low-stakes action movie you've seen a million time to keep you company while you eat. By the time you're finished, you're pleasantly full and mildly sleepy, ready to cuddle with Marc until bed. Marc pats your thigh and takes your plate, standing to take the dirty dishes to the sink, washing up.
You wish he'd relax, leave the dishes for later, but he likes to take care of you, and he has a thing about germs, so you leave him in peace. The quiet sounds of running water and clanking dishes are domestic, homey; you look over your shoulder to catch sight of Marc at the sink, head bowed as he meticulously scrubs the frying pan.
God, you love him. You love all three of them, but you'd met Marc first, and he'd always have a special place in your heart reserved for him.
Marc rinses the pan, grabs the towel off his shoulder, and turns to look at you as he dries it. He raises his eyebrows when he catches you staring, and even though you feel your face warm, you don't look away, raising your eyebrows back at him.
"You're missing the movie," Marc says pointedly.
"Seen it a million times," you say, shrugging and fighting back a smile. Marc looks doubtful.
"It's more interesting than watching me wash dishes."
"Is not," you frown, turning around to sit on your knees, properly facing him. "I'd rather look at you. I'd watch you do taxes."
Marc's face twists up in exasperation, turning around to put the pan up and drain the sink. You don't press the issue, because he still has problems taking blatant compliments and accepting affection like that, but you'd never lie to him, especially not about this. You give him a minute, wait until he's wiping down the counter for the third time before you talk again.
"I'd watch you do plenty of boring things. Or interesting things. I like to look at you, Marc," you say softly, smiling in an attempt to convince him.
Marc exhales, shaking his head as he sets the towel down and turns to face you, crossing his arms over his chest, which only makes him look more broad than he already is.
"I'd rather look at you," he says. He takes a few steps closer, though he's still too far away and out of reach and you suddenly want him in your arms. "I'd rather look at you when you're too busy to look at me."
"You like that, huh?" Your own voice surprises you, abruptly small and breathless. Marc takes a few more slow steps, even nearer, close enough to touch, but you don't move yet. His head dips in a nod.
"Like when?" you ask before he can say anything, hands gripping the couch cushions to hide the trembling. Fuck, you've never wanted anyone the way you want him.
Marc's mouth twitches upward, and he uncrosses his arms, tracing the line of your jaw with his fingertips before curling under your chin, and tipping your head back.
"Like when you read," he says. His voice is a quiet rumble but it's the only thing you can hear. "Or when you cook. Or when you're asleep."
His expression shifts, a little more teasing, more playful. "Or when you shower."
"Perv," you mutter, not meaning it, narrowing your eyes at him regardless. Marc starts to bend down and you hold your breath.
"You like it," he mutters, breath warm against your face.
But moments before his lips touch yours, you blurt, "Why d'you like it?"
Marc pauses, thumb stroking your chin, and you honestly don't expect him to give you an answer, already trembling in anticipation of his all-consuming kiss.
"Because it means you trust me."
The words are barely audible, and you hardly have time to process their meaning before he closes the distance, mouth firm and warm against yours. The meaning clicks belatedly, as Marc licks at the seam of your mouth until you open, and you clutch at his shirt helplessly. You want to break away, tell him that you do, you trust him with everything, love him so much, only - he's merciless, your Marc, ruthless in the way he kisses you, and he doesn't give you a second to think.
Not for the first time do you curse your need to breathe - Marc seems to sense you're at your limit, lungs beginning to burn, so he pulls away from your mouth, but you immediately miss his lips on yours. You suck in a breath, chest heaving to try and catch your breath, but it turns into a gasp - Marc has turned his attention to your jaw, the line of your neck, and scrapes his teeth along the tendon there just as you inhale.
Fuck. He had no right to be this good a kisser, no right to have you melting into his touch and still craving more seconds after he'd first kissed you with intent.
He slips his hands up your shirt, caressing your waist and drifting higher, and you know he finds the surprise when he pauses, drawing back from your neck, raising an eyebrow and giving you a look.
"Now what's this?" Marc asks, voice low and rich with desire, fingertips tracing the lacy band of your bra. Finally, the tables turn and you manage to catch your breath. You smile, sly, and look at him from under your lashes,
"Just something for you," you say, and giggle breathlessly when Marc moves to pull your shirt up and off. The sudden cool air that washes over your newly bared skin sends goosebumps rippling across your arms and chest - or maybe it's the way Marc is looking at you, and the dark blue bralette you'd changed into;, comfortable, just lace and elastic, but something for Marc to enjoy.
He hadn't so much told you how much he liked you in lace, and rich colors like the deep blue you wore now, but he didn't need to say it. Actions speak louder than words, especially when it comes to Marc Spector.
"Baby," Marc rumbles, brushing one hand across the swell of your breast so gently you might've imagined it, "You're killing me here."
"God, I hope not," you say, breaking into giggles again when Marc groans, overdramatically exasperated, and hauls you to his chest. He stands up, taking you with him, and you shriek in surprise as he takes you right over the back of the sofa, winding your legs around his hips - as if he'd ever let you fall.
Marc deposits you on the bed, and though he isn't laughing, he's smiling, shoulders twitching as he stands over you, pulling his shirt over his head in a quick yank that never fails to send a thrill down your spine - but you count it as a win, getting Marc to smile like that, laugh his private little understated laugh.
"What am I supposed to do with you?" he says, almost to himself as he undoes his belt, but you answer anyway, squirming to get more comfortable.
"I can think of a few things," you say, looking up at him from beneath your lashes as you stretch out.
"Yeah, I bet you can," Marc says, rolling his eyes fondly as he shoves his jeans down and kicks them off. And then he's standing at the foot of the bed in nothing but his underwear, and you can see the half-hard bulge of him. Your mouth waters at the sight and you half-heartedly push up onto an elbow, but Marc's hand closes around your ankle and tugs, pulling you down the bed and closer to him.
You shriek again in surprise, which fades into giggles as you knock your heels into the back of his knees, trying to urge him closer. Still, you love it when he towers over you like this, when you're flat on the bed and he's still standing. You can't figure out how he's real, the chiseled features and healthy strength on his body; you're mesmerized by the flex of muscle and tendon when he reaches for the waistband of your leggings, belatedly lifting your hips to help. When you look at his face again, his eyes are already on yours, warm and dark as he drags your pants down, but not your underwear.
Marc drops your pants to the floor, sliding his palms up your newly bared skin, hiking your knees around his waist. He leans down, palming your hips, the matching blue lace, and nudges your noses together, but doesn't kiss you. Waits until you're huffing an impatient breath and tipping back your chin and whining out, "Marc-" before he seals his mouth to yours.
He kisses you for a long moment, warm and slick, licking into your mouth, stroking your sides. All you can do his wind your arms around his shoulders, dig one hand into his hair.
"What do you want?" Marc murmurs, breaking away for a moment, pressing the words into your cheek along with a kiss. "Hm, baby? Tell me so I can give it to you."
He's hardly touched you and already you feel worked up, borderline overwhelmed and squirming - Marc knows damn well what you want (anything he'll give you) but he likes to hear you say it. Likes to draw the words from you when you're strung out and wanting.
You're not that far gone.
"Marc, c'mon-" is as far as you get before one of his hands at your hip slips down, squeezing the softness of your thigh, and then in. His thumb finds your clit through the fabric of your underwear and he presses down until you whine.
"What was that, baby?" Marc asks, amusement in his voice, and you huff, annoyed, and snap,
"I want you to touch me, Spector."
Marc chuckles, slips his thumb further down and effortlessly finds your entrance - or at least, where it's hidden and inaccessible through your underwear.
"Isn't that what I'm doing?"
Teasing asshole that he is, Marc only presses his thumb down, until your hips are bucking up, and then pulls his hand away. He pats your hip, mockingly sympathetic, then reaches to pull your hands down from around his shoulders, and rises to his full height.
You try to snap his name - Marc! - but it comes out like a whine, breathless and pleading - "Maaarc-"
Marc chuckles again, pushing the gusset of your underwear aside, staring down at where you're wet and dark.
"Want me to put something in that pussy? You want me to fill you up, make you full? That what you want, baby?"
You try to answer. Try to tell him yes, fuck yes, Marc - but you can only moan, eyes glued to his other hand that reaches into his own underwear.
Fuck you've never seen such a gorgeous cock. It's not fair, it's not fucking fair that Marc Spector and his alters are the perfect man. It can't be real that you get this. Anxious with anticipation, you fist your hands in the sheets, watching as he strokes himself languidly, still staring at your aching cunt. You think your chest might cleave in two from the strength of the want coursing through your body, and tip your head back, slamming your eyes closed.
Distantly, you hear Marc spit, hear the wet sound of him stroking his cock again. Fuck fuck you need him inside, need him inside before he changes his mind and fucks you open with one, two, three fingers and tongue before he gives you his cock, draw it out like he likes. All at once you feel the fat head of him rubbing against you, burning hot. Marc pushes - lets the fattest part of him breach you - stops moving with you stretched around him, quietly groans and you want to hear it again, stops moving even as your cunt clutches at him desperately, trying to pull him inside -
"That's all you get for now," Marc says hoarsely, pulling out, and taking your underwear with him, even as your eyes shoot open.
"Marc, oh my god," you snarl, and he resolutely ignores you as he goes to his knees on the floor, pulling one of your legs over his shoulders. He doesn't move, though you can feel his breath against you, and then - Marc fucking inhales, breathes in the smell of you.
"So fucking impatient," Marc complains, and ducks his head to taste you.
There's not a lot better than this, in Marc's opinion, not a lot better than settling on his knees with his face buried in the apex of your legs, soft thighs tensed around his head. He drags the flat of his tongue up your pussy, opening you up to him, groaning at the musky taste that he'll never get enough of. He pulls away, folding one arm under your thigh, keeping you from squirming out of his grip as he runs his palm up your other leg. You haven't shaved in awhile, and your legs are starting to grow soft and fuzzy again, and he loves it.
Marc rubs his cheek against the softness of your inner thigh, lets his hand drift up your thigh to squeeze your hip, then slip around and down, swiping through your folds to circle your clit. You make a breathless sound, jerking your hips up in search of more, but Marc holds firm, presses first his lips, then his teeth to your thigh, and ducks back to taste your cunt.
He rubs your clit with the pads of his fingers, searching for the essence of you inside with his tongue, then changes tactics, taking his slicked up fingers and pressing them deep. It pulls a kind of wheezing sound from you and Marc strains to look up at you without pulling away. You've got one arm thrown over your face, the other hand desperately grabbing the sheets, chest heaving.
(It makes him think of a few nights ago: he'd gotten home late to find you sleepy but awake, laying in bed waiting for him. He likes fucking you when you're sleepy because you're so much more responsive and he can draw words out of you with every stroke of his things between your legs. He'd cradled you close, pressed up against your side, fucked you slow and deep with his fingers and he'll never forget the way you gasped, "Full, feels full," when he'd asked you what it felt like.)
"Fuck," Marc groans, tucking his face back down between your legs. "Fuck, that's it. Good girl." His words are muffled even to himself, and he has no idea if you can understand him or not, but you moan regardless, and he doesn't really care.
He can tell you're getting close, from the aborted, jumpy little thrusts your hips keep giving, from the way you start to hold your breath. Marc pushes you right up to the edge.
And then stops, removing his fingers, turning his head away. Distantly, you're cursing his name, writhing and trying to get him back where you want him, but as much as you try to play at being demanding, Marc knows you like submitting too much to actually be upset.
The dim lighting catches on the thin sheen of sweat on your skin, the dampness collecting in the folds of you, in the crease where your thigh joins your hip, and Marc ducks his head, licking away the salt of you.
"Marc," you say, sounding far away, and when he lifts his head to look at you - take in your expression, needy and pleading - he thinks he falls just a little more in love with you. "Marc," you say again, hands reaching for him clumsily, caressing his shoulders, carding through his curls.
"What is it, baby," he murmurs, lifting his hand that had been curled around your thigh to catch your wrist, kissing your palm, the pounding of your pulse. "What do you need?"
"You know what I need," you complain, practically growling as you tug on his hair harshly. Marc just chuckles, not bothering to remove your hand from his hair even though the pressure on his scalp almost hurts - but it's good. Keeps him right here with you.
"What do you want then," Marc asks, pressing deceptively gentle kisses to your hips, your belly beneath your navel. Your stomach jumps and dips as the wash of his breath, and he can just make out the faint whine that falls from your mouth.
"Want you to kiss me again," you admit, lifting your bashful gaze to meet his. And fuck - he'll give you anything you want. He doesn't know how you haven't figured it out yet.
"I can do that," Marc tells you, moving until he was level with you, hand still slick with your wetness curving around your hip as he cups your cheek with the other.He doesn't make you wait this time, dips down to kiss you, languid.
One of Marc's favorite things about this - sex - was how it immerses every sense. Not just touch, though he could never get enough, your hands on his, gripping his shoulders and waist, grabbing hair, his hands on your skin, anywhere and everywhere, but the rest of them. The way you look when you moan and arch your back and your eyes flutter. The way you sound, the hitch of your breaths, the slick sound of his tongue in your mouth. The way you taste, fuck, the way you smell.
But fuck he loves the little sounds. Loves being this close to you when he dips his middle two fingers inside your dripping cunt. When he's this close, Marc can catch the breathless whines and moans before they have a chance to escape. This close, Marc can watch your face screw up as he adds his pointer finger, fucking you with three now.
"There you go," Marc mutters when your hips start to roll against his hand, grinding against his palm and clenching around his fingers, "fuck, just like that."
His name escapes you mouth in a little puff of air, your hand in his hair slowly relaxing until you slide your hand down to clutch the back of his neck. Your eyes flutter back and - that right there. That’s one of his favorite expressions on you, focused yet a million miles away, too caught up in the pleasure coursing through your body to pay attention to him, to watch him watch you. This is what he meant earlier, when he told you - confessed to you that he liked it when you weren’t looking back at him.
A groan escapes Marc’s mouth before he can stop it, wrecked and torn from his throat, but you don’t seem to notice, or at least acknowledge it. He ducks his head, suddenly frantic with the need to taste your skin, dig his teeth into your neck, sharp points of pain to counter the warming bliss between your legs. As always, the touch of his teeth to your skin has you gasping, then moaning, unashamed and loud. Marc gets lost in it, marking up the long line of your throat, realizing almost too late that he’s gotten carried away. You’re fucking close; he can tell by the quiver of your thighs around his hand, the jerk in your hips.
“Not yet, baby, hold on,” Marc murmurs, voice rough as he eases his fingers out of you, soothing you even though he’s the one that has you whining and squirming and calling his name -
Fuck, Marc had to admit this was one of his favorite things, when he holds you at the edge, has you stripped down bare and aching - when he dangles you in front of your release, just to hear you call his name, plead with him to let you come. Marc liked to deny you, and deny you again, but more than that, he loved to give it all to you, give you everything and more until all you can do is cling to him, and him alone. He didn't keep your release, or anything from you because he didn't want you to have it. To the contrary, there was nothing Marc wanted more than to give you everything you have ever wanted.
He’d admit it to himself, and only himself - Marc liked when you were desperate, but only when you needed him to give you what you want, what you need.
He always would.
