#Marc Spector X f!Reader

[lonelyisamyw-0love]

Oh....OOOOHHH my fucking heart!!!!

I love this slow gentle intimacy

Day 7: of @flightlessangelwings fawktober!

Marc had a rough night, you find him in the morning and give him what he needs.

Themes: Slow and Soft, angsty!Marc, f!reader, established relationship, pinv, on the kitchen counter, creampie

“Hey, what happened I didn’t hear you come in last night.” You say groggily as you rub the sleep from your eyes, your oversized t-shirt barely concealing your lack of bottoms. You usually woke up whenever one of them would slip into bed with you but last night they never came home. Walking out into the morning light streaming into your flat you caught the trademark tension on that beautiful face that told you Marc was in control.

“Didn’t wanna wake you.” He say gruffly as he continued to quietly put away dishes. You came up behind him, slipping your arms around his chest and squeezing lightly.

“But I missed you.” You pouted and placed soft kisses across his tanned skin. His muscles tensed under your lips as he let out a sigh. “Hey, look at me.” He tried to shrug off your affection and continue with his task but you took him by the edge of his boxers and turned him around. “Baby please.” You said softly as you caressed his cheek. His eyes looked down at your chest, avoiding your gaze.

“I’m fine, really.” He said through his teeth. You felt his jaw clench beneath your touch as you stroked his cheek with your thumb. But when his gaze met yours there were tears at the edges and he bit his bottom lip to keep it from quivering. His mahogany eyes flickered away again and for a moment you thought he was about to take a backseat and force Steven out.

“Marc stay, I want to spend time with you.” You pleaded. His brows furrowed as if he couldn’t understand why, but your tender kiss helped anchor him to the moment. Soft at first your lips pressed against his. The warmth juxtaposed the tension you still felt in his jaw as you worked to melt it. “Please.” You whispered against his lips. His tongue dragged along the seam of your lips and you happily obliged opening up for him.

He groaned as he deepened the kiss further. Entwining his fingers in your hair he moved until your rear was pressed against the island countertop. In an instant his hands left your hair and lifted you onto it, the cool stone set your skin to goose flesh as it pressed against your damp core.

Marc slotted himself between your legs and began rutting against you, a damp spot forming on the front of his boxers with your wetness. You smiled a bit as you moved the thin bit of fabric separating you and your moans met his as his length slid against your folds. He churned his hips slowly, savoring the sensation of your slickness against him. The heat and pressure of his fat tip rubbing against your clit quickly sent your breathing into a ragged pace.

You managed to snake your hand between you and slotted his tip against your entrance. In short strokes he began to work his way into you, stretching you slowly and swallowing your whimpers and groans as your kisses deepened. He continued his languid pace, both his tongue and cock taking their time to explore your body they were already deeply familiar with.

For the next hour he continued that pace, holding you flush against him and taking you tenderly. In his own way it was his apology for not joining you the night before. In your own way enjoying that pace and not begging for something rougher was showing him you loved every facet of him. Especially this tender side he so rarely showed.

The climaxes you both reached weren’t as spirited or fast as the many you’ve had in your relationship with them. Like a slow roll of thunder your orgasm rumbled through your nerves as he finally seated himself as deep as he could and filled you. You both remained entwined in the kitchen, holding one another as your breathing steadied and any outside worries remained at bay.

—————

Taglist: @melodygatesauthor @lunar-ghoulie @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

[lostalioth]

𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧

→ premise: marc could get possessive, very possessive infact and when that happens he cant seem to hold back.

→ pairing: marc sceptor x fem!reader

→ warnings: smut | 18+, face sitting, thigh biting, oral [f receiving], nicknames [mine, my girl, sweetheart], possessiveness,

→ a/n: kinktober 06

Marc tended to be a little hotheaded and possessive when it came to matters involving you. It was normally Steven taking the brunt of it, though it made no real sense for him to get jealous. Though in instances that didn’t involve Steven, you were normally able to pull him aside and calm him down.

this was not currently one of those times, the two of you were attending a work party at your office. A coworker of yours had practically pulled you from Marc's arms to go talk. Though his version of talking was him flirting relentlessly and trying his hardest to get you to leave the party with him.

By the time Marc found you again, he was seething in anger at the man. As he walks up he starts noticing your coworker was flirting with you and trying to touch you. Marc had been tired and ready to go home so he let his possessive nature take over, though he knew once it did it was hard to shut off.

“Yeah, hey bud she's with me and we're leaving now” he nearly growls out at the man as his hand snakes its way around your waist when he walks up next to you. His sudden and fuming presence beside you makes you jump slightly though you were grateful for the save.

With a small scoff and not so cleverly hidden eye roll, your sleazy coworker stomps off. You barely have time to question the latter half of Marc’s statement about leaving before he rushes you towards the exit.

The ride home is silent besides the soft hum of the car and the sounds of the night flooding the air through your open window. Marc tight knuckled the steering wheel, his jaw clenched as his gaze was fixed to the road ahead. You’d normally be worried or scared in a moment like this with someone else, but with Marc you knew he wasn't mad at you. He was protective as well as possessive and so he was more pissed off at your scumbag coworker who didn't seem to grasp the concept that you were taken. You were sat clenching your thighs, he looked so good in that damn button up shirt you made him wear to the party that you were ready to stay home, so you were more than happy to be headed back.

In the blink of an eye you’ve made it back home and Marc is quick to jump out of the car and rip open the passenger car door, pulling you out of the seat and throwing you over his shoulder. “Guess I’ve just gotta mark you up sweetheart, that way you go into work tomorrow and all those men you work with know you’re my girl” he explains as he walks towards the house, holding you up on his shoulder with one hand on your waist and the other across your thighs right under your ass. You loved when he marked you, proudly showing them off when you could, though you could never show them off at work sadly, and he knew that.

“Marc I could’ve just walked inside on my own- hey!” He cuts off your protest with a short but solid smack to your ass.

You let out a huff and try to ignore the ache settling deep in your core at the action, your pussy already aching for his touch. You’ve never told him although he already knew that you secretly liked it a lot when he’d get like this. It made you feel wanted, even if Marc had no problem telling you and showing you in a million and one other ways just how much he wanted and loved you.

You let out a squeal when Marc drops you on your back onto your shared bed, you bounce slightly catching yourself by leaning back onto your elbows. Marc stands at the foot of the bed, eyes already full of lust and lidded as they raked over your body. “Strip sweetheart, you’re gonna sit on my face” he commands, his voice oozing with impatience.

You move fast to peel your clothes off along with your soaked panties, quickly un-clipping your bra and letting It fall off your shoulders, discarding it all on your bedroom floor. He's on you within the blink of an eye, maneuvering your bodies so he is laid out on his back, your thighs either side of his head and your pussy hovering over his face.

“My girl, all fucking mine nobody else’s” he growls and grabs ahold of your leg, opening his mouth and biting the inner plush of your thigh. You let out a gasp in both surprise and slight pain, squirming in his grip. He switches over to your other thigh when he is satisfied with the mark his teeth leave behind. He hums against your thigh as he bites down, rubbing softly at your leg to try and soothe you. The pain morphs into pleasure the more you get used to it, the indents of his teeth in your thigh makes your core tighten.

While you're lost in your own train of thought, Marc’s mouth lets go of your thigh with a small pop. He licks over the mark of his bite, a smirk growing on his face, he knew they wouldn't show as you couldn't wear short skirts to your office but he has never been more graceful for an HR rule than that one. Being pleased with his marks he now focuses all his attention on your leaking cunt above his mouth. With his grip on your legs he pulls your body down onto his face, licking a strip through your folds, drinking up your slick.

You moan out in response as your hips involuntarily grind against his mouth. “Mhm! Fuck Marc.. baby~” you whine out as his nose nudges your clit when his tounge licks and pushes through your folds. Vibrations float through your body as he tries to mumble out something against your pussy. Threading your fingers through his messy hair you use that leverage to pull his face away from you. “What was that love?” You question, using the shirt moment his mouth is off you to catch your breath.

“Maybe I’ve gotta put a ring on ya’ finger, that way those assholes at work will definitely know your spoken for, that youre all fuckin mine” he groans and pushes against your grip to dive back in and resume his mouths asssult on your throbbing cunt. His tongue pushing through tour slit distracts you from his statement about potentially proposing to you. Finally giving your aching clit attention, wrapping his lips around it and sucking, even biting softly at the bundle of nerves. His teeth send shivers down your spine, your thighs slightly shaking at either side of his face, he uses his hands gripping onto your legs as leverage to pull you even further down, forcing all your weight to be put on his face.

→ a/n: this wasn’t proofread, i rushed it and i kinda hate it lmao but I needed to get this out, i can already feel my effort and motivation for kinktober dwindling a bit.

[alwaysmicado]

Nightcall

10.4k | 18+ MDNI | Marc Spector x f!reader

Moon Knight Masterlist | AO3

Warnings: angst, smut, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, unprotected piv, biting, rough & emotionally intense sex, multiple orgasms, possessive!Marc, choking, spitting, creampie, toxic dynamic Summary: Marc is a bad habit you can’t shake. A/N: This idea has been haunting my dreams like Marc has been haunting reader’s. And just like reader, I couldn’t resist the allure of this elusive, rugged, and devastatingly addictive man. Could you? Happy reading (even though it hurts) and let me know what you think! *Marc lifts & flips you with ease (he’s MK, duh). Dividers by @/cafekitsune.

One year. 

It’s been one year since you’ve last seen him. 

One whole year of wondering where he is, if he’s left for good this time, if he’s even still alive. 

You’ve tried to fill the void in your heart, started smoking again, gave the nice guy from the coffee shop down the block a chance. He’s kind to you, makes you laugh, brings you flowers, and you think you could grow to love him.

You’re trying. 

You’re trying so hard. 

To forget, to forgive, to heal, to live. 

And now he’s back. In your life, standing at your door at 1 a.m.

Marc Spector.

The bane of your existence.

You were lounging on your couch in your pajamas mere moments ago, the soft glow of the TV casting shadows on the walls, when a knock at the door shattered the peace you’d begun to find. Your heart stopped, your head jerking towards the door.

It couldn’t be.

You heard his voice, rough and familiar, sending a jolt through your entire being.

“It’s me,” he said, his voice muffled but unmistakable.

You stood, your legs trembling, walking closer to the door in a trance, bare feet on the wooden floor, your hand hovering over the doorknob. You didn’t answer, but you couldn’t tear yourself away.

He was alive. He came back.

Marc came back to you.

What now?

Taking a deep breath, you look through the peephole, and your heart flutters when you see his face. He looks as handsome as ever, broad shoulders stretching the fabric of his t-shirt, dark curls hidden under a baseball cap, beard stubble a little grayer than the last time you’ve seen him.

But there’s a weariness in his eyes, a deep exhaustion that pulls at your heartstrings.

He’s tired.

You know he is.

He’s told you in the rare moments he’d let you in, your sweat-covered bodies tangled in your bed, his fingers brushing over your cheek.

You’d see a spark of something in his warm eyes then. Something akin to sadness, longing, regret. But it would disappear after a few seconds, and he’d harden again, turning around to gather his clothes, telling you he needed to go.

You’d find new scars on his body every time he came to see you. He’d show up with barely scabbed-over cuts, a black eye, a dislocated shoulder, a split lip. And you’d patch him up, kissing it all better.

You stopped asking how he got his injuries some time ago. He’d always give you the same answer anyway.

“Just a scratch, baby. Nothing to worry your pretty head about.”

Whatever it is that keeps him going, it has more power over him than you ever will.

Tears blur your vision, and you slide down the door, sitting with your back against it. You want to stay strong, to remember the pain he’s caused you, but his words cut through your resolve like a knife.

“Come on, let me in. I came all this way to see you.”

It feels like he’s been out there for hours, but you know it can’t have been more than two minutes. Why is this happening?

“Let me in, Sunshine. Please.” 

You blink back tears, shaking your head even though he can’t see you, your hands balled into fists, fingernails digging into your palms.

Every time.

Every time, he rips open the wounds he inflicted on you, and you know this time won’t be any different. You want to resist him, want to tell him to go to hell, that he can’t keep doing this to you, that you’ve finally had enough.

But you can’t do it, can you?

Resist Marc.

You both know you can’t. And deep down, under all the bullshit you like to tell yourself, under all the anger, under all the resentment, you know you don’t want to.

You never did. 

Going for a smoke outside the bar, goosebumps forming on your bare arms as the wind blew and the rain fell, your feet sore from being caged in high heels for hours, the only thing you wanted was a minute of quiet, a minute where you didn’t have to smile or act like you were having fun.

You were tired—tired of the noise, tired of the people, tired of the pretense.

