#Marcy spector

[terry-perry]

Villain: Seriously, how many of you freaks do I have to fight?

Steven: Oh, I’m the only one that matters. See, you messed with my daughter, and now, I am going to fuck you!

Villain: …

Marc: …

Everyone: …

Jake: Well, this just got interesting.

Marcy: It’s fuck you up, dad.

Steven: Wait, what did I say?

[romanarose]

Misunderstanding

Marc Spector x fem!reader

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Summary: When the boys come home early and see boxes all packed and furniture on the street, Marc jumps to the worst option. Clearly, you're leaving him.

Warnings: PIV sex, wall sex, oral f!recieving, manhandling, rough needy smut but loving and passionate, anxiety attack, Marc's self loathing but reader adores him. Calling Marc all kinda of cute nick names.

Immersability: Reader is fem, afab. Reader can be largly supported against the wall by Marc's strong arms <3

A/N: Commission done for @minigirl87 thank you SOOOOOOO much for your patience!!! Next time I do commissions i need to not do them right before moving. Left me quite behind. Anyway appreciate you so much!

Support creators! Reblog!

2.2k words

********************

Chaos made Marc anxious.

So, that’s why you decided to do spring cleaning while he and the boys were at work, hoping to get most of it done before the boys returned from work. What threw all your plans out of whack was a chance spotting on facebook marketplace. The prettiest furniture you’ve ever seen in your life was for fucking free. The owners were cleaning out the house from their mom who just passed, and just wanted the furniture to go to someone who’d love it like their mom did. And boy did you love it. The style was French Louis XVI. Fucking beautiful. So, you were making room. 

A lot was going to be given away with permission from your boys, and you’d be doing a lot of reorganizing of Steven’s books. A lot of trash, oh my god so much trash. Marc sure did love take out, even if it drove Jakey crazy. Then your old furniture was hauled out into the street for the garbage on tuesday, or some desperate soul. You hadn’t quite gotten to organizing Steven’s books and papers, but the trash was picked up, floors swept and mopped, and the old furniture was out. You needed to pick up your dream furniture, so you hopped into your car.

Steven was elated he got to go home early. It was only an hour, but that’s an hour more with you!!! You loved extra time with you!! There was a spring in his step, happily humming along to some song on Jake’s playlist on their phone. 

Until he saw it.

‘Aye, ¿que es?’ Jak asked, interrupting Steven’s happy thoughts.

Marc. ‘Is that… our furniture?’ 

“Oh my god…” Steven murmurs, slowing his steps. All their things were on the street.

‘She’s leaving us.’

“Oh, will you calm the hell down.” But Steven was a little nervous. He walks up the apartment stairs, ready to find you and get it all sorted out but… you weren’t there. The place looked so bare, so empty… The pictures on the walls were taken down, all the memories together, clothes were half-sorted in the bedroom and sheets off the bed…

You were gone. You didn’t want them anymore.

Marc took the body, pulling out his phone and calling you multiple times, but you went straight to voicemail.

“She’s done with us” Marc groans, backing against the wall. “I knew it was too good to be true.”

‘Mate, you need to calm down’ Steven tried to assure Marc, but he was nervous too.

Marc slid down the wall, beginning to panic. “Not this again…”

Jake and Steven attempted to tell him there’s another reason, logically.

‘She wouldn't just us… leave us’ Jake insisted. ‘She’s not like that. She’d tell us if there was an issue.’

None of this helped calm Marc, and he mentally checked out, sitting against the wall on the floor staring out the window.

That’s how you found Marc, dissociating and mentally checked out when you got home.

“Marcy Marc? Baby? Are you okay?” You toss your keys onto the counter and approach him, but stop when he suddenly jerks towards you like a scared animal.

Marc looks up, eyes wide and mouth agape as he scrambles to stand up. “Holy shit, you’re here…” He mutters, dashing over to you. “Baby, whatever it is, I swear to god I’ll fix it-” Marc hugs you so tightly it knocks the breath out of you with the force of him, strong arms wrapped tightly around you. Normally, you loved his bear hugs, they made you feel safe and oh-so loved, but right now his actions warned you he was upset. You always knew when your man was in distress, even when he tried to hide it. He wasn’t as slick as he thought he was. “Whatever I did, I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry-”

You hug him right back. “Marc, honey, what’s going on? You didn’t do anything wrong.” That you know of, but honestly you couldn’t foresee Marc, Jake or Steven doing anything bad enough for you to be upset about. Only thing would be… Gently, so he knows you aren’t rejecting his affection, you nudge him away so you can look in his eyes. However, you keep hold on his arms. Marc’s love language was physical touch, so you always showed your love to him this way.

“Baby…” You look into his eyes, keeping your tone and facial expressions soft. “Have you heard from Khonshu lately?”

Confusion spreads on Marc’s face, his already large eyes widening. “No! Nonononono is that what this is about? You thought I was with Khonshu again?”

You were confused too. “I didn’t think anything was happening until I came home and you were against the wall. Marc, sweetheart.” You search his face for answers. “Can you just tell me what’s going on? I’m confused.”

He sputters a bit, trying to find the words. “Y-you’re leaving! You’re leaving us…”

You blink at him. “Huh? I’m not leaving you, god Marc, whatever got you this worked up? Sweetie, I’ve never been happier than with you three…”

“The furniture is on the street… Things are packed up… And, and and- the pictures! The pictures, they’re are taken down, our whole life together is off the walls-”

Ah. “Marc…” You realize what happened now. “Oh sweetheart, sweetie pie… I’m not leaving you. I’m doing spring cleaning. Remember, last week we went over what I could give away?”

The recognition slowly starts to spread across his face. “But… the pictures…”

“I took them down to wash the walls.”

“Oh… and the furniture?” It was beginning to click for him. This was all a misunderstanding.

You smile softly. “I found the coolest furniture. Steven will love it.”

He blinked. And again. “So… you don’t hate me?”

Your heart nearly broke at his words. “Oh Marc, no!” You gather him up in your arms again. “My sweet, sweet man I could never!”

You see his lip quiver a bit, but instead of crying Marc crashes his mouth into yours, large hands groping at your body with a fevur, like he couldn't believe you were real, that you were still here, still wanted him.

And he needed you.

“C’mere-” He grunted, gripping your asscheeks and pulling you towards him as he kisses you, mouth claiming yours in desperation.

Instantly you were filled with desire; Marc tended to do that to you. He was so handsome, so kind, so gentle you couldn’t help giving your all to him right away. Marc backed you up against the wall, the hand behind your head preventing you from smacking it against the plaster. He always looked out for you like that. You could feel his hardness as his wide hips ground into you, his plump pressed stomach against yours. You love how he’s softened, still so strong, but the safety of your home and the very idea that he wasn’t on the run and living in storage units… His body felt as safe as his mind did.

Marc’s mouth consumed you, licking into your mouth as his knee rid up between your legs. In loose, thin basketball shorts you felt his thick, manly thighs and sigh and pleasure.

“Marc…” You moan for him, unable to control the sounds of pleasure from escaping your mouth as you work yourself on his body. Hitching a leg up against his side, you cling to Marc for stability as he uses his grip on your ass for leverage, dragging you up and down on him. Marc’s kisses are insatiable, you feel as if he is attempting to breathe you in with heavy pants, kissing your lips and neck. Your face is wet from the open-mouth kisses.

Suddenly, and without warning, just as you are approaching the precipice humping his thigh, Marc pulls away and for a moment you think he got in his own head again, but then you are turned, face pressed against the wall but not painfully. Marc pulls your hips out, bends down to pull down your shorts and fucking picks you up by your pressed together legs to pull the shorts away. If that wasn’t sexy enough, he then kicks apart your ankles forcing your legs open. You aren’t even sure when Marc undid his pants, but before you know it, he is thrusting into your pliant and waiting body.

“M-Marc…” You repeat, his name the only thing on your mind is his name and his cock. Okay and maybe his hand wrapping around your front and snaking up your body. He plays with your grunts, grunting with his breaths hot against your ear and in time to the slamming thrusts of his hips. You brace against the wall, pushing your ass out more to take more of his length inside you.

“Thought I lost you…” He mutters, face tucked into your neck. 

“Never, never Ma- AH!” You cry out when he  squeezes a tit hard, pressing bruises through your shirt. “You-mmmph-you’re stuck with me.”

He pounds your core, rough thrusts mixed with soft kisses. You tilt your head back, desperate for his mouth, his love, his affection yours. He obliges, always knowing what you need and meeting your mouth to sloppily make out with you like horny teenagers. It was needy, it was desperate, it was Marc’s complete and utter relief that he was not going to be left shattered. He filled you over and over and again, the fat tip of his cock pressing up against that beautiful spot inside you. When you came, it was hard, pulsing on his cock again and again and again. Marc wrapped his arm under your middle as your legs began to feel like jell-o. 

“Mine.” He growls, spilling his cum inside you. “Fucking mine. Don’t every fucking scare me like that again.”

You want to tell him you didn’t that he jumped to his own conclusions but you were barely standing when he twirled you around again. Dropping to his knees, Marc looked up at you, large and wet brown eyes gazing at you in adoration. He was beautiful, so fucking beautiful…

“I won’t…” You whisper down to his hopeful face. “I promise. I love you so much.”

With a relieved look on his face, Marc smiles at you and god is it nice to see him smile. “I love you too, baby.” With that, he hitches a leg over his shoulder and dives into your pussy. Between his cum and yours, it’s a mess down there and that’s further evidenced by the absolutely obscene sounds coming from his mouth as he sluuuurped up the evidence of your time together. Marc was eager, eating his own cum out of you while keeping your supported against the wall. You knew he wouldn’t let you fall. His tongue swirled against your clit, making you buck against him so one hand pinned your hips to the wall. He ate like this was his last meal, like his salvation came from your pleasure.

When he sucked on the sensitive nub, you cry out his name and dig your fingers into Marc’s dark curls, keeping him close to you. As if he’d ever leave. You were close again, the whirling swirling feeling deep inside you continuing to build like a twister into a tornado as you chant Marc, Marc, Marc like the repetition of a Rosary. His tongue flicked inside you, one hand keeping you upright against the wall and the other playing with your clit, making you come apart directly into his mouth.

You pull on his hair so hard you worry you’re hurting him but the way Marc shoves his face into you even harder spurs you on. You can hear and feel him moaning into you as he laps up your release, a soft mmmmmm reverbating against your pussy and prolonging it as you ride his face. Your left leg is so tired, so sore, starting to wobble and Marc notices as he finally pulls away. Marc helps you slide down the wall, landing you safely on your bottom.

On his hands and knees, Marc Spector crawls to you, kissing your lips tenderly but you can see his own exhaustion too. Cupping his face in both your hands, you kiss Marc as you lay him down on your naked lap. You’re surprised with how quickly Marc’s full lashes flutter closed, his head resting between the crux of your thigh and stomach.