“Marc, Marc, baby, please, just - I want - I need to, Marc-”
You’re babbling, nearly past coherency, bravado peeled back with your bra, and dropped to the floor. You must've been more tired than usual tonight, or this is what you wanted the whole time, to already be this far gone. Marc shushes you again as he slips down your body, burying his face between your breasts, just for a moment, before turning his head to suck a mark on the swell. You keen when he takes the nipple in his mouth, when he carefully covers the other with his palm, and squirm against his thigh parting your legs. Abruptly, Marc is very aware of his own nakedness, his cock hard and aching and leaking near your hip. He closes his eyes, groaning, and allows himself to grind back against you, just once.
Fuck fuck, he loves you. Can’t get enough of you. Pulls off your breast to say, “I know, I know, honey.” He keeps his voice low, gravelly and thick with want. “I know you need to come, don’t you? Need to come all over me?”
“Fuck,” you gasp, “please, please-”
“It’s okay, you did good, such a good girl for me,” Marc continues, kisses your collarbones, your jaw, bites your bottom lip. “I always give you what you need, right? My good girl. Don’t I give you what you need? C’mon, tell me.”
Your eyes blink open, lashes damp, eyes wide and blown out. You say, “Always give me what I need, Marc.” And your voice breaks, and so does Marc’s resolve.
“Yeah I do,” Marc growls, and pats your hip. “Now turn over, baby. I’ll give you what you need.”
You move, half rolling over on your own power, limbs clumsy, half Marc maneuvering you where he wants you, until you’re on your belly, hands trembling as they curl in the blankets. You peer over your shoulder at him, eyes half lidded, as he runs his hands down your spine, strokes your sides. He likes the way your skin feels, soft and unmarred as much as his is. Sure, you have scares here and there, a few on your forearm that had worried him until you assured him it was from your parents’ cat, but all in all - you are warm, soft, supple under his own calloused and scarred hands. He curls his hands around your hips, squeezing, and then pulls you back towards him, onto your knees, and palms the round of your ass.
“There you go,” Marc mutters, needlessly wetting his fingers before sliding them back between your legs, where you are dripping, soaking wet. A choking sound slips from your mouth as you jerk back against him, and Marc hisses when the motion brings your ass in contact with his dick.
He doesn’t need to open you up - not when he can feel the seeking clench of your pussy when he brushes against your entrance.
Marc pulls his hand away, absently petting your hip, shushing you softly to counter the needy sounds that spill from your mouth. He slides his hand around from your hip to part your folds, taking himself in hand with the other, and eases inside. You gasp, arching your back, muscles bunching when you try to grind back, force him all the way in, but Marc grasps your hip, keeps it slow. Waits until he’s half inside the blisteringly hot clutch of your cunt before shoving himself the rest of the way.
It’s almost too much for him, nearly too much for you as well if the wail you let out is anything to go by, and Marc lurches forward, groin shoved up against your ass. He plants a fist in the mattress near your head, the only thing keeping him from collapsing on top of you and rutting helplessly to his climax. Even still, his own panting chest is pressed along the length of your back and he can feel every shift of your body, of the muscle under your skin.
“Marc, Marc, Marc-” you chant, words cutting off into a low moan when Marc pulls out and shoves back in. And again. And again. And again, until you sound like you can’t take a full breath. Your hand comes up, clasping his wrist, squeezing and holding on like it’s the only thing keeping you tethered to reality. And then your forehead is pressing against his inner wrist, and your eyes are slammed shut, and Marc thinks he can feel the throb of your pulse around his dick.
Fuck - the idea has his hips stuttering, briefly losing his rhythm as he grinds into you for a second longer. He can tell you’re close, that it won’t take much to get you there, and by God, he’ll get you there.
Marc lets go of your hip, belatedly realizing just how hard he’d been grabbing it, winding his arm around your waist and holding you tight, fitting his chin over your shoulder to first nip your jaw, and then talk you the rest of the way.
It doesn't take a lot, especially when you're this close, when you can hardly pay attention to what he's saying but that's never stopped him before. Marc opens his mouth and lets words spill out, lets them out the way he so rarely ever does - just like that baby, I know I know, you're close, so good, pussy so tight taking all of me like this and just a little more baby, you can take more, take me deeper, lemme in, lemme fuck you open, lemme fill you up and taste it after and fuckfuck c'mon, come for me baby I know you want it, been so good waiting, come on my cock baby, c'mon c'mon -
Somewhere between taking a breath and the spill of words, you lock up beneath him, back arching impossibly further, nails digging into his wrist as your mouth drops open and your eyes roll back and you wail as you come around him.
And it feels so fucking good, Marc almost blows his load right then and then, hissing and swearing, his hips stuttering against yours as he tries not to think about the way you're clenching and squeezing around him and the way he can feel you start to drip down his balls. Fuckfuckfuck.
Marc sits back, petting your spine, your waist and hip. He slides his fingers through the sweat pools in the dip of your back, licks the salt of it off his fingertips, then carefully pulls out. When he rolls you onto your back, you're still blissed out, chest heaving as you catch your breath, eyes glazed and half lidded as you distantly stare up at him.
His lips twitch, something like fondness filling his chest like a balloon, and he crawls back over you, covering you with his body as he dips down to kiss your slack mouth. It takes you a moment to reboot enough to kiss him back, soft and pliant and rendered loose-limbed from your climax.
Marc pulls back, barely-there smile gracing his lips, and whispers, "There you are. Think you have another one for me?"
He's going to be the death of you. It's not even the most orgasms he's coaxed from your body before, not even close, but it was a long day and you were already sleepy before this - Marc Spector is gonna kill you during sex one day and you just hope he's not so smug about it that he forgets to miss you.
But he's smiling softly, stroking your hips and waist, the swell of your breasts, and it's not like you could ever turn him down, not really.
"Okay," you murmur, slowly bringing up your arms that feel like lead to curl around his shoulders. "Like this though. Wanna kiss you during."
"Yeah, okay," Marc agrees softly, sliding his hand down your leg, nudging until you curl your leg around his hip. "Like this," he says, brow furrowing as he carefully pushes back in.
It feels good to have him inside you again, and you'd be perfectly content to enjoy the pleasant friction that sparked through your body of Marc chasing his own release, but he'd never allow that, not if you were okay with coming again. You think he thinks if he makes you come enough times, it somehow makes it okay for him to let go, like he has to make it worth it for you in order for him to be vulnerable.
Yeah, it's a depressing thought. You're working on it with him. Just not right now.
His cock hits something up in your guts that sends pleasure sparking through your nerves, from the pit of your stomach and through your back, all the way to your fingertips, and your sigh turns into a breathy moan. You know Marc prefers to have you bent over, to take you from behind, knows that's when he feels closest to you, but you prefer it like this.
Marc, braced over you, muscles shifting and flexing with every thrust, the dim lighting catching on his skin, the sweat that's gathered there, making him glow golden. His face bent close to yours, furrowed with concentration, eyes occasionally slipping shut, then wide open again as he looks at you, the familiar warm brown of his eyes blown dark.
You like it like this, like having his face in easy reach. You slide your hands down, press your palms to the sides of his face, drawing his attention back to you, and his mouth. His lips meet yours as he snaps his hips, and you gasp, surprised, and you think you can taste a smile before he dips his tongue inside your mouth.
Something shifts in the mood, the atmosphere, and all at once Marc is just a little more intense, panting as he fucks into you, punched out sounds bursting from his mouth before he can swallow them. You clutch at his face, keeping him close, though you're hardly kissing, more open mouths pressed together and exchanging breaths.
"Fuck," Marc chokes, voice low and rough. He's gone to his elbows, nearly pinning you to the bed as he snaps his hips against yours, quicker than you think should be possible. "Fuck, gimme another."
"Marc," you say, clutching his face, his neck, shoulders. "Marc." It's all you can say, pressing your bent knee to his hip and thigh.
Marc moans your name in return, worming his forearm under your shoulders, then leans his weight on that elbow, and slides his other hand down your body, between your legs. His hair is damp with sweat, curling and hanging loosely over his forehead. He looks so good. He looks like how you imagine a Roman god would look, brought to life. Mars, Pluto, Neptune. It's not fair.
It's not fucking fair, is the thought running through your mind when Marc presses the pads of his fingers to your swollen clit, and you come again with a jolt. This time, you're nearly silent, and it feels like losing track of time, like reality fades away and it's just you and the warm bliss coursing through your veins.
Slowly, you realize Marc hasn't stopped thrusting, if anything, increasing his pace, marginally. It draws out your own orgasm, but there's nothing you want more than for Marc to come, to watch him reach his climax, feel his body tense and feel him spill into you, listen to his breath hitch, hear him choking on a gasping moan that sounds like a sob.
You want it, you want it so badly, so you clutch at his face, and moan his name, "Marc, Marc, come for me, please come, Marc, I want it, wanna feel you come in me, pleasepleaseplease-"
He breaks as soon as you start to beg, throwing his head back as his hips stuttering against yours as his control snaps, and he comes. Just like you'd imagined, hoped, Marc makes that choking sound, ripped from deep in his chest, as he fills you.
Arm buckling, Marc nearly collapses on top of you, just managing to avoid crushing you under his weight, shifting himself to the side so he was more on the bed than you. Still, you like it when he covers you, enjoy the warmth and weight of him.
Right now, you do the same, shifting your arms to wrap around his waist loosely as you try to catch your breath, as Marc does the same. He still hasn't pulled out, and you hope he stays in for as long as he can, because this had to be the best part of sex - when you are both finished, sated and too tired to move, when you are curled together and still joined. One.
You don't move even when Marc shifts his weight, adjusting your hips to stay connected. You can feel his gaze but you don't look back just yet, still staring up at the ceiling under guise of catching your breath still. You don't look when Marc starts to pet your hip in soothing, repetitive stokes. You don't look when that hand slips between your legs, to touch the slick folds parted around his cock, and feel his seed leaking slowly out.
Only when Marc palms your thigh, holding you open, carefully pulling out, do you look at him. His gaze is focused between you, at his softened dick and the mess he's made of your pussy.
"Probably shouldn't have done that," Marc rumbles, voice slightly hoarse. You raise your eyebrows at him meaningfully. He glances at you, huffing when he sees your expression, and winds his arm around your waist, tugging you onto your side, flush against him. "I know you're on the pill, but still."
You just smile, snuggling close. Marc curls his hands around the back of your neck, sliding up to cup your head, and it makes you feel precious, cared for, when he touches you so gently, so thoughtfully. Even when he tilts your head back to kiss you, soft and meandering at first, before slipping his tongue against yours again. It doesn't last long, though you lick at the spit connecting your mouths when he pulls away, just to watch his eyes darken.
"Let's get you cleaned up," Marc murmurs, cupping your cheek. He swipes his thumb over the swell of your cheek. "You need to sleep. You look wore out."
As he pulls away and rises to get a towel or washcloths, you speak: "Gee, I wonder why that could be."
Your voice is rough, and Marc just shoots you a look over his shoulder as he stands, and you hum, settling back against the pillows, content with his reaction. You watch him bustle around for a moment, soaking up the sight of him perfectly naked and comfortable, and feel just as comfortable in your own nudity at the moment, though your eyes drift lower and lower.
"I'd watch you like this too," you say slowly, sleepily, and so quietly, you don't know if Marc hears you.
You don't realize you'd closed your eyes until you feel Marc's hand on your forehead, at your scalp, hear the murmur of his voice.
"Brought you some water, baby. You need to drink some."
You whine, sleepy, and crack your eyes open. Your legs feel less sticky, and he must have wiped you off while you dozed. You don't want to move, you think, looking up at him, leaning over you, looking so concerned.
"Come on," he coaxes again, tugging at your arm, and you go this time, sitting up just enough to get a few sips of water down. When Marc is satisfied with your intake, he puts the glass on the nightstand and crawls in beside you, tucking you in under the sheets and next to him.
Sighing, content to have him against you again, you snuggle into his chest. What an excellent start to your weekend. You will sleep soundly tonight, pleasantly worn out, sleep in without a care in the world for your alarm, and undoubtedly be woken by one of the boys between your legs, either Jake or Steven wanting their turn, or Marc wanting seconds, but for now, you'll sleep, and so will Marc.
#dameronalone reader fic#18+#Marc spector x reader#marc spector x f!reader#marc spector smut#marc spector x you#moon knight x reader#moon knight smut#pls rb + comment if you've read this far <3
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“you have a daughter?” with single dad! marc pls🥺🥺
Pairing: Marc Spector x f!Reader
Word Count: 2k (we're off to a strong start lol)
A/N: Just opened up my askbox for some requests!
Warnings: fluffy, a little angsty, marc is a bit of a nervous mess bless him
Marc, she’s come to find out, was the guy to take it slow.
He took his time with her, bought her flowers and pretty necklaces with jewelled pendants that he gave her when he took her out to dinner.
She’s never been charmed the way Marc has managed to charm her.
He walks her to her door after taking her out, kisses her cheek and then asks if she’d like it if he kissed her on her mouth.
The stories her grandmother told her of the dashing, charming men that wooed her off her feet when she was young finally start to ring true to her ears.
She feels that maybe, after years of looking, she’s managed to find a real treasure worth holding on to.
She feels that maybe all those ruined dates and talking phases and endless swipes on the dating apps were worth it, if it meant that one day Marc would stumble into her life like he always belonged there. She’d do it all over again, ten times over, to get to Marc.
Marc, she’s come to find out, is worth close to anything she’s able to give, and he always asks so little from her in return for all he does, as if she was worth all that he gives her and more.
He’s flurrying about his kitchen now, having banished her to the living room with a glass of wine and a quasi-demand to make herself at home, despite her insistence on helping. Dinner would be ready in just a couple of minutes, he said. He’d already set the table.
Marc, she’s come to find out, was the guy who liked having things done his way. Found it easier to take on the load himself than to let others help.
It’s the first time he’s invited her over to his place. The first time that he asked her to have a date night in, with soothing music and soft lights, just the two of them together.
Marc, she’s come to find out, was an utter, sappy romantic at heart.
She wonders if tonight will be the night he’ll take her to his bed, she wonders what the brown of his eyes will look like shrouded in desire and lust.
Her cheek is still tingling from where he’d kissed her, the small of her back warm from the heat of his palm. His cologne lingers in the air. There’s an anticipatory ache in her thighs and she tries to distract herself from it.
Her eyes are wandering, not looking for anything specific except for him, but because she’s scared that would be too weird, she looks out the window. She’s soaking in the view of the London skyline, dingy and dark from the near consistent rain they’ve had all week.
In Marc’s place, she barely feels a shred of the cold seep into her bones. There are only warm, yellow lights on, nothing too direct. She might as well be looking at a hyperrealistic painting.
She goes to set her glass down when her eyes fall on the picture frames, hung up beside the window. The wood is stained a deep brown that reminds her of Marc’s eyes, as all brown things usually do.
She hadn’t meant to pry, but now her curiosity has been stoked to life. The oven timer goes on and off, there’s a waft of something savoury as he opens and shuts the door.
The girl is too similar to Marc to be able to pass it off as a niece or a coincidence. The same head of dark curls, matching noses and bushy, unkempt eyebrows. She’s sure this is what Marc would have looked like, when he was a child, had he been a girl.
There’s a picture of her as an infant, still in the hospital and in a younger Marc’s arms, dark circles under his eyes and a nervous smile on his face. It’s the unmistakable traces of new fatherhood, she feels as if she’s seen thousands of pictures just like it, the same words, in different handwritings.
First day of school, mile-wide grin, heavy, sombre eyes from her father that were jarring against his smile. The girl’s pulled tight into his frame, Marc seems to be holding on to her as if she were a shadow.