All you wanted was a moment of peace.

“Shit,” you muttered, staring at your lighter in disbelief as it refused to spark, tears of sheer frustration pricking the corners of your eyes. Leaning against the cool brick wall, you let your head fall back, eyes closed, trying to shut out the world.

How did it get like this? How did you get like this? 

Deep down, you know you don’t have anyone to blame but yourself. The problem is you. Not the world, not your parents, not the shitty things that have happened to you. It’s you. It’s always been you.

“Need a light?” a voice cut through the rain, smooth and unexpected. 

You opened your eyes slightly, just enough to see a stranger standing a few feet away. “Yeah, mine apparently hates me,” you replied, lifting the offending object.

The man chuckled, a warm sound that contrasted with the cold night. “Here,” he said, stepping closer. His dark eyes sparkled with mischief, his smirk stirring something inside you. “I got you, Sunshine.”

He pulled out a sleek silver lighter, flicking it open with practiced ease, producing a small, steady flame. You put your cigarette between your lips, leaning in to catch the light. His eyes never left yours, a connection forming in that brief moment. He then lit his own cigarette, taking a drag.

The first inhale of nicotine calmed your nerves slightly, a welcome distraction from the chaos inside your mind. “Thanks,” you muttered, leaning back against the wall and savoring the moment of quiet.

“No problem,” he nodded, staring into the surrounding darkness.

He was closer now, leaning against the wall next to you, his presence oddly comforting. 

“Rough night?”

“You could say that.” You let out a dry laugh, glancing at him. He was handsome in a rugged way—dark curls, full lips, broad chest, with a confident air that was alluring. “What about you?”

He shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. “Rough night.”

You studied him for a moment, noting the gentle curve of his nose and the laugh lines in the outer corner of his eyes. You also noticed his split knuckles in the neon glow of the party lights hanging above.

“I guess we’re both running from something,” you said softly, taking another drag of your cigarette.

“Is that so?” He smiled at you with a raised eyebrow and you smiled back. “I’m Marc, by the way.” 

You gave him your name and shook his hand, feeling a strange jolt at the contact. “Nice to meet you, Marc. Thanks for the light.”

“Anytime,” he said, his expression turning pensive.

You both smoked in silence for a while, the rain a soothing backdrop to your thoughts.

When your cigarettes were nearly finished, Marc turned towards you, his movements smooth and deliberate. He leaned in, his hand bracing against the wall next to your head, bringing his face and body close to yours, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

“Wanna get out of here?” he asked, his eyes dropping from your eyes to your lips with unmistakable intent. 

You hesitated for a second, brow furrowed, thoughts swirling. The rain fell around you in a soft patter. You searched his eyes and found something, something that promised a temporary escape from your hollow existence.

You didn’t have anything to lose.

“Yeah,” you said, putting out your cigarette with your shoe.

You ended the night with him on top of you, in your bed, all your troubles wiped away for a couple of hours. His hands roamed your body with a hunger that matched your own, and for the first time in a long while, you felt alive. 

You thought it was just a one-night stand since he left as soon as you both came down, and you fell asleep, spent and satisfied.

Until he showed up at your door late at night, two weeks later.

There he was, standing in the hallway with that same charming smile, holding up a pack of cigarettes and his silver lighter. “Mind if I come in?” he asked, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

And that’s how it all started. This…thing you have going on.

“I missed you,” he’d whisper in your ear, his voice rough with longing as he was buried deep inside of you. “My beautiful girl.”

Those words would wrap around your heart, suffusing you with a warmth that felt like everything you had ever wanted. In those fleeting moments, it was as if all the pain and uncertainty melted away, leaving only the intoxicating sensation of being cherished, if only for a little while. But then, like always, he would leave, and the cold reality would set in.

He would tell you he couldn’t stay, but not why. His eyes would darken with unspoken burdens, and he’d brush a kiss against your forehead, promising he’d be back.

Yet, he never told you it was for your safety. He never mentioned the shadows that lurked around him, the dangers he faced on a daily basis. He didn’t tell you about the battles he fought, tooth and nail, just to carve out a few hours to be with you.

He didn’t tell you any of this, and after some time, you stopped asking. The questions died on your lips, replaced by a resigned acceptance. You accepted that you’d never be more to Marc than a brief escape, a distraction from whatever demons haunted him.

Well, your brain did.

But not your heart.

Your heart clung to every whispered endearment, every stolen touch, every heated kiss that promised more than he could ever give. Your heart held onto the belief that maybe, just maybe, one day he’d stay. That one day, this torturous cycle of brief encounters and long absences would end.

You’d lie in bed after he left, the sheets still warm from his presence, his scent lingering in the air. You’d replay the moments in your mind, his whispered words, the way he looked at you as if you were his salvation. You’d clutch your pillow, trying to hold onto the ghost of his touch, knowing that come morning, the loneliness would creep back in.

Every time he returned, it was like a balm to your wounded soul. He’d pull you into his arms, his kiss desperate, as if he was drowning and you were his only breath of air. 

And for those precious hours, you’d let yourself believe that you were his beautiful girl, his light in a world filled with darkness, that he needed you as much as you needed him.

He’d leave again, the door closing softly behind him, and you’d be left alone. You’d tell yourself that it was enough, that these stolen moments were worth the heartache. 

But deep down, you knew it wasn’t. 

You always knew that your heart was breaking a little more each time he walked away. 

And you know now that any resolve you’ve built up over the past year will crumble the second you open the door and look into his eyes.

It’s always the same.

No matter how sick and tired you are of his careless behavior, no matter how many times he chews you up and spits you out, no matter how many nights you spend crying over him, mourning him, cursing him, self-hatred wrapping around you like a suffocating blanket.

You let him in. You let him do this to you. 

Because you love him. Because you’re a fool.

Slowly, reluctantly, you stand, heart pounding, blood rushing in your ears. You sigh deeply, and before you can stop yourself, your hand turns the knob, opening the door just a crack.

Marc pushes the door open wider, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment, and before you realize what’s happening, his cap is on the floor and his lips are on yours. His arms wrap around you, pulling you close as he kicks the door shut behind him. He spins you around, pressing you against the wall with a desperate need that makes you dizzy.

“I missed you, Sunshine,” he murmurs against your lips, his hands roaming your body.

“Don’t call me that,” you protest, your palms pressed against his pecs.

He smiles. “But it’s who you are. My Sunshine.”

“I’m not your anything, Marc,” you hiss, trying to push him away. He doesn’t budge. “I’m a warm body for you to fuck. That’s it.”

“That’s not all you are to me,” he says without missing a beat, brows furrowed, thumb brushing over your lower lip with a maddening gentleness. “Why so hostile, Sunshine? Aren’t you happy to see me?”

There it is. That damn look. Concern, care, and hunger, all mingling in his eyes, breaking down your defenses bit by bit.

“Are you fucking kidding, Marc?” you snap, snatching his wrist to stop him from touching you. “You–you were gone for a year. No goodbye, no message, no nothing.”

His gaze doesn’t waver as he cups your face with both hands, and despite yourself, you let go of his wrist.

“I’m here now, aren’t I?” The warmth in his eyes and the soft smile on his lips make you want to throw up. You turn your head, your chest heaving.

He gently but firmly pushes your head back, his hands still cradling your face, forcing you to meet his gaze once more. His grip is firm but not painful, a reminder of his strength and control—the same strength that has always thrilled you.

“Hey,” he says softly, his eyes boring into yours, pleading. “I’m here now.”

You’re stunned, frozen in place like a deer in headlights, about to be run over.

It’s too late for you.

All you see is him, the man who has torn your heart to pieces and yet somehow still holds it in his hands.

The world narrows to the space between you, and the chaos of your mind falls silent. You’re ready to die in this moment if it means feeling his touch again.

You give an almost imperceptible nod, a surrender, and his lips are on yours instantly.

The kiss is desperate, a clash of lust and guilt, his mouth moving against yours with a ferocity that leaves you breathless. His hands move down your sides to your waist, pulling you closer as if he can’t bear the distance between you for even a second longer.

You moan into his mouth, your body responding to his touch despite your mind’s protests. Your arms wrap around him, pulling him even closer, needing to feel every inch of him against you. The taste of him is intoxicating, a mix of smoke and mint, and it floods your senses, drowning out the pain, the questions, the doubts.

Marc’s hands urgently explore the contours of your back, pressing you against him, reveling in your scent. You can feel the hard lines of his body, the heat of his skin, and it’s all too much and not enough at the same time. Your back hits the wall again, and he pins you there, his mouth leaving yours to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck.

One hand finds your breast, groping it for a moment, palm rubbing against your hard nipple, his touch needy and rough. Your breath comes in ragged gasps, his name escaping your lips in a broken whisper. He groans in response, the sound vibrating against your skin.

Impatient, his fingers hook into the waistband of your pajama pants, yanking them down along with your panties with practiced ease. You step out of them, exposed, his leg pressing against your core.

You can’t help but buck your hips against him, your body moving on its own accord, driven by pent-up desire and anger. Your hands fist his shirt, gripping the fabric tightly as if it’s the only thing anchoring you to reality. His hands are on your ass, kneading your flesh with possessive urgency, each squeeze sending shivers of pleasure through your body.

Marc’s mouth is everywhere, hot and insistent, licking a slow, deliberate stripe from behind your ear down your neck. The sensation makes you gasp, your back arching. He sucks and nips at your skin, frenzied and desperate, leaving a trail of bruises that mark you as his, each one a bittersweet reminder of the fleeting connection you share.

The contrast between the roughness of his hands and the wet heat of his mouth drives you wild, every touch igniting a fire inside you that you can’t control.

“Marc,” you moan, your voice a mix of frustration and need. Your nails dig into his shoulders, pulling him closer, urging him on. He responds with a growl, his teeth grazing your neck before biting down, the sharp pain making you gasp.

“God, I’ve missed this,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice thick with desire. His hands grip your ass harder, lifting your leg slightly so he can grind against you, his hardness pressing against your core, sending waves of pleasure through you.

You throw your head back, giving him better access to your neck as he continues to lick, suck, and bite with abandon, each mark he leaves on your skin feeling like a brand, a claim that you both know will fade but never truly disappear.

“More,” you whisper, your breathing shallow. “Please, I need more.” You reach between your bodies, sliding your hand down his hard torso, rubbing his bulge over the rough fabric of his jeans.

Marc groans and pulls back just enough to look into your glazed-over eyes, his own filled with lust and something deeper, something that makes your heart ache. “I’ll give you everything, baby,” he promises, his hands moving to cup your face as he kisses you again, his lips searing and demanding.

You can feel the truth in his words, even if only for this moment, and you let yourself believe it. 

He bites your bottom lip and pulls back with a growl, dropping to his knees, spreading your thighs and pressing his mouth to your core. Your brain takes a few seconds to catch up with what’s happening, your mind foggy, your heart racing.

“Marc, wait,” you gasp, your hands tangling in his hair as his tongue flicks out, teasing your aching clit. “I haven’t—oh fuck—I haven’t showered.”

“I don’t care,” he murmurs, his hot breath fanning over your sensitive skin.

The sensation is overwhelming, his tongue lapping at your folds with a hunger that makes your knees weak. You gasp, your hips bucking involuntarily against his face. He groans in response, reveling in the scent and wetness you’re spreading all over his face, cursing under his breath as his cock strains against the inside of his jeans.

His hands tighten their grip on your thighs, holding you open for him, keeping you steady as his tongue and lips work with practiced precision to make you lose control.

Your head falls back, hitting the wall with a dull thud, but you barely notice. Every flick of his tongue, every suck on your clit sends waves of pleasure crashing through you. Your hands tighten in his hair, pulling him closer, needing more, fingernails scraping his scalp.

“Marc,” you moan, your voice a mix of desperation and bliss, your body trembling under this relentless, sweet torture. “Oh fuck, Marc.”

Hearing you moan his name is like gasoline on a fire, fueling his desire.

“God, you taste so good,” he pants against your skin, his voice filled with raw need, drunk with lust. “Always so fucking perfect.”

Your body trembles as he hums against you, his tongue alternating between slow, teasing licks and fast, desperate flicks before sucking on your swollen clit again.

You can feel the tension building inside you, coiling tighter and tighter with each passing second.

“Please,” you beg, your voice a shaky whisper. “I need you inside me.”

He responds without hesitation, his tongue plunging into your wet heat, tasting you, drinking you, fucking you with ruthless intensity. You cry out, your back arching off the wall as the pleasure becomes almost too much to bear. He replaces his tongue with his middle and ring fingers, sliding them inside you, curling them just right, hitting that perfect spot. His mouth devours you simultaneously, desperately, like a man starved.