You play with his hair. He seems so tired, today must’ve taken it out of him. After a whole day of work, coming home to thinking you were gone. You know how anxiety can physically drain you.

“That really scared you, huh?” You say, petting him like a cat. You swear you can hear him pur.

Marc talks soft, sleepy, eyes never opening. “Yeah. Thought I lost you… I can’t do that.”

“I’ll never leave you, sweetie. And I’d certainly never leave like that… But I know how anxiety can be.”

His voice was groggy with sleep, quiet and muttered. “Yeah, it fuck’n sucks.” 

You can’t help but chuckle. “It does, baby, it does. But I’m here, and I ain’t going nowhere. Can’t get rid of me if you tried, Spector.”

He hums constantly, and in another moment, Marc is snoring softly. He’s so cute.

Then, he’s snoring loudly.

Why didn’t Steven and Jake snore? Made no fucking sense.

Sighing, you settle back against the wall and maneuver enough to grab your shorts without waking your sleeping, tuckered out little boyfriend. You pull out your phone, take a few cute pictures (some with flowery or silly snapchat filters) then go play Candy Crush. He needed to rest.

Mostly, because he had a long day and was so so adorable when he was sleeping even if he was loud as all goddamn hell.

But also, you still had several pieces of furniture sitting in your car and there was no way you were going to move all of them yourself.

*************

We love a reader who can take care of an anxious baby <3

Thank you so much for reading!!!! This is my first marc, or any moon knight in a few months. I MISSED HIIIIIIMMMMMMMM

My beloved one <3

MY MOON KNIGHT RETURN IS HERE!!!!!!

I got a dark reader x marc coming up IF I OULD EVER GET A GOOD KNIGHTS SLEEP follow @romana-after-dark for that

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[aceswritingcorner]

Yandere Beginnings

Marc Spector hadn’t expected to see anyone during certain hours of the night. Let alone someone who seemingly walked through the night with ease. Coming back from missions given by Khonsu was never easy- nor was going to them and getting the crap beaten out of you but that’s what was signed up for. Yet- seeing the way you walked against the cracked cement sidewalk to just sit by the fountain that housed coins from lost wishes. 

No. No- He shouldn’t be thinking of stuff like that. 

He still had Layla- there was someone to go back to even if he was afraid of what the god would eventually do. But the way the pale light basked against your eyes, making them shine in such mystifying ways. No. He had someone… 

Steven Grant wasn’t paying much attention when he first heard. 'I’m just saying, there’re supposed to be nine gods on the banner instead of seven-‘ You were right. The banners were wrong but he had never expected to hear it from someone else. 

The bright smile you had offered him before buying the Tawaret plushie had nearly made his heart pause- he could swear his life on it. Maybe there was some way he could see you again… 

Marc had been the one to see you again. Of course, it had to be him. Nothing tended to get past the Avatar of Khonshu much these days. 

'Give me the body.'  "What? No. In case you hadn’t noticed Marcy-Marc, we are on a bus where people can see.“ The words muttered under his breath as he sent a small look to his reflection. 'Just give me the dang body.' "Not a bloody chance in hell. Today’s my day-" 

Words trailing off the tip of his tongue as his eyes gazed at the newest person on the bus. It was his favorite museum-goer. 

'Steven don’t you even fucking think about it!-' Oh ho ho this was definitely going to be a talk for later. 

Jake Lockley had never bothered to get involved in the petty fights and bickering between the other two. There was better things to do than argue over whatever those two pendejos did.  Especially when things were life and death and he wasn’t about to let the god that loomed over their shoulder choose. 

One of the targets got away from his range, the imbécil had to get killed. Not unless he felt like having the damned bird get angry again. 

The scene he had ran into was never something he expected to see. Bloodied knuckles and clothes, chest heaving from the unwarranted fight, you were definitely something interesting. 

"Bueno, jódeme. Eres divertido.” (Well fuck me. You are amusing.)

———-

Khonshu never held himself to the thought of holding an interest to someone. He was the fist of vengeance for crying out loud! He brought justice to those that did wrong with his Avatar! Not some silly little worm that feuded over mundane things that could easily be fixed or ignored. 

The idiots had been fighting non-stop over who got to see whatever it was this time. 

'PAY ATTENTION!' 

He had appeared in the small loft apartment, having to crouch to fit properly. Staff tilted to avoid the slanted ceiling. 

'THERE IS MUCH WORSE TO FOCUS ON THAN SOME MORTAL. I DO NOT WISH TO CARE ABOUT WHAT YOU WORMS ARE TRYING TO ARGUE ABOUT.’

“They know about you-” Marc spoke up, looking at the god as he sighed at the other two trying to switch in. 

“Indeed they do and it is quite amazing as to how much information they know of Egyptian history,” Steven interjected promptly before Marc took control back. 

“As I was saying. They know about you and apparently-" 

"Can see you. Paloma.” Jake switched in, cracking the knuckles in his hand boredly. “The two pendejos finally figured it out and now they’re fighting about it.”

“THEY CAN DO WHAT? THAT SHOULD BE IMPOSSIBLE." Wind picked up, loose papers flying through the apartment. 

No one but their chosen avatar should be capable of seeing him. This shouldn’t be possible. No worm could see him. This had to be the work of something else- 

He had to keep his attention on this worm then. 

[sunflowersteves]

Sending hugs and wishes for a speedy recovery!

Prompt: “surprise .   send  an  unexpected  nsfw  image  to  my  muse” with Marc Spector

thank you, love!!! heheh I hope you enjoy <3

warnings || nudes, SMUT THEMES, dom marc, 18+ only

Marc makes his way into the small convenience store near your flat. After his patrols as moon knight with Steven and Jake, he always made a routined last minute stop to the store.

He picked up a couple of items that you needed, and making sure to grab some of your favorite ice cream that you had forgotten on the list.

His lips curled slightly at the long list of different chocolates and caramel on the label, affection blooming inside his chest.

His concentration stops when he feels the vibration of his phone in his pocket. He picked it up, immediately knowing it was you.

He expected some kind of message saying that you forgot something on the list or telling him to get home faster. What he wasn’t expecting, however, was a picture of you—brightly smiling—with a perfect view of your breasts.

His eyes comically widened, and he felt himself choke on air. “Jesus fucking—” He fumbled his phone, grabbing it quickly and smacking it against his chest.

He was breathing heavily, before practically sprinting to the checkout line. He stops, hurriedly placing the items onto the conveyer

belt. He impatiently thumped his index finger against his thigh as the old woman in front of him. She shakily, and at a snail’s pace, scans one of her items. His eyes flickered to her basket and sees that there’s still about nine more items.

He sighs, a hand over his mouth as the ache of his raging hard on sets in. He felt his cock twitch at another vibration of his phone.

Bed’s getting cold, Marcy :(

Oh, fuck. Another picture of you. This time, you were spread out on your shared bed. You wore his favorite lingerie—a deep red that caressed each and every curve.

He could feel his chest spark, a flush of lust against his cheeks. His eyes flickered once again to the woman filling ip her basket, just now on item five.

“Fuck this.” He muttered, taking the object out of the woman’s hand and scanning it quickly. She gasps, but he pays no mind, scanning all of the items at lightening speed.

“Thank you, kind sir.” He nodded, short and sharp. He scans his own items, cursing left and right before bolting out the door.

By the time he got home, it had been well over fifteen minutes. You were perched on the bed, patiently waiting for Marc to burst through the door.

You smirked to yourself as you pictured his disheveled figure, hands running through his raven hair—eyes wild with a certain gleam in them as he sprinted through the streets of London.

You hear the jostling of keys and a certain click of the lock before Marc busts through the door. His face was in a usual frown, maybe one a bit deeper than normal.

"Hi, baby." You say, almost purred it out of your plump lips. Marc doesn't say anything back, just pants. His chest heaved up and down as he took in your almost naked for.

He made long strides across the flat and onto the bed, not wasting any time to put his arms around you. "Did you think you could send that and get away with it, sweetheart?"

His voice was dripping in anything but sweetness. Instead, it was drowning in a promise. He presses a harsh bite to your collar bone, making you jump. "Marc—"

He doesn't give you time to react, hands squeezing your breasts and his lips kissing every part of your supple skin, making his down to your aching core.

He laughed at the high-pitched whine that escapes your throat. "You shouldn't have done that, sweet girl." He looks up at you, a stray curl springing in front of his face.

He knew you weren't sorry what so ever, despite the sheepish look that you conjured on top of your face. It was cute, that he'd have to admit.

He pried open your thighs, pressing a kiss to your clothed center. You gasped, jolting your hips forward. You could feel the wet patch almost becoming more as he rubs small circles against your clit with his thumb. "Marc!"

"God, are you getting dumb on me already?" He chuckled, already knowing the answer.

"I'm gonna eat you out until I say so, okay?" He paused for a only a second, running a hand up and down your thigh, "I mean it, sweet girl. I don't think i'm going to be able to stop."

You let out a breath you didn't even know you were holding, head dizzy from the quick contrast of Marc barely even touching you.

He smirked, "Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you?" He shoved your lingerie aside, relishing in the glistening of your sweet pussy. "I should get started then, shouldn't I, sweetheart?"

God, Marc could be such a cocky asshole sometimes, but you would be lying if you said it didn't turn you on.

[michinnyun]

Fashion Choices

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

Summary: You've been giving Steven a hard time about his wardrobe lately. It's not that you don't like when he wears a collared shirt on top of another collared shirt, you just want him to try new things. Then him and Marc decide to tease you about it. Big mistake. Huge. // Chapter 1 is only with Steven. Chapter 2 will be for Marcy-Marc

Tags: Sharing Clothes × Lingerie × Teasing × Established Relationship × Pure Smut × Sub Steven Grant (Marvel) × If You Squint × Dom/sub Undertones × Masturbation × p in v × Enthusiastic Consent × Breeding Kink × No use of y/n × Woman on Top × for the majority of it lol × Multiple Orgasms × Unprotected Sex × Rough Sex

Words: 2.8k

Ao3 link

Steven has a lot of collared shirts. Like, a lot of them.

“You dress like a lesbian,” you tell him one day, laughing when you see that he's layered one of his button ups on top of another collared shirt.

He scoffs. “I can’t believe you just said that to me during Pride month.”

He manages to dodge the book thrown at his head, but he isn't able to dodge your questions after that.

“Why did I find another collared shirt in your bag?” you ask, showing him the reusable bag he'd brought to the shop earlier that day.

He pouts. “That’s for Marc.”

You can’t help but smile at him. He’s adorable. “Nice try. Marc almost exclusively wears crew necks.”

He doesn't meet your eyes. “Jake, then.”

“Jake dresses like a newsie in 1920’s New York.”

