#f in the chat for marc

[moonshynecybin]

did anyone try the chicken. i thought the chicken was lovely

[spicyllewyn]

Kinktober 1. - Accidental stimulation.

Marc Spector x F!Reader.

Tags & warnings. Accidental stimulation + semi-public. (+18)

Word count. 1.4k

Summary. The only space in the car is on your best friend's lap.

Kinktober masterlist.

Dragging Marc out of his apartment was undoubtedly always an odyssey for anyone who tried it. Fortunately, you had a little something hidden in your pocket called 'the best friend privilege' that always resulted in him fulfilling your whims.

That, and the slight feeling of jealousy that invaded him when you spent time with friends who weren't him.

It was a good day for both of you, after all, no matter how big the group of people you went out with was, it was as if you were always in your little world, just him and you. Chatting alone, walking behind the others, and always taking a few minutes to take photos at your request.

In the end, the rest of your acquaintances had already gotten used to it, and as distant as you might seem, they still loved and included you two. So it was no surprise to either of you that after lunch, the arcade, and the movies, they were relentlessly urged to take you back to one of your apartments.

"There's no way we'll all fit in your car." Six people in a car meant for five. You leaned a little after saying it, your eyes calculating the space in the back seat.

"Sit on Marc." The owner of the car shrugged as he jingled the keys in his hand, waiting for a response. It was a lost battle; both he, Marc, you, and the other ones knew that there was no way out other than simply accepting the offer.

"I'm not sure how safe that is." You hummed, pursing your lips before turning to Marc. "What do you think?"

He shrugged too.

"It's a short ride from here to my apartment."

You sighed; if he was convinced, it meant you were being the difficult one.

In a matter of minutes, everyone was squeezed into the car, you on top of Marc, the others having to shrink their bodies to avoid invading each other's space.

"Sit properly," he murmured, irritated by the way you were sitting almost on his knees to avoid bothering him. Because yes, both of you were basically inseparable, but Marc was a bit of a cat when it came to his relationships – sometimes he wanted physical contact, sometimes he wanted to push you into another room so that he could have some space.

He slid an arm around your waist and pulled your body until your back was leaning against his chest. Of course he didn't think through his actions and the consequences they could bring, or at least that's what he realized when the car passed its first stop and he felt you jump on his lap.

He gasped, low enough that you wouldn't hear it.

“Did you have a good time today?” You whispered as your fingers softly caressed his forearm until you reached the only bracelet Marc wore on his wrist. A gift from you.

He only could hope that you wouldn't see how the hairs on his arm stood up at how delicate your fingers were, causing chills to run down his entire spine.

“Mhm.” It was hard to concentrate with your ass pressed against him like that.

The music in the car wasn't loud enough to be annoying, but it was loud enough to cover your conversation as well as any curses that left Marc's lips. Next to him, one of his friends was dozing, the other was scrolling on her phone lazily.

Marc pretended to settle into place and mentally prayed that you wouldn't feel something between his legs starting to wake up, right against the inside of your thighs.

Was it necessary for you to wear that sundress specifically today?

Another small bump in the road and it was enough for Marc's cock to completely harden while you looked out the window and continued making those imaginary drawings on his arm. Of course you felt it, but there wasn't much you could do about it, especially with the way he held you to his body with his arm.

“Fuck.” He muttered, breathless as you shifted in your spot, returning to sit on his hip after the movement of the road caused you to slide down a few inches.

You could feel his hardness pressing between your legs, at one point the clothes being the only thing stopping him from fucking you mercilessly until your legs wouldn't work. His arm tightened around you and you swore the air was escaping your lungs, not knowing exactly if it was because of the way he was crushing you against him or because you could already feel your underwear becoming damp, a heat that you recognized perfectly in your lower abdomen and between your legs.

He pushed your entire body down with his arm, seeking to satisfy himself with that same friction that the pressure of your body gave him, until, of course, that was no longer enough. He pushed his hips up, a discreet movement, somehow, but you could feel it perfectly.

The fact that you weren't facing him gave you the chance to bite your lower lip and silence any noise that Marc tried to snatch from your throat with his actions.

The second push was less discreet, more desperate. He buried himself between your legs as if he wanted to tear both of your clothes and dig into you once and for all.

“Are they ever going to fix these damn streets?” The boy mumbled from the driver's seat. Small cement bumps provoked the car to make an almost vibrating movement for just a few seconds.

Marc almost fainted.

You knew it was too much for him when his forehead rested against your shoulder, his curls tickling your cheek and making you smile with how agitated you both were. You raised the hand that was on his arm to stroke his hair, pushing a few strands away from his forehead.

That would be the perfect position for both of you, or at least that's what he thought. Plunging into you to the hilt, your walls milking him as he listened to you moan his name loudly, with you pulling his hair and moving your hips to your liking, maybe he'd even let you keep that beautiful dress on, just lifting it up and moving your panties just a little to the side.

But for now, he'd have to settle for this. For the playful way you pulled at his curls as if it would bother him.

On the contrary, he almost made his lip bleed by having to silence the groan that was stuck in his throat. At this point your juices were wetting his pants and that was what gave him the clue that maybe this wasn't bothering you much.

Or nothing at all, he himself could feel you putting pressure on his erection as you pushed your ass down. As well as the way you spread your legs almost imperceptibly to let him settle between your thighs.

“You are going to make me cum on my fucking pants.” He whispered right in your ear, and you swallowed hard.

His left hand, which was between the car door and your body, slid under your dress, where he squeezed your thigh, his nails digging into your skin. You looked to the opposite side to verify that neither of the two guys had their attention on you and without looking away you moved your hips slowly.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

By the fourth movement you felt Marc's arm tighten around your waist to keep you still, he scratched your thigh, you could feel it. He let the air out of his lungs in a sigh of relief.

You felt the warm liquid against your skin making his jeans wetter and stickier.

“Was it left or right on this corner?”

"Left." Marc stammered, his voice slightly breaking as his forehead remained on your shoulder. The rise and fall of his chest moved your entire body now that you were comfortably leaning against it.

You chuckled.

A few more seconds of silence and you trying to ignore the way Marc's body shook as the car went over a couple more bumps.

His poor cock was too sensitive and he was getting over stimulated.

"See?"

You and Marc looked back at him in the rearview mirror. You smiled, he didn't.

“It wasn't that much of a problem.” He unlocked the car from the driver's seat. “You have to learn to accept favors.”

“Well, tell that to Marc.” You cleared your throat as you opened the car door. “He had to carry me all the way, he must be exhausted.”

He pinched your thigh and you chuckled again.

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 👀

[m00nsbaby]

Already over.

Main Steven Grant x F! reader. ( + Marc Spector x F! Reader)

Part 2. Sleepwalking.

Warnings & tags. ANGTS!! Cheating kinda but not really?, hurt, and all of thaaaat.

Word count. 3.4k

Summary.

We been talking for hours About how we shouldn't talk for hours on end. Kissing after a conversation About how we'd probably be better off as friends. Same time here next weekend Say, "We won't do this again" Make me fall where I stand Only like you can.

It had been a while since Steven and you had accepted your positions in Marc's life. Both of you were external parts of something larger, like small protrusions on a road that led nowhere.

You decided to understand it when you realized the burden Marc had to carry. Khonshu had taken hold of his psyche and shattered it as he pleased, although he was aware of his dissociative identity disorder, he had started to lose control a long time ago and this resulted in Steven finding out in the worst possible way. It was as if life itself had decided to break him in every possible way.

Hadn't he suffered enough already? Steven and you weren't going to take away the last thing he had.

The love of his life. Layla El-Faouly.

You envied her in different ways. Living a life of adventures with the man of your dreams sounded like something out of a book. She was a strong woman and the first in Marc's life, and therefore also in Steven's, but if there was something that broke your heart in half, it was knowing that she was happy with him.

It would be a lie to say that you weren't happy with Steven. He gave you all of himself and loved you in a way he never tried to hide. But for years now, you had been the one picking up the pieces of two broken people and putting them back together. And then, there was Layla, who didn't even know about the existence of her husband's alter ego, enjoying the best part.

The carefree part that stood above all the atrocities of daily life, simply having a nice date or the official title of his wife, with a ring and legal documents.

"Do you miss working at the museum?" Steven's fingers traced your waistline, occasionally pausing to press on the moles peeking beneath the fabric of your short shirt.

"You have no idea how much." You could never tell him how much you appreciated that he didn't lie to you. You knew he comforted Marc by telling him that life was perfect just the way it was.

You were face to face. You admired Steven's face in front of you.

Anyone would think that once the issue of his fake sleep disorder was cleared up, he would look less tired. Although there were still hundreds of nocturnal missions, and Khonshu destroyed the mercenary's body until an exhaustion beyond description, now Steven could sleep a few more hours, the ones where he used to force himself to read until the letters danced before him.

Nothing had changed at all. In fact, you could swear that the dark circles under his eyes were becoming more noticeable.

"I love you, Steven." You said suddenly, resting a hand on his cheek. His skin had always been so soft and delightfully warm.

You brought a smile to his face, the one that momentarily makes you forget that both of you feel that time is running out.

The one that makes you forget the slight resentment you have towards Marc.

"I love you…" He whispered before leaning forward, just enough to brush his lips against yours, a gentle touch as his hand rested on your waist, and his thumb traced circles on your bare skin.

He wasn't lying; Steven never lied.

You spent the rest of the afternoon kissing and chatting about what had happened during the week you couldn't see each other. You asked about Layla as you always did, he shrugged, and you wondered if he felt the same resentment towards her that you felt towards Marc.

"The idea of vegan hot wings is stupid," you laughed as you bit into the vegetable in your hand, the one that was trying to deceive you and pass for something else.

"The sauce tastes good!" Steven laughed with you, playfully pushing you with his shoulder. To hell with sitting face to face in restaurants; if your bodies weren't close enough, neither of you were comfortable.

"It's a fraud."

"It's delicious." Seeing you take another bite was enough to feel that he was right without you explicitly saying it.

"Do you want to come to my apartment later?" You sucked your thumb to clean the sauce from it. "Yesterday, I accidentally stumbled upon a garage sale and bought the dumbest movie I've ever seen, I got it for us. It's called Rubber, and it's about a homicidal car tire."

Under any other circumstances, Steven would have laughed with you, but he gave you that look that you already knew too well.

"I'm sorry, love." Suddenly, the fake wings didn't look so appetizing. "Marc is feeling better."

Ah. That.

That was the signal that he would be spending the night with Layla.

"That's fine." You nodded immediately, and you also felt disgusted with the food in your hand.

How much longer could you go on like this?

After a few seconds of silence, you cleared your throat. You had some time to come up with a change of conversation.

"What happened to your hand?" Your index finger touched Steven's injured knuckles.

"Marc didn't keep the suit on long enough; the larger wounds healed, but the rest didn't." He never lied, although this might be the exception. A minor injury to prevent a bigger one; he wouldn't ruin his life over a trivial matter.

You nodded slowly, planted a kiss on his shoulder, and continued with your attempt at a date, which was going perfectly until you remembered where you were standing.

The truth was that the night before, Steven had had a fight with Marc, one of those that hadn't happened since they threatened not to switch bodies back to each other.

"Are you two together, Steven?" He was about to explode, about to go crazy. This was the last thing he needed right now, adding more lies and involving more people. "I already told you, no!" Ever since you considered the possibility that Marc might find out, you had decided that if it was a panic situation, you would opt for the most efficient plan: Deny, deny, deny, deny. "Don't lie to me, not to me!" He never yelled; he was the calculating, quiet, and careful type, but even he had a breaking point, and if Steven was going to shout, then he would too. "Do you think I'm stupid, Steven?" It's funny because he hadn't had any doubts until a few weeks ago, so maybe he was a bit stupid, but he wouldn't say it out loud. "No, no, but…" "But?" "We're not together, Marc; she's my best friend." The second part was at least not a lie. He exhaled heavily and mentally thanked for being in front because dealing with anger, panic, and fear without having control over your body was a nightmare he had experienced before. Why did he ever buy so many mirrors? Marc's accusing gaze followed him around the apartment. "And you like her," Steven completed, another thing that wasn't a lie. "If I lose Layla because of you two, I swear I'll…" Adrenaline rushed through him; he lost control of his hand, which ended up against one of the mirrors, breaking it into a thousand pieces. "Marc!" The other didn't say anything, he watched from the reflection of some glass pieces as Steven's hand now bled, and tears filled his eyes. His body was used to large doses of pain, but emotionally, he wasn't used to seeing himself bleed or handling loud noises well. "We. Are. Not. Together." It was the last thing he said as he stretched his fingers and watched the blood flow between them. Marc was no longer in the reflection. He didn't want to object.

"Will I see you the day after tomorrow?" You could still see him tomorrow, but the idea of him coming to your place smelling of Layla's citrusy perfume always disgusted you. It was as if an extra day would be enough to erase any traces of her from his body.

"The day after tomorrow, without fail." Steven knew; he didn't question you. He placed a kiss on your forehead.

"I love you, Steven."

"I love you, sweetheart."

Receiving calls or visits at midnight was always terrifying, especially when you knew your partner was constantly at risk, and this time was no exception.

The strong knocks on the door woke you up, and knowing it could be no one else but him, you opened the door without hesitation. Clad only in Steven's shirt that barely covered your thighs, with messy hair and half-closed eyes because the hallway light bothered you in the darkness.

Marc's tearful eyes met yours, along with the strong aroma of whiskey that Steven had told you about before, the one that stung his nose.

"Are you okay?" It was the first thing you said as he analyzed you from head to toe. He hated you, hated that you looked so good in the middle of the night, and hated that he felt a sense of ownership just from seeing you in a shirt that was originally his.

He didn't answer, he walked straight into your apartment, and you could only step aside to let him pass.

The way he walked past the sofas to sit on the floor was frightening; you had spent time with Marc during bad moments, but you had never seen him like this. You didn't say anything, didn't press, you just walked behind him and sat down beside him on the cold floor.

Your mere presence was enough for his eyes to fill with tears again.

"I didn't know where to go," he whispered, breaking your heart into a thousand pieces with just a few words.

"Oh, Marc." You knelt beside him to have better access to his body, and within seconds, you had your arms wrapped around him, holding him close. "I'm here, calm down."

You didn't get more words from him for a while, just sobs and those annoying chest contractions you get when you try to breathe through crying. You could even feel the fabric of your shirt damp at the shoulder level from his tears.

"I'm scared." His voice was broken, trembling.

"I'm here." You repeated as you held him tighter.

He didn't have the strength to tell you. He was afraid of you. Afraid of the dreams where he saw himself with you, afraid of the way his heart raced the few times you crossed paths, afraid of losing Layla because of his feelings, and afraid of change.

He was terrified of the mere idea of his life changing completely again.

You played with his curls and stayed on your knees until they hurt, with him in your arms whimpering like a little kid.

"Let's go to bed, Marc." He didn't resist, and you led him by the hand.

Nor did he object when you helped him get rid of his clothes just so he could sleep a little better. He almost felt guilty about how comfortable he seemed to be in your bed.

You hugged him from behind, your two hands resting on his chest where you could feel the beating of his heart and the rise and fall of his breath. Your cheek enjoyed the warmth of his back.

When you woke up, there were no traces of Marc anymore.

"Meanwhile, Osiris' wife, Isis, searched tirelessly for his body and then…" The way you were looking at the ground while walking had caught Steven's attention for quite a while, but he didn't confirm his suspicions until he noticed you weren't participating in his narration as you always used to do. "Lovey?"

"Huh?"

"You seem distracted today."

"I'm sorry, I, it's just…" You cleared your throat while forcing a small smile on your face.

"Do you like it here?" He interrupted to finally point out an area in the park that seemed perfect for your plan. You immediately nodded with that fake smile, and both of you sat down carefully on the grass. You placed the book you had been carrying in one hand aside.

Steven handed you your ice cream and kept his own in the other hand.

"Can we talk?"

"Nothing good ever comes out of that, I've seen it in movies." Steven tried to joke, but hearing those words come out of your mouth made him sick to his stomach. Slowly, he rested his head on your lap.

Your hand, as if drawn by a magnet, went straight to his tousled curls. He closed his eyes and smiled; you had always compared that gesture to a puppy seeking more affection.

"We can't keep doing this to Marc, love." Your voice broke as you gave him those caresses he loved so much. "Nor to Layla, it's not fair to them."

Steven was looking at you again, with a terrified expression and a slight pout on his lips.

"And is it fair to us?" he snapped. Needless to say, both of you had long stopped paying attention to your sad ice creams; they were already melting into the grass.

"If Layla finds out, we'll ruin Marc's life." You tried to be the rational one between both of you, but with Steven's puppy eyes fixed on you, it was almost impossible to think clearly.

"And if we end… this, mine will be destroyed." Well, he had a point. "Please." His two hands went to your cheeks and pressed them gently, his forehead now resting against yours. "We can't. You can't." His lips claimed yours within seconds, and you could only respond as if life were slipping away.

Whom were you fooling? You were selfish enough to give in. After all, every night you created scenarios where Layla found out and left Marc, knowing that it would destroy him, but in your scenarios, you were there to comfort him, to prevent him from falling apart.

"I love you, Steven." You didn't get a response, but you didn't need to hear it; feeling the strength with which he held you was more than enough.

You were all he had, and he was all you had.

Life was better when you both pretended to have a life that wasn't yours. When you fantasized and made plans for a future you would both do anything to have.

"What do you think of that one?" You both looked like kids with your foreheads pressed against the glass that separated you from the kittens.

"They say the orange ones are crazy, lovey." The fact that Steven was just as interested as you in this fed your good mood entirely. "How about that one?"

"I like his or her fur." You pressed your index finger against the glass to try to get the attention of the kitty that was completely distracted playing with another.

"Love, love, love." He nudged you with his shoulder, making you laugh, so you looked at the opposite side, another part of the store.

You gasped.

"THAT ONE?" You had to cover your mouth when the tone of your voice caught the attention of other people in the place.

There was only one cat in the area reserved for senior cats. You knew it was harder for them to get adopted compared to the kittens, it was as if he was destined to be there.

"It's just a baby." You pouted slightly as you pulled Steven's hand, both walking straight towards the spot where the little cat was staring at you.

He was white, although half of his body was covered in black spots, reminiscent of a cow's fur. When you got closer, you noticed that the tip of one of his ears was missing.

Love at first sight.