Your hips buck harder, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he finger-fucks you in rhythm with his licks. The dual assault of his tongue and fingers is overwhelming, pushing you ever closer to the edge.

Your nails rake across his scalp, and he groans against you, the vibrations sending ripples of ecstasy through your core.

You can barely form a coherent thought, your mind hazy as you can’t hold back the moans escaping your lips. Marc starts sucking on your clit with renewed vigor, the sensation sending you spiraling. You’re on the brink, the tension inside you coiled so tightly it’s about to snap.

The wet sounds of your pussy fill the air, blending with the rhythmic beat of your heart pounding in your chest. He can feel your body tensing, the telltale signs of your impending climax, and it drives him wild.

“Fuck,” you gasp, your voice barely more than a whisper. “Fuck, I’m gonna–”

You don’t get to finish the sentence before you shatter into a million pieces, every nerve ending ablaze with euphoric release. Marc doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up, holding onto your hip, continuing to lap at you and move his fingers, drawing out every last tremor until you’re left trembling and spent.

For a brief, blissful moment, you feel pure, unadulterated happiness, your fingers absentmindedly running through Marc’s hair. But as reality slowly sets back in, your living room coming back into view, Marc’s mouth on your core starting to become uncomfortable, the weight of what just happened begins to dawn on you. Your eyes meet his, and you feel it all crashing down on you—confusion, heartache, regret.

Marc finally pulls back, his face and fingers glistening with your arousal, a satisfied, almost smug grin on his lips.

He stands, his hands finding your cheeks as he presses his wet lips against yours, sliding his tongue inside. You close your eyes and wrap your arms around his waist, tasting yourself on his lips, your body buzzing with the aftermath of your orgasm.

“You miss me?” he whispers against your lips before pulling back enough to look into your wide eyes. The warmth of his breath mingles with yours, and his gaze is filled with an intensity that makes your heart clench painfully.

The casualness of his question tears at you, as if you had seen each other just yesterday, as if he hadn’t just given you an earth-shattering orgasm after crushing your heart with his bare hands.

And all after you swore to yourself you’d never let him do this again.

You want to hate him, you really do. But how could you? He came back from the dead to see you. You know he needs you right now, so how could you deny him?

You nod, feeling tears well up in your eyes, swallowing heavily. “Always,” you whisper, your voice breaking with emotion.

A smile spreads across Marc’s lips, his eyes softening for a moment, and he captures your lips in a deep, fervent kiss again, as if trying to convey everything he can’t put into words. Then, with a gentle but firm grip, he lifts you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. You cling to him, head buried in the crook of his neck, your hands gripping his shoulders as he carries you towards your bedroom.

He clocks the bouquet of pink roses on your dining room table, notices the little card standing next to the vase. There’s a strawberry drawn on the front, but it’s too dark for him to read what he just assumes to be a lame pun about loving you ‘berry’ much. 

How cute.

Marc lays you down on the bed, his body pressed against yours, trailing kisses down your neck. You wrap your legs around his waist again, rubbing yourself against his bulge, impatient, hands tangled in his curls.

“Not yet, baby,” he whispers in your ear, nibbling on your earlobe, reveling in the needy noises you make, how you squirm under him, trying to get him to move and give you what you want.

He will. But first, he wants to look at you—at your beautiful body, every inch of your skin.

He gets off the bed and you scoot back, fluffing up your pillows and leaning against them with your back. You watch as Marc turns on the bedside lamp and removes his shirt, revealing the hard lines of his muscles and the scars that tell the story of battles you’re clueless about. He kicks off his shoes, his eyes never leaving yours. When he unbuckles his belt, ready to pull his pants down and fuck you already, his eyes drop down to your wet pussy, and he decides differently.

“Take off your shirt and show me how you played with yourself while I was away.”

Your hands tremble slightly as you pull your shirt over your head, your skin prickling with anticipation. You feel exposed, vulnerable, but the look in Marc’s eyes makes you feel desired, wanted. You spread your legs wide and slide your hand down your body, your fingers finding your clit, rubbing in slow, deliberate circles. Your other hand moves to your breast, teasing your nipple, and you let out a soft moan, your eyes locked on Marc.

His gaze darkens with lust as he watches you, jeans on the floor, spitting in his hand, wrapping it around his cock, stroking himself slowly. “God, you’re beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice thick with need. “Keep going.”

God, how much he wants to bury himself deep inside of you, to feel your warm, wet pussy pulsing around his cock, to fuck all his frustrations into you, to hear your sweet moans, to feel your soft skin pressed against his.

It’s all he wants.

All he can think about when he’s away from you. All he needs in nights like this. 

You increase the pace of your fingers, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as the pleasure builds. Marc’s eyes don’t leave you for a second, his hand moving faster on his cock, mirroring the rhythm of your movements.

“You have no idea how much I missed this,” he pants. “Missed you.”

Fuelled by his poisonous words, your hips buck against your hand, the tension coiling tighter and tighter in your core. “Marc,” you moan, your voice a desperate plea. “I’m close.”

His eyes burn into yours as he moves swiftly, crawling onto the bed and positioning himself between your legs. He nudges your hand away and replaces it with his own, his fingers sliding inside you in one smooth motion, his thumb rubbing your clit.

“Let go, baby. Come for me.”

And with his words, you shatter, your orgasm crashing over you in waves, your pussy clamping down around his fingers, pulsating, your hands gripping the sheets. Marc watches you intently, his own breath ragged, cock throbbing so close to your dripping hole. 

The ecstatic feeling coursing through you turns into uncomfortable overstimulation quickly, so you grab his wrist, and he withdraws his fingers, giving you a moment to come down. 

You look so fucking gorgeous like this. Eyes glazed over, looking at him like he’s all you see, like he’s all you need. But as Marc holds your gaze, your chest rising and falling, he also sees something else in your big, beautiful eyes. 

Sadness. 

It’s a deep sadness he knows he’s responsible for—a sadness that cuts through the layers of detachment, apathy, and composure he’s built up to survive the trials in his life. Despite everything, there remains a gentle, tender part hidden deep inside him. A part that makes him vulnerable, scared, and like he could be the man you need…if only things were different.

“My Sunshine,” he says softly, his knuckles brushing over your hot cheek. The tenderness in his touch contrasts sharply with the storm of emotions inside him. He leans over you, and the kiss he presses on your lips is soft, oh so soft. 

It’s intense. Intense and unexpected.

It’s easier to push aside your feelings when he’s rough with you. It’s easier to tell yourself you’re just two lonely people fucking to feel a little less lonely if all you can focus on is your body.

But then he pulls shit like this and it gives you hope that you might mean something to him. And after years of asking yourself if he’s just an asshole who gets off on playing mind games, or if he doesn’t care enough to realize what he’s doing is killing you, you’re not sure you want to know the answer.

Marc pulls you out of your thoughts when he releases your lips and pulls back slightly, his eyes darkening with a different kind of intensity as he traces your bottom lip with his thumb. 

“Open your mouth.”

You obey, parting your lips, your breath hitching in anticipation. Marc lets a strand of spit drop into your mouth, slowly, deliberately, watching as it lands in the back of your throat, and you swallow it without hesitation.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire, kissing and nibbling on your jaw, your neck, down to your breast, circling your nipple with the tip of his tongue before sucking it into his eager mouth. 

“Marc…” you whine, looking down, threading your fingers through his disheveled hair, your heart pounding. You let yourself get lost in him, in the way he touches you, in the way he makes you feel alive. And as you do, you can’t stop the words tumbling from your lips.

“Please stay.”

Marc pauses, his mouth still on your breast, his body tensing. He releases your nipple and looks up at you, his brow furrowing at your watery eyes.

He hates to see you like this.

“You know I can’t,” he says, his calm voice betraying none of the guilt that’s clawing at his heart, making it hard for him to breathe.

But he can’t comfort you. Not now. Not when you’re supposed to be his salvation. Not when he knows it’d be a lie.

He sits back on his heels between your spread legs, his eyes never leaving yours as he pumps his painfully hard cock.

“Why?” you whisper, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. “Why?”

Marc leans over you, arms braced next to your head, capturing your quivering lips with his, preventing you from making him feel worse than he already does.

You moan into his mouth and he can’t wait anymore. Needs to be inside you. Needs to make it all right.

He shifts in closer, pressing his cock against you, just sliding it between your folds, up and down, letting out a raspy sigh at the friction of it. His cock gathers your wetness quickly—you’re always so fucking wet for him.

Before falling asleep on whatever cot he’d find himself on, he’d sometimes allow himself to fantasize about waking up next to you, feeling your warm body, hearing your soft breathing, sliding his hand down the front of your panties, and feeling how wet you are from dreaming about him.

His breath catches in his throat just thinking about it.

“Marc…” you plead, and he smiles to himself—it usually takes far longer for you to start begging, so it must mean you really missed him. You squirm again, hips twisting like you’re trying to get him inside you, and he watches you intently, soaking up every little expression, every little moan, every little plea.

“What do you want, baby?” he murmurs, dragging it out just a little bit longer. He loves to hear you, loves to get you to admit it. For you, the truth is in the action of it, but he likes to listen to you say it out loud.

“You,” you moan desperately. “I need you, Marc. I missed you so fucking much, I can’t take it anymore.” 

“Yeah?” he murmurs with an imperceptible smile. 

“Uh-huh,” you nod, staring up into his eyes.

Marc’s cock twitches at the genuine need he can see in your eyes, the sight like a potent drug going straight to his brain and filling him with more bliss than anything else could. He knows what you like, knows what buttons to push, knows exactly how to touch you to make you forget the world around you. 

It makes him feel good to make you feel good. It always has.

And it’s more than the gratification of feeling your pussy pulsating around his cock or hearing you scream his name while your orgasm overtakes you. It’s more than his pride, his ego, his need to feel like he’s doing good for once in his life. 

It’s you.

It’s his misguided effort to make up for all his misdeeds. His atonement. He tells himself it’s enough for him to fuck your brains out, to pour all of himself into you without inhibitions while he’s with you to offset his absence.

He tells himself that, holds onto it—needs it to be true.

“Please…” you whine, and he pushes up against your clit, feeling the pulse of it. You shudder at the intensity, the pressure, and he grins. “Fuck. Fuck me.”

“Dirty mouth,” he chides, and you whine in frustration as he brings his hand up, pressing one finger to your slightly parted lips. You open them wider, suck his finger in, suckle for a moment and then bite.

“Fuck me,” you demand, voice muffled and tongue pressing against his fingertip, wet and warm.

Your teeth loosen up and he slides his finger deeper, right to the back of your tongue. You don’t gag, just stare him down defiantly, and he can’t wait any longer. He reaches down with his other hand, guides himself to your entrance, cock pushing deep into the tight heat of you, as slow as he can stand it. 

You’re so fucking good. 

His head starts to roll back instinctively, but he holds it steady and slides his hand over to your hip, gripping your flesh as his cock splits you open.

When he’s fully sheathed inside of you, you let out a low moan, brows furrowing, throwing your head back against the pillows. He pulls back a little only to drive right back in, hard, and this time you moan a hell of a lot louder. Quickly, he stifles the sound with his palm, pressing his hand right over your mouth—not because he doesn’t want to hear you. No, because he knows it heightens your pleasure.

Your resulting moans are muffled against his hand as you start trying to meet his thrusts, your hips working towards him, desperate for it. You love it when he smothers you like this, love feeling his big hand over your face. 

He first discovered the power of it when you were arguing about something silly and you wouldn’t shut up—he did it jokingly, only to be surprised when you immediately fell silent. You didn’t even push him away or do anything obnoxious like lick his palm; you just went totally compliant. It was an instant reaction, as though it was something your body was conditioned to obey.

He grips your hip, feeling your soft skin against his palm, his other hand covering your mouth as he thrusts into you hard, until the bed is rocking rhythmically against the wall. The hand on your hip slides higher, over your belly, groping your breast, pinching your hard nipple. His other hand slips from your mouth and you’re panting now, your face hot and almost grimacing, your whole body taut and tense for him. 

But then his hands meet at your throat, and you go limp, your lips stretching into an exhausted smile. He keeps his hands still, just on either side of your neck, curled around your shoulders, his thumbs across your collarbones. 

“Go on,” you say breathlessly, biting your lip in anticipation, lifting up your head in order to strain a little against his hands. He says nothing, smiling wickedly back at you, his hips working shallowly, cock thrusting against your G-spot.

“Go on,” you whine, impatient, and he wants to say, “What?” and grin sardonically and make you beg for it, but he’s too greedy, eager just like you are. 

