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#marc spector fanfiction
spicyllewyn · 6 months
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Kinktober 1. - Accidental stimulation.
Marc Spector x F!Reader.
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Tags & warnings. Accidental stimulation + semi-public. (+18)
Word count. 1.4k
Summary. The only space in the car is on your best friend's lap.
Kinktober masterlist.
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Dragging Marc out of his apartment was undoubtedly always an odyssey for anyone who tried it. Fortunately, you had a little something hidden in your pocket called 'the best friend privilege' that always resulted in him fulfilling your whims.
That, and the slight feeling of jealousy that invaded him when you spent time with friends who weren't him.
It was a good day for both of you, after all, no matter how big the group of people you went out with was, it was as if you were always in your little world, just him and you. Chatting alone, walking behind the others, and always taking a few minutes to take photos at your request.
In the end, the rest of your acquaintances had already gotten used to it, and as distant as you might seem, they still loved and included you two. So it was no surprise to either of you that after lunch, the arcade, and the movies, they were relentlessly urged to take you back to one of your apartments.
"There's no way we'll all fit in your car." Six people in a car meant for five. You leaned a little after saying it, your eyes calculating the space in the back seat.
"Sit on Marc." The owner of the car shrugged as he jingled the keys in his hand, waiting for a response. It was a lost battle; both he, Marc, you, and the other ones knew that there was no way out other than simply accepting the offer.
"I'm not sure how safe that is." You hummed, pursing your lips before turning to Marc. "What do you think?"
He shrugged too.
"It's a short ride from here to my apartment."
You sighed; if he was convinced, it meant you were being the difficult one.
In a matter of minutes, everyone was squeezed into the car, you on top of Marc, the others having to shrink their bodies to avoid invading each other's space.
"Sit properly," he murmured, irritated by the way you were sitting almost on his knees to avoid bothering him. Because yes, both of you were basically inseparable, but Marc was a bit of a cat when it came to his relationships – sometimes he wanted physical contact, sometimes he wanted to push you into another room so that he could have some space.
He slid an arm around your waist and pulled your body until your back was leaning against his chest. Of course he didn't think through his actions and the consequences they could bring, or at least that's what he realized when the car passed its first stop and he felt you jump on his lap.
He gasped, low enough that you wouldn't hear it.
“Did you have a good time today?” You whispered as your fingers softly caressed his forearm until you reached the only bracelet Marc wore on his wrist. A gift from you.
He only could hope that you wouldn't see how the hairs on his arm stood up at how delicate your fingers were, causing chills to run down his entire spine.
“Mhm.” It was hard to concentrate with your ass pressed against him like that.
The music in the car wasn't loud enough to be annoying, but it was loud enough to cover your conversation as well as any curses that left Marc's lips. Next to him, one of his friends was dozing, the other was scrolling on her phone lazily.
Marc pretended to settle into place and mentally prayed that you wouldn't feel something between his legs starting to wake up, right against the inside of your thighs.
Was it necessary for you to wear that sundress specifically today?
Another small bump in the road and it was enough for Marc's cock to completely harden while you looked out the window and continued making those imaginary drawings on his arm. Of course you felt it, but there wasn't much you could do about it, especially with the way he held you to his body with his arm.
“Fuck.” He muttered, breathless as you shifted in your spot, returning to sit on his hip after the movement of the road caused you to slide down a few inches.
You could feel his hardness pressing between your legs, at one point the clothes being the only thing stopping him from fucking you mercilessly until your legs wouldn't work. His arm tightened around you and you swore the air was escaping your lungs, not knowing exactly if it was because of the way he was crushing you against him or because you could already feel your underwear becoming damp, a heat that you recognized perfectly in your lower abdomen and between your legs.
He pushed your entire body down with his arm, seeking to satisfy himself with that same friction that the pressure of your body gave him, until, of course, that was no longer enough. He pushed his hips up, a discreet movement, somehow, but you could feel it perfectly.
The fact that you weren't facing him gave you the chance to bite your lower lip and silence any noise that Marc tried to snatch from your throat with his actions.
The second push was less discreet, more desperate. He buried himself between your legs as if he wanted to tear both of your clothes and dig into you once and for all.
“Are they ever going to fix these damn streets?” The boy mumbled from the driver's seat. Small cement bumps provoked the car to make an almost vibrating movement for just a few seconds.
Marc almost fainted.
You knew it was too much for him when his forehead rested against your shoulder, his curls tickling your cheek and making you smile with how agitated you both were. You raised the hand that was on his arm to stroke his hair, pushing a few strands away from his forehead.
That would be the perfect position for both of you, or at least that's what he thought. Plunging into you to the hilt, your walls milking him as he listened to you moan his name loudly, with you pulling his hair and moving your hips to your liking, maybe he'd even let you keep that beautiful dress on, just lifting it up and moving your panties just a little to the side.
But for now, he'd have to settle for this. For the playful way you pulled at his curls as if it would bother him.
On the contrary, he almost made his lip bleed by having to silence the groan that was stuck in his throat. At this point your juices were wetting his pants and that was what gave him the clue that maybe this wasn't bothering you much.
Or nothing at all, he himself could feel you putting pressure on his erection as you pushed your ass down. As well as the way you spread your legs almost imperceptibly to let him settle between your thighs.
“You are going to make me cum on my fucking pants.” He whispered right in your ear, and you swallowed hard.
His left hand, which was between the car door and your body, slid under your dress, where he squeezed your thigh, his nails digging into your skin. You looked to the opposite side to verify that neither of the two guys had their attention on you and without looking away you moved your hips slowly.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
By the fourth movement you felt Marc's arm tighten around your waist to keep you still, he scratched your thigh, you could feel it. He let the air out of his lungs in a sigh of relief.
You felt the warm liquid against your skin making his jeans wetter and stickier.
“Was it left or right on this corner?”
"Left." Marc stammered, his voice slightly breaking as his forehead remained on your shoulder. The rise and fall of his chest moved your entire body now that you were comfortably leaning against it.
You chuckled.
A few more seconds of silence and you trying to ignore the way Marc's body shook as the car went over a couple more bumps.
His poor cock was too sensitive and he was getting over stimulated.
"See?"
You and Marc looked back at him in the rearview mirror. You smiled, he didn't.
“It wasn't that much of a problem.” He unlocked the car from the driver's seat. “You have to learn to accept favors.”
“Well, tell that to Marc.” You cleared your throat as you opened the car door. “He had to carry me all the way, he must be exhausted.”
He pinched your thigh and you chuckled again.
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tag list. @ninebluehearts If you want to be tag please comment it, i'm not adding the usual tag list since i don't know if you want to be tagged on nsfw stuff 👀
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Make It Worth It
Pairing: Moonknight trio x Reader
Word Count: 3.5k
Warnings: So many okay; body worship, HEAVY praise, multiple orgasms, oral (f,m receiving) unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it <3), creampie, hella petnames, fingering, kinda marking too, oh and cockwarming, a lil bit of a jealousy thing going, vague mentions of injuries
Genre: fluff & smut
Summary: The idea of you going on a date makes your friend confess feelings you didn't know they had
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***
Meeting Marc Spector was something you'd consider a total fluke. A mishap with his suit had him limping down the street hardly able to hold himself up. Against... probably your better judgment, you brought him to your apartment- patched him up, got him some food, and let him crash on your couch. He was gone before you woke up in the morning and you honestly expected never to see him again. A couple of weeks later though he popped by to say thank you and introduce himself, you told him he could stop by if he needed help again. You didn't think he'd take you up on the offer but you were fast friends as you became his only confidante. Apparently, the vigilante life is not conducive to friendships, especially when you share your life with another; Steven Grant.
It was a while before Marc told you about Steven and you liked to call him Marc's best kept secret, considering Steven doesn't even know about it. It took even longer for you to meet Steven. Another mishap with Marc's suit had him frantically banging on your balcony door one night. You pulled open the door and he'd practically fallen into your apartment.
"Y/n! Hey!" He groaned.
"Jeez! I thought that stupid bird was meant to protect you Marc!" You crossed your arms.
"Help now, be mad later. Oh! And if I wake up and I'm not me, lie." He barely got the last bit out before he practically fell on you.
"Heavens above you still haven't told him the truth?" You groaned technically to yourself as you shoved a now unconscious Marc onto your couch. Even with him passed out you'd gotten more than enough practice patching him up that you had it so down that you were quick and efficient. He was out for quite some time afterwards, you even made dinner before he suddenly startled awake.
"Who are you? Where am I? What are you doing here?" The unfamiliar British accent immediately told you that night that Steven had woken up instead of Marc.
"Um- this is my apartment so that's where you are, I live here so that's what I'm doing here and my name is y/n. You're Steven right?"
"How did you know my name?" He'd looked at you suspiciously.
"I- I looked at your wallet for ID?" He does have his wallet on him so that lie was totally believable.
"Well why am I here?" 
That was the question you were dreading from the moment Marc passed out on you.
"You were hurt so I brought you here."
"Hurt? Hurt how?"
"I- I didn't see it happen. You were hurt when I got to you." You shrugged. It wasn't technically a lie. You didn't see Marc get hurt. The answer seemed to satisfy Steven at the time but maintaining separate friendships with Marc and Steven wasn't something you wanted to keep up long term. Hence, with some gentle nudging, Marc eventually revealed himself to Steven and you ended up having to help the duo navigate the new dynamic.
However, where you thought Steven was Marc's best kept secret; a new player had him beaten. A secret so well kept Marc didn't even know until after you did. And his name was Jake Lockley. Meeting him had actually happened intentionally on his end. Apparently tired of watching the back and forth between you and his alters he stepped in to meet you himself. You'll admit you and Marc toed the line pretty much since you met, flirting with each other but not obvious enough to change your dynamic, and once Steven got comfortable with you it was only too fun to tease him. So in came Jake; the hidden protector, questioning you and ultimately deciding you were safe for them to be around. He even trusted you enough to facilitate his introduction to the other two. Now you've got the whole trio you can call friends and they often tell you how instrumental they consider you in maintaining stability in their shared life. You really enjoy having them around most of the time even with how chaotic it can be covering for, patching up, and keeping track of their system.
Tonight, while you're finishing your makeup for a date, you hear a knock from the living room. You're not expecting anyone right now so when you leave your room and find Moonknight on your balcony you're not exactly surprised. You open the door and the suit disappears as he walks into your apartment.
"What're you all dressed up for?" Marc asks taking in your outfit.
"Hello to you too Marc." You roll your eyes.
"Hello. What're you all dressed up for?"
"I have a date tonight." You say with a shrug heading back to your room knowing Marc will follow you.
"A date? What date? You didn't tell me about any date."
"I don't have to tell you about dates."
"Why wouldn't you tell me though?"
"It's a first date Marc I'm not getting married. You're making it a much bigger deal than it is."
"It is a huge deal. You haven't been on a date since we met!"
"Thank you for pointing out that Marc yes this is my first date in a while. Did you come here for a reason? Doesn't that bird of yours have errands for you?"
"I always come here when I'm done with Khonshu's stuff. This is why it's a big deal you didn't tell me about this date. It throws off our routine!"
"Marc you coming here to eat my food after running around for skelo-bird is not set in stone."
"It is set in stone. If it wasn't we wouldn't do it every time."
"Well it's still early, so when I finish my date I'll text you and you can come back over and your routine will be fine."
"That's not the same."
"I dunno what to tell you sweetie, I have to leave, I'm meeting this guy in like 10 minutes."
"Don't go."
"Marc!"
"Come ooon I'm way more fun than whoever this random guy is anyway."
"You don't even know him."
"Neither do you. So stay."
"Let me get this straight, you want me to cancel my first date in over a year because it's more important that we watch a movie while you eat leftovers? Call me crazy but I'd personally rank those a little differently."
"I want you to cancel your first date in over a year because I don't want you to go on a date."
"Okay I know we're close but I feel like that's crossing a line a little bit. That's not really up to you."
"Princessa, are you intentionally misunderstanding him?" Jake's sudden appearance only further confuses you.
"No Jake. I genuinely have no idea what the deal is here and at this rate, I'm going to be late so one of you better start talking straight."
"He's jealous. He doesn't want you going on a date with anyone that's not... us, really. None of us do."
"All of this is about a crush? Bring Marc back out here." You roll your eyes.
"Look I did not send Jake out here to speak for me!"
"You are such a dunce." You smack his chest lightly.
"What?!"
"You don't want me to go on this date because you three like me and you couldn't just say that?"
"I dunno I guess I just didn't want to risk what we've already got, as friends." He says sheepishly.
"Say the words."
"What?"
"Say exactly why you don't want me going on this date and I'll cancel."
"I don't want you to go on this date because I have feelings for you. Stay home. I can make it worth it in any way you ask."
"Any way that I ask?"
"I'll worship you like a god if you want me to."
"Won't that make that silly old bird of yours a little jealous?"
"Let him be if he is. All that matters is you not going on this date and me showing you my gratitude."
"Alright, I'll call and cancel the date."
"Don't bother. Who cares if he gets ghosted?"
"First of all, I'm nice so I care; secondly that's the shit that gets women stalked."
"Oh please, as if he'd ever be able to hurt you with us around." Marc scoffs.
"Okay, bodyguard. The call will take less than two minutes and you'll have my attention the rest of the night." You say grabbing your phone and stepping into the living room. You notice Marc following you as you call your date.
"Hello?" 
"Lewis! Hi, I'm sorry to do this so last minute but something has come up and I'm not going to be able to make it to dinner."
"Oh. Is everything alright? Do you need anything?"
"Uh- thanks but I'll be fine! I just gotta take care of a thing and I didn't wanna leave you sitting there waiting."
"Yeah no, thanks for letting me know. We can reschedule."
"Sure! Soon as I get a handle on things I'll reach out to reschedule." You say, ignoring the look Marc gives you.
"Alright no problem. Good luck with your thing." Lewis says before hanging up.
"You aren't actually rescheduling with him, are you?" Marc asks you.
"Probably not." You shrug.
"Probably?!"
"I already canceled the date for you once."
"You making this hard for me on purpose sweetheart?"
"Not at all. Just not sure how things are gonna go." You smile.
"How things are gonna go? I'm gonna show you that canceling that silly date was the right idea and that you don't need anyone other than us."
"Us? Steven and Jake are in on this too?"
"Of course they are."
"Well, that's a big promise Marc, how do you plan to show me all of that?"
"I'm going to start by kissing you. Is that okay?" Marc asks, pulling you towards him with an arm around your waist.
"Absolutely." You say draping your arms over his shoulder. Marc's free hand comes up behind your head as he kisses you hard. You gasp against his lips and he uses the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. Without warning, Marc lifts you into his arms and easily carries you back to your room, not even phased when you pull away from the kiss to squeal. He tosses you onto your bed and climbs over you with a smile.
"You have no idea how crazy we are about you." Marc breathes out, trailing kisses down to your neck.
"Crazy about me? Is that right?" You ask, a moan punctuating your question as Marc latches onto a particularly sensitive spot to turn purple.
"Completely." He says softly, staring at you so intently you pull him towards you for another kiss to escape the look in his eyes. Marc pulls away to tug your already bunched up dress over your head, leaving you in your bra and panties as he looks you over. "Fucking hell you're even more gorgeous than I could've imagined." Marc groans.
"You spend a lot of time thinking about me naked darling?" You can't help but chuckle at the thought as you take the moment of silence on his end to pull his shirt over his head and drag your nails down his chest appreciatively.
"I plead the fifth." Marc groans and moves to litter your chest in more patches of red and purple as he reaches under you to unhook your bra. His hands cover your breasts as soon as they're free, palms kneading the flesh while fingers toy with nipples. The sudden onslaught of stimulation has little whimpers falling from your lips that Marc decides he can't get enough of. He pulls one of your nipples between his lips, sucking, nipping, and tonguing at it to test your reactions, discovering all the sounds you make from this alone. "You make such cute little noises." He chuckles switching from one nipple to the other, pulling all the same sounds from you. Eventually, Marc trails his kisses down your stomach, soft and slow, like he has all the time in the world. "So pretty." He whispers. He pulls your panties down your legs, kissing your thighs on the way down and back up. "I'm so going to enjoy this." Marc says before burying his head between your legs. He licks a hard stripe between your folds that makes you moan and his arms wrap around your thighs before you can even squirm. Marc's tongue swirls around your clit as he watches you, testing what pulls the best reaction from you. When a certain rhythm has your fingers tugging at his hair he settles into it, intent on making you cum like that. Whimpers and cries fall from your lips in quick succession as he sucks and laps at your sensitive bundle of nerves. You writhe and grind against him, although his grip on your thighs restricts your movement as he works you quickly towards an orgasm.
"Holy fuck Marc!" You groan, throwing your head back and pulling almost too hard at his curls but the man between your legs only lets out a pleased growl at the action. "Fuck I'm close." You pant out and Marc wraps his lips securely around your clit, sucking harshly until your legs tense and your orgasm crashes into you with a silent scream. Marc doesn't even let you fully ride out the high before his fingers slide into your opening. He curls the two digits just right and you can feel the pull in your abdomen when he brushes the spot inside you. Your back arches into him as he works you open with his fingers, his tongue still lapping at your clit, determined to pull another orgasm from you. Your second orgasm hits you faster than the first your entire body twitching while you let out the prettiest whine Marc's ever heard.
"My goodness." Although the voice is muted in your pleasure fogged brain, you don't miss the accent in his words.
"Steven?!" You blink at him, chest still heaving slightly as you try to catch your breath. His eyes are as wide as saucers as he takes in the situation he's just been thrown into.
"Hi. I can't imagine Marc did this on purpose I-" Steven's words trail as his head snaps to the mirror hanging on your closet door. "He did this on purpose." Steven looks at you and then back at the mirror. "Why would you do that Marc?!" You pull his gaze back to you by grabbing his chin,
"Steven, calm down." You say.
"Clearly I've missed a lot because how did you two even end up like this?" Steven asks and your giggle at his confusion quickly turns into a whimper when the action makes you distinctly aware of his fingers still buried inside you. "My god, help me." Steven breathes out at the sound from your lips. "If this was your act of gratitude why am I here?!" Steven asks to the mirror and you suppose Marc told him how you, in his words, ended up like this. Steven makes a face at whatever Marc says next and then turns to you with a look you can only describe as curious. Before you can question it, his fingers inside you move tentatively, making you moan. He's less sure of himself than Marc had been but he watches intently as he slowly strokes your inner walls, enjoying the way you react to him. "You're absolutely breathtaking."
"And you, are simply adorable." You say bringing him down to kiss him. Steven is obviously much more nervous than Marc was and you take the lead in the kiss. You can taste yourself on his lips as you explore his mouth with your tongue. It seems your reactions feed his confidence as his fingers gain speed the longer you kiss him and soon you're moaning too much to actually do it properly.
"I love the sounds you make." Steven sighs. You pull his fingers from you before he can make you cum again and he pouts at you until you guide the fingers between your lips. You suck them clean, enjoying the way Steven takes a shaky breath at the action. You use one hand to undo his jeans and pull them down his legs, pulling his fingers out of his mouth for him to get up and shove them the rest of the way down with his boxers. You lean forward and take Steven into your mouth, swallowing him down as far as you can.
"Oh god." Steven groans and his eyes roll as he tosses his head back. You bob your head up and down his length, swirling your tongue as you go, enjoying the way he moans and shivers.
"I love the sounds you make too darling." You hum dragging your tongue along the vein that runs the underside length of his dick. Steven hisses and you wrap your lips around him again.