Eyes flitting up and down, she takes in the rest of them. Days at the beach and nights at home. Milestones stacked on top of each other. Dance recitals, a small bouquet of roses clutched in her hands, held proudly in Marc’s arms.
They even grinned the same way.
Marc’s daughter was well-loved.
Happiness like that could never be faked.
She drifts back towards the kitchen. Marc’s curls, normally neat and tamed back are loose and carefree now.
He tugs on them when he’s nervous. Gives them two or three harsh pulls before drifting down to rub at the skin of his neck, exhales a nervous breath.
She’s underestimated the effect his presence can have on her. There are drawings on the fridge, drawings she hadn’t noticed, not until now.
She feels as if her lack of attention should be justified. Marc is pretty. Pretty in a way that makes her breath hitch, her head somersault on itself. She’s always a little tongue-tied during the first few minutes of their dates.
She knows now that it wasn’t just because of his little belly that tucked out comfortably when he sat down, or the crooked angles of his nose. Tenderness and patience radiates out from inside him, the kind people usually only get when raising children with love.
The thud of his knife against the cutting board, slicing through lettuce and cucumbers is comforting. Though she’d made him promise not to go all out, not to bother himself too much for the dinner, Marc has done exactly that.
“Hungry?”
“Hm?” There’s a dog in one of the drawings, a cat in the other.
“Just gotta finish the salad.”
She knows that it’ll be fruitless to offer to take anything to the table. She wants to ask him if he’d like some wine and is instead surprised by the words that flow out of her mouth. “You have a daughter?”
He freezes. A cucumber slides off his knife. It may have well been a scene out of a sitcom. She would have laughed, had it not been for the hold Marc already had on her heart.
She keeps her gaze steady on him, watches intently as he sets down his knife and looks at her.
There’s nothing she can tell from the expressions in his eyes, the hardened tilt of his mouth. She’s come to accept that it will take months before she’ll feel confident in reading the man in front of her, one who spoke so much with his body.
If she gets to take months to learn his language.
It’s an unpleasant little tumour of a thought. She swallows to apologise, to grab at whatever the string was that has managed to tie her tightly to Marc and make sure it stays there.
His throat bobs up and down. Marc speaks before she gets the chance to, “Yeah, I have a daughter.”
“What’s…” she wonders if it’s appropriate to ask, and the question dies on her lips.
“Maya. She’s seven now.”
Maya. She rolls the word around her head like a marble, tries to connect it to the photos and drawings hung up around the place. “She looks just like you.”
He laughs, an awkward, fumbling thing. It’s like a flat ball. “We get that a lot.”
“Well, it’s true,” she smiles and tentatively reaches for his hand. It’s a little rough, a little wet from the freshly-washed vegetables; she wonders if he would like it if she bought him some cream, something with glycerin. “And you’re both very beautiful.”
He pauses, emotions fighting on his face until he settles for steering the topic away from him, “You really don’t mind?”
“Why would I?”
He shrugs, casts his eyes away from her. The pressure of his hand in hers fades ever so slightly and she stumbles forward to make sure it stays.
“I don’t mind,” she swallows, rounds over the counter so she comes to stand beside him and looks up at him. “I really don’t. And I’d love to meet her, whenever you think it’s time.”
There’s a familiar expression in his eyes, one that she’s able to figure just from the sheer amount of times he’s looked at her with it on.
“I don’t lie about these things, Marc.” She leans up and kisses his cheek, squeezes his hand at the same time. “And I understand why you didn’t tell me sooner.”
He pauses, mouth hardened into a firm little line, “You like kids?”
She nods. There’s the footprint of her lips on his cheek, a faint brush of rusty pink that plants a little seed of possession inside of her.
“Good.” His voice is gruff, serious like a boulder of sandstone.
“Sorry for springing it on you like that, I saw the photos and-”
He shakes his head, his free hand comes to rest on her waist. Water seeps into her clothes and onto her skin and she revels in the feeling of it, a physical trace of his touch on her.
It amazes her how quickly he can quiet the static inside her mind. “I meant to tell you tonight.” He sighs, his breath rolling over her face, a stitch forming on his forehead. “Forgot about the pictures.”
She presses away the stitch, smiles and delights when he smiles back, retracted and tight, the corners of his eyes wrinkling like well-loved and sunkissed linen.
His phone starts to ring, turns their soft bubble into shattered ice. The grimace returns to his face, “Sorry.”
The cadence of his voice is soft, soft in a way that’s never been directed at her, when he answers the call and goes into his room, “Hey baby…” It sounds like honey, syrupy and nutritious, she feels if she listens hard enough she can hear the gentle hum of bumblebees underneath. “I miss you too.”
She’s finishing the salad when he returns, cutting the rest of the vegetables the way he’d started and hoping that she’d done a good enough job.
His gaze falls back to her hands, “Sorry.”
“Nothing to apologise for,” she slides everything off the cutting board and into the bowl, sets everything aside and comes close to him. “Is she alright?”
“Yeah,” his fingers are tentative as they reach for her again. Her hands come on top of his and press down. A never ending cycle of reassurance. “She’s at my cousin’s. Told her to call before she goes to bed.”
The thought that he has the place to himself tonight makes her stomach flip-flop on itself.
She dares to cup his face between her hands. She’s never done it before and finds the feel of his clean-shaven skin addicting, “You’re a good father.” He stiffens in her arms but doesn’t move out of them. The picture of young Marc in the hospital with his daughter rises again in her mind, “Thank you for making me dinner.”
He frowns, eyebrows furrowing together like two fuzzy caterpillars, “You haven’t fuckin’ eaten it yet.”
It makes her laugh, and she lets him go, kisses him on his pouty mouth. The way he moves is like a butterfly coming out of its cocoon.
He’s all business now, rushing about the kitchen to finish the food. Her eyes fall back to the drawings, flit over to the curly head of his hair, “Do you want some wine, Marc?”
Thanks for reading, if you liked it, please consider leaving some feedback! I don't usually respond to, but I obsess and re-read reblogs and comments constantly.
Masterlist here, requests here.
#maria's requests#marc spector#marc spector x reader#marc spector x you#marc spector x y/n#marc spector x female!reader#marc spector fluff#marc spector angst#marc spector fanfiction#marc spector fanfic#marc spector fic#marc spector x f!reader#marc spector imagine#moon knight fanfiction#moon knight#moon knight imagine#moon knight fic#oscar isaac
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The Dark Side of the Moon - Chapter 1: Intoxicating
Vampire Marc Spector X f!Reader
Beta Read by @xbellaxcarolinax - Masterlist - AO3
Chapter Summary
Marc sees you for the first time and can't understand why you smell the way you do. The aroma is intoxicating, and he's determined to get closer to you, despite Khonshu's rules.
Tags/Warnings (for entire fic)
Major Tags/Warnings:
Major Character Death - Non-con - Dub-con - Violence
Minor Tags/Warnings
NSFW, smut, Khonshu is human turned vampire, Ammit is human turned vampire, sex with characters other than the main pairing (Marc X f!Unnamed Character - Khonshu X f!Reader), p in v creampie, furniture grinding, scent kink, blood kink, vampire/human relationship, blood drinking, rough sex, oral sex, coming untouched, coming in pants, panty sniffing, angst, fluff, smut, forbidden relationship, secret relationship, possessiveness, obsessiveness, Marc does NOT have DID
Dead Dove Do Not Eat - This means that what you see in the tags is what you get in the fic. If you read the tags and see "non-con" and then see non-con in the fic, don't be surprised!
Word Count: 3.2k
When Marc first saw you, he was overwhelmed by your scent.
The blood coursing through your veins held an aroma so sickly sweet that he found himself dizzy from the smell. He stepped into the lofty, spacious room where an oversized, and over-embellished, chair sat at the back. The enormous windows behind the chair faced out to the ocean, stretching on for what felt like forever. Khonshu liked to call this his ‘throne room’; a pretentious name fit only for someone who thought all too highly of himself.
“Marc, isn’t she wonderfully fragrant?” Khonshu asked from where he sat in his chair, touching the small of your back. His deep voice broke Marc from his thoughts.
Marc cleared his throat, scowling at the display in front of him. You were there, standing timidly with your wrists and ankles bound by enchanted gold chains, and Khonshu was next to you, seated like a king, legs spread wide as though he didn’t have a care in the world. You were dressed like the other cattle: ivory-white, flowing dress covering your body, though leaving your neck well exposed in case Khonshu felt hungry on a whim.
“Yes sir,” Marc agreed, body stiffening as he tried to fight his primal urges against your intoxicating smell.
“Found this pretty thing walking home from some dead end job, sobbing, living a meaningless life, isn’t that right little dove?” He started rubbing your back, and Marc saw your body tense in response. He hated when Khonshu got new servants. He hated to see how nervous they all were in the beginning.
“Y-yes,” you said, voice sounding small compared to the bass of Khonshu’s tone.
“Not so meaningless now. You have such an important job here.” He looked up at you with such adoration it made Marc’s stomach turn. “Harrow,” he said loudly, looking at the man on Marc’s left. “I need a report, did you succeed in delivering my justice tonight?”
Arthur Harrow looked over at Marc, long face twisted into an expression of disdain that he reserved only for the right hand of Khonshu. When Harrow looked back at their master’s face, his expression changed to one of admiration, but Marc knew the man’s hatred for him still festered just under the surface.
Marc listened to Harrow’s recollection of the evening’s events. It was a brief retelling of their struggles and successes, structured in a way to make Arthur sound like the heroic protagonist of the story, leaving Marc to look like his inept sidekick. Marc chuckled under his breath when Harrow mentioned rescuing a woman from a mugger. What he failed to add, was that the man doing the mugging was in his late sixties, frail, and nearly starving to death in an alleyway, just trying to get enough money to eat for the night. In other words, Marc wouldn’t have needed a suit or vampiric abilities to deal with him.
“Is something funny, Marc Spector?” Arthur asked, turning to look at his counterpart.
Marc shook his head, “not at all, continue with your very accurate and completely true story.”
Marc looked at you, heartbeat racing at the sight of your pretty face. A smirk threatened the corner of your mouth, you must’ve noticed him, but you kept your eyes on the ground. Marc’s lips turned up for only a split second knowing he’d entertained you. He hated Khonshu for always making the servants of the house avert their gaze, as though the undead were a superior race to the living. He hated Khonshu for many other things as well, but not being able to see the sparkle of amusement in your eyes at that moment was one of them.
Marc shared his own account of the uneventful evening. They’d saved some other ‘travelers of the night’, as Khonshu called them, and made sure to deliver justice to those who hurt them. He didn’t always see eye to eye with Harrow, but both he and Marc served one man, bound to him forever in an unfortunate blood pact, and for that they were very alike. He wondered sometimes if Arthur hated their master as much as he did, but Marc didn’t dare ask such a question out loud.
Khonshu looked up at you, smiling contentedly as he did before letting out a sigh, broad shoulders relaxing slightly.
“Very good,” he said, finally addressing both Marc and Arthur. “I’m hungry, so I’ll be taking my leave.” He looked over at Marc as he stood, running a hand through his thick black hair. “Marc, please attend to any queries as I would.”
Marc nodded, watching Khonshu rise, putting his hand on your upper back as he led you out of the room. Your scent left with you, not fully, but enough to allow the fog that weighed heavy in Marc’s mind dissipate. He was certain that if you smelled that good, you must taste equally as delicious…right?
~~~~
Why the fuck did you smell like that? Marc wondered moments later, sitting in Khonshu’s lavish chair in his absence. There was no reason for you to smell like that. So sweet, so delicious. Marc found himself salivating, quickly wiping his lips. It was embarrassing, the way you had made such a mess out of him after only moments of him being in your presence.
“Are you hungry sir? I can get your cattle for you,” one of the servants nearby asked, noticing that he’d wiped his mouth.
“No, no I’m…” he wasn’t fine, “I’m fine.”
He’d lived a hundred twenty-six years, and not once had he come across a scent like that. It didn’t make sense, and yet, it was permeating the air around him, making him feel mildly intoxicated once again. Harrow chuckled on Marc’s left, taking the man out of his daze. He scowled and looked over at him.
“What?” Marc questioned, tone laced in frustration.
Arthur shrugged, “hm? Oh, nothing. It’s just interesting to me, how much your age shows when you're faced with something unique, like the new cattle girl.”
“She just has a strong smell, it’s nothing,” Marc said firmly, bouncing his leg as he became more anxious.
“Right, of course,” Arthur’s expression was smug, condescending toward Marc in an attempt to rattle him.
“Why don’t you go find something to keep yourself busy, Harrow. I’m sure Khonshu wouldn’t want to think you were bothering me while I conduct his business.”
That struck a nerve, and Marc knew it would. Harrow had served Khonshu for many, many, years longer than Marc had. Hundreds longer to be more precise. Arthur was an arguably better servant as well. He would kill without question, spending no time on nuance and weighing the gray area brought on by guilt. Harrow would kill if he simply felt that someone was deserving. Marc didn’t like to fight that way, it felt wrong, and morally corrupt at its core. Marc would only kill if he thought it was a just punishment.
Despite Harrow being Khonshu’s loyal and unquestioning knight, always doing their master’s bidding without question, Marc was the one Khonshu favored most. Neither of them understood it, and both of them wished it were Harrow in that position rather than Marc. He never wanted to be Khonshu’s right hand, and when he was turned he didn’t know that’s what he was signing up for. Khonshu was good at keeping information from his servants. In fact, that’s how he managed to recruit so many. If he’d been upfront with them all, no one would have joined him.
“Khonshu is preoccupied at the moment, I’m sure–”
“Ooh,” Marc taunted, “then it would be really awkward if I had to go knocking on his door to tell him that you were being a pain in my ass, wouldn’t it?” Marc looked at Harrow, both eyebrows raised in anticipation for the rebuttal that never came.
Once Harrow left, frustrated and grumbling to himself, Marc tried to find other ways to occupy his mind, and to get his thoughts off of you. He spoke with the servants, making small talk about the weather, as though he gave a shit about whether it was raining or the skies were painted in blue. He just needed to take his mind off of you, because the more he thought about you, the more he felt his body aching with hunger.
There were so few rules that Marc needed to abide by that he’d be labeled a moron if he couldn’t manage to follow them. He could come and go as he pleased, so long as he did the work Khonshu required of him. Marc wasn’t allowed to turn someone, unless of course his master bid him to do so. And there was one rule, a big one that was upheld above all else…
Touching Khonshu’s cattle was absolutely forbidden.
That was how Marc got there, replacing the last Moon Knight that was dumb enough to try and pull one over on Khonshu. When his master claimed someone, by auction, coercion or otherwise, they were his. Marc had heard that Khonshu was kind to his servants, only taking what he needed, never drinking more than his fill. If one of his designated meals were tired or still recovering from a feeding, he would allow them time to rest before he used them again.
Marc also knew that they ate well. He saw the meals sometimes in passing being brought by the cooks to the rooms of the cattle. That’s how Marc learned that you liked strawberries, especially the large ripe ones. He would see the way the cooks made a point to pick through the smaller sour ones and toss them aside before bringing them to your door.
Were you spoiled, or did you figure that if you were going to be stuck there for the rest of your life, that you might as well enjoy yourself? Either way, a week after your arrival, Marc still wasn’t used to your scent, and it called to him both day and night. It was faint, unless he was in the same room as you, but he couldn’t stand it anymore. He had to figure out why you smelled like that, even if it killed him.
