Marc Spector X Reader - Blog Posts

𝕄𝔸𝕊𝕋𝔼ℝ𝕃𝕀𝕊𝕋

SUPERNATURAL

sam winchester

ꨄ little lady - Sam making fun of you for being shorter than him - Sam Winchester x reader

ꨄ what dating sam would include

HARRY POTTER

𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤

ꨄ WHAT THE MARAUDERS DO TO HELP YOU WHILE YOU'RE ON YOUR PERIOD - headcannon

ꨄ MARAUDERS WITH A S/O THAT LOVES TO READ - headcannon

JUJUTSU KAISEN

gojo satoru

ꨄthrough the storm

nanami kento

boyfriend headcannons

My You-niverse: Laurent LeClaire

Fandom: Oscar Isaac

Pairing: Laurent LeClaire x F!Reader

Summary: You and America get stuck portal jumping until you reach your universe again. In the meantime, you meet various versions of your husband.

Series Masterlist

The man, face similar to your husband's, thick, brown wavy locks, looks at you with concerned brown eyes.

You look down to see yourself now downing some...really old looking clothing. 19th century, perhaps? Since when did America's powers now come with a wardrobe change?

"Mademoiselle, are you alright?" he lends out a hand towards you.

You reach for his hand and wince. You look down to see a dark red stain on your sleeve.

America rushed to your side, also wearing a 19th century dress. She presses a hand to your arm and you wince. She then looks up at your husband's doppleganger, "She needs help!"

The man immediately rushes to help you stand, an arm wrapping around you to hold you up, "We must move, quickly."

You nod, trying to keep up with his hurried pace, "What are your names?"

"America," your young friend answers, "and this is Y/N."

"A beautiful name for a beautiful woman."

You can't help but scoff, "Are you this charming to every woman?"

"Only the ones that come falling out of nowhere from a strange light," he peers at you with a smirk.

America hurries her pace, "Yeah, we'd appreciate it if you actually don't tell anyone about that?"

"Are you witches of some sort? Devil worshippers?" he gives a scrutinizing gaze to America.

You grunt an answer, "No. We don't know what happened. One moment, some men were chasing us, the next we're here. We're just as confused as you are." you give a look to America, letting her know that that's the story you two are going with.

She nods, "That's right."

The man appears a bit unconvinced, but says, "Alright."

"You know our names, what's yours?" you ask and the man leads you to a village.

"Laurent. Laurent LeClaire."

"And what do you do Laurent?"

"I'm a painter." You can't help but scoff at his answer and he cocks a brow at you, "Something amusing?"

You shake your head, "You just remind me of someone."

"Your husband?" Laurent asks. You open your mouth to question him but he gestures to your hand, "Your wedding ring."

You don't say anything else. The three of you remain in silence until you're led into a small hospital. They allow America to go with you, but Laurent stays behind.

"Thank you for your help, Laurent."

He gives a silent nod to you and then America before you're ushered back to get your arm looked at.

______________

After a nurse cleans and wraps up your arm, you're left alone with America.

She's awkwardly rocking in the bed beside yours, "Soooo...do you think we're just going to keep running into Marc's dopplegangers?"

You snort, "I'm not the one with portal powers. Also, since when did your powers come with wardrobe changes?"

The young Avenger held up her hands, "Hey, I'm just as surprised as you are. That's never happened before." then she gasped, "Do you think I'll eventually be able do those badass costume like Thor?!"

You snort, "Guess you'll have to keep training and see."

The doctor, an old man, approached you two, "Alright, mademoiselle," he says looking at you, "as long as you keep your wound clean and change the bandages every few hours, you should be well on your way to complete health."

"Thank you, doctor," you say to the old man, standing and giving him a grateful smile. You then nod to America to follow you and you two are exiting the building.

"Y/N!" you hear a call of your name and see Laurent walking towards you.

You look at him with surprise, "Laurent! You're still here?"

He softly smiles and you see the look your husband would give you when it was just the two of you, "Yes, I just wanted to make sure everything went well."

"She'll recover," America intrudes, "She's strong so.."

"That's good to hear." he responds. The two of you continue to look at each other, leaving your young companion feeling a bit awkward.

"Sooooo I think we should go now, Y/N."

You take a step back from Laurent, "Of course. We need to find our way back home." You go to turn, but a hand catches your arm.

"It's getting dark," Laurent says, pointing to the sky, "Two ladies such as yourselves shouldn't be wandering. Who knows, you might run into the men who attacked you again. You need rest."

You shake your head, "We don't-"

"You can stay the night at my home." Laurent offers a solution with a smile, "I don't know what I'd do if something happened to you two. The inns are dodgy and can be unsafe."

"I suppose we can rest for the night...?" you reply with also a questioning gaze to America. She gives you a look as if what you're saying is the most ridiculous thing in the world. The look you give back to her silently asks, 'What choice do we have?'. She sighs and then you look back to Laurent with a smile, "We'll take you up on that offer, Laurent, thank you."

"Wonderful," he holds out his arms to you and America, "Shall we?"

He leads you to his small home a short distance away from the main streets of the village.

At his home, Laurent treats you and America to a small meal. Nothing fancy, but just something to fill your bellies enough to be satisfied. He then led you and America to his bedroom where you two will be sharing a bed.

You look at him with concern, "Where will you sleep?"

"Don't worry about me. I will make do."

"Laurent-"

"Sssshhh," he presses a finger to your lips and your breathing stills. He's close. His skin touching yours. Your body suddenly feels on fire. You see your husband, your Marc. You see his eyes, the intensity and playfulness, the mischief, the...slimmer of darkness.

With a gulp, he steps back and nods to America and then you, "Goodnight, ladies." He promptly leaves the room and you don't take a breath until the door shuts.

America plops onto the mattress, "Not gonna lie, that was a little uncomfortable to watch."

You roll your eyes, doing your best to rid yourself from the dress you'd been wearing when you landed into this new universe, "Let's just go to bed."

Eventually, you and America are laying beside each other. America is out like a light, but you...you're still awake. Your thoughts mull over the recent events. Marc, the whole Blue Jones thing, and now Laurent. You knew, from what America's told you, that various universes exist. This means there are different versions of you, America, and Marc.

As you and America try to get back home, would you be encountering a different version of Marc every time?

These thoughts plague you, the endless possibilities, the desire to see your husband, hoping to get back home soon.

You've become restless. You're tossing and turning in the bed that smells like Marc's doppleganger. His face, the way he looked at you, plagues your mind.

Eventually, you're out of bed and stepping out of the room with a sheet wrapped around you.

You make your way to the living room where you see Laurent is still up. He's standing by the fire, painting on an easel.

He looks up and sees you, "You're still awake."

"So are you," you point out, holding the sheet tight against you for warmth.

"What ails you?" he asks as he continues to paint.

"It's been a very eventful day and I can't seem to ease my mind."

"We share the same ailments I see." he's concentrated on his task at hand. So much so that his brows are furrowed and you're reminded of Marc again. You sigh and begin to fiddle with your ring.

"Tell me about him," Laurent speaks again. When you look up, he clarifies, "Your husband. Tell me about him."

You set yourself on a cushion beside the fireplace. You stare at the dancing orange and yellow hues, "His name is Marc. He's...stubborn, a little selfish, but also brave and caring. He's brash, but also gentle. He's funny and annoying. When he upsets me, he always goes out and comes home with my favorite flowers and sweets. He's the love of my life." You then turn to look up at Laurent, "Do you have someone?"

He shakes his head, "No. Many say I'm married to my paintbrush though. I spend so much time with it."

You smile up at him, "I'm sure you'll find that person you're meant to be with."

He hums in response and you don't necessarily know if it's in agreement or not.

You move off the cushion you were sitting on, now using it to rest your head on as you lay on your side. You continue watching the fireplace until your eyes flutter close.

...

"Wake up, sweetheart."

You groan and your eyes open. Your vision still blurry but you see a figure standing over you.

"Wake up, honey, come on."

"Marc?" you rasp out and rub the sleep away from your eyes.

As your vision clears, you see another version of Marc standing there. However, he's bald and is donning glasses and a thick beard.

He cocks a brow at you, "Who the fuck is Marc?"

You sit up and realize you're sitting at a desk. A paper sticks to your cheek and you pull it away. You skim through it and see "Nathan Bateman" and "Blue Book".

"Nathan-"

"Listen, sweetheart, I don't pay you to sleep all day. You were supposed to transcribe these for me and because you fell asleep, it's setting me back by a day. Wake the fuck up."

You watch as Nathan waltzes out of the room and you're left shocked and jaw to the floor. This universe's version of your husband is a fucking dick!

Breakfast

gif by @paper-n-ashes

summary: marc interrupts you when you’re trying to make breakfast, and steven finishes up.

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

content: 18+/nsfw/MINORS DNI, pwp, fluff, kissing, unprotected sex, breeding kink, overstimulation if you squint, oral sex (fem receiving) cum eating

an: i just felt like writing something spicy for the moonknight boys <3.

word count: 1.6k

mcu masterlist | requests are open

One of your favorite things to do is get up early and sit on the window sill, watching the streets of London while Marc or Steven sleeps. There's something about the glow of the summer sun peeking out from behind the clouds. You don’t sit for long, wanting to make sure they get the rest. Before the sun can flood the space with its golden light you close the window and draw the curtains, heading into the kitchen.

You preheat the oven to keep his food warm in case he sleeps late, and get coffee brewing—decaf only as they already have enough trouble getting enough rest. It’s been an adjustment for you, but you’d do anything for Marc and Steven. With the soft hum of the coffee machine going, you start getting together the ingredients for french toast and hashbrowns.

You’re moving slowly so as not to wake them up though your room is down the hall. Completely immersed in cutting bread and making the mixture for the french toast you don’t hear when Marc opens your bedroom door and pads down the hallway to you.

His hands are on you as soon as you're in arms' reach. A grunt of pleasure comes out of him as he runs his hands over the curves of your breasts before resting them on your hips.

“Morning,” You lean your head back onto his shoulder as he kisses his way down your neck.

“Mornin’,” He whispers between kisses. “French toast, huh?”

“Mhmm,” You hum lazily, dropping the whisk and planting your hands on the counter so that you can press further into him. You know exactly where this is going and there’s no point in resisting. It’s not like you want to anyway.

“Steven’s gonna be jealous.”

“I make it for him whenever, you both know that,” He continues to kiss your neck, scraping his teeth over your pulse point before he bites gently. “Marc,” You sigh, pressing your ass into his erection.

“Quiet, let me make you feel good, baby.”

“Yes,” You agree easily, breakfast forgotten as his hands make their way up the oversized t-shirt you’re wearing.

“You wanted me to come out here and fuck you didn’t you? Is that why you’re dressed in just this?”

“Yes,” You breathe as one of his hands slips into your panties, his fingers gliding effortlessly through your wet folds.

“Oh, baby, you’re so wet. So easy.”

“Mhmm,”

“Let’s see how easy it is for me to…” He stops talking as his fingers plunge into you. “Only this wet for me and Steven, right?”

“Yes, all yours. All his,” You nod your head feverishly, drunk on the smoothness of his tone and the strength of his touch. Marc always touches you with such weight compared to Steven. He leaves bruises from holding your thighs apart or applying pressure to your throat. His touch is life-affirming, keeping you in a bubble where you only focus on him. Right now he’s all that matters.

“Ours.”

“God, please, Marc? I need you,” You whine as you reach your hand back to run it through his curls.

His hand leaves your breast, turning your head so that you have to look at him. His eyes are uncharacteristically tender as he gazes at you, “I need you, too.”

The admission squeezes your heart but it’s short-lived as he wraps his hand around your throat, and rids you of your panties. He kisses you hungrily as he uses one of his feet to spread your legs further apart, bending you slightly so your spread open for him perfectly. He continues to lick into your mouth, nipping at your bottom lip as he lines himself up with your entrance, snapping his hips forward so that he’s sheathed completely inside you.

“Baby,” He mumbles against your lips, his dark eyes blown full of lust.

“I know, it's so good, you're so good,” You murmur, taking his bottom lip between your teeth before sucking on it.

Your move almost sends him into a frenzy, the innate need to race to his climax flowing through his veins, but he has to get you there first, “You too.”

He starts slow, focusing on pulling himself out to just the tip before slamming into you. You push all of the ingredients to the side so that you can bend over completely, your nipples rubbing against the cold counter through the shirt every time he’s deep inside of you. His grip on your hips is deliciously tight— it almost hurts, and you know that Steven will grill him for the bruises that'll form in the coming days.

Eventually, he starts to pick up his pace but he doesn't sacrifice the depth, fucking you hard and fast and deep. You're incredibly wet and warm, your pussy practically sucking him in, your trembling under his heavy touch. The kitchen is filled with nothing but the wet squelch of his cock entering you over and over and mingled heavy breathing. You start to rock back against him, effectively pushing the tip of him into your cervix. It's the perfect mix of pain and pleasure and you bite down on your arm, hiking your leg back and around his waist so that he can somehow get even deeper.

You wonder what it looks like, him fucking you this harshly, his nails digging into your skin so hard that he might break skin. You know that his eyebrows are drawn together, his mouth agape and turned as he concentrates on how warm and tight your pussy is around his cock. His eyes probably are zeroed in where you connect, his chest heaving and glistening with sweat.

You on the other hand are flush against the cool counter, doing the only thing you can: taking what he's giving you. The pleasure is building in you steadily, as you greedily push your hips back against his.

The softest, filthiest, words of praise leave his lips, “You feel so fucking good, you’re perfect. My perfect little slut, made just for me. I can have you however and whenever I want, can’t I?”

“However and whenever,” You repeat, and he lips turn in a devilish smile.

“You’re everything to me.”

His words take you by surprise, tugging at your heartstrings once more. You open your mouth to say something back but then he bends forward so that his chest is flush with your back, and you clench around him a new threshold of pleasure met from this angle, “Fuck, Marc.”

