#marc is a soft dom

[ruegoreos]

some of my personal intimacy headcannons for my beloved moonboys <33

TW: mentions of sex, pet names, use of the word slut, fluff (let me know if i missed any <3)

Notes: these are just personal headcannons i have of the boys, personal opinions.

-----------------------------------MARC------------------------------------

despite marc being pretty reserved and dominant by nature, he likes to be held while sleeping or cuddling. He prefers being face to face with his arms around your back and his face buried in your chest. Or lying on top of you. That was always good too. His face resting in your neck, his body splayed out above yours, your fingertips along his back. He'd be asleep in three seconds.

marc enjoys a good fuck just as much as the next person. He loves to pin you down and take what he wants, making you scream his name until the neighbors know it. But he prefers soft sex, actually. He'd rather take you in a slow missionary filled with gentle kisses and soft, praising whispers. He'd call you "baby", " good girl/boy", "sweetheart."

aftercare was always marcs job. He'd bring you a warm, damp towel to clean you up, tea for your throat, and he'd put on your favorite movie while massaging the sore parts of your body. And if you wanted some alone time after, that was okay too.

----------------------------------STEVEN----------------------------------

steven, steven, steven. Sweet angel baby steven. He cuddled you every chance he got. In bed, on the sofa, on the train, anywhere. He'd wrap his arms around you, hold you close, and melt into your body. His face would disappear in your neck, and he'd be out like a light.

sex with steven was always gentle and slow. Unless he asked for otherwise. Steven liked you above him, liked you to take control and dominate him. He appreciated and welcomed praise, going absolutely bonkers for a "good boy" or "atta boy". Other times, however, when Steven is feeling extra horny, he'd beg and plead you to peg him. The feeling of being filled completely, the delicious stretch of your dildo, made him crave you even more.

Aftersex was a two way street with Steven. Of course, he'd shower you with gentle attention, making sure you were okay, possibly making you tea or bringing you whatever snacks you wanted. But he also enjoyed getting taken care of too.

-------------------------------------JAKE-----------------------------------

Jake was a spooner. He refused any other type of cuddles. If you weren't in his arms, your back up against his chest, he'd throw a fit. He slept like a ton of bricks too, his body motionless and heavy. His arms would latch around your torso, his legs intertwined with yours, his face buried in the nape of your neck. And he wouldn't let you go until he was awake.

oh boy. Jake liked it rough. He always did. Slow missionary? No. Your legs would be over his shoulders, one of his hands pinning both of yours above your head as he pounded into you. Soft cowgirl? No. Jake would hold onto your hip, slamming you down onto him like there was no tomorrow. But his favorite, oh his favorite was doggy style. Nothing turned him on more than seeing you on your hands and knees for him, your pretty little hole begging to be filled. He'd call you "amor", "cielo", "my slut", "dirty girl/boy".

aftercare? Aftercare was sleep. Jake would turn on some soft Spanish music, turn off the lights, pull you close in the afterglow, and sleep. He'd sing you to sleep sometimes, his voice a smooth yet raspy melody as he whispered in Spanish. And once he woke up from his nap, he'd take you all over again.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[the-devils-angel]

I've discovered I'm not (100%) a masochist but a sadist?????

I want to see men in pain. Whimpering, begging, bleeding... *insert Matt Murdock*

Yeah, dom fictional men are cool. But you know what else is cool? A man being so dependent on you for pleasure that it's almost pitiable… almost.

And that's on trauma induced by men who have sexually preyed on me :D

(And with basically any other gender… do what you want with me. I will submit or dominate😩)

The power of ✨t a t a s✨

[sillyruinsfox]

Aphrodite

SUMMARY: Marc wasn't supposed to be home and you felt beautiful, enough to touch touch yourself and take control.

WARNINGS: nudity, prelude to sex. 16+

..............................................................................................................................

It had just rained in London. The smoke had become heavier and settled down and the air seemed lighter. You threw the windows open; the chilly draft blew across your face. It seemed like the perfect time to have a private little dance party. It was rather convenient too, as usually Marc or Steven would be here but today they had gone out on a mission. He had said that he won't be back until tomorrow morning at best, so you knew for the fact that the evening was yours alone. 

You looked at yourself in the mirror, your hair was thrown up and a t-shirt rode up your thighs. Your skin glimmered in the soft light of the bustling city. A cold draft blew in from the window and hit your bare legs, a chill ran up your spine and lit a fire deep in your belly. You decided to play your favourite sexy song. It had often been a little fantasy of yours, to give someone a lap dance, but you never had the confidence to try that with either Marc or Steven. So you decided, half intoxicated by the romantic night that no better day than today to practice and build up that confidence.

The song played from the speaker, the violin built up to a tantalising note before a woman's voice broke through- half a moan and half a whisper. You stretched your arms and wrapped them around yourself, they slowly crept downwards and brushed up your bare thighs teasing the edge of your shirt. Your hand crept upwards, onto your belly which contracted at the sudden chill. Your eyes fluttered shut as goosebumps rose over your whole body. It descended upon you, the love for your body and the need to touch it to move it for no one but yourself. You felt like aphrodite at that moment, all of your flesh smelt like a garden of roses. 

You brushed off your shirt and trailed the tip of your finger from the tip of your jaw down the column of your throat as you sat down in front of the floor length mirror. The soft lighting painted your body in a sunset gold, making the valley's seem deeper and the peaks rise more. The same hand trailed down onto your breast, circling around its periphery and towards that center till you reached your nipple. 

A rush of heat shot down your core, making your core clench tighter. Your finger rubbed over your raised nipple a few time before you pinched it hard. A soft gap poured out. You pinched your other nipple. A clattering sound broke you out of your haze. You looked you and saw marc, in his Moon Knight suit.

‘Marc!’, you breathed out, your eyes blow wide as saucers. The mask stayed wrapped around his face. 

It slowly unwrapped, the bandages flicking in the air, ‘What are you doing vixen? And without me on top of that?’

You knew that look. The look that always appeared before he devoured you whole, before he demanded your submission to him. You felt yourself clench around nothing as your rose, your hair tickled your face, the heat that was coiled in your belly rose to your mouth, ‘Pleasing myself. Hence its none of your business.’

He sat down on the sofa, his legs splayed and arms spread on the backrest, ‘Anything that is yours, I have a right to, but I will only take what you give me.’, he continued after a beat, ‘You look like a goddess vixen.’

A smile spread across your face, ‘Good. I feel like one, and for today I hold the reins, so sit back and watch but you are not allowed to touch yourself or me till I say so.’

Adrenaline rushed through your veins, the world seemed to slow down and attune to you. Marc’s breathing quickened, ’The night’s yours and so am I.’

..............................................................................................................................

Fills a @moonknight-events bingo square! (Voyeurism)

[virtie333]

That is all

.Be Lost.//1.5

Really wanted to offer something to yall while I deal with all the ramifications of real life right now. This is continuing the request a donator made for soft dom Marc <3 1k

*

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

“I’m listenin’.” 

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

*

If there had been a masturbation hiatus before, there was a masturbation embargo now. Just as you were coming to terms with the fact that you could probably think of Marc (and have the best orgasm of your life) without feeling guilty or perverse, he dropped the permission bombshell, and suddenly the rug was pulled out from under you again. The last thing you wanted was for Marc to know how desperate you were all the time. 

But the thought of going behind his back, touching yourself and cumming without his approval…no. You just couldn’t do it. This dynamic was built on trust. He trusted you to tell him the truth, and you had given him your word. 

It was going to be a long winter. 

A week and then two comes and goes. Most mornings you wake up with a pillow between your thighs, foggy remnants of your latest Marc-dreams drifting away like smoke on the breeze. You don’t think that it counts, what you get up to in your honest-to-God unconscious sleep. You don’t feel the need to tell Marc every time you wake up hot and bothered, and you don’t feel guilty about withholding such information. 

One day he finally messages to ask: 

You been doing as I ask? 

Of course! you text back, a little waspishly. If he’s noticed your increasing crabbiness since that conversation in the dark two weeks ago, he hasn’t mentioned it. Yet. 

Alright, he messages benignly. He moves the conversation on to something else, but there’s no chance you can let that topic come and go so easily. 

Why do you ask? 

I was just curious, he says. But I figured maybe you just weren’t in the mood. 

Not in the mood? Has Marc lost his mind? That night two weeks ago you had been so turned on that you stepped out onto the porch, the bitter night air, whipping at your bare legs, just to calm yourself down. 

Before you can message back, your phone buzzes again: I’ve been jerking off every day.

You’ve never known words to have such a visceral affect on you. You feel like you’ve been punched in the gut, winded, lightheaded from lack of air. The image is in your head now. You can almost see Marc’s tidy apartment. Does he touch himself in the shower, let the water wash away his spend? Or does he do it late at night or early in the morning when he is still laying in bed clinging to the remnants of sleep? 

You ache. You shut off the stove burner so that you don’t burn your dinner and sit heavily at the kitchen table, phone on the oak in front of you. Bold as can be, you arch up and work your sleep pants off your hips, taking your panties with them. 

One hand pecks at your phone: Just go ahead and give me permission now then, and I’ll do it later after dinner. 

The other hand ghosts between your legs. Even this barest hint of a brush leaves your fingers coming away wet. You feel like you’ve been edging yourself for days with your own thoughts. Brushing the pads of two fingers over your swollen clit, you let out a choked moan that echoes around your tiny kitchen. 

I don’t think so, he says, phone buzzing on the table to get your attention. It has to be in the moment.

Whyyyyyyyyyy, you text, letting out an audible groan. You are so close, and you have barely touched yourself. Your fingers dip into your folds, tracing along the slick, swollen flesh. When you drag the wetness up over your clit, you nearly cum—it takes all your deep breathing exercises and relaxing the twitching muscles in your pelvis to let the pleasure recede. 

Your phone buzzes. 

So I can touch myself and maybe cum with you

Yeah, there’s no holding back anymore. Your body stiffens, a ripple passing over you from head to toe making you flash cold and then so, so hot. Your cunt clenches tight around nothing. 

You just have the foresight to smash keys and ask: 

can i ?,

And he must be sitting there with his phone in one hand (and his other in his pants, perhaps) because he messages back almost straight away: 

Fuck. Go ahead, baby 

It is the weakest, lamest orgasm ever, and it still leaves your legs shaking. Your head drops to rest against the wood of the table while you spasm and clench, emptier than you’ve ever been. It isn’t enough. 

again? you ask. 

Holy shit. That quick? You’re right there again already? 

marc pla, then you have to correct yourself; pls 

Go ahead, he sends. But you see him typing, and so you slow the frantic, messy rubbing of your fingers, edging yourself unconsciously. It is worth the wait: Can’t wait for it to be my fingers that you’re cumming on

Your next peak is stronger, deeper. Your back bows against the dining chair, cunt spasming as you work yourself through the release. You are so empty that you tuck two of your fingers into yourself afterwards, wishing they were thick enough to mistake for Marc’s. 

Sweat clings to your temples. The warmest you’ve been since winter began. Your phone buzzes on the table and your eyes widen at the preview of the text: From Marc 🌙 : Send me a picture of yo…

With your non-dominant hand, you type in your phone’s passcode and read: 

Send me a picture of your messy fingers

Fuck, he’s filthy. You’re filthy—literally, when you work your fingers out of your wet pussy and sneak them from your pants to look at them beneath the fluorescent kitchen lights. 

Your fingertips are fucking pruned. You’re soaked down to the base of your fingers, where they meet your palm.

“Oh God,” you groan. Shaking, you do your best to take a picture with your weaker hand. You send it before you can chicken out. It takes six entire minutes for Marc to message back: good girl.

[rosesanddecay]

Oscar Isaac Characters Eating You Out

Minors DNI

Featured Characters: Miguel O’Hara, Moon Knight System, Basil Stitt, Anselm Vogelweide, Blue Jones, Poe Dameron, Nathan Bateman, Duke Leto Atreides, Prince John, Santiago “Pope” Garcia x afab!reader (Pronouns and descriptions aren’t used for the reader)

CW: SMUT (did you look at the title?), pet names, slight size difference, fingering, face riding, mention of periods, slapping, toys, anal, dub-con, sub and dom roles, squirting, overstim/crying, untranslated Spanish, and possibly some other things (All are just brief mentions)

These are just some short, dumb little rambles/headcannons of mine, so it’s not written the best. Not proofread or heavily edited.

(Lmk if you want more in the future)

Miguel O’Hara - Across the Spiderverse

Miguel is a tired man, always overworking himself with the Spider Society. All because he’s extremely thorough, never leaving something to be completed at a later date. Because of this, it’s not often he gets the chance to destress.

So, when it comes time to pleasure, he’s just as thorough. Miguel makes sure you feel just as much pleasure as he does.

Of course, because of his lack of free time, Miguel doesn’t care where or when it happens, he’s eating you out.

You’re in his office? Bend over.

You’re on your period? I guess he’s not beating the vampire allegations.

Pick a time or a place, he’s there, willing to thoroughly please you in whatever way he can.

Miguel is on his knees with your legs over his shoulders. His claws gently pricking at the soft of your thighs as he holds you still.

If you squirm too much, he is glaring at you from overtop your heat, pinning you in place with one of his massive hands.

His tongue runs laps in your cunt, teasing your clit and slurping you up. He’s eating you like a starved man, letting out small growls every now and again.

Miguel will refuse to touch himself until you’ve climaxed multiple times. He has the stamina to keep going for hours, and this is just a warm up for him. Besides, he’d rather see either of your pretty lips wrapped around his length over his hand.

When you’re a trembling, sopping mess underneath him, he’ll finally stop. His lower face is shiny as he licks his lips and hungrily smirks at you.

“Don’t think this is over, mi amor. This is just the beginning…”

Marc Spector / Steven Grant / Jake Lockley - Moon Knight

Marc wants you to feel as much pleasure as possible, because while he denies it, a part of him is a people pleaser. He always puts his partners above himself, including during intimate moments.

Marc is experienced and he will take the time to know what you like. Marc practically memorizes your body and what gets you riled up. But if he has the choice, he has you on your knees as he eats you out from behind.

Marc has you bent over as his tongue hits that perfect spot, causing you to tremble and moan in pleasure.

He loves seeing you grasp the sheets as you bury your face in your pillow, to him it’s a sign of validation, evidence that he’s making you feel good.

His hands grab at your thighs and ass as he goes to town. If he feels you try to pull away, he’ll swat your rear until you stay still.

When his mouth starts to ache, Marc will pull up and insert his fingers instead. He’ll move them in the way that has your toes curling and has muffled screams coming from your pillow.

Of course though, he finishes the job with his mouth back on you, drinking up every ounce you give him. He’ll lick his lips clean and kiss your cunt in praise.

“You did so good for me, darling…”

Steven is the most insecure of the boys. He never had the chance to date before, so he’s always worried about making you feel good. He especially worries when he hears how Marc talks about your guys' time together. Steven wants to make you feel just as good.

But Steven isn’t as affirmative as Marc or Jake.

Steven will keep you on your back, his hands feeling his favorite parts of your body. He loves to caress you.

Steven likes to be thorough but also to go slow. He wants you to feel every little moment he makes.

His tongue hits the spots you love, but it’s methodical, careful.

Steven pleasures you as though you could fall apart if he were to be too rough. But if you grind your hips or grab his hair, he’ll go a bit faster.

He lets you have control, his goal is to make you feel good, so why wouldn’t he listen to you?

Despite being focused on you, Steven won’t hesitate to make himself feel good too. Whether it’s with his hand or just humping at the mattress in front of him.

He definitely gets pussy drunk, babbling as dines on you.

“So pretty… so pretty…”

Jake, on the other hand, prefers to be a bit risky.

As much as he loves private moments with you (like the other boys), the thrill of getting caught makes it more exciting for him.

He’ll absolutely eat you out in his car or in an empty alleyway. All because you dressed up pretty for him or gave him that perfect smile of yours.

Jake likes to be quick but efficient with you, at least in public.

Jake sinks to his knees and pushes you against the brick wall. His hand stays on your stomach, making sure you don’t scramble from his grasp.

He’d start slow, intentionally making you panic about getting caught, but as he gets quicker, you become a moaning mess above him.

Jake will smirk as he makes quick work of you, making you finish quicker than you thought possible.

“Tan perfecta/o, mi vida… tan perfecta/o para mí…”

All of them love you so much, so sometimes after a hard day, they’ll each take turns making you feel good.

Steven most likely starts, being that he’s the most gentle. He’s a good warm up and he’s good for calming down without actually stopping. But with the other guys there too, he definitely is being a bit more aggressive to keep up.

Marc and Jake will take their turns, teasing and riling you up. Just between those two alone, your position is constantly changing, there’s no chance you’re getting sore from being stuck in one place.

Each of the boys will make sure you feel good, prioritizing you above all else. They even monitor each other through the many mirrors littered throughout the apartment. They just want their darling to feel good <3

Each will take their time, only stopping when you’re an overstimulated, crying mess.

Soft kisses and cuddling definitely ensue afterwards.

“Our beautiful darling…”

Basil Stitt - Lightningface

Basil, the pathetic, desperate, possessive loner. He will do anything for your attention. He will follow your every order. You don’t even have to touch him, he’ll cum just from eating you out. He loves you that much.

Basil is aggressive as he eats you out, desperate to make you finish. Because if you finish, you’ll stay, despite his scars.

He moans and whimpers more than you do as you pull him deeper into your cunt. His hands grapple at every curve of your body, desperate to make sure you’re real, that you want him.

Why would anyone want a monster like him? Even his own girlfriend cheated on him before his accident happened.

As he tastes you, he desperately chases your climax.

He needs you to feel good. He needs you.

When your legs tense around his head and you start praising him, he starts crying and finishes as well, his seed staining the floor below him.

His head falls against your inner thigh as his tears fall fast. He grabs at you harshly, his fear causing his chest to ache.

“Imsosorry… staywithmeplease…”

Anselm Vogelweide - Big Gold Brick

Anselm is a weirdo, a big horny weirdo, let’s get that out of the way.

Anselm will touch you and do whatever he wants whenever he wants. This kinky switch of a man will eat you out in any way possible, and it’s never simple.

Per his request, he lies tied up with you over him. His arms are completely restrained as he lets you control the situation.

Your glittering heat flutters as he blows on you, smirking at every little reaction you have. He loves your noises, especially when you’re loud.

Eventually you sit on his face, and groaning happily, he licks up into you.

Your hips rock back and forth on his face, his nose hitting your throbbing clit harshly. You’re breathing heavily as Anselm eats you up, his beard scratching the back of your legs as your hips move.

Despite being such an odd man, he absolutely knows what he’s doing, like— he’s extremely talented with his tongue alone. With every squirm and noise you make, he’s watching you like a hawk.

Your high builds and comes crashing down quickly. But when you start to move off, he harshly demands you get back.

“We aren’t done yet, doll. If you don’t get back on, I’ll kill myself.”

Blue Jones - Sucker Punch

Blue doesn’t eat you out for your pleasure, no- it’s to prove a point.

He owns you, just like he owns all the people working for his club. And because he owns you, he has to make sure you know how good only he can make you.

You were in the dressing room when he approached you, his eyes hungrily scanning your body.

Whether out of fear or attraction, you do everything he asks. So when he asks you to strip bare, you do exactly that.

With his head between your thighs, it’s hard to remember that this man could kill you without a second thought. He’s just too talented with his tongue.

Running a club has its perks, including having lots of practice in making others feel good. With all this practice, this man will do anything to make you squirt. He sees it as a sign of victory, that his toy likes him the best.

Your back is arching as Blue hits your sweet spot. Your hips lightly hump his face and nose, chasing your high. His hands grip your legs, letting you ride his face more and more.

You squirt all over his face, causing him to hum in approval.

When you finish, he licks a stripe through your arousal. Blue’s eyes meet yours.

“Bunny, do you act like such a desperate whore with all the clients?”

Poe Dameron - Star Wars

Lover of the sky, Poe is known for being quite flirty. With the constant travel, Poe has had his share of hookups and romantic partners.

Which is why, of course, Poe would do anything to make you feel as much pleasure as possible.

He’s cocky, sure, but when he brags about how loud he makes you scream, you know it’s the truth.

After a long day of travel, Poe is clinging to your cunt.

As his tongue runs laps through your folds, you tightly grip at his curls.

He’s already made you finish at least twice, and he’s desperate for another.

Your cunt is trembling from overstimulation, broken moans escaping your lips as you lazily try to pull him away.

With every faint tug of his hair, he pulls your body closer towards his mouth, not letting you escape.

His tongue circles your clit like a dehydrated man, wanting you to release and give every drop of yourself to him again and again.

When Poe gets you to release over his tongue once more, he doesn’t back off, speaking as he licks every drop.

“Just one more… Can you handle one more for me, baby?”

Nathan Bateman - Ex Machina

Nathan doesn’t eat you out normally, he much prefers using his fingers if he has to.

This man prefers making himself feel good above all else, he only tolerates making you feel good. Which is why he always makes you finish quickly or sometimes not at all, moving on to make sure he can get his pleasure from this exchange.

The only time he has eaten you out was when he walked in on you having a wet dream, mumbling his name as your legs spread under the blankets.

You wake up moaning loudly, Nathan tucked between your thighs, mouth to your aching core.

As he hits your sweet spot, you instinctively grab his head. His buzzed hair provides nothing to grip to as your hips sleepily grinds his face.

Everything feels extra sensitive and good, the lack of previous priority making you extra needy.

His beard provides a scratchy and satisfying feeling as his tongue laps up your soaked folds.

He doesn’t even acknowledge that you’ve awoken, now on a mission to make you finish on his mouth.

His hands grope at your waist and ass, gripping at all the soft flesh he can.

When you finish with trembling legs, he lifts his head, his beard glistening in your juices. His hand palms over his cock as he sits on his knees and stares down at you.

“Get up. It’s my turn.”

Duke Leto Atreides - Dune

Leto is a very busy man, but he does worship you when he gets the chance.

Constantly being needed by everyone, it feels nice to relax and give himself to the one person he wants to: you.

Sure, sometimes you’re under the table servicing him, but it’s not often he gets the chance to do the same for you.

He’s on his knees, worshiping your pussy like it is a divine god. Leto is praying to you with his tongue.

Leto is so focused on you, he can’t even acknowledge his own pleasure before he knows you’ve had some release.

He has to give his baby some extra care while he has the chance <3

His hands touch every inch that he can, worshiping all of you that he can.

Leto’s nose bumps your clit as he watches you like prey, he just loves your blissed out expression.

When you two make eye contact, he makes his assault that much more pleasurable. Whether that’s adding in his fingers or reaching deep into you with his tongue. Man loves his eye contact.

When you climax, he’s smiling and peppering kisses over your inner thighs.

“I still have time, shall we go for another?”

Prince John - Robin Hood (2010)

John is a man of pleasure, and he will devour you as long as he gets some in return. Just… never mention your ex or past relationships, he gets jealous.

He loves different positions and experimenting with you, as long as you’re both having fun or a good time, then he’s more than happy.

John, the whiny man, is begging into your cunt as you two eat each other up.

Your mouth is wrapped around his length as he laps up your warmth.

With each stroke of your tongue, he moves his in tandem. Every moan you gain from him, wonderfully rumbles your pussy.

His hands grasp and pull your ass cheeks, kneading the soft flesh.

John eats you like a starved man, because despite his regal status, you are by far the best meal he’s eaten.

At least that’s what he’d be saying if it weren’t the end to your guys night of pleasure, and John didn’t need an heir.

He probably isn’t the most thrilled to be eating his and your cum out of your pussy, but it's you, so he can’t complain.

Together, you finish and clean each other of every last drop, leaving both of you exhausted.

John pats his shoulder.

“Come, rest your head.”

Santiago “Pope” Garcia - Triple Frontier

Santiago loves to tease you. No matter the situation or place, he will edge you until you’re crying.

