#get a fucking grip fellas

[jahsontodd]

People of tik tok commenting that Bella doesn’t look like Ellie in the game until their fingers bleed as if the way Ellie looked in the game was not high drama

[3416]

this is why everyone saying 'don't rush him back' pissed me off so badly bc that's never been the leafs problem. it's so personally annoying to me how they've handled this like just fucking say he's gonna be out til the playoffs then for fucks sake. clearly not a priority to get him back

[everymlmhybrid]

This is awesome just remembered I get to write the frottage scene soon assuming I actually write more than 4 words this week.

[writersdrug]

Bartender Ghost when waitress reader gives someone a hurricane shot

I had to look this up and now I want to do this so badly

Slight NSFW, slapping

It wasn't a busy night; some new faces on a Thursday evening, the three regulars that practically lived on the barstools, a group of college boys in the corner...

Ghost doesn't bat an eye when you put in four shots of tequila and four waters for those punks, an excited smile on your face. He pours them quickly, eyes narrowing at them as they eye you with their own giddy expression, clapping each other on their backs.

He can't help but check in. "They botherin' ya?"

You laugh and take the tray of shots from him. "Not at all - watch this."

He grabs a glass and starts polishing it with a rag as you saunter back to the college students, ass barely contained in your high waisted shorts (he knows he said the dress code was "not your birthday suit", but you're pushing it in those shorts and that tanktop). Pauses his actions when you pass the shots around, then plant your ass on the table in front of one of the guys, thighs spread and holding a plastic solo cup of water in one hand.

The bloke takes the shot - you promptly throw the water in his face and rear your hand back, slapping him across the cheek with your open palm.

The glass nearly shatters in his grip. He's about to scale the counter and grab you by the scruff of your neck... but they were cheering. The other three men slapping his back and laughing as he wipes the water from his face - he gets up from his seat as you grab another cup of water, grinning at the new fella that sits between your legs.

You do the same thing: wait for him to take the shot, drench him in water, and smack your hand across his face. The crack echoes around the pub, followed by their laughter and loud curses. Ghost doesn't let himself yell at you from across the bar, not when he's stiffening up in his pants and wondering how best to ask you to do that to him.

Soap peeks his head out from the kitchen, right as you deliver the third smack. "Feck is goin' on?!" He asks bewilderdly.

Simon's at a loss for words, palms gripping the edges of the bar as he watches the last guy sit in the chair between your thighs, looking up at you like you're some kind of succubus - and you are, staring down at the lad with a smirk as he takes his shot, dousing him with the water and delivering the final blow.

"Shite- gonna try tha' with me after closin'?" Soap says, the both of them watching as you pluck a twenty from each of their hands and stuff them into your bra.

Ghost finds himself again, masking his sexual frustration with his usual grumpiness. "Where's tha' burger I put in fifteen minutes ago?" He says, making the Scot turn back into the kitchen with a dreamy sigh.

You make your way back to the bar and lean against it, still smiling ear to ear, your chest pushing against the counter - Simon can see the edges of the bills poking out of your tank top. "You ever seen that before?"

"Don't do tha' again." He snaps, glaring down at you with his arms folded over his burly chest, making you pout. "This ain't some college bar, I don' want tha' kinda crowd 'ere, understand?"

"They want eight more shots." You said, looking at him through your sweet, doe eyes.

Fuck - bringing in business, and getting to watch you slap the shit out of those guys? Pretending it was himself? He grumbled and snagged more shot glasses from the shelf.

[acotarxreader]

Vicious little thing

Eris x Reader

Synopsis: Dressmaker for the Inner Circle was the dream job turn mundane nightmare, all in Court you could never quite warm to. A chance encounter with the infamous son of Autumn leaves you wondering if there's more to life than what it seams (get it lol cause seams not seems)

Warnings: Flirting, banter, Eris pissing Cassian off, angst, descriptions of injury, two males being creepy (but don't worry protective Eris on the scene), jealous Eris, a lil violence and torture, Lucien being an MVP as always

A/N: You guys!! I just have not been in the headspace for writing but I had this written awhile back and I just want to shout out and thank @ninthcircleofprythian @pit-and-the-pen @lady-of-tearshed for helping me out! Let me know as well guys if you have any requests, might get my brain going

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

Of all the places in Night you had accompanied the Inner Circle to, Hewn City was comfortless to you, a specific cold that followed you throughout the Court only amplified off the the dripping stalactites. The slippery cobblestone streets echoed as you moved with slight tension in your steps, fresh supplies tucked under your arm. You practically counted the seconds to when you would reunite with your home deep within the House of Wind, the only place in Night Court with any ounce of warmth for your bones.

A loud bar leaked patrons onto the street, all desperate to escape their daily drivel at the bottom of a keg. Two somewhat large males leaned against the entrance, shouting loud slurs of profanity you ignored while passing, hoping to fade into the background and evade any attention. Unfortunately, you were unsuccessful and soon after felt the eyes of distorted drunken desire bore into your back as your pace quickened.

“Hey, gorgeous where’s the fire?” The voice of pure rust and smoke made the hair on your neck stand up, their footsteps getting louder with the shrinking distance. 

“Oh, no manners baby? How refreshing” The other let a slimy sick laugh leave him as his knotty hand finally caught hold of your forearm, whipping you back to face them, the beautiful fabric sailing to the floor to mop up a muddy puddle.

“Leave me the fuck alone!” The lines on your forehead deepened with disgust as you bent down to retrieve the dripping material.

“Or…” The ever so slightly taller one caught you more roughly by the arm before hauling you forward, dragging you into the mouth of an alley, the other acting as reinforcement.

“Let go of me!” Pure panic left your voice, your head darting side to side for an out as your back was pressed into crumbling brick under your vibrating bones.

“You have to give us a few things first baby” One leaned forward into you as you braced, your wrist being crushed by the other fae, their movement suddenly halting with the addition of a new voice. 

“I don’t think she’s interested fellas” The three of you found your gaze darting towards the tall figure at the end of the alley, a shoulder resting against one wall, hands casually in his pockets as if he wasn’t about to witness a crime against nature. The grip was released on one of your wrists, the taller male unmoving from in front of you while his accomplice began to square off to the still slightly obscured fae. 

Your eyes dropped cautiously down to your side to your bag, trained nimbleness in your hands had you retrieving your fabric sheers, launching them immediately into the thigh of your current captor. A near-deafening roar was released alongside your other arm, the figure at the end of the alley instantly floored the other male with a wave of unseen power. 

You scurried down the alley in the opposite direction of the three, your hands covered in a fine layer of blood that you wiped on your trembling thighs. A flush of heat came from behind you as you reached the mouth of the alley. A curious glance had you witness your perpetrators turned to mounds of ash, the sight turning your stomach into waves of unease. The thought of meeting a similar fate had your feet moving again, only to come flush against a wall-like figure. 

“Where are you going? No thank you?” Eris towered in front of you, a self-satisfied smile scanning unbeknownst to you for any sign of injury.  

“I-um-than-k thank you, General” The words were a rush of syllables followed by a deep curtsey, before you move down the street again, eager to get away from the infamous male. You heard Eris scoff a laugh before he spoke again. 

“Well okay then Ice Princess, maybe next time I’ll leave you?” 

“Do you want a medal or something for doing the right thing?” Once again your tracks were stopped but this time by your own brazen words and the silence from behind you. Turning on the ball of your foot you reluctantly faced the future High Lord, his hands still in his pockets, lips pursed in thought. He could kill you for your insolence and no one would challenge him, you were not even sure anyone would notice you missing until their trousers reached their knees.

“Huh, cute-” He smirked, closing the distance between you in a few long strides “-maybe I do want a medal” You found yourself scoffing at his words, a small blaze seemingly igniting in his eyes at the sound. 

“Get in line, General” A certain playfulness danced in his eyes at your teasing tone, normally not the response he’d elicit from others. You could feel something subtly different in the air, something missing from the mountain’s mist. “Please, call me Eris, or Savouir, lady’s choice” He outstretched a hand you somewhat hesitantly took, not going unnoticed by the son of Autumn. You realised on contact that it was the everpresent chill that you felt that had made its exit from you, flushes of warmth heating your cells gently. Eris turned your hand over in his, scanning over the callouses and their tinge of fresh maroon. 

“A street fighter?” He laughed, eyes tracing the hardened skin. “Dressmaker, for the Night Court” You smiled, taking your hand back, missing the steady pulse of heat his fingers supplied.

“Laborious crowd” His laugh returned the missing warmth to your skin and you found yourself smiling back at the towering male.

“YN?” Your whole body shook at Lucien’s voice across the street, his arms full of freshly purchased supplies for his small apartment in the city. You looked between the two males as Lucien crossed the street to join your side, Eris’s smugness only growing. You and the Prince of Foxes were relatively new friends, his exit from the Spring Court required a whole new wardrobe that you skillfully made.

“Stay away from her Eris” “Oh brother, save us the martyr act” He sighed in almost boredom, amber gaze landing back on you where you could have sworn it softened, no matter how brief. That gentle element died when Lucien’s arm snaked around your waist, pulling you closer to his side. 

“Is that blood on you YN?!” the closer proximity opened you to Lucien’s full mother-hen inspection. 

“Yes it is but not hers, quite the vicious little thing you have here” The air of self-righteousness returned to Eris, his best shield to whatever was bubbling deep beneath. 

“Thimble, what happened?” You noticed Eris subtle flinch at Lucien’s pet name for you as he attempted to ignore his brother's presence altogether. You hated the nickname, it made you feel small, and inexperienced, despite being older than Lucien. It began when he remarked on the coarseness of your hands on his skin during a fitting, suggesting a thimble may stave off further damage. You would never see the point in covering what your years of experience had rewarded you with, the scars on your hands were evidence of a master at work, and a thimble would only hide away your efforts although that was a recurring theme for you in the Night Court you felt. 

“Thimble seems an odd nickname, aren’t they supposed to protect you from pricks? And yet here you are Lucien” Your head lowered slightly to hide the deep smirk growing across your face at Eris’s dig, Lucien unable to continue to ignore him.

“I’ll have you kn-” “-Lucien, we have to get back, I’m not finished with a dress” You cut across any possible rebuttal, eager to get out of the thick air between the two brothers, Lucien smiled softly at you before glaring back at Eris. You tilted your head to Eris again in an almost bow, twisting Lucien’s stomach as you began your fruitless journey back to Nesta. 

“Very good little lapdog Lucien, I’d watch her around scissors” He called after the two of you, his own amusement radiating from his voice. 

-

The ball was organised chaos at best, swelling music and overserved fae had you hiding out in the corner of the venue. Not your normal scene however Nesta had begged you to come, if only to witness your beautiful work in action. You had sacrificed one of Feyre’s many dresses as donor fabric to patch together what you could of Nesta’s outfit, neglecting to tell her that of course. 

“YN, this is so borrrrring” Nesta found you through the crowds, sneaking away from her role at the dais alongside her sister. It had been a few hours since the incident, a glass of wine only taking a sliver of the tension you felt about it from you. 

“Don’t worry Nesta, hopefully it won’t be much lo…” you trailed off, your eyes snagging on Eris across the vast dance floor as he both dazzled and terrified the participants in the conversation he held. 

“At least he’s not bad to look at” Nesta tilted her head to the side, inspecting her mission with curiosity as he glided through the crowd.

“Lucien says he’s torturous”

“Bet he’s good in bed” You elbowed her for her comment as she laughed, the whole conversation making you feel like giddy children.

“Perhaps he’ll make a good pallet cleanser from Cassian” she added. “Cassian who’s trying to melt him with his eyes right now, right?” You grinned, Nesta taking a stolen glance at the slowly boiling Illyrian. When Nesta wanted something, she got it and this very core defining personality trait of hers terrified you. You had been on board with the plan up until your own encounter with the heir and yet now you found yourself empathetic to Cassian’s jealousy, no matter how unfounded you felt it may be. The very voice that saved you earlier pulled your attention back into the room. 

“Hello again YN, I was wondering-” “-Who your friend is? Eris, have I really to remind you of my person” Nesta tone leeched a pure sultry decorum you would never be able to mirror. Her body stood slightly in front of you, a hand extended to reacquaint herself with the High Fae, new beats of jealousy pulsed in your veins as they made contact. Your skin crawled and boiled all at once, further tension only being added by Cassian's surveying across the floor. 

“Go find something to busy yourself with YN” Her voice was firm but said with a smile, forever toeing the line between friend and employer. You watched as Nesta masterfully led Eris to the dance floor and began to light the room ablaze with her ease of movement. The room watched on as the two slotted into one another like a lock and a key, your eyes landed on your shoes, anywhere but on the scene in front of you.

“C’mon dear friend, let's see your moves” You looked at the unfurled hand of your dear new friend in front of you, Lucien’s soft smile accompanying it. You laughed lightly as you allowed him to lead you to the dancefloor. 

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather dance with Elain?”

“But I’d miss you stepping on my toes” he teased as your head tilted back and laughed, despite knowing the answer to your question was of course yes. Now and then while being swirled by the Prince of Foxes, your eyes would cross the path of Eris’s before Nesta stole back the attention. A successful mission up until Cassian’s jealousy could no longer be snuffed out.

—--------------------------------------------------

The gentle pitter-patter of drizzle off the window pane of your workspace filled the room, your hands busy at work, humming along to a tune you heard weeks ago while dancing with Lucien. Back home in the warmest of colds available to you, squirrelled away in mounds of fabric and projects. 

Your hands stilled at the din of distant shouting many floors up through the house. Often you’d ignore any rumblings from upstairs but the familiar sound of a male you’d spent your time trying to forget had your curious feet wandering in the direction of the source. 

“You’re incredulous!” “No, you are!” You peeked through the gap in the huge door that led to one of the grand dining rooms, the two brothers in a stand-off across the large oak table, Rhysand glaring between the two. 

“And you couldn’t have stopped our dear darling father from travelling to Briallyn’s continent?!” Lucien barked, the table shaking slightly. Cassian matched Lucien’s scowl towards Eris, who only allowed a sickly laugh to leave him. 

“And expose myself and this little alliance? I don’t think so little brother! Alec, our father's dear advisor is already getting too curious.” 

“Oh no, nothing to inconvenience yourself!” You flinched slightly at Lucien’s razor-like tone.

“I have inconvenienced myself every day for you!” Eris’s hand shot forward in a dramatic gesture, knocking the large goblet of wine across the table, soaking Lucien as he leapt up from the cold. 

“Fuck! You did that on purpose!” He reached for his napkin to blot the deep stain with no success, Eris now also standing in his own defence. 

“It was an accident, much like your birth, do as I did and make peace with it!” Eris grinned until Lucien swished a wrist, a small ball of flame leaving his fingertips, singeing the jacket and waistband of Eris’s immaculate suit. 

“Lucien!”

“It was an accident” Lucien mimicked, Rhysand now finding his own feet, feeling grateful not to have had any biological brothers.

“Enough! We must leave to meet the other High Lords in an hour and you two are squabbling like children! Lucien, go home and find a new pair of trousers-” Lucien very much looked the role of scolded schoolchild as he winnowed out before further reprimanding “- and you-” Rhysand turned full attention to Eris, who only rolled his shoulders back to accompany a raised eyebrow “-you go and find a curtain or something to wear because if you fuck this meeting up, I will kill you where you stand”

“Aww do you promise-” Eris batted his eyelashes in faux excitement “-I don’t take orders from you”

“Fine, go smelling like a bonfire, see if Rhys and I care” Cassian shot out. 

“Perhaps I left some clothes here after I visited with Nesta the other night” Cassian practically leapt from his chair, Rhysand catching hold of his forearm leaving Eris unshaken. 

“Eris, go be anywhere but here”

“I’d suggest down on your deathbed, I can help you” Cassian chewed out accompanying Rhysand’s order. 

“The only place I’d go down on is the lovely Nesta” Rhysand released Cassian in an instant, springing the warrior over the table, your instinct having you whip the door back on its hinges, the entrance stilling Cassian in confusion as he caught Eris’s collar. 

“I’ll help make something!” You rushed out, unsure of why you were eager to rescue Eris even if it gave away your eavesdropping. 

“YN, know your place” Rhysand warned.

“I mean- c’mon S-sir you have to leave soon and let's be honest, there’ll be questions about why a lord of fire is-is emm burned…or why his face is in pieces for that matter” You watched Cassian release the wrinkled collar, exhaling deeply and jump from the dining table to the floor before striding over to you. 

“At least stab him a few times with pins” 

“Deal” you laughed before standing aside in the doorway for Cassian and Rhysand to pass. 

-

After arriving at your workroom, a flush of self-conscious energy rushed you at the mess you had been living and working in, now under the scrutiny of the son of Autumn. Towers of discarded and active projects cast shadows along the stone of the space, his eyes inspecting the smaller details of the room as you pulled out fabric rolls from the wall. You couldn’t help but notice the warmth in the tall shadows not there previously, its addictive nature nipping at your skin.

“Jacket” You ordered, a hand out to take the sooty material, Eris obliging wholeheartedly, surprising even himself. He watched you inspect it closely, attempting to hide his wonder of you as you sighed. He thought how he would very much love to watch you work, how he may very well do anything you asked of him and how foreign that very feeling was. “Sloppy stitching, conjured I suppose not handmade?” He nodded in confirmation to your question, doing his best to hide his amazement at your assessment. 

“I don’t think this is your colour-” “-Excuse you, this green is one of my court colours, how can it not be my colour?” Eris' anger startled you, snapping you out of your dressmaker autopilot, remembering your company. “Sorry-I emm- not your tone shall we say” Your panicked voice was only silenced by a laugh from Eris.

“Just kidding YN, I’m not offended” “Just a prick” You whispered to yourself as you slipped a pin cushion over your wrist, Eris smiling from behind you. You pointed at the step riser in the corner of the room for Eris to stand on as you gathered your treasure trove of supplies. 

“Take off your trousers” You threaded the soft measuring tape through your fingers from behind him. 

“Not going to buy me dinner first?” He raised his eyebrow to you with a grin you felt that maybe not everyone got to see, his hands undoing what was left of the waistband before he shook off the fragile fabric, leaving him in his undergarments. You took a deep quiet breath before sinking to crouch alongside him, measuring the length of his leg.

“On your knees so soon” You stood instantly again, pushing him playfully, stilling almost as soon as you had moved. 

“Sorry I-” “-I won’t bite you YN, not unless you ask” he winked, causing you to bite the inside of your cheek begging your body not to grin back, instead just resuming your measurements. “I should have let Cassian kill you” You whispered by his calf as he looked down at you. 

“There she is, there’s who’s fun to play with” You could hear his smile, just as you took a pin from the holder strapped to your wrist, poking him into his ankle. He hissed, rolling his ankle slightly away from you as you stood again. 

“That was for the Nesta comments” You put the pin into the cuff of your sleeve, retrieving your scissors and cutting strips of a deep red fabric without the measure, all the knowledge within your head accompanied with years of skill. 

“I was just bored and the big bat is an easy target. I have no intentions of pursuing Lady Death, don’t be jealous” He watched you in the mirror as if afraid to blink and you’d disappear. You forced your focus closer to your cutting, Eris slipping from the step to stalk closer to you.

“Why would I be jealous? I don't even know you” “Odd, I feel like I know you… but regardless, I’d imagine you’d be jealous if your relationship with my darling brother isn’t all you want it to be” You whipped around to him in shock, scissors still in hand. Eris put his hands up in faux surrender while glancing at the scissors, your eyes rolling again, placing the instrument behind you. 

“What? Me and Lucien?” You laughed wholeheartedly, Eris tilting his head to the sound, stepping from the riser. 

“No?” “Now who’s jealous?” he only scoffed at you in reply. 

“Heirs do not get jealous, they get what they want” His somewhat serious tone sent a shiver down your spine, the distance seemingly shrinking between you.

“And what does this heir want?” “Hmm” he hummed leaning forward into the gap, that tempting heat pulling you towards him, every cell screaming for the temperature in your skin to increase, to meet with his, to reach inferno.

“YN, do you have a spare-what’s going on in here?” Lucien stood in the doorway, his suit jacket in his hand, a missing button by the collar. 

“Ever the best for timing dear brother” Eris squared his stance, turning to face his kin as you wished the earth to swallow you whole.

“Let's not get into it in front of the Lady.-” Lucien rolled his shoulders back, unshaken by the sharp tone of his brother “-Thimble, please could you reattach this button? It was the one I used magic to affix and you were right, it didn’t hold” You gave a soft smile, taking it from his hands, reluctantly crossing the path between the two. 

“Come, dear brother, leave my lovely YN to work” Lucien stood back in the doorway to leave space for Eris to pass. A rush of intense heat radiated from Eris at his brother's endearment towards you, his knuckles cracking as fists formed. 

“Won’t you need me for the rest of the fitting?” He looked at you, eyes asking you to beg him to stay.

“I-” “-YN is used to finishing projects down here without the muse, she works better alone right YN?” You nodded slightly at Lucien, his voice no longer toeing the line between friend and employer, the latter taking full effect. You sank back to your work table, tacking together the fabric as Lucien guided Eris away from you, Eris slipped back on the remnants of his trousers before reluctantly leaving. The cold rushed to your bones again as the faint sound of their bickering filled the halls. 

—-------------------------------

Two weeks later

Thoughts of Eris crossed your mind while looking down on the vast woodland of coppers and bronze through a window taller than him. The flickers of rust and chestnut hues pulled you towards them like a moth to flame. You had never been in an environment like it, so famously cold but surprisingly warming to your inner world. Beron had insisted on holding a dinner with Night Court in his home, still believing his trip to Briallyn’s continent was undiscovered. 

“Okay, we go, we hear what nonsense he’s peddling and we compare notes when we get home?” The Inner circle nodded in agreement to their High Lord as he knotted his cufflink into place before outstretching the same hand for you to adjust. Just as quick Nesta called for your attention as Azriel covered a more specific game plan. Nesta had insisted you accompany her, and help to ready her for the meeting, no matter how many times you reminded her that that was very much so not part of your job. 

“It's fine YN stop fidgeting!” She snapped at you, tugging the end of her dress from your grip before she leapt from the riser to take Cassian’s arm as they moved to leave for dinner. You knew she didn’t mean to take you so sharply, she was just stressed, they were all stressed. They were always stressed, they never meant to snap at you, or at least that's what you convinced yourself of.

“We should have left you home where you would be safe” Lucien said softly, pulling you from the step riser again, his thumb sweeping over the back of your hand. You couldn’t help but notice how different his touch was from Eris, and how you wished it was him with you now not Lucien. 

“Stay here YN, I hate it here as much as you, I’ll be as quick as I can back to you” He gave another smile before following the Inner Circle, closing the heavy door behind him. Did you hate it here, you wondered as you wandered around the room at the edge of Forest House, secluded away as you always were in these venues. 

You couldn’t help but listen to a vibrant voice in the back of your mind, beckoning you to come out and play. 

The distant echos of grandeur filled the halls from the dining room at the opposite end of the hall as you crept down the stoneway in the opposite direction. Before realising it, you step to a servant entrance of the grand house, whispers of Autumn guiding you through a place so new yet familiar. Your fingertips hardly made contact with the bronze of the handle before a large weight was thrown deep into your side. Overwhelming, almost suffocating heat swallowed the screams you shrieked, accompanied by a heavy hand as all pulled you from the hallway to an adjacent hallway pantry.

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” Eris released his hold on you, a flicker of flame leaking from his hand illuminating the closet. You doubled over, arms swaddling your stomach as you caught the breath shocked out of you. Eris's characteristic ironing-board-like posture softened at the sight.

