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Another week passed; another series of days getting broken into your new norm. Despite the mental torment, you couldn’t deny that you felt yourself enjoying their company after a while. It wasn’t that you were ecstatic when Steven would come into the room, eyes dark, cock hard and hungry for you, but the pain had started to bother you much less as you got used to it, and they all made it a priority to make sure you enjoyed yourself.

In fact, you’d started allowing yourself to bask in the pleasure they each afforded you.

If you were going to be stuck there, at least for the time being, why not enjoy having Steven’s over sensitive cock buried so deep inside of you there was no way he couldn’t hit the spot? He was going to do it anyway, so there was no point to fight or continue crying as though a part of you, even if it was only the physical part, enjoyed a small piece of this insanity that was now your life.

It was temporary though. You weren’t going to stay there forever. You couldn’t stay there forever. You missed your family, your friends, your life outside of that house.

You missed your freedom…right?

Jake adjusted his tie in the mirror, turning his head from side to side to make sure he looked like, well, him. He tousled his hair in front of his eyes, parting it to the right. With smooth leather gloves adorning his hands, he walked out of their room and made his way to yours.

When he opened the door he was glad to see you already in your pretty little lingerie set he’d bought you. It was silky, covering you up just enough to make his imagination run wild. Of course, he already knew what every inch of your body had to offer, but seeing you naked wasn’t the fun part for Jake.

No.

Jake liked to think about all the ways he could get the silken undergarments off of you. Would he make you dance for him? Stripping off piece after piece until you were completely bare? Or would he want the pleasure of taking it off, teasing you until every fiber of cloth was dripping in your arousal before letting it all fall to the ground? Would he hold you at gunpoint just to watch you cry? Ever since that first night the gun was never loaded, but you didn’t need to know that.

“Princesa, vamos,” he ordered, beckoning you to follow him from the room.

You’d become so good at pretending, that your cunt was already soaking before you entered his study. At least, you kept telling yourself that you were pretending. That was Jake’s room. It smelled like him, a mix of tobacco, leather, and bourbon. You liked the smell, it felt comforting in some way. Jake was different from the other two.

Marc was always in pain, eyes full of lust but etched with an air of guilt hidden behind them. Steven…Steven always had a kindness to his eyes, and an unpredictability that made him terrifying to you. There was no telling what would upset him, and alternatively what would please him. Sometimes you didn’t know Steven’s rules until it was too late, and he was bruising your behind nearly bloody.

Jake on the other hand…Jake was predictable and clear about his feelings and intentions.

Jake sat in his large leather chair, legs spread and shoulders relaxed. He nodded to you, an order to fill his glass with bourbon, which you did obediently and without question. They’d trained you so well that you hardly thought about anything other than what they may want from you next. You brought him the glass, and he thanked you, the way he always did in that smooth, sultry way that he knew made you squirm.

“Sit,” he demanded, patting his lap, and you did. He brought the glass to your lips, “drink.”

You sipped the bourbon, coughing and covering your mouth. You didn’t like the taste, not like you enjoyed the wine, but any time they gave you alcohol you were eager to drink it. The more numb you could be, the better you felt when they fucked you.

He pulled you back so your spine was against his chest. One of his gloved hands rested in the space between your thigh and your hip, right in that crevice. His grip was possessive and commanding, and you felt yourself aching deep in your center. There was still a frustrating conflict between pleasure and the common sense in your mind telling you to run every time they touched you.

“T-thank you, Jake,” you said, breathing out a moan when you felt his lips against the side of your neck.

“You’ve been such a good girl for me, bebita,” he whispered against your skin.

Those fingers that were on your hip moved into your lace panties, the middle finger sliding between your wet lips. He hummed in approval, noticing right away how aroused you were before anything significant had even happened. You shifted, and then you felt his growing bulge, now apparent and threatening the seam of his slacks.

“Hm, so wet. Is this all for me?” He slipped a finger into your pussy without further warning, and your walls fluttered in response. “Answer me, sweetheart.”

“Yes, J-Jake,” you managed to breathe out, rocking your hips against his hand.

He pulled his hand away from your cunt, and you nearly whined from the sudden loss. He popped his fingers into your mouth, the taste of leather and your own juices landed on your tongue. Jake ordered you to pull the glove off, and of course you did, gently taking the leather between your top and bottom teeth and pulling it from his hand. He balled up the glove and shoved it into your mouth, and then did the same with the other, rendering you speechless.

He tipped his head back and finished off his drink before setting it down on the side table roughly. With his strong, bare hands, he turned you around so you were straddling him. He pulled out his pocket knife, running the cool, sharp blade against your breast. You knew better than to make a sound, you could only pray that this wasn’t the time that he decided you weren’t worth keeping anymore. A shudder rolled through your body along with a desperate whimper, a quiet plea for your life.

“Sh,” he cooed, “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m just undressing you, sweetheart.”

The words that were meant to reassure you did no such thing. You still felt just anxious, if not more so now than before. You held onto his shoulders, gripping them tight as he used the blade of his knife to cut through thread after thread of the fabric he’d adorned you in. You weren’t sure if he did it on purpose, or by accident, but the blade nicked you, just above your left nipple. A choked gasp punched out around the gloves in your mouth.

“Oh no, sweetheart, are you alright?” He made the face a parent might make at their child when he held your cheek, rubbing his thumb over your skin gently. “My mistake. Let me kiss it better.”

The pain was quickly replaced by pleasure when his mouth covered the small wound. He dropped the blade on the side table with a loud clank before he used both hands to grip your asscheeks, pulling you down against his, now very hard, bulge. You moaned, eyes rolling back as you felt the fabric on his pants drag along your clit. He pulled back, hands ridding you of your lingerie, what was left of it anyway.

Quickly, he unbuttoned his pants and tugged them down, just enough for his cock to spring free and slap against your abdomen. You looked down at it, the tip hot and leaking against your skin. You felt a swell in your chest at the sight of it. You wanted it. You fucking needed it.

“Fuck yourself on my cock, sweetheart,” he ordered breathlessly, and you - embarrassingly - wasted no time at all complying.

You rose up on your knees, using one of your hands to line your hole up with his leaking tip, and then you sat down, filling yourself with his length all at once. A muffled groan rolled out of your mouth around the gloves. Your eyes fluttered and your hips slowly started rising and falling in his lap, riding his cock in a steady rhythm. Jake’s strong hands squeezed tightly on the meat of your ass, guiding you at his preferred pace.

The room was filled with the sounds of his heavy grunts which shot straight to your core, making your cunt throb every time you heard him. They’d been successful in conditioning your body to react to their pleasure. The feeling of Jake’s cock twitching inside of you with each plunge downward made your pussy wetter and wetter with every pass. One of his hands reached up and rested against your throat, not enough to choke you, but just enough to remind you who was in charge.

“Fuck, that’s it bebita, fuck my cock, just like that,” he nearly growled as he rutted his hips upward into you, cock grazing the deepest parts of your tight little hole.

Jake couldn’t stand to hear you silent or muffled any longer and reached into your mouth, pulling out both gloves to free up your lips for him. He cupped the back of your head and pulled you down into a deep, heated kiss, slipping his tongue into your mouth hungrily. You tasted like him, which made him feel even more eager to fuck into you harder. 

You gasped at the sudden change of pace, crying out as you swore you felt some organs move out of place to make room just for Jake. He swallowed every wail, closing his mouth over yours again and again. You felt yourself getting carried away in the moment, letting your fingers tangle with the curls on the back of his head and simultaneously letting your own tongue roll into his mouth. Everything felt good, and you wanted to blame it on the bourbon, but this time you just couldn’t.

“Oh mi princesa, you feel so good, no matter what we do to you…” he said breathlessly, “you still feel like heaven.”

You gulped and looked down at him with eyes hooded and lips parted. You wanted to reply with something nasty, telling him what a freak he was or spout about how disgusting he made you feel, but you couldn’t. Instead you kept moving on him, becoming more and more pliant the closer you got to your orgasm. There was no fighting it, not for a second longer.

You needed them, each one of them, so, so badly.

All the more reason to escape. You were quickly becoming far too comfortable there.

Jake could see your eyes glazing over and your mind going elsewhere so he quickly grabbed your jaw, holding it firmly and forcing you to look him in the eye. He kept his gaze trained on you, never averting his eyes while he continued fucking upward into you roughly. You whimpered and Jake silenced you again with his mouth on yours, moaning against your pretty lips.

It worked. His harsh treatment grounded you in the moment and made you forget about your thoughts of escape almost instantly. His teeth closed down on your bottom lip and he pulled back, releasing and letting it snap back against your teeth. You whined again, though not from the pain, instead it was the overwhelming pleasure that forced those pathetic sounds from you.

“Mm, si, that’s it, princesa. I like to hear you,” he breathed, movements becoming more erratic and desperate as his length stiffened against your walls.

“J-Jake, Jake I’m gonna…I’m gonna–”

“Do it, come on my cock,” he demanded. “Don’t you fucking hold back, bebita. Give me everything,” he ordered, head falling back as he felt your cunt squeeze around his girth.

You came, nearly on demand, a series of soft moans spilling from your lips as your body trembled over his. You felt a searing heat in your core as he filled your throbbing cunt, hot ropes of spend filling you so full it dripped out of you and onto his lap. Your mind went white, clouded in a pleasant fog that made you forget about everything, including running away, including how afraid they’d made you previously

After a moment, you fell back to earth from your blissful high, returning to the world where you were a prisoner, and where you were still in very, very, real danger of being hurt beyond repair and possibly killed in the process. In contrast to your thoughts, Jake was gentle in helping you down from his lap, and even more gentle in cleaning the mess he’d made inside of you. He looked up at you, and when you looked down you noticed a pretty glint in those brown eyes, ones that showed a sign of deep rooted, unrivaled affection for you.

No matter what you tried to tell yourself, breaking away from that feeling of being wanted by them was proving harder than you ever thought it would be.

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter (Coming Soon...for real this time)

Peter B. Parker from your universe was great. There was no denying that the pizza-loving, dad bod wielding, spider-person had charm, and you liked him. There were only two problems:

He was married to Mary Jane, and they were very much in love. The other problem was…he was boring…at least in comparison to the Peter you had your eyes on.

You didn’t even know which universe the Were-Spider Peter was from, but you liked the way he looked. He had a rugged demeanor, a bit darker with a hint of danger. There was something feral about him, and that excited you to no end. You supposed that was in part due to the way he became Spider-Man in the first place.

Not unlike the Spider Society’s fearless leader, Miguel O’Hara, his DNA was fused with a spider. Part man, part spider, and it manifested in sharp fangs, eight legs he could extend or retract at will, and an insatiable sex drive that could only be described as purely feral in nature.

You needed him the way you needed air to fucking breathe, and you let him know that as much as possible. You changed your spider suit to be a bit more form fitting, accentuating your tits and ass nicely. Even Miguel eyed you once or twice, which let you know it would surely work on feral Peter.

It was so late, and you were in your office, tired after a long day. You weren’t on the front lines as much as some of the other spider-folk. As someone with subpar abilities and a knack for getting caught up in dangerous situations, you handled a lot of Miguel’s paperwork, and as a perk, you got a nice little office, away from the hustle and bustle that came with working at the Spider Society.

You were just about to leave, opening the door to exit your office, when Peter met you in the threshold. You gasped, dropping your keys on the floor.

“P-Peter, I–”

He cut you off, taking you off guard as he stepped forward, forcing you back into the room. You gulped as your entire body came alive with a combination of excitement and fear. You took another step back and you tripped, landing on the floor.

“You’re such a fuckin’ tease,” he grumbled, climbing over you. “I see how you’re showing off your slutty little body just for me,” he breathed, extending his legs from his back.

His spider legs caged you against the floor, and his teeth were dripping with spit as he looked down at you. You felt a chill run through your spine, rendering you motionless and silent, save for the heavy breaths punching out of your lungs.

He pinned your arms down above your head using his webbing, doing the same around your neck. Even if you wanted to run, you wouldn’t be able to, but this was your greatest fantasy coming to fruition. Your lips parted, eyes half lidded with arousal as he toyed with you like a predator would its prey. Peter’s hands moved to your skirt, shoving it up around your hips

“Peter, p-please don’t hurt me,” you asked shakily, the combination of terror and excitement was driving you mad.

He licked your jaw and kissed the space just below your earlobe, a throaty growl erupting from deep inside of him.

“I wouldn’t hurt you,” he rasped, groaning as he kissed along your skin. “Wouldn’t hurt such a fun little thing.”

You panted, the feeling of his lips against your neck shot straight to your core, forcing your cunt to throb with need.

“Please,” you begged, this time desperate to have him buried as deep inside of you as he could be.

He obliged without another word, using the leverage his extra legs afforded him to thrust into you roughly, full to the hilt in one pass. You arched against him, mouth falling open and your eyes fluttering. He pulled back, grunting as he thrust forward again harshly, the fat head of his cock hitting the deepest parts of you.

“Peter–oh-fuck-fuck!” you cried out with every snap of his hips.

“You’re so tight,” he groaned against your ear. “Gotta stretch you out,” he leaned back, looking down where your bodies were connected and huffed.

“T-tear me apart!” you demanded, not caring if he obliged literally or figuratively.

With both hands, he held onto your waist and moved at a bruising pace, filling the office with the lewd sounds of skin on skin. You wanted to wipe the drool that threatened to fall down your cheek, but remembered your hands were pinned above your head. You were completely at Peter’s mercy.

Peter started fucking you like you were nothing more than a vessel for his pleasure. You curled your toes in anticipation as searing heat pooled in your core. Your mouth gaped open, unable to form a coherent sentence anymore. Your mind went blank, and all you could hear was the sound of Peter’s feral growls hitting your ears.

“Gonna make you carry my spiderlings, would you like that?” He asked between thrusts.

It sounded like a joke, surely he couldn’t mean it.

You gulped, “yes,” you blurted, “yes I’ll carry your–oh fuck Peter–I’ll carry your kids. Fuck!”

On the tail end of your words you exploded, eyes rolling back as your cunt throbbed and gushed around his thick cock. He fucked you through it, not stopping for a second, slamming harder and faster until finally his body stilled, a liquid warmth spilling inside of your hot, wet pussy.

The room was suddenly very quiet, filled only with the sound of your sharp, combined breaths. With his teeth, Peter removed the webbing on your neck and then on your hands, and he retracted his legs back into his body. He looked down at you with a gaze filled with longing.

“I like you,” he whispered, brushing his canonically busted nose against yours.

You chuckled, “I like you too, Peter.”

You were still getting adjusted to your new life with your…‘husband.’

To say things were awkward would be an understatement. Things were downright uncanny. He was very distant, often not even meeting your gaze. When he did look at you, sometimes it felt like he stared a little too intensely.

“What?” you asked him, furrowing your brow in concern. “Are you–”

“You smell different,” he commented, eyes raking over your body.

You felt like you were completely naked, despite having the blankets pulled up nearly to your chin. His hand cupped the swell of your breast beneath the covers, slowly moving down to rest on your lower abdomen. He hummed, rubbing his thumb over the small bit of exposed skin there.

“You feel warmer than usual,” he said quietly, pulling back the comforter.

“Kane, what are you–”

“You’re bleeding,” he mentioned as if it were an unusual occurrence. “Are you hurt?”