He likes seeing you as a whimpering mess, begging for some relief.

You were just on the cusp of finishing when Santiago pulled away, watching as you begged him to let you cum.

He’d chuckle and hold your hands hostage, not letting you get the chance to finish what he started.

As you start to come down from your high, he’d go back in, licking and eating your cunt out.

As you squirm, chasing your release, he’d cage your legs in place with his arms and hands. You’re not allowed to escape him or his constant teasing.

When he finally lets you finish, you’re a trembling mess, your hole clutching at his tongue as he eats every last drop.

“You’re so cute like this… maybe I should go again?”

—————————————————

Thanks for reading!

Lmk if you want me to add more of his characters or do a different set of characters (like Genshin men for ex.)

[runa-falls]

Please write a story where Marc and Jake tease Steven for being soft in bed so he becomes this dominant rough guy who overstims the reader IVE BEEN THINKING ABOUT THIS ALL DAY I JUST DONT KNOW HOW TO WRITE IT DOWN

a/n: idk how to write it down either, but i'll give it a shot! btw, marc and jake would never talk to steven like this, but just for the sake of the story they're assholes :( also sorry this is a YEAR late 0-0

cw: smut (18+), voyeurism (3x), f!masturbation, mean/ooc!marc + jake, rough sex, overstimulation, oral (f!recieving), multiple orgasms!, slightly possessive lovemaking, slight breeding kink (creampie), sad-ish/insecurity, feelings, dom-ish!steven, fluff -- (idk why it got so soft so fast im sorry), L-bombs, commentary from the other moon boys~

wc: 3.5k

masterlist

---

he watches from the doorway as you whine and mewl on the bed, desperately attempting to get yourself off.

your whole body glistens with heat as you squirm under the dull lighting of the room-- clearly, you've been at this for a while.

you are dressed in a familiar white undershirt that is definitely from the boys' closet, but your bottom half is bare and spread out, dripping onto the comforter as your fingers work their magic.

a perfect eye-full for your 3-in-1 boyfriend.

"this is why you're not allowed to have her on the weekends." marc taunts from a nearby mirror, though his eyes are locked on your writhing body. steven clenches his jaw as the grating voice in his head pulls him away from the alluring scene in front of him.

god knows why he decided to put up so many mirrors in the flat. it's like he's trying to drive himself crazy.

your eyes are squeezed shut as your finger delicately circles against your clit, spreading your slick all over your pulsing cunt until wet sounds begin to fill the air. you suck on your bottom lip as you frantically tease the sensitive bud, your legs tense from the build-up, and your back arches off the mattress.

"she needs a real man to take care of her after a long week of work."

that irks steven.

you've never talked about being unsatisfied by his slower pace -- by his need to savor each look, sound, and touch that you give him.

of course, jake needs to chime in as well, "look at our girl, stevie, she's so needy. let me have the body. i'll give her what she needs."

steven tries to block them out, but it's hard when their voices are coming straight from his own mind.

when he thinks back on your time together, everything is perfect. at least to him, it is.

he loves hearing your soft breathy moans, tasting the sweetness of your pussy dripping from his kitten licks, and feeling those delicate kisses that you share as you ride him gently. you fall apart in his arms, hold him close, and exchange whispered 'i love you's.

sure, he's always been the softer side of the three -- kissing over jake's bites or gently caressing marc's bruises -- but he thought you liked that. he thought that was enough.

but now you're getting yourself off without even seeking him out first.

you're close, so fucking close, panting out stuttered breathes, thighs clenching together, and body shaking, but --

"fuck!"

it's not enough.

your heart beats rapidly against your chest as you start to come down from that unreachable peak you've been chasing all day. as your foggy mind finally clears up, you sense someone at the door.

"s-steven!" you're surprised to see him, especially just standing there, watching you fail to pleasure yourself.

his work shifts have been running later and later since marc's last mission (donna is forcing him to work unpaid overtime instead of firing him) so you weren't expecting him until dinner time.

the shifts have been brutal for him.

these days, he just eats sleep for dinner, too tired to do more than just collapse on the couch and cuddle you. you've tried to convince him to just quit, that jake's cab escapades and marc's more 'eccentric' job opportunities can pay for everything, but he really loves the job, despite the weirdly toxic work environment.

"darling."

it's a flat greeting, a tone you've never heard from his lips, especially not when he's fronting. he doesn't seem happy to see you. actually, he looks quite upset.

you cover yourself up with a blanket, suddenly uncomfortable with your partial nudity when he's unhappy like this.

"why are you back so early?" the usual glimmer in his eyes is snuffed out, instead replaced with an eerie darkness. "what's--are you okay, honey?"

"take it off."

"w-what?" you know he's referring to the blanket, but the way he demanded it --

"off."

you hesitantly move the blanket, revealing the evidence of your unfulfilled desperation. you shyly look up at him, embarrassed and terribly turned on that he's making you do this.

you can't help but press your thighs together, already feeling another spark of heat simply from seeing your darling boyfriend with his head of messy curls.

"keep them open."

you obey his command and spread your legs, leaning back to give him a good view. his eyes meet your center, the frustration you couldn't get rid of. you immediately see need blooming in his body, particularly under his slacks.

soft-spoken steven has never been as forthcoming as his counterparts, but he doesn't need to be, his body does all the talking for him.

you're watching each other as he slowly approaches you, tension thick in the air. he's so desperate to give you exactly what you need and deserve.

steven's mind runs through all the times he had stuck around while marc and jake fucked you.

the first time it happened, he didn't mean to watch through marc's eyes, but once he saw how easily you submitted for him, how utterly ruined you are once marc is done with you, he couldn't help but pop in once in a while.

steven nearly flushes in shame from the memory. he's so perverted...

marc is possessive, steven learned. he likes to know that you're his. he marks you up with his hands and mouth so you'll never forget who you belong to, then he makes you scream his name as you reach your high as he fucks his cum into you.

of course, you're happy to give him whatever he demands, laying right where he wants you and taking anything he'd give you.

jake's methods are different: he makes you cry.

it's the overstimulation that gets him off the best. the sight of your body shaking and writhing to get away from his insatiable touch gets him hard, makes him growl against your tacky skin. he gets off to getting you off, and you love it.

so maybe a mixture of both is what you need.

he can do that.

"i need you to do something for me." he curses inwardly at how soft his voice is when he talks to you. it's a reflex. he's supposed to be confident and rough.

"anything." you breathe out.

"turn around for me, love." he's standing right by the bed, leaning over you. "on all fours."

the surface of your body ripples with goosebumps as you position yourself on the bed for him. he hasn't even touched you and you're already humming with pleasure.

you hear him sigh behind you before he shuffles closer and delicately caresses your bare hips and bottom with warm hands. you feel yourself melt against the mattress as you drop from holding yourself up by your hands to leaning on your forearms. he always makes you feel soft and cozy, even with the simple contact of his hand against your body.

steven watches you arch your back as you get comfortable, hungrily taking in the way you unconsciously push your ass toward him. you're effortlessly sexy to him. you could simply put your hair up into a ponytail and he'd be rock-hard in his slacks from seeing your bare neck. so this...is distracting him.

"so..." marc's voice pulls him out of his thoughts, "you gonna do anything or just stare at her all night?"

"I'm working on it!" steven grits out (in his mind).

"alright, show me how it's done then, loverboy."

you gasp quietly as steven suddenly forces your legs to spread wider for him. you would have lost your balance if it weren't for his steady hold on you.

he slowly kneels in front of the bed, briefly adjusting himself in his pants to relieve some of his desperation. you struggle to keep your legs apart when you feel his warm breaths brush against your needy cunt. you swear you're literally throbbing with need for him.

jake's done this before, steven recalls, eating you out from behind. you seemed to really enjoy it despite the intense overstimulation that pushed you to tears and the bruises left on your thighs from his tight hold and nipping mouth.

he can do this.

he leans in and lightly brushes his plump lips against your wet center to test the waters. your muffle a whimper against the pillow you cling onto, but he hears it loud and clear.

you're so soft and wet, already falling apart in front of him. he can't help but poke his tongue out to taste your sweetness. the warm softness of his tongue has you urgently pushing yourself against him and he takes that as his sign to go deeper.

this time he holds you closer, wrapping his arms around your thighs as he dips into the hot opening of your cunt, working his tongue against your tender walls. his mouth waters at the taste of you and he's desperately leaning in for more.

he thrusts his tongue into your cunt, filling the room with slurping noises that nearly make you blush with how lewd they sound. he's pressed so closely behind you that he's practically supporting your weight as your legs grow too weak to hold you up.

"s-ste-- a-aah-- mm..." you fall apart when he starts licking from your entrance to your clit, flicking eagerly as you start to gush against his tongue. he can already feel your legs twitch and tremble as you try to escape his hot mouth.

your eyes roll to the back of your head when you feel his soft lips wrap around your aching clit. it's almost too much for you to handle. he suckles on your sensitive bud until you're whining out against your pillow as your body trembles with the crash of your orgasm.

steven ignores your pleas and your attempts to escape his mouth as he continues to work you through your high. he cleans you up with a gentle mouth, making sure not to miss a single drop. drool pools against the pillow as your exhausted body struggles to stay conscious.

“hm, not bad…” jake admires your trembling frame from a reflective surface nearby, hungrily taking in the scene and wishing he were in steven's place instead. "maybe we were wrong about you, stevie."

steven watches you as well, but with a hint of reluctance. he's never seen you like this first hand. usually, you're the one staring down at him with a small smile as he attempts to catch his breath from your teasing antics.

he's not sure if he likes this any more than the usual dynamic the two of you have. of course he loves knowing that he can make you fall apart just as much as marc and jake, but it's not him.

"you're not done with her yet, right?" marc asks, "'cuz if you are, i'd be happy to finish her off."

jake is quick to argue, "actually markie, i'm pretty sure it's my turn to spoil our little princess."

steven finally bites back, "no, tonight she's mine."

he grumbles, making an effort to push his annoyances into silence so he can give all of his attention to you.

steven nudges you to lay on your back so he can see your face, "love, are you alright?" his tone is light, despite the fact he's eager to continue ravaging you -- even if you do end up falling asleep.

"mhm," your eyes flutter open, sparkling with satisfaction as you stare up at him. you're adorable with that post-sex flush on your skin, highlighting the tops of your cheeks. "i just... wasn't expecting this from you."

"did you like it?"

"steven, i can barely feel my legs."

he lets out a nervous chuckle like he's unsure whether that's a good thing or not, but you ease his mind with a soft smile. you reach up and cradle his face, "yes, baby, i loved it." he presses his cheek against your hand, enjoying your embrace, "i always like it when you touch me."

"then can we do more?"

of course, you want to have sex with him, but...that, no matter how mind-blowing it was, wasn't him. steven is the type of guy to hold eye contact with you while eating you out, wanting to catch every expression and moan of praise as he brings you to the edge. he's the type to hold your hand as you cum, squeezing lovingly to encourage you to fully let go because you're safe with him.

all night he's been acting off. he's been distant and in his head -- and you have a faint idea as to why (their names rhyme with "bark and bake") but you want your sweet and gentle steven back.

you take his hand, "w-wait...steven?"

“yes, darling?"

you sit up, "can you, um, kiss me first?" it's a bit embarrassing to ask when he's already been nose deep in your cunt, but you need that sweet embrace that he's always given.

"of course." steven’s eyes soften.

cool relief rushes through his body. maybe he was wrong, maybe you do like his soft touches and sweet kisses. maybe you like him for being himself. it's not like marc and jake are the same anyway. each of them gives you something special.

he leans in closer and presses his lips against yours, his body trapping you against the bed. he immediately feels you relax against him as you start to move your mouth over his. he kisses you gently, taking time to trace over the sensitive edge of your bottom lip before dipping in and laving his tongue against yours. 

when you separate from each other with puffy lips and heated breaths, you can't help but admire the pretty man above you who regards you with pure admiration in his eyes.

"make love to me steven," you whisper, "a-and hold me after, please." his soft brown eyes, full of longing and admiration, meet yours.

"always, love." he pecks you once more on the lips, "i'd do anything for you." you feel his lips move down from your mouth to the edge of your jaw, then your shoulder, and finally the top of your covered chest.

he sits up briefly to pull your shirt off before doing the same with his own clothes. once he's in nothing but his briefs, he's back on top of you.

steven has stars in his eyes as he watches his hand slide over the softness of your curves. he loves how perfectly you fit against him.

you gasp softly as he teasingly brushes his thumb against your nipple. your body is already so sensitive to his touch.

"you're so beautiful..." he whispers.

as he leans in and captures the bud in his mouth, his hand drags down to the spot where you need him the most, sending a wave of sensations through your body and causing you to arch against his mouth.

you're already wet enough for him to slip his fingers inside of you, so he immediately begins thrusting deeply against your spongey walls, letting sloppy sounds of your wetness echo through the bedroom.

you tangle your fingers into his curls and arch your back as he starts to suckle at your nipple. his slick tongue flicks over the hardened bud, sending tingles up your spine. you are already half-delirious from how expertly he's working your body.

everything seems to speed up when you start to squirm under him. he's pushing you harder onto the bed, he's nipping love bites at your tits, his hand is moving faster against you -- from the sounds coming between you, you're sure you've made a mess of his hand.

"s-steven...mm...please!" your thighs squeeze around his wrist as he gets overzealous, hitting your g-spot over and over again without giving you a breather. he groans against your breast when you tug at his hair.

without any warning, he pulls away.

you reluctantly let him get up (though you're definitely too weak at this point to stop him) and you're left to breathlessly watch as he licks his fingers clean and pulls himself out of his briefs.

pleasure continues to buzz against the surface of your skin as you hungrily stare at the way he pumps himself delicately in front of you, his cock is already dripping with desperation. he looks at you with glazed eyes and flushed cheeks while he touches himself.

what a pretty boy...

"need to feel you," steven mumbles, shifting closer to you to press his cock against the seam of your cunt.

"feel me," you beg, canting your hips upwards to meet him.

steven gently moves himself against you, rutting himself against your wet center. he pants when his tip just barely presses into your entrance, proving how ready you are for him.

slowly, he pushes himself in, shuddering at how soft and wet you feel around him.

you whimper softly when he starts fucking you at a slow pace, forcing you to feel how perfectly he stretches you out, over and over again.

your body shudders every time he bottoms out and presses so intensely against that spot inside of you, making you feel like you're about to burst if he doesn't pull out soon.

steven looks down at your face, wanting to see if you're liking this -- but it turned out to be a mistake. he meant to make this sweet, to hold back and make love to you like you asked, but when you look up at him with those shiny eyes and that blissed, fucked-out expression, he can't help the way his hips start to frantically grind against yours.

"i'm sorry, love, i can't -- uhh -- c-can't help it when you look at me like that!" steven pushes your thighs upwards, forcing them closer to the mattress on either side of your head. you cry out as the new angle pushes him deeper within you, hitting every buzzing nerve inside of your sopping cunt.

"mm...steven!" the bed below rocks as his hips violently slap against you in a rhythmic motion.

he groans as he watches his cock thrust inside of you, making a mess of your wet center as you gush around him. you look so small under him, yet you're eagerly taking every inch in that tight cunt.

"i-i want to be inside of you forever..." steven pants out, "and i want you to feel me," he reaches between your bodies to press against your stomach, "here, forever."

"ahh~" you pant heatedly as the added pressure of his hand makes him feel even bigger inside of you. you squirm under him from the intense feeling, but you can barely move out from his hold.

"i love you, darling." he chokes out as he grows closer to the edge, rutting deliciously against the top wall of your pussy. "t-tell-tell me you love me too."

"fuck -- i love you, steven. i'll a-always -- nmph," you flutter around him as the heat of your own climax explodes throughout your body. "love you~" you can barely get the words out as he finishes inside of you.

you don't mind the way he rests on top of you as he attempts to catch his breath. his body is hot and sticky against yours, but it feels comforting nonetheless.

"mm...i missed you and your sweetness." you sigh, enjoying his weight over you, even if it is a tad difficult to breathe.

steven sheepishly mumbles against you, "but that wasn't exactly sweet lovemaking."

"sure, but it was you."

he simply hums happily in response, dotting light kisses against your tacky neck before nuzzling his face against you.

when you both cooled off, you decidedly needed a little space from the man pinning you to the mattress, "ok i need to breathe a little, steven."

"oh, oops, i'll get up." he pushes himself up so he can give you some air. you can't help but shudder as he starts to pull out of you.

"ah~" you can feel the warmth of his cum start to drip from your center, "you came so much, steven. look -- you made a mess." you tease, opening your legs for him.

"m'sorry, love." he sits back on his knees in front of you, staring down at the mess he made (as if he isn't just as messy). "didn't mean to..."

it doesn't sound like he's sorry though -- not by the distracted way he mutters out the apology while scooping up his cum and shoving it back into you.

"steven."

"i'm just trying to minimize the mess!" he defends.

you don't stop him because it feels oddly pleasant to be doted on like this. you'll just have to do a final cleanup later, you decide.

"imagine if i weren't on birth control," you joke, "i'd definitely be pregnant by now."

"..."

"steven are you hard again?!"

[have-you-seen-my-sanity]

Hi! Can you write a fic where Steven and Marc are jealous of each other about who loves the reader more and who's better in bed? Maybe they could confront reader too

pls make it smutty if you're okay with that

Hello!! <3

Let's see who's better

Steven Grant & Marc Spector x fem!reader

Warnings: Jealousy, p in v, soft dom Steven, oral fem!receiving, smut, nsfw, happy ending.

Steven just got out of the bathroom after a refreshing shower, your sleeping form caught his attention.

"She looks so beautiful asleep. Love her so much." Steven smiled.

Meanwhile Marc felt the need to take part.

*Me too, buddy.*

Steven turned to look in the mirror, seeing indeed Marc with a cheeky smile on his face.

"I love her more."

*No I do.*

"Not a chance mate."

*I met her first.*

"Bloody hell, Marc."

Marc just gave an arrogant smirk.

"If you think that, then let's just ask her."

*You challenging me now, buddy?*

"You bloody bet I did, mate."

*Did you bump your head?*

"No, of course not! Did you?"

Marc and Steven were so into arguing, they didn't notice you waking up.

"Boys? What are you yapping about?"

*Great, you just woke her up.*

"You're the worst." Steven scoffed, returning to the bedroom. "Sorry love, Marc and I were just uh, making bets..."

You raised your eyebrow "Sounded like a sudden deep hatred."

Steven shrugged. "You know how we can get sometimes."

"Yeah, sometimes you two are acting like an old couple." You chuckled.

"Are we that bad?" Steven fiddled with his fingers, making a nervous expression.

"No! You're simply too innocent, Stevy!" You laughed, getting out of the bed and hugging him.

Steven was actually surprised, but he loved the affection from you. While you hugged him, he turned to look back at the mirror to see Marc's face.

Marc's mouth was opened in a surprised manner, he raised a finger as if he wanted to say something, but for once he couldn't come up with anything.

Steven shot Marc an arrogant smile, Marc's jaw clenched and he crossed his arms, looking offended.

Steven couldn't help but laugh a bit.

You nudged his foot with yours. "What's so funny?" you asked with amusement.

"Marc's offended like a child because I emptied all of his aftershave." Steven lied but played it cool.

You snorted before bursting out in laughter. "Wait what?" you gently pulled away. "Poor guy, but he will get over it." you chuckled.

"You're right, he will get over it." Steven said, his tone was laced with pure amusement and arrogance. He glanced back to the mirror, seeing Marc narrowing his eyes dangerously and scowling back at Steven.

"Is he pissed now?" You asked.

"Not even Khonshu would dare mess with him now, pissed is not even close." He lied.

"I never expected you to be so cruel Steven, maybe you should make it up to him." You smiled before heading over to Gus to feed him.

*Yeah you heard her. Make it up to me. Give me the body.* Marc said in their shared headspace.

Steven saw you heading to the couch, flopping down. He took the opportunity to get back to the bathroom again.

"No, I'll stay with her."

*I'm the main. I get to choose.*

"Not now."

*Fuck, who did something to you?*

"You did."

Marc scoffed.

"Steven!? You pissing off Marc again?" They heard you call out.

Steven just left the bathroom and sat down next to you on the couch.

You raised an eyebrow. "Damn, what's up with you two today? Who did you kill?"

"No one." Steven replied a bit nervous.

"Stevennn! Speak with me, what's wrong?" You straightened, turned to face him and crossed your legs.

Steven took a deep breath. "Which one of us do you like more?" he asked carefully.

You tilted your head, giving him a confused look. "Are you kidding me?"

"Nope, hundred percent real."

"Not gonna answer that. I love you both."

"Let's say you have to save one of us, who would it be?"

"You two are one body, it's a two in one, that means I'll save both of you." You shrugged. "Now spill it, what's happening between you two?"

"Alright. Marc and I were arguing on which one of us loves you more." Steven sighed.

"And you two really thought I'd only love one of you?" You asked.

*Hold on. Steven ask her who's better in bed. This way she can't come up with the one body excuse.* Marc told Steven, who looked back in the direction of the bathroom.

"Oh my god..."

You figured Marc must have said something to Steven "What did he say?"

"Well, he uh... he asked who's better in bed.." Steven stammered.

You shot a flabbergasted look. "For the protocol..." you squinted your eyes and raised one finger, "you two wanted to know which one I love more. Now it looks like you finally accepted and made peace knowing I love both of you," you paused "and now you want to know which one fucks better?"

Steven nodded.

"Hell no, I'm not gonna answer that."

"Because that one body argument you made doesn't count for sexy time, right love?" Steven smiled teasingly.

"You are unfair. Both of you." You wagged with your finger.

*We got her. Now we have to see who's better.*

"Don't be shy love. Speak." Steven grinned.

"Fine. But I will make it fair. So don't even think about being upset."

"Alright." Steven agreed.

"Marc when I had a rough day, you when it's a normal day."

*Interesting...*

"Really?" Steven teased.

"Happy now?"

"Think you're able to choose?" Steven scooted a bit close.

"Nuh-uh, don't you fucking dare." You uncrossed your legs, scooting back.

"I bet this will make you rethink." Steven gently grabbed your ankles, pulling you close to him, hooking his fingers under your sleeping pants and pulled them down along with your panties.

"Steven?"

"No no, don't think, just focus on me, yeah?" Steven spreaded your legs and leaned down between your legs.

"W-wait not- o-oohh fuck..." Steven didn't even let you finish, he dipped right in, lapping at your pussy, licking and sucking like a starved man about to die.

Steven was licking so intense, your thighs snapped shut around his head.

"Feels good yeah? Wait till I fuck this cunt." Steven moaned against you, his tongue thrusting into your hole as deep as possible.

"What's gotten into you, Steven?" You slured out, already feeling your orgasm building up.

"You. Just you." He smiled, his hand coming up to rub your clit.

"Oh fuck! Steven you're so good!" You're already seeing stars, Steven's demonstrations on you we're almost too much.

"Can feel you getting tight around my tongue." Steven's hand came up, rubbing your clit, determined to bring you over the edge.

"Shit! Steven I'm about to cum!" You cried out in pleasure, your eyes rolling back as you couldn't take it any longer, gushing your juices into Steven's mouth.

"Yeah that's it, love." Steven's greedy mouth slurped every last drop of your orgasm up. He got up, licking the remains of your juices from his lips.

"Ready for another one?" He asked teasingly, kneeling between your legs, you could already see his hard cock straining.

"You're driving us mad, y'know that?" He reached down, pulling his raging cock out and positioned himself on top of you.

"And I bet you like it right?" Steven grabbed and lined his cock at your swollen pussy.

"Wait so you two are just kidding?" You asked, still slightly out of breath.

"No, that's real. But you like seeing us jealous, hm?" Steven pushed inside you, already setting quite a fast pace.