"Hiya, mate." The guy next to you was as enchanted as you with the animal. "Uhm, what do you say?" He tilted his head towards the glass. The meow completed his performance. "Look how curious, he says he's looking for new parents."

You laughed, genuine happiness coursing through you. You didn't give Steven time to react before jumping into his arms; he lifted you a few inches off the ground in the middle of the hug.

You didn't care about drawing attention. In fact, having witnesses to your love made it feel more real, reminding you that it wasn't just a product of your imagination.

After he kissed your lips, you could feel the ground under your feet again. You couldn't stop smiling.

"Come on, let's fill out the form." Steven's heart was about to burst with love at any moment.

The instructions were clear: fill out the corresponding paperwork, a few days of socialization with the cat to make sure he felt comfortable with you, and by the following week, he would be yours.

"We'll come to see you, okay? And then we'll go home."

"See ya, buddy." Steven said his goodbye too. "Next week, you'll have the best home, the comfiest bed, and the best parents, I promise."

"What's wrong, Marc?" There was something scary about the idea of being alone with him without him being intoxicated or injured. You were taking off your scarf to leave it on a sofa while he watched you from his table, leaning against it with his arms crossed over his chest.

It was impossible to read his expression because Marc always seemed tense.

"She knows."

Your heart sank in seconds, and you looked at him in surprise.

"Ah?"

"She knows," he repeated. You swallowed hard, and for a moment, you thought this was one of those silly dreams that sometimes distorted your reality.

"Knows what?"

"Please, don't treat me like I'm stupid." His tone of voice was enough to make you tremble. You immediately looked at the bathroom mirror.

Steven had told you that while one had control of the body, the other could be reflected in different surfaces, but of course, that only worked between them. No matter how much you looked, hoping that Steven would appear to save you, it didn't happen.

You didn't even know if he was aware of what Marc was doing.

"I don't…" Your voice died down slowly, and you refused to get closer to him. "What does she know?"

"About you." He took a step closer, and you felt immobilized. "She thinks you're my lover, like any sane person, she knows nothing about Steven."

You swallowed the lump in your throat as tears filled your eyes.

"You have to tell her, Marc, explain to her she…" He interrupted you in seconds; the way he raised his voice made you flinch.

"'She will understand?' Is that what you want to say?" He was getting closer, and you felt like he was taking your breath away. Why were you suddenly so afraid? "Yes, I'll tell her every damn thing that's wrong with me so that you can be happy."

Ouch.

"I-I'm saying it for you, Marc." Tears were already streaming down your face, and you mentally cursed yourself for the mere idea of showing so much weakness. "She has to know, it's best for you." And it was, of course, but you were resorting to your last resort to not lose Steven too.

And maybe, not lose Marc either.

"You don't know what's best for me, you have no idea." His sarcasm cut deep as he took the last step to confront you.

"Please, please, don't do this." You pleaded through sobs; your hands ended up on his cheeks. "Please." You pulled him closer to you.

He seemed to relax under your touch, at least for a few seconds. Your heart stopped when one of his hands rested on your waist.

"Don't make this harder, you're killing me." He was also begging, even as his forehead pressed against yours.

"We can get through this, Marc." You sniffed. "I promise, we can…"

A kiss. A desperate and painful kiss silenced your words; it was the only one Marc and you would share.

"Go," he whispered against your lips, still planting small kisses on them. "Please, I beg you, go."

And that was the final nail to seal the coffin between you both.

His hand made you take a step back, a very gentle push.

"I'm choosing her." He knew you better than he'd like, knowing that you wouldn't stop insisting unless he caused you permanent harm. Besides, how could he convince himself he wasn't in love with you if he didn't do this?

You looked at him incredulously, not believing his act, but there was nothing else you could do.

This time, you begged that Steven was present to hear everything that had transpired between you both because you wouldn't have the strength to end it after this. In fact, you didn't even know if you'd have the strength to live without him.

You didn't say anything more, you didn't look back at him, and he didn't change his mind. You left his apartment, leaving your scarf on his sofa as a final reminder of your presence in his life.

sorry, i got tired of happy endings

Part 2. Sleepwalking.

[juneknight]

•.Be Lost.• 1

Chapter 1 | Chapter 1.5 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 2.5

Summary: after a series of failures to find a dominant, your long time best friend Marc offers to give topping you a shot.

About this: Marc Spector/f!reader, mentions of kink, dominance and submission, kneeling, orgasm control

Immersivity: reader is a non-physically described cisgender woman. She works with animals and spends months out of the year in a place where it is cold—but this is the extent of her description. If there are other details which need mentioned because they hinder your immersive experience, please feel free to point them out.

*

“Give up. Give In. in the end It would be better to surrender before you begin. be lost. Be lost—And then you will not care if you are ever found.”—Victoria Schwab

*

Marc sends the message one night after the two of you have hung up from a lengthy venting session about your latest dating failures. A simple, without context: 

You could do better

I know, you type back, squinting at the screen of your phone in the darkness. Outside, the wind howls—another snowstorm which you hope will either amount to nothing or be bad enough that you won’t have to traverse the icy roads to work in the morning. You roll onto your side, adjusting the pillow beneath you. You’re covered nose to toes beneath the coverlet and still shivering, but Marc always has a way of making you feel warm. That’s why I told that guy off, isn’t it? I know I can do better. 

You watch as he types, no hesitation: 

You could do me

*

In the morning, you text him with one hand, spooning Cheerios into your mouth with the other. 

What, are you offering? There. You’re giving him an out. His message had confused you, left you spending half the night awake wondering about its context. You could do me. You could do me. You could do me? However he had meant it, you knew you had to offer him an easy way out. A fire escape. Maybe one of those seats on the plane that are right by the emergency exits. There’s a parachute beneath your seat, Marc, you think to yourself, drinking the remnants of milk from your bowl. Take it. 

Yes. Give me a chance to help you feel better

Your face flushes. God, how embarrassing is it that Marc knows how bad you need fucked? Not just that—Marc knows how bad you need submitted. That was the caveat of having him as a best friend: he was more likely to listen than to speak, and as such, you told him everything. All your struggles with the kink scene up here in your little frozen section of the States. All the things every guy before him had done wrong…

You aren’t into that stuff, you text back. 

And at the end of your work day, toes frozen in your boots, cheeks dry and chapped from the wind, you finally pull out your phone to see his response: 

Says who?

*

I’m at a disadvantage here, you type to him while cooking dinner. The tiny kitchen of the sublet you rent during the winter months smells of pesto. You’re just glad it’s warm, wiggling your bare toes by the heat of the stove. You know all my kinks, I don’t know yours. 

Marc sends a voice chat. It’s just over a minute long. Your heart is in your throat while your finger hovers over the play button. God, what the fuck could he be saying? Is he listing them all out for you, in alphabetical order or something? It will be the first time you’ve heard his voice since his text (“You could do me”, the phrase haunted your dreams now). 

Pressing the button, you quickly hold the phone up to your ear. There’s no one else in the sublet with you, but you still imagine that his words will be scandalous enough to curl the nails in the floorboards. 

There is rustling—Marc’s voice in the background, bright and laughing and calling out to someone, and then obviously speaking lowly into the phone to you: “You know what my kink is? Three years ago when I tried to take you hiking on that backpacking-for-beginners trail and got us lost, you remember? We spent half the fucking day—literally six hours or something—finding our way out, and after we did, I felt so bad I took you out to dinner. We didn’t even go home first, we were so hungry. We went to that fancy Italian place in town, both of us smelling like sweat and covered in dirt and at least ten pounds lighter from all the energy we burned out there in the woods, and when the waiter finally set that plate of food in front of you, you took a bite and you made this sound, this sound like you’d been dying of thirst but now you were lapping water right out of God’s palm. It was pleasure, and, and relief all in one—hearing you make that noise, and getting you to make it over and over again? That’s my kink. Do with that what you will.”

The voice message ends.

You drop your pesto spoon in the pot of boiling noodles. 

*

You call him that night. You have to. 

You and Marc have been friends for years, meeting in your early days of adulthood. It had been a fast friendship, both of you complimenting each other well. Marc was so easy to love, it had only made sense that you’d fallen in love with him. He was handsome and gentle and sometimes scathing and often hilarious. The only thing standing between him and a long term relationship was what Marc considered his ‘baggage’: the terrible abuse he had suffered as a boy, and the ramifications of it which he was still actively working to overcome after all these years. Marc didn’t think himself fit for marriage or even long-term dating. It was a shame for all the single women out there. 

A blessing for you, though. 

“Is this weird?” you ask as soon as he picks up the phone. “I don’t want things to be weird, Marc.” 

“You spent half your day FaceTiming a horse,” says Marc dryly. “I don’t think your life can get any weirder.” 

It was true—you had had to walk out to the barn three separate times today through the sleet to let an owner FaceTime with her horse who was sick and under your care. It had felt a little strange, being the third wheel in that conversation, but you understood her anxiety. 

“I just—Marc, I don’t want to lose you. As a friend.” 

You hear the phone shift as he shuffles it from one ear to another. He says: “The only way you could lose me would be if you told me to get lost. So can we figure this out?”

“Are you even attracted to me?” Maybe it’s desperate, but you’ve asked it. Marc has always taken efforts to compliment your appearance (resulting in heart palpitations all afternoon for yourself), but he’s never explicitly said that he finds you attractive. 

On the other end, Marc lets out a breath which sounds a little like a laugh. Or a sigh? “Yes. Are you attracted to me?” 

Marc clearly has never looked in a mirror as long as he has been alive. Tan skin that turns golden in the right lighting, dark curls that you wouldn’t mind trying to manage with your fingers, brown eyes that hint at the color of whiskey, a jaw to die for…

You clear your throat. “I mean—sure.” 

“Sure.” You can hear his smile on the other end. It makes you want to die, just a little. 

“Kind of.” 

“Understandable.” 

“You’re passable.”

“I’ll take it.” 

*

One time, he texts while you brush your teeth. And if I’m no good at it, you can keep going to all those kink clubs up in the arctic circle 

And if you are good at it? you wonder, because Marc has never been bad at anything in his life. Because ever since he suggested it, it’s all you’ve been able to think about, the feelings that you’ve had for Marc surging forward from the dusty shelf in the back of your brain where you had stored them all these years. Marc could just give you a look and you’re pretty sure it would melt you. There’s no way he’s going to be bad at topping you. 

Then I’ll take care of you

Yes. Yes, melting already. You spit in the sink and rinse.

*

“Tell me again how it went with this last guy,” Marc says during your next phonecall. The two of you call each other every other night religiously when you are away (“up in the arctic circle” as he would say) for the coldest three months of the year. His voice is warm and low, quiet. 

Even though you have already told him once, it is different now, isn’t it? The thought of relaying again everything that happened makes your face heat, makes you tug the blankets over your head until it is dark all around you. 

“Do I have to?” you wonder. 

“Do I have to make you?” he wonders back, voice lowering a fraction.

Your heart stutters. Your breaths begin to come at a faster rate. 

“No,” you say, breathy and obviously on the verge of being devastated. “I’ll tell—we met on fetlife. He seemed nice and his picture was cute. Our interests lined up, so we met up at one of the clubs in town, but even though our interests had matched up on paper, we weren’t, like, meshing in real life. 

“Like—,” you have to pause to clear your throat, voice dropping down low enough to almost be considered a whisper. God, you couldn’t believe you were telling Marc this again. “He…he called me a slut. I had marked that I wasn’t into degradation like that, but I think he thought it was an exception.” 

“Why did he think that?” Marc asks. You’ve heard it said before that a lawyer never asks a witness a question that they don’t already know the answer to. In this moment, it seems like Marc is the same way. 

“Because he called me his slut,” you admit. “He thought that would like, negate…I don’t know.” 

“Are you?” Marc asks. “A slut, I mean.” 

It rolls off your tongue before you can stop it: “Not his.” 

There comes a breathy little exhale from Marc’s end of the line. It couldn’t be you—not when you’re holding your breath, eyes wide at your own audacity, at the mere suggestion that you would be okay being Marc’s slut, but not this stranger’s. Marc’s voice rasps from the other end: “I know, honey. I know.

“Tell me what happened next.” 

*

I’ve been thinking, you text the next morning (which is true, there is a single moment spent outside of work that you aren’t spent thinking about this). Maybe this is where I’m going wrong with every guy, but—maybe we should practice. On the phone, you know? 

Over text? he asks. 

Sure, you say, aiming for nonchalant. 

I want to hear your voice, he texts, effectively ruining any hope you had for nonchalance. It’s the last thing you want though. You’re terrified that hearing Marc’s voice croon such dangerous, sinful things to you will destroy you. You will be irrevocably changed. There will be the Before Marc times and the After Marc times.

Compromise? Start like this, and if we’re clicking, then we can do it over call. 

It, he teases. Can you say it? Can you tell me what you want? 

Jesus, Marc. You know what I want. 

Use your words. 

You whine, an honest-to-God audible whine beneath your blankets. He’s already slipping into the role so well. Or is he? Is he truly made to be dominant, some prodigious Dom, or are you simply made to melt at everything he does? But it also brings to light the question: what do you want? 

Can I think about it? 

Always, he says. 

*

It takes time for you to gather your thoughts. Everything to think about the fact that this is Marc you’re talking about, your brain gets fuzzy and you lose your words. Finally, you devote yourself to writing it out longhand and thinking in general terms. What would you have wanted from Mr. My-Slut if he had asked you the same question? 

When you’re finished, you text it to him before you can second guess yourself. 

I want to feel owned. I want to feel small but safe. I want to feel consumed, like nothing else matters but you and what you do to me and what I do for you. I want my head to feel empty of anything that isn’t good for me or doesn’t feel good. 

You bury your face in your pillow, but aren’t even there long enough to suffocate before your phone buzzes with a reply. 

I can do that. 

*

For a while, you don’t text Marc. You even miss one of your ritualistic calls. The thought of speaking to him when he knows what you want from a Dom is too much. Before, it had been easy to brush off your kinks to him. So much about wanting to be submitted had become akin to pop culture. Yeah, I want someone to tie me up and spank me and call me a slut, tee-hee! 

It had always gone so much deeper for you, and for so many others, you could imagine. You were a hard worker even as a child. You became someone that people could rely on—and too often, they did. It only made sense that you would crave a way to be useful to someone, crave a way to shut your mind off. Crave a way to feel loved. 

You throw yourself into your work, marking off days on a calendar. The first day of March, you will drive south back to the city. Back to Marc. Your contract here will be up, until next winter. God, you can’t wait to see him again. He always meets you outside the door to your building, chewing gum and pacing, like he’s nervous. Though only God knows what he would have to be nervous about. 

Marc doesn’t text or call you either. He must have picked up on the vibes. Instead, he gives you space. 

The next time you are due for your nightly vent sessions, Marc calls you. If you are worried you’ll get a talking to (or at least questions: why you hadn’t called, whether or not you were mad at him or other absurdities), you don’t get one. You slip back into the warm easiness that is your friendship, swapping stories about your days, talking about current events. Sometimes you don’t say anything, just sit in silence knowing the other person is there or listen to the quiet sounds of the other doing some mundane task: folding laundry, pouring a glass of water. 

You exchange your customary ‘Love you’s at the end of the call, but the words reverberate in your throat. You love him. You really do. 

*

Okay, show me what you got. 

? 

Come on, you know what I mean. I’m ready. Let me have it. 

Oh is that how this goes? 

You blink at the question. …yeah?

I don’t think so, he texts. You know how to ask for something you want. 

Your heart leaps to your throat. Thumbs shaking a little, you ask: How’s that? 

You say please. 

You take a deep, soothing breath. Please? 

That’s the word, yeah. Then he sends the thumb’s up emoji—monster. 

Marc, I’m ready. Can we try, please? Your nerves are shot, stomach in your throat as you wait for a response. As soon as you see him start typing, you lose your nerve and turn off your phone screen. It’s like a horror movie. You can’t watch. When he finally sends a response and you open it, your mouth drops. 

You can do better than that, can’t you? And a moment later: Beg me.

Fuck you, you text, laughing brightly at his audacity. 

Not with that attitude, he types. I only fuck good girls. 

“Jesus, Marc,” you mutter to yourself, breaths coming fast and short. How can he just say stuff like that? Single sentences that are hotter than any of the dirty talk men have given you during sex over the years. For a while, you are torn on what to answer. You want to quip, to say something bratty and whitty that will make him give one of his quiet exhales of laughter, the kind you are so familiar with hearing from the other end of your sofa while you both scroll through your phones. But, deep down—

What if I’m not a good girl? Maybe he’ll consider it just mindless sexy talk. Yeah, I’m not a good girl, I’m a bad girl. Maybe you’ve even said something like this before to one of those other guys. You can almost hear in some generic male voice the response: yeah, you’re such a bad girl. 

Which is why Marc’s answer is so striking: She’s in there. Do I need to help you? 

You have no idea what it could mean, but your fingers answer without any hesitation: Yes please

And your phone rings. 

You answer it. Holding the phone to your ear, you become aware of how you are holding your breath, not letting a single word or sound pass through your lips. 

On the other end, you can hear Marc’s steady, soft breathing. 

“You there, baby?” 

You hum in affirmation, but it comes out as a choked whine that makes your face turn hot. 

“You’re going to have to use your words,” he warns. “But I’ll help you. Alright? The only thing I need you to do is this: if I say something that isn’t true, don’t say it. Otherwise, just repeat after me. Can you do that?” 

“Uh-huh.”

“Good girl,” he says, voice dipping into a silky, pleased octave from his side of the phone. Your thighs clench together. Holy fuck. He’s going to destroy you. “Here we go: Marc Spector.”

“Marc Spector,” you sigh shakily. Easy enough. 

“I trust you.”

“I trust you.”

“I trust you so-o much.”

You snort. “I trust you so-o-o much.”

“That I trust you to know what I need.” Mouth dry, you repeat the words. He adds: “And I trust you to be able to give it to me.”

“Marc,” you whisper, though you don’t know why. 

“I love the way you sound when you say my name,” Marc admits to you. “Especially when you sound half-wrecked, and I’m five hundred miles away, not even able to touch you. But I need you to be a good girl and follow my directions. Repeat after me, or say nothing. Can you do that? Say, Yes.”

“Yes.”

“Good girl,” he says again. “I don’t know how anyone could mistake you for anything else. Now keep repeating, okay?: I trust you to be able to give me what I need.” 

