#marc spector fic

[campingwiththecharmings]

Honey Trap

AN: Fifth fic for @moonknight-events’ MK Bingo! This is probably a little silly (and likely not very well-written) but it was fun to come up with and write so irdc lol 😌 Hope someone other than me enjoys this!

You stumble across Marc while he's camping in a remote part of the woods and he's (understandably) suspicious of you.

(Un-beta’d)

Rated: M+ (this is smut so, you've been warned) Prompt: Hiking Words: 2,427 Pairing: Marc Spector x F!Reader Warnings: references to death, attempted murder, knives, frottage, please let me know if i missed anything. AO3

——————

Marc doesn’t trust you. 

Your story about wandering off trail and getting lost was plausible, sure, and you looked harmless enough, but he'd been around long enough to know that looks can be deceiving. 

Still, what was he to do? If you really were telling him the truth, you needed help. He couldn’t just let you wander around alone in the dark. What if something happened? What if you got injured, or worse, killed? No, better to assume the risk, to give you the benefit of the doubt. Plus, it certainly made it easier to keep an eye on you. You’d been so grateful, thanking him profusely and promising not to be a bother. He’d waved this off of course, trying to ignore the way his stomach flipped when you smiled at him. 

It’s late now, the moon full and high in the dark night sky. You’re sitting on the other side of the fire (his fire), your jacket zipped to your chin, arms wrapped around your legs as you try to get as close to the flames as you can without burning yourself. He tries not to keep looking at you, at the way the firelight makes you glow, but every time he looks away, his eyes inevitably drift back. There’s something about you, he’s not sure what but, it makes him feel…uneasy. Everything about you seems normal but he just can’t shake the feeling that he’s missing something. His stomach rumbles at this thought and he briefly considers that he might just be hungry. With a sigh, Marc digs into his bag, searching for the rations he’d packed. His eyes meet yours over the fire as he pulls a packet of jerky out and shakes it.  

“Want some?” he asks, holding it out to you. 

You hesitate, eyes dipping to study the nondescript packet in his hand. He swallows thickly as you unconsciously lick your lips. 

“Thanks,” you say finally, smiling as you take the food from him. 

He nods, pulling out another and tearing it open. Marc’s eyes scan the surrounding darkness as the two of you eat, the slight crinkling of the ration packaging replacing the silence. 

“So,” you begin, studying the strip of jerky between your fingers. “You come here often?” 

His lips quirk slightly at the joke but he just shrugs. “Not really, no.” 

You hum, carefully chewing a bite of jerky. “Could’ve fooled me.” 

He meets your gaze, unease settling in his gut. “How do you mean?” 

It’s your turn to shrug now, pulling another strip from your packet “You just seem very…prepared is all.” 

He sniffs in amusement, relaxing slightly. “Yeah well, people do tend to be at least slightly prepared when they plan on camping in the woods.” 

You scoff, swallowing your mouthful of food. “I wasn’t planning on camping though.” 

“Maybe not,” he agrees, taking a sip from his water bottle. “But you clearly had no idea what you were getting yourself into by coming all the way out here. Seriously, who hikes without a map?” 

You snort, shaking your head at yourself. “Valid point. Obviously, I’m an incompetent buffoon.” 

Marc bites back a smile, pulling another piece of jerky from the packet. “Well at least you’re aware of it.” 

“I’m so aware of it,” you laugh, putting your head in your hands.  

He hums, his eyes drifting to you again across the fire, watching as you (presumably) mentally berate yourself for getting into this situation. What would’ve happened had you not run into him? If you had run into someone else? With no supplies, would you even have survived the night? A wave of sympathy washes over him, and he frowns at himself for going soft on you so quickly. 

“What brought you out here, anyway? If you don’t mind me asking.” 

You look up from your hands, eyes tired but bright as you smile somewhat fondly. “My brother.” 

Marc raises an eyebrow. “Your brother?” 

You nod, reaching for your pack. You unzip it and pull out an understated urn. His stomach sinks. 

“Oh,” he croaks, his throat going suddenly dry. “I’m…sorry for your loss.” 

“Thanks,” you whisper, turning your attention to the urn in your hands. “He would’ve liked you, I think. Calling me out for being unprepared and all that. He was always looking out for me.” 

Marc grunts, uncomfortable now at the turn the conversation has taken given what had happened to his own brother. “Sounds like he was a, uh, good guy.” 

You nod, meeting his eyes over the fire again, the soft smile on your lips making his heart skip. “He was.” 

The two of you talk a little more, the topics now lighter and less serious. When you start yawning so often you can barely keep the conversation going though, he decides it’s time for bed. He insists that you take his sleeping bag, knowing your thin jacket isn’t enough to keep you warm until the sunrise. Once you agree to take it, he settles down beside the fire, pulling the hood of his jacket up over his head. Your soft snores meet his ears in no time and he smiles to himself, glad that he was able to help someone without using violence just this once. 

He stares into the fire, watching as the flames dance, as they devour the kindling he’d thrown in earlier, as they burn through the sticks and branches he’d collected. His eyes droop, head bobbing gently as he tries to stay awake, knowing he has to keep an eye on things (on you). He thinks he trusts you, or he wants to at least, but he just can’t seem to shake that feeling. Could he really trust himself though? After everything he’s done, after everything he’s seen? Perhaps it’s you who should be afraid of him. 

His thoughts spiral, taking him in directions both logical and illogical. He lets himself get lost in it, in the scenarios, in the possibilities, each one more unlikely than the next. At some point, he must doze off, though, because the next thing he knows is the weight of a body on top of him with a knife to his throat. 

It’s you. Of course it’s you. 

Damn it, he should’ve known, should’ve listened to that niggling feeling inside him that told him not to trust you. 

It’s dark save for the moonlight—you must’ve doused the fire before making your move on him.  

“I’m sorry about this,” you say, grimacing down at him somewhat apologetically. “You seem nice, and I actually kind of enjoyed talking to you but, unfortunately, I have a job to do.” 

Marc swallows thickly, the action pushing the blade a fraction deeper into his skin. “To kill me, you mean?” 

Your face loses some of its softness as you shake your head at him. “That depends on how cooperative you are.” 

He grunts, saying nothing as he tries to assess just how bad things are for him.  

“See,” you continue, leaning in a little closer, the delicious scent of you invading his nostrils. “I need information.” 

He waits for you to continue, eyes scanning your face for any tells, any flickers he can use to his advantage. When he doesn’t respond, you sigh in disappointment, frowning theatrically.  

“Please, Marc, I don’t wanna have to slice up your pretty face. Just tell me what I need to know and I’ll be on my way.” 

He clenches his teeth at your condescending tone. “What do you wanna know?”  

You smile softly at him and he curses himself for the way his heart skips a little; what the fuck was wrong with him? 

“Tell me about Operation Windstorm.” 

He needs to figure out how to get out of this. He can’t just push you off of him, can’t use his legs to flip you over, not with that knife so close to his carotid artery. One wrong move and he’s dead. 

So he stalls. 

Marc snorts, raising an eyebrow at you. “That’s it? Of all the jobs I’ve pulled, that’s the one you wanna know about?” 

You continue to smile down at him, as if you know exactly what he’s doing. “I couldn’t care less, to be perfectly honest but, my client wants to know so, until I get paid, I guess I do too.” 

He grunts, resigned to the fact that he has no choice but to give you exactly what you want in the hopes that you don’t slit his throat afterward. So he tells you every detail of that job, answering every question you have, and just when he’s beginning to think this just might not end well for him, he feels the pressure of your blade ease ever so slightly. 

He wastes no time, taking control and flipping you over, knocking the knife from your hand and causing it to skitter off into the darkness. Marc traps you beneath him, your arms pinned above your head, his knees bracketing your thighs. You’re not giving up without a fight though and wriggling beneath him, trying somehow to use the position to your advantage. You try to lift your leg, brushing your thigh against his groin; the clench of his jaw makes you smirk. 

“Stop it,” he orders, embarrassed by how easy it was for you to rattle him. 

“C’mon, we both know you don’t want that,” you tease, looking down at the slight bulge in his jeans. “Has it been a while, honey?” 

He growls, your breathy chuckles sending shivers up his spine as you continue to move beneath him. “Shut up.” 

“Or what?” you whisper, somehow managing to extricate one of your legs and curl it over his hip.  

“Or this,” he says through gritted teeth, grinding his erection against your core in an effort to turn the tables, to work you up the way you’re working him up. 

It works, your eyes fluttering, lips parting in a sweet little whimper as he grinds into you slowly, over and over again. He groans when you meet his thrusts (as well as you can anyway given your position), the heat blossoming in his gut. He leans in close, his hands still pinning your arms to the ground as he gets lost in you, in the feel of you, in the way you look beneath him. 

“Oh fuck,” you breathe, panting as every press of his hips sends delightful waves of pleasure through your body. 

Marc hums in agreement, his lip between his teeth as he hovers over you. You want to kiss him, to taste him, to devour him. So you do, pushing yourself up to capture his lips, your tongue claiming his mouth and pulling another groan from him. You arch into him as well as you can, pulling his body even closer with your freed leg as you continue to move together. The friction is delicious, like heaven, and a part of you never wants it to end. You wish you could flip him over again, ride him fast and hard, his strong fingers digging into your hips as you pull him apart and put him back together over and over and— 

Your release slams into you at the thought, a choked moan slipping from between your lips as he keeps moving, prolonging your bliss. Marc watches you as you come, the look in his eyes is greedy as your body shakes, your face contorting into something ethereal, almost otherworldly. When you come back to yourself, you meet his eyes again, your chest heaving slightly as you try to catch your breath. He looks like he wants to eat you alive, the wildness and lust in his eyes visible even in the darkness. You shiver with pleasure, chewing your lip as you let your gaze drag slowly down his body. You wish you could see more of him, his windbreaker doing nothing to compliment his undoubtedly amazing body. 

“Who sent you?” He pants, as if he hadn’t just given you the best orgasm you’ve had in years. 

Your eyes flick back to his at the question, a lazy smile curling the edges of your mouth as you begin to move against him again, silently begging him to come for you. He swallows thickly, his body tensing with every brush of your hips, his fingers clenching and unclenching around your forearms. His eyelashes flutter as he watches you, his mouth slack with pleasure. Then he groans, giving into you, into this, his body curling even more over yours as he buries his face in your neck. He ruts against you, his movements somewhat uncoordinated as he chases his release.  

His body twitches above yours as he comes, his moans muffled slightly by your neck. Just as you’re mourning the fact that you didn’t get to see his face, you notice his hold on you has slackened a bit— enough to turn the tables, you hope. Still dazed from his orgasm, it takes him a moment to realize what you’re doing as you begin to wiggle beneath him, and by the time he does, it’s too late.  

Marc grunts as you push him onto his back and straddle him, your hands pinning his muscular arms to the ground. After everything, you should probably kill him—he’s the type to hold a grudge, the type that’ll try to hunt you down—but you just can’t bring yourself to do it. If nothing else, it’d be a waste of a pretty face. Instead, you kiss him, relishing the taste and feel of him one last time before pulling away to smile down at him. 

“Thanks for the tumble, honey,” you whisper, climbing off of him with a chuckle. 

By the time he comes back to himself, you’re gone and the sun is just beginning to peak over the horizon. Marc groans in frustration, running his hands over his face as he tries to figure out what the hell just happened. He should be pissed, he thinks, for so easily falling into your trap but, somehow, he isn’t. He sniffs a laugh, shaking his head at himself as he moves to get up.  

Later, when he’s packing up his gear (including the sleeping bag he’d let you borrow), he comes across a folded, non-descript piece of paper that he knows must be from you. He unfolds it, his fingers fumbling slightly in his haste. For a moment, he just stares, his eyes tracing the lines and curves of your parting words, words that make his lips quirk in a smile.

See you around.

If you enjoyed this, please let me know! I appreciate every single reblog and/or comment. Thank you. 💖

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[phantomspiderr]

Always

Pairing: Marc Spector x gn!reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings/tags: fluff, fluff, fluff, look i think Marc would be into Formula 1, is that just because I love F1... maybe?, sleepy!reader, soft!Marc🥰

a/n: 😬… I’m backkkkkkkk. Not that I think anyone noticed I was gone but I started anxiety meds and they've taken some getting used to. But I opened up my drafts the other day and found this and finished it, so essentially I started making it, had a breakdown... bon appetite?

(not my gif)

The other side of the bed’s cold, your hand swipes across the empty space in search of the warmth that is normally there. Your sleep-addled mind pauses to think—had your boyfriend even come to bed? What time was it? Is that noise in your head? Slowly, you pull yourself up from the warm cocoon of the duvet and your hands rub at your face in an attempt to erase the sleep that still clings to you. Blinking a few times you try to adjust your eyes to being open again as your hands fall into your lap. You can just make out some light in between the gaps in the bookshelf that separates the bed from the rest of the room. Your tired eyes look to his side of the bed again, still empty and the alarm clock shines the time a little too brightly, 6:22am. Reluctantly you move your stiff legs, pushing the warm duvet off of them and whining a little as the cold air in the flat hits them. You pull yourself out of the bed, immediately grabbing the blanket from the end of the mattress to wrap around yourself. The noise you’d heard becomes clearer now, it sounds like someone talking but it’s fast and all mushes together in your head. You take steps toward it, rounding the bookshelf to find exactly what you were missing.

“Hey,” Marc’s voice comes out in a whisper and he sits up the second his eyes clock you, his hand reaching for the tv remote immediately. The volume goes down with each push of the button, “I’m sorry, did I wake you?” You keep taking slow steps towards him, passing in front of the tv and going around the coffee table until you reach the couch.

“Are you okay?” You completely disregard his question in favour of asking your own as you sit next to him, he nods whispering out a yeah and so you move your body to lay down, placing your head in his lap.

“I woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep,” you look up at him as he speaks. One of his hands comes to rest on top of your head, “plus there’s a race on.” He looks back to the tv and you follow his gaze, twisting until you lie completely on your side.

“What’s a red flag?” Your head turns so you can look at him again briefly, a little smile graces his face and then you go back to staring at the screen, trying to understand why in the middle of a race none of the cars are moving.

“One of the drivers went into the barrier and they have to stop the race to clean it up before they continue. It just means it’s not safe for anyone to be on the track,” Marc explains it so gently, no annoyance or condescension crosses his tone for your lack of knowing.

“Are they okay?” There’s a slight hint of worry and you almost sound like a scared child.

“Yeah sweetheart, look, that's Albon there.” He points towards the screen and you watch as it briefly shows a young-looking guy speaking with someone else, “it was his car that hit the barrier but he got out of it straight away.”

For a minute it’s quiet, you both just watch the screen as it shows different people. Marc had turned the volume up a bit and you could make out what the commentators were saying now they’d slowed down their talking. Without any prompting, Marc starts to quietly tell you who everyone is every time the picture changes to someone new. He shares little pieces of knowledge with every name and you find listening to him soothing. You knew he sometimes watched these races but you’d never really taken the time to sit down and watch one with him. You’re starting to regret never doing it before, you’d been missing out on this beautiful opportunity to get to know his interests better.

Ultimately, though that tiredness still clings to your mind and the way his voice is quietly lulling you makes you think of the times when Steven reads you to sleep. Just as the race starts up again, your eyes begin to feel heavy, the blinks start getting slower and longer. You’re unsure if Marc’s noticed because he keeps calmly explaining what’s happening as it happens. His fingers had absentmindedly started rubbing circles into your scalp which was not helping the way you were quickly slipping back into your sleeping state. The tv eventually disappears, and your eyes are finally sealed shut again but some conscious part of your brain can still make out the race commentary in the background alongside Marc’s soothing voice.

The next thing you know it’s daylight, the sun shines brightly through the uncovered windows. It hurts your eyes when they open and instinctively you turn your body away from it, glad when you’re met with darkness. You comfortably bury your face into the warmth of Marc’s stomach while trying your best to stretch your stiff limbs without really putting much effort into it. You take in a deep breath before just relaxing for a moment. Your mind slowly wakes as you lay there, coherent thoughts begin to form and you start to feel more awake with each passing second. You could’ve sworn you’d only been asleep for a few minutes. The tv is still making quiet noise in the background and you can feel Marc taking slow deep breaths.

Once your brain has managed to come back to some semblance of consciousness, you slowly pull yourself to sit up on the couch. The sight you’re met with makes your heart melt it doesn’t matter how many times you wake up next to him, each time feels like the first. He looks so peaceful, his head propped on his fist that leans on the arm of the couch. Eyes closed, hair sticking around every which way and lips slightly parted. You admire him for a minute before you think about how much his neck is going to hurt after sleeping in this position. As slowly as you can you twist yourself around again and stand, taking a second for your brain to catch up with your body’s movements. Then gently you tuck your hands under his knees, pulling on the deadweight and turning them to rest on the couch. All the movement rouses Marc from his sleep, the top half of his body reluctantly following the bottom with a grumble.

“It’s okay, go back to sleep.” Quietly you shush him as he continues to wiggle around until he’s settled down on the couch where you were just laying. The crease in his eyebrow slowly relaxes as your fingers comb through his hair, you’re crouched next to him trying to push him back into his little slumber. A long sigh comes from deep within his chest and you just know he’s back in dreamland. With a gentle kiss to his temple, you stand again, grabbing the blanket that had fallen to the floor at some point and draping it over his body. Satisfied with how much more comfortable he looks now you go to pull yourself away to shower and maybe start on breakfast—or maybe brunch at this point, but a hand grazes your leg.

“Stay,” the mumble of a plea falls past his lips as his hand blindly searches for yours. Without a second thought, you give in, encouraging him to lift his head so you can slip back onto the couch. Thoughts of how good a shower would be right now or of what to cook to rid the rumble in your stomach disappear completely. Now you sit with Marc’s head in your lap, mirroring the exact position you’d both been in just moments prior. You take a long moment to just watch him, the way he nuzzles his head into your thighs and how relaxed he looks for a change. Then you’re thinking about how happy he makes you. How lucky you feel to be a part of this moment and how you only ever want to be right here with him, always.

[flightlessangelwings]

My Knight in White

Marc Spector x fem!reader

Word count- 4.3k

Dialogue prompt- “ that was for saving my life. “ Action prompt- [ KISS ]: after having been saved from immediate danger by the receiver, the sender, in a state of intense emotion and relief, kisses them to express these feelings.

Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), protective!Marc, mutual pining, minor violence, minor character death, harassment of reader (not Marc), damsel in distress, unprotected piv, no use of y/n

About this reader- she is smart but not physically badass, works with Egyptian artifacts but I left it vague so you can fill in for yourself exactly what she does, no specific city where they are is stated either so it's open for you to imagine wherever, no physical descriptions other than body parts

Notes- Posting my October Year of Protectiveness @yearofcreation2023 a little late because of kinktober but I'm so excited to share this! This is expanding on an idea that @melodygatesauthor had months ago who wanted to see a damsel in distress reader and Marc saving her!

@flightlessangelwings-updates is my update blog so please follow that too and turn on post notifications to stay up to date on when I post!

~

“You’re here late,” Marc’s voice broke you out of your thoughts.

You blinked, refocusing your eyes to the world around you. Looking around, you didn’t even realize how long you had been hunched over your desk, studying and cleaning the artifact that had recently been brought in. “Marc…” you breathed as you stretched, your back aching as you became aware of reality again.

He smiled softly as he uncrossed his arms, “You work too much, you know that,” he leaned against the doorway as he watched you. 

Marc loved to watch you work. He loved to watch you do anything really, but when you worked, you became so focused, lost in concentration. You handled the old artifacts with such care and respect, he couldn’t help but linger his gaze on your hands. He had never met anyone smarter than you, and he loved to listen to you go on and on about any topic you found interesting. Marc took it upon himself to watch over you, making sure you were always safe even if you never truly knew just how much he looked over you.

“I lost track of time,” you replied as you gathered yourself and packed everything away, “I didn’t realize it’s after dark.”

“And the fact that everyone else left hours ago didn’t clue you in,” Marc smirked.

“Hey,” you playfully chastised him, “I can’t help it, I just got in the zone, you know. Besides, these new artifacts are so fascinating I just can’t tear myself away from them!”

It suddenly occurred to you that you and Marc were completely alone. He was right- everyone else left hours ago. As you stood up and made your way over to him, you took in his handsome features once more. And the way he leaned against the door made your thoughts run wild. The two of you had known each other for some time now, but you kept your true feelings to yourself, afraid of damaging your friendship or losing him.

Marc looked you up and down, “Want me to walk you home?” he offered as he followed behind you, watching you flip the lights off and lock everything up.

“I’m alright,” you suddenly felt nervous. Marc has been to your place many times, but the shiver that ran up your spine made your heart race, “I don’t live that far.”

He furrowed his brow, “You sure?”

“Yeah,” you replied with a soft smile, “Thanks, though,” you stepped in front of him before you turned back, “Good night.”

Marc watched you walk away before he whispered a hushed, “Good night.”

He watched you as you made your way down the street in the darkness until he couldn’t see you anymore. Marc had already decided he was going to follow you anyway, watching over you from afar, but when he saw a group of sketchy-looking men with wicked grins sneer and tail behind you, he knew he had to do more to keep you safe.

You wrapped your arms around yourself as you made your way down the street. You didn’t make it far from Marc when you noticed that a group of men started to follow behind you, and though you couldn’t make out their exact words, you knew they were talking about you. In that moment, you wished you took Marc up on his offer to walk you home, but you couldn’t turn around now. All you could do was hope you got inside fast before they caught up to you.

“Hey sweet cheeks,” one of them called out to you.

Too late.

You glanced over your shoulder and found that they were even closer to you than you thought, and you quickly bolted down the street without a word. That only egged them on more, however, and you heard them laughing behind you as they sped up as well.

“Oh come on, sweetheart,” they sneered, “We just want to talk to you.”

A gasp escaped your lips as you turned down a street, hoping to lose them. But, your plan immediately backfired as you found yourself trapped in an alleyway at a dead end. And you failed to shake them off your tail.

“Please,” you breathed as fear pulsed through your veins, “I’m just trying to get home.”

The men surrounded you, darkness shading their features, “We’ll get you home, sweet girl.”

The others chuckled as they started to reach for you.

“Please leave me alone,” you tried to sound more assertive, but you knew you didn’t intimate them at all. They were all very muscular and taller than you, and you knew you didn’t stand a chance even if you tried to fight back. But that didn’t mean you were going to go down without a fight.

You screamed when one of them grabbed your arm, and you swung your fist into him as hard as you could while digging your feet into the ground. Gritting your teeth, you tried your best to yank yourself from his grip, but tears of frustration filled your eyes when you realized it was useless.

“No!” you cried out as you tried again, your pleas drowned out by their cackling laughter.

Suddenly, your luck changed.

Out of nowhere, something yanked the man who helped you back and he yelped as he found himself flung against the wall of the alleyway. The other men all looked up as a hooded figure in all white descended down and immediately went on the attack against them.

You gasped as you scurried back out of the scuffle, pressing yourself against the opposite wall as much as you could as if you tried to phase through the wall and disappear. Your eyes went wide as you watched the mysterious hero fight off the men who attacked you, beating and punching them down until none of them moved.

The figure then turned to you, and time froze for several moments.

He raised his hands in surrender, “I’m not going to hurt you,” the voice from under the mask said.

You couldn’t help but feel like the voice was familiar. But, you stayed silent.

“Are you ok? Are you hurt?” your rescuer asked as he stepped closer to you, looking you over.

Your hands trembled, but not from fear this time. Taking a deep breath in for the first time in what felt like forever, you finally replied in a hushed voice, “No,” you whispered, “I’m alright.”

