#but with all the red stuff inside my body rather than out

[2kmps]

vampire x reader one-shot | 16.1k

story summary; you're a crime scene cleaner who happens across an advertisement for a mansion housekeeper in exchange for room and board. it's close to work, close to your university, and an easy job. the ultimate package. right away, you notice the owner's beauty as well as his eccentricities, but decide to commit to it. the spiral into depravity and debauchery begins when you're tasked with cleaning the site of a savage murder, solidifying you as a irreplaceable treasure.

story warnings; bloodplay, extreme dubcon, explicit noncon, cigarette burns, wounds inflicted on mc, implied masochism, extreme sexual sadism, hypnotism, graphic violence, gun violence, body gore, graphic details, heavy prose, unreliable narrator, religious themes, exploration of morality, obsessive + possessive behaviors, implied stalking, choking, murder, graphic depictions of crime scenes, manipulation/emotional manipulation, this entire oneshot is an allegory.

read the warnings! mdni under any circumstances! the events within this one-shot are not indicative of my personal viewpoints

thank you, @ceruleansol for the excellent proofreading.

this is a repost from my deleted blog, cardeneiv. please reblog/interact with this piece!

Another internet search bore fruit.

The image bouncing back at you from your phone had been hastily taken with a tremble in your hand, all the while launching a few too many cautious looks across your shoulder to either end of the dim, long hallway making up part of the second floor. There wasn't any particular rationale for your apprehension and busy eyes but the belief the mansion owner wouldn't be too pleased to see you taking pictures of his valuables rather than cleaning them.

That fear hadn't stopped you from reverse image searching a good couple of curiosities over the widening gap of time you had been living there.

Tonight was a Chalmette table vase displayed on a pedestal in the hall; brassy gold gilding cradled a somewhat drab white bloom that reached high and sprouted open to a hollow inside. Similar surviving articles went for thousands.

You totaled the prices of everything so far as enough to outright buy a house on the more modest side of town.

There was a daring thought that loomed in the back of your mind, an ugly little thing that told you one or two missing antiques wasn't any big deal. He wouldn't miss them, let alone even notice they were gone, because he was the strangest man you had ever met.

Four months ago, he had only ever introduced himself by the name Montague, letting an anticipatory stillness hang in the air while you waited for him to finish. He never did, handsome features lifting as his dark eyes thinned and smile inched higher. He had you in a tight handshake.

"I enjoyed reading the resume you sent in with your response to my advertisement." He had traces of an accent intact but had cleverly adapted to one more common to the area. "You're the first person I've come across wanting the room who's done that. It really stood out to me. A crime scene cleaner? Must be a difficult job."

"I know it was probably overkill, but I think this will be perfect for me." You were led to a suede armchair, his hand anchoring onto your shoulder to lower you into the seat. He sat across from you in something similar, one leg crossing. "I recently had to move out of my other place, and the university will be about an hour closer. My work won't be as far of a drive, either. I—I, uh, clean some gross stuff, so taking care of your house won't be anything."

Even after that spiel, Montague never let his smile slip. Rather, it seemed to widen as though delighted by your oversharing. He looked like a man basking in glee over a rare find, an offer he couldn't possibly turn away.

"All amenities in the house are yours." This was after he showed you to one of the rooms on the second floor: a capacious, well-dressed space behind a red door at the end of the hall. "As long as you listen to a few rules and keep things clean, we should have a very amicable... cohabitation."

You thought it was an odd choice of wording. "Okay. Well, what do I need to know?"

"No guests." It was immediate, his tone suddenly a touch edgy, razored, unyielding. "Not unless I give you explicit permission beforehand. I keep many important valuables; they're very dear to me. Also, do not invite anyone in unless I am there."

Again, odd, but it was his house.

"Sure," you said agreeably, having half the thought to write down these peculiarities of his. "What next?"

He was set on your shoulder, reaching out to pull a thin, frayed thread off of your jumper. "The downstairs—as in, the basement—is my personal space. If I need you down there, I will ask you for you to go down. You can go anywhere else in the house, on the property. None of it concerns me."

"Why the basement, though?" It felt damaging to press a question like that so early on, but you figured it was innocent enough. "This house is so big that we could be on the same floor and hardly see each other."

The muscles around his mouth twitched slightly, only once. You still noticed it. Noted: he didn't like to be questioned. "Sorry, I'm not trying to-"

"It's cold downstairs." he injected, shifting to look around the room as though taking in the newness of it as well. "I make sure it stays comfortable all year, all throughout the house, but the cold suits me best."

With how downright frosty his skin felt in that handshake earlier—on a mild day in mid-spring—you thought that explanation checked out. He must have only just come up to greet you at the front entrance.

You tried to forget the feeling. "Alright. Next?"

"Oh," he restrained an unseemly laugh, using one hand to crowd into a pocket on his dark blazer, "there is nothing else, at least nothing pertinent. It's my understanding that we're both quite busy, so this would be the current arrangement unless something changes."

What changes? You wanted to ask, thwarted to silence when he revealed some sort of silver thing pinched between his fingers with a thick handkerchief. It was a dainty-seeming contraption with chains linking several old skeleton keys at the end. The fabric he used to hold the clip concealed all of the elegant tracery that made up its shape.

"Traditionally, this is called a chatelaine. It’s something I’ve modified for you to get around the house. It’ll be easier to clean." Montague said, fast to force the mess of cold silver and chains into your palm, rubbing down his fingers with the handkerchief afterward. "The smallest key is to your room. The largest one opens the doors to go outside, so don't lose that. One of them is meant for doors in the basement—can't recall which."

He could see the wariness behind your eyes, a worrying crease forming in your brow. "This house has been around for a long time. I've just never gotten around to modernizing the locks."

Other questions came to you, but he hardly acted interested in entertaining them. You let him swivel on black soles, stopping him just as he reached the doorway.

"Why haven't other housekeepers worked out?"

Montague let his fingers rest on glazed woodwork framing the threshold, drumming out a soothing rhythm while considering an answer for all of two seconds. "In short? They couldn't follow the rules. Now, let me show you to the yard."

Afterward, the so-called cohabitation had become a seamless blend for you both. You had learned right away that Montague wasn't one for idle chatter and niceties without purpose. He had deviated from it once, on move-in day, to reassure you that the mysterious nature of your life schedule and odd hours you were called to a clean scene wouldn’t be a source of concern.

Shortly after settling your things around the house, the reason for his amenable attitude was a little more apparent. Several times a month, you would be pulled from your forensics projects to the landing at the end of the hall, piqued by fresh voices always indistinguishable at first, and folded your waist over the railing to see down.

The top of his head, hair short, impeccably styled, and ash-brown, was the first thing you noticed, followed by someone on his arm. Sometimes a woman, sometimes a man—always conventionally attractive, always utterly enraptured by him. It struck a nerve with you once or twice, finding your thoughts swimming bitterly: Of course a man who looked like him would go for types like that!

Why did he act so much differently with them than you?

He wasn't nearly as friendly and affable as he was making himself out to be.

You stopped peeking down on him after an instance where his eyes shot straight up, pinning you where you stood. He simpered at you before leading his companion away to the basement, and that was it. You never saw them leave and never bothered to ask.

Tonight was different, however, both in the way you nearly toppled the two-figure Chalmette vase off its pedestal with flighty fingers and a duster, and the echo of a scream piercing the hollow halls to you. It stayed in one spot on the first floor, luring you down the center staircase with your duster clutched to you like a sword. At that point, your heart bursting in your ears was louder than the agonized cries resonating around the corner.

You looked around, spine wrapped in dread as another scream, weak, garbled, and wet, came from the basement, and then nothing at all. It was soundless in the house. Distantly, one of the clocks mounted in the kitchen archway toned onward. You followed its beat with the shuffle of your feet.

Hello, hello? Those words clung tightly in your throat, yet you were too afraid to announce yourself like that. Still, nothing came as you slowly pulled at the basement doorknob, brass and freezing and unlocked. The stairway plunging down inside was filled with inky black, so dark you couldn't get your eyes to adjust to it.

Is everything okay down there? Hello? Hello? You ran the imaginary chatter through your mind, lips sealed but trembling during your slow descent, the path now illuminated by white glow from your phone. At the bottom, the stone stairs turned into seamless gray marble and red wetness crawling toward the soles of your slippers.

"What–" You gasped, taking a step back while flicking the flashlight higher, deeper into the basement. The vivid red puddle glistened in your light, widening around a motionless figure with pale skin—a blonde woman you didn't know. Her face pointed up at the ceiling, twisted in terror, black tracks of mascara curving along her cheeks.

She was naked on the floor, surrounded by her own blood, something you didn't have to look at twice. Your breaths grew harsh, taking in the sight of her neck, or lack thereof; there wasn't much left of it. Only a few stringy bits of sinew and muscle kept it from a full decapitation, and blood still pulsed out in spurts from mangled arteries and veins.

A motion nearby made your nape prickle. It was like feet padding across wet pavement after a fresh rain, except this smell carried the malodor of rust and something sour under your nose.

You settled a pillar of light on the source, capturing the view of Montague standing amid the bloodbath, sickly skin bare and saturated in rich crimson.

Something was wrong with him, came an instantaneous, instinctual reaction the moment his head spun toward you, catching pale eyeshine in the white light.

The bones in his jaw cracked as the length of it began to recede into the semblance of something more man to you, rows of jagged teeth retracting into the depths of his throat until only a pair of long incisors remained.

Montague skimmed the tip of his tongue along his lower lip, smiling at you affectedly, saying as though it were some trife thing, "She started screaming."

You were gone and out of the basement after that, clearing the woman's body and kicking away the slippers on your feet when they squelched with blood. Montague said something after you when shrieks ripped out of your lungs and reverberated through the house. You winced as the basement door let out a hollow rattle when he collided with it, heart matching the rhythm of the skin on your feet slapping against old marble, thoughts disarrayed, frantic the closer you got to the front door.

Almost there. Almost there. Almost there. Oh God! Oh God! Oh God! You were panting in unison with the vicious chants.

The doorknob was in your hand. The door was open—and it was thrown shut with the force of your body thrust against it, fingers wrenched off of the handle and enveloped in Montague's cold fingers as he pushed himself flush into you.

You felt his palm clamp around your mouth, whittling your screams into panicked whimpers, nostrils flaring with your ragged breaths.

"Ah, no, no." He had to stoop his neck to talk into your ears. "Shh, shh, shhh. Far too loud. I don't like screaming. Shh, shh, shhhh."

Tears seared red behind your eyes, making you think you could follow the warmth down your face as they filled the crevices in his hand. "It's really, truly a pity. She was a pretty one but far too smart. I'm usually decent at picking out the ones who wouldn't suspect anything or, at least, catching them before they try to scream.

"You'll have to forgive me. I swear to you I'm not ordinarily that messy. I prefer to keep everything tidy, especially so you don't have to go down there. After all, you're already so busy. You're already doing so much. I can't recall when I last saw you relax."

The weight of his palm softened, a wordless agreement that you honored with continued silence as he used that arm to lean against the door. His voice shifted around your head to your other ear. "That's it. Just wonderful. There's no need for screaming, is there? It's only the two of us."

"Are—are..." You couldn't get it out, lips and throat suddenly sucked dry. "Don't kill me, please. Please. Please."

His chest quaked while a subdued, eerily delighted laugh hissed through his lips. "Kill you? Oh, no, no, no. Never. How could I ever kill you when you're so remarkable? My home has never looked so beautiful and lived in. I'm enjoying how it looks with you in it."

You wilted away from his lips sinking to a spot below your ear, now taking far too much notice of his erection curving up along your lower back. It felt disgustingly wrong to wonder whether the violence and blood turned him on, or it was you and your fear. The man wasn't even human; that much was clear.

"What are you?" There was no shortage of daring questions in your arsenal. Montague was beginning to find the charm in them.

"That's quite difficult for me to answer." He let his chin lay on your shoulder. "I've been called many things over the centuries. I suppose the closest anyone has ever gotten is vampire, but even that's not quite right. You're free to guess as much as you'd like, though."

He was satisfied when you didn't, freeing the weight off of his arm to slide his hand under the hem of your shirt, fingertips still slick with that woman's blood as he explored your navel. You were too aware of the roundness of his fingernails stepping across your flesh, sometimes pressing deep, and other times a light touch you needed to scratch. His throat vibrated against your shoulder.

"What are you thinking? I'd love to hear it." He wanted to devour your fear in more ways than just feeling you wince. "Well? Tell me."