“You can take it,” He declares, it isn't a question; all you can do is whine beneath him, your words of agreement stuck in your throat as you move closer to your orgasm. “Say it.”

“I can take it,” You murmur, trying your best to keep pushing back against him though there's no space between you.

“Yeah, you can baby,” He praises, planting a kiss on your sweaty forehead.

“Will you cum inside me? Please?”

“You want me to fill you up?”

“Yes, please baby,” If you had the mind to care you would cringe at how desperate you sound.

“Fill you up so much and we can watch it drip out of you,” His voice is low, gravelly in your ear.

The image of him and Steven looking at your pussy while it's messy and full sends a shiver down your spine. “Mhmm,” You whimper, turning your head to give him a sloppy kiss.

“Cum for me first baby, and I’ll fill up this sweet little pussy of yours.”

He continues to pound into you like his life depends on it and before you know it you’re coming undone, your orgasm hitting you like a freight train. As soon as he hears the telltale gasp leave your throat he snakes his hand between you and the counter, rubbing harsh circles into your clit to intensify and prolong your release. If he wasn’t keeping you pinned between him and the counter you would collapse to the ground, your body turned to jelly from the sheer amount of pleasure that radiates through your entire body.

He doesn’t stop as you clench around him, driving himself as deep as he can get. It's all he can think about, reaching the furthest part of you, so he can breed you thoroughly. Standing upright again he brings you with him, one hand wrapped around your throat, the other one getting you steady as he fucks you brutally. He thrusts into you with a deep, guttural groan before stilling, and you feel the warmth of his cum fill you to the brim. His hips pull back before he snaps them forward again, wanting to fuck his cum as deep inside of you as possible.

Abruptly he pulls out of you, and drops to his knees, his hands splaying you open to watch his cum seep out of you. With no warning his mouth is on you, sucking at your clit and lapping at your center to collect his own cum. His groans are constant and filled with a hunger that quickly brings you to your second orgasm. This one is quick and just as powerful as the first, your pussy fluttering around nothing, and he continues to eat you until the moans stop ripping from your throat.

Turning you around, he scoops you up bridal style before carrying you over to the couch. His hands rub up and down your arms as he peppers kisses over your face, waiting for you to recover from your second release.

You’re effectively useless, your breathing still heavy. You feel like you’re spinning, up in the clouds, the only thing grounding you is his warm touch. When you finally feel like you’ve returned to earth, you clear your throat and look up at the man before you with heavy lids, “Steven, I know it’s you.”

A cheeky smile spreads across his face as he leans in to kiss you, “How’d you know it was me, dove?”

“You have that kink, not Marc…at least not yet.”

Steven just laughs before dipping his head to steal more kisses from you. You kiss him back happily for several moments, the kisses wet and slow before you realize that you were doing something before you were interrupted by them.

“Wait, Stevie, I was cooking breakfast,” You pull away, glancing over at the kitchen.

“Don’t worry about it dear, you just lay here and I’ll finish it up.”

“But it’s your favorite, I should make it.”

“I think you’ve done enough for us today, yeah?” His hand raises to caress your face affectionately before cupping your cheek.

You nod softly, a smile pulling at your lips, “Yeah, okay.”

“I love you, always. Marc too,” He says firmly, pressing his forehead to yours.

Steven’s love confessions always lift you out of the misty, but welcome fog that is Marc and the way he carries himself. If Marc is intense, brooding, and drawing you in, then Steven is light and airy— he’s bright and clear. They’re the perfect pair, a balance that you’re extremely grateful for.

In your tiredness from the intense sex, you feel your eyes grow a bit teary, your voice thick with emotion, “I love you too, both of you.”

if you’d like to be on my moonknight taglist, let me know!

moonknight taglist: @laurensprentiss, @angelfxllcm, @in-between-the-cafes, @honeybrowne, @ninebluehearts, @rmoonstoner, @hotchs-bitch

Fluff prompt #6 + Marc Spector please!

ˣ pairing: marc spector x reader

ˣ prompt: “i like it when you say my name.”

ˣ warnings: 1.3k wc. mentions of pregnancy. tons of fluff.

ˣ a/n: i swear the idea of this was made prior to all the baby talk these last few days okay. but hope you enjoy hehe xx

- ☾-

“Hmm… What about Oliver?”

Marc shakes his head, his dark, messy curls bouncing ever so slightly. The way he looks ethereal, bathed in a soft golden glow of the dipping sunlight, has your breath hitching and heart fluttering wildly.

Thankfully he’s used to this— you staring, regarding him as if he’s a glorious statue sculpted by Michaelangelo himself.

Gazes intertwining, his smile distracts you for a stolen moment. Not on purpose, but it’s almost always like that with Marc. You’d never seen a prettier smile than his, though he’d argue that yours is by far more beautiful. But there’s something about his smile that simply dazes you— makes you feel like you’re floating in an endless state of bliss.

It’s quite hard to believe at times that Marc is the one you call yours. Falling in love with him had come so unexpectedly, but very easily as if it were all meant to be. Five years and counting, with your first child on the way, you still find yourself falling deeper and deeper. You could only imagine the immense love your heart holds for him… and your little one.

Speaking of which, you cross off yet another name from the list visualized in your head.

“Okay… maybe we can call him Matthew?”

Your input is met with the briefest of silence, followed by a quiet, resounding no that leads you to let out an exhale.

“Huh, who knew naming a kid would be this difficult?” Marc chuckles, his chest reverberating under your ear as the arm around you tightens, pulling you impossibly closer. “We’ve gone through how many names now— 10? 20?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if we already hit the 50 mark, to be honest,” you return, eyes flickering up to meet his warm, café gaze. “Plus, we still need to come up with a middle name. It would really help if you gave me three or four suggestions. Every name I’ve brought up, you didn’t like.”

“It’s not that I don’t like those other names. I just don’t think any of them suit our little guy— get what I’m saying?”

You hum softly in response, featherlight fingertips slowly drawing shapes into his tanned skin. “So, now what? Are we going to wait until he’s born to name him?”

“I guess so,” he answers with a shrug. “Naming a baby is a big responsibility, and our son will be stuck with whatever name we choose for the rest of his life. It has to be perfect.”

A gentle hand then comes to rest on your grown belly. With a tender smile, Marc soothes the pad of his thumb over the swell of your stomach.

It still leaves him awestruck, the fact that he’s going to be a father soon. He’d painted the nursery walls and assembled the crib and other furnishings nearly a month ago. Though it felt even more real after spending the entire morning of today helping you pack the hospital bag.

A few weeks more, you’d remind him earlier. Just a few weeks more, Marc would finally have the family he’d always wanted— the one he’d always dreamed of having with you.

“Come on, Marc, we gotta think of at least a few,” you urge him with a small laugh.

He gives you a look. A sweet one, at that. Earthy brown orbs gaze at you adoringly; they mesmerize you, seamlessly indulging in delight at the mere flawless sight of you cuddled at his side.

Only Marc could reduce you to a puddle with those sparkling eyes.

You sincerely hope that your son inherits them. Those eyes, those curls, the smile that you’d never tire of seeing. Perhaps even the sound of his laughter, if it were possible.

You wish that your son would grow up to become the good man Marc is. The world could truly use another Marc Spector to brighten up everyone’s lives, the same way your Marc has done to yours.

“What about Marc?” you blurt out in the open, smiling softly.

“Marc?” he repeats. His features are unreadable, but the furrowing brow at your idea gives his puzzlement away.

“Yeah,” you nod, fingers twirling at the stray strand of hair splayed on Marc’s forehead. “What if we name our baby Marc?”

“Why would you want that?”

“Because why not?” comes your counter as you prop yourself up on one elbow. “Be it his first or middle, I want to name our baby after his father, my wonderful husband. The man who would do anything and everything for the two of us and who would love and protect us fiercely no matter what.”

Marc pauses, his mind undoubtedly reeling this all in. There are instances when he’s unable to see himself the way you see him. He’d slip into these fleeting moments of self-doubt and self-deprecation from time to time, an unfortunate habit following his tragic past.

You’re certain that this is one of those moments.

So you do the only thing that gets Marc to stop.

You kiss him.

Softly and sweetly, you press your lips against Marc’s, sensing the tension in his body slowly easing away. He clings to you as if you’re his lifeline, and you draw him in as close as you can.

The kiss seems everlasting. You want it to last forever, or at least as long as Marc needs it to. You’d say you love him a million times, but a kiss— this kiss— seals the promise, declaring the truth that you’re more than glad to remind him of for the rest of his life.

When it’s time to part, you leave Marc breathless. Breathless and grounded. All worries now a minuscule thought in the back of his head. He allows himself to bask at this moment, in this reality.

In this slice of heaven that you and he have built together.

The silence breaks at the sound of his delicate voice. “A-Are you sure?”

“Only if you agree, but yeah, I’m sure. I want to name our son after you, Marc.”

Marc’s smile reappears, and it reaches his tear-stained eyes. The corner of his mouth curls with your words, his hand remaining on your bump, caressing it. “I like it when you say my name, you know? Can’t exactly explain how it feels, but hearing you say it makes me the happiest man in the universe.”

Your heart swells at the touch and his admission.

You make Marc happy, but he doesn’t realize how much he makes you happier.

“So… what do you think?”

He takes a second to form a response. And as if he needs more convincing, your son gives a slight kick from inside your womb that catches you both by surprise. “Marc Jr., huh? You like that, buddy?”

Another set of kicks and they cause you and Marc to break into a fit of giggles.

“Little Marc Jr.,” you whisper. “Of course, we can give him a nickname, so he doesn’t get confused when he’s older.”

“Well, what if we settle on Marc as the middle name to avoid it?”

You ponder for a bit, then release a chuckle. “I’m good with that. But you know what this means, right?”

Marc tilts his head, his gaze narrowing as he shifts in bed, turning to you. “What does it mean?”

“It means we’re back to square one on first names.”

A playful groan escapes Marc’s parted lips, and with a kiss dotted on your nose, he buries his head in the crook of your neck. “Back to the drawing board, we go.”

- ☾-

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moon knight masterlist

That's something I like

wrapping up the last three hundred and sixty-five days with a round up of all the 'x reader' fanfiction I have published in 2022. thank you all for all your requests, feedback, reblogs and support over the last twelve months, especially during the 10k month of fic! sharing this love for these characters with you all is such a mental refresh for me, and hopefully I can publish even more fics in 2023. and I hope that you'll love all the new fics as much as you've loved these ones :)

happy new year!

full content warnings and content can be found on each individual post, and each fic is labelled for length. follow me on bartonstark to find all my fic in one place, or check out my ao3. smut/sexual content: *** personal favourites: ///

BRUCE BANNER:

afterwards (drabble) *** aftercare with bruce.

bend, don't break (oneshot) *** /// the take a reprieve during a party, and take a new step in your relationship.

fear and loving in iowa (oneshot) when you’re injured in johannesburg, bruce blames himself.

fireworks (oneshot) thanks to the frigid air at the top of the tower, you share a tender moment.

first times (drabble) *** having sex with bruce for the first time.

p.s. (ficlet) an unfinished note leaves you confused during your college graduation.

restoration (oneshot) after johannesburg, you have nightmares. bruce provides you with comfort.

BUCKY BARNES:

bedside manner (oneshot) sam calls you to say bucky has been hurt on a mission,and you panic.

early hours (oneshot) *** after a mission, all bucky wants to do is crawl into bed with you.

morning grind (drabble) *** morning sex with bucky.

shards of glass (oneshot) *** /// you share a past, and now bucky's tracked you down to find closure.

CLINT BARTON:

after hours (oneshot) *** clint stops by your office after work to distract you the best way he can.

body heat (oneshot) *** /// the there's-only-one-bed trope in the back of an suv during a blizzard.

bound (drabble) *** clint is really into bondage and you're happy to spoil him.

coffee break (ficlet) there's an avenger bleeding in the bathroom of the cafe where you work.

crossroads (oneshot) clint receives an offer that could change his life & you encourage him to take it.

a delicate hand (oneshot) /// clint attempts to pull you out of a funk by helping you get ready for the event.

green light (oneshot) *** /// you surprise clint with a new toy, and he is very eager to try it out.

hey, you (ficlet) *** /// you receive a note from a certain avenger in the middle of a crowded bar.

in the stacks (ficlet) *** you steal a moment of intimacy in the back of a bookshop together.

respite (oneshot) when you’re hurt on a mission, clint has to convince you to take a breather.

think of me (oneshot) *** /// when you're dragged out for a night, clint has an idea of what to do in the club.

three a.m. (oneshot) /// a knock on your window comes from a certain injury-prone avenger.

we could play pretend (oneshot) you bond over all the little things you miss about being in a relationship.

welcome home (drabble) *** you welcome clint home after he's been away on a mission.

JESSICA JONES:

reprieve (oneshot) she has to drag you out of a dingy bar in the middle of the night.

snooze button (drabble) jessica isn't exactly a morning person.

MARC SPECTOR:

fast lane (drabble) *** /// marc gives you a preview in the car of what to expect when you get home.

NATASHA ROMANOFF:

follow my lead (oneshot) natasha offers to teach you how to slow dance.

PETER QUILL:

raincheck (oneshot) /// convincing quill to go to bed isn’t exactly an easy feat.

SAM WILSON:

miss me? (oneshot) you're finally reunited with sam in the middle of the battle of earth.

soul food (oneshot) /// when you’re sick, he ditches his responsibilities just to make you feel better.

STEVE ROGERS:

lost time (oneshot) *** late for your date, steve walks in on you working off your frustrations.

