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[absolute-hygiene]

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[gghostwriter]

Hey can I request something? Maybe something where Spencer comes home to find his partner passed out on the bathroom floor?? Perhaps due to a hot prolonged shower? No serious ailments just a little bump on the head and a worried spencer hehe. Thank you!!! I love your work!!

Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader Trope: Established Relationship; Fluff! Just fluff Warning: Medical inaccuracies A/N: This is a little bit shorter than my first request but still cute nonetheless. Hope you like it anon! Main masterlist

Blackout. // Spencer Reid

It was late into the night—10:30pm, to be exact, when Spencer arrived back home from a case in Dallas. The team had spent four grueling days catching the unsub and sleeping in highly questionable hygienic motels. The thought of the stale smell of cigarettes and grimy countertops made him shudder. All he wanted to do now was take a deep shower, kiss and cuddle with you, and crash into a deep sleep. 

He entered the threshold quietly, knowing your on-call schedule at the hospital for the whole month was taxing. He expected you to be passed out on the bed—dreaming of sunshine and rainbows but imagine his surprise when he noted the bathroom light open and the door slightly ajar. 

“Y/N, sweetheart, I’m home,” he called out. 

A muffled groan answered his call. 

That alarmed him enough to drop his satchel and coat on the floor, feet clad in mismatched socks sliding across the wooden floor. The sight of you sitting on the bathroom floor, back against the wall, stopped his heart from beating—thirty second full stop—before it started beating again at twice the normal speed. 

“Y/N. Are you alright—“ he bent down to peer into your fluttering eyelids. “—did you hit your head? Is your vision blurry? What—” 

You raised your hand to stop his spiraling. “I felt faint from the heat, Spence. That’s all.”

His eyes widened in alarm as he tried to spot any external injuries. “Did you faint? Are you sure you didn’t hit your head?”

You shook your head, causing him to gasp with worry. 

“Don’t shake your head! Sudden movement can stretch and further damage brain tissues—we should, we should get you to the hospital!” His voice cracking at the end.

“No hospital, I’m alright Spence. I sat down when I felt dizzy so no head injury to worry about,” you smiled, taking in your boyfriend’s fussy hands, touching your face and head, and his face showcasing a variety of looks, all painting worry. “Plus, I’m a doctor. Pretty sure, I know what I’m talking about.” 

He sighed. “I’m a doctor, too, and your boyfriend, I have every right to worry.” Wrapping his arms around your waist, he brought you up to a stand. “Lean on me, let’s get you to bed.”

You hobbled to bed where Spencer fussed to situate you in. Having spent all your working hours doing the opposite, it was amazing to be the receiving end—especially from someone as dedicated and caring as Spencer. 

He rushed to bring you a cup of water. “Drink slowly. It’s possible that you’ve been dehydrated and it was exacerbated with your hot shower. Did you drink enough water today, Y/N?” 

“Yes, Dr. Reid. I drank plenty of water during my breaks,” you teased. 

“I sense you’re starting to feel better. The sarcasm is back,” he jested with a smile before replacing it with a look of seriousness. “I know you like your hot showers but do you think you could lower the temperature to prevent the fainting spells from happening again? I worry about you, especially when I’m out on a case. A study found that hot water increased heart rates by 32% and blood flow by 44%, which isn’t bad in itself but combined with your fatigue and resistance to drink lots of water, there’s a higher possibility of you fainting again and again.” 

You caressed his cheek before nodding your head. “Alright, I will, Spence. Y’know all this worrying for me will give you premature grey hair and that—“ ruffling his wavy locks “—would be a travesty.” 

He laughed, giving you a peck before stepping out of his work clothes. “I’ll take a quick shower, be right back and please, stay where you are.”

You watched as he entered the bathroom, leaving the door open just in case you’d call and he’d come running. Sliding down under the covers, you felt your exhaustion pulling you under to a state of in between reality and dreamland. 

Your last coherent memory was Spencer sliding next to you, cuddling you to his chest, giving you a kiss good night, and his sweet murmurs of ‘I love you.’

My inbox is currently open for any more fluff requests! Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Burn Out the Day, Burn Out the Night

Pairing: Vincent Bauer x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Allusions to masturbation; Poorly written smut; Mentions of pornography

*Some of reader’s physical appearance mentioned

Summary: Maybe you are a little closer with Bauer than you originally thought.

“Christ, Bauer, I need to pee!” You kicked your right heel against the door, still padding around barefoot after waking and stretching. Your legs were already starting to get chilly from the air conditioning, your sleep shorts not providing much coverage in that area. You already knew that your nipples could cut glass behind the fabric of your thin camisole and the man on the other side of the door would hone in on them immediately. Even before you began the job, you had never known someone to be so ridiculously, insatiably horny. 

You, Bauer, and Cartwright had grown close over the years. 

Several years. 

Four hours per year.

Maintenance engineers, the three of you. Keeping up with mundane, routine tasks to ensure that the special individuals on the levels below you survived until the world’s air was again breathable. It wasn’t much of an existence and was a choice you questioned constantly during your four hours per year. Still, you did what needed to be done. The tasks were divided between the three of you and you completed them within the time frame—

—which was counting down minute by minute while you had yet to even empty your bladder. “Bauer!”

You heard Cartwright chuckle behind you as his fingers clacked away over the keys at the control station. “He does give us the opportunity.”

“Don’t you dare take his side!” You leaned against the wall and  pounded a fist against the door. “I’m removing this lock instead of eating today, I swear to god!” The toilet flushed behind the metal, but you knew the man enough to know he was at least hygienic and would wash his hands, likely even going the extra mile to prepare his toothbrush before granting you access—simply to be extra annoying. Just when you thought about grabbing the garbage can beside the control panel, the door flew inward to reveal Vincent Bauer, still longjohn clad, with his precious Playboy folded beneath his arm and his toothbrush nestled in his cheek.

“Mornin’, C-cup.” He grinned around the tool, blue eyes flitting down to your breasts and back up. You had called it. You’d never tell him he had got the size correct. 

“Get outta the way!” You grabbed his ratty t-shirt and pulled him forward only to shove him to the side, rolling your eyes at the sound of his chuckles while you disappeared into the bathroom. The moan that vibrated from your throat as you finally felt the relief of an empty bladder, well—it was borderline erotic. There came a goddamn from the other side of the door that had you stifling your own laughter. You sat on the toilet for a few more moments, rubbing the sleep from your eyes and just contemplating life or rather, the lack thereof. You wondered if you’d ever see the sun again, feel the rain, smell a flower. It was a futile train of thought but one you found yourself boarding every cycle. With a heavy sigh, you finished up and washed your hands, avoiding the mirror as you always did. Quickly brushing your teeth, you rinsed your mouth and flung open the door. 

“You sure you were just takin’ a piss in there?” Bauer didn’t look away from his damn magazine, but he had an eyebrow arched. The man reminded you of a teenager, the way he was perched on the table, swinging his legs while he scanned the pages. “Sounded like somethin’ else.”

“Not everyone feels the need to be in a constant state of orgasm, Vin.” You shook your head fondly, crossing in front of him to make your way to your locker, his foot stretching out to tap against your ass as you passed by. Cartwright would never get away with calling him that. You had insisted upon it when Bauer had stopped using your last name. He’d tried to backpedal but absolutely not. Even when he had reverted to your last name, Vin had stuck. Eventually, you had both settled on a first name basis, even if you used a variation of his. 

“Well, that’s boring.” He casually replied.

Another roll of your eyes as you pulled your clothing from the locker and traipsed over to the small medication storage unit that was kept on the maintenance level. You hated your injections. It was a battle to convince yourself to continue to use them when they always hurt so badly. The pain was fleeting but still intense. The cocktail all but shut down your reproductive system, dissolving the lining of your uterus, thus avoiding the need for a monthly cycle and any concern of pregnancy should you enter into a sexual relationship with one of your coworkers. It was that or a hysterectomy when you accepted the job. 

Why were they so worried about your body deciding to function properly for two hours anyway? It was like being in a state of cryogenic sleep, it was unlikely your uterus would ever work properly, even IF the world became inhabitable again. 

You couldn’t be honest and say you hadn’t thought about it, with Bauer. Cartwright, something was just off about him, no matter how much you enjoyed his company. Vin, though, was a completely different story. It was undeniable that he was attractive. Built sturdy with lean muscle and shoulders for days, he was definitely the one to handle the heavy lifting that was required. You didn't mind watching him do it either. 

Dirty jokes aside, he was respectful toward you, never touching you in a way you didn’t mind. In the world before, he would have been a walking sexual harassment charge, but not there. You didn't mind his verbal advances, though you couldn’t be sure he even meant them. The two of you were family, which was a dilemma because you shouldn’t picture family piledriving your cunt with the thick cock you knew hung behind the fabric of his work pants. 

“Y/N.” The man that was just unknowingly responsible for the ache between your thighs was snapping his fingers in front of your face. Shaking your head, you blinked at him. “I asked if you wanted me to do it.” Vincent had given you the injection a few times, when you just had lacked the nerve to do it yourself. Even if he didn’t perform the task, he always stood nearby and offered an arm or a shoulder for you to squeeze during the peak of the pain. A few times, he’d caught you when your legs gave out. 

Licking your lips, you considered him before nodding and handing him the alcohol prep and syringe. “No jokes, okay?” Your voice shook when the cold pad was swiped over the skin of your abdomen, just to the left of your navel. Bauer nodded and pulled the cap from the auto-inject syringe, pressing the end into your flesh and watching your eyes, waiting for permission to activate the device. “Do it.” A click hiss signaled the cocktail entering your system. It was painless at first, but you knew what was to come, a hand already on Vincent’s bicep. A quick glance at his face revealed his lips moving in a silent countdown. He had this down to a science, knew exactly when to expect the onslaught.

When the burn of the chemical inside you struck, seconds felt like hours. You knew you had shouted. Bauer had told you with a stricken expression once that you always cried out. In reality, it was over as quickly as it started, leaving you trembling with a grip tight enough to bruise the man. It was one of the times you had gone boneless, finding your face pressed against his sternum and his arms hooked beneath yours.