He wraps his fingers around your throat and squeezes, quick and sudden, watching your pupils dilate and your lips fall open. You’d let him choke you to death if he wasn’t careful, he’s sure—you get so fucking caught up in it—so he has to be vigilant, letting go when you look like you’re about to pass out.

It’s difficult to judge, though. You look blissed out already, and he can feel your tendons working against his fingers as he jabs his thumb just under your jaw, tightening his grip. You make these sounds—gasps at first, and then little choking coughs, your throat all raw, and all the while he’s thrusting into you, hard and fast.

He eases off a second, lets you catch your breath, and you draw it in, hoarse and gasping, looking dazed. Almost high. 

You jerk your chin at him as if to say, “C’mon, again, what are you waiting for?” and he complies, one hand this time, big enough to reach quite a way around your neck. His other hand snakes down the center of you, down between your legs, along your hot skin to where he disappears inside, your slick folds parting to let him in. He teases with his fingers, finds your clit, gentle there even as he’s gripping your throat so tight he’ll probably leave marks. 

You buck wildly against him and he holds you down, grinning, relentless, finger flickering over your clit as he fucks you, chokes you, brings you closer and closer to the edge—

He feels your fingers digging into his shoulders, his back, then his arms, grabbing frantically at him as your whole body tenses, and you’re spluttering out a desperate, “Yes, yes,” and then he feels that same clenching around his cock, a quick spasm, so tight he can’t help but groan. 

You come with your eyes shut and your mouth open, and he keeps going a moment longer than he needs to, stroking you where you’re oversensitive, making you shake and squirm. 

Marc lets go of your throat and takes ahold of your breast instead, chasing his own release, fucking you harder and harder and closing his eyes because you’re gazing at him in that way that chips away at his resolve.

“Slow down,” you suddenly whisper, so full of him, so desperate to keep it that way.

He slows down minimally. “Why?”

“I–I don’t want….” you trail off as he licks and sucks on your neck, his hand groping your breast. “Please, I don’t want it to end…” 

He pulls back a little and just…smiles at you, that irritating smile that says, “You honestly still think you’re in control here?” 

It wouldn’t bother you as much if you weren’t still processing that he’s actually here, flesh and blood, after abandoning you, and having the balls to act like the past year didn’t happen. Like he didn’t stab your heart and leave you to bleed out slowly.

“I know you don’t want me to slow down,” he pants in your ear as he picks up the pace again, alternating between shallow thrusts that hit your G-spot perfectly, and deep thrusts that make you gasp. “You want me to fuck you like your little boyfriend never could.”

You freeze. Marc’s labored breathing, the wet sounds of your pussy, the sound of rain coming from outside your window—it all becomes white noise as your brain catches up with what he just said to you.

And then something snaps inside you. 

Something primal, violent, desperate.

You grab the nape of his neck and pull him down for a bruising kiss, biting his lips hard, tongue swirling around his, the taste of blood in your mouth making your head spin. Marc moans into your mouth, but he doesn’t stop you, doesn’t stop his own movements inside you.

You feel yourself getting closer and closer again, and you hate it. You fucking hate that he’s doing this to you. And you hate even more that you’re letting him.  

He pulls away and buries his face in the crook of your neck, his bloody lips staining your shoulder. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper inside you as your nails rake down his arms, leaving angry red trails in their wake. You claw at his back, holding onto him with all you have. He groans at the pain and looks into your eyes, reveling in the pure need he can see in them.

You see how much it turns him on to see you like this, and it makes you even angrier.

Marc leans in to kiss you again, but before you know what’s happening, your hand shoots up to his throat, fingers digging into his jaw, pushing his face away. He growls at you and tries to kiss you anyway, stubborn and unyielding, his lips brushing against yours despite your resistance. You buck your hips and twist your body, trying to dislodge him, your hands pushing and shoving at his chest and shoulders.

You manage to get one hand around his throat, squeezing as hard as you can, your nails digging into his skin. Marc groans, his breath hot against your face, but his grip on you doesn’t falter. He grabs your wrists, attempting to pin them above your head, but you fight back with all your strength, writhing beneath him, your legs kicking out, trying to find leverage to push him off.

“That’s enough,” he growls, his voice rough and intimidating as he finally manages to secure your wrists. “Calm do–”

You turn your head and bite the arm that’s pinning your wrist down, canines piercing the skin. 

“Fuck,” Marc hisses through clenched teeth, his thrusts becoming rougher, more desperate, as if he’s trying to match your intensity, trying to make you feel the same pain you’re inflicting on him. The bed creaks with the force of your combined movements, the air thick with the sounds of your mutual anguish.

“You wanna  hurt me, baby?” he pants as he lets go of your wrist and instead grabs your chin to force you to look at him. 

“Yeah,” you whisper without hesitation, your pupils dilated, your voice dripping with venom and need.

Marc’s eyes darken with a mix of lust and something deeper, something almost like understanding. “Good,” he says simply, grabbing your ass and rolling you both over, so you can ride him. He pulls up the pillow behind his back, so he’s propped up and you can hold onto his shoulders. “Take what you need.”

He moves his hips slowly, tenderly almost, as if to tell you he’s done fighting with you and wants you to feel good. You’re not there yet, you’re still seeing red. Clawing at his chest, nails digging into his skin, leaving scratches that will take days to fade.

But it’s not enough. You need more. You need to make him feel the pain he’s caused, to make him understand what he’s put you through. You push his face away, his stubble grazing your palm, and he turns his head, biting down on your thumb, groaning at the taste of you. Spurred on by the sensation, your teeth find his shoulder, biting down hard enough to break the skin.

“Stop,” he grunts, the word strained, his cock twitching inside you. You don’t relent immediately, your teeth sinking deeper until he grabs your shoulders, trying to push you off.

Finally, he manages to grip your throat, not squeezing, but enough to make you stop. The pressure is firm, commanding, and it stills your movements. He looks up at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of desire and desperation. “Enough,” he says with finality, his voice rough and low. “I want you to fuck me, not kill me.”

You stare down at him, your chest heaving, the raw emotion in his eyes grounding you. Slowly, you release your grip on his shoulders, the tension in your body easing as you adjust to the new position. His hand remains on your throat, a reminder of his control, but also of the thin line between pain and pleasure that you both walk.

You start to move, rocking your hips against him, swollen clit rubbing against his trimmed pubes, taking him deep inside you. His grip on your throat tightens just a fraction, enough to send a thrill through your body, but not enough to hurt. His other hand grips your hip, guiding your movements as you ride him, each thrust a release of the pent-up emotions that have been tearing you apart.

Mouth slightly agape, Marc’s eyes never leave yours, the connection between you intense and unbreakable. “That’s it, baby,” he murmurs. “Use me.”

And you do. 

Your movements become increasingly more frantic, muscles tense, driven by a need to feel him, to feel that he’s really here with you.

“You left,” you pant, eyes piercing his, pleasure building inside you with every movement of your hips.

“Yeah, I did,” Marc replies, his tone unapologetic and infuriatingly calm. He lets go of your neck and cups your cheek instead, his thumb absentmindedly brushing over your cheekbone.

“I–I thought you were dead,” you choke out, tears stinging your eyes as you find the perfect pace, hands resting on his pecs. The pressure in your core builds, each thrust bringing you closer to the edge.

“You fucking asshole, I thought you were dead!” Your voice cracks as the hurt and anger that have been festering inside you pour out, mingling with the unbearable pleasure he’s giving you. 

“I’m not dead, baby. I’m right here.” His voice is softer now, tinged with an edge of remorse. He accentuates his words with a powerful thrust of his hips, driving deep inside you. The sensation forces a moan from your lips, your anger momentarily drowned out.

The tears you’ve been holding back finally spill over, trailing down your cheeks as you ride him harder, your body seeking solace in the physical connection. You lean forward, your forehead resting against his, your breaths mingling, your eyes closed.

“I hate you,” you whisper. “I fucking hate you, Marc.”

His response is immediate, his hands gripping your hips with bruising force as he drives into you with renewed vigor. “I know, baby,” he pants. “I know you do.”

His words, combined with the relentless rhythm of his thrusts, push you closer to the brink. You hold onto his broad shoulders as your walls tightens around his cock, the muscles in your legs aching. The rush you’re experiencing is intoxicating, the line between pleasure and pain, love and hate blurring until you can’t tell where one ends and the other begins.

As the pressure builds to an unbearable peak, you cling to him, your body trembling. “I need you,” you whine, your voice barely more than a whisper. “Please, I need you.”

“I’ve got you, baby,” he murmurs, his grip on you tightening. “I’ve got you.”

The words are a promise, a plea, and as your orgasm crashes over you, you feel a moment of clarity. Despite everything, despite the pain and the anger, he’s here. He’s with you.

You collapse against him, your body trembling with aftershocks, your breath coming in shallow gasps as tears stream down your cheeks. Marc wraps his strong arms around you, holding you tight as he chases his own release, his hips moving with relentless intensity. His breath is hot against your ear, his voice both a comfort and a torment.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he pants, too far gone to stop himself. 

You’re lost in the moment, too out of it to hear him.

“Tell me,” he urges again, needing to hear you say it.

When you still don’t respond and he feels he can’t hold back any longer, he pulls your head back by the nape of your neck.

You look like you’re somewhere else entirely, flying high, eyes glassy.

“Hey,” he says sharply, slowing his thrusts down as much as he can physically stand it, searching your face until your gaze meets his. 

“Huh?”

“Tell me you’re mine,” he repeats through gritted teeth, brow furrowed. “Please.”

His eyes are warm and you see him—the Marc who shared his favorite childhood recipe with you, the Marc who reassured you after your boss was an asshole to you, the Marc who made you laugh until your sides ached.

“I–I’m yours,” you whisper, the realization that it’s the truth breaking something inside you. “I’ve always been yours.”

Your words are like balm for his wounded soul, and he feels like he can finally let go. “Say it again.”

“I’m yours, Marc. I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m yours.”

“Fuck,” he groans, his thrusts becoming sloppy. He’s close. “I could–I could never stay away from you. Never.”

The confession slips out, raw and unfiltered, and it’s like a dagger to your heart. You bite down on his shoulder, trying to silence the sob that threatens to escape as he fucks you with everything he has.

“Gonna come, baby,” he pants. “Where do you want me?”

You feel like your body doesn’t belong to you, your mind foggy. But you know exactly where you want him, where you need him. 

“Inside.”

He shouldn’t. He knows he shouldn’t.

But he’s here to give you everything he can. And he does, spilling his warm cum deep inside of you, his cock pulsing, hips stuttering as he groans your name. 

Not baby. 

Not Sunshine. 

Your name.

He wraps his arms around you, softly, almost reverently, feeling your bare, sweat-covered skin against his palms. He holds you close like this for a moment before rolling you both over so he’s on top of you again, his cock still buried inside, his body slumping against yours.

Feeling his weight on you is grounding, soothing, calming you like nothing else in the world ever can. You try to absorb the feeling of his heartbeat against yours, knowing this moment of closeness won’t last. Marc usually doesn’t hold you for long after he’s fucked you. 

You inhale his scent, draw shapes on his back with your fingertips, scratch his scalp softly, nudge his shoulder with your nose, press little kisses on his skin. Each touch is a silent plea for him to surprise you, to stay with you for a little bit longer.

He relaxes on top of you, the deep tension he’s been feeling for so long slowly giving way to a sense of calm. It’s peaceful, his mind quiet for once.

How he wishes he could stay like this forever; feeling your heartbeat, your soft touch, holding you close as you fall asleep, nose brushing the nape of your neck, a protective arm draped over you, keeping you safe. 

He’s convincing himself to stay. He can feel it. 

Just this once. 

To put a smile on your pretty face.

To show you he cares. 

It means so much to you, and how could he–

“I love you, Marc,” you whisper against his skin.

The words slip out before you can stop them, and you immediately regret saying them as you feel his muscles tense and he pulls out of you, leaving you painfully empty. His cum starts leaking out of you, pooling on the rumpled sheets beneath you. 

Marc sits on the edge of the bed with his back turned to you and you sit up, leaning against the headboard, watching his profile with tearful eyes.

“Marc,” you say quietly, extending your hand to lightly touch his arm.

But it’s too late. 

The spell is broken. 

He gets up and fishes out a pack of cigarettes and his lighter from his jeans pocket, lighting one up, the orange glow casting shadows on the wall. He blows out a stream of smoke as he pulls up his jeans, sitting back on the bed, eyes distant as he looks out of the window.

You feel a pang of hurt, but you press on, desperately needing him to understand. “You–you don’t have to love me too,” you whisper, your voice cracking. “But please, you’ve been gone for so long and I–I only just got you back. Please, just stay with me this one time. Just this one time.”