TONY STARK:

afterglow (drabble) *** after care with tony.

as you're told (oneshot) *** /// tony calls you to his office with a new game in mind…

between the sheets (oneshot) *** you've decided to try for a baby, and tony can't wait to get started.

come back to me (oneshot) after tony almost dies, you’re left lost and furious at what just happened.

count (oneshot) *** /// tony is nothing if not a giver. but… he is also a bit of an asshole.

echo (oneshot) /// you’re struggling to forget the past, so you try to bring part of it back to you.

idiot (drabble) *** just an soft, sexy moment between the two of you.

insatiable (drabble) *** the real question is, which one of you is the bigger tease?

mood lighting (ficlet) *** tony spoils you by candlelight.

on your knees (oneshot) *** the idea of having you on your knees is far too tempting for tony to resist.

quick question (oneshot) tony has a question to ask you, battlefield be damned.

red and gold (ficlet) an afternoon in central park lets you appreciate the seasonal color change.

simple pleasures (drabble) *** tony loves nothing more than eating you out.

sober hearts (oneshot) a look at your relationship as it has evolved over the years.

spare key (drabble) *** you give tony a key to your apartment.

subtlety (oneshot) *** impatient, you make use of the ‘emergency stop’ button in the elevator.

warm hands (ficlet) *** the two of you share an intimate interlude out in the snow.

WANDA MAXIMOFF:

hold tight (oneshot) *** /// she loves to spoil you & sometimes that means leaving you a quivering mess.

reflected in you (oneshot) you try on your new uniform, and wanda helps you find your confidence.

spicy sweet (oneshot) *** you plan on surprising wanda, but disaster means a change of plans.

sweetness (oneshot) *** /// wanda loves the way you sound, and doesn’t care who else hears it.

THREESOMES/POLYAMORY:

hands free (oneshot) *** /// you find clint on the phone, and you can’t help but distract him.

player three (drabble) *** /// clint x bucky x you. game night takes a turn when they team up on you to win.

SERIES:

to ashes chapters (full series, this year's chapters in bold) prologue - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19 - 20 - 21 - 22 - 23 - more to come...

tags: @startrekkingaroundasgard @wittyforachange @lovely-dreamer19 @castieltrash1 @wefracturedmotivation @january-echoes @glossyloner @capitalnineteen @youclickedthislink @s0ftness @drakelover78 @queenoftheunderdark @fandoms-pizza-wifi-ym13 @lol-you-thought @sebbystanlover-vk @mikariell95 @csigeoblue @abrunettefangirlnerd @babyblues915 @aar-journey @moistpotatobear @bellamyblakemorley @diesinspanishbcimhispanic @sentimentalalien @agustdowney @akumune @xxboesefrauxx @patheticallysentimental @loki-is-loved @ruderavenclaw @enna-core @hearmyharmony @katsies @youralphawolf72 @whovianayesha @bradfordbantams @alice-the-nerd @ace-fandom-dumbass @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @twsssmlmaa @earth-pig-fish @hallothankmas @meeksmusic83 @fallinginlovewithqueue @justanothermagicalsara @dragon-chica @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @starrynightsforever @baku-writes @sorryurnotbrucebanner

Then There Were Three

Pairing:  Marc Spector x bi f!reader x Layla El-Faouly

Summary: Things get complicated when your two friends, Layla and Marc, who you may or not be madly in love with, invite you to be their roommate. Prequel to What Good Girls Get and how their relationship started. But it can be read on its own, I guess. 

Warnings: No explicit smut, but subtle illusions to masturbation and some mentions of kissing, ANGST( resolves with happy ending tho :) ),friends to lovers, jealousy, slightly toxic behavior from everyone involved, reader gets drunk and makes questionable choices but Layla and Marc come to the rescue, mentions reader kissing stranger, feelings of unrequited love followed by profession of feelings, happy ending :). Let me know if I missed anything

 Wc: 3.6k

 A/N: Soooo, why did no one tell me writing angst was so fun?? I wrote this as a prequel to What Good Girls Get because I really want to make a series out of their relationship/dynamic. So, I decided to write this to sort of set everything up and give some background into how they all came together. I'll most likely still write Marc x Reader x Layla fics separate from the series, but I think this'll be fun. Let me know what you think and if you'd like to see more. As always comments/feedback are always welcome and encouraged!!

You first meet Layla in a self-defense class she's instructing at the community center. You hit it off immediately and begin hanging out outside of the class. She even introduces you to her husband, Marc. He's really great too, so you eventually all start hanging out together. Your friendship quickly grows, and you find yourself seeing them multiple times a week.

 You're out grabbing coffee with them one day and tell them how you are looking for a second job. In turn, Marc mentions that they have been going away for work more frequently and are considering getting a house sitter, not wanting to leave their place empty for days and possibly weeks on end.

 "The job is yours, if you're interested of course," he offers.

 "Really? Yeah, that'd be great." You nod, relieved to not continue the job hunt, something that has been huge stress on your life

 "Of course. You're there all the time anyway,” Layla says and you all chuckle. She's right, you're always coming over to have dinner and watch movies, often times sleeping over since your apartment is across town.

 You adjust well to the new ‘job’. It isn’t difficult. All they have is a fish and few plants so it isn’t too demanding. You really just laze about their apartment and clean up here and there and await their return. It begins to feel like a second home. You rarely spend time at your own place, really only going back to get clothes.

 Not that you’re complaining, you hate your apartment. Things are always breaking and the landlord is an asshole, so when it comes time for your lease to be up, you decide to look for a new place. You voice your concerns about finding somewhere on such short notice and, yet again, the couple present you with a convenient solution. They offer up their spare bedroom.

 "Oh, no, I wouldn't want to impose," you say, although not voicing the real reason for your reluctance.

 Since you first met Layla, you may or may not have developed a crush on her. And then you found out she's married and you decided to push those feelings aside, out of respect for their relationship of course.  But then you all started hanging out together and in no time, you started falling for Marc too.

They're both so great, but you know nothing could ever happen between you and them. Layla had once opened up about her and Marc having been through a lot and said they’re finally in a happy, healthy place. That's all you needed to hear and immediately buried those feeling deep inside you. They're relationship is finally stable again, who are you to come in and shake that up over a little crush?

 Well, what started out as a little crush soon develops into some very serious feelings for both of them and it's getting harder and harder to ignore. You start to envy their relationship. Seeing them together makes you think about what you don't have. But it's more than that, you're envious that you don't have it with them.

 You like being able to be roommates, but the proximity makes it harder to keep your feelings for them at bay. You're constantly coming home and finding them all cuddled up on the couch or just seeing little glimpses of them being couple-y in general and it really starts to get to you.

 You eventually decide to start dating again, hoping it'll help you move on from your feelings for your roommates. While they're away for work, you decide to invite a guy over that you had been out with a couple of times. They end up coming home early and Marc flips out. Layla tries to calm him down but he says you can’t just be bringing strangers into their home. He storms off and Layla apologizes. You send the guy home. Technically this is your home too, but you realize it would be better if you mentioned your plans to them before hand, just out of respect.

 That isn't an isolated incident, though. Marc doesn't seem too keen on you dating in general. Layla seems to be supportive, yet constantly warns you to be careful meeting people online. So, you try to keep them in the loop of who you're seeing, hoping that resolves the issues. But any time you mention a date, Marc goes silent. You had met this girl a while back and suggested a double date to try and ease some of the tension and Marc flat out refused. Anytime you would even bring her up he would dismiss it and get short with you.

 After a while of him acting like that, Layla surprises you by saying she shares that same feeling. She tells you that it’s probably not the best idea, although she's a lot kinder about it. She won't give you a reason why, though, and you just assume it's to not cause division between her and Marc.  She had initially said it was fine to have people over while they weren't home but she eventually sides with Marc on that, too, saying not to just to be safe. You're disappointed and their decision starts making dating even harder. 

Not wanting to jump through the hoops of dating, you feel like your back to square one with nothing to distract you from your feelings for Marc and Layla. They feel bad since you seem to have given up on dating, so they begin inviting you everywhere with them. You love being with them, but at the end of the night you go back to your room, alone, wishing you could hold their hands, kiss them, and show them affection like you're desperate to do. You're frequently tempted to turn down their invitations and offer the excuse of not wanting to intrude, especially when it seems like a date night type of activity, but Layla just tells you you’re always welcome and that they’d really like you to join.

 There is one thing that they don’t ask you to join in on. It's the thing you crave most. It’s what you dream about when you’re alone at night satisfying those needs with your hand while you know they’re fulfilling them for each other.

It’s almost torture on those nights you're all watching a movie and they start getting closer and closer on the couch. They snuggle up together and give quick kisses when they think you aren't looking. They're obviously wanting more, but out of respect for you, they keep things tame. But you know. You know when they leave halfway through the movie, telling you they're tired and run off to their room, and you hear the giggles and whispers as they sneak away.

 Then you're left alone, only imagining what they're doing in there, and the emptiness in your heart is joined by an ache between your legs. So you go to your own room, giving yourself a pitiful orgasm that leaves you with even more longing than you felt before.

One night, you walk into the living room on your way out to meet your friends and they’re going at it on the couch, hands roaming over their clothed bodies. They sense you walk in and pull apart, going to apologize but you turn away, and rush out the door with an awkward 'bye'.

 You try to brush it off, but it puts a damper on your evening and you drink more than you should. You find some random person to go home with, hoping to take your mind off things. You end up making out on their couch but all you can think about is Marc and Layla. Not feeling it anymore, you tell them you want to stop and get your things and leave. You walk out of the building, then realize you don’t have a ride.

You make a feeble attempt to order an Uber but the level of intoxication makes it seem like an impossible task. You finally manage to open your messaging app and see a bunch of text from Marc and Layla. They're freaking out because you always text them if you’re not coming home that night and they fear the worst thinking something happened to you.

 You call Layla. You brace yourself for Marc to go off on you for not telling them where you are. She answers immediately, clearly on edge but relieved to finally be hearing from you. “Where are you, babe?” The nickname she calls you sends a pang of hurt to your heart, knowing that when she calls Marc that, it holds a totally different meaning.

 “Please don’t call me that,” you mumble.

 “What? Where are you?” she asks, hearing the slur in your voice and hoping you’re somewhere safe.

 “I don’t know? Umm…” You look around for a street sign, but turning your heads around has your head spinning and you get dizzy and take a seat on the curb.

 “Are you still at the bar?” She knows where you'd gone and with who, but judging by the frustrated whine you let out she can tell that you're no longer there.

 “Put Gina on the phone,” she instructs, hoping you were still with the group.

“I'm not with her. She…I don't know where she is. Probably still with the girl she was talking to earlier. I don't know though.” You sigh, wishing you had thought this whole thing through before running off.

 Layla sighs, frustrated that you split from the group. You hear Marc exclaim, “What?! They left you alone? Where are you?”, letting you know you’re on speaker and he’s heard everything.

 “Marc, she just said she doesn’t know,” Layla says, trying to calm him down a bit. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

 “I met someone and we went back to their place but now I'm outside and… please come get me.” You slur out your explanation and you hear Marc grumble something, but you can’t make it out.

 “Marc, don’t. Babe? Babe, you still there?” Layla's voice crackles on the line.

 “Please. Stop,” you plead, you voice laced with hurt.

 "Stop what? I need you to listen to me. Can you turn on your location for me?" You fumble for a good five minutes and they both try walking you through the steps and you finally manage to share your location with them. “Stay put. We’ll be there soon," Layla assures.

 They stay on the line but you sit in silence, wishing you were tucked into bed and ready to forget this whole night. When they finally arrive, Layla gets out to open the door for you, and guides you gently into the back seat.

 There's a tension in the air and you're left feeling like someone whose parents caught them sneaking out. Marc sits in the driver's seat, grumbling out various comments like “How could you be so irresponsible?”, and, “Going home with some stranger, do you have any idea what how dangerous that is? You’re lucky they let you leave.”

 Layla places her hand on his thigh, trying to get him to let up, but she doesn’t say anything. She looks just as disappointed as him. He continues, “I just don’t know what you were thinking…", and you see him shake his head.

 You become fed up with the scolding. “I just wanted to have a little fun, ok? I don’t have a partner at home I can run to whenever I need a good screw. We’re not all as lucky as you two!”, you shout, crossing your arms. Your sober self will regret that, but right now you don’t care.

 “Were not saying you can’t go out and meet people, we just wish you’d be a bit more careful,” Layla says, sensing your agitation, but frustration continues to bubble up inside you. “Yeah, well you sure act like I'm not allowed. You treat me like a child! You monitor who I'm going out with like you’re in charge of me or something. Unless you’re going to include me the next time you guys run off to your room to fuck each other, then I'd appreciate it if you would just stay out of my business.” You huff and slum against the seat.

 "Babe…we don't mean to-" Layla starts, but before you can stop it, and all your pent-up feelings start flowing out of you uncontrollably. "Enough! Cool it with the 'babe' and 'honey' and 'sweetheart'. I'm not your 'babe' and I'm clearly never going to be so would you spare me the hurt and…and disappointment and stop calling me that?" You feel tears well in your eyes and your voice quivers as you speak. You get no response, both of them clearly not knowing what to say.

 Just moments ago, you were seething, but it's morphed into a sadness that makes your chest feel heavy. Not wanting to let them see you cry, you turn and lean your head against the window, not noticing the look they give each other. Your comment seemed to shut them up so you finish the ride in silence.

  When you pull up to the apartment, you stumble out of the car and storm into the building before they can help you. Once you're through the door you go to your room, slam the door, and throw yourself onto the bed. You lay there, already drifting off, but Layla walks in with a glass of water and some ibuprofen that she knows you’ll be needing in the morning. Marc follows behind her with a washcloth.

 She helps you sit up and gives you some water, then gets up to grab you some pjs. While she rifling through your drawer, Marc gently wipes your face, cleaning the sweat and tears of the night off. You sigh at the feeling of the warmth on your skin. You lean into him as he does it and he soothingly strokes your back.  You feel yourself starting to drift off in his arms but hear a “No, no, no. Not yet,” and he chuckles while he sits you back up.

 Layla’s hands you your clothes and they both turn around, wanting to be respectful, but also to be there in case you fall, which in your state is very likely. It takes a bit, but you manage to slide your shirt and shorts on and fall back onto the bed. They turn back and bid you goodnight. You mumble a 'night' before sleep overtakes you.