Marc didn’t need the enchanted armor Khonshu had blessed him with to climb the wall outside to your bedroom, his jeans and dark t-shirt would do just fine. The armor only afforded him protection at will, and the crescent darts he used to deliver Khonshu’s justice. As a vampire, there was no mountain too high for Marc to climb, and no distance too far for him to run. His strength couldn’t be surpassed by even ten men, but everything came with a price.
He needed blood to live.
Without that iron flavored liquid, Marc would die. Not much could kill him, but the thirst for blood certainly would if he didn’t satisfy it. And the smell of yours was making him fucking feral.
Marc didn’t know what he was thinking, standing there in your room, watching you while you slept soundly. He had all he could to stop himself from draining your body of every drop of your blood in front of Khonshu, so what was stopping him now? Your master wasn’t around to save you, but Marc knew he could never forgive himself if he hurt you.
He knelt down by your bedside, touching your warm cheek softly with the backs of his fingers. Your breathtaking eyes fluttered open, meeting his in a gaze with a look that was as frightened as it was confused. He put a finger to his lips, shushing you, hoping like hell that you wouldn’t alert the household to his presence in your quarters; something that would surely land him in the thirst room for a minimum of half a century.
You nodded as you slowly sat up, rubbing your eyes and pulling away from Marc. It was a smart decision, he had no noble reason for being there. He just wanted to smell you. He wanted to feel you. You were doing well in your attempt to hide your fear, though he could tell you were petrified. Your breathing was ragged, and your pupils blown wide.
“Why do you smell like that?” He said in a low growl, leaning forward on your bed, nuzzling your neck and inhaling deeply, “so fuckin’ sweet I…fuck.”
“W-what are you do–”
“Shh, I’m not going to hurt you, I just…” he inhaled again, breath ragged and harsh in your ear. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He repeated, not sure who he was trying to convince more, you…or himself.
“O-okay,” you said in the softest, and shakiest, voice he’d ever heard.
Marc really wasn’t going to harm you, though it took every ounce of his strength not to. He wanted to devour you, drink you dry, absorb your warmth into every cell of his cold body. He leaned in more, pushing you back against the mattress, feeling every neuron in his brain firing with desire. He felt your hands, pushing gently against his chest in protest, but you clearly weren’t brave enough to try and fight back.
Marc felt his cock aching as it sprung to life against his jeans. Your legs were around him, though he could feel your knees digging into his waist in an attempt to close them. The heat from your cunt was maddening, radiating off of you through his clothing and making his dick leak profusely.
“Why the fuck do you smell like that?” He asked again, throat vibrating with a primal rumble. He breathed in your fragrant aroma some more, feeling his fangs extending in preparation to bite. “Never smelled someone so…hmmmm.”
“L-like…like w-what?”
That’s when he realized just how much you were shaking. As if he were awoken from a trance, Marc shook the delirium from his mind and slid off of you quickly, backing up to the wall, chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. He gulped, looking you up and down. You looked terrified, eyes wide with fear. Your bottom lip was trembling while you sat up and stared widely at him, like prey coming face to face with a predator.
“I’m sorry,” Marc said, still panting heavily. He didn’t remember the last time he’d felt so breathless.
“You’re M-Marc, right?” You asked, looking him up and down, “I’m…” your name rolled off your tongue beautifully.
Cattle didn’t have names. Once someone was branded as livestock, a human whose job was to provide blood to their master, they were stripped of their previous life, including their name. Marc had been to other households. Some masters replaced their servant’s old names with new ones. Others had a numeric system, the numbers getting higher and higher the longer a vampire had been alive and using servants.
Khonshu preferred to keep his nameless. It made it less personal when it was time to dispose of old or sickly livestock, or when he got too carried away while feeding, leading to the unfortunate demise of a perfectly good food source. Marc knew you were privy to the rules. You knew damn well that you weren’t supposed to ever utter your birth name, and yet you were speaking it freely to him.
You trusted him.
“Look…I was never here, alright?” Marc swallowed hard, looking out at the moonlit sky. “I…I didn’t mean to scare you, I just…I couldn’t help myself. I’m so sorry.”
Without another word, and without looking at you again, Marc climbed through the window and dropped back to the ground, moving quickly around the side of the manor and back to where his quarters were. The pain of his cock pressing against his zipper ached like never before. He could still fucking smell you, and now your scent was on his damn clothes. It was a mistake going there, but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t glad he did.
~~~~
He got into bed that night, stripped down fully, planting his feet firmly against his mattress, cock in hand and jerking himself off to the thoughts running through his mind. He balled up his shirt, holding it against his face and smelling your aroma still saturated in every fiber. His grip was firm around his girth, gliding over his length at a slow pace, imagining what it would be like to feel you on top of him.
Marc ran his thumb over the precum leaking out of the slit on his fat tip, using that to keep his palm slick while he worked. A pathetic whine left his lips, throat closing as he gripped the sheets and arched his back upward. You’d take him so well, he could tell just by the way you looked underneath him earlier. You’d cry and whimper but you’d love every second, begging him to fuck you until you couldn’t walk right.
He rolled over onto his stomach, pressing his cock between his abdomen and the mattress, grabbing the sides of the bed and rutting his hips forward. The grind along the smooth sheets was enough to electrify his entire body. Marc choked on the groan that threatened to leave his lips. He put the shirt on his pillow, burying his face in it, fucking the bed faster. If you had been under him, he would’ve broken you in half…or shredded you to pieces.
He bit into the shirt, growling lowly and continuing to roll his erection over the soft mattress in an attempt to curb the growing need to have you. Your voice was so small, so sweet, so pretty. Fuck, fuck… The way you looked at him, afraid, timid, like he was going to hurt you. He wished he could say with confidence that he would never hurt you, like he had promised you earlier in your room, but he knew that was a white lie. He would always try never to hurt you.
He shuddered on his next snap forward, the friction becoming more slick as his leaking head left a mess in its wake. His grip on the sides of the mattress was tight enough to make his knuckles ache, aiding in his speed. He didn’t even care that the bed scraped against the floor with a loud shriek on every pass. He kept his nose deep in the fabric of his shirt, inhaling deeply, intoxicated with your smell combined with his. It smelled right, like your fragrances belonged together.
You belonged with him.
“Why does she…why does she smell so…so-fucking-good-ohgodohgodohgod…!”
Marc’s hips finally came to a stammering halt, warm sticky ropes of cum shooting out from his throbbing cock, making a mess of his bedding that he knew the servants would mumble about amongst each other when they thought he wasn’t listening. He huffed through his nose, hips still sliding his dick over the glob of slippery white that he created while thinking of you.
He wasn’t a fool, but Marc hoped desperately that masturbating his nights away would be enough to satisfy his needs. Deep down though, he knew that was bullshit, and he knew that as long as you were around, his life was at risk.
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#moon knight#marc spector#Marc Spector X f!Reader#marc spector headcanon#marc spector x reader#marc spector x you#marc spector smut#moon knight drabble#marc spector drabble#moon knight smut#moon knight fanfiction#moon knight fic#marc spector fanfiction#marc spector fan fiction#moon knight fan fiction#khonshu#ammit
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❛ don’t worry, i’m staying right here. ❜
Marc spector x female reader💛
Marc feeling that the reader has left his bed so he leaves his room to find her on the sofa having an anxiety atack.
A bit angsty but mostly fluffy💗💗
now this is my first writing for marc but i loved this so much and I accidentally made it more fluffy than angsty
𝘣𝘢𝘥 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 – 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘤 𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘱𝘵𝘰𝘳
→ warnings: nicknames [babe, baby, sweet girl], description of shooting and dead body, panic/anxiety attack, angst, mostly fluff.
Before you can think of a plan to get away or even register the sound and what has happened Harrow pulls the trigger and shoots Marc right in the heart. You feel your world and your heart shatter into a million pieces all at the same time as you watch his body hit the water. blood gushes through his shirt around the wound and you need to cover your mouth fast to stop yourself from screaming. Tears quick to brim your eyes threatening to fall as you watch in horror as Harrow's men pull your boyfriend's body from the water, you wanted to scream, run at them, even if it meant simply dying alongside your boy.
Once his body was on flat ground his men stepped back letting Arthur set something small and shiny on his chest. He’s quick to leave Ammits tomb with the goddess in hand who was encased in a tiny stone statue, you turn the corner from your hiding spot the minute they leave and run right to Marc.
“Marc! Steven! Please my love, either of you please..” your voice gets caught in your throat and you choke on it. Tears began to softly stream down your face as you kissed his forehead and placed your hand over the scarab on his chest. Your heart feels like it’s been ripped from your chest, fighting to hold back the gut reaching scream that’s bubbling in your throat.
You’re jolted awake in a sweating, out of breath haze. Your heart feels like it's gonna jump out of your chest with how fast and hard it's beating. Your chest heaving hard, you felt like you couldn’t breathe properly no matter how hard you tried. head spinning, your eyes filling with hot tears, clouding your vision. It felt so real, you couldn’t even tell if you were still dreaming or not. You didn't know what was real, you couldn’t stop relaying the moment the shot rang through your ears and you watched the love of your life’s body hit the water. That sight is burned into your memory, every single detail of it.
Being so wrapped up in your spiraling thoughts you are startled at Marc placing a hand on your shoulder. He had been woken up by the jarring shift of your body besides him. His hair was all disheveled and fluffed up, his eyes half lidded, you’d make a comment of how cute he looked if only you could speak and weren’t in the middle of a panic attack.
“Babe…what’s wrong?” Once he woke up a bit more he took in your appearance, you were hunched over the edge of your shared bed, a hand on your chest, eyes brimming with even more tears and labored and inconsistent breathing. He pushes his way up out of bed to come sit beside you on the edge of the bed, it sinks down as he slowly sits down, he’s never seen you this way, it's slightly scaring him as well as steven.
“Hey..hey baby what happened..?” He is slow and careful as he reaches his hand to place on your knee in an attempt to calm you. The last he wanted was to startle you again. “Night-nightmare…of that night in the-the tomb…” your voice was so hushed and shaky Marc almost couldn’t understand you but the moment your wobbly words sank in, his heart sank to his stomach with them. More tears stream down your cheeks as you watch fear flash on his face, as if his sequence of events of that night just replayed in his own head.
“Thought i lost you all over again…” your words came out a little less shaky this time and yet your words break Marc’s heart all the same. “Oh..sweet girl…” he sighs and he softly wipes away your tears as they fall. You lean into his touch, your heart aching like you haven’t seen him in years, you needed to touch him, needed to know he was real. As he’s wiping your tears away you rush forward, wrapping your arms around his neck and smash your lips against his. “Need to know you're really there….” You mumbled into the kiss and through your tears, your eyes squeezed so tightly shut like you wanna never open them up again as if he’d simply disappear the moment you do.
He grunts and shuts his eyes, kissing you back deeply and softly. A kiss so full of love, devotion and tenderness, a kiss that restores the breath in your lungs. Marc softly pulls you in close by the waist and lays the both of you down, the both of you holding onto one another for dear life.
You both pull away slowly, limbs intertwined and panic subsided. “Dont worry im staying right here baby…” he whispers softly as he presses a small reassuring kiss to your forehead before resting his against yours, looking deep in your eyes. “I’m right here my sweet girl, nobody’s taking me away from you, not even over my dead body” he smiled sweetly and rubs his thumb over your stomach and hip.
You hit him lightly for his poorly timed joke and rub circles on the back of his neck. You’ll always forever be thankful for whatever in the hell happened that allowed marc to come back to you, and steven. You needed them both more than they knew.
“I love you” you whisper softly as you and marc drift off to sleep, body’s wrapped around one another, like your souls, forever intertwined.
→ a/n: so i fully intended on posting this a while ago but never did anyway, i kinda forgot a bit of the request like she was supposed to leave the bed but im still a bit rusty after a long ass hiatus again and i barely proof read this cause i wanted to post today!! I love Layla but for this to work reader pretty much sorta is Layla/replaces her but you and marc aren’t married lol
#message received ☾☆#fluff#angst#marc spector#marc spector imagine#fanfic#moon knight#moonknight imagine#moonknight fic#moonknight fluff#steven grant#moonknight x reader#f!reader#marc spector x reader#marc spector x y/n#marc spector x f!reader#marc spector x fem!reader#fem!reader#panic attack#anxiety attack#fluff blurb#blurb#moonknight blurb#marc spector blurb#short fic#fluff headcanons#moonknight headcanons#moonknight x you#moonknight x y/n#female reader
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Spectre
A Moon Knight Halloween Love Story
Event #10: A Quiet Place
prev | Fic Masterlist | My Masterlist
Summary: You and Steven get a few more answers before he takes you home and shows you how much he's missed you.
Pairing this chapter: Steven Grant x f!reader
A/n: I know I promised Jake, but I switched the order of 2 chapters, and I promise you'll like this one!
Word count: 2.1k
Content: exposition again, domestic fluff, steven gets to shine, fingering, p in v, bit of language, not beta'd
☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ
PREVIOUSLY on Spectre…
"Ms. Marjorie, why does she look the same? What happened to her body?”
"When I cast the spell on her," Ms. Marjorie explained, leaning forward on her elbows, "It's like I froze time for her. She is exactly the same as the night she died, except no longer in her old body."
She turned to you, smiling softly. “Their love essentially made you…materialize, just as they perceived you to be. I really don't know a better way to explain it."
☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ
“Let me get this straight,” Steven said. “This shop completely vanished, o-or I was hallucinating. What is actually going on here?”
"As I said, it’s Halloween," Ms. Marjorie explained. "Not a holiday you’d associate very closely with love, I suppose, but - you see - love is the most powerful magic in the world.
“Your lovely partner here wasn’t haunting you, as you’ve told me Mr. Spector feared,” she went on. “She was simply suspended between the world of the living and the dead."
“Then, why were you pretending to work here?” Steven inquired, gesturing around him animatedly. “What even is this place?”
“My shop," she simply replied.
"But...it disappeared," Steven argued. "When I needed answers most, it wasn't here."
"Ah yes," Ms. Marjorie smiled warmly. "When you needed answers most," she nodded your way, "you found her. When you were ready." She shrugged, beginning to tidy up the tea cups and saucers. "The rest was all a bit of witchcraft, nothing more."
You pondered your words for a moment before smiling fondly. "Thank you, Ms. Marjorie, for everything. You and Steven - both of you saved my life.”
"I fudged a spell that was meant to save your life, but if it turned out well in the end, then I suppose I did some good and for that, I am grateful," she chuckled.
"And we are grateful as well," Steven chimed. "Thank you for helping me, and for your kindness, but I do believe I may need to ask you one more favor."
"What is that, Steven?"
Steven took a deep breath. “The man who killed my partner. Do you know anything about him? Did you see anything else?”
“Nothing that will be of much help, I’m afraid. not that night anyway. But something mystical is at work here. Your grandmother called out to me because she sensed your danger from beyond. She’s connected to all this somehow.
"But enough time spent with an old lady. Go on and enjoy yourselves," Ms. Marjorie instructed, gazing at you pointedly. "Enjoy life."
"Thank you again." You stood, giving the older woman a warm embrace. "You’re an angel to me."
"Oh I doubt that," Ms. Marjorie chuckled. "But happy to help."
Golden-hued trees, late autumn sunshine and the changes that had infiltrated in your hometown over the last few months took your breath away as you passed them by.