As he stepped close enough so you could reach for him if you wanted, you studied his outfit more. He wore all white, but as he got closer, you noticed it looked like linen wrappings, almost like a mummy. A crescent moon symbol adorned his chest and a white cloak covered his head. You could see the muscle definition even through the thick wrappings, and it made you swallow hard.

You had no idea what came over you at that moment- perhaps it was the adrenaline- but without a word, you reached out for him, grabbed him and pulled your bodies closer as you laid a kiss on his mask where his mouth would be.

It caught him off guard, but he didn’t push you away. Instead, he cradled you close, holding onto your waist with one hand and your arm with the other. It felt warm, comfortable, right.

“What was that for?” he asked with a smirk in his voice.

You smiled at him, “That was for saving my life,” your voice was still hushed, your breath taken away, “Thank you.”

He cupped your chin affectionately. Through the mask, he studied you up close. Everything in Marc screamed to take it off and tell you who he was, but he also knew that knowing his secret would put you in danger. And Marc would not allow that. For now, he would be satisfied knowing you were safe, and that he was just in time. He only nodded, not saying anything else before he broke away from you and leapt up into the air, disappearing into the night just as mysteriously as he appeared. 

You watched in bewilderment as it took your brain several moments to process what just happened. You touched your lips as you realized that you kissed a total stranger, and one who you didn’t even see his face too. But, as you looked around and saw the men laying on the ground, the adrenaline ran through your veins once more and you ran out of the alleyway and quickly made your way home.

The whole time, Marc watched from the rooftops until you were safely inside.

*

In the following weeks, you threw yourself completely into your work to cope with what happened that night. A mix of emotions constantly filled your head, and you found that pushing them away with the distraction of work was the easiest way to deal with them. There were days where you hardly looked up from your desk, so deep in concentration that the rest of the world was a blur around you.

Marc kept a watchful eye over you the entire time. He knew why you were like this, but when others asked he feigned ignorance. No one had to know what happened to you, and it wasn’t up to him to tell anyway. Instead, he chose to keep an eye on you from afar, like he always did. 

Vaguely, you were aware of Marc’s presence in the shadows… and it felt familiar to you somehow. He always kept an eye on you, but after that night it somehow felt different. But, having him close was one of the few comforts you had after your attack. Yet, your mind also wandered toward the mysterious hooded figure who rescued you… 

“Hey,” Marc’s voice broke you out of your thoughts. 

You looked up with a startled gasp, not realizing how late it got. Again. “Marc,” you breathed. 

He looked worried, “Everything alright?” Marc asked, “You’ve seemed… off lately.”

Your eyes darted from his face to your desk a few times as you felt nervous suddenly, “I’m fine,” you knew you didn’t convince him, you didn’t even convince yourself.

Marc sighed your name as he settled down next to you, “You know you can tell me anything, right? I’m here for you.”

Heat rose in your face, “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” you exhaled deeply, “Besides, you’d just make fun of me.”

“Never!” he exclaimed, acting playfully offended before he turned serious, “What’s on your mind?”

The comforting tone in his voice and the warmth of his presence allowed you to let your guard down, “Ok…” you took a breath, “The night I was here late a few weeks ago,” you started, “A group of guys tried to jump me,” your voice quivered and you felt Marc’s hand over yours, “But I was saved by…” you paused as you looked at him sheepishly, “A guy in a hood and something that looked like mummy wrappings.”

Marc’s face lit up as he grinned knowingly at you.

You nudged him playfully as you erupted into a fit of giggles out of pure embarrassment, “See I knew you were going to laugh at me!”

“No, sweetheart I’m not laughing at you,” Marc raised his hands defensively, “I swear!”

Something changed in the air between you as you stared at each other. The light atmosphere shifted and it felt like something heavy lingered between the two of you. Your heart pounded in your chest as you realized just how close Marc sat to you, and your breath caught in your throat as you studied his features. Not to mention that was the first time he called you anything affectionate like that…

“Marc…”

“Listen, I…,” he started, interrupting you.  

Leaning in, you were entranced by him and you hung on his every word. Just being near him and laughing like this made all your troubles melt away. You felt safe here, with him. 

But, before Marc could continue, a loud crash cut him off. 

Both of you jumped up, and you let out a soft shriek. Marc immediately went into defense mode and every muscle in his body tensed. It was late, and the two of you were the only ones in the building. He made sure the doors were locked too, so he knew whoever broke in meant trouble.

“Marc?” your voice shook.

“Listen to me,” he turned to you and placed his hands on your shoulders, “I need you to sneak out of here. Take the back exit and hide somewhere. I’m going to distract them and get a path for you to get out.”

“But the artifacts,” you whispered as you glanced over at the old objects on your desk that you spent weeks cleaning and studying. The first thought in your mind was that these are robbers looking to steal and sell them, and you didn’t want that to happen.

“Things can be replaced,” Marc sounded urgent, “We can get them back. I’m more worried about getting you safe right now.”

Your eyes went wide as you looked at him, stunned. Just as you were about to reply, though, another crash made you jump and Marc pulled you in close to keep you calm.

“It's gonna be alright,” he murmured to you, “Just trust me. Ok?”

You pulled back to look into his eyes again, “I trust you.”

He nodded as he pressed his lips together, “Ok,” how Marc sounded nervous, “Stay low. Stay in the shadows. And just get out. You hear me?”

Swallowing hard, you nodded. Then your brain caught up with you, “What about you?”

Marc smirked, “I’ll be alright. Just trust me.”

There was no time for explanations as another crash echoed in the room- they were getting closer. Marc ushered you out of the door and down the hall before he ran in the opposite direction towards the intruders. You glanced over your shoulder at his retreating figure before you made your way down the hall, crouching low and out of sight as you did so. 

As you made your way to the back door, however, you noticed that it was blocked- one of them already made his way there.

“Shit,” you cursed under your breath as you changed direction. Instead, you went up to the roof in hopes of finding a place to hide until Marc did… whatever he was planning to do. 

But that plan also quickly backfired. 

You ran up to the roof and into the open area there, but you were met with yet another thug who blocked the opposite entrance from where you were.

“Well look what we have here,” he said with a dark grin on his face.

Letting out a gasp, you tried to run back where you came from, but another sinister shadowy man blocked that path. “Where do you think you’re going?” he growled.

“Please,” was all you could whimper as you felt them close in on you. 

The men just laughed as they stepped closer, reaching for their guns as they did so. But, before they reached you, one of them was yanked back, slamming into the wall. You looked up and saw the same hooded figure that saved you before swooping down from seemingly nowhere.

More of the thugs appeared from the doorway and they yelled as they pulled out their guns and started to fire on both of you. The hooded figure rushed over to you and wrapped his cloak over both your bodies, shielding you.

You covered your head out of instinct, but as you felt a warm presence, you looked up and found yourself face to face with your linen wrapped savior once more.

“It’s you,” you gasped in relief. The ringing of the guns suddenly sounded distant.

The mask started to peel away on its own, revealing none other than Marc. He breathed your name, “Are you alright?” 

“It’s you!” you sounded stronger that time, in total shock that it was Marc the whole time.

“I told you I wasn’t making fun of you,” he flashed a quick smile before he turned serious again, “I don’t have time to explain now,” he said, “I’m going to fight these guys off. You need to hide somewhere until they’re dealt with. I’ll come find you when it’s safe, I promise.”

The intruders and the guns were more pressing at the moment, so you swallowed and nodded. 

When Marc found an opening, he pushed you towards the door, “Go!” he shouted as he turned back to the intruders and fought them off.

You ran. 

Running on pure instinct, you bolted down the hall and turned a corner into a closet. Luckily, no one was around and you hid yourself well. You crouched in the corner as you listened to the grunts and gunshots in the distance. At one point, you covered your mouth to stifle a scream, suddenly scared for Marc. You fought back tears, swearing to yourself that you wouldn’t cry. 

Just as you squeezed your eyes shut and held your breath, the fighting stopped. Silence filled your ears but you didn’t dare move. Your hands trembled slightly against your face as you strained to hear the one voice that would bring you comfort.

And then you heard it.

Marc called out your name as he stood in the hall, frantically looking for you, “Baby it’s alright. You can come out.”

You let out the breath you held, all your fear escaping with it as you leapt up and out of your hiding spot. Down the hall, you saw Marc standing there, his knighty suit still adorning his body but his face exposed. “Marc,” you breathed in relief as you ran towards him.

“Sweetheart,” he sounded just as relieved as he ran towards you with open arms. 

The two of you crashed together in a messy embrace, emotions getting the better of both of you. He rested a hand on the back of your head while the other pulled you in as close as he possibly could. Tears flowed from your eyes as relief washed over you, yet the pulse of fear still ran through you after everything that happened. Vaguely, you heard Marc whispering soft words of encouragement and reassurance in your ear. 

“Come on,” Marc said, “I’m getting you out of here,” he slid his hand in yours.

“But…” you tried to protest, not wanting to leave any of the artifacts alone.

“It’s ok,” he gave you a soft smile, “They’re dealt with. Right now I want to make sure you’re safe.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you tried to process everything. So much happened in such a short time, and you weren’t sure how to react to it. Time passed in a daze as you found yourself at Marc’s place, settled comfortably on his couch with a mug of tea in your hands. You felt safe with him, of course, but you felt like you were outside your body.

The two of you talked for what felt like hours. Marc told you everything- all of his secrets that he kept hidden for so long. He promised you that he would always protect you, and he explained why he didn’t tell you before. As he talked, the sound of his voice calmed you, like an embrace of your heart. Your eyes moved from where they stared at the mug to meet his gaze.

“I promise you, baby,” Marc cupped your face, “Nothing’s ever going to happen to you. I’ll keep you safe no matter what.”

Heat rose in your face, and you were sure Marc felt how warm you were. But, as you stared into his eyes, you felt your heart flutter and his charming gleam sent a rush of fresh emotions through you. Without a word, you closed the gap between your bodies, crashing your lips together. Muffled groans echoed between you as you climbed into his lap and Marc instantly helped you closer. Deepening the kiss, you felt a tingle on your skin as you tasted him, and you felt the reverberation of his moan against your body.

“What was that for?” he asked in a whisper, “Not that I’m complaining.”

You smirked against Marc, “I wanted to thank you properly,” you breathed, “With a real kiss this time.”

Marc cupped your face as he gazed into your soul through your eyes, “Baby…” he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in for another kiss.

This time, it felt different. It was desperate and heated, but there was also the warmth and passion behind it. You moaned into Marc’s lips as you rocked your hips against his. He tightened his grip on you as a rush of need pulsed through his veins, and he couldn’t help the way his cock twitched underneath you.

Breaking away for air, Marc saw the look of wanton need in your eyes, and he knew exactly what you were thinking, “Are you sure about this, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice a low rumble.

You cupped his face, brushed your fingers along his dark curls, “I’m sure,” you whispered as you kissed him again, “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” you paused before you sheepishly added, “I’ve wanted this so so long…”

Marc grinned, his face lighting up, “Then let’s do this right.”

Shifting your bodies, Marc stood up and extended his hand. You eagerly took it and allowed him to lead you over to his bed. Excitement bloomed between you and before you even made it to the bed, your hands were all over each other. Kisses decorated your steps as you each tugged at the other’s clothing until you were bare.

You and Marc crashed into his bed, and he quickly laid overtop of you. He paused for a moment, breathless as he took in the sight of you bare underneath him, “Fuck you are beautiful,” he breathed.

“So are you,” you sighed in pure admiration as you grabbed his face and yanked him in for another kiss, “We can take our time later,” you murmured between kisses, “I need you too bad right now.”

“Fuck,” he groaned as he rocked his length along your folds. It didn’t go unnoticed that you mentioned a next time either… But your moan broke Marc out of that thought, and a shiver ran up his spine as he felt his cock against your pussy, “Wet already,” he smirked.

“Please Marc,” you pleaded. 

“I’ve got you, baby,” he moaned as he lined himself up with your entrance.

Slowly, carefully, Marc pushed himself into you, causing you both to gasp at the same time. You clawed at his arms, holding on for dear life as the slight burn of his cock stretching you out went jolts of pleasure through your body. Fresh tears filled your eyes at the sensation, and you never felt more alive, more pleasure than ever before.

“Marc…”

He groaned your name as he bottomed out inside you, “Fuck,” he breathed. Marc cradled your face as he rocked in and out of you, slowly at first, but the more you moaned the faster he moved, “You’re perfect,” he moaned, “Shit…”

“Fuck… Marc… You feel so good,” you moaned as you saw stars every time his cock slammed into you.

It didn’t take long for you to feel the tingles of your approaching climax. Your legs trembled on either side of Marc’s body as he thrust into you over and over again and you dug your nails into his soft skin as you clung to him. Incoherent praises flowed from his lips as both your moans grew louder and louder as you lost yourselves in each other.

“Marc… I’m…”

“I’ve got you, baby,” Marc repeated his words from earlier.

Skin slapped against skin as Marc felt his own climax apparach. But, he was determined to send you over the edge first, and with just a few more thrusts of his hips, he got what he wanted. With a loud scream, you came hard, crying out his name as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through you. And fuck you had never looked more beautiful to Marc.

He kept up his pace as long as he could, watching the show you put on just for him and savoring every second of it. But, Marc’s eyes started to roll back as he felt his orgasm quickly build, egged on by the way you clenched your inner muscles around his cock. And with a groan of your name, he came right after you, spilling himself into you as he did so.

Marc collapsed on top of you, completely spent. But, after just a few breaths, he shifted himself, pulling out of you with a hiss before he laid next to you. You let out a whine at the loss, but quickly curled yourself up in his embrace as Marc held you close. You closed your eyes as you rested your head on his chest, listening to the pounding of his heartbeat against your ear.

“Marc, I…”

“Shhh,” he gently hushed you, “Just rest now baby,” Marc cradled your head as he placed a soft kiss, “I’ve got you.”

You hummed contently as sleep quickly took you over. Between the excitement, the danger and the rush of emotions, you suddenly found yourself exhausted and in no time you feel sound asleep in Marc’s arms.

Marc stayed awake for some time, listening to the sound of your heavy breaths. He knew exactly what you wanted to say, and as much as he wanted to hear you say those words, he knew it was better to wait. He gave your body one extra squeeze before he whispered to your sleeping form, “You’re safe with me, sweetheart… I love you.” 

[talkdilftome]

needy

steven grant x fem! reader

summary: steven grant was nothing if not needy in bed.

warnings: smut, slightly dom!steven, oral sex

steven grant was nothing if not needy in bed. his glazed over eyes, glossy lips and scrunched eyebrows said it all. he needed you. you could see it now, the hunger inside him. his eyes stayed locked with yours as he slowly sunk to his knees, the floorboards creaking underneath him. you were only in your panties now, wet at the crazed look on steven’s face. your body hummed with anticipation. you knew what he was going to do to you. you knew that he was going to take you and taste you until you were screaming.

steven’s fingers ghosted up and down your legs, raising goosebumps and making you clench, the lace of your panties becoming soaked. steven’s hands gripped your ass, pressing his mouth to your thighs, kissing and licking and sucking on your supple skin. 

“you’re so beautiful, darling. i want you so badly.” your whole body blushed and warmed at his sheer honesty. 

“then have me.” your voice was shaky but sure. 

it was all steven needed to hear as he gripped your thighs, turning you and bending you over the bed. you gasped. he was still on his knees you realized. he wasn’t going to fuck you - not yet. he spread your cheeks, hands cupping them and nails digging crescent shapes into the plump flesh. he nipped your right cheek, leaving a love mark there. his heart swelled while looking at it, knowing that he was marking you as his. 

he kissed his way to your center, tongue laving over your already wet panties. he could taste you through them, and his need for you strengthened. he wanted - no, he needed you on his cock soon. he wasted no time getting rid of your panties, sliding them down around your ass. he watched in awe as your pussy was exposed to him, mouth salivating. your pussy clenched and unclenched, needing to feel him inside of you. 

you subtly pushed your hips back, pushing your aching cunt in his face, and whimpering. steven took this as a hint to run his fingers along your slit.

“so wet, love. this all for me? such a pretty pussy.” you moaned at his dirty words, your core hot and tingling. steven’s fingers ran downwards, circling around your clit before traveling up again and teasing your entrance. 

“please steven.” you were desperate for him, almost as desperate as he was for you. although you were soaked and begging for him, his cock was achingly hard at the thought of you. he couldn’t hold himself back any longer, leaning forward and pressing his face into your dripping cunt. you couldn’t control your moans, burying your face in the duvet as steven lapped at your juices. 

his tongue fucked in and out of you, ravaging you. he stretched your hole with his tongue while his fingers ran tight circles around your clit. his own moans matched yours, vibrating along your cunt. you could feel his desperation through his tight grip on your hips. you could feel him rutting up against the bed, the sight of your pussy becoming too much for him to bear. 

steven swapped his fingers for his tongue, plunging his thick digits into your tight hole, sliding in easily. his lips sealed around your clit, sucking and licking frantically. you gasped at his newfound speed, moaning louder, and body shaking. your knees wobbled as steven feasted on you. you could feel your climax rising, pussy clenching around his fingers. 

“oh my god, don’t stop! please, please don’t stop steven!” you moaned, guttural pleasure racking through you. steven’s efforts doubled, sucking harder and fucking you faster. his other hand reached down to jerk himself off, imagining that you were wrapped around his cock instead of his fingers. 

your orgasm washed over you, your body on fire, you called out his name. steven’s fingers fucked you through it, slowing as you came down from the high. steven pulled his fingers out of you, coated with slick cum. you whimpered at the loss of them before turning your head to look at your lover. you watched as he popped his fingers into his mouth, sucking on them, tasting you a final time. 

steven looked at you through his lashes. he wasn’t done with you yet. you could still see the need in his eyes, the hazy lust that flickered in his pupils. he stood, pulling his boxers down, his cock bouncing up and smacking against his stomach. 

“you ready for more, love?” your only answer was a moan as he took you from the back. 

[melodygatesauthor]

Marc Spector - Venom Host Edition - Random Horny Thot #1 - Feral

I blame @guruan for planting the seed that grew these thots. (affectionate blame of course)

NSFW

----

Marc comes home, breathing heavy, so much sweat covering his body it's as though he's been swimming. He slams the door, narrowing his eyes. They darken as he charges forward at you. He grabs you, pulling you close and slamming his lips into yours desperately, nearly drawing blood with the force your teeth hit your skin. The kisses are passionate, but also very...hungry.

You can't hear the thing that has corrupted his body, working its way into every cell like a parasite. Venom, it calls itself. 'Hungry,' it keeps saying inside Marc's mind. What it's hungry for, Marc doesn't know yet. It isn't interested in food at the moment, it seems to be only interested in you.

He gets his bearings and steps back away from you, eyes wide and full of terror as he looks you up and down.

"Go! Get away from me!" He yells, seconds before he loses control again.

Black stringy tendrils cage you into his chest, and he starts melting his mouth into you again, but this time you feel something long and wet snaking past your lips. It's like a tongue, but longer, thicker. You gag on it, trying desperately to get free from its grip. This isn't Marc, or at least, it isn't fully Marc.

He can't stop himself from feeling your throat with the new tongue he possesses. It's like he is tasting it, but he can hear the voice in his head tasting you too, commenting on how delicious you are and how it wants more. The creature uses Marc's arms to bring you to the bed, and you writhe in protest.

You shriek, and that pisses the symbiote off. It uses its amorphous body to make a limb that covers your mouth. Marc is hovering over you, black, shiny tendrils sticking out in various areas, and he looks terrifying.

"Marc, we want to taste her..." the creature growls inside of Marc.

"No! No we do not!" He yells back to Venom, but to you he looks insane, like he's yelling at himself.

The creature wastes no more time, it's ripping your sweats from your body like they personally wronged him. It uses its fluid figure to push your knees up by your head, all while keeping your mouth covered. Marc's face is brought, against his will (although he didn't mind), down so he's eye level with your cunt.

"Honey, why are you so fuckin' wet? Are you enjoying-"

"Yes she is enjoying this, lick her, do it!" The voice orders, and Marc listens.

He focuses on your clit, he knows what he's doing, having done it a hundred times before. He circles around the swollen nub, relishing in your delicious arousal over his tastebuds. You moan deeply, arching your back. Normally Marc has to use his fingers to get you to sound like this, but that's when he stops to look down and realizes...Venom's made a phallic shape with its body and is pumping itself into you while Marc makes a meal of your clit.

"Keep going Marc, she likes it, and it tastes good...I'm so hungry..."

"You better not fucking hurt her." Marc says lowly, but continues flicking his tongue over you despite his concerns.

It was right, you do seem to be liking the extra stimulation the symbiote can provide, and you do taste delicious. Marc doesn't know if the symbiote he accidentally adopted from the lab is a sexual being, but it seems keen on making you squirm. It runs two thin tentacle-like arms under your shirt and Marc sees them teasing your nipples.

You start groaning like Marc had never heard you before, body convulsing and trembling. Is his tongue even doing anything for you anymore? Venom seems to have it all under control. Marc stops again, and your eyes shoot him a daring glare.

"Of course she can feel what you're doing, idiot. Keep going, she's squeezing around me...I think she's close." It sounds eager, rough, and like it's excited to feel you come.

Like minds.

When you do come, you're grateful that Venom has your mouth covered, otherwise you'd be explaining something very awkward to your neighbors. It's deep inside of you, hitting your cervix with ease while Marc continues licking your sensitive bundle of nerves. It's too much, you're done coming and they both keep going anyway.

"I like those sounds she's making, what happens if we go faster?"

You're wriggling, trying to break free, feeling the build up inside your core that you can't shake. You're fighting to tell them to move, to explain to them that this isn't what they think it is. It feels like...like you're going to...

The pressure releases, and you see the clear liquid spraying from your body and there's nothing you can do. You're ashamed, but it feels too good to fathom. It's so messy, so wet, and it's everywhere.

"There, that's good." The symbiote says slowly, before Marc is finally given peace.

He's breathing heavily, a heap on the bed, still drenched in sweat, and whatever you'd just covered him in. You're no better, finally able to get the oxygen fully into your lungs, chest heaving while you lay on the bed.

"Baby," Marc says when he's finally able to crawl up to the head of the bed and lay next to you, "are you alright?"

You look at him and nod slowly, "I...I want more."

----

Any of my blurbs can be used as inspo for a fic. Please tag me for credit. Thank you!

Random Blurbs Masterlist

[sl-ut]

tipsy

pairing: jake lockley x fem!reader, slight marc spector and steven grant x fem!reader (reader is in a relationship with the system)

description: y/n returns from a night out with her girls and can’t resist from how beautiful her boyfriend is.

warnings: SMUT, reader is intoxicated (just tipsy, not wasted) and kind of a bitch, mocking, oral (m receiving), shower sex, moonboys arguing

words: 3K

date posted: 18/01/23

The apartment was silent when Jake jolted awake, save for the bubbling of Gus’s fish tank and the faded roar of London’s nightlife. He groaned, neck clicking back into place as he leaned back into the desk chair, cursing at Steven for nodding off in such an uncomfortable position. His sight was fuzzy, eyes still heavy with sleep as he glanced at his surroundings; several books on Egyptology laid spread open across the top of the desk, an uncapped highlighter tossed carelessly on the floor and a series of fluorescent yellow smudges staining his fingertips. Sighing, he pushed himself away from the desk, leaving it exactly how he found it–Steven could clean up his own mess–as he reached into the cupboard for a bottle of amber whiskey. 

