Break me
Theme song:
Summary: Marc Spector wants nothing more than you to break him apart.
Rating: 18+
Warnings: Spanking, bondage (ropes, blindfold), sub!Marc, femdom, edging, mentions of subspace, angst
Word Counting: 3.9K
Author's note: Deep apologies for the incorrect use of grammar and punctuation. I wrote this fanfic in my native language and translated it on google 'cause I don't fully trust my English skills to the point of writing 4k words, so the punctuation was used according to my language.
It's probably the worst thing I've ever written in my life lol but I've been missing sub!Moon boys. (Also this is my first smut and the first thing I've ever written in here.)
Enjoy it!
He could feel everything.
He could feel the thin air rushing through his lungs and his throat drying out with each heaving breath. He could feel the cool wooden floor against his knees and the black fabric of the blindfold caress his lashes. The ropes tied to his wrists were starting to burn slightly at this point, and he feared he would burst into flames, his body as hot as the fire the devil burned in hell.
He could feel the cold wind trying to calm his body down, failing. He could hear the quiet hum, an icy whisper, passing through the half-open window of your apartment and hitting his skin.
Slap.
A groan escaped his dry throat as the leather of the whip hitted his left thigh.
Slap. A moan.
" Look at you."
He heard your footsteps around him, taking in the image of the big, fearless Marc Spector. The same man who'd been in the army fighting wars that weren't his, killing enemies that weren't his, facing bullets and mud and the cold like the big strong man he was. The man he needed to be. The man who wasn't afraid to stand up to his enemies, who would never be defeated by them, who wouldn't show weakness in front of them, who would never go down on his knees for them.
But for you, he would.
Your breath was almost caught in your throat as you circled him, rubbing the material of the whip gently over his shoulder and neck in time with your slow steps, admiring the image in front of you.
On his knees with his legs spread apart, his black boxer briefs felt tighter now, marking and rubbing against his rock hard cock, a dark wet spot marking where his tip was, leaking precum. The blindfold covering his eyes was a little damp from the few tears that formed and clung to his lashes. His mouth was parted, breathing heavily, his lips wet and glistening with saliva every time he ran his tongue to moisten them. His hands moved restlessly against the ropes tied behind his back, fingers curling and squeezing palms together leaving small half moons shaped, and red marks formed where the whip's leather had met his skin earlier.
The big and fearless Marc Spector who fought in battles and endured the torture of enemies was no longer there. Right now there was the other side of Marc; the most vulnerable and submissive side, that wanted to be taken care of and surrender control.
" You are so beautiful, Marc."
He felt his cheeks get a little warm, and his head moved from one side to another looking for you. Now facing him, you chuckled low and placed one foot on his chest pushing him lightly, enough to make him lose some balance for a few seconds. He gasped in surprise at the sudden act.
Your foot dropped lower, resting on his left thigh on top of where the whip had hit him earlier, and he let out a low moan at the feeling. You moved your foot in small, invisible circles, massaging the sore spot. Moving higher, you delicately traced an imaginary line across his groin, sighing as you put pressure on his covered cock, feeling how hard and wet he was just from your previous actions.
" Please." He moaned, letting out a heavy breath as you applied more pressure.
You smiled as his mouth opened a little more, sucking on a breath, ready to let out a groan of pleasure, but instead a groan of frustration came out as you withdrew your foot from his swollen, needy cock.
" Please, Y/n" He whined.
Your hands reached forward, touching his face and caressing his cheek with your thumb in a gentle caress, unlike the roughness you hit him earlier.
" Tell me what you need."
He leaned into your touch, his legs opening a little more suggestively before answering: " touch me."
You smiled at the act, watching as the Adam's apple rose and fell nervously, swallowing saliva, and then moistening his lips once more.
Feeling particularly piousâafter all, he handled each lash of the whip so well against his sensitive brown skinâ, you once again positioned your foot over the lush bulge in his black boxers, putting pressure and moving your foot slowly up and down.
He tilted his head forward and his mouth opened in an unashamed moan, finally getting some friction on his swollen and certainly red angry cock.
" Oh shit..."
" Does it feel good, baby?"
He whined as you grabbed his hair and pulled his head back almost roughly. He opened his mouth to try to answer your question, but when you applied more pressure and moved your foot faster, pressing harder as it touched his sensitive tip, all he could do was moan and shake his head, but your tight grip on his hair ached and heightened his pleasure. " Ye- hah- shit, yes..."
" You can't come until I say so, got it?" you pulled his hair more roughly, making him look up to you and he shook his head once more.