“I-I didn’t mean to frighten you” 

“What-what the-” Eris’s hand reached for your arm, worry radiating before you cut off the action “-what the fuck is wrong with you?! You don’t just grab someone like that!” You righted yourself again, hands finding your hips as the oxygen found your lungs again. 

“Oh, you’re okay, I thought you lost your damn fucking mind coming here!” unfamiliar sharpness crossed his tongue as you scoffed at his heated whisper. 

“I’m here working” “Working? Those morons have no idea what bringing you here could cause!” His hands ran through his hair in frustration, the light flickering with the movement. 

“I won’t cause anything!-” You watched him drag his hands from his hair down his face in pure exasperation “-except it seems a headache for you” You grinned and as much as he fought it, he mirrored you.  

“Aren’t you supposed to be at the dinner?” “And aren’t you supposed to be in your cave of endless fabric?” You rolled your eyes at his rebuttal, moving to pass him only to have a soft touch take hold of your arm. The thud of a palm-sized book tumbling out of his pocket had both your gazes dropping. Surprisingly, you were first to retrieve the ornate book, its cover decorated with expansive drawings of the wood surrounding the Forest House. 

“Your diary?” You grinned, offering it back to him. 

“It’s actually…it’s actually nothing” You pulled it back into you at his ever so slightly panicked tone.

“So it is your diary?” You laughed gently, a slight rush of red growing across the Prince of Autumn's cheeks. 

“Its-its a collection of..of poetry I’m working on” He admitted, fighting his way through growing embarrassment as his eyes fixated on the leather in your hand. You smiled down again at the cover, at the idea of a softer Eris locked behind these pages, a glimpse into his world.

“We have to get you out of here” He said abruptly, as if eager to shift topics away from his hidden hobby. “Fine, I’ll ask Lucien to bring me back there” A pulse of heat radiated between you.

“I’ll bring you” 

“Won’t that impact the whole double agent incognito thing” You smirked, trying your best to not look down towards his gentle hold on you. 

“I’m sure if I murdered Lucien that would impact things more” 

“Remember Eris, I told you that shade of green wasn’t your colour” Silence swaddled the forgotten closet.

“That’s the first time you’ve said my name” The sound of his moniker sent Eris’s grip tightening slightly on your arm. “I’m sorry, was it saviour you preferred?” You hardly whispered, the swift movement that followed had your back pressed into the adjacent wall, Eris’s hand resting above your head, trapping you in the addictive warmth.

“As long as I’m the one you call for, I don’t care what you call me” he allowed himself to confess.

“This feels like a mistake” 

“So was trying to hurt you, I enjoyed every lick of flame that torched those males YN and if it had been any other male other than my brother to dance with you that night they would have met a similar fate” Eris’s smoky voice admitted quietly, amber eyes trapping you in their heat. A warm palm found its way to your waist, ushering you closer to the High Fae behind the walls of an enemy Court.

“So you were jealous?” “Shut up and let me kiss you” Every drop of your blood was heated with the perfect pressure that met your lips and your hand instinctively took a fistful of his shirt pulling him tighter into you. You felt his fingers knot deeply into your hair as his other hand tightened its grip, your mouths slotting over one another in perfect synchronicity. 

“You’re so delicate YN, your Court’s best kept secret and this world's greatest beauty, I feel like a moth to your flame-” Eris’s voice came out husky, starved for your touch “-I couldn’t explain it to myself why I felt like walking around that cursed city that day, the Mother must have known I’d meet you, that I would be drawn to you, that I burn for you” his thumb brushed over your cheek as you rested your head in the palm of his hand. A rush of cold met your skin as Eris fully pulled from you, your balance rocking slightly.

“Did-did I do something?” Eris sighed at your words, a hand tracing through his hair before he turned to face you, eyes ablaze. 

“I-I really feel like you may be worth every risk in this entire world but I am not and I will not risk your safety for my own desire” 

“I can protect myself Eris” “Not from what would seek you out because of me” The both of you stayed in studied silence for a moment, just observing one another and the energy shift between you both. 

“My court will protect me” a low sound growled from Eris's throat in response to you.

“You mean my brother will protect you?  The others care not for anyone but those in their precious inner sanctum” 

“That’s not true, I’m their friend!” You snapped back, your voice rising above a crackled whisper in anger. The words pinged an idea directly into Eris’s head, his way to push you away. “You’re their employee! They take you for granted! You can’t honestly say they treat you well can you? Do you think they’d keep you around if you lost your use to them? Their loyalty is conditional, they can’t be relied on!” A truth you frequently ignored washed over you, too much to take.

“You’ve been away from the table too long General, I must return to work” You offered the almost forgotten book in your hands back to him, his eyes only moving from the binding to your eyes. You scoffed again before moving as quickly as he had brought you to this secluded closet, rushing your away from the heat you wanted to be swaddled in forever. You tucked the tiny book into your sock beneath your dress, perhaps that was his goodbye gift to you you thought. Your path was then interrupted around the corner of the secret haven by the feeling of your body crashing into the solid pushback of metal, your hips meeting the plush carpet. 

“What do we have here?” You looked up through your eyelashes at the striking male, his broad shoulders shrouded in thick copper metal, the Autumn court of arms across his breast. 

You pushed up off the ground, doing your best to ignore your bruised tailbone. The broad, older male scanned you, his eyes snagging on your Court’s emblem stitched into your sleeve. 

“And tell me, what would a member of the Night Court be doing out of the designated area?” 

“I-I was looking for-for the bathroom” He towered over you, the smell of soot and tinder filling your airways, thick enough to choke on. He stretched out a gloved hand, lights flickering in his eyes like a sparking fire. Before you could take his hand, they curled around your wrist, hauling you forward. 

“And yet, I don't believe you” razor words said with a razor grin nicked at your nerves beneath your uniform. 

“Would-would I lie to you sir?” You sank into the lowest curtsey you could manage while still tethered to the burly male. You could feel your fingertips turn blue as the gloved hand took a tighter hold, your voice fighting not to croak as you spoke again. 

“I-I must return to my High Lord” 

“I don’t think so, this little exploration of yours must be reported” Alec snarled down at you, flicking his wrist sending yours back in a conflicting direction, a small yelp leaving your throat. “YN?” The two of you looked to find Lucien, stunned expression turning steely as he looked towards the hold a member of his former Court held on your wrist. He made short work of the distance between you, his warmed hand taking your opposite wrist.

“Unhand this Lady!” He barked.

“Lady? She is staff, staff that was where she shouldn’t have been!” Your head dipped at the ever-present reminder of your differences. Lucien scanned you briefly, a subtly deep intake of air had the scent of Autumn wind and campfire flooding his senses, his brother's scent on you. 

“I perhaps agree with you for once-” Lucien whispered down to you, words tainted with disappointment “-but regardless, she will come with me and her High Lord will take care of matters” Alec's grip only tightened further as Lucien attempted to pull you to his side, another wince decorating your face. 

“Not before my High Lord has a chance to examine what she may have learned”

“What was I going to learn in the bathroom, his Lordship's haircare routine?” Your words surprised you as much as anyone but not as much as the feeling of cracked leather meeting the side of your face, knocking you down to the plush carpet, out of Luciens hold. The side of your cheek felt as though it instantly began to swell, it matched your eyes as tears threatened to fall over the rim. You didn’t stay down for long, Alec hauling you back to your feet by your cracking wrist joint. You could feel the blood run from your lips, your skin fighting to stitch together and failing. Black blotted your vision competing for the greatest pain with your wrist.

“This female is to be brought before the Lord of Autumn. You have no authority here, run along to your master, she comes with me” That’s all you could hear before the black blots overtook the beautiful brass and copper of the Court of Autumn, no longer able to support your own weight. 

—-----------

The low crackle of a cruel flame filled your ears as an unnatural chill stretched from the icy flame. Your eyes flickered like the fire across from your cell, doing your best to come around from the sadistic male’s brutality. The cracking of brickwork met your back as you leaned into it, uncurling your legs from the ball of protection you had attempted to make. The depth of Forest House, far far away from the kind forest spirit voices that beckoned you to play, now replaced with the pained groans of other enemies to Autumn. 

“Wakey wakey” You rolled your head along the stone, supporting its weight as you looked to see the ever-feared Lord of Autumn standing on the other side of the brass caging. The metal shuddered as the guards opened them for their master. You lowered your head slightly, trying to win any favour with Beron, his low laugh your reward. 

“Anything to say for yourself?” You looked back up, fear stealing your voice as he stepped in closer, your bones rattling lowly off the stone beneath you. 

“No? Funny, you seem to have plenty of thoughts to write about” “Ex-excuse me, Lord?” You said quietly, your eyes then landing on the pocket-sized notebook in his cruel hands. You looked between it and its new holder, evident panic on your face, quickly exchanged for pure pain as the Lord of Autumn suddenly shot forward, pressing your body into the cold stone, his grip clutching your throat. 

“Beautiful sonnets and poems and prose, all with the very strong theme of escaping my beautiful court, destroying my beautiful legacy, running off with a beautiful forbidden creature, an accomplice of yours?” His even tone of pure ice contradicted the flaming heat beating through his hands to your throat. He’d kill his heir for his words, destroy him, torture him, make him beg, the idea of any of those outcomes unthinkable to you.

“Do not, DO NOT try to deny it” He tried again, crushing some air from your windpipe free. 

“Father!” Eris bellowed suddenly from behind, a small ease in pressure on your skin.

“Make yourself scarce Eris, I’m busy” His blackened eyes didn’t leave your bloodshot ones. 

“What are her charges?” Eris tried his best to keep the desperate tone at bay, Beron only held out the tiny notebook to his side, his other hand still gripping you. You watched as Eris turned practically to match the colour of your own oxygen-starved skin. 

“And she-she has admitted to that being hers?” “She was about to before your interruption!” He barked back at his eldest son, before allowing enough air into your lungs so you may speak. You looked over his shoulder to the Heir of Autumn, his eyes sunken in from worry or lack of sleep or both, you weren’t sure. You weren’t even sure how long you had been down there, how long before your Court would come for you if they even would come. These questions plagued you endlessly and now you were finally about to meet your end, your answer of who would come if you really needed help answered right in front of you in the russet eyes of a male you took stolen moments with. The male who believed himself not worthy of anything other than pain. You would not die with him believing this. 

“It’s min-” Your rasped lie cut off a flush of heat pulsating around the entire cell, Beron’s gaze snapping back to his son, a full release of pressure met your throat, your body sank to the ground, muscles screaming out for the rush of returning oxygen. You propped yourself up on your well-worn hands, fighting away blurry vision. Eris stood, shoulders settled back, flames like globes in his hands. 

“Alec, that’s Alec’s, there's more in his quarters. Go search them and you’ll see, no need to declare war with Night Court by slaughtering one of their courtiers” Pure confidence beamed from Eris, a grin then decorating his face as his father tilted his head in thought. 

“Think about it Father, it has to be someone with more access than a dressmaker? Someone with the intelligence to weave plots into poems, do you really think that a female would be capable of such?” Your heavy breath remained down towards the brick floor you looked down to, its small stones breaking away and burying into your palms and knees. You knew he saw you as more than that, and you trusted that he saw you as more than your court saw you as. You trusted him you realised. You heard Beron hum in quiet contemplation before looking back towards you, your hair matted in knots, uniform in tatters, the perfect image of weakness he believed all females had. Beron gestured quickly with his chin, his armed guards launching into action to search the quarters, no doubt going to find carefully planted prose and poems, damming in their divinity. 

“A dressmaker?” Beron questioned you once again, his head tilting as you nodded gently towards the stone, unable to lift your dizzying head. 

“Useless skill” He spat down before sinking a heavy, steel-soled boot flush with your right hand. Blood rushed to your ears as the little oxygen in your lungs escaped as a deafening roar, drowning out the sound of your breaking bones. The ring of bruises gifted to you by Alec on your other wrist clutched your shattered hand into your chest.

“You may finish her off Eris, your reward for your observant nature, I must see to the search” He smirked at his son who fought to keep his mouth from hanging open and flame from fleeing his fists. Beron sank into the fire, leaving his heir and his prisoner. Eris crashed to your side, his warm hands supporting your shoulders as you cried out. 

“I’m sorry YN, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry” He whispered into your hair, your sobs drowning in his chest. A swirl of comforting flame swaddled you both as Eris pulled you both through the heat to the outskirts of the wood surrounding Forest House. 

The Forest air was as refreshing as any of the elements as you landed gently in the clearing, Eris’s arms supporting your weight as he clung you into him. 

“They’ll be here soon my love” He gave a small saddened smile into the crown of your hair, causing you to pull back to look up at him. 

“What?” You managed, the movement of even speaking amplifying the pain in your digits. Another whoosh of air filled the clearing, Lucien quick to your side accompanied by Azriel, colour draining from the Shadowsinger’s face at the overly familiar sight of your hands. 

“Go with them YN, they’ll protect you” Eris attempted another smile as you looked from him to his brother, who tried and failed to hide his worry. 

“I want- I want to stay with you Eris” “Look at what happens when you stay with me YN, nothing good ever comes from this place” “But you came from this place” You cried out, your legs trembling again, Eris’s arm slipped around your waist again, Lucien unfamiliar with this side of his brother. 

“I told you I’m only going to bring you pain” “And I-I told you green wasn’t one of your colours, we can both be wrong sometimes” You laughed lightly through your tears, fighting your instincts to look down at your hands. Eris brushed a thumb over your cheek, keeping a stray tear from falling before pressing his lips to your forehead. 

“I have to leave you YN, I have to make sure Alec learns his lesson, the same one I will teach my father one day and anyone who dares to harm you” He searched through your eyes before stepping back, allowing Lucien to wrap his arm around you to support your body, Azriel placing a small cloth over your hand to shield you from the full extent of the damage. Eris traced the rings of bruising on your uncovered wrist, further cementing his decision. Azriel’s eyes scanned, watching for signs you had all been discovered and finding the distant sounds of guards beginning to storm towards them. 

“We have to go” Azriel ordered, Eris and Lucien both nodding. 

“Eris, please, please come with us” You begged through sobs. 

“One day YN, one day I’ll show you this Court when it’s something I’m proud of, I’ll show you all of who I am, when it’s something I’m proud of” He brought the back of your hand to his lips, only to have you suddenly pull it back before launching forward towards him. His lips on yours felt like a warm hearth, like home, his soothing heat warming the world you always thought was meant to be cold. 

“I was jealous” He admitted with his signature smirk as he parted from you, his hand running down your tangled hair receiving a light laugh from you as Lucien reluctantly pulled you back. 

“We have to go, they’re close” Azriel took your weight, hesitantly taking you some distance away from Eris, leaving Lucien and Eris with some space between them. 

“I will look after your mate brother” Eris only nodded in return before stealing another glance at you and sinking into flame. 

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

Whatcha think? Hehehehe

[frudoo]

How would slasher! 141 react to a reader who isn’t a fan of violence but goes absolutely HAM when one of the victims escapes and injured her boyfriends? (I know the guys are good at what they do but let’s just pretend lol)

maybe she’s dirty from doing chores outside and the victim assumes that she’s an escapee as well, says something about ‘stabbing that fucker with his own knife’ and she just sees red because this piece of shit hurt her boys and she CANNOT let that stand.

Without even thinking, she starts absolutely wailing on this person, punching, kicking, etc. She's got blood on her clothes and shes breathing heavily when the boys finally make their way outside.

how would they react? 😳

This AU has me tweakin I swear

Warnings: Dark!Fic/DDDNE. Explicit gore. Emetophobia.

You gently pick up the little rabbit and giggle, pressing a kiss to its fur before sending it off somewhere else that isn’t your vegetable garden. The pesky things have been terrorizing your poor crops, and while it’s a nuisance, you just can’t stay mad at the little fellas, let alone ask your boys to get rid of the problem. There’s a rustling in the bush next to you and you suspect it’s another bunny looking for a tasty meal, but before you can go investigate, a loud scream coming from the barn startles you.

     Typically, you’re able to drown out the sounds of your husbands’ victims—it freaks you out to hear a person in so much pain, no matter how badly they deserve it. But this is not a victim’s scream. You know that scream. It’s the same one you hear any time he stubs his toe or gets a cramp in bed. That’s Simon’s scream. Immediately you’re on alert, standing from your knees and starting towards the barn.

     Instead of seeing your husband rush out, seeking medical aid or some kind of comfort, a random man covered in dirt and blood comes stumbling outside, looking terrified. You recognize him as the guy Simon, the big, unbreakable brick wall of a man, had even said wasn’t an easy one to catch. When the man sees you also covered in muck, he laughs like he’s just won the lottery, relieved. He rushes up to you, grabbing your hand and trying to pull you towards the fields, no doubt to look for some kind of escape. 

     “C’mon, we- we gotta get outta here. Now! We have time- fuck, lady, come on! I stabbed that fucker with his own knife, so we have time,” he rambles, digging his filthy nails into your skin to get a better grip.

     His words seem to make your heart stop beating in your chest. So that’s why Simon was screaming in pain. Your Simon, your sweet baby, one of your protectors, hurt by an inferior piece of meat. A special brand of scum. You’re scratching at his face before you even realize it. 

     “Wha- bitch! Stop! I’m trying to save you, lady!” Any other time, you’re sure a man like him could have easily overpowered you, but you feel fucking invincible right now, kicking the backs of his knees until he falls.

     You pounce on his back and trap him on the ground, grabbing a handful of his hair and pulling his head back just to smash it into the dirt. He’s screaming in agony and you’re sure his nose is broken, but you can’t stop. He hurt one of your boys, and if you know anything about the pieces of shit your husbands get rid of, you’re positive nobody is going to miss the one struggling beneath your weight. You bash his head into the ground over and over—his nose is completely crushed and his teeth are busted, but you just keep going and going and going until your arms are finally tired and you’re heaving with effort.

     When you climb off of him, you see just how much blood has tainted the grass, and you feel nauseous. The man is no longer screaming, not even grunting or moaning, and you know you’ve killed him. You roll him over just to make sure, and the sight of his mangled face makes you lean forward to vomit. You end up tripping over one of his untied shoelaces and falling right on top of his body. Sobbing, you scramble away, screaming when your back hits something solid.

     “Hey, hey, it’s just me, darlin’. Just me,” John coos, helping you up and pulling you into a tight hug.

     “I-I di- I didn’t mean to,” you weep, blood and bile still sour on your tongue. “H-he… he stabbed Simon, and- and I-”

     “Okay, sweetheart, it’s fine. I’ve got you now, yeah? Deep breaths, baby, breathe with me,” John instructs, cupping your sticky cheeks in his palms and forcing you to look at him.

     Distantly, you see Johnny rushing towards the barn and Kyle dragging the man’s body out of sight, but John makes you focus on him. Only once you’re calm, sniffling instead of hyperventilating, does he explain what’s going on. 

     “Kyle’s cleanin’, and Johnny’s gettin’ Simon all patched up. He’s gonna be okay, baby. You were so brave for us, sweet girl. Do you hear me? I'm so proud of you. We all are.” 

     You nod, but you need to see Simon, make sure that he’s really okay. Make sure your efforts weren’t in vain, that the blood on your hands wasn’t shed pointlessly.

     “I wanna see him,” you hiccup, and John nods, turning you around so you can watch as Johnny helps him walk out of the barn.

     You let out a sob of relief, rushing towards the pair and wrapping your arms around Simon, who grunts in pain. You gasp and move to pull away, but Simon just holds you tighter, letting you take as much comfort as you need from him.

     “I love you,” you murmur, and he smiles.

     “I love you more, perfect girl.”

[cottoncandyswisherz]

working at the pyramid

this is long a fuck for no reason so its small font lol

softdom!chris x stripper!reader

warnings: smut, unprotected sex (double wrap w aluminum foil) p in v, oral, (male receiving) pole dancing

-

the club is dark. all lights are off and the only thing you can hear is jay, our dj, yelling into the mic. 

"okay fellas, its saturday, you know what that means. its time for our favorite girl to do her thangs. make some noise for our money maker, our heart breaker, MISS CLEOOOO!" 

and the crowd goes wild.

the music starts and i strut onto the stage, in character. 

the projector displays a burning sun behind me, the lights shines a dark orange. this is my time to shine. all these men are here watching me with hungry eyes and i'm about to feed them. 

laying with my back on the ground i wait for my cue. 

wake up to your girl for now lets call her cleopatra i watch you fix your hair then put your panties on in the mirror, cleopatra

i arch my back and pull at my hair. then your lipstick, cleopatra then your six-inch heels, catch her she's headed to the pyramid

i roll over onto my stomach and stretch my arms in front of me, kicking my feet slowly, making eye contact with some shmuck in to crowd before turning back on my back.

she's working at the pyramid tonight

the beat drops and it begins. 

grabbing the back of my heels i raise my hips in a kegel position and grind my hips slowly in the air.

then i raise my butt all the way in the air, holding myself up and bring my knees together and twirl them before straightening one and pointing my toes over my head. keeping my legs in that position i slowly bring them down

pimpin in my convos bubbles in my champagne let it be some jazz playin top floor hotel suite twisting my cigars floor model tv with the vcr

back on my stomach i slowly bring myself on all fours and dramatically throw my head back, allowing my hair to fall down my arched back. 

got rubies in my damn chain whip aint got no gas tank but it still got woodgrain

i get on my feet and bounce before standing all the way up

got your girl working for me hit the strip and my bills paid that keep my bills paid hit the strip and my bills paid keep a nigga bills paid

prancing to the pole, i lock eyes with a white boy. like everyone else, he's got a shit eating grin on his face. but unlike everyone else, he doesn't throw 1's on the stage. he throws a flurry of 20's. 

i grab the pole and saunter around it twice, then press my back against it and grind again. 

time to climb this bitch. 

she's working and the pyramid tonight

i turn around and step around the pole before swinging and wrapping my legs around it tilt my head back and now i'm spinning, as the pole rotates. i do my tricks and shit, giving them the show they want.

keeping my grip, the pole stops and throw my head all the way back, allowing myself to be upside down. only for a second though because i place my hands on the floor and flip into a split as the beat drops again. 

the men go insane, and i'm showered in bills. 

you showed up after work, i'm bathin your body touch you in places only i know you're wet and you're warm just like our bathwater can we make love before you go

i grind to the beat in various positions, before bringing myself back to pole, placing it between my heel and shoe so i can limp all the way to the top. 

once i'm there i hook one leg around the pole and drop my head. upside down once again. i spread my arms out and spin. 

shouting and money flying once again. 

the way you say my name makes me feel like i'm that nigga but i'm still unemployed you say it's big but you take it ride cowgirl

after a few seconds, i bring my body back up right and slide down. with my legs under me, i move my hips, so it looks like i'm riding

but your love ain't free no more baby but your love ain't free no more

then i fall back so i'm laying on my back, like before i started. 

she's working at the pyramid she's working at the pyramid tonight

and the lights shut off. 

just like that, i move off the stage and go to my dresser and drink some water. 

5 minutes go by and i've caught my breath. thomas, another employee comes in with my earnings from tonight. but i don't have time to count it, so i put the bag in my locker and go out to work the floor. 

a few of my regulars make their usual requests and soon i'm $150 richer. i walk over to the bar and ask for a lemonade and while i'm waiting a hand taps my shoulder. 

"i'm on break. " i mutter in an agitated tone, not bothering to turn around. 

"i'll pay double." 

and just like that, I GOT MOTION!

i turn around and see the white boy from earlier. 

with a seductive grin, i shake my head. "go find a seat on the floor and i'll come find you after my drink."

"the floor?" white boy turns around and looks at the room, full of idiots. "no, i want a private room." 

"those are 150 an hour..."

"where do i pay?"

is he for real...