"I want to go." Go? Where could you possibly go that he couldn’t find you? If he ripped out the side of a woman's neck, he could track you down.

He leaned his cheek into your ear again, relishing the warmth that spread into him. "Where would you go? Who would you tell? Humor me, where is the first place you'd go?"

"The police," you said.

Montague let out a pleased hum. "Of course. It only makes sense to report a terrible scene such as that to them. Forensics and the police play together often, don't they?"

Your nod was weak.

"I know how hard you've been studying, how much stress you're under to commit to your degree, your work—to me." His hand crept along to your stomach, fingers splaying wide across the protective layer of skin and fat. "Let's say they were to find something I left behind. Who becomes a suspect in their eyes when they learn that I have someone who tidies up after me? Who knows the dirty insides of cleaning up anything and everything?"

You were starting to panic, fitfully struggling against his body. It's like he was made of stone. "They wouldn't accuse me of murdering anyone."

"Haven't you seen the news lately? Are you so sure?" he said derisively. "No, perhaps you're right. Maybe you'd be fortunate, and they wouldn't have your head for murder, but they would certainly try to peg you with something else. As an accomplice, maybe? And that's assuming that I don't disappear and let rip you apart.

"Can you imagine it? Can you feel your heart break at the very thought of losing it all? Your degree? Your job? Safety? The world is cruel, darling. You'd never have another moment of peace or anonymity. Anywhere you'd go, you'd be found, every alias sullied with your sins. All because you decided to speak up about it."

You knew he meant to send you downstairs to do something about the mess, spend hours scrubbing and mopping until what had once been there was a secret that thickened your tongue and made it hard to swallow.

No one would ever find out, but you would carry it in every waking thought until, one morning, the cute barista on Market Street had an eerie semblance to that dead woman, and the light roast in your hand suddenly looked so red.

"Thump. Thump. Thump." Montague mocked the heavy thrum of your heart behind your ribs, his cold fingers skimming your nipples before resting over your sternum. "You can go if you'd like, but I'll find you. I'll hear your little heart until it bursts and drag you right back here. You're mine."

The push of his body gradually faded away, giving your chest the room to expand, leaving you to gulp quivering, greedy breaths that didn't stop even as the pads of his feet grew distant.

He called back to you, "Give me ten minutes or so, and then come down."

You were already partway through the front door with your car keys to pop the trunk when, floating like a spectre's moans in still night air, his voice reached out once more, "You may want to clean up yourself first. You have blood all over your face."

༺ ♰ ༻

A damp towel came before your descent back into the basement. In tow on your shoulders were three bags of absorbent, the fancy stuff hospitals liked to use to throw on puke and piss and anything else they just lazily wanted to sweep around. It worked for blood in smaller quantities, blood that was still wet, anyway.

The woman hadn't been dead long enough for her body fluids to dry, so you didn't anticipate needing anything except the basics stowed in your car trunk.

You weren't sure what you expected to see down there, noticing the lights were turned on high, fully illuminating the gray marble, the furthest reaches of the blood puddle with your slippers saturated dark red and ruined. What came as a shock was the woman's dead eyes and shredded neck being nowhere in sight.

Montague had moved her body but to where?

For some reason, you were drawn to ridiculous spots like the walls, ceiling, and tiny cramped corners that he could have feasibly stuffed her in. There was no sickly trail of blood leading any which way, droplets only reaching as far as the stairs and first landing where you had been pursued—nothing else.

Where did he take her?

Part of you was ready to turn a blind eye to all of this because you knew you would have to in order to keep everything. If you kept your head low and groveled a little bit, maybe he'd get bored and leave you alone, biding you the time you needed to finish your degree. But, that'd be two years of this.

You weren't sure you could stomach it.

As you moved granules of absorbent through blood with coarse bristles from the kitchen broomstick—shifting the puddle more than the actual absorbent—you wondered if he could hear your heart now from wherever he was.

You thought about a lot of things while letting your eyes roam the space. It was enormous, taking up the entire underside of the house, outfitted impressively with mahogany accents, sprawling bookshelves, armchairs, and loveseats pulled tight in leather and velvet. Across the room was a disheveled bed, creamy sateen sheets in a luscious heap but otherwise undisturbed.

To the adjacent end of this expanse were two doors you didn't notice at first, one a little taller than yourself in height, about as wide as any normal arm span, and looked old, so old that everything else was too new. Even from where you stood, you knew it'd take a skeleton key. The other door was more coherent with the rest of the basement, cleaner but certainly still part of the house's original construction.

By the time Montague had returned, you already had much of the ordeal pitched into a biohazard bag with some trace remnants putting you on your knees to scrub away. You hadn't realized he was even there until the tips of his shoes—brown leather loafers with a scalloped tassel near the toes—appeared in your peripheral, sending you launching back onto your hocks.

"This work is spectacular. I knew I had a good feeling giving that room to you." he said with a beguiling smile. All of the blood was gone; he was clean in a dark dressing robe with black trousers, a look you hated that you saw as alluring. "Don't forget to clean the floors upstairs. We made quite a mess there as well."

"What happened to that woman?" You were asking your pesky questions again. Montague wasn't so sure he found them as charming now, but you were still a prize.

You leaned away as he crouched in front of you, nearly risking the soles of his shoes in the blood and hydrogen peroxide. For the first time since meeting, you kept eye contact and saw that his reached a depth you didn't think could be possible for a human. He wasn't touching you, yet it felt like he had you caged, trapped in a vise that held you tight.

He did touch you then, grazing the side of your face with a thumb. Suddenly, he brought it to his lips and licked it as he rose to full height.

"You still had some blood just there on your cheek." There was an armchair a few feet away that he dropped into, withdrawing a gold compact from a chest pocket on his way down. "Don't worry. I wouldn't ask you to carry away the bodies. I'm not that Roman."

"That's not what I asked." you rejoined.

Montague tucked a cigarette between his lips, igniting it with a match he kept inside the compact. His first few puffs looked like they calmed him as he crossed a leg and settled deeper into the leather. "You shouldn’t expect answers to things you don’t need to know—or want to.”

But he humored you with a slight lean of his head towards the old door far away. "The original owner of this house was ingenious and built tunnels that were used to shuffle people in and out. Mistresses. Servants. More unsavory things—you must remember the era. At any rate, it stretches beyond the house and some ways off. I do not recommend ever going inside."

You understood now why you never saw any of the dates he brought home leave. And you believed every bit of his warning.

It inspired you to move away from the grim reality dwelling beyond that old door. You hovered over the same spot, drenching the floor with more of the disinfectant, grasping for a distraction. "I didn't know vampires could smoke. Isn't blood enough for you?”

Montague flicked his cigarette over an ashtray beside his chair. "Well, we all have our vices. Mine just happens to be five or six of these a day. Keeps enough of the edge off so you get to sleep at night."

Something about that comment made the entire stretch of the basement feel so confining—claustrophobic, even. Your back was wide open to it, to his ravening gaze and leather toe turning fluid circles as though to pace himself before lunging.

"I have class in six hours." You finished the job by tying off the bag. "I'd like to get the upstairs done and take a shower."

"Of course. Try to get some sleep, you've had quite a night." He didn't move to see you out. "Oh, and leave the bag. I'll dispose of it."

༺ ♰ ༻

Meredith Nimu died approximately twenty-three days ago after a stroke left her immobilized in her favorite armchair. Her body wasn't peeled away from the murky-green polyester until day twenty-four, following enough neighbor complaints about a bunch of rats dying in the vents.

Getting rid of the chair was half the battle in this case, something that Meredith's overzealous, recently divorced daughter spouted off as sacrilegious. She insisted that the carpet cleaner she used for her obese dogs with raw patches on their legs could do it all. Your supervisor had been inflectionless when telling her it didn't work like that.

One of your teammates, a middle-aged black man affectionately nicknamed “Hoss” had unceremoniously slammed the apartment door shut and flipped the lock so the daughter's rancorous eruptions were somewhat contained outside. The other half of the duo responsible for pitching the chair, T.J., a white man who could never tan, wheezed out a laugh as he labored a hard bristle brush through the gunk left behind from Meredith's decay.

"Boss ain't gonna be happy about that." T.J. couldn't commit to the act of a brownnoser even if he wanted to. A couple more chortles rattled through his respirator. They were infectious, ridiculous sounds that coaxed similar from Hoss when he rejoined the effort to get the job done and over with.

You could still hear the daughter on the other side of the door, never once allowing your supervisor a word in edgewise. A part of you wanted to pity her, perhaps conjure up a shred of empathy for someone so completely enmeshed in the throes of grief and anger. She was clearly spiraling, her entire life yanked out from under her—and she was free-falling with nothing to catch her, no thin wire she could snag in the bend of her fingers and watch as the velocity of that cruelly, cleanly severed white tendon and bone.

Where would she fall after that? You didn't know. You didn't care. She could regain control over her life even without fingers, but what about you? No one understood how disconcerting it was to know that your survival depended on a vampire's good mood.

An old woman was meant to expire, but you were young and had aspirations—yet that could be stolen from you just as quickly as a clot could kill the brain.

It wasn't fucking fair.

Hoss had called out to you repeatedly until the hard brushes stopped scratching the floor, and he and T.J. were settled back on their heels, staring at you. You were used to leveraging your commitments in life as a means to get them off your case, but even they could tell this was different.

"You've been real spacey lately." It was enough to gently reel you back to the moment, eyes unstuck from remnants of putrid matter hidden under a deluge of chemicals and soap. Now you were thinking that the landlord would probably have to replace this entire spot in the flooring. It would be an expensive fix.

"Everything okay at home?" Hoss tried again, emulating fatherly concern in his tone and sidelong stare. It was something he couldn't help since you were so similar in age to his adult kids. "I don't think I've seen you eat today. We oughta finish up here up and grab somethin' quick on the way back.”

"Sorry, yeah, it's just the usual things." They didn't know what that meant to you, but readily accepted with dour expressions masked by their respirators. "I think I saw a gyro truck down the street."

As many times as you had regurgitated the same thing when they pried into your well-being, you were surprised they still asked at all. That made it hard to wave after them as you pulled the lever to the trunk, waiting to be left alone once the job was done to stack half your weight in absorbent until the back bowed to it.

It was just past two in the morning when you were locking the front door of Montague's sprawling estate behind you. Every time you did, a part of you hesitated to seal it the whole way, as though if you did, your final traces of freedom would be stripped away entirely.

"Welcome home!" Montague came out from prowling somewhere in the shadows, seeming to materialize from the darkest parts your eyes couldn't adapt to. He was in a dressing robe again, this one forest green with gold embroidery and a burgundy handkerchief tucked away nicely in his breast pocket.

He already had a cigarette lit between his knuckles, fussing with the little stick as he went to an open window, sucked in, and expelled pungent gray smoke. "I apologize. There's a bit of a mess for you tonight. It's unlike me to be so untidy, but it shouldn't take you too long—oh, darling, don't make that face."

"Why can't you get blood from other sources, like a blood bank?" It's been on your mind for a while, but Montague had a habit of turning petulant if you asked him too much.

He was in good shape tonight, though, despite still puffing away antsily. "Where's the satisfaction in simply being given what I want? Blood banks are a finite supply, but out there"—he gestured through the open window—"there is an infinite supply from any walk of life that I so choose. Did you know that not all blood is equal?"

You sensed him at your back, awash with that same vulnerability as the night on your knees in the basement. He strolled along with you while you collected your things, examined his leftovers, which fortunately wasn't as sensational as before. It looked like a Rorschach inkblot almost, purple-red and pristine, obviously untouched for some time.

Just like that dead blonde woman, there was nothing left behind of the victim except what Montague was too careless to handle himself.

"The worst blood is what you find in hospitals or on the streets. It doesn't matter their type; it all tastes like shit." he continued, even while you worked. Just like before, he sat himself nearby and observed your process with gross fascination. "In a pinch, though, I do what I must. It doesn't matter if a man is homeless or a woman is looking for a night out. When I hear their hearts dance, that thump, thump, thump—oh, I have to have it. I can taste them through their skin, even before I sink my teeth in.

"The fear in their eyes. The ragged breaths I see in their chests, watching their bellies pulse. I like to think in those moments they know exactly what's going to happen, like little flies in a spider's web."

Montague let more smoke slither out from his lips in skinny, swirling wisps that dissipated once it touched the air. The haze of it remained, just traceable to your eye. "I always find it interesting that they all struggle, even as they're writhing in their own blood. Sometimes I'll count how long it takes for them to die."