He took three small sips from it, careful not to allow himself to feel any sort of strong effects from the alcohol, as he always did when Y/n went out with her friends, always prepared to go pick her up in the early hours of the morning if he needed. He glanced at the clock on the oven, squinting to read the bright green letters.

3:36 AM.

His eyes immediately shot over to the bed, alarmed when he found the blankets in the same haphazardly made fashion that Steven had left them in as he rushed out the door to work; the boys had quickly learned to do so in order to avoid a lecture from their girlfriend. 

“Damn it Steven, you were supposed to stay awake until she got home,” He swore as he turned to meet Steven’s snarky stare in the reflection of the window. 

I’m sorry, but she’s not normally out this late, Steven huffed, Usually a night out has her home and in bed by midnight.

Jake, He turned his head to find Marc in the reflection of Gus’s tank, He's right, she should be home by now.

Panic arose in his chest. Quickly, he abandoned the bottle of whiskey on the desk as he crossed the small studio apartment, forcing himself through the closed bathroom door. He called her name frantically, catching Steven once again in the bathroom mirror.

I’m sure she’s alright, maybe she called after I nodded off.

Jake nodded, turning into the bedroom and pausing. The personal cell phone that they all shared was not in its usual place on the bedside table, nor was it in the pants that Steven had worn to work that day, or small pocket inside his satchel. Jake ignored the Brit’s yelling of discontent as he watched him dump the contents of his brown leather bag on the floor, searching through the mess of papers and granola bar wrappers.

“Where the hell did you leave it, Steven?”

He stopped in his tracks at the sound of a key shakily being jammed into the lock, trained eyes watching as the lock began to turn and the door slowly creaked open, and finally letting out a breath of air as he watched his girlfriend stumble over the threshold of the apartment. 

“Helloooooo,” She sang out, jumbled giggled falling from her lips, “I’m here, somebody come love me, please!”

Jake shook his head as he stifled his chuckle, stepping forward and into the dim lighting provided by Steven’s desk lamp. His eyes did a quick scan over her body, searching for any sign of blood or injury, though the only sign of a struggle was the long run in her tights and her lack of shoes.

Her eyes lit up at the sight of him, though a mischievous grin spread across her cheeks as she leaned across the back of the couch, “Well hey there, big boy.”

He smirked, copying her posture as he rested his shoulder against one of the many vertical beams. He could tell by the way that she was looking at him that she was attempting to figure out exactly who she was talking to. Her eyes flickered over to the desk, taking in the dishevelled appearance of the books and the man who had once been sitting there. 

“Are you just gonna stand there?”

He nodded at her, refusing to speak so that she would need to guess which one of the three it was. On a regular day, it would be easy for her, but in her state it might have been more difficult. 

“Well,” she slid forward to stand in front of the desk, “These are all Steven’s books here, but from the looks of them,” she fingered at the crumpled and folded pages before glancing over her shoulder at him, “And you, he fell asleep.” She turned, pushing the books back so that she could boost herself onto the edge of the wooden desk, “But Steven doesn’t drink whiskey.”

Jake nodded once more as she gazed at him through hooded eyes, slowly fluttering her lashes in a manner that she knew would have any of them weak in the knees. He shifted, crossing his arms over his chest to mock the way that Marc might stand. 

“Hi Jake.”

He scoffed, dropping his arms as he crossed the room to stand right in front of her. He allowed her to tug him closer, wrapping her legs around his waist and sliding her hands over his arms to knead his biceps gently. 

“How’d you know it wasn’t Marc?”

She smirked up at him, leaning closer to whisper into his ear, “You didn’t look grumpy enough.”

His head rolled back as a hearty laugh rumbled out of his chest, growing even deeper as Marc shouted in protest and Steven agreed with her. 

“Oh,” He rested his hand on his belly, “He didn’t like that, princesa.”

She shrugged, leaning forward to nudge his nose with her own, “He can punish me for it later. But for now…” Her hands slid down his arms, around his back and landed just above his bum as she tightened her legs around him, “I’m all yours.”

He allowed her to press a warm, sloppy kiss to his awaiting lips, but didn’t allow it go any further as she began to wiggle against him. 

“We were worried about you,” He told her, “You’re usually home a lot earlier.”

“I know,” She shrugged, “I called and texted.”

“I couldn’t find the phone,” He admitted.

She raised a brow as she glanced down, nodding in the direction of where the phone was almost entirely covered in scattered paper, save for the corner. 

“Well apparently I didn’t look quite as hard as I could have.”

“Apparently not.”

Where are her shoes?

“What happened to your shoes?” He asked, both genuinely concerned and hoping to change the subject from his failure to find a scarcely hidden cell phone. 

“I took them off.” She shrugged, “I think Jenny has them.”

Now what if she had stepped on a needle or-or a sharp rock? 

Check her feet, they might be bleeding. 

Jake did as Marc instructed, stepping away and unwrapping himself from her limbs so that he could inspect her feet. They were dirty, of course, and the sheer fabric around the bottoms of her feet was torn up. There appeared to have been a few scrapes from the sidewalk, but the worst of the injuries were the two large busted blisters on each of her heels, oozing blood and various other fluids. 

“Shit, cariño.” Jake rushed to the bathroom, returning a moment later with the first aid kit. 

“That’s why I took ‘em off.” She shrugged, leaning back on her palms and allowing him to care for her feet, flinching as his fingers touched the swollen areas around the blisters. 

He sat in the unsteady office chair, carefully pulling her feet into his lap and tugging at the tights, “Can I rip these?”

She barked out a laugh, “Now you’re asking? You’ve ripped a lot of my nicer things off of me without any notice.”

He grinned up at her, ignoring the heat that grew in the tips of his ears at her lewdness. One thing that he always appreciated about these nights out was that she always lost all shyness and reservation the moment that a single drop of alcohol touched her tongue. 

“You certainly didn’t mind all those other times.”

“That’s because you rocked my world right afterwards. You gonna do that now?”

He glanced down, not ignorant to the way that his pants grew tighter at her words. 

She’s drunk, Steven argued, Don’t take advantage of her.

“You’re drunk,” He noted, tearing the material away from her feet and beginning to dab at the open sores. 

“Tipsy,” She corrected, “And horny. Please?”

He shook his head softly, pressing a gentle kiss to her kneecap, “Tomorrow, cariño.”

Y/n groaned, “I don’t want it tomorrow.”

He raised his brow as he finished cleaning her heels, “Oh really? I’ll keep that in mind. Now come on, let’s go to bed.”

She shook her head, pushing past him–making sure to bump his shoulder as she did so–and pausing in the bathroom doorway, “I need to shower.”

He sighed, carefully packing the first-aid kit back up and leaving it on the desk before making his way over to the bed. He leaned back against the headboard, glancing over to the partially closed bathroom door, only allowing him to see the vanity, though the mirror allowed him to see the figure he’d been longing for. 

He watched the reflection as she carefully peeled herself free of the ruined tights before reaching for the zipper on the side of her dress. His breathing became laboured as he watched each article to fall away, leaving her bare to the world as the mirror began to gloss over with steam. 

Go for it, Marc advised, If she’s really that mad about it then she’s definitely not that drunk. She’s never this unreasonable when she’s drunk.

Don’t, Steven argued, She’ll get over it.

Jake groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose tightly as the two argued in his mind, “Shut up, both of you. I can’t even hear myself think.”

He pondered for a moment, then finally made his decision. 

The bathroom was frosted in steam, Jake’s body temperature skyrocketing as he stepped inside. He glanced down at the pile of discarded clothing on the floor, withholding a groan as he recognized the familiar pair of pink lace panties that had been thrown on top, carefully dropping his own clothes on top. 

The curtain prevented him from spotting any details, but he could faintly make out her figure as she stood beneath the pounding stream of hot water. She did not seem surprised to hear the curtain run quietly along the track as he stepped in, refusing to turn to face him as he stepped into the stream as well, wrapping his arms carefully around her waist and holding her back to his chest. 

“I’m sorry,” He murmured into her neck, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake, “I don’t wanna take advantage of you, mi amor.”

She was frustrated with him, but she simply couldn’t avoid the way that she slumped into his embrace so easily. She sighed, tilting her head back to rest against his shoulder as their eyes met, a silent understanding.

“You wouldn’t be,” She argued softly, “But it’s okay.”

He kissed her lips softly, one hand coming up to grasp at her hair and help her to remove the remaining suds of shampoo. He pushed her gently to stand a bit further from him, allowing him to run a generous amount of conditioner through the ends of her hair. When he was finished, she turned, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist and pressing herself against him.

“I love you,” She whispered into his shoulder, but he heard nonetheless. 

“Yo también te amo angel.”

He felt the corners of her lips turn up against his flesh as she glanced up at him, wickedness clear in her eyes.

“What are you–oh!”

He gasped as her hand moved down, wrapping firmly around his length, which had been unabashedly erect against her thigh as they embraced, proving to her that he truly did want her. 

“Let me do you,” She whispered to him, beginning to administer slow pumps, “That’s all. Please, Jakey.”

NO!

Looks like she’s going to either way, bud. May as well enjoy it.

She kissed him softly, taking his eager response to her as permission. Cautious not to slip, she lowered herself to kneel in front of him, gazing up at him through her lashes as she carefully dragged her tongue up the bottom of him, cupping his sack in her slick palm. 

He groaned, leaning back against the wall in submission to her. She giggled, pressing the softest of kisses to his flesh before finally taking as much of him into her mouth as she could manage. Jake choked on his own spit, one hand carefully finding the nape of her neck to support her movements while the other ran through his own locks, smoothing the wet curls out of his face so they couldn’t obstruct his view.

“Baby-shit,” His hips stuttered forward, his tip grazing the back of her throat.

Her mouth curved around him, though she did not pause or slow her movements to respond with some witty comment, as he knew she had wanted to. 

Hey!

His eyes snapped up, finding Steven staring back at him in the reflection of the stainless steel shower head.

“W-what now?” He stammered out, not noticing the way that she glanced up at him, but didn’t stop; she was more than accustomed to the boys talking and arguing with one another while she was having sex with one of them.

Shut the water off! I don’t even wanna look at the bill we’re gonna get this month.

Jake almost laughed, hell, he probably would have if he hadn’t been balls-deep in his girlfriend’s mouth. Reaching over, he grasped the handle and turned the water off before turning back to watching her. She raised a brow, a silent question.

“Steven complained about the water bill,” He explained, groaning as she choked slightly around him as a small laugh vibrated around her body.

He pressed on the back of her neck, prolonging the feeling of her choking around him for a few moments before pulling her back and hauling her up to her feet. His lips met hers in a furious kiss, tongues intertwining and teeth gnashing as he grasped at her thighs, carrying her out of the shower and dropping her onto the countertop as if she were a doll. 

Eagerly, she spread her legs, grinding against him. He pulled away, moving down her body in hopes of returning the favour, though he was stopped by her, grasping his chin tightly and pulling him back up.

“No, no,” She gasped, “I need you. Please, I just need–”

“It’s okay,” He soothed, pulling her to the edge of the counter and lining himself up, “I got you, I got you.”

He slid into her easily, her folds sopping with arousal. Another perk of these nights out was that she was always so ready for him, and was always so responsive to his touch. He laughed as she squirmed against him, crying out louder than she normally would as his tip kissed her cervix. 

Y/n rocked against him, meeting his every thrust without fail and shivering as her clit continued to be tickled by the dark curls on his pubis. Her arms wound around him, nails leaving crescent-shaped indents in his muscular back as she gripped him for dear-life.

“Jake,” she gasped, “I’m not gonna last long.”

“I know,” He grunted, hands grasping her bum to pull her into his thrusts even more, “Me neither, princesa.” 

“I love you,” She cried out over and over as if it were some spell that she might have been using to bewitch him–that was the only way that Jake could explain how he was so easily manipulated by her every whim and became so enthralled by her simple presence. 

“I love you,” He panted, “I fucking love you.”

His mouth took her lips, absorbing every sigh and moan that dared escape and committing them to memory. He wanted to encase every little bit of her being within himself, consume anything that she was willing to offer, especially her jerking movements and desperate whines as she tightened around him, spilling her release all over his member as he struggled to hold on.

“Come on,” She urged him, eyes hooded and hazy as she came down from her high, “Jake, come on. Please give it to me.”

Her words were enough, his hips stuttering through his final few thrusts before white-hot pleasure exploded within him. He groaned out loudly, following through with a few gentle movements to work himself through it before he slipped out.

They remained there for a few moments, wrapped in each other’s arms as they both came down, melting into one another and whispering sweet nothings. She kissed his shoulder softly, then reached up to meet his lips once more, allowing herself to force every ounce of love she had for him to flow through the embrace.

He chuckled when she pulled away, “Aren’t you glad I said no now?”

She shook her head, “You only made yourself suffer, I could have woken up Marc or Steven to do me the second you fell asleep. I was getting it one way or another.”

He frowned at her, pinching her thigh in retaliation, “You think that either of them could do what I just did?”

Watch it, amigo. I could have done her twice as hard as you did.

Jake grinned at his reflection over her shoulder turning back to his girlfriend, “By the way, Marc called you unreasonable.”

HEY!

[moonknixght]

Jerk [Marc Spector x GN!Reader]

Summary: Despite having plans for a date with you after meeting with his ex-wife, Marc seems to have suddenly gone off communication, leaving you to be a bundle of nerves until you decided to call him. Heavily inspired by episode 3 of scenes from a marriage. Word Count: 2k Warnings: Angst with no comfort !!!!!!!!! foul language, Steven cameo (that's a sweet surprise than a warning), no mention of jake A/N: Gosh! I apologize for being super late with this one,, this was meant to be a drabble but i got carried away lol. And I'm a little rusty with writing atm, so don't look at me if the writing feels a lil wonky. though, Constructive Criticism is greatly appreciated! PS; The ex-wife mentioned in this is NOT layla its some other lady because we love layla in this household

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

The drawn out rings of the phone was slowly aiding to a upcoming migraine as you paced between rooms, silently praying that you would get an answer to your frantic texts. A rather uneventful Friday night that you expected to spend with the person you were recently seeing, an unpredictably mysterious man, had come to an abrupt stop.

There was a lot you didn't know about Marc Spector; and that was okay, because it was just the process of 'getting to know someone' was, right? Sure, You had rambled your head off on the first date, all which he listened carefully; but with Marc, you never felt the need to push information out of him. It was like befriending an fragile animal that takes time to trust, but the epiphany that comes after is unexplainably amazing.

Growing from acquaintances to actually seeing each other and looking forward to spending time as a couple was unrealistic, which was why your entire relationship was so fascinating. The patience of talking things out was a quality that you both shared; likely being the reason of such a bond with each other. If anyone would listen, you would never stop talking about how perplexing that was.

As you both started building a line of trust, You came to learn that he was divorced and was in the process of sorting things out with his ex-lover— which, of course, you were fine with. And today, he had mentioned about her coming over, which you were also on board with. But with the plans that were arranged for today still being overdue and Marc falling off the face of earth, you couldn't help but feel.. jealous? worry, even?

It was exactly why you were frantically texting your boyfriend, questioning on where he was and if his ex-wife had taken her leave. The only response that you received was being left entirely on delivered, adding fuel to your already anxious state. You felt like you were just being extremely clingy— and that they were probably still talking.

Your gaze travelled to the clock. 15 minutes to 1 am. Holy fuck. Had you really been texting him for over an hour? Had it been over two hours since you had set your dinner table, waiting for him? The latest that Marc had promised he would be was by 10:30, so it was just utterly ridiculous that it was past midnight and he was still unresponsive.

Swiftly grabbing the unopened bottle of wine kept on your table and making it to the couch, You set your phone down on the coffee table as you took a swing of the drink. It was crazy how this entire thing had gotten you so riled up, but as much as you hated to admit it, you were head over heels for this guy. So committed infact, that you were desperately checking on him for the past two hours; that you haven't even had your own dinner yet. One last call. Maybe he'll pick up.

That was the words that your guilty conscious prompted while you sat in the uncomfortable silence, eyes falling on the phone that lay discarded on the table. Obviously, you were going to feed into your thoughts. Of course you did.

And much to your surprise, it only took three rings to connect to the voice that you were just waiting to hear— but it didn't take you long to notice that it came off in a growl, much to the contrast of the soft spoken tone that Marc usually carried.

"Marc?" "Hey." You let out a sigh of relief, shaking your head ever so slightly at your own frantic actions. Atleast he was doing okay. "Are you okay? Where have you been? I've been—"

"Good. Uh, yeah, but listen, it's not cool to, like, bombard me with messages."

There was a short pause where you sat slightly bewildered. before you felt yourself sink into the seat, like a child who had just been scolded. Even with guilt creeping up, You wanted to still defend your own case, which was the endless worrying you had endured for the past hour, waiting for anything from Marc. Just a simple notice to cancel their date for the night or even to say that he was okay. But instead, You were simply left in the dark.

"Because you were supposed to call me, Marc."

"I told you, I'd call you when she left." "Oh, so she hasn't gone yet?" "No, She hasn't. She's still here." Sipping from the glass of wine and setting it onto the table nearby, your mind was quick to rush into many conclusions, but you kept your mouth shut. Whatever they had to discuss must have been really important. "Isn't it late? How are you both still talking?" "No, She— She's in bed." An exhale could be heard from the other end, as your brows furrowed. In bed? Marc lived in a single bedroom, so did that mean he was taking the couch? But before you could even question it, it was like the male at the other end had almost read your mind, because he immediately cleared your doubts, Albeit, you would have wished he never said anything. "..My bed." Oh. Feeling betrayed and lost would be an understatement of how you currently felt. Confused even, to some extend as a steady silence began to occupy the call. You weren't quite sure how Marc wanted you to respond to that. Did he want to hear you weep from the other side? Or be upset at him? Maybe even yell a few select choices of words for wasting your time? But instead of any of that, pure silence rang through the call and if it weren't for Marc checking if the call was still running, he would've thought you hung up. "Hello?"

The feeling of being let down was coursing through your veins at this point, making itself obvious with the lump that grew in your throat and how you stiffened up in your seat. You weren't sure what exactly to feel, a floodgate on sadness and anger opening like it was a pent up dam that was released. You sniffled quietly, trying to bite back the tears that were pricking at the corner of your eyes. It was unfair how distraught you felt. Another audible exhale could be heard, before you heard Marc's voice again. You weren't even sure why you felt like crying, but it was clear that this wouldn't end well. "Look, I'm suggesting that we should take a break because this is just not.. Not working out right now." "When did it work out, Marc?" "Wh— What are you talking about?" "I said." You spoke, recollecting yourself in a suspiciously gentle manner. "When were you not trying to use me as a way to move on?"

It was his turn to grow silent, and that was pretty much the answer you needed. To think that you gave him the chance, thinking that maybe this time around you could actually be with someone who cared— There were no other words to describe what you've been this entire time. You were foolish. "Goodnight. Sleep well." You'd be lying if you said that you didn't still want him to come back to you. Justify himself properly. Say that this was all some sick joke. But you were also aware that there was probably nothing that would save this. Still, You stayed when he spoke up again, for whatever reason. "Stop. Just Listen. This doesn't have to be.. what you think it is, I just need time to collect myself and honestly, I've been feeling for a while that—"

The urge to laugh was overbearing, and you didn't hold back. "You're so full of shit, Marc." Anger was finally settling in before the male at the other end could even respond to your words, but this wasn't about being courteous anymore. It felt like if Marc had cared for you even a little, this wouldn't have happened like it did. "Own up to what you're doing, asshole. I know you like to evade your responsibilities but just for once, if you have any respect for me, stand up like a man and say it to my face so I can just accept the fact that I've wasted my time and effort on you."

"Okay, Let me stop you here before you say anything else that you're gonna regret."

"No, fuck you. The only thing I regret is thinking that you actually cared enough to be with me. Turns out, your only concern is keeping yourself occupied and acting like you don't give a shit about everything that leaves you. You're a selfish prick."

"Fine. It's over then."

"Good. Lose my number and Have a good fucking night, Spector." The call was immediately cut, and so was the brightness of the candle that you had lit earlier by the dinner table. The dimness eased your volatile temper, but it bought the dejection and uneasiness that had failed to show up during the call. There was an option for you to cry it all out, but for reason, you didn't. A soft sigh escaped your pursed lips as you rubbed your eyes. Maybe you'd end up bawling your eyes out about this when you were nestled into the cold embrace of your bed.

You didn't even feel hungry anymore; so shoving the pasta that you had cooked hours prior into the fridge and cleaning up, you tried your best not to think of everything that just happened, which was difficult in it's own volition. It was just a few dates, so you were technically the one in the wrong for letting your guard down so easily and falling for a man who barely talked to you. That conclusion stung a little, but it helped you feel better as you picked up your phone and the bottle of wine again— too exhausted to take off the gorgeous outfit you had picked out for the night as you opened tinder; trying to scroll away like you were gonna move on.

—

On the other side, Marc had made the mistake of pacing through his room as he made the call, biting his cheeks as it reached it's abrupt and upsetting end. Guilt did lace his features, but reminding himself that this was the last he would ever hear from you made the circumstances a little less horrible. Glancing at the phone as his thumb hovered over your contact, He heard a meek voice call out to him. Not that of his ex-wife, but that of Steven's— who had seen everything from the reflection of the mirror that Marc found himself standing before. "Marc.." The reflection called out to him, a clearly disappointed expression lacing his features as he tried to find the words to even begin expressing how regrettable this would be. Steven didn't have to elaborate, though, because in the few seconds that Marc met Steven's concerned eyes, he knew this would just add into the contrition that already plagued his mind.

Marc tore himself away from Steven who made a lowly attempt at trying to reason with him; walking back to where he had just been previously. It was because Steven knew, and so did he, that he found what it felt like to be loved again through you. But he was undeserving of it. With everything he has done and all the secrets that he hid, he only deserved the toxic relation he had with his ex, which atleast kept his needs at bay; a fair trade for all the arguments he had with her. You were right about him being a selfish jerk. Though it was for all for the wrong reasons.

[eyelessfaces]

drenched flowers

marc spector x reader

summary: you and marc had a serious fight and have been avoiding each other since. the tension is hard to handle for everyone, and your only wish is to make things right again between you and marc, only he strictly refuses to front...

warnings: angst, allusions to fighting obviously, i think that's it but please tell me if you can think of anything else while reading?

tags: gn!reader, hurt/comfort, it ends well I promise, fluff, marc being his grumpy and angsty and emo self, steven and jake are here too for emotional support

word count: 2.2k

reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated!!

Jake had yelled at him to confront you so the situation could get better; Steven had begged him to apologize because he saw how affected you were, but all Marc could do for now was to frown in disgruntlement and put a towel over the mirror to prevent himself from smashing it.

Not seeing them anymore didn’t change much as the two men still kept on ranting, but somehow it gave Marc the impression of having more control over the situation.

At least that was what he thought.

The resonating sound of the front door closing quickly left him to let Steven be in charge of the body for your return, to avoid heavy gazes and deafening silences in the flat.

It had been like this for a little more than a week. 

This freezing, uncomfortable atmosphere everytime Marc fronted – which he rarely did lately for those reasons –, with the both of you avoiding your presences and throwing snarky remarks at each other every time you really had to talk. You couldn’t say this was enjoyable, In fact this was a pain for everyone, including Steven and Jake, and you knew that this whole situation caused them to fight too.

Steven exited the bathroom, sighing loudly now that Marc gave up on fronting. 

He and Jake had found common ground in trying to convince Marc to apologize, but Marc was stubborn and headstrong so this was a lost cause.

Steven looked up and smiled at you when he noticed you were there.