You let out a gasp at the overstimulation. "You're starting to get as dirty as Marc." you chuckled.

"Yeah? Good." Steven teased, he slowed down a bit, aiming for deep and hard thrusts.

"Oh god, Steven..." Your eyes fluttered shut, Steven hit your spots with each thrust.

"Told you, love." He teased, rolling his hips just right to make your mind go cockdrunk. Steven continued to switch between slow and deep thrusts and hard and fast ones.

You felt your peak build up once again, tightening around Steven's cock. He felt it and sped up, hitting all your sweetspots as he felt himself getting close too.

"Stevennn!" It wasn't long before you clenched around him and drowned his dick in your juices.

"Fuck, feels so good.." Steven moaned, releasing himself into you before stopping his movements.

"Are you happy now?" You chuckled.

"Only if you say I am the best." He teased.

"Fine, have it." You spoke without thinking before your eyes widened and you remembered Marc as your mind came back to it's senses. "Shit."

"Good answer, thanks love." Steven smiled. "Marc, better accept it."

*Nope. I didn't even had my chance yet...* Marc spoke lowly in the headspace.

You got up, put only your panties back in and made your way to the bathroom to clean up. You didn't know where Steven went, but as left the bathroom and were about to pass the bed you heard a voice.

"Honeeyy." Marc's voice hit your ears sharp. As you turned around, he was already there.

"Hi." You played it cool.

"Hey there." Marc gave a dirty smile.

"Let me guess, you want your piece of the cake now?"

"Yeah. After that we'll see who's better." He stopped infront of you, leaning in close. "And now, get on the bed, spread your legs and let me fuck you stupid."

You obeyed, laying down on the bed, slipped off your panties and opened your legs.

"You two are the worst when you're jealous at eachother."

Marc stepped between your legs, reaching down to run two fingers along your folds, making you whimper. "Means your pussy's getting spoiled."

"Funny."

"Yeah." He joked.

Marc was already hard, he couldn't wait any longer, freeing himself and positioned his cock at your hole, nudging you with his tip. He entered slowly, making you gasp. "O-ooh fuck, Marc..."

"Mhh-mm.." He hummed, slowly starting to roll his hips. The pleasure came back, causing your head to fall back.

He grabbed your hips for leverage, slamming his cock in and out of you. "Can you feel yourself getting cockdrunk, hm?"

"Can't help it." You slured with half your mind drifting off into numbness.

"That's my girl." Marc praised, pulling his cock almost all the way out and slamming right back into your depths.

"Ohh my ggod!" You moaned, arching your back.

Marc leaned down "Honey, I want you to say I'm better in bed if you wanna cum." He demanded, using your current state of mind for his advantage.

You couldn't say anything, the only thing you could do, was moaning.

He chuckled. "Can't think straight, huh?"

You shook your head, getting louder as Marc set a fast pace, hitting the spots deep inside. You gripped the sheets, biting your lip as you tried to say what he wanted in order for him to make you cum.

"You're b-better M-Marc..." You moaned, feeling desperate to cum.

"I'm better?" He increased his pace, feeling his orgasm approach.

Your pussy tightened around Marc's cock. "Yess, please let me cum!"

Marc grinned. "Such a good girl for me. Now cum on my cock."

As if on command, your pussy clamped down on his cock, squeezing tight.

"There you go, baby." He groaned, releasing his cum into you.

Marc stayed inside you while catching his breath, and then pulled out of you. "Fuck... now you may take a shower." he chuckled.

You panted, taking your time to catch your own breath. "I earned that shower."

"Looks like you did." He nodded, tucking himself back in and sat down on the edge of the bed. "Made up your mind yet?" He ruffled your hair, smirking down at you.

"You share. Get used to it, you and Steven. I'm not a fan of choosing." You sat up on the bed.

Marc let out a breath, looking at the mirror in the bathroom. "Fine. Steven wanna quit this shit and just accept it? Boss lady demands it."

*Yeah, let's get this over with. But hey, we spoiled her.* Steven chuckled.

"You're right." Marc grinned.

You just raised an eyebrow. "Hey you two, what are you talking about."

Marc looked at you, his hands moved to gently pull you up. "Nothing, we agreed we will be friends again. No more fooling around. Now go get your shower." He gently ushered you before he softly smacked your ass.

You, amused, shook your head at them, making your way into the bathroom for your well deserved shower for the day.

[jayke0]

A Pleasant Surprise

Pairing: Steven Grant x fem reader

Summary: Steven has had something on his mind for a while now, and finally he divulges his fantasy to you; degrading was certainly not on your playing cards.

Rating: nsfw, smut

Warnings/Content: sub!Steven, dom!reader, “mommy” title, degrading, grinding, cumming in pants, lmk if there's anything else I should add :).

Word count: 1,441

Credit: @automnepoet for proofreading ily.

………......................…………………………………….

When Steven had come to you with a “fun idea”, you'd expected something along the lines of ”naive uni teacher gets fucked by his student”, but this was so much better.

“Love? I have a, uh…suggestion,” Steven calls from the bathroom between brushing his teeth. “Well, it's more of a proposal, really.”

“Yeah? Go on.” You're sitting in your bedroom reading some gruesome crime novel that Marc seems to have a real distaste for.

You hear the water running briefly before your boyfriend joins you in the room, warm morning sun streaming in through the cracked curtains and casting a soft glow over his face. “I mean, we don't have to do it now of course. I know you're reading and all that, and I have to get to work in a bit–.”

You close your book and pat the edge of the bed, making him instantly respond to your gesture by placing himself down. “I'm all ears, sweetheart, lay it on me.”

Blood rushes to Steven's face as he actually thinks about saying it outloud, feet shuffling a little on the creaky floorboards. The words feel stuck in his throat now that he has to speak them, despite the fact he'd thought about the whole image on numerous occasions... and in great detail.

“Heeyy c’mon,” your hand brushes his arm, and you move closer to him to wrap your arms fully around his, crinkling his blue floral shirt. “You know I can't read your mind, Steven… Though I wish I could, that'd be super fucking helpful, then the other two couldn't lie to me.”

His chuckle makes you smile and you feel him draw in a long breath.

”I wanna like… grind against you… and I want you to mock me for it, u-until I cum… in my trousers…”

The pauses between his words are almost comical, but you look up at his face and see that he's completely serious, looking at you with wide eyes and waiting for an answer.

“Oh! Right.”

“Ah, Gods! No no... no no no no no, forget it–.” He frantically shakes his head, his hands doing the same as his face scrunches. “It's weird, I'm sorry, pretend I never said anything. Me and my big bloody mouth.”

“Steven,” you say between giggles, hand resting on his soft face to pull his gaze towards you. “It's not weird, silly! I just didn't expect you to be the one that's into degrading.” Careful not to fall back off of the bed, you climb onto his lap, thighs either side of his as you examine his expression, how gorgeous he looks with his brows knitted together and his unruly curls that Marc would definitely be gluing down with copious amounts of gel right about now.

His chest deflates as he lets out a soft sigh, resting his head on your chest out of embarrassment while you link your arms around his neck to run your fingers through the long curls at the back of his head. You feel his hands graze up your back, gliding under your night shirt and making you shiver with the warmth.

“Are you sniffing me?”

“No! Well…” he pauses, “yeah, but not in a creepy way.” The man lifts his head and looks up at you with those big doe eyes, and you watch them close as you start rolling your hips down on him slowly. You're only in your underwear underneath that shirt, but Steven is fully clothed and ready for work… or at least he would be, if his eyes weren't fluttering shut and arousal wasn't growing in his tummy.

“I promise you, darling, I like your idea.” You reassure him with your hips drawing slow circles against the material of his trousers, creating a delicious friction. “As long as you tell me if it's too much, alright?”

The bed creaks a little with your grinding before he looks up at you, nodding with a kind of desperation in his eyes that lights a fire in your gut.

“You promise?”

“Yeah love, yeah I promise.” He says, his voice a little more whiny.

You don't bother yourself with working out the psychological reasons for why your boyfriend enjoys being degraded about how long he can last, chalking it up to his masculinity, despite your reassurances that he's just as much of a man as his other two alters.

“You've got 10 minutes, think you can do that?”

Steven groans at your question, since both of you know all too well that 10 minutes is more than enough time. Still, he nods, big puppy dog eyes looking up at you and begging you to divulge in his vision.

A smirk creeps across your face when you see those glassy eyes, your gaze trailing down to the blush dusting his cheeks and the straining muscles in his neck.

“God Steven, I love the way you look at me. Look at those big soft eyes, all for mommy, aren't they?”

He lets out a whimper with the use of that title, his cock stirring in his trousers and reminding you of the thin barrier that's stopping you from grinding on the rough material of his slacks all together. The man doesn't take his gaze off of you; he drinks in every one of your features as if he's seeing you for the first time.

Rocking his hips up, he pants.

“Yes mommy, all for you, I'm all for you.”

“That's right, sweetheart, those desperate eyes are for me. that dumb little face is mine.” You lean forward and nip his bottom lip, soothing it afterwards with your tongue as he gasps and bucks his hips.

“I can feel you twitching, baby. You just can't help it, can you? Always getting so worked up and hard when I'm around, maybe I should put this pretty cock in a cage, what do you think?”

Steven's shoulders drop as he leans forward into your neck, biting and sucking any skin he can get his mouth on while his hot breath and whimpers raise goosebumps over your skin.

The suction he had in your neck is broken as his head is suddenly jerked backwards, your grip tight in his hair and making him whimper pathetically.

“I asked you a question, sweetheart.”

His adam's apple bobs in his throat as he tries to suppress his moans, his head nodding wildly. “Yes mommy, I'd– agh–I'd love that.” His hips buck again.

“Mhm.. then you'd at least last longer than 5 minutes, you'd actually be able to fuck me properly.”

Steven's mouth hangs agape, his eyes now squeezed shut as his grip on your hips tighten and he guides your hips down on him harder, wanting more, anything.

“Sh–it… Ah- Feels so good.” His eyebrows knit together in a beautifully strained way. “More, gimme more–.”

You tut with a small smirk on your lips, rocking back and forth to coat his trousers in your own arousal that's seeped through your underwear.

“Oh, look at you, you gonna cum in your pants, baby? Gonna prove how pathetic you are to mommy?” You feel the muscles in his shoulders and back tighten. “C'mon sweetheart, cum for me, ruin those pants.”

Sweet moans and whimpers tumble from the man's rosy lips as he finally lets go, staining his boxers enough that you feel the wetness as it soaks a spot on his trouser leg.

His grip on your hips loosens, but he doesn't stop whimpering, soft babbles and huffs escaping his throat as he calms down. You stroke his head, combing your fingers through his hair as your hips slow. “Good boy, you're such a good boy, Steven.” You smile brightly at him, despite the fact his eyes are still shut.

They only flutter open when he feels your hand stroking his cheek and tilting his head down.

“Are you ok, baby? How do you feel?”

His cheeks are flushed bright red still, beads of sweat sitting on his forehead from the warmth of his button-up shirt. A smile cracks across his face as he nods shyly, “I'm ok– great, yeah.. I'm great, actually.”

“You sure? I didn't hurt your feelings, did I?”

He shakes his head and tilts face to kiss your palm. “No, you didn't, love. I promise.”

His eyes drift down to the wet patch on his trousers, your eyes following as you chuckle softly.

“Should probably change…” He mumbles while resting his head on your shoulder.

“Yeah, that's probably a good idea.” You place a kiss on his neck as you embrace him, ignoring the fact that he will most definitely be late to work… again.

...........................................................................

Tags 🖤: @boredzillenial @cowboymarcs @chichimisaki @faretheeoscar @fanofstuffidk @minigirl87 @marisferasiop @red-hydra @summonthesoups @steven-grants-world @queerponcho @ominoose @mynamesstevenwithav @rinverse @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @mooksmouse @cupidysm

[st4rymoon]

Can u please make a Steven smut where the reader is obsessed with pink and Marc gets her light pink lingerie but she thinks it’s from Steven and she puts on a show for him

This <3

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐌𝐞 • Fem Reader x Marc Spector (ft. Steven <3)

- 18+, reader is obsessed with pink <3, riding!, jealousy, Marc fronts half way through the deed :3, soft dom Steven, mean dom Marc, unprotected sex!, reader wears lingerie, language, pet names, fingering!, teasing

Even when Marc was angry with you, he couldn’t help but buy you a few gifts while he was away doing Khonshus dirty work.

He picked out some pretty lace sets, all different shades of pink and fully aware that you loved anything pink. Once you’d moved in, there was always a hint of pink in every direction of his flat.

Steven didn’t mind it, he loved it but Marc and Jake weren’t the biggest fans of pink blankets and pillows littering their dull apartment. Sometimes Marc would even notice the pink fluff from your plushies on his jackets and shirts.

He would never admit it but he couldn’t help but smile whenever he noticed it.

Steven had called you the night before, letting you know your boys are back from their monthly work trips.

Marc had left the bag full of lace panties and lingerie sitting on his bed with pink tissue paper fluffing up the bag. He couldn’t wait to see you light up at the kind gesture he planned.

You stepped into an empty apartment, no sight of anyone but Gus swimming around in his tank. A buzz from your phone caught your attention “sorry love Donna is making me close tonight. I’ll be out in 30”your phone read.

Disappointed at the message you sighed but sent a reassuring text telling Steven not to worry. You’d just make yourself at home.

You tried to ignore the pink bag sitting pretty on the bed the second you walked in but as always, you were curious at what it could be.

For my favorite girl was written in pink ink on a small piece of paper, a string keeping it in place as it hung around one of the bags arms.

You smiled at the small message and slowly pulled the stuffing from bag. You squealed at the sight of delicate light pink lace sets of lingerie and sets of under garments.

There was no hesitation as you kicked off your clothes and picked out your favorite piece. You went for the soft pink set that came with a bra, panties, and matching garter belt.

The panties are embroidered with a white trim, the garter belt having two pretty pink bows on both your upper thighs and the bra having identical details making it all satisfyingly match. You looked like the perfect present for your boys.

You smiled at your reflection noticing how good it all fit. Steven really did know your size you thought.

You waited for Steven as you set the mood. Lighting a few candles and playing one of Jake’s more sensual records did a lot for the little flat.

Hearing the doorknob turn made you perk up, your body now facing the door as you posed yourself in the sexist position possible.

“I’m sorry love I really am, Donna and her bloody rules” Steven hissed as he burst inside. “It’s ok, you’ll make it up” you cooed.

Steven gasped, his shoulder bag slipping off onto the ground as he stood with his mouth wide open “bloody hell love” he huffed as he stumbled across the living room and made his way to you.

You giggled as you jumped onto the bed, playfully running from Steven as he pulled at your legs. He ignored Marc’s curses and insults as Steven savored the sight of your thick thighs being hugged by the thin elastic strand of cloth.

Steven I bought it ALL for her you little shit. Don’t you dare take the fucking credit!

The words flew through Steven’s ears “missed you so much darling” he whined as you pulled him in for a kiss, the words swallowed down by your lips as you kissed him hungrily.

Both of you moaned into each other as Steven’s arms laid beside your head, holding himself up steady as you wrapped your legs around him. “Show me how much you missed me then” you cooed.

Steven you asshole!

Marc’s voice echoed in Steven’s head as Marc tried his best to ask nicely. He didn’t want to take over the body but he didn’t appreciate Steven getting all the credit. The gifts were just one of the many apologies Marc had planned out but here Steven was indulging himself.

Steven this is the last time I ask nicely.

You squirmed as Steven’s hands ran up your thighs, his soft touch making you moan as he buried himself in your neck. His tongue lapped and sucked at your skin all the while his hips rocked onto your clothed body.

“N- No!”

You noticed as Marc took over, the once soft grip now rough as his hands held your thighs like letting go was the last thing he wanted to do.

“I bought you these, I wanna see ‘em” he hissed as he pushed out Steven’s pleads and curses. “Do you really think Steven’s the only one who can do something nice for you?”

You moaned as Marc’s hand snaked from under your spine and up to your hair. “Answer me” he hissed as he tugged a fist full of your hair back “No” you gasped “I- I just thought you hated pink. I’d think you’d buy me something red” you now confidently spoke.

“Wrong” he hummed “well I’m sorry, I just thought stev-“ you were cut short as Marc tugged your panties to the side and without a word he pushed two thick fingers into your tight cunt.

You mewled as he hummed with a cocky smile on his face. Marc payed attention to the sound of your needy whines growing louder with each of his thrusts.

Without a second thought he pulled out his fingers. You cried in agony as he ignored you “please Marc I’m sorry” you whined in hopes of getting him back between your legs.

“I know, I know you are bunny” he hummed “jus’ be patient. Just be patient.”

You spread your legs wide as you watched him begin to unbuckle his belt, his hand expertly moving his buckle to the side and in one quick tug he yanked the thick leather from around his waist.

Seeing Marc so impatient and irritated at the fact that someone else was taking credit for his actions was something you never knew you needed.

The way his ruffled hair bounced with his rushed movements as he kicked his jeans off was mesmerizing. Your eyes dumbly stared at his v-line as he tossed another layer of clothing.

“You want somethin’ honey?” He chuckled, his hand nudging your thighs apart as he leaned in and pressed a kiss against your plump lips. The sloppy kiss makes the both of you moan as your tongues intertwine and lap at each other.

Marc’s calloused hand plants itself softly around your neck as his hips grind into your sticky cunt. You could feel your slick begin to pool in the thin lace as he spread your legs wider.

“Marc” you moaned, your breath unsteady as his hands ran up your thighs and played with the thin straps of your garter belt. All he let out was a hum as his eyes dragged down your body and locked between your thighs.

A loud gasp slipped from your lips as two of his calloused fingers pulled the soft fabric of your panties to the side, two fingers instantly pushing into your tight cunt. “Marccc” his name rolled off your tongue in a purr, your hand wrapping onto his wrist as he watched you go dumb.

“This all it takes? Tsk”

Marc pulled away without a warning “Look at all this mess” he sighed as he held his fingers up to his face, his thick digits now covered in your sticky slick “open” he mouthed.

Without hesitation you did as told and tasted yourself “don’t swallow” he smiled. You nodded with his fingers still in your mouth as your tongue swirling around his digits.

Marc groaned as he yanked his fingers out and held you by the sides of your jaw to keep your mouth open so he could get a taste for himself.

“I think I want you above me sweetheart, that pathetic little look on your face will look even better from above” Marc hummed.

He loved how obedient you always are with him because in no time you were pushing him onto the pillows and straddling his thighs.

You managed to tug his boxers down to his knees by the time he got comfortable “I bet you were all worked up when Steve-“ Marc cut you off before you could even finish your sentence.

“Of course I’d be upset, I wanted to be the one greeted in this pretty outfit. I bought it for you and me for a reason so I won’t let Steven or Jake get a chance” he cockily smiled.

You nodded with an amused expression “oh yeah?”

“Yeah” Marc hissed.

“Torturing the both of them just to see me in this?” You pout “it’s so unfair” you cooed as you settled above his tip “I know it is, I’m selfish” he groaned with his eyes trained on your cunt.

“Very selfish” you cooed as you sunk down his length. Your nails dug into his shoulders as he settled deep inside you, his fat tip nudging deep as you sat onto his thighs.

Marc’s eyes rolled back into his skull as he felt your tight walls squeeze him with a vice grip “f- oh-“ he gasped as your hips began to move.

You watched as his jaw tightened with every heavy thrust of his hips.

You bloody asshole! I was the first here

She wanted me first

Marc blocked out Steven’s curses and pleads as he watched your tight cunt stretch around his fat length. You were already gushing slick as Marc buried his face into the crook of your neck.

He chuckled at the lewd sounds your pussy with his hands planted on your waist. He pressed a messy kiss onto your neck before taking a better look of the mess you were making.

“Shit” Marc cursed as he took in how soaked you were “miss me this much bunny? Look at how fucking easy it is to make you all wet and sticky” he chuckled.

He smiled at the feeling of his cock sliding in and out of your tight cunt “using your cum as a lube huh? What’s got you so sensitive” he teased. You ignored his words as you expertly swayed your hips and rode him for all he’s got.

You mewled as each word coming out of Marc’s mouth was followed by a heavy thrust. You clawed and scratched at his shoulders as he spread your legs wide, pinning them open to each side with his thighs for better leeway.

You couldn’t resist the high pitched moan that spilled from your lips as Marc mumbling to himself. Heavy-eyed and a passionate look in his eyes as he went on and on about how good your pussy is, how much he missed being in you, and how smart it was of him to buy you these pretty little outfits.

Look so fuckin’ pretty sweetheart. Taking it like a champ huh? My sweet little plaything takin’ me so well.

You couldn’t get a word out as Marc fucked you dumb with a heavy hand on your throat “Mmm- Ma- Marccc” you mewled, nails dragging down his arms as you try and get a hold of him.

Marc hummed and gave you his hand to squeeze knowing you always craved some extra comfort. Steven watched through the mirror with a large frown on his face as he watched you cum around Marc’s cock, your eyes rolled back in ecstasy as Marc glared at Steven with cocky smile.

“Who’s making you feel this good honey? Say it” Marc taunted “Marc Ma- ohh fuckk” you hiccuped “say it louder” he cooed.

Steven’s couldn’t watch. He was beyond furious as the pretty cries of Marc’s name you let out echoed through the room.

“Could Steven fuck you this good?”

Marc was cruel knowing you had no damn clue what you were saying, so cock drunk you didn’t even realize what you were getting yourself into.

“No no only you Marc fu-“

Steven scoffed. He’d just have to remind you how much better he is at fucking you.

[pimosworld]

Blueberry Pancakes

Moon knight system x f!reader

Summary- You’re frustrated with Jake not being apart of your relationship so you take matters into your own hands.

CW-NSFW, 18+ MDNI, Depictions of DID, Smut, mentions of sex, Unprotected piv,fingering,rough sex,slight dom Jake, piv cream pie,cum,light angst, fluff.

Please let me know in the comments if I missed any warnings.

WC-3k

Not beta-read

———————————————————

You slowly blink open your eyes taking in the soft morning light of the flat you share with your boyfriend-boyfriends. You’ve been spoiled by Marc and Steven for a year now and you couldn’t be happier. The sweet smell of blueberry pancakes wafts amongst the flat and you can’t help the bittersweet feeling that consumes you.

Jake makes you blueberry pancakes.

Despite doing all the things a loving, caring boyfriend does- he refuses to front. A simple hi and bye is the most you’ve gotten out of him. It shouldn’t bother you really, you have two wonderful men that kiss the ground you walk on. You can’t help but wonder why he doesn’t think he deserves to be a part of this the way Marc and Steven are.

You're pulled from your thoughts as the door to the bathroom opens and you're graced with the sight of Marc stalking towards you only wrapped in a towel. His broad shoulders and chest are still dripping with water from the shower. He leans down and places a chaste kiss on your forehead.

“Mornin’ sweetheart.”

You smile up at him feeling slightly guilty. You secretly hope one of these mornings it’s Jake emerging from the bathroom still glistening from the shower, he climbs into bed and fucks you like his life depends on it and you both enjoy those sweet blueberry pancakes together.

“Prince Charming made you pancakes again.” He says sarcastically as he makes his way to the closet to get dressed.

It seems to be a sore subject for Marc as you think back to the first time he made them. Marc excused himself from the table as you moaned into every bite. You didn’t miss the way he glared into his reflection in the toaster while he stood in the kitchen waiting for you to finish.

“You know I love you and you make the best omelet.” You say as you make your way out of bed and wrap him in a tight hug from behind.

“Yes but you don’t sound like we’re fucking when you eat my omelet.”

You nip at his back and smack his ass on your way out of the bedroom. As much as he calls you a brat he definitely has his moments.