"usually people who want them have a group."

"just me."

wow.

"you pay up front." he pulled his phone out.

"you guys take apple pay?"

i was flabbergasted. "uh... yeah i think so."

"great. you finish your drink and i'll come get you when everything is paid for."

-

20 minutes later i'm stepping into a private room. 

"you can play whatever music you want. i can dance to pretty much anything."

this is so fucking awkward by myself. usually there like 5 of us in here with an equal amount of guys. 

but he won't see me sweat. 

"anything?"

"yup."

he pulls his phone out, connecting to the bluetooth. 

"okay you better be telling the truth." he begins searching for a song. 

he plays the fucking macarena. 

"be so fucking for real." i fight back a smile. "i'm half naked and you want me to do the macarena?"

"hey you said you can dance to anything." he chuckles, putting his hands up. he has a small duffel bag next to him. i can just smell the money in it. 

fuck it. i think then begin the dance. 

money falls at my feet as i do the routine and laugh. 

soon the song is over and a new one starts. 

this one slower.

i start with a little floor routine that ends with me on my knees, so i can crawl over to him.

placing  my hands on his thighs, i lift myself up and turn around so my ass is right in his face and i dance, dropping and coming back up. 

i felt his hands grip my waist, and usually, clients aren't allowed to touch us, but this ones fine as a motherfucker so i'll allow it. 

he pulls me down so i'm sitting in his lap, my back to his chest. i move my hips on him and he turns my head to the side so i'm kinda looking at him. then his hand grabs my neck and his other one drops 20's. 

the bills fall down my body and land in my lap and it's the hottest thing i've ever encountered. 

with a smile, i turn around so i'm straddling him and grind some more. i feel his erection on my clit through his shorts and it makes my pussy flood. 

if i keep looking in his eyes i'm gonna cum. so i look at the wall to distract myself. but that doesn't work because he grips my jaw and forces me to look at him. 

"eyes on me mama."

fuck. 

now we're locked in. eyes trapped in each other. i can't escape. 

but i have to. 

so place his hands on my hips and lean back, so my back is arched. 

i thought this would help. 

it didn't. 

one of his hands spreads on my belly and reaches up my front, his large hand on my chest. 

i come back up and decide no physical contact was the solution. 

so i get up and begin another floor routine.

he stands up and walks over to me, looking in my eyes a-fucking-gain so i turn around and dance until his hand is on my hips again with his other one the back of my neck, bending me over. 

and now we're lowkey dry humping. 

shit. 

standing up right again, i turn around and take a step back. 

i can't fuck him. i'll lose my job. i'll lose my dignity. 

"we can't-"

the motion is swift when he tugs me towards him and my body collides with his. my hands automatically come up and land against his chest, and my eyes fall shut. 

my fingers spread out, trying to feel as much of him as i can. 

his lips brush against my ear. "tell me to stop, cleo. tell me to stop, and i will."

i pull my head back enough to look at him and think. 

i have two options. 

1. walk out and do my job like nothing happened with the worst case of blue ovaries i've ever had. 

or 

2. fuck this man and walk out and do my job like nothing happened having had what i hope will be the best orgasm i've ever had.

i don't know about you but option two seems like the obvious choice. 

"i don't want you to stop." 

his fingers grip me tighter.

"you want me to fuck you?" 

my breath hitches and i slowly nod my head. 

"my name's chris. say 'yes, chris.'"

my thighs clench as i feel my pussy flood again. "yes, chris."

a sound leaves his mouth, then its pressing against mine.

i melt into the kiss. his full lips slanting over mine, demanding them to open. 

i try to focus. i try to remember who i am and that i'm a badass who refuses to submit to a stranger. i try to focus, but there's a lightening storm going off inside my body and i can't hold onto a single bolt. 

my arms wrap around the back of his neck, anchoring him to me. 

chris' large hands move up my side, the heat of them seeping through my skin and putting my body on fire. keeping the tips of his fingers against my ribs, he spreads his grip out until his thumbs trace along the underside of my tits. 

i lean into the touch. the press of his body against mine is divine torture. but then he's gone. 

his hands leave my sides at the same time his mouth leave mine. 

my eyes blink open, but instead of finding his gaze on mine, i find his hooded eyes focused on my chest. 

with slow movements, chris reaches behind me and unclips the bra i'm wearing. it falls at my feet. 

chris tongue slides across his lower lips as he eyes my pierced nipples. he uses his thumbs to rub over each one, the buds tightening and i can no longer stay quiet. 

letting out a whimper of appreciation, i raise my arms and grip his white tee. 

"fuck." he groans the words as he palms my breasts, leaving my nipples exposed between his thumb and index finger. "fuck." he says again, dipping down and taking one small barbell into his mouth. 

"oh god.." i groan, my fingers leave his sides and dig into his hair.

this isn't the first time someone has played with the piercings but with him, its so much better.

he tugs and pulls at my other nipple and i'm so needy, i'm ready burst.

"chris." i pant. "please, chris."

letting my breast pop free, chris stands back to his full height. 

my hands reach for the string of his sweat shorts, undoing the knot and tugging them down. 

dark, tight briefs are all that stand between his cock and my hands and i tug those down too until his erection bobs free. 

of course it's perfect in every fucking way. 

my fingers wrap around his length, gliding up and down. chris' hand closes over mine and squeezes, forcing me to grip him tighter. 

freak ass. 

"take off your panties." he squeezes my hand once more before releasing his grip.

letting go of him, i shimmy out of my thong.

chris strokes himself while saying, "gimme a spin."

i smirk and slowly twirl around, making a show of it, moving my hips to the music that's still playing. 

"you're fucking perfect." then he's stepping to me, lifting me, and walking me to the bar in the corner of the room. the surface has bottles and glasses on it, so i'm half on the bar and afraid of sliding off in a heap of embarrassment. 

but then chris is using his hands to spread my thighs and when he steps between them, all thoughts other than him leave my body.

my hands grab ahold of the bottom of his shirt and pull until he chest is naked in front of me. 

at this point i'm beyond wet. i should be embarrassed considering the fact that he hasn't even touched my pussy yet, but the look on his face is pure hunger. 

he taps my thigh and lets out a command. "wider."

i press my thighs open further.

chris runs the tip of his dick up the length of my pussy. "please tell me you're on the pill."

red flags wave in my peripheral. i should stop this. i don't know him. there are worries beyond pregnancy. this man is a fucking stranger.

but instead of being smart, i nod. 

chris growls gripping the base of his cock lining it up with my more than ready entrance. the hand not on his dick runs up  my side, squeezing my breast, pinching my nipple then gripping the base of my neck. 

he presses his lips against mine while pressing into me. 

his tongue shoves into my mouth and i'm filled with him. 

all i can feel his him. 

all i can taste, all i can hear, all i can smell is chris. 

i was bracing for a quick thrust. but this... this is slow.

i arch. i writhe. i moan. 

with both hands on my ass now, chris pulls me forward, so i feel all of him. he picks up his speed. pulling out, slamming in. over and over. 

his hands are everywhere now, tugging on my piercings, gripping my ass, feeling all the skin he can. 

"chris!" i cry out, feeling my orgasm approaching. 

"that's it." he moans into my mouth.

and thumb presses on my clit and i jolt in surprise. 

"oh fuck-" my head falls back.

he circles my clit, faster and faster, pressing harder and harder. 

"eyes on me mama." he demands. my eyes flutter open and find his. "good girl." his fingers don't stop.

"i'm gonna cum."

"that's right ma. cum for me."

that was the last piece of the puzzle. 

i shatter around him, shaking and convulsing.

"yes, chris. fuck! thank you. oh my god thank you-"

i'm a mess. from one fucking orgasm. 

removing his hand from my clit, chris steps back and pulls out of me, my body arching towards his, trying to keep the contact. 

he lifts me off the bar and sets me down in front of him. my legs are like jelly so i'm relieved when i hear him say "on your knees, cleo."

that fucking name. he's just took me to mars so i guess he can know my government. "my names y/n."

a smile spreads across his face as he presses a kiss to my lips and slides his had to my jaw. "on your knees, y/n."

i comply, dropping down in front of him. he drags his thumb across my lips. "open up." my mouth opens wide and allowing him to guide his cock between my lips. 

i close my mouth around him, sucking his length and it's like all his self control flies away. 

he gathers my hair into a ponytail and presses in deeper. 

"i wanna fill you up." 

please.

he pulls back and thrusts deeper into me until i feel him in the back of my throat. 

"i wanna watch my cum dripping out of that pretty pussy." 

fuck.

"i wanna cum all over your piercings."

jesus fucking christ.

"but you gotta go back to work."

WHAT?

he pulls all the way out, letting me breathe.

"let me back in." he says 

i open my mouth and hes back, deep in my throat. "that's my good fucking girl." he groans out and throws his head back. 

i let out a moan at the praise and his whole body shakes. 

"fuuuuuuuck.." his grip on my hair tightens and he looks down at me. 

he picks up the speed of his thrusts and fucks my face with so much force i have to lean back and put my weight on my hands to stable myself. 

i feel him twitch in my mouth and he goes to pull back but i wrap my hand around the back of his thigh and move my lips to his tip, sucking. his eyes cross and his load shoots into my mouth.

chris pulls me up by the ponytail and brings my lips to his in a kiss. this one was softer, but just as passionate. 

pulling aways he says "you know i have to see you again right?" 

"i'd like that." i whisper. 

"good girl."

niyah speaks 2930 words dawg. sorry i've been MIA. me and my boyfriend broke up lol. but uhhh im backkkkk

taglist: @mattslolita @mattssluttygf @muwapsturniolo @chaossturns

[c0llisiion]

DAY 3 — HONGJOONG

★ npr, f!reader, prostitution, pwp, heartbroken!joong, protected sex — lmk if i missed any!!; W/C: 1020 (woops)

Hello! This is part of my kinktober list! Day3 is officially out <3

This is strictly fiction. Any scenario or situation should not be taken seriously. Please refrain from reading if the topics make you uncomfortable.

He was heartbroken. Devastated. Saddened. The fact that his girlfriend cheated on him on the day of their anniversary was something he never expected. He just didn’t know what to do.

Hongjoong sat at the bar with at least 5 empty glasses of whisky around him, the 6th in his hand. His head was lowered, and he looked like a mess. The bouquet he bought for his girlfriend sat next to him disheveled, the flowers broken and dying. 

You walked into the oh so familiar bar with a bright smile, getting recognized by the bartender and a few of the staff. You were a fan favorite in this area. “Heyyy, slow night isn’t it?” You say as you sit in one of the stools, the bartender handing you your go to. The bartender and staffs nodded and hummed in agreement. “Got a few pot bellies and this young fella tonight..” he said, pointing at Hongjoong, whose head was on the table. You tilt your head and look at him confused. “Whats wrong with him?” You ask. The bartender shrugs. “He either got heartbroken or came back from a funeral… but under closer inspection, definitely got his heartbroken." The bartender whispers to you. You nod in understanding and look him up and down, feeling guilty for him. The bartender looked at you and said, “think you can help that fella out?” He said, winking. You smirked and nodded, “They don’t call me a vixen for no reason, right?” You say before striding off to Hongjoong, sitting next to him. You sat and relaxed as the bartender poured you another one. You cleared your throat. “What's gotten into you, handsome?” You say, turning your attention towards him. “600$ for 2 hours.” He says bluntly, his head still low. You look at him wide-eyed before looking at the staffs in the bar to see if this was actually real; they were stunned too. “Excuse me?” He finally lifts his head, giving you a good look of his face; he was drop-dead gorgeous. “I can go higher, just…. Help me ease my mind.” He said, looking at you directly. You look at him contemplating the offer before nodding. “Deal.” 

“Fuckfuck… mm baby-“ you gripped his hair as he ate you out. Your legs were spread on the cheap motel bedding, Hongjoongs face buried in your sopping pussy, your underwear discarded somewhere. You bit your lower lip and pushed his face further into your cunt with loud mewls and whines. Hongjoong was eating you out like a madman. He pushed your thighs up to your chest and dove in further. His tongue deep in your pussy and his nose stimulating your clit. “Mmm.. fuck, you’re so fucking good at this…” you moan as he hums against your cunt before pulling away and slapping it. He lifted himself and plunged his fingers in your pussy, stretching you out. Your eyes rolled back, and your thighs threatened to clamp down. He pulled his fingers out and licked them clean before starting to unbuckle his belt. You lifted yourself up to help him out. “Lemme help you-“ “lay back down.” His tone was harsh and authoritative, making you nod and lay back as you watched him pull out his flush pink cock. You gasped at the size of his length, your hands instinctively moving to reach out for it, but your hand was swatted off by Hongjoong. You pout and whine, “yk I'm supposed to be doing all that foreplay, not you…” you say as he slips on a condom. “Shall I stop and leave you here with nothing?” He looked at you sharply. You gulped and shook your head. “Be a good girl and keep that mouth shut.” You nodded before placing a hand over your mouth. Hongjoong positioned himself in between your legs, spreading your thighs wider. His tipped nudged against your entrance as he coated his tip in your juices. You breathed heavily as he continued teasing your clit and hole. You look at him with pleading eyes, a silent look asking him to fuck you already. He looked at you and smirked before plunging into your pussy, your eyes almost popped out of their sockets at his sudden action. Your breath hitched and your chest heaved as he started moving in you without any warning. He gripped your waist and started going faster, his hips snapped against yours. His cock drove into your pussy at an inhumane speed, grazing your soft, warm walls and hitting your cervix at each thrust. He pulled you closer and angled himself in a way he hit your sweet spot, earning loud cries and moans from you. You were a moaning and panting mess. Your eyes crossed, and you held onto his wrists as his cock continued its relentless assault on your pussy. “J-just like that baby… fuck… you feel so fucking good-“ hongjoong’s eyebrows were furrowed, and sweat ran down his neck and chest, making the white button down, translucent. Your eyes were focused on the way he moved. Wet sounds bounced off the walls as he got you soaking wet. Your pussy was already creaming, collecting at the base of his neatly trimmed cock. You couldn’t help but feel admiration towards him, making you seek out more from him. You pulled him closer to your body, hugging his shoulders and wrapping your legs around his waist as he continued pounding into you. He dropped his head in the crook of your neck, leaving wet kisses from your neck towards your collarbone. You whimpered and whined, clawing at his back as his dick had you on cloud nine. Hongjoong looked down at you, panting, his eyes glossy, and dazed, “feels good? Yeah?” He asks out of breath. You nod, almost in tears, at how good he was giving it to you. He put on a satisfied smirk before kissing you sloppily, and you of course returned the kiss.

In the morning, you woke up to a heavy stack of dollar bills on the nightstand with a small note on the side. “I had fun, until next time? :)”

A/N: hii! Day3 IS OUTTT! Tysm for reading!! Stay tuned for the resttt <3

Tags~ @cassies-cookies @minghaosimp @unlikelysublimekryptonite @mamnaimiefrankie @marcoswhore @theyadorevalerie @applejackthebest515 @un-knew @salemluvsmusic @ka0ila

If you want to be part of the taglist, comment below!! ^^

[satoruhour]

reader x toji where they hav an argument nd the reader dresses slutty and suddenly has plans at the club w her friends. but toji doesnt like that 🫣

a/n: IM HERE . IM HERE SORRY IVE BEEN RB-ING SO MANY THINGS !!!! but i promise im writing hahahaha. but also i dont owe anyone an explanation! enjoy anon!

wc: 1.4k

warnings: toji picks ur lock w/ a bobby pin lol, reader is a little mean LMFAO but #valid, dom!toji, pussy drunk tojiiiii, implied overstimulation, oral / cunnilingus (from the back + face-sitting + lying on ur back), exhibitionism? (reader is on call with her friends but her girls don’t know she’s getting eaten out!), implied unprotected p -> v sex @ the end, implied creampie / breeding kink, n*sfw under the cut

“yeah— but you didn’t have to say it like that!” you huffed out at your boyfriend, or so you thought, because you probably had read too much into this relationship, heart tearing apart when toji simply said he was with his woman, with benefits while on the phone with shiu. 

you tsked when toji opened his mouth to explain, a distraught expression on his face that implied it was a slip of his mouth but even then you were relentless about the simple slip-up that meant a lot to you. it wasn’t often that toji had anything but an indifferent expression on him and you’d relish in his panicking face with a smug grin if it wasn’t for your rage.

“stupid fucker — still thinkin’ i’m just some bitch he fucks like he doesn’t whine for me in his sleep,” you grumble to yourself mindlessly later, phone blowing up from the messages from your friends while you scour through various outfits that slowly flood your bed. 

No way he said that!!!! Wtf???? Who does he think he is?

let’s bring u out tonight babe. wear sum cute

yeah!!. Let’s get ur mind off of that lame fella . he still kinda hot tho…

it’s messy and there’s a continuous clash of colour with each skirt or top you pull out and you groan in annoyance, so you take a shower — and it’s not all that better either, mulling over that dreaded sentence while lathering yourself up, while washing it off, getting dressed. it pisses you off so much that a man’s words can affect you so much, but that’s the price you pay when it comes to toji.

the toji who gives you a crushed, bloody bouquet after coming back from one of his dangerous missions, the toji who grumbles while he pushes the last nugget in the mcdonald’s box toward you despite loving it, the toji who likes to feel your body against his because he’s said that the mere sensation of you pressed up against him is enough to make him cum.

you scoff when you hear a knock on the door, in the midst of pulling an extremely short skirt up your hips with your ass basically peeking out from under it, paying it no mind before securing a tube around your bust.

“shut the fuck up!” you bark back when toji knocks again and there’s silence altogether, rolling your eyes when there’s a dramatic sigh from behind the wooden door and your feet naturally has you swerving away from the bed to open up the door, if not for the call from your girls that come in. the ringtone echoes throughout the room, distracting you from the professional work being done by toji with one of your bobby pins.

with phone on the bed, it’s led to your ass being propped up while you’re on your hands, butt facing the door with a full on display of your miniskirt and the very lacey underwear toji’s gotten for you for your anniversary. it was a petty move, you know — everything felt right when you pulled the material over your legs after your shower, not expecting yourself to pick up such a revealing bottom.

but now you know everything definitely felt right when those panties pooled at one of your ankles that hang off the bed while you’re trying not to whimper into the call with your girls who’s just so excited to see you. it’s a wonder they haven’t already heard the sloppy noises of toji eating it from the back, hands gripping onto your ass cheeks so hard they form bruises and you don’t have it in you to give a fuck when the other licks a hot, long stripe up your folds.

“left the house already, hon?” one of your friends ask and you’re gripping so tightly onto the phone that it hurts a little, not missing the way toji mumbles out that your pussy tastes as sweet as ever.

“uh— ah! n-not yet!” you squeal when toji smiles into your cunt and you absolutely hate how your hips shimmy toward him instinctively when your boyfriend pulls on your thighs to bring you closer, “i’ll leave soon, o-okay— mm—”

“babe?”

“okay bye!” you panic and press the large red button, hanging up immediately before your moans increase in volume immediately and your head dips into the bedsheets. the man eats pussy like a starved man, slobbering over your pussy while his nose just takes in your scent and arousal — something that’s gotten him hooked since day one. your leaking hole, your sensitive clit, your twitching thighs. god, toji loved every part of you and he was determined to fuck you better than a friend with benefits.

“’m sorry baby, mmfhh—” toji grunts into your core, “any chance ya could forgive your old man?”

the hold on your pride was getting looser and looser while your hands only clutch the sheets tighter and tighter, whimpers turning into a borderline scream when the man manoeuvres himself under you and yanks you down onto his face. your arms support your limp body instantly, hips moving with their own mind as you grind into toji’s tongue with breathless pants, rolling your pelvis over him and he groans at the feeling. toji doesn’t care that your miniskirt is in the way, eyes peeking out from the fabric and flitting over to you and your breath hitches cause you know he’s serious in earning back your forgiveness.

“not when— haah… you’re still saying i’m just some— w-whore you fuck.” you’re still a little bitter, but toji below you is enough to make you clench around nothing, high already approaching when he switches between sucking and nibbling and flicking his tongue at your bundle of nerves. 

“slip of the tongue, i promise, doll,” he talks into your drooling pussy, the vibrations sending chills up your body, hands flying to his hair to grab onto toji’s hair and pulling, “you’re my cute lil girlfriend, aren’t ya?” you hate how easily you nod your head, “mine to fuck, and mine to eat out, yeah?”

that sentence alone has you needing to lock eyes with toji just for a moment to see his lips curl up slyly, bottom half of his face soaked with your juices that your stomach contracts a little at the sight, a weak whimper leaving your lips.

“yeah…” you mumble out breathlessly and that’s all it takes for toji to go back to eating, quickly bringing that burning coil in your tummy again while slurping up your arousal. the room feels so hot and you’re sure you’re sweating through your outfit that you so carefully picked out that you’re peeling it off your body. your lover only wraps his larger arms around your thighs when he sees that your pretty tits are out, intoxicated on the thin layer of sweat lining your body and the curve of your upper body.

“toji, toji, toji—” you’re chanting his name like it’s a mantra, dizzy from the constant abuse toji does to your clit, pleasure shooting through your body when he moans around your cunt and you’re cumming with a moan of his name, thighs shivering around his head that he only laughs, humming into your core while you soak his sheets and skin. you’re just about prepared to get fucked when you catch a glimpse of toji’s hand palming his bulge, but that isn’t what toji has in mind when he changes positions again.

“taste s’good, baby,” toji groans, pulling apart your thighs that close from the sensitivity, “let me eat ya out until i’m forgiven.”

and all he can do is stick to his words whenever after each orgasm he pulls from you, you’re shaking your head like you’re saying you aren’t forgiven and he figures out your game soon enough, but whatever his girlfriend says, it goes. it’s just like that for toji who worships every part of you, a mistake rewarded well later when he taps his fat, leaking tip on your cunt and slips in easily from how many times he’s made you cum, reaching nirvana just from hearing your still-loud mewls leaving your worn-out body.

it’ll be something that will be burnt into his brain, forever, but toji doesn’t have time to think about that for now, so he just fucks you like he thinks a sorry man should fuck — deep into your cunt with the promise of being better and the need of giving you everything you ask for, even if it’s something as simple of wanting his cum in you.

whatever his princess wants, his princess gets.

i cannot go a day without mentioning breeding omfg im actually deranged

[barrackspredator]

sugar service

cw: didn’t proof read this, cussing, writing practice. best of luck.

“Hot damn!”

“Smash, smash, smash, uh… yeah, him too. Smash.”

You rolled your eyes, stifling a laugh as the other waitresses eyed your table. The three of you were waiting at the hostess post on a particularly slow day. The only customers was your table of four. Some older guys your friends just couldn’t seem to get enough of.

“Please,” you mumbled. “They’re old enough to be our dads.” Your eyes flicked up from the magazine in your hands to your coworkers. The three girls were giggling and occasionally glancing over their shoulders.

“Yeah, that's the best part!” Your coworker, Rona replied before glancing back again. “Older guys are experienced and typically have pretty big… savings.” She grinned at you, her eyes narrowing coyly.

“God-!” you scoffed, choking down your surprised guffaw. “You guys are unbelievable.”

Ignoring their giggles and teasing, you push yourself off of the wall you were leaning against to approach your table. Your eyes roamed over the four men, taking in how their shirts clung perfectly to their muscles. A few gray hairs here and there, but their physiques certainly made up for their age.

Caught up in your ogling, you slammed your hip into the corner of their table. The oldest of the men quickly grabbed the edge of the table to steady it.

“Fuck…” Your hand immediately slapped over your mouth in shock, remembering that you were in front of customers. The men chuckled, eyeing each other before turning back to look at you.