"Holy hell you're... really good at this." Steven's praise is breathy and stuttery. You take him all the way into your mouth, feeling him in the back of your throat. Rather suddenly, you feel his fingers in your hair tugging you off of him.
"Now, it was my understanding that we were meant to be showing you gratitude." Your ears perk up hearing the accent change.
"Jake, yeah so I've been told." You hum.
"And yet here you are pleasing Steven instead of him worshiping you." Jake's thumb rubs along your bottom lip.
"Steven is just so much fun to tease." You smile.
"Tease him later princessa, tonight is about you. How lucky we are to have you in our life. How much of an honor it is to kiss you, to touch you, to please you." Jake intentionally speaks slowly, staring at you intently.
"You are... very good with words." You muse.
"Have our actions not supported them?"
"Marc definitely, and Steven- before I got my hands on him, yes. You however haven't done anything but talk." You smirk at him.
"Tell me what you want from me and it's yours. Anything you ask." Jake says.
"In other circumstances that would be... a dangerous promise to make. But tonight, I just want you inside me. I want you to make me cum on your dick."
"With pleasure." Jake pushes you onto your back and tugs your legs to pull you towards him. He wastes no time lining himself up with your entrance and thrusting into you. Your back immediately arches at the fullness of Jake bottoming out and you can't help but moan. "Fuck you're so wet." He groans dropping his head to your shoulder for a moment. Jake sets a rhythm of sharp thrusts, deep but quick.
"Sh-shit Jake! Feels so good." You whine, dragging your nails down his back. He hisses at the sting and his thrusts pick up speed.
"God y/n you're perfect. So gorgeous. Taking this dick like you were made for us." Jake huffs out. One of his hands reaches between your bodies, finding your clit with ease. You squirm against his ministrations moaning as he drives into you repeatedly. "That's it princessa, moan for me, sounds so nice." He grits out, rubbing circles against your bundle of nerves. You grind against him, trying to bring your orgasm on quicker. "Cum for me sweetheart, let me feel you let go around me. Please mi vida." Jake sweetly kisses you as he practically begs for your orgasm and a few thrusts later you're falling over the edge, nails digging into his back as he watches the way pleasure washes over your face. Once your eyes slowly peel open, Jake tightens his grip on your hips and changes the pace of his thrusts, slowing down now.
"You're gonna cum inside me aren't you Jake?" You ask with a pout specifically to get what you want.
"Mierda." Jake's eyes close for a moment. "Is that what you want princessa?"
"Yes Jake, please."
"I told you I'd give you whatever you ask me for." Jake shifts slightly before picking up the pace of his thrusts, they're sloppier now as he focuses on chasing his own release. "I'll pump you so fucking full, you'll be leaking. Fuck you'll look even prettier dripping like that."
"Please Jake, give it to me. Fill me up baby." You whine, grinding against him. His hips stutter and stop buried inside you and you the warmth of his orgasm inside you makes you moan. Before Jake can twist to lay beside you, you pull him onto you comfortable with the weight of him on you. "Don't move yet, let's just- lay like this for a bit, please." You say.
"Thank fuck you didn't go on that stupid date." Jake mutters and you giggle a little.
"Thank fuck you said something or I would've."
"Well, did we make it worth the stay?" "I'd say so." "Good. After a nap you can discuss the details, probably with Steven, he'll have the most to say." Jake mumbles into your neck.
"I'll have to talk to each of you ya know." You say.
"Sure but start with him. All I have to say is I think you're perfect, and we'd be lucky if you date us."
"You're not the only lucky ones." You say kissing the side of his face. Yeah. It might have been by pure chance that you crossed paths with Marc over a year ago but you're glad the rest of your decisions landed you here. Even if it's not the trajectory you saw that first interaction leading to, definitely worth it.
***
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heartthrobin · 9 months
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press your tulips to mine
steven grant x female!reader
wc: 4.6k
warnings: mutual pining, steven is a shy babygirl, marc playing wingman (but he's kinda terrible at it cause he's also falling in love), no jake (the crowd is booing), no khonshu, steven still works at the museum, post mk s1, no use of y/n
an: rewatched the whole of mk last night and needed to write about my dearest stevie :)) don't forget to repost to support your fav writers
summary: Steven's apartment has become overrun with more bouquets of flowers than any one man could ever find use for, but they would continue to pile up as long as the pretty girl at the flower shop continued to melt him with that syrupy smile each time he walked in.
Steven Grant had never given much thought to flowers.
Sure, he could offer a momentary appreciation for a flicker of yellow growing out the cracks in London sidewalks or maybe if he passed a house with a particularly impressive rose bush he could smile, but beyond that flowers remained mostly inconsequential.
Steven never had girlfriends in high school, or - to be frank - thereafter either.
He’d never had to pick out a bouquet, one that he would need to consider: does this match her eyes? will it match her dress? how does it smell?
In the face of discovering that he was unalone in the occupancy of his five foot nine frame and fighting in the name of an Egyptian moon-god, Steven had less time than ever to consider his frighteningly barren love life or the lack of interest in flowers on account of it.
Isn’t life funny? In the way that we look so far beyond ourselves for answers, when sometimes they’re just around the corner.
Specifically the corner one street over from the museum.
Steven had walked the path to work plenty of times. A designated route. In the days when he still worked at the gift shop, the same route now that he’d been bumped up to tour guide.
Until one otherwise unimportant morning when construction bound his usual way, forcing him a walk further around the block: adding another four minutes to his trip and a view of the quaint shops down Little Russel street.
He hadn’t been down there in months. His last venture had been in search of a pharmacy for sleeping tablets, when Khonshu was still a nightmare and Marc nothing more than a migraine.
Steven noticed first that the pharmacy no longer stood. In fact, the previously white brick face of it’s stand had been painted a lush lemonade-pink. The Petal Parlour.
Almost immediately, in just about the same breath, Steven’s eyes found a woman leaned over a broom and sweeping the edge of the shop step. She was humming, he could just make out a Stevie Wonder tune.
The morning light flickered off your hair as if off the face of a pond out in a beautiful garden. An elderly man passed your work, uttering a greeting, and you'd perked up with a melodic: "good morning Mr B!"
Steven's footfalls stalled down the sidewalk. A man crashed into his back, strewing the contents of his messenger bag around him. "Watch where you're going, asshole!" He'd seethed at him.
By the time Steven had looked up, you'd already retreated back into the shop. He could make out your outline through the stained glass front.
There hadn't been a day since that Steven had taken his normal, considerably shorter, route to work. He got up five minutes earlier each day, brushed his teeth, made a cup of tea and let the memory of you swim behind his eyes. He could hear Marc's sighs every time.
Most mornings you were inside. Steven would deflate when he rounded the block to an empty corner, but he refused to consider it a total loss because - more often than not - he could make out your figure beyond the window fiddling with petunias on a shelf or smiling at a customer.
Some mornings, when he found himself most lucky, you'd be outside the shop. Usually clipping stray leaves off the rows of bouquets that glimmered happily at the people passing down the street. When it rained, Steven was privy to the way your hair clung to your forehead and the smudge of black mascara beneath your eyes. In the sunlight your arms were exposed from under a pink work shirt and a soil-stained apron.
It went like that for nearly a month. Between Steven and Marc's alternating schedules, he learned to appreciate the slim sightings of you he could manage. Marc didn't make it any easier, mind you, with the way he would whine and complain into Steven's ear.
"Jesus, Steven, just go up to her and say hi!"
Once or twice, Marc had managed to gain control of Steven's legs: teetering him drunkenly in your direction.
The fright would rise quickly up in Steven's chest, steering his legs back in the direction he was walking. You'd looked up one of those times, meeting his eye and spilling out a soft laugh that dissolved into a syrupy smile, but he'd rushed off before you could say anything.
Steven's face stayed red that whole day. "See. That wasn't so bad, was it?" Marc jeered.
"That was mortifying." He muttered back.
The bus rocked beneath his feet and his palm was growing sweaty around the pole he was using to steady himself. Frost was creeping up at the edge of the window he was watching out of.
"Okay, so all you're going to do is go in there and ask for ... help with something." Marc clarified again, his voice echoing around Steven's head.
He'd been bugging Steven since he was brushing his teeth before bed the previous night, something about how "I can't handle any more of this, please Steven. Put me out of my misery."
"Help with what?" Steven whispered. A woman looked up at him from her seat. He smiled shyly, turning away from her.
"I don't know ... tell her you're looking to buy some roses. Tell her it's someone's birthday."
Steven nodded slowly to himself. "Okay ... okay."
Marc had worked hard over the last twelve hours at convincing him. The endeavour was initially futile, but after Marc threatened to go in there and ask her out himself with a - frankly insulting - cockney accent, Steven was left with limited options.
He rounded the corner with wobbly legs and The Petal Parlour loomed in the distance. A bunch of sunflowers taunted him with swaying faces.
It drew ever closer and Steven's heart was beating loudly in his throat. The pink brick was crossing his vision now, his footsteps growing heavier, faster, past the floral print on the window--
"Steven don't even think about it--"
Against Steven's will, his legs knotted around each other: collapsing his body in the direction of the white painted door. It crashed open and Marc, more than Steven, caught his body before it hit the tiled floor inside the shop.
"Oh my god, are you alright?"
The shop was cramped now that he'd gotten his first glimpse inside and the three people crowding the space had their eyes on him.
As if appearing from a mirage, you pressed past the people towards him. He nodded frantically, the scalding touch of embarrassment burned his cheeks. "Yeah, yeah ... I'm fine."
Your earrings jingled from where your head was tilted to inspect him. Ringed fingers pressed down over your soil-covered apron. "Okay then, if you're sure."
Your concerned brow dissolved slowly and that syrupy smile he'd seen pointed in other's directions was suddenly overwhelming him with it's warmth. "Well then, can I help you find anything? Are you looking for some arrangement in particular?"
Steven nodded dumbly, he was fidgeting with the edge of his coat. "Yeah ... I'm looking for, uhm..."
"Birthday!" Marc called from somewhere deep in his mind.
"Birthday!" Steven spluttered loudly. There followed a quiet moment of confusion dripping between you and him.
"Jesus, Steven."
Your giggles crumbled into the space before Steven had the ability to conjure more words.
"I-- I'm sorry, I'm being rude ..." Laugher spilt between your words and your cheeks were turning a soft pink, "you want something for a birthday?"
An embarrassed smile had reached up into the corners of Steven's mouth. He liked the tinkle of your laughter, half convinced he could get drunk off the sound. A molecule of pride floated in his chest knowing that he was responsible for it.
"Uh, yes. Sorry, yes." Steven nodded, fidgeting with the bag strap over his shoulder. "Someone's birthday."
"Well, we just gotten some new arrangements in this morning ..." You turned on him, steering across the little shop to a orange, yellow and pink stacked shelf. He followed you tentatively, trying to pretend that he didn't smell perfume where you moved past him. Pretend that it wasn't making his knees buckle.
"They're pretty." He said quietly. You smiled again. You're pretty, he thought.
"Focus!" Marc's sharp voice sliced through his thoughts.
"Who's birthday is it?"
Steven's tongue lodged back into his airways. "Uhm--"
"Oh shit ... uh, say--!"
"My girlfriend's."
"Not girlfriend, you idiot!"
"Oh, alright--" Your hands fidgeted with your necklace, eyes wide.
"My sister." Steven interrupted you again, the argument in his brain between his thoughts and Marc’s voice was rattling his resolve. "I ... not my girlfriend, I don't have ... I don't have a girlfriend."
"You don't have a sister either." Marc quipped.
Steven ignored him. You were watching him with another smile flirting at your lips. "Okay, well, do you know what kind of flowers she likes? Or have an idea of what you want?"
Steven shrugged, head wobbling into a shake. "Uh no ... what kind do you like?"
You seemed taken back by his question. "Oh. Well, I like the tulips. The yellow ones, especially, but they're tough to find around here ... they have tons in Netherlands and Turkey, which not many people know because everyone thinks of them--"
Steven was sure you could see the little birds floating around his head, and how his pupils turned to tiny black hearts: maybe that's why you stopped.
You blushed a velvety red.
"I'm sorry ..." you turned back, hiding your warm face to wave your hand over the shelf of stacked bouquets. "We have some orchids and some irises if you think she might like them?"
"Yes." Steven nodded, hands folding over each other. His eyes were trailing the outline of your profile, savouring the closeness he'd finally been granted. "Those ... they're beautiful. She'll like them."
Your eyes twinkled where you nodded and it made his stomach churn. "Great."
He lingered patiently by the register while you wrapped the flowers with careful hands.
"Say," your gaze flickered up between him and the brown paper. "Do you work around here? I'm sure I've seen you passing in the morning sometimes."
Steven's breath tripped in his throat. She noticed me?
"Yes, now answer her." Marc's voice rung again.
"I-- yeah, I work by the museum actually." His voice stumbled nervously from the back of his throat.
"Oh really? That's so cool!" Your voice lilted with a pitch of interest. "I really like their exhibit on the liberation of India from English colonial regimes. I've only been once or twice though."
Chest buzzing delightfully, Steven nodded. He knew the one you were referencing, it was a couple corridors down from the Egyptian exhibits.
"Well, you should definitely come see the Ancient Egyptian section. The exhibit is huge and we have hundred year old pieces, sarcophaguses and vases and slabs of cave walls with carved hieroglyphics. I work there and it's really the most fascinating--"
"Let her respond, Steven."
But you seemed content to allow him to continue his splurge, your eyes warm and gentle where it caressed over Steven's face. He stopped talking, winding off embarrassed.
"So, uh, yeah."
"You've made a very good case. Maybe I will come visit." You nodded, fingers stroking absently at the edge of the counter. "If you promise me a tour?"
Warm blood rose up from his chest and pooled in his cheeks. "Of course. Anytime."
You handed him the flowers over the stretch of counter. "I never caught your name?"
"Steven." He said quickly, dejection gathering in his throat at the fact that your interaction was nearing a close. "G-Grant. Steven Grant."
You nodded. "Nice name. It's very James Bond."
"Thanks."
"Ask her name!" Marc poked at the back of his brain.
"Uh-- and you are?"
"Oh!" your eyes fell down to your chest where the corner of your stained apron was obscuring the sharpened edge of your name-tag. You shifted it for him to see.
Steven's eyes followed over the letters, he tried your name out on his tongue. It tasted sweeter than he thought a name ever could, rolling off his lips like a song or a bird whistling on a summer evening.
"It's ... it's a beautiful name."
You blushed, eyes moving back to the keyboard for momentary solace before paralysing him with your warm gaze again. "Thank you. I guess I'll see you 'round Stevie."
His mind whirred with how casually the little nickname slipped from you. "Yeah, yeah you will ..."
Leaving the store, Marc called from between the sludge of Steven's muddy mind.
"Good job, Stevie."
-
Steven was consumed by the interaction the whole rest of the day and when then next morning loomed overhead, he could hardly believe his luck when you were pinching together some lilacs out on the front step where he passed.
Half convinced by the nauseating twist in his stomach to just march quietly past, the decision was made for him when you glanced up from the flowers and offered him a friendly wave: “good morning, Stevie!”
His brain dissolved into a warm, gloopy mess. “… Morning.”
-
In the coming weeks, Steven’s apartment had become a botanical garden of epic proportions.
Vases and cups and pots, and whatever he could fit a flower into, lined his kitchen counters and his shelves and his bathroom sink with every possible kind of flower that The Petal Parlour had to offer.
Marc grumbled most days, in search of a coffee mug or apartment keys between what he described the “Amazon jungle in here.”
But Steven paid him little mind. It was a harmless jab and Steven noticed in the reflection of the shop’s stained glass window how Marc watched you too, eyes glazed with a soft affection. He mentioned nothing of it to Marc.
Steven had begun frequenting the shop when he could, on mornings he got up early enough or afternoons when the day’s work brought soil stains across your ruddy, tired cheeks.
He’d bought flowers for every possible celebration to be had in London, seemingly nabbing an invite to each one. Bat mitzvahs, birthdays, weddings, farewells, funerals: he’d bought bouquets for one of each kind.
Each visit would play out similarly. He’d step into the shop, maybe once a week or every other week - with Marc muttering somewhere in his mind, we’re hardly gonna be able afford groceries at this rate - and you’d beam at him from behind the counter or from beneath a brightly coloured shelf.
“What’s up, Stevie?”
The nickname made him shiver every time.
“Let me guess … Christmas in July?” You’d tease.
When he’d find you behind the counter, that was his favourite, because you’d lean lazily over it. It blessed him with the view down the slope of your nose, the smell of your fading perfume, the jingle of your clinking earrings.
“Baby shower.” It comes out almost as a question, curling upward at the end.
You’d giggle softly. “Right. Boy or girl?”
It had been long enough that Steven could just about draw out your work schedule.
Fridays you didn’t work, Sundays and Tuesdays you only clocked in the afternoon. He tracked it with the little greetings he got, or didn’t get, as he passed on the way to or from the museum.
“You know,” Marc was fronting an early morning in August, subjecting Steven to a cup of coffee. He hated the stale taste it left in his mouth. “We’re quickly approaching, if not already long surpassed, the point where you need to actually ask her on a date. You know that right?”
Steven remained quiet in the depths of Marc’s mind.
He stayed like that until Marc had cleaned out the mug and stuck a wet toothbrush into his mouth.
“Can I please just get ready for work now?” Steven muttered after nearly twenty minutes of silence.
Marc huffed, letting his eyes roll back and the toothbrush dangle from his lips.
Steven shook out his shoulders, Marc was always so tense. “Thank you.”
It was only when he’d passed the flower shop that he remembered that it was Friday. A group of school kids were expected at the museum around nine that morning.
He was almost grateful for your absence, it allowed him to wallow in Marc’s words for at least one more day. He should ask you out, god does he want to.
The day passed like most of them do.
The school children were rowdy and mostly impartial to the magnificent feats of Ancient Egyptian architecture, but he took another tour around two o’ clock with three couples and a family who were significantly, thankfully, more engaging.
Steven had just wrapped up the hour, on the tail end of explaining how do we know what hieroglyphics mean? to the man who’d asked, when a flitter of shifting fabric floated past the back of his head.
Emerging like a bottle-green wet dream, Steven's gaze found you drifting under the arch between rooms. Your eyes alight in searching, they caressed momentarily over each framed painting and encased ornate vase.
He'd never seen you in anything more than your tight pink work shirt, which - don't get it mistaken - did enough damage to his psyche on it's own, but he immediately knew he'd never recover from the little green dress that clung to your frame.
A square neckline reached past clinking necklaces, long sleeves brushed along your palm - a job Steven desperately wished was his own - and a ruffled edge that teased an upper expanse of thigh which he'd never before been gifted a view of ... and if you shifted just a little, bent just slightly over--
"Hey, thanks a lot. The tour was great."
The middle aged man's face reappeared into Steven's view: dirtied spectacles pressing down the edge of his sweating red nose.
Steven stuttered, eyes flickering between the man's face and your figure in the distance. "Y-Yeah, of course ... anytime, mate."
Your eyes found him, waving a hand.
Uninterested in letting the American tourists keep him from you any longer, Steven slipped past them towards your nearing frame.
"Stevie, hey." You beamed up at his face, hands playing with the strap of your bag: clearly unsure. "You-- well, it was my day off and I thought maybe I could take you up on that tour, but I just saw the board and it says you'd already finished your last one--"
"Hey, hey," Steven shook his head. "No, I'm ... I'm glad you came. I can take you if you'd still like, I'd love to show you around? It will be like a private tour."