“I trust you to be able to give me what I need,” you repeat. As you say it, the words strike you in the chest. They’re true. You really do. All the people in the world, and maybe you love Marc more than any of them. And he is the sort of man who keeps his word—always. 

“And I want it.”

“I want it,” you breathe. 

“Real bad, Marc.” 

“Really bad, Marc.” 

“Are you in bed?”

“Are you in—wait—“ Marc laughs. “Yes? I’m—“

“I want you to get out of bed and get on your knees,” he says—just casually. Oh, lovely evening, now get down on your knees for me. Like being on your knees for Marc wasn’t on your mind constantly these days. 

Without higher thought, you throw the blanket off, the cold air chilling your body. Sitting up, you let your legs dangle off the edge of the bed, holding the phone to your ear with your shoulder. Your socked-toes skim the floor. 

“What’s it matter if I go down there?” you whisper. “I’m in a different state. It’s not as if you can see me.”

“It matters to me,” he says. “If it’s too cold, put down a blanket. I don’t want you to hurt yourself. Go on.” 

You don’t bother with the blanket, appreciating the chilly floors against your bare knees and shins. You sit on your heels, thighs squeezed tightly together. 

“What if I just lie?” you wonder. “Say I did it, but I’m still under the covers.” 

“You wouldn’t do that. Are you down there?”

“Uh-huh.” 

“Fuck. ‘What does it matter’, as if I need to see you. Like I can’t picture you clear as day in my head. Like it doesn’t mean more to me to know you’re on your knees a hundred-hundred miles away, just because I told you to.” Marc sounds strangely wrecked, and the knowledge that this menial action really has affected him so deeply has your shoulders going lax, bowing over to rest the top half of your frame against the soft mattress. Your cunt aches. 

“Marc,” you whine. 

“Yes?”

“Please,” you groan, turning to muffle your face into the mattress. Your further words are just inarticulate mumbles. He laughs, soft and warm. 

“Spread your knees apart,” he says. “Far apart, as wide as you can.” 

It is the last thing you want to do, but you do it. The brief sparks of pleasure that lit you up every time you clenched your thighs together are gone now, the cool air brushing against your heated sex through your underwear. It only emphasizes how much you ache, how little you’ve been satisfying yourself lately because every time your hand dips between your legs, Marc comes to mind, and you’re too flustered to give in and rub one out thinking of him. But oh god, that’s going to change. You can tell. 

“Are you wet right now?” he wonders lowly. 

You make a sound that is the vaguest affirmation you can give. 

He exhales, the sound shaky through the speaker. “You’re so fucking good. I don’t know how you could ever think otherwise. Absolutely perfect. That’s how I know you’re going to be good and follow this next rule of mine.” 

“Wha’s that?” you slur, head fuzzy where it rests against your sheets.

“You can touch yourself as often as you like,” he says, making your face burn hot again. “Use those toys I know you have—but absolutely no one else. Not in person, not over the phone. If we do this, you rely on me and I do the same for you. Deal?”

“Deal,” you sigh, relieved that his condition goes both ways. You aren’t necessarily strict on monogamy, but you are strict on devotion. The last thing you could ever do would be to go behind your partner’s back—and it’s something that could be liable to shatter your heart if it happened to you. 

“Glad we’re on the same page,” he says. “But this next part is just as important okay, so make sure you’re listening, yeah?” 

“I’m listenin’.” 

“If you want to cum, you get permission from me, first.”

[ofstarsandvibranium]

My You-niverse: Poe Dameron

Fandom: Oscar Isaac

Pairing: Poe Dameron x F!Reader, throughout the series: Marc Spector x F!Reader, Steven Grant x F!Reader

Summary: You and America get stuck portal jumping until you reach your universe again. In the meantime, you meet various versions of your husband.

A/N: one more chapter after this! eek!

Series Masterlist

You gasp as your eyes shoot open. You sit up and you're in the medbay.

"Hey, honey, it's okay. It's okay, relax." you turn to the voice and see...

"Poe?"

He smiles, "Yeah, that's me, baby. You okay?" he sits at the edge of the bed you're in, "You scared me."

"What happened?" you ask him, brows furrowed in confusion.

"I'm not sure. I brought you your afternoon caf like usual. We were just chatting and then you fainted. You hit your head on the console on the way down. Scared the fodder outta me."

You hiss in pain as your head begins to throb. Suddenly, you're getting flashes. Different versions of Poe-no. Not Poe. Someone...someone else. You see a necklace and a wedding ring.

The medbay opens and in walks Leia.

You straighten up, "General Organa."

She makes her way to you with a soft smile, "Glad to see you're awake. How are you?"

"My head still hurts. I'm-I'm getting these weird visions. I don't know what's going on," confusion and fear is laced in your tone.

The older woman sighs, "Well, oddly enough, when you fainted, some unexpected visitors appeared on base. They've been asking for you and one of them looks like your flyboy," she points to Poe.

You look at Poe and he nods, "Yeah, it-it's weird. He's me, but not me. Said he's from some other universe and they've been looking for you for some time now. They want to bring you back with them."

The throbbing sensation continues. You wince and close your eyes for a moment. Flashes again. You see a certificate...a wedding certificate. There's your name and another...

"Sweetheart?" Poe takes hold of your hand, the other on your shoulder to steady you.

"Marc."

Poe is taken back, "Huh?"

"His name is Marc, right? Marc Spector?"

"Yeah. I-Wait. Is this real? Are you actually from wherever or whatever universe he's from?"

"Yes. No. I think? I don't know," you pull your hand away from Poe's and cradle your head, "It hurts so bad. I don't know what to do." You look up at Leia with tears in your eyes, "Please, help me."

She nods, "I'll bring them here."

Poe didn't like that one bit, "What?! No! You're not bringing them here!"

"They seem to be the only people who knows what's going on, Poe," she tries to reason with him.

He shakes his head, "They're going to take her away! I just got her back!"

Leia puts a reassuring hand on Poe's shoulder, "We'll make sure that doesn't happen. But look at her, Poe. She's in pain. That Doctor Weird guy could help her. We need to take this chance."

Poe looks back at you and you're still cradling your head and you've begun mumbling things he couldn't quite hear. He sighs, "Fine."

___________________________

America watches Marc pace back and forth. She and Stephen has both decided to sit down and wait for someone to come back to get them. Stephen is...meditating? She doesn't really know, but all she knows is that Marc's pacing is starting to irritate her.

"Dude, just sit down, alright? I'm sure Y/N's fine."

"We were so close. She was right there and then she ouched the necklace," he stops the pacing to face Stephen, "Why did that happen anyway?"

Stephens eyes open and he responds, "I'm not sure."

Marc rolled his eyes, "For being this almighty sorcerer, you sure don't know a lot about all this, do ya?"

"The multiverse is very complicated. There's a lot that we don't understand, masters of the mystics arts included," he floats up onto his feet, "At least we're in the same universe as Y/N."

"I hope she's okay," America says with worry, "That blast was strong, like, stronger than the one's I've done."

"Strange, can't you magic your way out of here?"

"Yes, but that could put Y/N at risk. We don't know what these people are capable of so it's best we remain here until someone comes to see us again."

Suddenly, the doors slide open and Leia walks in, eyes staring directly at Stephen, "Y/N needs your help."

Marc is suddenly chest to chest to Leia, "Where is she? Huh?! What did you do to her?!" America pulls him back with a sorry expression on her face.

Leia chuckles, "You look like Poe, you sound like Poe, you even have his temper. Interesting."

Stephen walks forward, "What's wrong with Y/N?"

_____________________

Poe is laying on the bed, holding your curled up form. His cheek is resting on your head. You're still mumbling but he's catching a few things, "Marc", "Nathan", "Leto", "Bud". Names, he thinks. You name off more and then you repeat them, along with other things he can't really hear.

The doors to the medbay open again and Leia enters with Stephen, America, and Marc.

Marc frowns at the sight before him, "Get your hands off my wife."

Stephen shoots him a glare and Marc huffs, moving close to your bed, but still a distance away.

"Y/N?" Stephen says your name cautiously.

You slowly raise your head and you look at him, "Stephen?"

"Yes. That's me, do you know who they are?" He points to Marc and America.

"America and Marc. Marc's my husband. I'm-I'm from your world?"

"Our universe," Stephen corrects you.

"I don't understand," you shake your head.

Stephen sighs, "It's complicated, but we need to take you back with us."

"Like hell you are!" Poe retorts, wrapping his arm around you tighter.

Stephen rolls his eyes, "Listen, she can't stay here. This isn't her universe. The longer she's away, the worse she'll feel. She needs to get back and we're taking her."

"Listen, here, I've spent a long time without Y/N by my side. I just got her back. There's no way I'm letting you-" Stephen threw a blast of magic at Poe and he fell back onto the bed. He was completely knocked out.

"Poe!" you cried out.

"He'll be fine. Just made him sleep for a bit." Stephen says, making Marc snort.

"Serves him right," Marc mutters, arms crossed over his chest.

Stephen turns to Leia, "You must understand, for Y/N's sake, we need to take her back home with us."

"And when you do, what happens here?"

"Best case scenario, this all gets back to how everything was. You don't remember a thing or us. Worst case scenario, this Y/N never comes back."

Leia sighs and nods, "Y/N, I care about her a lot. She's like a daughter to me and all a mother ever wants is her child to be safe and happy."

"So you'll let us take her with no problem?" Marc asks hopefully.

"I will."

Marc immediately rushes to you, helping you out of the bed, "Let's go home, baby."

"Wait," you turn back to the unconscious Poe and place a kiss to his lips, "Good bye. I-I know your bond with this Y/N is strong. Continue to love her and keep her safe," you whisper, hoping he'll hear you in his slumber.

Stephen gives a nod of thanks to Leia and then looks at America, "Go ahead."

She widens her stance, holds up her fists, and closes her eyes. She takes a deep breath and when she opens them, they're a bright white. She punches forward and a bright white star shaped portal appears.

Marc, your hand in his, gives you a little tug, "Come on, baby." You let him pull you towards the portal, your other hand shielding your eyes from the bright light. When you walk through, you land in the Sanctum Sanctorum. You turn to see America and then Stephen walk through. The portal immediately closes behind them.

Your head is suddenly pounding and you stagger into Marc.

"Y/N? What's wrong?"

Your eyes flutter shut and you feel yourself falling, the last thing you hear is Marc calling your name.

[littleboyblue1]

I Do

Had the idea of Jake being the greatest guy ever. Decided to write that out, kind of. Anyways.

warnings: p in v, oral (f receiving), talks of marriage, no y/n, but 'Mrs. Lockley' is said, nothing else I can think of

Jake Lockley was a lot different than most guys you'd dated. He was, as your friends often said, 'husband material'. He certainly would've been if it weren't for the frequent days of no contact, and the fact that he was very secretive. But then he explained it, and he was perfect again. Suddenly, it was nonstop texting, and not a single secret.

Marc and Steven were amazing, but there was always something more with Jake. You liked him most. He was your first of the three after all. And, even though you'd never say it out loud, he provided a much more normal life than the others. He liked domesticity, and it made it feel like a marriage between you two, and just dating Marc and Steven. Which was just fine, it didn't change anything.

But because of that difference, Jake was the guy your friends, coworkers, and family knew. You told your family after a while, but it was still mostly Jake they saw. The others, well, you'd explain it if you had to.

Jake also thoroughly enjoys being your 'arm candy'. Your boss had called him that when they'd first met at a dinner, and Jake would not let it go. No matter how much you and the others teased him, he liked it. So much so that he would beg the other guys to let him be the one that goes to your work events. They always said yes.

Tonight, he seemed extra eager. He showered and dressed, then you'd told him he was three hours early. "That's okay. I'll just watch you get ready then," he'd replied. You wondered if he'd done it on purpose.

He isn't a 'take showers together' guy, but he does enjoy sitting on the counter talking to you. Not every time you shower, just when he feels particularly talkative. So, he sat on the counter, talking about his day.

"I don't mind it really. I just hate working with people," he explained. He'd often go to work for Steven, purely because he preferred to front for long periods of time these days.

You laughed. "You could always just let Steven go in, baby." Jake huffed loudly. "I know. But it would relieve the stress."

He handed you your towel as you stepped out. His head rested agains the mirror. "Yeah. But no." You laughed again. "Want your hair thing?" You nodded, and he dug around for your hair towel while continuing. "Sometimes I think we should just tell them. Maybe they'd let us skip, and I could do something I like."

"I don't think - thanks - think it's a bad idea. It might make things easier on all of you."

He followed you into your room. You talked the idea over while you finished getting ready. When you finished, he went to the closet and picked out shoes for you, then delicately put them on. You wondered if he even realized he did stuff like that. It was like second nature to him.

Jake left for a second to get drinks, and your friend Alexa leaned in. "Seriously, where did you buy that man!? she asked. You laughed.

"Got lucky."

"You may be the luckiest woman on Earth."

"Tell me about it." You turned to see him. He was chatting some guy up at the bar. Even from a distance, he was hot. He saw you and waved. You returned the favor, then turned back to Alexa. "I worry I'll wake up, and he'll just be a dream."

She sighed dreamily. "If he is, mind telling me your night routine?" The two of you laughed until Jake got back.

He placed the drinks down for all three of you, then held a hand out. "Come on," he nodded towards the dance floor, "This is our song." You couldn't help but giggle as you stood. It certainly wasn't 'your' song, but it was a nice song, and Jake liked dancing.

He was a good dancer too. You could stand there stiff as a board, and he'd wheel you around perfectly. No one would even notice if he was the only one dancing. But you'd learned for him anyways, and the two of you were a well-oiled dancing machine.

"You've got a very nice dress, miss," he whispered in your ear. As he leaned back up, you caught him staring straight down the front.

"Charming as always."

He cracked a smile at you. "Can't help it. I see a pretty lady, I have to look."

"Is that so?" You weren't upset, but you tried to force your voice to sound like you were.

He nodded. "Just seems like there's a lot less pretty women these days. About 4 years ago, there was only one pretty woman left on earth. Confused the hell out of me." He was smiling a big, cheesy smile. You couldn't help but laugh at him.

"You're a dork."

When the song ended, he led you back to the table. He casually draped an arm over your shoulders. You were warm, but you didn't mind.

The rest of the night went by quickly with dances, drinks, and boring work conversations. When you got home, you were both a little tipsy, and Jake was spinning and dipping you all the way back to the flat.

Your old neighbor smiled and waved at the two of you. You giggled and waved back. "You've got a very pretty wife," she said to Jake. You waved her off, smiling wide.

Jake smiled even wider. "Yes, I do." You liked the title 'wife', even if he was only agreeing because it was easier to just agree.

Jake let you in, spinning you onto the couch. He dropped his jacket on the floor, then fell to his knees at your feet. As he undid your shoes, he placed kisses all over your calves. He was mostly kissing - you could feel his fingers fumbling with the straps.

When he finally got them off, you pulled him to you by his cheeks. "You looked so handsome tonight, baby," you whispered. His cheeks got a little pinker.

"So did you."

You giggled, pulling him in for a kiss. When he pulled away, he stroked a thumb on your bottom lip. "My wife. Could you imagine?" He stared into your eyes with an intensity that could melt you.

A smile tugged at your lips. "Mrs. Lockley. How's-"

He cut you off. "Fuck, say that again."

"Mrs. Lockley." You could've sworn his eyes became just pupil. He pulled you in hard enough your teeth knocked together lightly. It would've been off putting if it weren't for the fact that he was leaning back down to sit on his feet.

He pulled away breathless. "Take it off." You obeyed, discarding the dress quickly. You hadn't worn anything special, just the underwear on the top of the pile and a clean bra, but he sighed anyway. "God, how did I ever get so lucky?"

Jake took your undergarments off, tossing them somewhere behind you. He dropped his head against your breasts, kissing the tops before moving down to your nipples. He worshiped them for a moment, then started moving down again.

He left a trail of kisses down until he was where you needed him. "One more time, baby. Say it again."

"Mrs. Lockley?" You assumed that's what he wanted to hear.

You must've been right, because he pulled your legs so he could be in a better position, then began nearly devouring you. The moans that escaped you were beyond pornographic. You dropped a hand to his curls, changing between pushing him into yourself more and pulling his hair.

Each tug pulled a groan from him, sending vibrations through you. Suddenly, he lifted his head and started using his fingers. You had to force yourself to keep your eyes open.

His stubble glistened, and he truly had very little brown left in his eyes. "I like that name, baby. Mrs. Lockley."

"You don't say?" He did something that made you gasp loudly. "Fuck, Jake, that feels so good." He dropped his head back down and used his tongue and fingers to bring you to your climax.

He licked and kissed until you had to push him off to escape the overstimulation. He moved slowly back up you, dropping a wet kiss on your lips. "Come on." He lifted you, bringing you to your bed.

Jake undressed himself quickly. You gave him a look over. His chest was beautiful, sculpted by the gods themselves - almost literally. His abs were toned in a way that could drive a woman feral. The happy trail they'd been growing was enough to make you get off the bed and fall to your knees.

"No, baby. Just want you." He looked down with pleading eyes. How could you be so cruel as to deny him? You got back on the bed, and he pushed you to lie down. "I love you."

"I lo- holy fuck." You moaned out as he pushed into you. He gave no time for adjustments, beginning his pace immediately. Not fast, but not slow either. "I love you too, baby."

You brushed a curl from his face, then pulled him down for a kiss. He sped up, and you arched up into him. Jake groaned into the kiss, then dropped his head down to the crook of your neck.

As he continued speeding up, you held onto his back for dear life. He didn't like when you scratched him, so you had to settle for squeezing his muscles for support. He moved down to kiss your chest. His lips wrapping around your nipple made another loud moan leave you.

"You can scratch, it's okay," he muttered out. It was a sweet gesture, but you knew he didn't like it.

You dropped a hand into his hair, tugging at the strands instead. You began moaning together, and as his thrusts became quicker, you could feel the coil in your stomach tighten. "What'd you say? Wanna be Mrs. Lockley?" he asked suddenly, pulling away from your tits to smile down at you.

"Yeah, I'll be Mrs. Lockley."

The look on his face was enough to bring you to your climax. He came at the same time, and you rode out your highs together. After a few slow movements, he laid you on top of him, still inside of you. A soft smile brightened his features. "Really mean it?"

"I do."

[ivystoryweaver]

Spectre

A Moon Knight Halloween Love Story

Event #3: Soul Survivors

prev | Fic Masterlist | My Masterlist | next

Event #3 Summary: Marc sees you. And sees you again. Which one was real? Steven enters the chat. "Mystic Delights and Other Charming Novelties" makes another appearance.