“Already over. On your feet.” He urged, encouragement in every syllable. It was easy to go back to business as usual, his palm clapping your shoulder before he had strode over to slip his work attire over his shirt and longjohns. Zipping up the outer layer over his torso, he smirked at you. “You got somethin’ against bras? Not that I’m complain’ but the ladies are always lettin’ us know when it’s too cold in here.”

“Shut up, Vin.” You laughed, stepping into your pants. Glancing at the clock, it read 1:42.

You could hear Bauer belting out some song from down the hall, likely off key and with more enthusiasm than you ever seemed to be able to conjure in that life. When you came down for the job, you had passed the physical and psych eval with flying colors; no substantial family history, no red flags. You had been a perfect candidate before those doors had sealed. Nothing could have prepared you for floating through time, losing years without aging. Even with the two other individuals keeping you company, you had never felt so lonely, trapped, starved for human touch. More than the occasional pat on the back from Cartwright or even the hugs from Bauer. 

You adjusted your weight a little more evenly on the rickety old step-stool, balancing the vent grille in one hand and the new filter in the other. Switching to free up one hand, you plucked the old filter out and made to toss it over your shoulder to grab afterwards. With the sudden shift, the stupid stool tilted beneath you, gravity deciding that it would no longer be your friend and down you tumbled. “Shit!” 

Expecting the hard metal of the grated floor, you were quite surprised to land against something firmly soft with an oomf beside your ear. You clutched the grille and filter to your chest like treasure, blinking big eyes up at Bauer while he arched a brow in return. “If you wanted me to hold you, all you had to do was say so.” He chuckled, already letting your legs slide off of his arm. God, he was warm. 

“Thank you.” You said softly before clearing your throat and stepping out of his space. “Hey, would you—” With a quick gesture of your hand, you indicated the duct that he could easily reach without the deathtrap stool.

Vincent snorted and moved the toolbox to the other hand. “Give it here.” He didn’t even sit down his burden before positioning the filter and holding his hand out expectantly, wiggling his fingers for the grille. You passed it over and sighed in defeat when he popped into place with an ease that made you sneer at him. With that smug grin of his, he turned down the hall toward the other door. “You’re welcome!” He called over his shoulder. 

“Asshole!” You smiled. You picked up the discarded filter and reached for your tool box, the cold handle instantly making you feel the warmth of the body you had just been pressed against. He felt so nice. God, it would have been like heaven to just stay there for the next—

1:13

You sighed. There was still so much to do. You still needed to—

The pulse between your legs happened so suddenly that you gasped. Biting your lip, a rush of warmth came with the next one. You couldn’t remember that last time you had been aroused but it was definitely before those doors had sealed. Maybe you could make an excuse to go back up and hide in the bathroom, take a page from Bauer’s book. Not literally. Those magazines were filthy. 

No way. There wasn’t time for this shit. You had a job to do and there was no way you were gonna let a little thing like sex-brain get in the way of that. Lifting the box, you hadn’t taken two steps before that door opened and Bauer traipsed out, wiping sweat from his brow with his free hand. He had his head bobbing to the music in his headphones—much too loud since you could hear it. 

Watching him move, you pictured him how you saw him every time you woke up. T-shirt with the sleeves loose around biceps that flexed when he did his pushups. Longjohns that were loose enough to only provide a teasing glimpse of an outline. He always talked a big game but you wondered if he could back it up. 

You blinked, the thoughts dissolving as quickly as you allowed them to intrude. Bauer was looking right at you with an arched brow and a mischievous grin. 

“What?” 

He reached up and moved the headphones to sit around his neck. “You’re starin’. Somethin’ on your mind?” 

God, he was attractive. A rush of heat traveled from deep in your belly straight to your core. You shook your head minutely. This was Bauer. Vin. Sure, he was a huge flirt but you doubted he was really interested. 

“Still starin’.” He chuckled. 

Maybe if you came off as playful, he would give you some sign that you could get a little more serious. “Oh, just wondering if those magazines really get the job done.”

With a tilt of his head, he bent sideways to place his toolbox on the floor. “You got my attention.” He crossed his arms, hands tucked into his armpits, and stood impossibly straighter. 

You shrugged, shooting for nonchalant. “Just seems like it’d be a constant disappointment. Jerking off like a teenager when a real pussy would be so much better.”

He chuckled. “You offerin’, C-cup?”

It took all you had to keep your voice from shaking. “Maybe.” It was almost comical the way his expression morphed into something between shocked and hopeful. You took a step toward him but he closed the distance in just a few long strides. 

“Maybe isn’t yes or no.” He was a hair’s breadth away, the proximity making your skin burn and your heartrate accelerate. 

“Yes.” You whispered, hating how it sounded more like a question. Still, Bauer made no attempt to advance. 

“Gotta be sure, doll. We live together in a place where it’d be difficult not to see each other if we make a mistake.” The sight of his tongue raking across his lips made you weak in the knees. 

“I don’t want to fuck up our friendship, you know.” You chewed your bottom lip for a moment, reaching out to toy with the zipper on his uniform jacket. “But I’ve—noticed you for a long time now. Well, as long as four hours a year allows.” You laughed. He didn’t, but the corners of his mouth lifted. “Yes. Yes, I’m sure.”

His lips were on yours within a heartbeat, large hands cradling each side of your neck. There was absolutely no stopping the moan that slipped so easily from your mouth and into his, providing the opening he needed to slide his tongue past your teeth. The two muscles tangled, battling. He tasted of the cigarettes he always somehow managed to find, along with the mint toothpaste that was well stocked in the supply closet. 

You were pulling at the zipper of his pants when he caught your wrists and pulled back to free your lips enough to watch you pout. 

“Not here.” Bauer looked up at a camera that was conveniently placed right at the end of the hall. “Don’t want Cartwright playin’ with the wizard’s staff while he watches us.” With a pointed look toward the camera that would have made you laugh at literally any other time, Bauer grabbed your waist and hoisted you up, your legs anchoring around his midsection. Your arms wound around his neck to hold yourself securely to his body while he twisted the wheel lock to open the door of the room he had exited only moments before. He pulled the door closed behind him and pressed you against it. You maintained your hold on him until he pushed on your thighs, urging you to drop your boots to the floor. 

It was a frenzy of sloppy kisses as you removed your jacket—leaving your camisole—and shed your work pants and sleep shorts. Bauer was less interested in removing his clothes, simply pulling down his pants and the longjohns underneath just enough to free his cock, stroking the already hard length as he stepped toward you.

“Sorry about the quickie, C-cup. Time isn’t exactly on our side here.”

“Less talking.” You lifted your right leg and curved it over his hip, driving the heel of your foot against the back of his thigh to bring him flush against your body. Kissing you with a hunger that ignited a fire in your belly, Bauer bent his knees slightly so he could obtain a firm hold on the backs of your thighs and lifted you to your previous position. You could feel the heat of his cock through the thin fabric of your panties, the hardness pressed against your folds. “Fuck me already, Vin.”

“Don’t need to tell me twice.” Gripping his shaft, he used his pinky to shove your panties to the side and entered you in one swift thrust that had you both moaning lewdly. “Christ fuck.”

It felt like he was splitting you in two. True, it had been a long time since you’d felt a cock inside you, but it had never felt like this. The first thrust punched a sound from you that you couldn’t even accurately describe. The fullness was a feeling you hadn’t even realized you had missed so intensely until he was moving inside you, his lips attached to your neck, your collarbone. 

“Goddamn, you feel so good.” He grunted, his large hands squeezing your ass, kneading and spreading you open. With your back against the wall and his solid grip below you, it was easy for him to lean back, his eyes locked on where he slid in and out of you with ease. “Come on, baby. Wanna watch you cum on my cock.”

The dark maintenance room was lit by only a single red light, which somehow contributed to the ambience of the moment. Bathed in scarlet as his skin met yours again and again, Bauer was beautiful. Your heavy-lidded eyes watched him, lips parted and brow furrowed in concentration. The perspiration beading on his skin glistened, his hair damp with it. You rewarded his efforts with sounds that had him groaning against your flesh, his thrusts quickening. 

Your hand nearly left his shoulder, the thought of rubbing your swollen clit a mere fleeting consideration once you felt the first vibrations of your climax approaching from his cock alone. The knot in your belly was tight, soon to snap. 

“Cum for me. That’s it, pretty girl.” He cooed, his fingers sliding into the cleft of your ass to spread you impossibly wider. His breathy encouragement was influencing you in all the right ways. 

“Fuck, Vin, I’m gonna cum.” First, your legs began to shake, tingling with the first sensations of your orgasm. “Oh god, oh shit.” Your nails dug into his shoulders, your clit beginning to throb. Without even a single brush to the sensitive nub, you began to cum, shouting his name and pressing your back hard against the door to angle your hips upward. The new angle allowed him to hit the deepest spot inside of you, each thrust prolonging the pleasure coursing through your cunt, your stomach, down to your toes. 

“Fuck, girl. Squeezin’ me like that—I’m gonna—fuck!” His hips stuttered, his grip tightening to borderline painful, only spurring you onward in your blissful journey. Distantly, you felt the warmth fill you, the pressure flowing against each and every nerve deep inside. Vincent pressed himself against you, his head dropping to your shoulder, each breath a heavy pant against your neck. Your hips jerked sporadically as you came down from wherever he had sent you, his cock still pulsing inside of you. “God—goddamn.” He rasped.

You grinned, still catching your own breath. “Better than a magazine?” He didn’t answer, not right away. He remained just as he was until you could no longer feel his heart galloping against your own chest. When he straightened, his blue eyes were thoughtful, with something you couldn’t name twinkling behind the vivid color. His quickly softening cock slipped free of you as he placed you on your feet, pulling up his longjohns and pants with one hand while he bent to snatch up your clothing and hand it to you.

Bauer zipped up his work pants. “Don’t think I’ll be needing Miss 1979 anymore.” He jested while tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “This a one-time thing?” His eyes were dancing over your face, hard to read, but you could have sworn you caught a flicker of hope there.

“I hope not.”

When he kissed you then, it felt different and in the best way possible.

“I’ve got our cocktails ready.” 