He swore he could dissolve under the shine of the smile you gave him. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“Oh—“ you started digging into the bag draped down over your shoulder. “That reminds me …”
Your hand emerged with a single white flower. It’s petals were wide with a barely there yellow dot in the centre.
“I thought it would match the jacket you always wear.” A hand reached out, tugging gently on the corner pocket of his grey trench coat and slipping the flower in so it stuck half out happily. “It’s a white daffodil. Nicked it last night before I closed up.”
Steven’s chest was clenching up with a tightness that felt like his last remaining decisions in this life were to either immediately faint, or kiss you until the oxygen deprivation lead him to faint anyways.
“I—“ His fingers caressed gently at the edge of it’s petal. “Thank you.”
“Give her a compliment, Steven.” Marc’s voice startled him. He was a rare presence when Steven was at work.
The idea prodded at Steven that maybe it was the sound of your voice that had drawn him out.
“You … you look beautiful, by the way.” Steven pressed out, “the dress, it’s — it’s very nice.”
With nervous hands at the edge of the skirt, your looked quickly between the dress and Steven's face. "Ugh, this old thing. Just thought it would be a good idea to get out of my work uniform for a bit."
"I agree ... a great idea." He nodded, "You wanna ... get started?"
"Of course."
Steven lead you over the same route that he walked three times a day, four times on weekends, but somehow still felt itchy between the rooms. He figured it had to do with you gaze pressing curiously over his face, it made his neck hot and he prayed you couldn't see it.
When he spoke, you leaned close into his frame: eyes flickering between his trembling lips and the artefacts he was describing.
"That's so cool ..." you'd whisper to yourself at different points, sometimes a "that's crazy" or a "that's kinda gross", and Steven was drinking in your reactions like a man parched.
The tour closed off at the spot it usually does, with the replica of the Rosetta's Stone near the West Exit. By then, the sun had already sunk behind the backdrop of summer London and Steven's nerves were downright shot.
Your perfume was sending him on a chemical high and he's sure Marc heard every one of his desperate thoughts about the way your fingers tightened around his arm when they'd bump past other visitors moving room to room.
With the dress swaying merrily at your sides, you recounted points of the tour with animated hands flying ahead of you.
"And the way they managed to get those tombs so far underground? Not to even mention the complex tunnelling systems, how much work that would actually take to figure out--"
The tiny birds had returned to flying in circles over Steven's head, Isn't She Lovely was playing absently from somewhere in the depths of his mind.
Your excited hands came to find your sides and you huffed yourself into silence.
Following beside him, Steven lead you two out under the arched gates towards the steps of the museum. The moon twinkled between streetlights, and Steven avoided its gaze. Like he could feel Khonshu’s presence over his shoulder.
“Well, I’m glad you enjoyed it.” He smiled at you, a smile that just about suffocated him.
“Enjoyed it?” You laughed. “It was amazing, I mean, you were amazing.”
He laughed softly too, but didn’t respond.
The silence was beginning to turn stale.
“Now is as good a time as it’s gonna get.” Marc pestered.
“Well I should—“ you pointed obviously over your shoulder, before finding the face of your wrist watch. “My bus will be leaving soon.”
Steven nodded. “Yeah … yeah of course. I had fun, you should come by more often.”
“It was … it was very sweet. Taking me on the tour when you probably had better things to do.” Your hand curled over his forearm again, “You’re very sweet, Steven.”
“And you’re very beautiful.”
The words found the air between them before Steven even knew what he’d said.
Your lips parted slightly in surprise, cheeks brushed with a warm pink: “I— thank you, Stevie.”
Steven nodded, not looking at you and suffocating on his own embarrassment. “I’m gonna— need to go finish up inside.”
An unmistakably wounded look passed over your face. It dissolved as quickly as it had appeared.
“Sure.” It was curt. “I’ll see you round the shop.”
“Steven, if you do not stop her so help me God—“
A flurry of hot and cold feelings were chasing up and down his chest: he watched your figure turn and worked to do the same.
The outline of the museum had barely returned to his frame of vision when the cold hand of his subconscious reached out and dragged him down into it’s icy black depths: now watching the view of his eyes as if from a foggy tape recorder.
Marc stiffened his shoulders, turning to where you were bounding down the steps of the museum, heels clicking on each jump.
He chased down after you, skipping two steps at a time.
“Marc, don’t! You’re gonna scare her!” Steven was shouting now, rattling his already shaky consciousness.
He called your name where you’d just reached the sidewalk. You turned up to meet his face.
In barely fractions of a moment, Marc was able to find some sympathy for dear Steven.
Now that he was faced with you himself, as opposed to the blurry lens he’d been cursed to only peer through before, he wondered how Steven ever conjured up the courage to say more than three words to you.
“Steven?”
The light of the street-lamp was flickering in little circles off your eyes in the dim street and Marc was half convinced to abandon Steven in the darkness.
He didn’t.
Rather, he slipped back down into the shadows where he felt Steven surpass him again.
Your brow bent deeper in confusion, “Are you alright?”
If he had time, Steven might have taken a moment to huff at Marc for not even bothering to turn away when he forced himself back to the front, spared you from the sight of his eyes rolling back in their head. But no, you probably thought he was possessed.
“I, yes, that doesn’t matter—“
He could feel ice cold adrenaline pumping down from his brain. Like he did in the seconds before a fight, when the suit would crawl up over his skin.
“Your eyes,” your hand came close up to his face, hesitant enough to just float in its orbit. “They rolled—“
“Will you go on a date with me?”
You blinked up at him. Once, twice.
The silence was reaching far past the limits that it did in all the romance movies Steven had seen and his palms were growing itchy with the passing seconds.
“When?”
Steven’s head was reeling. He hadn’t thought that far, but why quit while he’s ahead?
“Now. Right now, tonight.”
The surprise was fading from your face, replaced with eyes that were glowing around the corners and a smile that made his heart skip every second beat.
“Don’t you have work?”
“You haven’t answered my question yet.”
“If you promise to still come visit the shop ... I would love to go on a date with you, Stevie. Right now.”
Warmth was flooding back into Steven’s hands. “I’ll set up a tent outside on the sidewalk …” he breathed, “you won’t be able to get rid of me.”
“I’ll hold you to that.”
Steven nodded. Almost tripping on the step up behind him, “I’m going to tell them that I’m leaving. Just wait right here …“
He’d already moved up two steps, legs buzzing with untamed exhilaration.
“Steven, hold on just one sec—“ when he turned, you’d surpassed the small steps separating you.
He’d barely a chance to turn all the way back around when your index finger hooked between his neck and the collar of his shirt and your lips were on his.
They were warm and soft and Steven had no idea what he was doing.
With his experience being limited to the pool of:
A. The girl he’d pecked in first grade on the swings in the playground.
B. A drunken make-out at a college party for a college he didn’t even attend and,
C. His (mostly Marc’s) ex-wife,
It was nothing short of a miracle when his hand came up to find the side of your neck. When he pulled your waist flush against his.
“Atta’ boy.” He ignored Marc.
You pulled back, Steven was pleased to notice your reddened, wet lips.
“Sorry,” you whispered close against him, voice half-drowned out by the rumbling of taxis in the street and people passing by. “Been itching to do that for a while.”
-
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whatthefishh · 3 months
Text
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.
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phantomspiderr · 9 months
Text
Always
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Pairing: Marc Spector x gn!reader
Word Count: 1.3k
Warnings/tags: fluff, fluff, fluff, look i think Marc would be into Formula 1, is that just because I love F1... maybe?, sleepy!reader, soft!Marc🥰
a/n: 😬… I’m backkkkkkkk. Not that I think anyone noticed I was gone but I started anxiety meds and they've taken some getting used to. But I opened up my drafts the other day and found this and finished it, so essentially I started making it, had a breakdown... bon appetite?
(not my gif)
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The other side of the bed’s cold, your hand swipes across the empty space in search of the warmth that is normally there. Your sleep-addled mind pauses to think—had your boyfriend even come to bed? What time was it? Is that noise in your head? Slowly, you pull yourself up from the warm cocoon of the duvet and your hands rub at your face in an attempt to erase the sleep that still clings to you. Blinking a few times you try to adjust your eyes to being open again as your hands fall into your lap. You can just make out some light in between the gaps in the bookshelf that separates the bed from the rest of the room. Your tired eyes look to his side of the bed again, still empty and the alarm clock shines the time a little too brightly, 6:22am. Reluctantly you move your stiff legs, pushing the warm duvet off of them and whining a little as the cold air in the flat hits them. You pull yourself out of the bed, immediately grabbing the blanket from the end of the mattress to wrap around yourself. The noise you’d heard becomes clearer now, it sounds like someone talking but it’s fast and all mushes together in your head. You take steps toward it, rounding the bookshelf to find exactly what you were missing.
“Hey,” Marc’s voice comes out in a whisper and he sits up the second his eyes clock you, his hand reaching for the tv remote immediately. The volume goes down with each push of the button, “I’m sorry, did I wake you?” You keep taking slow steps towards him, passing in front of the tv and going around the coffee table until you reach the couch.
“Are you okay?” You completely disregard his question in favour of asking your own as you sit next to him, he nods whispering out a yeah and so you move your body to lay down, placing your head in his lap.
“I woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep,” you look up at him as he speaks. One of his hands comes to rest on top of your head, “plus there’s a race on.” He looks back to the tv and you follow his gaze, twisting until you lie completely on your side.
“What’s a red flag?” Your head turns so you can look at him again briefly, a little smile graces his face and then you go back to staring at the screen, trying to understand why in the middle of a race none of the cars are moving.
“One of the drivers went into the barrier and they have to stop the race to clean it up before they continue. It just means it’s not safe for anyone to be on the track,” Marc explains it so gently, no annoyance or condescension crosses his tone for your lack of knowing.
“Are they okay?” There’s a slight hint of worry and you almost sound like a scared child.
“Yeah sweetheart, look, that's Albon there.” He points towards the screen and you watch as it briefly shows a young-looking guy speaking with someone else, “it was his car that hit the barrier but he got out of it straight away.”
For a minute it’s quiet, you both just watch the screen as it shows different people. Marc had turned the volume up a bit and you could make out what the commentators were saying now they’d slowed down their talking. Without any prompting, Marc starts to quietly tell you who everyone is every time the picture changes to someone new. He shares little pieces of knowledge with every name and you find listening to him soothing. You knew he sometimes watched these races but you’d never really taken the time to sit down and watch one with him. You’re starting to regret never doing it before, you’d been missing out on this beautiful opportunity to get to know his interests better.
Ultimately, though that tiredness still clings to your mind and the way his voice is quietly lulling you makes you think of the times when Steven reads you to sleep. Just as the race starts up again, your eyes begin to feel heavy, the blinks start getting slower and longer. You’re unsure if Marc’s noticed because he keeps calmly explaining what’s happening as it happens. His fingers had absentmindedly started rubbing circles into your scalp which was not helping the way you were quickly slipping back into your sleeping state. The tv eventually disappears, and your eyes are finally sealed shut again but some conscious part of your brain can still make out the race commentary in the background alongside Marc’s soothing voice.
The next thing you know it’s daylight, the sun shines brightly through the uncovered windows. It hurts your eyes when they open and instinctively you turn your body away from it, glad when you’re met with darkness. You comfortably bury your face into the warmth of Marc’s stomach while trying your best to stretch your stiff limbs without really putting much effort into it. You take in a deep breath before just relaxing for a moment. Your mind slowly wakes as you lay there, coherent thoughts begin to form and you start to feel more awake with each passing second. You could’ve sworn you’d only been asleep for a few minutes. The tv is still making quiet noise in the background and you can feel Marc taking slow deep breaths.
Once your brain has managed to come back to some semblance of consciousness, you slowly pull yourself to sit up on the couch. The sight you’re met with makes your heart melt it doesn’t matter how many times you wake up next to him, each time feels like the first. He looks so peaceful, his head propped on his fist that leans on the arm of the couch. Eyes closed, hair sticking around every which way and lips slightly parted. You admire him for a minute before you think about how much his neck is going to hurt after sleeping in this position. As slowly as you can you twist yourself around again and stand, taking a second for your brain to catch up with your body’s movements. Then gently you tuck your hands under his knees, pulling on the deadweight and turning them to rest on the couch. All the movement rouses Marc from his sleep, the top half of his body reluctantly following the bottom with a grumble.
“It’s okay, go back to sleep.” Quietly you shush him as he continues to wiggle around until he’s settled down on the couch where you were just laying. The crease in his eyebrow slowly relaxes as your fingers comb through his hair, you’re crouched next to him trying to push him back into his little slumber. A long sigh comes from deep within his chest and you just know he’s back in dreamland. With a gentle kiss to his temple, you stand again, grabbing the blanket that had fallen to the floor at some point and draping it over his body. Satisfied with how much more comfortable he looks now you go to pull yourself away to shower and maybe start on breakfast—or maybe brunch at this point, but a hand grazes your leg.
“Stay,” the mumble of a plea falls past his lips as his hand blindly searches for yours. Without a second thought, you give in, encouraging him to lift his head so you can slip back onto the couch. Thoughts of how good a shower would be right now or of what to cook to rid the rumble in your stomach disappear completely. Now you sit with Marc’s head in your lap, mirroring the exact position you’d both been in just moments prior. You take a long moment to just watch him, the way he nuzzles his head into your thighs and how relaxed he looks for a change. Then you’re thinking about how happy he makes you. How lucky you feel to be a part of this moment and how you only ever want to be right here with him, always.
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flightlessangelwings · 5 months
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My Knight in White
Marc Spector x fem!reader
Word count- 4.3k
Dialogue prompt- “ that was for saving my life. “ Action prompt- [ KISS ]: after having been saved from immediate danger by the receiver, the sender, in a state of intense emotion and relief, kisses them to express these feelings.
Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), protective!Marc, mutual pining, minor violence, minor character death, harassment of reader (not Marc), damsel in distress, unprotected piv, no use of y/n
About this reader- she is smart but not physically badass, works with Egyptian artifacts but I left it vague so you can fill in for yourself exactly what she does, no specific city where they are is stated either so it's open for you to imagine wherever, no physical descriptions other than body parts
Notes- Posting my October Year of Protectiveness @yearofcreation2023 a little late because of kinktober but I'm so excited to share this! This is expanding on an idea that @melodygatesauthor had months ago who wanted to see a damsel in distress reader and Marc saving her!
@flightlessangelwings-updates is my update blog so please follow that too and turn on post notifications to stay up to date on when I post!
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~
“You’re here late,” Marc’s voice broke you out of your thoughts.
You blinked, refocusing your eyes to the world around you. Looking around, you didn’t even realize how long you had been hunched over your desk, studying and cleaning the artifact that had recently been brought in. “Marc…” you breathed as you stretched, your back aching as you became aware of reality again.
He smiled softly as he uncrossed his arms, “You work too much, you know that,” he leaned against the doorway as he watched you. 
Marc loved to watch you work. He loved to watch you do anything really, but when you worked, you became so focused, lost in concentration. You handled the old artifacts with such care and respect, he couldn’t help but linger his gaze on your hands. He had never met anyone smarter than you, and he loved to listen to you go on and on about any topic you found interesting. Marc took it upon himself to watch over you, making sure you were always safe even if you never truly knew just how much he looked over you.
“I lost track of time,” you replied as you gathered yourself and packed everything away, “I didn’t realize it’s after dark.”
“And the fact that everyone else left hours ago didn’t clue you in,” Marc smirked.
“Hey,” you playfully chastised him, “I can’t help it, I just got in the zone, you know. Besides, these new artifacts are so fascinating I just can’t tear myself away from them!”
It suddenly occurred to you that you and Marc were completely alone. He was right- everyone else left hours ago. As you stood up and made your way over to him, you took in his handsome features once more. And the way he leaned against the door made your thoughts run wild. The two of you had known each other for some time now, but you kept your true feelings to yourself, afraid of damaging your friendship or losing him.
Marc looked you up and down, “Want me to walk you home?” he offered as he followed behind you, watching you flip the lights off and lock everything up.
“I’m alright,” you suddenly felt nervous. Marc has been to your place many times, but the shiver that ran up your spine made your heart race, “I don’t live that far.”
He furrowed his brow, “You sure?”
“Yeah,” you replied with a soft smile, “Thanks, though,” you stepped in front of him before you turned back, “Good night.”
Marc watched you walk away before he whispered a hushed, “Good night.”
He watched you as you made your way down the street in the darkness until he couldn’t see you anymore. Marc had already decided he was going to follow you anyway, watching over you from afar, but when he saw a group of sketchy-looking men with wicked grins sneer and tail behind you, he knew he had to do more to keep you safe.
You wrapped your arms around yourself as you made your way down the street. You didn’t make it far from Marc when you noticed that a group of men started to follow behind you, and though you couldn’t make out their exact words, you knew they were talking about you. In that moment, you wished you took Marc up on his offer to walk you home, but you couldn’t turn around now. All you could do was hope you got inside fast before they caught up to you.
“Hey sweet cheeks,” one of them called out to you.
Too late.
You glanced over your shoulder and found that they were even closer to you than you thought, and you quickly bolted down the street without a word. That only egged them on more, however, and you heard them laughing behind you as they sped up as well.
“Oh come on, sweetheart,” they sneered, “We just want to talk to you.”
A gasp escaped your lips as you turned down a street, hoping to lose them. But, your plan immediately backfired as you found yourself trapped in an alleyway at a dead end. And you failed to shake them off your tail.
“Please,” you breathed as fear pulsed through your veins, “I’m just trying to get home.”
The men surrounded you, darkness shading their features, “We’ll get you home, sweet girl.”
The others chuckled as they started to reach for you.
“Please leave me alone,” you tried to sound more assertive, but you knew you didn’t intimate them at all. They were all very muscular and taller than you, and you knew you didn’t stand a chance even if you tried to fight back. But that didn’t mean you were going to go down without a fight.
You screamed when one of them grabbed your arm, and you swung your fist into him as hard as you could while digging your feet into the ground. Gritting your teeth, you tried your best to yank yourself from his grip, but tears of frustration filled your eyes when you realized it was useless.
“No!” you cried out as you tried again, your pleas drowned out by their cackling laughter.
Suddenly, your luck changed.
Out of nowhere, something yanked the man who helped you back and he yelped as he found himself flung against the wall of the alleyway. The other men all looked up as a hooded figure in all white descended down and immediately went on the attack against them.
You gasped as you scurried back out of the scuffle, pressing yourself against the opposite wall as much as you could as if you tried to phase through the wall and disappear. Your eyes went wide as you watched the mysterious hero fight off the men who attacked you, beating and punching them down until none of them moved.
The figure then turned to you, and time froze for several moments.
He raised his hands in surrender, “I’m not going to hurt you,” the voice from under the mask said.
You couldn’t help but feel like the voice was familiar. But, you stayed silent.
“Are you ok? Are you hurt?” your rescuer asked as he stepped closer to you, looking you over.
Your hands trembled, but not from fear this time. Taking a deep breath in for the first time in what felt like forever, you finally replied in a hushed voice, “No,” you whispered, “I’m alright.”
As he stepped close enough so you could reach for him if you wanted, you studied his outfit more. He wore all white, but as he got closer, you noticed it looked like linen wrappings, almost like a mummy. A crescent moon symbol adorned his chest and a white cloak covered his head. You could see the muscle definition even through the thick wrappings, and it made you swallow hard.
You had no idea what came over you at that moment- perhaps it was the adrenaline- but without a word, you reached out for him, grabbed him and pulled your bodies closer as you laid a kiss on his mask where his mouth would be.