“Hey love” he huffed out with a smile, walking to you to help with the bags of groceries. “How was your day?” he asked as he walked to the kitchen, putting the bags on the island. You followed him and offered him a sigh before answering his question.

“Really meh. Could have been better” you said while unloading the bags and putting away their content. “People at work were rude and people at the store were standing right in front of what I wanted to pick. Each time”

He chuckled in response and turned to stand in front of you.

“I’m sorry to hear that. I’ll take care of the bags, go take care of yourself” he smiled before kissing your forehead.

“Thank you Steven. And you, did you have a good day? What had you sighing when I arrived?” you asked, smoothing the collar of his shirt.

“Oh, that? Had a little chat with the gentlemen. Didn’t go so well” he declared as he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. 

You nodded, pressing your lips together skeptically, noting that you weren’t the only one having trouble talking to Marc. You closed your eyes and hugged Steven tight.

The only good thing about your fight with Marc was that the affection you didn’t give to Marc, you gave to Steven and Jake. 

Sadly.

—

Steven whistled softly as he beelined to the bedroom area with two hot chocolates in hands. You telling him you had a bad day always resulted in this and cuddles, and usually never failed to make you feel better.

But Steven understood the situation was worse than that when he noticed you were curled up on your side, wiping away warm tears running down your face.

“Steven.” Jake called out. Steven caught his alter’s glare in the full length mirror, an empathetic expression on his reflection. “Let me take care of that”

Steven surrendered the body to Jake without a word nor a question, and Jake walked around the bed to put down the cups on the bedside table before snuggling up behind you. 

He pressed his chest against your back and snaked his arms around your waist before brushing away the hair sticking to your face because of the tears, and nuzzled the back of your neck.

“Jake” you breathed out in a barely audible sound.

The tight grip around you made you notice the change.

Jake shifted and left a kiss on your damp cheek. “I’m here, amor” he whispered. “I got you.”

You sighed and interlaced your fingers with his.

You both stayed here in silence, Jake softly caressing your stomach and kissing your shoulder from time to time while you tried to calm down and stop crying. The silence was somehow comforting and cathartic, even though you would rather have Jake have a normal evening rather than having to bear with you and your feelings.

“I miss him.” you muttered under your breath after a while. “I miss Marc” 

Jake hesitated before talking, not sure of what he should say to try to make you feel better.

“I know, I’m sorry honey” he said as he blinked tiredly, hearing Marc sigh softly. “He won’t tell us anything but I’m pretty sure he misses you too.” he declared sternly as he caught Marc’s remorseful and shameful face in the reflection of the fish tank. “I’m sure he does.” he said as his brows furrowed at Marc and his hold tightened around you.

Marc’s shoulders slouched under the weight of guilt and the man couldn’t feel anything except utter frustration.

—

When you woke up the next morning they were gone. The spot next to you in the bed was cold as if a ghost was laying there and the flat was dead silent. 

The only sound present was the rain pouring in the streets of London, raindrops quickly running down the windows considering how violent the precipitation was.

You sat up straight, pushing the covers away from your body.

This wasn’t normal. 

Steven wasn’t supposed to be at the museum today, Jake wasn’t supposed to drive around today, and both of them would have told you if Marc was supposed to go on a mission for Khonshu.

The freezing temperature and that feeling of worry lodged deep inside of you made you shiver, urging you to put on one of Marc’s hoodies; the only proximity you could get from him from these past days.

You wandered around the flat, looking for any sign that they were here, but there were none.

You tried to be rational, you tried not panicking, so you ran to take your phone and call them.

He stepped into the flat, soaked from the rain. The previously slicked back curls were now falling in front of his face, thick drops of water falling on the old wooden floor.

He sighed as he watched the drenched flowers in his hand, petals falling down in a depressing way as they had been hammered by the rain.

Even buying you flowers he couldn’t do right, he thought.

Your heart skipped a beat when you heard the creak of the front door. You urged yourself to the entry, and let out a sigh of relief at the sight of your boyfriend back home.

“You’re here– Aw Jake” you cooed – almost out of breath from nearly freaking out – at the sight of the bouquet of flowers.

The man in front of you cleared his throat and pinched his lips in a signature awkward smile and you knew.

“Oh”

Marc adjusted his position of his feet and held out the bouquet to you.

“I, uh–” he paused and sighed. “You know I’m better with actions than with words, but I still need to tell you that I’m sorry.” he affirmed weakly, voice barely audible. 

You walked up to him and took the flowers.

They looked beaten up, tired, but still beautiful.

“It started raining as soon as I left the flower shop, sorry… For that and for everything else.” Marc muttered under his breath.

You looked up at him and observed his pained expression.

Marc looked just like the flowers. Beaten up, tired, but still beautiful.

“...Marc” you huffed out, shaking your head.

“I’m really sorry. I mean it. I’m an asshole” he said nodding. 

He was angry at himself, and he was sad, but he was first of all sorry.

He was sorry because he didn’t mean those words to slip out, sorry because he thought he couldn’t be the boyfriend you deserved to have, sorry because all of this should have never happened.

“They’re alright” you smiled, looking back at the flowers. “I think I like them more that way.”

“You don’t have to–”

“I mean it.” you cut him off, still staring at the flowers. There was something poetic about them being crushed by the rain.

“I hate pretending not to care about you.” he let out abruptly. You looked back at him, and raised your eyebrows. “I can’t stand it.” he declared, the inner corner of his brows angled up, attesting of his vulnerability.

You sighed as a shiver ran up your spine and tears started to threaten your eyes. 

“Marc–” you started. 

“You know I love you, right?” he cut you off, chasing your gaze.

You let out a shudder, quickly looking away from him because you knew you would start crying if you kept on looking at his face.

You looked at the rain-painted thin windows and nodded.

“I know”

Your voice resonated through the apartment, as if it was an abandoned building. 

The wood floors creaked under Marc’s feet as he took a step towards you, and you let the bouquet of flowers fall to the floor, a barely audible sound compared to the sigh of relief you let out when you crashed into Marc’s arms.

“Fucking hell, you’re a pain in the ass, Marc Spector” you groaned against his chest, and he let out a sigh of relief and chuckle.

“I know, I’m sorry” he replied almost too seriously, wrapping his arms around you too. “I’m sorry” he repeated, and you dug your nails into his damp jacket, holding him tighter. 

You stayed like this for a while, a few tears unwillingly running down your cheeks, just appreciating each other's presence and the relaxing feeling of being able to be in the same room without fighting. 

Being able to hold him close and to finally get that proximity you had been missing and craving felt reviving.

“Baby get off me, you’re gonna catch a cold” he advised.

“Damn, not even two minutes since we made peace and you already don’t want me anymore” you joked, quickly pecking his lips before reluctantly pulling away from his drenched clothes.

He chuckled as he took off his jacket and put it over the radiator, watching as you picked up the bouquet of flowers from the floor.

“Those flowers were expensive” he grumbled, pushing away the curls falling over his forehead.

“It’s okay. I don’t need flowers to forgive you, Marc” you declared as you went to the kitchen to grab a glass of water and put the flowers in it. You didn’t need those flowers to forgive him, but your heart still ached positively at the action. He was worried about their depressing state, but you couldn’t care less; they were flowers and no matter how they looked they remained flowers: beautiful and significant.

A small smile formed on his face, and he quickly kicked his shoes off to go and change into dry clothes.

You came back to him, slouching down on the bed as he thoroughly searched through the drawers of clothes.

He let out a grunt of frustration. “Where’s my–”

“Hey” you called. 

“–Hoodie” he continued as he turned to you, rolling his eyes when he realized you were wearing it. He crashed next to you on the bed and you laughed. “Thief” he mumbled under his breath, laying his head over your stomach.

“Don’t be dramatic” you teased him as you covered your hand with the sleeve of his hoodie, ruffling his wet hair with it. “Want it back?”

“No that’s okay, my shirt’s not actually that wet” he said as he looked up at you. “And you somehow happen to look good with it, so…”

“‘Somehow happen?’ asshole” you laughed as you sat up to tickle his ribs, causing him to wriggle and writhe under your touch.

“Sto– Stop this!” he laughed, out of breath. You giggled and freed him of your tickles, laying back down on the bed. “You don’t want me to piss my pants on this bed” he affirmed.

“I don’t want you to piss your pants period.” you chuckled, and he shifted to plant his elbow right next to your face. He stared at you for a second, observing your face carefully.

“I love you” he whispered, stroking your cheek with the back of his other hand.

“Marc you can’t tell me you love me right after we talk about piss” you frowned, and he smiled softly.

“Oh yeah can’t I?” he asked teasingly, cocking an eyebrow.

“Let’s just say it’s not the most romantic thing.” 

“Jake says anything can be romantic,” he shrugged.

“Jake is fucking delusional” you huffed out with a laugh.

“Steven agrees”

You bowed your head. “Thank you for being a reasonable man Steven.” you laughed, mirroring Marc’s action and planting your elbow into the mattress and holding your face with your hand too. “That being said, I love you too.” you grinned. “I missed you” you continued, brushing back the humid curls at the side of his face.

“I missed you too” he muttered. “I regret what I’ve said and done.”

“I do too. We’ll be okay.” you promised, pushing him to lay against his chest. He caged you with his arms, burying his face into your hair.

“I think we’ll be.” he whispered, closing his eyes. “I’m sure we’ll be.”

—

reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated!!

moon knight taglist: @apollo-enthusiast @scarabgrant @lockleysgrl @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @missmarmaladeth @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @beccabecs521 @wibblywobblytimesindeed

[sweetly-yours-and-mine]

“you have a daughter?” with single dad! marc pls🥺🥺

Pairing: Marc Spector x f!Reader

Word Count: 2k (we're off to a strong start lol)

A/N: Just opened up my askbox for some requests!

Warnings: fluffy, a little angsty, marc is a bit of a nervous mess bless him

Marc, she’s come to find out, was the guy to take it slow. 

He took his time with her, bought her flowers and pretty necklaces with jewelled pendants that he gave her when he took her out to dinner. 

She’s never been charmed the way Marc has managed to charm her. 

He walks her to her door after taking her out, kisses her cheek and then asks if she’d like it if he kissed her on her mouth. 

The stories her grandmother told her of the dashing, charming men that wooed her off her feet when she was young finally start to ring true to her ears. 

She feels that maybe, after years of looking, she’s managed to find a real treasure worth holding on to. 

She feels that maybe all those ruined dates and talking phases and endless swipes on the dating apps were worth it, if it meant that one day Marc would stumble into her life like he always belonged there. She’d do it all over again, ten times over, to get to Marc. 

Marc, she’s come to find out, is worth close to anything she’s able to give, and he always asks so little from her in return for all he does, as if she was worth all that he gives her and more. 

He’s flurrying about his kitchen now, having banished her to the living room with a glass of wine and a quasi-demand to make herself at home, despite her insistence on helping. Dinner would be ready in just a couple of minutes, he said. He’d already set the table. 

Marc, she’s come to find out, was the guy who liked having things done his way. Found it easier to take on the load himself than to let others help. 

It’s the first time he’s invited her over to his place. The first time that he asked her to have a date night in, with soothing music and soft lights, just the two of them together. 

Marc, she’s come to find out, was an utter, sappy romantic at heart. 

She wonders if tonight will be the night he’ll take her to his bed, she wonders what the brown of his eyes will look like shrouded in desire and lust. 

Her cheek is still tingling from where he’d kissed her, the small of her back warm from the heat of his palm. His cologne lingers in the air. There’s an anticipatory ache in her thighs and she tries to distract herself from it.

Her eyes are wandering, not looking for anything specific except for him, but because she’s scared that would be too weird, she looks out the window. She’s soaking in the view of the London skyline, dingy and dark from the near consistent rain they’ve had all week. 

In Marc’s place, she barely feels a shred of the cold seep into her bones. There are only warm, yellow lights on, nothing too direct. She might as well be looking at a hyperrealistic painting. 

She goes to set her glass down when her eyes fall on the picture frames, hung up beside the window. The wood is stained a deep brown that reminds her of Marc’s eyes, as all brown things usually do. 

She hadn’t meant to pry, but now her curiosity has been stoked to life. The oven timer goes on and off, there’s a waft of something savoury as he opens and shuts the door. 

The girl is too similar to Marc to be able to pass it off as a niece or a coincidence. The same head of dark curls, matching noses and bushy, unkempt eyebrows. She’s sure this is what Marc would have looked like, when he was a child, had he been a girl. 

There’s a picture of her as an infant, still in the hospital and in a younger Marc’s arms, dark circles under his eyes and a nervous smile on his face. It’s the unmistakable traces of new fatherhood, she feels as if she’s seen thousands of pictures just like it, the same words, in different handwritings. 

First day of school, mile-wide grin, heavy, sombre eyes from her father that were jarring against his smile. The girl’s pulled tight into his frame, Marc seems to be holding on to her as if she were a shadow. 

Eyes flitting up and down, she takes in the rest of them. Days at the beach and nights at home. Milestones stacked on top of each other. Dance recitals, a small bouquet of roses clutched in her hands, held proudly in Marc’s arms. 

They even grinned the same way. 

Marc’s daughter was well-loved. 

Happiness like that could never be faked. 

She drifts back towards the kitchen. Marc’s curls, normally neat and tamed back are loose and carefree now. 

He tugs on them when he’s nervous. Gives them two or three harsh pulls before drifting down to rub at the skin of his neck, exhales a nervous breath. 

She’s underestimated the effect his presence can have on her. There are drawings on the fridge, drawings she hadn’t noticed, not until now. 

She feels as if her lack of attention should be justified. Marc is pretty. Pretty in a way that makes her breath hitch, her head somersault on itself. She’s always a little tongue-tied during the first few minutes of their dates. 

She knows now that it wasn’t just because of his little belly that tucked out comfortably when he sat down, or the crooked angles of his nose. Tenderness and patience radiates out from inside him, the kind people usually only get when raising children with love. 

The thud of his knife against the cutting board, slicing through lettuce and cucumbers is comforting. Though she’d made him promise not to go all out, not to bother himself too much for the dinner, Marc has done exactly that. 

“Hungry?” 

“Hm?” There’s a dog in one of the drawings, a cat in the other. 

“Just gotta finish the salad.” 

She knows that it’ll be fruitless to offer to take anything to the table. She wants to ask him if he’d like some wine and is instead surprised by the words that flow out of her mouth. “You have a daughter?” 

He freezes. A cucumber slides off his knife. It may have well been a scene out of a sitcom. She would have laughed, had it not been for the hold Marc already had on her heart. 

She keeps her gaze steady on him, watches intently as he sets down his knife and looks at her. 

There’s nothing she can tell from the expressions in his eyes, the hardened tilt of his mouth. She’s come to accept that it will take months before she’ll feel confident in reading the man in front of her, one who spoke so much with his body. 

If she gets to take months to learn his language. 

It’s an unpleasant little tumour of a thought. She swallows to apologise, to grab at whatever the string was that has managed to tie her tightly to Marc and make sure it stays there. 

His throat bobs up and down. Marc speaks before she gets the chance to, “Yeah, I have a daughter.” 

“What’s…” she wonders if it’s appropriate to ask, and the question dies on her lips. 

“Maya. She’s seven now.” 

Maya. She rolls the word around her head like a marble, tries to connect it to the photos and drawings hung up around the place. “She looks just like you.” 

He laughs, an awkward, fumbling thing. It’s like a flat ball. “We get that a lot.” 

“Well, it’s true,” she smiles and tentatively reaches for his hand. It’s a little rough, a little wet from the freshly-washed vegetables; she wonders if he would like it if she bought him some cream, something with glycerin. “And you’re both very beautiful.” 

He pauses, emotions fighting on his face until he settles for steering the topic away from him, “You really don’t mind?” 

“Why would I?” 

He shrugs, casts his eyes away from her. The pressure of his hand in hers fades ever so slightly and she stumbles forward to make sure it stays. 

“I don’t mind,” she swallows, rounds over the counter so she comes to stand beside him and looks up at him. “I really don’t. And I’d love to meet her, whenever you think it’s time.” 

There’s a familiar expression in his eyes, one that she’s able to figure just from the sheer amount of times he’s looked at her with it on. 

“I don’t lie about these things, Marc.” She leans up and kisses his cheek, squeezes his hand at the same time. “And I understand why you didn’t tell me sooner.” 

He pauses, mouth hardened into a firm little line, “You like kids?” 

She nods. There’s the footprint of her lips on his cheek, a faint brush of rusty pink that plants a little seed of possession inside of her. 

“Good.” His voice is gruff, serious like a boulder of sandstone. 

“Sorry for springing it on you like that, I saw the photos and-” 

He shakes his head, his free hand comes to rest on her waist. Water seeps into her clothes and onto her skin and she revels in the feeling of it, a physical trace of his touch on her. 

It amazes her how quickly he can quiet the static inside her mind. “I meant to tell you tonight.” He sighs, his breath rolling over her face, a stitch forming on his forehead. “Forgot about the pictures.” 

She presses away the stitch, smiles and delights when he smiles back, retracted and tight, the corners of his eyes wrinkling like well-loved and sunkissed linen. 

His phone starts to ring, turns their soft bubble into shattered ice. The grimace returns to his face, “Sorry.” 

The cadence of his voice is soft, soft in a way that’s never been directed at her, when he answers the call and goes into his room, “Hey baby…” It sounds like honey, syrupy and nutritious, she feels if she listens hard enough she can hear the gentle hum of bumblebees underneath. “I miss you too.” 

She’s finishing the salad when he returns, cutting the rest of the vegetables the way he’d started and hoping that she’d done a good enough job. 

His gaze falls back to her hands, “Sorry.” 

“Nothing to apologise for,” she slides everything off the cutting board and into the bowl, sets everything aside and comes close to him. “Is she alright?” 

“Yeah,” his fingers are tentative as they reach for her again. Her hands come on top of his and press down. A never ending cycle of reassurance. “She’s at my cousin’s. Told her to call before she goes to bed.” 

The thought that he has the place to himself tonight makes her stomach flip-flop on itself. 

She dares to cup his face between her hands. She’s never done it before and finds the feel of his clean-shaven skin addicting, “You’re a good father.” He stiffens in her arms but doesn’t move out of them. The picture of young Marc in the hospital with his daughter rises again in her mind, “Thank you for making me dinner.” 

He frowns, eyebrows furrowing together like two fuzzy caterpillars, “You haven’t fuckin’ eaten it yet.” 

It makes her laugh, and she lets him go, kisses him on his pouty mouth. The way he moves is like a butterfly coming out of its cocoon. 

He’s all business now, rushing about the kitchen to finish the food. Her eyes fall back to the drawings, flit over to the curly head of his hair, “Do you want some wine, Marc?”

Thanks for reading, if you liked it, please consider leaving some feedback! I don't usually respond to, but I obsess and re-read reblogs and comments constantly.

Masterlist here, requests here.

[wwinterwitch]

the giver and the taker

summary: one of your lovers is a complete giver, the other is a huge taker

pairing: fem!reader x steven grant, fem!reader x marc spector

word count: 4k

warnings: SMUT (MINORS DNI), polyamourus established relationship, kinda sub!steven and dom!marc, dirty talk fingering, oral sex (f and m receiving), various kinks (hair pulling, praise, spanking), penetrative sex, gentle then rough sex, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms.

note: I don't have DID so please let me know about any harmful/incorrect/inaccurate stereotypes you see. This fic does contain a brief reference about marc being able to see what steven does tho.

read part two here(!)

a reblog and/or comment is always appreciated!

You are somewhat of a workaholic. Even on the weekends, you would be on your computer finishing reports and starting assignments that were supposed to be next week's job. Despite being a very good trait to be responsible, you took it to an extreme.

One night, your boyfriend Steven walked up to you, putting a hand on your shoulder. "I'm going to bed, are you coming too?"

"I'll join you later, maybe. I need to finish this."

"Don't you think you've worked enough today?" he tried again.

"I'll be there in five minutes, I promise."

Steven seemed to give up, letting go of your shoulder as he walked back to your shared bedroom. "If you're not here in five, I'll come back to annoy you!" he said from the other room, making you chuckle.

"Please, don't!" you joked back, hearing no response.

After a couple of minutes passed, you kept your promise and went to your bedroom to find Steven already in bed, reading one of the many books he has laying around the apartment. You sat at the end of the bed to remove your shoes when you heard him move, leaving his book and glasses on the night table and crawling towards you.

"You look tired," he pointed out.

"That's because I am."

Steven sighed, but didn't try to argue with you about how you should maybe try to get a free day from work to actually have time to relax. He'd be lying if he said he's not concerned about the extreme pressure you put yourself under and the incredibly high standard you set when it comes to work. Not because he thinks you can't get to said standard, but because you actually can reach it, meaning you always try to push yourself even harder to an unhealthy level.

Instead of saying something, he moved your hair out of the way so he could leave tiny kisses on the exposed skin of your neck. You completely gave into him, leaning your head to the side to give him more room to kiss wherever he wanted. When you were done removing your shoes, one of your hands moved up to his hair, your fingers interlocking with his messy curls as he continued to kiss you. He gently moves the sleeve of your shirt out of the way to expose more of your skin for him.

Knowing Steven would like it, you gently pulled at his hair in an attempt to encourage him to do more than just kissing. The gesture made the effect you wanted, as he began nibbling on the skin of your neck, making you let out a sigh as you enjoyed his mouth and teeth marking you however he pleased.

"Let me make you feel good tonight," Steven muttered against your skin. "Please."

He stopped what he was doing just for a moment so he could look at you. You moved your head so your eyes could meet his and you immediately noticed how eager he was for you to accept his offer. Steven was that kind of lover. The giver. The kind of guy that would give you each and every star in the universe if you asked him to. He lived for you and you only, ready to do whatever you wanted.

In bed, he was no different. He lives to please you, and would never dare to do anything you didn't like or asked. Sex was all about making you feel good, which inevitably makes him feel good.

You replied to his proposition by leaning closer to kiss him. He allowed you to take full control of the kiss, parting his lips just enough so your tongue could enter his mouth. A soft moan left his body as you devour him, one of your hands still lightly pulling at his hair.

Steven was visibly disappointed when you pulled away from him, but disappointment soon turned into excitement when you stood up from the bed and gently pulled him back so he could lay in bed. You quickly joined him, sitting on top of him with one leg at each side of his body.

When you began taking your shirt off, he quickly sat up. "Can I?"

Of course, you weren't going to say no to that.

Your arms fell to the side and Steven immediately started taking your shirt off. He grabbed the piece of clothing by the very end of it, slowly lifting it up just enough to expose your belly. He looked up at you with puppy-like eyes as his hot tongue licked from your lower belly to the edge of where your bra started. Your back arched and your head flew backwards at the sensation of his mouth once again against your skin, kissing, licking and biting every bit that he wanted.

He finally removed your shirt and his lips moved to the newly exposed skin of your chest, leaving kisses all over the part of your tits that wasn't covered by your bra. When he noticed your hands moved to your back to remove that piece of clothing, he once again looked up at you with innocent, yet disappointed eyes.

"You said I could take your clothes off," he says, sounding almost sad that you dared to lie to him about something that apparently means so much to him.

"I'm sorry," you replied.

Steven moved his hands to your back so he could be the one removing your bra, leaving a quick kiss on your lips as he did. "Always so impatient," he jokes.

Lucky for you, he wasted no time to start kissing your tits. He would put one on his mouth, using his tongue to play with your nipple, while his hand worked on the other, gently massaging it. As he took turns with each one, he never once moved his eyes away from you. What he loved the most is watching you enjoy what he was doing to your body. To see you moan for him. It drove him insane to see what he could do to you with his touch.