You wake up and the events of the night come flooding back to you. Your head is pounding, and your breath quickens as you replay the conversation you had in the car the night before. Fuck. You’re never drinking again. Those feelings that you tried so hard to bury had finally come to the surface. What's even worse is that the two people you absolutely did not want to hear them, did. You stay in your room as long as possible, but eventually you can no longer ignore the grumbling in your stomach. You tip toe to the kitchen, hoping not to run into the couple. Luckily, it seems like they’re both gone so you make yourself breakfast and sneak back off to your room.

 As you finish your food, you decide that you can’t stay here. Everything you worked desperately to keep a secret has come to light and you can’t face them. You pack up your things, the tears coming and going as you realize your two favorite people will no longer be in your life. They've become your support system, your safe haven and it's all gone. And it's all your fault. You reluctantly leave your keys on the counter along with note. You can’t seem to figure out what to say, you stare at the blank slip of paper. All you write is, 'I'm sorry' and leave it at that.

  Luckily, your friend offers to let you stay at their place until you can figure out a new living situation. After about a week of hundreds of missed calls and text from your ex-roommates and withering away on your friend's couch, they invite you out. They can tell you're hurt and don't want you to completely fall apart, so they try to get your mind off of things.

 You spend the night trying to dance and have fun with your friends but you're too distracted. You don't dare drink. The shame from what happened last time making you consider never drinking again.

 You fall back into a semi-normal routine, but can't seem to pull yourself out of this funk. You decide to use your day off to visit your favorite coffee shop, somewhere you usually go every morning before work but haven't had the energy to go.

 Drink in hand, you walk out of the café and feel the sun shining bright and warm on your skin. You smile at the feeling, something you missed while you holed yourself up in the apartment for weeks.

 You turn to walk towards the park, but your smile immediately drops as you come face to face with the two people who haven't left your mind since you last saw them. You almost drop your drink as they walk up to you.

 "Hey," Marc greets softly, not wanting to startle you further.

 "What are you doing here?" you ask, breathlessly. The sight of them causes the events of your last encounter to flood your mind. You suddenly feel very overwhelmed, your nerves telling you to run away, but your feet remain glued to the ground.

 "Can we talk?" Layla asks. You're obviously hesitant, but the way you left was abrupt and there was no closure, so you feel like you owe it to them. You're just not ready to face the rejection you weren't giving them the chance to voice to you.

You follow them to the park across the street. You walk along, your body swirling with emotion. More than anything, you feel embarrassment and shame for the way you acted. But that calmness you always seem to feel when they’re around soothes you.

 As you all take a seat at one of the picnic tables, you speak first. All the things you've wanted to say to have been rattling around in your head for weeks, so you waste no time in letting them know.

 "Look, I disrespected you guys and your relationship and I was totally out of line. I've thought about it a lot and I care about you two so much, but it wouldn't be fair to you guys or even myself if I pretend like these feelings aren't there." You don’t want to stop having them in your life but you can't push these feelings down any longer. "It was really taking a toll on me and I think it might just be better to cut ties completely to allow myself the space move on," you confess. It's not easy though, and every second you look in their eyes makes saying goodbye seem even more unbearable.

 A look of hurt flashes across their faces as you mention breaking off the friendship and you feel guilt bubble up inside you once again. This is your fault. If you hadn't drank, if you had just kept your mouth shut, this wouldn't be happening. But you would still be hopelessly in love with them and the unreciprocated feelings would be too much to bear, regardless.  

"I can't keep following you guys around like some lovesick puppy. I just…I can't do it," you declare, voice cracking as you feel your throat start to get tighter as the sadness overtakes you. Layla reaches across the table and places her hand on top of yours.

 "Listen," she starts, "we want you in our lives. You're our best friend and we love you so much."

"But," Marc speaks up and you think to yourself, here we go. They get you alone to tell you what’s already been made perfectly clear, they don’t feel the same and you would just be getting in the way of their relationship. You feel tears start burning in your eyes and turn to the side trying to blink them away.

 "we had no idea how to tell you we want this relationship to be something more." Your head swings to look at them, confusion written all over your face.

 "It was selfish to act like we did. Inviting you to date nights, being all cuddly, not being supportive of your relationships," Layla interjects. " We should have communicated our true feelings and it must have been very confusing for you. We are so sorry to have dragged it out this long. We should have spoken up sooner but we just didn't know how to tell you. We didn't want to scare you off if you didn't feel the same.

 "Really?" They both nod and Marc's hand joins Layla's on top of yours. You let out breath that feels like it was trapped in your chest, and you relax your shoulders. You've been dreaming of this moment. Dreaming they'd pull you into their arms and tell you they want you, to have a relationship with you. You almost don't believe it, having convinced yourself there was no way they feel the same.

 "So…now what?" you ask and they both chuckle. As elated as you are, this is going to be new for all of you. You have no idea what it's going to look like, and how you're all going to adjust.

 "We go get your stuff and you come home," Marc says, and gives you a warm smile.

Taking Control

Pairing: Steven Grant x f!reader, Marc Spector x f!reader

Summary: Steven's jealousy over your coworker prompts him to step in and explore his dominant side.

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+ ONLY, no use of y/n, toxic/ jealous behavior and brief argument (mostly from the boys but reader gets kinda petty too), inaccurate depiction of DID, dominant/ possessive Steven, teasing/ taunting, dirty talk, begging, spanking, fingering, edging, oral (m receiving), rough sex, p in v, creampie

 WC: 4.8k

A/N: two jealousy fics in a row…sorry not sorry. Also, I know Marc is acting like an irrational ass in the beginning and sorry if you don't like seeing that type of toxic behavior, but he's being over the top/overly dramatic on purpose so hopefully it doesn’t rub you the wrong way. Plus reader says some pretty petty things in response lol

You had a long day ahead of you. In addition to the normal workday, you were asked to take your new coworker, Scott, to dinner just to welcome him and give a run-down of the project your department is currently working on. You meant to text the boys and let them know you didn't need a ride, but you had rushed out of the house this morning and left your phone behind. Luckily, you always leave a note on the fridge telling them not to pick you up whenever you forget to let them know the night before. They know to check there before leaving, so you assumed they'd see it.

You realized it might have been a foolish assumption to make when Scott stopped by the office before taking you home so he could grab some files he left behind. When you arrive, the familiar black sedan sitting alone in the parking lot has your heart dropping to your stomach. You’re pretty sure that they’re here due to miscommunication, but you haven’t had your phone on you all day so you begin to worry that something may have happened, and they couldn’t get a hold of you.

Your coworker must sense your concern since he asks, “What’s wrong?” and looks at you confused.

“Um…nothing.” you reply, unbuckling your seatbelt and slowly making your way out of the car. Scott rounds the front, and your boyfriend climbs out of his car, slamming the door behind him. You can tell your coworker is a bit taken back by the mysterious man in front of him, so you speak up.

“Scott, this is my boyfriend…” you intentionally pause to allow whoever is fronting to introduce themselves. You're almost positive it's Marc based on the deep scowl on their face.

“Marc,” he says while crossing his arms.

"Oh, nice to meet you. I’m Scott.” Scott sticks out his hand as he introduces himself, but Marc doesn’t even look at him. You give him an apologetic look for your boyfriend's gruffness.

 "Babe, what are you doing here?" you inquire, still worried something's wrong.

“Picking you up,” he responds bluntly.

"Oh. Sorry I didn’t text you; I forgot my phone. But I told Natalie to let you where I was if you stopped by looking for me," you reply coolly, relieved that everything is ok, but you sense the irritation in his voice.

“She told me where you were,” he says bitterly, and he turns his head to glare at the man next to you. This is the first time he has acknowledged Scott, and you honestly wish he would’ve just kept ignoring him. Marc is usually a bit standoffish when it comes to meeting new people, but he’s never outright rude, so you’re a bit taken back at his demeanor.

“Have you been here all this time?” you ask incredulously. You’d been gone almost two hours, meaning that he had all that time to stew in his anger, which is clearly about to boil over.

“Yeah, so let’s go,” he impatiently answers.

You turn to Scott. “I guess I'll see you tomorrow. I hope I covered everything. If you have any questions let me know."

“I will. I was thinking we could exchange numbers, you know, in case I- “, before Scott can finish speaking, Marc is pulling you towards the car.

“Thanks for dinner!” you shout to him as Marc opens your door and guides you into your seat hurriedly. Scott gives you a puzzled look at the abrupt goodbye and you flash him yet another apologetic look. Hopefully he'd forget about this whole thing come Monday.

Marc is pulling out of the parking lot before you can even buckle your seat belt, and you turn to him, looking displeased.

“You really embarrassed me back there,” you say and Marc scoffs.

“Yeah, well how do you think I felt?” he snaps.

“What? You were the one acting like a jerk. You knew where I was. I told Natalie to tell you what was going on.” He doesn’t respond and you feel a wave of frustration wash over you as you realize something.

 You fully turn to him, arms crossed, and head cocked to one side. "I also left a note on the fridge. Did you remember to check there?” you ask, brow raised. He doesn’t answer, but judging by the look on his face, you can tell he didn’t. Now it’s your turn to scoff.

“How many times do I have to remind you to check there before you leave?” You shake your head. This isn't the first time he's shown up when he didn't need to. You remind him constantly to check, but it doesn't seem to make a difference.

“You know, maybe I'll start leaving my own notes. I'll be sure to let you know whenever I'm going out on a date with another woman," he snidely remarks.

You let out a dry laugh. You just can’t believe how ridiculous he’s being. He's acted jealous before, but it's usually just an excuse for him to get you into bed, show you you're 'his'. But this time it seems genuine.

“It wasn’t a date! He’s a new hire and I was asked to welcome him to the office. It was purely professional. You have no reason to be upset,” you respond.

"I saw the way he was looking at you, like he was planning on having you for dessert. I bet he was acting like that all night. That prick has no shame," Marc grumbles, but you just shake your head. "You're imagining things," you respond annoyedly, and he huffs.

You spend the rest of the ride in silence as you mentally prepare yourself for a night of sitting on opposite sides of the couch waiting to see who apologizes first. But by the time you pull into the apartment, your irritation has started to dwindle, and you realize you're really not in the mood to fight, so you decide to set the issue aside for now and revisit it when he's calmed down a bit.

You step through the door, set your stuff down, and turn to him. "I know you're upset, but why don’t we just talk about this later? Let's have a nice, quiet night snuggled up on the couch. How's that sound?" you suggest, then pull him to you and press a gentle kiss to his lips.

He hums against your mouth, then pulls away. Leaning his forehead against yours, he mumbles, “I don’t know, maybe I should go spend a few hours with some random woman you don't know, since that’s apparently how this relationship works now.” You scoff and shove him away.

“Just let it go! You know what? Maybe I should’ve gone home with Scott. It'd be nice to be around someone who knows how to act like an adult. I bet he at least has the awareness to see when he's wrong and get on his knees to apologize.” You know it's a bad idea to mention Scott's name again, and an even stupider idea to mention going home with him, but you’re so frustrated you don’t care how Marc might react. If he's going to be petty, so are you.

You turn around to head to the living room, wanting to give him a second to calm down, maybe come to the realization that he’s being ridiculous. To think he would let your little comment slide was stupid of you, and you realize that when you feel him whip you around and press you up against the wall. You know you shouldn't keep egging him on, but you really want to mess with him to get back at him for how he's been acting. So, against your better judgement, you continue.

"Hey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean that," you say softly and pull him closer, eyes now boring into each other's.

"I wouldn't go home with him. Why go to the trouble? What I should’ve done was pulled him into the bathroom, spread my legs for him and given him a nice warm welcome to the team,” you say, tauntingly.

You see his eye twitch slightly and he takes a deep breath, probably trying to keep his cool. By now you'd have expected to see that playful smirk on his face that means he's about to take you to the bedroom and shut you up, but he just continues to stare at you. Your goal isn't to genuinely upset him, so to avoid provoking him any further, you wipe the smirk off your face and look at him with wide eyes and small pout on your lips instead. 

“I want Steven,” you whine. Since it doesn't seem like Marc's going to let this go anytime soon, you're ready for Steven to come out. Ready for him to tell you he agrees that Marc is being ridiculous and apologize on his behalf, by way of shoving his face between your thighs, preferably.

He's never able to resist, especially when you ask for him like that, so you stare up expecting to see those soft eyes and that warm smile appear. Marc doesn’t waiver, though, and you think maybe he's blocking Steven out, determined to remain in control.

Marc cocks his head and asks, “You want Steven? Yeah?”, in mocking tone. 

“Why? So he can come out and spoil you? Let you keep acting like a brat?” That’s exactly what you want, and he knows it, so you can’t help the small smirk that reappears on your face.

“I don't think you know what you're getting yourself into. Why do you think he’s stayed silent this whole time?” You raised a confused brow, and now he’s the one wearing a smirk.

"You really want Steven?" he asks, and you nod your head at him slowly.

  "Fine. But you’re going to regret it.” And with that, his eyes close then reopen and his smirk is replaced with a fierce glower, a look so unlike Steven, you think it may still be Marc. It sends a shiver down your spine, but you also feel your insides clench. You don't know if you should be startled or turned on, so you choose both.

 “Steven?” you barely squeak out.

“Aren’t you happy to see me?” he asks, derisively. His hand comes up and grips the back of your neck and he pulls you close. Your breath hitches at the closeness of your lips.

“What? Did you expect me to come out and beg for forgiveness for Marc and then get on my knees for you like a good boy? Let you walk all over me like I usually do?" he snaps.

 While you're definitely the more dominant one when it comes to the two of you, there have been a few occasions he has tried to take control. But he's never gotten very far because Marc always steps in and takes over. You’re momentarily worried Steven holds some resentment for the dynamic you two have, but the way he’s licking his lips as he stares at yours, or rather the hardness you feel against your leg, makes you realize he's just finally ready to unleash this other side of him.