Pairing this chapter: Marc Spector, Steven Grant x f!reader (Jake mentioned)

Word count: 3.3k

Content: nsfw, 18+, angst, bit of fluff (more below the cut - read the warnings and be responsible for triggering content)

Warnings/Notables: violence, drinking, nudity, masturbation, cursing, mental health concerns, coping with death, mentions of food, grieving, longing, mild bickering, a few tears, not beta'd

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PREVIOUSLY on "Spectre"...

Marc rushed blindly toward the window, yanking open the curtain. Moonlight spilled into the bedroom, granting him the slightest ability to see.

"It's not too late," the whisper echoed, right beside his ear...but you were nowhere to be seen.

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Brisk, autumn wind swept the heavy cape of Moon Knight aside as he stood overlooking the city below.

Khonshu didn't even need to point out who needed protecting, nor who needed punishing this night.

Marc Spector reached for the ancient crescent daggers mystically stashed in the armor at the center of his chest.

His glowing eyes zeroed in on a vagrant roaming below. But this dingy man wasn't the object of his ire - he was recently the victim of a crime, and was about to be the victim once more.

With a dramatic whoosh, Moon Knight swept down from the night sky, his dramatic white suit announcing his coming in a far more glaring way than Jake's pitch black body armor.

The vagrant gasped in terror, but Marc sailed past the man who was about to be violated and murdered...

...and plunged two crescent daggers into the chest of his would-be attacker. The perpetrator had now become his victim.

"You're safe now," Marc assured the homeless man, who scurried off, crying out in fear.

Fair enough. Marc wasn't exactly a friendly, neighborhood Spider-Man. Jake had the night off, at Marc's insistence, but he realized that delivering Khonshu's justice with daggers just wasn't...satisfying.

The next vile thing who needed punishing would meet the wrath of Marc's fists.

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Marc's stark white suit was littered with spatters of red by the time he made it back to Elm Street. He willed the suit to disappear, walking back toward his house under the cover of night.

Then he drank some whiskey and fell asleep in his favorite chair, mumbling out an apology to Steven as he slipped into oblivion.

He awoke to the sound of the old cherry wood clock in the hall striking three.

The broken clock in the hall.

It stopped working the day you died.

Rubbing his bleary eyes, Marc sat upright, immediately flopping back down as his head swirled. Too much violence and blood followed by too much whiskey.

"Marc..."

Your voice echoed off the walls, but only a whisper. No other sights or sounds were available to him in the darkened house.

"Go away!" Marc slurred, swatting his hand at nothing but air.

He tried to settle back down, and managed to approach the edge of drowsiness when you appeared right in front of him, almost as if you were straddling his lap.

You breathed his name, draping your body over his.

"You're not real," Marc murmured, even as he desperately wished it was you crawling on top of his body. The image of you was nothing more than a mirage but you would not let him be.

You spoke his name again, and when he forced his eyes open, you were stretched out across him, naked.

He couldn't touch you but he could swear the heat of your breath tickled his ear.

"Need you," your voice begged. Your ghostly body writhed on top of his.

He felt the weight of his arousal straining against his jeans. It wouldn't be the first time he imagined you as he gave himself some relief. He quickly undid his jeans and shoved his hand inside, groaning at how hard he felt.

"Be with me," you panted, your naked body on display for him. You sat astride his lap, rolling your hips over his. Your breasts bounced in a delicious rhythm as your nipples grew hard.

"Don't you want me?" You pouted, twisting your body deliciously down on him. He could feel nothing - you weren't even really there. But the show you were putting on was more than enough.

"I only want you," he gasped, gripping himself and thrusting desperately into his fist. “You're so beautiful...don't stop."

It was almost as if you were there with him. He could see you - he could hear your gasps of pleasure. But you were a vapor. He couldn't feel you.

The release he found gave him a brief reprieve. He passed out again.

Then the clock struck four.

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Marc struggled to climb out of the chair and haul himself upstairs. He just wanted his bed and he really, really needed Steven to take the body tomorrow. But his alter was still quiet. No lectures or questions or anything.

Marc used the stair rail for all it was worth, pulling himself upward like he was a hiker on an Everest expedition. No one would ever believe he was the mighty Moon Knight in this moment.

Finally, he darkened the door of his room.

And you were there. But not like downstairs. You wore the hoodie he'd seen before.

Sinking down to his knees, Marc felt hot tears sting his eyes. "You're not real," he whimpered, remembering your naked visage all over him downstairs. "I'm fucking insane."

He fully expected you to dash away from him or simply vaporize. But you inched closer.

"Marc?" You whispered his name with a sense of urgent awe. "C-can you see me?"

His heart surged with terror. He had just managed to convince himself that he was imagining you, but now...

You knelt down on the floor with him, directly in front of him. Your gaze sought out his own, bleary eyes. "Marc?"

"I'm drunk," he murmured, shaking his head adamantly, refusing to meet your ghostly gaze. "I'm drunk and I'm hallucinating and I'm fucking crazy."

"We don't use that word in this house," You said calmly, but firmly. In your voice. Those were your words. The real you.

Lifting his wet eyes, he looked right at you, but couldn't think of anything to say.

You peered so intently at him, he thought your gaze might just bore a hole through him.

"God, I wish you could see me, Marc. Sometimes I swear you can," you voiced, rising to your feet. The hood covering your hair fell back as you did.

As you started to back away, the words you had just spoken finally started to register in his inebriated brain. As you eased toward the window, he panicked, climbing off his feet to stop you.

"No, wait!" He gasped out, the interaction sobering him a little. "Wait...baby...it's me. I-I can see you. I see you. Don't go."

You halted, turning back to face him, your eyes wide with wonder. "Marc?"

"Yeah," he quickly nodded. "I'm here. It's okay."

Your eyes scanned the room quickly. "A-are we home?"

He melted. "Yeah, sweetheart. We're home. This is home. You were with me before, downstairs. And last night.”

“I was?”

Oh god. That wasn’t you downstairs? He wasn’t sure how to feel about that. “I-I’ve been seeing you. A lot.”

Your face crumpled with sadness - your lip trembling. "But…are you...dead?"

Marc touched his own chest, shaking his head. "No. I'm here. I'm okay."

Your eyebrows knit in concentration as you bounced on your toes. "Sorry, I get confused. Sometimes, I'm here, then sometimes, I'm...in a dark place."

His beautiful eyes shifted sympathetically. “A dark place?”

You didn’t answer. Your eyes drifted aimlessly around you, as if you were trying to get your bearings. “When…when are we? When is this?”

“Uh, it’s October,” he rasped, his voice choked with emotion. Was this really happening? It had to be the whiskey. Or something much worse. Something broken in his mind, more than ever before.

“October,” you repeated slowly, as if trying the word out for the first time. You seemed to be shrinking in on yourself - the dark hoodie swallowing you completely as you inched away from your partner. “I…don’t understand. We’re home?”

Marc’s heart slammed against his ribcage. He whispered your name, stretching his hand out for you.

You had died. That was horrifying enough, but this? The thought of you confused or afraid? He couldn’t bear it.

“Baby, it’s okay. I’m here. Just don’t go. Try to talk to me,” he pleaded.

But still you withdrew. “It’s not too late,” you sullenly whispered, in the ghostly voice he’d heard before. “Not too late. Tell Marc…tell him…”

And you vanished.

Marc sank back to the ground and cried so hard that Steven woke up on the floor with one hell of a headache.

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Steven Grant bustled along the small town street, eagerly awaiting the smell of library books. After finishing his vegan breakfast burrito and black tea with almond milk from Triple B's (plus four painkillers), he was ready for a change of pace.

Hangover be damned.

Marc had been a bit Eeyore lately, more than usual since you passed. Steven understood his grief - of course he did - but Marc's coping mechanisms differed so greatly from Steven's.

With a sigh, he finished his tea, tossing the cup into the nearest rubbish bin and wishing Marc would leave the whiskey alone. Drinking and punching the hell out of criminals wouldn't bring you back. And it ultimately wouldn't bring any lasting relief.

The library door creaked out a familiar greeting, welcoming Steven to his daily haven. He was the first one in today, so he made sure to tidy up before handling some paperwork at his desk.

Easing down into what was now considered a vintage rolling chair, he put his lunchbox away and located his glasses. Just as he started to put them on, his eye caught the small, framed picture of you he kept on his desk.

"Morning, my love," he whispered, touching your face with his fingertip.

Marc didn't want pictures of you in the house - just the one of you on the porch, which hung in the hallway right outside the bedroom. But this was Steven's job and he wanted to see your face every time he worked a shift.

He couldn't bear the thought of starting to forget you. He'd heard that usually happened - that over time, you would forget the details of your loved one's face. That thought was unacceptable to Steven.

He wanted to be able to move on with life - to find a way to somehow let you go, but he simply needed to remember the face of the only person who ever truly loved him.

"Miss you all the time," he told you, feeling a familiar wetness sting his eyes.

Maybe he shouldn't be so hard on Marc.

The day passed as any normal day would at a small town library: slowly. Steven didn't mind. Gave him time to read, research and organize. Might be his own little corner of heaven, this.

As he strolled back through town, he noticed Marc was accompanying him, appearing, as he was prone to do, in various shop windows.

"I'm sorry about the whiskey," Marc voiced. "Shouldn't have done that, buddy."

Steven nodded, reaching for his wireless earbuds. It allowed him to talk freely with his alters, from time to time, without making onlookers think he was talking to himself.

"You alright, mate?" He asked Marc, hoping for an explanation to go with that apology.

"No," Marc flatly returned. "But we don't have to talk about it. Just enjoy your night. I'll try not to drink so much again."

"You can talk to me," Steven reasoned, repositioning his messenger bag on his shoulder as he shuffled along the sidewalk. "I miss her too."

Steven passed a boarded up shop, so Marc was gone fore a few moments. He was still there, of course, but remained quiet. Finally, he appeared again, in the hardware store window. His domain.

"I saw her," Marc confessed.

"Saw her?" Steven returned. "Like imagined her?"

"No. I saw her. Talked to her too."

"After that much whiskey?" Steven rebuked. "I'm sure you did."

Marc huffed. "I've seen her a few times now. I'm worried about her."

"Worried? What are you on about?" Steven scoffed, disbelievingly. "What more can happen to her now?" He couldn't quite believe what he was hearing.

“I don’t know…” Marc trailed off. “Something’s not right.”

Steven let out a long sigh. Everyone was entitled to their grief but seriously. “She’s gone, mate. What you’re suggesting’s not even possible.”

“Are you serious? We serve an ancient Egyptian deity who’s a 10-foot-tall fucking bird skeleton,” Marc challenged. “We died and came back to life and had face to face conversations with each other…but you don’t think a ghost could be real?”

“She’s not a ghost!” Steven snapped, glaring at a shop window, drawing the attention of a few townspeople passing by.

A mysterious gust of wind swirled around Steven's body, stirring brown leaves into a mini tornado - a tempest to match the ache in his heart.

"What seems to be the trouble?" A kind, elderly voice chimed from the doorway of her shop.

It was her window Steven had shouted into moments before. Taking a step back, his eyes drifted up to the hand painted sign above the door. "Mystic Delights and Other Charming Novelties."

"Sorry. So Sorry," Steven hurriedly apologized, holding his hands up in supplicating fashion. "Bloody phone call." He pointed to his earbud.

"Understood," the old woman returned, but her gaze lingered.

So did Steven.

"This shop...it's new, yeah?" He inquired, brown eyes narrowing inquisitively, pulling out his earbuds ands stashing them in his bag.

"In a manner of speaking," the kindly old woman returned, her eyes disappearing into the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes when she smiled. "You're British," she commented.

"Guilty," Steven chuckled, holding up his hand like a child would in school.

She nodded inside the shop. "Just put the kettle on. Care for a cuppa?"

Somehow Steven felt himself drawn to the shop - its twinkling lights in the window illuminating antique treasures. You would have loved a place like this.

"I...I really should..." he trailed off, unable to think of a reason to decline her kind invitation. What was waiting for him at home? Arguing with Marc? Passing out asleep so Jake could roam around the city all night? Reading?

Reading was tempting but...

"Got biscuits too," the old lady offered, "'though it's a bit past tea time."

"Thank you," Steven smiled warmly, following her inside. "You're not British...are you? You sound American."

"My mum was, God rest her," she replied, leading Steven past a few rows of adorably arranged antiques to what was the store's back room or break room. It contained a kitchenette and a cozy table for two.

"Sit," she gestured to the closest chair. "Mr. Spector, is it?"

"Ahh, uh...Mr. Grant, actually," Steven answered. A long while ago, the four of you: Marc, Steven, Jake and yourself decided to be upfront and candid when necessary or possible. This town was your home - might as well be yourselves.

"I see," the lady returned. "Mr. Spector's the American, then. Who works at the hardware store?" The old lady busied herself, collecting a tray with proper teacups, saucers, dainty silver spoons, cloth napkins and a tin of biscuits.

"That's right," Steven confirmed. "Bit odd, I s'ppose. But I'm Steven Grant. Library assistant."

She nodded, removing the whistling kettle from the stovetop. "Mr. Grant, I'm Ms. Marjorie. Not odd at all. Souls do what they will, you see."

Before Steven could question that peculiar phrase, Ms. Marjorie set the tray down in front of Steven. "You have a biscuit while I steep the tea."

He nodded, reaching for the treat. "This tea set is lovely. Do you mind my asking if it belonged to your mum?"

"It did," she confirmed, her eyes twinkling. "It's as English as you are, my dear."

Steven chuckled. "Don't know if I'm proper British. We're from Chicago, actually."

Ms. Marjoire set the kettle down on the table and took her seat across from Steven, but not before grabbing a small plate of veggie sandwiches from the fridge.

"Nonsense. You're as British as my mum, or this tea set, or the King." She reached for a biscuit.

"You're very kind," Steven observed, "inviting a stranger in like this."

"Not strangers anymore," she corrected, her eyes full of mirth.

Steven nodded, enjoying his snack for a moment, settling a little further into his chair. He took a moment to enjoy the jazz piano ringing from the record player in the corner.

Ms. Marjorie hummed along, pouring two cups of tea. "Milk? Sugar?"

"Eh, I'm vegan - "

"I have oat milk," she responded, rising to retrieve it before Steven could protest.

"What did you mean before, when you said, 'souls do what they will'?"

Ms. Marjorie smiled knowingly to herself, pouring a little oat milk into each teacup.

"Just what I said," she returned. "Take you, for example. One body, but I suppose there may have been too much goodness to fit into one soul. So you have your own and so does Mr. Spector.

"Then there are soulmates, of course," she went on. "One soul, two bodies."

Steven's gaze dropped at the mention of soulmates. He assumed you were his. Maybe not, according to Ms. Marjoire's theory.

"I sense the idea of soulmates is a tender subject for your soul," she carefully observed, bringing her teacup to her lips for a sip. "You don't have to say anything. I have a sense about these things."

This is how Steven met Ms. Marjorie and told her practically everything about you. How kind, warm and beautiful you were. How you wrote children's stories - how much you would love this little shop. He told her your favorite foods and how you liked to steal Marc's jackets. He told her about Jake too.

Before he left, around an hour later, she patted his forearm, granting him that kindly smile he'd already come to know.

"Souls are eternal, you know. Even hers. You give that a good think and maybe we'll have tea some other time?"

"Yes, that sounds wonderful," Steven whispered sincerely. "Thank you - you've been absolutely lovely. My girlfriend would have loved to meet you and see your shop." He glanced around at the treasures you would have insisted the house needed.

"I'm sorry she's gone, my dear. Stop by any time," she sweetly responded. "And you tell Mr. Spector he's welcome anytime as well. And ah...what was the other gentleman's name?"

"Lockley," he laughed.

Steven thanked her again and started his walk home. Once he was just out of sight, he could have sworn Ms. Marjorie faintly called after him, "It's not too late."

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Steven shuffled home, waving cheerfully to his neightbor Mrs. Nockles, who attempted to invite him in for some cider.

"Just had tea and sandwiches with Ms. Marjorie downtown," Steven called back. "Positively stuffed. Next time!"

He could hear Marc groaning in his mind.

"Don't know a Ms. Marjorie," Ms. Nockles returned. "But happy to see you boys fed. Have a good night, love!"

Steven warmly smiled, finishing his day a little lighter than he began it. Anything was better than a whiskey hangover of Marc's.

As he turned up the pathway to your front door, a rustling of the bedroom curtain upstairs caught his eye, giving him pause.

Was that... He stared for a long moment, but finally decided to go inside.

Steven read for a while downstairs before washing up and getting ready for bed. He paused, as Marc was prone to do, at your picture hanging right outside the bedroom.

"Goodnight, my darling," he whispered. "I met the most charming lady today. You would have positively loved her. And her shop. God, I wish you could see..."

He exhaled a weary sigh, pressing a kiss to the picture. "She had a lot to say about souls and soulmates. Said souls are eternal."

He shook his head at himself. Why was he talking to a picture? Oh well.

"If that's true, I hope you're happy, love. And at peace."

With that, he sauntered back into the bedroom, never noticing where you sat perched on the end of the bed.

next

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[underwxrldprincess]

The art club group chat

Alix: Who the fuck added me to this group chat?

Marc: Language!

Nathaniel: Yeah watch your fucking language!

Marinette: Ok who taught Nath the fuck word??

Juleka: "The fuck word" lol

Rose: You guys use the f word all the time!

Nathaniel: Omg she censored it!

Marc: Say fuck Rose!

Alix: Do it. Say fuck.

[bitchyfoxymama]

Dirty Little Secret - Moon Knight System x F!Reader

Warning: smut, sex work, fingering(F receiving) pinning, very fluffy.

A/n: sex work is work, also I hope I did good describing camming I've never done it nor have I watched it so I hope I did ok. This was inspired by @valeskafics camgirl series

Tags: @juneknight @romanarose

...

It was a late friday night in London, the boys had no plans and it was Steven’s day. Steven had been bored and curious, sometimes a disastrous combo but today it probably worked in his favor. 

He was horny, and he didn't want to watch the same old scripted porn on pornhub, no he wanted something intimate. So he opened a website he saw Jake had used once when he hadn't realized Steven was confronting. He noticed you never showed your face but he assumed that was because of safety or for privacy. 