You sat up on your elbows and looked down between your legs, groaning and shaking your head,

“No,” you grumbled, for a second more concerned with the fact that your stark white sheets were ruined than with the fact that Kane didn’t know what a period was. “Damn it.”

Kane’s breathing became heavy, the smell of iron filling his nostrils and his arousal growing quickly. He tucked his finger in the waistband of your panties, pulling them off.

“Thanks, but I can take care of it. Why are you acting so weird?” You asked, swatting his hand away.

He pulled his hand back for a second, but then grabbed your arm, pinning it against the mattress as he inspected the space between your legs.

“It’s my period, Kane,” you said, a hint of irritation apparent in your tone. “Happens every month. Causes me to be moody and crampy? I bleed for a week? Ring a bell?”

Kane’s face was concentrated, as if he still didn't understand. His hand rested on your stomach again, and he closed his eyes.

“I can help,” he said after a few silent seconds.

He slid out of his pants, positioning himself between your legs. You put your hands on his chest in protest.

“Kane, that’s not going to help. It’s–”

He slid into your wet heat with a shaky breath, looking down at you with his mouth hung open. You felt it immediately, the relief spread over your whole body. You’d had sex on your period with Kane before, this wasn’t revolutionary, but it felt different. Something about him had changed so much since he’d come back from that expedition.

“Fuck,” you whispered, “oh that’s good.”

Kane knew it was good, he could feel it too. Whenever your bodies were connected he could feel what you needed. He couldn’t explain it, but he knew when he’d touched you that this would help. He rocked his hips at a steady pace, dragging his length against every inch of your fluttering walls.

“Is this helping?” he asked, breaths coming in short and shallow.

“Yes,” you cried out, “yes-Kane-fuck!”

Your words of encouragement spurred him on, making his thick cock twitch inside your hot core. He’d fucked you several times since coming back from the border, but he’d never felt you like this before. Your cunt was so soft, so warm. He squeezed your hip, leaning down to close his mouth over yours in a messy kiss.

“You feel so good,” he rasped, kissing you again.

He didn’t give you a chance to reply, hungrily sliding his tongue past your lips. You moaned into his mouth, hands reaching up to grab onto his thrusting hips. You pulled back to let a breath pass between you both before he was kissing you more.

“Mm, Kane…Kane I’m gonna–fuck!”

Kane’s lips traced across your jawline to your ear.

“Come,” he said, his tone somewhere between begging and a demand.

You arched your back, feeling his cock reach the deepest parts of you before your mouth was hung open, moans filling the room with every wave of your orgasm. You held onto him like a lifeline, toes curling and body going numb for what felt like an eternity. Kane’s body seized, a searing hot gush spilling into your core as he filled you so full that his spend spilled out onto the bedding.

Once the fog in your minds cleared, and your combined heavy breaths slowed, you looked at him, kissing his nose.

“Thank you,” you whispered, sighing contentedly. “I feel so much better.”

Yeah…you knew you were stupid, going into a fight without Logan.

He told you not to. You weren’t a mutant; hell, you weren’t even a fighter, but you did it anyway. You couldn’t help yourself, more worried than ever with the threat of magneto’s terror looming over you and - quite frankly - everyone else in the world.

Why did it matter, though? Why did he care? You were just some nobody human in the grand scheme of things who wanted to help as much as you could because you were good with a gun, and knew how to use technology to your advantage.

Not well enough, as it would seem.

“You’re stupid,” Logan said to you the night you left the infirmary.

He stood in your doorway, scowling at you with his dark glare. You felt like he was a parent, scolding you for going out with friends when you weren’t supposed to; lecturing you on why it’s dangerous to hang out with that crowd, as if you didn’t already know what you were doing.

“I don’t need this,” you said, folding your final piece of laundry and putting it away in your dresser.

You suddenly wished you had another mountain to fold so that you could stress clean while he talked to you.

“Yeah you do. How many times do I have to tell you not to put yourself in danger like that? I can’t always be there to protect you!” He stormed over and grabbed your arm. “Look at me!”

You pulled your arm back and walked away, “I’m so glad you’re here to tell me again, Logan, like I’m a child.”

“I wouldn’t have to talk to you like you’re a fucking idiot, if you didn’t act like a fucking idiot,” he grabbed your arm again and turned you around to face him. “Stop walking away from me.”

You gasped when he pushed you against the wall, trailing the backs of his knuckles against your bicep. Your eyes flitted up to meet his.

“You could’ve died,” he flipped you around and pushed you against the wall, “is that what you wanted? To be remembered as dumb and impulsive?” He asked, grinding his thick bulge against your ass.

“I know I was stupid. I don’t need you to–”

“Answer me. Do you want to be remembered as a fucking moron?” his hand rested on your waist, fingers digging into your flesh.

“No,” you muttered, breath coming out in short huffs at the feeling of his cock grinding up against you.

Within a second, your shorts were pulled down around your thighs, panties to follow. At some point in the mix he must’ve pulled out his cock because you felt it dipping between your thighs, bathing in the slick of your arousal. You groaned, mouth falling open as he rocked his hips, coating himself in your juices, not quite fucking you just yet.

“What would I have fucking done if you’d died?” he growled, slipping inside your hot cunt, sighing in relief. “Who would take this cock? Hm?”

You looked at him over your shoulder, cheek still pressed against the cool wall as he started thrusting. His lip was curled up in a snarl, breath punching out of his lungs with every powerful snap forward.

“Y-you don’t -oh fuck- you don’t care that much,” you moaned deeply, “you’d f-find someone else.”

He pulled back and then plunged himself back inside, full to the hilt.

“That’s why you’re stupid, dumb, fucking stupid girl,” he huffed, one of his hands moving from your waist to your head, pushing you harder against the wall. “Can’t listen,” he grunted, cock stretching you wider with every pass.

“I just wanted to h-help,” you protested.

His breathing turned rough and ragged, the roll of his hips becoming more slow and deliberate. You could hear how wet you were every time he slid himself into you, the slick arousal squelching around his thick cock.

“Yeah, and how did that work out for you?” He asked between thrusts.

You whined, drool spilling down your chin and landing on your shoulder.

“Hm? I can’t hear you, sweetheart,” he bared his teeth.

“It d-didn’t, I didn’t win,” you gulped, inhaling sharply through your nose.

“That’s it, that’s right, - oh fuck -” he fucked into you faster, “gonna fill up this stupid cunt, you want that?”

“Yes,” you cried, feeling your body tingle all over. “Yes p-please,” you begged.

He stopped suddenly, growling and grunting in your ear as his cock throbbed inside your dripping cunt. You felt him spilling deep in your core, filling you so full it dripped down your thighs and onto the floor. You curled your toes, feeling your own climax rush through your body, legs trembling every time your pussy pulsated around his girth.

“F-fuck, Logan,” you breathed, turning into jelly in his arms.

“Don’t go out there and fight without me again,” he demanded, “don’t be a fuckin’ idiot. Got it?” he pulled out of you with a satisfied huff.

“Okay, I won’t,” you agreed, turning around and putting both hands on his chest.

“Good,” he kissed your forehead.

Marc stole away to your room one night when the mansion was fast asleep.

You awakened to him, hovering over you, eyes filled with such a heavy desire it was almost tangible. You cupped his cheeks, leaning up to slot your lips over his. Marc’s breath was coming out in short, desperate huffs, mouth quickly working its way to your jawline, then to your pulse where he rested, basking in your overwhelmingly delicious scent.

“I wish I could taste you,” he muttered against your skin, the sound of his fangs shifting into place rang loudly in your ear; the sound of danger; the sound of hunger.

“I know,” you whispered, wanting more than anything to give him that small thing, but you knew Khonshu would never allow it.

His kisses peppered your skin until he reached your sternum.

“I’ll just have to kiss every inch of you until I’m satisfied enough then,” he sniffed out a laugh, looking up at you through his dark lashes.

You nodded, breathless and wanting, body sparking to life at the mere sight of him exploring you with his lips alone. He kissed your breasts, peeling away your nightgown so he could flick his tongue over your budded nipples, grazing the hardened flesh with his teeth.

“Marc,” you whispered, somewhere between a beg and a demand.

It was painfully slow, the way he pressed his lips against different parts of your body, each time feeling better than the last. You thought you might scream when he lapped his tongue over your lower abdomen.

“You’re so wet,” he commented, sounding a little surprised.

“You do this to me…constantly,” you said, eyes still transfixed on his movements.

He looked right at you as he dragged a finger through your slick folds, like he was gauging your reaction, daring you to moan for him. Your jaw dropped when he dipped his finger inside your waiting hole, curling it upward and feeling your cunt flutter.

“Marc,” you said again, this time accompanied by a heavy moan.

He held onto your hip with his free hand, melting his mouth against your burning clit. With a gasp, you threw your head back, your hand quickly moving, grabbing onto a fistful of curls. You arched your back, angling your cunt against his face, filling the room with your soft, whispered moans. 

Marc’s eyes flitted upward, catching your gaze in the heat of the moment. You heard him groan deeply, swallowing against your mound like a man starved. With another finger to meet the first, you felt a delicious stretch, followed quickly by your choked whine. Marc hummed into your folds, starting to piston his fingers in and out of you, moving in time with his tongue.

Your thighs clenched around his head, a sign that your orgasm was coming near. He looked up at you again, brow raised as if to acknowledge your impending climax. You shoved his head back down, crossing your legs over his back and biting your lip.

“J-Just like that, right there, o-oh god,” you muttered, using your free hand to cover your own mouth.

When Marc added finger number three, you were a goner. He curled them up, hitting that spot that made your whole body shudder and your cunt clench around him. You had to use both hands now to silence yourself, lest your screams wake the entire household.

After what felt like forever, your mind became clear again, the fog of your orgasm fading away. Marc made his way up to you, kissing your lips softly and brushing his thumb over your cheek.

“Goodnight, honey,” he whispered, kissing the tip of your nose.

“Goodnight, Marc.”

“Wait love wait!”

The entire demeanor of the man in front of you changed into the sweet, caring man that you were smitten with. You let go of him, stepping back and looking down at him with a furrowed brow. You felt your heart racing as your fight or flight kicked in. Steven looked nervous as he stepped forward, pressing his palm to your broad chest.

“D-darling I…well…we have something we want to share with you and I thought that if we’re getting more serious then…no time like the present yeah?”

“Steven…what’s going on?” You were trying not to express your irritation with him, but your balled fists gave you away.

“M’gonna let Marc tell you everything but you have to promise not to hurt him, yeah?” Steven looked up at you, brows turned up and knitted together as he awaited your answer.

He gulped, rubbing your clothed pecks with his hand, smoothing out the wrinkles in your button-down. He tried smiling at you, biting his bottom lip. You didn’t like making Steven so frightened so you let out a deep exhale. If he wasn’t scared or in danger, then you didn’t need to be so on edge. You nodded slowly.

Steven let out a deep breath, “right then, gonna let him out now.”

You watched in awe as Steven’s eyes rolled back in his head and then his body changed again. He stood a little taller, and his expression appeared a little darker. The man breathed deeply, looking up at you before pulling his hand off your body as though he’d been burned. He averted his gaze. You could’ve sworn you saw his cheeks get a little more rosy.

“What the fuck is happenin’?” You asked in a serious tone.

“Look, I told Steven you weren’t ready for this conversation but he insisted we have it so…here we are. He said it was gettin’ serious with you and he didn’t want any more secrets between you two,” he cleared his throat nervously, “my name is Marc Spector.” The man shrugged, “I guess the easiest way to tell you is to just get it out there so…I have an identity disorder as a result of my childhood trauma.”

You both stood silently for a moment while you absorbed the information. You recalled your time in the British Armed Forces, and some of the horrific things you’d seen. Trauma caused the brain to do amazing things; Things that were difficult to explain sometimes. You understood trauma well. You looked at Marc’s face, seeing the seriousness behind his eyes. This wasn’t a game. This wasn’t some guy trying to mess with you, or pull a fast one on you. This was a man who had been through something horrible, or several horrible things, and it caused his mind to tear at the seams.

You nodded in understanding, “alright, yeah, I don’t know everything there is to know about identity disorders but, I’ve got some mental issues of my own mate, keep goin’.”

Marc nodded and exhaled in relief, “well, my…our mom…”

You put a hand on Marc’s shoulder, “s’fine, you don’t have to explain it t’me.”

“I…Steven, wants me to, he wants you to know, and he’s right…I need to be the one to tell you, because I’m the one who was there.” He looked away from you and at the floor, “our mom used to beat me, she hated me.”

You squeezed Marc’s shoulder gently. His head jolted up, glossed eyes meeting with yours. He shook his head, as though he were begging you not to make him continue.

“I meant what I said, and I’m talkin’ to Steven too…you don’t have to explain this t’me. I understand.”

“Fuck,” Marc said, turning away from you and covering his face in his hands.

I was awkward as hell to stand there while Marc cried, but you were glad he was getting it off his chest. You wondered if he’d ever shared this with anyone, or if it was only you. Either way, you knew he wasn’t sharing for his own sake, but instead for Steven’s, and you could respect that. When you look back now, you think that on the same day you met Marc, was the day you fell in love with him too, but you didn’t realize it yet.

“There’s another one too,” Marc looked at the water glass on the table.“Steven, I have to tell him.” You watched the - from your perspective - one sided conversation between Marc and Steven. “You didn’t want to keep this a secret but you want to keep him a secret? St–” Marc grumbled and then looked at you, “I’m telling you, even though Steven doesn’t want me to.”

“Tellin’ me what?”

“Jake is the third one of us. You may never meet him, but he’s here nonetheless,” Marc let out a sharp exhale, “We don’t really see him much either, but…the three of us get along…kinda.”

“Well, if he’s part of Steven’s life, then I look forward to meeting him,” you gave Marc a kind smirk.

You watched Marc’s entire body language change. It wasn’t like before when he switched from Steven to himself, but instead, it looked like his entire body relaxed with your reassurance. Marc looked like he might collapse and start crying again right then and there. You wondered when the last time he’d talked to someone about this was…if he’d ever talked to someone about this.

“Damn. That was…easier than I thought. You took that surprisingly well,” he said, giving you a tight lipped smirk.

“Had a boatload of therapy,” you shrugged, “I learnt long ago that you can’t really tell how the mind is gonna deal with trauma.” You thought now was as good a time as any to change the subject, seeing that Marc was getting uncomfortable again. “So are you…do you like…” you pointed to yourself. Of course you would hop from one uncomfortable topic to another.

Marc’s eyes shot wide once he realized what you were suggesting, “no, no, I like women, one hundred percent.”

Marc crossed his arms and cleared his throat nervously.

“But this, Steven and me, that doesn’t bother you?” You asked.

“Oh, oh, no. Steven’s happy, and the way I see it, that’s the only thing that matters,” Marc’s lips managed to curl into a smirk.

You could tell he cared about Steven, and so the two of you had that much in common, but that wasn’t the last time you saw Marc. You saw him again when you and Steven got into your first argument. It wasn’t anything serious, but it seemed to upset Steven enough to force him into the headspace.

The argument was stupid, and if you were being honest, it was a little funny. Steven walked into your office one afternoon, closing the door behind himself. He was stammering, as he often did when he was thinking about what he wanted to say faster than the words could come out. You chuckled, standing up and walking over to him, cupping his face.