Now that you understand what he wants to do, you feel the ache between your thighs intensifying. Wanting to see what he has in store for you, you decide to test what will happen if you try pushing his buttons like you were doing with Marc only moments ago.

“Of course. That’s what your best at, isn't it? You think you can teach me a lesson like Marc?" scoff. "You don’t have it in you,” As you taunt him you wear a smug look on your face that he's very tempted to fuck off of you.

His eyes darken, then he looks off to the side, and there's no doubt Marc is talking to him; you assume either urging him to take action or demanding to step in and do it himself. You attempt to bring his attention back to you.

“It takes a real man to put me in my place. Like Marc. Or Scott.” And with that he’s pulling you from the wall and pushing you to the room.

He tosses you face first into the mattress and grips the top of your pants. Before he goes any further, though, he’s brushing the hair away from your face and you crane your neck further to look at him. His voice softens and he asks, “This is ok, right? If not, I'll stop, so please tell me.”

You give him a small smile and push your ass back, grinding it against him. “I want it so bad, Steven. Give it to me, hard. Please.”

He sighs, relieved to know he didn’t misinterpret the situation. Also, hearing you plead like that, a tone usually reserved for Marc, sends a rush through him. And then just like that, the gentleness is gone and he’s pulling your pants down and off of you, then tossing them across the room. He settles his hand on the small of your back and leans down to admire the wet patch left behind on your underwear.

He smirks, “This all for me? I do this to you?”

You’re about to give him a desperate, ‘yes’, but before you can, he pulls the fabric up taught, and it wedges deliciously between your folds. You gasp in surprise but follow it with a moan.

“Or is it from Scott?” he says and pulls your underwear side to side, and it swipes over your clit each time. You squirm against the mattress, loving the feeling. You don’t answer him, so he tugs upward on your underwear and, at the same time, lands a quick but firm slap against your ass. You squeal. You continue to ignore his questions in hopes that he’ll do it again. 

This time he gives you a harder slap, and does it again and again until, through gritted teeth, you moan out, “No, for you. All for you.”

He hums in acknowledgment then roams your sensitive skin with his fingers and gives your plush cheek a firm squeeze. You whine at the delicious burn.

Deciding to give your ass a break, he tears your underwear off and flips you over. After ridding you of the rest of your clothes as well, he spreads your legs and settles himself between them. He examines you and then runs his fingers through your folds, gathering the slick forming at your entrance.

“You really get off on this don’t you? Look at you, you practically dripping just from a few spanks." You feel your skin heat at the comment, and you simply nod your head.

“Just a desperate little thing begging to be used,” he says and continues movements, toying with your entrance and intentionally avoiding your clit. The sensation and the filth flowing from his mouth makes you shudder. You’ve never heard him talk like this and you love it.

Getting a bit impatient with the slow, teasing motion of his fingers, you grumble, “C’mon, Steven,” and grab his wrist to move his hand to the bundle of nerves begging to be played with.

“You know I need more. Give it to me," you demand.

Caught up in the frustration of his teasing, you’ve reverted back to that commanding tone which typically has him happily falling into submission. But now, he's having none of it. He’s finally in control and he’s not letting go, not for you or for Marc. He lands a quick slap to your mound, and you gasp as it sends a bolt of pleasure straight through you. You want more, but before you can ask him to do it again, he squeezes your clit and begins rolling it between his fingers.

"Oh, god Steven!" you squeal and arch your back, prompting him to quicken his movements. The action alone has you on the edge, but before you can cum, he's pulling his hands away. You let out a long, dramatic, whine and open your mouth, ready to complain, but he covers it with his hand.

"No more whining. You'll take what I give you," he says and squeezes your thigh in a harsh grip.

" Thought I was going to let you cum already? Silly little thing, you'll cum when I decide. I'm not done playing with you yet," he says, and you can feel the fresh slick dripping from you in response to his condescending tone.

He removes his hand from your mouth and grabs at your chest while he brings his other hand to your entrance. He slips two fingers in, easily, and you sigh at the relief of finally having something inside you. The delicious sting of him tweaking your nipples combined with the drag of his fingers against your walls quickly brings you to the edge a second time, but all too quickly he's pulling both hands from you and denying you your release once again.

You let out what sounds like a sob and pound your hand against the mattress. You keep getting so close and he rips it away from you every time. The frustration has you on the brink of tears and your lip juts out in a pout. You're not used to this. Marc wasn't lying when he said Steven spoils you. He usually dotes on you and is always more than happy to give you exactly what you want, whenever you want it. He's ready and willing to submit to you and put your pleasure above all else. That's the treatment you're used to. Since you're not accustomed to him denying you pleasure, or anything for that matter, the irritation is written all over your face.

"You’re an asshole. Where’d you learn that from, Marc?” you ask, with more than a little sass in your voice.

Not thrilled with your tone, he undoes his belt and frees himself from his pants, then climbs up your body until his hips are angled towards your face. "I'm getting quite sick of your attitude, love. Let's put that mouth to good use, shall we?" he says as he strokes himself pushing into your mouth. The angle is a bit awkward but the sight of him has your mouth watering and you swirl your tongue around his tip as it breeches your lips.

His head falls back and he sighs. He lets you suck on him just like that for a few moments before he's guiding you further onto his length. He hits the back of your throat, pulling a gag from you, and he feels your throat contract around him. He groans at the feeling and does it again. His thrusts have your spit thoroughly coating his length and even dribbling down your chin. He bites his lip at the sight.

 "C'mon. Get it nice and wet. Yeah, just like that," he says huskily. He throws his head back again and his eyes fall shut. The feeling is heavenly and he has to pull out of your mouth, knowing if you keep sucking him like that, he'll cum down your throat.

He moves down your body, landing between your legs, and you wrap them around his hips. He goes to line himself up at your entrance and you buck your hips and pull him closer. As you feel his dick brush up against you, you let out a pathetic whine, almost delirious with the desire to feel him inside you. He chuckles at your desperation and can't help but tease you further by running his length through your folds.

"You want it? Yeah?" he teases, and slaps his tip against your clit repeatedly. You look at him, tears threatening to spill from your eyes, and beg, "Don’t tease me.”

"What do you mean?" he asks mockingly as he continues sliding his dick against you. It keeps catching on your entrance over and over, but he still refuses to push it in.

"Why are you being so mean?" you ask, and your voice cracks. The sensation is getting overwhelming and you get the urge to reach down and push him in yourself, but you know he'd never give you what you're asking for if you did that, so you stop yourself.

"What's wrong? I thought you liked it. I've seen you writhe under Marc, begging for him to fuck you. That usually gets you what you want, right? So c'mon, beg for it," he demands, and grabs your chin, forcing you to look him right in the eyes.

You're quick to respond, wanting to do exactly as he asks, in hopes that he’ll finally take pity on you. “Please, Steven, I need it so bad. I'll do anything, just please fuck me. Please!"

He feels heat pool in his stomach from hearing you beg for him like that, and he can't hold back any longer. He grabs you firmly by the hips and pushes into you slowly. He groans as he watches his length disappear as you take him to the hilt. “See what you get when you ask nicely?” he says, breathily. Your jaw goes slack and your head falls back at the relief of finally being full of him.

After you've adjusted to his length, he throws your legs over his shoulders, pulls you closer, and leans over you, effectively folding you in half.  The new angle has him reaching so deep in you that you gasp, and it morphs into a broken sob when he begins slamming into you roughly.

He's satisfied at how you're falling apart around him, but he has to focus to keep himself from doing the same thing. The sweet noises you let out with every thrust and how he feels your walls clench around him has his breathing becoming increasingly ragged. He gets lost in the feeling and falters, and his movements slow down. He leans his forehead against yours as he gets lost in your warmth, and whines into your shoulder.

 The change in pace interrupts your previously rapid ascent towards your climax, and you whine right back. "Harder. Please," you beg and reach down and grab his hips, trying to urge him to go faster. He kisses your neck and continues the slow, deep, strokes. It feels good but you need more. You need it harder, faster, and begging is not working, so you opt for the alternative.

 "You're losing your edge, Steven. Maybe I should have Marc come out and do it for you," you threaten. Not appreciating the insinuation that he can't fuck you like Marc can, he snarls and flips you over. He slams back inside you and pushes the side of your face into the mattress.

"Oh please. Please. Please…" is all you can say as he resumes hammering into you, and it has you rocketing towards your release again. You become a babbling, whimpering, mess underneath him as he sets a punishing pace, his dick hitting that tender spot inside you relentlessly.

"I need to…to cum Steven. Please. Please can I cum?" you plead, needing to feel the orgasm he's denied you over and over again.

"Considering all the things you said earlier, I'm not sure you deserve it," he replies, yet he wants nothing more than to feel you pulsating around him as you reach tumble over the edge. He's seen Marc deny you for hours so he's tempted to see how far he can push you. But he feels his own release building, so he'll have to try that some other time.

"I do. I've learned my lesson, I promise. I won't-" a particularly deep thrust pulls a throaty moan from you, and you try to remember what you were even saying, but it seems like he fucked the thought right out of your head. All you remember is that you were begging so you try again. “I…Please. I need it so bad. Please let me cum."

"Say you didn’t mean it," he says, followed by a low groan as he slides in and out of your drenched hole. The way you’re gripping him has his hips stuttering, and he takes a deep breath to steady himself.

"Wha…What?" you mumble, not really sure what he's asking.

"Say you'd never let a prick like Scott touch you. Tell me you'd never let him inside you," he commands.

You remain silent, willing yourself to compose a coherent thought. He wants you to look him in the eyes when you say it so he pulls out, puts you on your back, and slams himself back inside you in one quick motion. It has your head spinning and you can't do anything but moan and whimper as you feel him stretching you.

"Say it!" he demands harshly, and the tone has you clenching hard around him. He tilts your head by the back of your neck, forcing you to look him in the eyes, and grabs at your chest harshly with the other.

“I wouldn’t let Scott fuck me. Ever. I don’t want anyone else,” you pant.

" And why is that?" he prompts.

"Because I'm yours," you profess. "All yours. No one else can have me."

 "That's right." A small smirk forming on his face at your confession. “Who’s the only one who can make you feel this good?”

“You,” you reply, breathily.

“Who?"

“You…” He keeps asking until you finally realize what he wants to hear.

 “You, Steven! Only you can fuck me like this!" you cry out, and in return he lets out a low moan as your words wash over him. It makes him fuck you deeper, so you continue.

"I’d let you do anything you want to me. Anything…anything…anything…” you repeat like a mantra as he continues snapping his hips into you.

His eyes briefly flutter shut as coil in his stomach tightens. He looks at you again and brings his thumb to your clit, forming small circles that have your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

"You can cum. C'mon, cum for me," he commands and as the last word leaves his mouth, your orgasm hits you full force. Your body stiffens under him as you let out a silent scream and drag your nails down his back, feeling the shockwaves pleasure rip through you. He lets out a long groan at the sensation of you clenching down on his dick and your nails dragging across his skin. It pushes him over the edge and he lets out an animalistic grunt spills himself inside you. He's above you, panting, as he continues grinding into you until he's empty.

After a moment or two, he collapses on top of you. You two lay like that as you both steady your breathing and attempt to come down from such an intense high.

 As you run your fingers through his hair, you hear him mumble, “I still like being your plaything. You know that, right?" into your neck and you chuckle. “Just like wanted to see what it was like taking control," he adds as he lifts his head to meet your eyes. You pull his lips to yours and give him a quick, yet searing kiss.

 “Of course I do, baby," you respond, lovingly.

“I do have a request, though. Next time you want to try something new, can you make sure it doesn’t involve acting like an irrational jerk and scaring my coworkers?” The request is more so intended for Marc, seeing as he was the one intimidating Scott earlier, but Steven responds.

“Sorry about all that. I just wasn't thrilled about this Scott guy," he confesses. You raise an eyebrow at him, surprised because Steven has never been the jealous type. Now, normally he isn't, but something about seeing you climbing out of some guy's car, skin a bit flushed from whatever drinks you had at dinner, just didn’t sit right with him. Then, when he saw Scott's eyes glued to your ass as you stepped out of the car, something just came over him.

"Marc suggested I learn to let these feelings out in the bedroom like you two usually do and I guess that was his way of stepping in and helping me do that. I did warn him to tone it down, I promise, but you know Marc…" he says, looking at you apologetically.

“Don’t worry, I'll make him pay for it later," you say, smiling at the thought.

“We can make him pay for it now by going for round two. He’s been begging me to let him out. Says he's dying to get his hands on you.” He grins at the idea of you denying an already incredibly frustrated Marc what he wants.

"Tell him not a chance," you say as you roll both of you over and straddle Steven. He feels a thrill run through body as he already knows he'll be the begging, pleading, mess this time.

Love You to the Moon and Back

Pairing: Moonknight System x Gn!Reader

Summary: The Boys are away for Valentine's day but they make sure to leave behind some thoughtful gifts to show you how much you mean to them.

Warnings: just fluff and a brief mention of the boys touching reader's butt at the very end (Just couldn't help myself)

WC: 1.2k

A/N: thought I'd try writing some fluff with valentines day around the corner. Enjoy :))

You awaken to a cold, empty left side of the bed. You rub your hand over the indent left behind and sigh. Being apart was hard enough, but on Valentine's Day especially, their absence was glaringly obvious. You knew they'd be gone, but it didn't stop a wave of loneliness from washing over you. You had spent the previous evening together, knowing they'd be gone for the actual day. You had worked late, so you only really had a few hours to cuddle on the couch and fool around a bit before you had to head to bed. You agreed to celebrate properly when they get back, but you don't want to endure the wait. All you want to do is wrap them in your arms and spend the day in bed.