It caught him off guard, but he didn’t push you away. Instead, he cradled you close, holding onto your waist with one hand and your arm with the other. It felt warm, comfortable, right.
“What was that for?” he asked with a smirk in his voice.
You smiled at him, “That was for saving my life,” your voice was still hushed, your breath taken away, “Thank you.”
He cupped your chin affectionately. Through the mask, he studied you up close. Everything in Marc screamed to take it off and tell you who he was, but he also knew that knowing his secret would put you in danger. And Marc would not allow that. For now, he would be satisfied knowing you were safe, and that he was just in time. He only nodded, not saying anything else before he broke away from you and leapt up into the air, disappearing into the night just as mysteriously as he appeared. 
You watched in bewilderment as it took your brain several moments to process what just happened. You touched your lips as you realized that you kissed a total stranger, and one who you didn’t even see his face too. But, as you looked around and saw the men laying on the ground, the adrenaline ran through your veins once more and you ran out of the alleyway and quickly made your way home.
The whole time, Marc watched from the rooftops until you were safely inside.
*
In the following weeks, you threw yourself completely into your work to cope with what happened that night. A mix of emotions constantly filled your head, and you found that pushing them away with the distraction of work was the easiest way to deal with them. There were days where you hardly looked up from your desk, so deep in concentration that the rest of the world was a blur around you.
Marc kept a watchful eye over you the entire time. He knew why you were like this, but when others asked he feigned ignorance. No one had to know what happened to you, and it wasn’t up to him to tell anyway. Instead, he chose to keep an eye on you from afar, like he always did. 
Vaguely, you were aware of Marc’s presence in the shadows… and it felt familiar to you somehow. He always kept an eye on you, but after that night it somehow felt different. But, having him close was one of the few comforts you had after your attack. Yet, your mind also wandered toward the mysterious hooded figure who rescued you… 
“Hey,” Marc’s voice broke you out of your thoughts. 
You looked up with a startled gasp, not realizing how late it got. Again. “Marc,” you breathed. 
He looked worried, “Everything alright?” Marc asked, “You’ve seemed… off lately.”
Your eyes darted from his face to your desk a few times as you felt nervous suddenly, “I’m fine,” you knew you didn’t convince him, you didn’t even convince yourself.
Marc sighed your name as he settled down next to you, “You know you can tell me anything, right? I’m here for you.”
Heat rose in your face, “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” you exhaled deeply, “Besides, you’d just make fun of me.”
“Never!” he exclaimed, acting playfully offended before he turned serious, “What’s on your mind?”
The comforting tone in his voice and the warmth of his presence allowed you to let your guard down, “Ok…” you took a breath, “The night I was here late a few weeks ago,” you started, “A group of guys tried to jump me,” your voice quivered and you felt Marc’s hand over yours, “But I was saved by…” you paused as you looked at him sheepishly, “A guy in a hood and something that looked like mummy wrappings.”
Marc’s face lit up as he grinned knowingly at you.
You nudged him playfully as you erupted into a fit of giggles out of pure embarrassment, “See I knew you were going to laugh at me!”
“No, sweetheart I’m not laughing at you,” Marc raised his hands defensively, “I swear!”
Something changed in the air between you as you stared at each other. The light atmosphere shifted and it felt like something heavy lingered between the two of you. Your heart pounded in your chest as you realized just how close Marc sat to you, and your breath caught in your throat as you studied his features. Not to mention that was the first time he called you anything affectionate like that…
“Marc…”
“Listen, I…,” he started, interrupting you.  
Leaning in, you were entranced by him and you hung on his every word. Just being near him and laughing like this made all your troubles melt away. You felt safe here, with him. 
But, before Marc could continue, a loud crash cut him off. 
Both of you jumped up, and you let out a soft shriek. Marc immediately went into defense mode and every muscle in his body tensed. It was late, and the two of you were the only ones in the building. He made sure the doors were locked too, so he knew whoever broke in meant trouble.
“Marc?” your voice shook.
“Listen to me,” he turned to you and placed his hands on your shoulders, “I need you to sneak out of here. Take the back exit and hide somewhere. I’m going to distract them and get a path for you to get out.”
“But the artifacts,” you whispered as you glanced over at the old objects on your desk that you spent weeks cleaning and studying. The first thought in your mind was that these are robbers looking to steal and sell them, and you didn’t want that to happen.
“Things can be replaced,” Marc sounded urgent, “We can get them back. I’m more worried about getting you safe right now.”
Your eyes went wide as you looked at him, stunned. Just as you were about to reply, though, another crash made you jump and Marc pulled you in close to keep you calm.
“It's gonna be alright,” he murmured to you, “Just trust me. Ok?”
You pulled back to look into his eyes again, “I trust you.”
He nodded as he pressed his lips together, “Ok,” how Marc sounded nervous, “Stay low. Stay in the shadows. And just get out. You hear me?”
Swallowing hard, you nodded. Then your brain caught up with you, “What about you?”
Marc smirked, “I’ll be alright. Just trust me.”
There was no time for explanations as another crash echoed in the room- they were getting closer. Marc ushered you out of the door and down the hall before he ran in the opposite direction towards the intruders. You glanced over your shoulder at his retreating figure before you made your way down the hall, crouching low and out of sight as you did so. 
As you made your way to the back door, however, you noticed that it was blocked- one of them already made his way there.
“Shit,” you cursed under your breath as you changed direction. Instead, you went up to the roof in hopes of finding a place to hide until Marc did… whatever he was planning to do. 
But that plan also quickly backfired. 
You ran up to the roof and into the open area there, but you were met with yet another thug who blocked the opposite entrance from where you were.
“Well look what we have here,” he said with a dark grin on his face.
Letting out a gasp, you tried to run back where you came from, but another sinister shadowy man blocked that path. “Where do you think you’re going?” he growled.
“Please,” was all you could whimper as you felt them close in on you. 
The men just laughed as they stepped closer, reaching for their guns as they did so. But, before they reached you, one of them was yanked back, slamming into the wall. You looked up and saw the same hooded figure that saved you before swooping down from seemingly nowhere.
More of the thugs appeared from the doorway and they yelled as they pulled out their guns and started to fire on both of you. The hooded figure rushed over to you and wrapped his cloak over both your bodies, shielding you.
You covered your head out of instinct, but as you felt a warm presence, you looked up and found yourself face to face with your linen wrapped savior once more.
“It’s you,” you gasped in relief. The ringing of the guns suddenly sounded distant.
The mask started to peel away on its own, revealing none other than Marc. He breathed your name, “Are you alright?” 
“It’s you!” you sounded stronger that time, in total shock that it was Marc the whole time.
“I told you I wasn’t making fun of you,” he flashed a quick smile before he turned serious again, “I don’t have time to explain now,” he said, “I’m going to fight these guys off. You need to hide somewhere until they’re dealt with. I’ll come find you when it’s safe, I promise.”
The intruders and the guns were more pressing at the moment, so you swallowed and nodded. 
When Marc found an opening, he pushed you towards the door, “Go!” he shouted as he turned back to the intruders and fought them off.
You ran. 
Running on pure instinct, you bolted down the hall and turned a corner into a closet. Luckily, no one was around and you hid yourself well. You crouched in the corner as you listened to the grunts and gunshots in the distance. At one point, you covered your mouth to stifle a scream, suddenly scared for Marc. You fought back tears, swearing to yourself that you wouldn’t cry. 
Just as you squeezed your eyes shut and held your breath, the fighting stopped. Silence filled your ears but you didn’t dare move. Your hands trembled slightly against your face as you strained to hear the one voice that would bring you comfort.
And then you heard it.
Marc called out your name as he stood in the hall, frantically looking for you, “Baby it’s alright. You can come out.”
You let out the breath you held, all your fear escaping with it as you leapt up and out of your hiding spot. Down the hall, you saw Marc standing there, his knighty suit still adorning his body but his face exposed. “Marc,” you breathed in relief as you ran towards him.
“Sweetheart,” he sounded just as relieved as he ran towards you with open arms. 
The two of you crashed together in a messy embrace, emotions getting the better of both of you. He rested a hand on the back of your head while the other pulled you in as close as he possibly could. Tears flowed from your eyes as relief washed over you, yet the pulse of fear still ran through you after everything that happened. Vaguely, you heard Marc whispering soft words of encouragement and reassurance in your ear. 
“Come on,” Marc said, “I’m getting you out of here,” he slid his hand in yours.
“But…” you tried to protest, not wanting to leave any of the artifacts alone.
“It’s ok,” he gave you a soft smile, “They’re dealt with. Right now I want to make sure you’re safe.”
Your heart pounded in your chest as you tried to process everything. So much happened in such a short time, and you weren’t sure how to react to it. Time passed in a daze as you found yourself at Marc’s place, settled comfortably on his couch with a mug of tea in your hands. You felt safe with him, of course, but you felt like you were outside your body.
The two of you talked for what felt like hours. Marc told you everything- all of his secrets that he kept hidden for so long. He promised you that he would always protect you, and he explained why he didn’t tell you before. As he talked, the sound of his voice calmed you, like an embrace of your heart. Your eyes moved from where they stared at the mug to meet his gaze.
“I promise you, baby,” Marc cupped your face, “Nothing’s ever going to happen to you. I’ll keep you safe no matter what.”
Heat rose in your face, and you were sure Marc felt how warm you were. But, as you stared into his eyes, you felt your heart flutter and his charming gleam sent a rush of fresh emotions through you. Without a word, you closed the gap between your bodies, crashing your lips together. Muffled groans echoed between you as you climbed into his lap and Marc instantly helped you closer. Deepening the kiss, you felt a tingle on your skin as you tasted him, and you felt the reverberation of his moan against your body.
“What was that for?” he asked in a whisper, “Not that I’m complaining.”
You smirked against Marc, “I wanted to thank you properly,” you breathed, “With a real kiss this time.”
Marc cupped your face as he gazed into your soul through your eyes, “Baby…” he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in for another kiss.
This time, it felt different. It was desperate and heated, but there was also the warmth and passion behind it. You moaned into Marc’s lips as you rocked your hips against his. He tightened his grip on you as a rush of need pulsed through his veins, and he couldn’t help the way his cock twitched underneath you.
Breaking away for air, Marc saw the look of wanton need in your eyes, and he knew exactly what you were thinking, “Are you sure about this, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice a low rumble.
You cupped his face, brushed your fingers along his dark curls, “I’m sure,” you whispered as you kissed him again, “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” you paused before you sheepishly added, “I’ve wanted this so so long…”
Marc grinned, his face lighting up, “Then let’s do this right.”
Shifting your bodies, Marc stood up and extended his hand. You eagerly took it and allowed him to lead you over to his bed. Excitement bloomed between you and before you even made it to the bed, your hands were all over each other. Kisses decorated your steps as you each tugged at the other’s clothing until you were bare.
You and Marc crashed into his bed, and he quickly laid overtop of you. He paused for a moment, breathless as he took in the sight of you bare underneath him, “Fuck you are beautiful,” he breathed.
“So are you,” you sighed in pure admiration as you grabbed his face and yanked him in for another kiss, “We can take our time later,” you murmured between kisses, “I need you too bad right now.”
“Fuck,” he groaned as he rocked his length along your folds. It didn’t go unnoticed that you mentioned a next time either… But your moan broke Marc out of that thought, and a shiver ran up his spine as he felt his cock against your pussy, “Wet already,” he smirked.
“Please Marc,” you pleaded. 
“I’ve got you, baby,” he moaned as he lined himself up with your entrance.
Slowly, carefully, Marc pushed himself into you, causing you both to gasp at the same time. You clawed at his arms, holding on for dear life as the slight burn of his cock stretching you out went jolts of pleasure through your body. Fresh tears filled your eyes at the sensation, and you never felt more alive, more pleasure than ever before.
“Marc…”
He groaned your name as he bottomed out inside you, “Fuck,” he breathed. Marc cradled your face as he rocked in and out of you, slowly at first, but the more you moaned the faster he moved, “You’re perfect,” he moaned, “Shit…”
“Fuck… Marc… You feel so good,” you moaned as you saw stars every time his cock slammed into you.
It didn’t take long for you to feel the tingles of your approaching climax. Your legs trembled on either side of Marc’s body as he thrust into you over and over again and you dug your nails into his soft skin as you clung to him. Incoherent praises flowed from his lips as both your moans grew louder and louder as you lost yourselves in each other.
“Marc… I’m…”
“I’ve got you, baby,” Marc repeated his words from earlier.
Skin slapped against skin as Marc felt his own climax apparach. But, he was determined to send you over the edge first, and with just a few more thrusts of his hips, he got what he wanted. With a loud scream, you came hard, crying out his name as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through you. And fuck you had never looked more beautiful to Marc.
He kept up his pace as long as he could, watching the show you put on just for him and savoring every second of it. But, Marc’s eyes started to roll back as he felt his orgasm quickly build, egged on by the way you clenched your inner muscles around his cock. And with a groan of your name, he came right after you, spilling himself into you as he did so.
Marc collapsed on top of you, completely spent. But, after just a few breaths, he shifted himself, pulling out of you with a hiss before he laid next to you. You let out a whine at the loss, but quickly curled yourself up in his embrace as Marc held you close. You closed your eyes as you rested your head on his chest, listening to the pounding of his heartbeat against your ear.
“Marc, I…”
“Shhh,” he gently hushed you, “Just rest now baby,” Marc cradled your head as he placed a soft kiss, “I’ve got you.”
You hummed contently as sleep quickly took you over. Between the excitement, the danger and the rush of emotions, you suddenly found yourself exhausted and in no time you feel sound asleep in Marc’s arms.
Marc stayed awake for some time, listening to the sound of your heavy breaths. He knew exactly what you wanted to say, and as much as he wanted to hear you say those words, he knew it was better to wait. He gave your body one extra squeeze before he whispered to your sleeping form, “You’re safe with me, sweetheart… I love you.” 
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cosmicblogs · 4 months
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eyelessfaces · 1 year
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come out
jake lockley x reader
summary: you don’t see Jake very often, he still doesn’t feel confident and comfortable enough to front frequently; his visits are not a regular occurrence but when it’s him, you know it. you couldn’t be mad at him. not when he had been hidden in this body for too long, feelings buried deep as he watched Marc and Steven express them freely from a distance while he had to drown them down and suffer in silence.
warnings: ending fades to implied smut, sexual innuendos
tags: tooth rotting fluff, literally no plot just fluff, soft!jake, seriously this man needs to be held
word count: 0.9k
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The back of Jake's knuckles brushed lightly against your cold cheek. You stirred as you rubbed your eyes, still hazy from sleep.
You knew it was Jake from the soft and aching look in his gaze– you don’t see Jake very often, he still doesn’t feel confident and comfortable enough to front frequently; his visits are not a regular occurrence but when it’s him, you know it.
You smiled endearingly at him, brushing back the curls falling over his forehead.
“‘Morning, Jake” you murmured, smoothing your hand along his bicep as his elbow was propped beside you, planted into the mattress.
Jake felt his heart flutter at the demonstration of you recognizing him so easily.
“‘Morning cariño” he whispered as he leaned to leave a kiss at the bridge of your nose. “How’d you know it was me?” he asked, letting his fingertips travel down the side of your face.
“An intuition” you affirmed, leaning into his touch. “I missed you.” you breathed out, heart aching as the words escaped your lips.
“I know” he complied as he shamefully closed his eyes and nodded. “I’m sorry querida” he apologized, looking right back into your eyes, searching for a trace of blame in them.
There was none.
You couldn’t blame him, you couldn’t be mad at him. Not when he had been hidden in this body for too long, feelings buried deep as he watched Marc and Steven express them freely from a distance while he had to drown them down and suffer in silence.
“I know it’s hard for you,” you said, mirroring his actions and bringing your hand to the side of his face. “But I don’t want you to push yourself too much. Take your time, okay honey?”
He nodded, a pained look covering his face, and nuzzled your hand leaving a kiss at your palm.
“Thank you” he mumbled against your skin before leaving another kiss there.
You chuckled and buried your hand into his curls. “What are you thanking me for?”
“For being so considerate. For understanding me.” he affirmed, smiling weakly. “Us.” he corrected himself.
You hooked your hands behind his neck and brought him down to your lips. He kissed them with as much passion and devotion he could give you, cherishing the intimacy and rarity of the moment.
His necklace dangled under your chin and you lightly tugged on it, drawing a sharp gasp from him before he smirked into the kiss and flicked his tongue over your bottom lip in need to feel you even more.
It didn’t take long for him to lick into your mouth, tasting you thoroughly until he ran out of breath.
He pulled away but remained close, nuzzling your neck as you ran your hands along his bare back, nails softly scraping against his warm skin just the way you knew he liked.
“I love you” he mumbled into your neck. He had wanted to say it, but he hadn’t expected the words to escape his mouth so easily. It needed to be said anyways.
He left a kiss in the crook of your neck, punctuating his previous words.
You felt your heart skip a beat, and one of your hands mindlessly traveled to his curls like it was a reflex. You scraped your nails against his scalp, and soothingly swiped your thumb over his shoulder blade with your other hand.
“I love you too Jake” you replied, looking down at the man buried into your neck.
He adored when you held him like that; just you and him, nothing else around, no one else around, no Khonshu, no danger, no blood to shed– just him resting in your arms, cherishing his turn at fronting without it being an emergency to protect his alters; just him living his life with you, taking the time to breathe. He could get used to it.
“I would love to see you come out more often,” you affirmed as he looked back at you. “I know it’s hard and I’m not putting you under pressure but–”
“–Yeah” he nodded, pinching his lips. “I know” he said in a whisper as he dived to kiss your lips again, his fingers holding your chin while he did so. He pulled away, threading his fingers through your hair as he remained leaning over you. “Truth is– I want you all the time” he said with a small grin growing at the corner of his mouth. “All the fucking time.” he added through gritted teeth.
“Well… You can have me all you want now” you whispered with a small chuckle, and you knew from there that the atmosphere had changed. Jake stopped his kisses and stayed still for a moment. Did you break him?
“...Jake?” you called, confused at his silent state. Jake wasn’t very talkative but this was strange.
“...All I want ?” he finally asked back, his dark eyes carefully examining your face.
You chuckled softly. “All you want.” you affirmed, stroking the back of his neck.
A small smirk grew on his lips. “Mmmh okay. Interesting. Very interesting” he hummed as his hands met your hips, gently kneading the skin there before diving right back to your neck, leaving open mouthed, warm kisses there.
You almost choked on air at the sudden feeling of his teeth nipping at your skin– you should have expected it, it’s Jake after all.
“Jake!” you exclaimed, uncontrolled giggles escaping your mouth.
“I better take advantage of that free time then, mh?” he asked before kissing your cheek, tangling his legs with yours.
“Yeah you better” you teased, only hoping all of this will get him to front more often.
It was only a matter of time before Jake finally felt legitimate fronting as much as Marc and Steven did.
moon knight taglist:
@apollo-enthusiast @scarabgrant @lockleysgrl @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @missmarmaladeth @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt
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thesecretwriter · 4 months
Text
how each moon boy would react to an argument with you (sfw) – part 1.  
summary: what the title says!
warning: angsty angst.
word count: 1.1k
a/n: I’m feeling angsty lately, so here you gooo! ALSO, there’s more context to the situation of these headcanons, but they’ll be revealed in part 2. So don’t go hating on the moon boys just yet.
minors/ageless blogs dni.
Masterlists
part 2
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Steven Grant:
“Are you really gonna bring this up now?”