Steven groans. “Would you deny me my comforts, woman?” He pulls you into his lap, peppering kisses to your face that make you scream and laugh, trying to escape.

“I just want you all to try branching out!”

His eyes roll back into his head, Marc staring back at you now, intense as always. “Why would we want to do that?” he asks, pressing searing hot kisses into your neck.

The sudden shift in persona and mood makes you dizzy. You don't know if you'll ever get used to them doing that.

You gasp softly, grabbing onto the crinkly-soft fabric of Steven-Marc's starchy shirt.

“Marc,” you murmur, letting him trail a hand down your side. You haven't seen him in a while, and he’s clearly happy to see you, based on the way he's insistently pressing himself into you.

“Baby,” he mumbles back, licking a line up your neck to your earlobe, a white hot spike of arousal shooting down to your clit. You arch against him, letting him lift you and press you into the table, his hand riding up your shirt and teasing a nipple. You can feel how wet he’s making you, the way only your boys can. He laces your fingers together and kisses the back of your hand, ducks down to kiss your neck again-

Then, he stills. “Anyway, lots of work to do today, love. Better hop to it!”

Steven pulls away from you and grabs his stuff, leaving you stunned and frustratingly horny as he heads towards the door.

“W-wh-” you stutter.

“Don’t question my fashion choices!” he shouts, letting the door shut behind him. You narrow your eyes, huffing.

Oh, he’s in for it now. __

Your boys aren't coming over until later. It’s been two days since the Steven-Marc situation, and you won’t even let them sext you. The moment anything remotely sexual starts up, you shut it down. They’re getting restless. Steven especially. He’s always been particularly needy.

The boutique owner had been terribly nice when you'd explained your situation (minus the “my boyfriends’s’s are a superhero/Avatar/legendary warrior with multiple personality disorder” detail). You’d picked out the prettiest piece together, a delicate lace thing with more modest coverings for your private areas. Something that would drive Steven perfectly crazy.

“If I’ve done my job right, this won't survive the night,” she promised.

You’re slightly fidgety. You've never worn something this complicated before. Nothing for the express purpose of getting fucked.

It doesn't matter, really. Your boys can't resist you. That’s what's going to make this so much fun.

One of Steven’s many button ups is covering your lingerie, which had taken twenty minutes of cursing for you to put on. It’s a soft, purple shirt, your personal favorite. He’d been wearing it the first time you met.

You’re reading a book, or trying. You’ve been skimming the same page over and over in nervous anticipation ever since you got the text he’s almost at your flat.

He knocks on the door, and you answer in nothing but his shirt, your hair done in the way you know he loves. He always makes a comment when you wear it like this, so you made sure it was perfect before he came over.

He kind of just stares at you for a minute, taking you in. Then, something happens, something you've only seen a few times before. They start fighting over the body.

“I don’t- she clearly. This is- Marc. Steven. You-Why d-I- Jake, if you don't- Why can’t I, guys-”

He’s saying this all softly, eyes closed in concentration. You don't want to touch him. You don't want him to have a panic attack, and then have your attempt at revenge/seduction turn into something traumatic.

Finally, he settles, and Steven looks at you with wide, wet eyes.

“Is this- for me?” He swallows hard, looking at the way the fabric drapes over your body, just a little too big for you. You nod sweetly, leading him to bed.

He lies back at your insistence, staring up at you in awe as you straddle him, smiling teasingly.

His hand starts to slide up your thigh, but you swat at it.

“No touching,” your murmur, starting to unbutton yourself for him. He nods, swallowing again.

As the beginnings of your surprise are revealed, you realize he might not be the only one who has a problem with this no touching rule.

They’re fighting over the body again.

“If you’d just- Steven, look at her, I can’t- Stop.” Steven says firmly. You quirk an eyebrow.

“Everything alright in there?”

He nods, looking slightly miffed. “Just- you look really, really good, love. Really good. Don’t feel like sharing right now.”

You blush, then wiggle a little. Steven hisses, clenching his hands into fists. Fuck, he's already hard.

He whines when you finish unbuttoning the shirt, letting the fabric pool at your elbows, letting him drink his fill of your new outfit.

He’s slack jawed, mindlessly moving his hips against you. “Fuck,” he whimpers, letting the word trail off into a growl that ends deep in his throat.

His hands are getting fidgety, so you take the opportunity while he’s distracted to grab onto his wrists and pin them next to his head.

“You’re right Steven,” you purr. “I do actually like your shirts. Maybe I’ll wear them more often.”

He throws his head back, groaning. “I knew that's what this was bloody about, you little minx.”

You laugh, grinding down again bodily and making him gasp.

“That’s what you get for being a fucking tease. You can touch when I’m done with your punishment.”

If Steven’s eyes weren't so dark, you're sure you'd be able to see how his pupils are blown wide with lust. He looks ravenous, depraved. You haven't even kissed him.

“Yes,” he murmurs, even as he struggles against your grip.

You let him go, and hum happily when his hands stay in place.

You unbutton his pants, licking your lips as you pull out his cock, hard and leaking for you. You smear a pearl of precome weeping from the tip, relishing the sounds he makes.

You lean down, letting the crotch of your lingerie grind over his hard length. “You’re so mean to me sometimes, Steven. Just wanted to be a little mean back. Give you a taste of your own medicine.”

He whimpers. “Not trying to be mean. Just-just-”

“Just?” you ask, slowing down until he gasps and his hands twitch.

“Just wanted to prove a point,” he finishes lamely, arching his back so he can press up into you. You tsk at him, but allow it.

“Wanna take this off, pretty boy?” you ask, running your hands over the lace covering your plush breasts.

He nods frantically, craning his neck up so he can see a little better, get a little closer. You push him down with one hand, increasing the friction on your clit while you press a chaste kiss to his mouth.

“Later. Good boys get to undress me,” you hum, grinding down and chasing the rush of him pressing against your most sensitive spot. His eyes flutter shut, finally surrendering to you.

“Steven,” you murmur, kissing the corner of his mouth, traveling down his neck and sucking marks into his skin.

He grunts a response, too far gone to really answer you. You leave your tongue over the salt-heat of him, listening to his rattling breaths and stuttering heartbeat.

“You’re doing so good,” you murmur against his neck. “My good boy.”

His hips jerk violently against you, and you stop moving completely. He freezes.

“I’m sorry,” he says frantically, but it's too late.

“Nope,” you say, popping the p. You spread your legs, hovering over him and moving your panties to the side so you can rub your clit.

Steven’s mouth hangs open, devastated yet unbelievably turned on.

“Now you get to watch me come,” you say, gathering some of the wetness leaking from his tip to soften the friction. “And you can't do anything about it.”

He whines, shutting his eyes closed and growling in frustration. You spread yourself wider, letting your legs rest on the tops of his thighs.

Steven loves making you come. With his mouth, his fingers, his cock. Masturbating in front of him is still hot, but it frustrates him more than anything that he’s not the one making you feel good. Little does he know, the sight of him all hot and bothered is usually what gets you there faster. Like right now.

You feel it starting to bubble up, a deliciously warm orgasm that you’ve been depriving yourself of for days since the shirt incident. It takes a little while, but you finally peak, your fingers bringing you to completion at the sight of Steven Grant, helpless and completely distraught underneath you.

You lean forward until you're burying your face in his neck again, your thigh muscles still contracting pleasantly.

Steven hesitates, his hands moving from where they're meant to be to gently hold your waist. You purr, nuzzling into him so he knows he has permission. You're much more agreeable now that you know he’s suffered sufficiently enough.

He kicks his pants off the rest of the way, still gentle, careful not to disturb you in your good mood. You move a little, unbuttoning his shirts until the smooth expanse of his chest is warm under your palm.

“We’re matching,” you murmur happily. He chuckles nervously, one hand moving to cup the lace covering your bottom.

“This for me?”

You nod. “Don’t question my fashion choices,” you say, nipping at his ear lobe.

“Of course not. Never,” he says, running a hand over your garter belt appreciatively.

He reaches behind to move your panties aside, dipping shaking fingers into the wetness you’ve made for him. “Fuck,” he whispers, practically throbbing against you.

“You can go ahead,” you tell him, yawning. “Want you to. Want you inside, Steven.”

“Fuck,” he says a little louder, grabbing his cock where it's trapped between your bodies and sliding it between your legs to bring it home.

He lets out a breath he's been holding in, and you bloom under his fingers, legs widening to accommodate his girth. You’ve had enough teasing, and it looks like Steven has too.

He fucks you at a brutal pace, whining and gasping into your hair while you press sloppy kisses into his jaw.

“So good,” you whisper, encouraging him. “So good. My Steven.”

“I- hah, love you. Fuck.” The easy glide of him inside you isn't enough to make you come again quite yet, but you give a valiant effort. You suck at the tender spot under his ear, the one you know drives him crazy, and his hips stutter.

“Pretty girl, wearing my clothes and putting on nice things. Don’t deserve you, do I? So good to me,” he murmurs into your ear, one arm holding you close while he uses his other hand to push down on your lower back, using you as his little cocksleeve.

“Steven,” you gasp, grinding down harder onto him until you feel blissfully over sensitive, the fabric of his shirts rubbing against your skin while he fucks you hard, the way he’s been waiting to for days.

He groans out your name before he bites down on your neck. You mewl, bearing down on him before you sit back so you can ride Steven properly. He hangs onto your thighs for dear life as you move in earnest, pulling off him fully before slamming back down onto the length of him.

He brings his hands up to cup at the intricate lace designs covering your breasts, snapping the strap of your bra before he thrusts into you so hard that you can feel him in your guts.

“Fuck, can’t get enough of this little pussy,” he says, watching himself disappear into your tight heat. He moves a hand down, pressing a thumb to your abused clit and making you black out a little.

“S-Steven,” you stutter, no longer able to conjure competent speech, not when he touches you like that.

“Yeah, you like it when I touch you? Should’ve let me earlier. Even if you were mad at me,” he rambles, rubbing tight circles that make pleasure travel up your spine.

“Wasn't mad,” you whine. “Just wanted r-revenge. And I-I-” You can’t think about anything other than Steven’s hands on you, bringing you to the precipice of another sorely needed orgasm.

“I know, love,” he coos. “You got what you wanted. Now let me get mine.”

Your head tips back a little before Steven pulls one of the cups of your bra down, sitting up and sucking a pert nipple into his mouth. Your chest is still criss-crossed by straps and covered in lace, and Steven is clearly frustrated by the extra covering which he had found so sexy earlier.

“Steven,” you say breathlessly. “Gonna come again, I-”

“It’s okay,” he mouths against your skin. “You can come. Come all over my cock, love. Wanna feel it.”

He flicks his tongue against your tight bud, and you’re overwhelmed by sensation. Just a little-

You reach your hand down to give your clit a little more attention, and finally your second orgasm of the night claims you.