You make your way to the kitchen to enjoy your breakfast before you have to head to work. As you sit down to take your first bite you feel Marc’s eyes on you. You look up from your plate and see him with arms crossed and a smirk on his gorgeous face. You cock your head to the side and take a slow bite stifling a moan, because now is not the time.

“Are you going to watch me eat the whole thing?” You say playfully as you watch him make his way to the coffee maker that Jake got ready for Marc-because you prefer tea.

He doesn’t respond right away so you think this is as good a time as any to bring up what’s been bothering you.

“Why won’t he spend time with me?”

Marc groans and rubs a hand over his face. “I’ve already told you, please just leave it alone.”

“Is he listening now?”

“No sweetheart.” Yes cariño

“Well if you could tell him, I really really love pancakes.”

“Sure thing.” Marc says with slight annoyance.

****

You turn the key to enter your flat and as you open the door you're greeted with the sight of your boyfriend on the couch peaking at you over the bridge of his reading glasses.

“Hey love.” Steven smiles sweetly at you as he sets his book on the coffee table. “How was your day?” He always directed his full attention at you, as if you were the moon and the stars.

“It was fine.” You say rather unconvincing.

“Oh just fine,that won’t do.” He pats the seat next to him on the couch. “Come have a seat, let's talk.”

You make your way over to the couch and sit down and he grabs your legs placing them in his lap as you lean your back on the opposite arm rest. He takes your heels off one by one and begins rubbing your aching feet.

“I know you had pancakes this morning so the day started off better than fine.” He says jokingly with a smirk on his face.

“Well…that’s just it.” You say slightly embarrassed about what you're about to ask the sweet man rubbing your feet as he does most nights after a long day at work. “Could you help me with something?”

“Depends on what it is but anything for you love.”

“Could you…help me spend some time with Jake?” You say almost at a whisper.

He ceases rubbing your feet and looks at you with those deep brown pleading eyes. “You know how he is…but if it’s important to you I’ll try.”

You sit up enthusiastically and curl into Stevens' side wrapping your arms around his waist in a gripping hug.

“Okay, what does he like to eat?Does he have any favorite hobbies?What kind of shows does he watch? What’s his favorite color?…you realize your rambling like Steven does when he’s giving a tour at the museum, not even giving the poor man a chance to answer.

“Slow down love, one thing at a time.” He furrows his brow deep in thought. “Oh bollocks, I’m afraid I’m no help. I don’t know what he likes to eat, I’m pretty sure his favorite hobby is murder, he barely watches television and…well.” He chuckles to himself.

“What’s so funny.” You say slightly defeated

“Oh it’s nothing, it's just that I’m pretty sure his favorite color is red since he’s practically always covered in it.”

Steven looks at his reflection in the t.v. and suddenly drops his smile. “Right…well that’s about all I can help you with sorry love.” He stammers out quickly.

“Sorry I couldn’t be of more help.” He says as he hangs his head. Your sweet Steven has no idea how helpful he truly is.

You slide your hand to his cheek and tilt his head down at you placing a soft kiss on his lips. You sit up to straddle his lap and you can feel him getting hard for you already. As you wrap your arms around his neck and lean in to whisper in his ear, you can tell his breath is ragged.

“I’d like to show you how helpful you are, if you’ll let me?” You bite down on his earlobe and hear his breath catch in his throat.

“I’d like that very much love.”

****

It’s Friday night, it’s been three days since Steven helped you-and you helped Steven. You’ve been planning and hoping that what you have in store will draw Jake out of hiding. If not you’ll just have to live with his silent affections.

Steven is relaxing on the couch as you stand in front of your full length mirror putting on the final touches to your look. It didn’t take much convincing to have him spend the night with you if things don’t go according to plan.

You got your hair done that morning, something you rarely treat yourself too. As you stare at yourself in the mirror you can’t help but feel slightly turned on- this has to work.

You adjust the straps on your silk red dress and smooth your hands down the front. You slide in your strappy red heels that you hope you won’t have to walk very far tonight. You lean into the mirror to apply your crimson red lipstick to match the red you applied to your nails earlier that day.

As you grab your purse and make your way towards the door you can feel Stevens' eyes on you. You don’t dare glance over at him suddenly feeling like a predator's prey.

“Bye love, I’m going out with some friends, don't wait up for me.”

You reach for the door but an unfamiliar voice stops you in your tracks.

“Bebita I don’t think your boyfriends would be too happy about this.” You turn around to see Jake with his eyes narrowed as if he’s studying your movements.

“My boyfriends don’t care if I go out.” Your voice cracks a little and you're suddenly aware of how dry your throat is.

“I didn’t mean if you go out cariño.” He stands from the couch and you suddenly feel very small. “I mean dressed like this.” He gestures his fingers up and down your body.

“Maaarrrc…Steeeeven?” You mockingly call about the flat. “I guess they aren’t here so I’ll be going.”

You take one last look at yourself in the mirror next to the door feigning confidence.

“You’ll be staying.” He says in a commanding tone that makes your pussy clench in anticipation.

You grab the door handle and look over your shoulder with the most sultry look you can muster (that you absolutely have not been practicing in the mirror). “Make me.”

He crosses the distance from the couch to you in two steps and pins you against the door with his chest pressed to your back. You can tell you’ve had an affect on him by the way his hard bulge is pressed against your ass. He grips both your wrists with one of his large calloused hands. He leans in close to your ear and breathes in deep.

“New perfume?” He says in a low husky tone.

He licks a stripe up your neck and gently bites down on your earlobe. Drawing a small whimper out of you.

“Not so talkative now are we hermosa? His chuckles reverberate through your body as he slowly draws his fingers up your thigh. He can feel how wet you are through your panties and a low growl from him sends shivers down your spine.

“This wet for me?” A breathy “ yes” is all you can manage as he drags his fingers through your slit at an agonizing slow pace. He starts rubbing circles on your clit with his thumb and you can feel that tell tale sign that you're close to your climax as you clench down on nothing. He knows you're close and he wants to draw this out- you drew him out after all. He ceases his movements and all you can do is whimper.

“Shh it’s ok hermosa I’m going to take care of you.” You try to calm your breathing but he still has you pressed against the door with both hands behind your back.

“Answer my questions and I’ll take care of you.” He says into your ear as his breathing picks up. You give him a quick nod and his grip tightness on your wrist. “Words sweetheart.”

“Yes sir.” He nips at your shoulder with that last word. He resumes his movements dragging his fingers through your slit. “Did you buy this dress for me?”

“Yes.” You answer as he dips two fingers into your soft channel. If not for his grip on your wrists you’d be in a puddle on the floor. “What about these panties, did you buy them for me?” He’s slowly fucking you with his fingers and all you can hear in the flat is your breathy moans.

“Yes.” You say a little louder this time and he presses his fingers on those bundle of nerves inside and you think you might lose your mind.He brings his thumb to your clit as he steadily works you open. He places his knee between your thighs and slowly lifts you up. “Come for me hermosa.” You drop your head back on his shoulder and note down on your lip as you come with a silent cry.

As you come down from your high you realize you’ve never had an orgasm so intense without seeing your boyfriend's face. He slowly puts you down and draws his fingers away and you hiss at the loss.

“Tell me what you want and it’s yours.” He says still with his back pressed to you, his obvious erection putting a strain on Stevens sweatpants.

“I want you to fuck me.” You say in almost a whine not even recognizing your own voice. He spins you around and you can see the hunger in his deep brown eyes, pupils blown wide. He looks very different from Marc and Steven, yet so similar. It takes your breath away how he looks at you like you're his world and also his victim in the same moment.

“I’m sorry about your dress.” He says sarcastically as you look down confused seeing nothing wrong with it. Before you can ask why he takes both hands and rips it down the front as if it was made of paper. “I’m sorry about your panties too.” You close your eyes and prepare yourself for what’s next as you feel a light tug on your hips and the sound of your new red lace panties ripping.

He takes in your form as you're now left in your sheer red bra and strappy heels. One of his hands comes to the back of your head and he pulls you into a bruising kiss, he kisses you like he’s been starving for you. Like if you pull away you’ll disappear. Your hands come to his arms tracing the familiar muscles you’ve come to know and love and this just feels right.

His thick bulge is pressed against your abdomen, as he grinds his hips into you pressing you further into the door. Precum now staining Stevens sweatpants (which you’ll have to hear about later). You suddenly feel very exposed and you slowly push him off you. As you both catch your breath he looks as though he’s done something wrong and your heart aches because you just want the man to be as exposed as you are.

“Clothes off.” Is all you can manage-real articulate.

Jake strips in two seconds flat and your thanking whatever Egyptian god that he didn’t rip Stevens clothes.

You’ve seen this body many times but as he stands before you with his thick cock, tip red and aching steadily leaking precum you feel as if it’s the first time. He backs you against the door again and grabs your face with both hands as he stares into your eyes.

“Tell me again.” He says in a pleading tone.

“I want you to fuck me Jake.”

You yelp in surprise as he grabs your waist and hoists you up. You instinctively wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. He takes his hand and wraps it around his thick cock slowly coating it with your slick just teasing your entrance. You whimper at the feeling as he pushes in and you both moan in unison at the stretch. You drop your head to his shoulder and he’s not moving but you desperately want him too.

You dig your heels into his ass and he groans as his grip tightens on your waist.

“Just give me a moment cariño.” And you almost don’t recognize his voice. You squeeze your core around his throbbing cock and that’s all the moment he needs before he’s thrusting into you at a bruising pace.

“Oh. Fuck. Jake..” your words are punctuated with each thrust as he fucks too against the door.

“Jesus Christ, your pussy is so tight.” He’s quickly falling apart as he slams you down on his cock over and over. “I can’t believe I waited this long to do this.” Your moans in his ear as you hold on for dear life are going to send him over the edge. But not before you. His movements slow and you can feel his thick cock drag through your walls as you drop your head to the crook of his neck.

“Tell me what you want cariño.” He turns his head to see his reflection in the mirror next to the door.

“Fuck me harder Jake please.” You’re practically crying at the sensation as if it’s your first time. He smirks at his reflection and your pleas are all he needs.

“I love when you beg hermosa.” He holds you up with one arm and brings his thumb to your clit as he resumes his pace, roughly fucking you against the door. He can feel your pussy gripping his cock as your slick coats both your thighs.

“Fuck. Me. Right. There.” You're screaming now and will surely get a noise complaint, but you can’t care at this moment you’ve wanted for so long. Your vision goes white as you reach your climax and you're digging your nails into his back as you come undone. That’s all it takes for him before he comes with a choked sound as he’s shooting hot ropes of cum into your quivering channel. He groans in your ear as he slowly rocks his hips up pinning you to the door.

You don’t know how long you stay like that trying to catch your breath as you both come down from your high. It feels like you're floating and you realize he hasn’t put you down but he’s carrying towards the bed. He gently lays you down and you both wince as he pulls out of you. He places a soft kiss on your sweat soaked forehead. He takes off your heels and brings you one of Stevens shirts to sleep in.

“I’ll be right back cariño.” Your smiling to yourself as you watch him walk towards the bathroom.

Sleep is starting to claim you as he makes his way back to you with a warm washcloth, gently wiping your thighs and your swollen folds. He tosses the towel in the direction of the hamper not caring if he makes it. He lays down beside you and pulls your back into his chest wrapping you in a deep hug.

“Shouldn’t you call your friends so they aren’t worried?” He mumbles into your hair.

“Hmm?” Your blissed out brain can’t grasp what he’s talking about. He chuckles lowly to himself.

He’s not sure if you're asleep when he whispers to himself.

“I really really love pancakes too.”

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated

[odetodilfs]

How they like to get railed...

Oscar Isaac characters

A/N: This is just filth, as well as the Oscar Isaac obsession hitting me hard. Anyway, these are a bunch of Oscar Isaac characters and headcanons on how they like to be fucked, enjoy!! Characters in this list: Steven Grant, Marc Spector, Jake Lockley, Poe Dameron, Santiago García and Miguel O'Hara.

This is obviously nsfw.

Top male reader. Sub or dom depending on the character.

Steven Grant

Steven’s preferences depend on what you want, he’ll do anything you want.

He loves it when you go gentle on him, treating him like he’s made of glass, running your hands through his hair.

You two can last hours like this, indulging on each other’s bodies, biting at each other softly.

These sessions tend to also be filled with some soft laughter and many, many praises, it’s your way of letting Steven know how much you love him, how pretty you think he is…

He whimpers a lot, he’s still unused to the amount of love you give him during these moments and every kiss is electrifying.

It’s not unusual to end up with faint scratches on your back after a session like this, he always apologizes profusely the day after but you honestly love how you make your man feel so amazing that he digs his nails into your back.

His favorite position is the good old missionary, he just loves how he gets a close look at you.

Sometimes though, he wants it rough and you give it to him. 

Here, he doesn’t whimper, instead he moans and sometimes even screams. 

As for where he wants you to cum, inside him is the go to place, he feels completely yours when you do that and loves feeling it leak out of him.

Marc Spector 

Marc is a bit of a different story, he’s more dominant over you. 

He’d love edging you with his hole, he knows how much you want to cum and he doesn’t let you, he’s slightly sadistic. 

You’re his best stress reliever, a service top is all Marc’s ever wanted. 

He’d definitely call you a “good boy” while he rides you, if you’re lucky, he lets you hold his waist. 

He looks you in the eyes a lot and very intensely, it's to assert further control on you.

His favorite position would be riding, it’s the way he can have control over you. 

But sometimes, he just wants to be fucked hard just like Steven, to fuck every thought out of his pretty little head, only this time the scratches on your back are deeper, more noticeable and redder, which is still hot…

He’s not much for foreplay, he prefers to get right into the action, he’s stressed a lot of the time and only more anticipation for him doesn’t help at all, give the man some dick please. 

He grunts a lot during sex, "Fuck yeah" he'd grunt while you pound deeply into him, knowing it's best not to stop.

He also likes sucking you off… which makes sense, considering he loves you cumming on his face while he looks at you with the most dominant and intense eyes.

Jake Lockley 

The most feral, deranged and dominant out of all the moon boys by far.

It’s not unusual for Jake to tie you up and edge you for literal hours, surrendering to him as you fill his sadistic urges.

He gets off on your begging, the fact that your cock borderline aches. 

Sometimes he doesn’t even cum, he just likes to see you weak.

Other times, all he wants to do is use you. 

His favorite position is where he rides you and he bounces furiously up and down your cock, normally with tied hands, he likes to have you vulnerable.

He wants to ride you, cum first, then you cum inside him and he leaves.

However, a lot of the time when he gets up he kisses your temple and says “good boy” before he leaves, cum running down his legs.

It makes you feel so used, like a toy almost, and you can’t act like you don’t like it. 

Poe Dameron 

Poe is the term “power bottom” personified.

He knows everything that he has to do to break you, and so he can use you for his pleasure.

That cocky little grin of his… not even while getting fucked he doesn’t have it on him.

The way he’d throw his head back and he’d say “Ahh.. fuck yeah…” while riding you.

He’s a huge fan of riding you, but sometimes he lets you fuck yourself dumb with his ass in mating press, pumping load after load into the man.

He wants to hear your pretty whimpers, nothing turns on Poe more than his top whimpering.

He’d let you indulge yourself with his body, licking and sucking everywhere, he especially loves it when you play with his nipples while he rides you.

He uses the term “good boy” for you a lot during sex. He knows it can make you crazy and submit even further to him.

He just has such an effect on you that gets you craving him, and the craving gets so pent up you have no hope of dominating the man, considering you get so subby as soon as his walls wrap around your cock.

He’d want you to cum inside him, as a sign that he owns you, a subtle reminder that even if you’re the top in the relationship.. you’re his bitch.

Santiago García 

He’s a huge switch, sex between you two is improvised, you decide who’s dominant when the time comes, normally you just fall into whatever role is natural in that specific time.

Unlike Marc, he’s all up for foreplay, he loves sex to last as long as humanly possible between you two.

He speaks Spanish if he's really needy for you, "Por favor.. por favor" and if he has an amazing orgasm, he'll scream "¡Te amo!" sometimes.

His weak spot is the scar on his neck, it’s the one spot that when you kiss makes him instantly yours.

It’s amazing for him, for some time, he can let go of everything haunting him and he can focus on just you and your dick in him.

He used to be very big on doggystyle but his knees have gotten worse with the years, so it’s only a rare occurrence, but he’s found a new muse: cuddlefucking. 

His orgasms are always so strong when he’s with you, and he clenches so tightly around you. 

When he decides to be dominant, he almost talks you through it and he gives you a look that makes you only more and more obedient with each thrust…

When he decides to be submissive, he has a similar air to Steven, it’s very touchy sex where you wrap your arms around him.

His neck is the best place to kiss while you fuck him, and the vibration of his whimpers on you just tops it off, you love making your man feel good.

The cuddling normally gets you too lazy to pull out, so you cum inside, however sometimes he likes to swallow your load.

Miguel O’Hara 

(I know he’s not REALLY an Oscar Isaac character, but he’s voiced by him and Oscar seems to like him a lot so I guess he’s part of the gang now)

Poor little baby needs his stress to be pounded out of his pretty head.

He’s the biggest fan of rough sex, it’s rare you two have a soft session the whole time. But not like you mind, you love seeing him weak while you fuck him into oblivion.

Miguel’s prostate is extremely sensitive, which leads to him grunting loudly and screaming if you’re in private. 

He’s submissive most of the time, having someone else have to take control is a stress reliever for him, but he can power bottom sometimes.

It’s not hard to make him go cock drunk, especially after heavy teasing. He just wants to be mercilessly pounded by you.

He’s very sensitive in his nipples too, he can cum from stimulation there alone…

His favorite position is mating press, you just overpower him so gracefully.

When he’s a power bottom, he rides you in reverse cowgirl, he knows how crazy you are for his ass and feeds into that.

He loves it when you cum inside him, he feels like he’s yours when you do that. Sometimes, he even plugs his ass so he can keep inside of him.

[little-worm-grant]

Spicy Marc: Need You

Marc Spector x You (Fem!Reader)

662 words / 18+ only, no minors

Masterlist.

If you like what you see, leave a like or reblog and follow me ♥

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.

Notes: It's just smut to feed the gremlins - it's me, am gremlins.

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

“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.

[alwaysmicado]

you’re safe with me

3.2k | 18+ MDNI | Steven Grant x f!reader

Warnings: D/s dynamic, Dom!reader/sub!Steven, soft domination, spanking, praise kink, body worship, handjob, so. much. love. Summary: After he’s had a bad day at work, you make sure to show Steven how loved and appreciated he is. A/N: My first Moon Knight fic! It’s been sitting in my drafts for half a year now (yeah, I know) and I’m finally ready to share it with you. It’s sweet and I’m so happy with how it turned out. Enjoy and let me know what you think! ♡ Dividers by the wonderful @cafekitsune.

The clattering of keys in the lock stirs you from your thoughts. Steven’s finally home.

The heavy sigh that follows the door creaking open tells you everything you need to know. You glance up from your book, your eyes meeting your boyfriend’s as he trudges into the apartment. His usually lively eyes are clouded, and the slumped shoulders reveal a weight that words alone can’t convey.

“Hey, love,” you greet him softly, setting your book aside. “Rough day?”

Steven drops his bag by the door and runs a hand through his disheveled hair. “You could say that, love,” he mutters, his accent thick with exhaustion. He plops down on the couch next to you, the cushion sinking under his weight. “Everything that could go wrong at the museum did. Everything. And Marc...well, Marc’s been particularly vocal today.”

You reach out, placing a comforting hand on his arm. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

He shakes his head, leaning back and closing his eyes. “Not really, love. I just...need a moment to breathe. I’m sorry.”

You watch him for a moment, taking in the lines of stress etched on his face. It’s clear he’s had one of those days where nothing goes right. He looks vulnerable, worn out. Your heart aches to see the man you love like this.

You’re about to ask if he would like a piece of the chocolate cake you baked this morning when a thought crosses your mind, and you wonder if it might help.

“Steven,” you say softly, your voice a gentle caress. “Do you want to...play tonight?”

His eyes flutter open, and a hint of a smile tugs at his lips. “I’d like that,” he admits sheepishly, a spark of hope flickering in his tired eyes. “If it’s not too much trouble, of course.”

“Never,” you assure him with a bright smile. “It’s never too much trouble for you.” You rise from the couch, offering him your hand. “Come on, let’s go to the bedroom.”

Steven takes your hand, allowing you to lead him. His hand in yours feels so right. 

The walk to the bedroom is silent, the air between you charged with anticipation. As you enter the room, you feel Steven’s grip tighten on your hand. You turn to him, noting the mixture of anxiety and excitement in his gaze.

“It’s okay, love,” you whisper, brushing a thumb over his knuckles. “You’re safe with me.”

He nods, a shiver running through him. You guide him to the bed, motioning for him to sit. He does so, looking up at you with those wide, earnest eyes that you adore so much.

“Strip,” you command softly, but firmly. “And kneel at the foot of the bed.”

Steven complies, his movements slow and deliberate. He undresses, folding his clothes neatly and placing them on the chair by the window. Then, he kneels, his posture straight but relaxed, awaiting your next instruction.

You walk around him, admiring the view. He’s beautiful, even when he’s feeling low. Especially when he’s feeling low, because it’s then that he trusts you the most. You run a hand through his hair, and he leans into your touch.

“You’ve had a hard day,” you say, your voice low and soothing. “Tell me what happened.”

He takes a deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling. “Everything went wrong at the museum. I dropped a display, messed up the paperwork, and Donna...she was relentless. Marc’s been arguing with me all day, and I just...I feel like such a failure and like I can’t do anything right.”

You kneel in front of him, taking his face in your hands. “Steven, look at me.” He does, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. “You’re the best. You hear me? You’re wonderful, and you don’t deserve to be treated like that.”

He tries to look away, but you hold him firm. “But I messed up,” he protests weakly. “I’m just...”

“Don’t,” you cut him off. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence.” You lean in, your soft lips brushing against his. “You’re so much more than you give yourself credit for.”

He swallows hard, nodding slightly. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“Good boy,” you praise him, seeing the faint blush that colors his cheeks. “Now, I want you to remember that tonight is about you. About making you feel good. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

You stand, walking over to the dresser. From the top drawer, you pull out a silk scarf and a leather paddle. Steven’s eyes widen at the sight, but he doesn’t protest. He trusts you, and that trust is something you’d never ever take lightly.

You return to him, the scarf dangling from your fingers. “Hands behind your back.”

He obeys, and you expertly tie his wrists together, the silk smooth against his skin. “This is to remind you that you’re in my care,” you explain. “That you can let go.”

You trail the paddle lightly over his back, making him shiver. “And this is for when you forget how amazing you are. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Good.” You walk around him, your fingers brushing over his shoulders, his neck. “Now, tell me again what happened at the museum.”

Steven takes a deep breath. “I...I dropped a display. It shattered into a million pieces, and everyone looked at me like I was an idiot. It was humiliating and I completely froze.”

You nod, absorbing his words. “And what did you think when that happened?”

“I...I thought I was useless,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

The paddle comes down lightly on his backside, the sound sharp in the quiet room. Steven gasps, his body tensing.

“What did I say about speaking badly about yourself?”

“I’m sorry, Ma’am,” he breathes. “I’ll try to be better.”

You run a soothing hand over the spot you struck. “That’s all I ask, love.” You move in front of him again, lifting his chin so he meets your gaze. “You’re not useless, Steven. You’re human. We all make mistakes.”

He nods, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “Thank you,” he murmurs.

You smile, leaning in to kiss him gently. “You’re welcome. Now, tell me more.”

Steven sighs deeply, his eyes flickering with uncertainty. “The paperwork,” he begins, his voice hesitant. “I was supposed to catalog a new shipment of artifacts, but I got the dates wrong. Donna found out and she... she was furious. She called me a bumbling idiot and that hiring me was the worst mistake she’s ever made. And I...I think she might be right.”