He turns his head to look at you, his eyes flickering with something you can’t quite place. You shake your head slowly, resigned, then reach for his cigarette. 

He gives it to you, watching as you put it between your swollen lips. You take a long drag, the smoke filling your lungs, and then exhale slowly, closing your eyes for a moment. 

Marc eyes you curiously, recalling how you proudly told him you’d stopped smoking the last time he saw you.  

Some things have changed, he supposes.

And some things…haven’t.

“Where were you?” you ask. 

“Egypt,” he replies simply, caressing your leg.

“The whole time?”

“The whole time.”

“And the…business you had there, is it done?”

He hesitates for a moment before nodding, an imperceptible smile on his lips. “Yeah. You could say that.”

You take another drag from the cigarette before passing it back to him, the smoke a comforting distraction. “Will you stay in town now?”

Marc looks at you, and for a moment, hope flares in your chest. “Mhm. That’s the plan.”

You reach out and trace the remnants of what you can only imagine was a nasty bruise below his ribcage. “Aren’t you tired of this?”

He chuckles. “Of course I am.”

“Then why the fuck don’t you stop?”

He sighs. “It’s not that easy. There’s people who count on me, who need me.”

You avert your gaze, laughing mirthlessly, quickly wiping away a tear with trembling fingers. Marc watches you intently as he smokes, his hand resting on your thigh. 

“I see,” you say softly as you meet his gaze, a sad smile on your lips. “Nothing’s changed.”

He doesn’t say anything in return.

“Why did you come back?”

I wanted to be as close to you as possible. 

“My…job required me to. And I think it’ll stay that way for the foreseeable future.”

You nod. “Okay.”

He gently strokes your leg, unconsciously trying to soothe himself more than you. He’s about to say something, he doesn’t even know what, just something, when you can’t hold it in anymore.

“I get that I’m not a priority for you, Marc, I really do,” you whisper, your expression so full of sadness he can barely stand to look at you. “You made that abundantly clear when you disappeared without having the decency to say goodbye–”

“Sunshine…”

“–but I don’t understand why you won’t do this one thing for me.”

Marc’s brow furrows deeply as he watches your lip quiver with frustration.

“I-I promise I won’t ever ask you again, but please stay with me tonight. Please. It doesn’t even have to be the whole night. Just an hour, Marc, or–or half an–”

“Sunshine, no,” he says a bit sharper than intended, his own nerves frayed. He gets up and looks at the moon.

You just…don’t understand.

You don’t understand what keeps him up at night, what keeps him away from you, what he’s vowed to protect you from—and he can never tell you. 

He knows he should have left you alone when he saw you outside the bar that night, should have walked away and spared you the pain. 

But he couldn’t do it then, and he can’t do it now.

Because he’s a selfish asshole.

Because he loves you.

He flicks the cigarette butt out of the window, then bends down to put on his shirt, the act mechanical, his face set in a mask of determination. You haven’t noticed before, but now you notice how careful he is when bending and stretching. 

He must be in pain.

“Marc,” you plead, your heart beating so fast you feel like it’s going to explode.

He puts on his shoes, the silence that’s stretching between you suffocating. He’s killing you. He’s killing you, and yet you’re more afraid of losing him forever.

This needs to stop. You need to stop.

“If you walk out of that door, I don’t ever wanna see you again.” 

Marc halts his movements and your pleading eyes search his, the genuine desperation in them twisting a knife in his heart. For a moment, you think you see something in his eyes—a flicker of the man you need him to be—but then it’s gone.

He sighs heavily, then rounds the bed, leaning in to cup your cheek. “You don���t mean that,” he murmurs, pressing a soft, lingering kiss against your forehead. “I’ll see you around.”

“Please,” you whisper, but it’s too late.

When he reaches the front door, his cap in hand, you stand in the living room, naked and vulnerable. “I hate you, Marc Spector,” you say, your voice filled with all the pain and anger you feel.

He turns, his eyes softening for just a moment. “No, Sunshine. No, you don’t.”

And with that, he’s gone. 

It takes a few seconds for your body to react to what just happened, and when it does, it’s overwhelming. Your stomach sinks, your chest tightens, and your vision blurs as you grapple with your ambivalent feelings.  

Tears spill down your cheeks as you crumble, the exhaustion and heartbreak taking over.

Heading back to your bedroom, your eyes catch the roses your boyfriend gave you yesterday, a cruel reminder of the life you’ve been trying to build without Marc. All the work you put in, down the drain.

And for what? Why do you do this to yourself?

In a fit of anger and despair, you grab the flowers and throw them off your balcony. You watch as they scatter on the rain-wet street below, the cool night air wrapping around your naked body like a cloak. You stay for a moment, heart pounding, staring at the flowers as Marc’s cum runs down your thigh.

God, you’re a dumb idiot.  

You turn off the TV as you head back inside, turn off your bedside lamp, the darkness a welcome solace. You go to the bathroom without turning the light on, clean up, put on a fresh pair of pajamas. 

You do hate him.

You need to tell yourself that, for tonight at least.

Curled up in your bed, you clutch at the pillow where his scent still lingers, letting the darkness take you as the man who holds your heart is once again slipping through your fingers. The tears come again, silent and unending, each one a testament to the love you can’t seem to let go of, no matter how much it hurts.

Because for better or worse, Marc’s a part of you, and you can’t escape it.

Down on the street, Marc watches the scene unfold from the shadows, the flowers landing at his feet. He stands there, drenched in regret, his heart heavy. He wants to turn back, to hold you and tell you everything will be okay, but he knows he can’t.

Not with the life he leads.

Not until he’s finally free. 

He walks to his car, parked on the opposite side of the street. Coming from the reflection of the driver’s window, the car illuminated by the street lamp above, he hears a familiar voice. 

“You’re a cold bastard, Marc,” the man in the reflection says, his tone filled with quiet condemnation.

“Thanks, bud,” Marc sighs, running a hand through his hair. “You wanna explain to him that we’re gonna be late, then?” He raises an eyebrow, but Steven just shakes his head disapprovingly.

Marc scoffs, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Didn’t think so.” 

He takes the silver lighter out of his pocket, lights a cigarette, and leans against the car door, looking up at your windows. He imagines your silhouette as you’re lying on your side, your soft skin, the gentle rise and fall of your chest. He imagines you’re dreaming of him, finding peace in your sleep.

He knows he’s dreaming himself, knows you’re tossing and turning, cursing him. And he deserves it. He knows he does. 

“Tick-tock, Marc Spector,” comes the resonating voice of Khonshu, his towering figure perched atop a nearby rooftop, his skeletal bird skull gleaming in the moonlight. 

Marc rolls his eyes, takes a last drag of his cigarette before putting it out with his shoe, and shoots the impatient god a glare that earns him a chuckle that echoes through the night. 

He looks up at your windows one last time, his heart aching with a longing he can’t afford to indulge. Then, with a heavy sigh, he gets into his car and turns on the radio.

As he speeds down the road, the city lights blurring past, leaving you behind, he feels the crushing loneliness of his life.

It’s strange. 

Feeling lonely despite never being, you know, alone. 

Right on cue, he catches the intense gaze of a dark pair of eyes in the rearview mirror. 

“What? You gonna tell me I’m a cold bastard, too?”

Jake looks back at him with a sly grin. “Nah. You don’t need me to tell you what you already know,” he scoffs. “But it’s a real shame, Marc. Leaving that poor girl to get fucked by boys who don’t know what they’re doing, just ‘cause you don’t have the balls to–” 

“And that’s enough of you,” Marc mutters, turning up the volume of the radio, refocusing on the way ahead.

⚡ Kavinsky’s Odd Look is playing in Marc’s car as he’s driving through the night, thinking of you. ⚡ Marc’s Ferrari Testarossa – the sexiest car there is. ⚡ I adore the synthwave aesthetic if you can’t tell lol.

Moon Knight Masterlist | AO3

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

How would the OI characters react if the reader accidentally called them "husband" and was embarrassed after she realized her mistake?

This is so cute, oh my gosh! <3 Thank you so much for sending it!

OI Characters Called 'Husband' By Accident Headcanons

Steven: Absolutely giddy with joy! Yes, he is your husband. 100% heart eyes from him, he’ll grab your hand and squeeze it and smile. If you’re around other people he will call you ‘his wife’ straight away playfully and give you a sweet kiss on your cheek. 

Marc: Bless this man, he freezes. Error screen across his eyes and frantically inwardly asking Steven and Jake if they got married before he realises he’s being silly.

Jake: Without missing a beat, will ask, “Where is my ring?” And then will tease you about it playfully for ages until you're laughing.

Nathan: This idiot doesn’t even notice. You think, at first, it’s because he’s not paying attention. But when he sees you’re embarrassed he’s like, “why? What wrong? Why’s that bothering you? I basically am?”

Anselm: It doesn’t matter where you are because Anselm’s going down on you there and then.

Cecil: If he’s high it takes him a good fifteen minutes to register what you said. 

Club!Blue: He’s (unsurprisingly) a little shit about it. “Oh, you like me that much do you? You want to marry me?” Will smugly tell everyone. “They want to marry me.” 

Orderly!Blue: He’s going to tease you until you cry, I’m so sorry. (He’s then going to fuck your brains out).

Jack: Do NOT say this unless you want to end up tied up in his trailer.

Santiago: Will joke with you about it, “Oh, calling me that because I nag you too much, huh?” Is secretly very pleased, but doesn’t want you to feel embarrassed. 

Shimmer!Kane: Doesn’t quite get the implication, but he doesn’t like seeing you upset/embarrassed. Will give you a hug.

King John: Similar to Club!Blue, he’s going to be telling everyone and preening about it.

Rydal: Surprisingly gets all shy and blushes. 

Laurent: He’s already got the ring in his back pocket.

Poe: Giggles about it in a very ‘oh my gosh, hee hee hee, do you like me?’ way, even if you have been together for years.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

• Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • ko-fi •

Thank you for reading!

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @whatthefishh

@romanarose @strangerhands @saturn-rings-writes @steven-grants-world  @eyelessfaces

 @angel-of-the-moons @minigirl87 @lunar-ghoulie @silvernight-m @autismsupermusicalassassin

@reallyrallyauthor @basicalyrandom @alwaysmicado @mangoslushcrush @marc-spectorr 

@spxctorsslxt @novarosewood @pygmi-cygni @hammerhead96 @emma23 

@sub-aro @killerdollz @maplemind  @mwltwo @loonymagizoologist 

@dameronshandholder @queerly-anxious @homuraak3mi @swiftiegirliepop 

@oscarssimp @milkypompon @eternallyvenus @lounilu @avengersinitiative2012 

@pigeonmama @marcsb1tch @iolaussharpe-24 @chaithetics @DowBaStan

 @faretheeoscar @lonelyisamyw-0love  @queerponc @twwcs @Spnwhore2430 

@ominoose @ierofrnkk @have-you-seen-my-sanity @to-be-a-sunshine @blushingrn 

@missdictatorme @musicalnacho @ingoldthewizard @brunlocc

[have-you-seen-my-sanity]

Moon boys after NNN

Moon Knight system x fem!reader

Summary: The boys barely survived the NNN challenge and december has arrived.

Can be seen as a sequel to -> [X]

CW/triggers: NSFW, smut, fingering, oral (m! + f! receiving), spanking, cum eating, p in v, brat taming(?), thanksgiving mentioned. Let me know if I missed some!

A/n: I'll be sent straight to prison for this. Life sentence into an asylum wearing a straitjacket aswell.

December finally arrived, November is no more, meaning you can get comfortable while it's snowing outside, christmas feeling everywhere, get some hot chocolate to enjoy and...

The boys.

Last month was a bit entertaining. For you atleast. But the boys? Not so much. Not at all.

Jake was the only one who was acting normal, whistling and acting all professional.

Steven had some days where he acted like being seconds away from snapping, even biting his fingernails to suppress his needs.

Marc wasn't afraid of staring you down like you were his next prey he's going to chase down and enjoy for himself. Seeing him act like that made you afraid of even saying one word or make a remark about his behavior, fearing he might just pounce on you.

You haven't talked to the boys yet, it was only 4 AM and you didn't want to disrupt their sleep if they even were sleeping and not plotting their revenge on you.

It was only seconds after you came back from a raid on the fridge that you heard a knock on your door.

"Mi amor?"

You froze. It was Jake.

"Don't try to hide, you're not sleeping, we heard you in the kitchen." Jake chuckled, before he slowly opened the door, poking his head inside. "Oh hey, there you are." he grinned.

*Who's gettin' her first, guys?*

*Jake.*

"Jake? Why are you awake? It's 4 AM."