You milk Steven, making him choke and moan against you as your head tilts back and you cry out into the empty apartment.

Then Steven does something that you didn’t expect. He rips your panties off of you.

“Steven,” you gasp, despite remembering what the boutique owner had said about your outfit not lasting the night. “Those were expensive.”

He flips you over, pulling out and rubbing his cock between your folds. “I'll buy you a new pair,” he says, melding his mouth to yours before he pushes in again.

If you thought he was giving it his all before, you were mistaken. Steven’s fucking you at a punishing, brutal pace, pulling at the straps of your lingerie until one by one they all snap off of you and you’re left bare in nothing but shredded lace and his button-up.

You whine, the result of two orgasms making Steven’s conquest an easy slide. Your eyes roll back into your head a little. He’s relentless, insatiable, biting the meat of your bottom lip and licking into your mouth, fucking you so well that you know you’re going to be thinking about it for weeks.

“Can’t get enough of you,” he stutters. “I’m never going to get enough of you. Fuck. Fuck. I-I’m gonna-”

“Come in me,” you beg. “Steven, Steven, come inside.”

He looks into your eyes. “You want me to come inside? Fill you up? B-breed you?”

You wrap your legs around his back and pull him closer into you, making the angle deeper. He groans, wet sloppy sounds accompanying his increasingly quickening thrusts.

“Come in me, Steven,” you kiss his cheek. “Come in me. Breed me. Please, please.”

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck-”

He pulses inside you, coming hard like you've been daydreaming he would for the past few days. You kiss the side of his head while he buries his face into your shoulder. “Perfect,” you whisper. “Perfect boy.”

He whimpers, still not relenting in filling you. You’re a little surprised. This is the longest an orgasm has ever lasted for Steven. You must’ve taken a lot out of him.

When he’s finally finished, he lets out a big sigh. You rub his back, nuzzling into him and wrapping your arms around his neck, trying to stretch out the moment as much as you can.

“Will you leave me alone about my wardrobe now?” he says into your neck, slightly muffled. You laugh.

“Sure. Only if you promise to wear a t-shirt once in a while.”

He groans. “Deal.”

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Hi bestie I have a request for some non 🦶related content 👀👀👀

I have adult acne (I’m 25, send help lmfao) prescriptions didn’t work and I honestly just gave up. It’s gotten better but it used to be HORRIBLE and my ocd made me pick everything so I’m still v scared on my face from it, and still look like a teenager’s skin, red and terrible painful zits a lot.

I was wondering if I could have some thoughts/Drabble/fic with my bf Marcy Marc with a reader with adult acne 🥺🥺🥺

I don’t generally feel insecure (I have a god complex tbh) but sometimes I feel really shitty, especially after people are rude

Romana, I'm so sorry this took so long! Thank you so much for this request - I went a bit heavy on the ocd and skin picking (I know we've talked about how we both suffer from it before, but I just wanted to put an extra warning just in case you're not having a good day with it.❤️)

Blemish

Marc Spector X F!Reader Rating: T Masterlist | ao3 | want to be tagged?

Warnings: reader suffering from ocd and skin picking, there is some self doubt and heavy thoughts about the urge to pick skin (these are based on how I experience the condition. Please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 483

_______________________________________

“Baby, are you okay in there?” Marc’s voice broke you out of your thoughts. 

You could see this shadow under the bathroom door, moving ever so slightly as he shifted his weight from side to side. 

You swallowed and looked back to your reflection in the mirror. 

It was like Marc had a sixth sense about these things, it was like he knew what you were about to do. 

Anxiety twisted your stomach. The urge was there, the need to pick at your skin, your face, at all those imperfections and impurities. The unevenness. It just had to be corrected, fixed, smoothed out.

With a deep breath you forced yourself to look down at the sink and away from your face.

“Can you come in please?” You whispered, but he heard you. 

Marc carefully opened the door. You knew he was looking at you, could sense the weight of his gaze even as you continued to stare at the sink, your jaw tense. 

“Baby,” he breathed out softly, his tone was so gentle, so caring. You didn’t deserve that. You never deserved that. 

Your eyes began to well with tears, frustration itching along your veins. You needed to pick, you needed to get the poison out. 

“Hey, hey, come here,” Marc slowly pulled you into his arms, giving you plenty of time to move away if you needed to. 

You sank into the embrace, resting your head on his shoulder as he rubbed your back. 

“I’m so proud of you.”

“Marc-” your voice cracked, hot tears flowing no matter how much you tried to stop them. 

“So proud baby for asking for me to come in.” He kissed the side of your face once, twice, and then stepped back so he could gently kiss your cheeks, cupping your face with his hands. “So beautiful.” 

You screwed up your face, but couldn’t help the weak smile that spread across your face. 

Even if you didn’t believe that you were beautiful, you knew he meant what he said

He smiled at you, eyes soft and warm. “Come on,” he quickly opened the bathroom cupboard and grabbed something before he took your hand and led you to bed. Coaxing you into laying down with your head in his lap. 

“Comfy?” 

You nodded, looking up at him.

“Good.” He held up your benzoyl peroxide acne face cream that he had taken from the bathroom cupboard. 

“You don’t have to,” you began, tears welling up again, but Marc should his head.

“I want to, okay?” He bent down and kissed your forehead before he opened the cream and squeezed a small amount onto his fingers before he began to massage it into your skin, paying particular attention to be gentle to the sore areas. 

You watched him as he worked, the small line of concentration that formed on his forehead. You didn’t know what you’d do without him. 

____________________________________

Thank you for reading!

Taglist: @pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @cocodiem @oscarisaacsspit @welcometostayingawake @mbakubabe @solobagginses @melodygatesauthor @romanarose @pimosworld @jake-g-lockley

If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

[prettybrownelf]

Me again could you do Marc Spector x ftm reader smut when maybe the reader is in a gang of some sort Marc's been trying to take down for months and he backs him in a corner and starts choking him and he moans so Marc realizes he's attracted to him and fucks him in exchange for information but then he realizes he's actually fallen for him and it's rough but then turns soft maybe some overstimulation for reader who had top surgery and degredation that turns into praise/praise degredation

Back Alley Fun

Non MLM/NBLM DNI

Pairings- Marc Spector X FTM! Reader

Summary- Marc has been searching for you for months, and its time to teach you a lesson on how to speak to him

Word Count- 1036

Content Warnings- AFAB Genitalia, Praise, Degradation, Overstimulation, Pet Names, Choking, Slight Public Sex

Months. Marc hasn't been able to have a good night's sleep in months. 

You and your stupid little gang have been evading his every attempt to capture week after week. That stupid grin on your face everytime you got away, as if this was some sort of game. 

But today, he's not giving up. He's going to capture you and force information out of you so he can finally lay in his bed and sleep without constant thrashing. 

A cool chill runs down his spine as he adjusts his sweater onto his shoulders. The moon illuminates the sidewalk as Marc briskly stalks the street. The hint he had got from one of your little henchmen (more like beat out of your henchman) was that you’d be at a bar tonight. He could hear the annoyingly loud music from around the corner. 

Bright neon lights fill his vision as he makes his way to the club. Pushing his way through people, the music around makes his body vibrate as he looks around for you. Marc scoffs to himself as he tries to get to the side of the room, looking through a sea of dancing bodies. 

Finally, he finds your eyes, staring right at him. Marc jumps into action, trying to rush through people as he watches you slip out the back. 

The cool air meets his skin as he looks for you in the alley, only to find you waiting for him. The obvious smirk on your face makes Marc scowl. 

“Hey Marcy!” Your voice sounds like you're seeing an old friend. Marc huffs as he stomps towards you. “You, are so. Fucked.” Marc can barely get his words out as tries to grab him. You let him do it, letting him slam you against the brick wall. “You feel better now Marcy?” Marc watches as you give him a fake pout. “Don't call me that.” You roll your eyes as you smile up at him. “Why so mad Marcy? I thought we were friends!” 

You're barely able to catch Marc move as his hand wraps around your throat, slamming you harder against the wall. A choked moan escapes your mouth as your back collides with the wall, taking some of the air out of your lungs. Confusion fills Mar’s eyes as he looks down at you, squeezing his hand a bit harder around your throat to test out his theory. 

As always, he theory is correct. 

Another moan comes out of you as he squeezes harder. Marc smirks down at you as moves his hand to make you look up at him. “I’ll make you a deal.” He whispers, his voice raspy with desire. “I’ll fuck you’r handsome brains out and you give me the information i need to know.” Marc watches as you think it through, although he knows what you're going to say. He can't help but smile down at you as you let out a breathy ‘yes’. 

Within seconds his lips are on yours, capturing you in a lust filled kiss as his tongue explores your mouth. His hand remains tight on your throat as he grinds his already hard bulge against you. His voice is raspy as he turns you around, bending you over slightly as his hand travels under your tight jeans. “Does that feel good, slut?” He whispers in your ear as he drags his finger back and forth, feeling you getting wet. 

Your breath is almost completely gone as he tries to catch up with Marc’s movements. All you can do is nod as you take in the feeling of his hands on you. Marc's hot breath hits your ear as he whispers to you, moving his fingers faster against your wettend underwear. “Are you gonna be a good boy for me?” You nod at his words, trying to ignore how close you are to cumming just from his words. 

Marc takes notice of this as smirks, moving his hand to your bare flesh under your boxers as his finger circles your clit. You can hear him chuckle to himself as he feels your legs shake. Marc's hand moves to your chest to make sure you stay upright as you cum, his hand on your chest dragging over your top surgery scars as your legs twitch. 

Marc moves away from you, giving you a moment to catch your breath as you hear his pants unzip. Excitement fills your body as you feel him press against you again. He slowly pushed himself inside you, enjoying your small whines from overstimulation as he finally bottoms out. He groans in your ear as he slowly moves his hips, getting faster with each thrust as your legs shake. “Good slut, you're taking my cock so well.” All you can do is whine as you take the pleasure, feeling yourself getting close again as he grabs your hips roughly, groaning above you as he whispers in your ear. “Are you gonna cum for me again pretty boy?” You nod as you feel your legs almost give out under you as you see stars. Your orgasm rushes through your body as you hear Marc moan above you. “Good boy, cum on my cock.” Marc's thrust suddenly gets sloppy as he moves faster, whispering in your ear as he gets himself off. “You're such a pretty boy, so good for me.” 

The second the words leave his mouth he stops his movements, keeping himself inside of you as he cums. He can feel your deep breathing as he pulls out, rubbing your hips softly as you both calm down. 

“Do you feel ok, pretty boy?” Marc asks, his voice suddenly soft as he helps you stand up. Your legs are still shaking a bit as you stand, leaning against Marc's chest as you relax. “Yeah, I'm ok.” You whisper. You feel Marc’s arms wrap around you as he runs his hand up and down your back lovingly. “You did so good for me.” He mutters as he gives you a small kiss on the forehead. “Let's go somewhere quiet so we can talk, yeah?” You say, looking up at him. Marc gives a small smile as he holds you by the waist. “Lead the way.”