Before the melancholy can completely consume you, your nostrils are filled with the scent of freshly made breakfast. You get up and make your way into the kitchen and are immediately taken aback at the sight. The counter is covered with an assortment of all your favorite breakfast foods. The quantity is impressive, and it looks like a little buffet.  Alongside the food there is a note that reads, 'Enjoy!' and informs you of fully prepped lunch and dinner in the fridge. You immediately know it's Jake's doing. He takes care of you in so many ways but keeping you well fed has to be his favorite.

 At the center of the counter, you notice a beautiful white orchid. You smile. That was surely from him as well. You had mentioned your interest in getting one a while back and his eyes lit up. He’s a plant dad through and through and he's been sharing his hobby with you, showing you how to nurture and care for a variety of plants. It initially piqued your interest just seeing how committed he is to them. His gentleness and attentiveness when it came to his beloved flora warms your heart. You noticed it mirrors his care and devotion for you.

 As your eyes scan the various plates down the counter, they land on a pink heart shaped cloche. You lift it to reveal a Swiss roll with hearts decorating the outside. This, you know, is from Steven. He knows you enjoy baking and he had asked you a while back to give him lessons. Now every time you step into the kitchen, he’s at your heels, soaking in all the knowledge you can offer. You’re quite impressed with his roll, something you didn't teach him, so you know he went out of his way to learn by himself. The thought of him venturing out on his own to learn how to do it widens the smile on your face.

 Alongside his treat, he also got you a teddy bear. The little name tag on the ribbon reads, 'Little Steven' and you giggle. Every time they come home you always mention to him how much you miss his cuddles and how you resort to snuggling up with their pillow as a substitute. You cherish that sort of physical intimacy with all of them but especially with Steven. Sometimes he'll read to you, or you'll just chat about anything and everything. Other times you just lay there in silence, completely enveloped in the warmth and love of one another. It’s a time for connection and to be present with each other. It brings you closer together not just physically, but emotionally and it's hard to go without it for extended periods of time. So, he decided to gift you something as a sort of place holder to snuggle up with until he can get back to you.

 As you reach the end of the counter, you notice Marc hadn't contributed to the buffet, but that comes as no surprise. Marc is a disaster in the kitchen. Whether it's cooking or baking, or even making a cup of coffee, he's completely clueless. Just last week he tried to make you Ramen and almost burned down the house. Although there is no treat from him, what he left you was better than anything you could have asked for. He wrote you a letter, expressing his love for you. He talks about how you hold a very special place in his life and his heart and how he is grateful for you every day. The note itself was touching and it made you tear up, but the gesture meant just as much. He had been the hardest nut to crack amongst all three of them. Jake was quicker than him to open up, which surprised you.

Marc had been very closed off, emotionally, but you understood. You had been very patient with him, not wanting to pressure him and push him away. So, you were determined to let him go at his own pace. This eventually started taking a bit of a toll on your relationship and you voiced that concern to him. Your gentleness and understanding was enough for him to feel comfortable to start to make the effort. He speaks about this in his letter, saying you help him be more in touch with his feelings and not just shoving them deep down inside and shutting everyone out.

 Through your tears you start to chuckle as you eye the homemade “coupons” that accompanied his letter. They ranged from offering a massage, a cuddle session, trip to the farmers market, picnics, and a few other sweet offers. These are all things he would more than happily do with you anytime you asked but the gesture was appreciated.

 As you go to grab a plate, your eye lands on a small black box that sits next to the teddy bear and orchid. Feeling like you already got more than you could've hoped for, you reach for the box hesitantly. You can tell it's jewelry, which isn’t your typical type of gift. You prefer just spending quality time with your boys. When you open the box, you let out a small gasp. It is a simple but beautifully delicate moon pendant on a thin gold chain. The box is engraved with, “To the moon and back”. Tears, yet again, threaten to spill from your eyes. You immediately put it on, and you feel so full of love, even in their absence.

 As you begin eating, you open the card they got you. It had a sweet inscription, “Sorry we can’t be here to shower you with love like you deserve, but we’ll make it up to you when we return.” It's very sweet but what catches your eye is what's written on the bottom of the card. The boys left their own personal 'P.S' and you giggle as you read each one.

P.S. “give that cute butt a squeeze for me” -Steven

P.S.S “and a slap from me"- Marc

P.S.S "and a bite from me…oh wait…guess I'll just have to do it myself *wink*”-Jake

 You’re still missing them terribly, but you’re grateful to have their sweet words and gestures to keep your heart full until they come home.

What Good Girls Get

Pairing: Switch! Marc Spector x Sub!reader x Dom!Layla El-Faouly

Summary: While Layla is away, Marc wants to play. Being the good girl you are, you reject his advances and she rewards you while Marc is left to face the consequences.

Warnings: Dom/ Sub dynamics, polyamory, punishment, brat!marc, dirty talk, praise kink, degradation, rough sex, sex toys, strap-ons, squirting, oral(f) receiving, oral(m) receiving, pet names, fingering, begging, spitting, slapping, aftercare, cuddles(Let me know if I missed anything:))

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: This is only my second fic so I'm still working on getting better at exposition and stuff but I'm actually really proud of the smut and dialogue in this one. As always, feedback is welcome and encouraged. Enjoy!!

"We shouldn't. Layla told us we can't fool around while she's gone." you whine as you lay on the bed, Marc hovering above you. His face is buried in your neck while he plants sloppy kisses across your skin. You do your best to stand your ground but make no move to try and get him off you.

"Marc, I'm serious. Did you see the look in her eyes? She really meant it. I don't know about you, but I don't want to get on her bad side. We just got off punishment for the kitchen incident." It was quite a punishment too, but to be honest you deserved it. A few days ago, Layla had gone out to get dinner while Marc graciously offered to stay behind and help you finish preparing the dessert you were making for your friend's birthday. His help soon turned into a distraction as he started grabbing at you and pulling you against him, despite your determination to focus on the task at hand.

It started with Marc innocently feeding you a few of the strawberries you were cutting up and by the time Layla returned he had you on your knees, his dick covered in whipped cream, and you eagerly cleaning it off with your tongue. She had forbidden you two to touch yourselves or one another for the rest of the week as punishment and didn't let either of you out of her sight. She knew that would lead to more trouble.

That's why when she had been called to attend an event that would require her to stay across town overnight, she was hesitant. If it were just you, she wouldn't have worried. You're always on your best behavior. Unless Marc is there. He's always the instigator. You can count on one hand all the times you've been punished for something that didn't involve Marc. You craved Layla's approval, needed her to be proud of you. Marc made that incredibly difficult, though. Despite your better judgement, you almost always gave in. He had this hold over you that made him impossible to resist. Especially when Layla isn't there and you miss her.

Marc misses her desperately when she's gone as well, and that's part of the reason he acts out. It also doesn’t help that he is a brat through and through. For him, all the rules fly out the window the moment she steps out the door. He loves to rile her up. Lately he's been pushing his luck and punishments have been getting increasingly severe. Instead of turning soft at the end like Layla has a habit of doing, especially when it comes to you, she's started implementing 'no touching rules', ruined orgasms, edging with no release, withholding pleasure, etc. He also just can't help himself when he gets you all alone. It's like a switch flips in his brain and he just wants to pounce on you. Make you misbehave like he does. He knows you're Layla's good girl and he loves to see you turn into a dirty little slut for him.

"C'mon, it's not like she just ran out to the store, she won't be home until tomorrow. There's no way she'll find out." He continues to kiss down your neck and palms at your chest, making you arch your back.

"Yes, she will. I don't know how she does it, but she can always tell."

"That's because you can't lie to save your life, baby. You know, you really need to work on your poker face." he jests, and you shoot him a glare. But you can't help the small smile that forms on your face because you know he's right. If you're ever hiding something, you distance yourself from Layla, unable to even look her in the eyes. When she finally makes you, whatever you're hiding comes spilling out of you, completely out of your control. And if it had something to do with Marc, which is usually the case, he gets in trouble as well. It's detrimental to you both.

" You really don't want to?" Marc asks. He gives you puppy dog eyes, pulling out all the stops to try and get you to give in.

"Of course, I do." You play with the hem of his shirt, trying to ignore the way you feel his bulge against your thigh.

"I just really don't want to disobey her. We don't have to wait too long; she'll be back tomorrow. And who knows, maybe she'll even reward us for being good. It's been a while." You offer, trying to convince not only him but yourself to resist the temptation.

"It's been a while for me. She rewards you all the time. It's not fair." He pouts and pinches your sides, making you giggle.

"That's because you actually have to behave for that to happen, dummy. You just have to learn to follow the rules. And tonight is the perfect opportunity to try it out." you stroke his hair reassuringly. It would do him some good to practice some restraint.

"I'll try." he says, with absolutely zero sincerity in his voice.

"How about we go watch a movie instead? She never said we couldn't cuddle." He nods, smiling at you innocently enough to convince you he has given up. You cup his face and pull it to yours, and you plant a soft kiss on the tip of his nose. He stands, helps you up, and you both head to the living room.

Marc manages to keep his hands to himself through most of the film. He has you held against him, fitting snuggly in his side. You rest your head on his shoulder, enjoying the safe and warm feeling he provides. You even start to doze off, but awaken when Marc shifts, telling you he's heading to the bathroom. In his absence, you lay your head down on the cushion. Rolling over on your stomach, you feel yourself succumb to the drowsiness again. A few minutes later, you are startled awake when you feel the couch dip, and a weight settle on your backside. You curiously turn your head to find Marc straddled across your thighs. You try to wriggle away, but he puts his full weight on your back and effectively stops you. He starts kissing and licking down the back of your neck.

“Marc, you were doing so well. Let’s just go to bed.” you plead.

“I'd love to take you to bed.” he responds, then starts softly nipping at your skin.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” You feel him grin against you and it sends tingles across your skin.

“C'mon it’s not like I'm going to tell. And you’ll have until tomorrow evening to get yourself together enough to face Layla. You can keep one little secret, can’t you?” You are already putty in his hands and let wanton moans fall from your lips at the warmth of his mouth on your skin and his hands grabbing at your sides.

“I want to so bad. I just… I wanna be a good girl.” you whine.

"Well, it's nice to know one of you respects me.” Layla chimes in, and you both jump, startled by her surprise entrance. Neither of you had heard her come in. You freeze, and so does the man above you. A feeling of dread falls over you but is overtaken by a feeling of delight when your eyes land on your beautiful girlfriend. She’s still wearing the outfit she wore to the event, and she looks breathtaking.

"I managed to find a way to come home early to the loves of my life and this is what I find. Did I not make myself clear before I left?" She scolds, but there is a slight playfulness to her tone.

Marc, still refusing to look at her, lifts himself into a sitting position. You glance back at him and see the look of contemplation on his face. He could play this one of two ways. He could apologize profusely and get on his hands and knees begging for forgiveness, or he could stand his ground and see how far he can push his luck. Being the brat he is, he obviously chooses the latter. Not even bothering to answer her, he flips you over and Layla rounds the coffee table to stand in front of you both. He moves his eyes to hers as he starts grabbing at you and sliding your shirt up, exposing your breasts. Layla’s silence is deadly, yet the look on her face is eerily calm.

He grabs your bare chest and starts tweaking your nipples, and you whimper at the sensation. You don’t want to upset her, but it just feels so good. You rub your thighs together trying to relieve some of the pressure building in your core.

Neither of your partners notice as both sets of eyes are locked in a stare, waiting to see what the other will do next. The mischievous grin on Marc's face makes you nervous. You know he’s playing with fire and isn’t considering the consequences. But as always, his behavior manages to stoke the flames in the pit of your stomach. You don’t know what it is, the thought of testing Layla's patience yourself never crosses your mind. But seeing her reaction when Marc does it makes you want him to keep going, even though you know he’ll pay for it later.

You grab Marc’s wrists, not even sure if it’s to stop him or urge him on and you shoot Layla a pleading look, silently begging her to do something. Marc finally looks away as he brings his mouth down to one of your breasts. He latches onto your nipple and rolls it between his teeth. You let out a squeal and squeeze your eyes shut.

“Do you want him to stop?” You don’t even hear what Layla says as Marc's other hand travels down your stomach and lands on your clothed mound.

“Look at me, angel. I asked you a question. Do you want Marc to stop?” Trying to steady your voice as his fingers slip into your underwear, dragging up and down your wet folds, you whimper, “It feels good but…but I don’t want to disobey you.” She gives you a soft smile and wears a proud look on her face, causing a warmth to bloom in your chest. She walks towards you and bends down so her face is level with yours.

As she starts petting your hair she coos, “Of course you don’t. Because you’re my good girl, aren’t you?” you preen at her words. No matter how good Marc’s touch makes you feel, nothing compares to Layla's praise. With a newfound strength and determination to prove her right, you push Marc’s hand out of your pants and shove his face away. He watches you cover your chest, making it impossible for him to continue, and he huffs.

He sits up and contemplates his next move. He was really banking on you giving in and being able to test your girlfriend's patience together. Even when he's facing punishment himself, he loves seeing you endure one too. Seeing Layla's little angel get in trouble turns him on in a way he can’t describe. But it looks like you had more willpower than he thought, and he’ll be taking this one on his own.

As a last-ditch effort, he blurts out “She started it.” You gasp, knowing that’s a bold-faced lie.

He continues, “She was on me the moment you walked out the door. But you know how irresistible she is when she begs, I couldn’t help it. I’m just doing what you would’ve done.” He leers back at her, trying to stand firm. Layla sighs, not believing him for a second. She's getting frustrated. As much as she hates it when you two break the rules, she hates when you lie about it even more. She usually lets you off easier if you come forward and tell her what really happened. You always do but Marc has the habit of dodging the truth until she drags it out of him. It’s a nasty habit that she’s determined to break, and now is the perfect opportunity.

“He’s lying! He was trying to fuck me all night! I told him you’d be mad, but he wouldn’t listen.” You match the glare he shoots you, and he grabs your thigh firmly in warning, not appreciating the outburst. But you weren’t going to roll over on this one. You had worked really hard to finally find the strength to not give in for once and you’d be damned if you went down for this with him. You want your reward for being a good girl and you aren’t going to let him ruin that.