At this point you could feel his erection beneath you, so you slowly began rocking your hips back and forth, the friction somehow helping to relieve how painfully unattended your pussy has been. You grind against him slowly, making him move away from your chest, letting out a low grunt that made you increase your speed just enough.

"You like that?" you asked, barely able to hold back a chuckle when you saw him frantically nodding.

"Y-yes..." he was able to say. "A lot. Very much."

Both of his hands moved to your hips to help you keep your balance as you continued to grind against him, increasing your speed. He wasn't intending to rush you or change your rhythm in any way. As for Steven is always about you feeling good, he would never dare change a thing.

The way your tits bounced with each movement of your hips was almost a hypnotizing scene for Steven to admire, and he immediately went back to what he was previously doing. Once again, his eyes focused on you as you enjoyed his mouth on your chest and his still clothed cock against your wet core.

"Fuck- Steven..."

You once again pull at his hair, this time much tighter, guiding his mouth to yours for yet another heated kiss. His hands trailed down your back giving you goosebumps on each part his fingers would travel. As you continued to kiss him, one of his hands made its way inside your joggers and panties. The moment you felt his fingers against your cunt you moaned again, this time the sound muffled almost entirely against Steven's lips.

He moves away from the kiss to be able to watch you as he moves his fingers against you in a painfully slow motion, almost forcing you to move your hips again as you silently pleaded for him to go faster. Instead, he puts his hand out of your pants.

You watch as Steven move his fingers up to his mouth, cleaning them off right in front of you. The fact that this was coming from Steven, your awkward and innocent-looking boyfriend, somehow turned you on even more. Only you were the one that could see this side of him.

"Can I taste you?" he asked, once again looking needy and desperate. "Please?"

His eyes light up in excitement when you got off of his lap to lay your back on the bed. He got on his knees in between your legs and began taking you joggers off. The only item of clothing on you were your panties, and you couldn't wait for Steven to get rid of them too.

Your back arches and a moan unexpectedly escaped your lips the moment you feel his teeth bite the skin of your inner thigh, continuing to kiss and nib all around the larger bite mark while one on his hands went up and down your other thigh, stopping dangerously close to where you needed to feel him the most.

He continued slowly worshiping your body and you swore you were going to explode any second now. Lust and desire clouding your judgment as you watched him.

"Baby," you whimper. "Just– I need you."

Steven looked up at you, doe-eyed. "Tell me what you want and it's all yours."

"Fuck– I need you to fuck me with your mouth."

Once again, he wasted no time to give you exactly what you wanted. He left one last kiss on your thigh before he licked one single strap with his tongue, savoring you still with the underwear in the middle. Just when you were about to protest, Steven removed your panties and threw them to the floor.

The sight in front him was absolute perfection. You, laying in bed with your legs open for him. He could stare at this image for hours if only he wasn't so desperate to do other things. You could see he was enjoying what he was seeing, looking almost like a hungry dog who just got offered its favorite treat. Like a thirty man in the desert who just happened to find an oasis– a true miracle. Like he just obtained the biggest reward.

There's nothing Steven loves more than eating you out. To make you cum over and over until you're a sweaty mess. To hear you scream his name. To hear how good he is and how much he pleases you with his tongue. If he were to choose, he wouldlove to stay in between your legs forever.

Holding both of your legs in place, he started to literally devour your pussy. You let out the loudest moan yet, not expecting him to immediately start at such a fast pace. He drags his mouth against you and he's greedy, and loud, and wet, and all you can do is moan as you completely lose yourself to the feeling of Steven eating you out like his life depends on it.

Steven began teasing your entrance with his tongue for a bit before continuing to lick upwards, starting to suck on your clit before repeating the cycle.

You look down at him and his face is completely buried in between your legs. The sight and the filthy sounds filling the room alone almost made you completely lose it.

Your fingers found their way back to his hair and as soon as you pulled slightly at his hair, he let out a groan that made your entire core vibrate. The reaction made you do it again, much harder now. Steven was loving the feeling of you pulling at his hair with such strength, that he focused his mouth on your clit while on of his fingers entered you without you really expecting it.

"Do you like that, love?" he asked, barely pulling away from you before continuing to suck your clit.

"Yes. Your mouth feel so good...oh, I– I'm going to cum all over your face."

You could practically feel the low grunt coming from him when he heard that. Steven loves the confirmation of your pleasure. The way your moans increase when your about to reach your orgasm, the way you'd pull his hair, to hear you say how good he is for you. He just loves to see and hear every confirmation of the pleasure he's providing you.

"Can you look at me? I want to see your face when you cum."

You did as he asked, meeting Steven's eyes already looking at you. His fingers kept fucking you while his mouth sucked at you clit, and you felt yourself closer and closer to reach your climax with each second that passed. Meanwhile, all you can do is repeat over and over how much of a good boy he is for eating you out so incredibly good.

Your muscles tighten, your vision goes blurry and all you see is white as you reach your orgasm with a loud exclamation of his name. Steven surely knew you came, but that doesn't seem to stop him from continuing his attack on your pussy. His fingers were no longer inside you, but his mouth continued to devour you with an insatiable hunger. Your body is on fire, but he gives you no time to rest before your starting to feel your second orgasm building up at the pit of your stomach.

Sure enough, it didn't take very long berofe you cum again. Hard. He was almost in a trance, watching you squirm, moan and scream out his name. You were already a sweaty and moany mess for him and he loves it.

This time he gave you a few seconds to relax, his tongue occasionally licking up your cunt to test how sensitive you still were. "You're beautiful," he compliments you, kissing one of your thighs again. Right after, he started to climb up your body. "And you taste so good," he adds just mere inches from your face.

You grabbed his face to pull him in for a kiss, savoring your own taste still lingering inside his mouth. He groans against your lips, his hands trailing down your sides to rest on your legs. Just a second after, you felt his fingers once again on your pussy. In the heat of the moment, all you could do was bite Steven's lower lip as you continued to make out.

He pulled away just enough to look at you, his thumb rubbing circles on your clit. "You want me to continue?" You nodded hoplessly before pulling him in for another kiss. Steven gladly returned the kiss, his thumb increasing its speed. "Can you cum for me again? Just one more," he pleaded in a whisper.

"Yes," you replied almost immediately.

"Yeah?" Steven insisted, once again putting his fingers inside of you, a smile appearing on his face when he saw your reaction .

"Mm-hmm," you moaned, desperately wanting him to go faster.

"Is this okay?"

You barely shake your head. "Faster."

He did as instructed, feeling proud of himself when your moans increased at the change of speed. "Like that?"

"Yes, yes– exactly like that...fuck, Steven, you're so good at this...make me feel so good."

Steven continued his rhythm in and out of you, his lips mere inches from yours. He could kiss you, but he'd hate to silence the noises coming out of you with each thrust of his fingers. Instead, he would watch every move you make underneath him, treasure every moan and whimper leaving your lips, getting goosebumps every time you would trace your fingers down his biceps and back.

Soon enough, you reached your third orgasm of the night, holding onto Steven's shoulders as you combusted with pleasure. He smiled down at you, burying his face on your neck to leave tiny kisses all over your skin.

As you were trying to catch your breath, Steven continued kissing your neck, both of his hands resting at your hips. He wouldn't dare to touch you now, allowing you a much needed rest after three orgasms. His touch and lips were gentle, incredibly sweet and loving. Very Steven. However, you could feel his grip on you suddenly tightening, his mouth hungrily attacking your neck. The sudden shift in his behaviour took you by surprise at first, but it didn't take long for you to realize the one on top of you is no longer Steven.

Marc pulled away from your neck to look at you, already aware you probably figured out if was him. You could just tell by looking into his eyes. He is nothing like Steven despite looking the same.

Steven is a devoted, honest and committed type of lover. You have never felt as loved and cherish as you do now that you're dating him. He treats you like you're a miracle that unexpectedly came into his life, still not understanding why a woman as incredible as you settled for a man like him. You are the most precious thing in his life and he does his best to remind you how happy he is to have the chance to love you every single day. It's like he lives to serve you in any way you need. Whatever it is, he's willing to give it to you.

But Marc is the complete opposite. He is a much more demanding, passionate and complicated man. He has managed to bring into your life something you and Steven lacked off: uncertainty. One day he's cuddling with you on the couch watching movies, the next you're helping him pack for yet another undercover mission to some deserted place to do whatever it is Khonshu has ordered, leaving you to wonder when will you see him again.

Marc is the thrill and excitement you can't provide for yourself. He's constantly encouraging you to push your limits and try new things, helping you to forget about the routine and be more spontaneous. Marc is fun, mysterious, exciting, always leaving you to wonder his next move. With Marc it's you the one who does the serving. Trailing after him with any new adventure he comes up with and willing to do whatever it is he wants you to do.

You were lucky enough to have found two lovers so incredibly different that complimented each other so well. Each give you something that you crave and make you fall in love with them over and over. The gentleness and roughness. The stability and the adventure. The honesty and the mystery. One lives to serve and the other to take. Balance.

Marc is staring down at you, his eyes dark and lust-filled and his hands still gripping each side of your hips, keeping you in place underneath him. "Steven had his fun with you already," he says, the tone of his voice sending shivers down your spine. "It wasn't fair I had to sit there and watch the two of you, was it?"

"No..." you muttered as a reply.

He grinned just slightly after your answer, standing up so he would be kneeling on the bed in between your legs. "There's so much I want to do to you," he confessed, shamelessly scanning your naked body.

Marc quickly removed his shirt as you admired his exposed torso, his muscle flexing exquisitely in all the right places when he leaned back down to kiss you. He completely devoured your mouth, his hips beginning to rock against yours to give himself some relief, his dick impossibly hard at this point and practically begging to get some attention. Your fingers traced down his muscular arms and firm back before one of your hands trailed down to palm his dick on top of his sweatpants. A low grunt escaped his mouth and he immediately pulled away from you.

"Naughty girl," he teased. "Did I tell you to do that?"

"No," you say out of breath, still touching him. "But I wanted to do it."

"Mmm– you want my dick in your mouth, honey?"

You nodded eagerly at his question. Marc gave you one last kiss before standing up again. You quickly got on your knees and pull his sweatpants down, revealing his painfully neglected erection. Your mouth almost watered at the sight in front of you, not wanting to wait any more seconds to put his dick inside your mouth.

Your head leaned close enough as you looked up at him, your tongue tracing a single strap across the length of his dick, watching as Marc closed his eyes at the sensation of it, letting all the air leave his lungs as he muttered a barely audible, "Fuck."

Encouraged by that reaction, you grabbed his dick with one of your hands and put it inside your mouth, trying your best to cover as much of it as you possibly could every time it went in and out of your mouth. Soon enough you found a comfortable rhythm, helping yourself with your hand to cover the part of him that couldn't fit inside your mouth.

The sounds leaving Marc's mouth were absolute heaven. His brows were slightly frowned as he stared down to watch as you suck him off, his muscles flexed, a hand tightly gripping your hair so it wouldn't get in the way, and his hips thrusting along with your movements as he completely lost himself in pleasure.

"You surely know what to do with that mouth of yours, huh?" he asks, knowing very well you wouldn't be able to reply. "Yeah, you're doing so good, baby."

The compliments only encouraged you to go faster, making Marc let out a louder grunt at the change of speed, gripping your hair even tighter as his hips also thrust harder and faster. He quite literally begin fucking your mouth, making your eyes tear up at the speed and intensity of it all. Of course you wouldn't mind that detail, absolutely adoring to have him in and out of you and hear him enjoy every second of it.

"Holy fuck– if we keep it up like that I won't last long," Marc says, completely out of breath. "Turn around," he instructed shortly after, pulling himself out of you and using his thumb to clean the drool off your chin.

You did as told, putting yourself on all four as you waited for him to take his sweatpants off and throw them to the floor. As you turned to look at him, you saw Marc lick the palm of his hand and press it against your pussy, grinning when he realized how wet you already were before he even touched you. His grin only grew wider when he slapped one of your ass cheeks, hearing you whimper right after.

He grabbed both of your hips and he thrusts inside you without a warning, his entire length filling you up and making you let out a loud moan at the sensation. He immediately begin fucking you mercilessly, carelessly, intensely. His body slamming against you loud and hard, the two of you a moaning and sweaty mess as Marc continued to thrust in and out of you like his entire life depended on it.

At the speed he was going you knew you wouldn't last very long, feeling your orgasm building up at the pit of your stomach. Marc's grunts, the sound of your bodies, the grip on your hips that would definitely leave a mark, the sensation of him filling you up so incredibly good and the fact that he just slapped your ass again was too much for you to bare. You were completely lost in pleasure, enjoying every second of Marc roughly fucking you. Finally, you reached your fourth orgasm with a loud scream of Marc's name. He reached his own orgasm just seconds later, and you could feel him filling you up with his release.

You practically collapsed on the bed, exhausted, trying to catch your breath. As you rolled to lay on your back, you saw Marc moving so he could be laying next to you. He took your hair out of your face, leaving a quick and gentle kiss on your shoulder.

"You're okay?" he asks softly before leaving yet another kiss on your shoulder, looking up at you through his lashes.

"I'm great," you muttered, clearly referring to the four orgasms you just had, making Marc chuckle.

"Good," he replied. "Seems like that's the only way to keep you away from your work."

"I mean, if that's what I get for working too much...you'll end up doing the opposite."

Marc rolled his eyes at you, pulling you closer to his body as he did. You immediately accepted his embrace, resting your heard on his bare chest as he wrapped an arm around you. Neither of you said anything else, and so you started to fall asleep faintly hearing Marc's heartbeat and the sensation of him inhaling and exhaling, accompanied by his fingers tracing patterns along your arm.

[campingwiththecharmings]

Eat You Up

AN: Third fic for @moonknight-events’ MK Bingo! Hope y'all enjoy 😌❤️

PWP. You're watching a movie with Marc and get a bit...distracted.

(Un-beta’d)

Rated: M+ (this is smut so, i mean, you’ve been warned?) Prompt: Biting Words: 985 Pairing: Marc Spector x F!Reader Warnings: pwp, kissing, frottage, biting, licking, sucking (aka giving hickies), sub!Marc, slight praise kink. AO3

——————

You’re beside Marc on the couch, head resting on his shoulder as you both sit and watch that movie your co-worker kept recommending. It was okay, a little predictable but enjoyable all the same. Not enough to hold your attention though, sadly. Truth be told, you’re having trouble focusing on anything but him, on anything but Marc—on the warm, solid press of him against you, on the familiar scent of him surrounding you, comforting you— 

You turn your face toward him, your nose brushing against his neck. His arm tightens around you at the touch, pulling you closer, and you let him. You both resettle, your hand now resting against his chest as you nuzzle your nose against a random spot at the base of his neck. His skin is soft, like velvet, and you can’t help it when your eyes involuntarily fall shut, savoring the feel of him. You bury your face there, inhaling deeply, your lips grazing over his collarbone. He smells so good, warm and clean and a little woodsy. It makes your mouth water, and you can’t stop yourself from licking tentatively at his skin. You sigh softly at the familiar taste of him, his skin salty yet somehow still sweet. 

You hear his breath hitch, feel his body shift beside you and smile softly, gently nipping at his olive skin. His hand clenches slightly where it rests on your shoulder, bunching up the fabric of your shirt, his throat bobbing as he swallows. He doesn’t try to stop you though, so you continue, licking and nipping at that same spot.  

You do get a little carried away, giving up all pretense of watching the movie as you crawl into his lap to straddle him. Your knees are on either side of his hips, his fingers twisting in the back of your shirt as you gently grind against him. He groans softly as you bury your face in his neck again, his head falling to rest against the back of the couch.  

You start off soft and slow, gently sucking at his skin, your tongue soothing the marks left behind. Marc is completely at your mercy, his hands drifting down to settle on your hips as you devour his neck. Your teeth graze over his bruised skin and he shivers, his hips pushing up into yours involuntarily. You moan softly at the friction between your legs, the vibration against his skin making his grip on you tighten. 

You nip at him again, this time a little harder, your lips surrounding the bruise as you add a little suction. Marc hisses, his fingers digging into your sides, and you wonder, just for a moment, if you could make him come like this, with just your mouth and teeth and tongue— 

“Baby,” he groans, lifting his hand to cup the back of your head, wordlessly asking you to slow down. 

You relent, pressing a kiss against his abused skin before pulling back slightly to meet his gaze. He looks wrecked, hair mussed, lips parted, his breaths leaving him in pants. You smile softly at the sight, reaching out to push your hand through his curls. Marc leans into it, his eyes heavy lidded as they lovingly rove your face. 

Your gaze is drawn back to the bruises on his neck, the color of them darkening more and more by the minute. You chew your bottom lip, eyes glued to the marks, all scattered across the base of his neck like a necklace—you like them, like seeing them, that reminder that Marc is yours and no one else's. Yours. He’s yours.  

A molten heat wells inside you at the thought and settles in your core. You drag your eyes back up his delectable neck, licking your lips at the expanse of unmarked skin. You make it as far as his mouth before you lean in, claiming his lips in a deep, languid kiss. His groan is muffled as you shift, sliding forward slightly to press yourself against his front, your arms winding around his neck, fingers plunging into his hair. Marc pushes his hips up into yours, using his grip on you to drag you over his clothed length. You can’t help but moan, pulling back from the kiss with his bottom lip between your teeth. He groans, eyebrows furrowing slightly before you release him with a pop.  

He gazes up at you, his beautiful brown eyes full of love and unslaked lust, and suddenly you want nothing more than to watch him fall apart. You lean in, pressing your foreheads together, your mouth hovering over his as you start to move in his lap. His eyes fall shut in pleasure, his breath leaving him in huffs. 

“So good, baby,” he slurs, his hands grasping your hips as you increase your pace. 

He meets your movements with his own, grinding his cock up against your core. You gasp in pleasure, moving faster, harder, pulling grunts and groans from between his lips. You’re close, so close, and so is Marc, you can tell by how slack his jaw is, by the look he has in his eyes, the one that borders on adoration. 

“Come for me, Marc,” you breathe, nipping at his kiss-bitten lips. 

He comes with a gasp, his hips stuttering as he continues rutting up into you, prolonging his release. A shuddered breath leaves him as he settles once more, his body going limp beneath you. You watch him come down with a soft smile on your lips, reaching out and brushing a few wayward curls from his damp forehead. 

He meets your gaze and smiles, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles against your hips. 

“My turn,” he breathes, soft smile morphing into something more devious as he gathers you in his arms and quickly stands from the couch. 

You yelp in surprise, then laugh as he practically runs to the bedroom.

If you enjoyed this, please let me know! I appreciate every single reblog and/or comment. Thank you. 💖

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[phantomspiderr]

Happy Birthday, Marc

Pairing: Marc Spector x afab!reader & Steven Grant x afab!reader

Word Count: 3k+

Summary: You think birthdays are something important, a chance to celebrate your favourite person, to give them anything they want and make them feel good. And maybe Marc will look forward to his birthday from now on.

Warnings/Tags: 18+ smut bby, unprotected p in v, fingering, a little manhandling, it's fluffy i'm ngl, use of the nicknames baby & sweetheart

a/n: besties i'm ngl i'm exhausted and i've probabaly missed things in order just to post this cause I started writing it like a week ago and just got the urge to finish it. So i'm sorry if i'm missing tags and stuff, let me know if there's things missing. But I hope you like it anyways, love you, appreciate you and now i'm going to sleep

“Marc,” it comes out in a breathy whisper and your lips are pressed back to his skin before you’re even finished drawing out his name. For once, by some miracle, you’d woken up before your boyfriend so it was only right to wake him in the best way you know how. It was also just coincidentally his birthday and you think today should be all about him and things that make him feel good.

Continuing at your slow pace, you place kisses on his cheek, moving down to his jaw and then his neck. If he was awake he’d call you a tease, especially with the way you’re straddling his waist, and definitely for your choice of clothing—or lack thereof. You’d maybe went online and bought yourself a cute, new underwear set and maybe you’d planned to buy it the week before Marc’s birthday. Now, you just have to hope it will be Marc fronting when he wakes, not that you’d complain if it was Steven or Jake. 

You call his name again, hoping that will somehow unconsciously pull him to front as you gently tug on the neckline of his tshirt so you can press kisses to his collarbone. Your hands move delicately against his skin too, lightly brushing over his arms or holding his face and they sneak under the hem of his shirt to feel the relaxed muscles there.

“Baby.” This time his body stirs a little, a deep, quiet groan escaping him. A smile creeps its way onto your face as you sit back to admire him. He looks so pretty like this, hair all tousled against the pillow and face completely relaxed, the frown lines that seem like a permanent feature faded with sleep. 

Your hands are still resting under his shirt against his stomach, slowly creeping higher before coming back down. His body begins to wriggle every time your featherlight touch runs across his sides and a giggle bubbles in your throat when he half-heartedly swats your hands away. Mercifully you stop your hand's cruel pursuit and go back to pressing tender kisses to his neck. You quietly call out for Marc again between kisses and this time he shifts more, the quiet groans turning more into little whines. The sounds only spur you on more, holding his chin in your hand so you can switch sides. Your ministrations continue until you feel his hands anchor themselves on your hips. He’s pushing you down more into his lap, the contact forcing a whimper out of you. 

You keep his face delicately held in your hand and go back to kissing his cheek. His hands start moving up your sides, shivers running up your spine at the movement. 

“Well this is some way to wake up,” his voice is groggy and any other time you’d smile and egg him on to talk more until the rough tone faded but it’s not the voice you’d hoped for. You physically deflate, your head briefly sinking into the pillow over his shoulder before you sit up again. Fighting the urge to quietly moan when you accidentally grind against him. 

“What’s wrong, love?” The sweet British accent you’d normally swoon for only causes your pout to grow. Upon your withdrawal from him, Steven’s eyes had shot open, the creases between his eyebrows harsh again. 

“I was hoping for Marc,” you sound like a spoilt child. You know that’s not how it works, you can’t just request who you want at that moment. And anyway, you love all of the boys equally so it shouldn't matter. Never do you want one of them to feel inferior to the others but the quiet oh that leaves Steven has you panicked you’ve done just that. “No! I didn’t mean I don’t want you, Steven! I want you, trust me. It’s just… it’s silly. I wanted to do something for Marc because it’s his birthday.” Your voice dies out before you even finish. You’re looking everywhere but into his eyes and suddenly you wish you had more clothes on to cover up. 

“Oh love,” Steven props himself up on his elbows, fingertips just grazing your knees. “You know how Marc feels about his birthday.”

The more seconds that pass the more silly you feel for trying to do anything. 

“I know.” It comes out meekly, your eyes fixed on your hands that pick at the threads of Steven’s old shirt. 

“Hey,” suddenly Steven sits up, his hands soothingly cupping your cheeks and your gaze moves straight to his face, “if this is what you do for Marc’s birthday, well then I can’t wait for mine.”

Your face cracks, the sad exterior fading the longer you look at Steven's cheery features. The man seems to have a way of always making things better. 

“You know,” his eyes flicker to your lips only for a moment, “just because Marc’s not here doesn’t mean you have to stop.” Steven's rare boldness always surprises you, “it’d be a shame to waste all of this.” He leans back just a little so he can rake his eyes over your body, his hands moving down to your waist and pressing you impossibly closer. It causes you both to let out a satisfying sigh.