[jewish-ship-showdown]

Ships that have already qualified (read before submitting):

Jude Lizowski/Jonesy Garcia

Tyler Kennedy "TK" Strand/Carlos Reyes

Peter Parker (Spider-Man)/Gwen Stacey

Willow Rosenberg/Winifred "Fred" Burkle

Francine Frensky/Muffy Crosswire

Susan Ivanova/Marcus Cole

Kate Kane (Batwoman)/Renee Montoya

Barry B. Benson/Vanessa Bloome

Jake Peralta/Amy Santiago

Willow Rosenberg/Tara Maclay

Jack Zimmermann/Eric "Bitty" Bittle

Justin "Ransom" Oluransi/Adam "Holster" Birkholtz

Danny/Reuven

Larissa "Lara" Bogdan/Jasmine

Kelsey Pokly/Isabella "Stacks" Alvarado

Rebecca Bunch/Audra Levine

Rebecca Bunch/Greg Serrano

Rebecca Bunch/Nathaniel Plimpton

Samantha "Sam" Manson/Danniel "Danny" Fenton

Bruce Wayne (Batman)/Selina Kyla (Catwoman)

Bruce Wayne (Batman)/Clark Kent (Superman)

Clark Kent (Superman)/Lois Lane

Harley Quinn/Pamela Isley (Poison Ivy)

Barney Guttman/Logan Nguyen

Leah/Chanan

Shay Goldstein/Dominic Yun

Marvin/Whizzer

Trina/Mendel Weisenbachfeld

Perchik/Hodel

Tzeitel/Motel

Monica Gellar/Chandler Bing

Molly McGee/Libby Stein Torres

Rachel Berry/Noah Puckerman

Fiddleford McGucket/Stanford Pines

Cristina Yang/Owen Hunt

Cristina Yang/Preston Burke

Levi Schmidt/Nico Kim

Rose Lalonde/Kanaya Maryam

James Wilson/Gregory House

The Baker and/The Baker's Wife

Kim Possible/Ron Stoppable

The Jewish People/The Shabbat Bride

Alec Hardison/Parker

Max Eisenhardt (Magneto)/Charles Xavier (Professor X)

Steve Rogers (Captain America)/James "Bucky" Barnes

Arnold "Arnie" Roth/Michael Bech

Arnold "Arnie" Roth/Steve Rogers (Captain America)

Billy Kaplan (Wiccan)/Teddy Altman (Hulkling)

Bobby Drake (Iceman)/Hank McCoy (Beast)

Bobby Drake (Iceman)/Johnny Storm (The Human Torch)

Layla El Faouly/Mark Spector (Moon Knight)

Matthew Hawk (Two-Gun Kid II)/Clint Barton (Hawkeye)

Peter Parker (Spider-Man)/Betty Brant

Peter Parker (Spider-Man)/Eugene "Flash" Thompson

Peter Parker (Spider-Man)/ Felicia Hardy

Peter Parker (Spider-Man)/ Harry Osborn

Peter Parker (Spider-Man)/Katherine Anne "Kitty" Pryde

Peter Parker (Spider-Man)/Mary Jane "MJ" Watson

Peter Parker (Spider-Man)/Wade Wilson (Deadpool)

Steve Rogers/Bernadette "Bernie" Rosenthal

Wanda Maximoff/The Vision

Midge Maisel/Susie Myerson

Hal Emmerich (Otacon)/Solid Snake

Casey Goldberg-Calderon/Lunella Lafayette

Fran Fine/Max Sheffield

Ben Gross/Devi Vishwakumar

Winston Schmidt/Cece Parekh

David Jacobs/Jack Kelly

Seth Cohen/Summer Roberts

Scout Touzani/Elias Wyrick

KJ Brandman/Mac Coyle

Lavinia Asimov/Poison Oak

Phineas Flynn/Isabella Garcia-Shapiro

Anon's Mom/Dad

The person reading this & their partner

Jerry Seinfeld/Cosmo Kramer

Simon Lewis/Isabel Lightwood

Danielle/Maya

Bram Greenfeld/Simon Spier

Miryem Mandelstam/The Staryk King

David Rose/Patrick Brewer

James T Kirk/S'chn T'gai Spock

Worf Rozhenko/Jadzia Dax

Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla

Brian Jeeter/Krejjh

Bobby Singer/Rufus Turner

Jonah Simms/Amy Sosa

Reish Lakish/Rabbi Yochanen

King David/Yonatan

Devorah/Barak

Moses/Tzipporah

Ruth/Naomi

Yaakov/The Angel

Rowan Roth/Neil Mcnair

Klaus Hargreeves/Dave Katz

Cecil Palmer/Carlos The Scientist

Josh Lyman/Donna Moss

Little Ash/Uriel

Lucille "Lucy" Kensington/Dr. Edison "Ed" Tucker

Fox Mulder/Dana Scully

Anshel/Avigdor

Alec Hardison/Parker/Eliot Spencer

Wanda Maximoff (The Scarlet Witch)/Jericho Drumm

Bruce Wayne (Batman)/Shondra Kinsolving

Bruce Wayne (Batman)/Talia Al Ghul

Ben Grimm (The Thing)/Alicia Masters

Velma Dinkley/Daphne Blake

Velma Dinkley/Marcie Fleach

Didi Pickles/Stu Pickles

Velma Dinkley/Coco Diablo

Babushka (Tatiana)/Dedushka (Ivan)

Kitty Pryde/Illyana Rasputin

Natasha Romanoff/Wanda Maximoff

Marc Spector (Moon Knight)/Clint Barton (Hawkeye)

Hillel/Shammai

S'chn T'gai Spock/James T Kirk/Dr. Leonard "Bones" McCoy

S'chn T'gai Spock/Dr. Leonard "Bones" McCoy

Frankie Bergstein/Grace Hanson

Annie Edison/Jeff Winger

Maxine Myers/Paula Cohen

Baby Houseman/Johnny Castle

Tevye/Golde

Michael "Mike" Wazowski/Celia Mae

Talmudic couple having gay sex in the attic

Tim Drake/Kon El (Conner Kent)

Violet Baudelaire/Quigley Quagmire

Reuben Kent/Feliks Kaufmann

Anshel/Avigdor/Hadass

Amram/Zelikman

Anshel/Hadass

SUBMISSIONS ARE OPEN UNTIL MAY 8, 2023 @ 12:00 AM EDT

[queerplatonics-your-ship]

DNI:

You are LGBTphobic

You are racist

You are xenophobic

You are an ableist

You are an exclusionist

You are sexist

You are a Trump supporter

You are Anti BLM & ACAB

You are truscum/transmed

You are anti kin, mogai, neopronouns or xenogenders

You support cringe culture

You ship pedophilia and/or incest (A Proshipper)

You are a MAP/Pedo

You don’t believe in non-binary genders

You are a porn/ddlg/nsfw/kink blog

You are going to start a discourse about kins

You do not support Unlabeled and Pomosexual/romantic people

Support or defend people who support the above

What is a QPR?

QPR stands for Queerplatonic Relationship!

Queerplatonic relationships are most commonly used for Aspec people! (People who are on the Aro and/or Ace spectrum!)

A QPR is a close non-sexual, non-romantic relationship that is beyond what most would consider to be a friendship. It consists of emotional commitment and prioritization that is typically seen in a romantic relationship. More simpler, it’s being more than friends, but, less than lovers. It may be more easier to explain that way.

About me!:

My names: Ollie/Ozzie/Freddie/Teddie

Pronouns: She/They/It

Gender: Transmasc Demigirl

Sexuality: Arospec Bi Aegosexual

What is this blog?

I really made this blog just for myself, but, I wouldn’t mind seeing people here!

Maybe some other Aspec people that may be in a QPR, or, Aspec people that long to have a QPR, or Aspec people that just like what I do! Or, non Aspec people that weren’t even aware of QPRs and may find them interesting to know about!

Or, something…..

I will take requests on what to draw! (As long as it has something to do with the QPRs I already have on my list!)

RULES:

You are allowed to pick any QPR I have in the fandom list for me to draw!

I will not draw anything NSFW.

I won’t draw anything sex, r_pe, ab_se, inc_st or p_dophilia.

I am allowed to say no to a request.

Fandoms & My Fav QPRs!:

A

Amphibia (Sprig + Maddie + Ivy) (Sasha + Anne + Marcy) (Polly + Pearl)

B

Bendy And The Ink Machine (Boris + Bendy + Alice)

Bendy And Boris: The Quest For The Ink Machine (Bendy + Cuphead)

C

Cuphead (Cagney + Hilda + Cala Maria + Blind Spector)

Camp Camp (Gwen + David) (Harrison + Nerris + Preston)

Cookie Run (Cotton Candy Cookie x Herb Cookie x Cinnamon Cookie x Cherry Blossom Cookie)

Chikn Nuggit (Cheez Borger + Chikn Nuggit + Cofi + Slushi)

D

Doki Doki Literature Club (Natsuki + Yuri + Monika + Sayori)

Ducktales 2017 (Louie + Boyd) (Dewey + Gosalyn)

Deltarune (Kris + Berdly)

F

Five nights at Freddys (Glamrock Freddy + Monty + Glamrock Chica + Roxanne + Sun/Moon)

H

Hazbin Hotel (Angel Dust + Alastor)

Happy Tree Friends (Flippy + Flaky)

I

Invader Zim (Dib + Zim)

L

Little nightmares (Six + Mono Mono)

M

My Little Pony (Muffins + Dr. Whooves + Roseluck) (Pinkie Pie + Princess Luna) (Gallus + Smolder + Ocellus + Silver Stream + Yona + Sandbar)

Minecraft Story Mode (Petra + Lukas + Jesse) (Olivia + Axel)

My Hero Academia (Sero + Mina) (Izuku + Uraraka + Shoto + Asui)

Monster High (Frankie + Jackson)

N

Ninjago (Cole + Zane)

O

Ok KO! Let’s Be Heros! (K.O. + Dendy)

P

Poppy Playtime (Huggy Wuggy + Kissy Missy)

S

Steven Universe (Steven + Connie) (Peridot + Lapis)

She Ra And The Princesses Of Power (Entrapta + Hordak)

Sonic (Sonic + Shadow + Silver) (Tails + Cream)

Stickmin Series (Henry + Ellie + Charles)

T

The Amazing World Of Gumball (Rob + Julius) (Molly + Tina + Bobert) (Tobias + Ocho)

The Owl House (Willow + Boscha) (Emira + Viney)

The Lego Movie (Emmet + Lucy)

U

Undertale (Frisk + Chara) (Mettaton + Papyrus)

Z

Zoophobia (Jack + Jill + Zill + Kayla + Spam + Vanexa)

[uidbmgmt]

Here’s my laminated missing flyer for Marc Spector for my Steven Grant cosplay this weekend at Summer Con.