His tone had you looking at him as if he grew another head.
“When else would be a good time to bring this up, hmm? Because I think now is the most appropriate time,”
Steven rolled his eyes as he took off his jacket and sat on the couch facing you.
He had come home from significantly late with no explanation. You found out through social media that he went to an event celebrating Layla without informing you.
“Its late and I’m tired,” he said as he rubbed his face and sighed heavily.
Oh, he is tired?
“You don’t think I’m tired? I understand you have a past with Layla, but the way you go about doing things is exhausting me. All you ever do is talk about her. Everything is Layla this and Layla that,”
You explain to him out of frustration.
“She was right about you,” he says with a hint of sass.
“What do you mean by that?” you asked with furrowed brows.
“I mean that maybe Layla was right about you being controlling. Why do you think I never told you where I’m going. You would’ve tagged along and dampened the mood.
Wow, wow. So, Layla and he talk about you.
“I can’t believe the words that are coming out of your mouth. If you have an issue with the way I am then you should address it to me. Not go and talk to your EX-WIFE about it,” your voice had increased towards the end as you glared at him.
“Its not my problem if you’re insecure,” he said with a shrug.
Each word from him added more cracks to your already breaking heart.
You shook your head at him wordlessly and began to look for your bag and jacket around his apartment.
He sat upright on the couch and watched you with confused furrowed brows.
“What’re you doing?”
Once you gathered your things, you walked towards the door with him now trailing behind you.
“I asked you a question,” he said firmer.
You looked at him with unshed tears and saw his expression soften.
“Leaving,” was all you said before unlocking the door and walking away from him.
Steven cursed under his breath and walked after you.
“Y/n, its late. Stop being ridiculous,”
That ticked your off even further. You abruptly turn around to face him.
“I don’t expect you to be concerned about me anymore. Go ahead and worry about your precious Layla and her thoughts on our relationship,”
You left him standing their speechless as you exited his apartment building. Steven was left feeling an ache in his chest and the weight of his actions and words.
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Marc Spector:
“Look at the state of you,”
Were the first words Marc heard upon returning to the apartment. He had been gone for days and you had no way of contacting him.
“Y/n, please. I just want silence,” he said tiredly and sat lethargically on the bed.
“You can’t expect me to not be panicked when you come home with a gunshot wound. Did you even go to a hospital?” you ask in disbelief.
“I can take care of these things on my own,” he groaned and moved to face you.
“Marc, I can’t keep seeing you like this,” you admit to him.
Each time he left that door you would say a silent prayer to ensure he would come back to you.
“You knew what this relationship was going to be like-“
“Yes, but I didn’t expect you to be coming home like this,” you motion to his form.
Marc was growing annoyed.
“This is my life y/n, what do you want me to do?”
Your eyes searched his tired ones as he spoke.
“Exactly Marc, this is your life. I want you to take care of it,”
He scoffed at your words.
“I don’t need you to tell me how to live my life,” he said bitterly.
“That’s not what I’m-“
“Save it, okay? I already deal with enough when it comes to Khonshu. I don’t want to deal with you as well,”
“Deal with me? What? Marc, what have I ever done to make you feel like this? Me being worried about whether your alive or not upsets you?” you asked a string of questions as endless thoughts ran through your mind.
“Just go,” is all he said as he turned his back to you and laid on the bed.
You watch his form, waiting for him to take back his words, apologise… do something – but he just lays there.
You nod to yourself and gather your belongings to leave. It was well into the night and significantly late, but you did as he said and walked out that front door.
He laid in bed with his thoughts, thinking whether pushing you away was the right choice.
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Jake Lockley:
You walked into the bar to see him stood rather close to an unknown woman.
With anger running through your veins, you walk up to him and see his eyes slightly widen when he sees your approaching him.
“What’re you doing here?” he asked with a monotone.
“I’ve been waiting for you at home for the passed 3 hours,” you said as calmly as you could.
The woman standing close to him looked surprised at your words but made no move to walk away from the obvious situation.
“You should’ve kept waiting,” he said uninterested as he took a sip from his drink.
You watch him with narrowed eyes as he looked back to you.
“Is this how its going to be? You’re going to act like a total stranger in public and my boyfriend in private?” you asked feeling hurt.
He hummed at your words and sat up straight in his seat at the bar.
“You’re clingy,” was all he said, knowing that those words would hit you harder than anything else.
Throughout your life, you always had someone to be around. Your parents, siblings, friends and now in a foreign country you found solace with Jake spent every waking moment with him when you could. It was normal for you, and he didn’t seem to mind it.
“Clingy?” you asked as you choked back tears.
Jake clenched his jaw slightly before relaxing and putting his arm around the shoulders of the woman next to him.
“You heard me,” he said with a chuckle.
You took in a deep breath to compose yourself. Clearly you were not wanted nor needed here.
“Okay, if that’s what you think. You can have all the space you want from now on,” you said and turned to walk away.
“Is she actually you girlfriend?” asked the unnamed woman.
“One of many, hermosa,” he said under his breath.
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corruptthehumans · 3 months
Text
Ain't nothing... nothing better than the mere thought of making love with Marc Spector.
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Jus.. just Marc Spector..
Marc Spector, who'd be so gentle with you the first time he'd have you underneath him. " is that good, baby? " " tell me if it hurts. " " I know, baby, you can take it. " Who'd start off slowly, making sure you adjust to him well and be careful to not hurt you. He'd stimulate you by rubbing your little clit with his thumb as he gets a bit faster with his thrusts. He'd give you little kisses on your forehead and soft caresses all over your body. " mm.. fuck so pretty. " " yea, you're doing so good, sweetie. So, so good for me. " He'd do nothing but give you praises and compliments. he'd do nothing but truly make sure you were happy and comfortable. He'd finish off and then eat you out as you orgasm. " You did so good, baby. " " my precious girl. All mine. " He'd clean you off afterwards and shower you in kisses and cradle you in his strong arms until you fall asleep.
Marc Spector, who after letting you get used to him, would get more rough with you--or maybe he's only getting rougher because he's so stressed out all the time. Nonetheless, that pretty white tie he wears around his neck while being Mr. Knight is going around those pretty little wrists of yours. No more sweet, slow, romantic missionaries and side sex. If he's going to have you, your face is down and your ass is up, his dominant hand is resting on your back and his other hand on your ass. If he deems it necessary, your hands are going behind your back as he fucks you into oblivion. " yea, look at you. Making all those noises for me and getting all messy beneath me. "
Marc Spector, who'd rub your thighs anytime you're sitting next to him. Who'd give you hugs from behind and pinch your ass lightly. Who'd fuck you literally anywhere like the kitchen, the living room, the backyard of your house, a dressing room, ect. Who'd have you in the backseat of his car and losing himself inbetween your thighs. Who wouldn't flinch when you tugged on his hair and dug your nails into his back. Who'd get drunk with you at a party and dance with you, your back pressed against his chest and his hands on your hips as you both sway the night away. Who'd get hard against you and fuck you in the bathroom later.
Marc Spector, who tells you strip for him if he wants to see you. Who'd start you off by having you on his lap and barely giving you the tip as he covers your neck in bites and sloppy, rough kisses. Who spanks you when you're not grinding against him fast enough. Who puts his thumb in your mouth to shut you up. " this fucking needy? I'm only halfway in and you're already a mess. " Who'd throw you down on his bed, get in between those thighs and throw your legs above his shoulders and completely lose himself inside you. " You like that, baby? 'Course you do if you're whining like that. " Who'd, when you're on the verge of climax, pull out and filp you on your stomach and get mad when you complained. Who'd smack your ass until it was bright red with print of his hands and pull your hair for stability. Who'd be so fast with it that you felt like the air was being knocked out of your lungs and you couldn't breathe. Who, wouldn't only make you come once in that night, but would make you fucking squirt during your last orgasm. " Did you enjoy that, baby? I think you fucking loved that. " Who'd tease you before eventually releasing all over your form. Who'd make you get some of his seed between your shaking fingers and make you taste it.
Marc Spector, who would apologize after tearing you apart becuase on the inside, he doesn't want to hurt you.
358 notes · View notes
soonknight · 7 months
Text
[ Right Here ]
marc spector x f!reader
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about this fic: marc's been hunting a criminal all week. now, that his work is done, he can spend some well-deserved time with his wife.
content/warnings: NSFW, mentions of crime/violence, moon knight suit, marc and reader are married, daddy!marc and sub!reader, marc talks you through it, lingerie, eye contact, praise kink, PIV sex, fingering, needy reader, multiple orgasms, creampie (& breeding kink if you squint), aftercare and vague mention of sub-drop
words: 2.4k
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Marc’s had a stressful week. Well, more stressful than usual.
A serial killer with a talent for disappearing just in the knick of time had been wreaking havoc on the city. He usually struck in the early hours of the morning, and Marc has spent most of the last few days running on fumes, trying to stay up and catch the killer before he strikes again. 
In times like these, he’ll usually pass the body off to Steven or Jake during the day so he can at least get some mental rest. For this particular criminal, Marc’s had to spend his off-hours pouring over police reports and discreetly interviewing bystanders. It’s not his favorite part of the job.
It’s made him grumpier than usual, but you don’t mind. You make sure he eats and gets a bit of rest in the afternoons. The anxiety’s been getting to him. He’s tense constantly, even when you try to rub it from his shoulders or kiss it away. Marc needs space and silence to work, which hasn’t left much time for you to be together this week. To be honest, it’s driving you a bit mad.
You love your husband. His work is important and you’ll support him however you can- even if that means he needs some space. That doesn’t mean you don’t have needs though…
You’ve tried to take care of things yourself, but it only douses the fire to a spark. You don’t push. You’ve reminded yourself all week that Marc will take care of you soon.
And it’ll all be over tonight; Marc found him.
A lead brought him to a possible location, so he staked it out last night. Sure enough, it was the killer’s flat. With a quick scan of the building, Marc found an easy way in and out. He’d catch him tonight.
Marc said it wouldn’t take long, and he’d be home before sunrise. Even though he’d probably just want a shower and a hot meal, you planned a little surprise for him.
It’s been awhile since you’ve worn his favorite lingerie: a black babydoll with a cut-out between your breasts and hips that hugs your body perfectly. You reserve it for special occasions, and you’ve determined this is one of them. 
You get ready for bed around 11, but leave your hair down and done as it was all day. You take off your makeup and use your favorite skincare products, stopping to admire the fresh-faced, sexy woman in the mirror. 
You’re usually a bit more verbal in your requests, but you’ve been far too worried you’ll interrupt Marc this week. Besides, this is as good a method as any. You feel beautiful, and you’re damn sure you look beautiful too.
It’ll still be awhile before Marc is home, so you climb into bed with a book to pass the time. A couple hours pass and your eyelids get heavy, so you stand and walk over to the window to open it. 
Marc can’t exactly walk through the front door to the flat in the suit, but he does like to make sure everything is in order when he gets home. He usually just drops onto the fire escape and sneaks in that way. It was way too hot to open the window earlier, but the night air is much more pleasant than when the sun was out.
You yawn, climbing back into bed. He can’t be long now. Maybe you could just… rest your eyes for a little bit. The sheets feel so soft against the lace, and it’s nice to relax in next to nothing. You sprawl out on the bed, yawning again as you close your eyes to enjoy the feeling.
A clang on the fire escape stirs you awake. Marc’s back. 
Your eyes shoot open, then the drowsiness of a short nap hits you. How long have you been asleep? Oh, it’s all ruined… You were supposed to be awake in your lingerie. Now you just feel silly.
You’d rolled over in your sleep, but you can hear Marc closing the window behind you. Your breath quivers; you were supposed to be the one with the surprise!
There’s a heavy silence for a moment, only broken by the shifting of thick fabric as a gloved hand begins to caress your thigh. 
“Oh, honey…” comes a muffled voice from above you. “You look beautiful.”
You roll onto your back slowly and Marc’s glowing eyes meet yours. “Hi, sweetheart.” It comes out more sheepish than sexy. You stretch, bending your body in a way that has Marc’s eyes drifting. “Did you… Did you get him?” you ask.
“Yes,” Marc says quietly. His mask recedes and he smiles at you with a furrowed brow. “But don’t worry about that, okay?”
You nod, but his tight expression makes you second guess him. You give him a once over. There’s a bit of blood on the suit, but he doesn’t look like he’s in any pain.
“Are you hurt?” you ask anyway. It’s routine at this point.
“I’m alright. I swear,” Marc says. Sometimes he lies and you find injuries the next day, but you can tell he’s being genuine when he lets the rest of the suit unravel and tuck itself away for the next adventure. 
He climbs on top of you, slotting your legs together and pressing his lips to yours. It turns heated quickly. You’ve kissed in passing, but it’s been days since you’ve properly made out. When you gasp against his lips, Marc pulls back and brings a hand to the side of your face. 
“I’ve neglected you,” he says, taking the chance to kiss your neck. He finds your pulse point in a practiced dance with his tongue, arousing you much quicker than you’d anticipated.
“I-It’s okay,” you say, trying and failing not to roll your hips up any more. “You had to work.”
Marc’s teeth scrape along the shell of your ear. “But I have neglected you,” he whispers, sending a shiver across your whole body. He chuckles lowly. “Look at you… So worked up.”
You whimper at that, and Marc pulls back to look at you. He takes two fingers and traces them down the lace babydoll, stopping to hold your hips and run his thumbs across your skin where the cut-outs expose it. “You’re so good to me, baby,” he says quietly, leaning down to kiss you again. 
You’re acutely aware of his hand placement with how bad you need him, so you don’t miss how Marc gently snaps the thin elastic at the crease of your thigh. 
“Please,” spills out of you before you can stop yourself. 
Marc smiles, dipping his hand a bit lower to run his fingers across the soaked lace. He groans, pleased. “All for me?”
“Yes,” you say, biting your lip. You decide to be extra sweet and throw in his favorite title. “Yes, daddy.”
He inhales, pressing as close as he can without crushing you. You feel his hard cock press against your thigh as he goes back to kiss your neck as a reward. “You need it so bad, don’t you?” 
“Mhm,” you whine, trying to get a little friction while his fingers are still resting on your pussy. He lets you have a moment of fun before he moves back and settles between your legs. “Please,” you whine again, already missing the stimulation.
“It’s okay, babygirl,” Marc says, pulling the lace to the side. It’s his favorite feature. “I’ll give it to you. I just want to make sure you’re nice and ready for me, okay?”
You start to nod again before Marc’s fingers push into you, making you throw your head back instead. You’re loose enough for two to fit without any trouble.
“Did you touch yourself while I was gone this week, hm?” Marc says. You let out a little uh-huh, not able to say much else in the way of affirmation. Marc presses his thumb to your clit, loving the way you try not to writhe when he circles it slowly. “Such a good girl, taking care of herself when daddy wasn’t there…”
Usually, he’d degrade you a bit for not asking for his help. In some strange way, it makes you proud of yourself. Recognizing you’ve got Marc in a corner now, you decide to push your luck.
“Need your cock,” you say, pushing against his fingers for emphasis. “Please,” you add, bringing out your best doe-eyes.
Marc lets out a low moan, withdrawing his fingers and shaking his head in mock disbelief. “Fuck, you’re too sweet when you beg,” he says, climbing on top of you and lining up at your entrance. “Can’t say no to you, honey…”
Marc pushes inside and your hands come up, tangling in his hair. He moans when you tug at his curls, using them to ground yourself as you adjust to the stretch. 
“So tight,” he groans. “You okay?” You nod, reassuring him you can still take it after a week off. He lets you set the pace even with the confirmation.
You’d imagined him fucking you hard and deep, pent up and high on adrenaline. You’d wanted it that way when you fantasized about this the night before. But now, neither of you can seem to pick up the pace, content to hold each other close and feel as much as you can. 
Still, Marc’s hitting all the right spots. With a few days of just your hands and vibrator, the way his dick stretches you out is perfect. It’s sending you toward the edge, and Marc can tell.
He finds your clit again, rubbing it gently so he doesn’t overwhelm you too quickly. “Look at me, baby,” Marc says, and you obey without question. “I want to see those pretty eyes when you come for me.”
You blush when he says it. He’s so close, and the desire in his eyes makes your core tighten even more. Your nails dig into his back.
Marc feels you clench around him. “I’ve got you, babygirl. Let go for me.”
The way your legs shake sends a wave of embarrassment through you as the first wave of your orgasm hits you. You bite your lip and your eyes squeeze shut, trying to relax as much as you can under the intensity of it all. You knew you were a bit frustrated, but this was a lot.
You take a shaky breath and open your eyes again. Marc is smiling at you.
“Good girl, baby…” he praises, not slowing his steady pace. His lips form a teasing pout before he smirks at you. “But you weren’t looking at me. You’ll have to come again, okay?”
Your mouth hangs open as you try to pull yourself together. Your body starts to tremble as the overstimulation starts to set in.
“Daddy,” you sob, unable to stop tears from collecting in your eyes. You hold onto Marc for dear life while he continues against your squirming. 
He stares into your glassy eyes. “I know, sweetie, you can do it… You just come one more time for me and I’ll fill you up,” Marc promises, not easing up on your clit.  
“Can’t…” You’re too whiny for your own good, but Marc’s not in a punishing mood. He gives you the space to squirm and struggle. In fact, he actually seems to enjoy it. He doesn’t make you beg tonight.
“It’s okay. I know you can, alright?” Marc whispers, giving you a break from the intense eye contact by kissing across your collarbones. “You want my cum, don’t you? Want me to fill you up?”
You nod, and Marc comes back up to look at you. “Atta girl.”
The praise is always too much. Now he’s got you in a corner. 
“M’gonna come,” you whimper, reaching for any part of Marc you can. You’re sure his back is littered with scratches and half-moon marks by now. 
“There you go,” Marc encourages. “Come on, keep those eyes here, babygirl…”
Your bottom lip quivers as you gear up for the second orgasm. This time, you need the eye contact from Marc. It feels like he’s holding you from the inside out, and you need that tether with how much your head is spinning.
Marc’s thumb runs across your bottom lip as he holds the side of your face. “Daddy’s got you, honey. You can let go.”
That’s all you need to finish. You stay locked on Marc’s beautiful brown eyes, fighting not to throw your head back with all the squirming you’re doing from the neck down. He talks you through it, even though you can barely hear him. 
“I’m gonna come inside you now, baby,” Marc groans, his own body shaking a bit as he releases inside you, painting your walls with his come. 
He stays there for a minute, catching his breath before pulling out and rolling you onto your side. You feel his spend leak onto your thighs as you try not to let your eyes close again. 
Your sleepy, spaced-out brain doesn’t comprehend that Marc left until you realize he’s gone. You hear water running, which breaks the panic in you, but you still feel a strange separation anxiety until he comes back into the bedroom. 
“Let’s get you comfy,” Marc says, guiding you to sit up. He undoes the clasps on the back of your lingerie and helps slide it down your arms and legs. He brings a warm cloth between your thighs, working quickly to clean up the mess he left. You have new panties and a t-shirt on soon, and Marc helps you lie down again.
He’s coming into bed too, but you pull on his wrist gently in hopes that he’ll get next to you quicker. 
“I’m here, I’m here,” Marc whispers, pulling you to his chest and kissing the top of your head. “Do you feel okay?”
“Mhm,” you mumble against his skin. “Just need you here.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” Marc says, rubbing ovals up and down your back. “Feel a little floaty?” he asks. You nod, and he tangles your legs together. “That’s okay. You’re safe with me, baby. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”
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this was stuck in my head for a couple days and I had a ton of fun writing it! it was a nice break from the longer wips. classes start tomorrow so I'm not sure when they'll be done, but you can join the moon knight tag list while you wait!