Jake closed the door behind him and slowly walked towards you. "Well," he shrugged "thought we will start the day early, eh? Maybe a nice wake up call?"

He sat down at the edge of your bed while you eyed him with tiredness and confusion.

"Alright hermosa, why don't you bend over my knees?" he patted them invitingly, grinning like the cheshire cat.

You swallowed, obediently getting up to bend over his knees. You knew you're in trouble now.

"So," he started, running his hand over your butt, giving each cheek a squeeze. "you had one month of just having yourself." he spanked you lightly. "But you know what?" he leaned down. "Steven, Marc and I are so pent up rightnow." he said, giving another spank, harder this time.

"You could have said something!" you gasped.

Jakes hand slipped underneath your clothes, squeezing your thigh. "Oh you didn't notice us? How the other two were acting?"

"I'm sorry!"

Jake chuckled, his hand found it's way to your hole, finding it already wet. "Look at that, you're wet! Couldn't wait either, hm?" he teased, his fingers probing into you and pushing two inside.

"F-where are the other two?" you half moaned, half gasped.

Jake thrusted his fingers in and out of you. "Don't worry, they will get their share too." he undressed your lower half, spreading your legs for better access while finger fucking you. His other hand moved to stroke his hardening cock through his pants, this time Jake isn't being as patient now that he's got you.

He pulled his semi-hard cock out, stroking himself a few times before looking down at you. "Why don't you go ahead and give me a head start?" he asked gently, but there was a demand in his tone that couldn't been overheard.

Leaning in, you licked the underside of his shaft, moving upwards while Jake finger fucked you faster, he was already starting to leak, you licked the tip, gathering the precum on your tongue before heading in, taking his throbbing cock into your mouth and swirling your tongue around it.

It caused Jake's leg to twitch at the sudden warmth of your mouth and your tongue magic.

"Fuck," he threw his head back, his hand cradling your head "you have no idea how good that feels after so long."

Your moans around him made him shudder at the pleasure. His thumb moved to rub your clit, making you almost drool all over his cock before his fingers dipped back into your needy pussy, curling them just right to make you arch your back.

Jake pushed your head down further on his cock, urging you to take more of him. He felt his control slipping, his hips rocked gently as he held you captive on his cock with his fingers stuffing your needy pussy.

Your eyes rolled back when Jake curled his fingers and hit a sweet spot. His breathing was getting heavier, the thrusts of his fingers harder and his cock throbbed inside your mouth.

"Shit, sweetheart, I'm getting close." Jake groaned, guiding your head faster. Jake pulled his fingers out of you, rubbing your clit in fast circles and pressing down, only to dive his fingers back into your cunt, making you moan uncontrollably around his cock, your teeth grazing his shaft which made him almost cum but he held himself back.

"Fuck, -ah- keep going sweetie." He grunted.

You felt his fingers curl inside you again, making you see stars when finally you coated his fingers in your juices. Jake didn't hesistate, using his free hand to join his other on your head, making you gag multiple times as Jake just used you like a doll.

Finally, when he came down your throat, he came hard, holding you in place while you obediently swallowed his load and catching his breath.

"You're okay down there, princesa?" Jake asked, gently pulling you off of his softening cock and cradling your face. "Phew, I'm afraid I enjoyed that way too much." he chuckled softly, moving in to kiss your forehead.

"I'll leave you be now, okay?" Jake cooed, but he knew you're far from done.

He stood up, leaving you sitting on the bed. Jake stopped with his hand on the door handle, turning around to face you. But it wasn't Jake anymore.

"Hi there, honey. Missed me?"

Your ears perched up. "Marc?"

"Mhm."

You bit your lip. "You're going to-?"

He made his way over, smirking. "What? Thought after Jake you'd be done? No-ooou, not gonna happen." he flipped you over, making you bend over the bed and pushed you up on your knees.

Marc's eyes roamed over your body, landing on your pussy seeing the wetness from Jake's handiwork still there.

His hands roamed your back, waist and hips before landing on your butt, squeezing firmly. "Fuck you had really no idea what you made us go through?" he asked, sounding as if he genuinely wanted to know.

"You could have stopped anytime, you know?"

"Yeah but you challenged us. And we don't shy away from a good challenge when we know what's our reward going to be."

You couldn't help but chuckle. "Geez."

"Baby it's going to be like thanksgiving for you. But you're the turkey getting stuffed." He slapped your cheek, marking it up with a faint handprint.

"Who's doing the stuffing?" you teased.

Marc's eyebrows shot up, he leaned down until his lips brushed your ear. "Oh honey. You're about to get stuffed up so good and in the end get devoured."

He ground himself against your ass, you could feel his soft cock hardening once more. The way his clothed shaft rubbed against you just right made you go all fuzzy.

"Fuck, sweetheart, sorry but I can't fucking wait." Marc rasped, quickly pulling his pants down, stroking himself until he was fully hard again and pressed the tip against your still wet pussy. He pushed inside in one swift thrust until he was fully sheathed.

You gasped at his thickness entering you so suddenly.

"F-f-fuck, I missed this so much." his eyes rolled back into his skull at finally feeling you again after so long.

His hand moved to your spine, encouraging you to arch your back for better access. He set a steady pace, increasing it step by step.

Marc couldn't keep his control up for long though, your insides felt like heaven to him, he don't want to cum, he wants to keep pounding into you until you're a broken mess.

But his thrusting increased heavily, the grip on your hips thightened with almost every thrust before he released them to slow his thrusts, grinding his hips slowly against you to regain his control.

"Mmh, fuck you just feel so fucking good." He bit his lip hard enough to almost make it bleed while looking down at you.

Your pussy at this point was so slippy, Marc nearly thought he'd broke your insides somehow. But he loved the feeling.

"Listen if you wanna cum, you better do it now before I choose to fuck this pussy into oblivion." he threatened, squeezing your ass cheeks firmly while he was hammering into you, desperate for his release.

Your poor pussy couldn't take any more of this, your orgasm hit you so hard you were on the verge of passing out.

"Oh god- oh fuck!" Marc groaned deeply, his cock throbbing inside you before he released his cum into you.

Panting, Marc pulled out, running a hand through his hair and face and sitting down next to you on the bed.

You looked like a fucked out mess and Steven didn't even had his round with you.

"Okay I need a drink. Need one too?" He breathed out.

You huffed, your mind was as blank as it could possible be. "Later." you smiled.

Marc nodded, getting up to leave your room to get a drink while you were still in the same position - ass pushed up on your knees, overstimulated with Marc's cum leaking out of you and nearly falling asleep.

After Marc had his ice cold refreshment, he made his way back to your room, expecting you to be out cold.

But you're not out cold yet, only about to when he entered again, padding softly over to you and running his warm hand soothingly over your back.

"Marc?"

"Hiya, love." Steven introduced himself lovingly despite his inner need to to devour you.

Steven gently turned you around on your back, seeing your messy face and getting a good view of your fucked out pussy. Beautiful.

"Gonna clean you up now, yeah?" he simply said, kneeling down between your legs.

Before you could question him, he dived his head in and latched his greedy mouth onto your pussy, not caring about slurping up Marc's load aswell.

"God, I couldn't wait to get my mouth back to your cunt, love." he moaned around you, the vibrations making you lose it despite already having had two orgasms.

Steven's tongue dipped into you all the way, already raising up your pleasure once more. Your hands found their way to his head, your fingers ran through his curls while Steven ate you up like he was seconds away from starving.

That's what Marc meant by getting devoured like you were some turkey getting served on thanksgiving. Marc and Jake only did the stuffing, now Steven is going to devour their meal.

Steven felt himself getting hard, his hand slipped inside his pants to jerk off while devouring you.

Normally Steven was able to eat you out without jerking off, but now, after that stupid challenge it was impossible for him not to.

He loved loved the way you tugged on his hair everytime he hit a spot with his tongue, loving how desperate you were for another orgasm.

While Steven continued his tongue swirling on you, you felt the familiar knot build up, your moans getting needy, letting Steven know you're close.

But he was close too by the time you were, his hand had squeezed around his girth to mimic your pussy before he suddenly stood up, looking down at you with his mouth glistening in your juices and his curls a mess.

"You taste heavenly, love. So, so delicious. But I need t' feel you 'round me."

His cock was already free, leaking precum as he positioned himself between your legs.

Needy Steven speared your pussy on his cock right away, desperate to feel your tightness around him.

"Oh god, fuck- almost forgot how your cunt's feelin'!" he grunted, his hips slamming into yours, getting lost in the feeling.

Your hips bucked into him, chasing your imminent orgasm once more, Steven's fingers digged into your flesh, his cock was ready to explode inside you.

Both of you shared a mutual orgasm, your pussy clamped down just as he released his load into you.

After Steven pulled out, he collapsed down on the bed beside you. Both of you panting from the intense experience.

"Holy shit," Steven panted. "love, now if you know what's good f' you, you better not make us accept some stupid no sex challenge."

You laughed.

"Oi, 'm serious. You were extremely lucky Marc and I didn't lash out on you."

"Yeah I know." you smacked his shoulder playfully.

"We're definitely not made for those challenges."

You giggled. "Mhm, all three of you belong into horny jail."

Steven glared at you, a dirty smirk on his face.

[whatthefishh]

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.

[pimosworld]

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

[halfmoonshines]

marc spector/steven grant/jake lockley x reader

summary: you loved all of your boys equally. most days.

or; they're all amazing in their own ways, but definitely have their strong suits.

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

You were going to strangle Marc Spector, you were sure of it. You were also sure that Steven would forgive you, and Jake probably wouldn't bat an eye.

How many times had you told this man that you had a laundry basket for a reason? Fist of Vengeance or not, his socks still stunk and you were getting tired of padding around the apartment twice a week collecting them all.

You slammed the washer door shut a little too hard just as you heard the front door open and click shut.

"I'm home, love! They had a great deal on your favorite cream cheese at the shops." Steven's honey accent pierces the quiet of your anger and you immediately simmer; his sunny disposition a cold water on your raging fire. You had nearly forgotten that he was the one who went to the store.

"That's great." You said as you rounded the corner, a smile on your face.

Steven paused in his unloading the groceries, a furrow creasing his brow. "Are you alright, sweets? You look tense." He crossed the small kitchen over to you, hands settling lightly on your shoulders. Leave it to Steven to see the slightest bit of tension in you.

You have a loving eye roll, moving closer to wrap your own arms around him. "I'm okay, Steven. Just slightly peeved at Marc for being so messy."

His hold dropped to your waist and he rested his chin on top of your head, a mirthful chuckle rumbling out of his chest. "That he is, love. Right disgusting bugger. Shall we do something about him?"

"I thought you wouldn't take kindly to me choking him with the next dirty sock I find."

"I'm sure I can look the other way."

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

"You're being ungrateful, you need to actually listen to me-"

Conversations with your mother never went over well, but this time you were well tired of listening to it.

"I am not being ungrateful, Sharon. I'm being realistic. Don't call me again." You slammed the phone down with a force, shaking the glass of water you had perched on the dining table. You winced, knowing that smart phones weren't made to take that kind of beating but you were far past the point of caring.

She always knew how to rile you up; to upset you and make you feel guilty. You didn't even know why you bothered to pick up her calls anymore. Some sick sense of ownership.

The hands that turned you were warm and familiar, the chest that greeted you smelling of musk and pine.

"You want to talk about it?" Marc's voice made you wince. Steven was the one that left the house this morning, you hadn't been aware that they planned to switch. You hated talking about this stuff with Marc, knowing full well it never compared to the relationship he suffered with his own mother.

You gave a shake of your head and met his dark brown gaze. "It's fine, babe. Same old attitude."

Marc's smirk lacked the usual humor. He raised one of his hands to twirl a loose piece of your hair, tracing the movement with his eyes. "You know you don't have to bottle it up, right? How you feel is important. Don't ignore that just because I have my own issues."

Your eyebrows raised in surprise. "That's quite the self aware statement, Mr. Spector. I'm impressed."

Marc's smile morphed into that familiar one and he returned your earlier eye roll. "Don't deflect. I'm here if you want to talk."

You dropped your hand to his and started to pull him towards the kitchen. "We can talk while we cook. I'm starving."

"I can agree with that."

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

You were being followed, you were sure of it. You tried not to hasten your steps too much, knowing full well that the person who had been following you for the last six blocks would give chase.

You wouldn't escape them.

You and the boys had obviously gone through this kind of situation before. Being the fist of Khonshu didn't come with a fan club, but it certainly did build a repertoire of enemies. If they lived, that is.

Your breath was puffing out of you in clouds as you power walked down a road parallel to your own, debating the merits on showing this man where you lived on the off chance that Marc was home.