“Careful there, sweetheart. Can’t ’ave a pretty little thing like you bruising up,” one of the men, a particularly dashing man with a mohawk, chastised you. His eyes scanned yours before slowly raking down your form.

Letting out a shaky sigh of relief that they were cool and not some uptight old asses, you smiled. A genuine smile, not the customer service lip curl you were so used to doing. “I would like to apologize for that, gentlemen.” After a few seconds, you quickly added, “Please don’t tell my manager.”

With languid waves and laughs, they shook their heads and sipped their beverages in amusement. “There ain’t anything to tell.” A man with a scarred face stared, boring his eyes into you. He seemed to be deep in thought before giving his head a slight nod—something the other men quickly noted.

“Thank you.” You took a deep breath now that the anxiety of possibly losing this shitty job passed. “Is there anything I can get you, gentlemen? Drinks, dessert?”

“Your number?” He looked at you expectantly, a handsome man. The youngest of the bunch, no doubt.

Dealing with flirty old customers was a piece of cake. It’s what got the tips going. But typically they were vile old men you would never touch with a 10-foot pole. These guys were quite palatable. Very palatable.

“Well,” you laughed nervously. Perhaps Rona had a point. These men had a way of making a girl’s tummy flutter like it never has before. “Unfortunately, I can’t give you that, sir.”

“Kyle.”

“Pardon?” You blinked at him, furrowing your brows.

“Call me Kyle.” Another dashing smile sent butterflies thrashing in your belly.

“None of that sir shit. Makes us feel too damn old.” The men grumbled with bitter chuckles. “Johnny.” The man with the mohawk dismissively pat your hip, gripping the tender flesh of your forming bruise. “That old sap is John. And the brooding fella is Simon.”

“Piss off,” Simon grumbled, certainly living up to the broody title.

An amused giggle shook her shoulders, your hand subconsciously resting over Johnny’s. “It’s lovely meeting you all. So how about that dessert?” You inquired, grabbing the paper centerfold that listed off the desserts of the weeks. “The chocolate chunk brownies are pretty good and the cheesecake here is lovely paired with...”

The men rose from their table, completely ignoring your rambles. “That won’t be needed, love.” John’s hand rested on your shoulder, perhaps a bit too close to your chest.

“You give us a call when you’re ready.” Johnny stood beside you, his breath flicking against the shell of your ear. His hot, tipsy breath made you shiver and recoil.

Kyle only chuckled, gracefully slipping a business card into your pocket. “A pretty little thing like you shouldn’t be working.” There it was again. That dashing smile that turned your knees into jelly.

“Give us a call.” Simon grumbled from the table. Glancing at him, you noticed the thick wad of cash he was leaving behind on the table.

“Sir, that’s too much.”

“Enjoy your tip.” Johnny pat your hip dismissively, sauntering away shortly after. John and Kyle followed behind him.

In complete disbelief, you nervously laughed. “Holy shit…” You shakily picked up the wad of cash left behind on the table. Simon quietly stood behind you, casting his shadow over your body. His eyes slowly raked down your back.

“See you ‘round,” he mumbled, not surprised as you jumped out of your skin in shock at his presence. Moments later, he was out of the place, nothing left but an empty establishment.

With shaky fingers, you plucked the business card out of your pocket.

Sugar Service Call (555)141-6157

[hypernova-writes]

KinkTober Day 7

[Public Sex - Sniper]

“Gotta be Quiet ‘roo don’t want the fellas to know how much of a slut you are..”

“Are you sure about this ‘Roo?..”

“Yes, Please Sniper..I promise i won’t be too loud..”

Sniper chuckles as he smirks at you. You joined him up in the watch tower today as the battle was going on, wanting to be close to your partner and frankly being tired all together.

You were quiet most of the time, but then you started paying more attention to your boyfriend. You always think that Sniper looks hot when he’s sniping. The concentration on his face, the little smirk he does when he lands a shot or the growl of frustration he lets out when he misses has you clenching your legs.

“Mick..” You start off softly and he hums in a knowledgement, meaning ‘Continue he’s listening’.

“I know this is a terrible time to ask..but”

“You want me to fuck your brains out. Don’t You?”

You turn a bright red and look away slightly in embarrassment, it left you Stuttering and He only laughs softly.

“I-is it that obvious?..”

“Sheila you keep staring at me like I’m a fresh pack of meat…Yea it’s obvious.”

You watched as he moves back to sit on the wall. He smirks as he starts unbuttoning his pants, shimming them down just enough so you could watch his cock spring out, precum already oozing from it.

“C’mon..ride me. We got time..match is slow anyways.”

“W-wait huh?..”

Sniper tilts his head a bed, before beckoning you forward. You bite your bottom lip and you finally make your way over to him, you slowly removed your bottoms and found yourself hovering over his cock.

“Mick..are you sure babe?..I Mean I-nigh..fuck~!”

You didn’t get a chance to continue as he grips your hips, bringing your down on his cock, bottoming out fully. You lean forward on him as he guides your movements, setting the pace for you. All you could do was whimper and moan as you bounced on him.

“Look at you, comin’ up to my watch tower, with those little fuck me eyes..”

“Now you’re a moaning mess, riding me, moaning out like our team could hear you..”

“But you’d like that wouldn’t..my little fucking slut..You’d like the other mercs hearing how well you take cock..”

You whined as his words were going straight to your cunt, Sniper chuckles as he smacks your ass, enjoying the little yelp that left you.

The gunfire and screaming were loud in your ears, but not as loud as Sniper’s growling in your ears.

You buried your head in the crook of his neck and just let him take control, the way he bucked his hips up into you had your mind fuzzy and all you could think about was Sniper.

“Mhm..felt ya tighten around me..You gonna cum baby? You gonna make a mess on my cock?..”

“Ngh..fuck imagining you..alll stuffed full of my cum, having to go back to battle like nothin’ didn’t happen up here..ngh..fuck..”

“M-mick~!..”

“Yea..yea..? Scream my name some more Sheila..let all of the fucking base know who’s fuckin’ you like this..”

Your eyes rolled back as you grind down to meet his thrusts, your orgasm washing over you like a harsh tidal wave, and the moans that left your mouth were down near pornographic.

Sniper followed soon more, bucking up into you one final time as he hugged you close to him, ensuring that he filled you to the brim.

When the two of you finally came down from your highs, Sniper chuckles as he kisses your forehead.

“You still with me Sheila…?”

You mumble something and he shakes his head, “Don’t worry, match is damn near over, although..i think your moans might’ve been hear by the enemy team.”

Sniper sits up to grab his rifle, firing and hitting the BLU Scout who was down there listening. “Gotch. Nosey fuck.”

He then looks back at you, who’s curled up wrapped in a little blanket he kept up here for you, you looked adorable. With your cute little fucked out face, he could see his cum leaking from you and he groans in irritation.

Fuck he’s hard again.

“Sheila…You up for a round two?”

♡ hii hope you guys enjoy this one~ Sniper is my husband/hj,

so I kinda went ham on this one—

[ifangirlalot]

what finn’s characters are like during s3x? I FEEL WEIRD REQUESTING THIS BFISJSJSAJDJS

˗ˏˋ 𝐒𝐀𝐔𝐂𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁��𝐒𝐒 ˎˊ˗ | starring the fellas

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

~smut!~ [𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘:] too many to pick out, just a shit ton of nsfw shit.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

✧˚ finn ۫ ׅ ✧

Is he a top or bottom?

Well, it kind of depends on the day. Sometimes if he's feeling particularly stressed, he just wants to watch you ride him and praise him while getting his head rubbed. But if he's pissed off (or just bored), he wants to top. When he tops, you know you're probably not going to be in the same position for more than a couple minutes.

What are his favorite positions?

Finn likes missionary. He's an old fashioned guy who thinks eye contact is a private kind of intimacy. Doggy is definitely a hella close second though. He's a hair tugger, so it's a lot of fun to pull your head back by your hair while you're on your hands and knees in front of him getting impaled from behind.

How freaky is he?

Once again, it kinda depends on the day and the mood you catch him in. Being a celebrity, Finn's hella paranoid the second that zipper goes down an inch there's gonna be cameras all over the damn place, so public sex is a no-go. He'll fuck you anywhere in the house though. In fact, the bed is hardly ever an option. He loves shower sex and car sex, kitchen table sex ain't too shabby either. He has a thing for having his hair pulled and, as narcissistic as it may sound, he likes it when you call him by his characters' names. It gives him an excuse to change personas.

How noisy is he?

He doesn't have any loudass moans, but he has some breathy ones here and there. He groans more often than not. Occasionally he whimpers.

How long does he usually last?

About ten to fifteen minutes on a bad day and up to an hour on a good day. (Dude has almost spooky levels of self control.)

Protection or no?

Absolutely. He can't risk knocking you up right now.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

✧˚ miles ۫ ׅ ✧

Is he a top or bottom?

Top, all the way. He's somewhat controling and he also doesn't like sitting still for long, so he hardly ever lets you ride, as that would kind of give you the wheel and he's not about that. He likes to decide when you have sex, where you have sex, for how long, and in what position. He makes all the decisions, and you know. You're probably gonna be hella sore afterwards. Like hella sore. My man has hella high libido.

What are his favorite positions?

Miles has favorite positions that don't even have names, that's how fucking freakshit he is. He loves it to the side the most though, with his fingers wrapped around your ankle, holding it up, his grip usually pretty tight. His other hand is usually clamped over your mouth.

How freaky is he?

Miles is a FREAKSHIT. Most of the time, he twists you into positions that he's made up, and you know for damn sure he'd got an entire chest he keeps in his closet that he uses for "playtime". He's also maybe a tad bit creepy with the kinks that he has at times, but that's kind of to be expected. You knew what you were getting into when you agreed to be his girlfriend.

How noisy is he?

Not very. He lets out a few breathy groans here and there, but most of the time he's pretty quiet. It's kind of creepy, but also maybe a little bit attractive?

How long does he last?

As long as he wants to. It really depends on how horny he is, but averagely about thirty to forty-five minutes.

Protection or no?

Lmao, no. Good joke, though.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

✧˚ boris ۫ ׅ ✧

Is he a top or a bottom?

It depends on how high he is during the fucking. If he's sober or moderately high, he likes to be on top. But if he's balls to the walls high, he's a little bby and must be treated as the pillow prince that he is.

What are his favorite positions?

Doggy. At least for dom Boris. He likes to pound behind you with your hair wrapped around his fist like a horse rein. Preferably with a mirror in front of you so he can watch while he smokes. He's a lil freak thang. Subby Boris likes to be ridden because BOOOOOBS in his face.

How freaky is he?

Boris likes public humiliation, whether he be the one being humiliated or the one doing the humiliating. He also likes watching you touch yourself while he's forced to watch with his wrists tied to a bedframe (this is sub Boris, btw. Dom Boris wouldn't put up with it.) He also likes spanking (him spanking you, he doesn't like his ass being touched because he's a bitch.)

How noisy is he?

Extremely. My boy does not care if someone else is in the house. If he's getting pussy, PEOPLE WILL KNOW ABOUT IT.

How long does he last?

Again, it depends on how high he is. Dom Boris can last for twenty minutes, but with sub Boris you'll be lucky if it lasts more than like ten.

Protection or no?

Sometimes, yeah. But the other half of the time he lowkey forgets and you have to get him to smuggle in some Plan B from the store.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

✧˚ ziggy ۫ ׅ ✧

Is he a top or a bottom?

A top. A very messy, very cocky top. It's kinda funny how confident he is in his abilities. He is also a bottom. Pet his hair and watch him whine, I dare you.

What are his favorite positions?

He likes to go down on you. Albeit, he's very good at it, but he also a sloppy thruster. But at the same time, it kinda adds to the experience because somehow he manages to hit the right spots with every pound. Plus, look at him up there with his little gold chain. He's so cute.

How freaky is he?

Ziggy may be an awkward teenager on the streets, but he's a freak in the sheets. He has this fantasy where he really wants to record your sex so he can use it for tissue time later, but he's too much of a bitch to ask you. He's also hella good with his tongue, it's actually kind of surprising. Plus. You know. He look good as hell down there on his knees like the champ he is.

How noisy is he?

Lmao very. But only when he's actually having sex, if he's just beating it, he's pretty quiet. But during the real deal... Yeah, that loud ass moaning and swearing Evelyn hears from Zig's room is indeed her son getting to third base with a lady person.

How long does he last?

Thirty minutes tops for him. Not bad.

Protection or no?

Usually yeah, but for quickies he just pulls out and spills everywhere, which most of the time his mom finds because his stupid ass didn't clean up.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

[ A Note From Zee ]

Y'all, this took me way too long. I'm gonna have to split this into two part. Next part will include Trevor, Mike, and Richie.

[halsteadlover]

𝐌𝐫. & 𝐌𝐫𝐬. 𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐝

*Gif and pics not mine credits to the owner*

• Pairing: Jay Halstead x Fem!Reader.

• Requested: no.

• Summary: you and Jay finally got married but even on your weeding day you can’t seem to be able to keep your hands off each other so you sneak out during the party to have a quick rendezvous.

• Warnings: smut (18+), dirty talking, lots of cursing, fingering, oral sex (m. receiving) unprotected sex (don’t be like them fellas!!!), semi-public sex, so much fluff you’ll drown in it.

• Word count: 7800.

• A/N: PLEASE READ THIS ONLY IF YOU’RE 18+ minors stay away. I’m actually shit at writing summaries y’all can tell. I’m so excited for this fic so y’all better eat this up 😭 I really hope you’ll like it, please let me know what you think and comment, like and reblog, it’d mean the world. Stay safe and love you all xx

“And I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride.”

It was surreal.

You and Jay were finally husband and wife and you couldn't believe it.

“I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you,” he had whispered on your lips when you exchanged your first kiss as husband and wife, your heart bursting with joy and happiness.

On the way to the wedding venue Jay did nothing but kiss and caress your ring finger, still in disbelief you really decided to marry him. You were his, forever.

You couldn’t stop grinning.

Everything seemed more beautiful. The colors were brighter, the air cleaner, the sky bluer, the trees greener.

Everyone present including colleagues, friends, family could see how happy you both were, how much you doted on each other, how much you were in love. There wasn’t anyone who hadn't thought at least once how much they would’ve liked to experience a love like yours. So pure, genuine, crazy, overwhelming.

Jay didn't take his eyes or hands off of you for even a second.

He kept looking at you and the more he saw you smiling, laughing, so happy and carefree, the more he couldn't contain his disbelief. God, he would’ve given you the fucking moon if it meant always seeing that smile on your face. You were so unbelievably beautiful especially in that white dress, which hugged your body so perfectly it seemed to be sewn on you.

My wife.

My wife.

My wife.

He kept repeating in his mind.

How the hell did he get so lucky?

His hand circled your hips with a firm, possessive grip, while his thumb caressed the fabric of the dress that covered your skin. He couldn’t help but stealing kisses from you from time to time, between a ‘congratulations’ and another, whispering how much he loved you and how fabulous you looked in your wedding dress.

“Did I already tell you how stunning you are, my love?” Jay asked as his eyes ran up and down your body, holding you to him with so much passion and desire you felt like you were dying in his arms.

You both had inaugurated the dance floor by doing the first dance and while those present watched the scene with emotion, some of your relatives took videos with their cell phones, unaware of the things that Jay was whispering to you and just seeing with how much adoration you looked at each other.

You smiled as you talked, slowly swaying to the song’s rhythm, unaware of how much your eyes sparkled as you looked at him. He looked at you with just as much admiration, his cheeks aching from how much he was smiling, his heart exploding with joy. Even someone blind could tell how much that man loved and adored you, how much he venerated you, how much he worshiped the land you walked on.

“You're not half bad either Mr Halstead,” you replied with a cheeky smile, unable to take your eyes off him and how wonderfully the suit he was wearing looked on him “God, I just want to rip your clothes off right now,” you continued, not realizing you had actually said it out loud.

Jay's arms tightened around your hips, pulling you further into his body and trying to hide how that one sentence made him feel. “Baby don't talk to me like that… I'm already trying so hard not to drag you away right now. You really want to make me lose my mind?” He warned you in a low tone, his lips brushing your ear before leaving a soft kiss on your cheek. He then sighed with frustration making you chuckle. “I don't think I can last the whole day.”

The song came to an end before you could respond and before you knew it everybody was drunkly dancing around you.

Your feet were sore as you and Jay danced with friends and relatives and you would’ve paid gold to take off those damned torture machines.

Seriously, why did heels have to hurt so much?

You were hot, sweaty but happy, like you had never been before. Jay wasn't much for dancing so he eventually went to talk to some other guests but he was having the time of his life and couldn’t take his eyes off you as he watched you dance, the way your body moved to the music, the way your curves were hugged by your wedding dress, the the way you sprayed happiness from every pore.

The love he felt for you was so unconditional, powerful and intense in such a way it took the air out of his lungs, it made the blood boil in his veins, it consumed him deeply, burned him from inside.

He had never once in his life felt anything like this, not until he met you. It felt like constantly being punched in the stomach every time you looked or smiled at him, it felt like his heart skipped a beat every time he heard your laugh, making it dance to that melody he couldn't wait to hear for the rest of his life. That kind of love was so profound that even when you were sad or cried, he felt like a piece of him was being ripped out of his body, especially when he couldn’t do anything to make you feel better.

He lived for you, breathed for you only, to a point he couldn’t even function when you weren’t by his side.

“Okay, okay, enough, I'd like to dance with my wife now,” Jay's voice made you turn and you almost tripped over your own feet when your eyes landed on him.

He was standing behind you, looking at you with a gorgeous and mischievous smile on his lips, his hands shoved in the pockets of his suit. He exuded confidence from every pore of his body and you couldn’t even explain how you managed to get that man. He was so charming, so dreamy and insanely hot, he completely took your breath away.

My husband.

Wow. How the hell did I get so lucky?

You smiled at him and the friend you were dancing with raised her hands in surrender. “She’s all yours Halstead but treat her right or I’ll kill you.”

His eyes traveled down your body, running his tongue over his bottom lip after biting it as his gaze devoured you with so much intensity and desire that every cell in your body lit up on fire. “She’s in excellent hands Clara, don't worry.”

“Ugh you’re disgusting. Stop eye-fucking my friend in front of me.”

You laughed as he wrapped an arm around your waist, now looking at Clara. “Can you blame me? C’mon look at her.”

“I’m still here and I can here you, you know,” you intervened, giggling as your arm encircled his hips too.

“I'm watching you Halstead, just remember that,” she warned him with an amused look and pointing her finger at him before walking away and going to grab another drink.

Jay then let you go and turned your body to his, holding out a hand towards you, finally meeting your gaze again. “Would you give me the honor of this dance, Mrs Halstead?”.

The way that name slipped from his lips made you melt like a snowman under the heat of the sun's rays, God how much you loved the way it sounded.

Mrs Halstead. Fuck me.

“The honor is all mine Mr. Halstead,” You grabbed his hand and before you knew it you were already pressed against his chest while his arms wrapped again around your hips possessively, almost as if he was afraid to let you go.

“My gorgeous wife” he whispered while swaying to the rhythm of the music. A rush of shivers ran down your spine forming goosebumps all over your skin. “Do you have any idea how much you drive me crazy? I’m so obsessed with you baby.”

His lips left small, sweet kisses on your lips, making you have a hard time to respond. You giggled as his beard tickled you meanwhile he planted chaste kisses along your cheek and neck. He inhaled your scent deeply, a scent he’d never could live without.

“And I’m so obsessed with you.” You wrapped your arms around his neck as his hands slid down the small of your back, resting chastely on your ass. “You make me so insanely happy Mr Halstead.”

Anyone who saw you two would say you were just a beautiful couple dancing happily on the best day of their lives.

But the things Jay was whispering in your ear were far from innocent, they would’ve made even a porn star blush.

“God I can't wait to take this dress off you,” he had said as your bodies moved in time to the music. He had turned you around, pressing your back against his chest and wrapping his arms around your waist. There was a lively song playing at the moment, the bass so loud you could hear it across the room and you couldn't deny you were grinding against him more sensually than you would other times on purpose.

You couldn't control yourself, not when it came to him.

Jay had the ability to make you give in with just two simple words whispered in your ear. Normally you couldn't keep your hands to yourself for a long time, your sexual chemistry had always been high and this moment was no different. You wanted him so badly you almost forgot you were on the dance floor celebrating your wedding.

You almost moaned when you felt his erection pressed against your ass, hard and sore, repressing the instinct to get on your knees and pull down his pants in front of everyone.

“Baby,” he murmured against your ear, leaving wet kisses on your neck. “God the things I would do to you now…”

Your stomach tightened in a vice as the heat in your lower abdomen continued to expand. “Tell me darling. What would you do to me now?” You replied in a question, pressing your ass further against his dick.

God I hope no one notices.

Jay let out a sigh that went straight to your pussy, making your legs clench in desire. “Fuck please stop, I can't take this anymore,” his arms tightened around your hips even more, as if trying to let out the frustration. He felt like he was exploding and the more you kept grinding against him, so sensually to the music’s rhythm, the more he wanted to rip your dress off and fuck you in front of all the guests.

You turned towards him again, placing your hands on his chest and caressing him slowly and sensually while batting your eyelashes seductively as you looked at him.

Jay thought he’d come in his pants just from the way you were looking at him.

His eyes were now hungrily fixed on your lips, which he wanted so desperately wrapped around his hard dick.

“So?” You urged with a smirk on your lipstick-covered lips. “What would you do to me baby?”.

Jay placed his hands on your face, caressing your cheeks with his thumbs. “You really want to know what I would do to my wife right now?”.

You were so desperate you nodded as if you were possessed, God, you would’ve done anything that man asked you. That man that was now your husband.

It's so surreal.

He licked his lips as his eyes moved up and down your body for a moment, quickly but at the same time imprinting every detail of how that dress looked on you in his memory, before returning his eyes to your face and tracing with them the outline of your lips.

“It would be better if I showed her, don't you think?” he whispered against your lips, making you forget again you were in public and not just the two of you.

“Wouldn't it be better if I just showed her the way I would take off her dress and get on my knees for her? Wouldn't it be better if I showed her how much I want and desire her by licking her pussy and every bit and drop of her wetness until her legs tremble? By fucking her so hard until we both forget our names? By being buried so deep inside that sweet little cunt of hers that she’s gonna feel me for days?”.

He pressed his lips on yours in a chaste and sweet kiss, in stark contrast with the things he was saying to you. “And show her how hard I am inside my pants just by looking at her in this dress? Show her how happy I am that she’s my wife? That I get to keep her forever?”.

That's it.

You slightly pulled away from him and grabbed his hand before leading him away from the dance floor and out of the wedding reception, not caring if someone actually saw you two leave. Your free hand held the edge of your dress as the two of you walked down the hall. He followed you like a puppy, a stupid, inebriated smile on his lips, his body quivering with anticipation and frenzy.

You arrived in front of a door that marked ‘storage room’ on its nameplate and looked around noticing that no one was there. You opened the door and pulled Jay inside with you and before you could even fully turn towards him, his hands were already on your face and his lips had captured yours in a kiss that took the breath out of your lungs.

He closed the door with his feet as he devoured you in a passionate and devastating kiss. Never letting you go, he removed one hand from your face before locking the door, returning his full attention to you immediately after.

He didn't know why but that was one of the most beautiful and breathtaking kiss you had ever exchanged, so overwhelming it made his knees weak and his stomach twist.

It may have been the fact that was the first real and passionate kiss as a married couple, maybe it was because he could finally call you his wife, because he could do this for the rest of his life, but all of this drove him like crazy.