He lowers his gaze to the floor, ashamed. Your gaze, on the other hand, is fixed on his face, watching every single expression. You’re fuming, gripping the handle of the paddle so hard your knuckles turn white.

Nothing makes you angrier than anyone daring to dull the bright light in Steven’s eyes.

You quickly collect yourself, pushing away your immediate thoughts of getting Donna fired. This isn’t about you or your anger right now.

You lift the paddle, bringing it down firmly on his other butt cheek. He flinches, the sting a sharp reminder of your words. You immediately soothe his hot skin with your hand, your touch gentle and reassuring. Moving in front of him again, you lift his chin, ensuring he meets your eyes.

“Steven,” you say calmly. “She had no right to disrespect you like that. None. It’s completely normal to get things wrong, especially with something as complex as artifact cataloging. I’ve never met anyone as passionate and dedicated to their work, and everyone at that museum is lucky that you’re granting them the gift of your precious time and talent.”

“Thank you,” he whispers. “But I know I should’ve checked the dates twice and, and I didn’t…and now the museum has to pay an extra fee and it’s all because of me and–”

He can’t finish his sentence before you’ve struck the supple flesh of his perfect butt again, this time with vigor. The sharp crack of the paddle against his skin surprises you both. Steven gasps, his body jerking forward slightly, but his reaction is immediate and telling. A low moan escapes his lips, his muscles tensing and then relaxing as the sting spreads across his skin. His cock is hardening, the sight stirring up your own arousal.

You soothe the reddened area with a gentle hand, your voice firm but tender. “Baby, listen to me. Mistakes happen. You are not defined by them. The museum can handle an extra fee; no one died, it’s not the end of the world. What’s important is that you learn and move on.”

He shudders, nodding as he processes your words and the lingering sensation of the paddle. “Yes, Ma’am,” he breathes, his voice trembling with a mixture of arousal and gratitude.

“Good boy,” you praise, running your fingers through his hair. “Now, tell me about Marc. What did he do today?”

Steven takes a deep, steadying breath, trying to decide within seconds what to tell you. He can’t reveal the complete truth, not when it’s about…well, it’s about you. It’s about wanting to be with you forever. It’s about arguing over who will have the honor of asking you to marry them.

For weeks now, they’ve been debating the specifics of their proposal, your engagement ring patiently waiting, safely stashed behind a book on a shelf you can’t easily reach.

“He, uh,” Steven murmurs, “he’s been in my head all day, criticizing every little thing I do. I feel like he sometimes wishes he was alone, that he could be with you by himself, that he didn’t have to carry me around as well. And I...I don’t blame him”

You bring the paddle down with two firm strikes, and Steven’s moan is louder this time, filled with a mix of pain and pleasure. His body trembles with the intensity of his emotions, and you waste no time stepping in front of him, pulling his head towards your belly, and softly petting him.

“Steven,” you say, your voice gentle yet firm, “Marc is so grateful to have you. He tells me all the time. He knows how much I love you, and he would never want anything less for either of us. And Marc doesn’t carry you; you both support each other equally. You are kind, compassionate, and incredibly strong. Neither Marc nor I would want to be in this world without you.”

Steven’s breath hitches, his face pressed against your belly as he absorbs your words. You continue to stroke his hair, offering him the comfort and reassurance he needs. His body slowly relaxes, the tension easing as he lets your words sink in.

“I appreciate you so much, baby,” you continue, your hand never stopping its soothing motion. “You’re important, and you are loved.”

He nods, his voice a soft whisper against your shirt. “Thank you, Ma’am.”

“Good boy,” you coo, lifting his chin so he can see the sincerity in your eyes. “Now, tell me how that makes you feel.”

He swallows hard, his eyes glistening with emotion. “It makes me feel...valued. Loved. Like I’m not alone.”

“Good. ’Cause it’s all true,” you assure him, leaning down to press a lingering kiss on his warm lips. “Now, I think you deserve a reward. Would you like that, Steven?”

His eyes light up at that, a smile breaking through the remnants of his earlier gloom. “Yes, please,” he whispers. “Thank you, Ma’am.”

You caress his cheek and steal another kiss before smiling at him and straightening up.

“Kneel on the bed,” you say softly, walking to the end of the bed. “Get comfortable and face me.”

Steven complies, his movements fluid and trusting. He sits back on his heels in the middle of the bed, his eyes locked on yours, his cock twitching in anticipation.

Your eyes drop down to his cock, where a string of precum is currently making its way down onto the covers. You bite your lip at the sight.

“You’re leaking, baby.”

“Oh,” Steven murmurs as he looks down, his cheeks flushing. “I’m sorry.”

You sigh and roll your eyes demonstratively as you cross the room. “Don’t make me get the paddle again.”

Steven smirks. “Yes, Ma’am.”

You drag your standing floor-length mirror to the foot of the bed so Steven can see his reflection. His eyes widen slightly, but he stays still, waiting for your next instruction.

You move behind him on the bed, your hands caressing his body. “Look at yourself, Steven,” you whisper, your breath hot against his ear. “Look and see what I see.”

Your hands slide over his shoulders, your fingers tracing the defined muscles. “These shoulders, so strong and capable. They bear so much weight, and yet they remain steady.”

Steven nods, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. “Yes, Ma’am.”

You move your hands down his arms, feeling the tension ease under your touch. “These arms, always ready to hold and protect. They’re beautiful, just like you.”

He swallows hard, meeting your gaze in the mirror. “Thank you,” he whispers.

You press a kiss to the nape of his neck. “My good boy,” you praise him. “Keep looking.”

Your hands travel down his back, tracing the curve of his spine. “This back, it’s strong and supportive. It carries so much, but it never breaks.”

Steven shivers under your touch, his breath hitching. “Yes, Ma’am."

You continue your journey, your hands gliding over his sides to his hips. “These hips, so perfectly shaped. So graceful on the dance floor and always bringing me so much pleasure.”

His cock twitches at that image and a soft moan escapes his lips as he nods, his eyes never leaving the mirror. “Yes, Ma’am.”

Your hands move lower, caressing his thighs. “These legs, they’re powerful and sturdy. They carry you through every challenge with unwavering determination. I admire that.”

Steven��s voice is barely audible as he whispers, “Yes, Ma’am.”

You move up again and pause, your hands resting on his lower belly. “And this,” you murmur, your fingers brushing over his skin. “This is where you carry so much of your tension, but it’s also where your strength lies.”

He shudders, his body responding to your touch. “Yes, Ma’am.”

Your hand slides down to his erect cock, wrapping around it gently. He gasps, his body tensing.

“Look at yourself, Steven,” you command softly. “See how beautiful you are.”

He meets your eyes in the mirror, his gaze filled with a mixture of desire and vulnerability. “Yes, Ma’am.”

You let go of his cock, and he can’t hold back a little whimper. Sensing his fear that you might not touch him again, you immediately lift your hand towards his mouth.

“Spit.”

Steven obeys without hesitation, his eyes never leaving yours in the mirror. A small bead of saliva drips from his lips onto your fingers, and you smile approvingly.

“Good boy,” you murmur, bringing your hand back to his cock. The added lubrication makes your touch smoother, more deliberate, and Steven shudders, his body responding to your control.

You start stroking him slowly from behind, your other hand caressing his shoulder blades. You kiss his shoulder, your lips brushing over his skin. “You are incredible, Steven,” you whisper in his ear. “So strong, so capable. I love you more than words can say.”

He moans softly, his body trembling. “Thank you,” he gasps. “I– I love you, too.”

“You’re not allowed to come until I tell you to,” you murmur, your strokes maintaining a slow, torturous rhythm. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he breathes, his voice strained.

You continue to stroke him, your hand firm and steady. “Tell me how amazing you are, Steven,” you whisper in his ear.

“I’m amazing,” he gasps, his body arching into your touch.

“Again,” you command softly, your lips brushing against his ear. “But this time, be specific. Tell me one thing you like about yourself.”

“I...I have a kind heart,” he stammers, his breath hitching.

“Good boy,” you whisper, your strokes maintaining their steady rhythm. “What else?”

“My...my intelligence,” he gasps, his body trembling.

“Very good, Steven,” you murmur, kissing his neck. “Keep going.”

“I...I’m dedicated,” he breathes, his voice growing more confident.

“Yes, you are,” you agree, your hand moving faster. “Tell me more.”

“I’m compassionate,” he moans.

“Wonderful, Steven. You’re doing so well.”

He shudders, his body on the edge. “Please,” he whispers, his voice desperate.

“One more time”, you instruct, your hand never faltering.

“I’m strong,” he cries out, his voice filled with conviction.

“Good boy,” you whisper. “Now, you may come.”

Steven’s body tenses, every muscle tightening as he teeters on the edge of release. His breaths come in ragged gasps, and with one final, shuddering moan, he comes hard. Ropes of cum spurt onto the bed, each wave of his orgasm rippling through his body like a powerful tide. His moans grow louder, a raw, primal sound of release and relief, filling the room with his pleasure.

You hold him close from behind, feeling the tremors of his climax echoing through your own body. Your arms wrap around him securely, grounding him as he rides out the intense waves of his high. His body jerks with each pulse, his cock twitching as the last spurts of cum spill onto the bed.

“I’m so proud of you,” you murmur, your lips brushing against his sweat-dampened shoulder. “I love you, Steven.”

His body slowly begins to relax, the tension ebbing away as the overwhelming pleasure recedes. He slumps against you, utterly spent, his breaths coming in deep, steadying gulps.

“Thank you, baby,” he whispers, his voice filled with gratitude and lingering pleasure. “I love you, too.”

You hold him for a moment longer, letting him bask in the afterglow before pressing a kiss to the nape of his neck and pulling away. You untie his wrists, massaging the slight indents the scarf left on his skin.

“How do you feel?” you ask.

“Better,” he admits, a dopey smile on his lips. “Lighter.”

“That’s good to hear,” you say softly. “Now, how about you go take a shower while I warm up dinner, hm? And think about what movie you wanna watch.”

He nods, his eyes shining with affection. “Yes, Ma’am.”

You watch him as he heads to the bathroom, a small smile on your lips. Once he’s gone, you clean up the bed and head to the kitchen. You warm up the dinner you prepared earlier, the comforting aroma filling the apartment.

When Steven emerges from the shower, he looks refreshed, his earlier stress completely melted away. He joins you in the living room, and you hand him his plate. 

“Did you decide on a movie?” you ask, settling down next to him.

He smiles, a genuine, relaxed smile. “How about that creepy robot movie you’ve been wanting me to watch with you?”

You chuckle, very pleased with his choice. “Sounds perfect.”

You eat together in front of the TV, the movie playing in the background. After dinner, you cuddle on the couch, holding him close and scratching his scalp gently. He sighs contentedly, his head resting on your shoulder.

“Thank you,” he murmurs softly. “For everything.”

You press a kiss to his temple, your heart swelling with love. “Always, Steven. I love you.”

Thank you for reading!

Let me know your thoughts & if you have any ideas/wishes for future fics. I’d love to hear from you! ♡

Masterlist | AO3

[bisexualsupe]

Moon System NSFW Headcanons

Steven

-He’s shy at first. He’s not a virgin but he’s a little unpracticed.

-Fast learner though.

-He rambles outside of the bedroom, he rambles inside of it too.

-‘Oh god, you feel so good…so good…keep doing that, that’s it, god…’

-Favourite position is missionary because he likes the feeling of his partner clinging to him and hearing them moan in his ear.

-Isn’t big on eye contact or kisses, he prefers to bury his head in his partner’s neck and kiss them there.

-This man whimpers.

-Is actually the most likely out of all of them to try kinky stuff.

-Gets very clingy and cuddly afterwards and will be genuinely upset if he doesn’t get cuddles please give him aftercare.

Marc

-The most experienced of the three by a small margin given that he’s the host.

-Doesn’t care if he’s making his partner scream, he wants to hear how good he’s making them feel and doesn’t give a fuck who else hears it.

-Also likes missionary the best, specifically when he rests his forehead against his partner’s and gives them deep, loving kisses.

-Loves looking into their eyes as they cum. Soft dom energy.

-‘That’s it baby, you’re doing so good for me, just like that.”

-Starts off with low, soft moans and gets more breathy the closer he gets.

-If someone rides him, he will whimper. It’s his second favourite position.

-Likes his partner to lay their head on his chest afterwards so he can stroke their hair and hold them close. He gets protective after sex and wants to feel like he can keep them safe and secure.

Jake

-You would think he’d be rough, but he’s actually gentle.

-He’s finally found someone that he cares about and who doesn’t view him as just a guard dog or something to be unleashed, he doesn’t want to accidentally hurt them.

-When he gets more comfortable, he’d be able to take things a little faster and harder.

-Will start speaking in Spanish as he gets caught up in the act.

-He’s quite touch sensitive, and likes having his hair stroked and tugged.

-Will leave hickeys all over his partner’s neck and shoulders.

-Favourite position is any position that gets him deep and makes it easier for him to get his partner overstimulated.

-Likes to keep going until they forget how to even speak, then hold them until they either fall asleep or regain their senses.

-He likes that it gives him the chance to be gentle for once. To be loved rather than feared.

-Most likely to pull someone into a quiet place in public for a quickie.

[projectionistwrites]

moonboys and a reader who maladaptive daydreams?

hi, nonnie! thank you for this request, you must’ve seen my blog description haha. this is my first fic request which is very exciting! my inbox is always open so if you’d like to request something, i’d appreciate it. :) anyway, i hope you like it!

IMPLODING THE MIRAGE

Moon Knight x afab!reader (primarily Marc Spector) (10.6k+)

You’ve been escaping into yourself more and more often, and the boys are starting to notice. How are you supposed to explain to them that you don’t want to live in the moment, when the version of your life inside your head is so much better than reality on the outside?

RATING: EXPLICIT (18+, mdni) WARNINGS: maladaptive daydreaming, insecure reader & negative perceptions of self, depictions of injury & violence, kidnapping, miscommunication, SMUT (inappropriate fantasizing, unprotected p in v sex, cum eating, dirty talk, dom/sub dynamics if you squint)

imploding the mirage — the killers

i had to do it, i had no other choice you’ve got to listen to the inside voice a bullet train will get you there fast but it won’t guarantee a long last sometimes it takes a little bit of courage and doubt to push your boundaries out beyond your imagining

He was the moon, and she was the stars.

It was serendipitous, how the couple had come to fall in love throughout the course of their divine adventures alongside each other—two servants to a pair of primordial Egyptian deities, serving as Avatars to protect those who could not protect themselves. She’d met him at a meeting of the Ennead, when he’d been called upon to answer for his actions against a human named Arthur Harrow, who was accused of attempting to raise Ammit from eternal isolation.

The trial hadn’t gone well, and certainly hadn’t worked in his favor, but her goddess protector had a soft spot for Khonshu, the God of the Moon—after all, he was the reason she had been given five extra days with which to bear her five children.

So her Avatar was secretly assigned to keep watch over the Moon Knight, to aid in his fight to keep Ammit contained and offer her services should he need them.

He was resistant at first, but Khonshu insisted that having Nut as an ally could only serve to benefit them in their journey—after all, she was the sky, and without her, the Moon could not rise.

Marc Spector and his alters didn't anticipate becoming so infatuated with the soft curve of her Avatar’s smile or the cosmos she seemed to hold within her eyes. But as time passed, they grew closer, and when she saved him again and again, the navy blue of her armor shimmering with glowing silver emblems of stars, he felt as if his soul was tethered to her. It seemed to be fate, as clear as a constellation, that their lives were somehow intertwined and their happenstance meeting was actually the result of some unseen gravitational pull, guiding them through the darkness until they found solace in one another.

He heard her sandal-clad feet softly hit the solid ground, her body drifting down from the sky to land beside him after her short flight in the air. He turned to look at her—the flowing robes of her ceremonial armor billowed in the evening breeze, her hair pulled back intricately with thin glittering bands of silver, adorned with five-pointed stars that captured the moonlight in her curls. She was ethereal, heavenly, celestial, and when she turned and smiled at him, he swore the planets aligned in some brief moment of rapture.

“Where to next, Moon Boy?”

She teased lightly, her nose crinkling with amusement. His hands twitched at his sides, unable to control the movement of his arm as it reached for her hand.

He heard Khonshu chuckle deeply from somewhere behind him, condescending and slightly mocking. Still, he always spoke kinder about the woman beside him than any other being on this Earth.

“I should’ve known you would become enamored with the little star. Nut always finds a way to reunite the beings of the night sky.”

Marc ignored him—he was too enthralled by the way her breath hitched in her throat at the feeling of his fingers brushing her own, the hood and mask of his armor receding to reveal the tenderness of his gaze. He turned to face her, his other gloved hand reaching to cradle the side of her jaw. He watched as her gaze flickered down to his lips, and he smiled.

“Anywhere, as long as it’s with you.”

He leaned forward to capture her lips with his own, swallowing her contented sigh as she melted into his touch—

“Jesus Christ!”

You nearly toppled forward when Marc abruptly yanked his arm away from you, his face contorted into a look of pain. You blinked once, then twice, eyes clearing to focus in on the blood staining your hands and the curved needle that was pinched tightly between your forefinger and thumb.

“The fuck was that? Are you even paying attention to what you’re doing?”

Marc hissed at you, cradling his injured forearm to his chest, gritting his teeth as your eyes widened in realization.

“Shit, shit, I’m sorry, Marc, I zoned out, here, just let me see—”

“Forget it, I’ll just do it myself.”

He snatched the suture from your hand and laid his arm back on the marbled countertop of your bathroom sink, giving you a clear view of the mistake you’d made—you’d laid the stitch nearly a full inch from where the edge of the gaping incision had started, sinking it into completely uninjured, healthy skin.

“Marc, stop, I’ll do it.”

You stopped him before he could hurt himself even more—he never had the patience to treat his wounds properly, but for ones that were this deep, it was smarter to close them by hand than wait several hours for his magical suit to heal it on its own.

He grunted in protest, but nonetheless allowed you to retrieve the needle from his hold and lean over his arm, tongue pinched between your teeth in concentration.

You were much more careful, this time, deliberate with each pull of the thread beneath his skin, finishing sewing shut the injury quickly. When you’d finally finished, you leaned forward to bite the end of the stitch and tear it away with your teeth. You reached for a piece of gauze, pouring a generous amount of saline solution onto the cloth in order to blot the excess blood from his skin.

You could feel his eyes on you the whole time, burning into your skull as if he was trying to read your mind. You sulked.

“I said I was sorry, Marc, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Your words were soft, and he could hear the guilt that was churning in your stomach. He didn’t flinch when you began dabbing at the drying blood around the wound.

“S’fine. But—what happened? It’s like—you just tapped out for a second, there. Did you even hear what I was saying to you?”

You frowned.

“No, I’m sorry. I just—got lost in thought.”

“Hell of a time for that to happen.”

He chuckled in an attempt to lighten the mood, but you didn’t laugh. Your eyes were still fixed on the skin of his arm, even though you’d successfully wiped away most of the remaining blood.

“I was just saying that—that I appreciate that you’re willing to do this for me.”

Your eyes darted to his face, surprised at the vulnerability he was displaying by expressing his gratitude.

“I mean—I never figured that when I’d stumbled onto your balcony all those months ago, beaten to all hell, that I’d meet someone who was willing to patch me up over and over again. Well—at least, before you stabbed me with a needle.”

Your eyes fell again, cheeks reddening at his jab. But he just laughed warmly, lifting his arm to rest his hand on your shoulder. Your bristled beneath his fingers, although his touch was nothing more than a friendly expression of appreciation.

“I’m just teasing you. But either way—just wanted to say thanks. Steven told me that I don’t say it enough, so...”

Now you laughed. It was more of a scoff, really, accompanied by the roll of your eyes as you reached for the knobs on the faucet, rinsing the blood from your fingers.

“Of course Steven made you.”

A lopsided grin found its way onto his face, and when you looked at him again, there was a twinkle in his eye. Your breath stuttered in your throat as you gazed at him—ebony curls spilling messily against his forehead, his lips quirked upwards at the corners, the fondness that was lingering beneath his brown irises. Was it possible? Could he really care about you the way you cared for him?

You turned away, standing and exiting the bathroom quickly before you could make a fool of yourself, face heating up at your own naïveté. Of course he didn’t feel that way about you. You were just—you. Only in the sanctuary of your imagination would he ever look at you and see anything beyond just a nurse playmate, or even maybe a friend.

You heard his heavy footsteps follow you back into your flat, where you wandered into the kitchen and retrieved a couple glasses.

“Do you mind if I—”

“Spare bed’s already made, I washed the sheets since last time you bled all over them and didn’t even tell me.”

You turned on the tap to fill the two cups with water. You were certain Marc hadn’t remembered to drink anything since his most recent escapade as a masked vigilante, and being around him always tended to make your mouth run dry.

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

You slid the glass of water across the countertop towards him, leaning back against the kitchen island to sip at your own. You watched him above the rim of your glass—the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he took a large swig of the cool liquid, the way a stray droplet of water dribbled down his chin when he pulled the glass back, the way his hand came to wipe it away, the plush of his bottom lip supple beneath the swipe of his fingers.

She fell back against the mattress, breath temporarily stolen from her lungs as she felt the heat of his lips hungrily mouthing at any exposed skin it could reach—her jawline, her neck, her collarbone, the swell of her breasts. A soft whine fell from her mouth and Marc swiftly lifted himself back to her face to swallow the sound, tongue sinking into her mouth to taste her.

Her fingers clawed at the fabric of his t-shirt, twisting and yanking him impossibly closer, legs lifting to wrap around his waist to press the heat of her core against the growing tent in his pants. A low groan escaped his chest as he rutted against her, pulling back to take stock of the hazy fog of lust that clouded her eyes and the O-shape of her lips as she let out a shaky exhale.

“Fuck, Marc.”

She whispered, arms wrapping tightly around his shoulders, fingers digging into his shoulderblades.

“Want you—need you so bad.”

“You’re doing it again.”

You blinked once, then twice, finding Marc's dark gaze staring straight at you as his voice pulled you back to reality. Your brows lifted in horror when you realized you’d shamelessly been ogling at him, too engrossed in your thoughts to notice how long you’d been standing there.

“Shit, I—sorry.”

You rubbed at your eyes with your fingers, hoping that maybe if you pressed hard enough, the image of Marc’s body hovering above you would erase itself from your mind. It didn’t work.

You heard the clank of his now-empty glass as he set it down on the granite countertop, his arms crossing over his chest.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

You should be used to the rush of heat to your face by now—just being in Marc’s company caused you to blush uncontrollably, but still, the discomfort of your ruddy cheeks made your pulse quicken. Your gaze flickered down to your feet, eyes meeting the stupid fucking bunny slippers that you wore to accompany your fleece pajama bottoms. Fucking embarrassing.

“It’s nothing, Marc.”

You whispered quietly in response, although nausea was beginning to settle in the pit of your stomach. You were out of control—this man was driving you insane.

He studied you for a moment longer, eyes narrowed in suspicion, but when you didn’t look back up at him, he just sighed.

“Okay. I’ll just—leave you alone, then. Goodnight.”

There were tears pricking the back of your eyes. You wanted to ask him to stay, to come share your bed instead of the one in your guest room, to kiss his stupidly handsome face.

“Towels are folded in the bathroom for you, and there’s clothes in the wardrobe if you want to change.”

You said instead, turning to refill your glass of water in the sink behind you. If he heard you, he didn’t respond—you listened to his footsteps disappear down the hall before the door to the guest bedroom creaked shut with a quiet click. Your shoulders immediately slumped forward, eyes squeezed shut tightly in an effort to combat the desperate urge to break down.

Her eyes were full of detestation as she glared down at him, nostrils flared with rage. He wanted to shrink beneath her disapproval.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?”