“You do have a point…” you let your own eyes trail down his body as your hands slowly pull up the hem of his shirt, exposing more of him. You quickly grow impatient with your own actions, tugging his shirt up and instinctively Steven raises his arms so you can pull it off. You’re both moving in the second his shirt is off, lips crashing against one another in a hasty, messy kiss. You’re sinking further into his hold as his hands grip onto you for dear life. It’s completely impulsive when you grind yourself down in his lap. It clearly takes Steven by surprise because his head falls back and a low grunt escapes him. You do it again, this time placing a kiss on his jaw and he holds you down, one of his arms wrapped securely around you. He’s back to looking at you and already he’s wrecked, panting, and disheveled. Still, even in his tight grip you manage to roll your hips, the friction feels so good and you crave more of it. 

“Right, as pretty as this is, take it off now.” He snaps the elastic of your underwear causing you to squeal and jerk in his lap again. It’s ungracious and desperate the way you climb out of his lap and tug your underwear down your legs. It seems Steven’s just as desperate as he awkwardly pulls off the sweatpants he’d slept in until he’s completely naked.

Steven looks into your eyes with pure adoration, his hands touching your thighs delicately as you settle back in his lap. You sit back on his thighs and Steven’s hands curl around to rub your back. He even blushes and has to look away when you hold his face and smile at him, a glimpse at the sweet Steven you’re used to. His head rests on your collarbone and automatically your hand slips around into his hair, gently combing through the wild curls. The soft moment has you relaxing in his hold so much so your body flinches when Steven’s hand unexpectedly grazes the inside of your thigh. Then he has you gasping in seconds, his fingers running through your soaked folds. His movements have your body rising, almost like it’s trying to get away from his touch. The hand in his hair tightens, especially as he begins to circle your clit, and your other hand grips his shoulder so much your fingers ache. The stimulation is enough to have you breathily moaning already then he’s raising his head to look at you with that dopey grin before he pushes two fingers into you, causing your jaw to drop. There’s a welcome sting before your senses are steeped in pleasure. Steven’s fingers build a pace slowly, his thumb now brushing against your clit each time he sinks into you. 

Steven looks at you like you’re the pyramids like you’re some unexplained wonder in the world that very few people get to experience. The eye contact becomes too intense that you have to close your eyes and your head instinctively rolls back. You allow the pleasure to consume you, your hips now grinding against his hand and whimpers of his name filling the room. You’re so lost in the growing feeling of your climax creeping closer that you don’t hear him speak, let alone hear the change in accent or the way his grips got a little tighter. It’s only when you feel a sharp bite to the top of one of your breasts that your head snaps back down with a yelp. 

“Look at me.” That thick Chicago accent is prominent in your ears now. “Keep your eyes right here, sweetheart,” and he smirks when you dumbly nod your head. 

“Marc.” You’re panting now as he moves a little faster and rougher than Steven had. It’s his turn to be impatient, he’s trying desperately to use speed and more force to pull your orgasm out of you quicker. It takes a second for your body to adjust to the change but then you’re crying out for him, begging him to keep going. Your hand's can't stay still, they keep moving to touch him anywhere; his shoulders, his back, his neck, and then they finally rest on his face. Your fingers dig into his cheek and his jaw and you keep your eyes on him like you were told. 

“That’s it,” he hits the perfect spot that has you squeezing around his fingers, “just a little more baby.” Marc keeps his speed steady now, using his arm that's wrapped around you to assist in grinding your hips. Your head’s spinning now, your heart thudding in your chest and you can’t think straight. Now, you’re kissing him or at least trying to between cries of pleasure. Marc chuckles as you gasp and clutch onto his shoulders when he ceases movement of his fingers. He continues to rock your hips and instead moves his thumb faster against your clit. Your forehead is pressed against his, your eyes are screwed shut and you’re climbing higher until you’re plummeting off the edge. 

“Couldn’t miss this,” Marc’s taking advantage of your hazy state, nuzzling himself into your neck, “gods I can’t wait baby. I need you now.”

Your mind is still somewhere in the clouds, not really comprehending what he’s saying but you’re nodding. You trust him enough to let him do anything to you.

Marc’s moving eagerly, his soaked fingers slip out of you which causes a whimper to escape you. You’re pretty much a dead weight, your body feeling too heavy to move but that doesn’t stop Marc. He moves you like you weigh nothing and you let him manhandle you, flipping you over onto your back so he can be on top. 

“I love you so much, baby.” You’re smiling up at him when he says it, head still all floaty. He looks so ethereal like this, his eyes focused on his hand that’s now stroking himself. His toned chest heaving quicker now. “So lucky to have you,” his free hand pushes one of your thighs down, exposing you more to him. Normally you’d hate being this exposed, you’d want to cover up and hide yourself away but Marc looks at you like you’re it. You’re everything he’s ever wanted or needed like he would physically wither away without you.

It’s different from the way Steven looks at you, everything about Steven is gentle and soft but Marc’s more meticulous and complex. Marc’s gazes say more than he thinks he can articulate, his eyes always full of love whenever he looks at you. Only in truly intimate moments like this does he let his guard down enough to be able to share all those feelings that swim around in his head. 

“Need you, baby.” Your eyes fall shut when he drags the tip of his cock through your folds, quiet whimpers flowing past your lips as he slowly pushes himself in. Your hands loosely cling to the sheets and unconsciously you’re bearing down your hips toward him, unexpectedly forcing him deeper. Marc’s hand slams down on the mattress next to you, a curse sharply coming out of him. You open your droopy eyes to see he’s closer now, leaning over you completely with his furrowed brow and tense features. It’s hard to keep your eyes open, Marc seems to have this power to make you feel fuzzy no matter what. 

“Hey,” you’re blinking up at him the second you hear his voice, “look at me.” 

It’s not a command like the last time he said it, no, it’s more like a plea. He wants you to look at him like he’s the only person to ever exist, or that he’s the best person to exist and you do. You look at him as if it’s the last time you could lay your eyes on him, soaking up every detail and trying to portray all of the love you feel for him. 

Your hand moves up to hold his face again, the other finding purchase on his side. You raise your head just enough so you can kiss him, it’s only brief but a smile creeps across his face. Marc lowers himself to rest on his elbow so he can kiss you again, over and over while he slowly starts to rock his hips. The gentle pecks quickly turn fervent as his thrusts pick up their pace. He’s not going too fast but it’s consistent and deliberate. His free hand lovingly rubs the outside of your thigh that’s crept up to encase his hips.

You can feel the familiar tightening warmth already blooming again. The hand that was cupping his face moves into his hair. The messy curls slip through your fingers as you pull him impossibly closer. 

“I-I need-ah-I love-“ you can’t even form a coherent sentence. You want to tell him that you need him, that you love him, that he is truly all you’ll ever want. You’d planned all these things you wanted to say to him, how exactly you wanted to pour out all the good things he makes you feel. You wanted to make him feel loved, to maybe replace some of those bad memories he holds with new happy ones. You were supposed to be the one making him feel good and here you are an intelligible mess because of how well he’s treating you. 

“I know-I know, baby.” He’s breathing so hard, panting from exertion. The hand that’s resting on your thigh holds on a little firmer, a sign he’s found a rhythm that works for him. Marc kisses you again, it’s surprisingly tender for the situation you’re currently in. It is however cut off quickly when he lets up the prettiest sound. His forehead thuds against your shoulder, a mixture of moans and grunts freely falling past his lips. It drives you insane in the best way possible, you think maybe you could get off on that sound alone. 

“Hey-hey, look at me. Look at me.” You’re almost whispering, practically sounding like you’re begging. You tap your fingers against his head to grab his attention more. He’s a sight to be seen when he lifts his head, half-lidded eyes and lips parted and heaving in air. Loose curls flopped against his forehead and the crease between his eyebrows is so prominent now. You don’t care about anything other than the way he looks right now. You don’t care how many times you get to see him like this, you want to memorise every single time. 

Marc stutters on his words, his mind clearly just as muddled as yours. You can tell his body is tiring despite his hips moving faster as he chases his climax. Your body feels frozen pressed against his, you can only cling onto him. You squeak out his name as the hand on your thigh tightens, almost certain there’ll be fingerprints imprinted there for the rest of the week. 

Suddenly, he’s mumbling out the sweet nicknames he calls you, his face screwing up even as he fights to keep his eyes on you. Then it’s sweeping him under, his energy spikes and he thrusts a little harder. His orgasm washes over him completely, you catch his eyes slightly rolling back as they close before his head falls back against your shoulder again. His hips keep moving as he cums, slowing the longer he goes until he just stops moving completely. Your hand moves out of his hair to soothingly rub his back as he comes down from his high. You can feel his breath panting against your collarbone, his chest heaving still. You turn your head so you can press a kiss into his hair, whispering words of love into the dark curls. 

“I’m sorry.” Your face instantly scrunches when you hear the apology, waiting to hear the reason why. “I couldn’t miss this. I needed you so bad.” You laugh once before pausing and doing it again until you’re full-on giggling. Marc lifts his head with that same furrow of his brows for a different reason this time. “What?”

“This was for you,” his eyebrow cocks up a bit at that. His eyes just briefly glancing down at your chest, still covered in the nice-looking lingerie. Your hand slips back to hold his cheek again, your thumb rubbing back and forth lovingly as you look up at him. “I wanted to do something special for your birthday. I know it’s silly and we don’t-“

“Oh we’re doing this every year now,” Marc’s smirking at you now and the insecurity is flushed out of you, “however you’re gonna have to make it up to Steven.”

“Me?!” 

“Poor guy’s a mess, you can’t just leave him in that state sweetheart.” He laughs when you begin protesting that it’s not your fault. Marc’s chuckles die out as he looks down at you smiling up at him. Your heart thumps in your chest still when he looks at you. It doesn’t matter how long you’ve been together they all still have a way of making you feel giddy with just one look. You push up unexpectedly to kiss him briefly, your head falling back against the pillows so you can look at him again. 

“Happy birthday, Marc.”

[peterthepark]

each time you fall in love

pairing: marc spector x f!reader, steven grant x f!reader, jake lockley x f!reader

tags: 18+ graphic smut, p in v, rough sex, car sex, public-ish sex, unprotected sex, sir kink, dirty talk, thigh-riding, fingering and oral sex, edging, mentions of guns, mentions of blood and wounds, drinking, swearing, established relationship, angst if u squint really hard, 8.4k word count…

summary: you play mercenaries with marc. you play lovers with jake. you play house with steven. you suppose romance comes in all forms of their differing love for you.

note: had a blast writing this, reblogs & shares are more than appreciated :) listened to this song while writing this, so feel free to listen while reading!

- masterlist - mk playlist

June - Mardin, Turkey

“Ow.” 

“Sorry, I’m trying to be gentle.” Marc quickly glances at you, sweat beading off of the tiny curl that falls flat against the ridge of his brow. 

The stinging accumulation of dust and filth in your eyes only adds to the discomfort of your entire aching body — but by all means, you have to admit that the bullet graze to your arm takes the absolute cake. 

It’s dark out and the sleepless nights of Mardin are completely unforgiving. The gas lamp above you has been your only light source in the shabby, stone shack for almost a week. Water is starting to run thin, the main city is too far out for this time of night, and Marc isn’t in any condition to make rash decisions. 

You wince when he tries to carefully smooth out the gauze around your upper arm. “Still heavy-handed, are we?” You don’t miss how the corners of his mouth shift upwards in a faint smile at the pathetic jab, uncertain if this was a time for laughter rather than reflection.

But even as you try to lighten his grim mood, Marc is distant. Distant because he fucked that job up. Distant because you got caught in the crosshairs of what should’ve been his successful plan, but he ended up failing. If he lost you, what would he have left? An empty shelter, and the hauntings of your flesh against his? 

What would Steven think?

Marc helps you sit up from the wooden table cluttered with bandages and tissues of dark blood, careful that you don’t reopen the wound that he so poorly stitched with the sparse medical supplies and whatever knowledge he had retained from his time in Guam. “A couple inches higher and to the right… that bullet would’ve lodged itself in muscle.”

His calloused palms brush over the sides of your neck and wander down to hold your waist.

The notion is enough to make you forget the pain shooting up your bicep and recognize the warm ache of desire deep within your belly when you lock eyes.

It’s fucked up. But that’s just how it is between you and Marc.

And that’s how it’ll always be.

He gazes at you with a sigh before he pulls away, wiping your blood off of his hands with a dirty towel by a collection of empty beer bottles. You bite your lip at his silence, shoulders tense and jaw tight as thoughts of what-if’s race through his mind. 

“Marc.” He shakes his head, fingers coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose before you realize he’s trembling. “Marc, hey. Come on. Come here.” A blend of a meek grunt and an exhale of relief escapes from his lips before he leans over and presses his face into the crook of your neck, nearly launching himself into your open arms. 

Marc smells of cordite and hours of being in the sun. Normally, his scent would have comforted you — musk and eucalyptus, remnants of the melting candle by the kitchen window in Steven’s lived-in flat — but nothing about these circumstances are supposed to be comforting. Nothing about being paid to kill, living the ‘gun for hire’ life is supposed to give you solace. For now, you suppose that his lips on your skin is enough to mend this harsh reality of bloodshed that you’ve been fated to endure together.

He whispers quietly against your jaw. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, no. Don’t do that. I’m alive. It’s just a surface wound, baby.” You hold him by the face, stroking your thumbs under his eyes as he blinks at you, timid and apologetic. “You did the best you could. Plans always end up sideways with us, you know that.” You rub noses tenderly. “We’ve had worse situations, remember?”

“South Africa contract?”

“Honestly, I was thinking more like Malaysia, but that too.” You chuckle softly at him, repeatedly tucking his stubborn curls behind his ear as he stares at you. You delicately splay a hand over his cheek, rubbing the blood off his skin with your thumb. “Are we okay?”

Marc inhales deeply after what feels like ages, nodding as the words of affection leave him woefully. “I just really love you.” 

“And I love you, you silly man.”

He doesn’t need to say that he’s scared of losing you for you to understand. You can just read him, feel his anxiety seeping into his bones as his fingers dance over your bandages and underneath your weathered shirt. You can read him even with closed eyes, him who stands between your legs, trailing your knuckles against his biceps as if every goosebump on his body would mimic paragraphs of braille, his unspoken declaration of how much he wants you just beneath your touch — how much he longs to bury himself inside you and stay there until the world leaves the lot of you alone before everything burns.

Let it all burn if that means being with you.

You’re already wet by the time Marc is pulling your muddied cargo pants down your legs. He’s rushing this — needy and exaggerating his impatience as if that would quicken things. 

You know him well enough to recognize that tonight, he won’t be gentle even if he tries.

Usually Steven is rougher, which comes as a surprise when his personality is the definition of a sunny London day. Submissive doesn’t always equate to being soft, but his temper is warranted. You’d think that Marc would be the one to break your body and push you to your limits, but he has other ways of taking out his anger — Steven doesn’t.

You’ll take a rough Steven over a rough Marc anyday.

Splinters dig against the backs of your thighs as Marc drags you to the edge of the table, drawing a gasp out of you when he harshly yanks your panties down your thighs. 

“Easy, tiger.” You look up at him as he pushes your hair away from your face, eyes wandering over how he then expertly unbuckles his belt with steady fingers. He doesn’t break your lustful gaze, lips parting once his pants hang low on his hips and he meets your mouth with his own. 

“I’ve been wanting to do this for days, Y/N.” He sighs into you, a string of saliva connecting his wet bottom lip to yours as he cradles your cheek. “And of course, you just had to get fucking shot on the night I wanna be inside you.” You groan shamefully at the violence of his words, placing a hand on the nape of his neck to draw him closer to you. His kisses are far from chaste and borderline unceremonious, teeth clashing against yours as his nose digs into your cheek for better access. “I don’t wanna hurt you…” He trails his tongue down your neck, mouthing at your skin until he’s marked you purple and red. “… but I know that you can take whatever I give you. No matter how much it hurts, right?”

“Mmm, fuck.” You shiver when he nips at your earlobe, tugging on the fleshy texture as he awaits your response. “No matter how much it hurts.”

“Atta girl.” He hums agreeably, taking pleasure in how your mouth tries to chase after him when he steps back to take his shirt off and admire your parted legs. “Look at this pretty, aching cunt.” He chuckles mockingly, tracing the outline of your folds with his fingers. “Hm, looks so tight for me, sweetheart.” You whimper when he gently runs the back of his hand against your folds, the friction of his knuckles just pleasurable enough to make you rut your hips in anguish. “You think we can make my cock fit?”

“S’big. You know it is.” You whisper, tightening your hold on his shoulders. “I think you’d have to — to play with me a little, Marc.”

“Oh, play with you?” You nod. “You mean like… Marc, finger me?” You shift eagerly to nod again, but your actions are cut off when he abruptly scissors his middle and ring finger inside you. “Marc, fuck your hand into me, fuck me until I’m all loose for you? What, Y/N? Just so you can say… Marc, I can’t take it anymore?” You yelp loudly when he grabs your ass, his other hand lazily pumping in and out of you as he collects your slick onto his digits. “How’s this for playing with you?”

“M-Marc… oh, fuck…” You grab onto his wrist, nails digging into his bone as he fingers you faster and deeper. “Wait, please.”

“Oh, honey, I’ve barely touched you and yet you’re drippin’ all over me.” He purrs, craning his head to study you, reading your features for any sign of discomfort. Yet, all he sees is a woman enjoying herself too much. Helpless, you cling to him, back arching as your face finds comfort against his solid chest. You sob, screwing your eyes shut as his fingers pause unforgivably inside your sopping cunt and his thumb draws light circles on your clit. “Who makes you this wet, Y/N?”

“You.”

“Almost right.” He grins through a deep laugh, gently shrugging your head off of his shoulder so that you’re left with no choice but to meet his dominant gaze. Your lip wobbles as you fight the urge to clench around him for some kind of satisfaction. Heat flares up your entire body. Every little bit of movement leaves you wanting more. “Don’t pout. You’re better than that. Come on, sweetheart. Say my name, no one else. Who?”

“You do, sir.”

“See? Not so hard.” You bite back a frustrated groan when his fingers leave you so sudden, the building sensation of an orgasm disappearing as your cunt squeezes around nothingness. “You think you’re ready for me?” Fuck. You rub your thighs together, mourning your ruined high and mewling when his palm finds your cheek with a damp finger prodding against your lips. “Use your words, baby. Look at me when you speak.”

“Want you now.” Your head tilts back when his thumb slips between your lips, muffling your whines. Transfixed, Marc watches your pupils dilate when he drags the digit against your hot tongue. It’s erotic. It’s primal, especially when the gash across your cheekbone starts to trickle with blood again from how much your face is straining. And once more, it’s fucked up. So fucked up, that Marc finds himself turned on at how you can make bruises from being slapped by a gun appear so incredibly sensual. “Need you so fucking bad.”

Marc pulls you in for another kiss, mumbling declarations of desire against your lips as you palm him through his underwear and free his cock from his garments. He grunts against your mouth when you twist your fist around the dark tip of his shaft, harmoniously watching in awe together as he thrusts himself into your hand.

“Been dying to… ugh, fuck…”

A soft giggle escapes you, brushing his curls away from his eyes with your free hand after he suckles a large hickey on your collarbone. “Been dying to fuck?”

He glares at you, unamused.

“Funny.” 

“Just repeating what you said— ah!” You’re abruptly cut off by the feeling of Marc’s erection against your folds, his cock rubbing over the swollen button of your clit before his leaking head finds your entrance. He repeats the motion until his skin is glistening with your slick. “M-Marc!”

“Marc.” He mimics you teasingly, chuckling deeply when you shoot him a dirty look. “Christ, I’ve just been dying to be inside you. Is that what you wanted to hear, Y/N?” Your nails dig into his shoulder blades as he slowly penetrates you, stretching you out after days of abstinence in sake of your mission. “How badly I’ve wanted to fuck my perfect girl? You see, I wanted to wait till we got home. Make love to you slow and sweet on our bed…” He forces himself to stop once your cunt swallows him all the way to the base of his shaft. You can just feel him pulsing even as your walls flutter tightly around him. “… give it to you so damn good and treat you like the sweetheart you are…” 

“Please move. Please. I can’t — I need you, please.”

“But you’ve been makin’ some real questionable choices, Y/N.” You lurch forwards into his chest, so desperate to be fucked by him that you can’t help but sob in frustration and strike your palms against his sweaty skin. “Must need someone to teach you how to follow directions, huh?”

“Marc, please! Just make me… I wanna feel good. I want you to make me feel good.” You whine. The fire in your belly grows as he plants a long kiss to your forehead, your defeated voice accompanying the needy furrow of your brows. “Please.”

“I know, baby. I know. But it just doesn’t make sense to me,” He licks the pads of his fingers, spreading his saliva across his digits before you feel him toying with your clit. An embarrassing cry rips from your throat when he touches you, his cock still hard yet motionless inside you. “Why should I make you feel good when you put me through absolute hell today?” 

“Are you… are you seriously bringing this up right now?” 

“You’re the one who jumped in front of a gun.”

“Because I was trying to save your life!”

“Which could’ve gotten you killed, you stupid girl.” 

The name goes straight to your cunt. And although his tone is far from one with serious intent, the slight twinge of irritation in his ending inflection has you desperately trying to close your legs together in embarrassment as you helplessly cream around him.

The two of you share a look — you, like an animal that had been caught in a trap and him, like a hunter who had finally gotten his hands on his game.

“Marc…”

“Oh, you fuckin’ liked that.” 

Your face burns hot with humiliation. “I didn’t, sir… I…”

He pulls out and thrusts into you harshly, sending the table back a few inches with a loud screech across the creaky floor. You nearly double-over and scream with how intense it all feels — his cock, pounding into you slowly yet with such determination to find the deepest pit inside you, to hit that spot over and over again until his name becomes nothing but incoherent syllables strung together.

Your shirt rides up your chest as Marc runs his palm up your abdomen, kneading at your breasts with a new kind of fervor. He rolls your hardened nipples between his fingers, pinching ever so gently before his hand finds the excess of your shirt and pins it to your throat. His grip is tight, meant to allow breathing room, but the way his eyes scour your naked torso is enough to make you lose all sense of oxygen.

“Didn’t know you liked being called stupid,” He hums in amusement.

“You can’t hold that over me.”

“No? Maybe I should just fuck you stupid. You’d like that better, wouldn’t you?” You roll your eyes at him, pulling him in for another kiss before you purposefully clamp down and around his cock again. “Jesus, Y/N… your pussy is — is so fuckin’ tight. G-God…” You bite your lip at him, mouthing at his Adam’s apple as he guides your hips to match his pace. “Ease up, baby. How do you expect me to move when you’re keepin’ me trapped like this?”

You huff, studying the build-up of sweat upon his nose ridge and how the gas lamp above casts pretty shadows over his soft face. You lean over, shifting his dick deeper into your core once your lips find the shell of his ear.

“How about you just shut up and fuck me harder? Unless you want me to get Steven? Or perhaps Jake can make me cum?”

It’s fucked up. 

Marc hates to admit that he enjoys this.

With hedonistic satisfaction, you smile at how his jaw flexes in the dim light. His breathing is heavy, almost ragged in the silent minutes you spend staring each other down with devilish eyes.

Before you can even realize what’s happening, Marc is thrusting into you with a kind of animalistic prowl that you’ve only seen in his violence. The honey in his irises has long dissipated, fusing with the starless black sky outside the shack. The wobbly table is practically cracking beneath your weight, and with Marc’s long strokes, you can easily imagine it broken and splintered by tomorrow morning.