“You believe me don’t you, Lay?” You look up at her through your lashes and give her the sweetest look you can muster up. The nickname brings a smile to her face, and she replies, “Of course I do, baby.”

“But” Marc starts, and Layla raises her brow at him, daring him to keep testing her patience. He backs down immediately, hanging his head in defeat.

“Go lay on the bed sweetheart.” She instructs and leans down, connecting her mouth with yours. Marc, enjoying the show, subconsciously starts stroking your thigh but she is quick to swat his hand away. “You, go stand at the foot of the bed. And keep your hands to yourself.” she commands, and he follows you into the bedroom, dragging his feet.

He stands in front of you now, arms crossed in annoyance, and you smirk at him. “Thanks a lot.” he sneers.

“Hey, I said to be patient and we’d get rewarded. Maybe this will teach you a lesson.” you say smugly, and he rolls his eyes.

Layla enters, grabbing the chair from the desk and placing it in front of the bed. She makes Marc strip. She then ties up his hands and orders him to sit but leaves him unrestrained otherwise. She removes her jacket and proceeds to strip you, softly caressing your sides as she does, and your skin heats up under her touch. Shifting you, she lays you at the end of the bed, parallel to the headboard, and gives Marc a full view of her body and yours. Normally he'd be thankful but under these circumstances it's torturous.

She makes her way down your body, nipping and sucking at your skin. She's always thorough, taking the time to admire every inch of you. After leaving your stomach and thighs covered in love bites, and running her tongue over your marked skin, she buries her head between your thighs. She's gentle and diligent but she doesn't rush. Doesn't eat you out in a frenzy like Marc tends to do. She knows your body better than you do and knows just what to do to have you fall apart on her tongue.

She has to hold your waist down as you writhe on the bed. Your sultry moans and desperate cries have Marc involuntarily bucking his hips into the air, begging for relief. Before you know it, she has you cumming hard and you grind your hips against her mouth as she sucks on your clit, helping you ride the waves of pleasure. Giving you a second to catch your breath, she then positions you on the edge of the bed, exposing you to Marc, and takes her place behind you. She wraps her legs around yours and uses them to spread your thighs. Her movements begin slow, like before, and she starts by gently circle your clit with her fingers. The torturous speed has you crying out for more. Wanting to give you whatever your heart desires, she dips her fingers into you. They slip in easily, and each delicious drag of her digits against your walls has you bucking your hips against her hand.

Your arousal starts to form a ring around her fingers and drips onto the floor. The sight has Marc falling to his knees in front of you, face nearing your center. Layla gives him a warning look, but she can feel you getting close, so she doesn’t want to stop. Then she gets an idea. She pushes faster against that sweet spot inside you and matches that rhythm as she starts rubbing your swollen bud. Mesmerized by the sight, Marc leans his head against your thigh.

“No touching.” Layla commands and he nods. He doesn’t move any closer, practicing more restraint than he ever has in his life. She starts nipping at that spot under your ear and it has you squirming. You feel that familiar pressure building that you didn’t feel with your previous climax and smile, realizing what’s about to happen, and your whole body tenses. “I'm cumming” is all you can say before you start spasming and you explode all over his face. Marc flinches slightly at the unexpected splash of your arousal. It just keeps streaming out of you and he quickly opens his mouth wide, groaning as your sweet nectar coats his tongue. He gives Layla a pleading look, and she knows what he wants.

“You can clean off her thighs.” she says, loving the hungry look on his face. He laps at your drenched thighs and savors the taste that he's been dying for all night. You let out a satisfied purr and you eyes fall closed, feeling soothed by the warmth of his tongue. When he's finished, he takes a moment and just stares at your sex. Before he can stop himself, he lurches forward to indulge in your arousal from the source. Before he can reach you, though, Layla yanks his head back by his hair, clicking her tongue at him.

“Still don’t want to listen, huh?” She moves from behind you and drags him back to the chair. You already miss her warmth, but your excitement grows as she goes to open the trunk you keep on the corner of the room and pulls out some rope and a harness with the familiar pink silicone attached to the base. Your heart starts beating faster and you bite your lip, thrumming with excitement at what’s coming next. She inches the chair closer to the bed, and Marc is now just inches away. She ties him to the chair now, ignoring his grumbling. With her guidance, you are now on your hands and knees, head halfway off the end of the bed, now face to face with Marc. As Layla puts on the strap-on, you can’t help but smile at the pout on his face. You've never seen him this frustrated before and you would feel bad for him if it didn't turn you on so much.

Your girlfriend situates herself behind you, kissing up your spine, and you pull her up so her mouth meets yours and you moan at the saccharine taste of her. When she breaks the connection, her mouth finds your ear and she whispers, “You’re doing so good for me. My obedient girl.” The comment makes your heart swell. You hum, looking her in the eyes, and whisper “I love you.” She nuzzles her face against yours she affectionately replies, “I love you too, angel."

She sits back onto her haunches and rubs the silicone up and down your folds, each flick against your clit making your breath hitch. As she slides the length in to the hilt, you cry out and she sets a maddeningly slow pace. You're about to beg for more, but she already knows what you want. She slowly pulls out to the tip and then slams back into you, and begins giving you those hard, deep thrusts you crave.

After a while, your arms give out underneath you and you fall onto your chest. The arch of your back gives her a delicious view of your ass and she gives it a quick slap. You whine for more and she continues, landing multiple hits to both your cheeks and thighs and you squeal in delight. When she's done, she grabs firmly onto your hip with one hand and the other comes up to settle on the back of your neck and she pulls you back to meet her thrusts.

With your face now just inches away from Marc, you stick your tongue out, unable to resist the temptation to taunt him. It's a pretty juvenile thing to do, you admit, and can’t help the giggle you let out at the sight of the frustration bubbling up inside him, the aggravation showing clear as day on his face. Before you can pull your tongue back in your mouth, he leans forward and spits fast and hard, some landing in your open mouth, and some on your cheek. You gasp, but your surprise quickly morphs into a pathetic whine, loving the taste of him. You drag your tongue over your lips and the surrounding area, trying to get to the spatter that missed your mouth. A satisfied smirk appears on his face, and he mutters, "filthy fucking slut." You whine at his words, and it has you clenching down onto the silicone filling your cunt.

Layla, however, was not amused. She shoves your face down onto the mattress and leans over you to deliver a harsh slap to Marc's face. He moans at the contact, relieved to finally get some sort of stimulation. Before the sting can even settle over his skin, she delivers another. Then, she removes her weight from you and pulls your head up once more.

“That wasn’t very nice, was it baby?” You don’t respond, honestly wishing he'd do it again.

“Oh, you liked it didn’t you, naughty little thing.” You moan at her teasing and look Marc in the eyes, whining, "I want something in my mouth.”

He jolts forward, wanting to break free and give you what you want. An anticipative look crosses his face, and he hopes Layla will make him part of your reward.

“Oh, I'm sorry baby. Here you go.” Determined to keep Marc out of this, Layla hooks her fingers into your mouth. She chuckles at Marc's reaction as she sees his shoulders slump, clearly disappointed. You immediately wrap your lips around her digits and he zeros in on your movements, imagining it was him in your mouth instead.

Her thrusts become more brutal, each one knocking the thoughts right out of your head. You feel yourself mentally slipping, unable to form even one coherent sentence. All you can do is babble nonsense, hoping she understands how close you are to your release. Layla drags your head up by your hair and you face Marc again, mouth open and drooling down into the sheets. He's seen that look before and he knows you're right on the edge. He looks you right in the eyes and whispers, " Do it, baby. Cum." He's not even sure you heard him, but your eyes immediately roll to the back of your head, and you start shaking. Layla holds you against her, knowing you love the closeness and skin to skin contact when you fall apart. All you can feel is white hot pleasure and you're crying out, mouth open in a silent scream as you gasp for breath. You don't even have time to come down from your climax before Layla starts pounding into you again, hard and fast. She holds you down, making you cum again and again.

When she can tell you've had enough, she stops her movements but stays planted inside you to the hilt, knowing you don’t want to feel empty just yet. She runs her hands all over you, trying to bring you back to her and help steady your breathing. You can't tell how much time has passed but when you're finally conscious of your surroundings again, the first thing you see is Marc's pitiful form in front of you. You want to help him. His angry red tip looks painful, and you actually start to feel bad for him. You somehow muster up the strength to reach an arm out to him and he looks at you lovingly. You were just fucked into oblivion, but you still want to make sure he feels good. It makes him smile and he desperately wants to pull you into his arms.

“Can I touch him, please?” You look over your shoulder and give Layla your best puppy dog eyes, hoping she'll cave like she always does when you look at her like that. She arches her brow at you and asks, “Am I not enough, sweetheart?”

“No! You are!” you reply frantically, immediately regretting your words. You continue, “Just look at him. So pathetic. I think he's learned his lesson.” He's been waiting so long and he’s so frustrated he can feel tears starting to form in his eyes. “Please. I'm so sorry. I'll behave. I promise." he begs.

She sighs, feeling conflicted. She knows she has pushed him hard but he did deserve it. She feels herself turning soft at that needy look in his eyes and concedes. She knows what he really wants. He wants one of you to ride him until he sees stars. This is still a punishment, however, so she decides to give him another form of relief.

Leaning down and kissing the crown on your head, she checks in, making sure you're not too overworked. She really gave it to you hard and wants to make sure you don't overdo it. "Are you sure? You look a little worn out." You're touched by her concern but nod eagerly.

"Go ahead baby. He can have your mouth." The sigh of relief that leaves Marc makes you want to laugh. You turn back to him, and your outstretched hand moves to caress his face. He leans into your touch, and kisses at the palm of your hand. You slide it down off his face and Layla helps you to your knees. He makes the most pitiful noise when you take him into your mouth, finally feeling the relief he's waited hours for. You have him cumming in just a few minutes and he thanks both of you profusely.

You're all exhausted, but that doesn't stop them from loving on you. Layla goes to draw a bath while Marc picks you up off the floor, placing soft kisses all over your face. He carries you to the bathroom, where Layla begins to do the same as Marc places you in the tub. The feeling of their love wraps you like a warm blanket, relaxing your mind as the bath water relaxes your tired muscles. You're half asleep when you all finally pile into bed, cuddling up close to one another. Layla lays you in the middle of them the middle and they wrap their arms around you and each other. Not having the energy tonight, you and Marc will be sure to give her a proper 'welcome home' in the morning.

FOR SCIENCE | the project proposal

In which the Moon Knight alter system presents a unique opportunity to settle the nature versus nurture debate, once and for all...

Steven Grant/Marc Spector/Jake Lockley x afab!psychologist!reader (3.2k+)

RATING: EXPLICIT (18+, mdni) WARNINGS: descriptions of mental illness, depictions of DID, fetishization of mental disorders (DID), potentially unethical scientific practices, no smut in this part NOTES: again, please don’t read this if you’re concerned at all with research ethics, as this is NOT a good demonstration of scientific procedures and studies. DISCLAIMER: although i’m incredibly knowledgeable about psychology, i am NOT a professional. all psychoanalyses made throughout the course of this storyline are entirely my own, based on my own interpretations of the characters. in a similar vein, i am also not an expert on DID specifically (although i am well-read on mental disorders and diagnoses), so i apologize for any incorrect terminology or misrepresentation. don’t hesitate to call me out if i say something wrong!

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Marc Spector’s psyche was a psychologist’s wet dream.

Three distinct personalities, completely separated from each other, all occupying the same host body. At one point, all mutually unaware of the others, but now living together in solidarity and (relative) cooperation.

Meeting Marc Spector was a happy accident—but meeting a man with a clearcut case of Dissociative Identity Disorder as a Professor of Psychology? Now that was just pure, dumb luck.

You had met Steven Grant first. You’d run into him at the British Museum during a university-sponsored visit. Your interaction had been brief, but it was memorable for you nonetheless—there was just something about those soft brown eyes and dopey, shy smile that melted your heart.

Imagine your surprise when you accidentally ran into that same man on the bus, only for him to introduce himself as Marc with a midwestern American accent and a cold, calculated gleam in his stare. He was forward and confident—very much unlike your previous encounter with him. When you called his bluff and swore you’d interacted with him under the guise of Steven, he pulled you aside and gently tried to justify the confusion.

“It’s—I have this...condition. It’s—have you ever heard of Dissociative Identity Disorder?”

You had tried hard to fight your smile.

“Yeah, I’m familiar with it.”

It was only revealed to him—after his winded and lengthy explanation—that you had a doctorate degree in clinical psychology and specialized in mental disorders.

Steven’s curiosity was piqued, and Marc silently hoped you’d be able to shed some insight into the functioning of his fragmented mind. You quickly established an easy friendship, somewhat reminiscent of a relationship between a client and therapist—although you knew and cared for each other on a much deeper and more intimate level.

Several months later, you were finally introduced to the most elusive alter within the system—Jake Lockley.

You began to spend the majority of your free time with the men—all three of them seemed to be relatively taken with you. Steven was sweet, Marc was shrewd, and Jake was steadfast. It was sometimes difficult to conceptualize that they all shared the same physical body with how differently they behaved.

It hadn’t started as a project—genuinely, truly, it hadn’t. It wasn’t your intention to be so captivated by those big brown puppy-dog eyes or the softness within his smile. And the feelings you had for him—for all of them—were real, and raw, and indisputable. You would never, ever, ever do anything to make them feel uncomfortable or jeopardize your relationships in any way.

Which is why this was such a bad fucking idea.

Your nails drummed against the side of your porcelain coffee mug as your nervously chewed on the cap of your red pen, making a futile attempt to focus on grading the research report in front of you, but your attention was clearly elsewhere. Your eyes kept darting to the clock on the wall across from you, watching the second hand tick away slowly. The coffee shop was playing gentle soothing acoustic songs, the smell of cinnamon lingering in the air, but even the coziness wasn’t enough to shake your nerves.