For the visually impaired, it says:

MISSING

(Image of Oscar Isaac as Marc Spector)

Marc Spector

“Greetings, my name is Steven Grant. This is my alter, Marc Spector. We became separated after being shot by Ammit cult leader, Arthur Harrow. Marc is a mercenary, avatar of the Egyptian deity Khonshu, and responds to ‘Marcy Marc’ and ‘Moony’. He stands at 1.88 meters tall and weighs in at 102 kilograms with brown eyes and black hair. He may know how to take care of himself but he is a good sort and is missed dearly. If seen, could you please give me a ring? I have bait and a live trap to catch him should it come to that. Sincerest thanks in advance.”

+44 20 7234 3456

I went with Marc’s comic book body measurements while keeping Oscar Isaac’s visuals. So who wants to take bets on what the bait is? I’ll bet it’s alcohol and Layla. The phone number is a bogus London local number that I got as an example from Google. I wonder, is this actually someone’s real phone number?

…

Well I ain’t paying to find out, fuck that. I’m on a fixed income. I can’t afford new ringtones for my iPhone, let alone an international call.

Damn, I can’t wait for Summer Con.

[terry-perry]

if I may, can i ask Steven’s relationship with Marcy like? Like it must be precious seeing sweet Steven trying to have father/daughter time with his black cat daughter. Thank you!

Steven loves his darling girl

He treats her like a fragile being when she’s a baby

He makes sure he’s holding her correctly, reads every book and article he can on child care

Loves assisting her during important milestones

Needs to be part of every one of them and hype her up!

Once she gets to stage where she can laugh, Steven will do all it takes to get her to do so

Loves to hear to her laugh

Reads to her every night

You know trips to the museum are a must

Will teach her everything he knows about history, literature, and, of course, Egyptian mythology

Will answer every question his little Marcy has

As she gets older and develops her own interests, he does his best to show an interest in them, even if he doesn’t really get them

“Well, this singer certainly likes to scream, huh?”

“I have a booklet with the lyrics, if that helps,”

“Thank you darling,”

He tells her about the weird stuff he thinks she might like to know about like the mummification process, dark romantic literature, crazy torture devices from history

She explains to him her makeup process when she’s cosplaying and will give some information on the character she’s portraying if he isn’t familiar

He’ll listen with a very open ear and ask questions

She, in turn, will listen to him ramble on about whatever he wants

She does get a little embarrassed at times like any other kid since Steven does tend to try too hard and can’t help but still see her as his little girl

But like Marc, she’s very protective of him. No one is allowed to treat Papa Steven poorly!

She appreciates everything he does for her, even if she won’t always admit it

[romanarose]

Come to Bed, Love

Steven Grant x writer!reader x Marc Spector x Jake Lockley

Masterlist Join my taglis

Summary: Steven gets tired of waiting for his fanfiction writer girlfriend to come to bed.

Warnings: none! so fluffy

A/N: Self indulgent bullshit

Italics is Marc

Bold is Steven

Red is Jake

***************

Steven stirred at the scoot of your chair in the next room. He had always been a light sleeper.

What time was it? Steven glanced over to the clock and his eyebrows shot up.

Christ, 3 am?

What's going on, Steven? Marc was suddenly awake and alert, and Steven could feel Jake cofronting too.

It's 3 am and she hasn't come to bed yet.

You went to bed without her?

Not intentionally! I laid down and she said she'd be to bed in a moment and I just fell asleep.

Well go get her, Steven.

He was already on his way, opening the bedroom door to find you typing away on your laptop, curled away on the couch with your favorite throw blanket strung across your lap.

"Darling? What are you still doing up?" He asked, softly appraoching you.

When you looked up, the crappy light of the tableside lamp illuminating harshly off you. He still thought you were beautiful, of course, simply tired.

"Can't." You mumble. "I promised a new chapter weeks ago."

"I think your readers can wait one more day. Come to bed, love."

You pout up at him. "Noooooo! I gotta get this out!"

Steven sat beside you.

Steven, don't sit with her, drag her to bed!

"Which series are you working on? The Last of us or The Star Wars one."

"The Last of Us."

Marc took over fronting. He was not as indulgent as Steven, not when it came to you. You needed rest. You deserved it.

Hey!

Careful not to shut it on your fingers, Marc closed the lap top.

"Steven!" You turn to him, only to realize it was the other love of your life. "Marc! Marc I need to work on this I've been putting it off forever!"

He moved the laptop away from you. "And you can work on it tomorrow, I promise."

"But-"

"Baby." Marc gave you a pointed look. "I know you are a fantastic writer, but at 3 AM and exhausted, you are not putting in your best effort. I think your fans will-"

"They aren't my fans Marcy Marc, they are my readers."

"I think your fans will appreciate you getting some rest and coming back with a fresh eye."

Marc was logical, and looking into his beautiful, pleeding eyes, your were about to give in.

Steven was sweet, Marc was practical, but Jake was impatient.. "That's it." Jake stood up, taking you with him.

"JAKEY!" Squeeling, you cling to your lover as he began to carry to your bedroom.

"Te vienes a la cama, te quste o no."

You can't help but giggle as you are tossed on the bed, Jake pulling the blanket over you. "Fine, but I'm finishing up tomorrow."

"You can do whatever you want tomorrow, just shut the fuck up and go to sleep, mi vida." Jake pulled you in close, cuddling up with you. His arms were wrapped tight around you. You weren't going anywhere.

*************

Thank you all! I love you all v much!

Please consider reblogging, it's the only way to spread works! Likes are nice, but don't spread it arond the way it might via tik tok or insta

Good night, and all you fanfic writers better get some good rest!

@fandxmslxt69 @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @whatthefishh @k-ra @eyelessfaces @steven-grants-world @campingwiththecharmings @ahookedheroespureheart @littlenosoul @runa-falls @missdictatorme @ivystoryweaver

[mthofferings]

kimmycup

See kimmycup’s existing works here and here.

Preferred contact methods: Discord: kimmycup

Preferred organizations: - ALA "Unite Against Book Bans" Campaign - Assistance Dogs International - Médecins San Frontières (Doctors Without Borders) (See the list of approved organizations here)

Will create works that contain: Fic: At longer wordcounts I am predominantly good with plotty stuff. Preferably canon divergence but some AUs work too - coffeeshop or other fluffy ones I'm better at - I weave angst into that rather than using angsty setting. I can do whump, I can do action. I am weirdly specialized in angsty kidfic, apparently, as I realized.

Will not create works that contain: For fic: zombies, infidelity, dark settings (slavery, dystopia etc), supernatural AUs, omegaverse, overly explicit stuff (i can throw in a sex scene in a whole fic but not write a smut only fic). For candles: Overly elaborate desigs in wax, basically anything with too many pieces forming the shape. Like Tony's arc reactor.

  -- Fic or Other Writing --

Auction ID: 1127

Will create works for the following relationships: Frank Castle/Foggy Nelson - MCU Frank Castle/Matt Murdock - MCU Matt Murdock/Foggy Nelson - MCU Layla El-Faouly/Marc Spector - MCU James "Rhodey" Rhodes/Tony Stark - MCU Harry Osborn/Peter Parker - MCU, Spider-Man (Raimi trilogy), TASM Layla El-Faouly/Jake Lockley - 616, MCU Frank Castle/Matt Murdock/Foggy Nelson - MCU Matt Murdock/Foggy Nelson/Marci Stahl - MCU Jean-Paul DuChamp/Steven Grant - 616, MCU

Work Description: This is the insane auction you've been looking for. I'm offering a fic without top wordcount limit. Every 10 dollars is 1k words. Yes, that means 500 dollars is 50k. That means a thousand is 100k. I don't predict more but you can do more! Go wild! Ruin me! Set me a challenge like I never had before! Due to wordcount, I would like to ask anyone bidding over 20/30k words to contact me if I am for sure happy with the prompt. I can't write long fic for stuff I don't like. Due to the nature of a fic being a long form, your prompt should reflect that. Canon rewrites (or crossovers and fusions, as long as I'm familiar and okay with the other piece of media) or plotty stuff preferred. If you don't want something too long you can also break the auction wordcount into up to three separate fics. I am also happy to do other ships, especially poly related to the people already listed, like Layla/system or Frenchie/system, Frenchie/Jake, Marci with either of the avocados instead of together, or even gen fic. Once again please ask first if you're unsure if I will write what you want.

Ratings: Gen, Teen, Mature, Explicit

Can pods bid on this auction? Yes - Podbids welcome!

CLICK HERE TO BID ON THIS WORK

-- Craft or Merchandise --

Auction ID: 2063

Will create works for the following relationships: Jeff the Land Shark-centric - 616

Work Description: This auction will be a figurine in polymer clay of Jeff the land shark. The size is customizable (up to 10cm), and so are the colors. We can discuss potential positioning him into a different pose than standing or adding accessories if auction hits 50 dollars. Winner pays shipping.

Ratings: Gen

Can pods bid on this auction? No - I'd rather not be bid on by pods

CLICK HERE TO BID ON THIS WORK

-- Craft or Merchandise --

Auction ID: 3023

Will create works for the following relationships: Tony Stark-centric - Any Universe Bruce Banner-centric - Any Universe Natasha Romanov-centric - Any Universe Clint Barton-centric - Any Universe Bucky Barnes-centric - Any Universe Avengers fandom any gen and ship - Any Universe X-Men fandom any gen and ship - Any Universe Defenders fandom any gen and ship - Any Universe Moon Knight fandom any gen and ship - Any Universe

Work Description: This work is for a custom candle. It's up to you what it will look like. I can do shapes in the wax, I can do layers, inbeds, a lot of different ways to incorporate characters. See images for examples (the Hawkeye logo could also be a free standing candle on its own). What I cannot do is elaborate designs like arc reactor - it's too many pieces to center. Ideally contact me if you have an idea that seems more complicated or about specific characters from the "any" section. Winner pays shipping.

Ratings: Gen

Can pods bid on this auction? No - I'd rather not be bid on by pods

CLICK HERE TO BID ON THIS WORK

The auction runs from October 22 (12 AM ET) to October 28 (11:59:59 PM ET). Visit marveltrumpshate.com during Auction Week to view all of our auctions and to place your bids!

[michinnyun]

Fashion Choices Ch. 2

Ch. 1

Pairing: Marc x F!Reader

Summary: A little role reversal with Marcy-Marc?

Tags: Sub Marc Spector × Prostate Milking × Prostate Massage × Orgasm Denial × Edging × Naked Male Clothed Female × Femdom × Dom/sub × Hair Pulling × Biting × showering together × Aftercare × Marc Spector Needs A Hug

Words: 3.2k

Ao3 link

Marc is being a brat.