His face touched your thigh as you moved closer to him. He felt the fabric of the black lace lingerie you wore before you blindfolded him, and felt the heat and wetness emanating from your pussy. He moaned, from the pleasure and from imagining how wet you must be right now, how hot you were and how close his mouth was. He could almost taste you, the scent entering his nostrils and making his cock twitch in his boxers. He brought his face as close as the grip on his hair would allow, kissing the insides of your spread thighs and closing his teeth around the soft flesh in a silent request as he moved against your foot, gasping and moaning.
" Wanna have a taste, babyboy?" You asked as he kept kissing and biting your thigh, nodding and moaning little pleas, moving his hips faster against your foot the best he could.
The hand that was on his head came free, the thumb and forefinger held his face tightly instead, moving it back. You leaned forward, your foot stopped moving, pressing almost painfully into his cock and he moaned loud, enjoying the added pain. Your mouth came dangerously close to his parted, glossy lips, your breath mingling with his, making him sigh anticipating a kiss.
" You have to earn it." You whispered against his lips before catching them with your teeth and pulling them slowly and gently.
He whined frustrated at your answer. Your foot moved up and down again, fast and hard, and he moaned desperately, grinding his hips against your foot. His brows furrowed as you placed your thumb in his open mouth, his lips closed around it, and he let out a muffled groan, followed by a high-pitched moan deep in his throat.
The sight below your eyes was breathtaking, and you felt yourself getting wetter by the second, your fluids soaking through your panties, dripping down your thigh. You considered letting him taste you, let him move his lips and tongue desperately against you; as desperate as a thristy man looking for water in the desert. But seeing how his hands clenched behind his back, how his thighs trembled slightly, his hips stuttered, the moans grew louder and more frequent, seeing how his head slowly moved back with each gasp of air that came out of his lungs, how his cock started to throb uncontrollably and the pre-cum was leaking and wetting his underwear even more, you knew he was about to come. Without asking for your permission or telling you to stop because he didn't want to disobey you.
Instead, he kept moving against you, thinking about the mess he was going to make in his underwear, all for you. He wanted to cum in his briefs, hot and wet and sticky. He wanted to cum for you. He felt dirty and ashamed for thinking so but he couldn't help it, couldn't stop it. He was so damn close, almost there, a little more and he would- fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck, he's going to cum, he's going to cum, he's going to...
A frustrated, desperate moan left his lips as you pulled your foot away, stopping the delicious friction that would have made him come seconds earlier if you'd gone on, just a little longer, a second longer.
He was panting now, a lock of hair caught on his sweaty forehead. He opened his mouth to complain about the pleasure you stole from him, but you squeezed both sides of his cheek firmly with the hand that wasn't holding the whip. He didn't deserve to taste you, didn't deserve to cum yet.
" I said you don't get to cum until I say so." Your voice sounded rough before you let him go. "Ten. Count. If you miss one, we'll start it all over again, am I being clear?."
He swallowed, shook his head and wet his lips, whispering: "yes, ma'am."
You walked around him, taking in the state of his already red-marked body, not missing the way his cock twitched in anticipation.
Slap.
The whip came down against his back, making a high pitched noise. He groaned loudly and his back arched, his hands clenched behind his back.
" One."
Slap.
This time the leather hit lower, just above the curve of his ass, and his hips bucked.
" Two."
You circled him again, only taking a few steps before stopping in front of him. He was panting, his chest rising and falling fast and heavy, his head down, legs spread apart.
Slap.
The whip came down again, slamming against his chest and leaving a diagonal red line from his shoulder to his belly button. His brows furrowed, his jaw clenched before he opened his mouth and a strangled loud groan came out.
" Fuck!" He panted while a single tear ran down his right cheek. His ears began to ring a low bell in the distance. " Three."
The leather met his abdomen.
Slap. A moan.
"Four."
Your arm swung through the air, the whip cutting through the wind with a hiss before landing against his right thigh.
Slap.
His mouth let out a loud whimper and you didin't miss the way his dick twitched at the act. He paused, gasping and letting little moans escape his throat before he said in a low voice: "F-five."
The hand holding the whip came up once more, aiming for the lower part of his right thigh, but hitting the spot where it had hit seconds ago.
Slap.
His brows frowned, you could see his eyes close tightly through the blindfold. His breath caught in his throat as the leather hit his already bruised thigh, and when he managed to release the breath he'd been holding, he cried out. He lost his balance and his body fell forward, nearly hitting the ground. He panted hard and faster than before, little whimpers left his throat, his open mouth let a single drop of saliva run down and fall to the floor, his hands tightened, the rope rubbing his wrists.