“You wanna know why I couldn’t just wait till we got home so I could do this to you?” You shake your head at him, eyes fluttering shut as pins you down onto the wooden surface. You’re bucking beneath his frame shamelessly, grabbing onto his forearm as he presses his palm onto your lower stomach. The sensual warmth in your abdomen is profound. Each of your five senses heighten as Marc’s fingers wander behind your knee, pulling your leg up and over his shoulder so that you're completely exposed to his will when his cock pounds into you. He grunts in dissatisfaction, tongue swiping across his teeth when your dreamy gaze falls upon his cock disappearing into your entrance. “Answer me, Y/N.”

“No, I d-don’t.”

“Couldn’t help myself. I just couldn’t. Not when I’ve been constantly thinkin’ about your pretty lips wrapped around my dick.” His thumb finds your clit, soothing the bundle of nerves with steady circles. A wanton moan escapes the both of you when Marc readjusts his angle. “Been imagining how good your tits would look covered in my cum. Can you blame me? Holed up together in this shithole… my mind just keeps on wandering and wandering, baby. I think of the way you smell, the way you push up against me when we’re sleeping together on that tiny cot, the way you — oh, fuck…”

His bitemarks litter your arms, his hot tongue memorizes your mouth, his saliva glistens on your nipples whilst your limbs tangle along the tabletop.

His gold chain dangles into your mouth.

“M-Marc, don’t stop! Don’t stop! Please don’t! Fuck me right there!”

His whispers grow filthier with each passing second and with each scream that’s drawn out of your quivering frame.

“I especially think of the way you look after you’ve just killed someone who tried to hurt you. Makes me want you even more.”

His words should’ve been concerning. Such a complicated sentence, and yet all you can think about is how close you are, so unbelievably close. Your heart is pounding in your ears as Marc’s deep thrusts shift you closer to that realm of ecstasy. He’s moaning loudly into your neck, deep vibrations rattling against your dried, bloodied skin until you can feel his muffled cry of your name into your shoulder. Your legs are trembling in the air, toes curling as Marc buries himself to the hilt and lets his spill coat your walls while you ride out your orgasms together.

You don’t realize that the gauze on your arm is seeping with blood until he pulls away. 

His tan skin is stained from your wound, spread across his chest and violently dark-red as if you had experienced more than a simple bullet graze.

It’s fucked up. But that’s just how it is between you and Marc.

September - Lancashire, England

The autumn air is chilly as you and Jake stumble out of the fancy French doors of the pub. Laughter echoes into the cobblestone streets when he gingerly fits his cabbie cap over your head, hooking your arm with his as you start to lose balance in your stilettos. Jake tightens his coat over your shoulders with a soft tug, pecking your cheek drunkenly with a toothy grin.

“You are so fucking adorable, you know that?” He sweetly inhales the scent of your hair, pulling you closer to his body while carefully watching your footing. “I’m so glad we did this tonight, Y/N. Glad you decided to spend time with me.”

You turn his face towards you and stroke his cheek with wide, assuring eyes. “Hey, I love spending time with you.” His hand finds your lower waist beneath the coat, fingers dancing over the exposed skin of your backless dress. “We really need to do this more often.”

“Yeah, but I mean, with your new job…”

“I’ll make it work.”

“And me needing to consult with the other two idiots...”

“Hey, Steven and Marc don’t mind.”

“Sure. Right.” Jake squeezes your side. He’s quiet for a bit, walking comfortably beside you under the soft glow of street lamps until he decides to just speak his mind. “You know, it amazes me how patient you are with us.” 

You chuckle, rolling your bottom lip between your teeth when his eyes trail down the frame of your side profile.

“I love all of you in my own twisted way, I guess.” 

Even after all these years, he makes you so nervous. He’s the opposite of Steven Grant, more gloomy than he is sunshine but all the good qualities of Marc Spector that tend to outweigh the bad that follows being Jake Lockley. He is far from brooding, but neither is he exactly approachable. 

You don’t question him on the nights he slips out of bed, whispering something about getting a glass of water only for him to disappear for hours on end. Yet somehow, he always arrives just in time to eat breakfast with you as if nothing had happened.

You don’t ask Steven or Marc about it. 

You’d rather not know what he does. It wouldn’t matter anyways. 

Jake smiles at you as you lower yourself into the passenger seat of his 1972 Skylark; your manicured nails wrap around the roof handle while he closes the door behind you, his hat still snug on your head. Neither of your giddy smiles fade even when Jake comes around to the driver’s side and situates himself behind the steering wheel. In fact, you grow exceptionally more flustered when he leans over the middle seat and pulls you in for what is meant to be an innocent kiss. But the taste of tequila and lime on his lips has you eagerly chasing after him, the stubble on his jaw tickling your chin as your mouths move lovingly in sync inside the dark confines of his car.

It’s only when you need to breathe that Jake pulls away, cupid’s bow tinted orange-red from your makeup as he adores you in the pale moonlight. “Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?”

“Just tonight?” You tease, carding your fingers through his dark curls. You don’t miss the way his enraptured stare lingers upon your features, deep in thought.

He raises your knuckles to his lips and kisses each tendon with a soft, adoring moan. “Every night, mi vida.” You chew on your lip again, unable to take your eyes off of Jake when he turns your hand over and starts worshipping the palm of your hand with yearning pecks. “Always so pretty.”

“You’re pretty.” You tenderly swipe your thumb across his eyebrow as he presses your back to the passenger door. “I love you.”

“I love you more.” He breathes out, kissing down your neck till he reaches your shoulder and finds the thin strap of your dress with a hearty laugh. “Would it ruin the mood if I said I want you right now?” You shake your head, lashes fluttering when he sensually drags the strap down your arm. “Good. That’s good. You are so irresistible. So gorgeous. So sexy, like my own personal angel.”

“Jake, don’t tease.”

“Not teasing. I just wanna take my time with you.”

“In the car?”

He hums agreeably against your jawline, nipping at your skin with his teeth until you’re sighing against him. 

“In the car,” He whispers with a cheeky grin. Jake’s hand travels down your torso as the front of your dress spills over, revealing your naked breasts to him. His eyes flicker up to you for a split second, and you nod before he quickly takes a nipple into his mouth. You press his head closer to your chest, lips parting with a resigned moan when he litters your tits with tiny lovebites. “Don’t hold back, Y/N.”

You stifle another one when his fingers carefully pinch your nipples. “M’not trying to get caught.”

“There’s no one here. Besides, you act as if we haven’t done anything like this before.” Jake palms at your chest, tracing the swell of your breasts as he gauges your silent reaction. He moans when your jaw falls open just a bit, enough for him to see your tongue flatten against the roof of your mouth. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No, I-I like it.”

“Then let me hear you.” Your hips subconsciously rut upwards from the seat as Jake kisses down your sternum. The flowy skirt of your dress bunches up around your waist, his fist grasping the thin material as he finds your soft stomach and the waistband of your thong. “You drive me crazy, Y/N. This desire to make you feel good… at all times — shit, solecito mío. I could just kiss you for days. So gorgeous.” 

You shudder when he suckles at your thighs, his chuckles intermixing with the barely-audible sound of your gasps as he trails his mouth down your leg. His hand wraps around your ankle, stroking your lower calf as he admires the wine-red stiletto on your foot. 

“I want you to fuck me when we get home.”

Jake’s hold tightens on your leg, lips staining your soft skin with saliva while he traverses the space between your inner thighs. “And here?” You rest your head back against the cold glass window, shutting your eyes when you can feel his breaths over your needy, throbbing cunt. “What do you want me to do here?”

“Want your mouth on me. And I wanna taste you.” 

He smirks playfully. “One thing at a time, yeah?”

“Or we could do both at once.” You gently grasp onto a handful of his locks, pulling his face from below to look up at you. There’s desperation laced in your furrowed brows. Your voice comes out as nothing but an impatient, high-pitched whimper. “Together.”

“You wanna cum together?” He rubs slow, thoughtful circles around your knee.

“Fuck, yes.” 

Jake reaches up, picking his cabbie hat off of your head and tossing it into the backseat with hooded eyes. “Get in there then.” 

The leather squeaks beneath your heaving, fumbling bodies as Jake lays you onto your back. You’re propped up tightly against the corner, his hands pushing on the backs of your thighs so that your knees are dangling over your head. He mouths at your clothed mound, kissing your cunt over the thin material with a certain devotion that’s only fronted around you.

Part of you feels like you’re being watched — the feeling still lingers despite Jake’s attest to his own lack of Khonshu in your lives.

Do you believe him? That depends. Right now, with his hands pulling your underwear past your ankles, with nimble fingers folding the fabric and stuffing it into his back pocket while his lusted gaze eats away at the visual of your bare pussy, it doesn’t matter. It definitely, definitely doesn’t matter when Jake hacks up saliva from the back of his throat, spitting on your already-wet folds with a somehow classy elegance that makes you forget how filthy this all feels.

It’s not filthy if it’s love, right? You love Marc. You love Steven. You love Jake. None of it feels wrong, but should it? 

Fuck, it doesn’t matter.

“God, you’re soaked.” Jake gasps with you as he dips the tip of his finger into your entrance, sliding it in and out slowly as he becomes mesmerized by your body’s response: the immediate arch of your back, the strangled purrs, your breathless appearance as he impatiently adds another digit. “You’re just as tight as the first time I fingered you.”

“Mmm, oh, fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” You squirm against him, covering your mouth with the back of your hand as his lips suction over your clit. “Jake…”

His body is vibrating with tension. “Love how you’re squeezing my fingers. Keep doin’ that. Bet it feels good doesn’t it, mi vida?”

“It does. Fuck, it does, but I…” You splay your hand over the backrest of the seat, clutching onto the slippery material as your grip on his hair tightens. Almost shamefully, you peer down at him with a contorted look of frustrated pleasure, pupils glazed over. “Jake, baby…”

“Hm?” He glances at you, halting his movements out of, at first, genuine concern when he notices the hitch in your strained voice.

And when he’s met with the cute, bratty pout on your face, he doesn’t know whether he wants to fuck it off of you ruthlessly or give in to whatever meek yet lewd request is sitting on the tip of your tongue. 

The whimper that squeaks out of you is enough to send all the blood in his body rushing to his dick.

“I need your mouth,” You sigh wantingly. 

Jake can’t keep his stare off of the needy rise and fall of your tits, and he certainly can’t help but admire how hard you’re biting your lip – it’s almost comical, how he’s got you so instantly riled-up, but he understands. He feels it too, in Steven’s and Marc’s desire to front, in his own beating heart and his hard cock, that you need him. Everywhere. Somehow. And even though that hysterical part of Jake wants to deny you of this satisfaction, deny you of his touch, deny you of even talking to him because orgasms last so much longer with a greater and tenser build-up, he just can’t. He’s been kind tonight – tonight, which is all about you, with your new, normal, civilian job and an incoming promotion, tonight with your trusting eyes and your sexy dress that Steven had ended up buying you because he has impeccable taste, tonight with your dreamy sighs and the way you carry your scars from previous tours with Marc with such incomparable beauty that you make violence seem romantic.

So, sure. He’ll give in tonight.

“Come here.” 

He reaches for you, surveying how you follow him with no question, clambering onto his lap with loving adherence. Jake strokes the nape of your neck and lets his hands find the small of your back. You stare into each other’s eyes for a few moments, a couple minutes, just admiring, basking in the intimacy that is so oftentimes and unfortunately rare with Jake Lockley. 

Then, he speaks. “Do you want to sit on my face, solecito mío?”

You make a noise that sounds more animalistic than human.

Maybe it’s a reflection of how Jake makes you feel. But then, you suppose that’s how Marc makes you feel as well. And some nights, Steven, too. 

“I do.” You nod. Jake nods back in acknowledgement, brushing your hair back with steady fingertips. His nose nudges against yours as you sigh into his mouth, reveling in your lover’s quiet whispers of sweet nothings. “I want to make you feel good, also.”

“You wanna make me feel good?” He kisses your shoulder, lips ghosting over the old bullet graze on your bicep from that job in Turkey.

He doesn’t want to think about the things you did with Marc – the killings don’t bother him, but the sex does. If anything, it’ll only make Jake angry, only make him want to deny you of himself even though his adoration for you goes deeper than this superficial desire.  

“Yeah, fuck, I do.”

“You want me to cum all over that amazing throat of yours? Just dump my cum inside you?”

“Wanna be your cumslut.” 

It’s silent until you abruptly giggle at each other, almost because of how bizarrely horny either of you sound right now. It’s out of character for you to be this vocal with him, but Jake has learned a couple things from Marc, and Marc from Steven, which he intends to put to good use. 

But even though the words sound utterly ridiculous coming from you, his body thinks otherwise. He’s thrumming with want, and Jake isn’t sure how long he can go without having something warm on his cock. “Again.”

You bat your lashes at him, teasingly through a half-serious chuckle. “Wanna be your cumslut. Want you down my throat, keeping me there, choking me with your dick.”

“Oh, Y/N, you’re filthy.” 

“Just like you, Jake.” 

He practically growls, “Prove it, then. How filthy can you get for me?”

You press down on his clothed chest, watching as he lays flat onto the seat. It’s an uncomfortable position, especially when your elbow rams against the roof as you try to rid yourself of your wrinkled dress. There’s barely any room for your other leg to straddle him, but when you maneuver your sweaty bodies so that your cunt is hovering over his face and his erection is aching to meet your mouth, things start to feel smoother from there on out.

There’s a reason why sixty-nine is his favorite number.

At this point, you don’t even wait to fully take his pants off. His belt is strewn over the front seats, his fly down and greedy cock pulled over the stretchy waistband of his pre-cum ruined boxers. 

“You’re so fucking hard…” You coo, glancing at him over your shoulder as he rubs his fingers around your entrance. 

He parts your folds, sticking his warm tongue into your cunt while you take the tip of him into your mouth. “F-Fuck, Y/N…” His hips involuntarily thrust into you, and you can’t help but grin around his length before taking him further. His swollen cock pulses in your throat as you lazily bob your head up and down his shaft. “Mmm, fuck, that — that feels good, baby.” 

The vibrations of his moans against your pussy has you mewling, humming in pleasure as he sucks at your sensitive clit and the bulb of nose prods against your hole. “J-Jake, honey, your mouth — it’s, oh, keep fucking your tongue into me. Just like that — oh, fuck!” You shudder, and Jake takes advantage of your intense satisfaction to hook his arms tighter around your thighs and pull you deeper against his face. You grind against him, expletives falling from your lips as your juices coat his jaw and chin while he helps rock you back and forth.

“Tastes so good, Y/N. So wet, so sweet, this pussy is just all for me, hm?” He grunts, carefully thrusting into your throat. “Shit, baby. Takin’ this cock so well, too. You’re loving this, aren’t you?” You can only respond with whimpering moans as he fucks your mouth, salty tears brimming at your eyes when you can feel the overwhelming sensation of his fullness. “God, Y/N, you’re gonna make me cum.”

And as he makes haste to bring you to the edge, you give the same attention to his cock, using your small fist to twist around the leftover space that your mouth can’t take. Saliva covers your fingers as you gag pornographically around his prick, he’s thicker than he is long, but that doesn’t make taking him any easier.

“Jake, oh — I’m… fuck, I’m right there.”

“Yeah? You wanna cum together?”

“Please, baby.”

He fills your throat with his seed as you attempt to fit all of him into your mouth. Your vision goes fuzzy from the long, tedious seconds without oxygen and the combined feeling of a drawn-out orgasm. Jake has your cunt trapped against his lips, sucking and tugging at your clit while a dreamlike haze washes over the two of you.

The windows are fogged-up. It’s sweaty, the stench of sex lingers, and your numb bodies are far from graceful even as Jake moves to pull you into his arms and caress the back of your head, resting your ear against his chest because he wants you to listen to how fast his heartbeat is right now.

Then, you mention something to him about round two at home. He laughs and kisses you tenderly, convinced that you’ll probably end up falling asleep on the ride back. 

Far from graceful. 

But nothing else matters when it comes to him.

May - Brighton, England

“What do you call an alligator with a compass?” 

You take a bite out of the strawberry pinched between your fingers, squinting through the blinding sun. “What?”

“A… navi-gator.” Steven deadpans, wiggling his eyebrows at you as you glare at him over the top of your half-finished paperback. You can’t help but chuckle softly, shaking your head at him as you try to hide the childish smirk tugging at your lips. “Oh, come on. Seriously, Y/N? That one was so good.”

“You cannot crack me.“ You cross your ankles over each other and place your book down. Sitting up on the red picnic blanket, you rest back on your forearms and gaze at him intently. 

He wags his pointer finger. “Ah, ah, I know another one.” Inhaling deeply, he gestures at you. “Did you hear about the crocodile who was unable to mate?”

You stifle a snort, biting your lip as you can feel the laughter bubbling deep within your chest. “I did not, why?”

“He had a reptile dysfunction.” You maintain a neutral face, nodding nonchalantly at Steven’s fifth adorable attempt of a gator joke. “Really? Not even that one?”

“I am as hard as a rock.”

The dark-haired man sputters, clutching his stomach as he laughs loudly. “Are you now?”

“No! Oh, my god. Not like that, Steven!” You playfully swat his thigh with the back of your hand, grinning widely as he rolls over onto his side to look at you. “Listen, I meant—“

“Am I that funny? That my humor ends up seducing you, petal?” He strokes your calf with a bright smile. “Do my jokes turn you on that much?”

“No, they don’t. Not even one bit.” You chew on your bottom lip, watching as Steven’s fingers travel higher and higher till they reach the bottom of your sundress. “Do my jokes turn you on?”

“No, not at all.” His features soften, eyes half-lidded and his golden complexion illuminated by the sunlight in your backyard. “You’re the farthest from funny.”

“Please, I am the funniest person alive.” Your stare flickers down to where his palm spreads itself over your thigh, long and thick digits caressing your skin. “We’ve been married for months and I still think I’m the better joker out of the two of us, Mr. Grant.”

“You’ve got it all wrong, Mrs. Grant.” Steven plays along as he reaches into the container of strawberries beside you, wrapping his pink lips around one before he takes a small bite. Your curious eyes never leave his mouth, entranced by how a bead of juice dribbles down his chin as he swallows the fleshy fruit with a quiet moan. Steven notices. He’s not stupid, not as oblivious as people tend to think, and especially not as innocent, because his motions are absolutely purposeful. “Is this turning you on?”

You gulp loudly, feeling summer sweat collect at the nape of your neck as you rub your thighs together. The notion causes your dress to ride up, and Steven keenly catches a glimpse of your lack of panties. You see him falter, jaw clenching visibly and lashes fluttering as you shift closer to him. 

You take the other half of the strawberry from his fingers, examining the red delicacy before sensually popping it into your mouth. 

“Not at all.”

But it does. It turns you on when Steven reaches over and holds you by the small of your back, arching you and guiding you into his chest as you yearningly nudge noses. It turns you on when he sighs against your lips, shaky and overcome by the need to feel you as if he hadn’t taken you from behind on the kitchen counter just this morning. It turns you on when he presses his mouth to yours, tasting of strawberries and even more strawberries when he finds your tongue in the midst of your heated make-out. 

“This doesn’t turn you on?” He sighs brokenly against the divot of your collarbone, squeezing and grasping every soft, untouched part of you that makes you squirm against him. 

“No.” You moan breathily, throwing your head back when he takes his time to untie the halter string of your sundress from your neck. You nip at his jaw when he skims a hand over your chest, pulling the thin material down to expose your breasts. “Steven… the neighbors…”

“We have a bloody fence,” He pants out as you reach under his shirt and palm at his soft belly, inching closer to his waistband. 

“And we have the tendency to be loud, honey.” You smirk against his neck, kissing down his throat until you’re using your teeth to gently tug on his thin chain. “Who’s to say that they’re not gonna hear?”

“Guess you’ll have to keep me quiet then, hm?” He quips, jaw falling open as you dip your hand into his sweatpants and reach for his erection. “My god, Y/N…”

“You’re not wearing underwear!” You giggle in shock, gasping jokingly and feverishly biting at his earlobe. 

Sweatpants and a lack of boxers was always a common thing for Steven, especially when he’d have you at home, all to himself, ready to go anytime for a ten-minute quickie or a lazy blowjob. But something about the thought of him here — having eaten strawberries with you on a picnic blanket, outside and in the yard with the possibility of getting caught, the possibility (which you’ve achieved) of making him hard through his sweats — made his affinity for nudity so much sexier.

“Well, neither are you, petal.” 

“So, two people without underwear… alone…” You kiss his face tenderly, ghosting over his lips in a teasing manner that has his body physically chasing after your mouth. “… laying in the yard… kissing, biting…” Steven lets out a long moan when you squeeze your hand around his length. “… touching each other… hm, what ever shall they do?”

He shudders with closed eyes when you help rid him of his sweatpants, haphazardly tossing the grey material to the side. He groans in awe when you spit into your hand, coating his cock with your saliva as you admire his frenzied state. 

“Fuck me.” 

A yelp escapes you when he suddenly hauls you into his lap. You’re positioned on the tops of his outstretched and naked thighs, his dick just out of reach from your desperate touch. Steven moves quickly and impatiently, marking your exposed breasts and sucking at your nipples with lustful adoration while your dress pools around his indecency.

“I wanna make you cum so hard, Steven.”

“You filthy woman,” He chuckles genuinely at you, palming at the fleshiness of your ass as you rock against his body. You touch him everywhere — his chest, his unruly head of hair, his cheeks and his muscled arms — except for where he craves it the most. But you give into him, eventually. “Oh, I absolutely adore you. I love you. I love you so much, Y/N.” Steven whimpers needily as you start to stroke him slowly, using both of your fists to twist around his shaft while you grind your cunt on his thigh. “Ah, f-fuck… fuck, darling.”

“Steven, your cock is so big.” You tease, studying how his gaze drops to where you jerk him against your warm belly. “You’re just so hot. I can’t wait to get you to the edge…” A devilish smile forms on your lips as he sexily tilts his head back, eyes rolling to the back of his skull in utter bliss as you tease his leaking tip. “… oh, but only for me to stop…” You halt the stroking motions, keeping your hands tight and still around his thickness. “… and take you back to square one.”

“No, please,” He begs, opening his eyes to look at you. You see the fiery need to cum in his glazed-over stare, wild and almost pathetically unhinged as he innocently bounces his thigh beneath you. “Please, let me cum all over you.”

The phrase combined with his actions cause you to moan, mostly out of surprise, but also at how good the friction feels. 

Hot skin, his hair tickling you, your slick leaving a wet and embarrassing, sticky patch on him. 

“I’ll make you cum if you make me?” You roll your hips back and forth against him. Steven’s grip on your ass tightens, hands spreading you apart as he intentionally presses his thigh up to your pussy. “Do you wanna be inside me right now?”

“God, Y/N, I’ll give you anything you want.” He holds you by the chin, wide pupils admiring you. “Do anything you please, anything that’ll make you feel good…”

You whine when his fingers come down onto your clit, circling the nub while you start to lazily stroke him again. “Anything?”

“Oh, anything. You know that.” 

“What if I don’t want you to fuck me?” He presses a kiss to your throat, trying to hold back his orgasm when you put pressure around the head of his cock. “What if I wanted to just — mmm — have your dick in my hands… show you how you make me feel? How you tease me, how you touch me and have me aching for you?” His tongue slips into your rambling mouth, whimpers and grunts escaping your molded bodies as Steven keeps you on his thigh. “How you always make me fucking wait before I can cum?”

“Are you going to e-edge me?” He looks deeply into your eyes, teeth clamping down on his lower lip as you slow your pace. “Is that it? Because I like edging you?”

“Just wanna give you a taste of what it's like, honey.” You use your free hand to brush through his curly locks, fingers getting tangled in his scalp. “Is that okay?”