So Steven typed in your name and sure enough there you were, streaming and in the middle of presumably fulfilling a request as you spoke out the word ‘Mommy’ in a breathy moan that went right to his already half hard cock. 

‘Mommy, can I please cum on your strap. Its s’good, mommy, i'm so close’

“Bloody hell, I’m about to cum in my trousers like a bloody teenager.” he mumbles to himself as he guides his hand down his sweats to release his cock and begins to mimic the speed you are using the dildo on yourself. 

When you both finish, Steven tips you 50£ and writes ‘You looked absolutely like an angel in the stream darling, make sure to drink some water’ he smiles as you read his comment out loud. 

…

Jake was really horny and he knew exactly how to help relieve his dilemma, he was going to watch his favorite camgirl. He pulls out Steven’s laptop, logging into the website and searches for her name. 

He discovered you not too long ago, on a night quite like this one, he enjoyed the way you were so sweet with the audience, you started every steam by asking if everyone has had their water today, he loved your personality as much as he loved your body.  He liked to watch you stretch yourself on the dildos you used.  The little moans you let out when you were close to orgasm. 

He loved your streams. They always felt so homey and intimate, plus you sometimes wore the lingerie he would gifted you and watch you play with yourself in it. He would like to imagine you being his girlfriend, as he watched your face as you came on your fingers. 

…

Marc loves watching you, he loves being able to match the speed of you fucking yourself on your fingers to his fist running up and down on his cock. He likes to imagine it's your hand jerking him off. He adds more lube to his palm as he watches you squirt for the camera. 

As bad as it probably is, Marc wishes he could be the one to make you do it. He wants to be the one to make your cunt glisten with cum and pound into you. He wants to replace your fingers with his, make your viewers guess whose fingers are knuckle deep in your pussy as you moan out and quiver in ecstasy as you orgasm under his touch. 

“Oh! Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh! Fuck!” you moan out as you squirt on the purple dildo that you pull out of your quivering cunt. Marc comes soon after, getting off on your moans and heavy breathing.  

…

The boys had agreed to spend the 200£ for a private video chat with you and so the day had come when that was finally happening.  

“Hello!” you say excitedly. People never splurge for the private video chat so this was gonna be fun seeing as how it's the user celestiallover87. He is always so sweet when they give you tips, compliments and gifts. 

“Hello love, bit of a beautiful night innit?” Steven says with his camera off. 

His voice sounds so familiar, you can almost place it, if he put on his camera you’d be sure to place where you've seen him from. 

“It is very beautiful especially since i get to speak to you, my handsome gifter,” you flirt, biting your lip even though you knew he couldn't see it. 

“Flirt back, Steven” Marc says in the head space, since they all pitched in to pay for this they all decided to be present when it came time for the private chat. 

"Yes! Tell her how much we enjoy her content, and turn on the damn camera hermano!" Jake also butts in.

"Bloody hell," he mumbles before turning on the camera. 

There in front of you is the cute gift shoppist you always visit. 

“St-Steven?” you let out and before you can even stop yourself you raise your camera to show off your face. 

“Y/n!” a blush begins to make its way up his neck, “Um fancy meeting you here,” he says with a lopsided smile. 

“Mierda, it's that cute little bakery owner who has a crush on steven!” Jake looks shocked from the headspace, “I bet her pussy tastes just as sweet as the pastries she makes.”

Steven’s cock swells at the words. 

“I-I this is a little awkward,” you chuckle, “Um you won't reveal my secret will you?” you bite your finger nail, it was newly painted, with little stars and a moon painted on it. 

“I wouldn't dream of it, love! But um why camming?” He asks while rubbing his clothed thighs trying to focus on anything but the way your breasts bounce slightly when you laugh at his question. 

“I love getting off and I love being in control. I control my environment, how and when I come and sometimes I get to be in control of others' orgasms and that is just so thrilling,” you begin to explain, getting into a much more comfortable position on your chair, “The bakery is my passion and this is my stress relief,” 

“Steven, you gotta ask her out now. Come on for us.” Marc says. 

“I-I wanted to ask this the next time i saw you but no time like the present right?” he swallows thickly, he can't focus. Between his cock hardening and you looking so god damn cute in your baby pink lingire, “But would you like to-to go out with me?”

“Are you sure you still wanna go out with me? Now that you know what I do?” You ask blushing. This was the best day ever for you! Your long time crush whom you have liked for a few months now, and may now possibly love feels the same for you. It makes you wanna kick your feet and twirl your hair. 

“Of course I still want to go out with you love, just because you do this doesn't make you any different than the sweet woman you are that brings me treats every friday. You're still Y/n”

“Pick me up at my place this friday at 8! There's this great vegan place that just opened up, but for now I've got to go!” you both quickly say your goodbyes. 

“Holy shit,” Marc lets out. 

“Hombre got a date with Y/n and she's the sexy little cam girl too. Fuck” Jake adds biting his lip staring at the black screen in front of them.  

“Bloody hell I've comed in my trousers,” steven mutters to himself. 

…

“Oh, fuck yes, please daddy deeper,” you moan out. Splayed in Jake's lap, his hardened cock rubbing against your ass. You will definitely be helping out with that the moment your stream is over. You are both in your streaming room with Jake knuckle deep in your cunt, while his thumb is rubbing slow circles on your clit.

“Yeah you like when Daddy makes you come on his fingers don't you, mi vida?” Jake whispered in your ear. He runs his unoccupied hand towards your throat and gently squeezes. You're so close to your orgasm but know you can only achieve it when Jake feels like letting you come. 

   The boys didn't like to have their voices on camera and it also helped the viewers imagine it was them with their fingers inside you. Each of the boys had their own ways of being with you. With Steven it was sweet, soft and caring. He will coax so many orgasms out of you with his sweet words.  Jake was rough, he liked to deny your orgasms as long as he could. He also liked to choke you which you found you enjoyed. Marc was a mix of both, depending on how he was feeling and the requests you would get would determine which mood he was in. 

“Come on my fingers mi vida, i know you want too,” he puts pressure on your throat once more as he feels your walls tighten around his fingers. He curls his fingers inside of your warm cavern and runs them against the spongy spot inside. 

You moan out, squirting over his fingers. You lean your head back on Jake's shoulder, still out of sight of the camera. You moan as he removes his fingers from inside you. 

“Thank you daddy,” you sigh out. Soon after youve come down from your high, you thank your viewers and tell them to drink their water because if they are just as thirsty as you are they need their water. 

When you know for a fact the stream is off you slide off Jake’s lap and turn towards him smiling. 

“Thank you for helping me with this stream baby,” you say while leaning forward and kissing him sweetly. 

“Anything for you mi cariño,” he responds once you pull away, he places the fingers that were once deep inside you into his mouth, “As sweet as always.  

[ronn-uuu]

Party Pooper

I'm writing my own request(?)

An: Ok I wrote this request:

POV: You're hyping yourself up/ while getting ready for a party with loud music. And Marc/Steven/ Jake are trying to sleep but guess what causing them not to sleep? Your music. So they go next door to have a chat. And when you open up the door they're dumbfounded on how they have not seen such a FINE ASS PERSON WE AREEE the rest is up to you babe 🥰💕 ( and please either do gn or with he/they/she prns😊)

Me being meek and not very out there,,, I decided not to send this out there so I decided that I'll write it myself. Also this is my first posted fic pls have mercy on me. I hope you enjoy it.

pairing: Gn!reader x Marc spector, Gn!reader x Steven Grant, & Gn!Redaer x Jake Lockely

Warnings: none. (other than me using google english to spanish. Pls if you found a better website, PLS TELL. pls dont gatekeep. ) Fluff(?) also bad grammar???

Part 2

You stared at the 2 outfits you had rested on your bed, you couldn't pick between the slightly slutty one or the one that had more decency. You knew you were going to be slightly fucked up by the end of the night, so did you want to do it in a slutty way or sexy way? You still didn't know. You decided that you were going to play some music to get you in that partying mood. The music rang in your ears and your next door neighbor's.

Marc was laying in his bed finally being able to sleep after being up since 2 am the day before. Khonsu had been making Marc, Jake and Steven do his unforgiving bidding, all three of them were exhausted from all the trouble they had been in. Just when they thought they could get a break, they heard their neighbor's music.

"Jesús puto cristo," Jake spoke as the weak and exhausted body jolked up.

"Bloody hell. I think the universe just hates us, yeah?" Steven said as he took over the hands and rubbed their eyes.

"I don't think they know the walls are kinda thin," Marc mumbles out tryin to excuse their actions. Jake started saying that they could just go next door and warn them but Marc and steven felt way too tired to do so. And after they responded to Jake's proposal the music died down.

"See, I think they're done," Steven said as he takes over and lays back down and closes their eyes. Oh it was painful how wrong he was. They got 10 minutes of sleep before hearing the music even louder this time.

You weren't doing this on purpose, you didn't even know that you had a next door neighbor. You and the boys never crossed paths, and they were never loud so you had thought maybe you could blast music with no interruptions. Though you were about to be proved so wrong. That's when you heard a knock. You were confused, " I thought I told them I'll meet them at f/n's house," You said as you pressed paused on your phone. You smoothed your skirt/pants one last time before opening up your door.

"Hello," The man said as he waved at you. You waved back as you noticed that he was in his slightly rinkled Pjs. Steven did that same to you and lawd have mercy on him, you were so fucking fine.

His eyes rack over your frame, you had your hair pulled back, plum lips with beautiful jewelry hung around your neck, and gods your clothes looked fucking hot on you. Steven felt all the air in lungs leave and so quickly that his chest started to ache. Marc and Jake were the first time in history very quiet in a long time. There were no remarks on how they were sleepy and this to be over, they were only in awe of your form.

"I'm sorry, is there something I could help you with?' You asked as you tilted your head in question. For the first time Marc, Steven and Jake had gotten this nervous about someone. They all knew that steven had to stay in control but it felt like they were going slightly override.

"A-ah! yes the music... the music is too loud," Steven softly said. Then it finally hit you, he was trying to sleep and your music was too loud. He's your next door neighbor! Guilt started to flow through your veins, how could you keep a tired man from sleeping, reader???

"Oh! Im so sorry! I didn't know that I had a next door neighbor! I'm so sorry for keeping you awake! Yes! I'll keep the music down!" You rambled. The boys thought it was very cute. Now all three of them were wondering how they could get your number without making it sound cringey nor weird.

"Again, I'm so sorry for keeping you awake.." You paused waiting for a name. You wanted the name of your cute neighbor you had no idea about.

"Steven Grant," Steven stammered out. He started to fidget with the hem of his shirt.

"Steven Grant," You repeated, "I really like that name." Steven smiled widely and Jake remined him that he was still fucking tired. Don't get him wrong he liked 'speaking with you' but their mission was not only nerve racking but exhausting. Steven started to feel the sleepiness weigh his bones down. He'll have to settle for just speaking to you. Marc told him to tell you thank you and good night.

"Thank you... well I should head to bed, have a nice night," He promptly said before you replied with a good night back. He went back to their flat while they talked about how to get your number next time. All three of them wanted that to be very soon. Now they all started to feel a little grateful for the loud music you played. And all in that moment they remembered that they don't even know your name...

[gale-gentlepenguin]

Gale Ranks: Miraculous Ladybug Classmates

Thats Right! I am going to be ranking Marinette and Adrien's classmates from my Least Favorite to My favorite.

Rules:

I will be judging based on Bustier's Class. So No Zoe, Kagami, or Marc. Even if they hang out.

Marinette and Adrien will be Excluded from this list (Think of them as Honorary 1 and 2 if included)

I will be using all of the episodes that have come out as reference. And there will be potential spoilers up to Episode 20 of season 5.

This isnt about which classmates are the best or worst. Its about My personal like or dislike of a classmate.

Including Marinette and Adrien there are 15 students. So this will be out of 13.

____________________________________________________________

13th. Sabrina Raincomprix

(She doesnt deserve a gif.)

Yea... after the recent episodes I really cant bring any sort of desire to like you. Oh sure Chloé is cruel and Lila is a manipulator... Sabrina is just a spineless worm that lets others get hurt or even ASSISTS in it. There is a corrupt cop joke here but its too easy. Also even with that she has no personality outside of Chloé Lackey. Chloé wouldnt be able to pull off most of her evil schemes without someone doing the dirty work and sorry Sabrina, thats you.

12th. Chloé Bourgeois

A moment of silence for the wasted Character potential... Okay. So yea Chloé sucks. Granted the season 4 and 5 have gone so over the top with showing that season 2 and 3 were not actually important that it causes massive whiplash. I cant find myself hating her like I can with sabrina. I just pity this character. And that is even AFTER I saw what happened in Derision, though at this point I have no interest in seeing a redemption. The writers could have made her heel turn back to evil more believable IF they did it gradually with more effort. But its clear that there was no effort to do so.

11th. Lê Chiến Kim

This man went from top 4 on my list to BARELY missing the top 10. Just goes to show how much one episode can change one's view on a character. In some ways I actually would say I like him less than Chloé now... but Kim at least did apologize and did say he would make an effort to be better. But MAN, when I found out what he did I was watching Chat noir BEAT HIS ASS ON LOOP. You know I was about to give that boy THESE HANDS for that s***. Derision really shifted everyone's view on this once lovable himbo, now he is a dumbass.

10.Rose Lavillant

I just dont like her design that much. Her personality is the stereotypical bubbly girl. And while she does get some exploration on why that is... its never touched on again. Also I am a touch salty about Migration. Juleka was expecting to hear a confession but WE ALL GOT BAITED AND SWITCHED. Guess the show cant have any girl confessing to another girl unless that girl being confessed to is Marinette.

9. and 8. Ivan Bruel and Mylène Haprèle

So to me these two are basically interchangable in terms of ranking. Ivan is the gentle giant that is misunderstood. Mylene is the soft scarred cat that wants the world to be a better place. If I had to pick, i would say I prefer Myléne more, but thats because she gets more character development.

7. Lila Rossi

So Lila always struck me as a character with huge potential. The problem is the writers have no idea how to write a cruel, calculating and manipulative character without dumbing down everyone else to make her seem smart. Now in season 5 I have found myself starting to like her more. Is it because the writing got better? F*** no, its just been more fun with her in it. She is just clearly having more fun with it, and just seeing how the ridiculous plans somehow work almost makes it funny. Also its clear she is being set up as the next big bad, so I cant wait to see how convoluted the show makes her to make her WORSE than Gabriel. So unlike Chloé whose cartoonish evilness feels like a waste, with Lila it feels more fun to watch.

6. Max Kante

He built Markov. Plus after Gamer he has been a pretty solid character. I also do enjoy his support of his Idiot Friend Kim. Even if Kim doesnt deserve it. Also, he has the best transformation sequence. Boy goes WAY too hard for it. I also just think he is a charming character.

5. Nathanael Kurtzberg

Tomato son. While it took me some time to forgive him for Reverser. He is basically a shipper with Marc and its a fun time. I enjoy their plans and adorable antics. But part of me still misses season 1 Nathanael, wonder if he still had a crush on Marinette. Not much else to add, just that he is fun to have on screen and his english dub voice is still dope.

4. Juleka Couffaine

She has my favorite design of the Classmates. She does develop more as the show goes on, I would say she has the most consistant development of the classmates outside of the top 3 contenders. Juleka is now the lead of Kitty Section, and has some incredible Lyrics within her. She wants to stand out and wants to stop being a wall flower. I can respect her guts and attempts at growing and improving.

3. and 2. Alya Cesaire and Nino Lahiffe

The respective best friends of Adrien and Marinette. They are likely the most known about classmates of the Miracuclass. Well Alya is. Nino sadly doesnt get as much delved into. That being said, both are supportive friends and go to great lengths to help them. Nino is surprisingly the more chaotic of the two resulting in him thinking Chat noir was stealing his girl OR forming a resistance against Monarch. Alya learning her best friend's identity and being her emotional rock. Now I thought I would put Alya higher than Nino, but Nino's charm and antics make it hard to dismiss and so I have them both as a tie. Though they also had some moments (Thanks to bad writing) that make me cringe a bit.

1. Alix Kubdel

The most consistently written character in the entire class. The Time travel hero, a character that in my opinion is slept on a lot more than she should be. While I am not crazy about time travel, I do enjoy Alix as a character. She is fun loving and ready to call people out on their BS, also she gets some great lines. She also shows how much of a supportive friend she is to nathanael, Marinette, Ladybug and Chat noir. Its sad she had to go into the time stream to hide from monarch, but it is still a fun way to send a character off for a time

[melodygatesauthor]

Fool Me Twice

Steven Grant X f!Reader

Part 10 of 28 in the February Fluff and Fuck 2023 Challenge

Day 10 Prompt - Second Chances

Summary: You are a tour guide, and he's a gift shoppist. Steven Grant stood you up on your first date. Now it's Valentine's Day, and he has come back after being gone for three days. You may find it within yourself to forgive him, but what happens when you discover the reason he stood you up in the first place?

Tags/Warnings: SFW, violence, canon divergence, second chances, mentions of Marc but no Marc appearance, Steven's a little pathetic (ofc), cute, fluffy, this is my first time writing moon knight canon stuff so please be gentle

Word Count: 3.5k

“Does anyone have any questions?” You asked, looking around at the kids in front of you. You wished you hadn’t noticed the one picking his nose and immediately felt your stomach turn.

It was a hit or miss whether or not kids would ask questions. This crowd seemed like they would rather be anywhere else than there at that moment, but when you started directing them to the gift shop, they lost their minds and started running for the door. Everyone loved the gift shop. You sighed when you followed them inside, looking to your left and seeing that Steven, the guy who worked the register, was ringing up a customer.

He hadn’t been to work since asking you out a few days ago. You remembered it clearly.

He was sitting in the employee room eating what looked like a vegan burrito. You were having your lunch at the table across from him. The two of you were chatting about common inconsistencies in the marketing department and how he tried to tell Donna they’d messed up the posters for the event the museum was having later that week.

“I’ve tried telling her that you should at least get to cover tours when other people are sick or something. Like per diem. You know so much.” You’d said, taking a bite of your food. “I mean, you know more than I do about some things.”

“Yeah well, she doesn’t seem to like the thought. Can’t even get my name right, ‘course she can’t get a poster right.” The two of you chuckled.

“You’re funny.” You said, feeling the heat rising to your cheeks.

“Erm, thank you.” He blushed, “I…I’m sure you know about that new restaurant on High street?”