It’s not totally unusual behavior, especially coming from him. He likes to pretend he’s a big strong man, but he’s really just a sensitive little softie who needs attention. Not like Steven does, but still.

He hasn’t talked to you since you got back at Steven for their collective teasing. It’s rare that they put up a united front like they did that day, and he knows his punishment is coming. It’s just a matter of when.

At this point, Jake is fronting more often than Marc, and that never happens. He can’t hide forever.

You head back to the boutique, finding the owner at the counter once again.

“Thank you for all your help,” you say, pushing your hair behind your ear nervously. 

“Of course. It's nice to see you again! I trust everything went according to plan?”

“Oh yes,” you answer mischievously. She claps her hands in delight.

“I’m glad to hear it. What can I help you find today? New set? We just got these in today.”

She opens a box for you, showcasing a lovely black and red lace teddy that actually does pique your interest. Another time, maybe.

“I was actually wondering… And I know this might be a little unusual, but bear with me. Do you have anything in a men’s size?”

__

Steven is back from the museum and sitting with you on the couch, chattering away about a shipment for a new exhibit that Donna expressly told him to stay away from, his head resting in the cradle of your lap while you stroke the hair away from his temples.

“It’s from the remains of a temple of Khonshu,” he whines. “I hate that bloody bastard, he’s a right git, but come on, there are hardly any temples of his remaining, it's an incredible find! Big crates stuffed with straw and little statues and tablets. Can you believe Donna?”

“You know I can’t.” You used to work with Steven at the museum. Donna and her bitchiness are not new to you by any means.

Steven snorts. “Yeah, right.” He pauses. “So what did you do today?”

You smile down at him, shrugging. “Not much. Same old work stuff.” He hums, eyes fluttering shut as he enjoys your gentle touch. “I did visit the lingerie store, though.”

He almost stops breathing. “Oh?”

You chew your bottom lip. “Yeah.”

He lifts his head to look at you with dark eyes. “Got another little something for me, then?”

You hesitate. “It’s actually- It’s for Marc,” you blurt out, hoping your words will have their intended effect and he’ll come out to play.

It does. Steven’s head snaps back, Marc staring back at you skeptically.

“What are you up to?” he asks, sitting up to snake his arms around your middle and lay a kiss on your cheek.

You blush. “Nothing! I just missed you, that’s all. Wanted to do something special.”

He quirks his head doubtfully. “Okay. And this has nothing to do with the shirt thing?”

You shake your head, pursing your lips.

“You’re a terrible liar.”

You groan, pushing him back onto the couch and climbing on top of him.

“Fine. It’s because of the shirt thing. But you deserve it. And don’t just let Steven take charge of the body, you’re going to like it, okay? I promise.”

He grunts. If it were anybody else, they'd probably say no, but Marc seems to trust you implicitly for whatever reason. It makes you all warm inside that he loves you enough to let you do whatever you want to him.

“Fine,” he grumbles. You kiss him, wrapping your fingers in his hair. He responds in kind, surging up into you and holding your neck with his giant palm.

You keen, the wet slide of your tongues already escalating far more quickly than you intended. He’s trying to distract you.

“Marc,” you protest, out of breath. “There’s something for you in the bathroom. Go get changed.”

He looks up at you with hooded eyelids, licking his lower lip, nodding.

“Okay,” he says, grinding up into you. You slap his chest. “Fuck, okay.”

You disentangle yourselves, Marc trudging to the bathroom and shutting the curtain. He pauses before you hear the rustling of the box being opened.

You bite your lip in anticipation as you listen to the silence in the other room. Marc must think you’re insane.

He emerges several minutes later in the lingerie you picked out with your new best friend at the boutique, silky lace that covers his chest and manhood.

Your mouth waters. “You look so pretty.”

Marc blushes, which you don't think you've ever seen him do before. “I look like an idiot,” he says, despite the fact that he’s already getting visibly hard in his panties.

You walk up to him slowly, cornering him like he’s an injured animal. He looks that way, fear and humiliation and lust clouding his dark eyes.

“Marc,” you murmur, cupping his face with your palms and pressing gentle kisses onto each eyelid. His nose. His lips.

He groans, deepening the kiss and pressing into you, leading you to the bed and knocking you down so you’re sprawled on your back.

“This what you wanted?” he asks, adjusting his cock until it’s visible above the line of his underwear, tip dribbling and shiny. Wet. Sensitive.

“Yes,” you breathe, reaching out to touch. He shakes his head.

“No, princess. Not today. This is as much as you get, me in this little outfit.” He shoves your pants down along with your underwear and you cry out.

“Marc,” you whine when he pumps his fingers into you, already finding you wet and needy.

“You like when I’m dressed up like this? Wearing the pretty little set you bought for me?”

You nod, breaths coming out shakily. This is not how this was supposed to go.

“Fuck,” you choke out, arching when his fingers reach inside and make you see stars.

“Gonna make you come, even if it's more than you deserve. Look at yourself. Look at what you do to me.”

You crane your neck up, watching him palm himself through the lace and cup his balls.

You rip yourself off of his fingers, sitting up and caging him in with your thighs, leveraging your weight until he’s falling onto the bed and taking your place underneath.

You straddle him again, pulling down his panties and lining him up with your entrance.

“Marc,” you murmur. “Stop trying to take control. Just let me do this for you.”

He chokes as you sink down onto him, placing one hand on the center of his chest for balance.

You don’t move after that, licking and kissing his collarbones and nuzzling his nipples through the lace of his bra.

He whines. “Stop, baby I-”

“If you really wanted me to stop, you would've used the safe word,” you tell him. “But you didn’t. You want me to be in control. You want to give in. So just give in Marc. Let me take care of you.”

You know he has a hard time asking for what he wants, and sometimes you just need to give it to him. He licks his lips before gritting his teeth, fighting the urge to buck up into you. You get flashbacks to the other day with Steven. Oh, how the tables have turned.

“Marc,” you say. “Hands above your head, please.”

He frowns, but complies. You reach into the bedside drawer, lifting off enough to make him gasp, then sink back down once you have the little bundle of rope you put away for this very occasion.

You tie Marc gently and efficiently. He’s a smart boy, he knows how to escape these kinds of bonds easily. You want him to be snug, not trapped.

You tug, testing the restraints. Perfect.

You snap the strap of his bra, watching the flush on his cheeks deepen into a beautiful scarlet.

“Look at you,” you coo. “So pretty for me. My sweet boy.” You run your finger through his hair, capturing his rough exhale in your mouth and shifting him inside of you.

This angle lets you pull out the slightest amount, perfect for torturing Marc. He’s practically shaking, fists white knuckled against the rope as he struggles to give in.

“Marc,” you murmur against his mouth. “Relax.” You lean down, pulling at the lace of his bra with your teeth and laving your tongue over his nipple.

He keens, writhing and pushing into you.

You blow a puff of cold air over the pink skin, watching in amusement as it hardens. 

“Baby,” he gasps. “Please, I-”

“You what?” you ask, gripping his hair and using it to tilt his head back until his neck is exposed to you. “What do you want? Because it looks like you’ve been begging for this all week.” You snap the strap of his bra, making him whine as you slowly fuck yourself on him.

He struggles against his bindings, dark eyes nearly black as he watches the spot where he disappears into you. “Fuck,” he groans when you bite down at the juncture of his neck and shoulder.

He tries rutting into you, making you frown and pull off completely. He looks breathless, his cock wet and throbbing as you sit back and trace a finger over the head.

“Marc,” you say disapprovingly, and he whines, like words are too much for him right now. “Color?”

“Green,” he gasps. “Green. So green. Keep going.”

You reach into the bedside drawer for lube, another thing you keep nearby for special occasions. You warm it between your fingers as Marc watches you with eyes glazed over with lust.

“Still green?”

He nods frantically, arching his back and making his cock slap his stomach with the movement. You laugh at his eagerness, his total submission such a contrast from how he was acting two minutes ago.

You lean over his body as your fingers circle his entrance, his breath stuttering as you kiss and breach him at the same time. He’s tight. It’s been a while since you did something like this with him, and he seems nervous with anticipation.

“Relax,” you murmur, pressing your cheek to his so you can both watch him adjust to the intrusion of your finger. He breathes deeply, obeying instantly and making your heart flutter with affection. You kiss his cheek.

You reach deeper inside, finding the spot that makes him cry out and his mouth water. “I fucking love you,” he slurs, bending his knees and pulling his legs closer ot his body to give you better access. You fuck him slowly, adding another finger when he starts getting a little too whiny, sating him momentarily. You occasionally brush the sensitive bundle of nerves, making him jolt like he’s been shocked by a live wire. Marc’s eyes flutter shut as he takes in the sensations, surrendering to your hold on him.

“That’s it,” you murmur, lips brushing the corner of his mouth. He turns his face into yours, staring up at you with big brown eyes, lashes fanning the shadows under his eyes. “So pretty,” you tell him, kissing the side of his nose.

His breath hitches, his eyes widening as he starts to tighten around your fingers, movements becoming needy and urgent. His cock is leaking steadily, a dribbling fountain that clings to his underwear, ruining the lace. You brush that spot again, that little pleasure button that makes him crazy, and he grunts, brows knitting together in concentration as his stomach tenses.

Then, you pull out of him.

He groans in frustration as you get up to wash your hands thoroughly in the bathroom sink, laughing at his whines in the other room.

“That’s what you get,” you sing-song, drying your hands off on the bathroom towel before you come back out, admiring the way his jaw tenses as he stares at the ceiling in deep contemplation. 

You crawl back on top of him, spreading your fingers through the slick on his stomach.

“Look at the mess you made,” you coo, holding back a laugh at the way he’s adamantly avoiding eye contact with you. “We have to get you cleaned up, poor baby.”

He growls deep in his chest, and you <i>do</i> laugh at that. “What’s wrong? Are you upset about something? Any of this not to your <i>liking?</i>” You tug on his curls again, making him bare his teeth and arch into your body.

 You gather his fluids on your fingers, holding them up this mouth and waiting for him to take your silent instruction. His mouth stays clamped shut, a droplet of milky liquid landing above his lip.

“Come on baby, open up.” He clenches his jaw again, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say he’s pouting. You use your other hand to stroke his bottom lip, coaxing his mouth open until his tongue is sticking out and he can accept your offering.

Still no eye contact.

“So it’s gonna be like that?” you ask, grabbing his cock and adjusting so that he’s lined up with your entrance again. He whips his head towards you as you sink down, smiling evilly as you fuck him hard and fast to bring him to the edge of orgasm for what must be the third time.

He shouts, knowing what’s coming as his stomach tenses again. You pull off, pressing a kiss to his mouth as you hover over his body, taut as a bowstring. 