Steven glanced over at you worriedly, reaching for your hand.
"This is all so unbelievable," you uttered, awestruck. "It's like I'm in some other universe. It's magical. But it's a lot."
“I can’t believe it either. We should get you some things from the drug store, but someone might see you. Maybe I should take you home first, and come back,” Steven suggested.
“No. No, I don’t want to be alone. I’ll just come with you,” you quickly protested, your racing heart reminding you just how alive you really were.
By the time you gathered some necessities and checked out at the drug store, Steven noticed you seemed a bit glassy eyed and short of breath.
"Let's go home, love," he said softly. "I've got you."
Back in your kitchen, you eased down on a chair, watching Steven carefully as he unloaded the bags from the store and put on the kettle.
"We'll order you some things online. Some clothes - whatever you want."
He watched you for a response, but you hadn't said much since you walked into the drugstore earlier.
Kneeling down in front of you, he reached for your hand. "Darling, I know this is all...impossible. But I'm here."
You nodded, mutely.
A line of concern creased his forehead as he chewed on the corner of his lip. But he was determined to take care of you. A few moments later, he set your favorite tea in front of you, despite the fact that you drank some with Ms. Marjorie.
The tea comforted you almost as much as when Steven brought Jeremiah to sit on the table beside you.
"I'm sorry," you finally uttered, tracing your finger over the cool glass of the fish bowl. "It...I think it feels too good to be true, it can't be true. It can't be."
"That's the way I've always felt about you, love," he sweetly returned, warm, earthy eyes locking with yours. "An absolute wonder, you are."
"Steven..." you whispered, your heart - your entire body so full of love an awe. "I think my head might explode if I think about this any harder," you confessed.
Steven brilliantly distracted you for the remainder of the afternoon and evening. He put on the most mundane documentary - just enough to hold your slight interest but keep everything calm.
Then he got the laptop and helped you pick out some basic clothes from your favorite store. They would arrive tomorrow because he paid for expedited shipping.
When your mind would start to wander, he would take the laptop and pull you close, even kiss you deeply. Once the documentary ended, he read to you for a little while.
The people on your street and the surrounding ones knew you had passed away, so not too many trick-or-treaters rang the doorbell, hoping not to disturb Mr. Spector, but Steven was prepared with a couple of bags of candy from the drugstore. You stayed out of sight as to not give the young ones a real fright.
The next time the doorball rang, it was for a dinner delivery, which somehow seemed like the most delicious thing you'd ever eaten. Before long, you grew sleepy, simply because existing was so damn draining. At least today.
You felt a little distant from Steven, not because there was anything wrong between the two of you, but because you hadn't spoken to him much all afternoon.
Still, he'd given you exactly what you'd needed. Just enough mental stimulation to keep your mind from wandering and getting overwhelmed. Just enough tenderness to make you feel special.
You ended the day feeling cherished, with a full belly. And you had clothes, shoes and other necessities on the way.
"I feel like I bored you to death on my first day alive," you finally joked after brushing your teeth.
"You know that could never be true," Steven refuted, wiping his mouth with a towel before pressing a kiss to your cheek.
"Thank you for today," you said seriously, wrapping your arms around his neck as you stared deeply into his eyes. "You're like a touchstone. I feel so safe with you."
"I would do anything to keep you safe," he whispered against your lips, taking them captive for a tender but sensual kiss, squeezing your hips possessively. "Come on, love, let's get you to bed."
"I slept a lot today. I really am boring," you joked.
"Oh we won't be sleeping," he cheekily returned, goosing your ribs which made you squeal.
Whatever slight distance you had felt with Steven evaporated once you were in bed, as he gathered you to the warmth of his chest and slotted his mouth against yours. Hungry hands gripped the t-shirt he'd slid over your head not ten minutes ago as he kissed you until you both needed air.
"Can't even say how much I've missed you," he murmured, pushing his fingertips over the curve of your back, easing your shirt upward. His thumbs grazed the sides of your breasts, underneath your arms, causing your breath to stutter.
"Tell me to stop and I will," he went on, sampling your lips one at a time, only pausing when pulling the shirt over your head interrupted you.
His eyes flickered down to your mouth, then your chest as he licked his lips. "Never thought I'd see you this way again."
You swallowed hard, your breath quickening under his hungry gaze.
"You alright, darling?" He smiled gently, brushing his hand across your collarbone. "Too much?"
"No," you breathed out - your fingers twisting through his curls as you pulled your bare chest flush against his cotton-covered one, sharing his breath as your body bloomed with desire. You tugged his hair a little too hard, desperate to somehow drag yourself closer still.
"Missed that," he moaned out, smiling against your cheek even as he rushed to get his own t-shirt off.
Your lips fused together again as the heat of his bare chest, the sweet warmth of his breath in your mouth - the soft seduction of his tongue tasting yours - and the possessive grip as he slid his hands once more up the curve of your back - set your body aflame with need.
Steven was clear that he wanted you, but still, he took his time - every nip of his teeth, soothed with the heat of his tongue. Every desperate grip eased into a seductive caress, and when his fingers finally slid between your legs - when he found the core of you hot and wet for him - he caressed you only once before pressing his forehead to yours.
"Let me make you mine again," he begged, fingertips twitching with the need to touch you - the thick outline of his bulge pressed hungrily against your bare thigh.
"Steven," you gasped, his possessive claim making you wild with desire. Your legs fell open as he coaxed you open, plunging his tongue in your mouth and two fingers deep inside you.
Your hungry moan spurred him on as he fingered you just the way you liked. Steven was all sweet seduction. It was fun to make him whimper, but he could really pull you apart when he wanted to.
But tonight wasn't about anything but cherishing you, here, alive.
So, as you worked him free of his pajama pants and stroked the velvet length of him, you found that you didn't want him to take his time. Not tonight. Just in case.
"Please, Steven," you sweetly begged him, tugging him seductively while grinding against his hand. "Need you inside."
He groaned at your touch, and your hunger to feel him, relieved that it wasn't too much for you. Soon enough, your remaining clothes were discarded and Steven climbed on top of you, caging you in with his surprisingly strong forearms. His biceps flexed deliciously as he held up his weight, positioning himself perfectly.
He knew your body as well as his own - better, maybe, since he shared his body. Without another thought, or a hand to guide him, he pushed inside you, tilting his hips exactly how he knew -
"Oh fuck Steven..." you gasped, your back arching off the bed.
Your partner knew how to please you, hitting that spot that only familiar lovers could find so easily - like the steps of a well-rehearsed dance.
"My beautiful girl," Steven breathed against your neck, between spine-tingling open-mouthed kisses laid seductively on your throat.
Slow, devastatingly deep thrusts made you whimper with both satisfaction and yearning.
"Stay here with me," he begged, hands touching you all over, finding a home on the curve of your hips as he worked himself in and out of you with fierce possessiveness. "Stay with me. Please stay..."
You whimpered his name, gripping the breadth of his shoulders as your bodies twisted, hot and wet and alive, faster and deeper until he spilled inside you only seconds after your body seized in absolute rapture, clenching him with your velvet warmth.
Steven kissed you messily, hungry and sated at the same time, hips slowing and finally stopping as his weight dropped down, caging you in. He quickly attempted to pull away, as to not crush you, but you slung your leg around his thighs and held him there.
"Stay," you echoed his plea from earlier. "Stay right here. Stay inside. I need you." You murmured plea tickled his ear, making him shiver with desire, even though he felt sated.
"Likely to crush you love." You felt him smile against your neck, his damp curls tickling your cheek. "But I'll stay right here as long as you want."
"Forever, Steven."
☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ
You jolted awake - your dreams vivid and intense once again. Cool air kissed your skin where you kicked off your comforter, finding yourself alone in bed, still naked after making love with Steven, but clean. He must have woken up and taken care of a few things.
"Steven?" You called out, sitting up, attempting to push down the anxiety stirring in the center of you. Maybe he was in the bathroom.
Drawing a cleansing breath, you tried to steady your breathing. Damn dreams.
"Steven?" You tried again, but before you could push yourself off the bed, you heard someone else.
"Cálmate, mi amor."
The smooth voice of your partner washed over you as you blinked, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.
"J-Jake?"
☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ
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Ignore Me
Marc Spector x F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • MK Bingo 2024 Masterlist • ko-fi •
Summary: Marc wants you to ignore him.
🌛For @moonknight-events MK Bingo Spring 2024 Event🌜
A/N: Let's file this under, we don't have time to unpack that.
Warnings: reader has tattoos, swearing, p in v sex, cream pie, vaginal fingering, Marc wanting to be ignored during sex as a kink, Marc saying some self-deprecating things about himself as a kink, typos, please let me know if I've missed a warning!
Word Count: 2130
“What’s this one for?” Marc lightly tapped the tattoo on your bicep with the tip of his nose and snuggled a little closer to you in bed, his chest against your back.
“Oh, that one?”
“Hmm.” He pressed his lips to the spot before he rubbed his cheek against you.
“That one gives me the ability to tell the future.” You say playfully.
Marc snorts, “oh yeah?”
“Yeah.” You nod.
“Steven says that’s bullshit.”
You turn to look him in the face over your shoulder. “No way Steven would say that.”
“What? He swears all the time?” Marc grins.
“Yeah,” you can’t help but smile back, breaking your pretend outrage, “that’s true, but he’d say ‘that’s shit’, bullshit is too American.”
Marc chuckles and snakes his hand down to pinch your side a little, just enough to make you laugh and squirm. His other arm holds you tight against his body. “How would you like some American in you?”
You laugh harder. “Marc, that’s terrible.”
“You love it.” He kisses the spot where your neck meets your shoulder and purposefully bites down gently. Hard enough to make you squirm again and push back against his hardening cock.
“So,” he mumbles in your ear, “you gonna tell me the meaning behind this one or…?”
“Is that a threat Spectre?”
He grins again against your shoulder.
“I think you’re not actually interested in what it means.” You tease, purposefully scooting forward a little when he tries to grind against your backside.
Marc’s fingers twitch around you, his left hand going to your hip to hold you still, but you wiggle away from him.
“I think you’re preoccupied with something else.”
“What?” He tries his best to keep the amusement out of his voice. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He shifts closer to you again and you bend back, bowing outward so that he still can’t rut against you.
“Oh really?” You tease.
He growls playfully at you, pulling you back towards him with a gentle, but firm strength, until you are flush against his chest.
He silences your next teasing retort by swiftly sneaking his hand down the front of your pyjamas.
“Marc,” you moan, your voice hitching up at the end as he lightly pinches your clit. You press back against him, your legs instinctively inching wider.
“Oh, so now you wanna be close, huh?”
You give him a look over your shoulder accompanied by a frustrated grunt that earns you a chuckle and a kiss on the nape of your neck.
He rolls your clit slowly between his thumb and forefinger, adding just the right amount of pressure to have you keening and rocking back against his aching cock.
Marc gasps, letting out a low grumbily moan as you press against his sensitive tip. Precum is smearing against his stomach and soaking a wet patch into his boxers.
Despite how you push back against him, your movements starting to border on frantic as heat begins to build and build in your stomach, he keeps up his languid, tortuous pace. Often, he likes it best like this. Slow and drawn out to almost the point of pain until the dam breaks. Makes it feel like he’s useful, like he’s doing a good job. Frantically trying to hold himself together, gripping onto the last pieces of his self-control until pleasure pulls him down into blissful mindlessness.
He dips the tip of his forefinger lower, just teasing at your entrance before sliding back up as he muffles his moans at your wetness into your bare shoulder.
But it seems you have other ideas.
You turn your head, just enough to give him a messy kiss that’s all tongue and teeth, the glide of your lips on his own quickly pulls a desperate moan from his chest. You hook your fingers into your waistband and pull your pyjamas down, kicking them off the last bit of the way.
He growls as you press back against him and sneak your hand back to stroke him twice over his boxers, revelling in his little whimpered shiver, before you slide under the material and eagerly run your fingers over his hard, velvet length.
His grip tightens on your waist for a moment before he moves closer, plunging two fingers inside of you in one quick motion.
You gasp in surprise as he strokes your walls, pleasure blossoming along your spine.
Marc moans against your shoulder, nipping and biting softly at your skin as he muffles himself. “So wet… fuck…” He bucks mindlessly against you for a second, focusing completely on the feel of you squeezing around his thick fingers and your little whimpered groans as you press your face into the pillow.
His caress is dizzying, maddening as he purposefully goes the smallest fraction slower than what you want, what you need. Obsessed with seeing you writhe and beg for him.
“Marc, please,” You buck up against him, grabbing hold of his arm to try to keep him at the angle that makes you see stars.
He groans low, lightheadedness washing over him as you beg and his dick twitches. “Baby, please can we…” He bites his lip, screwing his eyes closed and he swallows down what he wants to say, hoping you were too caught up in your own pleasure to have heard him.
But even as your hips move and breathing hitches you turn to look at him over your shoulder. “What do you need?”
He sinks his teeth into his lip harder and shakes his head ever so slightly.
“Marc,” the low, desperate edge to your voice makes him whine.
“Can you ignore me?” He blurts out, heat rising to his cheeks and blistering his skin.
Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-
You slow your hips, halting his hand's movements and Marc wants to go find a ditch to bury himself in, but your sweet voice makes him open his eyes.
“Ignore you?” There’s no judgement, but he still hides his face and presses his forehead against your back.
“Hmmm.”
“Sweetheart,” you stroke his hair. “Tell me please.”
He breathes a heavy sigh against your skin before blurting out. “Can you ignore me while I fuck you for as long as you can?”
You smile, “you’d like that?”
There’s a little spark of hope in his chest that makes his dick throb. “Yes.” He whispers.
“Okay. How do you want me?”
Marc moves quicker than you thought possible and you almost laugh at his eagerness, but stop yourself from fear that he would take it the wrong way.
He carefully positions you on the bed, on your stomach with a pillow under your hips to prop them up slightly. He leans over you for a second, softly placing his hands on your thighs and spreading them slightly. A shiver of anticipation runs up your spine.
But he quickly stops, leaning to the side and taking your book off the bedside table. “Could you, erm, read this? Or pretend to read it?”
The uncertainty in his voice is so sweet, gentle, like a fine dusting of snow. You nod as you take the book out of his hands and turn to a random, previously read, page.
“Thank you,” he mutters and kisses your shoulder blade before trailing down your back and pressing his lips against every tattoo he can reach.
Marc waits for a moment apprehensively, just watching you read, taking in the way you have propped yourself up a little so that you can easily hold the book, before he pulls off his boxers and takes himself in hand.
He tries to be as quiet as moves between your legs, spreading them over so slightly wider as he slowly runs his hand along his dick and just teases at his slit with the tip of his thumb. But he can’t stop his breath from hitching as he sees your arousal shining in the weak light.
He swallows and inches forward on his knees, gradually leaning down to run the head of his cock through your soaking folds.
He feels your shiver, the way your muscles instinctively clench around him, but you stay silent, your eyes glued to the words on the page even though for the life of you, you can’t focus on what you are seeing.
Carefully Marc notches his fat tip at your entrance, breathing through his nose as he painstakingly slowly pushes inside.
Your walls squeeze around him, pulling him further in and welcoming him home. And he can’t stop the gasp of pleasure that tumbles out of his lips. He grabs your hip, just to steady himself, just to focus as the pleasure twists so tightly in his stomach.
He glances at the back of your head for a second, biting down hard on his bottom lip to control himself as he bottoms out.