These weren't confessions of a madman because that would imply he was human. He was treating you akin to the way an old man recounted the fondness of his flawed, flickering memories. There were sensations of joy and affection in the work he did, a true love and visceral desire for carnage and suffering that made it hard for you to stomach.

A few times throughout his soliloquy, you needed to bear your weight on the kitchen broom to keep yourself from toppling from nausea.

You shouldn't have been curious. "Has anyone ever survived?"

The surrounding space grew darker, not from loss of light but from the way his lower face sunk behind the hand wielding the cigarette. You saw his smile widen through sickly appendages and faint smoke.

His response pierced straight through you. "I'm looking right at it."

Suddenly, the urge to run rushed forefront in your mind, an instinctual reaction that you had trouble wrestling over with logic. The broomstick was easily pulled from your fingers and discarded onto the floor with a reverberating clatter that made your spine race with cold needles as Montague stepped into your proximity.

You shivered against the hands slowly climbing your neck to the underside of your jaw, cradling your face as he lifted it to meet his eyes. Something was so wrong with how black they were; you didn't see a pupil, nor did your reflection stare back at you in them. It's almost as though there was nothing there at all, the dark of them growing into an abysmal chasm that made your vision cross and blur, eyelids weighing like lead when you felt him kiss you.

His lips were the same kind of cold as the rest of him but full and unrelenting, never granting you the chance to mold the kiss in any other way. Surprisingly, the taste of stale smoke on his breath was just slight, a mediocre vexation you overlooked the moment his hands started groping you under your clothes.

And you didn't think much of it when your back settled into the clean linens on your bed, skin flushed with the crisp evening air and lips mapping their way south across your stomach and navel, delving lower to your core. It was too dark in your room to see down your body at the top of Montague's head, but you felt him with your fingers, coiling pieces of his ash-brown hair to your knuckles while he pushed your thighs wide open for him.

An anxious patter swelled in your chest, a vague understanding that something was horrible about this, but you were too wrapped up in a dreamy fog to think about it. More than the resounding boom of your heart, you heard your own breaths dissolve into lewd moans and slurred pleas for him to do more, more, more.

It didn't sound like you.

It didn't feel like you despite knowing that build-up in your abdomen better than most things in your body.

The hands in his hair, the back bending off of the mattress like an archway, the shaking limbs, and the cries begging for more were someone else entirely up until the very moment rapture fluttered behind your eyes in searing white, body deluged in hot release that left your scalp tingling and toes curling and spend on your sheets.

"Give me more." You tasted him again, his tongue pushing hard into your mouth where those salty notes of yourself lingered on your cheeks. His silhouette melded with the rest of the room, tangible only in the way he roamed every surface of you.

Montague had shucked the clothes from both your bodies earlier, preferring to lean into the flush of heat you radiated. Everything was only skin-deep away from him; he could feel your pulse throb on his lips when he teased himself against your carotid, your radial, trailing all the way to the powerful beat of your femoral nestled there in your groin.

His teeth came close many times to piercing you, allowing him a sliver of a taste like a parched king waiting for a drop of golden wine. But half the thrill of having you around was denying himself of you, knowing well that if he were to start, then he'd never be able to stop, and he'd fully hamper your dreams of escaping.

The air smelled like you now, heavy and like damp skin and your fluids soaking into the linens. He watched your face bunch and fall apart when he split you open with his cock, hips colliding, your skin sure to bruise as his thrusts turned savage. There wasn't much left in his heart anymore. Most of it had atrophied over the centuries, and yet the sound of yours spurred him on.

He could follow the path of your blood through your body, an extensive subject he had studied and dissected at length in his lifetime. The most vulnerable spots were gorged and worked the hardest, almost glowing red through your skin for him. When he thrust a little bit harder, a little bit faster, and felt your fingertips pushing against his chest, he heard your heart be the loudest it ever had been.

"That's it. That's it. That's it." His own breaths were ragged now. The sheer exhilaration of pushing his lips deeper, hot sweat leaving a slick layer on them, and that one big artery in your neck pounding out was doing everything for him.

Your frantic pants were a close second. He could feel you unraveling, tightening around his cock until you were soundlessly writhing on the mattress, clutching anything you could bunch together. The final few thrusts he made were purposeful; they were forceful and jolted your body, a show to make sure you wouldn't forget the feeling of him inside of you.

The clean linens were sodden with cum, some still dripping out of you while you lay there, legs splayed enough so you wouldn't feel it stick to your thighs. Whatever haze had been hanging over your eyes before lifted away, leaving you ruined and exhausted on the sheets but not alone.

"You've got class in a few hours, don't you?" Montague said from above, shoulders nestled in your headboard while one leg hung off the side of the bed. He was smoking again, acting the calmest you had witnessed him. "I don't really think you're in any shape for that. Why don't you stay home today?"

You were too spent to respond to him, somehow using the occasional breaths he blew out into the vast room to lull you into a dreamless sleep.

༺ ♰ ༻

Shin Nakamura had been a selfish man in life. Mid-fifties, thinning hair, and twice divorced from women who knew better—his tenants did not. He had built a reputation on the north side of town for hidden costs and faulty appliances that were never fixed. Once or twice in the past four years you had cleaned up scenes, they came out of Nakamura's buildings in the summertime, stuck to the floor and infested with maggots and flies in different orifices.

Everyone had asked at one point, yourself included, how he was able to get away with that level of blatant cruelty and disregard—and the answer was as simultaneously simple, complex, and terrible as poverty. The north end was an area notorious for local crime and violence, but more than that, it was forgotten in favor of gentrifying other areas of the city—pretty little boutiques that'd make a splash on social media and a couple of upscale dining spots, all of those meant to change the online scales deeming an area's walkability, and therefore, profitability.

The blind eye most city commissioners turned to the north end made it an easy life for Shin to do as he pleased without many consequences despite living in the area himself. Most of everyone found it an odd sort of justice when he was discovered in his office, unrecognizable from how badly the dozens of stab wounds had disfigured his face and body. One look was enough to know that it was personal, a tenant who had received their condemnation via a neon-pink eviction letter hastily taped to an off-white door.

Only, this time, Shin chose a person backed into a corner at their breaking point. There wasn't much left to lose, yet Shin had ultimately lost it all. Rumor had it that no one sold out the tenant who committed the crime, something even the more moralistic part of yourself could fathom.

These were the cases that painted a grim picture of your future in forensics and often speared to the front of your mind at the worst of times—could you really be part of the reason why a person shattered by the powers of society goes to jail?

Shin Nakamura was a terrible man, but were his crimes punishable by that sort of torture? What about the tenants who probably heard Shin screaming for help, crying in agony—were they any better than murderers themselves?

What did that mean for you? An accomplice who quietly scrubbed clean murders at a monster's behest, you allowed those people to be swallowed up by Montague under a guise of fear, or was it selfishness?

That discomfort lasted you your entire shift, like an incredibly nauseating pill with a bad smell that sat in your nose for hours. You couldn't wipe away the thoughts like you could dried blood on smoke-stained walls or lumps of serrated flesh and fat wedged between slabs of wood on the floor.

"Man, he coulda been cleaner about this." T.J. had his feet planted solidly on the middle step of a ladder, well at work with a long-handled brush pushed flat to the ceiling. The splatter had gone that far, earning a few awestruck coos from him and Hoss earlier. "It would've made our lives easier."

It was a normal joke.

You'd laughed at the exact same one many times before, even finessed your own commentary in there on occasion because the dead can't sue, and a murderer had no rights—but now, you thought it'd taste bad on your tongue.

The two hulking men noticed, far sharper than you gave them credit for. Or maybe you were just worse at hiding things than you thought. They didn't allude to anything until everyone was packed up in the van, dried from the sweaty protective suits and summer heat by the AC.

"Listen, it ain't my business, and I swear I've been trying my best not to ask." There was a furtive look linked between Hoss and T.J.; it was something they had talked about when you weren't around. "That guy you're living with. He isn't doing anything to you, right? You used to talk about him all the time in the beginning. Haven’t heard a peep about him in ages. God, you're not living in your car, are you?"

From the outside in, you weren't doing much to try to embellish fancy stories and reasons onto your drastic change over the months. You simply let it be and navigated every day with the hope you'd remember where you were going with your head down. It probably didn't look too good to a paternal man like Hoss, and to T.J., who had several younger siblings.

"No, it's not him—" But, of course, it really was and everything surrounding his cruelty, everything he made you do, and what you never refuted. "I'm just perpetually exhausted. I'm sure you've heard that from Sylvie and Deshaun while they've been in uni."

"All the damn time." Hoss beamed, chest perked a little higher with the mention of his children. It wasn't enough to diffuse the tension lingering in the van, however. "Just know, I'd do for you what I'd do for my babies—put the fear of God in that man. If he puts a finger on you, you let me know."

T.J. gave an agreeable hum, fingers sticking to the steering wheel as he moved them around, making a turn down some street. "We'll catch him by surprise and everything. I'll call in a couple favors, grab a few shovels and bags of cement from my dad's place. It's all good."

For some reason, their entire spiel only spiked your uneasiness, and suddenly you were far too aware of your bladder. It was enough initiative for T.J. to floor the gas and get back to headquarters, giving you the chance to break away and race the remnants of daylight all the way home.

༺ ♰ ༻

It had never happened before, but you managed to catch Montague by surprise when he walked through the front door to find you standing there in the foyer. The kitchen broom wrapped in your hands was a nasty ploy, along with the look you cast between him and a young man not any older than yourself.

Again, just like all the others, you didn't recognize him. Montague's victims were fast, fleeting fixations for him, none worthy of names or an identity in his eyes. You suspected this guy was much the same.

Montague's bewilderment was swept away by a smile and laxing posture. He had settled back into his element. "You're home early today. I didn't expect to see you until much later. Not much to the scene, I assume?"

"It was pretty bad." A certain stiffness trailed on the end of your words, letting them echo through the hall and hang in the cool evening air.

The young man was fast to perceive that tension: the tightness in your shoulders, fingers subtly wringing against the cracked wooden broom. Montague's anticipative smile climbed higher the longer he looked at you.

Would it be such a bad thing to turn around and pretend you had never seen him come home with that other man? You considered doing it, hiding upstairs and using your headphones until everything seeping through turned into an amalgamation of ambient noise that meant nothing to you, and you willed away the guilt like you'd always done.

In that moment, you thought about Meredith Nimu's apoplectic daughter, a woman so embittered by her own suffering that she was foul and relentless to anyone she crossed paths with. You thought about Shin Nakamura, a greedy, pitiless man who'd rather let coroners scrape up his tenant's remains rather than grant them mercy while they were alive and had been left in pieces because of it.

You thought of them and all their wickedness and edged your gaze towards the young man still standing in the doorway with his hand holding it ajar, clean fingernails picking at chipping paint, just steps from outside. "I think you should leave."

Run! Run! You'd better run away as fast as you can! Nothing would stop Montague from keeping his prey there, if that's what he chose to do.

He did the opposite of that, and that was, simply, nothing at all. No pretty blandishments, nor a mouthful of teeth. Rather, now, he was particularly piqued by what you were trying to do.

To the young man, he had meddled into something rather egregious, probably convinced it was extramarital. You battled a surge of pride blooming inside you, shifting your chest a little higher, anchoring your spine back into your body.

"Don't come back here." You didn't need to say anything else. He was gone after pinching out a look of disgust towards Montague, tutting at him with his upper teeth showing through a curled lip.

Nothing happened for a while, not until the front door was secured after his departure. You were left to that responsibility, triple-checking the lock, while Montague ambled deeper into the house, but not too far away as you could follow the leisurely path by his heel strike. There was a rhythm in how he moved. It was deliberate, as though mimicking something.

It took you five paces to figure out he was miming your heartbeat, and he only stopped once it quickened in your chest. He appeared from around the corner, still taking his time reaching you, toying with some trinkets displayed on shelves built into alcoves throughout the lower floor.

You couldn't explain what you were feeling at that moment. Of the thousands—maybe millions—of victims Montague had taken in the previous times, you had just deprived him of one. That man would continue living, and he would tell his friends tomorrow about the weird night he had, and he would never have to be grateful that you saved him from a hellish death.

Yes, oh yes. Even as Montague approached you, carried by his deft gait with both halves of his gold compact open in his palm, you couldn't help but be in complete awe of yourself.

A life continued outside of this mausoleum, and it was all because of you. You were entirely different from Meredith Nimu's daughter and Shin Nakamura, and, for once, your hands weren't sullied by bleach, blood, and body matter.