“S’alright love, just tell me what’s wrong,” you brushed your thumb over his stubbled cheek.

“Gettin’ fed up with Linda not pickin’ up her mess in the break room,” Steven groaned, “I know s’not a big deal, not really, but I told her three times to pick up after herself and she still acts like a right slob.”

“Steven, that’s not really somethin’ I deal with,” you said as he huffed out a frustrated breath.

“I know, sometimes I just want to complain a bit, yeah?”

“C’mere,” you said, motioning with your finger.

He walked back over to you and pressed his face into your chest, “I’m irritated.”

You wrapped your arms around him, “I know darling,” you pushed him back at arm’s length, but I know something that might help.”

Steven had joked about wanting to blow you under your desk, but he’d never actually done it yet. In fact, he hadn’t blown you before at all. He acted like you were doing him a favor when you sat down in your big office chair with your legs spread out and his face between them. The way his eyes went wide with excitement and he started drooling you would’ve thought he was the one getting a blowjob.

He looked hungry, fumbling with the button and then the zipper of your pants as he released your cock from its confines. He always - always - made a comment about how big you were. His eyes crossed as your dick lined up between them, and he seemed breathless despite not yet having done anything at all.

“Steven, darling, might be too big f’you to fit in your mouth, it’s alright if you don’t want to.”

He looked up at you, putting a hand on either of your thighs.

“I want to,” he said softly.

Steven licked a stripe up your length, forcing your cock to twitch in response. You grabbed the arms of your chair as he repeated the gesture. You bucked your hips upward involuntarily. Steven giggled and looked up at you.

“Ooh, needy…” He wrapped his fingers around your girth, pumping up and down slowly, “you’re a bit leaky too love.”

“Are you gonna keep teasin’ me, or are you gonna be a good boy and take this thing like you were made to?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

Steven nodded with a shaky breath, smile fading at your words. You felt bad being so verbally rough with him sometimes, but you knew he enjoyed it. Whenever the two of you were in bed together it was like flipping a switch, making him hard in an instant. You slid down further in your chair, moving one of your hands to the back of his curly head.

He licked up your length again before taking the head in his mouth. You shuddered seeing Steven’s lips stretched around your fat dick. It seemed like he really was made to take it, sliding over the length as though his gag reflex was nonexistent. You exhaled sharply, feeling the way his tongue rolled over the underside of your shaft.

“Oh god Steven, takin’ me so well love, that’s it, just like t-that,” you pushed him down over you even more, “you tap my knee if it’s too much darling, don’t wanna hurt you.”

You felt his throat contract around you. There was still more to go, and you wanted nothing more than to see your entire dick disappear inside his precious mouth. You brushed a thumb over his cheek.

“Relax your throat, Steven, open up f’me,” you felt his muscles relax and you were able to push in further. “That’s it, that’s my good boy.”

Steven moaned over your length as he started bobbing his head in a delicious rhythm. He took one hand off your thighs and you heard the clank of his belt while he started freeing his own cock. The sound of him jerking himself could just barely be heard over the sound of him choking on your dick.

He looked up at you with affectionate and tear glossed eyes when you carded your hand through his hair. You bit your bottom lip and started rolling your hips slowly forward into his mouth, brushing your pubes against his nose as he took every single inch you had to offer.

“Steven, you sure you’ve never done this before?” Your entire body trembled, “s-so good…”

You heard the distinct sound of footsteps approaching the door. You both froze.

“Steven, you locked the door, yeah?”

Steven, in fact, hadn’t locked the door.

Steven made himself as hidden as he could in the space under your desk, where the intruder wouldn’t be able to see him. You rolled up as close as you could get without crushing him in there. John, your boss, walked in, smiling big. He stepped over, putting a hand on the varnished surface of the desk, leaning in to talk to you.

“Hey! Just stoppin’ in to tell you I think you’re doin’ great, and those reports you sent me yesterday…perfect.” He patted your shoulder and you jumped in response.

You felt Steven between your legs trying to put your cock back in your pants, but struggling given its current…state. You were close before while he had it buried in his throat, and that hadn’t changed in the seconds that had gone by. You were still close, and him moving it around wasn’t helping that issue. You kept your eyes on John, but tried like hell to push Steven’s hands and face away from you, but to no avail.

“Well I’m…oh…” you cleared your throat, “I’m glad you l-liked them.”

Steven didn’t get the hint, he was still sliding his hand over your length, trying to get it back inside your boxers. You couldn’t try very hard to stop him, or it would be obvious you were trying to do something under your desk, so you stopped trying, and just hoped that John would leave before…oh god.

You slammed your hand on the desk, “f-fuck!”

To John, you must’ve looked insane, like you were staring at him wide-eyed and shouting for no apparent reason. To you and Steven, you were coming, hot ropes of your spend hitting your boyfriend in the face under the desk. You managed to keep yourself from saying anything too telling, and you kept your breathing level…as level as you could.

“Fuck I forgot to sign the agreement for the…the uhhh–”

“Oh! For the new display going into the Ancient Egypt section of course! I’ll go get that right now!” John chuckled, “glad you remembered that, I’ll be right back.”

As he walked out, you rolled back in your chair to see Steven’s pretty face covered in globs of your spend. He looked pissed off, crawling out from under the desk and grabbing a few tissues from your desk to clean himself off.

“Darling, what’s wrong? You’re the one who–”

“You…did this…all over my face!”

“Love, I couldn’t help it, you kept touchin’ me and–”

“And,” he held a finger up, “and you could’ve locked the door before havin’ me do that in the first place!”

“Steven, you could’ve locked the door yourself when you walked–”

“I wasn’t plannin’ to come in here and do somethin’ like that now was I?”

You could see the embarrassment in his flush cheeks. He seemed exasperated, chest rising and falling with every heavy breath. He wasn’t really mad at you, but you doubted you’d be getting another ‘under the desk’ blow job any time soon.

“Now your boss knows what we were doin’ and he’s gonna make you fire me and maybe he’ll even fire you and–”

“Stop…” you cupped his cheeks and kissed his forehead.

“No!” he pushed you off of him, “no, m’not gonna let you just kiss this one away. We could’ve been caught, you’re reckless and this isn’t like me at all! I don’t do things like this!” Steven stormed out of your office, passing John on his way out.

That was it…that was the argument.

You supposed that with Steven never having really been in a relationship before, an argument with his first ever significant other could be upsetting, despite it being such a silly thing to argue over. Taking that into consideration, you decided to tread lightly when you got home, toeing off your shoes in the entryway of his flat when you arrived almost silently. That’s when you noticed that Marc was there, not Steven.

“Hey,” he said, tipping back the beer in his hand and then holding it up, “want one?”

You shook your head, “no thanks.”

It was like Steven had a roommate. At least…that’s how it felt. Marc was the more stern one, like he was the polar opposite of Steven, but you didn’t mind. You liked the company regardless. Marc was a good guy, you could just tell. After a couple of minutes talking about the weather, the two of you managed to get into something more serious. 

“You said you’ve been to therapy? Mind if I ask what for?” Marc took another swig of his beer.

“Uh, PTSD, spent a few years in the British Armed Forces and then got myself honorably discharged after…” you sniffed out a laugh, “maybe I will take that drink after all.”

After a few drinks, you and Marc were trading war stories and with it, your tales of trauma. You wondered how long it was going to take him to open up to you about why and how Steven came to be, but there Marc was, letting down his always stoic demeanor in order to open himself up to you.

He cried, and you opened your arms to him.

“No, no I told you I’m not…that’s not my thing…”

You laughed, “s’not a ‘thing’ to hug someone when they’re sad, Marc. C’mere…”

You tugged his jacket and pulled his rigid frame into your arms, wrapping them around him tightly. At first he was stiff, still mumbling some protests, but then you felt him exhale, like his entire body were a balloon being emptied of the air inside of it. That’s when the heavier sobs came, tears spilling out of his eyes and onto your forearm.

“Steven is so good, and sometimes I think it would just be best if I don’t ever come out. Sometimes I think that the world would be a better place without me in it,” he said between heavy cries. He looked up at you, “Steven could be happy, and be with you all the time and–”

“Steven would miss you, Marc,” you looked into his eyes, seeing the pain he felt just made you want to hold him closer, but you knew that would only make it more awkward.

You didn’t have to worry about feeling awkward though, because he leaned up and slotted his lips over yours all on his own. You pulled back in surprise, wondering if he did that by mistake or not, or if Steven had decided to come back when you didn’ notice.

“S-Steven?” You asked, looking between his eyes rapidly.

He shook his head, “no, still me,” he said breathlessly, looking down at your mouth before pulling you in again.

You smiled against his lips, “how unexpected.”

Moon Knight Masterlist

Marc could tell something had changed from the time you’d all left Ammit’s home and now as he was getting out of the van he’d been restrained in. You looked different, the way you carried yourself, and the way you looked at him. Was that hatred in your eyes? Were you scared? What were you thinking about? He couldn’t tell, and with the gag in his mouth, he couldn’t ask you either.

That was the only chance he had to look at you before he was dragged away, still trying to wriggle free from his restraints uselessly. Khonshu must’ve told you something, something that would make you hate Marc even more than you already should’ve from day one. So he stopped fighting, giving in to his fate. You would be alright, he decided, knowing that, despite Khonshu holding you captive, you were well cared for. You wouldn’t starve, and you’d be kept out of harm’s way, so Marc didn’t need to fight for anything anymore.

The thirst room was probably the best place for him. In there he wouldn’t put you in anymore danger with his incessant need to have you. He wouldn’t be so tempted to whisk you away from there, risking both of your lives in the process. By the time Khonshu’s other men had brought Marc to the door of the thirst room, he’d signed himself over to his fate, agreeing that this was a good outcome for everyone involved.

He deserved it.

You deserved better.

Marc only wished that he’d been able to kiss you one more time before he was thrown in there, that he could’ve told you how you really made him feel. In his many, many, years of life, he’d never had anyone make him feel less alone and more alive. He loved you, and he never had the chance to tell you that. Again, he thought, that’s probably for the best. If he’d admitted that to you, you might’ve done something dumb, and irrational in an attempt to stop Khonshu from doing this.

Marc stepped into the thirst room, his restraints were removed along with his gag before the door was slammed in his face. Before his eyes, just like the last time he was condemned to that room, the only door in and out of it disappeared, leaving him secluded with nothing but the four white walls that surrounded him, and a dim light overhead.

The worst part about the thirst room, according to Marc, is the inability to tell the time. He wondered if others would agree, but for him, knowing how much time he’d suffered on Earth was important. Not to mention, the last time he was in there, his mind was the first thing to go. It only took a week before he felt like ripping his skin off in an attempt to fight the boredom.

The first time he was in the thirst room was different though He was in there over a minor offense, of which he had no control. This time however, he deserved everything that was happening to him. He knew the rules, he broke the rules, and now he suffered the consequences. This time, he was willing to accept the fate that he was given, so the mental suffering wasn’t unbearable. He almost strangely felt at peace.

Marc thought about things he hadn’t recollected in a while. He remembered his childhood, the memories of his brothers still playing out in his mind. He wondered if they were still alive, and if they were, did they ever think of him? The last time Marc had seen Jake he was in New York City, while Khonshu had brought a caravan to the northeast for business, though he couldn’t remember now if it was 1936 or 1937.

“Marc?” Marc could still hear Jake’s gruff voice clear in his mind. “Hermano?!”

Marc had looked at Jake, eyes wide, breath catching in his lungs. His family was supposed to think he was dead, that was part of the deal. Khonshu saved him, and he would serve Khonshu forever, and Marc would be forced to commit social suicide. He’d done all that, so Marc imagined now that Jake probably thought he was seeing a ghost.

That’s what got Jake shot, a bullet through his chest, right in the center. It was Marc’s fault. If Jake had died that night, it would be the second time he’d watched a brother die, and the second time he’d be stuck with the guilt that came with causing his sibling’s death. Marc made quick work of the shooter, wiping him off the face of the world faster than the man could comprehend what was happening to him.

“Jake,” Marc scrambled to his brother’s side, holding his head in his lap and looking down at him, tears filling his eyes. “What are you doing dealing with guys like this huh? You’re smarter than that.”

Jake scoffed, “fuck off, I don’t need a lecture from you, we all have our shit. People don’t fake their own death because they’re innocent, little brother.”

Marc watched him cough up blood, the smell driving him crazy and making him salivate. He shook his head, clearing his mind enough to think more clearly. He wasn’t allowed to turn anyone, it was strictly forbidden by Khonshu. But Khonshu didn’t have to know. Marc bit into his own wrist, wincing as he did and quickly pressing his bleeding flesh against Jake’s lips.

“Drink,” he demanded.

“Marc what the fuck are you–”

“Just trust me!”

Jake drank the blood, and his wound healed seamlessly as if it had never been there in the first place. Marc sighed in relief, though he knew he’d just doomed his brother to the life he hated.

“You have to get away from here, Jake.”

Jake looked at Marc as if he was a monster, and he’d be right. Marc was a monster.

“Marc, what the fuck has happened to you,” Jake asked, a dark scowl sporting his face.

“I don’t have time to explain, I need to go just…don’t come looking for me, ever, and if someone named Khonshu or Ammit ever come to you and invite you to join them…don’t.”

Marc didn’t know what ever came of Jake and what he did to him that night. The next time Marc found himself in New York he looked him up but couldn’t find anyone with the name Jake Spector. He could only hope that he’d found his way without hurting anyone or hurting himself, and he could only hope that he didn’t despise Marc as much as Marc despised himself.

“What about me?”

Marc jumped awake, realizing he’d fallen asleep, not something a healthy vampire normally needed, but after -what he could only assume was- a few days without blood, Marc was feeling weak. The voice had caught him off guard, even more so the British accent that came with it. Marc looked up and could swear his little brother, Steven, was standing there in the corner of the small room, staring down at Marc from where he sat on the floor.

“Steven.”

“Did you forget about me?”

“No,” Marc grumbled, “unfortunately I can’t forget about anyone’s life I’ve ruined.”

It was easy for Marc to know he was hallucinating because Steven was always mean to him in his state of delirium. Marc would’ve paid the real Steven to be mean to him, just for the sake of easing the guilt he felt around his little brother. The hallucination of Steven disappeared, but the memories came flooding in against Marc’s will.

Marc and Khonshu had gone to London in 1940, if Marc recalled correctly.. He remembered the year clearly because that was the year Steven turned 40. It was raining in London the day they got there, and the streets were fairly empty.

“Marc, take a small patrol around central. Harrow, go to the west.” Khonshu demanded. 

Ammit was there with them, along with some of the other ancient ones. The city had been terrorized by a pack of mutts, young ones at that. They’d only been turned a couple of weeks prior, making them feral, unpredictable creatures. A seasoned lycanthrope could behave, not drawing attention to itself or its pack. The young were incapable, and that’s why Khonshu was there, to put a stop to the tyranny.

If there was one thing Marc admired about Khonshu, it was his desire to keep the chaos to a minimum. He didn’t like loose ends or threats to his way of life. The underground society that was run by vampires, were-creatures, and supernatural beings alike, could only thrive if there was order in place. When disorder ensued, even those who had been enemies for millennia could put aside their differences for the greater good of their species. If the majority of humans found out about their existence, they were sure to be eradicated overnight.