[ MARC MASTERLIST ]
tag list: @volatile-voice @soft-girl-musings @howaboutcastiel @wyldeflower @banana-cheese-cake @steven-grants-world @patchesofwork @darlinglittledevil @jayden-killer @the-fox-den @hotmessmageereads @drinkingwithkhonshu @melodygatesauthor @summonthesoups @whatthefishh @iggee-rose @romanarose @charnelhouse
737 notes · View notes
melodygatesauthor · 7 months
Text
Hot Water
Marc Spector X f!Reader
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Not Beta Read - Requested by @blueflowerhat
Thank you for being patient and waiting since APRIL 27th for me to get this done haha. You're the real MVP.
Summary
You and your boyfriend Marc have some steamy shower sex.
Tags/Warnings:
NSFW, smut, shower sex, p in v creampie, pwp, rough sex, Marc gets pretty rough so like...just know that.
Word Count: 754
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“It’s my turn to wash you now honey,” Marc said, eyes hooded and full of a lust as he looked down at you, water trickling over his broad shoulders from the showerhead.
You bit your lip, feeling his hands, gentle but calloused, trailing over your soft skin, slick with lavender scented soap. You watched with him nothing but adoration in your eyes as he took his time, as though he were savoring the feeling of your body as his hands explored every inch. He worked his way over your collarbone, down your shoulders, until eventually he landed on your breasts. He cupped them in each palm, brushing a thumb over your nipples softly, inciting a soft, breathy moan to slip past your lips.
“M-Marc,” you whined leaning into him, lips grazing the tanned, wet skin on his neck.
“Shh baby,” he pushed you back a little while he ran his hands over you, rinsing the soap from your body, “just relax for me.”
You exhaled heavily, letting yourself go pliant under his gentle caress. A deep sigh of arousal escaped his lips just before he slotted them over yours. Marc grazed his tongue against the seam of your mouth softly, begging you to let him in. The moment you did, he grabbed the back of your head, making you stiffen in response.
“Don’t tense up on me honey,” his free hand trailed down over your stomach, his middle finger stopped just at the tip of where your body split in two.
You shuddered at his touch, “o-okay,” you tried to relax, but the way his finger slid further between your folds made it impossible.
You moaned deeply, arching your back as the pad of his finger touched your clit. Your body shook, arousal built up so high you felt like you could come with the smallest bit of friction. Marc could feel it, the way your cunt contracted over nothing, hungry for anything he could provide. He was impossibly hard, thick cock prodding your abdomen.
“God…fuckin’ need you,” he said in a low growl, pushing you against the shower wall roughly and lifting you just high enough to plunge his fat cock into your soaking wet heat.
You shrieked out a gasp, going from empty to full in one fell swoop. Marc leaned into the nape of your neck and huffed loudly in your ear at the same pace as his thrusts. You grabbed onto his shoulders for stability, though his grip was so tight you could’ve gone limp and he still would’ve been able to hold you up.
“You’re always so tight for me baby, a perfect fit every-fucking-time-fuck!”
The sounds escaping you were a combined moaning scream, and he wasn’t showing any signs of slowing down. Marc leaned forward more, taking one of his hands off your body and pressing it against the cool tile behind you. He shifted, hitting you deeper, something you were certain couldn’t possible until you felt it. You cried out even louder while he slammed against that spot deep inside you that made your body electrify.
“Marc too much!”
“Shh, you’re fine…” He said, continuing to snap his hips against you at an unforgiving pace, “you’re fine.”
“Too fast Marc!”
He held onto you tightly, lowering you both down into the tub and putting your body underneath his. He used one hand to cover your mouth, and the other to grab your hip, going back to jackhammering himself into your cunt over and over again. You felt your eyes rolling back in your head, and your vision starting to fade as the heat pooled in your core. Instinctively you were wriggling, trying to get away from the relentless pounding, but internally your mind was white, so close to exploding. You weren’t going to last much longer, not at this rate.
“Mmph honey you feel so good, you feel so fucking good around my cock. Your little hole is so soft, so warm I…oh god…f-fuck!”
As Marc’s cock twitched, spilling hot cum into your needy cunt, your walls contracted around him, squeezing out every last drop you could. He kept fucking you through your climax, keeping your mouth covered and muffling your screams that a neighbor might mistake for someone crying bloody murder.
Marc’s entire body shook as he pulled back, cock acting like a plug as it popped out of you and leaked his spend out onto the tub floor. He chuckled and kissed your cheek, moving to whisper in your ear.
“Let’s get you cleaned up…again.”
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Moon Knight Masterlist
Main Masterlist
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bits-and-babs · 2 years
Text
Chocolate || Steven Grant X Reader
-> Rating: 18+
-> Word count: 6.1k!!!
-> After weeks of pining for your coworker Steven Grant, sharing chocolate over a late shift causes sparks to fly.
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Gif credit belongs to @paper-n-ashes !!!
TW/CW: long ass fic. Handjob, p in v sex, unprotected sex. Relatively tame for me 👀 Not proof read, ain’t nobody got time for that.
His voice fades out as you gaze into his eyes, sparkling in excitement as he explains the mummification process to you for what must be the fifth time since you joined the museum staff a few months ago. They’re as deep and dark as the chocolate bonbons that had been pushed across the desk towards you. Melting, oozing a happiness that makes them appear even sweeter. The kind of sweet delight that made you buzz for hours on end and eventually fall into a sugar coma.
The crisp cold of the London air permeates through the stone walls of the museum's halls as if echoing Steven’s earlier sentiments that ‘even the summers in London are freezing’. It even seeps through the stitching of your cardigan as you sit in the storage room of the gift shop, helping your colleague sort through the miscellaneous gift-shop inventory, goosebumps rising on the skin of your arms as the draft floats under the heavy-set wooden doors.
However, you can’t feel the cold at all, the warmth that settles deep behind your sternum from hearing Steven talk excitedly about his interests is enough to combat the chill. It’s truly endearing, the way the exhausted man with such a mild temperament comes alive when he notices you listening to his ramblings- or rather tried.
“... and so Apep swallowed Ra’s boat, causin’ an eclipse!” He concludes with such vigor it jolts you from your trance and back to reality to find that you had been sitting with a small Anubis toy in hand for god knows how long, staring dorkily at the poor man who just wanted your attention. He doesn’t seem to notice, however, so enraptured by his storytelling that you manage to escape his scrutiny, or rather his disappointment that you hadn’t been as enthralled with his knowledge as he perhaps thought you were.
It wasn’t always this way. Upon your arrival to the museum at the beginning of spring during the new economic year, you loved his enthusiasm, the way he had toured you on his induction day despite the rambling of your boss Donna, insisting that he would never be a tour guide as long as he struggled to maintain a consistent timecard. While it wasn’t the most romantic of experiences, Steven so eager to explain how the Egyptians would push a hook through the nose of the nobility and Pharaohs, removing their brain in the process, but it certainly endeared you to him.
Drawn to his polite and mild temperament, you found yourself spending more time with him than you could really afford. Somewhere between traveling one more bus stop in order to continue the riveting conversation about the latest mummified crocodiles archaeologists had unearthed on the banks of the Nile and staying an extra thirty minutes after your shift to help Steven with the work that he had managed to rack up after three days away with little to no explanation as to where he had been, you found yourself struggling to maintain your focus on his narration.
Boredom wasn’t the cause of your affliction. No, worse than that. It was finding yourself tracing the bow of his upper lip with your line of sight, contemplating what it would be like to kiss it. Considering how soft his ebony curls would be to pass your fingers through, and how his long lashes would tickle your skin as he pressed his own lips to the expanse of your skin. Perhaps it was an understatement to claim that you would pray to every God and goddess, Egyptian or otherwise, for an opportunity to brush your fingertips against the grain of the shadow of his beard on his chin, It consumed your every waking moment, not unlike Apep swallowing the boat that Ra traveled upon so he could ride from the East and raise the sun.
You use the pause in conversation in order to switch the topic onto something he was less keen on, needing respite from the way your mind kept falling into the depths of desire, twisting like a pit of vipers in your stomach, before you managed to embarrass yourself beyond measure. “Where are these chocolates from, Steven, they’re very good.”
The bonbons that sat on the tabletop between you both were encased in a crimson-red love-heart box. You hadn’t allowed your own to go into cardiac arrest when he had entered the office holding it, convincing yourself that it couldn’t possibly be for you. Steven had never shown enough interest in you beyond his co-worker or friend to truly indicate that he would be willing to buy such a gift for you.
“Ah-” Steven stumbles over himself, a little eraser in the shape of a scarab beetle falling from his hands and clattering to the table. He’s swift to grab it again, shoving it into a basket after scanning it with a shaky hand. “It was in the- uhm, the reduced section in Tescos… I just thought they looked good and that someone might want to share!” His voice is so insistent, promising that there wasn’t an ulterior motive. It doesn’t ease the way your chest stains under the weight of your disappointment as to pick up another circular chocolate, noting the colorful sprinkles on top.
“That’s kind of you,” You say quietly, cheeks tingling with heat at the knowledge that you had been correct in your suspicions all along, that he could never really want you. It was no secret that women found him attractive, some other co-workers making that very clear on a ‘work night out’ in the local pub, in which they rambled about the way he had shamelessly flirted with them and how charming he had been. While you certainly hadn’t experienced this side of Steven, your own Steven shy and jittery, you envied those girls that held his attention in a way you seemingly failed to achieve.
“Yeah, it’s just… Sharin’ is carin’ an’ all that!” He laughs nervously, the sound bouncing off the stone walls and suffocating you. Were you really that inept in the way of seduction that he felt uncomfortable around you, yet somehow seemed to flirt blatantly with every other woman that worked in the building?!
You exhale shakily, focusing more on the items in your basket as you worked through them, scanning the barcodes and setting them in their pile with a little more force than you intended thanks to your renewed exasperation with yourself. Perhaps the dark circles under his eyes had nothing to do with the lack of sleep he consistently commented on, and rather had everything to do with the boredom he felt spending so much time with you.
“You feelin’ alright?” You hear him question cautiously, having noted the short fuse you seem to have developed within a matter of two sentences.
“Peachy,” you mumble, throwing another toy in the basket with a huff. You know you’re probably coming off as rude, and it’s cruel to give the poor, nervous Steven something else to worry about, but you can’t help feeling a little ridiculous, pining over a man who didn’t like you. He probably knew that you were, and thought poorly of you because you couldn’t control your feelings for him despite him showing not even a small amount of affection for you.
Deft fingers take out another chocolate as he watches you, holding onto it for a moment while he seemingly thinks of something to bring the mood back up again.
“… Have I ever told you the story of Isis and Osiris?” Steven asked, his voice quiet as those mahogany eyes gaze at your face, no doubt scanning your expression for any refusal to listen. But how could you? How could you turn him away when he was looking at you with a level of desperation you’d never seen on him before, wanting to please you, to make you happy again.
You shake your head silently, eyes settling on his face as he sat back in his chair to ready himself for the story. The chocolate pinched between the pads of his thumb and forefinger is melting under his body heat, caving in slightly as the solid chocolate began to liquefy down to the middle.
“Then I’ve done you a disservice! How could I not ‘ave told you the greatest love story in mythology?” He asked you with a nervous grin, pushing aside the toys he was supposed to be sorting through to one side in order to begin his theatrics.
Despite your efforts and your utter frustration, your lips stretched into a smile at his enthusiasm. How could you not? It was endlessly charming. He’s sitting up, his free hand laying his palm across the tabletop and fingers splayed wide. They’re tanned, large. The veins on the back have a blue tint, protruding and appearing more intense under the lighting. Perhaps if you stopped staring, you would have noticed the years of built-up scarring across his knuckles.
Immediately, your mind begins falling into the bad habit that it had developed over the time you and Steven had spent together, producing utterly obscene images. His palms cupping and grasping at your breasts, thumbs torturing your nipples. His fingers pushing into your dripping cun- No no no STOP! Stop it!
How ridiculous it was, that you were so invested in a man who wasn’t at all interested in you. So overcome with need for him that you couldn’t even focus on his voice without wanting him to bend you across the tabletop-
“Well,” Steven begins, the chocolate he continued to pinch beginning to cave in from the heat between his thumb pad and fingertip, “Isis was married to the King of Egypt, Osiris, and she supported him with his rule.” His eyes are set firmly on your face, ensuring that you still wanted to listen to him ramble. It meant you simply couldn’t allow yourself to drift into the realm of daydreams, because he would notice as soon as your eyes glazed over.
Seeing no disdain for his voice, Steven continued, a grin spreading across his face as he allowed himself to get excited about his storytelling.
“Isis helped the women of Egypt with skills, teachin’ them how to weave and bake and brew beer. Both she and Osiris were loved, and this caused Isis’ brother, Seth to get jealous, and so he hatched a plan.” He’s sparkling, his keenness rolling off him in waves. The dark circles under his eyes didn’t seem so stark, and he didn’t stammer as he spoke, driven by his love for Egyptian myth.
“Seth trapped Osiris in a wooden chest, which he covered in lead and threw in the Nile. With Osiris out of the way, Seth became King of Egypt- Oh, bugger“ he paused, finally having noted that the once circular chocolate bonbon was flat between his fingers, coating his fingers in sticky, melted chocolate.
He was swift to rectify the problem, lifting his thumb to his mouth with a mumble of ‘sorry’ and ‘pardon me’, wrapping his lips around it and sucking the chocolate from his skin. You watch as his upper lip drags across his knuckle, Steven’s eyes closed as he relished the taste of the chocolate against his tongue. It was torturous, like someone had lit the touch paper in your abdomen and the fire was spreading through your veins, crawling up your spine. The pink of his tongue slips from his lips, pulling across his fingerprint and collecting the chocolate left behind.
As if he knew your mouth was watering as you watched him, his bronze eyes lift to find your own. Looking through his lashes at you as he slipped his finger into his mouth too, cleaning his fingerprint with his deft tongue. You wished the floor would open up and swallow you whole in your chair. Was- Was that meant to look so erotic?!
“Mhm, so as I was sayin’,” he continued as though he hadn’t just single-handedly flooded your panties, oblivious to your internal struggle. “Seth became the King of Egypt, and Isis was devastated.” Despite your best efforts, his voice was fading out, and you found yourself just staring at the man in front of you. You studied his dark hair that fell in tight ringlets in front of his forehead, his deep, emotive eyes, and his sharp cheekbones. He was just stunningly handsome, it was no wonder he felt so confident flirting with girls he actually liked.
It was during this assessment of his face as he continued to talk about Isis’ revenge that you noted the chocolate spread on his lower lip. Utterly exhausted from trying to push away the filthy daydreams that flashed into your mind's eye, you let them run ragged. You’d sacrifice yourself to the Egyptian Gods if it meant you could run your tongue across the expanse of his lip, tasting the chocolate against his skin. Though, you were entirely sure that he would taste much sweeter-
“There somethin’ on my face?”
You startle immediately, eyes so wide you can feel your eyelids strain. It’s like ice water had been thrown on your blazing body, a panic settling in now that you have been caught. When your mind catches back up with your line of vision, you see Steven gazing at you with an innocent look of confusion, his brows pulled up in the middle.
“Ah- y… Yeah, you have chocolate on your lip,” you admit weakly, pointing vaguely at his mouth with a shaky hand. Steven laughs nervously, shaking his head in his embarrassment.
“Silly me! Can’t even feed myself properly!” His comments are strained as he wipes the pad of his thumb across his mouth in an attempt to remove the sticky residue. The veins in the back of his palm are prominent still, catching your eye. Your brain stills entirely. It’s infuriating, watching him struggle so much to remove the stain, somehow managing to miss it entirely every time he passes his digits over his lips.
“Steven,” you whisper, a little breathless now as you feel your blood boil under your skin with arousal.
“It’s alright, I got it. Stubborn bugger!” He laughs again, the sound lacking humor in his mortified state.
“Steven-“
“Why can’t I ju-“
Scraping the legs of the chair you had been sitting in across the hard flooring, you stand in a violent fashion, stunning Steven into silence when you reach across the tabletop and grab his chin with a firm grip, forcing him to look up at you.
“Sit still,” you insist, desperate to ease your devastatingly hot arousal by taking away the distracting variable. Swiping your tongue over the pad of your own thumb mindlessly, you apply pressure to the affected skin and clean the chocolate from his mouth with a few passes.
Steven sits perfectly still for you, almost stiff in your palm as your fingertips dig into the soft flesh of his cheeks as you hold him in place. If it wasn’t for the heat radiating from his skin, you’d think he’s been mummified into this position.
Glancing up from his mouth into his eyes, you feel your heart stop at the view. Steven is looking at you through his lashes with almost a needy look. There’s an intense longing to his eyes that almost has your knees buckling, his jaw slack as he gazes up at you. Rose spreads across his cheeks, a pink tinge that explains the feverish feeling to his skin underneath your hand.
“Steven,” you whisper, heart in your throat as you gaze back at him. Surely you weren’t imagining the tension prickling in the air between the two of you? You couldn’t describe it in any other way other than a gas leak. The invisible, volatile gas lingering in the air, laying in wait for the slightest drag of friction to light a spark and ignite the museum and everything in it. It was suffocating, burning your lungs.
Did he look at the other girls like this? The ones that bragged about how charming he was when he flirted with them in the entrance hall or wooed them on lunch break in the form of a compliment about their hair. Did he look at them with such a clear and defined need for them to climb across the table and kiss him?
Trembling fingers ease their grip on his jaw, slowly pulling away to slump back into your chair. Your heart is thumping so loud it’s like thunder in your ears, drowning out the shaky exhale that you release as you finally break eye contact with Steven and turn your attention back to the task at hand- whatever it was, you can barely remember why you were even here anymore.
“S-Sorry to interrupt,” you stumble over your words a little, motioning with a flick of your wrist for Steven to carry on, refusing to look up from the ankh necklace that you had blindly picked up from your basket. It was a cheap metal, not at all heavy, with a simple pendant. Though the Ankh was a symbol of life, you needn’t wear the charm as proof of living- the pulse of blood that you swore you could feel through every single extension in your veins made your condition evident enough.
Much to your utter dismay, Steven didn’t continue talking, the pressure in the air pulling your lungs even tighter. He just gazed at you with hooded eyes and parted mouth. It was utterly disarming, the way his tongue swiped across his lip as if to taste the area you’d touched.
“Steven, I really didn’t mean to be rude-“
“You can’t just be doin’ that,” he spoke on an exhale, sounding positively wrecked.
“I know, I’m sorry, I really di-“
“No no, you can’t be doin’ that and leavin’ me like this!” He insists, in a pleading tone, pitchy and almost whiney. You don’t know what to do as you stare at him, and you swear you must look like a fish out of water due to the way your mouth opens and closes as you try to form a sentence in response.
Maybe it’s the combination of pining after Steven, a late night, and scanning barcodes for hours on end, but you swore you could feel the dynamic between you shift significantly. As though it was no longer Steven that held the power to change the kind of relationship the two of you shared. It was as if he had relinquished that power to you, and now he waited for you to make the move you had been silently begging Steven to make for many weeks now.
Silence drags between the two of you like nails on a chalkboard, the lack of sound devastatingly uncomfortable. Steven’s muscles are bound tight, seemingly ready to spring from his seat but awaiting your orders with an expectant expression.