All that heaviness you had been carrying was suddenly so much lighter, and you felt like your chest could open up as wide as the room where you stood. The breaths you took were dry and cold in your throat, yet fresh as though you were walking outside in wintertime.

Montague must've seen something he didn't like on your face because he sucked down on his cigarette for a while, winding his wrist with it at his side once he was adequately calm.

"Did it feel good? I've only seen you this happy while I was fucking your brains out." It was jarring to hear him talk like that. He took another quick drag and let it out slowly as he rounded you. "Truthfully, darling, I didn't think you were the type to break the rules—on purpose, anyway. But I suppose we all get a little wound up every now and then, right? I've already forgiven you."

And then, you watched him drop the cigarette to the marble and snuff it underfoot until the weak ember was turned to soot. A black smear was left behind when he took his foot away. His stare into you was unwavering.

"Clean it up."

You figured this was how a frightened animal felt when it wanted something within reach of an observant predator because you were trying to think of all the ways to get close without getting too close. It was a pitiful, humorous sight to him, seeing your steps forward so light and on the verge of bolting. But he showed no intention of doing anything more.

Still with the broom in hand, your knuckles turned stark around the handle while sweeping the remains towards you. It would take more elbow grease to get up that smudge, and he knew that just as well.

He reached for the broom and snapped it to a halt, making you jump, jaw clenching. A noiseless gasp lurched in your throat, his fingers wound tight into the hair at your crown as he yanked your head back to show all the fleshiness of your neck.

"What will you do about it, darling?" His lips were already cold and flush to the artery dancing in the curvature built of skin, muscle, and tendon.

Your teeth chattered as the wetness of his tongue followed that intricate, breathtaking network inside of you as far as the neckline of your shirt would let him.

"A man has to eat. Have you ever seen it? A man near starvation and the sorts of things he'll do to survive? Why, I've heard stories of desperate, little men eating their own lovers—their children—themselves just to claw around for a little longer. It's inspiring, I think."

He dragged you away then, up the stairs and through the hallway on the second floor to your bedroom, fingers still nested your hair until the moment you were shoved down onto fresh linens. There wasn't anywhere for you to go once he joined you on the mattress, feeling it bend towards his weight.

"Don't be afraid." he said this with all the fond familiarity of a lover, blunt fingernails digging crescents into your thigh through your clothes. In the waning moonlight that filtered through the dusty window over your bed, his pale eyeshine snared you like roots bursting from somewhere within your busy sheets to keep you there—keep you tame. "That's right. Come to me. Come to me."

There was a new drowsiness behind your eyes, one you couldn't stave by blinking. Montague's face was closer now, and you were struck with just how beautiful he actually was. The longer your gaze lasted, tips of your fingers exploring every shape and edge of his exquisite features, the less you were convinced he was a threat to you—that he couldn't have possibly been all that you'd feared up until now.

"I want you." His lips inched up like he expected you to say it. He felt your hands rest on the sides of his face, guiding him down into a soft kiss that he returned, that he kept clean and let you command until he was bored with it. You chased after him, lower lip pulled between both of yours and eventually out of reach. "Don't you want me too?"

"I wish you could understand just how much I do." He rummaged his pocket for the gold compact, losing it somewhere in the sheets, and then busied himself with stripping himself and you of clothes.

Each piece discarded showed a greater expanse of your skin, a delight in his eyes because he could see that gorgeous webbing of arteries and veins throughout you, even in the darkness, through every defense your body created to protect you from every bacteria, virus, infection—from him.

He didn't need the breath, but he took one and held it anyway.

You withered against his touch, those freezing, lithe fingertips traveling down all the areas where he wished his teeth could be, clear down to your groin. His smile stretched, feeling you search eagerly for a fistful of his hair with his lips smoothing across your inner thigh and then going higher.

There was warmth between your legs, a colorless glisten that leaked out onto the thin sheets, darkening a spot on them that tempted his tongue out for a taste. He came close to entertaining the notion of giving you that glimpse of heaven, allured by your hips leaping off the mattress and against his face.

"You really do think this is all about you." Montague kept you still by pressing down into your abdomen as he rose onto his knees, erection fitting tight between your bodies in the moments before he guided himself lower and hitched up into you.

The sharp motion knocked a startled gasp out of your throat, where it quickly dissolved into a slew of filth and breathy panting. Your nails clawed into your palms, a sight he thought to make worse by digging himself deeper into you.

Montague had no issues biding his time this way, looming over the sprawl of your body beneath him, manipulating parts of you until he saw your face flinch and the first moans of discomfort shake all the way from your chest, up, and through your teeth. They matched the pace of his hard thrusts, smothered by sharp slaps of skin that carried in the inky air.

Indeed, I can wait. That thought of his unsatiated hunger melted in the back of his mind with the precedence of arranging the course of blood in your body. The drum of your heartbeat was deafening to him, but it wasn't enough.

It wasn't loud enough.

He wanted to be able to envision the arteries and veins bursting in his teeth, saturating the sheets and walls and both your bodies in hot red. He wanted it to paint his skin while he fucked you to absolution.

"It really, truly, is all about you in the end, isn't it?" He could still speak clearly, despite you being unable to utter noise beyond the air being forced out of your lungs. "You really are magnificent. How could I ever think to let you go? Not after everything you've done for me, how beautiful you look next to all of my things."

His hand shifted away from your abdomen at last, tracking across the soft span of your stomach and the muscles spasming there under his fingertips.

All he would have to do is dig through you a little bit, and he could bury himself in those twitching fibers and insides. But he continued on his path to your pert nipples that he rolled against his palm a few times, higher still to fold his fingers together against your sternum where he felt your heart thundering there against your ribs.

"Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump," came his mocking chant that cracked into raspy moans as he lingered there. It had been a long time since something had made him feel this good. He had forgotten what bliss was truly like.

He reached your neck before long, trapping the underside of your jaw against his knuckles, forcing you to see him as his weight bore down on your throat. You both heard the cartilage and muscle in your neck shift, a subtle crack that sent your limbs flailing. You were thrown out of the rhythm of his thrusts in an attempt to grab at him.

"You really are despicable, aren't you?" He let out a gleeful laugh, letting your fingers turn ashen while you wrung his wrist. You weren't able to do much with your legs except use them to plant your heels into the mattress, vaulting your hips in the air to try to wrench yourself free. His cock slipped out of you, but he was hardly bothered by that.

"Does it feel good that you chased off my guest? I could get him back, you know. You're aware of this. I know you are. But righteousness just feels so… rewarding, doesn't it? You couldn't resist. Desperation must've been eating you alive."

Strings of saliva glistened in your mouth, breaking apart the further your jaws spread. You were convinced, in that moment, that you would die like that in a silent scream. None of the words that Montague spoke truly reached you, not as your chest quivered and lungs burned as though swallowed in an inferno.

"Every misdeed in life vastly outweighs the good, you know? The scales have never been leaned in our favor—not I, and especially not for you. If that's the sort of thing you believe in. Isn't that what you're taught? Goodness for the sake of salvation at the end of a short life of inhibitions? How miserable." Montague took his hand off of you and let you breathe.

You sucked in crisp air, gasping from your side through wet coughs and the sourness of vomit spat out on the floor.

Your respite was brief, weight on the mattress shifting as the hair on your scalp was used to lever you to your knees, body suspended upright only by his fingers tangled at your roots.

"This is all I can see." Montague loosened his hand from your head, moving south along your spine to your ass. He kneaded the bruised parts of your hips for a while after, lips ghosting their way along your neck up to the ear. "All I can see is what's right in front of me. And how it tastes. All that matters is that I have my fill—and that I feel good."

He smeared slick into the heel of his palm, rolling the head of his cock in that mess as he instructed you with every bit of lewdness how he wanted you to bend against the headboard, how far apart for you to spread your legs for him.

Every bit of it was humiliating for you, while he wished he could memorialize that moment of sinking back inside of you as your breaths broke into stifled sobs, face warped by anguish.

"Does it hurt? Tell me, I have to know, what does it feel like?" He enjoyed the suspense of not receiving an answer, listening as your fingernails dug tracks into the wood headboard and the dark room filled with obscene wetness that grew louder as his thrusts turned wild.

"Mmm—" He hinged forward, bracing his weight on top of your hands with his own. You shied from the surge of coolness that came with his cheek pressing yours. "You and I aren't so different. It makes me wonder if you actually like this. Isn't there something so freeing about it?"

"Mer—mercy, please." It was a coarse whisper from your dry throat, so much of your time having been spent with your mouth agape. The idea of having you that way was as tantalizing as all the others he thought up. "Montague, please—mercy."

Oh, now you were begging.

This was more than what he deserved. He managed a few more thrusts, spilling over into you by the third with a moan that he felt no shame to leave ringing in your ear. "Every part of you, every single part—I'll burn myself into your skin and your bones. You'll feel me in your veins, your blood. I'll make for certain that I'm all you remember—forever."

The vastness of your bedroom had grown warmer, permeated with the thickness of sweat and salt that left your palms slick against the headboard. You let your body slump against it, skin sticking to the wood. It didn't offer you the relief you wanted at that moment: a glass of ice water, all the tenderness of a soft bed to lull you into a blank dream—you just wanted to rest.

Montague knew this just as well, fishing his compact out from a muddled heap of linens and clothes. He checked inside to grab one of the two cigarettes left, making a mental note he'd need to replenish again tomorrow before lighting it and savoring it. At this rate, he anticipated he'd be empty before the end of the night.

For a while, he sat there cushioned on his haunches, admiring the way the smoke coiled towards the ceiling in dainty wisps and mingled with the stench of sex.

"It's not enough." he said, barely eliciting more than a glance from you. His current cigarette was already burnt to the filter, forcing him to pull the last and light that one too. "This is my last one. Such a shame."

You smelled the smoke strongly now, just seconds passing before you were yanked across the bed onto your back, the soreness in your scalp near excruciating as you yelped. Montague made a place for himself between your thighs again, leering down the length of his nose at you.

If he wanted to, he could trace the dread etched in your features with a finger, feeling all along your hot skin, into all the cavernous lines he wished he could preserve—right there, just like that. There had never been a more gorgeous visage than the one you wore right now. Only your gleaming, glowing, pink insides were more beautiful.

He watched your lips twitch while he teased a fistful of his hard cock against your sorest spot. You were swollen and bruised, and he could only imagine what it felt like when he bottomed out in you again.

The curve of your spine arched off the mattress, fingers frantically raking the air at him, reaching for any part you could sink into to get him out. Even your body seemed determined for the same, wonderfully stimulating walls squeezing around him.

It made a shiver roll all along his spine to his tailbone, eyes rolling up towards the ceiling, with his first thrusts feeling positively divine. Especially when you jolted, an almost exaggerated response amplified by jagged cries and wet gasps you couldn't seem to swallow back down into your chest.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry—" You sputtered around the mucus piled in your throat. "Montague, I'm sorry. Please, stop."

He had burned away half of his last cigarette when he leaned over you, his body eclipsing what poor light had managed to illuminate the room for you. You could only follow the dainty mesmerizing glow that worked away from his mouth—his exhale barely masking a moan that he blew away with the smoke—and towards you.

"Keep doing it." His other hand was crawling up your neck, forcing you to suck in a hard breath. "Beg me again. Keep doing it."

All sound but the steady pulse of the headboard striking the wall had deadened, lasting well until the moment the cigarette touched your skin—and you screamed. Your throat vibrated, suddenly stopping when his palm closed around you again, silencing all your noise, his thrusts sloppy and rough while you thrashed under him.

This time, he kept you pinned by his chest, letting your feet dig for traction and slip and slide on the sheets. The bright smolder turned dark as he twisted it into your neck, taking all the remnants of restraint he had not to drill into you as far as it could go. He curled his tongue behind his jaws, keeping them tight.

Montague let go of your throat to allow you the grace of a stifled wail before that same hand sealed your lips. "Ah, ah. You know better than to scream. Shh, shhh, shhh. It's such an ugly sound."

He rubbed the cigarette into your skin until it crumpled, leaving him to lament for a moment once flicking it away to the floor. For him, it left behind a beautiful burn: raw, mad, red, and enticing. As his hand fell off of your mouth, daring you to do more than whimper and cry, his tongue was already flat against your wound.

"Oh, God," you wheezed, voice hoarse and jarring with the force of his hips knocking into you. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry! Stop, stop, stop! I swear I'll never do it again! I swear. I swear!"

Montague caught the wrist you swung at his head, giving the taste of your seared flesh time to settle on his palate before turning towards the pulse in your thumb. He tried to match how he was fucking you out to how it throbbed on his lips.