You could hear the footsteps behind you speed up and you returned it in kind, kicking into a slow jog - all pretense of being unaware going out the window.

You glanced over your shoulder to see the man approaching quickly, and that was the first mistake you made.

The second one was hesitating when another men stepped out of the shadows of a store front. You knocked into him firmly, breath escaping out of your chest while his harsh grip dug into your shoulders.

Oh, you were fucked.

The man who had been following you caught up to you then, hand clasping over your mouth to muffle the strangled scream you had attempted.

Those training sessions in the living room with Jake felt like a distant memory with the blood pumping through your veins. You kicked wildly at the man in front of you, managing to graze that sensitive bit between his legs.

"I'm going to enjoy this so much more now." The accent was Irish, but you were quickly distracted by the large knife he brought up to your throat.

You stopped thrashing, all too aware of the sharp tip of steel biting into the sensitive skin on your neck. A stray tear rolled out of your eye, fate becoming more concrete.

"Hurry it up, Joey. We don't have time to dally."

"Shut yer pipe-" The man holding the knives voice gurgled briefly before he collapsed on the ground in front of you, the tips of crescent moon shaped knives poking out of the front of his chest.

You found him instantly, half masked by the shadows on the street.

"Bloody fuck." The man holding you simply tightened his hold, one hand fisting in your hair and yanking your head back. The squeal you gave wasn't by choice but you could see the start that the suited man watching you gave. "Stay over there, white devil, or she will die with me. Do you hear-"

You almost didn't see it, the knife being thrown but it was embedded in the goon's throat before your next breath. He released you all at once and you fell forward from the force, gloved hands catching you before you could hit the pavement.

You were heaving breaths, vaguely aware that you were going into something akin to shock but unable to pull yourself out.

"Breathe, mi corazon. You need to take slow breaths." Jake's own hands were shaking almost imperceptibly, you could tell that he was struggling to keep a lid on his fury.

You dragged in a deep breath through your nose, forcing yourself to sit on it before exhaling. You folded into his embrace, fresh tears springing into your eyes. "I'm sorry."

Jake's scoff was almost offensive. "What the fuck are you sorry about?"

You gestured to yourself haphazardly. "Completely losing my shit the first time that something happens to me."

The suit disappeared then, his bare hand gripping your chin lightly, bringing your gaze to his. There was fire churning there, and you realized you mistook some of his anger. There was fear there too. For you, though. Never himself.

"Don't you ever apologize to me when there's," His hand lowered a bit, ghosting over the line of red that the knife had left on your throat. "Blood dripping down you. Blood that's my fault." You understood then, the hard clench of his jaw. "Mierda, babe. This could've ended so differently."

Your hand wraps around the his wrist, bringing it into your lap, willing him to look at you instead of the wound he was fixated on. "But it wasn't. Because you were here. I'm okay, Jake."

Something flashed in his eyes, and a cloud passed over his face. He was bottling it up, you could tell, but there wasn't much you could do about that right now. "Let's get you home."

You let him help you off the pavement, keeping a grounding hand on his arm. Jake hesitated a moment, question poised on his tongue.

"What is it?"

"Are you sure you're okay? If you want to talk it out, I can step back. It would probably be good to have someone to talk to-"

Your kiss was chaste, but served its purpose of shutting him up. "If I wanted to talk about it, I could do that with you, Jake. You don't need to go anywhere."

"You know I'm not very good at that-"

"You're perfect." You insisted. No room for arguments.

He smiled wryly, arm wrapping around your waist. "How about I run you a bath when we get home and we order some takeout. What are you hungry for?"

"Surprise me."

[ivystoryweaver]

Spectre

A Moon Knight Halloween Love Story

Event #11: One Missed Call

prev | Fic Masterlist | My Masterlist

Summary: Jake has to face you, knowing he missed your call the night you died

Pairing this chapter: Jake Lockley x f!reader

Word count: 1.3k

Content: angst, slight miscommunication, the yearning, not beta'd

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

PREVIOUSLY on Spectre…

"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

"Jake?" You uttered, stretching out your hand for him.

Only his silhouette appeared from the shadowed corner, but a moment later, his hand found yours- fingertips touching your own, hesitantly. As close as he'd moved to you now, standing by the bed's edge, you needed more - needed him close.

You yearned to feel the strength of his arms, or at least feel the bed dip under his weight as he sat next to you, but something held him back.

"Jake, what's wrong?" You panted, your voice sounding more frantic than you intended. "Why aren't you in bed? Were you out working?"

"No," came his soft answer. Withdrawing his hand, you heard the shuffle of his bare feet across the old floor, the sound of it soothing you somewhat. At least you didn't hear the thump of his boot. So he must not be ready to leave and go out.

Scrambling for the lamp, you tried to calm your breathing, wondering why your newly gifted life would now contain panic attacks regularly. You came up empty, having forgotten that, while in your spectral form, you actually broke the thing.

"Jake," you gasped, pushing off the bed and reaching out for him. "W-where's the light? Why won't you come to me?"

Before you finished asking, he was by your side - his warm breath heating your cheek. "Corazón," he whispered. "Está bien." He steadied your arms but didn't envelop you in his arms.

You weren't the only one short of breath. Jake had woken up beside you and freaked right the hell out. Steven had tried to calm him - tried to explain, but you actually being here scared him right out of bed.

"Jake," you repeated his name like a touchstone, like a prayer. "D-did they tell you? That I'm here?"

"Si..." He voice trailed off as he swallowed thickly.

"I missed you," you breathed as he gathered you close and eased down onto the bed, pulling you tightly to his chest.

"Si...mi vida." He touched you all over, pressing you impossibly closer. Your breath mingled as arms held one another desperately, his mouth seeking out your own.

The feel of you warm and alive only added to the guilt squeezing his heart like a vice.

Kissing you a moment longer, you felt disappointed when he pulled away. "Get some sleep," he urged, sitting up beside you as you lay there.

"I-I don't want to sleep. I've already slept a lot, I'm up," you let him know, climbing back up to sit beside him. "Besides, I missed you."

Humming out an agreement, he nodded once before his gaze dropped to his lap.

"What's wrong?" You softly implored, winding your fingers through the curls behind his ears. He leaned into your touch, so he must not be afraid of you, or off put somehow. Maybe he was angry?

"I know how strange this is," you attempted, trying to connect with him somehow. "Believe me, I keep panicking. It's hard to believe I'm even here."

All the air rushed out of him in a tortured exhale, and when his eyes met yours, even in the dark, you could see the glisten of forming tears.

"I'm sorry," he brokenly uttered.

Whispering his name, you traced his cheek with your fingertips. "Why, baby? None of this is your fault."

Shrugging you off, he pushed off the bed as if your words, or maybe your touch stung him physically.

Exhaling shakily, you remembered your nightmare. "You're angry with me."

His head jerked around. "What? No."

"You are." Emphatically interjecting, you rose to your feet. "You're mad that I was coming to see you the night I was attacked."

Steven would have reassured you. And you could read Marc's silences almost as if they were your own thoughts. But Jake had never closed off from you like this. Jake spoke his mind always - half the time, in jokes.

But he was silent now. Stone cold, and physically withdrawn.

"I'm sorry," you offered up a pained whisper. "So sorry I caused you pain."

He said nothing, simply staring at the wall in tormented silence as if it would give him comfort, or answers.

Unwilling to push him to talk, and realizing he clearly didn't want to be touched, you tried to figure out what to do. You didn't feel particularly sleepy, but the sun wasn't up yet, so you climbed back into bed and turned on your side, facing his back.

The silence that followed was almost as deafening and frightening as the Dark Place, and you hated yourself for almost wishing another alter was with you right now. Just so you would have a tether to warm light instead of cold darkness.

But he did not leave you there for long.

Easing down to lie beside you on the bed, he still kept a touch of distance between you, speaking in Spanish toward the ceiling, like some sort of confession.

my fault you died

how could i have missed your call

should have protected you

i'll find him and kill him

Allowing him to ramble for a few minutes longer, you resisted the overwhelming urge to throw your arms around him and soothe him, or at least attempt to.

He finally settled down and said nothing long enough that you wondered if he fell asleep, but his hand reached for yours. Linking your fingers through his, you let him know you were awake, listening.

Drawing a steadying breath, you finally spoke, hoping not to spook him. Ironically, he seemed more at ease with your spectral form than he was now.

"Jake, I found the ring."

Feeling a subtle squeeze, you found the courage to continue.

"I...thought I ruined the surprise, but - for weeks, an engagement ring sat in the drawer and no one said anything. It was killing me," you tried to gently explain.

"I knew Marc didn't want to get married, so... I thought Steven bought it," you pressed on. "But I realized Steven wouldn't do it without Marc's ok."

You sighed, relieved to finally be free of your burden. "I had to talk to somebody. It was a spur of the moment thing. I tried to call. I was coming to the city to talk to you, to ask you..."

"Marc bought it," Jake gruffly whispered. "But, uh...try not to be too hard on him. He was going to propose on your anniversary. Our anniversary. It was a surprise."

Tears blinded your vision for the hundredth time in the brief time since you'd existed back among the living. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to leave you and ruin everything."

Jake rolled over and folded you close, tenderly hushing you before silencing your worries with the strength of his arms and the heat of his tongue.

He held you and kissed you like this, so hard you would lose your breath, only for him to pull back to share your breath, to feel your heated warmth on his lips. He buried his stubbled chin in your throat, nuzzling your pulse point, and allowing his lips to feel the gentle thrum of life, quickening as he made you shiver with want.

"How could you be sorry for anything?" He brokenly murmured, fingertips ghosting exposed skin, as if still checking to make sure you were real.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm supposed to protect you."

"You're sorry, I'm sorry, it doesn't change anything. I just don't want to go back to the dark."

"You won't," he swore, climbing out of bed and pulling you along with him. Pushing back the curtains, he guided you to stand partially in front of him, gesturing up to the cloud-covered sky.

Wordlessly, he summoned the Moon Knight suit, its bandaged, ancient whites and sleek midnight blacks wrapping around his body perfectly. "I serve the god of the moon and the night sky. You will never be in the dark as long as I'm around." With a dramatic wave of his hand, the clouds in the sky parted and revealed the moon - clear, bright and shining, illuminating the bedroom window and the hard floor beneath your feet.

Turning your face up to the moon's glow, you basked in it, as if it were sunlight.

"The darkness fears me. It won't touch you again."

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Coming up: Event #12: The Ring

Moon Knight Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Follow @ivystoryupdates and turn on notifications to never miss an update

Join my tag list - for chaptered fics and one shots only

[poppyflower-22]

Moon Boys

(These are just small discerptions that explain the one shot or parts as shortly as possibly)

Fluff:

Nothing yet...

In The Middle:

Its Marc's birthday in which you only know because of Jake and Stevan but Marc doesn't like birthdays. Hurt/Comfort. HERE

Past Avenger reader. The boys find out your true identity when they call you in. Part 1, HERE Part 2, HERE

Ex Widow assassin. You find Marc when on a mission but it's not only Marc, your husband. Smut with Steven. HERE

Iris Avatar. Soule mate Au. You help Marc on his mission, but it gets hard when you feel something. Hurt/Comfort. Smut. HERE

There on the run. It's like a vacation. Smut. Jake doesn't show but they know he's there. HERE

** Reader thinks Jake and Marc are Steven's twins. They both start felling something for her but when the truth comes out Steven doesn't want to want to think of the possibilities. But maybe it's too late. Major, Hurt/Comfort. Part 1, HERE. Part 2, HERE

Marc and Steven are so happy with you, but Jake doesn't want you around and wants you gone. The two boys won't be having it. Happy ending. Hurt/Comfort. HERE.

Series:

Reader is a college student. Full Masterlist. Starts as Steven then all the boys. Smut. HERE

Reader is an OC. Full masterlist. Smut. Reader is with the moon boys and Layla at the end. HERE

Dad's best friend. ⬇️

1. Marc. HERE

2. Jake. HERE

3. Steven. HERE

A full series about marrying the boys and kids. And more. So much Smut. HERE

Konshu fell in love with a goddess and now Marc has to spend time with her Avatar. Smut. Part 1, HERE. Marc knows he shouldn't lie about Steven, but it seems that Steven is better a match then him, leading to a miss understanding. Hurt/Comfort. Part 2, HERE.

Jake was fine in the shadows until something, or someone makes him more present. Hurt/Comfort. Smut. Part 1, HERE. Part 2, HERE

Psychologist reader. Smut. Hurt/Comfort. In which the boys represent a unique opportunity. HERE

Frank Castel gets jealous that you moved on, and the boys want to know why he was in the flat. Jealous boys. Smut. Part 1, HERE. Part 2, HERE.