You turn the page and carry on pretending to read.
Marc whines, his arousal making him lightheaded and can’t resist any longer. He slowly pulls out before pushing himself back in, leaning down so that his right hand rests on the mattress while his left still holds your hip.
The pace is moderate, at first. The only sounds are the slick wetness as he steadily fucks you, punctuated by his little gasps and moans that he tries so hard to swallow down.
He changes the angle on each trust, trying to find the perfect spot.
Your grip tightens on the book as he hits it, your thighs clenching, back arching ever so slightly. But you bite your teeth together and manage somehow to stop your cry of pleasure.
Marc shivers as your body reacts but you don’t, a low and pathetic whine grumbling out from his throat as he increases his thrusts and focuses on that spot. On hitting it perfectly every time. He can feel you shake, the smallest shift as you push back against him ever so slightly, trying to stop yourself from going too far. All to indulge him. And his resolve snaps.
He moans loudly, thrusting up into you hard and moving your thighs further apart so he can watch himself disappearing into your tight, wet heat.
“Oh fuck, fuck,” he can’t stop himself now, can’t help the words from spilling out. “Fuck, you don’t even know I’m here, do you? Don’t even care that I’m fucking you, because,” he gasps as you clench around him, “because I’m so small you can’t even tell,” he starts thrusting rapidly, pounding into you and you see stars, “can’t even,” he moans loudly, his voice dissolving into a whiney needy breathy mess, and for some reason a sharp spark of arousal slides along your skin. “I can’t even make you cum, I can’t-”
You moan loudly, your pretence of reading the book abandoned as you can’t hold back any longer as he continuously hits so perfectly deep. The force of his thrusts rock you against the pillow under your hips, dragging your clit across the cotton and making you scream.
“Oh shit!” Marc’s grip on you tightens, his eyes rolling back in his head as you clench and gush around him, your orgasm being ripped ruthlessly from your bones as he fucks you perfectly.
“Baby, fuck,” he cums inside, filling you up to the brim. His hips keep moving, fucking you through your orgasm even as overstimulation prickles along his skin and makes him whine.
It’s only when you reach back and grab his hand, pulling him towards you that he finally stops and collapses on top of you.
He quickly goes to move to the side, but you squeeze his hand. “Stay here.”
“I’m not squashing you am I?”
You shake your head. “Feels comfy.”
He chuckles and kisses your cheek. You can still tell he’s leaning slightly on his left arm and leg, not wanting to put his whole weight on you.
A little awkwardly you manage to coax him into relaxing on top of you.
“Was that…” he swallows nervously as he traces the tattoo on your ribs. “I hope that was okay for you…”
You smile. “I didn’t know your dick was so small I couldn’t even feel you.”
He groans a little and buries his head into your neck, but he’s chuckling.
You pause for only a second before you continue. “I liked it.”
“You did?”
“Yeah, I liked that you were all whiney.”
He snorts.
“I didn’t know you liked that.”
“Liked what?” He asks.
“Being ignored.”
“Oh… I don’t know.” He pauses. “It’s just… it’s like I can’t control anything, that what I do doesn’t matter so I just have to let go?”
You nod and squeeze his hand.
“Would you… be up for doing it again maybe?”
You turn just enough so that you can kiss his face. “Of course.”
____________________________________
Thank you for reading!
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40-something Moon Man ROCKS the Dancefloor! (REAL NOT CLICKBAIT!)
pairing: Marc Spector & Female Reader
word count: 4026
warnings: none
summary:
Marc Spector accidentally goes viral on TikTok after his uni student neighbour/friend drags him to the club with her.
a/n: i wrote this in a silly goofy mood and i love marc sooo much <3 Also I used Darling instead of Y/n cuz im funky like that.
“Please, Marc.” Darling begged the 40-something man while he tried to clean his flat.
“No.” Marc answered flatly, wearing a very washed-out and loose t-shirt and a pair of dark blue shorts. His hair, now longer was tied at the back of his head in a tiny man bun.
“Why??? We’ll have so much fun and you need a night out to dislodge the stick up your ass.” Darling groaned and fell on her knees in the kitchen, ready to hold onto his legs and beg if need be. Marc sighed and ignored the 19-year-old teenager on his kitchen floor as he cracked another window open and increased the volume of the radio on the window ledge, BBC Radio 1 playing a Central Cee song in the flat as he picked up stray books, papers, food wrappers, socks and random junk, a bin bag clutched in one hand and a laundry basket clutched in his other arm.
Marc finally got himself to start cleaning his flat, he read that it would help his mental health to live in a cleaner space. That’s why she was over, she was meant to help him clean so it wouldn’t be too overwhelming on his own, and motivate him to get on with cleaning so he finished faster and could escape her non-ending yapping sessions. But now, it seemed like she was more interested in annoying him, which is literally second nature now, a natural reaction she had to him, annoying the shit out of Marc.
I mean, he could literally kick her out, and scare her enough that she’ll leave him alone for good, he’s done it before, to other people. He’s tried, but she’s Steven’s friend and he can’t do that to him. And he knows deep down he actually enjoys her presence and would kill anyone that hurts her then himself. He cannot lie, the kid had a big heart and was incredibly kind and patient. He was a little jealous that her parents were able to make a girl like that because Marc knew he could never produce that level of goodness into the world. He can never come close. She was too good.
Marc dropped the basket on a chair and the trash bag on top of it, letting out a long sigh and putting his hands on his hips. “Why do you want me to go with you?”
Darling’s miserable puppy eyes immediately vanished and she got up from the floor, walking up to him with a huge grin on her face. “Well, first of all, you’re my friend, and I like hanging out with you.” Marc raised one brow and didn’t say anything.
“I found this club with great music and I really want to try it out,” Darling said shrugging.
“Why don’t you go with your friends? People your own age.” Marc asked, his arms now crossed over his chest. “People from my uni are… I never really enjoyed going out with them, sure, nothing terrible happened cuz we always stuck together but uh-” Darling tried to explain and Marc failed to understand why the hell she wanted him to go with her out of all people.
“I’ll just be in the way if I go with you. And I can always pick you up at the end of the night, you know?” Marc said and Darling frowned in confusion, “In the way of what?”
Marc almost laughed in disbelief but held it together, “Don’t you want a boyfriend? No one will get close to you if I’m with you.”
Darling looked unimpressed, “What boyfriend? You mean drunk finance bros with an Andrew Tate mentality? Plus, I don’t do hookups, I have anxiety, mate.” Marc was confused and Darling remembered he wasn’t as chronically online as she was, so he probably had no idea who the abomination of a man was.
“I just want the experience. I just want to dress up and dance all night without men I don’t know breathing down my neck.” Darling explained, picking lint up from her way too big t-shirt with a Pikachu plastered on the front, so she wouldn’t have to look at him in the eyes.
Marc understood and thought about it for a second before picking up the trash bag and walking to the area that was his kitchen and putting it on the floor, next to the bin. “You want me to be your bodyguard?”
Darling’s head snapped up, eyes wide, “No! I mean- Yeah, sure..”
Marc pondered over the thought and asked, “When?”
“This Friday.” Darling quickly answered, smiling big and all, excitement radiating off her in waves.
“Alright, but so you know, I don’t dance.” That’s also what Chad from High School Musical said but go off. Darling knew to keep her mouth shut instead of calling him out.
“Thank you. Thank you so much!” She squealed, jumping up and wrapping her arms around his waist.
“Alright, enough.” He grumbled even though he was smiling, and ripped her away with his hands on her shoulders. “You won’t regret this,” Darling promised and Marc just nodded, he’ll see about that.
“Now, do me a favour,” Marc said, turning around and picking up two trash bags in his hands. “Take out the trash.”
Darling groaned and Marc fixed her with a look and her shoulders slumped, taking the bags out of the door to put them downstairs.
🌙
“How do I look? Be honest.” Darling asked, standing in the corridors as Marc locked his door and shoved the keys in his pockets, his black leather jacket held in his other hand.
Marc straightened his back and analysed her outfit from head to toe. She was wearing a sleeveless, backless sparkly blue top paired with jean shorts and white trainers. Simply put, she looked pretty and it surprised Marc a little, he didn’t know she was capable of wearing anything but washed-out old t-shirts with unhinged slogans on them. It was an addiction at this point, she loved buying the weirdest t-shirts she could find on the internet. She even bought him a t-shirt once that said “I lactate”. And swear to God, Marc almost killed her right then and there. It’s still ranked as one of her “biggest Ws” whatever the fuck that meant.
“Not ugly,” Marc answered flatly and Darling grinned, that was Marc’s way of saying she looked nice.
“And you look great, did Jake pick the clothes?” She asked, looking him over.
“No.” Marc lied and she giggled, because the one who dressed cunty every single time without fail, was Jake, and unfortunately, Marc didn’t possess the level of serve Jake did.
Marc was wearing a black short-sleeved button-up, unbuttoned at the top, where his David’s star necklace glinted against his tan chest, paired with black trousers and black shoes. Simple, clean. His hair was brushed back this time, but still, some curls fell over his forehead no matter how many times he ran his fingers through it.
“Let’s go,” Darling said after checking she had everything she needed in her small handbag.
The two decided to take the underground rather than Jake’s cab because it was faster than being stuck in traffic in central London. It was a bit busy and lots of people looked like they were heading to clubs and pubs for the night, dressed in all sorts of manner. Marc was honestly just looking around and taking everything in, he had never witnessed London’s nightlife like this, maybe saw some things from rooftops while tracking someone, but that didn’t count.
He saw an alarming amount of young men dressed in techs, standing in hoards. And girls wearing matching bodycon dresses. The underground station was hot, extremely loud and stinky. Darling was standing next to him, complaining about the prices that TFL charged. How ridiculously expensive the tube and trains were, even with a student oyster. He just hoped he wouldn’t get a nasty headache by the end of the night.
They hopped on the tube when it came, screeching to a stop, people spilling out of it in crowds. When they got in, they sat across each other as more people sat around them. And if it couldn’t get any louder, a man walked in with a big speaker resting on his shoulder and a cracked iPhone gripped in his other hand. “Bassline Junkie” blasted loudly as he sang along, and soon enough, a group of rowdy teenagers, around Darling’s age, started singing along too. Darling started laughing and Marc watched as the man started approaching them, goading the sitting people to get up and start singing with him. Darling got up and shouted the lyrics at some girls as they sang together. They somehow managed to drag Darling away from her seat, holding each other and singing loudly, multiple phones recording the scene. When they reached their stop, Marc got up and pulled Darling by the hand out of the tube before they missed it.
“BYE!” She shouted over her shoulder, laughing and breathing hard.
Marc let go of her hand and watched her put her hands on her knees, panting and straightening, fixing her hair and looking at Marc with bright eyes, “I’ve never done that before.”
He smiled a little, “Good job.”
“To the club!” Darling pointed in the direction of the gates, pulling Marc by his arm.
When they left the station, Darling let out a shuddering breathing, suddenly feeling very cold in the polluted crisp air of London. Marc noticed and frowned, “Don’t get sick.”
“Wow, thank you, Marc.” Darling rolled her eyes and started walking down the street, Marc following her behind. She turned around, walking backwards, “By the way, I have your jacket so I won’t get sick.”
“I’m not giving you my jacket, dipshit.” Marc said and Darling rolled her eyes, “Yeah, whatever you say.”
They spent 30 minutes trying to figure out where the hell that club was, bickering while following the map on Darling’s phone. At some point, she ended up locking arms with Marc after a rando whistled after her when she walked by and had to physically stop Marc from turning around and bashing the man’s face in.
When they finally reached the club, Darling was so excited and Marc had a hand wrapped around the back of her neck, guiding her through the crowds of people to the bar so they could get a drink in their system first and take in the place. “You’re paying, by the way,” Darling said over the loud music, taking a sip of her cocktail, this drink will probably be her first and last. She didn’t plan on throwing up on the pavement, and she wants to be able to remember tonight.
“You’re the one taking me out, aren’t you supposed to be paying?” Marc asked, leaning in so she could hear him over the music. “I’m paying for kebabs later. 50/50, yeah?” She said and he hummed.
He looked around and noticed how a lot of people were dressed, it faintly reminded him of the early 2000s with twists to fit today’s fashion trends. He could tell that this was the look Darling was going for, then he finally allowed himself to actually hear the music and was surprised when Flo Rida was blasting from the speakers, the floor vibrating under the weight of the bass.
“Come on, let’s dance,” Darling said after she finished her drink and dragged him on the dance floor, drink still in hand. Rihanna was now playing and Marc was a little mortified because he doesn’t remember the last time he danced in a club. Darling gave him encouraging nods while she practised a Just Dance routine without missing a beat as Marc nodded to the music, finishing his drink and trying not to laugh at her and failing miserably.
At some point Darling got rid of his empty glass for him and ran back, almost crashing face-first on his chest if he didn’t catch her. “THAT’S MY SONG!” She shouted over the music and Marc immediately recognised the beat. It was that Usher song that even the aliens from outer space could recognise, the one and only: “Yeah!”. Marc was a little confused because he was sure as hell she wasn’t even born when it came out.
“I WAS BORN TO SERVE CUNT AND SLAY THE CLUB!” She shrieked and Marc knew she must be out of her mind because there’s no way one drink made her say shit like that. He was dragged to the centre of the dance floor and Darling started busting moves he never saw her do, and Marc had to admit, she was a good dancer. But he was a great dancer.
He ran a hand through his curly hair and watched her dance with fire in her eyes. Marc smirked. Alright , if this is how this is going to go, then so be it. He popped another button open from the top of the shirt and rolled his neck, getting his muscles loose, nodding to the beat. Darling watched him as she bounced with the beat and honest to God, Marc started krumping. Krumping in the club.
Darling’s eyes almost popped out of their sockets and she screamed in delight, hyping him up with her whole body, “I knew you could do it!”
He was good. Really good.
So good in fact that the people around them started to notice and the space between them got bigger, creating a clear space where they could see Marc and Darling better. Darling didn’t even notice, her eyes glued to Marc who was absolutely destroying the dance floor. She didn’t even notice the phones pulled out to record the scene. And when it looked like Darling was starting to lose against Marc, a random girl squeezed herself through the crowd, handing Darling her drink and started dancing battling Marc. Darling was losing her mind, laughing and having the time of her life. The crowd hyped both the girl and Marc.
Marc was smiling the whole time, his curls moving this and that way, now falling over his eyes, sticking to his forehead. His face was warm and his necklace kept constantly swinging as he ate up every single person who decided to battle him. In between songs, he kept being offered drinks while Darling kept complimenting his skills. She was proud to get him out of his shell and was genuinely so grateful that everything went as planned. But most importantly, she was proud of him.
Hours later, by the time they left the club, the two were walking down the streets, singing together to a Britney Spears song, arms linked and still warm and sweaty. Darling had Marc’s (Well, it was actually Jake’s) leather jacket draped over her shoulders, keeping her shielded from the cold wind. Meanwhile, Marc may as well unbutton his shirt all the way down and take it off because it was sticking to him and a huge, very generous chunk of his chest could be seen, still shining with drying sweat. His hair was a little crazy because no matter what he tried to do, it refused to stay still and he didn’t have anything to hold it with. But that’s alright, he looked very pretty and he had a great time to care about his hair at the moment.
The two made their way to the first kebab place they saw. “What do you want?” She asked, looking at the old and worn menu above the counter, on the wall. “A number 2.”