"Oh, I'm well aware that you won't do it again. That much is a given." His strokes into you were suddenly languid and intentional, so achingly deep that your eyes rolled back. "I've already said that you're forgiven, haven't I?"

You could barely speak over the depth he reached. It didn't feel right. "Th-then, why?"

A smile flourished across his face, but your eyes couldn't pierce that dark veil to see it. You could feel the damp path he left on your wrist, how the muscle writhed all around the sprawl of your veins, going as far as to wind your fingertips before it receded back behind his lips.

"Because I'm enjoying myself." There was a weight of finality to those words before his mouth engulfed the side of your wrist, away from your fragile network of bluish-purplish channels. And when he bit into you, it was the incisors that sank through.

You didn't know what it was. A clamp seized you by the neck like his fist, steeling itself there and robbing you of a scream. The pain was unlike anything else—paralyzing and deep, like a pair of sharpened, narrow skewers made of molten fire piercing you with such an agonizing ache that you could do nothing but lay there.

But you still felt everything he was doing.

His thrusts had grown truly vicious, chasing a high that came as the warmth of your blood seeped from a pair of punctures he had created. The steady flow he fed from was something he lapped on at his leisure. Enough of it streaked the length of your arm and dripped onto your bedding, onto your naked, warm skin when he guided the fall over your neck and chest, south to your stomach and abdomen. He let it fill and pool the seams of his fingers while smearing it with the fluids between your bodies.

At last, breaking the trance to speak, feebly, in between intermittent pockets of pain and numbness rolling through you, you asked with some hopefulness, "Are you going to kill me?"

"You? Kill you?" Montague dropped your wrist. It felt like a limp, dead thing that didn't belong to you. He dove at your neck for those drops he teased himself with, nudging your chin high with his nose to reach it all. "Death would mean letting you go. You're all mine, darling. Whatever other existence waits beyond death will never have you."

His tongue wet a trail to your chin, collecting a watery essence of blood and spit that he pushed into your mouth. Your lips were sealed by his ravenous kiss, relenting to the thickness of his tongue swirling the taste into your cheeks and down your throat, a nauseating intermix of iron and stale smoke that lingered and made you pucker.

And then, you heard him back in your ear, craning his neck only as far as to aggravate the cigarette burn with his breath. It gave several angry throbs. The weight of his body was almost flush on you, spreading the blood around as though your skin together was a single canvas.

To his eyes, it bloomed breathtakingly, seeping into every crevice, pore, and scratch that made up your design, an impermanent stain that he could saturate you in again and again and again. The things he whispered in your ear were vile and wicked, all on unlabored breaths while his strokes turned sluggish and stayed seated deep inside you until the final hitch of his hips left you full of him.

"I don't think you should go to work today."

You were only scarcely coherent of him—or anything for that matter—eyes unmoving from the black void above and unfeeling of how he chose to manipulate your body, still, hours later. All you could think about was the flutter of your lashes weighing down heavily over your eyes and how this world only survived on suffering such as yours.

༺ ♰ ༻

A small pile of things was arranged fussily in a duffle bag Hoss had given the day you returned to work after an impromptu leave of absence. It had only lasted three days, just enough time to acclimate to the pain that seemed to synchronize to every part of your body, throbbing everywhere, all at once, and at times with sharpness so great it toppled you to the ground. You could only lay there—wherever you dropped, on whatever cold slab of marble or concrete until it dissipated, unfurling from your limbs and organs to a rapturous wave of relief that melted the tension out of you.

It had only happened once while at work on a scene amidst a balmy summer night and came out of nowhere like an electric shock surging to your fingertips and toes, a hammer landing on your bones and leveling you on the sidewalk leading back to the company van. And that was all it took to incur a ruinous sort of anger in the two hulking men.

"You're going to take this bag, pack some shit, and you're leaving. Tonight." Hoss had to shake out the dust on the old duffle bag he pulled from somewhere in his car. "You ain't gonna tell me the reason, but I know he did something to you. T.J.'s calling in a favor."

"No. Don't—don't do anything. Don't try to come to the house—" There was a bandage around your wrist that you couldn't stop fiddling with. "I don't know what'll happen if you do. Just fucking don't."

"Nah, not us." T.J. slapped his phone back into the clip on his belt loop, eyeing the motions of your fingers on your wrist uneasily. "One of my old buddies—name's Roscoe—said he wants to handle it. Apparently, he and your guy have a history of some kind. He says to be ready to go by three."

The meaning behind what he said was left nebulous and concerning to you, even after you returned home with the duffle bag and started pulling things from your closet. Some ways across your room, high up on the wall and out of your reach was a clock. Its monotonous ticking brought your eyes over to it.

It was just after one-thirty, still enough time to change your mind if you wanted to. There was something so effortlessly easy about following along to the whims of other people. It felt safe, reassuring—their confidence was infallible. Not once in four years had T.J. or Hoss given you a reason to doubt their intentions, but right now, it boiled over in your mind.

But where will I go? What am I going to do? He'll find me. He'll find me. Montague would find you, but he wouldn't stop you from leaving. You could see it with clarity—him perched on the armrest of a chair, watching you walk through the door. He'd give you a headstart, a few days, maybe a few weeks.

You weren't sure you knew what to do without him. There was nowhere else in the world you could go, no one you could confide in that wouldn't be destroyed. He would keep your heart beating all the while breaking you apart until he had his fill, reminding you that this was how it was meant to be. This was how he showed you how you belonged.

And you—silly little you with your consciousness floating on the fringes of inscrutable ecstasy and some personal purgatory built on agony in your bones and blood—would believe him.

"Going on a trip?" His voice drifted to you from the doorway, far sweeter than it usually was. "I wish you would've told me. I can't imagine what it'll be like without you here in this house. You breathe life into it."

He was lured over by your silence, fitting his fingers between your shoulder blades to push along your spine, easing away the discomfort that had settled there. It was hard not to lean into that relief, a misstep that shattered any lasting hold of willpower when he stooped his neck to sweep you into a kiss.

"Why don't you stay instead?" He knew you wouldn't be coming back, not without dragging you back himself. "Stay with me instead. Right here. In this bed."

"Montague, stop—" He pressed down harder on your lips so those words withered into guttural frustration in your throat.

The duffle bag was flung far away, opening space on your bed for him to lay you out and begin to unravel the bandages around your wrist. Once he had access, his mouth was already full against the two puncture sites.

"Stay." He wasn't playing coy now. "I'll take care of you. It wasn't enough before. I can see that now. What can I do? It'd be too easy to break your legs. What if I chained you to this bed? What if I locked you up in this room? I wouldn't mind keeping you downstairs with me, but it would be too cold for you, I think."

"I want to leave." you said, mustering your composure through tight lips while he teased the infected purple holes with his flatter teeth. "Let me go."

He smiled derisively. "I don't think you know what you want."

"I—" You balked at him, reiterating with a stumble, "I—I just want to leave. Get off."

"How will you ever survive without me?" You didn't know if you'd be able to. "You'll be all alone, all alone in a world that's just ready to tear you open and spit you back out. I've told you before: Society doesn't reward virtue over vice—only those who play along. You won't last, not after you've known and tasted me."

You couldn't bring yourself to say anything, whereas he swelled like a man who had salvaged a victory, lying himself down to kiss you again—

And then, the doorbell rang with an immense melancholic echo that you could feel vibrate up your arms and legs. Nearly a year later, you were hearing it for the first time and grasping onto the lapels of his suit vest, keeping him still when you remembered T.J.'s promise.

"Ignore it." you said.

"We have a guest—" Something in his tone made your stomach clench. "It's not polite to leave them waiting, especially at this hour."

Montague had untangled himself from you and was gone before you could stop him. Another wave of pain put you on the floor when you moved. Drool piled from your mouth. An ache so unreal pounded in the wrist he had played with. The crawl to your duffle bag was far, arduous in that every inch felt like carrying stones on your back.

I'm going to die. I might as well already be dead. You didn't have any more time to wait, so you slung the strap over your shoulder and used the wall to guide you along the quiet hallway, bumping into every pedestal and display where Montague's most treasured things had stayed undisturbed.

You were one of them, something he could keep on the second floor with the rest of his stuff, but unlike brittle porcelain and fraying embroidery—he could break you as much as he wanted, again and again and again, and fit you back whole. He could do it forever while you wasted, longing for an end he would never give you.

But as you crept along the bleak wallpaper and all of his curios, you were so gentle with them, steadying any wobbling base or piece as you went. The central staircase was close, voices at the bottom of it faint and unintelligible, drifting alongside you as though part of the house—

The air exploded.

Just once.

A single gunshot brought back all the alertness to your body, neck and shoulders at full length, pain dulled to where you could shuffle faster and look off the bannister at the landing below.

Montague was staring back up at you from the floor, entirely still and soundless. His jaw was unhinged, askew, frozen in a position that should've been impossible. A black hole gaped between his eyes, but didn't bleed.

"If you're not ready, that's going to be bad news." Another man stood nearby sheathing a gun, unfamiliar and yet with sameness in the way his gaze felt hollow and reached through you. "I'm repaying my debts. I'd like to make good on this one."

You were slow descending the stairs, even slower while you rounded Montague's body and denied yourself the chance to stop. Something invisible wanted to pull you to him, plow your knees into hard marble and weep over his chest. However, your insides bending in disgust and twinges in your bones kept you onward.

This man, Roscoe, was just as sickly-seeming and gray as the other, every slot of space on his arms and neck filled with images of religious iconography and portraits of saints—Mary being the only one you recognized with just a glance. It was tempting to touch him, something he noticed and stepped out of your reach.

"Is there another way out of here?" He made a weak motion towards the front door just ajar, but his eyes were stuck on the wrist wounded and unusable to you now. "We need to go. Now."

You were racking your brain for an answer, turning half-circles in place before pointing to the archway with a clock. "There's a backdoor, but the yard is fenced in and there's nothing but forest for three miles. There's also—"

Roscoe waited expectantly, ushering you to continue when he went for the gun in its holster. "Start moving, we'll figure it out." He unloaded another round into Montague's head, a near indecipherable twitch in the fingers made the hair on your neck shoot straight out. "Silver only keeps him down. It won't kill him. Go!"

"Th—there's, there's the basement." You smacked your lips, trying to swallow around a bulge in your throat. "There's an old door. He said there are tunnels, but I don't know where they go. I don't know if he was telling the truth. I don't—"

He threw a hand into your back, thrusting you forward at least three feet. You almost didn't catch your footing. "Then that's where we're going."

"Not a friend of yours then, I assume, darling?" Montague's voice from the floor was as much of a relief as it was terrible. The silent gaps of air all around were disturbed by sharp snaps and cracking bones as his jaw moved back into place and he sat upright over his thighs. You were transfixed by the silver bullets being sucked into his skull, holes shrinking until they closed completely. "I'm not surprised you're still fraternizing with the wrong crowds, Roscoe. You and that entire Society have always been a fucking eyesore."

Roscoe readied his aim. "Parasite."

Montague laughed all the way to his feet, tugging at the edge of his vest to make it neat again. He opened his mouth just enough to let his tongue roll out, shards of silver bullets tinkling as they hit marble underfoot. "You can't take what's mine."

He looked to you, stepping closer every time Roscoe moved you back with his arm. "Come here. Come back to me, darling. This is where you belong. This is your home. You belong here with me, here with everything that you know."

"He doesn't mean that."

Another gunshot snapped you to attention, blinking out of a stupor you hadn't realized you were in.

The bullet landed in Montague's forehead, teetering his balance in such a way that his back curved towards the floor, arms hanging like useless instruments, yet he still somehow kept his soles planted. "Time to go. Get to the basement."

Roscoe didn't fail to reach you this time, running tight on your heels through the house to the basement floor. He stopped partway to the old door to help you scour the duffle bag for a key—one attached to the chatelaine Montague had given you the day you accepted to move in.

Your breaths were ragged, heart ablaze and beating against your ribs. In that moment, as you flipped through the assortment of keys with an unsteady, slippery grip, you wondered if Montague heard your blood racing in your veins, if he could follow the suffocating drumbeat your heart made in your ears.

Just above, fast approaching the locked basement door, came a thunderous roar so inhuman and reverberating that it scared the clip of keys out of your hands into a clattering heap on the floor. Time was up.

"Move!" Roscoe shoved you aside, illuminated by the hectic flare of your phone as he fit his fingers through a gap in the door and ripped the entire thing off its hinges. He pulled you by the scruff of your shirt and heaved you inside the tunnel. "Go! Go! Go!"