“Yeah, the vegan place?” You took a swig of your water bottle.

“Yeah, that’s the one. I’ve been meanin’ to check it out.” He was shifting uncomfortably. You had a feeling you knew where this was going so you thought you’d help him get there.

“Oh I would love to go there, I just don’t like going places alone.” You looked at him in a way that you hoped urged him to invite you out.

“Yeah, I don’t either.” The awkward silence had you internally groaning.

One of the things you liked about Steven was how shy he could be. Not all the time, you’d seen him when he was intrigued about something, or when he’d stand up for himself to Donna. He wasn’t a pushover. When it came to something like dates though, and asking you out, he seemed to get anxious, like all the confidence fell from his body. You found it adorable.

“Steven…” You touched your fingertips to his on the table.

His lips parted slightly, “what?”

You smiled, “I said, I don’t like going places alone.”

You watched him suck in a breath and a smile played over his lips. He had such a nice smile, it was bright and had a way of making butterflies go crazy in your stomach. He wrapped his hand around your fingers and rubbed them with his thumb softly.

“Would you…” He was speaking slowly, as if doing so would allow him to retract the words if he got too nervous mid sentence, “would you like to come with me to dinner tomorrow night?”

Dinner was supposed to be three nights ago. Three nights ago you stood in front of your mirror adjusting your breasts in the tight black dress you’d picked out. You wore a complementary necklace and touched up your makeup quickly. You looked down at your phone.

Steven: I’m still surprised that you said yes. I’ll be there at 7 :)

You: I practically BEGGED you to ask me haha. See you in a bit.

Steven: :D

You’d never thought about Steven using emojis, but you found it endearing. It was 6:30pm when you left your house, and 6:55pm when you got to the restaurant. Steven wasn’t there yet, but you’d assumed he would be right along. You got a table and ordered a drink while you waited. Steven had been late to the gift shop a few times, but you were genuinely surprised when 7:10pm hit and he didn’t show. You’d thought he would be too excited to miss out on a date with you. You looked at your phone again.

You: Guess traffic must be giving you trouble?

You waited some more, sipping at your drink. By the time you were finished, and the server had come to your table asking if you were ready to order something for the third time, you checked your phone again…nothing, and it was 7:25pm.

You: I don’t want to sound rude, but are you standing me up?

You: It’s just almost been 30 minutes and I thought you were excited…

7:40

You: I never really thought you were the type, Steven. It’s too bad, truly.

You ordered a meal to-go. You hoped that by the time your box of food came out that he would’ve come through the door, but he never did. That night, you went home alone, toed off your shoes, crawled into bed, and cried for a bit before finally drifting off. Steven always seemed like such a nice guy, so when someone like him turned out to be a jerk, you wondered if there was even any point in dating.

Now it was Tuesday, Valentine’s Day, and the man who stood you up was smiling away, friendly as always. You couldn’t understand how he could be so chipper after what he’d done. Didn’t he know that he’d see you at some point and he would have to answer for what he did? Didn’t he know that he’d have to face you again?

There it was, the stupid face that lit up every time he saw you. The face that melted your insides with hot molten lava every time you saw it. He looked so damn happy to see you, like he hadn’t skipped a beat. You gulped, letting out the breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

“Hey…!” He said your name from across the gift shop.

You turned your head away and walked off, and Steven stood there, feeling a pit forming in his gut as his lips curled back downward. What had he done now? When he’d seen you yesterday at lunch, you’d touched his hand and practically asked him out yourself. It didn’t make sense, now you looked at him with so much disdain, he wondered if he should even approach you. Weren’t you still looking forward to that date with him tonight?

He waited until later to talk to you.

“Hey…” He said your name softly in the employee lounge later that day at lunch.

You let out a heavy sigh, “hey.”

You didn’t want to talk to him, but there he was, not letting you get out of it easily.

“You seem upset, was it Greg? That guy is always…” He stopped. He could tell by your expression that it was, in fact, not Greg that had you upset. “What is it?”

“You’re really going to come in here and act like nothing happened?” You scoffed, shaking your head. “You know I expect this from some of the dead beat losers out there but I really thought you were better than them, Steven.” You got up from the table.

“Wha-what do you mean?” His face was distraught. “I haven’t even…we haven’t even been out yet. Aren’t we still on for the vegan place?”

Your jaw dropped, “yeah…we were on for the vegan place…three nights ago.”

Steven’s mind went blank and the panic set it. It happened again. He had lost track of time, and this time he’d missed out on a date with you. Marc must’ve taken over. He ran his hands through his hair. He and Marc had talked about this, he couldn’t just do that without warning, unless something big had happened, and he wasn’t telling Steven about it.

His palms started sweating while he was trying to think about what to say to get you to forgive him, but instead he felt his eyes welling. He couldn’t very well tell you so early on that he was an alter for a man with dissociative identity disorder who also happened to be the Moon Knight for the Egyptian God Khonshu. He couldn’t tell you that Marc Spector had taken over the body that they shared and in doing so Steven had lost track of days while Marc, no doubt, rescued someone, or several someones. Hell, Marc might’ve even saved the world. What was most troubling, was that he hadn’t said a word to Steven.

You saw this, his defeated expression, and realized that something was very wrong.

“You…you never showed up. I sat there until eight.” You explained with a softer tone now.

He wasn’t even looking at you. His hand was over his mouth and he was looking down at the ground.

“You’re sure it’s not still Saturday?” He asked.

“Yep, sat there for an hour, got a drink and had the black bean burrito to go.” You pressed your lips together.

Steven had to think about how he was going to make this up to you, right now. You were standing there with your arms crossed over your chest, and though your expression was softening, it was clear that you were still irritated. If Marc had messed this up for him, he was going to be upset.

“Can I take you out tonight? I know it’s a longshot, but…I really didn’t stand you up on purpose. I have a…sleepwalking problem.” He was desperate, brows turned up and knitted together pathetically.

He reminded you of a dog begging for treats, not a man asking for a second chance. You’d never heard of a sleepwalking problem that made someone lose days of their life, but you sensed he was being genuine. You groaned and rolled your eyes. You had a soft spot for him, and you figured that if he really did try to stand you up, he wouldn’t be asking for a second shot.

“I don’t know what it is about you, but…yeah, yeah sure.” You dropped your arms and grabbed your lanyard from the table before replacing it on your neck.

You watched Steven’s entire body sigh with relief, “oh thank goodness, I won’t make you regret it.”

You started to walk out of the employee lounge, “yeah, we’ll see.” You said.

Part of your agreeing to let him make it up to you was purely out of your own feelings toward the gift shop clerk. You’d always liked going to the gift shop at the end of the tours, mostly because you got to see the cute and quirky guy ringing up customers and passing glances at you from across the stuffed Taweret plushies. He always had this look on his face when he saw you walk in, as if he were standing dormant until you came into view. As soon as you were in his vicinity, he came to life, color went back to his cheeks, and his smile formed.

The truth was that he had fallen for you the second he first laid eyes on you. You were new there, just starting your first day as a tour guide, and he happened to be walking in while you were explaining the symbols on a stone tablet. He saw you as he was walking by on his way to the lockers, and he thought you were the most beautiful person he’d ever laid eyes on. Your confidence, your brilliant smile, everything about you took his breath away.

“Hi.” You said, noticing the awkward man standing there, staring at you.

He jumped, “oh, hi, sorry I was just erm…heading to the lockers.”

He scurried off, and you shook your head before returning to the tour. You thought he was a weirdo at first, but over time he went out of his way to converse with you more and more. It started with little compliments in the lounge. He’d say things like…

“You really know a lot. Sometimes I think the tour guides don’t really know anything, they just learn a script but you…you’re brilliant.”

And,

“Wow, today you really had those kids hangin’ on to your every word. You’re a brilliant storyteller.” He said.

Then he started doing other things like, if you mentioned liking the way his lunch looked, he would bring in a second helping the next time so you could try it. There was even one day where you didn’t show up for work because you had a cold and when you came in the next day you found a “get well soon” card in your locker along with a basket that had tea and other sick supplies to help you feel better. These things were the reason that you said yes to a second chance. These things are the reason that you were standing in front of your mirror again after work, in that little black dress you’d worn just a few nights ago.

This time, before you left, you sent him a text.

You: Are we still on?

His lack of response was worrying, but you went anyway. Once again, you arrived at 6:55pm, and once again, Steven wasn’t around. He has five more minutes, you reminded yourself, five more minutes.

You walked inside and got yourself a table and a drink. Your palms were sweating and you started to feel like an idiot when 7:05 rolled around. You let out a heavy sigh. You weren’t going to do this again. When the server came back you ordered another meal to go. Steven had one shot to get this right, and he blew it.

If only you could see him though, frantically running down the street as though his life depended on it, and to him it did. Losing you would cripple him, losing you would be one of the worst failures of his life, so he had to get there. He looked at his watch, 7:07pm. He cursed under his breath as he closed in on the restaurant. Surely you were fuming. Surely you were already gone, but you weren’t. You were sitting there, he could see you through the window in a beautiful dress that fit your body perfectly. He could also see your slumped figure, clearly upset by his absence. He wasted no more time rushing through the door to see you.

Steven’s hair was stuck to his forehead. He looked like he’d run the entire way there. He sat down and held a finger up to you, trying desperately to catch his breath. The server came back to the table.

“Can we maybe get a water please and some napkins?” You smiled. “Oh, and please put in my order for here, to go with his order when he gets himself sorted.”

“I’ll just have whatever you’re having.” He managed to choke out.

The server nodded in understanding and disappeared behind a set of double doors. You crossed your arms over your chest and leaned back, waiting for him to catch his breath. It took him a minute, and when the server came back with napkins and water, Steven gulped down the entire glass and set it down on the table a little too harshly. He gasped and pointed to the glass.

“More…please.”

The server complied and then stepped away quickly. The restaurant was a little busy for Valentine’s Day, so you were sure he had other things to do instead of sitting there filling Steven’s glass endlessly. You laced your fingers together and rested your arms on the table. Finally, Steven was able to talk to you.

“I am so sorry, I was trying to leave and I had…I had an episode and…and…” He shook his head, eyes landing on the glass of the window.

You saw him make a face at the window, the same face a mother would make when trying to tell her child to shush without making a scene.

“Steven.” You said coldly. His head snapped to face you. “What is going on? I know I’ve only known you for a couple of months but…that’s long enough to know that you haven’t been acting yourself lately.”

“I’m not even so sure I know, love.” He said, looking pathetically at the flower in his hand. He’d squeezed the life out of it and it held no petals. “Got this for you, but I guess that’s a mess now too, innit?”

You were, truth be told, just glad he’d actually shown up. You thought for sure you were going to be spending Valentine’s Day alone when the clock rolled by and he hadn’t arrived, but then he ran through the door. Whatever his reason for being late, you were willing to forgive it, even if you shouldn’t. If he was any other guy, you would’ve told him to hit the road, but it was Steven, and he was different.

When you reached out your hand and touched Steven’s fingers, he could’ve fallen into tears. Not only did a woman like you say yes to a date with him, but you’d agreed to a second date after he bailed on the first one, and you were still there when he was late to said second date. He didn’t deserve you, he didn’t deserve you at all, but he was grateful for you to the moon and back.

“The least you can do is tell me why you were late, yeah?” You asked, sipping your drink.

“Darling, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” He said.

“Try me.” You leaned back in your seat.

The truth was that Steven was secretly grateful for the well timed attack that took place right by the restaurant the two of you were sat in. He was racking his brain trying to figure out ways to tell you that he was the Moon Knight. How could he tell you that there were two others in his head, and that was why he’d been missing for three days? How could he tell you that there was a colossal and skeletal bird that gave him his power? The only way would be to show you.

A woman outside screamed and you jumped, looking through the window. It was dark, but you could see her running by the light of the streetlamps. You couldn’t see what she was running from though, and wondered if she might be insane.

“Stay here.” Steven said, jumping out of his seat.

“Steven, what are you-”

“Stay inside.” He ordered.

Steven being demanding was out of character for him. You’d never heard him talk quite like that to anyone, and especially not you. He held out his arms and you watched in awe as his entire outfit changed before your very eyes. The new fit was sharp, stark white, and actually looked quite remarkable on his body. His beautiful face was hidden with a mask now, and his eyes were glowing like the stars.

“Steven?” You asked, looking at him in complete shock.

“That’s me, love. I’ve gotta go save the town now, but you just stay in here, yeah?”

He left without waiting for your response, and you were just standing there, completely dumbfounded. He had told you to stay put, but of course after he left you had to follow, at least to the curb. You saw him, fighting what looked like an extraordinarily strong man. This was it. This explained everything. Why he always looked like he hadn’t slept in days, why he went missing sometimes, and why he stood you up on Friday night. He was a superhero, like the Avengers. You’d been fortunate to never see any of these types of things in person, yet here you were, witnessing it first hand.

“That’s the girl!” You heard someone yell behind you.

You turned, seeing two men walking toward you quickly. You thought for sure they couldn’t be coming after you, but they were. Damn the heels you’d decided to wear. If not for the clumsy shoes that made you look a little taller and dressier, you might’ve been able to fight, or get away. Instead you stumbled, falling to your hands and knees with a gasp.

One of them grabbed one arm, and the other grabbed your shoulder.

“No! Get off of me!” You yelled, trying to pull away unsuccessfully. “S-Steven!” You screamed.

The last thing you saw was Steven turning to face you, and then it all went dark.

To be continued… (not sure when tho, but it will be continued after Feb is over)

AO3 LINK

TAGLIST (please let me know if you would like to be added or removed): @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction, @my-secret-shame, @thatmomwitchfriend, @alexxavicry, @welcometostayingawake, @jake-g-lockley, @campingwiththecharmings, @steven-grants-world, @lia275, @ninebluehearts

[bored-mumma]

Steven Grant - Smut Alphabet - NSFW

Steven Grant Fluff Alphabet - SFW

MASTERLIST

Under 18s - DNI

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Steven Grant is nothing less of a worshiper. Afterwards, he would whisper his praises to you as he holds onto you tightly, loving when you rest your head on his chest so you’re both enveloped in each other's warmth. After a while of just resting and chatting, he would suddenly remember to ask if you need anything or if he can do anything for you, always happy to grab you something to eat or run a bath if that's what you want.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)  

He has Marc to thank for it, but he definitely loves his arms. The way their strong enough to both man-handle you and yet also bring you so much comfort when he holds you. Steven isn’t exactly ‘rough’ but he will use his strength to push/pull you into positions. 

Steven wouldn’t like to admit he has a favourite part of you, always saying how just everything about you is perfect. But you both know he’s an ass man through-and-through. The way he’s always grabbing it and just lets his hands rest on it sometimes without him even realising it, definitely was a big give-away.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

It took him a little while to get fully comfortable with it and to admit his love it, but omg does this man love to come in your mouth. Don't misunderstand, he loves doing it anywhere on or in you but that's just his absolute favourite. And if it dribbles a little down the side your mouth whilst you swallow? He could just die right there and then from a heart attack - in the best way of course.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)  

Steven really wants you to edge him. Sometimes he’ll find himself edging himself, changing positions when he can feel himself getting a little too close. He’ll ask you eventually, and when he does finally ask you and you grant him his wish, he basically begs you to do that to him every single time. 

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Not experienced at all. As far as you were aware, there was only one woman before you and that didn’t last long. But that doesn’t stop him being the most intense lover you’ve ever had! He’ll ask questions, especially when learning how to give oral in the best possible way. Listening to every instruction until he’s got all of your favourite things memorised and can do it on his own.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Steven does love when you ride him. Just something about you looking like a complete Goddess, whilst having him at your mercy, does stuff to him. Though yes, Steven does sometimes also like to put in the dirty work and will be the one on top, he loves that too, but if he had to choose a position to do for the rest of his life it would be him sitting with his back on the headboard, knees bent with his soles on the mattress as you sat in his lap. 

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

He does love a little joke here and there. He’s not goofy per se, but when you two become entirely comfortable with each other he does make a little comment that causes you to laugh sometimes. Although that would usually be before you started touching him - the moment you start, all rational thoughts and words are gone, and he couldn't crack a joke even if he tried.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Steven tries to be tidy, but he’s not obsessed about it. At the end of the day, he’ll groom when he remembers too. 

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Steven thinks of sex as the most intimate thing two human beings can do with each other. No matter the mood - angry, jealous, happy, romantic, goofy - Steven will always make sure to tell you how amazing you looked, how much he loved and adored you. Of course, you would always tell him the same thing (praise kink anyone?). He would make sure every inch of your bodies is pressed together, foreheads usually touching as he thanked the gods for you. 

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He used to a lot. Well, not a lot but more often than he does now. He used to do it two, maybe three times a week. Usually in the shower or if he had a particularly rough day at work, he would need a pick-me-up. Now though, he’ll do it maybe once every couple of weeks. Again, usually when he’s showering and you’re out of the house. He wouldn’t dream of doing it with you in there. Not only because why would he jack off when he could have the real thing but also because the thought of you catching him makes his heart sink. If he caught you, he’d think that would be the hottest thing in the world, but he would think the other way around would be totally embarrassing. 

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Praise. Kink. Praise kink. As said before, this man does nothing but compliment during sex. Loves to hear you compliment him too. Whispers of ‘I love you’s’ to each other between passionate kisses is a must for Steven. There’s been numerous times you’ve nearly made him finish from your words alone but thankfully he’s getting better at controlling that, he just wasn’t used to it at the time. 

He hasn’t admitted this one yet, but our little innocent Steven really, really, really wants to do some role-playing. Maybe start with a classic - like he’s a professor and you’re his student - but he’s definitely got lots of more ‘unique’ scenarios he’s trying to muster up the courage to ask you.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Before living together Steven would love doing it in your bed. The fact he’s surrounded by your scent, your stuff everywhere, it just brought him so much comfort. After living together, his favourite place was anywhere in his entire flat. Finding new places to do it became a daily thought for him. Although the bedroom is still one of the best places, his desk is pretty fun too.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

The second you sit on his lap, he’s done for. Whether that was just to snuggle or if you do it on purpose to initiate things, Steven would instantly have a hard on. He would try to hide it sometimes, especially when you just came over for a cuddle. He would position you so you weren’t over his crotch and would try to send his mind back to whatever he was doing before but there was no way he could distract himself enough. 

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He wouldn’t hit you or degrade you in anyway. Complete opposite of what Steven likes. He prefers to worship you like the God you are, not treat you like a whore. 