Much like Jake, Marc hadn't seen Steven since before he’d turned. In fact, neither he nor Jake had seen Steven in what felt like ages. When Marc left to join the marines, he’d left the two of them behind with their abusive mother. Then when Jake finally left, he hightailed it for New York, wanting to get as far from her as possible. 

Marc always knew that Jake never forgave him for leaving, even if he was the one getting the brunt end of their mother’s wrath. He knew it was because once Marc left, that wrath turned to Jake and Steven. Just another thing Marc could add to the long list of things that were his fault.

Steven was neurodivergent, coping with the abuse by dissociating and imagining he was a British archeologist which later developed into him having an almost obsessive interest in history, namely Egypt. Marc chuckled now at the thought, wondering how Steven would react if he knew the truth about all the Egyptian gods.

Marc would never forget the screams he heard that night ripping through London. A wild pack of feral werewolves under the light of a full moon spelled disaster for the city. The young were harder to kill than the seasoned, their bodies not yet weary with age and years of fatigue that came with being one of them.

He saw Steven, among many other employees, rushing out of the National Art Gallery with several werewolves in tow. Marc watched one of Steven’s coworkers get attacked right behind his brother, the creature mauling her before she even had a chance to put up a fight. Steven managed to distract one with his bookbag, but then another came at him from the front.

“What the hell are the odds,” Marc remembered muttering, shocked that he’d found his brother, of all people, hung up in this mess.

He, to this day, still wondered if Khonshu somehow knew the locations of Marc’s brothers and brought him to those places specifically to torment him.Then again, he wasn’t sure what the motive would be and decided it wasn’t likely to be the case. He managed to stop the creature that was lunging at Steven, the massive beast scratching at Marc’s chest, only to meet its end by a crescent dart slicing smoothly through its jugular.

“Steven!” Marc recalled shouting his brother’s name, finding him leaning up against a wall with a gash in his arm. “Shit…”

“M-Marc?”

Even through his pain, that little shit still smiled like he was happy to see him. Steven’s face beamed, eyes glittering in the moonlight as if he hadn’t just narrowly escaped death by supernatural monster.

“You’re alive! Oh Jake is gonna be so–”

“You’ve seen Jake?” Marc knew it wasn’t the time for casual conversation, but he had to know if their older brother was still alive.

Steven shook his head, “n-not for a couple years now, but when I find him, he’ll be absolutely thrilled to know you’re not dead!”

Marc felt a pain in his chest, the thought of Steven waiting for either of his older brothers to come back to him only to disappear for years at a time. If guilt could kill a man, it would’ve taken Marc out right then and there.

“Marc! The fight’s not over yet! What are you doing?!” 

One of Khonshu’s soldiers hollered in Marc’s direction alerting him that his time for catching up was over. He touched Steven’s cheek; it was cold and covered in a thin layer of sweat.

“Take care of yourself, alright?” Marc looked down at the wound on Steven’s arm. “That should heal just fine, it’s not that deep, just keep pressure on it.”

“Marc!”

“Hide by the bodies, act dead and they won’t be able to smell your body over the dead ones,” Marc rushed to say, to which Steven nodded, lips shaking as if he meant to say something else, but Marc left before he could utter another word.

Marc still wondered while he sat in the thirst room what it was Steven wanted to tell him. Was he going to beg him to stay? Or was he finally going to give him a piece of his mind for running off and abandoning him and Jake? It didn’t matter. Either way, Marc had to leave, and either way, Steven’s words would’ve made it even harder for him to go.

He didn’t want to think about Ro most of all, but the young boy he killed weighed heavily on his mind the longer he sat in there. It was as if the harder he tried not to think about it, the harder it became to ignore. Steven was too young to remember Marc killing their brother, and Marc was eternally grateful for that. To this day, Marc wished he’d died instead.

He laughed a bit, thinking about how he was never good at following directions. His mother had told him to be careful and keep an eye on Ro when they went to play in that cave before it washed out and Ro drowned. Khonshu had told Marc to stay away from you. Maybe Marc was just bad at following directions. Maybe the thirst room would finally put him out of his misery.

He could only hope…

Moon Knight Masterlist

It was a long trip back to the mansion.

The return journey took no more time than the trip there, but it felt longer. Marc had been bound in enchanted chains, not unlike the ones Khonshu made you wear back at his home. You recalled seeing him getting into the back of one of the vans just before you were shoved haphazardly into Khonshu’s black luxury sedan.

You’d been blindfolded for the duration of the trip, but now with only an hour remaining – or so the driver reported to Khonshu – he removed the cloth over your eyes. You blinked, the light piercing your retina for a moment before you adjusted to the sight around you. There was a long coast visible through the trees. Waves crashed against stone, beating them down until they were nothing.

“I thought that you and I could talk, sweet one,” he said in a soft tone, one that you knew he used when trying to appeal to you.

You were all out of care for his facade. This, Khonshu, the mansion, his promises, you didn’t want any of it anymore. You’d rather die than remain under his command, especially now that the truth was unfurling.

—

“Please don’t hurt him! I won’t see him anymore! I promise! I’m sorry!” You’d yelled in your room in Ammit’s house, the same night Khonshu had caught you with Marc.

Khonshu had laughed at you, as though your emotional agony brought him nothing but pure bliss. If there was ever a moment you’d seen Khonshu for the monster he was, it was then. He tsked, walking over to you and sitting on the edge of your bed. His hand reached out to rub your calf, a soft gesture for a horrid creature.

“I’m sorry, little dove,” he’d whispered to you, “I know this hurts, but it’s for the best. I can’t have Marc interfering with my plans more than he already has.”

 When you asked him what ‘plans’ he spoke of, he dodged the question.

“I don’t want you to worry about him at all, okay? By the time he’s allowed out of the thirst room, you’ll be long gone and it won’t be your concern anymore.” 

You wondered if he genuinely thought that was supposed to comfort you, or if he just wanted to torment you further by telling you that you would never see Marc again.

—

You remained silent as the car drove along the winding road. You’d hoped your silence would provide a sufficient enough answer. You didn’t want to fucking talk to Khonshu if he was the only thing left on Earth with the ability to speak.

“Fine, then perhaps you care to listen?”

No.

A thousand times, you did not care to listen, but being trapped in a moving car with two vampires and no way to fight, you were left with no other choice.

“You should know that what I said was true, I did save Marc Spector,” he started. You kept your eyes trained at the window. “It was 1935, and he was at an archaeological dig site in Cairo. Did you know he used to be in the marines?”

You didn’t know that. There were a lot of things you didn’t know about Marc Spector, but you’d fallen for him regardless. His past wasn’t particularly important to you. At this point, you both were trapped in the same living hell, and all you had was each other to get through it.

“Well, after he was discharged, he started working for some mercenaries.”

You felt a hand snake around your waist and pull you back against Khonshu’s chest. His large hand rested casually over your stomach. The rise and fall of his chest against your back felt comforting, despite your desire to kill him the moment you figured out how. You relaxed, body going pliant against his while the car continued along the quiet road.

He continued, “When Marc refused to gun down some innocent archeologists, the other mercenaries turned on him, and he managed to drag himself into my temple.” Khonshu laughed, “I’d felt a disturbance at my statue, so I went there at once.”

“What were you searching for?” You asked quietly.

“That’s not important right now. What’s important is that I gave Marc a choice, and he chose this life,” Khonshu’s tone grew very serious. “He would have you think that I tricked him, but I did no such thing. I offered him life, and in exchange, he would serve me. He chose to live so I–”

“Enslaved him,” you interrupted, feeling your body shaking with frustration.

You could hear Khonshu sigh in aggravation, “I. Saved. Him.”

The car became silent for another beat, the two of you rocking in each other's arms every time the driver rolled over a bump in the asphalt. You didn’t know why he was telling you this story, and you didn’t quite care to listen any longer, but you still didn’t have a choice.

“My point is, that as much as you both seem to think that I am hurting you, I encourage you to remember where you came from,” he hissed in your ear.

You cursed the tear that trickled down your cheek. “Why didn’t it work, Marc’s blood?” You asked through clenched teeth.

Khonshu laughed, “I was going to wait until a more opportune time to tell you, but Marc changed a lot of my plans with his…primal behavior.” His hand rubbed your stomach and you felt uneasy. “You, my little dove, are special. Though I’m sure you already know this. Your smell attracts vampires like a moth to a flame and your blood…well, imagine if vampires had a drug for performance enhancement.”

“Like a steroid?”

“Precisely. Your blood is not unlike a steroid for us. You’re able to heal rather quickly as well, have you noticed that?” He trailed a finger up your arm. “I’m sure when you were a child your bumps and bruises would mend faster than your peers, hm?”

You didn’t respond, though you knew his words to be true.

“There used to be several other humanoid species on Earth besides humans. Vampires, Werewolves, Witches, etcetera. Many of them have been eradicated at this point for too many reasons to list, but you, sweet one, your species was plucked from the Earth for being both too dangerous and too advantageous to my species.”

You moved to sit, and to your surprise, he didn’t insist on you staying cradled against him. You looked at him incredulously. If what he was saying was true, and based on the evidence, you didn’t see how it could be a lie.You really weren’t human.

“What am I then?” You asked, furrowing your brow.

“Relax, you’re more of a sub-species of human than a different species altogether.” He chuckled, looking out the window with his cold, dark eyes. “You’re what’s called a hunter.” Your mind was racing, but you didn’t know what to say. “It may shock you to know, but I don’t know who the first vampire was, nor do I know the origins of my kind, butthe other ancient ones and I saw to it that the hunters were removed from existence.”

The realization hit you right away. Your parents…

“My…”

“That’s right, dove,” Khonshu cooed, brushing a finger over your cheek. “I had my knights kill your parents, and anyone else you may have called kin.”

You didn’t feel emotional pain around the people you never knew, rather you felt pain for the girl who spent her life trying to understand why they would abandon her; why she was deemed so unworthy of their affections. You felt a simultaneous relief and ache that you couldn’t shake. It was comforting to know that they hadn’t discarded you carelessly, but Khonshu just told you that his knights had hunted down and killed your parents.

“Marc and Arthur?” You looked into his emotionless eyes.

“Who else?”

“You’re lying.”

“Think what you must for your mental comfort, sweet one, but I assure you, I sent my men on a private mission to kill the last two hunters alive around twenty-one years ago.”

The car was silent again, and you felt like your breath was stolen from your lungs. It was all too much at once, learning that you’re a human subspecies, your parents are deceased, and Marc may have been the one to do it. No doubt he would’ve remembered killing them though, right?

“I told them to kill you too, but you were already gone. It was when I heard that Ammit was searching for the little huntress that my interest was piqued.” Khonshu looked at his nails as though you were discussing the weather or the price of milk. “The blood of a hunter is…” He snatched your hand and pressed his nose against your wrist, inhaling deeply, “intoxicating, but simultaneously it’s invigorating. There’s nothing else like it in the entire world.”

With a gentle kiss on the inside of your wrist, he let go, snickering wickedly when you scowled at him.

“Why have you kept this from me? What benefit is there of keeping this a secret? If my smell is so potent then surely the others would know that you have a hunter with you.”

Khonshu’s large hand reached out and touched your stomach. He rubbed over the fabric of your dress, thumb caressing you affectionately. His lips parted and his breath trembled as if he were heady with arousal.

“It was always forbidden for blood hunters to exist in our world. Some thousand years ago they were spreading like wildfire, vampires and hunters fucking like rabbits, spitting out the little cretins left and right.” He smirked at you, his eyes twinkling with cruel mischief. “You wouldn’t believe how many people and children burned when we decided to kill them all.”

“We?” You asked, feeling a wave of terror wash over your skin, making your hairs stand out straight.

“Myself, Ammit, Osiris, Horus, Isis, the majority of your ‘gods’ are supernatural beings that have been around for, well, a long, long time.” He sighed. “The blood hunter genocide was a dark time, but it had to be done. Hunters were already dangerous on their own, well-trained supernatural killers that couldn’t be turned into lycan, vampire, or any other sort of unnatural creature. Your blood is immune to the diseases that plague us with our cursed lives.”

“That’s why Marc couldn’t make me like him…” you looked down at your palms, realizing what this meant.

“You’re missing my point here, my little dove,” he said to you in a patronizing tone you despised. “Blood hunters are the children born of a vampire and a hunter, and they’re dangerous because they cannot die as easily as man. They age remarkably slowly, and they can still lure in a vampire the same as you can, with your delicious scent.”

“Why are you telling me this,” you asked, despite already knowing the answer.

He chuckled, “I’m done with this impasse between myself and Ammit. I’m tired of living in this mansion tucked away at the edge of the world.”

As he said that, the place you called home, Khonshu’s mansion came into view over the hill in the distance.

“I was going to take you myself. Plant my seed so deep in your belly you couldn’t walk for weeks, but I wanted to give her the chance to submit before I create a creature as vile as a blood hunter…but it would seem Marc couldn’t contain himself for that long.”

You touched your stomach. You didn’t feel any different, though it had only been a few days, so you shouldn’t feel different. As if he could read your mind, Khonshu answered your burning questions.

“We have an incredible sense of smell, dove, and you have a scent that is designed to draw my kind in. When you’re pregnant that smell changes, and because your scent is so pungent already, even the slightest change is easy enough for us to sense.”

You felt your palms start to sweat, your heart rate rose and the car felt like it was getting smaller. Everything felt loud, the sound of the car rolling over the dirt road as the driver turned onto the final stretch of the journey, your breath coming out of your mouth, and the way Khonshu chuckled at your distress. You wanted to jump out of the vehicle, and for a moment you fantasized about it, opening the door and throwing yourself into one of the trees that you passed, but you couldn’t do that. You didn’t really want that.

“What are you going to do to Marc?” You asked, finally finding the ability to speak once more.

“My sweet girl,” he said just above a whisper, tipping your chin up so you were forced to look him in the eye. “Marc is going to stay in the thirst room until he withers away, and you’ll be dead long before that day comes, so don’t worry your little head.”

Moon Knight Masterlist

You stood between Marc’s legs, dancing the same dance you did every other night he waltzed into the club. He grabbed onto your hips, his hands squeezing tighter than usual.

“Marc, you know you’re not supposed to–”

“I didn’t come here for a lecture, honey.”

You bent over, planting your ass in his face the way he liked. You felt him tuck some bills into your panties right in front of your cunt.

He chuckled, “oh, you’re wet, having a good time?”

You turned around and looked down at him, “not as good a time as you,” you nodded, staring right at the bulge in his pants. 

His cheeks flushed, and he scowled coldly at you. Despite being a difficult man, Marc was one of your favorite, and best customers. He was easy to pull a few hundred dollars out of every night with the simple act of making him think you loved him. The man was so desperate for affection and touch he’d be willing to spend any amount just to have you lie to him.

That’s not to say that you didn’t care for him in some way. You weren’t heartless, but you cared about him the way a grocery store clerk might care about the old woman sharing her life story at the checkout line unprompted. You could call it natural human empathy. Marc was a sad man, and you were trying to pay rent. The two of you had a symbiotic relationship.

He didn’t want a real relationship anyway.