It’s not clear to you what exactly snaps the tension between you, but all of a sudden you find yourself leaping into action. You push aside the baskets of merchandise you’d both been sorting through, which clatter to the floor and empty themselves as you climb across the table clumsily. With shaky hands, you take Steven’s face into your palms, catching a glimpse of his wide eyes just before you press your lips to his messily.
A moan rips from Steven’s throat and into the kiss, a broken, wrecked sound. The soft, plump flesh of his lips settles so perfectly against your own and yet the way they move against each other is clumsy. Nervousness shared between the both of you makes it hard to time the kiss just right, noses bumping and teeth clacking against each other, yet you’ve never experienced such mind-numbing relief.
Stumbling swiftly to pull away, to lower yourself from the table, you find your body moving itself without the receptors of your brain even having thought it up. Your leg hooks over the expanse of his thighs, settling your hips in his lap and resting the weight of your body against the muscles there. He fumbles with the syllables of your name like it’s a foreign language as you wind your fingers in his hair, taking a firm grip of it and pulling his face towards your own.
Inexperience coats his every action like thick honey that Steven can’t shake, but it emboldens you. Somehow this new position bridges the awkwardness of your first kiss, and your lips mould against his in a much smoother, precise way. You’re able to part his mouth, sliding your tongue against his and tasting the cocoa that had settled there. Judging by the hum of pleasure that ripples in his chest, Steven can taste it also. His scalp is warm underneath your fingertips as you wind his ebony locks around your digits, getting a firmer grip of the strands as you push his face impossibly closer to yours. This proximity isn’t enough. It can’t ever be enough.
Tearing your mouth from his before you lose yourself to it, your exhale sounds pitchy and wrong to your own ears. Almost as though it had pained you. Regardless, your lips busy themself on his jaw, pressing firm kisses along the length of the skin stretching across the bone there before trailing down his neck. Goosebumps seem to litter his skin in the wake of your ministrations, his head tilting backward slowly in an attempt to expose more of his throat to you.
His pulse is heavy as you take the skin above his jugular between your teeth, sucking the skin there so perfect hues of purple and red blossom throughout his tan. His palms settle shakily on your thighs and he digs his fingertips into the flesh so it dips to his will, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he unsuccessfully swallows down a raspy ‘Fuck’.
It’s his turn for those deft fingers that haunted your every waking moment to spread through the strands of your hair, stroking across your scalp as you drag your tongue along the expanse of his skin, moaning as his scent imprints itself permanently upon your brain. The scent of cut grass on a rainy day, clean and soft. You’re quick to blow a soft flow of air from your lips across his skin, the area in which you had focused your tongue growing cold under the draft you produced.
“O-Oh god, god darlin’- darlin’ that feels so good,” you can faintly hear him gasp over the rush of your blood through your ears. Tracing the buttons of his shirt, feeling each of them catch on the knuckles of your fingers on your hand's journey down his chest, you hum in agreement, sucking more marks into the junction of his neck and shoulder.
His skin is released from the pressure with a pop upon the sensation of your pinkie brushing the coarse leather of his belt. A weak moan falls from your mouth, eyelids heavy as you watch his head crane to the side to follow the movements of your fingers.
“Steven,” you whisper, tracing the cold brass of his belt buckle as you maintain eye contact with him, “We need to be quick.” You’re breathless with the speed in which this little make-out session is progressing. The wanton desperation that has lingered on your end for so many weeks was making it hard for you to think clearly and maintain a level of decorum. Your hands seem to move of their own accord, hips grinding achingly slow against the tense muscle of his thigh without thought.
“Y-Yeah? Oh- Oh god yes,” he practically wails, hands pushing aside your own as he unhooks the leather strap from the brass tong shakily. “Yes, we do.” Both of your movements are almost feverish as Steven lifts his hips from the chair, accidentally grinding his hardening cock against your aching, clothed cunt while you pull his belt from the loops of his pants.
Whimpers bubble in your throat, chest tight as you swiftly throw his belt to the floor and struggle to make quick work of the button on your own pants. Your hands are so shaky, the bones in your fingers almost like jelly as you flub getting ahold of the pesky metal circle.
“F-Fuck, Steven I-“
“Come ‘ere,” his husky voice soothes the impatient panic bubbling under the surface of your skin. Your hands busy themselves in his curls one more as you watch his fingers easily slip the pesky button from its loop, easing the waistband of your pants. He doesn’t stop there, pinching the zipper between his forefinger and thumb and dragging it down. The sound is as loud as gunfire in your ears, your heart thrumming violently against your sternum with the adrenaline of the moment.
The exhale that seeps from your lungs is shaky as you use your knees on the edge of the chair to sit up and slip your pants from your hips, thumbs dragging over the flesh of your hip bones and tracing the lacy material of your panties. You find yourself praising Isis that you’d chosen a nice pair to wear today as he stares down at them, a mixture of lust and anxiety swirling in the coffee color of his iris’.
It’s your turn to unbutton his pants, somehow managing to ease your own nerves to open them up without a hitch before undoing his fly. Your breath is a little heavy with excitement as you palm the bulge. Once again, Steven’s head dips back with a low groan as you slip your hand inside his boxers to wrap your fingers around the velvety skin of his cock. His hips jut slightly against your touch, the grip his fingers have on your thighs almost bruising now. There’s precum beading at the tip, you can feel it smear underneath your thumbprint across the silky smooth head.
“Oh-ohhhh fuck,” Steven chokes, hips jerking up under your touch to gain further friction. You can feel his cock twitch underneath your palm, can hear shuddering inhale and exhale of his lungs as he attempts to ease the taut muscles in his thighs. You can make him feel even better. You want him to feel better-
Sinking slowly from his lap to the floor, you settle your torso between his thighs as you continue to ever so lightly stroke your fist over the length of his cock. He’s so pretty, the rosy skin is such a deep red it’s almost purple.
“Darlin’ where are you goin’-?” His lazy, slurred question cuts suddenly into a gasp, his head snapping up from its relaxed position to show his startled expression in response to the flat of your tongue tracing the slick precum leaking from his flushed, swollen tip. You swear you can see his dark eyes, almost black as a result of his dilated pupils, roll all the way back into his skull as you take him hot and heavy, further into your throat. His hand immediately jumps into your hair, gripping tightly in an attempt to steady himself against your ministrations out of concern that you’re working him far too quickly.
Your cunt pulses needily between your thighs, toes curling in your shoes as you focus your attention on sucking his cock. He’s deep in your mouth, head pushing against your palette as the tip of your tongue traces the ridge of his veins on the underside of the soft flesh. His cock twitches again when you moan around his length, the vibrations shooting down his cock and settling at the base of his spine with an unintelligible moan.
“I c-can’t, darlin’, I can’t! I can’t-‘ The fingers wound deep into the strands of your hair pull you off his cock quickly, the rapidly increasing pressure threatening to burst forward in his shuddering abdomen. Your own intake of oxygen is heavy and unstable, the sight of him gazing down at you with utterly fucked out eyes almost enough to drive you to the edge.
Quick to your feet, you drag your eyes over his sensitive body. The leaking tip of his flushed cock, the hardening nipples underneath the fabric of his shirt, it all makes your cunt flutter around nothing as it begs to be filled. It’s impossible to hold yourself back now, body moving on its own as you straddle his lap as you had before, settling your palms on his shoulders to steady yourself.
Much to your surprise, nervous Steven doesn’t need direction. He appears to also be working in his own form of autopilot, eyes hypnotized by the way your eyelids flutter when his digits slip between the soft flesh of your thighs and trace the inside with a gentle touch. You could be imagining it, but you’re certain his fingers are a little shaky as they stroke your slit through the crotch of your panties, stopping just shy of your clit underneath the lacy fabric.
Whimpering at the lack of friction just where you need it, you grind your hips slightly into his fingerprints. Steven is quick to gently shush you, hooking his fingers into the crotch of your panties to pull them to the side. The cold air against your soaking folds causes you to grip at the material of Steven’s shirt, wrinkling the fabric with creases you swore he’d never be able to iron out.
“A-Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Soft Steven, lovely Steven checks in with you. Ensures you’re not engaging in something you’re uncomfortable with. It makes your heart yearn for him, more than you have these past few weeks of locking yourself in the bathroom and gazing into the mirror with pained expressions after his fingers brushed yours when taking a pen he’d asked to borrow, or when you would hold your mobile to your chest at the end of a phone call that was about as something as mundane as his shift hours.
“Steven, I want nothing more-“ you strain, reaching behind your own hips to take ahold of his cock and line the weeping tip up perfectly. It catches against your clit first, causing your body to jolt in shock before you sweep him through your dripping folds. Steven grabs ahold of your hips, seemingly at a loss as to where else to hold you. His eyes are flickering all across your bare skin, unable to settle on the best spot.
A chorus of gasps sounds between the two of you as you slowly roll down onto his dick, harmonizing almost like a symphony. He stretches you deliciously, not too big as to hurt- he’s just perfect. Perfectly filling. It’s like you lose all sense of direction, unsure of up from down, left from right. Your hips must stutter and still from the shock because through your haze you feel Steven thrust upward and into you to bridge the gap until he’s bottoming out in your slick pussy.
“Oh- Oh fuck-it feels so good, Steven,” you groan, finally sitting down on his length with your full weight. Your quads are already shaking from the overwhelming pleasure that simmers between them, but the desire to chase the feeling is enough to get them to lift despite the effort it takes.
Rising back over the curve in his cock, you lift yourself back up until only his tip is pressed up against your head. You don’t mean to, truly you don’t, but you pause before you sink back down. Like this, you see the almost pained look in Steven’s hazy eyes as he gazed up at you through his lashes that were damp with pleasured tears. You never want to go without seeing that view for even one day.
“God, please darli- Yesss, oh yes!” He chokes as you rock your hips for him to slip straight back into, his voice cracking under the pressure that builds at the base of his spine. You find that slow and steady pace that tortures you both, pleasurable but teetering on not enough, teasing the embers of a building orgasm but not stoking the fire.
The slippery sound of your cunt being filled over and over echoes and brunches off of the stone museum walls, the air that had held a chill seemingly warming at your shared exertion. You can barely hear Steven’s whimpers, your pulse thrumming so loud in your ears that you’re convinced he can probably feel it thudding in your walls.
There’s tension in your forehead, no doubt from your eyebrows arching in bliss as the ridge of his head catches up against something so incredible that you’re drowning between your thighs. Your movements are stuttering at the way a familiar simmering feeling begins deep inside your abdomen, but Steven doesn’t want you to stop. His hands take a firm grip of your hips, forcing them down as he begins to thrust up and into you in that same lazy pace you had set.
The legs of the chair you’re both sat in strain under the pressure of Steven’s movements, but neither of you seem to notice as he continues to brush against that part of you that just obliterates any coherent thoughts. You’re not exactly sure what part of his body you’re holding onto, so far away from comprehension, but you know you’re holding it in a bruising grip, one that leaves a perfect impression of each of your fingertips that could probably secure a conviction if they were used as evidence of your activities.
Despite the slow, even pace, Steven looks entirely fucked out. His curls are messy and falling into his perfectly pink face. His tongue darts out to wet his chapped lips mindlessly, eyes settled on the way you take his cocks so well. At this angle, he thinks he can see the tip nudging up against your stomach from the inside. That’s all he needs to increase the speed and strength of his thrusts.
It winds you, the brutal pace that he sets, and the gentle smolder is exacerbated into a churning, broiling sensation that rips through you within seconds. Your thighs are tight against his own as you sob out wordlessly, desperate in your attempts to prevent your orgasm from coming too fast. You’ve waited so long, you don’t want this moment to end.
Oh, but Steven is so eager to please. His fumbling fingers are quick to blindly search for your clit as he rocks violently into your soaking wet cunt. It sparks through you like white-hot lightning when he catches the sensitive bundle of nerves, and your reaction must make it obvious he’s found what he’s looking for because he focuses all of his attention on that one spot that has your vision going white.
His cock sinks deep inside you, head continuing to spear that impossibly sensitive spot inside you as he traces your swollen clit with imperfect circles. You barely notice it until it’s surging forward so quickly that you don’t have the time to brace for it. The wail of Steven’s name that escapes you would probably wake the mummified dead on the floor above when your body tremors with a pleasure so annihilating that you’re gushing, flooding around him and streaming tears from your eyes. Your toes curl almost painfully, gripping onto him so hard your knuckles go white.
The extra lubrication and easiness in which Steven is able to sink into your sopping heat must tip him over the edge alongside you, because even through your blinding relief you can feel his back arch slightly as he settles as far into your cunt as he can possibly go, emptying his load with a pitiful groan that melts all of your nerves. He’s slurring your name with each of his final thrusts, keeps going and going until he can’t take it anymore and he’s too sensitive to move.
Boneless, you slump against his heaving chest with a sob. The silence that follows is almost deafening, and you squeeze your eyes shut as you try to breathe evenly to steady the erratic slamming of your heart against your ribcage.
Massaging his fingers through your hair, Steven lets out a nervous laugh that causes you to burst into a fit of giggles through your exhaustion. Maybe it’s delirium that makes you find humor in the situation or the relief of so many months of pining for this one man. Regardless, it’s freeing. Your body feels lighter, though that could just be you floating after what is easily the best orgasm you’d ever experienced in your life.
“… Oh fuckin’ hell,” Steven is breathless, speaking over your laughter to point at the corner of the ceiling. “The fuckin’ camera.” Of course. This whole museum was covered in CCTV. Though, you hadn’t considered that when he’d practically begged you to make out with him.
“Oh well,” you breathe, sitting up to look him in the eyes and brush his curls from his face with a gentle stroke and a cheeky grin. “I’m sure J.B will love the view.”
END
🏷 Taglist: @polaroidpetal @mylifeisactuallyamess
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spacecowboyhotch · 19 days
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about this: HAPPY BIRTHDAY MARC SPECTOR (aka the love of my life). gn!reader. contents: a birthday fic, illusions to abuse/mental health issues, canon typical mentions of DID, internal angst, fluff, kissing. wc: 738. not beta’d.
moonknight masterlist
Marc wakes to the smell of something distinctly sweet, though he isn’t sure what it is. He is hit with that deep sadness that has rooted itself inside of him since he was just a little boy. Another year has passed— he’s made another trip around the sun. Another year to remember and forget, to fight his demons, to look in the mirror and be nothing but a grim reminder of his broken family.
But, then he hears a familiar tune, a whistle floating through the air that makes him feel light. Your whistle. A new reminder that he has a new family. That in some ways he created a new family within himself, one that you readily accept.
He turns to bury himself in your pillow, smothering the goofy grin on his face. He’s still growing used to this feeling, of being happily and safely in love.
There is the patter of your feet, the chatter of dishes, the sound of a tea kettle. When he finally sits up, there’s a card with his name scrawled across it on his bedside table, along with a small heart-shaped box of chocolates.
He laughs as he reads the card, though your sentiment is sweet and means a lot to him, given his tumultuous childhood with little joy.
For the man who has a sweet tooth that rivals a 7-year-old. You deserve every confection on this earth— none are sweeter than you. All my love.
Marc tucks the card into his drawer, along with a few other things you’ve gotten him, a watch from his father, and his old wedding band. Things with meaning. He picks up the box of chocolates and heads out to the kitchen where he knows he’ll be met with the happiest sight on earth— you.
“Mornin’,” He calls out to you, his voice still rough from sleep.
You whirl around, fixing him with a smile so wide and genuine it makes his cheeks warm. “Good morning, lovey. Sit sit, it’s almost done,” You gesture to the kitchen table.
Marc sits as instructed, watching patiently as you start to get everything ready. You set down in front of him: coffee that he knows will be perfectly made, two different stacks of what both seem to be funfetti pancakes, extra sprinkles, whipped cream, and syrup.
“Did you know that most funfetti pancake recipes don’t call for any actual funfetti cake batter? Seems fraudulent don’t you think?” You ask as you fix a plate for yourself and sit beside him.
He hums in agreement. “Hence the two different kinds?”
“Well I wanted to see which you liked better, a traditional recipe or mine,” You reason, stabbing a candle into both of his stacks so that you can light them. Leaning close you, brush your lips against his cheek as the flames flicker.
At this moment, Marc feels like the only people that exist are you and him. He’s overwhelmed with happiness and tenderness before you even speak another word. Marc wants to be alive. He wants to live with you, year after year. He wants to know who could be with you by his side.
As if you’ve read his mind, you whisper to him, “Happy birthday, Marc Spector. I hope for you, more love, more growth, more happiness, and contentment.”
Marc inhales shakily, his eyes growing wet with tears. He nods, reaching out to grasp your hand and squeeze, hoping that the gratitude he’s feeling is clear. You raise his hand, kissing it gently before gesturing towards the candles.
“Make a wish, Marc.”
He could. He lets his eyes flit around the space, his mind flitting through ideas as he takes in his surroundings. A loving light in your eyes. The sweet scent of funfetti pancakes. Coffee the color of dark caramel. The perfect box of chocolates. This place that you both call home. Marc realizes he loves things just the way they are right now. He closes his eyes and wishes that every day will hold even a fraction of the warmth it does right now.
He guides a hand to your chin, pulling you close by it so he can press a grateful kiss to your mouth. “Thank you, sweetheart, all of this is great. More than I could’ve asked for.”
“Get used to it, Spector,” You laugh, mouth brushing his.
“I’m working on it, but for right now, I think it’s time for me to try some pancakes.”
moonknight taglist: @ninebluehearts , @rmoonstoner, @later-gators12, @foreverinwanderlustt-blog, @aleeb, @eyelessfaces, @marc-spectorr, @missdictatorme, @toracainz, @mccn-bcys, @campingwiththecharmings, @whatthefishh
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mysecretlittlelibrary · 7 months
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Secrets That Whisper & Shout
Pairing: Moonknight trio (Steven mainly) x Reader
Word Count: 3.9k
Warnings: idk brief mentions of violence
Genre: fluff & minor angst
Summary: you are extremely intrigued by your neighbor and the voices you can sometimes hear in his head because of course your neighbor seems extra susceptible to your powers
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***
It's an interesting way to live life, being able to see into people's minds. To alter their memories, control their actions, hear their deepest inner thoughts even if you're not trying to sometimes. It can be weird but you just try your best to live your life normally. Right now the biggest hindrance to your delicate balance of normal is your neighbor. He lives across the hall for you and unfortunately, for some reason, you keep finding yourself inside his mind. It happens when you let your mental guard down for a little too long. You've always compared people's minds to houses, or offices full of filing cabinets, your powers give you a key basically but it seems like your dorky neighbor's mental door is never closed let alone locked.
The weirder part is what you hear when you do find yourself in his mind. For most people, the voice in their head sounds like them- and while you've never really spoken to your neighbor, you know for a fact there's no way he's simultaneously a nervous Brit, a cocky American, and a grumpy Spanish speaker. There are three voices in his head as opposed to one, they speak to each other and seem entirely independent of one another. You haven't intentionally done any snooping in his mind but you can imagine his mental filing cabinets are entirely different than any you've been in. It's not really your business though so you never look into it. No matter how curious you are about how and why he has three voices in his head. 
You know very little about your neighbor. From accidentally listening to his mental debates you think his name is Steven. The other voices have names too but you're unclear who is who because you've never stuck around long enough to discern that. He's not very social and only leaves his apartment for work or errands. He hardly ever takes phone calls and he never really calls anyone- except, around the time you moved in he used to call his mom pretty often but you think she never answered and eventually, those calls stopped. The strangest detail you've realized is sometimes he'll sneak out of his apartment, through the window and you have no idea where he goes or what he does but he's always back within a week. You don't mean to keep tabs on him, sometimes you cast your magic out to scan for threats and you'll notice the lack of presence in the apartment across the hall.