“God I want you so much baby,” you breathed out in a little moment of separation. He didn't give you room to do or say anything else because he started kissing you again so intensely that a hit train would’ve been less crushing.

You slightly parted your lips and his tongue slid in your mouth without hesitation as they moved in sync against each other. Your dragged your hands along his chest, touching every bit of his body you could reach, almost shaking from the frenzy and desire of wanting to touch his heated skin.

A deep moan vibrated in his throat when you sucked on his tongue, making him lose that shred of sanity he had left. He pushed you against the wall, his body pressed against yours as he continued to kiss you passionately and greedily.

“You'll be the death of me,” he murmured against your lips as he planted kisses up your jaw and down to your neck. His tongue wet your skin as he nibbled it, his lips sucking at the same time making you gasp and writhe in pleasure. “I want to fucking rip this dress off you.”

You giggled – since the feeling was pretty much reciprocated – eyes still half closed as you enjoyed the sensation his lips gave you. “Don't you dare, it was expensive as fuck.”

He suddenly pulled away from you and a cold feeling took over you at that distance. His eyes traveled down your body and how your wedding dress hugged every single curve perfectly, fuck, it felt like it had been sculpted on you, like it was made just for you to wear.

He just wanted to take a good look at you, imprint in his memory every single detail of you in your white wedding dress.

But the way he looked at you, God. He was like a predator about to haunt his prey, glaring at it with desire, ready to capture it and devour its flesh with voracity and hunger. You felt so beautiful, like you could rule the world, like you were unstoppable, and you could only thank your husband for that.

“Fuck baby…” His chest rising and falling heavily due to that ardent kiss. He bit his bottom lip so hard he thought it’d start bleeding. He shook his head slightly as he continued to look at you lustfully, as if he could hardly believe you really existed, that you were actually his. “My beautiful, perfect wife…” He sighed. “I could just come from looking at you damn it.”

You pulled him back to you by the collar of his jacket and had to use all the strength you had in your body not to tear it off him along with that shirt. You kissed him again as your hands roamed down his body. You just couldn't take it anymore, you felt you’d explode soon or later if you didn't have him immediately.

You slipped his jacket off his shoulders, dropping it to the floor and hastily unbuttoned his shirt, eager to finally touch him, feel his skin against yours.

He did the same, unzipping your dress and you pulled away as he helped you step out of it. You didn't care if it got dirty or even ripped, you were just eager to finally have him, to feel him, your mind too foggy to think about anything other than Jay. But he took your dress instead of dropping it on the floor and placed it on an empty chair there.

This gesture made you smile with happiness and with every passing second you couldn't help but think about how you couldn't have chosen a better man to be your husband.

It was only then that Jay realized what you were wearing underneath your wedding dress, that vision alone almost making him fall unconscious on the floor. You were wearing one of the sexiest and most breathtaking white lingerie he had ever seen you wear and this made him regret not dragging you out that dance floor sooner.

My fucking wife.

“Baby… Jesus Christ…” he sighed heavily as he looked at you with so much lust and hunger, his mouth and his eyes wide open. “You… Wow… You’re so fucking beautiful… Holy shit…”

“I guess you like it then,” you giggled like a schoolgirl and grabbed his hands, pulling him back to you. He wasted no time touching you, caressing your curves and sliding his hand down your back until he grabbed your ass. He squeezed and massaged it with so much passion you were sure he’d leave some marks.

“Is this what you were hiding from me under that dress? Fuck if I had known I would’ve fucked you on that damn dance floor in front of everyone.” He started to grind his pelvis with yours and making you moan when his hard dick pressed against your intimacy.

“Jay please…” you sighed as he continued to grind against you, making you lose your mind. God you wanted him so much you it hurt.

His lips kept brushing his lips against yours, pulling back when you tried to kiss him and chuckling at your frustration.

“My sweet beautiful wife,” he murmured and placed his lips on your neck, on that particular spot that he knew made you lose your mind. A small moan left your mouth as he began to lick and suck at your skin again and you tilted your head, giving him more access. “I can't wait to be inside you.”

You grabbed his face and pressed your mouth on his, kissing him voraciously and passionately. It was like you were burning inside, as if your soul was trying to escape from inside your body and merge with his.

You had reached the point where you couldn't hold on for a second longer, you wanted your husband, you wanted him to take you there against those cold walls while all the guests danced in the wedding reception unaware of what you were doing.

You frantically unbuttoned his pants and pulled them down along with his boxers and freeing his hard erection, after sliding his shirt down his arms and leaving him naked in all his glory. You wrapped your hand around his erected dick and he let out a throaty moan, so fucking sexy you found yourself squeezing your legs together for some relief.

“Fuck yes…” he groaned as he struggled to continue kissing you while your hand pumped up and down on his dick. “I want to fuck this pretty mouth so bad,” he placed a hand on your cheek as his thumb caressed your lips. You took it into your mouth, licking and sucking it while your eyes were fixed on his.

He stopped when another loud moan left his mouth and he tilted his head back, his mind too clouded with pleasure. “Shh… You don’t want anyone to hear us don’t you love?” You smirked as you let go of his thumb.

“I don't give a fuck, I just need you,” he whimpered in an increasingly desperate tone.

“Yeah? How bad do you need me baby? Tell me,” you whispered sensually, biting his bottom lip as you slowed the pace of your hand and earning a frustrated verse from him.

“Fuck… Stop playing with me,” he warned you while at the same time his hips buckled up to meet your hand’s motion. You drew imaginary circles on his tip with your thumb, wet from the stain of precum. “Fucking tease,” he hissed before kissing you again. It was a sloppy and messy kiss, his tongue exploring every inch of your mouth, your saliva mixing with each other.

“Now get on your knees.”

Your pussy clenched at the sound of those words and you were never so happy to obey. You were about to kneel down but before you could, he picked up his jacket from the ground and placed it in front of you, making you smile like an idiot.

If there was one thing that Jay cared about more than anything it was knowing that you were comfortable, everything else came second and this was one of the many things you loved about him: how thoughtful and caring he was, even at certain times you always came first.

“I love you so much, you know that?” You kissed him sweetly, making him smile.

“It’ll be better for you since I put a ring on that finger.” He chuckled. “And I love you so much more.”

Your heart exploded in your chest and you kissed him one last time before kneeling down, your eyes still in his as he watched with attention every little movement you made.

You jerked him off again before moving your face closer to his dick, sticking your tongue out and he almost fainted… Fuck, he wanted to take a picture of that moment so badly, he would’ve printed it out and hung it all over your home because that vision alone was pure heaven.

Maybe it wasn't a proper thing to do to compare the image of you with his dick in your hand and your tongue sticking out to heaven, but he was too distracted to think about it.

A deep, guttural moan escaped his mouth as you traced a long wet line with your tongue from the base of his dick to the tip, which went straight to his pussy, forcing you to squeeze your legs together again.

“Ah holy shit…” he sighed, breaking off with another moan when you drew circles on his tip with your tongue just as you had done with your thumb not long before, tasting the saltiness of the leaking precum. “Fuck baby please stop torturing me…”

You smirked before wrapping your lips around his veiny dick and taking it fully into your mouth, starting a steady rhythm as you bobbed your head up and down his shaft.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he whimpered in pleasure as the heat of your mouth enveloped him. His eyes were half closed, his lips slightly parted as he struggled to maintain control and not make any noises. But it was so fucking hard, especially when your eyes were looking at him with so much sensuality they took the air out of his chest, not when your mouth was making him more ecstatic than any drug that existed.

“Yeah baby just like that… Oh yes… My sweet girl…”

He threw his head back, giving you a perfect view of his neck, his prominent jawline and veins and that alone was one of the hottest, sexiest things you had ever seen in your entire life.

His moans filled that little storage room and you hoped for a second no one was passing by or they would’ve surely heard him, but this thought immediately vanished, too caught up to his pleasure to care about the rest of the world.

Jay began to move his hips, fucking your mouth and hitting the back of your throat with the tip of his dick. “Shit, shit…” he loudly moaned “God you’re so fucking pretty with my dick in your mouth.”

And it was true.

You were so breathtakingly beautiful. Especially with your watery eyes, the mascara running down your cheeks, your lips swollen and pink as they continued to grind on his shaft, back and forth, again and again.

You tried not to gag while he continued to fuck your throat with particular voracity but it was almost impossible, just as it was becoming difficult to breathe as his dick kept completely filling your mouth.

“Y-yes baby… Oh fuck… That mouth of yours will be the death of me.”

Even though you were the one on your knees, you felt so powerful. Damn it, how much you loved knowing you were the only one who could make him feel this way, that you were the only one whose mouth he could fuck so mercilessly it almost made you choke on his dick, knowing that his moans, his sighs and whimpers were only and solely for you, knowing that it was only you who was making him lose his mind so badly.

He placed a hand on your head, threading his fingers into your styled hair, tugging and making you moan onto his dick. God you loved it when he did that, and he knew it.

Sensing you were having trouble breathing, Jay pulled his dick out of your mouth, taking it into his hand. “Stick out your tongue.”

You did as he said, feeling every cell in your body go up in flames.

“Such a good girl. My baby is so good for me."

He smirked as he began to slam his dick against your tongue which left a long stream of saliva on it, his other hand still in your hair as he continued to maneuver your head to his liking.

“You like that huh? You like being my pretty little slut?”.

“Fuck yes baby, please use me.”

He put his dick in your mouth again, letting out some of the most borderline pornographic moans you’ve ever heard along with strings of obscenities and profanities.

“My wife is so dirty… Oh god yeah… She likes being dirty for me?” He groaned and you managed to nod while looking at me through your lashes. It didn't take long for him to feel the orgasm starting to build inside him and he had to stop, not being able to hold on any longer.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck stop baby, you're gonna make me come,” he panted as if he'd run a marathon, stepping back and letting his dick pop out of your mouth. “I… Fuck, I need to be inside you.”

Before you could say or do anything, he helped you get on your feet and pressed his lips to yours still swollen, wet and pink from the killer blowjob you had just given him. He pressed your back against the cold wall but you didn't care, you were too hot to notice.

A moan escaped your lips this time when he moved your lace panties to the side with his fingers and slid them over your pussy.

“Fuck… Baby, ah yeah…”

“So fucking wet god… You drive me insane, I can't wait to be inside this pussy,” he kissed your neck as his fingers drew imaginary circles on your clit giving you the pleasure you so much needed.

Your hips began to slowly rotate following the same movement he was doing, your mind clouded with pleasure as you felt yourself already on the verge of an orgasm. God you were so horny, you didn't think you'd ever been this eager to fuck him.

“Look at that, fuck me, you're soaking my hands baby…”

“Bab-… Fuck yes… Please…” you babbled senselessly, struggling to keep at bay the moans and sighs that had taken the place of Jay's and were filling the storage room at that moment. “I… I can't…”

You wrapped an arm around his neck while grabbing his bicep with the other hand, trying to find some support because you felt like you’d collapse on the floor at any moment.

Your lips nibbled and sucked the skin of his neck making him sigh in your ear, on one hand to keep your almost uncontainable moans and on the other because you wanted to mark him, because you loved seeing what you did to him, you loved knowing he has only yours.

“Ah yeah… Fuck…” you hissed, biting down on his skin when he penetrated you with two fingers.

“Yes baby, fuck yourself on my fingers. Show me how much you like when your husband touches you like that.”

“J-Jay… Oh shit… I need you please…” you managed to stammer between moans. You felt like you were about to come but you needed to feel him, you needed his dick inside you.

Jay pulled his fingers out and you almost had a heart attack when he brought them to his lips. Without his eyes ever leaving yours, he licked away every trace of your fluids, humming with pleasure as he tasted you.

“You taste like heaven, I can't wait to lick every fucking drop and make you come on my face.”

“Jay I'm about to lose my goddamn mind. Please hurry up.”

He chuckled and brought his hands to your ass, pressing your half covered pussy by your panties still pulled aside against his dick, making both of you sigh with desire.

“What do you want baby? Tell me.”

You grabbed his face with your hands, pressing your mouth against his and sliding your tongue inside his when he slightly parted his lips. His hands continued to massage your now red ass, pressing his fingers hard as you kept grinding against each other.

“I want my husband to fuck me against this wall,” you whispered against his lips, pink and swollen from your impetuous kisses, your noses brushing.

My husband.

These simple words made him feel a sensation he couldn’t quite describe, an explosion of emotions that caused an electric shock to go through his entire body, which made his heart beat wildly and his legs feel like jelly.

It was pure melody.

It was so sweet and sexy at the same time, it made him was so happy he felt like he was touching the sky with a finger. He was your fucking husband and he couldn’t still fathom the idea he really managed to make you his wife.

Jay crashed his lips against yours again, sucking out that little trace of your soul you still had left in your body. He was eager to possess you, to feel you, to show you how much he loved and wanted you.

His hands lowered to your thighs and you took that as a sign to jump into his arms. With almost astonishing ease, he lifted you up and you wrapped your legs around his hips and your arms around his neck.

Your back was pressed against the cold wall but it didn't bother you, you couldn't even feel it. With one hand he held your thigh, while the other stroked his dick a couple of times before aligning it towards your entrance, penetrating you with a single slow thrust and making both of you to let out a loud and deep moan.

“Jesus Christ, fuck…” he moaned, using every ounce of his will and strength not to come instantly. His other hand settled on your thigh again and his fingers pressed so hard they felt like they were going to tear your skin at any moment.

Jay had his face buried in the crook of your neck, his lips wide open as if trying to get some air, his breathing quickened.

“Shit baby you feel so good inside me,” you breathed out as his dick stretched out every corner of your vagina. He wasn't even moving and you were already falling apart. “Please move…”

Jay pulled out of you slightly just to penetrate you again, this time with more force. He started moving his hips slowly, in and out of you, making you crave for more. But it didn't take long for him to start fucking you like his life depended on it, his thrusts now stronger.

He was thrusting so deep you could feel him in every corner of your body and a piece of you disintegrating with each passing second. Your arms held him close to you, your fingers on his shoulders while your nails slid across his skin, leaving marks that would probably stay there for days.

“God baby I can't get enough of you, f-fuck…” he groaned in your ear as his lips left trails of wet kisses on your neck and his tongue licked your sweaty skin.

You tried to answer but the pleasure was so intense, so high you couldn’t get anything out of your mouth other than a moan or a whimper. It felt so fucking good you couldn't even describe it.

A particularly loud moan escaped your lips as he gave a particular deep thrust, making you almost jump out of your skin as he hit your G-spot. “Oh my fucking god… Just like that… Oh yeah baby…”

“That's it, moan for for me princess. You’re being so good.”

He raised his head from the crook of your neck so he could look at you. You opened your eyes and met his eyes shining with luxury and passion, his pupils so dilated you couldn’t see the green of his irises.

His dick twitched inside you as he continued to fuck you against the wall mercilessly, and seeing you so deeply in the throes of pleasure, your mouth slightly open, your cheeks flushed, your eyes half closed… He was going crazy.

You kept looking at each other’s eyes, extending the deep connection between you two to another level. It wasn’t just your bodies that were fucking, but your souls too and you would’ve payed gold to stop the time and live this moment over and over again, forever.

“I love you so much baby, God I love you.”

“Fuck.” He crashed his lips into yours in a messy and sloppy kiss due to the continuous gasps interrupting you. You rested your forehead on his, both covered in a thin layer of sweat.

“Mine.”

He kissed you as his dick soaked with your fluids continued to thrust in and out of your pussy.

“Mine.”

He kissed you again.

“Mine.”

He kissed you once again, sucking and biting your lower lip but stopped by another moan as your walls clenched around him making him struggle to even stand still.

“God… Oh yes baby keep going… Please…” you spluttered and closed your eyes as you felt your orgasm take over you.

“Don't close your eyes, please look at me… Ah Jesus… Fuck yeah keep clenching around me like that, you’re such a good girl for me baby.”

You did as he said as you placed your hands on his face looking into his eyes and feeling that sensation of pressure twisting and clenching your insides.

“I love you, fuck… S-so much…” you cried out again now, your mind completely gone. Your eyes started to water from the intensity of his thrusts and you felt like you were going to implode in that same instant. “I'm coming, I'm coming, I’m coming please don’t stop…”

A loud moan escaped your lips as an overwhelming orgasm hit you like a truck, almost giving you a heart attack. Your arms encircled his neck again, your nails scratching the skin of his shoulders.

You didn't know if you could die from an orgasm but damn that was exactly how you felt. It was like someone made you fall from a ten-story building without a parachute.

Jay exploded in an orgasm after a few more thrusts, filling your pussy with his cum until the last drop before pulling out. He exhaustedly rested his head on your shoulder leaving small, sweet kisses on your neck.

The silence that now reigned in the storage room was only broken by your panting while you both tried to catch your breath as if you had just run a marathon.

You felt so good in that moment, like your body was floating in space and you didn't know if it was the thrill of being discovered, if it was the wedding, but that was the best sex you had ever had.

“God I can't feel my body anymore,” you murmured and he chuckled as you stroked the hair on the back of his head, leaving kisses on his cheek in the meantime.

That little room smelled of him, you and sex and you had never smelled a more sublime fragrance.

“Can we stay here forever?”.

“I'm afraid we still have a party to attend,” he tiredly chuckled again. Jay raised his head to look at you, a stupid smile on his lips, his heart happy. “Do you have any idea how fucking beautiful you are angel?”.

You smiled and gave him a kiss on the lips, this time sweet and gentle in contrast to the ones exchanged so far. “And you're a flatterer Mr Halstead, I know I look awful right now, my makeup is all ruined.”

“You’ve never been more beautiful than you are now Mrs Halstead. You look like you've been fucked properly.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, already starting to imagine the jokes and teasing your friends would make as soon as they’d see you, not to mention the embarrassment in front of your relatives and family.

You decided you’d think about this at the right time.

After both of your regained a bit of strength again, Jay carefully put you down but wrapping an arm around your waist when your knees buckled and you nearly fell to the ground.

“Wipe that stupid grin off your face,” you commented with mock annoyance when you noticed the smug, proud expression he was looking at you with and the way he was trying not to chuckle.

“I take full credit,” he laughed and before you could respond he silenced you with a kiss, making you forget what you even wanted to say.

After getting dressed, Jay helped you put your wedding dress back on, zipping it up your back and helping you fix your hair and what was left of your makeup as much as he could. He left a kiss on your right shoulder as his hands stroked up and down your arms. “I don't want to go back there.”

He kept planting kisses on your shoulder and up towards the crook of your neck and your jaw until he reached your cheek which he insisted on, making you smile stupidly. His arms wrapped around your hips from behind, pressing your body against him and holding you until you were almost breathless.

“Where did the ‘we have a party to attend’ go?” You teased him, meanwhile placing your hands on his and caressing them.

“I want you all to myself, I'm not ready to share you with other people again, plus now I want to fuck you again.”

You laughed, feeling your cheeks heat up. “Already?“.

“Already? Baby I would spend twenty-four hours a day and seven days a week buried deep inside you, don't act like you don't know me c'mon.” He kissed you again. “And above all seeing my cum dripping out of you and this damn lingerie drives me crazy, you can’t seriously expect me to resist you.”

You turned to him and cupped his face in your hands before pressing your lips against his as his arms encircled your hips again. A flock of butterflies exploded inside your stomach and he kissed you breathtakingly, making you lose the ground beneath your feet.

“I love you so much,” you whispered between kisses, forgetting again that the two of you had been locked in that storage room for God knew how long. “I'm so happy I married you.”

He smiled as you kissed him again, almost making you kiss his teeth. He’d never get tired of hearing it, no matter how much you had said it. “God baby I love you so much more.” He held you even tighter, as if he wanted to somehow get under your skin and steal your soul, which he had actually been doing for so long.

“My wife, my wife, my wife,” he continued to whisper, stealing several more kisses from you, kisses that he actually couldn't even manage to give you because of the way you couldn't stop smiling.

“You make my heart so happy.”

“Stop you're going to make me cry,” you hit him lightly on the shoulder covered by his jacket, feeling your eyes fill with tears.

God, could you love someone so much it hurt? Because that's how you felt.

You loved that man so much. So intensely you couldn't sleep when he wasn't there, so much you missed him even when he was just a few meters away from you, so deeply you couldn't imagine a life without him since the moment you met him.

You had always dreamed of an everlasting love, the kind that took your breath away just by thinking of it, that fairytale love, that love you had always read in novels and seen in films and Jay Halstead gave you all this and much more than you ever imagined or deserved.

He was peace.

He was home.

He was everything you had ever wanted and more.

Jay took your hands in his, bringing them to his lips and leaving a kiss on both of them, focusing in particular on your ring finger. His eyes shone like the ring’s stone at that moment and you looked at them mesmerized, thinking about how lucky you were to be able to do this all your life.

“We should go back there…” you murmured in a low voice, already sad for having to break that little bubble in which you took refuge even if not for a long time.

He snorted like a child but nodded. “I can't wait to have you all for myself.”

He intertwined his fingers with yours before unlocking the door and peeking out for a moment to see if anyone was nearby.

“Shit,” he muttered, immediately closing the door again when he saw a waiter walking down the hall holding an empty tray.

You let out a laugh when you saw his expression and he covered your mouth with his hand. “Shh, they'll hear us.”

“Baby we were fucking against the wall ten minutes ago, I'd say we're a little late for that don’t you think?” you whispered back, taking his hand away and looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

He playfully rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah whatever. Now kiss me.”

Before you could say anything he pulled you towards him by your hips, pressing his lips on yours. His body was pressed against the door and yours against his, your arms around his neck and his around your waist as his hands slid on your ass while you made out like teenagers hiding from your own parents.

“I'll never get tired of kissing you, it'll never be enough,” he whispered against your lips, nibbling and sucking your lower lip, making you sigh.

“I know what you're doing, stop it. Until proven otherwise it's still our wedding and we have to celebrate it,” you admonished him, dropping your hands to his chest and slightly pushing yourself away from him. You got a sound of disappointment in response, just what a child would do.

“You know what’s a great way to celebrate? Having sex. C'mon baby, come here.” He tried to put his hands on your hips again but you took a step back, crossing your arms over your chest in mock disappointment.

“We have a whole life to have wild sex. You don’t want to celebrate your wedding with your wife?”.

“Drop the act baby, I’m not falling for it,” he boop your nose with his index finger, a gesture that immediately made you smile even though you tried so hard to hold it back. “Of course I want to celebrate with you, that's not what I meant. This is the best day of my life.”

He chuckled before grabbing your hand and moving away from the door. He opened it again and like a few moments before, he checked no one was coming. When he realized that no one was passing by at that moment, you both left the storage room and he closed the door behind you.

You both smoothed your dress even though it was totally useless, anyone from a mile away could tell you had some hot sex just some moments before.

But you didn't care, it was your day, yours and Jay's and damn, you were free to do whatever you wanted even if it meant sneaking out of your own party to have sex in a storage room.

Okay, it wasn't a very proper thing to do but what could you say, all couples consummated their marriage on their wedding night, you and Jay had just rushed things along.

So you walked hand in hand with your fingers intertwined towards the wedding reception, both of you with a stupid and joyful smile on your faces and happy as you had never been, ready to get drunk and finally start your life together.

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[astroboots]

Min Redux

CO-WRITTEN WITH @THIRSTWORLDPROBLEMSS

Pairing: Marc Spector x female reader x Steven Grant (x hints of Jake Lockley)

Summary: Marc is possessed by a horny ancient sex spirit and refuses the help you're willingly offering. Sequel to Gift of Min but can be read as stand alone.

Content: sex pollen, restraints, Marc being a stubborn bastard.