You carded your fingers through his lightly gelled hair, climbing into his lap one leg at a time and straddling him. You lowered yourself so you were brushing against his bulge, rubbing your cunt along the hard length of him. You bit your lip.

“So hard for me, Marc, so big,” you leaned in, kissing the skin right below his earlobe.

“Fuck, honey,” he whispered in a raspy tone, the smell of alcohol heavy on his breath.

You churned your hips more, whining into his ear and making sure to sound desperate. He liked when you really acted like you wanted him. It wasn’t far from the truth. Of all the men you’d danced for in the bar, Marc was in the top five that you’d consider actually sleeping with. You weren’t going to though. You had a strict policy of not sleeping with your customers. They tended to get too attached. 

That didn’t mean you couldn’t ruin a pair of pants or two though. It always kept them coming back for the hopes that next time you might give them more.

“When are you gonna let me fuck that pretty little cunt, hm?” He asked in a low grumble.

You chuckled, “maybe if you beg real nice I’ll consider it.”

Marc sneered at you, lip curling up in a snarl. He grabbed your asscheeks roughly, eyes locking onto yours while he looked at you from under his lashes. He always got a little rough when he was that drunk, and you liked it.

“Just fuck me, come on.” He rubbed the meat of your hip, trying very clearly to keep his composure.

“You gotta do better than that,” you whispered, grinding your crotch even harder against his.

“Fuck, just take it out, please, just sit on my dick for a second baby. Just a goddamn second. I won’t tell,” he looked up at you, eyes pleading desperately.

You dragged yourself along his clothed bulge again, watching his eyelashes flutter so pretty.

“You want this?” You rocked yourself on him again. “You want my pussy baby?”

You moaned in his ear, peppering soft kisses along his jawline in between each breath you took.

“Beg,” you demanded.

He growled and held your hips against his lap tightly, rutting upward and breathing heavy.

“I’ll give you a thousand dollars just to let me stick the tip in. Just let. me. fuck. you.” He breathed.

You tutted, rolling yourself over him more, moving your body in a dancing motion like you were supposed to all along.

“Is that all you think I’m worth? A thousand bucks?” You chuckled. “I’m not a cheap whore, try again big spender.”

You bit your lip and you could tell you were starting to get under his skin. He pressed his lips together in a thin line, you felt his cock getting impossibly hard underneath you. You could hear his breathing grow more ragged. If looks could kill, Marc Spector killed you ten times over just now.

“Honey, I’m not gonna last much longer and I know you want this. That little pussy of yours is so wet, why don’t you give it what it wants, hm?” He tucked his fingers into the leg of your panties, under the bills he’d put in there and he brushed his knuckle against your swollen clit.

You leaned in and whispered, “baby boy, I’ve been wet since my shift started a couple hours ago. You’re not special for making me horny. I do this job for a reason.”

His brow turned up and stitched together in the most pathetic look you’d ever seen on a man. He sucked in his bottom lip and looked up at you, eyes pleading desperately.

“What do I have to do,” he conceded his ego, and for that you almost - almost - gave in.

“Be a good boy and come for me,” you said against his ear, flicking his lobe with the tip of your tongue.

As if his body was under your command, he came, cock twitching wildly against the zipper of his pants. You sighed, kissing his neck and nipping at the skin as if to leave a little mark for him to enjoy in the mirror the next day when he was sober and regretting his life choices. He jolted, holding you tight against his lap, his cum soaking through onto your thighs. After a moment, Marc’s breathing returned to normal after a moment, and his chest stopped heaving against yours.

You leaned back, grabbing his hand and pulling his finger from your panties. You brought his hand up to your mouth, popping the arousal slick digit into your mouth, sucking it free of your juices before kissing it and putting it back down at his side. You left him with a kiss on the cheek and a tap on his nose with your index.

“I’ll be back next time, honey, and next time I’m gonna feel that cunt,” he slurred on his way out the door.

“I’ll look forward to it,” you smirked, knowing full well that you’d have the same song and dance next time, and every time after that.

Moon Knight Masterlist

You smelled different since Marc had been with you just the other night, and he felt more drawn to you than ever before. 

Khonhsu must’ve noticed it as well. It was obvious with the change in his attention toward you, especially in front of Ammit. Marc observed the way he held onto your hip so tightly, fingers digging into your side a little more possessively than before. Your scent had changed from that sweet aroma to a warm musk, and Marc couldn’t describe the way it made him feel.

Protective? Possessive? As if he would - without hesitation - tear the limbs off of anyone who thought of harming you even the slightest? It’s not like he didn’t feel this way about you before, but something was different now. He felt a deeper…connection. 

Something else had changed. Marc could see Khonshu paying more attention to him, which made his stomach turn. Did he know? Was he biding his time, toying with Marc until they got back to the mansion? Would he stick Marc in the thirst room until you were dead and he’d never see you again? It was as if all the wind had been punched out of his lungs when he thought about that. Your mortality was always on the back of his mind, but he’d never really considered living without you.

He couldn’t fucking live without you.

“Marc!” Khonshu snapped, forcing Marc to jump out of his thoughts and give all his attention to his master. “Out.”

The word was final, strong, and non-negotiable. Without any sort of acknowledgement, Marc left the lounge, which Khonshu had been using as a makeshift meeting room for his own household while on Ammit’s property. In his quarters, Marc stewed, an anxious poison bubbling in his gut at the thought of what may happen if his fears were justified. What if Khonshu knew about what he’d done with you, and what if, as a result, that night was the last chance he would ever have to save you both?

It wasn’t a matter of if, anymore, it was a matter of when he could sneak off to your room and a matter of how hard it would be to convince you that the two of you needed to get out of there immediately. There were several obstacles, but he thought he could figure them out with your help. The only thing that was for certain was the fact that you both needed to leave as soon as possible.

Marc had expected it would be a little more difficult this time around while trying to get to you, now that Khonshu was certainly suspicious of him, but to his surprise, he had no resistance getting to you at all. He wondered if everyone was busy in preparation for the return home tomorrow. You were awake, jumping out of your bed the moment he climbed in through the window. In a mad rush, you both collided, lips and tongues melting into one another through a series of moans. 

“I have to–” kiss “talk to you,” you moaned, breathing heavily in between each peck.

“Me too,” he rasped, pushing you against the wall roughly. “You smell different,” he growled into your neck.

“I know,” you whispered.

Marc hoped you didn’t feel the urgency in his shaking hands while he pulled his pants down to his thighs. You held onto him tight as he lifted you effortlessly, slowly lowering your body down around his dick. You’d neglected your panties. He wondered if you were expecting him to come to you one more time before you both had to leave Ammit’s home. 

You both exhaled out into the room as your bodies connected. Marc’s thrusting was ragged, and he knew it. He was desperate for you, he could feel it in every nerve ending, this intoxicating need to have you. This new scent of yours was driving him mad, and he couldn’t understand why.

“You have to bite me,” he muttered between thrusts, “and do it hard.”

You looked at him, brow furrowed in confusion. He’d forgotten that you didn’t know much about his kind, other than their need for blood and the fact that they could live forever. Khonshu was careful about how much he told you and the other livestock in an effort to keep you ignorant and obedient.

“Khonshu is suspicious,” he breathed, “I don’t want to turn you but–”

Marc was cut off by the sharp pain of you biting hard into the side of his neck. He groaned as he felt the skin break. It wasn’t often that Marc felt pain, he liked it though, particularly while his cock was buried deep in your warm cunt. He sighed out a moan, completely engulfed in a feeling of pure pleasure while you drank from him. His hips started rolling harder, as if they moved on their own, basking in the feeling of the agony and ecstasy melting as one.

“Mm, yeah honey, just like that,” he cooed, kissing the side of your neck and trying to keep himself from tearing into your skin as well. 

He could tell you liked the taste based solely on the fact that you were moaning more than usual while you licked at his skin. You shuddered, walls clenching around him as he pushed deeper, fucking into you harder.

“M-Marc, oh-my…”

Your breath caught in your throat and you tilted your head back to rest against the wall while he moved even faster. His orgasm came rushing through his body, hips stuttering until they were flush against yours, cock throbbing and spilling into your gushing cunt. You moaned so loudly Marc thought you might get caught so he clamped his palm down over your bloody lips.

It took several moments of holding you there before you both had calmed down enough for him to lower you to the ground. You wiped your lips and stared at him wide-eyed as if you couldn’t believe what had just transpired.

“God, I didn’t mean to bite you so hard, I’m sorry,” you said, reaching out to touch where you’d bitten his neck.

He chuckled, “don’t worry, I heal pretty quick.” He touched the wound. “Besides, we can call it payback for all the times I’ve tried to sink my teeth into you.” Marc pulled his pants back up around his hips. “How are you feeling?”

He tilted your head this way and that, looking for any indication of change. He didn’t understand. Your pupils weren’t dilated as he’d expected them to be, and you didn’t feel feverish to the touch. Turning a human didn’t take long, at least not from what he recalled. 

“I don’t feel different,” you said, a hint of worry in your voice.

“Of course you don’t, little dove.”

Khonshu appeared, like a villain in a movie, sliding in through your bedroom window and striding over to Marc. He grabbed Marc by the throat before he even had a chance to react, holding him high while keeping his eyes locked on yours. Marc held onto Khonshu’s forearm, choking and gasping, trying desperately to keep himself from losing consciousness.

“Sir, please!” You yelled, louder than Marc had ever thought your voice could go.

Khonshu dropped Marc on the floor, leaving him gasping and struggling to catch his breath. Marc could see you backing up into the corner in terror but knew it would get much worse for you both if he tried to stop Khonshu. It was obvious he valued you above any other cattle and wouldn’t kill you, but Marc didn’t doubt Khonshu’s ability to make the rest of your life a living hell if he chose to.

Marc watched as Khonshu grabbed your arm roughly and forced you to the bed, bending you over the mattress. You were brave, Marc noted, hardly making a sound above a quiet whimper while Khonshu pulled your dress aside and stuck two of his thick fingers into your cunt, still slick from before.

“Just as I thought,” he spat through clenched teeth, pulling out his fingers only to reveal Marc’s cum dripping from them. “Marc,” he said as though scolding a child, “to think that my own knight would betray me so. I saved you, Marc Spector, or did you forget?!”

You turned over now, scrambling to put some distance between yourself and Khonshu.

“I didn’t forget,” Marc managed to say as he fought to control his breathing. “But you can’t keep her in a cage like an animal, you can’t keep tricking innocent people into your bullshit cult.”

Khonshu sniffed out a laugh, “and why is that, Marc? Hm? Is it because she smells so good that you’ve changed your attitude toward the cattle trade? Because until I brought her home you didn’t seem to take issue with a free food supply.” He stormed over to Marc.

Marc kept looking to you for a change in your appearance, even the slightest shift in your posture, but nothing changed. You still looked the same as you did on the day he first saw you.

“Why didn’t it work?” Marc asked coldly, looking up at Khonshu from where he still knelt on the floor.

“I know you’re young, Marc, but you’re not a fool.” Khonshu walked over to Marc and grabbed the collar of his jacket. The door to your room burst open to allow several of Khonshu’s guards in. Before they whisked Marc away, Khonshu leaned in to whisper in his ear, “you know our blood only works on humans.”

Moon Knight Masterlist

“Steven,” you whispered, moving your hips up and down again along his hard length.

“Yes, oh god, yes m-mommy I…”

You chuckled, “finish your sentence baby.”

Your lips peppered kisses along his strong neck, paying extra attention to the vein popping out on the side from his attempting to restrain himself. His hands were gripping your hips tightly, kneading your flesh as you continued your smooth motions. He breathed an airy exhale, stopping short as it got caught in his chest. Steven was always so needy, and you loved to praise him for it.

“You’re such a good boy, Steven,” you cooed, dropping down on his lap once again, feeling his fat tip reach the deepest parts of your greedy cunt.

“Am I? I was rather naughty to beg you for this love, I know your rule is: no asking for sex.”

You kissed the base of his stubbled jaw, “but you looked so pretty when you begged, how could I say no?”

You moved a little faster, which is what he wanted, filling the room with the sounds of your combined moans mixed with the wetness of your skin slapping against his. Steven whimpered, making the most lovely sounds that always made your pussy flutter in response. You’d said before jokingly that you felt like you could come untouched just from listening to him, and you were starting to think that wasn’t much of a joke anymore.

“Plus,” you sucked in a breath, “you’re so big and hard for me, aren’t you? You’re such a big, hard boy for mommy,” you whispered against his ear.

Steven whined, holding you tight and rutting his hips into yours from below. Self control wasn’t his strong suit when it came to you. He wanted to flip you onto your back and pound you into the mattress until you couldn’t breathe, but the payoff of letting you run the show was always worth giving up control. Steven liked it best when you were in control.

“Yes, mommy, oh god, m’so h-hard right now,” he looked up at you with those big, brown eyes, as if he were asking for approval. They said: is that what you wanted to hear, mommy?

“Sh, baby, you talk too much,” you tease, leaning up so your nipple is hovering at his spit slick lips. 

Steven brought a hand up from your hip to hold your breast, positioning your nipple closer to his mouth so he could suck on it. He moaned over your mound, as if the feeling of having your hardened flesh on his tongue was enough to make him come. You could’ve sworn it felt like he got even harder inside of you, hips bucking upward into your core once more, forcing a drawn out moan from your own mouth.

“Steven, you’re such a good boy aren’t you? You know just what mommy needs, a big, fat cock to make her come. Are you going to make me come baby?” You arched your back and worked your hips in a different motion, sending Steven gasping against your tit. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

Steven sucked harder, so hard that it almost hurt, but you didn’t mind a bit of pain. He was guiding you a bit, the hand that remained on your hip was pulling you forward and back to keep the rhythm. You could hear his breathing becoming more labored the faster you moved.

“When you come, you better fill me up nice and full Steven,” you demanded, “cause if you don’t, you’re going to be in big trouble, and we don’t want that do we?”

He popped off of your breast, long enough to mutter a quiet ‘no, mommy,’ before getting back to work on teasing your nipple with his tongue.

“Good boy, Steven.” 

You fucked him harder, moving your hips as fast as you could while he simultaneously churned upward, hitting that spot deep inside your core until finally you felt your mind going blank. You managed to keep moving your hips fluidly through your orgasm, cunt squeezing around Steven’s cock tight until he was a gasping and whimpering mess against your tit. His fingers squeezed into your flesh, hips halting their movements while his cock throbbed and gushed hot ropes of cum deep into your hot center.

He did what you’d told him to, filling you so full of him that his spend was leaking out around his buried length and pooling between your bodies. You didn’t care about the mess though, the two of you were reduced to a breathing, sweating heap on the bed, trying desperately to recollect yourselves. Normally Steven would go soft fairly soon after his orgasm, but you noticed his cock was still very much alive inside you.

He chuckled breathlessly, “I don’t want to be in trouble, so I’m gonna fill you again and again until you say it’s enough, yeah?”

You nod, carding your fingers through his unruly curls, “yeah.”

Moon Knight Masterlist

You wanted the job at Lockley & Co. so bad you could hardly stand it. Nine to five, Monday through Friday with health benefits and a 401k. You couldn’t pass something like that up, so you were happy to follow the rules for Omegas: take your heat suppressants, or take some sick leave when the time for your heat arrived. There was no exception, and if you couldn’t follow the rules, then you would be fired.