Cartwright was loading the mixture into the correct receptacle above each bed. Though you found yourself loath to enter the chamber, there was no avoiding it. At your locker, you peeled off your uniform, the chilly air much more uncomfortable than it had been when it had attempted to cool your body while Bauer had been inside of you. 

Risking a glance, you spotted Vincent at his own storage space, a magazine in his hand. His tongue dragged across his bottom lip, his eyes narrowed in thought. After a moment, he twisted to drop the publication into the garbage can behind him. 

Without moving your head, your eyes slid over to Cartwright, his mouth agape. When your sights moved back to Bauer, he was hanging his jacket inside the locker, a smirk painted over his features. He knew you were watching him, the little shit. 

Glancing at the clock, it read 0:12. 

You always dreaded going back into the chamber, frozen in time, feeling so much older with each emergence though your body hadn’t changed. Now, you wondered if the 6 months of forced sleep would bring about an awkwardness that preceded the dissolution of your friendship with Bauer. Maybe you had made a mistake. You had let your baser needs outweigh logic and reason and at what cost?

“See you soon.” Cartwright was already prepped and lying on the table, his voice muffled by the plastic cylinder. You gave him a soft smile and a nod, turning toward your own chamber as your comrade’s began to close. Your hand had barely touched the metal when your opposite wrist was snagged and you were spun around, your chest pressed snugly against Vincent’s. You heard Cartwright’s exclamations as his chamber closed, the “hey, you two are—oh my god—that’s why he threw away—” making you chuckle against Bauer’s mouth after you were drawn in for a kiss. 

By the time the two of you separated, you were breathless and the clock was at 0:06. You were cutting it close but could you really complain? Hell no. 

“See ya in six months, C-cup.” He damn near whispered, a fingertip fondly tracing your jaw. Your anxiety melted with each tender sweep of the digit, your eyes fluttering closed. “Go on now.” Spinning you, he gave your ass a slap and backed toward his own table. 

“Asshole.” You laughed, climbing up into the chamber. Inserting the needle into your arm and the cannula below your nose, you laid back and shifted to get comfortable. Rolling your head to the side, you watched Bauer do the same before meeting your gaze. 

“Night.” He said with a smile and a twinkle in his eyes.

“Night, Vin.” You continued holding his gaze until the metal closed in around you. As you began to feel the effects of the cocktail, your mind growing hazy and your eyes fluttering closed, you could only focus on the image of Bauer’s smile that had been etched into your memory, the ghostly whisper of his hands in your skin. You began to drift off, the uplifted corners of your mouth slowly relaxing. 

Maybe you could enjoy living life two hours at a time after all.  

[chronicgoonette]

freaky visitation😈

this is my first work so bear w me, im on an hour of sleep and ovulating !!smutty!!

(inspired by baphmochii)

interested in the 'sally face killer' case, you'd decided to start writing letters to the culprit himself, sal fisher, you'd assumed he'd never even receive them due to the poor justice system and were pleasantly surprised when a letter was finally addressed back to you, from the prison, in his name.

after months of writing back and forth you'd managed to find a free day in your schedule and planned to stop by, though your letters between the two of you were innocent and he was a murderer you couldn't help but feel a tad interested in him, truthfully what other man would ever bother to write you, with such passion and care nonetheless? maybe the bar was set low but you'd seen those mugshots, killer or not you'd tap.

you'd watched the footage of his conviction and trial countless times, even if he did seem to be a bit of a nut he wasn't dangerous, was he? what did it matter? dick is dick.

you put on your best little get up the day you'd decided to visit the local prison, determined to look pretty for him, though you'd managed to convince yourself you'd done it purely for you and no man, wouldn't want to seem easy or desperate for it.

you'd spent some time at the store prior, grabbing a variety of different hygiene products, after all it's ridiculous inmates are made to pay for rinky dink versons of basic necessities, or atleast that's what you'd use as an excuse when it came time to face your little pen pal.

gathering his gifts from the passenger seat of your car you walked into the prison, making it through the metal detector and search, receiving your little stamp, you passed the goods you bought off to an officer to be processed through to sal's commissary, considering he had been on good behavior you were able to speak to him.

after a bit of a wait you were escorted to a large room with multiple large metal tables about, a lengthy pane of glass in the center of each to prevent anything brash, though they were practically irrelevant considering you could simply reach around the glass.

you spotted him immediately, it'd be pretty difficult missing his electric blue hair, a female guard escorted you over and sat you across from him before she left, there was only one guard left on standby and he looked about ready to pass out, sitting on an uncomfortable looking couch against the opposite wall, no fellow inmates were present, only you, sal, and that tired looking guard.

"hi" you smiled at him, you were out of place, too happy for a shitty rundown prison such as this, and he knew you'd be dead meat left alone in a room full of prisoners who hadn't had any proper contact with a woman in a hot minute, especially when clad in such clothing.

"..who are you?" he paused, voice muffled and tired behind the mask he wore "why are you here?" he continued, peering at you, he didn't seem threatening with his forward questioning, just curious.

you simply beamed at him, god did he look so much better in person- "im your pen pal- like the one you've been writing to since last july?- well you probably get a lotta letters so-" you rushed, nervous to be finally meeting him, though not because he was scary, because you wanted him.

"no, no i remember you" he replied with a flat voice, you were giddy at that, in all honesty you were crushing on him.. hard, but you brushed it off as too much caffeine or an empty stomach.

you were quick to reply with "that's nice, im really glad to finally meet you!", you tried to tone it down, not to sound too excited, what was he thinking? someone so young and pretty sitting right in front of him, biceps pushing their full tits together, unconsciously giving him a show while admiring him, sal fisher, a killer?

he was admittedly a little alarmed, he liked the attention but it also mildly concerned him, sure, he'd been writing to you for months but it seemed as if you idolized him, that was surely unhealthy.

"why do you seem so excited?" he asked, tone hesitant and guarded, truthfully you didn't even know yourself, things became a little hot and you were acutely aware of your surroundings, his lack of cuffs, the guard that was now passed out on the couch, you two had no supervision and as you looked around there wasn't a single sign of a security camera.

you stammered, getting a tad flustered, your chest felt hot and your face felt itchy, "well- i.. im not trying to be weird, y'know, it probably seems like im one of those people who romanticize murderers and all but i just feel like we've really bonded overtime, and i believe you, what with all that demon, curse and cult talk" you confessed, avoiding his harsh gaze

"i had to do it" he commented softly, the harsh lighting above was just dim enough for you to barely be able to make out his eyes, that was a plus for him considering they were trained on your tits, he'd never labeled himself a pervert prior, even when he was a teenager and at his hormonal peak he wasn't this bad, but after years of depravation regarding contact with females he was admittedly a little tweaked... and god was he pent up.

"i believe you" you repeated, peering at him, he was physically intimidating, especially in the low, yellow lighting, but you had the letters to prove he was a sweetheart, your eyes traveled back to the guard who was passed out, head tilted back and mouth wide open, snoring faintly, then you looked back to him, the guard cant prohibit physical contact if he's not awake, now can he?

you hesitated before beginning "can i hug you?", you requested softly, he'd have to play it cool, he was aware of that, but he wanted it.

with a nod of his consent you both stood, though he was only 5'6 at most it felt as if he towered over you, he didn't open his arms very wide but you eagerly pressed to him, hugging him tightly, he didn't smell pleasant whatsoever but it was still arousing, that was for certain.

it was an awkwardly long hug and his heavy, harsh breaths beneath the mask didn't help to make it any better, you were ready to pull back when you felt it, a nudge against your tummy, thick and slightly firm, looking down for confirmation of what you thought it was you could make out the outline of him in his rough, tattered orange uniform.

he was well aware of where your eyes were trained, he knew you knew what you did to him, internally panicking he was ready to pull away, that being until your soft hand ventured to gently nudge him through the scabrous orange material.

the sound he made was like music to your ears, a song you couldn't stop binge-listening, so you grabbed him this time, tightly, peering up at him for further guidance

"this is what you came here for?" he quipped, though it didn't sound as if he meant it in a rude manner, "the guard's asleep, just let me touch you, please?" you requested simply, your questioning tone was endearing, it felt nice to finally be in control, rather than being ordered around he was the one making the calls.

he wanted it, even if he acted indifferent, he'd been touch starved, provided with barely any privacy to get himself off, and here stood before him was an admirer, eager to please and so very pretty, "need you take so long?" he retorted, his snide comment may have sounded slightly rude but really he was just desperate, so hard it hurt.

glancing right back over at the guard you huffed softly through your nose before sinking down to your knees, peering up at him for the go ahead with wide innocent eyes, you made him feel bad, but how could he stay feeling so guilty when you were offering yourself up? once he nodded you slid your fingers beneath his waistband, gradually revealing a thickening trail of coarse blue hair.

once having finally pried the pants of his orange jumpsuit down to rest around his thick thighs, adorned in fuzzy blue hair, you pinned his thick cock against his pudgy tummy, tip drooling against his orange top, finding confidence you kitten licked the underside of his uncut tip, tension slipping from your body once you heard his soft mewl of pleasure.

"that's it... dont tease now" he huffed from beneath the mask, blue eyes trained on you as you nodded, drawling the thick head of his achy length into your warm mouth, your worries of being caught were eased when you heard a loud snore from the officer stationed to monitor your visit.

it was a tight fit though you managed to get about half of him in your mouth before gagging, pulling back to compose yourself you sucked in a deep breath, spitting on him and pumping it over him, you could see him getting antsy, hips bucking ever so slightly, with newfound vigor you swallowed him down in one painful gulp which clearly pleased him, you could gauge as much judging by the sound he let out, that of which he was quick to muffle.

things were hazy, all you could really focus on was the incessant throbbing in your sopping cunt, you were getting sloppy though still desperate to please, what you couldn't fit you had in your hand, though as much as you had to give it just didn't seem to suffice and before long his large hands were in your hair, fingers latched in your roots as he guided you, slowly at first with a hint of gentleness, but that quickly ended when you boldly decided to reach up to cup his painfully full balls, then he was slamming you down onto his dripping cock only to pull you back and do it again, could you really blame him though?

you were fighting to keep your gagging to a minimum as to not alert the officer on standby but that was useless with the way he was using you, muttering out praises as broken whimpers escaped him.

with the rough throat fucking and the lack of air you could barely make out his rushed warning, that of which being "m' close, you better swallow- please swallow?- please?", you nodded mindlessly though you weren't even sure what you were agreeing to.

all it took was one light squeeze of his balls and he was spilling down your throat, biting his lip behind the mask... or what was left of it, fighting to keep quiet, after about a minute he released your hair of his tight grip and you nearly fell back, choking slightly on the thick, warm cum dripping down the back of your throat, after a few gulps you had it down, sticking your tongue out to show him what a good job you had done, teary eyed as you sat before him.