“Not fair,” he whines. “Not fair, not fair-”

“Shh,” you tell him, sinking down once more as tears spring to the corners of his eyes and he struggles underneath you. 

This continues for a good while, you bringing him right to the edge only to leave him cold and devastated before he can release.

“You didn’t do all this to Steven,” he complains after the tenth denial, cock red and angry with stimulation. 

“Me and Steven have fun in our own way, sweetheart.” You roll your body over his in a luxurious stretch, making his breath stutter as he dick catches your entrance at an angle. At this point, you can only allow him to be inside you for so long before he comes dangerously close to spilling inside of you. You bite your lip at the thought of how you’d punish him if he did. 

You love Steven, but this brand of torture that Marc craves is special. You stretch it out as long as you can, because you hate to see it end too quickly. Marc will never say it out loud, but he likes it that way too.

You sigh, seated on his cock and just staying there as he wriggles desperately. You play with your clit absentmindedly, barely paying him any attention as you savor the fullness. You toy with his nipple through the scratchy fabric of the bra, watching with delight as his eyes roll to the back of his head.

“I love how sensitive you are, my sweet boy,” you coo. “You’ve been so good for me.”

“Then can I come?” he practically shouts, elbows bending in his restraints as his curls fall into his eyes.

You hum, pretending to think. “Do you think you deserve it?”

“Yes!” he says, practically trembling.

You laugh, fucking him with your hands placed on his chest, grabbing his tiny little tits. Using him.

The final straw, apparently, is when you lean down and press a kiss to his lips, slipping your tongue inside as he whimpers, body tensing as he comes, long and hard inside of you.

His whimpers turn into a long moan, overstimulated as you keep fucking him through his aftershocks. He’s hard again after one orgasm, and you smile down at him.

“No,” he whimpers. “No, please, enough, please, please,” he begs, even as he begins to fuck into the tight clutch of your body again.

You gasp, slightly breathless. You haven’t paid attention to your own needs, and you’re starting to notice as you feel his spend getting fucked back into you. You rub your clit indulgently, surprised by how quickly you can feel your own orgasm approaching. It looks like you’ve been enjoying this as much as Marc. You sigh, bouncing on top of him as he watches you use his body to get yourself off. His lips are wet, his eyes shining with adoration as you increase your pace, milking him for all he’s worth.

You come with the image of Marc staring at you burned into your brain, covered in lace and his own semen, jaw open and lashes fluttering.

“Baby,” you sigh, finally sated. You keep moving on top of him, giving him the choice of whether or not he wants to chase a second orgasm by untying him.

Apparently he does, because his hands fly to your waist and he pulls you down for one last sloppy kiss, grinding his length into you so hard that you see stars, your breath coming out in one big whoosh. The sweat and come covering his body sticks to your shirt, and you think absently that you’ll have to do laundry later.

He chokes when you stroke your fingers through his hair tenderly, practically sobbing when you bite down softly on his bottom lip.

“Gonna come,” he says, like it’s physically painful. “Gonna come, I’m gonna-”

His breath halts, his hips pistoning into you as he finally reaches his last, blissful orgasm, finishing inside of you with finality. His head is tilted back, the lines of his neck taut and pink with exertion.

You both heave a giant sigh as you collapse on top of him, letting him run his fingers through your hair as he catches his breath.

You disconnect yourself from him, wrinkling your nose at the dribble that gushes from your entrance. Taking your shirt off inside out, you make sure to throw it into the empty laundry bin. “Gross,” you say, pressing another kiss to Marc’s mouth before running into the bathroom to heat up the hot water for a shower.

You wet a washcloth under the warm spray, returning to where he lays prone on the bed, half asleep. Chuckling as his eyes flutter open when you drag the damp cloth across his stomach and chest, you press a gentle kiss to his cheek and reach behind his back to unclasp the bra.

“You okay?”

He nods as you throw the scrap of lacy fabric on top of your shirt in the bin, making a mental note to see if you can salvage it in the wash. Marc’s face is so open. He’s never like this, except with you. You really enjoy the moments right after, when he’s quiet and trusting. He looks younger. Small. It makes your heart melt.

You encourage him to get up, holding his hands in yours as he stands on wobbly feet, stepping out of the panties and padding to the bathroom. You hold a hand under the running water, making sure it’s the right temperature before you nod at him to step in.

You traipse in after him, watching the tension melt from his shoulders. The water beads on the muscles of his back, his muscular legs. It always strikes you as funny, this big strong man letting you do all that to him. It makes you happy. You just want him to feel loved, even when you’re getting back at him for something as petty as a tease.

You grab the shampoo, lathering it through his wet hair as he stands under the spray. You scratch his scalp, watching him shudder. He turns around, leaning down to kiss you and getting soap on your forehead.

“Feel better?”

He nods. “Better.”

[glittergummicandypeach]

A Link to Jewish History, RBG’s Iconic Collars Were a Beacon for the Marginalized | Religion Dispatches

Sometimes, the only way forward in life is to take it stitch by stitch.

Last winter, the Masorot chapter of the Pomegranate Guild of Judaic Needlework took a field trip. This convivial group of women visited the Notorious R.B.G. exhibit, honoring Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg, at the National Museum of American Jewish History in Philadelphia. But they didn’t go alone. 

They brought a framed needlepoint with them, designed and stitched by member Bonnie Bacich. It depicted Justice Ginsburg against a vivid blue background. Behind her glasses, her eyes were blank—like the bound eyes of Lady Justice. Around the edges, Bacich’s friend Arlene Spector added a biblical quote to the design: “She speaks with wisdom and the law of compassion is upon her tongue.” (Proverbs 31:26). When the museum posted a picture of it on social media, what drew my eye was Ginsburg’s signature lace collar, jutting up and out of the flat canvas, a separate piece of sewn-on lace, studded with small pearls. 

That collar tells you why Ginsburg means so much to so many Americans. Lace takes time. Whether it’s bobbin lace or needle lace or crochet openwork that resembles lace: each bit builds upon another. The stitches mirror Ginsburg’s layered pursuit of progress. Ginsburg’s jabot collection was composed through methods akin to her litigation strategies. Her incremental approach to the law was, in the end, her legacy: a wide fabric of justice, studded with silken threads.

“The more I learned about her, the more I adored her,” Bacich told me this week. “She found ways to tackle problems that nobody else thought about.” Though she’s not Jewish herself, Bacich married a Jew, and raised Jewish children and grandchildren. A self-identified “women’s libber” who was the first in her family to go to college, Bacich said the other Pomegranate Guild members were thrilled when she created RBG needlepoint kits for each woman to make. “They felt she was a role model, such a strong woman.” They expressed that admiration in thread.

Matter matters in Justice Ginsburg’s memorialization and emerging hagiography. When you see a white lace collar over a black robe, she is the first person who comes to mind. As Americans mourned her death, memorials popped up all over the country. Of all the votives offered in her memory—candles, flowers, rocks—the white jabot stands out most starkly in photographs. A collar graced the neck of the Fearless Girl in Lower Manhattan. Other young girls, made of flesh, not bronze, wore collars as they paid tribute to her on the steps of the Supreme Court. If you want to get in on the crafting, then you too can download and cut out a paper dissent collar to wear, or knit up this Dissent sweater pattern on Ravelry.  

Lace and yarn and fabric are also a link to Jewish history. In Europe, the Middle East, and North America, Jews created and traded in textiles: by hand, in factories, across borders and oceans. Italian Jews, steeped in an economy rich in textiles, created elaborate synagogue furnishings. In the industrial age, the Jews of Kalisz, Poland, worked in the lace-making capital of the Russian empire. 

Ginsburg’s own ancestors immigrated from Eastern Europe at a time when “shpanyer arbeit”—translated as either “spun” or “Spanish” work—was at its height in that region, adorning prayer shawls, caps, and other Jewish objects, for those who could afford it. Beyond lace, Jews did so much sewing, cloth production, and gathering of used fabric that they were sometimes called “the rag race.” 

Long before her death, Justice Ginsburg’s fans used the language of craft to express their admiration for her and to bestow her with gifts. Some gifts had a Jewish theme. In 2019, Moment Magazine presented her with a special collar, created by Michigan artist Marcy Epstein. Known as the “Tzedek collar,” it incorporated the Hebrew letters tsade, dalet, and kuf, which spell the Hebrew word for justice—tzedek. A quote from the Hebrew Bible “tzedek, tzedek, tirdof”—justice, justice, you shall pursue—featured prominently on the wall of Justice Ginsburg’s chambers. Justice Ginsburg wore that collar during the October 2019 opening of the court… the last October she would sit on the bench.

RBG’s collar donated to Museum of the Jewish People in Tel Aviv.

In the wake of her death, the Museum of the Jewish People in Tel Aviv announced that Ginsburg had donated one of her collars to the museum last March; it will appear in the new core exhibit opening there this winter. ““She was a righteous person,” Shula Bahat, a museum representative, told NPR. “She was totally dedicated to the values of Judaism.”

Justice is indeed the Jewish value with which Ginsburg, the first woman and first Jewish American to lie in state in the U.S. Capitol, was known. Another Jewish value—less known to the general public—is called hiddur mitzvah: the enhancement of a commandment. Jews can light candles in any old candlesticks on Shabbat—but if the candlesticks are carefully engraved with a floral pattern, or they are glass jars your child has painted at school, it adds beauty and meaning to the experience. 

Ginsburg enhanced justice for millions of Americans. Her brilliant legal mind got her to the Supreme Court and shaped her judgements and her famous dissents. But her collars, and the signals they delivered—dissent and approval, femininity and righteousness and pleasure—encoded the proceedings with a special kind of attention, another layer to Supreme Court ritual. Those fabric beacons shone powerfully for those of us who have experienced marginalization, had to code switch from setting to setting, or learned to express ourselves through subtle cues beyond formal language.

While it’s not a huge surprise that some of Ginsburg’s collars will rest in museums—like holy relics, the objects touched by our heroes often end up behind glass, visited by modern pilgrims—it’s also unusual for such a textile to endure for generations. Fabric and lace don’t always survive. 

Yes, you can find astounding Jewish textiles in many museums. But cloth and thread are fragile. They fray, they disintegrate, they burn. When I interviewed Jewish crafters around the country, Gerry Weichman, a Pomegranate Guild member in California, told me that she began making Jewish textiles in the 1970s because so many Jewish pieces were “burned out during the Holocaust.”  Putting new objects into the world is an affirmation of survival, a form of resilience, a grasping of the chaos of the universe with a needle and thread.

Threads, like our bodies, are impermanent. But Ginsburg’s collars will endure. Even when the fabric degrades, their white-on-black iconicity will linger in our minds, like the photographic negative of an ebony Victorian silhouette.

This content was originally published here.

[spector]

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