“Bossman, let me get two number 2s and two Coke Zero’s.” Darling said and the man nodded, “£22.98, please.” Darling reached for her purse. “I got it,” Marc said, digging in his pocket for notes before she had the chance to protest.
“I was going to pay.” She mumbled, rubbing her eyes, feeling tired.
“You can pay next time.” He said, patting her head.
“You always say that and you never let me.” She complained, leaning her weight against him, cheek squished against his warm arm. “Yeah, yeah.” Marc checked his phone for any notifications and scrolled a bit while waiting for their food to be done. When they got their food, they left the joint because there were literally no seats in there, you just collect your food and leave. Marc held the plastic bag in one hand and wrapped the other around Darling’s shoulder just in case she tripped, she didn’t drink much but she exhausted herself to the bone, and he didn’t want to end up in the ER looking after her.
“Do you want to eat in the tube?” He asked.
“No, I’ll get sick. Aren’t there any chairs anywhere?” She asked.
Marc hummed and looked around, spotting a park? A garden? It was really small and fenced, and in the middle, there was a big statue of a man Marc couldn’t recognise. He walked closer and saw that there was an empty bench inside. Perfect.
They got settled down, Marc unwrapped their food and Darling complained about the cold bench against her thighs. “Sit on the jacket.” He said, opening his Coke and taking a sip.
“But then my back will touch the bench.” She complained and Marc rolled his eyes.
“Just eat your food.” He said and they dug in.
They didn’t speak for a long time, both looking up at the dark sky. There were no stars to be seen due to the city lights, but they could see the moon and the clouds. It was as peaceful as London could get. When they were done, they collected the trash in the plastic bag but didn’t move, still sitting on the bench, looking at the moon together. “Uhm-” Marc spoke and Darling turned to look at him. As soon as she met his eyes, he snapped his mouth shut.
Darling didn’t say anything, just looked at him with an open expression, eyes heavy-lidded due to sleepiness. Marc licked his lower lip and parted his lips to speak but nothing came out. So instead, he opted for squeezing one of her knees in his warm hand, trying to make her understand what he was trying to say with his eyes.
He wanted to say thank you. He wanted to say that he appreciated her taking him out with her. He appreciated her patience and kindness. He appreciated how she never judged him for being himself. How she was brave and strong and didn’t get scared easily.
And Darling understood.
🌙
It was around 12 in the afternoon the next day when Darling got a text message from one of her uni friends. She frowned in confusion, she usually never received any messages from them during the weekends. She put her spoon in her cereal bowl as she chewed, and paused the YouTube video she was watching on her laptop.
Darling opened the message. It was two messages actually, one of them read, “Is this you?” And the other was a link.
She suddenly felt scared as her finger hovered over the link, she was sure she had a good digital footprint. I mean, she had profiles where family and friends followed, and she also had separate accounts online where she caused havoc without revealing her identity. And she was sure there was no way anyone she knew in real life could find her accounts and link them to her. She was careful.
Darling opened the link and instead of loading in a browser tab, it opened the TikTok app. Now, what the hell is this?
At first, she didn’t know what she was looking at, but her brain caught on and she felt like screaming. It was a video of the day before, from the club. There she was dancing battling Marc in the middle of the circle. Her jaw was on the floor, she couldn’t believe her eyes. Then she looked at the likes and screamed because why did it have 2M likes?
Her finger pressed the comment section before she could think and was flooded with comments like “This is what I mean when I say I want to go to the club”, “Okay but why did he eat?”, “Where is this??”, “Get this man in a Step Up movie NOW”, “Goo Goo Ga Ga”.
Darling leapt off the bed laughing and scrambled out of her flat, phone in hand. She didn’t even bother to wear slippers and instead ran over next door, Steven’s door, knocking quickly. When the door didn’t open in a millisecond, she turned the doorknob and walked inside without bothering to shut the door properly behind her, “Marc, you have to see this!”
Marc was in bed, shirtless and wearing a pair of loose PJ bottoms, wearing his reading glasses as he read his book. Well, he wasn’t reading it now . He was looking at Darling with an annoyed expression. She ignored it and ran to him, but not without throwing a quick “Hi, Gus” to the tank. She dived knees first on his bed and he sighed, slamming his book shut and placing it on the bedside table.
“What do you want?”
“Look!” She held her phone in front of his face and he tried to comprehend what he was looking at. Darling saw the moment he realised what it was, he grabbed the phone with both hands, a look of horror plastered on his face. “All of London saw the video. You’re viral, Marc.”
“Delete it.” He said without ripping his eyes from the screen.
“What?” Darling frowned.
“Delete it. Right now.” He repeated.
“It’s not my video. I can’t delete it.” Darling said and Marc dropped the phone in his lap, gathering his head in his hands, groaning. He truly had fun, but he didn’t know how he felt about all of London seeing this video.
Darling picked up her phone again, “I’m going to send it to DuChamp, he’s going to love it.”
Marc screamed and ripped the phone away from her hands, scaring her. She got scared not because he had taken her phone but because she never heard the man scream before. “Give it back!” She said, trying to grab her phone but Marc didn’t let her. It was a struggle because not only Marc was stronger, way stronger, but he wasn’t wearing a t-shirt so she didn’t have any grip on him, except his shoulders and hair. But she knew if she even thought about pulling his hair he’d throw her out of the window. “I’m going to report the video so it can be taken down.” He said and Darling gasped, “You don’t even know how to do that! You never used TikTok in your life, boomer!”
“Watch me,” Marc said through gritted teeth as Darling struggled against him, then she somehow managed to wrap her arms around his free arm and threw herself down on the bed, back first and swung her legs up to wrap them around his head, choking him. Marc let out a surprised shout, his eyes sent 500 million invisible daggers to Darling. He threw the phone down on the floor, out of her reach and lifted her off the bed, her legs still wrapped around his neck and she screamed when he flipped them around and slammed her down on the bed, head first, WWE style.
The two kept wrestling and clawing at each other until Darling ended up in a headlock, Marc squishing her body on the bed with his whole weight, “Help!” She wheezed, clawing at him, trying to get away from him. “Quit it.” He hissed as she tried to kick him with the heel of her foot on his ass.
A cough startled the two out of their fight, both of them looked up and Marc froze.
“What are you…doing?” Layla asked, looking at Marc, then back down at Darling. She had her phone in her hand, and a big Tesco shopping bag in the other. God bless her heart, she brought her disaster of not-technically-divorced husband groceries.
“Oooh, is that the bad bitch you fumbled-”
🌙
Tag list (pls ask to be added or removed): @bobastayhigh @weblesstherains @h-leigh @unspokenmoon @ahookedheroespureheart @thursdaywritings @gebstargeb @softieekayy @fem-moony @peachjellypackets @pakhiya @darlinglittledevil @anixluxtt @mrs-cupidd @gebgeb @poeticabomination
this work is part of the "I'm friends with the moon" series. You can read it as a stand-alone or delve deeper into this AU.
#moon knight#mr knight#marc spector#steven grant#jake lockley#layla el faouly#moon system#moon boys#moon knight system#moon knight fic#moon knight funny#marvel moon knight#moon knight fanfic#moon knight 2022#moon knight fanfiction#moon knight fluff#moon knight imagine#moon knight mcu#moon knight x reader#moon knight x you#moon knight x y/n#marc spector x y/n#marc spector x you#marc spector x reader#marc spector x f!reader
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The sun and the moon
🌙Pairing-Moon boys x f!reader x Khonshu x Hathor
🌔Summary- You, a long lost descendant of Hathor, crosses paths with Moon Knight. A chance for Khonshu to reconcile with his past and a chance for the boys to have a future.
🌒CW-18+,MDNI, Explicit smut, angst, hurt, comfort, canon typical violence, god and goddess powers, mentions of parental abuse, past domestic abuse (not physical), healing old wounds, healing your inner child, eventual happy ending.
WK-1.2K
A/N- This idea has been bouncing around in my head for months and now I’m finally tackling it. Don’t have a set schedule for posting or an idea for how many chapters so it should be a wild ride for my moon babes.
Not beta read
[Series Masterlist][Moon Knight Masterlist]
Prologue
He steps into the coffee shop holding a newspaper over his head to shield himself from the rain. He’s sporting that scowl between his brows as he grumbles under his breath.
He takes his fingers through his hair trying as best he can to smooth his hair out of his face. No flat cap today.
The barista doesn’t understand as she tries to make conversation. It was so obvious to you in the beginning and yet people who greet him everyday don’t even notice.
Hmmm coffee with sugar today…interesting.
He says something to the mirror next to the register about buying a new coffee pot as he taps his foot and waits. His arms crossed as he scanned the room.
It’s Pavlovian the way he drifts to you and sits next to your table. The one he doesn’t even know is saved for him.
“This tastes like crap.” He sets the mug down like it personally offended him.
“You’re a little nicer when you have tea.” Marc looks over at you, but you don’t look up from your book. “Although decidedly more grumpy than when you have black coffee.”
He clears his throat a little before speaking. “I’m sorry, did you say something to me?”
You pick up your pressed sunflower bookmark and place it gently between the pages. “You’re much nicer on the days you have tea.”
He feels warm suddenly, when your eyes meet him. The heat is almost too much as he shucks off his jacket. Maybe the coffee was stronger than he thought because he’s sure he can hear his own heartbeat.
Steven did tell him to take a break.
You smile at him and place the book in your bag as you stand from the corner table and exit. You squeeze his shoulder once as you wave goodbye to the barista.
He stares down at where your hand was, it’s seared into him. Like the ache from a sunburn.
Well that settles that mate
“Settles what?”
She has that effect on all of us
****
He doesn’t know how long it’s been.
When he sees you again and recognizes the barista as she smiles at him. Her cheeks are red and she stammers a little over her words.
He can’t focus on anything but that table next to you. He wants to get to that table before anyone else does.
You can tell it’s him when he walks in. His hair is combed back and he’s wearing that black jacket you love that fits him like a glove.
Your eyes flit briefly to the register where the girl who is absolutely smitten with them tries to compose herself enough to not ruin his coffee again.
He’s nervous
There’s two open tables, the one next to you and one by the drafty door. You meet his eyes as he weighs his options while he waits for the girl to finish his coffee.
There's that warmth again, it’s too hot in here. He removes his jacket and sheepishly heads toward you. He gently places it in the seat beside your corner table that looks out onto the street.
“I would never let anyone take your spot.” He’s certain this time, you’re speaking to him. You don’t look up from your book The art and architecture of ancient Egypt.
They call his name twice before he heads back to the counter to collect his coffee.
You take a few notes and bite down on your pen as you think of what to say next. He can see the indentation where you bite the pen. The way your lips rest carefully on the edge. The way your brow furrows when you’re thinking.
He finds himself exactly where he wants to be in his seat. With nothing to say.
The hot coffee somehow cools him down from the flames burning inside. He closes his eyes and is drawn back to the last time he remembered it tasting this good.
When he opens them again you’re smiling at the barista shooting her a thumbs up as she claps her hands in delight.
He swallows thickly, he’s never been this nervous. Not even as moon knight.
“I’ve seen that book before.” His voice somehow sounds foreign even to him.
You flip it over and glance at the back and laugh. A sound he could definitely get used to.
“I would hope so, Steven let me borrow it.”
She’s almost finished it, I just gave it to her a few days ago.
You resume your book as if you didn’t just say the most earth shattering thing for his fragile mind to hear. It shouldn’t come as a surprise with how comfortable you are in his presence.
You know he’s dangling off a cliff and you might as well just give him that push he needs to let go.
“That reminds me.” You dig through your bag for a moment before sliding a small leather bag toward him. “I haven’t seen Jake in a few days, it looked like he might need it.”
Marc shakily opens the bag to reveal a leather patch kit. He takes three deep breaths before zipping it closed.
If you’re going to sit there like an idiota at least say thank you.
“Jake said thank you.” Shit. Why would he say that out loud?
“De nada.”
You know.
Sì she knows.
Was he that closed off after Layla that they didn’t want him to meet you? Maybe they were scared he’d run you away. It’s shocking to have Jake partnering with Steven to keep secrets from him.
Then again, maybe you weren’t a secret.
You can tell he’s genuinely surprised and a little uncomfortable but Steven and Jake told you that was to be expected. This is the longest conversation you’ve had with him, where he didn’t recede from the front.
Long enough for him to finally start opening up to you. Asking your name and how long you’ve known him, them.
You and Steven bonded over tea and your love for ancient Egypt. He was helping you prepare for your interview with the museum to become a curator.
Jake would give you rides to the library or home, when the weather was particularly bad.
He can place it now…that scent that lingers on his clothes from time to time. Your perfume, a mixture of vanilla and lavender. It’s overwhelming his senses now as you lean in and laugh at some off handed remark he said.
You must be comfortable enough to hug them, to press your body close to theirs. Close enough to leave a trace of you on them for days on end. It’s exhilarating and maddening all at once…to know he’s closed himself off from you for so long that you’re practically strangers.
Except you aren’t.
You’re much more than that. The way you reach over and trace a new scar on his brow. Staring at it like it personally offended you. Your touch burns and lingers long after you’ve placed them back in your lap. The look on your face like you’ve possibly crossed some boundary with him. He desperately wants you to touch him again. To leave a mark not unlike his scars.
“I thought he was supposed to heal you?”
It’s evident he’s missed more days with you than he can conceive. He can feel his chest constricting even before the words leave his mouth. “Who?”
“Khonshu.”
The bird looks on from a building high above the street. He’s not sure how you could’ve forgotten that you’re the one who’s supposed to heal them.
🌕Comments and reblogs are much appreciated 🌒
Taglist- @chichimisaki @missdictatorme @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @queerponcho @melodygatesauthor
#moon knight series#moon knight fanfiction#moon knight fic#moon boys#moon knight au#moon knight x you#khonshu x reader#Hathor x reader#steven grant x fem!reader#jake lockley x reader#marc spector x fem!reader#jake lockley fluff#steven grant fluff#marc spector x f!reader#marc spector angst#marc spector x reader#steven grant x f!reader#steven grant smut#marc spector smut#oscar issac characters
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✧ MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT ✧
a/n: this fic is without a doubt probably the filthiest thing i've ever written. i had to pause when i was writing cause i felt like i was getting too unhinged. but it's marc spector so are we really surprised i wrote my filthiest thing with him? a massive thank you to @sunflowersteves for beta reading it for me (and screaming with me).
day five - guided masturbation + intercrural sex | kinktober 2023
summary: "in fact you were used to sleep evading you, but something about falling asleep in their bed made things better."
word count: 1.2k+
pairing: marc spector x f!reader
warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, sleep deprivation, exhaustion, intercrural sex, guided masturbation, cumplay sort of, minor dirty talk.
The alarm clock on the side of the bed was taunting you—laughing at how you couldn’t fall asleep. Part of you wanted to chuck it into the other room and be done with it, but you knew Steven had to get up the next morning. He couldn’t risk being late for work again. Which meant you were stuck, staring at the red glowing numbers in the dark—watching them flip higher every minute.
You had been fighting sleep for an hour yet nothing seemed to be helping. No amount of counting sheep, tossing and turning, or even trying to read one of Steven’s history books helped you. So there you were. Stuck in an exhausted haze, waiting for your body to eventually shut down.
This wasn’t abnormal by any means. In fact you were used to sleep evading you, but something about falling asleep in their bed made things better. When you were here, you found that your body melted into the soft sheets—your mind finally settling down. Tonight however seemed to be the exception.