"holy shit.." he muttered, out of breath, grinning a little beneath his prosthetic, fixing his trousers up and watching as you rose to your feet, a few words were exchanged and the two of you were sat back at the table before the guard awoke, still dazed from sleep he announced that the time for visitation was up and you best be on your way, to that you nodded.

on your way to the door you couldn't help but turn around and watch as the guard fixed cuffs around his thick wrists.

you think murderers get bail?

vro i wrote a novel im so sorry😭 just remembered i wrote this now im embarrassed

[tinselmate]

Ignited

Summary: After the happenings in the bathroom, Adam has secluded himself to his apartment. Not breaching the outside world unless necessary. One of those necessary moments occurs and he finds himself accepting the help of a sociable stranger.

Tags: panic attacks, ptsd bc can you blame him?, final form of wet rat Adam Faulkner stanheight— truly the epitome of mankind, socially outgoing reader (couldn’t be me, mayhaps if Adam was real), reader is totally not equipped to deal with this but is trying their best, MEET-CUTE 🫢

Ever since Adam’s escape from the bathroom, his life’s been strenuous. His thoughts all seem to orbit around jigsaw.

The dark corners in his apartment taunt him, the dripping sound of his sink, the rattling of his door-chain and the worst of all offenders— the mere presence of his bathroom.

Those tiled walls and floor, feeling as though they are closing in on him each time he dares paying them a visit.

So, Adam has secluded himself to do most of his body hygiene in the kitchen, a small set up of anything necessary propped up on the counter.

And unless it’s the need to go to the toilet, though he keeps those trips as brief as humanly possible, the bathroom is a no-go-area— a dark spot on his conscience even as he tries to sleep at night.

Leaving his scrappy apartment is much the same: it doesn’t feel like an option.

The isolation is nothing new, the people close to Adam, were relatively used to him being a recluse before and now he’s just bringing it to the extreme.

Making light of his predicament, he’ll reason with them, that he’s doing a spirit retreat or finally started living as the hippy, vegan hipster posers he usually would scoff at on the street.

Anyone has yet to see through his facade, the carefully but still crumbly calculated jokes he hides his anxiety behind.

No matter— it’s three am, he’s awake in his bed, flipping through another porn magazine. Pure boredom being his fuel, as a harsh yawn makes his jaw slacken.

He’s tired, but sleeping means subjecting himself to the bathroom. He can’t do that.

He’s not ready.

So scantily clad chicks it is, he thumps the back of his head against his headboard. A broken sigh leaving him.

The full moon is out tonight throwing a dim glow through his cracked curtains. They are drawn shut, through out the day as well as during the night.

A shadow passes by the window, throwing a distorted form upon Adam’s bedroom wall.

Ripping a small gasp from his chest, a clatter outside as, something— someone steps on the fire exit stairs.

His breath starts rapidly elevating, his shaky fingers reaching for his chest, grasping the cotton of his worn shirt for dear life.

Then a sound he hasn’t heard in a long while, a croaking noise.

Snapping out of his earlier panic he shots up, closing in on the window. And there it is, the feline he’s encountered many a times before.

Not having seen the furry critter in a while he opens the window as they pad in, as if owning the place.

“Shit you scared the crap out of me” Adam utters, the cat purring as it nuzzles against each of his legs, its paw and claws careful to avoid Adam’s feet.

“Haven’t seen you in a while” he crouches down outstretching his palm, the cat immediately rubbing its fuzzy head against the open invitation.

A relaxing sigh leaves Adam’s chest, his heart settling back into a less concerning rhythm.

After a while of head pats and ear scritches the cat perks up, its head turning towards the open door way leaving to his floor.

“What’s that?” Adam hums in question, but as a response only garners the cats disappearance, as it pads down the hall.

“Wait” Adam says aloud, slowly following the feline. Finding them up on his kitchen counter, waiting for something.

They turn on the wooden table, as if preparing to lay down. A loud meowing of protest leaving them as adam stands there motionless.

“I don’t— oh fuck” realization sets in as his mind catches up with the cats agenda, its hungry.

A rumbly growl leaves Adam’s own stomach, one he’s been trying to ignore the whole day prior.

He hates what it insinuates, what it will require him to do. Go out there, where some jigsaw imitator rains havoc, and get himself and his furry companion something to eat.

If it was just his own stomach, he would’ve insisted on holding out for a day or two more. Solely to avoid others, potential sympathizers.

Learning about those has proved the most challenging for him, he lost himself on a forum of those types of people.

Reading about others who have never even experienced anything close to a trap themselves —talk about what a rebirth jigsaws misgivings provide, for those they consider the lesser ones in society— made him use the bathroom, for puking his already empty guts out.

Another grumble, rattles his belly and he has to acknowledge the headache building up behind his forehead.

“Oh fuck this—“

He tugs at his shirt, lifting it to his nose. A small scoff escaping him— what does it matter? He’ll be in and out in no time, get something for at least two weeks and some food for his feline friend.

Almost as if sensing his intentions the furry critter gives a satisfied meow, as Adam looks for socks to wear.

A few are scattered around the apartment and upon finding a fitting jeans as well as his leather jacket— he himself is ready. At least looks like it.

Making sure to pack a small Swiss pocket knife into his pants, in case he needs it.

The apartment buildings stairs are not as creaky as he remembers before the incident. They used to alert his neighbors each time he came home late at night, after shooting vouyeristic style pictures of some overly masculine guy, cheating on his girlfriend with another guy.

But maybe the stairs didn’t change, but he did. Carelessly stomping up the wooden boards used to be a non brainer, now he’s keen to avoid any noise, making any noise himself.

After deliberately slow steps he surveys the ground floor, it’s empty, much to Adam’s relief.

He walks now, usually he would’ve taken the metro, but that was before. The metro doesn’t provide an out if he needed it, he’d feel trapped in those moving walls. With no real way out, but the automated glass doors that open every 5 minutes at a new stop.

5 minutes is too long, anything could happen. So walking it is, another quirk he discarded after the bathroom was listening to music anywhere he went.

Now all he hears is the scrape of his worn shoes, against the pavement below, the swishing of cars going by. But at least he’s aware, if anyone tried to sneak up out of the shadows he would not be caught off guard.

He soon arrives at the store front, stumbling back as someone walks out the doors— checking his shoulder with their own.

If he was himself, he’d have yelled something offensive at their back but after checking himself over for small pains, and needle incisions he’s just glad to finally be at his destination.

A sharp ringing announces his entrance, luckily the store isn’t cramped, and all the exists are clearly marked— he lets out a small sigh equipping himself with a shopping basket.

Over the speakers plays some bullshit mainstream band that plagued Adam’s ears ever since he moved to New Jersey.

The grey tiled corridors, are relatively scarce of customers, with a few exceptions much alike him that silently go about their shopping.

He packs a few things in his basket, glad about the government funded support he got after getting saved from the bathroom.

It’s enough to cover rent and essentials for a few months, as well as a recommended therapist— though he hasn’t shown up for a session in a week.

He recalls the first session the way he tried to cover up his hurt with sarcasm, snapping at the therapist when she asked questions that too him seemed to have an obvious answer.

— “Have you been thinking about doctor Gordon again?” —

Like fucking hell lady, yeah he might’ve thought about the guy that left him to die in a ditch

It’s been evident that talking about the experience has helped him, now that his social circle consists of stray cats, porn mags and the occasional shadow in the corner of his eye.

Though when he didn’t show last time, he actually got an email from her, with him sending a small apology back.

She’s been very understanding and offered phone sessions.

He might just take her up on those, with an influx of news on the jigsaw imitator.

A clank next to him startles him out of his thoughts, almost dropping the basket to reach for the small pocket knife in his pants.

Though the sight of an employee having accidentally knocked over a stack of pop tarts makes his grip loosen on the blade.

You give him a look, your eyes meeting as he stands there— paralyzed.

“Sorry” you press out followed by a small smile, picking up the knocked over boxes before stacking them back on a shelf.

He gives a small acknowledgment nod, this is already too much social interaction for his liking, he mentally prepared for only a small ‘hi — I’m good — no thanks — bye’ to the cashier if he was up for it.

He turns back to the bock of lunchables he wanted to reach for earlier before distracted, until.

A small flicker and the lights above of the store cut out, he and his surroundings are drenched in an immediate void-like darkness. Someone in the store squeaks briefly and his hand shows to his pocket for his knife.

He cant see properly, his eyes watering fast as he stumbles back against a shelf, some shuffling resounding from next to him.

Then he sees him, Lawrence a cold, sickly visage of him at least. And the floor below him feels eerily like that of a filthy bathroom.

“No—no please don’t leave” Adam croaks out, grasping for his chest, his breathing elevating as a few wet drops fall onto his hands.

More flashes, one being a pigs mask and the other of the man standing up from his own pool of blood, staring Adam straight in the eyes.

‘You lost Adam’ he hears a deep, ground shaking voice. His head spins as he reaches again, a string of pleas leaving his mouth.

“Please please Lawrence Lawrence don’t leave me” he feels as if tied down by multiple chains, burning through his clothes, digging into his flesh.

Through the rushing around him he hears a soft, vibration. A warm weight settles on his shoulder, not shaking just laying there.

“It’s okay— I’m right here”

He exhales in broken gasps trying to catch his breath, his heart not relenting in his chest— ready to burst out.

“I’m not leaving you, I’m right here with you” another broken sob leaves Adam as he grapples for the weigh on his shoulder, resulting in him crashing forward.

The weight and warmth settles in all around him, as the person embraces his shaking form.

