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Marc Snuffy was surprised the first time you picked him up.
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You and Marc had been in a relationship for a good while, enough for you to understand how much pride Marc has in his body. The skills he embeds into his soccer play style from his jujitsu background never failed to benefit him on the field.
Of all places, he had met you at the gym. At first he noticed your gym wear and made a comment to you in passing that he liked the color. He hadn’t seen you before that. After that, however, you two started to bump into each other more often.
Glances turned to smiles and smiles turned to you asking for his phone number. Marc was pleased when you texted him the following day and the two of you were able to make plans that fit around his soccer schedule.
You were quirky to Marc. He often would jokingly use you as an elbow rest when the two of you were out, commenting on how much shorter you were compared to him. He enjoyed the moments when you would instigate muscle contents, claiming your biceps were superior to his. He adored the determination in your movements as you two would wrestle around with each other too.
But he wasn’t expecting to be picked up during the latest wrestling session between the two of you. The beginning was a blur, all Marc remembered was that he saw you squat a little further down before rushing him with a pearly smile on your face. From the instant you made contact with his legs and hips, he lost his footing. More correctly, his feet were lifted from the ground.
Your arms crushed his waist tightly, leaving his arms to rest on your own waist to stable himself. Marc blinked, staring at the ground from his position along your shoulder.
“What? Since when could you do this, you goose?” Marc chuckled.
Giggles from below turned into a hearty laugh as you walked a couple paces to set him down on the bed. Following him, you laid along his stomach and chest, resting your head there. As he looked at you, he saw creases under your eyes and the wrinkles along your face. You were beautiful.
“I didn’t know I could do that either. It must be all those gym rat genes flowing in me, that was fun,” You chuckled. “And I win.”
Marc rolled his eyes playfully before turning the two of you over in the bed.
“You can have that one, but I’m winning round two.”
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Mwah 😽
Master Striker Kisses
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Julian Loki kisses you innocently. His kisses start out chaste, with smiles breaking upon both of y’all’s faces as you part. His kisses don’t last long, but they en capture the bliss of young love within every second.
Edit: hell no I could do sm better especially with Loki getting more coverage in the later chapters yall buckle up
Julian Loki kisses you fervently more than anything. It always starts sweeter, more innocent with smiles from the two of you constantly breaking his advances. However once he’s gotten serious about this make out session with you his kisses change from chaste to intense. They’re more fast than anything (fast pecs, fast tongue action ykwim), like a barrage of his lips against your own- they leave you worked up and chasing after him
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Lavinho kisses you passionately. This man puts his whole soul into his kisses, and you feel it too. They are hot, they are heavy, they are addicting. He always melds his mouth with yours and makes you want more as he pulls away to kiss along your jaw.
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Marc Snuffy kisses you tentatively. He is focused, he is analyzing how you’re reacting to his approach. Snuffy ends up kissing the side of your mouth as he tilts his head to make room for his nose more often than not. (It became y’all’s thing as a go-to quick goodbye gesture.)
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Chris Prince kisses you with vigor. He’s excited and commonly ends up breaking your kisses by smiling too much. He has a tendency to get lost in your make out sessions, quickly escalating the moment if you allow it to much more than smooches and caresses. He loves lip locking with you while you play with his hair.
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Noel Noa kisses you reverently. He doesn’t kiss you much in public, but in the depths of y’all’s home he locks his lips with yours in sacred solace. It’s sweet, it’s private, it’s familiar and juvenile. He found a way to bring comfort through his kisses; both to you and himself.
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This biscuit is just for you, mwah 😽
Marc Snuffy and His Nightmares
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His sight was blurry, like a painting that had been smeared over. Of all the colors blending together, Marc could oh so clearly make out his face.
That sullen, lifeless face. The light that once shone with promise of regality and conquest was replaced with a dull, muddy brown that only encapsulated the horrors of peasantry and failure. The dirty, overgrown locks that covered his forehead instead of that proud, Mohawk-esque hairstyle he would adorn with his full chest. That god awful beard that tainted his once golden skin, matted together with bile that had poured from his mouth. The tear streaks he could barely make out had dried so delicately along his cheeks.
Oh, Mick. How Marc had let you down.
Snuffy’s eyes opened instantly. The hazy blurs of dream began to fade and the harsh lines of reality became more and more apparent with every blink he took.
There was no more Mick. Mick wasn’t next to him, in this bed of love and security that he had nested in so cautiously for months and months. You were, with your hair unkempt and your drool that had seeped from your lips onto your pillow. How similar the two of you look right now, Marc noted with slight horror.
Before he could think much more, his hand was already pressing against your cheek; cradling the side of your face. He cradled Mick just like this too that day. His thumb whisked over your lips as he gathered some of the drool there. He didn’t like it, didn’t like this feeling scalding over his body and mind with such heat. And yet, even though his best friend may live in his head, Marc knows he is gone and you are not.
You are alive, even when you look so dead. Dead to the world, dead to him. The only thing he can be certain of right now is the warmth of your skin and the current of air circulation from your breaths. He can’t trust his thoughts. But he can trust your pulse.
Inhaling with a shake, Marc squints to focus on you more clearly in the dark of the night. Your skin was carefully drawn and colored by Michelangelo himself, with streaks of moonlight giving your skin an ethereal glow. Your hair, though unkempt, foiled and laid to rest around you perfectly. A composition directed by Mozart. You were royal. You are royal.
You are..awake.
Marc stared into your eyes. You stared back, sleep dulling the inquisitive look you were giving him.
“What are you doing?” You mumble, closing your eyes.
He blinks, “How long have you been awake?”
You ignore his question, “I can feel your hand shaking. Do you want to talk about it?”
Your hand comes up and slides in tune with his own. He watches as you press a soft, chaste kiss to his palm. Marc reaches his other hand under you and pulls you towards him. He settles in the crook of your neck, trying to find the peace that sleep did not offer him. You entangle further with him, using your free hand to pet his hair. Moments pass with the two of you just like this.
“I just woke up. Felt you.” You whisper, hoping to draw out a respond from him. He sighs.
“Go back to sleep. I feel you too.”
You line the top of his head with slow kisses. He didn’t want to talk about it.
You knew what happened with Mick Moon. You know how much it haunts Marc. You know that you can’t help him when he tries to shut you out like this. For a guy that’s generally so easy going, he can become real uptight when he feels the need. This need is one you don’t particularly like.
“I love you,” You try. “I love you Marc.”
His breath hitches. That got him, Wetness begins to coat the junction between your neck and shoulder. His body is starting to heave with every muffled sob he lets out. You let him, holding him closely to you as he releases all of that burden he’s been caring.
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You don’t know how much has passed. You press a kiss to Marc’s hair again. Your eyelids refuse to open, sleep caging you. Despite that, rest will not find you, not yet. Marc stopped crying a good bit ago, but you speculate the two of you are both still awake. You press another kiss to his head.
“I love you.” You barely hear it. It’s small and weak, probably just like how he feels right now. But it’s raw. Thats one thing Marc always does, and continues to do: love with raw passion. He loved Mick, loves Mick. He has loved you and will still love you well into tomorrow. Just like Mick.
You smile. The waves of dream take over the two of you, that solace of the embrace you two fall asleep in being one of protection and intimacy.
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This biscuit is just for you, mwah 😽
9.8.24