The woman started, and in spite of her towering figure looking down at him, he couldn’t help but gawk at the way the moonlight framed her, her silhouette outlined by the subtle glow of the night sky behind her. She offered him a hand and he took it, allowing her to yank him to his feet without an ounce of gentleness.

“You’re lucky I was here, Lockley, or things would’ve ended differently.”

She hissed, dusting herself off as if to showcase the strenuous effort she had put into saving his ass. He scowled behind his mask, the blood from the wound on his forearm beginning to soak through the bandages of his suit, tingeing the cream-colored fabric a dark crimson.

“I don’t need your help, estrellita. I was handling it.”

She scoffed as he turned on his heel to stomp away, crossing her arms tightly over her chest.

“Yeah, sure looked like you were handling it—why didn’t you call me? Nut had to drag me out of bed so you didn’t get yourself killed. Didn’t the old bird tell you we were together on this?”

He scowled, eyes narrowed in contempt.

“Yeah, he did, and I said no. We are not partners. We’re hardly even friends.”

He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth, the way her face fell and her brows creased causing a pang of guilt to stab through his already-sore chest. He sighed.

“Estrellita, I didn’t mean—”

“Why do you push me away?”

She interrupted, and Jake was taken aback by the question.

“What do you mean?”

“You need me, Jake. We need each other. I’m just—I just want to help you, why won’t you let me help you?”

He didn’t respond, just stared at her as her eyes flooded with tears. At his silence, she shook her head, turning away to stare up into the star-filled sky.

“We’re supposed to be a team, Moon Knight. The stars and the moon—you can’t have one without the other.”

He could see the reflection of the crescent-shaped moon in her glassy eyes, the soft glow painting her face with silvery beams of light.

You’d left the balcony door wide open—your routine was fairly habitual, now. A mug of warm tea was cradled in your fingers as you curled up in the wicker chair, eyes flitting across the scattered stars that were visible from your tiny apartment complex.

You watched him sit down beside you in your periphery, the movement to your left pulling you from your reverie. He reached for the glass of bourbon you'd set out on the table in front of him.

You sat in silence for awhile, finding comfort in the man’s quiet presence. You liked that about Jake—you never felt like you had to fill the air with meaningless conversation. He was perfectly content to just enjoy your company, the same as you enjoyed his.

You heard the ice in his glass clink against the side as he took a sip.

“Are you going to tell them?”

Neither of you looked at each other when he spoke—the question was spoken out into the world, not really directed towards you, although you knew what he meant.

Jake was too fucking perceptive for his own good. Even when he was silent, he was always there, watching, listening, observing—even if the other alters were oblivious to the yearning that was thinly veiled within your eyes, he certainly wasn’t. You sighed.

“No.”

He hummed in acknowledgement, but something about his lack of verbal response bothered you, itching at the back of your brain. You turned to scowl at him.

“What?”

Jake hardly spared you a glance, barely quirking a brow at your emotionally-charged reaction as he shook his head.

“Nothing. I didn’t say anything.”

“Exactly.”

You glared, fingers anxiously tapping at the rim of your mug. The contours of Jake’s face were sharp in the dim light of the moon, features accentuated by the shadows. He finally turned to look at you.

“You know what I think, nena. You’re only hurting yourself. And your constant...daydreaming. It’s not as subtle as it once was. You—You should talk to them. Or me.”

The last bit of his proposal caught you off guard. His eyes had already drifted elsewhere when he said it, staring into his half-empty glass of liquor, but your brows lifted in surprise.

“I—you?”

He glowered playfully.

“Don’t sound so surprised, nena. I always listen to you.”

That was true. Some of your fondest memories with Jake were of late nights spent out on your balcony, getting drunk on cheap wine and sharing stories.

“Yeah, you’re good at listening, but not so much the talking part.”

Jake shrugged, although he nodded in understanding. He was all too aware of his own weaknesses.

You took a sip of your chamomile tea, letting its warmth combat the chill of the evening air.

“Why won’t you tell me?”

You asked quietly, and even without elaborating, Jake knew what you were referring to. He sighed, tossing back the last of his bourbon before setting it on the small table between you, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

“I’ve told you before. It’s not my place. I know what they think, but not what they feel.”

You huffed quietly, although deep down, you knew he was right. It wasn’t his place to share how Marc or Steven felt about you. You sort of admired the way he was so strict in his moral obligations—especially considering the lengths you were willing to go in order to change his mind.

Jake stiffened when he felt your hand rest on his bicep, fingers wrapping around it and squeezing lightly.

“But what about how you feel?”

His jaw rippled, and you felt the muscle beneath your fingers tense at your coy words. You could feel the restraint within him as he sat up abruptly, pulling away so his arm fell from your grasp. He still didn’t look at you.

“It doesn’t matter how I feel, nena. Not until you talk to Marc. He—you were his first. I’m not going jeopardize your relationship with him until he knows the truth.”

Anger flared within you.

“I’m not his. I don’t belong to anyone. My choices are my own.”

Jake flinched, eyes softening as they flickered over to you.

“You’re right, I’m sorry—I didn’t mean it like that. I just—you have to understand. He—I can’t go behind his back like this. Yo no sería capaz de vivir conmigo mismo.”

“But you can’t even tell me if he feels the same way?”

You asked, and he could hear the pain in your voice as your tone wavered slightly. You’d had this conversation many times before, but things had been escalating recently—perhaps because it was getting increasingly difficult for you to be content in the reality you lived in.

Jake’s eyes were full of sympathy as he regarded you.

“No, nena. I’m sorry.”

You turned away.

“But you need to tell him. And Steven, too. They deserve to know. And so do you.”

You heard his weight shift as he stood to head back to bed, having spent too much time keeping the body awake—he didn’t want his alters to grow suspicious at the exhaustion when they woke in the morning.

“What if he breaks my heart?”

He paused in the threshold on the doorway, glancing back at you when he heard the thickness in your throat as your eyes welled with tears.

“What if he doesn’t feel the same way?”

Jake pursed his lips, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides as he pondered his response. Finally, he released a long sigh.

“I don’t think you have to worry about that, nena. He’d be crazy not to.”

The smell of cinnamon wafted down the hallway as Steven rose from his slumber. There was a gentle melody floating in the air as he pulled himself from the bed, rubbing sleep from his eyes, his bare feet padding along the tiled floor towards the source of the noise.

She was singing quietly to herself, back towards him as she chopped the fresh strawberries into fourths. He couldn’t help but smile at the domesticity of it all—the woman he loved, that he fought beside, making breakfast for them to share. His heart felt whole.

He sidled up behind her, arms wrapping around her waist and his body pressing flush against her back. He placed a kiss to the exposed skin of her neck, her hair pulled up in a sloppy updo.

“G’mornin’, darling.”

He hummed sleepily, and he felt her chest rumble with an airy giggle as she leaned into his touch.

“Hi, handsome. Sleep okay?”

He reached over her shoulder to steal a strawberry from the cutting board, taking a bite of the succulent fruit before offering the other half to her by pressing it to her lips. She smiled and happily accepted his offering.

“Would’ve slept even better if I’d woken up to your face beside me.”

She threw her head back, leaning against his chest as she laughed brightly—his favorite sound.

“Oh, boohoo. Sorry for getting up early to make you breakfast.”

She teased, and Steven pressed his face into her hair, the smell of her coconut shampoo enticing him. His arms reached to rest on the countertop to either side of her, successfully caging her in. He heard her breath hitch as the movement of the knife in her hand stalled, his body pressing up more firmly against her—enough so that she could feel the hardness of his manhood against the flesh of her ass.

“The strawberries are sweet, darling, but I’d rather have something even sweeter for breakfast this mornin’, yeah?”

“G’mornin’, darling.”

The knife fumbled in your grasp and the blade slipped across your fingers, slicing a divot in the tender flesh between your thumb and forefinger.

“Steven! Shit!”

You immediately dropped the knife and rushed towards the sink, rinsing your wound under the cold water to inspect the damage and dilute the blood.

“Oh, Gods, m’so sorry, love—are you alright?”

You could feel his body creeping up behind you, an arm reaching around to grab yours in an attempt to investigate the source of your discomfort. The warmth of his presence against your back startled you, a fierce blush rising to your cheeks as you reached for a towel and sidestepped, trying to put as much distance between the two of you as possible.

“It’s—I’m fine. It’s just a tiny cut, it’s no big deal.”

You brushed it off, although your palm was beginning to throb. You pulled the washcloth away from the afflicted area, finding it soaked with a generous amount of your blood.

“Looks like it hurts. Can I—may I help you with it?”

There was trepidation in his big brown eyes, obviously put off by the hastiness with which you’d pulled away from him. You surrendered yourself, offering a sigh and a slow nod.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

You found yourself in a similar position to the previous night, although this time, the roles were reversed—and your wound was from an unfortunate kitchen incident, not a scuffle with a group of evil antique smugglers.

Steven’s bottom lip was pulled between his teeth as he secured a piece of gauze on the injury with medical tape, winding it around your palm so it fit snugly against the area. His hands were nimble and his touch was painfully gentle, the pads of his fingers just barely skimming over your skin in an effort to prevent you from more discomfort. A chill crept up your spine at the close proximity.

He looked rather satisfied with himself when he’d finished, shoving the medical supplies back into the bin beneath your sink that you had specially packed for him.

“There we are—good as new.”

He smiled cheerily at you, and it was so contagious that you couldn’t help but grin back at him. Your mind briefly darted back to your conversation with Jake the night before; then the unholy thoughts you’d been having this morning when Steven had snuck up on you. Gods, you really were getting out of control...

Steven led you from the bathroom and you returned to your post, rinsing the knife and the sliced strawberries to ensure they weren’t contaminated. You stepped over to the stove to check the steel-cut oatmeal that had been simmering—Steven’s favorite. You gave it a few good stirs before deciding that it was finished, filling up two bowls with generous servings and sprinkling the top with strawberries, brown sugar, and a pinch of cinnamon. Steven was already seated at you breakfast bar when you turned to offer him his meal.

“Bon apétit.”

You flourished playfully, passing the bowl in front of him as you seated yourself on the stool across the way. His eyes crinkled with appreciation when he smiled.

“Oh, it smells bloody lovely. Thank you, darling.”

He always called you that, you rationalized. It was nothing more than a term of endearment—a friendly pet name.

You ate in silence for awhile, save for the sound of silverware clinking against porcelain and the birds chirping from your open window. Your eyes couldn’t help but follow him as he slipped a strawberry past his lips, something reminiscent of a moan escaping him as he savored the flavor of the fruit. Your face flushed bright red.

“Yes, darling—just like that, please.”

He was whimpering beneath her, pupils blown wide as he gazed up at her from where she straddled him, sliding her naked and exposed core over his boxer-clad erection.

“You wanna be inside me, Steven?”

She cooed, leaning forward to kiss along his stubbled jawline, and he moaned wantonly, hips rutting up against her.

“Gods, yes, love, please, I can’t—”

“S’there somethin’ on my face?”

Panic flooded you at the bewildered expression on Steven’s face, his hand coming up to wipe at his mouth in case you'd been gawking at some remnants of food on the corners of his lips.

You shook your head, eyes wide and cheeks already turning pink.

“I—No, no, there’s not, I—sorry. I was just—just thinking.”

He gave you a brief scrutinizing look before shrugging and diving back into the remainder of his oatmeal.

“What were you thinkin’ about?”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Oh, it’s—nothing, really. Sometimes I just—space out, I guess.”

You offered sheepishly, toying with the last few bites of your food with your spoon—your appetite was suddenly gone.

“You seem to do that a lot, yeah? S’everything alright?”

“Yes.”

You answered him a bit too quickly, hastily jumping to end the conversation before it even began. His brows furrowed, watching as you quickly grabbed both bowls to busy yourself with cleaning up.

He wasn’t quite satisfied with your answer—in fact, it only served to startle him more. He watched you carefully as you began to viciously scrub at the blue porcelain bowls with a sponge.

“Are you...sure? I’m just—you’re worryin’ me a bit, yeah? And with last night, with Marc—if somethin’s the matter, you know you can always talk to us, ‘lright?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, forcing yourself to take in a slow, careful breath in an effort to soothe your frazzled nerves.

“Yeah, I know, Steven—thank you. But—but everything’s just fine, really.”

She’s lying.

Steven was surprised to hear Jake’s voice echo from the back of the headspace—it wasn’t often that he offered internal commentary to any conversations outside of when he was fronting.

And how do you know that?

Marc quipped back in his mind—Steven hated when they argued in the headspace, especially when he was the one in control of the body. His brain felt too full and it was easy for him to get overstimulated.

What—you think she’s telling the truth, jefe?

Marc didn’t respond, and Steven was silently grateful that their quarrel had ended quickly. Still, he knew his alters were correct—you definitely weren’t ‘just fine.’

But the last thing he wanted to do was push you away, especially since it already felt like you were putting up a wall between you, keeping him at arm’s length.

He let out a long sigh, standing up from the bar to get ready to depart for his shift at the museum.

“Well, thank you for brekky, love, and for—everything else.”

You startled when you turned, finding him standing directly behind you, pulling you into his warm embrace without any due warning. God, why was he so fucking sweet? Guilt gnawed away are your insides—Jake was right. He really did deserve to know the truth, why you were spending more time living in your fantasyland than grounded in reality—but surely it’d scare him off. Marc, too.

Perhaps it was just better to keep imagining what it would be like to be loved by them—at least without being outright rejected, there would always be that small sliver of hope gleaming in the back of your mind, that tiny semblance of ‘what if’ that you let linger.

You melted into his arms, face pressed into his shoulder.

“Anytime, Steven, really. It’s my pleasure.”

There was always a smile on her face when they departed—even if their time away from each other was difficult, she knew she could look forward to the next time they'd see each other. The way his big brown eyes would light up with elation when he saw her, like an overexcited puppy reuniting with its owner.

The grin remained on her face, still, after he’d kissed her goodbye and they parted ways. She hummed softly to herself as she journeyed down the hallway to remake the bed and tidy up the room.

He never did remember to tuck in the blankets. She laughed quietly to herself and she entered the room, filled with the distinctive cypress scent of him. She reached to fluff the pillows—

Oh. That shouldn’t be there, should it?

Your fingers wrapped around the small white trinket, strung along on a leather braided band. You lifted it up to your face to inspect it more closely—it was an pendant carved from ivory, shaped like a cross with a loop at the top. An ankh—the key of life—you recalled, as Steven had once taught you. There was a certain texture that ran along the sides, and only when you brought the object right up to your nose were you able to see that there was a teeny tiny pattern etched into the surface. Hieroglyphics.

Shit, you realized. This looked like something that would be in the museum Steven worked at—although it looked a bit too high quality to be sold in the gift shop. Nonetheless, you realized that it must’ve slipped from his pocket while he was getting dressed. What if it was important?

You wandered back to the kitchen and tried calling his cell, once, then twice, without receiving an answer. He was probably already being berated by Donna—oh, well. The museum was on your way to work anyhow, just one bus stop before the café that you worked at. You could swing by and give it to him before your shift.

You glanced down at your phone to shoot him a quick text.

hey, you forgot something here i’ll drop it off for you in a bit x

It was only when you were strolling down the street with the pendant strung around your neck that a thrill of excitement ran up your spine.

What if this was from his latest mission?

It wasn’t something you’d considered before, but now that you thought about it, it seemed like the likeliest explanation. The boys didn’t tell you much about their escapades as the masked lunar vigilante, save for the vague explanations about the injuries they asked you to patch up—but you knew enough to be two-and-two together. This must be the ancient artifact he had been sent to retrieve on Khonshu’s behalf the previous night.

You suppressed a smile by sucking your bottom lip between your teeth, filled with giddiness. You were actually helping.

“Where is it?”

A venomous voice seethed, peering down at the crumpled form of the man at his feet. Marc was hunched over, arms chained behind his back, blood from his abdomen beginning to soak through the white fabric of his suit. His mouth tasted like copper, teeth coated in the sticky red substance as a gruff hand came to harshly grip his jaw, forcing his eyes upward. He sneered.

“I told you. I don’t know.”

Another punch collided with his face, this time connecting with the bridge of his nose and sending him careening backwards, landing against the concrete with a grunt.

“You’re full of shit. We know it was you at the burial site, Spector. We have eyewitnesses. You’re the only person in the world who could have possibly taken it.”

To the man's utter surprise, Marc Spector began to laugh. It was a wet sound, his mask receding so he could spit out a wad of crimson-tinted bile as he chuckled wolfishly, his lips curling up into a snarl. The perpetrator felt fear shoot through him at the look on his face.

“You’re wrong, actually. See, I was there.”

He clarified, eyes glinting dangerously. His attacker stumbled backwards as a harsh silver light blinded him briefly, and when his vision cleared, the Moon Knight had risen to his feet, freed from his shackles.

“I just wasn’t alone.”

The hair on the back of his neck prickled as he slowly turned around, met face to face with intense glare of a woman, her eyes still glowing with residual power. She tilted her head at him condescendingly, before lifting her right hand—the white ankh charm was dangling from her fingertips as she smiled coyly up at him.

“Looking for this?”

She cooed, smirking innocently, and before the man could even blink, she had pounced, wrestling him to the floor and pressing his face down against the cold flooring, cheek smushed against the pavement. She straddled his back, using her weight to hold him still while her fingers made a curling motion in the air—a rope of pure silvery light materialized with the sweep of her hand, binding the man’s hands behind his back with tendrils of starlight.

Her partner was dealing with the other two lackeys, one already laid out on the ground and the other lifted in the air by his neck, one of Marc’s gloved hands raising him up with his fingers pressing beneath his jaw.

When he stopped resisting, Marc let his body collapse to the floor in a heap before he turned back to face the woman, whose chest was rising and falling with heavy breaths. Even after a fight, she somehow appeared graceful and collected—she reached upward and pulled a stray hair from her eyes, tucking it back into it’s place beneath her star-laden headdress. Their eyes met briefly.

“Thanks.”

Marc swallowed, his head bowed low in embarrassment. He waited for the jab to come—‘I told you so.’ He deserved it, really. It was stupid to come in alone.

Instead, he was startled when she approached him softly, her eyes glittering as she lifted her hand to gently brush over his cheekbone, her smile gentle and kind.

“I’ll always have your back. You know that, right?”

He looked away, ridden with guilt and remorse, but she urged his eyes back to her with the nudge of her fingers.

“Marc. I mean it.”

He felt tears stinging the back of his eyes as he sniffed, trying to play off his emotions with fabricated nonchalance.

“Yeah, I know.”

She nodded once, withdrawing her hand from his face before lifting the ancient artifact up to his face, waving it for emphasis.

“We should probably get this to the old bird, then, huh?”

Her head snapped to the side at the gust of wind that abruptly passed them, her eyes trailing up the heavenly form of the aforementioned deity, the slope of his ivory beak towering above her. She swallowed—she’d never actually seen him before, only heard of him in passing from his Avatar. Khonshu.

Time seemed to freeze, briefly, as her breath slowly made its way back to her lungs. The skeletal bird tilted his domineering skull downward, staring her down with intensity.

“Wake up, little star.”

Her brows furrowed, her jaw dropping to reply, but he interrupted.

“You are not a part of this. You’re going to get yourself killed.”

Her head started to swim, the image in front of her turning hazy as her vision began to blur. She blinked profusely. This isn’t a part of the script, this isn’t supposed to happen—

“Wake up!”

With a jolt, you were pulled from your daydream—just in time for a hand to slip over your mouth to muffle your scream before everything went dark.

When your eyes blinked open, heavy with exhaustion, you were staring up at the white ceiling of your bedroom. You made a move to sit up, but the movement caused a throbbing pain to bloom in the back of your skull, forcing you back down against the pillows as a groan of discomfort fell from your lips. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to regain your bearings, when a set of heavy footsteps grabbed your attention from the hallway.

He faltered in the doorway when he made eye contact with you, his dark brows furrowed heavily with concern, dark purple bags settled beneath his lower lashes. When his initial shock wore off, his jaw set as he approached you slowly, a glass of tap water clutched in his left hand. He perched carefully on the edge of the bed, mindful not the nudge you.

“Marc?”

You croaked, your throat hoarse and dry, and he wordlessly reached forward, propping you further up onto the pillows before lifting the glass to your lips.

“Drink.”

He said sternly, pressing the rim to your mouth, and you obliged blindly, letting him tip the contents of the cup back into your mouth as you took slow, tentative sips. When he was satisfied with your water intake, he pulled the glass away and set it on the bedside table, the movement punctuated by a heavy sigh. Your eyes followed him carefully, brows knit together in confusion.

“I—what happened?”

You asked slowly, sitting yourself upward just a bit more. The pain in your head was lessening, although their was still a dull ache lingering at the back of your neck. You could see his jaw ripple again as he clenched his teeth, his body facing the door and his eyes focused on the wall across from him. You studied his profile carefully before he ran a tired hand down his face, rubbing at his eyes with his fingers.

“What do you remember?”

He prompted, and you hesitated, thinking back on the last thing you recalled. You remembered leaving for work, and finding the little white pendant you were planning on returning—and you remember getting lost in another fantasy before a hand clamped around your mouth and—

“Was I kidnapped?”

You asked incredulously, eyes blowing wide with realization as you recalled the sensation of a strong grasp around your face and neck before your fell unconscious. You watched his lip twitch with frustration.

“No. Well—yes. But you, I mean—what the fuck were you thinking?”

He finally turned to look at you, and when he did, you immediately wanted to shrink away and evaporate. His eyes were fiery, burning red hot with fury, the disapproving expression on his face striking something deep in your chest.

“What do you mean?”

You asked quietly, feeling tears begin to prick at your eyes, and Marc stood up, running a hand through his unruly curls as he took in a deep breath, obviously attempting to maintain some semblance of composure.

“You almost got yourself killed—bringing that charm with you, parading it around like a trophy.”

“I didn’t know, Marc, I just—”

“It doesn’t matter. I can’t let you get wrapped up in all of this—fuck, if I hadn’t been there...”

His back was towards you, but you could see the tension in his shoulders, his body heaving with heavy panting breaths. You felt small, like a child being reprimanded. You felt your eyes flood with tears.

“I was just trying to help.”

“Yeah, well, don’t.”

His voice was firm and harsh as he snapped over his shoulder at you, glaring.

“You can’t help. You’re not a part of this.”

You felt your heart hammering in your chest, desperation clawing inside of you as you threw back the blankets, swinging your legs off the side of the mattress so you could approach him.

“But maybe I can, Marc, if you’d just give me a chance, if you’d let me—”

“Stop!”

He whipped around to face you, voice louder than you'd ever heard it before. He was yelling, towering over you as he snarled, fuming.

“Just stop. If you keep this up, you’re gonna get yourself and a lot of other people hurt. You’re not a fucking Avatar—”

“You don’t think I know that?”

Marc flinched when you matched his intensity, the tears falling down your cheeks a stark contrast from the sheer anger that dominated your expression.

“You don’t think I realize that? Or think about it every goddamn night when I have to sit here, alone, wondering if you’re gonna show up, or if you’re somewhere dead and I can’t do anything but wait.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, attempting to swallow your tears down as you broke down in front of the man, your internal conflict reaching a boiling point and spewing out of you without warning.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve wished I could be out there with you, doing something, helping, anything—how often I imagine what it would be like if I wasn’t fucking useless, if I was actually a part of—”

“What did you just say?”

Your eyes snapped open, and your anger faltered when you saw the look of pure horror on Marc’s face, his skin looking several shades paler than it had before. Your mind was reeling, trying to look back on what you said, what your mistake had been, but he quickly clarified for you.

“Did you just—are you saying you wish you were an Avatar?”

His body was rigid, his expression suddenly stony and impenetrable as he looked down at you, offering a barely perceptible shake of his head as he grimaced.