“Hey it’s going to be okay, I need you to breath with me okay?” The warm voice settles over him

In and out, in and out

They breath, deep Adam tries to match them, his blurry vision slowly clearing up.

He smells you, you smell good, like some drug store perfume but good no less. He tries to focus on your warmth— the weight of your hands on his back, rubbing small circles.

He cringes inside a bit, fuck he feels so pathetic for falling into this strangers arms like they are his long lost family member.

And he tries to focus on your voice, something to pull him out of his stupor something that brings him back into the here and now.

He’s in a fucking Walmart, NOT the bathroom. He’s with some random kind-hearted person, not Lawrence or Zepp.

The light is back on, blinding him as it reflects of the shitty grey floor and he finds himself hugging a complete stranger, his knife lying discarded next to them.

His face is smushed against you shoulder, embarrassment sets in as he realizes the wet spot that must be a result of his teary eyes and runny nose.

What a fucking embarrassing situation to be in.

He pulls back almost harshly— startling you.

“Hey there” you say as you study him over

“Yeah, sorry about that.” Adam stands quickly, trying to seem as nonchalant as someone can after having a panic attack.

“Hey, hey slow down there, take it easy” you say as he stumbles a bit, up righting yourself in case he falls

“Do you need a moment? We got a break room right through here, I can get you some water and some tissues” you offer stepping forward, his eyes dart between you and the items he must’ve knocked over in his stupor

“I guess…” he’d actually really like to look a bit less wrecked when he goes to the check out with a bunch of cat food, lunchables and other conspicuous items.

Your smile is almost blinding, but not in a fake, customer smile sort of way but in a kind way, that radiates off you.

You lead him back, and he notes you make a point of keeping the doors to the store open, helping ease his tension.

The break room is relatively cozy for a place that is adjacent to some corner store. It’s got a worn old couch, a seemingly broken coffee machine and some random art pieces on the wall as well as a small nook for a kitchen.

“Sit down if you like” you say, adding a small introduction to the sentence— pointing to your name tag.

“I’m…” he considers you for a moment

“You don’t have to tell me..” you wave your hand, looking at him over your shoulder

“Sorry about the light earlier, we’ve been having a ton of electrical issues but my shit head manager is too lazy to get it sorted out” you say, an obvious tinge of frustration evident in your tone.

“It’s really nice to meet you regardless” you add on, getting a glass out of one of the cabinets

“Yeah, nice is one word for it” Adam scoffs as he lets himself fall back onto the couch

“I mean it, I thought you looked really cool earlier” you quip, almost sounding a bit offended at Adam’s scoffing

“That’s why I knocked down those pop tarts.”

“Totally normal way to get someone’s attention right?” You change the topic as you round the couch to joining him, a respectful distance between you.

Adam eyes the open door and the glass in your hand before reaching for it.

“Yeah, super normal” he utters as he takes a large gulp of water, the coldness soothing his hoarse throat. He gives a small sigh.

You’re being overly nice and he doesn’t know how to deal with it, the last time someone was overly nice to him was when Scott sent over a gay guy to Adam at a party. Which resulted in both of them being called fags while Scott and his bandmates chuckles about it for the rest of the night.

Staring at the small ripples in his glass, he eyes you again on the couch.

A small crease between your eyebrows, pointedly avoiding staring at him.

“Thanks for earlier, I usually only have those at home..” Adam gulps, motioning around with his unoccupied hand

“It’s alright, I’m just glad I was able to help”

“So… forward— how much do you get paid?” Adam asks, a small lilt to his tone

“Oh—“ you actually start considering it and it looks as though you took him literally

“You don’t have to tell me— it’s just… you didn’t have to take me back here” Adam adds motioning around

“It’s nothing really” you deflect

“So you got someone waiting at home for you” You give him a look

Adam looks up, stunned. You point towards his basket, a probably over-excessive amount of cat food within it.

“Oh, yeah I guess” his hand rubbing the nape of his neck as he lets out an amused huff

“They are the primary reason I went here…”

“You got multiple? That explains the amount” You ask leaning forward on your hands, propped onto your knees.

“No— just one, they are not even really my ankle biter”

“They randomly showed up again, before—“

He stops short, your eyebrows draw together a bit

“Well, I was gone for a while and haven’t seen them for a while but now they are back again.”

“Not the only pussy coming back for more” he cringes internally as he says it, a look of disbelief crosses your face before you burst out laughing

“That’s awful” you heave out between laughs

He chuckles a bit himself, glad that his joke landed. Look? He’s not so bad at socializing

Your laughter dies down, as you survey him

“Are you feeling better?”

Adam inhales again, letting himself truly be there. He’s on a soft leather couch, the sound of an AC behind the walls drifting to his ears as well as mainstream slop on the radio blasting through the store.

“Fuck, yeah I’m good thanks” he stands making you snap out of your own daze

You both stand there for a bit as Adam contemplates asking you if you could ring him up. Though he does not want you to go through extra trouble, especially since you’ve already helped him earlier as well as didn’t pry why he had a panic attack in the first place.

“I gotta get back to work— but if you need like councilor or therapist recommendations, I could give you my number”

A ramble of words he almost didn’t catch, your face has grown darker with a flush.

And he’s eerily tantalized by the way it brings out your eyes.

“That’s all good thanks”

“I’m Adam” he raises his hand to shake yours

You give his hand a small quick squeeze as you shake it. Giving Adam a small flashback to you both holding each other earlier.

“I need to go..” Adam says a bit dejected

“That’s right, pussy awaits huh?” You say back Adam giving you a smile

He now realizes he would still really like your number even if it wasn’t for you sending him counseling recommendations.

“Yeah, can I still have your number?” He asks, telling himself he’s got nothing to lose

If you say no that just means he’ll have to look for a new store to go to when he needs groceries— but after today’s incident he already made a list of alternatives.

“Oh fuck yeah” you quip up, making Adam let out a sigh of relief within himself

Your hands fumble for a piece of paper and a pen, Adam sits there a bit lost.

God this feels weird and awkward but he’s just glad you’re not being as weird about it as he is inside.

Having written down the number you hand it to him, Adam folds it carefully and puts it in his pocket.

“Here you also lost this earlier” you hand him his pocket knife, the one he forgot to pick up after his… incident.

“Thank you” He says your name in a soft tone, making your eyes connect with his own green ones.

You both leave the break room, and though you are not the one to ring him up he finds the short social interaction with the cashier to be less of a hassle than the anticipated.

Arriving back in his shithole apartment Adam is being expected by the whole cause for his trip.

“There you are… hmm” he finally resigns himself to check what the cat truly is

“Okay so Rupert it will be” he says as he sets the protesting feline back down, his meows echoing off the walls

Making Adam huff aloud, he moves to put a can of the purchased cat chow in a small tray.

“There you are rockstar” he utters giving Rupert one last ear scritch

Adam’s eyes fall on the rest of his items, and another deep growl shakes his stomach.

As he prepares himself some food his mind wanders back to the kind store employee and the number he salvaged.

Checking his pockets he finds himself horrified as the slip of paper is nowhere to be found.

“Shit fuck— piss” he utters as he looks around in fervor

With a dawning realization he has to come to terms with the fact that he’s lost it. He gives another huff, as the thought of returning and talking to you again clouds his head

And as he conjures up scenarios of you and him talking he cannot find himself to mind that much that he’ll have to probably return to the store earlier than anticipated.

a/n: Thank you for reading!!

I've also got a gavin ellis x gn!reader in the making but woof thats such a big boy I'll need some more motivation to finish him off :(

[alltheworldsinmyhead]

the hungering hearts

circle V: betrayal

She imagines girls in his arms. In their bed. One after another, baring their necks in front of him; tanging their fingers in his hair. Taller and prettier and stronger than she is.

kanej vampire au/ read on ao3

*

Kaz realizes pretty quickly that he’s out of practice. 

He never had any problems picking his prey, stalking it. It was a matter of hygienic efficiency and not something that required a lot of planning on his part. But now, standing in the middle of the colorful crowd of the West Stave, he finds himself scatter-brained, distracted. The onslaught of smell and sound irritates him. His eyes keep following brown-skinned girls and girls built like birds, both of whom he finds an abundance, but not a single one of them is right. It’s driving him crazy. Hunger gnaws on him with sharp little teeth, his throat clenching, his head spinning and he aches to just go home. Just go home and bite Inej and get it over with. Lick her from his lips as if she was a dollop of thick cream. Open her legs and keep licking. 

But no. No. 

Just pick anyone. They are all the same, anyway. 

There is a woman, standing in a narrow alleyway, clad in a green dress that slips from her shoulders, exposing her collarbones. Her blonde hair is dull, straw-like. He observes her while she yawns and sways on her feet a bit. That one. There is no reason to be picky. 

He leans on his can and hobbles over to her, disguised in his Grey Imp mask. When he waves a few kruge bills in front of her face, she tilts her head, giving him a half-smile and pulls him deeper into an alley, away from the crowds. Leans against the wall and opens her mouth, probably asking him what he would like to do, but his mask slips to the ground a he’s onto her faster than she can speak. His fangs sink in, deeper than necessary and he knows she’s hurting; she can feel that, in the stiffness of her body, in the way she twitches against him. 

He takes too much; big, gulping sips, blood flooding his throat. He focuses on the act of it. But his stomach turns, his throat clenches. He is on the brink of retching and getting closer to it with every second. 

The blood is acidic, wretched like a cleaning vinegar. It makes his eyes water. It’s wrong. It feels like - it feels like he's doing something wrong. 

His mind conjures a memory, quick like a magician’s sleight of hand; Inej, bare and warm underneath him with her hair loose, her blood smelling like violets and apples, her eyes all loving, all trusting when they lock with his - 

Stop, stop, just stop. 

He cannot stop it. He cannot go on. He drops the woman on the ground and she rolls onto her side, gasping for breath. Her blood spills onto the cobblestones.  

Kaz presses his hand against his mouth and breathes deep, in and out. In and out. 

Think of Inej, he forces himself back into reigns, but not like this. Think of the way she stumbles now. Think about how every sip you take from her is killing her slowly. 