Word count; 12,800 words (do not look at me)

ASTROBOOT’S MASTERLIST | MOON KNIGHT MASTERLIST

There's a white, pot-bellied goose staring up at Marc expectantly with hunger. He ignores it, pretending he doesn't see it as he turns his head, eyes circling around the park.

If he ignores it, it will give up eventually.

"Oh hello there fella! You're a plump one aren't you?"

Marc resists the deeply ingrained urge to roll his eyes. Of course, Steven would acknowledge the animal.

“I think it wants us to feed it”, Steven says.

Marc hums in acknowledgment. He doesn't want to get into this right now. Doesn't want Steven distracted and excitedly buzz in their head with anecdotes about Geese and the bird wildlife in London when they're supposed to be on the lookout for their contact.

Flicking his wrist, Marc glares at his watch.

8:12am.

Twelve minutes late. You'd think Ancient Egyptian Deities would have some kind of culling process when picking their Avatars. Punctuality should be a bare minimum requirement.

He leans back against the wooden slats of the park bench, hands shoved inside his field jacket against the chill of the London air as a woman with a stroller walks by nearly running over the goose in the process (to Steven's outrage). For the umpteenth time since he sat down, Marc's fingers trace the lining until he catches at the sharp edge of the small golden trinket box, just to make sure it's still there.

Gift of Min. A tiny trinket box that's been sealing away some sex-crazed sprite serving the Ancient God of Sex for decades. One that Steven managed to accidentally free with his uncanny puzzle solving skills in just under a minute, getting himself possessed in the process.

Marc's fingers clutch at the brass-metal, until it's digging into his palms as he squeezes down. Flashes of your bare skin underneath Steven's hands, and the soft curves of your naked form pressed underneath him, pushes to the surface of his mind.

Fuck, he shakes his head. No, his mind is not going there. He needs to stay here, in the present, find the other Avatar and hand this over so it's out of your lives for good.

Get rid of it so that what happened last week won't ever repeat itself. He won’t allow that to happen, won’t risk putting you in harm’s way again.

It's all so vivid and Marc has replayed the memory of it so many times, every detail of it. Every gasp, moan and whimper of your voice. The way your back arched from the floor, the way your mouth fell open. The way your eyes would roll back right before you came… repeatedly. He’s played it like a VHS tape on repeat until it’s been so worn out from replays that the image is filled with static and he almost can't tell anymore if it was entirely Steven's experience or his as well, trapped as he was in the mind space. 

Steven rutting into you mindlessly like an animal. Hips snapping against your soft plump thighs. Your legs squeezed tight around his hips, around his cock as you kept coming uncontrollably, again and again and–

"Marc Spector?"

With a jolt, Marc's pulled from his thoughts at the voice. Looking up, there's a man standing two feet away from him with a much too friendly smile on his face for someone that's—Marc flicks his watch—22 minutes late.

The man reaches out a hand in an inviting gesture to shake Marc's hand.

These Avatars always want to make pleasantries and be friends, like they're all part of the Mickey Mouse Club on account of their ostensible connection of being in indentured servitude to defunct Egyptian Gods.

Reluctantly, Marc relents, slipping one hand out of his pocket. The man's hand is bony, his grip tight like he's trying to assert dominance by crushing Marc's hand. Then he lets it go, the smile spreading even wider with that uncanny eager friendliness.

"I believe you have something for me?"

Standing up from the bench, Marc reaches into his pocket again and shoves it into the man's hand.

"Ah there it is. Gorgeous little thing isn't it?" Min’s avatar holds the box up in the daylight, inspecting it as if it were a diamond, then he tilts his head with a confused expression.

"Oh dear," he says.

At first, Marc misses the alarm in his voice, because the man practically sings out the words.

"What?" Marc asks. 

Instead of answering Marc, the man hums, turning the trinket box in his hand as if weighing the contents, his friendly smile fading into a slight frown.

"What is it?" Marc repeats, irritated this time.

"Well…" the man shifts the box into his other hand, repeating the same weighing motion. Then the man holds the box up to his ear, like he’s trying to hear the ocean in a seashell.

The Avatar’s inability to give a straight answer has Marc's patience balanced on a tenuous line that he can physically hear as it snaps.

"What is wrong," Marc repeats for a third time through gritted teeth.

"The seal's been opened."

There's a tension in Marc's jaw as he grinds down on his teeth. "There was an accident. Someone opened it. But I made sure to trap the sprite back inside."

"Well whatever you did, you didn't do a good enough job.” The man says it so matter-of-factly like it’s not even an insult, and Marc has to take a deep calming breath, his hand closing into a fist. 

“The puzzle sequence wasn't completed when you retrapped the spirit and thus not sealed. It must have escaped." This time, the man flips the panels in sequence of motion, in-out-up-up-down until Marc loses track. The gears in the box whir and the box opens-- and adrenaline ramps up in Marc as instincts have him backing away from the box, holding up an arm to shield his nose and mouth shut.

But there's nothing. No blue shiny smoke like last time.

It's empty.

“Wait so what does that mean?” you ask him, as you stab the fork into the thick double slice of french toast he’s made you. Double dipped in batter drowned in cinnamon sugar, just the way you like them.

Turning on the tap, Marc fills the kettle with water as he puts it on the stove to boil your morning tea.

Except it’s not morning anymore. It’s the afternoon now, almost 1pm. You slept through the whole of the morning, but considering the morning-afternoon-and parts of the evening you endured with Steven barely 48 hours ago, Marc is hardly going to begrudge you sleeping in.

“Don’t worry about it,” Marc says, hoping his reassurance will allay any worries you may have. Because you don’t have to worry. He’s going to fix it—fix everything—and keep you out of trouble this time.

But as he looks up at you, the frown that borders on a glare on your face tells him that was absolutely the wrong thing to say.

Shit, he’s doing that thing again isn’t he? The very thing you told him not to do after the post-possession talk.

His shoulders sag. He sighs in capitulation. Right. Communication. Tell you things.

“I have to find it again. This time I’ll have Steven seal it so it doesn’t escape.”

“It’s been days, it could be anywhere, did they tell you how to find it? Do we have some kind of magical ancient artifact compass?”

Marc’s shoulders tenses at your use of ‘we.’ There’s no ‘we’ here. He’s not getting you involved in this. He’s gonna catch it. Steven’s gonna seal it. That’s the plan.

“Marc?” You ask, but he pretends he doesn’t hear you as he moves to the cupboard, to find a teapot.

“Do we know how to find it?” you repeat when he doesn’t answer.

He pretends to busy himself, foregoing the perfectly good teapots he can use that sits in the front and pushes them aside as he continues to search the cupboard.

If he ignores you, you will give up eventually.

Faintly, he thinks he can hear Jake’s (sarcastic) voice in his head. “Jefe, she’s not a Goose. Ignoring her isn’t going to cut it.”

“Stop pretending you’re looking for teapots and ignoring me. I’m just going to keep asking until you answer.”

Shit.

You’re so insistent. Worse than park geese. Worse than Steven and Jake combined.

“No compass,” Marc answers as he pulls out a random teapot in the furthest corner. Dusty from lack of use. He’s gonna have to clean this. With the way Steven cleans this apartment, it might be covered in asbestos for all he knows.

“The guy said it likes cramped small enclosed places. Tiny chests, jewelry boxes, tupperware. Anything that closes with a lid.”

“That hardly narrows it down in London!”

“Like I said, I’ll take care of it.”

Turning on the tap, he runs the teapot under water in the sink, scrubbing the dust and grime. He lifts the lid but it’s been so long since it’s been used the pot is practically sealed shut from dirt, even as Marc pushes against the top.

He can hear you approaching from behind. “You won’t get it open that way,” you offer as you turn the tap and turn it as far as it goes for hot water. Then you take the pot from him, running the lid over the running water, gripping at the base and start to turn it until he can hear it give with a quiet ‘pop’.

“Tada!”

You’re grinning at your success, and Marc has to bite the inside of his cheek to tamper down his own smile at the sight of you. Because fuck, that gloating, I-know better-than-you smile, (which should be aggravating) is infectious.

“See! This is why you need me,” you sing-song, rubbing your success in his face as you lift the lid. He’s so distracted by your easy-smile and glow of schadenfreude he doesn’t pay attention to the quiet hiss of pressure that gives from the lid.

A tendril of blue-white fog rises up, reaching towards you. Before Marc fully processes what he’s doing, he’s already stepping forward into your space. One hand clasps at your wrist as he yanks you backwards and away from the kitchen.

Gotta fucking be kidding him. That fucking thing was hiding in the teapot all this time.

It hits him like a kick in the gut. It’s like swallowing live fire into his throat except it keeps burning all the way as it travels into his chest and digs into the inside of his stomach, settling into every inch of his flesh. It’s the feeling of downing a bottle of whiskey in one sitting with none of the side sickness and nausea that he has to swallow down. It burns and crackles inside his veins.

With the intensity of the heat as it bubbles in his blood, he had expected it to hurt. It doesn’t. Instead it’s molten and slow, oozing through his system like a heated haze. He feels heady as the sensation rushes through him from the curl of his toes to the tip of his nose until it has his scalp tingling. It’s pleasant. Euphoric even if he lets his mind linger on it. He doesn’t.

From a distance he thinks he can hear your voice, and buried underneath the fog, Steven’s concerned babbling. But it’s drowned out by the blood thrashing in his ears. He tries to find you, but his vision is swimming in front of him.

Then he hears it, you’re shouting his name. You sound so worried.

He can feel you. Soft and doting hands cupping his cheeks with a tender touch that has the heat in his stomach reach a boiling point, then you tilt his face upwards to meet your worried gaze.

It’s the same expression on your face when you were tending to Steven not two days ago. Heat spikes in his lower belly, his cock twitching against the constricted confines where it’s trapped under hard denim.

‘Need you’, a voice inside his head, neither Steven or Jake’s but entirely his own, calls out. ‘Want you’.

Flashes of you, your back arching from the floor, trapped underneath him as he thrusts into you invade his vision. The phantom sensation of your wet tightness wrapped around his cock shivers through him and the ache makes the length of him pressed hard against his boxers, twitch and leak against the soft fabric.

Fuck… He can’t put you through that again.

He can’t have you here.

"Leave," he grits out, scooting backwards, dragging himself away from you by the heel of his hands along the wooden floor.

"What?"

"You need to go. Leave!" He barks out.

He tries to get up but fuck, his legs have gone all wobbly like fucking Bambi, can't steady himself, and his faulty balance has you running forwards towards him. 

Marc throws out his hands, palms up as a signal for you to keep your distance.

"No! Don't get close to me. You need to go now."

He grabs at the side of one of the wooden shelves, as he steadies himself on his feet and props himself up, but fuck, everything is spinning. He feels like he's drunk, and he closes his eyes to make it stop.

"Marc," you say his name so softly, it makes the heat in his veins grow hotter. There's liquid fire pumping through his blood.

Even with his eyes closed, he sees you.

You underneath him, exhausted and fucked out. Swollen lips kissed raw and tender. Legs shiny and slick, with your come and his, as it drips over his cock in a shiny silvery thread and down the wooden floor below.

Shit! Shit! Stop, don't think of that.

His eyes fly open to the sight of you, the you in front of him right now, your pretty face mere inches from his. Lips so close he can practically fucking taste you already on his tongue from pure sense memory.

He's getting worse by the second. He's not sure how much longer he can keep his body in check. Every inch of him wants to touch you. Fingers itching to dig into your plump flesh. His cheeks tingle and all he wants is to have your thighs pressing down and enveloping his face. His tongue is heavy in his mouth and salivating at the thought of licking every inch of your soft skin, to have the familiar taste of you fill his mouth– fuck, he can’t– he needs something to restrain himself with as a precaution.

His eyes flicker to the bed, and of course, it's not there. Where is Steven's stupid ankle bracelet when it’s actually needed? 

Shit.

Wait, the cuffs. Jake keeps some cuffs here, where did he – his eyes roam the space, until he spots the shiny metal glinting from underneath Jake's cap that he's carelessly slung against the shelf behind him.

"I'm not going to leave you here by yourself. Let me help," you say and his eyes linger on your pouty lips, the way they open and close as you bite your lower lip in worry. He wants to sink his own teeth into them until you whine for him. Slip his aching cock between them, until his hard cock is enveloped by your softness.

He shakes his head, taking a step back as he looks around himself, planning his exit route. The front door is behind you, which means he'd have to get past you to get out.

Crap. Stubborn as you are, you'd try to block him in a heartbeat, and unless he's gonna tackle you (out of the question) this is going to get him nowhere.

"You can't help with this," he says, eyes continuing to scan the room until he spots the open door to the bathroom.

You frown, eyes narrowing in irritation. "I can actually. We've been here before Marc. I helped Steven remember?"

And fuck does he remember, can't forget. That's part of the problem.

Your hand reaches for him, fingertips brushing over his fisted knuckles, and the touch of it tingles with a burning ache.

"It'll feel better if you let me help you," you say.

Marc takes a step back, arm reaching behind him, until he feels the cold metal against his hand and grabs the cuff.

"I'm not going to do that to you," he says. Before you get a chance to respond, he's already turning around. He's leaping on his feet, darting to the bathroom and slams the door shut behind him.

His fingers are trembling, cold sweat dripping down his forehead as he fumbles locking the door.

From behind the door he can hear your panicked voice calling for him.

"Marc? Marc!!"

The rickety panel door rattles and shakes against the frame with your effort to slide it open. “Marc, did you lock the door?! Marc!” 

You sound so worried, and a small pang digs under his skin when he hears you. 

It’s so stupid. He knows you’re safe, that the worry in your voice is meant for him, and yet every instinct in his body is screaming out for him to check on you and make sure you’re okay. He fights it. Eyes darting around the tiny confined space to search for something, anything, permanently affixed to the wall that he can cuff himself to. 

“Marc, open the door or I’m gonna kick this bloody thing down. I swear to god.”

Marc doesn’t have much to work with. There’s the toilet, the sink, with nothing he can attach the cuffs to, and the railing to the shower head that looks… flimsy at best. Still beggars can’t be choosers. 

Forcing his stupidly shaky hands to bring the cuffs to the shower, he tightens one end to his wrist until he can feel the sharp metal dig through his skin, hard enough that it’s probably going to cause the blood flow to constrict. 

Stupid, he’s so stupid, he knows better than this, but his coordination isn’t cooperating and if Marc is honest with himself, the blunt pain helps. 

Helps his mind to sharpen and to distract himself from the burning heat that’s riding him hard at the sound of your voice on the other end of the door calling his name. 

Helps him to shove down the pathetic need that sings in his vein to tear off the flimsy panel door and run into your arms and beg you to help him. 

Helps him find the will in himself to clasp the other end of the cuffs around the metal rod before it clicks satisfyingly to let him know the deed is done. 

Safe. the metal click tells him. You’re safe from him now. He couldn’t get his grubby hands on you even if his weak will breaks. 

The rattling of the door has stopped now. The room fills with silence and you’re no longer shouting for him. Marc turns back and sees the shadow of your feet under the spring as you walk away from the door. You’ve finally given up on him. 

Good. That’s good. 

You should get as far away from him as possible. With any luck, you’re already halfway down the stairs towards the tube.

He knows you’re pissed. Probably slamming the front door on your way out. But that’s ok. He’ll take your anger over your worry. He can deal with anger, knows how to handle it like an old shitty friend he wants to cut ties with but never can. What he can’t take is the way you sounded when you were calling for him. 

The worry. The care. You always care. And it’s wasted on him. All that’s ever earned you since you got involved with him is trouble. 

If you weren’t involved with him then you wouldn’t have been in their apartment that morning when Steven opened the stupid thing. If you weren’t there, Marc would’ve taken over, would’ve taken care of himself instead of — instead of– 

‘Steven, fuckfuck Steven–’ the phantom memory of your voice rings hauntingly sharp in his ears. Slurred and honeyed, the feel of you, slick and dripping between your thighs, clamping down tightly on his Steven’s cock. 

His whole body aches. Skin flushed and burning and his brain feels feverish and rubbed raw with heat at the fraying edges. 

A shower. A cold shower will help. 

Marc takes a shaky breath, as his fingers fumble with the taps. Turning the cold water as far as it goes. He thinks he’s prepared for it but he’s not. It’s a shock to the system. The cold water slams down on him with a heavy punch. Cold and piercing and bitter as it wraps all around his feverish skin and strangles his lungs with it. 

His eyes are closed, but instead of the blank darkness all he sees are your big eyes staring back up at him. Dazed and out of it, fuckdrunk, on him. 

His skin burns. Blood boiling inside his veins until it’s painful. The icy water is still pummelling down at him punishingly, and he’s grateful for it because he thinks he’s going to incinerate from the inside out if it wasn’t. His cock is hard and heavy against the clammy and cold wet denim that’s pressing up against his searing skin. It’s uncomfortable, painful. 

The memory of you refuses to leave him. The silky feel of you wet and hot and writhing on his painfully hard cock. Fuck, fuck, why does he do this to himself. One hand comes up to his face, and he scrubs it hard with the freezing water, rubbing his thumb into his eyes to help with the throbbing heat that’s growing at his temple. It doesn’t help. Can’t scrub out the image of you, mouth parted, head thrown back as you squirm on his cock, as you grind yourself on him and come… again, and again, and– again. His eyes slam open, until he’s staring at the grungy white tiles of the wall. 

There’s something inside his flesh, burrowing into his skin and veins. An infectious heat that slivers and crawls that drips with hunger and greed. Starved for touch and pleasure, it screams and it roars until it’s all Marc can feel too. He wants it, wants you, and nothing else will do. You and the warmth of your body and the way you always welcome him as you wrap yourself around him. 

Shit, he – fuck. fuckfuckfuck. 

He takes a long shuddery breath and it fogs against the cold of the room. He’s shivering but if it’s from the cold of the water stinging against his skin or the heat burning underneath it he doesn’t know anymore. Does it even matter? 

Everything feels raw and painful. Sore and tangled up inside him. He wants– fuck, no fucking stop. He needs to – 

“Marc.” He can hear it again. Your voice calling out his name. Not Steven’s name, his. It echoes and lingers in his mind, soft and sweet. The way it had been when he’d been the one fucking you into the bed between the soft sheets of their bed the night before the incident. 

The way you’d whimpered it, while your nails were digging crescent shaped marks into his skin that were still denting the back of his shoulders when he’d looked this morning. Tiny little marks that are evidence of your love for him. 

His stomach draws tight, hips hitching up without his permission, desperately searching for any friction… shit shit, it’s not enough and it’s too much, the sensation that spears through his stomach as his cock rubs against the hard seam of his jeans. Heat settles at the base of his spine and the sound that escapes him is pathetic. He’s not sure if it’s a gasp or a sob, but he grinds it down between his teeth, snuffing it out. 

Why is his brain trying to murder him like this? 

The heat (or the cold, he doesn’t know which anymore but it doesn’t matter, one of them) is making his mind fuzzy. The grout delineating the tiles in front of him is blurring together, and the room, Marc realizes, is starting to sway and swim. He draws in another breath into his chest, but there’s no oxygen in it. He tries again, and this time the sharp jagged breath hurts, like swallowing broken glass and needles. He doesn’t know what’s wrong. The body is panicking. 

Jake’s trying to push him for the front seat. Marc can feel it, an insistent presence that lingers at the edges of his mind, trying to gain and take hold. But Marc is much better at resisting him these days. Marc’s not going to let him. He doesn’t trust that Jake will be able to hold himself back when it comes to you. Doesn’t trust that the man won’t selfishly uncuff their body and run straight to where you are. His priorities are different from Marc. Jake’s prime concern is to always take care of their body first, everything else comes secondary to that man. Marc doesn’t trust it. Doesn’t trust him. Not with you. He can’t risk it. 

Alarm and anxiety blares bright in his veins, but he can take it. Can endure this. Can–

There’s a loud slam from behind him. 

“Marc, Jesus christ!” 

The sound of your voice makes him whip around. You’re standing in front of him, the bathroom door’s been shoved to the side, wide open, and you’re holding a butter knife in your one hand and what looks like the remnants of his dismantled door handle in your other. 

His heart flutters erratically, a pleasant warmth trickling into his chest. You’re here.

It lasts for a heartbeat and a half, until the realization hits him harder and colder than any ice water could have. You’re here. You’re actually here.  

There’s a concerned expression in your face as you take him in for a full second. Then you drop the items in your hand and rush forward to him until you’re standing under the shower with him. 

“The water is bloody freezing! Have you lost your mind?” You’re shoving past him to get to the tap and turn it off entirely, as you continue to scold him. “You’re going to get hypothermia”.

Your voice might be harsh, but your hands are soft and doting, palms cupping his cheeks, and your eyes are wide and worried in that way that makes everything inside him tighten. His skin tingles where your fingertips brush up against his cheekbones and it takes everything in him to not nuzzle his mouth against your wrists, chasing into your touch for more. 

“You feel like ice. We need to get you into bed, we need to–” your eyes stop at the shower rail and then trail downwards to his right hand that’s cuffed to it in disbelief. Then he hears you take a long exasperated inhale. “Of course, you did,” you murmur, “of course you’d cuff yourself to the damn shower. Where are the keys, Marc?”

His eyes flicker away from your face to stare at the tiles on his left as he grinds his mouth and jaw shut. 

You sigh, then you come closer. You’re crowding in on him, pressed tight to his chest, “fine, I’ll just look myself shall I?” You stand on your tiptoes to reach for the small shower shelf behind him, lifting a shampoo bottle to check if there’s a key underneath. 

Your hair tickles his nose and the familiar comforting smell of you surround him. You’re soft and warm, and amazing and he just wants to sink his teeth into your bare throat that’s inches from his jaw and bite into you like the sweetest and ripest fruit of Summer. 

You shift as you reach for the highest shelf, hips rubbing up against him where they’re slotted between his thighs and fuck–fuck– 

Sharp heat shoots through his stomach, white pleasure blinding and intense that rushes to his head and his knees want to fold under his weight. He groans at the touch and you freeze as he does. 

For a moment both of you are silent and still. The only thing Marc can hear is his own ragged and hash breathing. His body is trying to acclimatize to the new temperature of the room as the heat from his body is quickly evaporating out of him. But the thing under his skin, poisoning his mind and sanity is still there. He feels like he’s on fire. You’re pressed up against every inch of him, and it is screaming in his ears with an ugly hungry need. Marc feels like he’s burning up. Like he’s going to die, flesh burning away until there’s only ashes left, and that’s okay the burrowing need tells him. Let it burn away every inch of resistance left within him, and then he can have you.

Marc wants that, wants you in any way he can have. 

Wants you to grind up on his aching cock that’s so hard it hurts. Wants you to hold him, fingers tugging at his hair until it stings and burns. Want your legs and arms wrapped around him as he sinks inside of you, bury his cock as deep as it goes until he can never leave. 

Wants you, wants you, wants you. It echoes with fury and overtakes everything else. There’s no other brain process except this, as his hand clamps down on your waist and grinds you down on him. His traitorous hips hitching up until he can feel that perfect press of your body against his trapped and pulsing cock. 

You don’t stop him, hand coming up to the back of his neck and hold him close to you. You’re so fucking perfect letting him rub himself up against you, even when he’s acting like some stupid animal in heat. The pleasure sends him on the tip of his toes, chasing the high and it’s good, it feel so fucking– Fuck! 

His eyes slam open, tearing himself away from you. You’re blinking up at him with a confused look. 

The fuck is he doing? 

With his free hand, he moves you out of the range of the shower until your back is pressed against the opposite wall. 