He's a curious case, your neighbor across the hall, and today you've decided you're going to bite the bullet and speak to him. Your curiosity about him is the main reason and you hope that being able to assign personhood to the voices you hear will quell it even a bit. You cross the hall and knock on his door confidently before you can convince yourself not to on one Saturday afternoon when you know he's home. You checked first. There's some shuffling on the other side of the door and eventually, it opens a bit hesitantly but it opens.
"Hi! My name is y/n. I live across the hall from you." You say, your chosen tone is friendly but soft.
"I'm- Steven. Can I help you?" He asks sizing you up.
"I hope so! I was baking cookies and even though I went to the store before I started I guess I didn't make a complete list of things I needed because it turns out I actually don't have enough sugar so I was just wondering if you had any I could borrow by chance?" You ask. You are baking, but you also definitely have enough sugar, it just seemed like the simplest way to initiate conversation. A bit cliche but it's a classic for a reason.
"You want to borrow sugar?"
"Yes. A cup if you have it." You hold up your measuring cup with a smile. Steven pauses for a moment before he answers.
"Sure. I've got some. Come on in I'll pour some for you." He says walking into his apartment. You follow him in glancing around. The studio style flat is full of books littered everywhere, it's the first thing you notice when you walk in. Steven takes the measuring cup from you and quickly grabs his container of sugar to pour some.
"Thanks so much! I'll bring by some cookies to repay you!" You tell him.
"Oh, no thank you. I appreciate the offer but I am vegan and I'm sure you don't intend to bake vegan-friendly cookies so-" He trails off with a shrug. You frown but make a note of the information. He's vegan. "I've never seen you before." He says after a moment while he puts up his bag of sugar.
"That's probably because you don't leave much besides for work. I've lived across you for over a year." You muse.
"Hey! I- I leave!" He turns to look at you.
"To do your laundry at the witching hour when you're the least likely to run into people?" You smirk a bit at him.
"No." He huffs.
"Thanks for the sugar, Steven. Hope to see you around more." You toss over your shoulder as you walk back into your apartment.
You do make a handful of vegan cookies for your neighbor, even though it wasn't your plan, after checking to find that it really is just a couple of minor changes, vegetable oil instead of butter, water or nondairy milk instead of eggs, and since you don't already have vegan chocolate you leave out the chocolate chips- at least according to the recipe you found. They're basically sugar cookies and you only make six for Steven, some of which you sprinkle with cinnamon to make up for their plainness, but you imagine they're a decent thanks for the sugar you borrowed- even if it was a ploy.
A couple of hours later, you knock on Steven's door again, this time with a small Tupperware container for the cookies you made him. He opens it again with the same confused frown after a few moments.
"Hi again! I know you said not to bother with the cookies because you're vegan but I wanted to say thanks anyway so- I adjusted my recipe to accommodate. They're sugar cookies except two of them are cinnamon, I wasn't sure if you like cinnamon so I didn't make them all cinnamon but the cookies are vegan. So, thank you, for the sugar." You say handing him the plastic container.
"You adjusted your recipe so that I could have some cookies?" Steven doesn't seem to believe the words even as he says them.
"Yes. I know you said I didn't have to bring any but I wanted to anyway. Since I did use your sugar to make them."
"Thank you. I appreciate the effort. I can't wait to try them."
"If you ever need anything, just knock." You tell him and wait for his cautious nod. "I'll be seeing you." You say leaving without waiting for him to agree with that statement. From then on, Steven does in fact make a point to speak to you more often. The first time is a couple of days later, he runs into you in the elevator and tells you he enjoyed the cookies. He'll definitely speak to you when he sees you around the building but it's on you to actually make plans if you want to see him otherwise and sometimes you do. You invite him out to lunch, have him over for tea, suggest movies to watch together, you even visit him at work every once in a while. The first time you went to his job you didn't even know he worked there, I mean he'd told you he worked at a museum but you never thought to ask which one, but once you knew he worked there you definitely made a point to pop in and say hi when you're around and he's working. It takes a while but you manage to build a pretty good friendship with him over the next few months to the point where you're hanging out a couple of times a week these days. In fact, he's supposed to be over later today to show you some movie he's been dying for you to see. For now, you're sitting on your couch reading a novel until he gets here. It'll be another few hours before he comes knocking at your door. 
You've really enjoyed getting to know him, more than you expected to honestly. He's as sweet and awkward as he comes off at first glance but there's something endearing about his gentle shyness even when he's raving about whatever thing has most recently captured his attention. You find yourself looking forward to the time you spend together more than you like to admit. You have no idea if your fondness is reciprocated to the same extent and you also have no idea how to broach the subject with him. Much like a skittish animal, you're always careful about how you make changes to your dynamic. It's something you try not to dwell on, if he likes you or if you'll tell him you like him and how to do so, things are good between you two and as they say, if it ain't broke don't fix it. 
Your head snaps up at the sudden rush of fear you sense. The book in your lap long forgotten anyway as you had been lost in your thoughts until the dread you felt in your very bones pulled you from them. It's not your own though, that panic, and you have to take a moment to pinpoint the source. You gasp when you realize it's coming from Steven. It's been a while since you felt someone's feelings so uninhibited and you rush out of your apartment before you can even consider a plan. He must be in trouble for you to feel his alarm this way. When you reach for his doorhandle you hear some sort of crashing sound inside and you force open his apartment door to find Steven evading someone attempting to corner him in the apartment.
"Steven!" You gasp when the masked intruder chucks some sort of dagger at him.
"Y/n?! Get out of here!" Steven shouts at you from behind the couch. You ignore him and charge the attacker by launching yourself using Steven's side table. The attacker can't react quickly enough to the kick that you aim directly at their chest and they go down hard. You don't give the stranger a chance to get up and strike either of you, taking advantage of their disoriented state you slip into their mind, 'suggesting' that they leave and forget they ever came here, forget Steven even exists and forget you while you're at it. When the masked assailant stands again they climb out of the window they came through without saying a word.
"Are you alright Steven?" You frown turning your attention to where he's frowning from behind his kitchen counter. When did he move behind the kitchen counter?
"What just happened?" He blinks at you.
"I am- a magical being of sorts-"
"Like a witch?"
"Something like that. I mean- I can do magic in the more traditional sense, like spells and such but most of my powers are telepathic. I can read minds and alter memories, reshape reality-"
"What?" You hardly register Steven's shocked exclamation.
"I mean that can take a lot of energy depending on the scale, like I obviously can't do it for everyone, everywhere, at the same time but like- I could say, make it look and feel like there are spiders all over this room." You shrug.
"Why would you ever-"
"Arachnids are a common phobia, it's gotten me out of some touchy situations." You say.
"That doesn't explain what just happened though." Steven shakes his head.
"Oh, I can control people if it comes down to it. I just- made the person leave and forget you exist."
"You can do what?!" His eyes widen.
"I don't use it! Usually. I've only done it a couple of times to protect myself or someone who really needed it." You shrug.
"And your protection was to force someone to do something else against their will?!"
"Hey, that person was literally trying to kill you! I could've taken the violent route instead but I'm not a fan of it!"
"So that man-"
"Doesn't remember being here, doesn't remember attacking you, doesn't even remember you exist. You're safe." You say.
"Holy shit."
"Look I wanted to be honest with you because I care about you but if this is too much for you to handle then- I will leave all I ask is that you keep my secret to yourself."
"You won't just... take it from me?"
"I don't want to. And I won't, unless that information in your hands becomes a threat to my life."
"Have you ever used them on me? Your powers?" He asks. You pause for a moment considering how to answer. Admittedly he doesn't seem to be taking all this super well, you wonder if it would be worse to just say no but looking at him you can't bring yourself to tell the lie.
"I have. Not- on purpose and nothing altering. No mind control or memory changing or reality reshaping- absolutely nothing that changed anything about you it's just that sometimes your thoughts are loud. You yell in your head a lot- in several voices. Sometimes I can hear them." You explain.
"You can hear them? The different voices?"
"Yes. I don't quite understand it but I never snooped I just- would leave when I realized it was happening again." You say.
"I think you should go." Steven says avoiding your gaze. Your shoulders drop for a moment that you're sure he doesn't see.
"I see. Alright but Steven-"
"Your secret is yours. I won't tell anybody." He says quietly. You nod although he's still not looking directly at you.
"Okay. If you need anything- my door's open. Otherwise, take care- Steven." You say and exit his apartment before he can respond. Steven's reaction hurts more than you'd like it to, you suppose you wouldn't have been able to keep the secret from him forever though. It would've come out eventually, especially if you got any closer to him as you had considered. 
The next two weeks are weird. Steven doesn't text you, or call you, or come over for tea or lunch, you make a point not to visit him at work as you are positive he's avoiding you based on the fact that he's clearly adjusted all of his habits so as to not run into to you around the apartment building. That- you think stings more than his initial reaction. To think he was so put out by your revelation that he no longer wanted to even risk seeing you... Whatever, you wouldn't dwell on it. The world keeps spinning. A sudden knock on your door interrupts you before you can focus back on what you were working on. With a confused frown, you walk over to the door and look through the spyhole to see Steven standing in the hall, and that surprises you immensely. For on that knock was sharp and harsh in a way you've never heard Steven knock on anything ever, but also for him to just show up at your door after 2 weeks is... unexpected. You pull open the door and lean casually against the frame.
"Hello." He nods and you immediately notice he does not sound like himself. You quirk an eyebrow at him.
"Steven? Hi. What are you doing here? And- why are you talking funny?"
"I'm not Steven my name is Marc Spector." He says.
"Did you hit your head or something?" You snort crossing your arms in confusion.
"No? I'm perfectly fine."
"Right except your name isn't Marc Spector it's Steven Grant. Unless you've been lying to me since we met which- would certainly be interesting but I don't think that's what's happening here." You say.
"Not quite. See we have a... condition-"
"Do not tell me about what's wrong with your body!" You put your hands up to stop him.
"It's psychological." He says.
"Oh okay. Proceed." You say.
"It's called dissociative identity disorder. My mind is- fractured. Essentially this body houses more than one consciousness." He explains.
"This sounds very Jekyll and Hyde and if you're coming to me to say you're a serial killer I don't-" You trail off when suddenly something clicks. "Holy shit you're one of the voices in Steven's head!" You gasp. You knew he sounded familiar but you didn't pinpoint it until just now.
"First of all, it's my head okay I am the original. Secondly- Steven told you about us?!"
"If he did do you think I would sound as confused as I do right now? No, he didn't tell me anything. I just realized why I recognize your voice." You say.
"Recognize my voice?" Now he's looking at you like you're crazy.
"I can hear you sometimes. You are quite loud- especially compared to the other one."
"You can hear us?" His eyes are wide as saucers.
"Yes, never on purpose though. I'm a telepath. I can read minds and change memories and alter reality and stuff like that so- sometimes I can hear you- which by the way we still haven't answered the billion dollar question why are you here?"
"Steven has been moping around for over a week now and every time we force him to leave he looks longingly at your door so I came to find out what the hell you did to him because I swear-"
"I didn't do anything to him. I told him I was a telepath and he freaked. He's been avoiding me since. All on his own. And before you start throwing around threats I'll warn you Marc Spector that I could take hold of your entire fractured little mind without even breaking a sweat. So tread carefully if you're going to start swearing things." Your eyes narrow at him.
"He's been avoiding you?" He blinks.
"We talked about my powers, he asked me to leave, and so I did. Probably assumes I'll take advantage of him using them or something." You shrug.
"Well you did just threaten me."
"It wasn't a threat it was a warning. Besides I'd never hurt Steven, you I don't know and you did start a pretty menacing sentence that prompted me to- never mind."
"Now I'm confused. If he's avoiding you, why is he moping around the apartment?" He frowns.
"You're asking me. You're the one that shares a body with him." You say.
"Explain to me exactly what went down?"
"I was in my apartment and someone attacked Steven- I don't know who or why but could feel it so I went over to help and I used my powers to get rid of them."
"What'd you do? Launch him out the window?"
"No? I just made him forget about us and where he was but when he mindlessly climbed back out the way he came in without attacking us I obviously had to explain some things. I guess Steven didn't take it all that well." You shrug.
"That doesn't sound right. I think you should talk to him."
"I- don't think he wants to do that." You shake your head.
"No. No, this has gone on long enough. Hang on." Marc says.
"Marc seriously mind your-"
"Y/n?" He grimaces. You recognize immediately that it's Steven you're talking to now.
"Steven- one the uh- voices? Marc? He thinks we need to have a conversation. Does he make a habit of meddling in your life this way?"
"Less often than you might think but- I do owe you an apology." His head drops.
"What for, exactly?"
"How I- handled things before. I was... cold, it's just that when you said you could hear Marc and Jake I was worried about what else you-"
"I'm sorry, who is Jake?" You shake your head at him.
"The identity disorder thing- there are three of us as far as we know. Myself, Marc, and Jake." Steven says and you nod as you piece it together.
"Would it be presumptuous of me to guess that Marc and Jake are not your only secrets?"
"No actually. Marc is an avatar."
"Of what?" You ask. Steven's shocked confusion prompts you to fill in the gaps, "I've met avatars for each of the sins so, one of those maybe? Or a celestial body of some sort? The moon perhaps- I'm guessing you don't mean in the same sense as the cartoon boy because people with elemental manipulation do not refer to themselves that way in real life so-"
"Khonshu." Steven says when you trail.
"What?"
"He's- Khonshu's avatar."
"Egyptian God. Interesting. Correct me if I'm wrong he's the god of justice, right?"
"That's right." He nods.
"So the guy that was attacking you a few weeks ago was probably mad at him for- something related to that."
"Most likely. Can't imagine a museum guest putting a hit out on me for not having any more pyramid pens or something." Steven scratches the back of his neck and you chuckle a bit at his joke.
"Interesting."
"Look- that day, I wasn't sure if this was something I was ready to tell you. I've never told anyone this before, the only person that knows is Marc's ex-wife, so when you said you could hear our thoughts I was worried you knew more than just that there were voices in my head and- I'm sorry." Steven trails off with a sigh.
"So- what changed? Why are you telling me now?"
"Well Marc revealed himself to you." Steven says. "But more than that I just- really hate not being able to talk to you. I like my life way more with you in it but I- after how I reacted I sort of figured I'd earned my misery, that I didn't deserve your forgiveness because when you chose to trust me with your secrets I turned you away, I even judged you, instead showing literally any modicum of support of the person I care about. I made an ass of myself."
"I wasn't upset with you, you know. I mean as far as shitty reactions go yours doesn't even make the top 5. You didn't tell the apartment building to gather their pitchforks so- I count that as a win." You shrug.
"I would never-"
"I know." You nod. "While we're- confessing our sins anything else you wanna share?" You ask with a chuckle. Steven holds your gaze for a long moment and there's a brief second where you consider finding out for yourself what he's contemplating so hard, you won't of course, but the silence drags long enough to make you want to rescind the question. Eventually, Steven's hand grabs your arm and yanks you towards him. His eyes are so wide at the action you'd think he's not the one who pulled you but before you can ask him about it his lips are on yours. The kiss is short and a bit unsure but his mouth is soft against yours and when he pulls away still with that wide-eyed look you do nothing but blink at him for a moment.
"I- I'm so sorry that was- I mean Marc was- I didn't plan- I wasn't going to-"
"Steven." You place your hand against his cheek to halt his frazzled rambling. "Did you want to kiss me?" You ask.
"I've wanted to kiss you for months." He breathes.
"Then don't apologize. I've wanted to kiss you too."
"Really?"
"Yes so- I think I'm going to do it again." You say pausing long enough to give him an out. When his eyes flutter closed you take that as your sign to lean forward and connect your lips again. You're sure in that moment you could do this forever and you silently wish to whatever powers above that you'll have that long to do it as many times as you wish.
***
A/N: I'm thinking of turning this into an anthology (like There is No Right Way) of the moonknight trio dating a telepath because I think it would be interesting idk- anyone interested in more of this dynamic?
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januaryembrs · 10 months
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LAST KNIGHT IN SOHO MASTERLIST
DESCRIPTION: She’s all Steven can think about in between the missing days and the American man inside his head. When Harrow’s jackals leaves Marc with a difficult choice, his hectic life is spun out of control as Seth, God of Violence and Chaos, comes to reap his reward in the form of a woman from Soho with a dark past and a crush on Steven Grant. (Lightly inspired by Last Night in Soho dir. Edgar Wright)
TRIGGER WARNINGS: (specific warnings at the beginning of each chapter) 18+ DARK PAST. Sex trafficking/prostitution. Grooming. Explicit. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Abuse ex-boyfriend/lover, death, murder, gore, drug use. Any smut written will be consensual sex only, but there will be some implication to dubcon content. PLEASE CHECK WARNINGS BEFORE YOU READ. AGAIN MINORS DNI. * = smut warning
STEVEN GRANT & MARC SPECTOR X (EVENTUAL) AVATAR!READER. Friends to lovers trope (Steven Grant) Sunshine x Grumpy trope (Marc Spector), Light smut, explicit language, no use of Y/N, goes by nickname Dove. I ADORE LAYLA EL-FAOULY so she is still in the narrative but as Dove’s reluctant friend. Female!reader. AFAB!reader. I am English and do not have DID but have tried my best to do all the research I could on the themes I talk about (Ancient Egyptian culture/history/language. Experiencing DID etc) but if I am misinformed and offend anyone, know I am truly sorry and am more than happy to hear anyone’s corrections in my inbox and will do my best to fix it!
main masterlist
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CHAPTER ONE - Steven finds his life slowly turning upside down when the man in the mirror starts talking back, he's sleepwalking all the way to the Alps, and the woman he's besotted with from work finds herself more caught up in all of it than he'd ever wanted.
CHAPTER TWO - She wakes up with a killer headache and a million questions when she realises two things: 1. the man in her room is not infact Steven Grant and 2. her body no longer belongs to her but to the God of Death.
CHAPTER THREE - With Marc and Steven captured by Harrow's men, Layla has no choice but to work with her ex-husbands mistress to get them and the scarab to safety. But things take a turn when Seth comes to reap his reward.
CHAPTER FOUR - Dove wakes up in Steven’s apartment for the second time covered in blood with only one thing on her mind. What the hell happened last night?
CHAPTER FIVE - Marc and Dove adjust to their new mission: catch Harrow before he can release Ammit and for the love of gods don’t let Seth have the body again.
CHAPTER SIX - Summoning a council with the gods sound easy enough, right? Except the man on trial knows the dark secret she has yet to tell Marc.
CHAPTER SEVEN - Marc, his ex-wife and his supposed mistress head to Mogart’s to find Senfu’s sarcophagus, whatever could go wrong when the god of Chaos wants to be involved?
CHAPTER EIGHT - Dove, Marc and Layla escape Mogart’s with only more dead ends and questions unanswered. They’re running out of time before Harrow reaches the tomb, but one thing keeps sticking in Layla’s head more than the rest. Why does Dove look so guilty?
CHAPTER NINE * - Layla, Steven and Dove set off towards Ammit’s tomb across the dunes, only Steven and Dove have a heavy confession they’ve each been meaning to make.
CHAPTER TEN - Marc finds out the truth about Dove, and pays the mortal price.
CHAPTER ELEVEN -
CHAPTER TWELVE -
CHAPTER THIRTEEN -
CHAPTER FOURTEEN -
CHAPTER FIFTEEN -
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