106. As It Was

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Marc Spector x f!reader

warnings: smut, angst, praise, oral f receiving, slight m masturbation, squirting, slight dumbification, slight degradation, pussy worship, dirty talk, rough sex, Marc is kinda dark in this one

warnings: smut, angst, praise, oral f receiving, slight m masturbation, squirting, slight dumbification, slight degradation, pussy worship, dirty talk, rough sex, Marc is kinda dark in this one

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"Marc, I'm here for you just-"

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"Marc, I'm here for you just-"

He shoves you away. Your heart clenches as you stumble backwards. The man that once held you, laughed with you, the man that just lived...you hardly see anymore. Marc's always been a no nonsense kind of guy. Always punctual and straight to the point. But under all of that gruffness is a man who loves. And who's passions run wild and almost get him killed more times than not. To you, that suit isn't a blessing from a god. It's a curse.

The good days are good, but the bad are worse. His mind is cracked and fragile from the weight he carries. Khonshu. He's the reason behind Marc's constant missions that always end in blood. You can't find the hate or anger in you for the Egyptian deity at the moment. Not when Marc's pacing and mumbling to himself with his thick curls gripped tightly between his fingers.

You try again, walking towards his sulking form once more. "Marc, please." When your hand connects with his arm, you find yourself being gripped tightly by the throat. Pain shoots down from your skull to your spine as he slams you against the nearest wall.

Your breathing is shallow and pointed as his large hand encases your neck. Leaning down, his nose brushes yours as deep brown eyes bore into yours. You notice the purple hues that lay below his lashes, the newest gash along his forehead, the sweat that breaks out along his skin. And yet, he's still as beautiful as the day you met him. Your chest tightens as you look away.

"Look at me," he whispers darkly. When your head stays glued to the side, he shakes you, forcing his hand under your jaw to look his way. "I said look at me!"

His voice shakes the hotel room. The tears fall and the ache in your jaw causes you to stand on your tiptoes to try and relieve the pain. He's dangling you like a doll. His ever fragile doll. "I don't need your help, your pity. I'm a fucking mercenary. Not a charity case," he seethes.

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