You are no better than any man who had her at the Menagerie. In fact, you are worse than all of them combined.  

He thinks about her brittle hair, the bruise on her side. The feverish glow in her eyes when she’s pressing herself against him, eager for the next hit - Inej, Inej who was being whored out by Heleen at age fourteen and didn’t lose an inch of her dignity, of her poise, in the process. Inej, stripped out of all of it now, because of his greed and his greed only. 

Quick as a striking viper, he’s onto the woman again. She opens her mouth, as if to scream, but he covers it with his palm, keeping her tight against him when she struggles. Bites her again, a bit lower, right above her collarbone. 

Inej loves this spot. 

Stop it, just stop it.

He doesn’t inhale. Cuts himself from the smell and the tastes of the blood and just takes a swallow after a swallow, until the woman’s pulse begins to tremble and he feels lightheaded from revulsion. He sits her down, back to the wall and flees, flees like the coward he is.

*** continue reading on ao3 ***

[fortheloveofaussiegrit]

(WIP) spicin’ up date night; in which Mark and Oscar decide to head to a strip club ahead of the Vegas Grand Prix and decide that its not really them. 

It had been a silly little idea of Mark’s for the pair of them to go to a strip club in Las Vegas ahead of the race. One that Oscar hadn’t even opposed and had just simply replied to the text with “Yeah, i’m free tonight,” after backspacing the thumbs up emoji he usually used to reply to Mark with and hitting send. 

Mark had opted for a female strip club because, well, what would people say if they saw him stumbling out of a gay strip club in the early hours of the morning? …there was little to no thought, however, that went into the presumptions that would entail him taking his mentee to a strip club. 

The club itself was not nearly as cringe-inducing as Mark was expecting; he had to admit that the decor and the inhabitants of the place were not as shabby as expected. It was... adequate, and the grin Oscar was giving him almost reached from ear to ear and that alone was worth the trip.

They had already downed a few before they had left, deciding that hitting the strip club stone-cold sober wasn’t the best idea and needed some liquid courage, but the oval-shaped bar in the more shadowy part of the club was the first place they headed. Muffled but steady-going beats filled the large room and reciprocated the heavy, quickened beat in Mark’s own chest, carrying the anticipation of the night’s promises. The neon-illuminated light spelling out B-A-R above their heads was far too ghastly, in Mark’s opinion, but it lit up Oscar’s little radiant face as he leant against the bar. The light was bouncing off the tops of his cheekbones, his rosy-stained cheeks, and his eyes lit up like a kid in a candy store as he smiled at the bartender. 

He was too happy, and it was way too evident that it was his first time ever stepping foot in an establishment of this kind. 

The bar overlooked a number of booths, surrounded by seats of deep red velvet cushions, with the pole, of course, in the centre. It was a slightly more sophisticated strip club than the majority that littered the Las Vegas strip, with lavish red drapes of identical colour covering the walls and creating a division between some of the sections. The girls themselves, in little velvet shorts and matching tops, executed a somewhat uniform for the club as they swanned in between the few customers that sat scattered around the room. 

Oscar nudged a bottle of beer into Mark’s hand as he headed towards one of the booths. Mark gave the bottle a nod and a shrug in acceptance as he followed suit. Beer. Good choice, because of course, they had to keep up with the somewhat toxic heterosexual, masculine image that was projected onto them by society, which was another reason why they were trying to gawk at scantily clad women instead of men right now. 

He sunk into plush booth, the red velvet fabric being much cleaner than he expected. It was as hygienic as a strip club was going to get. Unsoiled, no marks or stains from previous inhabitants allowing himself to relax a little bit more into his surroundings. He cradled the glass bottle in his hand, rubbing his thumb over the rough label absentmindedly as he gaze fell upon the kid next to him who looked to be having the time of his life. Eyes wide, set ablaze as they darted between every inch of the scene unfolding in front of them. 

A couple of guys darted around the place. Not too busy as it was still early into the night.

Giddy. The excitement visibly bubbling under his skin. delirious ecstasy 

euphoria of some kind. But it was just the this is my first time in a strip club kind of buzz. 

He turned to Mark, “not your kind of thing?” he poked with a grin, resisting the temptation to physically jab his digit into Mark’s flesh. “We can go.” He offered with a shrug realising that there actually wasn’t much more that he would want to see anyway, but Mark shook his head, decisively. 

“I can appreciate a women's body.” Gesturing to the women in the centre of the room swinging around and around the pole in positions with limbs sticking out in opposite directions that Mark thought were quite literally impossible for ones body. “Relax.” He winked with twinkle in his eyes that Oscar couldn’t quite place. “Enjoy it.” 

Oscar fumbled with the bottle, haphazardly bringing it to his lips and taking a sip before his eyes tore back to the girl he was meant to be drooling over. The lighting was as neon and distracting as they get. In sometimes pinkish, sometimes bluish tones that illuminated the stage. Reflecting off of the girl’s limbs as she stuck them out in each and every direction. Big, bouncy, golden curls highlighted by the multicoloured lights. Pretty. Very pretty. She was the type that would have most other guys begging on their knees just for her to look in their direction, but she didn’t do much for Oscar, not so much as even twitch in his jeans. 

He preferred something different. He wanted someone with a pair between their legs instead of a pair being held up by a tiny string bikini. He didn’t want a girl with petite little shoulders and a dainty little waist; he yearned for broad, strong shoulders that could muster the strength to throw him across a room, and, well, he liked the tummy Mark was beginning to show.

//

Mark reached up to pull the curtain, tugging at it as Oscar did the same with his jeans.

“I always forget…” He trailed off as he gazed — his fingers wrapped around the base of Mark’s cock. 

“Forget what?” Mark stared as a red glaze streaked over the tops of Oscar’s cheeks and the bridge of his nose, dancing around the freckles that were scattered across his skin, seemingly painted on by the hands of tiny little angels. Heavenly.

“The size.” The blush deepening to an almost blood red as the mischievous grin permeated across his cheeks, looking up to Mark through his eyelashes, “don’t let that go to your head.” He spoke as it did just that in his palm. 

Oscar let out a giggle as it twitched again. 

“You want me to?” He teased, bemused by the free-rein he had over Mark in times like this. Mark would let him do anything. 

“Of course i fucking do.” He — resisting the urge to clout him round the head. “Get on with it.” He wanted to __ , but then Oscar did just that and his whole body felt like it was about to collapse in on itself. His head falling back as he let out a shuddered breath as Oscar sucked him into his hot, wet mouth. 

//

Fumbling with the key as he tried to slot it into the lock. He had already came once tonight and nothing on earth was stopping him from doing it again just hopefully this time it was nestled deeply into Oscar’s rear-end. 

“No little dance?” Mark joked as Oscar across the room, pulling his t-shirt up and over his head. 

“You want to prolong this any longer?” He answered back, raising an eyebrow at Mark. 

“Nope.” Shaking his head as he smirk grew on his lips. “Definitely don’t.” 

[llaberration]

Coyne's Chronicles: Shadow Over Yfiria - Chapter 3

[[Warning, this story contains safe soft vore themes, don't like, don't read :)]] [[Remember to start at the prologue! :) ]]

“Alan?”

“Hm?”

“Have you ever considered the possibility that we might catch more suspicious individuals if you didn't do that?”

“Do what?”

Thenore sighed, running a slow eye over his companion.

Somewhat round at the waist, with his long, pale blonde hair plaited around itself to keep it out of his way, clad in the bright red and orange robes of a college initiate, the other mage stood out like a sore thumb. As if that were not enough, the man was standing with his fingers pressed firmly to his temples, eyes narrowed closely at every passer by. When people saw this on their approach, they invariably changed direction to avoid the pair with the greatest possible care. Those who did foolishly venture closer, inevitably veered away violently when they caught a good look at the mage's eyes. A pair of orbs so dark that they did not even reflect light and glisten like normal eyes. Each one was like a pit, filled with Stygian blackness that even the sunlight was unable to touch, and at the centre of each eye sat a point of white light that gave the illusion of looking at you no matter where you stood. Even the beggars were staying well clear of them! “That.”

“WHAT?”

“The whole... 'I'm obviously a mage, probably insane and definitely reading your mind' thing?”

Thenore had taken significantly more care to disguise himself than his companion had. He was sitting on a barrel behind Alan, dressed in shabby dark brown travelling robes. He had his hood up to conceal his long, well kept, curly brown hair and general sense of hygiene. He had allowed himself to go unshaven for a few days, and looked for all the world like a typical wall worker.

“I don't read minds,” replied Alan, “And don't call me Alan. You know the college doesn't let us use our pre-initiate names Trevor.”

“Oh. Sorry. Of course. A place that calls itself 'Meadowfield' can really be trusted as a good authority on naming things.” snorted Thenore sarcastically. “It's basically the same thing as calling it Fieldfield College. Stupid bloody management.” He cleared his throat, and spoke in less of a mutter, “Well. AeRiNtH...” he intentionally wavered his voice as he said the name to make it sound even more ridiculous. “Don't you think we would look a bit less obvious if you wore normal clothes and stopped doing that?”

“It helps me focus,” objected the mage, letting his hands fall to his sides. “You don't understand, you can't see them...” he gestured out into the square, where his gifted, unusual eyes saw a nightmare tangle of lights and trails left by every individual passing through. All smearing together and mixing and melding as each one was disturbed by more passing by. When he focused his mind, he could thin them, make them easier to read and less smudgy...

“No. I know. But really. Do you think anyone suspicious is going to come within a mile of a college robed mage who is obviously doing some kind of magical shenanigans?”

“It's my job!” snapped the tall mage, defensively, glaring at Thenore, who, to him, looked like a glowing smear of green, marbled with swirls of intense darker greens and blues. He could see the face and body underneath the brightness, but it was tricky for him, faded and concealed by the energy signature. He had a lot of trouble reading expressions sometimes when he was not focused.

“No, it's a college assignment because the lecturers didn't know what else to do with you. And we'd both look better if we did well at it. As it stands we have caught exactly zero unlicensed magic users and zero abominations.”

“That's not true! We got that guy yesterday!”

“He wasn't a magic user. He had a single cursed goblet with a curse so lame that he didn't even know it was cursed!”