The first thing to hit you was a putrid smell intimately known but always through protective equipment and a respirator. And as you went deeper into the tunnel, led by a single route and the light off your phone, the dirt packed under your feet turned soft, sinking to the tops of your shoes.

And then, you saw bodies.

Numerous—countless corpses in varying stages of decay with twisted faces reflected your terror and pain right back at you. Most were intact with missing limbs or dark red chasms in their abdomens that had been scraped hollow and dry under the white light.

A few had been fully decapitated, briefly reminding you of the dead blonde woman from that night, but most of what lay stacked against the tunnel walls were emaciated figures with skin pulled so taut to their bones you could still make out their faces.

You were doubled over your knees, sucking in fetid mouthfuls of air and retching them back out on the ground. It burned in your throat, in your nostrils, and behind your eyes, but stifled your sobs as Roscoe dragged you alongside him.

"What did he do? What did he do?" You were crying, wheezing out those words on every shallow breath you took all the way to an end just ahead.

The more you thought about it, the more you smelled the rot, tasted the bitterness of your own vomit, the more came out. "I don't want to die! I don't want to die!"

Roscoe had to let you rest in the grass once you both surfaced. One of the exits turned out to be near the house, less than half a mile. But the tunnels kept going and so did the bodies. You suspected that there wouldn't be any reach of that underground labyrinth that didn't have some form of decay along it.

The thought brought the tears back, but now you could relish the sticky summer night humidity and touch dewy tendrils of grass under your hands.

"Can you drive?" Roscoe had a pair of keys hanging from his index finger, giving you a long moment to take them. He saw confusion in your watery stare. "I'll tell you where to go, just drive."

That's how it had been for hours at this point. You kept your hands locked around the steering wheel, one stronger than the other, gnawing the inside of your cheek while ruminating everything—tonight, the night Montague had bitten you, every other night before that, and your decision to have ever trusted him.

"How long ago did he bite you?" Roscoe had the seat reclined, arms over his eyes to shield them from oncoming headlights. "It doesn't look good."

You tested your grip on the steering wheel, but you couldn't do much without a sharp sting in your wrist. "I don't know—a couple weeks ago? I've tried everything short of going to the emergency room."

"That won't help," he said. "Modern medicine can fix a dog bite, antibiotics can kill an infection, a vaccine can protect you from a virus. Those aren't going to do any good."

Solemnly, you asked, "Am I going to die?"

Roscoe didn't sit up but had your wrist in his hands, turning it in little ways that didn't aggravate you. Besides the occasional glare from passing vehicles, there was no light in the car, and the holes in your skin were hardly distinguishable, though they had gotten darker. You weren't able to move it with any ease now.

"What you need to know right now is that he's never going to stop following you." He put your hand back on the steering wheel, careful as he enclosed your fingers around it. "It doesn't matter how long it takes, what you do, where you go—a parasite finds a host, and it latches on. And it doesn't let go."

You glanced between him and the road several times, tongue wetting the dry parts of your lips. "He's a vampire—you're a vampire. There's got to be something—"

Roscoe finally sat up in his seat, now cramped sideways with his shoulders flat to the window. The car veered a bit into the other lane. "You need to understand something. What you're saying would imply he ever had any humanity. Vampires are created." He paused for a beat, waiting for the realization to strike you. "Montague was never created."

"What—what the hell is he, then?" A horn abruptly blared by, prompting you to yank the car back onto the correct side. "He drinks blood. He has teeth. He—he hunts. He doesn't like silver. His eyes are the same as yours."

Roscoe lowered his gaze, but remained in that uncomfortable position. "There's a story I heard about him once. I don't remember the details except for one: ‘If the devil exists, they're one in the same.’"

You kept your eyes on the road, counting every car that flitted on past. They were probably going to work at this hour—green numbers on the dashboard showed it just after four—and they'd be able to have a place to return to at the end of the day. Now, you didn't belong anywhere, and twenty-four hours from now you still wouldn't.

The town where you had lived with Montague for a year was long behind you, backtracking would take hours, and you wouldn't know how to get back from the direction that Roscoe had told you to go. Dim streetlamps and cozy houses with spruced yards had morphed into an endless network of concrete, signs, and off-ramps to places you'd never heard of.

It was scary how everything could change in one night, and how it did. The only semblance of normalcy to you right now were the aches throughout your body, which had returned the moment you fully comprehended that you had escaped that house.

"Why…" Roscoe looked up at you, seeing your lips shake and eyes turn red. "Why do I want to go back to him?"

He fixed himself right in the seat, tousling a hand through his hair while looking out through the windshield. "You shouldn't do that. But you'll never be able to stop running."

You never saw Roscoe again once the car ride ended several thousands of miles later, mentioning something about how he repaid his debt to T.J. and had disappeared from a restaurant you both walked into. When that happened, you sat paralyzed at your little table for most of the day with a soul-crushing realization that you were truly alone with nobody in the world—

Just like Montague said you would be.

And, for the sake of others, you'd never be able to have anyone else in your world.

It stayed that way for close to two years. The hardest part hadn't been the homelessness or constant vigilance, not the door revolving each person to come into your life since, but the fact that you still yearned for what you once had. Everything so awful about what you experienced sometimes looked like heaven when you thought about it, like soft, cloudy nostalgia from a time where the throes of agony were all you had ever known.

You were capable of thinking soberly as well, and with that came the understanding that a part of you would always want that time back—want him back. He had left you with a permanent scar and neurological damage that could never be corrected. It was anticipated you'd lose that wrist at some point in the future, but for now, you could still hold a cup and brush your teeth with enough conscious effort.

The pain never went away either, but you refused to let it impede your work in the field. And your two roommates were a couple of engineering geniuses who'd managed to make the flat more accommodating to your needs. They'd been patient with you during every step of your transition into a new life, calling you an enigma because you had nothing to your name except a dusty duffle bag and a "strange-looking dog bite" on your wrist when you first met them.

Sometimes, especially on the weekends after clinking together enough shot glasses, they tried to probe your brain for some clue as to who you were, who you had been historically. You had decided it was better that they—that no one—knew about it or what actually existed out there in the world.

And when you returned home from the lab late that Saturday night, you were surprised to find the lights off and the flat immersed in the kind of soundlessness that made your ears feel clogged with cotton.

You were slow in lowering your backpack to the floor, keeping the front door slightly ajar so a slither of light from the residential corridor slipped inside. "Jordan? Felix?"

No answer. You didn't hear anything from their bedrooms upstairs either.

"Jordan?" The nearest light switch didn't work, neither did the one after that, or any others you hunted down with the diffused beam from your phone screen. "Jordan? Felix? Are you guys home?"

It was possible they had gone out somewhere for the night and just hadn't mentioned anything to you, as unsound as that logic actually was, considering it simply wasn't their personality. But as you wandered through different rooms checking the switches, you knew you were rationalizing to keep yourself in check.

The light from the hallway still piled inside like a narrow pillar, raising all the hairs on your neck and arms, knowing that it wasn't a building-wide outage. They had never left you in a situation like this before. Something was wrong.

"Jordan! Felix! Whe—" Your foot nearly shot out from under you when you slid through something slick on the laminate. After a moment to fix yourself, bracing the edge of the countertop with a clammy palm, you steadied the white glow of your phone at the floor.

There, glistening back at you, was the vast richness of blood in a tall puddle that spread like long winding tendrils through grout in the flooring. It looked almost black under your light at a certain angle, estimating it had been there for several hours—untouched.

You held in a breath and grit your jaws together as the more you moved, the more you saw. And when the top of a head came into view, silky hair shining like fine thread before clumping together at the base where the blood had pooled the most, it was everything you could to keep yourself from hitting the floor.

Both of them were there, perfectly out of sight of the front door and completely unrecognizable. Their bodies had been left in one piece, though where their faces had once been were cavernous holes with pale, pink ribbons of flesh and fat left behind. The roundness of their skulls let blood fill inside it like a vessel. What little pieces of brain matter remained had floated to the surface.

You staggered back from them, phone loosening from your weak hand and returning them to the maw of darkness, while groping the wall behind you as far as your arm could reach. This wasn't a result of crude knife work or even bludgeoning; no, it was a slow kill, one meant to steep someone in torment so immense that you prayed to whatever was out there that they succumbed immediately.

"Help…" Your voice was trapped in your throat, barely registering as a whisper even to yourself as you sidled along the wall. "Someone—anyone, please help."

The patter of your heartbeat was torturous. Your every step back to the entrance was leaden with fear. You couldn't get your legs to move fast enough, and the light reaching in through the gap seemed to stretch on forever—further, further, and further still.

You thought back to that day you met Montague and shook his hand, noting how unnaturally cold it had been despite it being a nice day in spring. You remembered the dead blonde woman with mascara tears, and the bodies he used to decorate the tunnels, and the young man who was able to walk away that night believing it was all some shallow quarrel—never knowing he had sealed your fate.

You regretted all of it.

The door was in your reach now, and you could get out, call for help, and go back to running. This time, you wouldn't be tricked into false satiety or let anyone too close. You would see mountains and forests and oceans a thousand times over before you stopped again.

Two years hadn't been enough time for you to accumulate many things, you thought. It wouldn't be hard to leave most of it behind, just like you had before. You would unpack that old duffle bag from the back of your closet, fill it to the brink, and that would be enough.

You had your hand over smooth metal, but that cold reached greater depths in you as the door was pushed shut from behind, light shrinking away through the slot until you were swallowed whole in the dark.

"Hello, darling. I've missed you." He sounded the same against your ear. For a split second, you felt relieved. "Don't worry about cleaning up. We're not staying long."

He clamped damp fingers over your mouth before you could scream.

a/n; I hope this scratched some awful itch for you. onto the story notes:

on montague: what he is exactly is open to interpretation. tell me your theories! his character has been around in my arsenal for a very long time, but as a human cannibal in those days. he's been resurrected into something worse imo. he exists in my vampire universe more as a side-character, and, surprisingly, is not the central antagonist. he is meant to more or less be the embodiment of depravity and the consequence of a being without internal moral compass.

on mc: represents the fallacy of man and how unreliable the narrative of morality actually is, and how we as people have tendencies to twist and turn the meaning of it for our own benefit. mc in this story is not meant to be a good person, but did they deserve condemnation to a personal purgatory?

so, while this is a monster story, I wanted to parallel the treatment mc endures + mindset to the horrors of trying to escape abuse. I wanted to explore this through the lens of a monster story, though. if you suspect you are in an abusive relationship, please reach out to people to help get you out.

what's funny is that this story was originally supposed to be a dark comedy that moved towards something a little darker, and eventually turned into this. montague was initially going to just be a nuisance to mc by inserting himself into friend hangouts because "it's my house".

divider by; @/anlian-aishang

dc divider by; @/benkei-bear

if you read and enjoyed it, please share your thoughts and reblog!!

#vampire #vampire romance #vampire story #vampire x reader #vampire x you #vampire x human #monster x reader #monster fiction #monster fic #monster x human #monster story #tw monsterfucking #monsterfkr #monster fucker #eldrich horror #origonal character #original writing #original work #2k writes #monsterfucking nsft #monster romance

[myfictionaldreams]

hello! i was wondering if it was possible to write a poly!marauders story about y/n using their safe word during overstimulation and the boys stopping to help them through aftercare.

i love seeing the proper use of consent in your stories and would just like to see one ab the care given when you sometimes need to stop mid way.

love your stuff!

A/N: I loved this request, thank you for sending it. I hope you (and everyone reading) are having a lovely weekend!

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, fluff, angst, rough sex, intense, overstimulation, use of safe word, bdsm, dom/sub, size difference, panic attack, overwhelmed, crying, hurt/comfort, praise kink, aftercare, cuddling

Words: 2.4k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

Overwhelmed. That was one word you’d use for the current situation.

Your body was coated in all manners of different bodily fluids including sweat, spit, your juices and two other clumps of cum, one that was dribbling out of your mouth and the other was being used as lube by the third person involved.

Remus’s towering form was hunched over you, his cock pumping into your highly sensitive, sore cunt. It had been hours of intense fucking from all three of the marauders, so much so that a faint buzz had settled in your ears, muffling the voice of your boyfriend as he tried to coax another orgasm. “I know you can do one more for me love, just one more”.

“No”, was your exhausted response, eyelids drooping.