He’s such an idiot, he’s such a fucking stupid– his cheeks burn and prickle, sweat stinging his back underneath the waterlogged shirt. He needs to cool down. Get his head straight. Needs to rid himself of this burning inferno of a hellfire that is roaring under his skin. 

A shower, a cold fucking shower. He needs to calm the fuck down. Needs to– Marc moves back towards the tap and turns it back on. 

“Marc! No! Stop!”

You’re leaping forward into the shower again, uncaring of being in the firing range of the cold water cascading from the showerhead, as you reach for the tap to turn it off. 

“You’re fucking freezing, you need to stop. Marc, I need to get you out of the shower. We need to warm you up. Where’s the keys?” 

He ignores you, tries to wrangle you away from the shower with his back and shoulders, wrestling his path to the tap again. 

You slap at his hand. “Marc, no!” you bark. “Stubborn fucking –” 

He knocks your hand away from the tap, turning it again as he tries to block the ensuing shower from you with his shoulders, and you growl in frustration. 

“Fine, fine! You want the water on, it stays on, but you have to let me–” you shove your way back to the front of the tap, turning the hot water on. It takes a few moments but then the punishing coldness turns lukewarm and almost comforting against his stinging skin. 

“There,” you murmur and back away enough until you’re both staring up at each other again. The water is hitting you too, drenching and soaking your clothes as you peer up at him cautiously. 

“Should I help you take your clothes off? It’ll be more comfortable for you this way,” you say the words slowly, giving him the time to react before you move. 

The logical part in him that’s still intact knows he should stop you. Should tell you to leave before he loses the last of his sanity and tries to maul you like an animal again. 

But his tongue is heavy in his mouth. All his words are failing him, and as you inch closer to him, all he can do is stare up at you, silently begging you– to go, to stay, to abandon him, to touch him, to run, to help him– until he doesn’t know anymore what he wants, and ducks his head to the ground. 

“I can help you if you want to,” you tell him. 

His eyes squeeze shut. He’s so fucking useless. He swore to never let this happen again to you, never put you in that situation again and here the two of you are not even 48 hours later, in the exact same fucking seat. He’s no better than Steven at this. Useless at protecting you. Instead you’re the one trying to take care of him. Maybe you’d be better off with Jake in the saddle. 

“You shouldn’t have to hel–” he starts, but you cut him off. 

“I want to help you,” you enunciate each word and syllable, leaving no room for doubt, as you’re facing up to him in challenge. Then your eyes soften as does your voice. “But I don’t want to force anything on you that you don’t want.” 

There’s a brief silence and the only thing he can hear is the water falling from the shower. Then, “Marc, look at me.” You say it softly, it doesn’t sound like an order, but not quite a request either as Marc tips his head up to meet your gaze. “I’m not going to touch you unless you want to. But I’m gonna stay here with you until this passes. I’m not going anywhere.”

He stares up at you like an idiot, eyes drawn to that determined look in your eyes that he knows he can never win against, and he feels his resolve fail him. 

“Is it okay if I take off your clothes?” you ask again.

And until he gives you an answer, he realizes, you’re going to ask him again and again. You’re so persistent, more than a goose. He loves that about you and he doesn’t know how to say no to you anymore, even if he had wanted to (which he doesn't, not really). 

So he doesn’t, instead he nods. 

You move slow, giving him plenty of time to change his mind. Your hands come to the soggy hem of his shirt, drawing it up against his torso and over his head. Fingertips scraping under the bare naked skin underneath as you go, and it fucking tingles. It tingles and burns and smolders until his insides are on fire, and for a second, Marc is sure that his knees can no longer carry his weight and he’s going to tip over and capsize. 

He leans down his head for balance, and you’re there to catch him. You ground him, as you always do. He rests his forehead against yours and for a moment, the roaring noise of blazing fire in his veins stops. It’s quiet and calm in his head. 

“You okay?” you ask, staring up at him, eyes gentle, as you go slow. 

“Yeah.” 

His shirt is left hanging on the shower rail, where his hand is still cuffed to it. Then your fingers come to the front of his jeans, nail tapping against the metal button and his cock jerks and strains against the wet and heavy material in anticipation. 

Popping open the button, you undo his fly, and the too-strict pressure of the material finally eases. He squirms, “Fuck, baby,” he gasps out, raw and broken. 

You hush him, sweet and comfortingly, with your lips pressed close to his ear, “do you want me to touch you?” 

His mouth feels thick and dry, everything turned into cotton against the roof of his mouth. He swallows, taking another long breath and holds it deep as he tries to get himself together. He’s weak, useless. Can’t get anything right. Can’t even say no when he knows he should. 

“Marc?” you ask again and he inhales deeply to calm himself, then nods. 

You smile, sweet and bright, and…relieved. You look so relieved and… happy, even. It makes it better. Makes him feel a little bit less of a colossal fuck up that you’re doing this for him when you’re smiling at him like that. Your head tips up, lips pressing up against his, and that helps too. With his eyes closed, listening to the sound of your soft hums as he licks into your mouth, he can almost pretend to himself that this is okay. 

Your hand wraps around his cock, squeezing firm and tight in that perfect way that you know he likes. It's relief and pleasure and warmth all wrapped into one, as everything inside him buzzes with a quiet soothing noise that drowns out the rest.

Your soft lips, drags downwards, mouthing at his neck, teeth nipping at his shoulder. He’s still aching, but it feels good. It doesn’t hurt this time, instead everything lingers pleasantly as your lips drift further down, soft plushness dragging against the sore muscle, down the slope of his belly and–wait! What’re you– 

His eyes fly open. He’s staring at the empty walls again. You’re no longer standing face to face with him and his head drops down. The sight that greets him slams into his ribs until he nearly doubles over. Fuck. 

You’re on your knees on the wet bathroom floor, tucked between his legs. Staring up at his cock through your water-lined lashes that glitters against the harsh fluorescent light. 

“Baby– wai–wait,” his words fumble and trip out of his mouth, brain unable to process the sight in front of him. He wasn’t prepared for this. “You don’t have to–” 

“Marc,” you breathe, cutting him off again. From this close distance he can feel the warmth of your mouth gust over the overwrought tip of his cock, and he nearly blacks out. Your voice sounds drippingly sweet and warm. “I know I don’t have to. I want to. Let me do this for you”.

He should stop you. You shouldn’t have to be on your knees and take care of him when he’s the one who fucked up and got himself caught in this mess. There’s a tight lump stuck in his throat that he tries to swallow down so he can speak, but it doesn’t ease and the words aren’t coming to him. 

Your hand comes to the side of his thighs, dragging the drenched denim down his legs and discard them into a sloppy pile in the corner of the floor. 

He gazes down on you, how the shower has drenched your oversized sleepshirt, until the white of it has gone see-through. The drenched cotton cling onto your skin and the curve of your breasts and his cock bobs up and strains against his stomach at the sight. Shit. 

Embarrassed heat climbs his cheeks, and judging from the smile tugging at your cheeks, you definitely noticed his reaction. You lean up, mouth brushing up against the length of his cock and press a kiss to the swollen flesh. White blinding heat streaks through his chest and his stomach draws in tight. He can’t think. 

It’s here again, that hungry ember that scalds hot in his veins. It’s overwhelming, his toes curl against the tiles, breath catching sharp in his lungs until he feels like the ground is going to swallow him up. His knees are giving out, the hard tiles gone soft and weightless beneath the sole of his feet. He’s panicking again. His hand flings out, clutching at your shoulders, fingers digging in, it’s too hard and too rough, and he shouldn’t be doing that – shouldn’t be doing anything of this, but he can’t help himself. 

One of your hands comes to rest on top of his, and you tilt your head just enough to press a soft kiss to his knuckles. 

“It’s okay, Marc. it’s okay,” you say, and with those words, the panic in him dissipates somewhat. Enough to have his fingers ease their hard grip on your shoulders, as you lean your back closer between his thighs. 

Try as he might, he can’t pretend he doesn’t want this, want you. Your mouth is inches from his cock, and he can see the incriminating precome welling up at the tip, where it shines slick, giving him away. His breath constricts in his chest, as he waits for you. 

You lean closer, and he catches the pink tip of your tongue as it darts out to lick at the liquid dribbling down the length of him. His spine seizes up at the barely there contact, an ugly noise tearing from his throat. 

“Marc, you okay?” you ask, and when he blinks down at you, lips slick with him, he feels undone. “Should I keep going?” 

Marc swallows down the whimper that is lingering dangerously at the tip of his tongue that wants to leap out. He nods a little bit too frantically in response and he barely has the time to meet your eyes, and how it glitters with pride at his reaction. Then your lips part and you envelop his cock in the perfect sweet warmth of your mouth. 

An electrical static noise crackles in his head. Your mouth is so fucking good. Soft silk wrapped all around him. Your tongue slides softly over the ridge of his cock and sweet aching bliss twines through his limbs. It’s slow and languid, the tip of your tongue darting out with soft, fluttering licks against his oversensitive flesh as you take your time and try to murder him. You’re succeeding too. 

Heat carves through him sharp and intense. With the way his heart is trying to pound its way through flesh and muscle and out of his chest, he’s pretty sure he’s only got minutes to spare before his heart entirely gives out and he drops dead on the bathroom floor. 

You’re so ridiculously gorgeous. Eyes half-lidded as you stare up at him with unwavering attention. 

It’s bliss. It’s torture. It’s heaven and hell. Marc doesn’t know up from down anymore. All he knows as his cock slides between your lips, wet and slippery and so fucking good, is that he doesn’t want it to stop.  

For all the composure he’s trained into himself for years and decades, he can’t seem to find an ounce of it to draw from in this moment. He never can as far as you're concerned. His hands fists at his side, every muscle in him tensing, trying to stop the way his hips cants up with small thrusts into your mouth. But it’s not working. His body is betraying him, refusing to stay still. 

Good, it feels so– The burning flame under his skin is back, the whole of his body is wracked in warm pleasant shivers and he wants to curl into your touch. 

You hum, a small quiet little sound as you suck on the tip and he can feel the pleasant vibrations of it skitter up his entire spine. He jackknifes forward, pressing further into your mouth and fuck, he can feel the head of his cock nudge against the resistance of your throat. He stops there. Makes himself stop, ignores how every muscle in him is screaming for him to move. His cock pulses eagerly on your tongue, desperate for friction. But he ignores it. 

He can’t have this for himself. Doesn’t deserve it. 

“Come back up here, need to make you feel good baby. Let me- fuck let me make you feel good,” he says, even as his balls are drawing up, cock going somehow even harder, swelling and throbbing on your tongue. 

Marc swears, bites down on his lip hard until he tastes blood, and clenches every damn muscle in his body as he backs away, and slides himself out between your lips. Somehow, miraculously, he manages to hold on. His damn dick jerks and bounces spasmodically, oozing precome all over the damn floor as he struggles for control.  And through it all you just smile indulgently up at him, eyes gleaming, the pearly edge of your teeth digging into that perfectly plump lower lip.

He wonders if you even fucking heard him, because you’re leaning back in towards him, and wrap your mouth back around his cock. That inescapable fire is building at the base of his spine, threatening to burn him to the ground, but he can’t let himself come yet. He can’t because then it will be over, and you’ll have given this to him, and he doesn’t fucking deserve it. 

Marc doesn't deserve you, period. But he definitely doesn't deserve to have you on your knees like this for his miserable ass. Doesn't deserve that warm, worshipful mouth, slicking and sliding so perfectly over his aching cock. Perfect lips stretched tight around him as you struggle to take him as deep as you can. Doesn't deserve the way your hand alternates between clutching at him and petting so gently over his skin. Doesn't deserve the loving look in your eyes. Has to close his own eyes against the sight of you or this is all going to be over in about half a second.

But somehow that's even fucking worse, behind closed eyes it makes the feeling of it all the more acute. There's nothing there to distract him. He can't escape the feel of your clever tongue and perfect wet heat of your mouth wrapped around him in the blank darkness. The way your tongue curls around him. You’re moaning just slightly with each press forward, and he can feel the vibrations of it along every throbbing inch of his dick. It's fucking killing him.

“Let me–I can’t stop, I can’t–” He’s sobbing, the sound raw and needy as it wrenches out of his throat. Pleasure sears through his entire back. 

He's trying to hold still. He's fucking trying. But his legs are fucking shaking. Trembling thighs threatening to dump him on his ass any second, and he can't seem to control the way his hips are hitching forward in tiny abortive thrusts, seeking more even as he knows he should be jerking back, pulling away, and convincing you to let him make you feel good instead. but you don't seem to mind at all. 

Fuck, you seem to love it, moaning louder every time he loses the battle with his instincts. 

This is so wrong. He’s not in his right mind, not in control. You should be shoving him away, but instead you’re clutching at his ass with one hand, fingernails digging in as you encourage him to thrust harder, deeper. Tiny sharp bites of pain that just seem to add to the maelstrom of pleasure twisting and building in his gut.

Marc opens his mouth, determined to make one more attempt at convincing you, but then you swallow around him, moan around him, and all that comes out is a guttural groan. 

"Ba-baby-," he stutters out. He tugs on your hair, trying desperately to be gentle, but he's not entirely sure he manages it. You let him pull you off, one torturous inch at a time, and he barely manages to stop the thrust of his hips, the instinctual need to chase your mouth.

You look up at him, all wide eyes and slick, swollen lips. One long shiny string of spit or precome of both still connecting the two of you.

Oh shit,  how is he supposed to resist when you’re looking at him like that? Like he's actually worth a damn, when you’re the one who's worth anything, everything. He can’t, he was crazy to think he ever fucking could.

"Marc," you say, tone mildly reproachful. Your voice is hoarse... from swallowing his cock, and for a second, he thinks that's fucking it for him.  

Close, so fucking close. It’s pushing and clawing at every stitch and seam inside of his skin and he is unraveling. No wonder Steven lost it. No wonder he gave in. Marc can taste his climax at the tip of his tongue, dangling precariously on the fine thread of his fragile sanity. He squeezes his eyes shut. Tries to block it out. 

“Let go,” you hum, and you press your mouth to the trembling muscle on the inside of his thigh that makes him jolt up and nearly swallow his tongue. “You don’t have to hold on anymore. I want you to come. Want you to come in my mouth.”

Fuuuuck. 

You kiss your way up, and he’s trying desperately to hold on, to hold back. But he can’t, not when he feels your tongue trail the underside of his cock with a long wet and devoted line. Not when you’re kissing his hips. Not when you put that perfect mouth of yours back on his cock and swallow him down. 

Your hand wraps around the base of his cock, where your mouth can’t reach, giving it a firm stroke downwards, and his toes tingle. His whole body is shaking uncontrollably now. The pleasure is almost unbearable. his muscles jerking and twitching uncontrollably with every slide of those pretty lips.

That insidious flame flickers at the base of his spine ominously. Warning him of what’s to come. It feels too fucking good, he can’t deny himself of this anymore. His orgasm swells up, large and looming, rushing out along every nerve ending and won’t be ignored. 

“Baby, fuckfuck, please– I can’t–can’t,” he opens his eyes, and looks down on you and fuck that’s such a mistake. You’re looking up at him, a dark pitch that bleeds into your blown pupils. His eyes slam back shut again because he can't survive the hungry look in your eyes.

But it’s already too late. 

His orgasm is consuming, large and looming as it’s trying to eat him whole. It wraps around his flesh and licks down to the marrow. From the curl of his toes, searing through his thighs until it’s permanently carved somewhere deep into his ribs, as he comes down your throat. Leaving nothing but a tingling ache in its wake.

It feels endless, the way he keeps pulsing into your mouth. Cock twitching against your lips, riding out his oversensitivity at your lapping tongue. 

He’s moaning and whimpering, toes skidding along the wet tiles as he desperately tries to find his footing. There’s nothing left but his undeniable surrender. Letting you take as much as you want from him. Until he’s empty and the blazing blue flame in his veins is sated and wrung dry from your attentive tongue. 

There’s clarity again. The dust and smoke clears until there’s only a faint smell of ashes lingering in the back of his mind and he feels like he can think again. His muscles ache with the soreness, and as he takes a long inhale, oxygen floods his head with a rush. Sweet fucking relief, he can breathe again. 

It doesn’t last very long. His eyes open, to see you smile up at him, bleary eyed and messy, drenched hair plastered on your forehead. The water from the shower is still running down your face as you’re trying to catch your breath.

You look like a mess. He did that to you, and you look so fucking good like this.

It’s all it takes, and the insidious heat licks at his bones, corrupting his blood again. The hunger in him returns with a devastating scream in his flesh. His mouth salivates, like what came before was only an appetizer. Now he’s gotten a taste and he’s hungrier than he was before. 

It makes him gain a new sympathy for Steven and the hell the man must’ve gone through with you two nights ago.

Fuck what’s wrong with him. Marc’s already gotten one release. That should’ve sated him. But he can already feel the simmering hunger gain hold again. All it did was make that selfish hungry monster inside him more insatiable. The greedy need claws at his veins, refusing to be ignored anymore.

There’s a knowing look in your eyes that makes his heart seize up. “Do you need more? Do you want to go again?” you ask. 

He swallows around the constricting lump of guilt lodged deep in his throat, blinking up at you, unable to answer. Unable to open his mouth to ask. You’ve given him too much already, he can’t ask for more. 

“It’s okay, Marc. You can ask me.”

You say it with that voice. Breathless, filled with love and affection, like you’d offer him the world if he asked you for it, and it’s not right, he’s the one that should be doing that. The one to give you everything. Yet somehow he keeps finding himself in this seat where he’s the one taking and you’re the one giving. 

“I’m here,” you tell him. “It’s going to be okay, I’m not going anywhere until you’re okay.”

Shit. His chest squeezes tight. The feeling is so large and overwhelming his veins are overbrimming with it. But he never knew how to tell you with words. So he shows you in the only way he’s ever known. 

He drops down to his knees, ignoring the strain in his shoulder from the hand still cuffed tight to the shower. His free hand reaches for you, cupping the back of your neck to pull you in, His mouth slant over yours, and he swallows the sweet affectionate hum between your lips. 

I love you. 

That’s what he’d say if he knew how to. 

I love you and I want to be everything to you. 

He cups your face in his one free hand, thumb smoothing over your cheekbone as he tilts you up to his mouth and kisses you. Your mouth parts, letting him lick into into your mouth properly. You still taste of him. Tart and salty, and the taste of him on your tongue makes him lightheaded. 

Needy heat rolls over his back, and he can feel it again. The demanding hunger that is consuming his insides. The one that wants him to sink his teeth into your soft and pliant flesh, lick and nip at every inch of wet skin you’ll let him as he tries to swallow you whole. It’s not enough. Kissing you isn’t enough. He wants you pressed up against every inch of him. Wants your body lined against his, your legs spread wide as he settles between them. Wants your back arching up against him, breathless and keen as he buries himself inside you. 

He leans further down, pressing you downwards until he has you flat on your back against the cold and hard tiles, and he should do better by you. Should take you into bed, where it’s soft and warm. Nice and sweet. Not fuck you against the dirty floor of Steven’s dirty bathroom like some savage. 

But his body isn’t listening to him, surging down to reclaim your lips as he grinds his hips and cock against the softness of your stomach. He’s hard again, or maybe he never went down for the count, he doesn’t know. All he knows is that he’s aching for you. All of him dying to be buried inside of you to the hilt. 

Pleasure sparks deep in his veins at the contact, and he does it again, grinds himself needily into you, smearing precome over the fabric of your already soaked sleepshirt. God he’s such a mess, he’s ruining your clothes. 

He forces himself up again, kneeling over your body, as he stares down at you. He’s made such a fucking mess of things… of you. Your face is wet from the shower, hair matted against your forehead, and your shirt is soaked and opaque clinging wetly to your skin underneath. The sight of you makes his mouth dry with heat. 

Behind him, the spray of the shower is raining down lukewarm water over his back. It should calm him, that’s why he turned the damn thing on in the first place, but it doesn’t. He can’t even feel it anymore, can barely hear the sound of the shower drizzling down like rain. Instead it’s all turned to static noise inside his head. 

The only thing he sees is your pretty face look up at him, warm and affectionate, and so fucking loving, and he feels sick with want over you. 

“Baby, you gotta tell me to stop,” he forces out, and his hand draws down between his legs to grip his aching cock, that’s throbbing in time with his heartbeat. 

“If it gets too much– you have to–” 

You rise up to meet him, curling one arm around his neck until you’re face to face, so close that your nose nudges his. Your hand reaches down between you, wrapping your hand over his, and your eyes never falter from his, as you shove your panties to the side and guide his hand to notch his cock against your entrance. 

Fuck, you’re dripping. He’s not even inside, and he can feel you slick and warm and wet against the head of his cock. 

“Can you feel that?” you murmur, against his lips. “How wet you got me? I need this too. Need you to fuck your cock inside me, Marc.” 

Shit. 

He snaps. Plain and simple. 

He thrusts down and into you with a long and deep consuming stroke and it’s fucking everything. 

Ecstasy rushes into his bloodstream with a heady sugary rush, and he chases it with his hips, burying his cock inside as deep as you can take him, until it nudges something sweet and blissful that has you clawing at his arm with a gorgeous sob ripped from your throat. 

And it’s so good, so fucking good, he wants to crawl into that sound and nestle into it. He drags himself out of you, until only the overwrought tip of his cock rests inside you, watching you bite down on your lip to muffle your sounds, and that won’t do. Marc wants to hear you. Wants you to scream so loud his ears ring from pain with it. Fuck, he wants to go deaf with it. Wants the sound of your voice obliterate him until it echoes in his ears til the day he dies.

His arm moves to your leg, curling around your thigh to pull you in closer towards his torso, canting you upwards, tilting you at that angle that he knows will make you cry for him. Then he slams forward, his thighs tense, burning with the pleasure that threatens to incinerate him. You’re so fucking tight around him. It’s heaven if Marc ever believed in one. 

Your fingers tighten down on him, nails digging into his skin and the biting pain only makes the pleasure of it all the more ripe and sweet as you clamp down around his cock. 

He can’t stop. Hips thrusting into you with a demanding pace like his body is no longer his own, just a conduit for him to chase that mad pleasure that skitters to his brain and has him want to go harder, deeper, until he’s lodged so deep inside that you can never rid him of you. 

It’s a selfish need that Marc would never allow himself to give voice to. He keeps it jammed under a lid and pretends it’s not there. That deep gnawing hunger that wants you all to himself and never have to share. The possessive streak in his veins that wants to mark you, fuck himself so deep into you until you can fucking taste him in your throat. 

Your legs are wrapped all around him, clamping down around his torso until he’s sure you’re constricting his lungs from the sheer force of it and he almost can’t breathe. “Shit, baby–fuck, you’re so– I–” he grinds down on his teeth, and doesn't let himself say the words, swallowing down the groan that tears through his throat. 

So good, he thinks to himself. You feel so fucking good. So warm and wet and blissfully tight around his cock. He loves you. Loves you so fucking much and he can’t stop, won’t stop– Never want to stop fucking his cock into you. 

Then he sees it. That all familiar tell that lets him know you are close. Every muscle in your body goes taut, and you’re squeezing down almost rhythmically and so tight it knocks the fucking breath out of his lungs. “That’s it baby, come on my cock for me.” 

Your eyes roll back, mouth parting as your back arches upward.

And there you go. You’re so fucking beautiful. 

You come hard and punishingly tight as you squeeze around his cock. 

The pleasure swirls hot and hungry inside his gut, and it’s all it takes to push him right over the edge with you. He spills himself inside, pulse after greedy pulse as he fills you. 

He barely manages to catch himself with a palm braced next to your head on the tiles as he tries to come down.