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Although he does like giving, you just have the gift. Every time he sees you go onto your knees with that little twinkle in your eye, makes him harder than he thought was possible. It was just something to do with how you would trust him enough and love him enough to give him so much pleasure with your mouth - it would drive him crazy. He would try so hard to compliment you as you did it, gently tugging your hair as he did so. But the closer to the end he got, the more desperate his actions became. He would start tugging harder and harder without even realising, words of worship turning in moans of desperation. No matter what, he would always make sure he gave back as good as he got - loving how much he can tear you apart with just him mouth. 

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

He’s slooow. Sometimes a little painstakingly slow. Taking his time so each thrust is felt in its entirely for both of you and is as deep as he could possibly go. Even when you’re on top, Steven tends to hold your hips and control the pace himself though every once in a while, he’ll just basically lose it, going so hard and fast your brain goes foggy. But those days are usually when you guys have had a bad argument - something that thankfully happens rarely. 

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

He does like a good quickie. Of course, he prefers proper sex with you, being able to be surrounded by each other fully and taking the time to explore. But those mornings where you’re both getting ready for work in a rush, and he sees you go to have a quick shower? Yeah, he’s joining you. You visited him at the museum and brought him his lunch? Quick shag on his lunch break. Just both trying to catch your pleasure as fast as you can, using each other just to get off makes him almost feral. 

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

He’s up for experiments! Especially if it's something you’ve come up with. He sometimes will think or see something he would like to try with you; however, embarrassment stops him attempting. But when you ask him to try something new? Omg just you saying it is usually a turn on. Although there have been a couple things, he’s said no too like tying each other up - he’s spent too many sleepless nights tied up, thank you. But he would come up with something to compromise.

Although risk wise, Steven wouldn’t risk the two of you being caught. Even if every once in a while you would do it at his work, it would always be in a locked room where he knew there were no security cameras. The thought of someone seeing you two being as intimate as you were sent very bad chills up his spine. 

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

He can last maybe five minutes and a max of two rounds. The longer the two of you are together, the more you have sex, the longer he can last but you don’t mind too much. He’s the king of foreplay so by the time you guys actually start having sex you’ve already come a couple times anyways. 

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

At first, he’s not really sure how he feels about them. One hand, it does sound kind of fun to experiment with some new things - the idea of vibrators turns him on especially. But then he’ll once again go all shy at the idea, thinking it was weird he wanted to try them out. Eventually you’re the one who brings up the idea of using some toys and Steven agrees so fast he even surprised himself. Didn’t stop his face turning super red when you guys went through the websites, though, looking for stuff to buy. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Every once in a while, he’ll like to tease you, especially with his words. But he’s a sucker for you teasing him. Whether that be the little touches and suggestive smiles or straight up edging him and teasing him about him, he just can’t get enough.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He. Is. Loud. Less of a moaner and more of a grunter. He also often mutters during sex, mostly ‘i love you’s’ and just praising everything about you. At the beginning of your relationship Steven would be a little shy about being loud but he realised pretty quick that you love it. 

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Before you started dating, Steven would often have wet dreams about you. He would wake up in a daze and reach over to the other side of the bed to hold you, but then his mind would catch up with him and remember it was just a dream. So, the first time he had one about you and woke up, only to actually be able to wrap his arms around you after and not feel guilty about thinking about you in that way? Well, that man nearly cried with happiness. His dreams were literally coming true. 

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Pretty average, nothing special really - except he knows how to use properly to make it feel a lot better than average.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Towards the beginning he would want you literally 24/7. Literally everything you did would be a turn on for him, especially if you are doing just little domestic acts; like cooking his favourite dinners. After about six months together he did begin to calm down but that doesn't mean his sex drive isn't still super high. You’re looking at about three or four times a week on average - and that's just with Steven, not the other two boys.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He doesn't like sleeping much but he does find it easier with you next to him. Something to hold close to him. He would probably fall asleep after about an hour; thanks to the exhaustion he feels after your ‘activities’.

[m00nsbaby]

Glitter & crimson.

Marc Spector x F!Reader.

Next part.

Tags - warnings. College AU, no mentions of Jake/Steven, suggestive but not smut, cheating.

For my Pedrito Pascal / Oscar Isaac girlies I’m so sorry but Joel is indeed based on Joel Miller pre-outbreak lol.

Word count. 2.1k

Summary. "Marc is clever. One word I wouldn't like to use is manipulative, but I wouldn't be lying; he knows exactly when and how to do things.” 

He knows Joel is watching, that one misplaced look and the false confidence he puts in him will be gone, so he carefully chooses his words and makes everyone else believe he would never cross the line with you.

You seemed to be in denial of the obvious, because above all the bad that could be behind that puppy face, there was the fact that he was your best friend, and you loved him, no matter if he was a good or bad person.

A talent he didn't know he had until he met your boyfriend was that of acting. Choosing which mask to wear on each occasion to his advantage.

When Joel was with you, he always kept his distance. After greeting you with a hug, you wouldn't feel Marc's hands on you again until the moment he was about to leave, giving you the most insipid hug he could manage as a way to say ‘goodbye’.

When you were alone, the story was completely different, and both, like two peas in a pod from the first time you exchanged words, spent time together as if you needed each other to breathe.

Though, for Marc, that's exactly how it felt.

The fact that Joel was older than you didn't help. Not so much older that your relationship would be something weird, rather enough for him to have slightly more adult concerns like work and taxes while you were still suffocated by university worries.

You saw each other maybe two or three times a week, but neither of you minded. (Marc didn't mind either; the farther apart he was, the better.)

"The couple of the century." Applause greeted you as both joined the party. You rolled your eyes, knowing they were just teasing, Marc, on the other hand, pretended to bow with one hand while the other rested on your lower back.

Apart from your group of friends, there were at least ten more people, nothing too wild. More like a typical party for young adults, students with enough budget to survive the next two weeks.

"Do you want something to drink?" Amidst the music and noise of the crowd, Marc had to lean in close to whisper in your ear.

His hand never left your body.

"I’ll have whatever you have." You smiled, leaning in enough for him to hear you.

You felt the stares of others fixed on you. Even at this point in your lives, you were not exempt from gossip.

And it seemed that you both were determined to feed the rumors; you, unconsciously, and Marc, enjoying pushing the narrative that you were an adorable couple without a care in the world about a guy in his 30s with a stupid job at a construction company.

When Marc returned with your drink, he sat next to you on the couch, tapped your glass before taking a sip of his, and his free hand rested on your thigh, specifically on the part where your dress didn't cover your skin.

You were used to it. To him. To his hands.

"And when will you make it official?" Someone asked, breaking the moment of intimacy between you both.

"Make what official?"

"Our thing, silly," Marc replied with a teasing smile on his lips.

"But we're not..."

"Soon," he interrupted, this time looking at the girl who had asked, someone from the classroom, one of those who said out loud how much they wanted 'a Marc in their life.'

You rolled your eyes, smiling, and quietly sipped from your glass.

You didn't question it. Little did you know that Marc took every opportunity to make you look like his to the eyes of others.

Gradually, the party started to take shape, you felt more and more crowded among the people, and the volume of the music began to rise until you couldn't continue chatting.

"Let's dance." You nodded immediately as the sofa began to fill up with strangers, and you let Marc pull your hands to get up.

"I can't stand this dress anymore." You said, adjusting the hem of it with your fingers.

"I'll help you take it off later." his lips brushed your ear as the number of people on the impromptu dance floor forced you to bump your bodies together.

"Idiot," you said, laughing, while your hands held his, and your hips began to follow the rhythm of the music slowly.

This was Marc's favorite part, even though he always ended up struggling with his tight pants for reasons beyond his control.

"Is tonight still on?" He whispered when he had you close. You were facing away from him, and your hips continued moving against your best friend's, his hands slowly traveling up and down your waist.

"When have I canceled a sleepover?" You raised your voice, looking over your shoulder at him.

Poor Marc was about to have an orgasm in the middle of his university friends, but could anyone blame him? Your body rubbed against him in that short, tight dress.

He mentally thanked the loud music for silencing his moans every time you moved to the perfect rhythm.

"I-I just wanted to be sure."

"Are you tired?" Your movements slowly stopped as you planted a kiss on his cheek. "You're sweating."

"I'm hot." It came from his throat as if someone were strangling him. He even cleared his throat. "Very."

"Let's have a drink and come back." You gave him a little push to make way for you, and he walked behind you, one hand on your hip as an excuse not to lose you among the crowd.

A sigh of relief escaped both of you when you entered the kitchen, closing the door behind you. There was no one else, and the music felt noticeably quieter.

"What do you want? I'll treat you," you joked as you looked at the grouped bottles of alcohol next to the soft drinks. You grabbed two plastic cups.

"Give me the house specialty."

"Say no more." You served two glasses of mineral water without hesitation. When Marc noticed, he couldn't help but laugh as he held his cup.

With a jump, you climbed onto the counter table, spreading your legs to make room for him. It was as if your body worked automatically when it came to Marc. Like clockwork, he settled between your legs to continue drinking from his glass.

"I can't believe I used to hate mineral water before I met you."

"It's spicy water. How could you hate it?" You tried to stifle a laugh.

He laughed with you. One of those silly laughs where the alcohol in your system speaks for you, and the dream of being with someone you love makes things twice as fun as they really are.

The laughter died down little by little, Marc rested his forehead against yours and kept his eyes closed, along with that silly smile.

"Everyone is talking about us." you whispered after a few seconds of silence.

"You're my fake girlfriend after all." you laughed again.

"You have to stop, you'll get me in trouble with Joel.” Just the mention of his name made Marc's stomach churn. He bit his lower lip to avoid saying what he really thought.

"Oh, really?" He opened his eyes again, moving his head slightly to lightly brush the tip of his nose against yours, making you smile. His fingers pressed against your thighs, and you gasped when he pulled you closer to his body with a single tug. Now you were sitting on the edge of the counter.

"Marc?" You swallowed hard when you noticed his gaze fixed on you. The playful and teasing air had suddenly vanished.

"Uh-huh?" He licked his lips, and your gaze dropped from his eyes to his mouth. You had felt this kind of impulse before, but you always did your best to ignore it. Even before you met Joel.

He noticed the change in your expression and almost smiled triumphantly. After years, you were beginning to let your guard down. Without waste time; his body leaned forward, and suddenly his lips met yours. You had waited so long for this that you almost stole a moan from each other.

Marc's lips were delicious, even though it hurt you to admit it. Beyond the taste of beer and mint, you could feel him in your mouth, and that was so much more intoxicating than every drink he had prepared for you throughout the night. 

It was desperate, as if he wanted to show you just how much he had desired you over the past years. You felt his tongue exploring your mouth, his teeth nibbling your lower lip, and his hands roaming from your waist to your thighs again and again.

His jeans became uncomfortable again when he managed to make you whimper against his mouth. With you on the edge of the counter, it wasn't hard for him to push his hips against you, grazing your thigh in an attempt to find some relief to his growing boner.

For a moment, he considered it might be a dream; it wouldn't be the first time he had this kind of dream about you. But his alarm always managed to bring them back to reality just as he was about to reach the best part.

Just like now.

Oh no, wait, that wasn't his alarm.

It was your ringtone.

Like a bucket of cold water, he had to snap out of it. You pulled away from him, cheeks flushed, breathing ragged, and lips swollen and moist from Marc's hungry kisses.

"It's Joel." Of course, it was him. It was always him.

You didn't even give him a chance to fully react as you hastily escaped from his embrace and left the kitchen. It felt like the walls were closing in on you, and you felt suffocated.

The garden seemed like a better option.

"How's the party going?" Your boyfriend's cheerful voice on the other end of the line made your stomach churn.

As you licked your lips, you could still taste Marc.

"Amazing, love." You looked at the pair of guys lying on the grass, tipsy and probably about to fall asleep.

"Is Marc there with you? Will you both come back together?"

You swallowed hard.

"Yes, I... yes." A few seconds of silence. Joel was used to your chatty version, the one who started conversations in the worst situations.

"Oh..." More silence. "I'm glad, it's safer that way." His tone of voice indicated he was serious. Another blow to the stomach knowing the trust he placed in both of you. "Will I see you on Sunday?"

"Of course, love." You took a deep breath, closing your eyes for a few seconds as if trying to console yourself.

"I won't interrupt you anymore, sugar." As if sweeping away that uncomfortable atmosphere, he returned to his playful and affectionate tone, one that you rarely didn't hear. "I love you, can't wait to see you."

"I love you." You were out of breath. "See you."

You waited in the yard until Marc got tired of your absence. You didn't function well without each other, and in social situations, this was no exception. He came out silently, not asking anything, and you were grateful he didn't.

He placed his red jacket over your shoulders before taking your hand, and you didn't reject him; you never could. You intertwined your fingers together, and it was you who led him to the car.

The car that belonged to both of you, if that made any sense.

The ride back home was silent.

Despite the heaviness in your chest, you couldn't help but let things flow with Marc. Even if you wanted to, you couldn't give him the cold shoulder or ask your body to feel uncomfortable with him.

Both of you prepared to sleep in the usual way. He didn't look back as you took off your dress, and you stood side by side at the sink while brushing your teeth. He did his best to ignore that you were wearing Joel's T-shirt to sleep for days now.

With a gentle push from Marc when it was time to go to bed, you laughed a little and felt a bit more at home with his company.

You followed the routine; he opened his arms to welcome your body, and you snuggled up to him as closely as possible. The way he held you made you sigh with relief.

This was definitely your favorite place. Your home was in Marc Spector's arms.

"I love you, you know that, right?" He whispered in your ear, silently praying that his scent would linger in Joel's stupid shirt.

You nodded slowly, unable to contain your smile.

"I know, Marc." A shiver ran down his spine as he felt your breath on his neck. "I love you too."

If only you said it in the way he wished.

He fell silent when the screen of your phone lit up, partially illuminating the room. He squinted slightly and, as he identified the small heart on the contact name of the text message, he knew who it was from.

Rolling his eyes, he tightened his hold on you, eliciting a playful groan from you. He kissed your hair before snuggling with you, a smile on his face.

Was this going to become a competition? Then so be it.

[ofstarsandvibranium]

My You-niverse: Blue Jones

Fandom: Oscar Isaac

Pairing: Oscar Isaac's Characters x F!Reader, Blue Jones x F!Reader (this chapter only)

Summary: You and America get stuck portal jumping until you reach your universe again. In the meantime, you meet various versions of your husband.

Warning: some violence because it's Blue

Series Masterlist

You looked like you were in a basement. You and America were looking around when a door burst open. Two bulky men in suits walk in and following them was..Marc?

"Grab her," your husband's doppelgänger points to America.

Her eyes widen, "What? No! No! Let go of me! Y/N!" she yells, trying to free herself from the men's grasps.

"America!" you go to reach out for her, but the Marc look-alike pointed a stern finger at you.

"Don't. You. Fucking. Dare." he marches up to you, glaring you with his brown eyes. He roughly grabs your face and tsks, "I'm really disappointed in you, Bunny."

You gulp. You've seen Marc angry before but this was different. First off, this wasn't Marc. Secondly, Not Marc was angry at you, so angry he looks like he's ready to kill you.

Two men appeared in the doorway of the basement, "Blue."

The man you now know as Blue, whipped his head around, "What?" he sneered.

"We got a situation upstairs."

Blue sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, "Of course." he looks at you and beckons you with a finger, "Follow me and don't even think about running."

You nod and promptly follow the man who looks just like your husband.

_____________

America was thrown into a room, the metal door shutting behind her. She began banging against it, "HEY! NO! LET ME OUT OF HERE! HEY! HEY!" she slumped against the door defeated.

She turned around, facing the room and tried summoning a portal. Again, nothing.

"Crap!" she hissed.

She hoped that you'd be able to get to her and the two of you would be able to get out there.

______________

Blue led you to a room that you assumed to be his office. He went around his desk and pulled out a gun from a drawer. He set the weapon on the table and your eyes widened.

When he looked up and saw the fear in your eyes, he chuckled, "No, Bunny. This isn't for you." he moved back around the desk to you, "But if I see that gun out of place, you'll wish it was for you." he lightly tapped your cheek, "Stay here and be good."

You watched him walk out of the room and as soon as the door closed, you scrambled looking for anything you can use a weapon. You eyed a letter opener and immediately grabbed it. You slid it into your pants where it couldn't be seen and you waited.

You're not sure how much time passed, but Blue came back with three men, one of which was holding America.

"Y/N!" she exclaimed in relief and you moved towards her but Blue stopped you.

"Not uh uh, Bunny. We're gonna have a little chat." You and America were forced into the two chairs that were in front of Blue's desk.

Blue sat at the edge of his desk, gun now in hand, "We have an issue. Bunny," he sighs with a shake of his head, "You were my star. My girl. And now look at you. You're really going to throw it all away for some brat?! I gave you everything!"

"This isn't right, Blue."

He scoffs, "Oh so now you wanna tell me what's right and what's wrong? Baby, did you forget that we built this together? Where the fuck is this 'holier than thou' act comin' from, huh?"

"I-I don't know," you stammer out.

Blue let's out a deep breath, "I can't let this slide you know. If you go unpunished, the other girls will think they can walk all over me. And we can't have that now, can we?" he cocks his gun and raises it up. Slow, with intimidation.

But you were quick. You slid out the letter opener, flinging it at Blue. It lands in his shoulder with a howl of pain.

Angry, Blue raises his gun towards you and America throws out her hand with a scream. Suddenly, a bright, star shaped portal appeared.

The men in the room, including Blue, froze, "What the fuck?" Blue mumbled.

"Come on!" you grab America and you two rush to the portal.

You hear gunshots and a pain in your arm. You land in some grass with a thud and the portal disappears.

You and America sigh in relief before your sigh turns into a groan of pain.

"Fucking shit," you sneer as you observe your bleeding arm.

"Are you alright?" you look up to see a man who, again, looked like your husband, but also not.

[late-to-the-party-81]

This evening has been so very nice

AN: Hello folks! After the chaos of Kinktober I’ve been taking a little break, but also working on this for the Thot Neighbourhood Discord Server Secret Santa.

I drew @yarnforbrains - I hope you enjoy this, my darling Dani. This is my first time writing for the Moon Knight boys, so I hope I did them justice.

My prompts were Winter Wonderland, Lyrics from 'Baby it's cold outside' and a picture from a German Christmas Market.