The word ‘no’ may have been muttered by you but it wasn’t necessarily a stop word, not in the current dynamic of the relationship. The four of you had a very specific dominant and submissive relationship and abided by the colour-coded safe word system, or if one of the three boys deems you’d been going for too long, everything would stop. This was meant for certain scenes to play out, you could say certain words to play along but if red or yellow was even mentioned, all trust was in the men looking after you to stop.

Even in your delirious, fucked-out mind now, you were still aware of these rules and even though it was a relentless session, you were holding out on the hope that Remus would be cuming soon, needing him to find his fulfilment.

However, the minutes ticked by and his thrusting continued with no end in sight. It hadn’t only been a long day, it had been an intense weekend. One day led into another and upon waking the euphoric, happy buzz that filled your veins with adrenaline had you instantly jumping onto one of the Marauders.

Now it was taking its toll, the pleasure seeping away and replaced with stinging, aching and discomfort. The thought of even another orgasm that would cause your pussy to flutter and spasm had a sense of dread, something you never thought would even cross your mind. However, glancing up at Remus, seeing the lust in his eyes, lips still moving in praises meant to make you feel safe and you did for the most part.

The thought of him cuming, finding his thrill and coating your insides to mix with the other Marauders cum was what kept you going and even though the safewords did momentarily cross your mind, the worry of them being upset that you were in pain and the embarrassment was enough for you to hold your tongue.

Remus slowed down his thrust, his scarred hand gripping your jaw sturdily, thumb moving to swipe across your lips, capturing the dribble of cum and pushing it into your lips. Happily, you sucked on his thumb, hoping the sight would excite him and it did for you too, the salty goodness a quick distraction.

“Good girl, you’re doing so well for me, just want one more orgasm Pup”, his lips found yours as he finished his sweet praises. Remus knew the exact phrases to say, he was so tentative and wanted the best for your pleasure and this only added to your own reasoning as to why you wanted him to find his end rather than your own.

James and Sirius were the same, particularly today. This may be why you were extra sensitive, the two quidditch players had sucked, licked and fucked their way to so many orgasms you’d lost count before Remus had even touched you.

Remus lifted his upper body up, leaning on his knees between your legs, still thrusting slowly and you could feel the drag of his cock against your swollen walls. With a hand on each thigh, Remus hiked your legs up higher on his hips, the grip tight, making sure the two of you were moulded together but from this angle, it meant his cock could press that little bit deeper.

This only lasted for a couple of thrusts before the tall Gryffindor was relaxing his hold on one of your legs to idly rub circles against your overused, swollen clit. The feelings almost took your breath away, imaginary sirens blaring in your mind, immediately shouting “no”, eyes clenched closed and then the word was automatically stumbling from your trembling lips, “red”.

The sensations went from overwhelming discomfort to instant relief as Remus within a second was off of your person, hands untouching and cock swiftly pulling out, leaving you throbbing but empty. 

James and Sirius were by your side in an instant as well, all three hovering over you and it was like a tidal wave of one area being overwhelmed from physical to mental. Guilt was the first one, the look of worry etched on each of their faces, you didn’t want them to feel like that, it was supposed to be a nice time, instantly regretted using the safe word.

“Love, look at us, are you ok? Did I hurt you, was it too much”? Remus’ voice was laced with regret and panic as he tried to soothe the skin of your cheek with his thumb.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry”, your panic was engulfing, your body trembling with anxiety but this only caused the panic to increase as it felt like the world was collapsing in, the air seeming thick so you couldn’t breathe properly.

“She’s hyperventilating”, Sirius was the first to move, shifting his arm underneath your back, lifting up your body so he could easily slide behind, using himself to prop you upright. His lips hovered next to your ear, forcing you to listen to him, as the rest of him enveloped around you so his body heat could try and ground your panic attack.

James cupped your hands, holding them firmly whilst also stroking the back with his thumb in circles as Remus remained in front, cupping your face still.

Even though this situation had not happened during sex before, there had been occasions where you’d experienced panic attacks this severely and after much communication, they’d found that you liked to feel tight and contained, whether it was in a blanket that you were wrapped in or all of their bodies. The four of your bodies were still naked which also helped, to feel warm and safe in their embrace.

You were still struggling to stabilise your breathing into a normal pattern, heart pounding, feeling like impending doom, eyes tightly clenched closed but tears were still streaking down your cheeks. Remus was quick to catch these with his thumbs.

“Love, listen to my voice, I need you to look at me”, his voice was low and calm as he spoke, trying not to let his own panic about the situation dictate how he looked after you.

“I’m sorry- I didn’t mean- to say it-” you choked between quick breaths, beginning to feel dizzy, head attempting to lul back but unable to with the grip on it.

James lifted your hands up to his mouth, kissing your delicate fingers, shushing your words, and feeling his voice vibrate against your skin. Sirius was just the same from behind you, working with the two other marauders to use soft commands to get your breathing to calm.

“Stop talking sweetheart, I need you to open your eyes and look at me”, Remus continued, using a slight hint more authority in his tone, hoping to snap it through your anxiety. It worked as reluctantly your eyes snapped open, expecting to see him angry from stopping but all that was looking back at you were the warm eyes of Remus.

It was hard to try and rationalise any thought when your emotions were so heightened, knowing that it would have been absolutely fine otherwise but this had escalated so much in your mind that only the worst thoughts were circulating.

“Well done”, he made sure to add emphasis to the praise, to hope that you knew he truly meant it. “Now I need you to slow your breathing, keeping your eyes on me”.

The eye contact was helping but it did take a few attempts to stop trying to desperately take a deep breath. It was only when James moved your hands onto his chest that you could ground down to something, feeling his own breaths, how long he would breathe in for compared to breathing out. As you finally found any sort of rhythm with your breathing, were you able to concentrate on the others as well.

For example, Sirius’ soft commands of “in and out” as he moved his chest that was still holding you up, physically moving your body with him which helped immensely.

It took a while of stuttering and being forced to not talk but to only concentrate on your breathing, all the whilst holding eye contact with Remus. Eventually, you were calm, the sensation of doom or passing out having passed, only instead replaced with shame and embarrassment.

“That’s it, keep going, nice and slow”, Remus interrupted you as your mouth opened to speak but this was something you wanted them all to hear.

“I’m sorry”, your voice was croaky and barely above a whisper. The tears were still flowing and you were sure to look like a mess but from the sad smile Remus was giving you, he didn’t give anything away. Sirius’s gentle kiss against your neck made your heart beat a little quicker with how soft he was being, the subtle tickle of his long hair against your shoulders caused a slight shiver to pass through you.

“You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for”.

“But you didn’t cum”, again shame was writhe throughout your body, cheeks heating as Remus continued to make sure you looked into his eyes.

“Love, I would never cum again if it meant that you were comfortable during these moments. Don’t ever apologise for using safe words, they’re there for all of our safety, we need to listen to each other.” His words were almost like a warm blanket, muscles relaxing slightly into all of their grips. Of course, you knew he meant those words and that was what had been discussed before and agreed to, just your anxiety and panic for some reason changed your outlook on it.

Finally, the tears slowly stopped dropping and Remus’ grip of your face relaxed, the warmth disappearing was a loss but automatically you were able to relax back into Sirius’ shoulder, turning into his neck as he held you.

“Are you hurt? Did I hurt you?” the words sounded just as ashamed as yours previously did.

“No, no it’s ok, it’s just sore and the thought of having another orgasm just set me off I think, I’m sor-”.

It was James to cut you off, lifting his rough hand to cover your mouth entirely, eyes gleaming with mischief. “I’m banning the word sorry from your pretty lips”. Beneath his hand, you couldn't hold back the small smile, which he felt and was speedy to remove his hand so he could see the small spark of joy in your expression. “Ah, more of that please”.

The four of you sat in momentary happiness but the discussion needed to be had so Remus gently tipped your chin in his direction with a single finger. “Talk to me, so we know what we need to be doing better next time”.

“I’m just sore and overstimulated I think and I think I forced myself to go on for too long because I wanted you to cum but it was a little overwhelming”.

“I’m sorry, Love”, it was Remus now to look distraught at causing the discomfort but you were quick to brush that away.

“No please don’t be sorry, you didn’t know I was feeling like that”.

“I think it’s something we can all learn from”, James continued speaking on everyone’s behalf, taking a moment to pause and kiss your temple before continuing. “We’ll be more careful next time and maybe check in more frequently if you’re reaching your limit rather than just using the safe words. However, it is a group effort darling, we have safe words to limit the use of red so please if you’re ever feeling remotely uncomfortable, say yellow or red. Even if it's as simple as changing positions or having a drink of water, we will discuss it to stop it from getting to the point of using the red word and you being overwhelmed. And please never feel like you have to suffer just for our benefit, we can take care of ourselves if you don't want to continue, how does that sound?”

A lump formed in your throat as you stared into the big hazel eyes of James. How could you ever be worried that they’d be upset at you, they always made it known your priority was first.

“Yes, that sounds good”, you made sure to respond verbally, smiling as you finished the sentence.

Sirius’ kiss against your cheek had you turning towards him slightly as he asked, “how does it feel now? Are you still in pain?”

“It’s just all throbbing a bit”, referring to in between your legs.

“Can we check?” Nodding your head in response, Sirius helped to lay you back into the middle of the bed, kissing your cheek one last time before easing out from behind you. Remus and Sirius checked all over your body for any signs of injuries, the most obvious being the swollen and physically throbbing cunt.

James lay beside you, talking you through everything, keeping you smiling and occupied as Sirius found some cooling gel that had been previously used to help soothe when you were overused. Then as Sirius used his wand to delicately clean up the liquids coating your body, Remus sat on the edge of the bed, making sure that you drank a full glass of water, praising you when you handed back an empty glass.

He then too joined the bed, lying on the opposite side to James and handing everyone a chunk of chocolate from his secret stash, the sugar perfectly needed. Snuggled between James and Remus, you could hear Sirius shuffling around somewhere before he casually asked, “Have you guys heard of the muggle singer David Bowie?”

“Here we go”, James muttered to himself, sitting up to see what Sirius was doing. What proceeded was a lengthy performance filled with props, very off-key singing and theatrics from Sirius who was still very naked but that added to the performance. You laughed so hard that tears were forming in the corner of your eyes.

Even though it had been a stressful night, glancing at each Sirius, Remus and James, you couldn’t help but feel grateful. They made you feel safe, warm and happy.

#poly!marauders #the marauders #marauders smut #sirius black smut #sirius black one shot #remus lupin one shot #remus lupin smut #james potter smut #james potter one shot #hp smut #hp one shot #mine* #sirius black #hp #remus lupin #james potter

[hazybisou]

❛ FRAT PARTIES & THAT ONE EX ❜

🏹 the drink you spilt all over me, “lover's spit" left on repeat

paring ; fem!reader x luke hughes

summary ; after the win against michigan state, a huge party was thrown at one of the frats. while there, remi just so happened to run into an old flame of hers. obviously they hit it off, she just didn’t seem to remember he was her husband.

author’s note ; (this takes place last year in october) once again this is getting written at night. anyways can we talk about how cute fine asf 😫🥵 luke looks in the photo above. so cute 🥰. anyways continue sending in stuff about these two that i wanna talk about them. i feel like getting ear plugs rn to block out my brothers snoring. i have to share a room with him while i’m home for thanksgiving.

the room felt humid. well, of course it did. there must be over a hundred people in the house, maybe even more. umich football had just beat michigan state with a score of 29-7. the evening of, a party was thrown in celebration.

remi stood off to the side with some of her friends from the cheer team and some of her sorority sisters. although she was somewhat exhausted from all the shouting and stunts she had done earlier, she still went to the party. it was expected of her to be there as she‘s a part of the cheer team for umich.

she never really understood why she came to these things. she would much rather be in her bed, the blankets over her body as she binged watched christmas movies while eating ice cream. yet she was here. remi had this gut instinct saying she should be here, she needed to be here.

“remi, how come you don’t have a man?” katie, a friend of hers from cheer, asked.

remi shrugged, “i mean none of them seem to be the one, you know. every guy i’ve been with, all they want to do is fuck.”

“well, don’t you know?” eve, a sorority sister of remi’s, said. “i could treat you way better.” she said as she wrapped an arm around remi who chuckled as did everyone else.

remi gave her a kiss on the cheek. “i’m sure you can. i’m sure you all can but i dont swing that way.”

“such a shame. you’re hot as fuck.” vicky said. “i’d hit.”

remi playfully rolled her eyes. “i’m sure you would.” she looked behind vicky. “but maybe you should let someone else hit that sweet ass of yours.”