Jealous Smut Marc, Jake and Steven. ⬇️

1. Marc. HERE

2. Steven. HERE

3. Jake. HERE

Baby Scarb. Teenager reader. Has spiderman powers. HERE

Pregnant reader. After your brake up with your ex-boyfriend you move into the boys building and they fall in love with you no matter that your pregnant. Smut. HERE

Polly/Konshu:

In which Konshu takes control of the body. HERE

Polly/Layla:

Nothing yet...

Dark/Possessive:

Possessive Marc fucks reader in Jakes car to piss him off. HERE

Smut:

Its Marc's birthday. Maybe he will start liking his birthday from now on. HERE

Marc new being Konshu avatar come with side effects, but he didn't know them fully until you. HERE

It wasn't often you saw them all in one night. Steven doesn't know about Marc and Jake. HERE

Marc teaches you control along with Jake and Steven. HERE

Being Steven's girlfriend and Marc fucking you. HERE

Jake, Steven and Marc take turn having sex with you. HERE

Jake decides it time to come and play. HERE

Centered around Jake. No one knowns why the sound makes Jake tick. Virgin Jake. HERE

[melodygatesauthor]

Sweetness

Vampire Marc Spector x f!Reader

Blurb 1 for Kinktober 2024 - Request by @silvernight-m

NSFW below the cut - No Major Warnings - Reader is not coded

Marc stole away to your room one night when the mansion was fast asleep.

You awakened to him, hovering over you, eyes filled with such a heavy desire it was almost tangible. You cupped his cheeks, leaning up to slot your lips over his. Marc’s breath was coming out in short, desperate huffs, mouth quickly working its way to your jawline, then to your pulse where he rested, basking in your overwhelmingly delicious scent.

“I wish I could taste you,” he muttered against your skin, the sound of his fangs shifting into place rang loudly in your ear; the sound of danger; the sound of hunger.

“I know,” you whispered, wanting more than anything to give him that small thing, but you knew Khonshu would never allow it.

His kisses peppered your skin until he reached your sternum.

“I’ll just have to kiss every inch of you until I’m satisfied enough then,” he sniffed out a laugh, looking up at you through his dark lashes.

You nodded, breathless and wanting, body sparking to life at the mere sight of him exploring you with his lips alone. He kissed your breasts, peeling away your nightgown so he could flick his tongue over your budded nipples, grazing the hardened flesh with his teeth.

“Marc,” you whispered, somewhere between a beg and a demand.

It was painfully slow, the way he pressed his lips against different parts of your body, each time feeling better than the last. You thought you might scream when he lapped his tongue over your lower abdomen.

“You’re so wet,” he commented, sounding a little surprised.

“You do this to me…constantly,” you said, eyes still transfixed on his movements.

He looked right at you as he dragged a finger through your slick folds, like he was gauging your reaction, daring you to moan for him. Your jaw dropped when he dipped his finger inside your waiting hole, curling it upward and feeling your cunt flutter.

“Marc,” you said again, this time accompanied by a heavy moan.

He held onto your hip with his free hand, melting his mouth against your burning clit. With a gasp, you threw your head back, your hand quickly moving, grabbing onto a fistful of curls. You arched your back, angling your cunt against his face, filling the room with your soft, whispered moans. 

Marc’s eyes flitted upward, catching your gaze in the heat of the moment. You heard him groan deeply, swallowing against your mound like a man starved. With another finger to meet the first, you felt a delicious stretch, followed quickly by your choked whine. Marc hummed into your folds, starting to piston his fingers in and out of you, moving in time with his tongue.

Your thighs clenched around his head, a sign that your orgasm was coming near. He looked up at you again, brow raised as if to acknowledge your impending climax. You shoved his head back down, crossing your legs over his back and biting your lip.

“J-Just like that, right there, o-oh god,” you muttered, using your free hand to cover your own mouth.

When Marc added finger number three, you were a goner. He curled them up, hitting that spot that made your whole body shudder and your cunt clench around him. You had to use both hands now to silence yourself, lest your screams wake the entire household.

After what felt like forever, your mind became clear again, the fog of your orgasm fading away. Marc made his way up to you, kissing your lips softly and brushing his thumb over your cheek.

“Goodnight, honey,” he whispered, kissing the tip of your nose.

“Goodnight, Marc.”

Back to Kinktober Masterlist

[boredzillenial]

Feelings after the hockey game remain jumbled as you, Jake and Marc head out for the party and everything comes to a head out on the dance floor 🕺

Themes: Moonbois in separate bodies, f!reader, drinking, dancing, ugly sweaters, things get steamy at the end 😘

Word count: 1.5k

A.N: not beta read, again so sorry about the prose in this I’m workin on it! Link to parts 1-4 here

Your trio head back to the boys dorm room, where a waiting bottle of vodka and an anime watching Steven are waiting.

“What’ve you three been up to?” Steven asks nervously, unable to pry his eyes away from where a hickey just barely peaks over your high collar.

“Just here to pregame and change then we’re out for the night.” Jake’s uninterested tone rings out dryly as he rustles around for the stashed contraband.

“Oh.” Steven nods and tries, unsuccessfully, to return to his show. However as the minutes and liquor pass you can feel his attention on you.

Once the three of you’ve down enough to satiate yourselves till the party you nod to Steven “You wanna come out with us?”

“It’s not really his scene.” Marc mutters, pulling his Fleece Navidad sheep sweater over his head.

“Maybe he wants to this time -” You shimmy closer to Steven so you can murmur with a smile, “I’ll stick beside you. Promise.”

“No, you won’t.” Jake’s voice cuts through as he wraps an arm over your shoulder “you’ve got a very important job tonight. Marc needs all the help he can get tonight.”

You twist out from under his arm and look over his sweater. It looked, normal? Till you got a closer look to see all the reindeer in its pattern fucking. “Seriously?” You say flatly.

Jake just gives you a sly grin and a shrug. “Still counts as an ugly sweater. Come on we gotta go get yours.”

Marc leads the way out of their room with Jake behind him, tugging on your arm. You turn and mouth to Steven ‘I’ll text you the address.’

The immediate flush across his cheeks and smile he fails to bite back sends butterflies on high alert in your gut. You had to remember to text him.

Once in your room you quickly toss on Jake’s ugly sweater with a pair of thick dark jeans and boots. Jake sets a brisk pace toward tonight’s destination. By the time you three arrive The Hockey House (as it’s known across campus) is illuminating the dark street with bodies flowing in and out of the open front door.

Jake nods at the player on bouncer duty and shows him the text invitation. The player looks him over suspiciously then gives an unwelcome smile until he settles onto you. “You brought a friend.”

Marc wraps an arm around your waist “Our friend-“ His expression has the bouncer throwing his hands up.

“Whatever dude.” He chuckles as he steps aside.

“Relax.” Jake mutters as you and Marc move to walk inside. “You know she can handle herself if shit goes sideways.” He winks “although I won’t be far.”

“Good luck,” you chuckle and shove him into the throng. “Come on Marc, let’s get you loosened up some more.” You smile, leading the way to find the kitchen.

As you feed Marc a couple beers to relax you quickly send the address off to Steven. Jake is gonna be annoyed but you can’t shake the guilt of Steven all alone yet again.

But as you look up from your phone, in the moment your gaze meets Marc’s, there’s that familiar warmth in your belly. He goes to hand you a can but you scrunch your nose at the shitty beer in his hand.

“I’m good-“ you put a hand on his to set the beer aside when the warmth from it tingles into your finger tips. “-thanks though. You feeling better?” The shots from earlier has a smile tugging at the edge of your lips as you watch him sway a bit on his feet.

His gaze lands on your lips trying to focus on your words and he nods, “-think so.”

“Good, come dance with me!” The sentence leaps from you before you can stop it. While uncertainty lingers in your chest it dissipates when you note the flicker of excitement in his eyes. Lacing his fingers with yours you tug him toward the crowd.

Marc’s body language tightens as you find a spot to dance, “Relax!” You call over the music. As you sway your hips and try moving along with him he’s still stiff as a board. “What’s up with you I’ve seen you cut loose before?!”

“I ah - I dunno -“ his gaze shifts over the crowd “Still in my head a bit-“

“Then lemme help you out of it-“ you smile, throwing your arms around his shoulders. Immediately a blush blooms across his face as you lean to his ear “- put your hands on my hips, just move with me-“

The fast paced song has you both swaying and dancing, your laughter rings in his ears as you pull him closer. But can feel him grinning as his cheek presses against yours. “Attaboy-“ you praise and can’t quite stop yourself from placing a peck on his cheek when his hips churn in time with the beat.

Marc shifts his arms a bit tighter around your waist, nuzzling his face into your neck as the music shifts to something slower. His breathing turns to something slow and deep, while your heart hammers at the unhurried closeness.

As the music continues its steady pace you spot other couples grinding and making out on the dance floor - only intensifying the lighting in your nerves with just how close he is. So much of him pressing against you as he sways to the rhythm. “Marc?” You murmur in his ear. Though your intention was to get his attention your voice comes out as more of a sigh.

He grumbles a response, unmoving from his spot nestled in your neck. The warmth of him radiating and for a moment you lean into it before the realization that his hands have slid down your back and gently squeeze your ass. “Marc!” You jolt before shoving him off and bolting into the crowd. You can hear him call after you but panic and fire in your nerves pushes you faster and thoughts whip across your memory.

Cold rink, Marc’s warm side pressed against yours, the feeling of him and Jake gripping each of your thighs.

You squeeze between people until you make your way to a back wall, enjoying the moment of freedom tucked beside the DJs set up. Your eyes close as you focus on your breathing and the thump of the bass in your chest. Just need a second. I can’t be feeling like this towards Marc. I can’t-

Marc’s voice cuts through the music as he squeezes in front of you. The sound of your name exhaled from his lips sends your muddled mind further into its tailspin. “Look I’m sorry -”

“No I am -“ you blurt, heart hammering as he looks over your face in confusion. Your own eyes settle on his lips, what if-

“Seriously, I’m sorry about just then, and the other day I didn’t mean to see you-“ his voice stutters as he realizes where your gaze has landed “see you like -“

Your sudden lunge forward silences him. Arms wrap around his shoulders, fingers intertwining in his curls as your lips meet. The kiss felt simultaneously foreign and familiar.

The way his lips soften against yours, how his body goes from rigid to relaxed, pulls a whine from the back of your throat. His hands transition from back in alarm to your waist.

It was his step forward and the pressure of the wall against your back brings you to reality. “Shit,” you try to turn away, having nowhere to wiggle off from his grip “I’m sorry -“ you go to dip to the side when his arms shoots out to cage you in.

“No-“ he places a soft kiss along your temple “please-” He gently tips your chin up to face him, “please let me - ” His gaze and low tone heats something even lower in your belly “let me kiss you - I need to.”

All it takes is one nod from you and his lips are against yours again. It’s soft and languid, as if he wants to savor every part of this.

For a moment the only thing in your world is him pressing against you and the thrum of the bass pounding in time with your heart. His hands shift slowly from cupping either side of your face down your body. Barely brushing your sides until he makes it back down to rear. “C’mere.” He nearly growls as he sweeps his hands behind your thighs and lifts.

Your body moves in time with his motion, legs wrapping around his waist as he pins you completely against the wall.

The press of him against you pours gasoline on that already out of control feeling inside you. His deliberate kiss and rut of his hips has you ready to jump out of your clothes the moment he asks.

What you and he haven’t realized in your own little world is that the crowd had dissipated with the commotion of a keg stand contest out on the lawn. But standing in the emptying doorway is Steven, phone in hand and eyes locked on the scene in front of him. Beside him Jake grits his teeth so hard he’s surprised he hasn’t cracked one yet as he hands Steven a beer, “Drink this, you’re gonna need it…”

—————-

Taglist: @melodygatesauthor @ominoose @romana-after-dark @lunar-ghoulie @flowercrownonapegion @howellatme @mooksmouse @ahookedheroespureheart @beezusvreeland @auntiegigi @moonkxight-blog @faretheeoscar @queerponcho @for-a-longlongtime @silvernight-m @ierofrnkk @ingoldthewizard

[the-little-ewok]

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.

-----------------

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this please hit the reblog button and tell me your thoughts! Your input is the only way to keep content creators creating content!

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

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!

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @cocodiem @oscarisaacsspit @whatthefishh @mbakubabe @romanarose @pimosworld @jake-g-lockley @saturn-rings-writes @boredzillenial @lonelyisamyw-0love @melodygatesauthor @steven-grants-world  @eyelessfaces @angel-of-the-moons @minigirl87 @queerponcho

If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

[sweetly-yours-and-mine]

“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.

[pimosworld]

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