There’s no relief this time. Not like last time, however brief it was. This time his climax only serves to fuel the pathetic need in his chest. Like someone threw gasoline over an open fire and now it’s spreading everywhere and there’s no extinguisher in sight. 

More, the hunger inside his veins scream out. Again. 

Wants to feel you come again. Wants to feel you squeeze tight around his cock, as your lips part and moan out his name in bliss again. Want to feel your slick drench his cock as you come again and again and again and again. 

He’s still hard. 

He thrusts forward, and you cry, high pitched and broken and the sound makes the blood in his veins sing. 

You're slick and excruciatingly tight, but his come drips out of you, easing the tight press of his cock no matter how hard you squeeze down on him. 

“It’s okay baby,” he hushes, and you sob in reply even as he bends down to press a kiss to your temple. “It’s okay. You can take it for me. Doing so good. You’re being so good,” he coos, as he cants his hips and pushes into you as deeply as he can again. 

Closer. He needs you closer than this. Wants his hands to touch and grip every inch of your skin. He brings his other arm to wrap around your waist, and something tugs and restrains him from behind. It locks up his shoulder, and no matter how hard he pulls forward, he can’t quite reach you. 

You blink up at him, eyes narrowing in confusion as you watch him before your eyes widen, hand reaching up for him. “Marc, wait– you’re–” 

His free arm shoots out around your shoulders and reels you close as he captures your mouth, swallowing down your words. He’s trying to come down to you, to press you down against the floor with the weight of his body, and wrap his arms around you, and never let go. Hold you so tight to him until you can never leave. But something won’t let him. No matter how hard he strains forward the strength holding back his arm won’t budge. 

There’s a metallic groaning noise that protests as he continues to pull against the resisting strength from behind him, as he rolls his hips relentlessly into you, chasing the pleasure. It digs sharp into his wrist with a jagged pain, but he doesn’t even care. Marc wants to hold you close, wrap his arm around your leg and squeeze it tight to his hips and lock you there. 

He rips against the hindrance, with an impatient and angry snarl. The strain and resistance finally gives, and he’s free to put both his hands on you. His arms lock up tight around your waist. 

There's a cacophony of sound somewhere in the distance. Of broken dishes and sharp crashing noise, but he doesn't care. The roof could be collapsing right now and it wouldn't make any damn difference to him so long as you were still here with him.

“Fuck! Marc!”

It doesn’t even register until he hears your agitated shout. He looks up in a daze at you, Your wide and alarmed eyes. Something’s wrong. 

His head whips back, tearing himself away from you prepared to leap into action at the culprit. But that's not what he sees.

There’s debris on the wall. Bare cement in the large torn cracks of the tiled walls. There’s jagged pieces of cracked white porcelain on the floor. Debris and parts of the wall along with the showerhead and the metal rod he handcuffed himself to is lying in ruined shambles below, as the shower spits out water all around like a death rattle. 

Well fuck.  

Fuck– what is he… 

Shit!

He’s completely lost control. The familiar dread and anxiety bleeds into his veins, and he can fight it all he wants, but it’s already here. 

It wasn’t supposed to go like this. He was the one who was supposed to be able to keep it together. The one who was supposed to protect you from this and keep you safe from harm. The bitter acrid taste of failure lingers on his tongue and drips down his throat until it reaches his lungs. Embarrassment clings to his cheeks and burns like fire. His body wants to curl into itself and hide, until he’s so small no one can see him anymore, least of all you. 

“Marc, it’s okay,” you say as you plant an elbow against the slippery floor to you can raise yourself into a sitting position. Until you’re both at eye level with each other. 

“It’s okay. Just ignore it. We’ll clean it up later,” you murmur as you crawl closer to him, until your face is within inches from his and you press your mouth to his cheek. Then you climb into his lap, the firm press of your warm body straddling his thighs and he looks up at you in dazed awe. 

“Do you want to keep going?” you ask. 

Despite the fact that he knows he shouldn’t. That he shouldn’t ask this of you, he still nods, whimpering at the reassuring press of your body against his achingly hard cock. 

“As many times as it takes, okay?” Your fingers circle around the base of his cock, and he chokes on a moan, as you position him against your entrance. You’re slick and warm and fucking dripping for him. 

“Let’s keep going until you feel better. I don’t want you to hold back anymore. Is that okay?” you say.

He doesn't understand how that's a question. Of course it's okay, it's more than okay, it's all he wants. All he ever wants. He nods, and you smile at him. That warm and affectionate smile filled with love and it fills him to the brim. He feels like his heart is going to give out again. There's no more space for shame anymore, the way your smile crowds his vision and every inch of space inside him.

You lift your hips slightly, then you lower your knees, slowly sinking down on his cock until he’s buried all the way inside you, squeezing down around his cock in that perfect way you do, and he can’t fucking think. 

You’re looking down at him like you’re expecting him to answer and he doesn’t even remember how to open his mouth and use vocal cords anymore, fuck he doesn’t even remember what the question was. 

“Marc,” you repeat, 

He still doesn’t know what you’re asking him. But it doesn’t matter does it? When it comes to you, he’s never going to say no to you. So he answers you with the only answer he has. 

“Yes.”

It must be the right answer you were looking for, because you’re looking at him in that way again, smiling up brightly at him, like he’s worth a damn, worth everything to you. He knows that you’re wrong about that. He doesn’t deserve it. But it fills his chest with something sweet and heady. An antidote to the poisonous fire that’s still burning hot and bitter in his veins. He doesn’t fight it. Doesn’t fight the warm buzz that’s trickling slowly into his veins and lets himself bask in it. 

After all, who is he to say no to you? 

You roll your hips against him and your eyes flutter close with a gasp as his cock hits something deep inside, and both of you moan at the feeling as he tightens his arms around your waist. 

You lean closer, lips pressed to his ear, “I love you, Marc” you whisper in the hair above his ears and his whole back shudders pleasantly. 

He tilts his head upwards, his nose brushing up against your chin and cheeks as he tries to find his way back to your mouth. 

Marc might not deserve you. But you deserve everything you want and more, and if Marc is one of those things (for whatever unfathomable reason that he will never understand)… then that makes things a little bit easier for him. 

He wakes with a pounding headache. 

The muscles in his shoulders and back are stiff and sore, cramping up with a sharp throb as he tries to get up. Every limb aches. He feels like he was hit by a fucking truck going at full speed down a highway. 

“Morning,” your voice greets, as your hand comes to his forehead and rests there as if you’re checking for his temperature. It’s soft and soothing, a balm to the ache in body and he fights every instinct to not nuzzle into the palm of your hand. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” he replies. His voice scrapes against the lining of his throat, like something crawled up in there and died. 

He can hear you laugh quietly at his reply, and despite how crap he feels, the sound seeps into his chest and the stiffness melts just a little bit. The bed dips as you sit down on the edge next to him. 

“How long was I out for?” 

“Not too long. Just a bit. You needed the rest,” you answer, and it's entirely too vague for his liking. 

He anchors his elbow into the soft bedding below and despite the angry creak of the mattress and the protesting groan in his bones, he tries to get up into a sitting position. His head feels lightheaded with the sudden altitude, like he’s about to throw up all over the sheets. It’s like he’s experiencing the world’s worst hangover, the second time in less two days. As soon as he gets his hand on that sex sprite, he’s going to fling it into the surface of the sun. Don’t care how upset that will make Min’s avatar. 

Bringing his hand to his face, he rubs at his temples and the blunt throbbing pain that’s killing his head, when it occurs to him. His wrist feels light and unimpeded, there’s no sharp metal digging into his wrist.  He stares down at his now bare wrist, then he looks up at you in confusion. 

“Jake told me where the key was,” you answer. 

He frowns, but holds his tongue. That means at some point while Marc was still unconscious, Jake must've woken up without him being aware. Marc doesn’t love that. He’s still not completely at ease with Jake being around you. Especially when he’s unconscious and can’t keep an eye out to step in and protect you if something were to go wrong. 

As if something hasn’t already.

Marc is such a hypocrite, talking about protecting you as if he isn’t the very wolf at your door, fangs poised at your throat. 

Your thumb smooths over his knuckles, as you nudge his leg with your knees.  “Should I make you some coffee? Maybe some breakfast. Can whip up some omelets for you.”

He shakes his head. “No I gotta get up. Try to catch that thing before it does more damage again.”

He should tell you to leave. It’s not safe for you here. But he knows you’re going to fight him tooth and nail over it. 

“Oh, there’s no need for that,” you say as you rise from the bed, “stay there for just a sec will you?” 

You walk up to the Gus trio’s tank, sliding a few books around, and pick something up before you make your way back to him, holding an all too familiar brass-metal box in the palm of your hand outstretched to him. 

He can see from the shape on the golden lid the puzzle sequence has been properly completed, just like that obnoxious Avatar had shown him. Locked and sealed.

“How did you–” he sputters out in shock as he eyes it. 

“Steven sealed it for me.”

He blinks, feeling a little bit stunned as he takes the box from you. “How did you get it back in there in the first place.”

“You said that it liked small cramped spaces with a lid. I figured it couldn’t have gotten far from the flat like last time. So I just started opening every single item in the place with a lid. It hid in an empty shoebox this time.” 

Marc grits his teeth. “That’s dangerous, it could’ve possessed you.”

You wave your hands dismissively at his concerns. “It’s alright. I had a fly-swatter,” you answer, like that answers everything and Marc’s just being silly. 

“You what?”

“A flyswatter. I just swatted at it until it finally got back into the box. Had to chase it around the flat, reopening every jar and box in the flat for a good hour or so until it got the hint.” 

He wants to scold you, want to point out everything that could’ve gone wrong and how you should have just ran out of the apartment and gotten yourself to safety. It’s a speech he’s made a hundred times before, but you never listened then either, and those times you didn’t have the upper hand with the argument, given that he passed out and you saved the day. 

So he bites his tongue. 

“Hey,” you say softly as your hand comes to cup his cheek. “Everything worked out fine alright? It’s a happy ending. You don’t have to look so sad.” 

He bites the insides of his cheek. Flashes of you under him, soft and moaning, legs spread and wrapped around him, invading in startling technicolor.

“I’m…” he wants to say sorry, but the word won't come. His hand curls into a fist to his side with unease. “That shouldn’t have happened. I shouldn’t have let you stay and do that for me”.

“Marc, it’s not a punishment for me to have sex with you. This shouldn't come as a surprise to you by now, but I like having sex with you.” 

He doesn’t answer you, just stares blindly at his feet at the end of the bed, as the guilt crawls in his gut and tries to consume him. Maybe he should let it. It’s what he deserves after all. 

You scoot closer to him, an exasperated but fond look in your eyes as you take his hand in yours. “You see Marc, when two adults love each other very much,” you sing-song and start to jokingly explain to him about the bird and the bees.

Despite himself he can feel the smile tugging at his lips, and the gnawing anxiety fades a bit. You think you’re so fucking funny sometimes (and to Marc you are), but he isn’t going to let the laugh that wants to push up against his throat betray him. You meet his smile with your own, and that helps to take away the last of that sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. 

“Can you promise me that next time something like this happens again, you won't run away… or lock yourself in the bathroom to deal with it all by yourself? We’ll handle it together alright?”

Marc meets the look in your eye. It's the same one that he keeps finding somehow even though he never quite understands why, of love and adoration for him.

A part of him wants to fight it, push it away because he doesn't deserve it... But your soft voice echoes in his ear. The weight of your arms wrapped around his shoulders still lingers from before. 'I love you', you had told him, and whether he deserves your love or not is maybe not the point. You love him regardless. And who is he to say no to you?

“Yeah,” Marc nods. “Together.”

a/n: to be notified of new writing updates follow astroboots-writes and turn on notifs.

Happy Moon-aversary everyone!!! I can't believe I'm still here a whole year after this show premiered. When I first saw that trailer with Oscar Isaac's strange british accent I remember telling @thirstworldproblemss I was sceptical and then I watched about 5 minutes of Steven on screen and went "oh no, I'm in love with this man" and the rest is history.

I hope you guys enjoyed this piece as much as I enjoyed writing it, thank you so much for taking the time to read it I appreciate all of you so very much.

Dedications and credit: To my co-worker, co-clown and the love of my life @thirstworldproblemss she's had a busy few months and she is everything to me please go over and send her some love if you have time!!!!

Also to my muse @guruan who draws horny sketches and the most inspiring artpieces that makes me write near 13k of blowjob for this man. That blowjob scene was particularly inspired by THIS sketch. Send her love! Send her reblogs, send her everything you have and more!

[ragnvindrgf]

i love nerdy ajax <3

☆ pairings: tutor!childe x bimbo!reader

☆ warnings: unprotected sex (wrap it before u tap it fellas), creampie, reader refers to childe as ajax, not totally proofread

ajax watches as you idly flip the pages in the near 10 pound textbook on marine biology, clearly not even pretending to at least skim the pages. this was going nowhere. 

“so, uh, valentine's day is coming up. any plans?”

you roll your eyes, “valentine's Day is just a commercial scam. i don't waste my time on that lovey-dovey crap.”

“oh, well, i was just curious. anyway, let's focus on these aquatic biomes.” 

you sigh and turn to look at the ginger next to you and pause. ajax’s eyes are shifting between everything in the room, the damn textbook, the wall, the door, everything but you. you weren’t unaware of the effect you had on guys, what with your tiny tube tops, miniskirts and shiny lip glosses.  unfortunately, there was more to life than shiny and revealing clothes and you desperately needed to pass this marine bio midterm. so, you enlisted the help of ajax, the nervous mess next to you, he’s top of the class and surprisingly not at all bad looking. easily over 6 ft, lean build, bright orange hair that was messy but like in a good way, and god those gorgeous blue eyes. 

“y’know, you're cute, ajax. maybe there's more to you than just textbooks.” you rest your chin on your hand and peer at him.

“um. what?” ajax’s brain nearly short circuits at the fact that the very hot girl next to him just called him cute and to make matters worse you’re now staring at him and leaning close and- oh, you smell like flowers. and your lips are plump and pink, pursed in a thoughtful, expressive way. he wonders what they would taste like, would they taste like the strawberry flavored gloss you applied a few moments earlier? 

“i thought nerds were like, all glasses and braces and total virgin looking but you're actually pretty hot.” you smile flirtatiously, watching ajax’s cheeks pinken as he shifts in his seat. 

screw it, you're not getting anywhere with this review and god knows your pretty little head could use a break.

ajax’s eyes widen when he feels your lips crash onto his. one of your hands on his shoulder while the other rests on his knee. he was right, your lips do taste like strawberries and he can feel the sticky residue on his own lips. his own hand comes up to tentatively cup your cheek, accepting that this really was happening and leaning deeper into the kiss. 

eventually, you both need air and briefly break apart. you waste no time in removing your baby tee, shivering at the cool air hitting your bare skin. ajax stares in awe at your plush tits and hardened nipples and quickly follows in removing his own shirt. you gaze appreciatively at his toned stomach and move over to sit on his lap and latch your lips together again. this time you grind down and moan softly at the friction of your clothed cunt and his very hard bulge. ajax’s hands are gripping your waist and his head is reeling. frankly, he can't even think right now, all he knows is that his dick is practically trying to burst out of his jeans from the hot girl’s pussy on him. which you can definitely feel.

“aww, I’m flattered. looks, or should i say feels, like we’re on the same page here,” you giggle reach in between you two to undo his belt. 

“i-um,iI don't have a condom,” the ginger murmurs into your neck.

“no need for that, i’m on the pill,” you reassure him and make work of his zipper. you lean back on the desk just enough to tug his boxers down so that his cock springs out. it slaps against his stomach and your mouth waters at the sight. he’s so fucking big that you briefly wonder if it’ll even fit, you wouldn’t have thought someone like ajax was hiding something like this in his pants if you hadn’t seen it for yourself. and it’s pretty, the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen, thick and flushed red at the tip. there’s a bulging vein running along the side that’s begging for your tongue to run over it. 

ajax squirms anxiously under your eyes, “is it…okay?”

“ ‘okay’? ajax, i can't believe you’ve been hiding this from me,” you press a chaste kiss to the corner of his lips, “i definitely need you in me now,” and with that you're standing up and removing the rest of your clothing. ajax watches with hooded eyes as you pull down your tiny shorts and your panties with them. even from your frontside he can see how plump your ass is. 

and then you’re guiding his cock in between your folds, slowly sinking down and wincing from the stretch. ajax’s hands wander and squeeze your ass, gripping it so hard you’re sure it’ll leave red marks. but it's worth it with the way ajax sounds and looks so good under you. his head is thrown back with a loud groan falling out his lips. with the way you’re bouncing on his cock and squeezing around him so deliciously, he’s not sure he’ll last very long. his tip is hitting up into your cervix repeatedly, making you whimper sweetly. 

“fuck— you feel so good,” Ajax gasps in between his own moans, you laugh breathily, you could say the same thing.

his brows furrowed together as he feels a familiar coil in his stomach beginning to tighten, “i’m gonna- you should get off before i- fuck,” his hot cum spurts deep inside you before you can even tell him that no, there's no way you're going to let this man pull out of you. instead, you moan at the feel of his cock twitching inside of you as your own orgasm washes over you. you sink down on him one last time before your cunt’s squeezing around him and you're crying his name into the air. 

your legs are shaky when you try to stand up, his cock slipping out with ease and a blend of his and your cum starting to leak down your thighs. ajax stuffs his dick back in his pants when you move to grab your shirt, ignoring the uncomfortable gooey mess. 

and he surprises you when he stands and grabs your hand and pulls you back in for a kiss. It’s sweet and gentle and you’re both smiling. “um, thanks, i think,” He grins sheepishly against your lips. 

your eyes widen at such simple words, no guy has ever kissed you after sex, much less thanked you, they just used you as a method to get their dick wet.

taking Ajax’s face in your hands, you lean in to connect your lips one more time, lips moving in sync before breaking the kiss with a smile.

“thank you, you just made learning about fish a whole lot more interesting.” you giggle as realization flashes over ajax’s face when he notices the abandoned study materials on the desk. he chuckles and shakes his head, “not like you were doing much before i guess.”

“that’s true,” you smooth your hands over your clothes when an idea pops in your head, “but, we still have time until my test… maybe we can get together again wednesday night?”

ajax looks over your cute, hopeful face, “wednesday.. like valentines?”

you shrug nonchalantly, trying to suppress the butterflies in your stomach, like i said, just another day.”

[a-twistedheartslonging]

Floyd/Reader Mafia AU

Injuries, masochism on Floyd's end, stitching wounds, mentions of violence, no sex but Floyd is weird and busts a nut.

They/Them used for the reader.

Floyd is going to get himself killed…young too.

They couldn't help but think it as they kneeled between the needlessly long legs of said man, seated on a well-worn leather stool. The make shift surgery room was quiet save for the sound of their shared breaths and the dripping of the near by sink's leaky faucet. 

From what they heard from the others the job was supposed to be something simple. “Just in and out.”

I really shouldn't be surprised. It made sense Floyd would be the one to complicate things…again. He’s a smart and clever person, they knew this well but…boredom can be dangerous when it comes to certain people.

They couldn't help but let out a tired sigh.

Of course, he would be the one to turn it into a shoot-out.

And now they are picking buckshot and glass of out Floyd's bleeding side. His face would tighten up in pain for a moment, showing off sharp teeth, before relaxing slightly and letting out a giggle.

Floyd always did seem to enjoy the strangest things. 

They look from their work for a moment and into his eyes, they see that manic spark that always seemed to glow brighter whenever he saw them.

Floyd…wanted them, they knew that. Why he did? They really didn't know. They weren't self sure like like him or the others, not strong, or particularly interesting. Hell they weren't even a real doctor, just a medical school dropout. 

Not breaking eye contact he spoke. “Fuck Doc, it hurts.” He let out a groan before a grin becgain to spread on his face.“I gotta make sure to kill that fella next time.”

They quickly looked away, bringing their eyes back to their work. 

Aaah I really hope I don’t have to see when it happens.

Nervously they picked out another piece of glass, being as gentle as they could with the jagged tear in his flesh. 

They heard a hiss coming from him when removing this shard before dropping it into a metal container with the others. A large hand suddenly gripped their shoulder and pulled them up some, causing them to let out a startled noise.

“Eh, Doc, can't ya be more careful? It might leave a scar.”

They tried to keep neutral it but couldnt help but make a face at that.

Oh please. They knew full well he liked his scars, he even thought they made him look cool. They lost count of how many times he would show them off and insisted they touch them and…he keeps calling them that. He must really like making fun of them.

“Stop…stop calling me that.” 

“Huh? Nah, don't think so. You're my cute little Doctor Shrimp, always patching me up.”

They look over his shoulder to stare at the wall as he speaks, eye contact would be too much. Especially with their position. Being between a grown man's legs certainly wasn't helping with their anxiety, nor did they make it a habit to be around men in such a way.

“You ignoring me Doc? That aint very nice.” Floyd muttered.

They shook their head, they weren't. 

“Then why don't you-”

The interrupted “I, uhm, I need to stitch your wounds now Floyd.” They spoke quickly. Whatever Floyd wanted them to do, they really shouldn't. Best to finish this as soon as they can.

And so they stuck the needle into him.

Floyd yelped. His body twitched and he squeezed his eyes shut as the needle moved through his flesh. In and out it went, sewing his skin together. 

“Worst pain I've ever felt, Doc.” He said, but he was lying through his teeth. How could this be worse than everything else he's been through? Shot, stabbed, and even suffered through broken bones for god's sake…all things they took care of for him.

They pulled at the thread and Floyed trembled, high spots of red rising in his cheeks. With each stab of the needle, his body shivered. 

As they dragged the wound shut, a different kind of groan tumbled out. 

They stopped at hearing the sound, heat rushing to their face. Without meaning to, they brushed against his thigh, and Floyd went stiff.

They looked down and saw the state of Floyd's pants. He was hard.

The pain. Jeez, he was getting…off on the pain. It was either the pain, the attention, or both. Jade had the weirdest reactions to everything. 

The air around them turned hot. They were sweating, but their hands were cold and clammy under thier surgical gloves. Whatever Floyd thought this was, whatever he was feeling, they really shouldn’t encourage it.

“Go on, Doc, finish the job.” Floyd said, his tone taunting. When they looked at him, his expression was heated and almost…desperate. He looked so wrecked.

The sight of Floyd, his sounds, how pathetic he was right now…a wave of arousal went through them, followed by shame and further anxiety. They felt like thier were going to pass out.

I need to leave and soon.

They pulled the final stitch closed, finishing it.

With shaky hands they fumbled for the rubbing alcohol, letting the cap fall to the ground. Staring at the blood they hwsitated for a moment before carefully emptying the entire bottle onto the wound.

They poured it until the bottle was empty and tossed it away to be cleaned later, the plastic bottle bouncing off the floor. 

They didn't truly want to hurt Floyd but they needed that heated expression to go away.

Floyd made a choked noise, sounding almost pathetic, and arched off the examination table. Rivulets of alcohol flowed down his skin, mixing with his blood. It dripped down his side, his stomach, and past the vee of his hips, soaking into his blood-stained pants.

He threw his head back, convulsing with pain. His mouth opened to utter a broken cry before falling backward, back hitting the examination table and body going limp.

They let out a gasp. “Oh…oh god.” Eye's locking onto a new wet patch at the front of his pants. 

They...really shouldn’t have expected anything different. Floyd had made his…want of them clear. In his strange mind pain was just another outstretched hand to him. Part of them knew nothing they could do would dissuade him. It scared them but also…made them feel something else they really... shouldn't. 

Floyd's mismatched eyes found them again, looking up at them half-lidded. With a smile, he licked his lips with a long inhuman tongue.

With a trembling hand, they reached for the door and quickly left the room.