The pleading words leave him instantly. 

“Anything for you.”

The furrow in his brows has you clutching onto him to stop yourself from just sinking down onto his dick. So, instead, you remain straddling his thighs, sitting with each knee swung on either side of him as you wrap two eager hands around his cock and work him until he’s a moaning mess for you again.

“Such a handsome boy. Everytime we make love…” You survey him closely, falling in a sexed-out trance with just how his lips part and how he throws his head back like it’s the first time he’s ever been touched. “… you look so fucking good.”

“I love y-you, Y/N. God — goddamnit,” His nose scrunches up as you jerk him off with longer, but slower motions. Naturally, he’s more sensitive by the tip, which you’re proven right when his stomach ripples visibly, flexing and tensing below you. “Ah, fuck! Fuck, darling. Like that. Oh, just like that. Slow. Slow, please.”

“Falling apart for me already?” You sigh shakily, growing wetter as his pre-cum begins to bead down your knuckles. “No cumming until I say so, Steven.”

“Please. Oh, my god. I can’t — Y/N, I won’t… I don’t think I can bear it.” He hisses, running his hands up and down your hips to distract himself. “Fuck, can I see you?”

“Wha—“

“I want you to take off the dress.” He requests gruffly, before clearing his throat. “Please, petal.”

You nod with a soft smile, caressing his jaw before you’re helping each other rid yourselves of your remaining clothing. Steven’s shirt and your sundress joins his pants by the corner of the blanket. Instantly, his hands fondle your breasts, skimming over the fading hickies and wandering across your abdomen. 

“I can feel you pulsating.”

“That is ‘cause you’ve got me rock fucking hard, you know.” He jokes, referring to your words from earlier. “S-shit, Y/N. How much longer?”

“I’m sorry, Steven. No cumming.” You purr at him. “Not yet. Tell me what’s going on in that pretty head, yes?”

“I mean, you’re just perfect. This body… fuck, who made you like this? How can someone be so beautiful?” The passion laced in his voice has you reeling, nearly doubling over onto his bare chest. “Baby. Oh, baby. Please! Please, I wanna cum. Oh, I wanna cum for you.”

You moan audibly. “Have you been a good boy?” 

“I have.”

“Are you mine?” 

You let Steven fuck himself into your fist, digits sticky with mess as he rushes to reach his high. “I’m yours. Are you mine?”

You suppose he’s waited long enough.

“Only if you cum for me, honey.”

And as your hand twists and tugs at his cock, Steven falls apart in your grasp. His whole body twitches, fingers bruising your hips as his cum spills over your palms and coats your skin with his seed. Yet, somehow, in the prolonged haziness of his orgasm, Steven can only spew out declarations of love. He calls you every synonym of beautiful, worships your upright body with his swollen lips as he decorates you with his devotion. 

“I am so enamored by you, Y/N.” Steven breathes out, laying back onto the picnic blanket beside you. You tuck your head under his arm, sighing as he shifts you closer towards his naked frame. “You are a gift.”

“And you… are a gift shop-ist. So, I guess we’re meant to be.” You laugh sweetly at each other, gazing into one another’s eyes as you trace hearts over Steven’s sternum. “See what I did there?”

“You are not funny.” 

The swelling glimmer of amusement in his irises says otherwise.

Home.

“I love you, too.” 

The sky turns pink over your entangled bodies, golden and sunkissed as you draw a path of kisses along Steven’s jawline while he falls into a different kind of bliss.

You love Steven. You love Jake. You love Marc. And while everything else in the world is fucked up and a cherry-colored funk of clustering emotions, you want to believe that nothing else matters but them. Nothing else matters if it feels right, if it feels like home and a warmth that can’t be found with anyone, anywhere else.

Let it all burn if that meant loving them all. 

[modern-vellichor]

i told you so.

-summary; you're one of them. -warnings; violence, injury, angst, fluff, explicit language, suggestive ending, -a/n; when i tell you that this is the most self indulgent fic i have ever written. i will read this to myself. this is for me.

masterlist // send a request

break his legs.

"Okay," you whispered.

You could feel Sekhmet hovering over your shoulder, her breath scorching your skin. Your knees cracked when you stood up to scramble onto the street.

kill him

"I'm not killing him," you say.

he deserves it.

"Fine," you sigh, pulling your knife from your pocket.

Your ankh was being pressed against your chest, tucked safely under your shirt. You jumped from your perch onto the cobblestone. Marc watched from a distance, his own Khonshu whispering to him. They watched as you crept up behind the man, a molester, and kick his knees out. He collapsed with a scream. You clamped your hand down over his mouth and whispered something Marc couldn't hear.

she's a menace.

"i know," Marc grunted.

You hit him in the head, his unconscious body falling to the floor. Marc watched as you worked quickly, strategically. You were following orders. Marc didn't know that. He winced when your blade was plunged into your victim's chest. The man didn't move. You brushed yourself off when you stood again. Marc set out for you.

Sekhmet smiled proudly at your handiwork. You were useful. You always followed her orders. And you were fast, intelligent. A little bit useless, romantically, Sekhmet thought. She liked you. She wanted the best for you. And apparently her company wasn't enough.

the job is done. go.

"wait," you held your hand out. "do you smell that?"

it is time to go. leave, now.

"its incense," you ignored her orders. "someone's here."

you turned around to flee only to be stopped. You smashed into the broad chest of a hooded figure. You looked up only to be met with burning bright eyes staring down at you.

run.

you tried to. you began to turn away when a gloved hand snaked around your throat and squeezed. Sekhmet's voice was gone. You scratched at the man's hand desperately. You kicked and squirmed but he wouldn't let go. In one final bid, you pulled your ankh out from under your shirt and pulled it towards him.

drop her.

Marc dropped you. You crumpled to the floor, a gasping heap. You scrambled away from the figure, panting. You felt Sekhmet appear behind you.

"look who decided to show up," you muttered to her. "talk about divine intervention."

quiet.

She turned to Marc, and even though he was staring at you, he moved out of her way. You opened your mouth to say something but Sekhmet interrupted your thought. You half listened to her as you watched Marc half argue with himself.

he is useful.

"Yeah."

he needs us. we must keep him.

"uh huh."

he is handsome, no?

"ye- Wait, no."

why not?

"You're not Bastet , yeah? Stick to violence. I don't think passion is your strong suit."

You zoned out while Sekhmet went on a rant about you disrespecting her. Over the years, she had come to appreciate your... odd sense of humour, your witty banter. She'd miss you if she let you get killed. You shut your eyes and the gods were gone. Marc was standing in front of you when you opened your eyes again.

He didn't say anything. He examined your expression for a few seconds before turning away. He called out for you to follow as he walked. You did. Sekhmets words echoed through your head. You hadn't thought about a partner in years, not since you became her avatar. You never even tried to bring someone home, you knew she would disapprove. You had stopped feeling lonely a long time ago. Sekhmets company had become enough for you. Sometimes you found yourself missing the silence.

While you followed Marc, you could hear him talking to himself. You didn't bring it up. You didn't know Marc. You didn't know if you wanted to. He prowled through the streets, gaze anxious and darting down roads and back alleys. You followed him wordlessly. He knew the area well. You followed him out of familiarity and into inner city London, a place you avoided. You followed him through a back alley, down a road and up the stairs into a lavishly large apartment, especially for the city. Books were piled high, and everywhere. There was a fish tank bubbling quietly by the wall.

It had started lashing rain on the walk to the apartment. You were too busy taking in your surroundings to notice Marc slip away. You stood in the middle of his living room, dripping rain water onto the hardwood floor. You didn't even realise he had returned until his hand was gripping your shoulder and he was offering you a hoodie and some sweatpants.

"Warm and dry, yeah?" he urged.

You nodded. He pointed to the bathroom and you wandered off. As you struggled out of your clothes, Sekhmet started whispering to you again.

I like this one. good sense of self preservation. he is an avatar.

"i know," you sighed. "he nearly killed me."

yes, because he cares. he is a good one.

"please, babe," you muttered. "i don't think this is a good idea."

trust me. i am the goddess of-

"healing and medicine, i know," you winced as you pulled the hoodie over your head.

let me help you. he can heal your heart.

"Thats the cheesiest fuckin' thing I've ever heard," you left the bathroom, shutting the door behind you.

You sat next to Marc, who had since told you his name. You both stares aimlessly at the tv, the history channel droning on. In the corner of his eye, Marc could see you falling asleep. Khonshu was whispering to him, wary of the other avatar in the room.

i like her.

"I thought she was a menace?"

i changed my mind.

"of course you did."

she will not interfere with my mission. unlike the idiot.

Marc sighed. He didn't respond. He just watched as your head dropped and you fell asleep. When you woke, you had been moved. In a moment of primal fear and panic, you scrambled out of bed and in search of a weapon. You couldn't hear Sekhmet and you were in unfamiliar territory. You heard heavy footsteps approaching and in your haste, you reached for an ornate vase next to the bed. The door swung open and you launched the vase. It narrowly missed the man's head, he dived for you. You grappled for a but until he managed to pin your arms to your sides. He was pressed against your back, his head buried in the crook of your neck. He was whispering to you, soothing you, calming you.

"It's me, it's just me. It's Marc, calm down. You're safe, I've got you"

You listened, and you were soothed. You relaxed in his grip, so much so you almost melted. Your hands held tenderly onto his forearms. If a passerby were to look in, they would see a happy couple that were very much in love.

kiss him.

you shook your head gently, grateful to hear Sekhmet's voice again, but growing tired of her romantic advice.

I like her. Keep her around.

Marc sensed an almost affectionate tone in Khonshu's voice. He nodded gently. Marc slowly guided you back towards the bed. He still doesn't know what came over him in that moment, but he lay you back down, took one look at your fragile looking figure, and crawled into bed behind you. He snaked a hand around your waist, and one arm pushed it's way under your head. He leaned over and pressed a gentle, nervous kiss onto your shoulder, and then one on your neck, and then he ventured up onto your jaw. And as his hand slid down towards the waistband of your trousers, you heard a voice ring out.

I told you so.

[petertingle-yipyip]

NEVER FELT SO ALONE - MARC SPECTOR

Pairing: Marc x Reader

Word Count: 2,579

Summary (Request): hey!! i just finished moon knight and was wondering if can request a marc spector x reader fic or basically all of the moon knight boys where marc cheats on the reader so she doesnt get hurt and by cheating on her there would be no questions or suspicions coming from the reader n all. (basically same way how marc tries to divorce layla but she ended up finding out the truth in d end) angst with happy ending pls <33

//i don’t like cheating tropes so i didn’t actually have marc cheat and also… marc spector brainrot. love it. him and matty have permanent spaces in my brain//

“He’s been gone too long.” You paced your living room with your phone in your hand.

You were speaking to yourself, of course, given that your boyfriend was out on the town yet again doing God knew what. You knew he kept secrets, he always had. Just getting him to talk about what music he liked or what movies he liked was like pulling teeth. But of course, it wasn’t always like that. There were more goods than bads so you were willing to put up with his distance and fight and poke and prode to get him to tell you something of substance because he knew you.

He loved to hear you talk about your life. Your childhood, family and friends, work. He liked to hear you talk about your favorite shows and books, ranting about what stupid things your beloved fictional characters were doing and how you knew they were smarter than that. He asked you about school and sometimes brought food to your campus if he had time before he disappeared on some job. He’d leave a few hidden notes before he left too - usually under your pillow, in your wallet, and under your favorite bowl. You once found a note between pages of your book, his own anticipation of how far you’d get while he was gone.

Problem this time around was that there were no notes this time. There was no text or voicemail. There was no explanation. Admittedly, it happened sometimes. Sometimes it was so sudden he didn’t have time to let you know anything, but even then, he was never gone that long.

This time around, before he left, you noticed some odd things. You noticed more hushed conversations, hidden phone messages, darting glances, looking over his shoulder. He spoke even less than usual, as if he was building a wall between you two. Looking to put distance. You noticed his phone was being turned off when he left the house and a few times during his absence, you could’ve sworn you’d seen him running into the local museum.

Usually you could shrug off his odd behavior because, overall, Marc Spector was an odd man. You knew his life had been challenging and naturally, it closed him off in some regards. But shutting you out completely, going radio silence at the drop of a hat, that just wasn’t like him.

So you did some digging.

Given his phone was off, you couldn’t track any sort of locations from there. You didn’t know who he worked with when he left, save for one woman named Layla who was often as off grid as he was, so you couldn’t ask anyone. He hardly talked about family and you weren’t even sure he had friends other than you so that was a dead end. The only real starting point you had was that museum.

When your last class ended, you hopped on the crowded bus and headed over. You were welcomed by the man at the front security booth and wandered the vast space. You had to squeeze past tour groups and couples on dates, kids running around with novelty swords and replica headpieces. You squeezed between people until you found a bench that allowed you to breathe, despite the heavy crowd. You hadn’t expected it to be quite as busy and you were so tired. Just as you were about to give up, you saw him.

The spitting image of the man you loved. Only his clothes were different, baggier and plainer. His curls fell across his forehead more and he seemed to hold hismelf shorter than Marc. Maybe it wasn’t him after all.

You sighed to yourself and headed towards the exit, catching a small snippet of his voice. It was softer, tinted with an almost fake accent, with more inflictions than Marc had. You shook your head slightly as you headed out, trying to clear the idea of the doppleganger from your head but the notion seemed to keep you around the museum. You found yourself sitting on the steps outside, near a streetlight so you could try some of the assignment you needed to finish. You hadn’t even realized how long you had been there until your headphones beeped in your ears that their battery was low.

As you were putting the headphones into your bag, you noticed Marc’s doppelganger heading to the nearby bus stop. He noticed you at the same time and made his way over to you, which made your body run hot for a moment.

“Hello.” He smiled slightly. “I, uh- I saw you inside. Can I ask why you’re still out here?”

“Yeah, it looks a little weird, huh?” You laughed, trying to contain the whirlwind of thoughts set off by the man’s voice. It was so strange to hear such a soft, relatively hesitant tone coming from a face that you knew to be much more confident. “I just thought I saw someone I’ve been looking for… Turns out it wasn’t him.”

“Old friend?”

“Boyfriend, actually.”

“Oh…” He nervously wrung his hands and you almost laughed at how out of character that movement seemed. “Wait, why are you looking for your boyfriend?”

“No reason.” You shrugged. “Just thought I saw him.”

“Right… Well, are you alright to get home? It’s not like a… “we’re in a fight and he kicked me out” situation?”

At that, you did laugh.

“I’m alright, thanks.” You shook your head with a smile. “But if you hear about a guy named Marc coming around, tell him Y/N needs to talk to him, yeah?”

“Marc? Uh.. Alright, yeah. Yeah, okay. You said Y/N?”

“Mhmm…”

“Have we…”

Your brows raised while the gears turned in his head. His eyes darted around your face, down to your clothes and back to your eyes while he tried to put the pieces together. He opened his mouth to say something before he shook his head, seemingly confusing himself in the process. 

“You okay over there?” You asked carefully, leaning in slightly for your own examination.

“Yeah, just… I don’t know. Deja vu maybe.”

“Hmm.” You nodded and leaned away. “What’s your name, anyway?”

“Steven.” He tapped the pocket of his jacket and you saw a little pinsized hole for where you assumed his nametag usually sat. “Steven Grant.”

“Cool.” You said simply. But you recognized that name as one of the characters that Marc told you about, from one of the things he used to watch with his brother that turned into their own little roleplaying game. And maybe it was a coincidence but something was strange. “See you around, Steven.”

“Bye, Y/N.”

A few days went by before you saw him again. You had tried going by the museum but he wasn’t there. You even asked the man who watched the cameras and he said that Steven - though he called him by some unrelated name - hadn’t been in since the night you met him. You were at another dead end.

You wandered the streets when you got a vague text with an address. It was an unknown number and the relatively common text style gave you no clues. Automatically you assumed it was Marc from a burner phone. Who else would it have been? With as much of a hurry as you could without drawing extra attention, you made your way to the apartment.

You gave a quick knock to the door and it popped open, seemingly on its own since no one was on the other side to greet you. You wandered the cramped space, finding a bed in the center of a sand circle, books stacked on books on every table, a small trashcan overflowing with crumpled balls of tape, A vast fishtank stood in the middle of the room and you leaned in to see the fish, a small thing missing a fin, and caught glimpse of the man watching you from the other side. His near sudden appearance made you jump and bump your head against the glass.

You mumbled an apology to the fish as he scurried to another corner of the tank and you stood straighter.

“You’re the one who texted me?” You asked simply, not wanting to take a guess if it was Marc or Steven that stood before you.

“Yeah.” He said in the same plain tone and you didn’t catch any accent. It was definitely Marc. “Heard you were looking for me.”

“Wouldn’t have to look if you would’ve told me where you were going or that you were alive, at least.”

“”Yeah... I never meant to worry you.”

“Clearly.” Your brows raised quickly. “Nice place.”

“It’s not mine.”

You made a small noise in your throat before wandering the space a bit more. You peaked through some of the books, finding a book of French poems by a woman who you knew Marc didn’t read. But someone Marc knew and worked with did.

“This Layla’s place?” You asked simply, swallowing the rising bile in your throat.

“Layla?” He asked, arms crossing over his chest but not moving from his spot. “What makes you say that?”

“The French poems.” You said honestly. “Not to mention all the Egyptian stuff, you having a fake accent and working at the museum in the Egypt wing… It’s a lot to do just to be a good partner.”

“Right… Look, about all of that..”

“You didn’t answer my question.” You cut in firmly.

“I’m trying to.”

“No you’re not. You’re avoiding. You’re choosing a piece of what I said rather than the actual important part.”

“This isn’t Layla’s place, okay?” He rolled his eyes slightly.

“So this is your place?”

“Sort of.”

“Sort of.” You repeated with a scoff. “Right. So, what, it belongs to that fake persona I talked to a few nights ago.”

“Fake?”

“Steven. Come on, that accent? And he’s named after that thing you told me from you and your brother… Did you think I was stupid?”

“What do you think is going on?” His brows furrowed.

“Well, I have a couple working theories.” You said with a shrug as you dropped to sit on the edge of the bed. “One is that you’ve been cloned. You know the American government, doing experiments with soldiers and not telling them.”

That one made Marc chuckle.

“Not a clone, baby.” He smirked. “But keep going.”

“Okay, good to know.” You nodded. “Second is that you’re just working.”

“That all?”

“Well there’s the idea that you’re cheating on me but…”

“But what?”

“But if that was true then I’d have to leave your ass and I don’t really want to do that. Which is why you’re gonna tell me right now if that’s the case or not.”

“And who would this mystery woman be?”

“Layla.” You shrugged.

“Layla?” His brows raised incredulously, almost insulted that you would say that.

“You have her favorite poet on your desk, Marc. You two constantly go off on little excavations and jobs. She’s cute, fiery, not afraid of challenge, just your type really. Not to mention, you’ve been pretty close since you met.”

“You know why we met.”

“Yeah but did you ever tell her? I bet she wouldn’t fuck you if she knew you killed her dad.”

“Wow.” His eyes went wide. “You had that one ready, didn’t you?”

“Well you’ve been gone for a while. I had some time to come up with some good ones.”

“Y’know what…” He pushed his tongue against his cheek with a small scoff, as if something just came to him. “Yeah.. Yeah, I’ve been sleeping with Layla. Every time I ‘go to work’ I’m just meeting with her.”

“Hmm, funny.” You offered a sarcastic expression. “Just tell me what’s really going on.”

“I just did.”

“And I don’t believe you.”

“Course you don’t.” He mumbled and ran a hand down his face.

“Wanna say that again?” You challenged sharply, daring to close the distance between you two. You glared up at him, ignoring the fact that the height difference made you less intimidating than you were aiming for, but you stuck to your guns. “Or do you want to say something else?”

“I love you.” He put his hands on your shoulders and turned you around. “But there’s the door.”

“You son of a bitch.” You twisted out of his grip and spun again to face him. “You don’t get to kick me out after you tell me you’re cheating.”

“You’re the one that said you’d walk out.” He shrugged.

“If you two shack up here, then I'm sure she has some clothes here. Bathroom products, maybe. Toothbrush? Hair brush? She’s gotta have some underwear here at least, right?” You kept pushing as you stepped deeper into the small apartment in an effort to mate Marc couldn’t throw you out.

“Y/N.” He sighed and followed after you.

“Just tell me the truth.” You stopped and spun quickly to face him, almost colliding with his chest as he was coming up behind you. “Because I’ve never felt so alone. These few weeks without you have been like my world is falling apart. It’s gut-wrenching to wake up without you. No calls, no texts, no little notes around my place…”

His heart twisted when he realized how much he had been hurting you.

“You’re right… I’m not cheating on you.” He admitted with a sigh as his eyes fell to the ground.

You breathed a small sigh of relief and reached out to take his hands in yours. His thumbs ran back and forth along the backs of your hands. You gave them a small squeeze and he managed to meet your eyes again.

“I… Jesus, this is gonna sound nuts.” He sighed.

“I'm listening, Marc.” You said softly.

“You won’t believe me.” He shook his head.

“I believe you love me. And I love you. I believe you thought you were being noble and protecting me, but I always feel safer and more protected when you’re with me. Just be honest and we can work it out.”

“I serve Khonshu.” He said suddenly, as if it was his only chance to get the words out. “He saved my life before I met you and my servitude is how I repay that debt.”

“Khonshu…” You repeated, an expression of uncertainty on your face. “Is that the Egyptian moon god that looks like a bird version of Jack Skelingtion?”

At that, he chuckled and it brought a small smile out of you.

“Pretty much.” He laughed and nodded.

“And Steven?”

“That’s a longer story.”

“So let’s go home. I’ll make some food and we can talk about it.”

“You sure?” He gave your interlocked hand a small pull so you were chest to chest. He guided your hands to rest on his shoulders while his found their place at your waist. “You’re about to find out how much of a trainwreck I really am.”

You shrugged slightly. “Good thing I’m in it for the long run. I’m gunning for your last name eventually so I better buckle up, huh?”

“God, I love you.” He grinned.

[melodygatesauthor]

Marc Spector - Random Horny Thot #1 - The (almost) 40 y/o Virgin

NSFW

——

Marc doesn't want to tell you he's a virgin because he thinks it's embarrassing. He's a grown man, approaching his 40s, and he's never had sex before. Something about the thought excites you to no end.

You’re hovering over him while he’s on his back. His normally stern face looks (very slightly) desperate, like he’s begging you to just fuck him already. You can feel his needy cock twitch between your thighs. He’s leaking precum down his cock and you think he might come before you even have the chance to feel him inside of you.

His hands are on your hips, and he’s trying not to push you down because he wants you to have control. He’s never done this before and doesn’t want to go to hard or too soft. He doesn’t know what you like. Marc doesn’t even know what he likes.

You finally get yourself down so just the fat tip of his heady cock is inside, and already he’s trembling. His breathing is shaky, rapid and so fucking pathetic. You love it. You drop a little lower, his head flies back and almost cracks open on the headboard. He moves his hips upward ever so slightly, unable to help himself.

“F-fuck honey, sorry I just, fuck I want it so bad.”

“Sh, baby I know, be patient,” you tell him.

You’re able to lower yourself down once. One. Single. Time. Before Marc Spector is choking on the moan inside his throat and holding onto your hips so tight you think he might break you in half. His entire body shakes with his orgasm while his cock explodes and he empties inside of you.

He looks at you, so embarrassed that lost himself so early, face rosy and flush, but you just smile and kiss him softly.

“Let’s go again, this time you’re on top.”

——

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