“How could you—how could you possibly want that? Why would you ever—”

You could see his eyes turn glassy as he turned away, his chest beginning to heave again as he ran both of his hands through his hair anxiously, his gaze suddenly appearing frenzied. His words were laced with something adjacent to betrayal.

“You have no idea what—what I wouldn’t give to go back to my life before all of this, to—to not carry this weight, to not—I fucking kill people, do you not understand that? I’m a monster, because my life is fucking controlled by a monster, and you wish you were like me? You wanna suffer like this?”

“At least we’d be suffering together.”

It was barely more than a whisper, your addition, but Marc caught it. You couldn’t bear to look at him anymore—you turned and sat back on the bed, folding your hands in your lap and staring down at your fingers as your heart finally poured out of your chest.

“I don’t know what else I could do, Marc. I don’t know any other way to get you to actually see me.”

“See you?”

He asked incredulously, face marred with confusion, and your lip quivered as you looked anywhere but at him, awaiting his rejection as you spoke.

“I just—all I’ve ever wanted was to be able to help you. To—for you to trust me, for you to—to care about me, and—and the only scenario I can actually imagine you wanting me is if I’m not myself, I’m a version of myself that’s actually strong and capable and—”

You stifled a sob, your face scrunching up as your arms wrapped around yourself in a protective stance, huddling inward as you cried.

“—I don’t know what I’m trying to say, but I just—I want to be more than I am because—because I want to matter to you, Marc, but I know that won’t happen because I’m just—I’m just me.”

Marc fell silent. Your heart was hammering in your chest as you squeezed your bleary eyes shut, forcing yourself to take slow, deliberate inhales despite your desire to hyperventilate. You felt like the room was closing in on you, the walls shrinking and shrinking and you wished the space would swallow you whole.

“What have I done to ever make you think you don’t matter to me?”

His voice was soft and quiet, and when you blinked your tear-filled eyes open, he was staring at you, a look of genuine hurt on his chiseled features. You stuttered.

“I—what?”

“I—”

You watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed thickly.

“Why would you ever think that I don’t care about you? That you have to—to be someone else for that to happen?”

He sounded broken, his big brown eyes wide and imploring, and the sight made your chest feel tight. You pressed the butts of your palms into your eyes.

“I don’t know, Marc. You’re—you’re a fuckin’ superpowered badass who was chosen by an ancient Egyptian god to beat up monsters and go on these epic missions, and—and how can I even compete with that? I don’t even understand why you waste your time with me.”

“Why do you keep saying things like that?”

You startled when he took a few hulking steps towards you, his brows creasing in a look of frustration.

“If you’re so convinced that I’m some superior being to you—which I’m not—then rationalize that, for me. Why would I keep coming back if I didn’t care about you?”

Confusion flashed across your face as you contemplated his question.

“Because—because I patch you up when you get hurt, and I—and I take care of you. You only come here when you need something—”

“But that’s not true.”

He insisted, sounding exasperated with your obstinance.

“I have a magic suit of armor that heals me, I don’t even need you to stitch me back together—”

“But you told me—”

“Well, I lied.”

He snapped, his arms crossing over his chest, and you felt a foreign feeling flutter in the pit of your stomach as his hands came up to rub at his jaw—a nervous habit.

“It was an excuse, and honestly, not even a very convincing one. An excuse to see you.”

Your head was starting to pound again, a dull ache blooming behind your eyes as your mind continued to reel. It didn’t make any sense.

“But you—you never needed an excuse. I would’ve dropped everything for you, Marc—for all three of you.”

“I know.”

He nodded sadly, his face pained as he flinched at your words.

“And that’s what’s so bad about all of this. I shouldn’t have—you shouldn’t feel that way about me. I’m—it’s dangerous. I’ve been trying so hard to push you away because if something happens to you, if you get hurt—that’s on me. And I don’t know what I’d do with myself if—”

“I’m a big girl, Marc.”

You defended, and he seemed impressed with the conviction of your tone.

“You’ve never been anything but honest about the kind of life you live, the kind of things you do—if that scared me, you wouldn’t be standing here right now. I made that choice for myself.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, his lips parting to scold you or deny your claims, but there was resolve in his eyes. You watched as he slowly walked towards the bed, slumping into a seated position beside you, utterly defeated.

“I know.”

It was difficult for you to focus with the proximity of your bodies. He’d left a generous gap between the two of you, but his legs were spread wide as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, and your legs were almost touching. It was unbearable.

“I always thought you were taking advantage of me.”

You spoke smally, a bit ashamed and hesitant to admit the truth, and you saw Marc’s shoulders tense before he hung his head low, a deep sigh coming from his chest.

“Yeah. Jake told me that you might be feeling that way.”

Your eyes darted to his face, taken completely by surprise.

“He—he did?”

Marc chuckled ruefully, scoffing a bit at his alter.

“And I never fuckin’ listened. Told me I needed to come clean—be honest about how I feel, or else I’ll just keep hurting you more—”

“I didn’t realize he’d actually tried to talk to you about it.”

Marc’s brows furrowed.

“Wait, are you—did you tell him that?”

You blushed, feeling somewhat guilty as you nodded. You weren’t proud of the fact that you’d been talking about Marc and Steven behind their backs to their other alter.

“Why did—why didn’t you just talk to me?”

Marc leaned towards you, trying to catch your gaze with his, but you quickly looked forward again, eyes focusing in on your shaky hands.

“I didn’t know if—I never had to question things with Jake. He’s never been shy about how he feels about me.”

“Jake’s never been shy about anything in his entire goddamn life.”

You actually giggled at that, Marc’s tone sour and somewhat envious, but a soft smile easily curled on his lips at the sound of your laughter. When your amusement faded slightly, your breath caught in your throat when you felt a warm hand fall atop your knee, thumb rubbing over the flesh gently. You stared at the place where his skin met yours, heat flushing your cheeks.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. If I would’ve known sooner—if he’d have told me—”

You shook your head quickly, dismissing his apology.

“No, don’t. I made him promise me he wouldn’t tell you. And—and the reason I didn’t say anything is, well—he would never tell me if you felt the same, so I didn’t—I just kind of assumed you didn’t.”

“I don’t understand why you think so little of yourself.”

His fingers gripped your knee a bit more firmly, the heat of his hand traveling upwards despite your attempts to stop it.

“You really think—thought the only way I’d want you is if you were an Avatar?”

You laughed wetly, swiping the last of your tears from beneath your eyes as you shook your head abashedly.

“When you say it out loud, it sounds so fucking stupid.”

“Hey, it’s not stupid.”

He corrected, and you froze when you felt his hand lift from your knee to reach towards your face, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear so he could see you more clearly. His fingers slipped beneath your jaw and gently coaxed your head to face him. You forgot how to breathe.

“It’s just not true.”

“Baby, I’ve wanted you since the day I met you, Avatar or not.”

She let out a quiet gasp at his confession, face lighting up with delight as he surged forward and captured her lips with his own, whimpering against her mouth as his arms encircled her body. He guided her back towards the bed, laying her out beneath him, looking absolutely heavenly, truly ravishing, and the sight made him ravenous as he worshipped her, starting by dragging his tongue—

“Hey. Where’d you go?”

It was only a brief moment of wistfulness, your daydream, but Marc saw the way your eyes misted and filled with a faraway look. He let his fingers dance across the softness of your neck before reaching to cradle your jaw in his hand, fingers threading into the hair behind your left ear.

You blinked away your reverie, trying to ground yourself in the present regardless of how desperately you wanted to fantasize about how much you craved him, how much you just wished he wanted you—

“Sorry.”

You uttered, voice barely above a whisper, and you blinked up at him through your wet lashes, doe-eyed. Your shame quickly melted away into something entirely different when you saw the ghost of a smile flicker over his lips.

“What were you thinking about?”

Your breathing stuttered, and you opened your mouth to speak but he cut you off quickly, the timbre of his voice low and gravelly.

“You can tell me, sweetheart. Whatever it was, whatever you want—I’ll give it to you.”

It all became too much too quickly—the swirling heat of desire coiling lowly in your abdomen, the warmth of his exhales across your face, the roughness of his hands against the soft skin of your cheek, the almost taunting gleam in his dark eyes. His promise emboldened you, and without much thought, you surged forward and captured his lips in your own, whimpering against his mouth as your arms encircled his body.

He was quick to meet your pace, his free arm twisting to wrap around your lower back so he could pull you into his lap, one of your hands sinking into his brown curls and the other digging into his right shoulder. You heard him groan into your lips and you took the opportunity to sink your tongue into his mouth, deepening the kiss as you pressed your body flush against him, desperately seeking as much closeness as possible.

When his lips left yours and began to trail down your jaw and throat, you were pulled out of your stupor.

“Wait—wait.”

You whispered, fingers tugging at his curls so you could see his face. His brows furrowed in concern as he looked at you with worried eyes, his lips dewy and kiss-swollen.

“What’s wrong?”

He asked carefully, his voice gruff but still attentive, and you lifted both hands to cradle his face, thumbs sweeping over his cheekbones as you drank in his features, studying his face carefully.

“I just—”

You let out a shaky exhale, leaning forward to rest your forehead against his.

“I need to know that this is real. That you’re—that this is all real.”

He pulled away from you slightly, grinning somewhat wolfishly at you.

“This is real, baby—does it feel real?”

You nodded eagerly, your lips still tingling from the severity of his kisses, and he pulled you in for another one, his touch deliciously bruising.

When he pulled away again, you felt his fingers trace down your arm before he grabbed your hand in his. Your brows furrowed in confusion as he guided your grasp between your bodies, but your hips jolted when he pressed your hand into the hardness of his bulge in his jeans. You whimpered at the feeling, fingers curling around his length to squeeze him. His lashes fluttered.

“Yeah, baby—you feel what you do to me? That’s fuckin’ real.”

You felt yourself grow increasingly desperate at his words, fingers curling into the hem of his shirt and yanking it over his head with abandon. He seemed in tune with your own neediness because pretty soon, clothes were being ripped off and haphazardly tossed around the room, lips meeting newly-exposed skin at every opportunity.

You were laid out beneath him, his body slotted between your parted legs as he hovered over you, pumping his cock languidly as he gazed down at you with hooded eyes.

“I’ve pictured this, too, you know.”

You felt a small smile find your face.

“Really?”

He bit his lip, the pace of his hand jerking his length speeding up just slightly.

“Oh, fuck yeah, baby. You’re even more beautiful than I ever imagined.”

His sweet compliment was a stark contrast to the depravity of the current situation, but you could hear the sincerity in his words. You smiled up at him, reaching forward to take his cock in your grasp and line him up with your awaiting entrance.

“And you’re even bigger than I ever imagined.”

You purred, watching his eyes flash with pride as he leaned forward to brush the tip of his cock through your sopping folds, causing you to mewl unsurepetitiously.

“Please, Marc, shit—I can’t wait anymore, please.”

He grinned wickedly down at you, and before you could even take a breath, he was plunging into you with force, his cock sheathing itself fully within the softness of your cunt.

He choked above you, his arm slamming down on the mattress beside your head for support, his fist curling into the sheets.

“Jesus fuck, you’re tight.”

He breathed out, his expression almost pained with just how perfectly your walls were squeezing him.

The sudden intrusion was a startling sensation, but the burn of the stretch was quickly evolving into an addictive sting of pleasure.

“Oh, God, yes—move, Marc, please.”

You begged, brows furrowed deeply, and Marc quickly obliged, starting a rapid pace as he hammered into you, his hips snapping forward with jarring strength. The sound of slapping skin echoed within the room and only served to add to your arousal, the noises leaving your lips sinful and completely involuntary.

“Fuck yeah, baby—is this what you wanted? This what you’ve been daydreaming about, huh? My cock filling you up?”

You moaned wantonly, back arching at Marc’s words. His curls were falling across his forehead, dampened with sweat, and you reached up to grip his shoulders for support, fingernails digging into the carved muscle.

“Yes, fuck, yes—so good, Marc, so fucking good—”

He reached down and lifted your legs to wrap around his waist, forcing his cock even deeper inside of you, the new angle earning a sharp cry. Your walls were fluttering around him.

“Yeah, you wanna cum, baby? You wanna cum on my cock?” He hand reached between your bodies to thumb at your clit, and the added stimulation sent you suddenly toppling over the edge into your orgasm, your eyes rolling back into your head as you let out a long, drawn-out moan.

“Yeah, attagirl—fuck yeah.”

Your walls were clamping down on him, pulsing rhythmically over the ridges of his cock, and he felt his release rapidly approaching.

“You want my cum, baby?”

You nodded frantically at him, eyes wild with desperation, and Marc groaned as his pace began to stutter.

“Where, baby? Where do you want it?”

You fingers sank further into the flesh of his shoulders.

“Mouth—want you to cum in my mouth.”

Your request alone was enough to send him hurtling over the edge.

“Oh, shit, gonna cum—”

He pulled out of you quickly, hand reaching down to fervidly fist at his cock as he crawled forward to straddle your stomach on his knees—you eagerly leaned forward just in time as his balls drew up tight, his cum shooting straight across your awaiting tongue as you opened your mouth wide for him.

“Oh, baby—fuuuuckkk—”

His hips thrusted into his fist with each pump of cum that escaped him, some shooting above your lip and dribbling down your chin. He grunted harshly as he tapped the tip of his cock over your tongue, coating the head in his release that had pooled within your mouth. You quickly closed your lips around him and suckled the tip into your mouth, swallowing all of his seed as you swirled your tongue around his length.

He let out a low groan before he finally reached forward to tug you off of him, collapsing onto the mattress beside you heavily.

You both caught your breath for a few moments, coming back down to Earth after your intense climaxes.

It was Marc who broke the silence first, a deep chuckle coming from his chest.

“If this is what you’re constantly daydreaming about, then fuck—you gotta tell me. I will make every goddamned one come true.”

Your laughter matched his own as he reached over to wrap an arm around you, pulling you towards the warmth of his body comfortingly. Your smile quickly faded as the heat of the moment made way for reality.

“Was this—I mean, this wasn’t just—just a one-time thing... right?”

Marc pressed a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering along your hairline.

“No, baby. Besides—Jake and Steven haven’t even gotten their turns with you.”

His attempt at a joke fell flat.

“That’s not what I mean.”

You said quietly, and Marc sighed, letting his head rest atop yours as he held you close.

“Sorry. I know what you meant, but still, the answer’s no. Kinda hoping this is an all-the-time thing.”

Now, you laughed, and he swore it was his favorite sound in the entire world.

You had a brief conversation with Steven about your mutual feelings, later—although he was a stuttering mess, his smile was wide and eyes were bright with elation when he finally kissed you. He fell asleep holding you close to him, and you listened to his breathing slow as you began to doze off beside him.

Just when you were about to fall asleep, his arms around you squeezed tighter.

“Told you so.”

Jake’s voice taunted jokingly, and you lifted a fist to punch his shoulder at his teasing. He chuckled, and you tilted your head so you could see his face—he looked relaxed, truly at ease, and you practically melted into his touch.

“Yeah, I guess you did.”

You admitted defeat, and Jake gave you a cheeky lopsided grin before he leaned down and gave you a soft, chaste kiss that left you breathless.

You rested your head back against his chest, but he interrupted your peace yet again.

“Can I ask you somethin, nena?”

You nodded.

“You told Marc you imagined being an Avatar. ’m just curious—what kind of things do you think about?”

You felt your face flush with embarrassment, still feeling silly and insecure about admitting to your daydreaming habits, but Jake gently encouraged you enough until you relented, explaining how you’d always had an infatuation with the deity Nut and liked the poeticism of the pairing of the moon and the stars.

“And you called me estrellita.”

You informed shyly, nuzzling into the crook of his neck, but you could hear the way his breath caught in his throat, his muscles tensing just slightly.

“Estrellita?”

He questioned, and you lifted your head to look at him, his brows furrowed in confusion.

“Yeah, it—it means ‘little star.’”

You explained, and he shook his head.

“I know that, but I—hmm.”

His lips pursed, and you nudged him, his confusion worrying you.

“What? What’s wrong?”

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye before staring back up at the ceiling, his expression contemplative

“No, it’s nothing. It’s just—today, when Khonshu came to tell us that you were in trouble, he—he called you that. Little star.”

You bolted upright, the color quickly draining from your face.

“He fucking what?”

Jake shrugged uneasily, but you felt your heart begin to hammer in your chest, recalling the bizarre intrusion Khonshu had made in your fantasy today, interrupting your own train of thought. Was that—actually him?

Little did you know, Khonshu had been eavesdropping on your daily mental escapes for some time, entertained by both your active imagination and the elaborate stories you seemed to conjure up on a whim. As a matter of fact, both he and Nut found great amusement in your investment in the life of the Egyptian deities, and should something happen to the Goddess of the Sky’s current Avatar—she knew exactly where to find her next candidate.

[macfrog]

la petite mort sex on fire chapter four

bonsoir my children. it's your cool slutty daddy, ceo!joel, back for round two of paris trip. please enjoy, i hope this one causes less confusion but just as much heart failure as last chapter. love u guys long time. literally SO much. 💘✨💓

pairing: ceo!joel x fem!reader

summary: you spend your second day in paris being spoiled by joel, who buys you anything you set eyes on. you’ve a treat of your own in mind as a thank-you, later on

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) another fucking confusing flashback, age gap (reader is late 20s, joel late 40s), cursing, workplace relationship, imbalanced power dynamic, semi-public sex, oral (f receiving), orgasm denial, more obscene spending, sexy french speaking, sugardaddy!joel, BIG flirting, alcohol consumption, sexy lingerie, lapdance, daddy kink, praise kink, unprotected piv sex, titty appreciation, assplay, double penetration, dom!joel, softdom!joel, ripping of expensive lingerie (rip), overstimulation, creampie, aftercare!joel, angst, themes of abandonment, fluff in the end i'm a romantic at heart

word count: 6.2k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

“All mine?” he asks, pushing inside. He’s going slow. He’s making you answer him first. “Y-yeah,” you whine, head falling forward into the bedsheets. “All – yours.” “Spoiled, ain’t I? Such a pretty little pussy all to myself. You sure you don’t wanna share with anyone?” “No, daddy. Just – want – you.”

The late afternoon sun has dipped behind the clouds. The wind’s picked up, too. You’re standing on the terrace of your suite, elbows propped on the metal railing, watching the light slowly drain from the sky, and melt into tiny twinkling headlights on the roads below.

Paris stares straight back at you. Melancholy, in this light. A little faded, worn, a washed gray as she loses her fight with the slow-setting sun. Your eyes trace the skyline, jumping from buildings to streetlights, following birds in the distance as they loop and soar over the city. Free. Held down to nothing, and no one.

When you close your eyes, he’s on the couch beside you. Blue-eyed stare cloudy, eyes puffy and red with tears he’s doing everything to hold back. Calling you sweetheart, telling you we can work through this. He’s got your bare fingers in his, thumbs running across your knuckles, rubbing circles around the empty space on your third finger. You have an impulse to stand up and walk out. You think you might follow through with it.

You don’t even hear him come in, don’t hear him call your name. Only feel when his arm snakes around your waist and he turns you to face him. Your eyes flutter back open.

“Hey,” Joel says, leaning back to look you up and down. “Nice robe.”

His fingers toy with the belt, thumb running across the soft terrycloth.

“You smell like whiskey,” you mutter, hands resting on his chest. You take a deep breath, pushing the relief you feel now that he’s back, down to the pit of your stomach. And then you finally look him in the eye. “How was Jean-Marc?”

Joel shrugs. “Same as usual. Wants to meet you.”

“You mentioned me?”

He bypasses your question. “Said I’d check with you, but he wants to have us for breakfast tomorrow.”

You nod. “Sounds like a nice guy.”

Joel grumbles, his lips tighten, and he looks out over the view behind you. You tilt your head and his hands take yours, dropping them to your side. His eyes fall low, past the tie he was just messing with.

“You gettin’ ready to go?”

“I was about to, yeah,” you reply, breathing a laugh when he starts to kneel in front of you. “Joel.”

“Mhm?” he asks, but he’s not listening, is he? His hands run up your legs, starting at your knees, and push the edges of your robe apart the higher they go.

“We – gotta – Joel,” you sigh, head rolling back, hands gripping the railing.

Joel’s lips part on your inner thigh, his tongue runs along your skin, trailing northward. His hands precede, pushing under your robe now to cup your naked ass, when he lifts his chin and glances up.

“Nothin’ on under it, baby,” he whispers, tsking. “’m I gonna do with you?”

“We have–” you shudder when his fingers move between your legs, “–to go get ready.”

“So go.”

Fucker.

You lean back against the glass, eyes quickly scanning the hotel in front of you, searching the neighboring windows for any prying eyes, but in the slow-moving blanket of dusk, mixed with your will to care quickly depleting, you find none.

Your attention draws back to Joel, whose lips run dangerously close to your center.

“Open, baby,” he says, and you don’t think about it. Your body just does what he tells it to.

Your legs fall open, head lulls to one side, fingers move through his hair. His jaw lowers, breath gently tickling your soft skin, and then his lips cup around your mound.

You breathe a sigh of relief. Which quickly morphs into a moan, open-mouthed and broken, when Joel’s tongue sweeps over your clit.

“There,” you whisper, a little more serious than you intended, “do that – again.”

He obeys, wet tongue licking you again while his hands pull your thighs over his shoulders. Your weight shifts onto his body, back arching as he sucks on the sensitive bud.

Your hips roll, needing him a little more and a little further south. And he hears you, again. He takes a hand off of your leg, middle and ring fingers joining together to push up between your folds and inside you, dragging a whine from your lips.

“Yeah,” you moan, feeling yourself driving into his mouth and fucking yourself on his hand at the same time.

“Taste so sweet, pretty girl,” he mumbles, mouth preoccupied.

Your head falls back, body slung over the balcony, thighs spreading ever so slightly to have more of him on more of you. And then your head starts to dizzy, your body hums in pleasure, your cunt starts to throb.

But before it goes any further, he’s pulling away.

His lips leave first. Then he draws his hand from between you, sucks his fingers clean and stands. Is he fucking –

“– serious?” you ask, jolting back to life.

He smirks, tongue pushing around his cheeks. “Hurry up ‘n get ready. I wanna go down to the bar for a drink before the car comes.”

And then he’s turning on his heel, striding back inside.

“And what about me?”

“What about you?” he calls over his shoulder.

Your hands hit your thighs with a slap. “Fucking…sadist,” you hiss after him, following him into the warmly lit living room of your suite and down the hallway to the bedroom. Trying to ignore the ache between your legs which only grows worse the more you move.

“I’ll take good care of you later, angel.”

He sits back against the dresser at the foot of the bed, nods toward the black dress you’d laid out on the mattress an hour ago.

“Go on.”

“Go on what?”

“Show me the dress I paid three grand for on you, instead of it laying on the fuckin’ bed.”

You roll your eyes and storm by him, grabbing the black fabric, and lock yourself in the bathroom.

“’n don’t you think about finishin’ yourself!” Joel calls through the door.

“Fuck you!” you throw back, hearing his cocky laugh echo around the room.

You untie your robe in front of the mirror, letting it drop off of your shoulders into a pool of white cloth at your feet. Your eyes flit down your naked body – scanning from your shoulders over your breasts, around your tummy and down your thighs. You slip the black material over your head – a little stretch in it, just enough to mold around your body – and tug it down until it sits comfortably on your thighs.

The smooth skirt sits perfectly on your hips, curving around your ass and pulling in at your waist. You adjust the thin straps, fixing your breasts into place above a cut-out, just revealing enough. Backless, of course, straps crisscrossing over your skin.

It's skimpy, and it’s sexy, and it’s enough to make you look expensive as fuck and also make Joel want to rip it off of you the second you two make it back to the suite.