You’d done well for yourself, prepping the perfect resume, carefully adorned with your special skills and experience working for prior well known employers. It all earned you a position as Mr. Lockley’s personal secretary. Not just anyone was cut out for the job. You had to be sharp, an exceptional multitasker, and excellent at problem solving. You felt confident that you could handle it, and you were sure that your confidence is the reason his assistant hired you.

“You’re an omega…” she’d looked up from your resume, eyes scanning over you to cast their judgment. “You’re aware that Mr. Lockley is an alpha, aren’t you?”

You nodded, “yes, but I’m on suppressants, I take them regularly, and I wear a pheromone blocker.”

She hummed in approval as she continued looking over your resume, “we can try it out, but if you become a problem then this may not be a good fit.”

You assured her it wouldn’t be an issue. You weren’t a stranger to your heat, and you knew how to handle it.

You had it under control…you thought.

On your first day, Mr. Lockley strode into the hall by his office, the place where your desk sat by the door to check people in for appointments and take calls. He stopped in his tracks, dark eyes darting to yours and his nostrils flaring slightly while he stared. Could he smell you? Of course he couldn’t. You’d taken the suppressants, you took care of your shit so you could work. You checked your wrist, the small green light on the electronic pheromone blocker you wore indicated that it was still working.

But it wasn’t working.

Mr. Lockley’s cheeks flushed, his movements turned fast as he stormed to his office and slammed the door. You jumped, not sure why he was reacting that way. You looked around. Maybe there was a new omega hired that was around and you didn’t see them? No, there was no one else up there with you at the moment. It was just you, and Mr. Lockley on that floor.

You could hear him in there, making all sorts of noise as it sounded like he slammed down his briefcase and rustled through his documents. He was loud for a while in there, the sounds of his footsteps echoing out into the hall even through the closed door. It was after an hour of the racket that you heard some glass break, so you finally decided to knock on his door.

“S-sir?” You asked softly.

A deafening silence ripped through the hall where you stood.

“Come in,” he choked out, not in the confident, deep voice you’d expected to hear.

You opened the door slowly. You were shocked to see him adjusting his tie and fixing his hair as you stepped into the room.

“Stay there!” He shouted, forcing you to jump back in surprise.

You’d never seen Mr. Lockley like that, cheeks dusted pink and hair a bit unruly. He was known for his inexplicable ability to keep his composure, even in the most unnerving situations. You envied him for that trait.

“What do you want?” He asked harshly.

“I was just…” you looked at the broken corporate award from last year on the floor, which you assumed was the source of the breaking glass you heard earlier. “I was just checking on you, you sounded–”

“I’m fine,” he rushed to say. “You should go home early, I don’t need you today.”

“Well I have a lot of work to do, it’s my first day, I should–”

“You’re fired!”

You gulped, rendered silent by the finite words leaving his mouth.

“I’m…what?” Your bottom lip started quivering against your will. “You can’t–”

“No, you’re not fired but just…just go home! Don’t make me ask again!”

You nodded and left his office before he changed his mind back to terminating you again. Your heart was racing and you felt like you’d been punched in the gut. There was no excuse for him to be in such a mood, but then it hit you. You were in your heat. He was acting like an alpha would if they smelled you. 

He could smell you. There was no other reasonable explanation.

But you had taken suppressants, you knew you did. As you were leaving you rifled through your bag. In your purse you found the suppressant package with one capsule missing, you turned it this way and that, looking for any explanation as to why it wouldn’t be working. The fine print stated:

Caution: this medication will have little to no effect on alphas that have marked the omega taking this drug. In the case of ‘perfect mates’, this drug will have little to no effect. Disclaimer: Suppressants and their potency are not a reliable way to determine ‘perfect mate’ compatibility. If you have a high blood pressure or heart disease, please consult your doctor before taking any form of suppressant.

You wracked your brain the entire way home trying to think of when Mr. Lockley might’ve marked you. The two of you had never even spoken before, and he certainly had never touched you. You’d heard from others that he made a point never to touch employees of his just in case. You wondered if that’s why he still had his gloves on when you’d left his office earlier.

—

Jake couldn’t figure it out either.

He spent the day in his office, trying desperately to get the smell of you out of his head. He used his aromatherapy pen, something he bought on Amazon that was supposed to help quell his rut when an Omega in heat was nearby and off their suppressants. It helped…a little.

He was able to get through the better part of his day, sitting through some of his morning meetings and sifting through emails. When his assistant came in, opening the door and letting a breeze air waft through his office, he lost what little control he had left. You’d left your damn coat behind at your desk in your attempt to leave the office quickly, and it stunk like you.

“Sir, are you alright–”

“Cancel all my meetings, I’m going home,” he grumbled, stalking out of his office in a huff.

She looked surprised, but nodded nonetheless. Jake snatched your coat on the way by your desk as he made his way to the elevator. No amount of aromatherapy bullshit could stop the feral heat coursing through his veins. By the time he reached the ground floor he was covered in a thin veil of sweat, only made worse by the inquiring employees all asking ‘if he was okay.’

He was fucking fine.

Except he wasn’t.

Jake had meant to go straight home, truly, but he found himself standing outside your house instead, knocking on your door with your stinking coat in hand. He just had to give it back to you. If he didn’t, it was going to continue stinking up his car, or his house, or his bed. That’s all he was there to do…nothing else. He wiped his sweaty palms on his suit coat. It was unlike him to be shaken up like that. The CEO and founder of Lockley & Co., made into a panting mess by a little omega who forgot to take her suppressants. He was stronger than that…at least that’s what he kept telling himself.

—

You heard a knock on your door and could see your boss through the ring camera at your front steps. You felt every nerve ending in your body come alive. Your core immediately started tingling with anticipation, knowing there was an alpha right on the other side of your door. With hesitation, you grabbed your phone, speaking through the intercom.

“M-Mr. Lockley what are you–”

“You left your jacket, I brought it for you.” He spoke in a low rasp. Even through the phone, his tense demeanor was evident.

“Thank you,” you gulped. “You can just leave it there at the door.”

“I’m sorry for my behavior but…you need to take your suppressants, you know the rules. There’s a reason–”

“I did take them, but they don’t work if you marked me but…I don’t remember you marking me,” you felt your body overheating the longer he stood outside your door.

“I didn’t, it would’ve been impossible. Besides, I have a strict policy with my employees.” He said sternly.

There was an awkward silence that passed through the closed door. You felt your slick dripping out of you, ruining the clothes you’d changed into when you got home.

“Well you must’ve because–”

“I didn’t!” He yelled, forcing you to step away from the door. “I didn’t.”

“Okay.”

You felt an overwhelming need to open the door and see him. Your feet carried you involuntarily to the knob, and on its own your hand reached out to grasp it.

“Don’t open the door,” he warned.

“I’m opening the door,” you retorted, turning the knob.

“I’m begging you not to open the fucking door–”

“I’m just going to get my coat from you, it’s not–”

“-and I don’t think I’ll be able to control myself if–”

“-you’re making a big deal out of nothing I’m just going to–”

You both froze when the door was finally open. A smart omega would’ve kept it closed like she was told, but you weren’t a smart omega. You were in heat, desperate, dripping wet between your legs with slick, and there was a perfectly healthy and ready alpha on your front step. How could you just let that opportunity slip by?

—

Jake could smell your slick pouring out of you like a little fountain. You were so wet that it filled his head with a fog he couldn’t shake. His hands were clenched into fists and his jaw was so tight he thought his teeth might break in his mouth. Your heart was pounding in your heaving chest, he could hear it. He could see every little bead of sweat on your soft skin. What a pretty little omega you were, so ready to breed.

Jake charged toward you, dropping your coat and slamming the door behind himself. He grabbed the collar of your shirt.

“Tell me no,” he demanded.

“I can’t,” you breathed, grabbing onto the lapel of his suit.

His mouth slammed onto yours with a heavy need, tongue invading your mouth in a desperate hunger. A rumble erupted through his chest as he ripped your shirt open with reckless abandon, buttons flying all over the room as the blouse was ruined. 

“Bedroom,” he murmured against your mouth, “bed.”

You pointed in the direction of your room, jumping up and wrapping your legs around his waist so he could carry you, never letting your lips disconnect all the way to the bed. He dropped you onto the mattress, making quick work of his coat and starting to work on his white button-down. You fumbled with his belt, shaking hands struggling to get the buckle undone.

“Do your own, go, go,” he said, breathing so hard it sounded like he’d just run a marathon.

You started getting your pants off, removing your panties and bra in the process. In a matter of seconds you were two sweaty bodies connected at the mouth, moaning and grinding on each other messily.

“You’re so fucking wet, should we get a towel or–”

“Fuck me,” you rushed to say.

He plunged himself deep into your core without a second thought, forcing you to throw your head back from the sheer ecstasy of the moment. You moaned deeply, feeling Jake’s cock slamming into the deepest parts of your heat. His mouth was all over you, lips sucking and lapping at your skin like he meant to devour you. Your nails dug into the meat of his shoulders, sure to leave divots with how hard you gripped him.

“Fuck, you’re such a filthy little omega, such a nice cunt you’ve got,” he growled. “You did this, you did this to me. You feel how fucking hard I am? Feel how big my cock is right now?”

You nodded, whimpering with every slam of his hips, “yes, sir, yes!”

“Good, fucking good.”

You were panting, unable to catch your breath or find your mental bearings. It was a purely pleasure-filled fog permeating your mind. All you could smell was Jake’s pheromones in the room, his unadulterated hunger to fill you, to breed you. He slammed harder, the headboard of the bed rocked off the wall with every thrust. You gasped when he bit into your flesh and sucked the skin between his teeth.

“I bet you did this on purpose didn’t you? You wanted me to fill you up huh? Bet you couldn’t stop thinking about spending your heat being bred by me,” he hissed in your ear.

You couldn’t get a word out, your mind too fucked out to focus on anything much other than your breathing, and the way your body felt like it was electrified all over.

Jake could feel your cunt squeezing around him, your slick making a sticky mess between both your bodies as it continued spilling out of you. He’d never had such a desperate omega, such a pretty and needy little thing so ready to take every ounce of his spend. He pounded faster, feeling himself so close to his climax he could hardly stand it.

“You really think you can take everything I’ve got, querida? It’s been a long, long time since I’ve been with someone. And I’ve never fucked anyone as breedable as you,” he whispered, breath punching out of his lungs.

“Yes, I can, I can!” You held onto him tight, arching your hips to take him deeper.

Finally his hips stopped flush against yours. He groaned, hard cock throbbing inside you, cum gushing and filling your cunt until it was overflowing. You felt him knotting, pushing the engorged base of his girth into you and forcing a gasp to erupt from your chest.

“Oh f-fuck!” You shrieked.

“Stay still, oh for fuck’s sake stay still…”

You did as you were told, feeling your own orgasm tear through your body, your cunt contracting over his knotted dick in waves. You breathed heavily, holding onto him tight and kissing along his neck and jawline, doing your best to keep your body still. You’d been through a few heats, and always been able to get through it on your own, but now that you’d had an alpha, you didn’t know how you’d made it so long without one.

“That was incredible,” you whispered.

“It was a mistake,” he whispered. “Incredible though, yes, fucking incredible.”

He lay there on top of you, lazily kissing your sweat slick neck, adjusting your bodies to a more comfortable position on your sides to wait out his knot. Jake kissed your forehead, holding you close against his chest.

“I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry.”

“I promise I’m on suppressants I don’t understand…” you trailed off.

He chuckled, “are we a perfect match, little omega?”

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks. It was the only thing that made any sense given the precautions you’d both taken to prevent this sort of situation from happening. You looked into his dark eyes, unable to tear yourself away. The feeling of his knot still throbbing inside you, and the bite he left on your neck made you feel more connected to him than anyone ever made you feel before.

You nodded and sighed contentedly, “a perfect match.”

Moon Knight Masterlist

“Thanks for watching May,” MJ whispered as she walked by Miguel who was sprawled out lazily on the couch.

“Yeah,” Miguel murmured, the fatigue of a long afternoon with the toddler weighing on him.

“I hate to ask this but, Peter is–”

“HEY MIG!” Miguel groaned upon hearing Peter’s voice outdoors, understanding perfectly well what Mary Jane was going to ask of him.

“On it,” Miguel grumbled, making his way to the door.

A drunken Peter was still sitting in the car, playing music far too loud for the neighborhood he lived in, and far too loud for one o’clock in the morning. Not to mention it had been a bit of a struggle to get May to sleep, and Miguel didn’t like the idea of listening to a screaming child all night. He practically ripped the car door off its hinges, turning the radio off before promptly grabbing Peter and pulling him out of the car.

“Will you shut the hell up? Your kid is sleeping.” Miguel hissed through clenched teeth, dragging Peter by the collar of his shirt into the house.

“I’m sorry!” He slurred. “Just trying to have fun with my wife, you know, that’s what I was trying to do!”

“Peter!” MJ whispered harshly, aiding Miguel to the bedroom with her intoxicated husband. “Put him on the bed. You getting drunk every time we have a date night isn’t fun for your wife.”

It was tough to see them like that. Miguel knew how much MJ meant to Peter, and vice versa, but he knew they weren’t happy. They hadn’t been happy for a long time. They’d invite Miguel over for dinner, or sometimes host parties and it would always end in one, or both, of them crying about how miserable they were. 

“Gotta stay together for the kid. I know it might not make sense to you since…”

Peter didn’t say shit like that on purpose, but it always made Miguel wanna knock the guy’s lights out whenever he did. The man’s a fucking idiot, Miguel reminded himself.

“Are you staying?” Mary Jane asked, eyes nearly pleading with Miguel.