NB- I have no experience with people with DID, but did a load of reading from this website

Beta’d by @sidepartskinnyjeans, Spanish help from @aquariusbarnes

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Moodboard by me

Masterlist

Relationships: Steven Grant x plus sized Reader, Marc Spector x plus sized Reader and Jake Lockley x plus sized Reader

Word count: 4k

CW: Fluff, drinking, PDA, explicit sexual content (Oral - F receiving, Rough PinV sex, unprotected sex, cum eating), swearing.

You hurried through the dark streets, your scarf flapping around your neck and your bobble hat pulled down tight on your head. As much as you loved this time of year, sometimes the cold got too much, even for you. However, you could almost feel the Christmas cheer seeping into you as you neared your destination, and therefore your boyfriend. Or was it boyfriends? You’d admit you still had a lot to learn about dating multiple members of a DID system.

The lights ahead of you were bright and you couldn’t help but smile as you walked into the hubbub of the German Christmas themed farmer’s market. Alongside the usual stalls selling honey, vegetables and homemade items there were gaily decorated huts selling mulled wines and ciders, strong german beers, bratwurst and an array of sweet treats. Lights were strung everywhere, carols played over speakers and children squealed as they went round and round on the vintage style carousel. You felt as though you’d stepped into a winter wonderland.

You turned in a circle, taking it all in, but also trying to find your boyfriend in the crowd, a near impossible feat it seemed. Pulling out your phone, you checked your messages, but there wasn’t a new one indicating where you should meet. With a small huff, you decided he could come to you. However, just as you were about to press send on your message for him to meet you in front of the singing moose, a pair of hands covered your eyes from behind.

“Oi-oi, saveloy!”

You spun around with a squeal and threw your arms around his neck.

“Steven!”

You were happy to see the mild mannered alter. He was always so sweet to you. You pressed a kiss to his lips and smiled as a blush made its way up his neck and onto his cheeks. He got embarrassed easily with public displays of affection stronger than hand holding. It was cute.

“So you’re my date this evening then?”

“Yes. Well at the moment, anyhow. The lads and I had a chat and divvied up the night, so to speak…” He stopped speaking suddenly, looking at you earnestly, head tilted slightly to the side. “ I mean, if that’s okay with you?”

You beamed at him, cupping his face and rubbing your nose against his.

“It sounds great. Now, where are we off to first?” Steven twined your fingers together, kissed your knuckles and with a smile dragged you towards the carousel.The pair of you laughed and squealed just like the children from earlier as you bobbed up and down on your horses as the ride spun round and round.The cheerful organ music reminded you of the Christmas’ of your childhood, but the thing that made you giggle the most was Steven trying to get on and then off his horse, sliding on the smooth surface. He was adorably clumsy sometimes.

After the carousel you walked around the food stalls, your head leaning on Steven’s shoulder, inhaling the scent of his cologne. There was more laughter between you as you both chose foot long german sausages that hung out of the bun at each end, setting off immature fits of giggles from you both. It was impractical to eat them as you walked, so you managed to find a space in one of the market shelters, set up with trash cans and perching stools.

You both chatted about your days as you ate, taking it in turns to lean over and wipe mustard and ketchup off each other’s cheeks. When you sucked a bit of sauce off your thumb you saw a flash in his eye, which made you smile even more. While Steven looked quiet and demure from the outside, you knew how he could get if the mood took him. Although, that flash could easily have been either Marc or Jake coming briefly to the surface. 

Napkins and cardboard trays thrown in the trash, you grabbed Steven’s hand.

“Let’s look at the stalls. I saw some cute wooden ornaments, and some snow globes.”

“Whatever you want, babes. Your wish is my command.”  He made a dramatic bow in front of you, like a fairy tale prince, and you giggled once again. You didn’t know what you’d done to deserve such a handsome, sweet guy like Steven, but you thanked the universe daily.

After some retail therapy, where you’d managed to pick up a few gifts for family members, Steven steered you towards the sideshows.

“I’m sure you’ll have fun and excel at these, babes, but they’re not really my forte. Hate to love you and leave you.” He leant forward and pressed his lips to yours, in a soft and sweet kiss. 

When the pressure against your mouth hardened slightly, becoming less sweet and more spicy, you knew that Marc had made his appearance.

Stepping back, you looked up into his eyes. Marc was ‘harder’ around the edges than Steven. He stood straighter, with more confidence in both his body and expression. Reaching into the inner pocket of his coat, he pulled out a baseball cap and set it atop his head, before sliding his arms around your waist and smiling down at you.

“Hey, baby. Have fun with Steven?”

“Yes, thank you. I’m all shopped out and full of hotdog, but if you wanted to win me the giant teddy bear, I wouldn’t say no.”

“Consider it won, Angel.”

He led you over to one of the stalls, a shooting game with battered bb rifles chained to the counter. The targets, bobbing up and down, and moving side to side at the back, were elves peeking out of boxes and reindeer flying across the sky. There were even a pair of black boots moving up and down out of a fake chimney.

Handing over some cash to the stall owner, Marc picked up one of the rifles with cocky assurance, flashing you a grin, before tucking the stock up against his shoulder. He watched the motion of the targets for a few moments, getting a feel for the pattern and speed. With a squeeze of the trigger a spherical piece of metal flew across the space and landed with a ‘thunk’... three inches to the right of the target. You tried, and failed, to suppress a giggle as Marc scowled, looking over the rifle with a huff. Then, without a word, he raised it up again and let of a series of shots across the target area, the chimes of metal hitting metal ringing out one after the other, much to the frustration of the stall holder. You squealed and bounced on your toes as the massive polar bear wearing a santa hat was begrudgingly handed over. Leaning across the huge stuffy, you pressed kisses all over Marc’s cheeks and lips.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

His arms went around your waist and he spun you around until you were both dizzy and laughing, uncaring about the spectacle you were creating. Eventually Marc slowed you down and pulled you into a short, but deep, kiss that left you both breathless.

“Come on, Angel. Let’s check out the other games.”

The pair of you laughed as you played ‘hook a duck’, then skeeball and then failed abysmally at the ring toss.

“I’m sure it’s rigged,” Marc grumbled. You silently agreed with him. It was unlikely that your highly trained boyfriend couldn’t beat a fair version. “Let’s go sit and get a drink instead. I think there’s a mulled wine and cider shack around the corner.”

“There’s an idea I can get behind. Lead the way, my Prince of sideshows.” 

The temperature had dropped over the last hour and you could feel the cold burning at your nose and cheeks, so when the pair of you made your way into the brightly lit, wooden bar, you let out a sigh of relief. The small space was crowded with other market patrons and you were grateful for Marc’s presence, as you squeezed through the press of bodies, along with your bear and shopping bags, to get to a small table in the corner. 

“Sit tight, sweetheart and I’ll be back.” 

The smile he flashed you made your heart jump and your core pulse. As you watched him walk off to the bar, unashamedly watching his ass inside his slacks, an electronic squeal caught your attention. In the other corner of the bar was a small raised stage, with a couple of microphones, speakers and a large monitor; a karaoke set up. A pair of giggling blonde girls were making their way up onto the dais, talking to the man who appeared to be in charge. What occurred next was what could only be described as two cats screeching along to the backing track of Whitney Houston’s ‘I’m Every Woman’. Marc returned to your table part way through the rendition, placing the steaming glass mug in front of you, the red, fragrant liquid with bits of orange peel floating in it, sloshing gently.  You cupped it in your hands, warming them on it and inhaling the heady scent of red wine, spices and citrus.

Marc’s foot toyed with yours under the table, and despite the caterwauling you could feel the romance. You were so lucky that you’d been able form such strong relationships with both of Marc’s main alters. It made all your lives much easier, having those connections, with none of them feeling guilty if they appeared unplanned; you loved them all equally.

The atmosphere, and the second cup of wine, lulled you into relaxation and you knew you had a dopey, slightly buzzed look on your face. You pulled his hand across the table, turning it so it was palm up. With your index finger you started to trace patterns across his skin.

“Marc…” You let out a dramatic, needy whine. A wry smile spread on his face as he looked at you.

“Yes, Angel?”

“Come sing with me. I wanna do karaoke.  We’d be so much better than these guys.”

He rolled his eyes, but you knew he’d say yes. He always indulged you, and you weren’t above taking advantage of that once in a while.

His hand tightened on yours and pulled you to your feet. 

“Come on then - do you know which song you want to do?”

You nodded in reply, your lower lip pulled between your teeth, as you both made your way to the stage. As Marc sorted out the microphones you gave your song request to the DJ. With your performance confirmed you moved to stand next to Marc, taking one of the microphones from him and looping your free arm through his. The short piano intro played and you saw a smile of recognition on your boyfriend’s face, before you breathily sung your first line.

“I really can’t stay…”

Marc didn’t miss a beat before leaning towards you, crooning.

“But, Baby, it’s cold outside…”

“I’ve got to go away…”

“But, Baby it’s cold outside…”

His voice was deep and velvety, a soft caress across your soul. His eyes bored into yours, and you were helpless to look away as you sang to each other. You weren’t sure when it happened, but at some point during the song the playful lightness decreased and the banked heat between you began to rise. When your voices came together in a final, synchronous crescendo you didn’t know if your racing heartbeat was due to the unaccustomed effort of singing or because your mind was already imagining all the things that Marc would do to you when you got back to your apartment. You didn’t notice the applause and cheers from the audience in the wine shack, because all there was was Marc, the way his arm was around your waist, his eyes locked on yours, his breath warm on your lips…

The world lurched as he dipped you, pressing his mouth to yours and kissing you with unreserved passion. You returned the kiss, forgetting for a moment that you were in public, and not in either of your apartments. However, before you could embarrass yourself any further, Marc pulled back, his dark eyes filled with lust.  Whoops and hollers surrounded you, but you just blinked at him, slightly dazed.

“Let’s get outta here, Angel. I’ll just get your bags.” Marc dashed away to collect your things from the table, and you passed the microphones back to the grinning DJ, your face heated. You were glad for the warmth flooding your body as you stepped back out into the cold air, Marc holding your bags and with his body almost pressed up against your back. You quickly re-wrapped your scarf and jammed your hat on your head, before grabbing one of the bags from Marc so you could slip your hand in his. He grinned, a devilish smile lighting up his face before he practically dragged you out of the market and towards the main road.

With a shrill whistle, which pierced the night air like a stiletto knife, he’d hailed a cab and hustled you inside it. He rattled off your address to the cabby, and then he was kissing you again. The bags and the teddy were jammed against your legs, and your big coat, scarf and hat were getting in the way, but you didn’t care. You didn’t recall much of the ride, nor getting through your door, other than the rush to shed your outer clothes and kick off your shoes. You did register the moment your back bounced off the hallway wall as Marc steered you down it towards your bedroom, as you chuckled into his kiss and he growled back comically.

You both fell to the bed in a tangle, but working together to remove all and any clothes between you. You moaned as Marc’s lips fastened over one of your nipples, sucking the swollen flesh in to his mouth. At the same time one of his hands roamed over your soft body, stroking you and slowly making his way between your thighs.

Those deft fingers found their way without hesitation between your folds, spreading your wetness before teasing your clit into a firm peak. He teased it mercilessly, stroking and caressing it, giving it light pinches that made lightning dart across your vision, as his mouth swapped between your lush breasts, worshipping them.

“Marc!” You cried out his name as a plea, a plea for more. He lifted his head and you looked at him, glassy eyed, taking in the mess of his hair where you’d been gripping it without realising. He grinned once more, travelling down your body.

His lips kissed, sucked and nipped at your skin, leaving small marks in their wake. He saved the strongest bite for when he reached your hip. You’d realised early on in your relationship that it was one of Marc’s particular quirks; he loved the softness of your hips. How when he gripped them your flesh spilt between his fingers. How they held the evidence of his passion for you. He loved to decorate them with bite marks, finger marks, hickeys. When Stephen saw the mottled blemishes he’d stroke them gently and ask if you wanted him to apply ointment. When Jake saw them he’d just snort knowingly and grin. 

When your lover was level with the apex of your plump thighs, the hand that had been teasing you left you so he could push your legs further apart, hooking your knees over his shoulders.  Without preamble he fastened his lips to your core, drinking from it as though you alone could slake his thirst. He pulled moans and cries from your throat as you fisted the sheets, already hurtling towards your orgasm. His fingers joined his mouth and tongue, delving into your wet heat, stroking you, stretching you. Shivers raced over your heated skin, the way you were dragging air into your lungs leaving you dizzy. The force of Marc’s lovemaking never failed to leave you startled.

You came with a scream, open-mouthed and uninhibited, uncaring that Mrs Smith next door would probably shoot you daggers in the morning. Marc’s arm clamped across your abdomen, holding you to him as he continued to feast, drawing out every tremble, every whimper from your body, until you went loose and lax beneath him.

“Fuuuuuuck…”

You lay, dazed on the bed as Marc kissed his was back up you. You felt him smile against your skin until he was finally eye level with you again and you gave him a breathy smile before drawing him close and kissing him, deeply.

“I love you, Angel. I could spend all night dragging those noises from you and be satisfied. But a bit like the Ghost of Christmas Present, my time with you for the evening is almost over.”

In your lust addled state, you’d almost forgotten about Jake. You were torn. You didn’t want Marc to go, but it had been a while since you’d spent the night with the most reclusive off the alters, and had to admit the thought of it was exciting. Where Marc made love, Jake fucked. He fucked hard and feral. He left you aching after for days in the most delicious way.

Marc could obviously see the indecision in your expression. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m only a tiny bit jealous. I’m sure I’ll see you again tomorrow at some point, and I wouldn’t have missed out on our evening for anything.”

He kissed you again, his passion almost overwhelming. The hands around you tightened, the firm body rolling to be fully on top of you, leaving you in no doubt who was in charge. Jake had arrived.

You knew he was the most dangerous of your boys, birthed in the darkest moments of Marc’s army career; A way for his mind to cope with horrors he’d not only seen, but had to carry out.

As he raised his head you saw his hard eyes looking at you like a wolf looked at his prey. A shiver of anticipation racked your body.

“Buenas noches, mi cielo”

You dug your nails into his shoulder blades and nipped at his stubbled jaw.

“Hi, Jakey. Long time, no see.”

He shrugged a little, as if to say it was no big deal.

“No, don’t be like that.” You moved your hands to cup his face and force him to look at you. “You ever need me, I’m here. You matter as much as the others. I love you as much as the others. You don’t need to hide from me.”

“No me escondo, mujer.”

“Well then turn up more often for me then. Cos now you’re here…” your lips travelled up to his ear lobe and gave it a sharp tug with your teeth. “I need you to fuck me. Fuck me, Jake. Let’s fuck off Mrs Smith like we’ve never fucked her off before.”

His eyes narrowed, but before you had a chance to wonder what he was planning, you found yourself flipped onto your stomach, your hips yanked up, and a strong calloused hand on the back of your neck, pressing your cheek into the coverlet.

“¡Mantente abajo!”

“Not like I can go anywhere with you pinning me like… oh god!”  Your snarky retort was cut short as Jake pushed three of his fingers into you without warning.

“Marc got you so wet, mi amor.” 

Fuck, you loved his accent.

He pumped his wrist, and although you couldn’t see his face you could imagine him looking at your stuffed pussy, watching your juices, which you could hear squelching lewdly, spill out around his digits and run down your thighs. Your eyes rolled back in your head as he curled them, the most indelicate sound making its way past your lips.

“That’s it, cariño, be loud for me. Let the whole world know how good I am making you feel.”

He was merciless as he fingered you, seeming to revel in every salacious noise his movements pulled from your throat.

“Si, sing for me, pajarito. You sound beautiful.”

“Jake! Oh god! Fuck!”

Your legs shook as you came, and you were glad that you were mostly lying down, otherwise you would have collapsed. Your orgasm had barely finished when Jake pulled his fingers from you, with a wet, smacking sound. You heard him sucking on them, muttering under his breath, too low for you to really catch, and then he was pushing into you. Your eyes that had fluttered closed during your throws of ecstasy flew open, as he ploughed into you. One hand on your hip, the other still on the back of your neck, this was primal, feral fucking, and it was just what you wanted.

“Fuck, yes! Fuck me, Jake. Fuck me, hard!”

Jake shifted behind you, pressing his whole body against yours, his weight pushing down on your ass. Your legs slid out from under you and he followed you down, still pounding his cock into you, ferociously. 

“You want it hard? Then I’ll give you hard. You will feel me in tu coño for days.” 

He withdrew abruptly, but easily manhandled you over onto your back. He sunk back in, just as hurriedly, before hooking your legs over his muscular forearms and planting his hand on the mattress either side of your chest. Your legs were spread wide and your body folded in half as he rose up on his knees and started up his sweet torture. Each animalistic thrust pushed more noises and curses from you, rambling nonsensical sounds of lust and desire.

His thick cock was rubbing you just right on the inside, and the trimmed hair at the base of it rubbed over your engorged clit. You could feel yourself falling into that delicious spiral - the push and pull of sensation dragging you towards your inevitable, and explosive, end. 

“Mírame, amor.”

You hadn’t even realised your eyes were closed, but at his gruff command, you managed to open them slightly, taking in the fierce look on his face, the sweat peppering his brow, causing his hair to curl more.

“Cum, cariño. Let me feel you coming undone.”

He leant forward, capturing your lips again in an unforgiving kiss, a kiss that felt as though he was trying to pull your soul from you, and as he dragged that part of you from your body, he also dragged your orgasm from you. He let your lips go right at the moment that you screamed out your pleasure, with all the air in your lungs. Your vision went simultaneously black and white, your eyes unable to see anything but static as the waves of ecstasy dashed you on the rocks.

How long you lay there, dazed, you weren’t sure, but you came back to yourself to the feeling of Jake gently mouthing at your core. 

No, not Jake. It didn’t feel like him.

A change in your breathing must have given away your more alert state, because he raised his head, smiling softly. You reached out your hand to weave into his soft hair.

“Steven. When did you get here?”

“You know aftercare is my thing, babes. Now just lay back and let me clean you up, alright?”

You let yourself relax back into your messed up bed, enjoying the soft sensations as Stephen licked and stroked you. Your body juddered with a gentle, final orgasm, lulling you to the edge of sleep. A few dips of the mattress and two strong arms  pulled up the coverlet before wrapping around your body, a few gentle kisses pressed to the corner of your mouth.

“You staying?” you questioned, sleepily.

“Of course, babes. It’s cold outside.”

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