“Hey, there, Doc.”

Your head perked at the sound of a familiar voice, a warming hand clapping your shoulder as Marc Spector walked to the other side of the small table and sat down across from you. You groaned at his greeting, pulling your reading glasses from your nose and setting them on the table in front of you.

“Marc, I swear, if you call me that one more time, I’ll—”

He threw his hands up in mock surrender, although he was smirking slyly at you.

“Alright, alright, jeez—what’s got you wound up so tight, huh?”

He reached for the paper on top of the stack in front of you, reading off the title aloud.

“An In-depth Investigation Into the Underlying Psychological Causes of Erectile Dysfunction in Men Under 50.”

His face contorted in a look of disgust.

“Jesus—that’s gotta be the most boring fuckin’ thing I’ve ever heard.”

You watched as his eyes fluttered briefly, his posture sinking and his features softening. When his eyes regained focus, he shook his head, huffing.

“Bugger off, Marc—I think it sounds plenty interestin’.”

Steven smiled graciously, offering the packet back to you. You accepted it tiredly, throwing it atop the pile of what seemed like an endless supply of mediocre student submissions that had yet to be graded.

“Thanks, Steven, but Marc’s right—my brain’s fried. I swear, if I have to read another shitty case study about men whose dicks don’t work, I’ll gouge my eyes out.”

The man chuckled at your confession as you shoved the stack of papers into your briefcase clumsily, snapping it shut without a second thought and letting it fall back to the floor beside your table. You carefully picked up your mug and took a long, slow sip—your coffee was barely lukewarm, at this point, as you’d be sitting at the cafe for hours, working quietly as you patiently waited on your friend’s arrival.

Although Steven was blissfully oblivious, Marc was observant. His consciousness pushed to the front, studying you carefully—your white-knuckled grip against your cup, your shifty eyes that were looking everywhere but at him, the tension in your shoulders and nervous bouncing of your leg.

“Alright—what’s wrong?”

Your gaze snapped over to him where he was sat with arms crossed over his chest, eyes narrowed in suspicion. You tried to force a smile in an effort to cover up your uncertainty.

“Nothing’s wrong, Marc. Promise.”

You held his gaze intently, trying to convince him with your half-hearted response. His stare didn't waver, and after a few brief moments, you had to look down, overwhelmed with the intensity of his scrutiny.

“Alright, let’s try that again. Y/N—what’s wrong?”

You let a long, exasperated sigh, running a tired hand down your face. This had been weighing on you for a few days, at this point, and you still weren’t sure if you could handle the emotional labor this conversation would require.

“It’s true, nothing’s—nothing’s wrong, per se, I just—I just need to talk to you. I’ve—I have this idea—”

“Like—a work-related, science-y idea? You want Steven? Or—I can try my best to help, but sometimes you get excited and start talking really fast and I can’t keep up, but—”

“No, Marc, it’s not—I mean, it’s not really science-y, but like, also—it kinda is? I don’t know how to explain it, but I really need to—”

“I mean, whatever it is, you seem pretty worried about it, so obviously it’s important, and—and I just wanna make sure we’re giving you whatever response you need, or, at least—”

“Jesus, Marc, if you’d let me finish.”

You clipped, and his jaw snapped shut instantaneously, somewhat taken aback by your outburst. You were normally so controlled, practiced with your expressions, so seeing any sign of emotional imbalance was startling.

Guilt immediately flooded your stomach after you lashed out—you buried your head in your hands, taking a few slow, deliberate breaths in an attempt to quell your rapid heartbeat.

“Shit—sorry, I didn’t mean—this is just... I’m not sure how to go about this.”

You felt the featherlight brush of calloused fingertips against your forearm, coaxing your face away from your palms. When you finally lifted your head, Steven had returned, his eyes soft and reassuring. He pulled your hand into his, squeezing briefly before rubbing his thumb comfortingly across your knuckles.

“S’alright, love, truly. Take as much time as you need, and—and if there’s anythin’ you need from us, it’s yours. Just—whenever you’re ready.”

You tried to ignore the butterflies flitting in your stomach at Steven’s gentle promise. You inhaled once more, before finding his eyes.

“This—I need to talk to all three of you. Can you—are you in a place where you can all be co-conscious?”

Steven’s lips turned up at the corners at your thoughtfulness. He received verbal responses from both Marc and Jake—a confirmation that they were both actively listening.

“’Course. We’re all here. Is—do you have a preference, as to who you’d like to speak with?”

You returned his smile, offering a slight squeeze to his hand.

“I mean—since you’re already fronting, might as well stay, huh?”

Steven blushed, trying to fight the giddiness that came from your validation. He quickly steeled himself, reminding himself that you were struggling to open up to him.

“Alright. Whenever you’re ready, then, yeah?”

You cautiously pulled your hand away from his, mostly to keep yourself grounded and get out what you needed before you second-guessed yourself.

“So.”

You cautiously began.

“I had this—this idea. And it’s—it sounds crazy, and I get that, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it, especially because—well, I just feel like this is something that could have damning effects on the entire field of psychology, with both practical and theoretical applications, but—that doesn’t mean—I don’t want you to feel obligated by any means to agree, or—or to feel pressured into anything, and I definitely don’t want you to think that—that I’m using you, because that couldn’t be farther from the truth, I swear, and—”

“Y/N.”

His tone was soft, a quiet interruption from your rambling, and your eyes widened in concern. However, he offered you a reassuring nod.

“Just tell us what it is, yeah? We’ll go from there.”

You nodded slowly, squeezing your eyes shut, before beginning again.

“There’s this huge debate in psychology. It’s pretty much the basis of a lot of our research—the whole nature versus nurture debate. Basically, it’s all about how much of our personalities can be attributed to genetics versus how much can be attributed to our life experiences.”

Steven was listening intently, leaning forward into your words.

“Well, it’s—it’s a concept that’s really difficult to research, because, well, we don’t really have a basis of comparison. The best thing we have to go off of is when identical twins get separated at birth and grow up in different places. Or, at least—that was the best we’ve had up until this point. Does—does that make sense?”

“Yes.”

He assured, nodding in acknowledgement. You only hoped the other two alters were keeping up.

“So, basically what I’m getting at here, is, well—you, and—and all three of you, really—Marc and Jake, you guys provide a really, really unique opportunity, because, well—you share a body. So, physiologically, you’re completely identical. The only thing that’s different about you is who you are, so—your life experiences and memories and things like that. You’re—you’re like the perfect example of how our experiences shape our beings.”

“Right. Right.”

Steven followed your train of thought carefully, brows furrowed. You took a deep breath. This is the part you were dreading.

“So, I had this thought... you three boys are so vastly different from each other. Like, really, really different, and—and you each have your own preferences, things like that, but—but you still have the same body. In my Abnormal Psych course, we’re studying intimacy and desire right now. So—so what I was wondering was about your—your sexuality. Like, to what extent are your sexual preferences due to your biology rather than your cognition.”

Steven blew out a shaky exhale, though he tried not to appear perturbed by your words. His mind was silent—he could feel the intense focus from his alters, now hanging on your every word.

“What if there was a way, to, you know, test, how different your sexual preferences are? And to test and see how your arousal is different, or the same, based on locations of stimulation and things like that?”

Bloody fucking hell.

In a split second, Marc was fronting, Steven slipping back into the headspace, completely overwhelmed and unsure of what to say or how to react. You noticed the abrupt switch, and after recovering from the brief whiplash, you felt panic spur within you. You’d scared him away.

Marc’s brows were furrowed, like he wasn’t completely picking up what you were putting down.

“So, what exactly are you suggesting?”

You closed your eyes.

“I guess—what I’m suggesting is that you—you help me research. You—you let me study you, each of you, independently, to see—to see how different your sexual behaviors and preferences are.”

“Like—like a questionnaire, or something?”

Marc questioned, but when you shook your head, eyes casting downwards, it suddenly dawned on him. Steven’s departure made sense. Everything made sense.

“So... so lemme get this straight.”

Marc made a stopping motion with his hand, gesturing for you to pause.

“You—want to have sex, with me—with us... for science?”

“Well, I mean, it—it doesn’t necessarily have to be with me, I could—we could find someone else, if you’re more comfortable, and—and I could just observe, or—”

“So you’re a voyeur, now?”

You jolted and Marc’s vulgarity, eyes quickly scanning your surroundings to make sure no one was listening in on your conversation. Luckily, the cafe was relatively deserted at that point.

“No! No, that’s not—I’m just saying, with what I’m suggesting, it—it would make the most sense for the researcher to—to be more hands-on, but that’s...”

Your voice trailed off, staring at a speck of grime on the table, trying to calm the rapid racing of your heart.

Yeah, seems she's interested in being real hands-on, huh?

Marc struggled to hold in his snickering at Jake’s internal dialogue, but after seeing the worry that was clinging to your features, his sympathy prevailed.

“Y/N.”

He spoke calmly, cool and collected. Your eyes flitted to his, where he was watching you intently. However, you could see the ghost of a smirk on his face.

“So what you’re saying is... you want to have sex, with me, for science.”

He reiterated, and you opened your mouth to protest, to defend your credibility, to rationalize your bizarre proposition, but instead, a long sigh escaped you as you admitted defeat.

“Yes. Yeah. That’s…exactly what I’m saying.”

A brief silence stagnated between you, and there was a tightness forming in your chest as every worst-case-scenario began coming to fruition in the forefront of your mind.

“I’m—I’m so sorry, Marc, I didn’t mean to overstep, or—or—”

“What, exactly, would this entail?”

Marc inquired, unable to deny his curiosity. You blinked once, then twice, processing his words.

“So—so you’ll do it?”

He held up his hands as if to tell you to slow down.

“Just—hang on. Hypothetically speaking, what—what would this even look like?”

Excitement zipped up your skin as you reached down into your briefcase, pulling out a manila folder full of several sheets of scribbled ideas and disorganized thoughts.

“Well, see, I’ve been brainstorming—”

Christ, she has the whole thing planned.

Steven’s voice sounded faint, breathless, winded. Marc ignored him, instead focusing in on your sudden enthusiasm.

“—and I came up with a research plan. So, the way it would go—we’d meet for the weekend, three weekends in a row, with a week break in between. Each alter will have their own weekend to be the subject of study. Day one, we—well, you would lead the sexual encounter. Do what you want, showcase what sex usually looks like for you, what you like, what you don’t like—”

Marc's mind was reeling. He shamelessly attempted to ignore the effect your words were having on him. Do what you want. What you like. To you.

You were still talking.

“—and then the second day, you’d let me take the reins. I’ll psychoanalyze your behavior from the first day, and synthesize that with all the information I already have about you, and I’ll try to—well, I don’t wanna say push your buttons, but—basically, as shitty as it sounds, I’d be trying to bring to light any vulnerabilities, prod at the soft spots, stuff like that. Try to see if I can find what it is each of you seeks out through sexual intimacy. Does that make sense?”

Marc shook his head, lost in thought, but he blinked away the fog in his mind and quickly corrected himself with a nod.

“Yeah, I mean—I think so? Would this—what would you do, once it’s over? Like, what’s the point?”

“It would never be published, or shared with anyone else, I can promise you that. It’s—it would mostly be for me. Kind of like a passion project, I guess. I’ve been thinking about it for awhile, and, well...”

Passion project?

What’s she mean, ‘she’s been thinkin’ about it for awhile?’

Marc almost shushed the voices in his head aloud, trying to clear his head of static so he could properly take all of this in.

He looked up at you, and you were staring up at him with eye round and hopeful, almost reverent as they passed over him. He blew out a slow breath.

“Do... can we have time to think about it? To talk about it?”

The fuck do you mean, jefe? I’m ready to start right now.

You nodded encouragingly, although Marc caught the brief glimmer of disappointment in your eyes.

“Of course, Marc. Take as long as you need. And—please don’t feel obligated to say yes. I mean it. I know—I know this kind of came out of left field, and—and I don’t want to violate any boundaries, or—or jeopardize our friendship in any way, I would never want to do anything to make you uncomfortable, just—”

You stalled your tangent with a slow breath.

“Just let me know, okay?”

Marc nodded at you, smiling softly and contemplatively as he rose from the table and exited the coffeeshop, leaving you to stew in anticipation and something adjacent to remorse.

The call came in the next day, at 11am on the dot. It was Steven on the other line when you answered, walking out of the lecture hall doors as your class adjourned.

“Hello?”

You answered.

“Mornin’, Y/N. It’s, uh—It’s Steven.”

You giggled.

“I know, Steven. I have caller ID, and believe it or not, your accent is kind of distinct.”

You could practically hear him blush on the other end.

“Right. Yeah. Well, I just—I was callin’ to, uh—Christ, of course they made me do this, I can’t even—”

“Steven.”

You interrupted gently, your calmness soothing his nerves to some degree. He took a breath.

“Sorry. I—We talked it over. The whole—your experiment. And—and I think we’re all up for it.”

You froze in your tracks, students continuing to rush around on either side of you in the hallway. Your hand was shaking.

“I—really? Are you sure?”

“Well, no—I mean, yeah, I just—of course, I’ve got some reservations, but, I mean—it’s for science, yeah?"

A smile was creeping up your face.

“Yeah. Yes. For—for research purposes.”

Yeah, solely research purposes, my ass.

Marc quipped internally, and Steven gulped.

“Right, then. Could we—shall we meet again today, or—whenever, to talk it over a bit more?”

You nodded before realizing he couldn’t see you.

“That’d be perfect. We can meet same time, same place as yesterday?”

He gave a hum of agreement, and you felt suddenly breathless as the reality of the situation began to set in.

“Right. I’ll—I’ll see you then, okay, Steven?”

“Yeah, ‘lright, cheers.”

“And, Steven?”

You called quickly, hoping to catch him before he ended the call.

He hummed in response. You smiled.

“Thank you. Really, thank you.”