He sighed, “yeah, yeah I guess I can. I had plans to go home and get a good night’s rest but yeah I can babysit your husband too. Why the hell not.”

~~~~

Miguel stayed. Of course he stayed. What else was he going to do? Leave his closest friend’s wife to deal with his bullshit? She was choosing to put up with his nonsense as much as Miguel was, but Miguel had a soft spot for Peter and his antics, even if he sported an irritated face ninety-percent of the time. Beneath that tough exterior, he cared deeply for the guy.

Miguel was curled up in the guest room when Peter sauntered down the hallway to the door.

“Mig,” Peter slurred, jumping Miguel in his bed.

“Jesus, Peter. You scared the shit out of–”

“Sh,” Peter shushed, sitting on the bed next to Miguel. “Don’t wanna wake up MJ.”

Miguel could see Peter’s features through the moonlight coming through the large window on the other side of the room. His eyes were underlined with dark circles and hair sticking out in every direction. Miguel’s eyes traced the outline of Peter’s body, white teeshirt sitting loosely over his frame.

“So you thought it was a good idea to wake me up? Peter–”

“I want a divorce, but I don’t want to do that to May.”

Miguel groaned. This wasn’t the first time he’d heard Peter talk like that, and it wouldn’t be the last.

“You’re drunk. Go to bed.” Miguel grumbled, laying back down and rolling over so his back was to Peter.

“Miguel,” Peter whispered, putting his hand on Miguel’s shoulder.

He tried to shrug Peter’s hand away but the man was persistent. He moved in, curling up behind Miguel and pressing his chest against the larger man’s spine. His arm snaked under Miguel’s arm and around his waist.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“I’m just getting comfy, just relax will ya?” Peter sniffed out a laugh as he cozied up closer behind his friend.

Miguel could feel it, the hard press of Peter's dick against his ass cheek. He tried to ignore it, thinking that drawing attention to it might be more awkward than just letting it go. What Miguel couldn’t ignore, was Peter’s fingers grabbing at the waistband of his boxer-briefs and tugging them down before reaching for Miguel’s to do the same.

“Peter, what the fuck are you doing? Are you stupid?”

“Yeah, but also, really fucking horny, Mig,” he slurred drunkenly. “Be a good friend for me okay? Please?”

Miguel wanted to tell him to stop…didn’t he? This was weird, and it was wrong. MJ was right in the other room, and Peter was his best friend. They’d always been just friends…that’s it.

Miguel heard Peter spit and felt him jerk himself once, and then twice, before sliding his cock between Miguel’s cheeks. Peter couldn’t see the way Miguel was gripping the sheets, nor the way his jaw was clenched so tight he thought his teeth might break.

“I’ve never done anything like this before so do I like…do I just…”

He moved his hips forward, the fat tip of his cock rested against Miguel’s tight ring of muscle. Miguel exhaled sharply, cock springing to life almost immediately with the prod of Peter’s thick head. He tried to relax, making himself more pliant. Peter pushed forward, his wide girth slipping into Miguel’s hole like it belonged there.

“Holy shit,” Peter breathed, feeling his cock throb inside Miguel’s tight ass. “You’re so tight, Mig.”

Miguel couldn’t respond, the feeling of Peter’s cock stretching him out made his brain short-circuit. He huffed out through his nostrils, fingers digging into the sheets as Peter started rocking himself back and forth. The bed creaked, forcing him to slow just a tad, fearful that Mary Jane would find out what they were doing.

Peter’s dick twitched inside of Miguel again, forcing him to choke back a moan. He still didn’t want to tell Peter he liked it. Part of him, despite his friend already being balls deep in his guts, still wanted to pretend that they weren’t doing what they were doing. Miguel’s cock ached, the glossy tip leaking precum all over the bedding. He rutted forward, the delicious friction of the sheets forcing a soft exhale from his lips.

“God, Mig, you like that hm?” Peter asked, his pace still a slow roll into Miguel, body shuddering every time he bottomed out. “I can hear you whining, it’s cute,” Peter laughed.

“Cállate,” Miguel grumbled, trying to ignore how good it felt to have Peter stretching him out like that.

“Oh come on Mig, you…fuck…you like it,” Peter teased.

Miguel didn’t say a word, not wanting to give Peter the satisfaction of thinking he’d won Miguel over. He was still trying to process the fact that his best friend of the last couple years was buried deep in his ass with the man’s wife sleeping just two doors down. Miguel’s talons extended outward, digging into the extra pillow by his head. He pulled it down to his cock, shuddering at the feeling of his slick length brushing against the fabric.

“Y’know if you roll that thing up just right I bet it would feel amazing,” Peter slurred in Miguel’s ear. “Try it.”

Miguel grumbled but eventually conceded to Peter’s idea, rolling the pillow so it had a hole in the middle and stuffing his dick inside. The fucker was right. It did feel good. He breathed out, bucking his hips forward into the makeshift fleshlight.

“You thinking about me, Mig?” Peter’s hips rolled behind Miguel even faster. “You thinking about how good it would feel to fuck my ass? F-fuck, maybe I’ll l-let you try me out next t-time.”

Peter started struggling to speak, breaths coming out in sharp gasps the closer he got to spilling everything he had into Miguel’s tight hole. Miguel felt Peter’s hands digging into the meat of his narrow hips. His thrusts were getting more ragged and sloppy, and Miguel couldn’t shake the delicious feeling of his own cock throbbing and leaking into the pillow the more he fucked into it.

God he felt depraved, happily letting his drunken friend fuck him dumb while he rutted desperately into a damn pillow. Of all the times Miguel had felt self-loathing, this was near the top of his list. Every time Peter’s cock stuffed him to the brim though, he forgot all about it, mind going numb with nothing but the feeling of his asshole getting railed.

“Peter, this is so f-fucking dumb,” Miguel said, still holding on to the smallest bit of dignity he had left, the part of him that felt bad for Mary Jane.

“Sh,” Peter whispered, nails digging harder into Miguel, “I’m so close Mig, please.”

Peter whined in Miguel’s ear, and how could he possibly say no to that?

Giving in, Miguel started moving along with Peter’s rhythm, fucking the hole he made in the pillow like it belonged to a living, breathing human. Miguel’s mind went blank, filled with nothing but the feeling of his aching cock against the fabric while he rolled his hips faster.

“Oh god Mig, do you want me to come in your ass? I can pull out if you want I…oh shit I’m…” Peter didn’t wait for an answer before he felt his cock twitching and shooting hot ropes deep into Miguel’s tight hole.

“Fuck, Parker, for fuck’s sake…”

Miguel lost it, cum spilling out into the stark white pillow while his asshole contracted around Peter’s dick. He’d never had such a strong orgasm before that night, the feeling forcing his entire body to stiffen and shake with every throb of his cock. They laid there for a while, the room filled with nothing but their combined heavy breaths before Peter finally pulled out, leaving Miguel feeling empty.

“Fuck, Miguel,” he whispered, kissing Miguel’s neck once before pulling his sweats back up around his hips.

Miguel didn’t turn around. He didn’t know what he’d do even if he had. It didn’t feel like the right time for post-sex cuddling and a soft makeout session, so Miguel just kept his body turned away from Peter as the man got up and left the room silently. If not for the cum still dripping out of Miguel’s spent asshole, it would be like Peter was never there in the first place.

When morning came, Miguel wasn’t sure what would happen. Would Peter even remember stealing into Miguel’s room the night before? Would he go on as if nothing ever happened? As far as Miguel was concerned, it would be best if they let it go. How could they possibly continue running the Spider Society as partners if they were…doing things in secret behind the scenes? It didn’t make sense. Not to mention…Mary Jane.

She was smiling when Miguel made his way into the kitchen in the morning, the red headed toddler hanging off her shoulders while she made coffee. Miguel and MJ exchanged pleasantries, but Miguel’s aching rear amplified his guilt tenfold. He felt like he should tell the blissfully ignorant wife that her husband had cheated on her the night before.

Then again…Miguel didn’t exactly do anything to stop it.

“Morning!” Peter exclaimed, coming out of his bedroom with a wide stretch and a loud yawn.

“Morning, Peter,” both Miguel and Mary Jane said in unison, turning to face him.

“I’m so sorry if I caused too much trouble last night, I was deeerunk,” he said nonchalantly, walking up behind MJ at the counter and kissing her on the cheek.

While she was turned away, Peter and Miguel shared a glance where Peter looked Miguel up and down.

“I don’t remember much so, I hope I wasn’t a…pain in the ass…”

Miguel gulped. Peter clearly didn’t intend on ignoring what had happened between them the night before, and Miguel couldn’t shake the new feelings he felt stirring inside.

Miguel O'Hara Masterlist

I should’ve put a stop to it the second I realized it was you on the other side of that wall.

Don’t ask me how I knew. A good guess? A hunch? Maybe I’d known you so long that I could tell, based on some deep ingrained instinct, exactly what your lips would feel like wrapped around my cock. You sucked on it like you knew what you were doing, like it wasn’t a challenge for you to take something so big in that pretty little mouth.

I recognized the sound of your moans almost right away. The hum of your voice when you started sucking my dick was the same sound you made at dinner the other night when you popped a spoonful of mashed potatoes in your mouth. Does your dad know you’re doing this? Do you care? Do you ever worry about what he might say if he finds out?

Don’t worry princess, I'll keep your secret. 

Our secret.

I bet you never thought I would find out about your slutty little side job. To be entirely honest, I didn’t think I’d find you working at a place like this. If you know me at all, and I know for a fact that you do, then you’d know I’m a lonely man. Years of serving in the military and the endless night terrors have made it difficult to find any sort of real relationship, so I’ve given up. That doesn’t mean I don’t still have needs, sweetheart.

Everybody jerks off, and I’m no exception. I don’t even know how many nights I’ve been in my room, cock in hand while I watch some crappy porno to get myself off. Every once in a while though, I like to treat myself to a little something more. Most people treat themselves to some kind of dessert, or a nice bottle of wine, but I like to treat myself to a night at Club BJ where all the dirty men go to get their rocks off.

I never thought I’d find you there.

Not a chance in hell did I think for even a second that you would be sucking random cocks on the other side of a gloryhole to earn a few extra bucks. You’re so good at it though, princess. How did you learn to swirl your tongue like that? Hm? Was it all the boys at college who taught you how to do that? Did they tell you what a pretty little girl you are while your lips were stretched around them?

They better have. They better have said thank you when they finished all over that beautiful face too.

I couldn’t speak to you. I couldn’t let you know it was me on the other side of that wall, so I hope the $200 tip I left you gets the point across. 

When I got home tonight, you were running through my mind like a fucking hamster on a wheel. I’m not sure what to do now, but I can’t shake how bad I want to go back to the club for another round. I’d pay thousands, probably even tens of thousands, just to have more…

But I can’t do that. Not to you, and not to your dad.

That was the first and only time I’m going to know what it’s like to feel you sucking my cock.

—

There’s no possible way for you to know what you do to me, well, for you to know that it was me on the other side of the hole that you were making feel so fucking good. I’m coming back again, despite promising I wouldn’t. I’ve been trying so hard to let it go, but I fucking can’t. You’re like a goddamn siren luring me back to that shithole, and I can’t resist your call.

I’ll be back on Friday, because that’s the night they set the girls up with their asses sticking out through the wall. I would assume the club has you bent over some kind of table on the other side of that wall? I’m not sure, but Friday can’t come soon enough. I feel like I need you.

Maybe if you hadn’t looked at me the way you did when I saw you today at your dad’s for dinner. Were you looking at me like that on purpose, sweetheart? I mean, you must be…right? Or have I completely lost my shit?

I probably lost my shit, let’s be honest.

I’ve known your dad since high school. I even helped him beat up a guy that was hitting on your mom back when she and your dad had just started dating. I’m really not a bad guy, and I’ve never looked at you like this. I mean it. But how can I look at you any differently now? How can I look at you any differently after what you did to me? What you did for me.

“Santi, can you pass the butter?” You asked, looking at me, probably no different than usual but I couldn’t think of anything other than those pouty lips wrapped around my dick again.

Did you notice the way my hand shook when I handed you the butter dish? Maybe not, but they were trembling and to be honest it was fucking annoying. I’m a man in his late thirties and I can’t get a grip on the feelings I’m developing for my best friend's goddamn kid. It’s wrong, disgusting, hell I’d kill someone if you were my kid.

But you’re not, and I can’t fucking help it, even though I tried.

Maybe someday, if you ever find out about any of this, I’ll tell you about how much I hated myself (hell, I still hate myself sometimes), when I came home with that post nut clarity. That might’ve been the best blowjob of my life, but I stood in front of my mirror for a good ten minutes trying to tell myself that I’d never go back to that hellhole, Club BJs. I meant it with all my heart when I said it over and over like a mantra.

Now I’m stuck though. I’m stuck thinking about you bent over with a wall separating the top half of your body from the bottom with countless men fucking you until you’re so full of cum you looked like a damn overstuffed pastry. You deserve to feel good. You deserve to have at least one of those men be someone that cares about you.

I guess I’ll have to be the one to do it. I guess this is how I’ll justify doing something I know I shouldn’t.

I’ll see you on Friday, princess.

—

It makes me feel a little bit better to know that every man in there is at least checked for STDs before he gets to fuck you. Surely you wouldn’t have signed up to work at a place like this if they weren’t. You’re smart, you’ve always been so smart. It’s one of the things I admire most about you.

Still not clever enough to know that I was one of those men who stood behind you that night. In fact, I was your last customer of the night. Your pussy was so puffy and swollen, those guys really stretched you out and fucked you good didn’t they? Don’t worry, princess, I took good care of you and gave your little hole a break. I won’t lie, it took everything in me not to use you the way they did, but I’ll do that another time.

Tonight I was on my knees for you, grabbing onto both of your asscheeks and spreading you out so I could clean up the mess those filthy men made of my little princess. You sounded so surprised, I heard you gasp, when I started eating you out. Did you like that? It sounded like you did. I could feel your thighs shaking and at some point you even started rocking back and forth like you wanted more.

Maybe you wanted me to fuck you. Were you hoping that the mystery man on the other side of the wall would clean you up and then fuck his own cum into you too? Or maybe you were happy to have the break. Either way, I licked your swollen clit until I could hear your pretty moans on the other side and feel your cunt throbbing against my tongue. Your slick tastes so good sweetheart, can’t believe you made something so delicious all by yourself.

“You’re not going to fuck me?” You asked me. I could almost hear the desperation in your voice, like you were begging me to come back and take you.

“No.” I said firmly, faking a deeper voice than my own.

Next time I will though, don’t worry sweetheart, I’ll fuck you so good you won’t want anyone else.

—

The same night I ate you out I rushed home to jerk off. It sounds crude to say, but fuck I couldn’t help it. The taste of your pussy was still on my lips. I could still smell you soaked into the stubble on my chin and upper lip. I’m making a mental note to snag a pair of your panties when I come over for the barbecue at your dad’s tomorrow night. Maybe that will help get me through this mess I’m in. Maybe it will help me stop this shit.

I know I can’t keep doing this, but the feeling I get when I’m scrolling through your instagram photos from last summer in your bikini with my cock squeezed in my hand is incredible. I’m looking at those perfect tits hidden beneath such a thin layer of fabric, and your pretty rear is barely covered at all.

When I came it’s like I was possessed, blowing up a picture of your face just so I could imagine myself coating it in all of me. I don’t even really want to talk about how hard it was to clean that mess off my phone.

I feel like I’m losing myself in the depraved thoughts and fantasies I’m having of you. I woke up with soaked sheets and I thought I fucking pissed myself, but I didn’t, it was…something else. I’d dreamt of you. I can’t remember exactly what was happening in that dream, but it must’ve been good, and I’m annoyed that I still can’t remember what it was about.

—

A small part of me, the part of me that still had some morals left, was hoping you’d be working your day job. (honestly I can’t even remember what your day job is, aren’t you a housekeeper? Or a waitress or something?) At least if you were working I wouldn’t have to see you. I wouldn’t have to think about you more than I already was. Not to mention, I wouldn’t have had to sit there and watch you laugh with your ‘friend’ that you’d invited over.

You told your dad when you introduced him, “we’re just friends dad.”

You said it with such an attitude that both your dad and I knew better. You might’ve thought you were just friends, but that guy wanted more, and I knew you were going to give it to him. I could tell by the way you looked at him when you thought no one was paying attention.