“Dammit,” you sighed, twisting over to your side and trying to force your eyes to stay shut.
A groan sounded behind you—thick with sleep. It caused you to freeze, your body stiffening for fear of waking up Steven. That is until an arm wrapped around your waist, dragging you back towards the hard body behind you—the warm breath you knew now hitting the back of your neck. His nose nudging into your hair. The sensation was soft, achingly familiar, and you fell into his hold without any fight. Already knowing he was seeking you out in his sleep.
That is until—
“You keep tossing and turning and I’ll have to tie you down,” he joked, sighing against your neck.
The voice was so clearly American, meaning you hadn’t disturbed Steven, but instead woken up the man who might be able to help you sleep.
“Sorry,” you whispered, feeling his palm slide along your stomach. “I couldn’t sleep. Brain’s too wired.”
He mumbled something too low for you to hear—his body shifting even closer, the warmth seeping into your skin. “Should have said something baby.”
You sighed, body shivering, when his hand skated lower, dipping beneath the oversized shirt you wore. “Didn’t—oh—want to wake up Steven.”
The grin against your neck was prominent as his fingers trailed along your now wet panties. “Steven’s asleep.”
“I didn’t know—”
He slipped under the fabric, fingers sliding through your slick and groaning at the feel of it. “Fuck you’re soaked.”
Something shifted in the air, sparking to life as he circled your clit and suddenly you didn’t want to sleep. Instead you allowed the feeling he brought out to consume you—wrapping you up in its hold so tight you’d never be able to escape. Yet you didn’t want to. You wanted to drown in the sensations—allow your entire self to be nothing but this.
He grunted, shifting behind you as he shoved down his sweats—the feeling of his hard cock pressing against your lower back sending shivers down your spine. Your mouth went dry, heart racing as he maneuvered you, his hand cupping your breast in his palm. Rolling his thumb over your hardened nipple.
“Alright baby,” he said—the rasp evident in his voice. “Wanna try something?”
You nodded frantically, willing to do whatever he asked of you. Marc often took control when it came to sex, but you weren’t one to argue. You trusted him, felt safe within his hold, and that was all you needed. All you wanted.
His hand slipped down, grasping yours and leading it down to your throbbing clit. Just the slight touch of your fingers had a moan tumbling from your lips—your body alight with that burning flame that threatened to consume you. Something about following his lead only heightened every single touch. Turning you into a pliable version of yourself. Someone he could mold.
“F-Fuck,” you whimpered, grinding back against him as he held your hand still, barely brushing where you needed it most. “Marc I need—”
Teeth scraped your ear, his hand shifting your hips back. “I know what you need. I’ve got you baby.”
His cock slid between your thighs and you could feel your pussy gush, coating your skin in slick as he fitted himself closer. A soft grunt echoed in your ear when he thrusted forward, his hand pushing yours down finally. He guided you towards your clit, letting you gather up the wetness that practically leaked from you—swirling it around the aching nub.
“That’s it,” he grunted, shifting forward and sliding between your thighs with ease. “Touch yourself for me.”
You moaned raggedly, fingers gripping the sheets as you followed his lead, rubbing figure eights along your clit as his cock continued to fuck the soft meat of your thighs. The sounds that reverberated through his chest right into yours made your body shake. A new kind of high building with every swipe of your fingers.
“M-Marc I’m—” You gasped, eyes squeezing shut. “Fuck, fuck—”
“Yeah?”
Something pulled tight in your stomach, spreading throughout your body and nearly sending you over the edge, but Marc had other ideas. Rolling onto his back, he dragged you with him until you lay on top of him. Your body pressing him down into the mattress. A yelp escaped you, but it was quick to shift into a moan when he wrapped his legs around your thighs, keeping you right where he wanted you.
“Other hand,” he panted into your ear, gripping both of your hands now and leading them to your aching cunt. “That’s it.”
“Oh—fuck—” you garbled, bucking into your touch when he sunk two of your fingers into your entrance, keeping the pace as he gripped your wrist.
He thrusted up, the head of his cock peeking out—precum dripping along the top of your thigh. Heat spilled through your body, curling tightly around your nerves and nearly setting you aflame as he continued. Bringing you even higher than you expected. Moans tore from your throat, echoing off the walls of the flat, which only seemed to spur him on further. A throaty groan was pressed to your neck, his lips sliding along the sticky skin damp with sweat—his tongue licking up the salty taste.
“Gonna cum,” he grunted, plunging two of his own fingers into your cunt. “Wanna feel you.”
His name was a ragged sob on your lips, your eyes rolling back when his fingers curled perfectly, nudging along the spongy part of your walls. He sped up, fucking your thighs as if he was buried inside of you until you felt it. The hot sensation of his cum spurting along your thigh, coating your already wet pussy as he lost himself in bliss.
Your breath caught in your chest, eyes squeezing shut as you followed him, a searing heat burning through you. He continued to pump his fingers, drawing you even higher until a loud shout bounced off the walls. No doubt alerting Steven’s neighbors to what was happening. He smiled, kissing your jaw when you came down, practically melting into his hold and sinking against his body.
“That was…” You panted, reaching for his hand that trailed shapes along your stomach.
“You tired now?”
You smiled. “Yeah.”
“Good,” he breathed, nipping at your jaw. “Go to sleep baby. I’ll clean you up.”
“But Steven—”
“Will wake up when his alarm goes off.”
You nodded, allowing your eyes to slip closed, sleep pulling you in softly. But not before you heard him mutter three words against your ear, his arms tightening around your torso.
#marc spector x f!reader#marc spector x reader#marc spector x you#marc spector x y/n#marc spector smut#marc spector#moon knight fic#moon knight smut#my writing#kinktober 2023
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Baking Lessons (Marc Spector x f!Reader) 18+
Summary: Marc Spector can’t bake, but for you he’ll try. You and Marc bake cookies together... among other things.
Angst, fluff, smut (the big three)
Pairing: Marc Spector x f!reader, hint of Jake Lockley and Steven Grant x f!reader
Warnings: Sad Marc, DID, Oral sex (f receiving), Not edited
A/N: I just think Marc needs some more love, and I’ve been baking to deal with stress. I’m still working on requests, so if you’re waiting for one, it is coming!
--
Marc Spector has no idea what he’s doing. There’s an egg about to roll off the counter, and he reaches out and catches it with the instincts of a superhero.
Because that’s what he is - a superhero not a baker. Except that for you he’ll be anyone, do anything. That includes telling Khonshu to fuck off for the night so he can bake chocolate chip cookies and try to have a nice date with you. You who have been talking about these stupid cookies all week but have had no time to make them.
He sighs and returns the egg to it’s container. This is useless. He wanted to do something nice for you, but all he’s accomplished is making three trips to the store.
“Just fuck. That always goes over well.”
“Jake, mate,” Steven sighs. “He’s trying to be romantic, considerate, show his love.”
Marc ignores their squabbling, turning back to the recipe on the back of the chocolate chip bag. Flour, salt, butter. No milk. Why the hell does he have milk out then? He picks up the carton and fixes it with a harsh stare like it’s the milk’s fault for messing this all up.
That is how you find Marc when you come home. You walk into the kitchen and sit on the table, legs dangling in the air while you watch Marc stare down a carton of milk.
“What did it do?” You ask when you realize he hasn’t noticed you.
He turns, and his eyes glow with moonlight for the briefest instant before he realizes it’s just you. His harsh, irritated expression turns into something else as he looks you up and down.
“You’re early,” he mutters.
“It’s five-thirty,” you reply with a laugh; it’s the same time you always get home.
He glances at the clock, “Shit!”
You’re still trying to figure out what emotion he’s wearing as he returns the milk to the fridge and runs his hands through his curly hair. Frustration. Maybe a hint of sadness. Disappointment, but with who? Knowing Marc, probably himself.
“Marc,” any hint of humor is gone. “Are you alright?”
“I’m-” his throat bobs as he swallows hard. “I’m fine.”
Your gaze catches the bag of chocolate chips behind him, something you know for a fact was not in your apartment prior to today. You know because you had searched for them desperately for days and craving chocolate chip cookies more than anything in the world for the last week. Marc follows your gaze, and when you meet his eyes the words come spilling from his mouth.
“I wanted to make you these stupid cookies. You talk about them every night, and you’re always doing so much for us, for me, and- and I wanted to do something for you.”
Marc’s lips are falling into that little frown that means he’s about to cry. This isn’t about chocolate chip cookies or Marc’s lack of cooking skills, you know that. Marc isn’t the type of man to be driven to tears by a failed baking experiment. He is the type of man who feels like he can never be enough, never be good enough for the people he loves.
Marc is glancing at the reflective surface of the microwave; you know he is trying to get Steven, or maybe Jake, to front right now.
“Marc,” you reach for his hand and pull him close to you.
Before you can utter another word, he buries his face in your neck. His arms circle your waist, holding tightly. He is shaking, crying. Only a few times have you seen him this vulnerable, and each time Marc had made Steven front to avoid this exact situation.
You wrap an arm over his shoulder and run your free hand through his soft curls.
“You do so much,” you murmur. “It means a lot that you thought of me.”
He holds you tighter but doesn’t respond. His body is warm against you as he cries, and you can only stroke his hair, sometimes brushing your fingers across his cheek or jaw. The soft press of his lips to your neck makes you shiver. It tickles. He does it again, then again, then leans back. A few tears are running down his face, and you reach out to brush them off. You hold his face between your hands, but he’s not looking at you.
“You are enough, Marc Spector. I love you, and you are enough.”
“I really tried,” he eventually whispers and looks up at you through his lashes.
You move a stray curl from his eyes and kiss his forehead, kiss his nose, kiss his lips. His cheek, his jaw, the lines around his eyes. You pepper kisses everywhere, the best way you know to show this man love, until he grabs your face and kisses you with a bruising intensity. Marc works his lips against yours, molding your bodies together until you’re both panting and he pulls back. His hands rest on your hips, your hands on his chest.
“You’re wonderful,” he smiles, and though his eyes are still red-rimmed, you can tell he’s back from that dark place of self-hatred. “I love you.”
The curl is back, the dark hair always falling across his forehead no matter what he does. Cookie ingredients are still spread out on the counter behind him, and though you would love to take this handsome man to bed right now and spend the rest of the evening tangled up with him, the temptation of the cookies is too strong.
“I can teach you how to make them,” you nod to the ingredients. “We can do it together.”
Marc slides you off the table and kisses you on top of the head.
“Okay. Teach me.”
You set Marc up measuring dry ingredients into a bowl while you pour sugar and crack eggs. You laugh when he bumps his hip into the counter, swears, spills the bag of flour everywhere.
“You think that’s funny,” he growls, eyes shining with amusement; he loves how you laugh.
“I though you’d be more graceful, Moon Knight,” you tease, grinning.
Mischief flashes across his face, and he grasps a fistful of spilled flour. You jump back, but he smears flour across your face, spilling it down the front of your shirt.
“Marc!” You protest, but it is half-hearted.
Any further arguments are cut off by his kiss. His dirty hands leave prints all over your body as he presses you into the counter, peppering your face with soft kisses until he finds your lips. If not for the beep of the oven you would have kissed Marc Spector all night. He leans back at the sound, and you duck under his arm to get back to baking.
Marc slides up behind you, holding you around the waist with his chin on your shoulder so he can watch you work. He kisses your cheek each time you move, and when it’s time he adds ingredients to your bowl as you stir, his arms still trapping you against the counter.
“Chocolate chips,” you request.
Reluctantly, Marc moves away to find the package of chocolate and adds it to the dough. His dark hair is now smeared with flour, so is his face and his clothes. You’re probably no better off, but seeing the usually tough man covered in baking ingredients and wearing a goofy grin makes your heart flutter.
“Now what?” Marc asks.
There’s no cookie scoop in the apartment, so you hand him a small spoon. You show him how to scoop the dough and roll it into a ball. As you slide the cookies into the oven and set a timer, you notice Marc starting to take the bowl to the sink.
“Wait!” You call.
He turns back to you with that one eyebrow curved up.
“We’re supposed to eat that.”
“The raw cookie dough?” He questions.
You nod and pluck the bowl from his hands, scooping out a bit with your spoon, and popping it in your mouth with an innocent smile. He is fixated on your lips.
“Focus, Spector,” you tease; you’re fully aware of what thoughts you have evoked in your boyfriend as you offer him the spoon. “Cookie dough?”
“Not what I’m hungry for,” his voice has dropped to a low rumble as he smirks down at you.
If his earlier softness went right to your heart, this goes right to your pussy.
“There’s only seven minutes on the timer,” you warn.
“I can work with that,” he grabs the bowl from your hand and tosses it onto the counter. “Bed.”
Marc has you out of your pants and flat on your back in seconds. He pulls you closer to the edge of the bed so your legs dangle over the edge, and he kneels between them. His eyes are dark as he palms your thighs, his breath tickling your center as he looks to you for confirmation, consent.
You nod, and just like that Marc buries his face in your cunt. He’s licking and sucking, using his tongue with a skill that always shocks you. His broad nose brushes against your clit, and for a second you’re distracted by the question of how he breathes when he’s going down on you. It’s just for a second because a moment later his tongue is flicking at your clit, drawing delightful little circles that have you squirming.
Marc is absolutely smirking as you meet his eyes and a soft breathy sound escapes your throat unbidden. Warmth coils in your stomach as he devours you like he is a starving man. You’re so close. He leaves one hand at your thigh, keeping your legs apart, and uses the other to push two fingers into you with a slowness that is borderline torturous.
“Fuck,” you whimper and reach for his hair, getting a handful of those soft dark locks much to Marc’s delight.
He curls his fingers and presses deeply into you even as his mouth settles over that spot you love. You can feel that tension building and building, warmth pooling in your stomach.
There’s a roaring in your ears as you cum, throwing your head back, shutting your eyes, twitching around his fingers and moaning his name quietly, your whole body shaking as that warmth spreads out from your center. He fucks you right through it, only pulling back when the pulsing has stopped and you begin to squirm away from the over-stimulation.
The timer beeps just as he sits back. Timer? Shit. You’d forgotten about the cookies.
“I got ‘em,” Marc presses a kiss to your inner thigh and stands while you simply lay back and catch your breath.
Water runs. The oven door opens. The stove beeps. A few seconds later, Marc flops heavily into bed. You peek your eyes open to look at him. He has a cookie broken in half, offering part to you. You turn on your side to look at Marc, taking the cookie but really focused on the former mercenary whose eyes are wide with delight as he bites into the desert, chocolate smearing his lips as he chews.
You would stop the Earth from spinning to see that look on Marc’s face again.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” He finally notices your expression.
“You have chocolate,” you answer awkwardly to evade the question and gesture to his lips.
His smile is mischievous as he leans forward, kissing your cheek and leaving a chocolate stain on your skin.
“Marc!”
“Why are you looking at me like that?” He repeats the question.
“You look happy,” you whisper.
He pushes you onto your back and tucks his head into your shoulder, smiling against you.
“I am happy.”
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#moon knight#moon knight fanfic#steven grant#marc spector#jake lockley#marc spector fanfic#marc spector smut#marc spector x reader#marc spector fluff#marc spector angst#marc spector x f!reader#marc spector imagine#marc spector x you#moon knight x reader#moon knight x you#moon knight imagine#oscar isaac#can you tell i'm obsessed with this mans nose#and hair#oscar isaac fanfic
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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
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