“Yes. But we caught him, and now the... uh... dangerous item is in custody.”

Thenore pinched the bridge of his nose tightly, and took a long, calming breath. “Dangerous. Item. Yes.” He said, referring to the tankard that they had confiscated. It carried the potentially deadly curse that everything you put in it would taste faintly of blackcurrant. Not enough to actually be called a flavour... more like someone shouted the word 'blackcurrant' at you from a distance while you were drinking it. “Could you at least not wear the robe?”

“I'm on assignment... we should both be wearing them!”

“If you weren't wearing it, you would scare off less people. You'd just look like a normal garden variety loony! I could put a bowl in front of you, act like we needed money for food. At least we'd get something out of this waste of time.”

“It's not a waste of time! I'm learning to improve my skills and focus.”

“So why am I here?” Thenore raised an eyebrow.

“Sometimes I wonder that too...” muttered Alan, under his breath.

Unfortunately not quietly enough to fool the druid's elevated hearing though, and Thenore's face soured, “I could always just go back to the college if you don't want me. Then when a dragon walks through here there'll be no 'Oh. Oh Thenore, please protect me. Please turn into a nice big bear and keep me safe,' you'll just have to squint them to death.”

Alan huffed a bit, “There's no need to be like that about it.”

Thenore scoffed, “I don't even deserve to be punished by going on assignment here. I'm not like you with your eyes...”

Alan shot him a sideways glance. “You... did... try and eat someone...”

“One time!” hissed Thenore. “By accident! When provoked!”

“I know... I'm just saying... maybe that's why you're here... I need to practice my sight, and you need to practice your... self control...” he tailed into silence as the expression on his colleague's face told him it would be wise to stop digging.

They were quiet for a few minutes, awkward.

Alan or 'Aerinth' as the College had renamed him, returned to watching people, interpreting the colours and trails of their life forces. He was still learning what colour represented what... he normally based his understanding on how vivid the colours were, or if they were diluted by another shade. Trevor or 'Thenore' seemed to have green as his assigned colour, glowing a great deal brighter than the non-magic users around them, interspersed with vivid shades of blues and cyans that glittered like fire when he was activating his gift.

Normal folks could be just about any colour that existed, and then some. So could animals, and what Alan was looking for were ones who glowed bright or contained the telltale signs of a second colour. Anything could be magical. People and animals naturally, objects less commonly, as they had to be intentionally infused through the use of various magic. Their job was simple. Anything magical you find. Be it person, animal or object, take it and send it to the college.

If it was a person it would be trained to control the gift, and likely drafted into military use, animals would often get the same treatment. Objects would be certified for usefulness and then either left in the basement of the college if they were useless, or put to an appropriate use if they were not.

Of course... if they found something really dangerous like a monster, or something plagued, they had to inform the forces at the wall and have them kill it. Closest thing he had seen so far though was when they had found a goblin scurrying along the base of the wall in the middle of the night.

This side of the wall no longer contained much of anything like that. Their side of the continent had been highly militarised, and the fey, beasts and monsters that had once lived there had been processed along with everything else to optimise the land for war.

The other side of the wall was wilder, less civilised, less developed. Which meant more dangerous things roamed out there. Thenore had often expressed that he wanted to go and explore it, the druid in him feeling more at home where there was no cold stone barriers to hold him in. Alan did not share that urge. He was not outdoorsy like his farm-born, sinewy companion. He was pale, fair and soft. Ill suited to the hardships of the world outside. Life at the college suited him rather well. Given that he had no choice but to sign up, he was one of the lucky ones to have discovered he really liked it.

He had not been born magically gifted like Trevor. He had been a regular child, raised by a comfortable family of book keepers and accountants in the capital city.

Cities came with their own dangers though, the high population and sense of dread brought on by the war caused the emotions to ferment in a boiling pot of negativity. Such things are known to attract monsters, or draw the dead from their plane, waking and angering them. It was not uncommon for possession or haunting to occur suddenly and without warning, even in the most upbeat of people. It was just part of life in the capital city.

He had been the tender age of nine when it had happened. A powerful spirit, resentful of having died at war found him. Somehow having slid through the veil that seperated Mal'tel, the plane of the living and Da'yvan, the quiet plane of the dead, it came to the young man whispering of power and promises of fine things.

He had agreed, never realising that he was being tricked into a dangerous pact, and believing the spirit to be a friend. It had taken complete control of him.

Fortunately, his story did not end with a rampage and death as many did. His uncle, gifted with limited magic himself, had spotted the change in him instantly, and a college mage had been summoned to cast out the spirit.

A slightly overzealous mage.

A slightly overzealous mage with a penchant for simply flooding a body with so much healing power that it just forced out the invading spirit.

He had inadvertently overdosed the youngster on magic, forcing the young man's body to cope with a dosage far higher than any human was supposed to experience. He had exposed him to such a high dose of magic that Alan became capable of generating his own, as though it had jump-started a new, magical heart within him. At first, his parents had hoped that the effects would eventually fade out, but as he grew, so did his abilities. Eventually, his parents had had no choice but to surrender him to the college as it continued to demand all magic users be turned over. He couldn't really be hidden among normal people at that point, for his eyes, now able to see more, had taken on the look of someone heavily under the influence of magic. All the colour had slowly been washed from his irises until they were as pure and white as the eye around them, and his pupils had been the only variation within them. Then the colours had inverted almost overnight. Now surrounded by utter darkness, his pupils glittered and glowed like a pair of distant stars in the orb, reflecting light that simply wasn't there. His lecturers had said he was reflecting the light of the energies he could see, but that didn't make them an any less unsettling sight to those not informed about the nature of his abilities.

Now, despite ten years at Meadowfield, for the most part, his sight was all he could really do with his magic. The ability to see energies and trails that they left behind. The college had taught him a few additional tricks, more traditional mind-magic spells to fool the eyes of others, but he was still had a lot left to learn. They were really just trying to have him master and control his sight before they poured more effort into teaching him new magics. Most of the years he had been at the College had been basic education rather than magic as it was considered a prerequisite for magic users. He was okay with that. For as long as they thought he still needed more training, he avoided being sent to war. They both had the basic set of spells all students were started out with... various types of personal shielding, simple close range offensive abilities, that kind of thing, but any further teaching had been withheld 'for safety.'

Trevor was different from him in almost every way. Alan had picked up his story over their years together at the college and found it actually less exciting than his own. Born on a farm to a poor family, he had been working since he was old enough to hold even the most basic of tools. His older siblings had all gone to war one by one before him, and when he had turned fifteen, and was preparing for the same treatment the following year when he had suffered a severe fever, not uncommon for druids when their powers awakened. He had recovered, as they do, and shortly thereafter, a sneezing fit had caused vines to sprout aggressively from the soil around him when he was helping to plant seeds.

Like all druids, his connection was to plants and animals, and according to him, at first, his family had kept it a secret, letting him use his powers to make the crops grow faster and larger... but when the time came for the military to come and take him, in a natural fear-reaction, he had abruptly turned into a rabbit in the grip of an extremely surprised solider.

Honestly they had both been pretty surprised by this, the way Thenore told the story, and before he knew it he had been bundled into a sack, plied with a slightly soggy lettuce and sent on his way to the college.

He had arrived, still in the sack but no longer a rabbit, to a warm welcome. Druids were highly valued for their ability to help food grow, and change into powerful animals in combat.

Something about the way the man told the story didn't quite ever ring true in Alan's ears, mostly the part about his family, and their reaction to his magic, but the man knew not to pry. Trevor was very resistant to sharing anything other than his scripted story, so even if he had tried, he would not have received any clarification.

From what Alan had seen, College life had not suited Trevor the way it had suited him. The man was forever staring out of windows, circling near doors and pacing restlessly at whatever barriers and cages he was presented with.

The wall was no different to Trevor. Just one giant cage to keep him in.

Perhaps that was why he was always so grumpy.

Though they had not been friends as such in the college, they had been a similar age when they joined and had effectively finished growing up in the same small class of initiates, their differences keeping them from ever getting along. Alan tried, but Trevor just wasn't a friendly fellow.

He was, at best, a sarcastic ass, and at worst, a literal bear with a sore head.

And what a temper.

The incident that had got Trevor sent along to the wall with him had been three weeks ago now. One of the older initiates had been poking fun, as they often did, trying to get him to turn into things for their amusement.

He had responded as positively as could be expected. By turning into a bear and attempting to eat his fellow student whole.

Of course it hadn't worked, but he had managed far enough to put an absolute terror into the graduate before the lecturers had intervened.

Two days later, they had been riding one of the college's pony carts to the wall. Alan had detailed instructions to practice his abilities on the people passing through the gate, confiscating magical items and individuals for Meadowfield, and Trevor had been along for 'protection.'

Alan knew it was practice he needed, but his companion continued to deny requiring any kind of field-work of this nature. Being this close to the wall seemed to have him even grumpier than usual, perhaps due to the claustrophobic feeling of living beneath something that cut the sky in half.

Alan found himself looking up at the structure, in awe of its hugeness. No building like it had ever existed before. It stood two hundred feet in height, and as long as the continent. Built out of solid stone blocks so huge it had taken an army of strongmen and magic users to construct. The way the story went, they had levelled an entire mountain range for the stone.

All along the inside of the wall ran wooden platforms, on the highest platform stood huge, powerful weapons. Enormous tribuchets, war bows, catapults and huge vats that sat ready to be filled with boiling or dangerous liquids.

On the lower levels were living quarters and storage space for the army that staffed the wall, accompanied by many slit windows for watching the land on the other side, and firing arrows when required. Men had spent their entire lives living and fighting on the wall.

On the other side of the wall, to the naked eye, lived a slightly wild land with scattered towns, it did not appear dangerous and certainly if that were the only thing there, the wall would be unnecessary... but beyond that. Beyond the border towns, and beyond the land beyond laid their enemy, a rival kingdom not entirely unlike their own, once their rivalry had been economic... then it had become military. After fifty years of war, the other kingdom had begun experimenting with dangerous magics, foolish things to interfere with, and it had gone wrong. Now, it was corrupted by darkness, a plague that had consumed them first of all. Now, it sent emissaries of destruction towards Sidkenhall, their homeland, every day, and the wall had been built to keep them out.