You looked worriedly at your boyfriend on the cold wooden floor, crouched down to your heels, placed your hand over his hair in a gentle caress and were about to ask him if he wanted to stop when you saw him bite his lip and moan in pleasure. Just then you saw how his cock throbbed and leaked pre-come, leaking through the underwear and wetting it.
"S-six! Six, fuck, fuck..." Few tears streamed freely down his cheeks now. "Please, please." He sobbed.
You helped him get back to his previous position and got on the same level as him. Your thumb stroked and wiped away the few tears that ran down his cheek in a grounding, gently caress.
Despite the cold, hard wooden floor against his knees, he felt so light now, so good.
He felt a warm and soft touch against his cheek, a velvety voice spoke something in the background but he couldn't concentrate, the bells were drowning out other sounds. The floating sensation took over him.
You made him feel so light. So good.
" You're doing so well, baby, taking it so good". Your voice sounded soft.
He couldn't see because of the blindfold, but you looked at him with loving, worried eyes. You didn't want to cause him any kind of pain other than pleasure, but you trusted him to say the safe word if it was being too much for him.
He heard your voice in the background praising him and he moaned, pleading.
"Tell me what it is that you want." The hand that was holding the whip dropped it to the ground for a moment, and you placed your palm on his other cheek, holding his face and running your eyes slowly over it before placing a soft kiss on his lips.
You felt his lips move against yours, little moans erupting from his throat. When your tongue entered his mouth and stroked his, he melted and you heard the most shameless moan leave his lips. He leaned forward a little to deepen the kiss, his cock twitching once more, seeking friction.
When your lips left his, he whimpered.
"Tell me what you want me to do..." you bit his bottom lip, "...and I'll do it."
He felt his body so light that he swore he was floating. But he wasn't afraid of falling, he was sure there were clouds beneath him, supporting the weight gracefully, the soft material of them caressing his skin. He heard the bells ringing low in his ear and then your voice.
Tell me what you want me to do...
What did he want you to do with him? He felt so comfortable with you, so loved and safe. You made him feel so loved and safe, so good. He could be himself with you, he didn't need to be the man he was supposed to be, the man who fought wars that weren't his and killed enemies that weren't his. He didn't have to be the big, intimidating and brave Marc Spector, he didn't need to pretend he didn't get affected by all the things he's done, by all the people he's killed. He trusted you with his heart, body and soul.You took such good care of him, only you could make him feel so much pleasure, make him feel as light as if he were floating.
Tell me what you want me to do...
Anything. Everything.
He was yours and would let you do whatever you wanted with him. You could do anything with him, everything. You could break him into pieces, kill him even. He was yours to do as you please.
He felt his body getting heavier, slowly coming down from the clouds to the cold wooden floor. He moved slowly and heavily, and he didn't feel the ropes rub against his wrists, but they burned slightly now. When he opened his eyes, he realized he was no longer wearing the blindfold that now rested on the floor next to him. The low light irritated his eyes and he blinked, feeling the tears clinged to his lashes run down his cheeks. When he got used to the light he noticed your delicate features in front of him, searching for his eyes with worried ones, both your hands were holding his face gently and your mouth was moving producing distant sounds.
The bells in his ear grew low, fading away until they finally disappeared, and he could hear your voice.
"Marc, you with me, honey?" Your voice sounded soft, almost a whisper.
He blinked once more, looking around.
"Baby?" his voice was hoarse from so much panting and moaning.
You took a bottle of water that was beside you on the floor and offered it to him. Holding the bottle in one hand and the back of his head in the other, you helped him drink it all.
Like a thirsty man looking for water in the desert.
When he finished the whole bottle, you helped him up and guided him to bed.
"What happened? Why'd you stop?" He took your hands and looked at you, his brows furrowed in concern. "Did I do something wrong?"
You shook your head and leaned down to kiss his forehead gently, then the tip of his nose and finally a peck on his soft lips.
"We just took the game a little too far, that's all." You pecked his lips once more, sighed and squeezed his hand. "I want to take care of you now."
Seeing your eyes staring at him full of love and adoration but also full off worry, all he could do was sigh and agree, giving you a small smile. He would ask you what happened later.
He accepted your outstretched hand and let you lead him to the bathroom. He watched you as you filled the tub, took off your lingerie and got into the water. Your back leaned against the tub and you patted the water in front of you, signaling him to come in with you. He smiled seeing you put on a yellow rubber ducky, then took off his underwear and got into the bathtub with his back against your chest. His cock was still half hard and his body was sensitive. He sighed as he entered the warm water, hissing when it touched his wounds.