Enough to make him want to rip it off you before you’ve even left the suite, going by his reaction when you step out of the bathroom. He catches you in the mirror whilst he buttons his shirt, and turns, mouth falling open, eyes dancing all across your body.

You wordlessly sit, slip your feet into the heels you’d chosen, and fish the diamond-encrusted jewelry Joel had bought you from its box – pull the necklace around your neck, clip the earrings into place, and push the bracelets over your wrist. Then, you sling your jacket over your arm, and stand.

“I’m ready.”

“You…” His eyes scan down you again, settling on your chest for a couple seconds. “Yeah, baby. Give me five minutes.”

----------

The hotel bar reflects perfectly the intimidating grandeur of your suite, despite being a small room. It’s intimate, and pleasant, lit in a warm glow, and as you stroll in on Joel’s arm beneath a huge, ornate chandelier, you feel a smile pull across your lips. You’re not fucking sure why.

He leads you over to two heavy leather stools, pulling one out and waiting for you to hop up on it before he sits beside you. He orders two glasses of red wine, and the waiter craftily pours a small drop into one glass, setting it down in front of you and waiting for you to take a sip and approve before he pours the rest.

“Pétrus,” the waiter says, focusing intently on filling Joel’s glass. “Most expensive wine in France.”

You shoot Joel a look, but he’s already lifting his glass, glint in his eye. You hesitantly pick yours up and bump it into his, taking another sip.

“Good?” Joel asks, licking his lips.

You nod. “A little too good.”

He laughs. Then he nods at the waiter, who smiles, turns to you, and winks.

You smile back, a little embarrassed. “Merci beaucoup.”

As the waiter leaves you both, Joel turns, a look on his face you’ve never seen before. “Nice accent,” he says.

You scoff. “I hope it’s a nice accent, I studied it for six years.”

“Studied French?”

You nod.

“When?”

“High school, and then all through college.”

“How did I not know that about you?”

“It’s on my resume,” you say into your wine glass, “which I now know you didn’t read when you hired me.”

“Didn’t have to,” Joel replies. “I took one look at your pretty face ‘n decided you had the job.”

Him and his quick fucking wit. He almost catches you blushing, but you save it by shaking your head, and looking at the striped-wall room around you. There’s a framed picture of a horse on the wall behind Joel. Two men sit in animated conversation on the velvet couch below it, one of them clutching a wine that’s about to spill over.

When your eyes drift back to Joel, his are fixated elsewhere.

“Oh, be less obvious, Joel,” you mutter, corners of your mouth twitching.

“Can’t help it,” he finally draws his gaze from your chest, “they look so good. That dress is…” He shakes his head.

“You chose well.”

“Say somethin’ French to me.”

“Uh, no.”

“Uh, yeah. Tell me I chose well in French.”

“Tell me how the meeting went.”

Joel sits back, pushing air out of his cheeks. “Can’t do that.”

“Then no French.”

“Baby, c’mon. Just for me.”

You shake your head, pouting your lip. “Nope.”

Joel pleads a few more times, promises he’ll buy you more things, promises he’ll order more wine, even promises he’ll fuck you in the bathroom right now if you’ll just say one sentence in French to him.

You don’t relent.

Not until you’re a couple more wines deep, leaning into one another, your knees between his, pointing out other guests in the room and conjuring make-believe backstories for them.

“That one,” you say, hushed, shoulder brushing off of Joel’s, “in the corner, by the lamp. He’s waitin’ for a date, a Tinder date, who–”

Joel snorts. “A Tinder date?”

“–a Tinder date, who used photos of Cindy Crawford on her profile.”

Joel’s head tips back with laughter, his hand steadies himself on the bar. “If Cindy Crawford ends up walkin’ in here, you’re gonna be real sorry.”

You lean into his shirt, giggling into the cotton. When you lift your head, the two of you quietening again, you look into his eyes.

Blurry around the edges, a little too much wine in your system, you whisper: “Kiss me.”

Joel’s head cocks. He leans in, and you lift your jaw. His lips part, breath hot over your red lips, and he says, “You’re gonna get us into trouble, darlin’.”

“Je m’en fous,” you reply.

“Monsieur,” a voice from your right breaks between you, “your car is outside.”

Joel straightens up, clears his throat, and thanks the waiter with another nod. His palm runs along the bar toward your arm, which he takes, rubbing his thumb gently over your skin, and he nods again toward the doors.

----------

Dinner was as fucking extreme as all of this has been. Food you’d never seen before, a menu you could barely translate even with language experience. Waiters who arrived at your table if you so much as looked up at them.

And more wine. A lot more wine.

You both stumble back into the suite, arms linked, laughter chorusing against the beige walls. Joel keeps a vice grip on your hand as you spin around him, wrapping you up in his arms when you’re close enough, and runs a thumb across your cheek when you’ve stopped giggling.

“That was fun,” he says, and you nod.

“Thank you,” you whisper. “For all of it. I don’t even know what to say.”

He shakes his head in response. “You’re my guest.”

“Didn’t have to be,” you say, “could’ve brought Martha.”

“Oh, yeah, Martha. She’d be a fuckin’ hoot.”

He lets go of you, your laughter picking back up, and you split off. Joel wanders over to the minibar, and you…you wander off down the hall.

You’ve something in mind.

Safely in the bedroom, you slink over to your case and lift the bag you’d hidden in there earlier. You sneak into the bathroom, closing the door as softly as possible, and whip your little black dress over your head. You turn back to the mirror.

Same reflection as before. Same naked body. A little faded, a little unfocused, jewelry catching the light like stars in the night sky, but the same.

You reach into the white bag, like it’s a lucky draw, and lift out the soft black lace. One by one, you add each little piece – the bra cups your breasts, lifting them just the right amount. The panties sit on your hips, garter belt just above, hooked onto thigh-high, lace top stockings. And finally, the robe.

You tie it loosely at your waist, leaving it just open enough to reveal the balconette bra underneath. One last hazy look in the mirror, and you tumble back out into the bedroom and over to the door.

Your fingers clutch the gold handle, shaking a little. The cold metal bites against your skin, hot with adrenaline and determination. You twist, pulling gently on the door, and wander back to the living room.

The lights are still out, the room dark against the sparkling cityscape. There’s soft music playing, some seventies soul stuff. He’s on the balcony. The sliding doors open wide, sheer curtains swaying gently in the night breeze. His silhouette stands black against the glittering Eiffel Tower in front of him. He’s holding a whiskey.

You slip out from behind the door and let it close over gently, walking slowly across the soft carpet toward him. He can’t have heard you, you’re being too quiet, but he turns anyway, and spots you in the middle of the room.

His eyes rake down your figure, mouth falling agape. Whiskey almost spilling over from how limp his arms fall.

“Baby…” he whispers.

You take another step forward. So does Joel. Your hand reaches for the back of one of the chairs, tucked neatly under the dining table. You drag it along the carpet, setting it just in front of you, facing him, and stand back.

“Want you to sit.”

Joel nods, a voiceless Okay sneaks past his lips, and he sits back in the chair, placing the whiskey at his feet.

The song fades into a steady love song, string orchestra echoing in the background, slow, sultry. The smooth vocals fill the room, quiet and relaxing, and push you nearer him, rounding the back of the chair.

Your hands run over Joel’s shoulders as you curve around to face him, and slot in between his parted thighs. Watching as his eyes shift up and down your figure. Watching as his breath hitches, his chest shuddering anytime you move.

You’re ignoring the rise and fall of your own chest; nerves and desire and complete fucking disbelief at what you’re doing all fighting to break through. Your stomach is flipping, pulse jerking every time your eyes cross paths with Joel’s.

You nudge his legs open wider, lift his wrists, and place his hands on your waist. His fingers pull on the silk belt, loosening your robe until he’s slipping it over your shoulders, revealing every inch of lace and strap of satin to his lust-blown eyes.

“This all for me?” he asks, fucking…wonderstruck. His fingers dance along the garter belt, dipping where it clips onto your stockings.

You cock your head in a shrug. “You paid for it.”

He smiles. As if it’s Christmas and you just gave him the gift at the top of his wish list. And then you bend your knees, lowering between his thighs and dragging your hands down his front, stopping by his stiffening crotch as you go.

Joel hisses through clenched teeth, spurring you on. You palm him through his trousers, never touching his zipper, only letting him go so far as grinding his hips into your hands, before your palms slip down to his knees and you push yourself up.

Joel meets you halfway, leans forward to let your lips ghost across his. Your back arched, knees digging into the plush carpet, you trail your tongue from his chin down his bearded jawline, stopping when you reach the collar of his shirt.

And then you stand again, taking his hands and replacing them on your body. Anywhere on your fucking body. Feeling him on you is like feeling the soothing flicker of the fire after a walk in the freezing cold, and when his palms aren’t pressing against your ribcage, his fingers aren’t running between your thighs, that bitter cold bites back.

Joel hums, still taking you in through glassy eyes. “So…fuckin’ beautiful, babygirl.”

In response, you lift your knees, placing them one by one on either side of his hips. You settle against his body and push him back in the chair.

Your clothed heat lowers onto his waist, lace running across the rough fabric of his trousers, forcing a choked moan from your lips at the contact. Your skin alight, nerves burning with excitement and arousal, the slightest touch only fuels the fire more.

You grind down on him, hips rocking in time with the music. Letting his hands hold you around your back, letting him feel any part of you he fucking wants. His fingers knead roughly into your round ass, and he bucks up against your core.

You hover over him, running a hand from your stomach over your chest, stopping to squeeze your tits through your bra. And then back down again, to slip over the lace of your panties and relieve the tension there even if only for a second before you’re feeling down your thighs.

You link your arms back around Joel’s shoulders. “You gonna pay me back?” you whisper, head lowering to bury into his neck.

“No idea what you’re talkin’ about,” he slurs back.

You suck a mark into the hot skin, breathing against his pulse, “Think you do, daddy. You owe me one.”

His head rolls, bass of his laughter vibrating against your lips. “So fuckin’ slutty, darlin’. You want it that bad?”

“Mhm,” you mewl, lips still tight against his neck, fingers slowly unbuttoning his shirt lower and lower.

Joel told Martha he needed you here only to keep him right. Make sure he got everywhere on time, make sure things ran smoothly. Drop off drycleaning, pick it up before he had appearances. Get him pastries from that patisserie he loves around the corner for breakfast. There’s an empty suite downstairs that he made her book for you – an almost three grand per night suite that you both knew the entire fucking time you’d never set foot in. All to keep up with the story.

The story that you’re here strictly on PA duty. Seeing him off in cars, making sure he gets back to the hotel at night. And that’s it. Not buying lingerie with his card, and putting it on for him, and mounting him in the living room of his suite. Not letting him slip your panties to the side and run his cock through your folds, balcony doors wide open, moans escaping out into the late Parisian night.

But now his hands are on you, really on you; strong, wide hands, slipping around your waist, pressing down on the lace of your lingerie, massaging the softest parts of your body and scooping under your ass to align you to his length.

And you’re letting him.

Your hands are sifting through his hair as he breathes you in, his nose buried between your breasts. Your back arches when he finally enters you, giving you what you need most in the form of his thick cock pushing up into your warm cunt.

Like there’s nothing new, or weird, or different. Like this is all you know how to do; all you’ve ever known about him. You’re not in the office; he’s not your boss. He doesn’t tell you to shred files or organize his schedule.

This is what he does. This. He asks things of you with his hands and you fold every time. He runs his lips along the curve of your breasts and peels the delicate fabric of your bra down to wrap his mouth around your nipple, flick his tongue across it until your head rolls back and you’re moaning his name to the ceiling.

“Make yourself cum, baby,” Joel breathes against your hot skin.

His tongue is swirling around your nipple. Teeth grazing the pointed bud. He’s grinning to himself as he does it. He’s fucking lapping this up.

“So pretty when you’re wrapped around me.”

And then his fingers are toying with the clasp of your bra, and as you sink down over and over on his cock, he lets the cupped lace fall to the floor, lips instantly returning to their place on your tits.

You hold his head there, looking down and watching while you slowly bounce on his cock as he kisses, caresses, sucks.

The pleasure boiling between your legs starts to spill over, your body unable to take much more without releasing. And when Joel mumbles against your skin, “Can feel you, darlin’, squeezing me so tight,” you let go.

Your orgasm, nearly four hours in the making, rocks through your body in tidal waves, throwing your head back. Joel’s arms keep you safe on his lap as you writhe, gasping and moaning his name until you can think straight again.

When you come back to, he lifts you up. Carries you like you’re made of diamonds through to the bedroom and lays you down on the soft mattress, calling you angel, telling you you’re the prettiest fuckin’ girl he’s ever seen.

He dips his fingers and traces them along your panties, feeling the mess you just made, humming in amusement. He asks again if this is all for him and when you moan out a desperate Yeah, daddy, he tells you he’s gonna make you cum again.

He takes your waist and flips you over, propping you up on your knees in front of him. He peels the white shirt from his shoulders, tossing it somewhere in the dark room, and asks if that’s what you want – to cum again. Yeah, daddy.

And when he asks who this tight little pussy belongs to, leaning forward to align with your wet mess of a cunt, your thighs spreading to accommodate the size of him, every fucking nerve in your body on fire: You, daddy.

“All mine?” he asks, pushing inside. He’s going slow. He’s making you answer him first.

“Y-yeah,” you whine, head falling forward into the bedsheets. “All – yours.”

“Spoiled, ain’t I? Such a pretty little pussy all to myself. You sure you don’t wanna share with anyone?”

“No, daddy. Just – want – you.”

Every fucking time. Every mindless, depraved time, you do it for him. Only for him.

You cum again on his cock before he’s even five thrusts in. His words send you hurtling over the edge by themselves; the massive dick burying itself between your legs is just a bonus – and something to let your walls clamp around when your back arches, chest pushes into the mattress, and your orgasm floods over you.

Joel rocks his hips slowly as you come down, cunt swollen and almost agony. His hands run from your thighs up around the globe of your ass, massaging gently. You push back, wanting more pressure from his hands, and his fingers slip against your tight hole.

You jut forward with a moan. A moan Joel knows all too well.

“Easy, easy.” He holds you steady, replacing his fingers against your asshole, pressing delicately. “You like that?”

“Fuck,” you breathe, “mhm.”

“Yeah?”

You’re nodding, though you know he can’t see you in the dark.

“Baby?”

“Yeah,” you choke out. Desperate. Depraved.

He lifts his hand and spits; you feel a bead of saliva dribble down your ass, only to be collected by the pads of his fingertips and dragged back up. Smeared over the ring of your ass, massaged into the sensitive skin around it.

“Daddy…” you moan, hips gyrating.

“’s a good girl,” Joel replies, “just relax, darlin’, you do that for me?”

You can hear in his voice he’s focusing. Eyes glued on your ass, watching as you open up around his first finger, pushing slowly inside.

Your whole body freezes as he enters you. Breath cuts short in your throat. Your mouth falls open, throat constricted around a moan.

“Breathe, babygirl.”

And you do. Well, it’s more of a gasp, a broken whine, and then a long, needy sigh, curled up at the end like it’s a request – a plea for Joel to keep going.

It’s tight. It feels…tender, and overwhelming, and good. More than good. Your hips move backward, pushing onto Joel; a swelling feeling overcoming you, the more of him you take.

“Good girl…” he whispers again.

You’re as fucking shocked as he is that you’re letting him do it – letting him slip inside both holes at once, exploring one while keeping the other content with lazy thrusts.

“Think you can take it, baby?”

“Yeah, daddy,” you tell him, body urging him to fuck you again.

So, he does. His cock picks up speed, finger knuckle-deep, curling around inside your ass. You’re gripping the bedsheets, whimpering softly into them, feeling your stomach tighten as your third orgasm begins to rise.

“Keep – doing – that,” you utter as his hips collide with yours, his thick finger picking up pace ever so slightly.

“Such a dirty girl. So fuckin’ dirty for me. You do this for all of ‘em, baby?”

The laugh you breathe answers his question. No, you don’t fucking do this – for anyone. You didn’t know until five minutes ago this was something you were into. It’s Joel. He’s the only one who could convince you – whether through his words, his expressions, or just his fucking body – to –

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you whine.

“Know you are, pretty girl,” Joel says, “let me feel you. Cum all over me.”

Your body collapses when your high takes over. Electricity thrumming through you, contracting around Joel’s cock and his finger. He coos you through it, whispers words of praise and filth in your ear until you’re no longer screaming, no longer able to hold yourself up.

He slowly removes his finger, soaked with his spit. You whine as it leaves you, missing the feeling, but it’s not long before his hands are on you again, flipping you back over.

He drags the clothes from his legs and pushes you up the mattress, slotting between your hips, one hand coming down to grip the lace front of your panties. He rips it, tearing the material off of your body in one motion.

You gasp, equal parts aroused as you are fucking outraged. You liked those panties. You wanted to keep ‘em.

“Fuck, Joel!”

He pushes back against you, burying his face in the crook of your neck to dot kisses along your skin.

“Buy you more, baby.”

“This whole getup,” you moan, “it cost you a grand.”

He lifts his head. “Well, in that case,” he kisses your collarbone, “buy you ten more.”

Your eyes roll back and your head follows, sinking deep into the sheets under your body. You’re sure you know where this is going, what he’s about to ask of you. You’re not sure you can give it to him. Three orgasms deep, you can barely feel when he’s massaging your sex, never mind lining his cock to it and pushing the tip inside.

“One more, angel,” he utters, looking down to guide himself through your glistening folds. “Just one more.”

“Can’t, daddy,” you whimper, but he pushes your thighs up, bending your knees. It’s borderline painful, the stretch you feel when he’s barely an inch inside.

“Yes, you can. Know you can.”

He could fuck you and cum himself without asking you to – and you’d be okay with it. You know it. He knows it. Just a few tight, wet thrusts and he’d be coming undone inside you. But he wants to do it together. Loves the way you feel when you tighten around him, squeeze him, draw his release out of him. Loves the way your voices sound together, the way you grip onto him and pull him flush against your body.

And you’d be lying if you said you didn’t love it, too. The way he looks when he’s deep inside you, eyes shut, focused on nothing except the pretty noises you make and the sweet way you wrap around him, warm and snug. So you let him take you to the edge again, throw your arms around him, and fall.

Hard.

The shock of it surges through you, stars burst across your vision. You drive your nails into his shoulders, scream out into the night, moans mixed with curses and gasps and – fuck it – cries of daddy loud enough that the thought of a noise complaint at your door floats through your mind.

Joel lets out a deep groan when he cums, filling your tight cunt with his seed, face still buried in your neck. Your legs untense, thighs slip down his waist and onto the bed, your arms unlink from around his neck.

“Fuck, baby,” he moans into your skin.

You’re panting, chest lifting against Joel’s. He pushes into the mattress and rolls off of you, dropping in a heap to the bed at your side. You lay like that for a while, waiting for the fluttering feeling to subside, waiting for any feeling to come back to your body.

Joel pushes off of the bed and dips into the bathroom, still groaning anytime he moves. Water runs for a couple minutes, a gentle whirring as he cools his face and washes up, and then he’s back in the bedroom, sinking into the bed beside you.

He props himself up on his elbow and runs a hand across your damp forehead, unsticking your hair from your face. Intimate, vulnerable. You’ve slept together four times now, and this is the closest you’ve felt to him.

You push down an ache, different to the one he just satisfied – four times over. No, this is deeper. Somewhere more hidden. An ache for him to hold you, run his hands down your back until your body feels like yours again. An ache for him to take you in his strong arms and keep you still, keep you steady.

An ache that feels…dangerous. An ache you want to disappear. Now.

“You okay?” Joel asks, and you nod.

He studies you for a while, looking up and down your body, smiling to himself. This isn’t something either of you are going to forget for a while.

“What’s this?”

Joel takes gentle hold of the gold chain around your sweat-glistening neck, running it between his fingers until he’s holding one half of a broken heart.

“Notice you wearin’ it all the time.”

You take a deep breath before replying, watching as he looks at it intently in his hand. “My mom has the other half. It makes up a heart. We got ‘em when I was sixteen, right after…”

Joel’s eyes drift up to yours when your sentence crumbles. His soft gaze encourages you to continue.

“…right after my dad left.”

He almost winces.

You’d always hated Wednesdays. Wednesdays meant Math, and Math meant two hours of sitting in total confusion, dodging your teacher’s requests for answers and counting down the minutes until class ended.

But your dad told you that you should do well in it, so you were trying. For him.

One Wednesday, Miss Pepperman handed out the results of the previous week’s test. You’d scored well, maybe not as good as some of the others, but decent by your own standards. You snuck the test paper into your bag to take back home, show your dad. Make him…proud.

When you rounded the corner to your street, his car was in the drive, trunk wide open. Suitcases inside. You caught him leaving as you wandered by the beat-up Toyota.

Your mom wants you in the house, he’d said, a cardboard box of files in his clutches.

You tried to ask what the fuck was going on, but he’d yelled at you and thrown the box into his back seat. And then you brought up the test paper, twisted around to fish it out of your bag, like some stupid C would convince him to stay. He yelled louder, and you disappeared inside like a spooked cat.

Your mom was on the couch, face in her hands. She lifted her head, cheeks stained with mascara and tears. As you sat down beside her, you heard the engine of his car roll away. You never saw him again.

You don’t tell Joel all of this. He doesn’t need to know, and he doesn’t ask. Telling him about the C in Math risks telling him about the way your dad looked at you when you held up the crumpled paper, and that risks telling him about everything you’ve ever held back from saying to anyone, for fear of seeing that same bored, disappointed expression.

It feels like a hand you’re not quite ready to play just yet. An ace or two missing, only a couple of cards off of feeling confident enough to show him.

Instead, you shrug, and say, “That was…thirteen years ago now. And we just never take ‘em off. It’s like our little promise to, like…stay together, or whatever.”

He nods, letting the necklace rest back on your naked chest.

There’s something in the air between you. Quiet, unassuming. An understanding, though you’re not sure what of. But it feels comfortable, which you weren’t expecting when he asked the question. Nobody knows much about you and your dad – not even your closest friends. And here you are, naked and exhausted, letting the words tumble out to none other than your boss.

But he’s so blasé about it, so unperturbed by it that, if he hadn’t been the one to ask himself, you could mistake it for disinterest. He just listens, nods, and lets it pass over. Lets you drop it, when you’re done talking about it.

For the second time tonight, this time a little more sober but a little less guarded, you say, “Kiss me.”

And this time, he doesn’t ask you to speak French. Doesn’t make any witty quip, doesn’t warn you you’re walking dangerous territory. Doesn’t even hesitate, not for a beat. Just leans in, cups your cheek with one hand, and presses his lips to yours.

Warm, sweaty, almost quivering lips. Soft, and kind, and safe. You melt into him, wrapping both hands around his wrist, shutting your eyes and pretending just for a moment that you’re not teetering along a knife edge right now.

You pull back, losing your balance on the tightrope you’re walking, and Joel’s hand slowly drops from your face. His eyes ask if you’re okay, and you nod. I’m fine. This is fine.

“Alright,” he says, sitting up with a sigh. “You want a drink?”

You nod again. “Water, please.”

He strokes your thigh once and walks out of the room, leaving you in the quiet dark by yourself.

You bring your fingertips up to your eyes. Exhale deeply into the palms of your hands. Think about what just happened, and then tell yourself not to think much about it. Think about that fucking twinge in the bottom of your stomach, the one that felt like…yearning. And then tell yourself, fucking – order yourself not to read too much into it, or you’ll drive yourself up the wall.

Because the truth of it is: you’ve one more full day in Paris, and you highly suspect that what happened here tonight, is gonna happen all over again tomorrow. And that leaves room for that yearning feeling to come back. Resurface, like a silent predator in murky waters.

That won’t happen tomorrow. It can’t happen tomorrow.

You stand and throw that white terrycloth robe over yourself, heading for the living room.

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