I bet you didn’t think I’d hear you both making out in your room that night, but your moans call me now like a moth to a flame. The other barbecue guests had gone home, and your dad was drunk and passed out in his recliner, and I heard you faintly over the hum of the crappy reality show on tv. I didn’t pause the show, I didn’t want to wake up your dad, so I went upstairs silently, masked by the sound on the tv.

Initially, I wanted to walk in there and rip this kid off of you, giving him a few vicious but empty threats before sending him on his way with his tail between his legs. Your voice stopped me in my tracks though.

“Shh, I don’t want my dad to hear us,” you whispered, followed by a sweet giggle.

He won’t, princess. I thought, as though it were me you were talking to and not this loser.

You’d left your bedroom door open, per your dad’s request, such a good little girl. Despite being a grown woman, you still did what your daddy told you, and that’s the only reason I was able to hide in the bathroom and hear you get fucked while I jerked off and imagined I was with you instead of…whatever the fuck his name is.

“Oh god!” You whined, making my body shudder.

That guy doesn’t talk much, and that made it all the easier for me to imagine myself in his place.

When you said, “mm, harder, please…”

I was right there to say, “anything you want, sweetheart.”

I tried to move my hand in time with the light thump of your bed against the wall. It helped. What didn’t help was the fact that I could tell how little you were enjoying yourself. You were making the same sounds you made when you were ass out at the gloryhole. I knew I could do better, I knew I could make your body shake with pleasure like when I was kneeling down behind you with my tongue working overtime on your sensitive clit.

You were pretty good at faking it though, good enough that I was a leaking mess, precum dripping all down my shaft while I worked myself behind the wall your bedroom shared with the bathroom. I really wanted to go in there, tell that guy to get lost and give you the night of your life, but I didn’t. Instead I stood there, spilling a few globs of cum into some toilet paper and calling it good enough.

I was quick to head back downstairs before you even knew I was up there in the first place. That guy had the audacity to say goodnight to me in the kitchen on his way out the door. I let that go pretty quickly because then it was just you and me alone in the kitchen while your dad slept soundly in the living room.

You have no idea how badly I wanted to ask you for the pleasure of taking care of you, of making sure that you got off too, but I bit my tongue. Instead we made small talk about how your college was going and you asked me about Benny, Frankie and Will. 

For a moment I had forgotten about all the things that transpired between us, or that I’d done while thinking about you, and you were just my best friend’s kid again. We were just two people who had known each other for a long time, catching up and making small talk. Then you had to bend over in your shorts, and my cock ignored its usual refractory period to spring alive and nag for attention again.

“You okay, Santi?” You’d asked so innocently, as if I didn’t know what that mouth was capable of, or what that body could take.

“I’m fine, sweetheart.”

I’m not fucking fine, but that doesn’t matter.

—

You slept like a rock that night, not even stirring in the slightest when I grabbed your panties out of your hamper by the closet. They didn’t look particularly fancy, so I assume you won’t miss them, will you? Doesn’t matter anyway, you’d never expect that I’m the one who took them.

I can’t even begin to tell you how disgusting I felt when I got home the next morning and I had placed your panties on my bed in front of me like a prize I’d won. I think I stared at them for at least a full ten minutes before I picked them up again and put them in my nightstand. I’ve never been a “panty sniffer” and I tried to convince myself that just knowing I had them in my possession was enough.

Have you ever read The Tell-Tale Heart? I remember when I was in high school I had to, and it stuck with me for some reason. Your underwear in my nightstand reminded me of that story in some ways. It’s like all I could hear were your moans in my ears and no matter where I went in the house the temptation to smell the remnants of your cunt on that fabric was following me.

So finally, here I am, two weeks after you first sucked my cock, and I can shamefully admit that I did it. I smelled them, and sweetheart, you smell so much better without all that cum inside of you. Of course the panties can’t compare to the real thing, which I don’t know if I’ll ever smell without six loads of spend inside, but god I hope I get the privilege one day.

Or maybe I hope I don’t.

I’m still so torn between the fact that you’re my best friend’s kid, and the way I want to bury my dick so far in that pretty little cunt that you’re seeing stars.

—

I was first in line tonight. It’s Friday night so your ass was out again and untouched this time. You weren’t wet yet which excited me for some reason. It meant I got to have the honors of making you nice and slick.

My hand looks so big against your ass, princess. I wish I could show you. That was me who rubbed your clit, making you shake and whine for more on the other side of the wall. I’m the one who slipped my thick middle finger in that greedy little hole, and then my index finger, and then the ring finger.

I’m guessing you liked it based on how slippery you got, and how much you moaned on the other side. Do you know how dedicated your customers are? One of them got pissed at me for taking too long with you. I can’t say I blame them, your pussy is perfect sweetheart.

God the feeling of sliding my dick between those pretty pussy lips is like nothing I’ve ever felt. As I bottomed out, I felt your walls were squeezing around me like you wanted me deeper, so of course I pushed in more, all the way until I couldn’t go further. You gasped like you hadn’t felt a hundred dicks inside you before mine. 

I slid back again and slammed into you. I heard you begging me to keeping going, and saying, “fuck you’re good, holy shit!”

It was so hard not to say all the filthy things I wanted to when I fucked you, princess. I wanted to tell you how good you looked like that, pussy lips split around my cock like it wanted to swallow me whole. I wanted to ask you if you would like me to stick my thumb in your ass but decided to just try it anyway and see how you reacted.

You liked it.

At least it seemed like you did, your cunt clamped down around my dick like a damn vice grip the moment my thumb popped through your tight little hole. Did you like having something in your ass sweetheart? It’s shocking how tight you are, given how often I know you’re getting fucked. Some of the guys coming in behind me were big, some even bigger than me, but you don’t like them as much as you do when I fuck you, right? Of course not, because you don’t sound like that when you’re with them.

I caught a small glimpse of your eye through the hole. There was a small gap between the wall and your hips and you were looking at the same time I was. Did you see me? Did you have time to realize who I was? Did you come right then and there because you liked the idea of your dad’s best friend fucking you until you were too spent for anyone else?

Your orgasm forced me to come at the same time you did. I can’t even begin to tell you what it felt like to spill my load inside of you like I’d wanted to for so long. I remember so clearly being pushed up against your ass, pulling my thumb out of your hole so I could squeeze your hips and pull you over my dick further. It’s like I was willing every ounce of it to fill you up so full that no one else could. It’s like I was trying to make sure that when you look in the mirror a few months from now, you’ll remember the feeling of the man who fucked a baby into you.

I’m not an idiot. Well, I am, but I know that you’re on birth control. I know that no matter how many times I fuck you, the chances of you actually getting pregant are slim, not that I’d want to get you pregnant anyway. That would be too much, and I don’t want to go too far.

I’m not going to go too far.

—

I went to your house today.

I already had an excuse planned if I somehow got caught while you and your dad were out. If you or your father saw me, I’d say I came back for my hat. It’s not a total lie, I did leave my hat behind, but neither of you needed to know it was on purpose.

Do you realize how much dust has collected on the little stuffed bear you have on the shelf facing directly across from your bed, sweetheart? I doubt it, but it does make for the perfect place to put the small camera I bought.

I feel so fucking gross I can hardly stand to look at myself. But I can’t stand not to watch you touch yourself either. The glory hole is great, but I want to see that pretty face when you’re coming so hard you can’t breathe right, and I can’t do that when I’m on the other side of a fucking wall can I?

Seeing you later that night while I was at my own house, fist closed around my cock and watching you play with yourself is worth all the self loathing in the world. I had the camera feed pulled up on my laptop, and I could see you walking over to your dresser. God, what an array of toys you have. Do you have all those toys because you like them? Or is it because you haven’t found someone who knows their way around your body yet?

If it’s the latter, I promise you won’t need those things once I’m done with you.

Fuck, princess. The one you picked out is so damn big. I’ve seen you fit some pretty big cocks in that little hole, but I was shocked to see you squeezing lube around the head of that thing and gliding it over your pussy lips. You took a deep breath. Does it hurt to take such a fat silicone dick like that? 

Fuck, I’m glad I put the camera where I did. Who had you so wet like that? Hm? Were you thinking about anyone in particular? Can you even get that entire dildo in there? I hated to admit how much I liked watching you struggle. My cock leaked so fucking much I thought I was going to come too fast, but I kept it together.

You finally pushed it in, and I’m so damn proud of you princess. You had a really hard time going all the way though, didn’t you? That tight little pussy of yours was stretched to its limit and you were only halfway in there. Why do you even have a dildo that size if you can’t get it all the way in your cunt? Are you trying to stretch yourself out for someone? You don’t have to stretch yourself for me, I’d be happy to take care of that for you myself.

I watched you push it in even more, I was so focused on the furrow of your turned up brow and the way you bit your lip while I stared. We both exhaled the moment you managed to fit the entire thing in. Your eyes rolled back like it was the best thing you’d ever felt. You really do enjoy being stuffed full, don’t you, sweetheart?

You started fucking yourself with it, the sounds of your wet cunt hit my ears like the sweetest music I’d ever heard. I stroked myself in time with your movements, my eyes focused right on your face, and my cock throbbed every time you moaned. Wasn’t your dad home tonight? Shouldn’t you be a bit quieter when you’re doing stuff like that? Maybe you just don’t care if he hears you.

You started fucking yourself faster so of course I was jerking myself harder, trying to keep up with you without losing it too quickly. It didn’t take long for you to come though. Did you like the feeling of that toy that much? You gushed around it, you choked back some moans but several other soft whimpers escaped, filling your room and hitting my ears through the camera feed. I came too, coating my knuckles and my stomach with so much cum I didn’t know I was even capable of producing that much.

Why’d you have to ruin it? Huh?

It was such a good fucking orgasm for both of us, and then I heard you say a name. It wasn’t my name though, was it, princess? I don’t know why that bothers me so fucking much. Maybe it’s because in some twisted way I’ve managed to convince myself that you were putting on that private show just for me. So if you did do it for me, then I don’t want to hear you saying some other guy’s name while you’re fucking your self like that sweetheart. 

I just don’t.

—

I lost it today.

I really fucking lost it today, princess.

I found that guy. You know the one who fucked you the other night while I jerked off in the bathroom? That ‘friend’ of yours? The one whose name you called out instead of mine?

I found him.

I…

—

Did you miss me, sweetheart? I’m sorry, but I had to leave for a while, at least until things quieted down, and until you weren’t sad anymore. I know I should feel bad, but I don’t. I would probably do it again a thousand times if I had to.

You seemed fine during dinner at your dad’s tonight. I don’t really think you were that upset over the guy anyway, but it doesn’t matter. I don’t want to hear his name come out of that pretty mouth again. Ever.

After too much wine during (and after) dinner, I carried you upstairs. You never could handle your liquor. Remember when you were only eighteen and I would let you sneak a few shots under your old man’s nose when he wasn’t looking? Your dad was sleeping when I put you down gently in your bed. Your skin is so fucking soft it killed me to step away from you.

Your eyes opened for a moment meeting with mine. I felt my gut stir at the sight of you biting your lip. Why were you doing that to me? Didn’t you know how that would affect me? I couldn’t resist the way you looked at me that night. No one would’ve been able to. It’s not fair for you to put me in that position and expect that I’m just going to walk away. When I think back to it, this was all your fault, princess.

“Santi,” you said sweetly.

I almost climbed on top of you right then when you grabbed my shirt and pulled me closer. I almost grabbed your throat and fucked you through your shorts, but I held back.

“What, princess?” I asked you, putting a caring hand on your shoulder, trying to fight back my more primal urges screaming in my head.

You shivered, “I-mm-need something towearto mm-bed,” you slurred out.

I could see the curve of your hip disappear into your too-short shorts. I really don’t want you going out in public wearing things like that. I gave you my shirt to keep you warm. I hope it’s comfortable, sweetheart, I can’t let you go cold, can I? When I leaned down to put it over your head, I felt such a fucking ache in my chest when your face appeared again through the hole. Such a pretty babygirl.

“Thank you,” you smiled contentedly and snuggled into your pillows.

I gulped, “princess,” I whispered, slowly creeping my fingers toward the hem of your shorts where they rested on your waist.

“Hm?” You hummed, but you weren’t really awake anymore, from what I could tell.

When I touched your soft, exposed hip you didn’t stir at all, and when I slipped my fingers underneath your panties, then your shorts, you didn’t make a sound. When I pushed both down to your ankles and dropped them on the floor, you didn’t open your eyes. You didn’t have any fucking clue what I was going to do to you, did you?

Did you feel my fingers when I slipped them between your thighs and felt your little wet cunt? I bet you did, even if you didn’t realize you were feeling it. I thought I would wake you up for sure when I pushed you onto your back and climbed over you. And when that didn’t wake you up, I thought, without a doubt, that when I pulled my cock out and touched it against your slick pussy lips your eyes would shoot open and you’d catch me in the act.

You didn’t though, you stayed deep in your drunken sleep, and I could get away with doing anything I wanted to you.

I’m still wondering what I would’ve done if you’d caught me. What would I say? How would I justify this feeling I craved that only you could satisfy? Would I even need to say anything? Surely you would recognize the feeling of the cock that made you come so good in that glory hole. Surely you’d be desperate for me to keep going.

Being able to look at your face, even if you were asleep, while I slid my dick into your wet heat made my brain stop fucking working. I couldn’t even think. It was like my body just took over, hips rocking into you over and over without a care in the world for how loud the bed was creaking.

You still didn’t feel anything when I dipped down and kissed you, my hips still thrusting slowly against you. This isn’t a Disney movie, and I’m no prince charming, but you’re still my little princess, aren’t you? You’re like my personal sleeping beauty, except my soft kisses didn’t wake you from your drunken slumber.

Thank god.

I kissed all the way down your jawbone until I got to your neck. You’re so soft, and you smell so nice. I kinda wish you’d been awake so I could’ve heard you whimper and whine in my ear. I want to hear you tell me how good it feels to have my cock slamming into your pussy, sweetheart. I want to feel your lips on my neck, my chest, all over my body.

“You take me so well, princess.” I whispered in your ear, hoping that somewhere deep in your dreams you’d hear my words and know I was inside you. “You feel so good, I can’t stop. Never felt anything-so-fucking-g-good-I-f-fuck…”

I came so much that when I pulled back my cum poured out of you as if my cock was a dam holding back a river. I still wonder if I should’ve cleaned you up, but I didn’t. Maybe you’d remember that I was the one who brought you upstairs and you’d put the pieces together.

I can imagine it now, you waking up in the morning with a dried up substance between your thighs. You might not know what it is right away, but I’m sure when you go to the bathroom and notice the hickeys peppered all over your neck, you’ll know that something must’ve happened to you the night before.

I’m not sure what to do now.

I need to have you for myself, that much is clear. The thought of someone else touching you ever again is killing me, so I have to take you. I’ll take you away from all this shit, and I’ll take good care of you. You won’t have to work at that nasty place anymore, I’ll be sure of that. And please don’t worry, princess. When your dad is looking for you, and he needs a friend to help him through the tough times, and the times he’s missing you, I’ll be that friend. He will only be sad for a little while. 

If things go wrong, and someone finds this…well I guess it’s a journal isn’t it? I won’t be able to deny the things I’ve done. I should burn it, but I can’t bring myself to do that. When I read it back, it’s almost like I can relive our time together. Someday I might show you this so you can understand why I did what I had to do, why I have to keep you.

Until then, I hope you sleep well tonight, your final night in your childhood home. I hope you enjoy your last breakfast with your loving dad, and that the two of you don’t argue before he leaves for work. Make sure you give him a kiss on the cheek and tell him you love him, because I’ll be over before he gets home from work.

Goodnight, princess.

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