You ran your fingers gently over the red marks that weren't covered by water, your head bent forward and placed a chaste kiss on each one.
"Does it hurt?" You whispered with your cheek against his left shoulder.
"A little, but it's good." He blushed slightly at the admission.
His fingertips emerged from the water and touched yours, playing with them before intertwining his hand with yours. He felt you smile against his skin and give his hand a little squeeze.
"I'll still take care of it though."
You sat in silence, playing with each other's fingers, enjoying the warm water against your skin.
The comfortable silence continued as you washed his sweaty hair, noting how relaxed and content he looked. Your eyes roamed over his back, lost in other thoughts, replaying the scene from earlierâŚthe way he'd said that.
Please, break me... kill me.
Tears threatened to form, and you kissed his back, then his shoulders, neck, ear, cheek, and when his hair was clean, you kissed the top of his head, whispering sweet nothings and how much you loved him all the while.
He sighed contentedly. His hands lifted above his head, pulling your face close to his in a chaste kiss. There was nothing suggestive about the kiss, it was his way of saying how much he loved you back, how much he appreciated the affection you had for him.
When the kiss ended you smiled against his lips, leaving a peck on the tip of his nose. He looked at you with loving eyes for a few seconds before leaving another peck on your lips, turning to the front again as you patted him affectionately on the shoulder.
As you ran the sponge over his body, careful not to hurt him or press against his bruises, his eyes were lost on the yellow rubber ducky floating in front of him, but he wasn't thinking about the duck. His mind was elsewhere.
"Baby?"
"Yeah?"
He kept looking at the duck and you kept rubbing his back.
"What happened earlier?"
He kept looking at the duck and you stopped rubbing his back.
You let out a sigh. You couldn't run away from this conversation, it wasn't fair to him, you couldn't leave him questioning and overthinking.
"I left you overwhelmed. I should have noticed when you entered subspace." You played with his wet hair. "You weren't really aware of what you were talking about andâŚyou said a few things."
His body visibly tensed. The slightest chance that he could have hurt you in any way sickened him.
"You didn't say anything to hurt me, I promise." You kissed the back of his head assuring him.
"What did I say?"
You swallowed nervously before answering:
"You asked me to kill you."
His shoulders stiffened and he went still. His eyes were open and staring at the tile in front of him now, his mind racing a hundred miles trying to process what you just said.
The situation he had put you in.
He felt your hands touch his shoulders, heard the water moving as you came a little closer, if that was possible.
"Marc?"
The water stirred again as he shifted and turned, facing you. When your eyes met, his held a glint of guilt. For saying those things, for making you worry, for scaring you.
"I'm sorry". He whispered.
Your brows furrowed, and you cupped his face with both hands and looked into his eyes. His hands found your wrists and held them gently.
"You don't have to apologize for anything, okay? You didn't do anything wrong. It wasn't your fault."
His eyes got wet, and he opened his mouth to say otherwise but shut it up when your lips found his. Your thumbs caressed his cheek as your lips moved against each other, the salty taste of a tear that had fallen from his eyes mixed with the sweet kiss.
"I love you very, very much. I want you to trust me to tell me how you feel, okay? You're a good man, Marc, and I'm proud of you every day." He nodded with tearful eyes, his hands caressing your wrists. "I'll always be here for you."
You kissed his forehead tenderly.
"Even when you make horrible tea."
He chuckled low, and wrapped you in a hug.
"Thank you." He whispered in your ear. "And I'll never make you tea again after that."
"I was just kidding, honey."
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You finished the bath between the soft sound of water and kisses. You dried his hair when you left the bathroom, applied oil essence to his bruises and some cream, making sure to kiss every reddish mark afterwards, and helped him get dressed.
Lying in bed with his head against your chest and his voice sleepy, he murmured:
"Steven's gonna complain so much tomorrow."
"He will, but today was your day, he will understand."
He hummed in reply.
Silence took over the room as you stroked his hair to sleep.
"Baby?"
"Yeah?"
"You own me an orgasm." He said low, moving closer to you.
You chuckled. "I own us both an orgasm."
He smiled with his eyes closed.
"You could have had one if you'd let me eat you out."
You smiled. That bastard, you thought.
"Alright, go to sleep. Steven has to work tomorrow."
Silence was present again, only the quiet noise of your breathing filled the dark room. When you thought Marc was asleep, he whispered sleepily and quietly:
"I love you."
You then smiled and kissed his forehead once more, already drifting to sleep.
"I love you too."
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Tagging some people who interected on my post about the sub!moonboys. Let me know if you want me to not tag you anymore.
@moonknightyws
@stevengrantdom