They looked quite often like normal people or animals. But they carried the darkness with them, a plague, which, once inside their land, would spread among the people, sickening them, weakening them slowly. When they finally died, they would continue to walk, spreading the plague further until they rotted to dust.

Sometimes they looked like horrible monsters, beasts made of nothing but sword, stone and hatred... but those were easy to see coming. Those passing as normal people were the reason the college stationed trained mages everywhere the wall had a doorway. Alan was not one of those trained mages, though his sight could easily pick out the darkness when he saw it. No. He and Thenore were there only to collect magical goods and enlist magical folks.

The three mages stationed here at the door to watch for the darkness lived on the wall, and had not taken the time to even acknowledge the two initiates. Something Alan felt a little resentful about. He tried hard not to resent anyone. He wasn't a person who enjoyed resenting at all, but there it was.

“Besides... that guy had it coming,” speaking of resentment, a snarky voice brought Alan back to the present, and he glanced at the familiar green smear.

“Hm?”

“The guy I tried to eat. I don't make a habit out of it you know.”

“Mhmm,” Alan rolled his strange eyes, and looked back to the people wandering through the square. One of them was carrying a full sized pig as though it were a human baby, and though this was odd, he did not feel the need to flag it up as being something they ought to be concerned about.

“I don't!” Thenore sounded increasingly indignant, and Alan spared him a glance as the man's energy flared bright green.

“You should calm down,” he offered gently, “If you get angry and turn into a bear here, you're going to make quite a scene.”

“Says the guy dressed in the bright orange robes staring at everyone like a madman.”

Alan let out a deep sigh, “If I agree to wear something less obtrusive tomorrow, do you agree to lay off with the negativity? I'm only trying to do my... our job here.”

The druid treated him to his finest blank stare for a long moment before giving an exaggerated huff. “Fine. It's a deal. If you try to look less... obtrusive, I will be Mr Sunshine as of tomorrow morning.”

Alan frowned at his colleague, not for a moment believing him. Still, even if he got the sarcastic druid to cheer up for a half hour, he would consider it a win.

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

<<First || Previous || Masterlist || Next >>

And thus we meet the other big players in the story, well, two of them. And learn a little more about the world around them. No vore in this chapter, I apologise, I am a little heavy on the story for those who do not know me, but fear not we will return to Coyne and Fez in the next Chapter!

[pleasantkingcomputer]

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Cooking can sometimes result in accidental spills, stains, and splatters on the kitchen walls. Interior wall cladding acts as a protective barrier, preventing stains from seeping into the walls and making cleaning a breeze. With cladding installed, you can say goodbye to the hassle of scrubbing stubborn stains off your walls.

Customizable and Quick Installation:

Absolute Hygiene specializes in providing tailored kitchen interior wall cladding solutions. Their team of experts can assist you in selecting the right materials, colors, and finishes that align with your design preferences. Additionally, their efficient installation process ensures minimal disruption to your daily routine, allowing you to enjoy your newly transformed kitchen in no time.

Absolute Hygiene Website: https://absolutehyg.com/ Email at info@absolutehyg.com phn no;-+971507597052 Address:27th Floor, The Prime Tower, 6C Marasi Dr, Business Bay, Dubai, UAE

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Engineered Stone Market Size, Share, and Industry Analysis

Rising Demand for Aesthetic and Durable Surfacing Solutions Fuels Growth in the Engineered Stone Market.

The Engineered Stone Market Size was valued at USD 23.3 Billion in 2023. It is expected to grow to USD 39.2 Billion by 2032 and grow at a CAGR of 5.9% over the forecast period of 2024-2032.

The Engineered Stone Market is witnessing substantial growth due to its superior durability, aesthetic appeal, and low maintenance compared to natural stone. Engineered stone, primarily composed of crushed stone bound with resin, is widely used in countertops, flooring, wall cladding, and furniture applications across residential, commercial, and industrial sectors. The market is being driven by growing construction activities, increasing urbanization, and consumer preference for high-performance, sustainable, and cost-effective materials.

Key Players in the Engineered Stone Market

Caesarstone Ltd. (Caesarstone Quartz)

Cosentino S.A. (Silestone)

Dupont (Corian Quartz)

LG Hausys Ltd. (HI-MACS)

Compac (Compac Quartz)

Hanwha L&C (HanStone Quartz)

Vicostone (Vicostone Quartz)

Cambria (Cambria Quartz)

Technistone (Technistone Quartz)

Quartzforms (Quartzforms)

Future Scope of the Market

The Engineered Stone Market is expected to expand due to:

Rising demand for premium and customized surfaces in residential and commercial buildings.

Growth in renovation and remodeling activities globally.

Advancements in manufacturing technologies leading to better aesthetics and functionality.

Stricter environmental regulations promoting sustainable materials.

Increasing adoption of engineered stone in healthcare and hospitality sectors due to its hygienic and non-porous properties.

Emerging Trends in the Engineered Stone Market

With the rising demand for sustainable and high-performance building materials, engineered stone manufacturers are increasingly adopting eco-friendly production methods. The trend toward recycled and bio-based engineered stones is gaining traction, with companies incorporating recycled glass, ceramics, and other industrial by-products into their formulations. Additionally, technological advancements in engineered stone manufacturing have led to the development of ultra-compact surfaces with enhanced heat, scratch, and stain resistance. The hospitality and healthcare industries are also driving demand for non-porous, antimicrobial surfaces to maintain hygiene and safety standards.

Key Points:

Engineered stone offers a durable, non-porous, and aesthetically appealing alternative to natural stone.

Growing construction and renovation projects are fueling market demand.

Sustainability initiatives are pushing manufacturers to incorporate recycled materials.

Technological advancements are enhancing engineered stone's strength, heat resistance, and longevity.

Increasing adoption in commercial spaces such as hotels, hospitals, and retail stores.

Conclusion

The Engineered Stone Market is set for continued growth, driven by technological innovations, evolving consumer preferences, and the increasing demand for sustainable materials. With its enhanced durability, design flexibility, and eco-friendly alternatives, engineered stone remains a preferred choice for modern architecture and interior design. As the market continues to evolve, new opportunities for innovation and expansion are expected, ensuring a strong trajectory for the industry in the coming years.

Read Full Report: https://www.snsinsider.com/reports/engineered-stone-market-4604                

Contact Us:

Jagney Dave — Vice President of Client Engagement

Phone: +1–315 636 4242 (US) | +44- 20 3290 5010 (UK)

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What Are the Lesser-Known Benefits of Using Marble?

Marble has been a popular choice in construction and interior design for centuries. While its beauty and durability are well known, there are several lesser-known benefits that make it an excellent material for various applications. From homes to commercial spaces, marble provides advantages that go beyond aesthetics.

Natural Cooling Properties

One of the unique benefits of marble is its ability to stay cool even in warm climates. This is especially beneficial in regions with high temperatures, as marble flooring and surfaces can provide a refreshing and comfortable atmosphere indoors. Many homeowners prefer marble for its natural ability to regulate indoor temperatures without the need for extra cooling systems.

Long-Lasting and Durable

Marble is a strong and durable stone, making it ideal for flooring, countertops, and wall cladding. When properly maintained, it can last for decades without losing its charm. Many historic structures still retain their marble features, showcasing the material’s longevity. To ensure the highest quality, people often look for reliable sources, and marble suppliers in Rajasthan provide a wide range of options to suit different architectural needs.

Eco-Friendly Choice

Unlike synthetic materials, marble is a natural stone that does not require excessive processing. This makes it a more sustainable option for those looking to reduce their environmental impact. Since it is biodegradable and can be recycled, marble helps in minimizing waste. Many construction projects prefer marble as it aligns with eco-friendly building practices.

Adds Value to Property

Homes and commercial spaces that incorporate marble tend to have higher market value. The luxurious appeal and timeless charm of marble make properties more attractive to buyers and investors. Whether used in flooring, staircases, or countertops, marble enhances the overall aesthetic, making a space more elegant and valuable.

Versatile Design Applications

Marble is available in a variety of colors, textures, and patterns, making it a versatile material for different design preferences. It can be used for both traditional and modern interiors, offering flexibility in architectural creativity. Many designers and architects rely on the expertise of the top marble supplier in India to find the perfect match for their projects.

Low Maintenance and Easy to Clean

Another benefit of marble is its ease of maintenance. With regular cleaning, marble surfaces remain spotless and polished for years. Unlike other materials that may require special treatments, marble only needs simple cleaning methods to retain its natural shine. This makes it an excellent choice for busy households and commercial spaces.

Health Benefits

Marble surfaces do not trap dust, allergens, or bacteria, making them a hygienic option for homes and offices. It is especially beneficial for people who suffer from allergies, as marble contributes to better indoor air quality. Many people prefer using marble in kitchens and bathrooms due to its non-porous nature when sealed properly.

Conclusion

While marble is often chosen for its beauty, its hidden advantages make it an even more valuable material for construction and design. From durability and cooling properties to sustainability and easy maintenance, marble offers numerous benefits that go beyond its visual appeal. Whether sourcing from marble suppliers in Rajasthan or finding options through the Top stone supplier in India, choosing high-quality marble ensures lasting elegance and functionality in any space.

[dollarexim]

Money White Granite is a premium natural stone featuring a pristine white base with subtle gray and black speckles, adding a luxurious touch to any space. This high-quality granite is known for its durability, scratch resistance, and low maintenance, making it ideal for countertops, kitchen islands, flooring, and wall cladding. Its heat-resistant properties make it perfect for modern kitchens, while its timeless appeal enhances commercial and residential interiors alike. Whether used in contemporary or traditional settings, Money White Granite blends seamlessly with various designs. The stone’s non-porous surface ensures hygiene and easy cleaning, providing a long-lasting, elegant look. Available in polished, honed, and flamed finishes, it suits both indoor and outdoor applications.

www.dollarexim.com 

+91 9036089222

SIGNATURE MEDIA LLC, P.O Box: 49784,DUBAI, UNITED ARAB EMIRATES  

dollareximpvt@gmail.com 

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