Spicy Moon Knight

Spicy Marc: Need You

Marc Spector x You (Fem!Reader) 

Summary: What if Marc had you pinned down and could do whatever he wanted? He's obsessed with you and seems to have only one goal on his mind; getting you off.

Warnings: Soft dom Marc kind of, established relationship, teasing, marking, hair pulling, fluff/praise, masturbation, vaginal fingering, edging, orgasm delay.

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"You looked like this in a dream I once had. You were beautiful in that too."

"You're not the only one that's dreamed about this."

You breathe back raggedly. Laid back with him holding you down. His hand pressing into yours.

"Oh?" he lit up. A thrill in knowing he was on your mind. He looked like he wanted to ask about it. He'd need to hear that story some other time. His other hand already sliding down into your underwear as a reward.

Maybe that's why he left some marks along your neck. Liked the way you squirmed against his thigh between your legs. Liked the way you reacted to him holding your jaw. Liked knowing you were his. You could have playfully swatted him away at any point, but you didn't. Trusted him to take care of you like he'd promised.

His fingers felt nice stroking over your fluttering cunt, finding them coated in your slick in no time at all. It made his mouth water and dry all at the same time. Your other hand squeezed his as he held it. Little moments of affection. Fingers entwined, squeezing back. Letting you know he was right there with you. Keeping you close to him.

He moved his thumb in a slow back-and-forth motion experimentally over your clit. Enjoying the way your hips rocked to chase the friction. Deep in your heat his middle finger felt the way you twitched and throbbed. Almost begging for more. Crawling up to that cascading bliss.

Your hand found its way into his hair. Tugging him down towards you. Marc hissed a groan and chuckled breathily. You buried your face into his shoulder. Marc tilted his head to press the side of his head into yours. All the moans and whimpers you tried to muffle were music to his ears.

He introduced a second finger to stroke you from the inside out. Thumb picking up pace to see your reaction. Breathing stuttering and his rhythm stumbling when he felt your hand stroke up against his tented boxers. His hand squeezed against yours. Slowing his rhythm so he could concentrate on bringing his head back to look at you. Your stammered words. His name. Almost like a prayer. He was thinking the same thing about your name. Marc could drown in that look you gave him.

"Yeah. That's it. It's- fuck." His brain frazzled out as he searched for the words to tell you how perfect this was. Giving up and dipping in to kiss you instead.

"I'm all yours, baby."

Keeping his mouth pressed on yours. Wanting to swallow any noises you made. His fingers picked the pace up again. Finding that rhythm that you seemed to love. His own body betrayed him with his hips rolling to push himself into your hand. Desperate for any contact you'd give him. A groan against your needy little moans.

He whispered against your lips.

"Getting closer hm? I can tell. Soon. You have no idea how good you feel. Hold it for me."

He talked you through it. Leaning back to try and read your face when it was too much. Memorizing this moment of you fucking yourself on his fingers.

"Look at you," He'd coo. "Such a good girl." He'd smirk watching you tremble. He'd gently thrust with his wrist and rocked his thumb over your swollen clit in quick succession. His hand held yours tight, grounding you like it was your only lifeline.

"You're doing so good. I got you. You can let go."

His hand kept repeating the same motions waiting to feel you lose control of your body. Slowing down the pace and easing up completely off your clit. He peppered more kisses against your lips as you danced somewhere on the moon. Fingers coming up to his lips to clean and give you a moment to recover. The night wasn't over yet for you. Far from it. Marc was just getting started.