“who?” vicky said as she rose an eyebrow at remi.

remi pointed behind vicky and the group of girls looked to where remi was pointing to see a boy who was leaned up against a counter, staring at vicky.

vicky smiled at him and he turned away towards his friends. “he’s cute.” everyone hummed in agreement.

“yeah, he is.” remi smiled at vicky who had turned to face everyone. “now go.” remi told vicky who shrugged and began to walk over towards the boy.

they watched as the two began to talk.

“well, aren’t you quite the matchmaker?” katie said in a teasing tone. “maybe we should play matchmaker on you.”

remi grimaced . “yeah, no thanks. for all i know, you would put me on with McCarthy.” remi knew how flirtatious JJ could get but he just wasn’t her type.

“worth a shot.”

remi smiled and shook her head. “i am going to go get a drink. outside.” the girls gave her a nod and remi turned around to walk towards the sliding door which led outside. she made her way through the crowd of sweaty dancing bodies, and into the backyard of the frat house. she took note of how there were more people outside than inside despite it being bigger inside.

she made her way down the steps of the patio, red solo cup in hand as she made her way to the keg. some random guy had shown up with multiple kegs on behalf of the fraternity.

remi made her way to where she saw one available and just as she was about to grab the tap, someone else had gotten to it.

“oh.” remi let out surprised as she came to halt and waited for the guy to be down with it. she stood there awkwardly and patiently as she watched the guy pour beer into his cup.

he looked up to see remi standing there, looking anywhere but at him. she turned to look at him and smiled before looking back at the crowd in which was filled with blue and maize clothing. “oh, i’m sorry. were you gonna grab some?”

remi turned back to him and nodded, “yeah, but it’s fine. go ahead.” she dismissed.

“oh, no, go right ahead. i’m sorry i didn’t notice you earlier, i would let you gone first.” he explained.

“are you sure? i’m fine waiting.” he nodded. remi smiled at him before grabbing the tap out of his hand and pouring herself a drink.

once she was done she handed it back to him. “thank you…” she dragged off waiting for a name.

“luke.”

“thank you luke.” remi turned around and began to walk back inside to meet up with her friends again.

luke stood there with a smile on his face before snapping out of his trance, realizing remi had left and began to walk away. “wait!” he yelled over the extremely loud music as he began to jog to catch up with her.

remi looked next to her to see luke standing there. “yes?” she looked up at him. holy shit, he’s tall.

“i never got you’re name.” luke told her as he let out small breaths trying to get it back after his small jog.

remi pursed her lips before smiling. “you’ve got to earn it.” she said and began to walk up the steps to the patio as she drank from her cup.

luke walked next to her. “oh, come on. i told you my name. the least you could do is tell me yours.”

remi bit her lip slightly. “we’ll see.” she grabbed his hand and began to drag him inside. “for now, however, you’re gonna play a round of beer pong with me.”

luke grinned as he let her drag him inside towards the kitchen.

luke and remi were drunk. maybe a little too drunk.

the pair had won at beer pong and remi declared luke as her new partner for the game. after one round, the two had left the table and made their way towards the couch where they happened to spend hours on, talking.

luke had found out that remi was in her sophomore year and was majoring in health and medicine. he also seemed to find out that she was in Alpha Phi. although the team was close to most of the girls from Aphi, he never happened to see remi. remi told him how she was a part of the cheer team and how she has loved doing cheer ever since her junior year of high school.

remi got to know luke better. she found out he was in sophmore year as well and has the intention of majoring in sports management. he told remi how he played for the school’s hockey team as a defenseman. he wore number 43 so if remi were to ever go to a game of his, she would be able to spot him.

the two were too engrossed in their conversation that they lost track of time.

luke was in the middle of telling remi a story from when he was a kid. remi couldn’t seem to stop laughing. luke enjoyed hearing her laugh as he laughed himself.

“wait-wait, so you’re telling me that your brother ripped off his braces.” remi began to laugh again, “omg that must’ve been funny.”

luke nodded. “oh trust me, it was. he got a lecture from our mom.”

remi chuckled. “you’re have very interesting brothers, you know that.”

“i’m well aware.” he told her as the two smiled.

“what about you?” luke asked remi.

remi was confused “what about me?”

“you don’t have any funny, weird story from when you were a kid?” luke wondered.

remi thought. of course there was. she just didn’t know what to say. “i mean i broke my arm.”

luke raised his eyebrows. “must’ve been a fun trip to the hospital.”

“yes it very much was. the EMT was hot.”

luke chuckled. “you had a crush on the EMT?” remi nodded. “how cute.” luke smiled.

“you’re cute.” remi said as her hand rested on the cushion.

luke grinned. “i know.”

remi scoffed and grabbed the pillow next to her, hit luke in the chest with it. “you weren’t supposed to agree.”

“but it’s the truth and i know it is.” luke replied.

remi rolled her eyes playfully. the two sat there in silence for a second. remi took the moment in. she enjoyed having luke around. although she knew after tonight she might not see him.

“hey, i was wondering-”

“oh there you are!” the two turned towards the voice. vicky stood there with her eyes wide. “oh i’m sorry for interrupting whatever,” she motioned between the two, “this is.”

“it’s fine. what’s wrong?” remi asked.

“we got to go.” vicky said.

remi grabbed her phone and saw the time. 12:32. “oh shit. um, ok. luke it was talking to you but i really have to go.” remi told him as she got up and made her way towards vicky.

“yeah it was nice talking to you too.” he said as he sat there before saying, “wait before you go, can i have your insta?”

“oh sure it’s-”

“let’s go, we’re gonna be even more late.” vicky rushed remi.

remi turned to luke. “you know what, just give me yours and i’ll follow you back later.”

luke nodded and wait for remi to unlock her phone and open instagram. once she did, she handed her phone to luke who took it in his hands and began to type out his user. he handed her the phone back.

“i’ll see you later luke.” remi said to luke as she waved bye. vicky grabbed her hand and began to walk them out of the house.

“i never got your name.” he shouted after her but she had already gone out the door.

luke stood there. “well now what?”

remi had gotten back home at the sorority house and was now laying in bed with her pajamas on. a long sleeve and plaid pink pajamas. she had the covers over her as she scrolled through her phone.

she had opened instagram and saw a profile open. she looked at the user and her eyebrows furrowed slightly. remi looked at his bio and saw the name ‘luke hughes’. she smiled at the memory from earlier before she clicked follow and went to her homepage.

she spent the next couple of minutes on her phone before finally she turned it off and put it on her nightstand. vicky and danielle were already asleep as they had a long day tomorrow.

remi turned her small lamp off and turned towards the wall. she stared at a small photo of her as a little girl with a boy next to her. she was wearing a white dress while he was wearing a white polo shirt with khaki shorts. he was leaning down and giving her a kiss on the cheek.

the moonlight that shone through the curtain giving her a clear view of the photo. she looked in the corner and saw the initials l.h next to hers, ‘r.t’.

“huh. kinda looks like luke.”

she shrugged it off before closing her eyes and drifting off to sleep.

remi groaned as the light peaked through the window. she grabbed a pillow and put it over her face to block out the sunlight.

“get up.” she heard. she opened her eyes and peaked over her pillow to see danielle and vicky standing there, up and ready.

“get out and leave me alone.” she grumbled and saw how vicky and danielle shrugged before exiting the room and into the hallway but not before closing the door.

remi grabbed the pillow and set it aside next to her. she stared at the ceiling for a good minute before she sat up. a little too quickly if anything. her eyes close as she brought her fingers to her temple. “oh, drinking is a bitch.”

she grabbed the covers and pulled them off of her as she got out of bed. she slipped on her slippers and began to make her bed.

remi spent the next 1 and a half getting ready. she showered, brushed her teeth, did her hair and much more.

she walked up to her night stand and grabbed her phone. she saw how she had gotten a dm on instagram. “who the fuck texted me?”

she unlocked her phone and opened instagram. remi relent to her dms and saw she had more than 4 dms from luke. she smiled to herself.

she quickly opened them as she began walking down the hallway and read the first one which was a simple hi.

she continued to read them until she got to one that seemed to make her stop what she was doing.

luke

i think we might’ve gotten married

luke

and before you start saying we were probably drunk i mean we got married but in kindergarten

i think we went to the same elementary

seen at 11:43

remi stood in the middle of the hallway and had a blank look on her face. some of her friends came out of their rooms and gave remi a weird look, some asking each other if she was ok.

what does he mean they got married? she didn’t remember any of that. “married? i barely remember anyone from elementary, let alone kindergarten.” remi murmured to herself.

remi got to thinking. surely, her parents must have had a photo of this supposed “wedding”. when remi had moved into her dorm during her freshaman year, her parents had given her a box full of photos from when she was a little girl. when remi moved into the sorority house, she had hung up all photos onto a bulletin board next to her bed. the photo. from last night.

she snapped out of her trance and began to text him back.

remi

WHAT??

that’s crazy

there is no way my husband from when i was 4 years old is you

seen at 11:45 am

luke

oh so you remember

seen at 11:45 am

remi

just now yes

seen at 11:45 am

luke

i doubt that

seen at 11:45 am

remi

oh rlly?? ok what was the name of the school?

seen at 11:46 am

luke

you a stalker or smth?

seen at 11:46 am

remi laughed and watched as luke told her the name. “what the fuck?” she thought out loud.

remi

no shit

i went there too

well for a while until i moved here from toronto

seen at 11:49 am

luke

uhh maybe it’s a coincidence

seen at 11:49 am

remi

sure

yknow what give me a sec

seen at 11:50 am

remi turned around and began to walk back to her room. she opened the door and made her way to her bed before she jumped onto it. she searched her bulletin board and found the photo of her and that boy. she snapped a quick photo and sent it to luke.

remi

*sent a photo*

opened at 11:52 am

luke

ok that’s weird

seen at 11:52 am

remi

how so?

seen at 11:52 am

luke

bc that’s me

seen at 11:52 am

remi’s eyes widened. “holy shit.” it all made sense to remi now. the little boy in the photo was luke. the initials on the bottom, ‘l.h’ meant luke hughes. “aw i got married.” remi smiled. she felt her feet swing in the air.

remi

it all makes sense now

look at the bottom

r.t + l.h

you are my husband 🥰🥰

seen at 11:55 am

luke

i’m guessing you’re my wife 🙄

seen at 11:55 am

remi

you know you love me

seen at 11:55 am

luke

🌚 sure

seen at 11:55 am

remi

shut up

seen at 11:55 am

luke

well that’s just amazing

i meet my ex wife once again

seen at 11:55 am

remi

technically we never got a divorce sooo 😉

seen at 11:55 am

luke

wtv 🙄

seen at 11:56 am

remi

you’re so sassy

i like it 😉

seen at 11:56 am

luke

ok moving on

how abt this

you give me your number and we can go on a little date

i’d like to see my wife again

seen at 11:56 am

remi

oh i’m sure you would

seen at 11:56 am

luke

so what abt them digits??

seen at 11:56 am

remi

never say that ever again pls

but fine

xxx-xxx-xxxx

seen at 11:56 am

luke

thank you

also fully noted

seen at 11:56 am

remi

how about tmrw?? at like 6:30

seen at 11:57 am

luke

let me think about it

🤔🤔

deal

seen at 11:57 am

remi

perfect

seen at 11:57 am

remi

i gotta go

i’ll text you later hubby 😉

seen at 11:57 am

luke

bye remi

seen at 11:57 am

remi smiled at the fact he called her by the name he used to say almost every day when he was little.

remi

goodbye lukey

seen at 11:57 am

omg it’s done after like two days 😱😱😣 anywyas it’s 3:41 am rn and i am too tired and have class early morning today kill me 😣 anywyas hopefully you enjoy this and umm SEND IN MORE STUFF ABT REMI & LUKE 👹👹 i love answering all the asks i’ve been getting 🥰 bye bye 🫶

#isa’s works 🦭 #isa’s au’s #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes #nhl #umich hockey #new jersey devils #college hockey #kindergarten husband au

[ohbo-ohno]

A small flower that sprays spores you happen to inhale in an attic

From the prompt list thing for Price x Reader? Please?

1k game here - no more please!

yknow im not really a big fan of sex pollen, but i gave it my best shot <3

2k of sex pollen smut with price! usual dubcon stuff because of sex pollen, but you and price are married so you're totally down <3 this is just pwp

"Hey, honey?" You call down the ladder, turning your find over in your hands.

"Yeah?" Price calls back, grunting as he drops a box on the floor below you.

You'd only felt bad for a few moments having him do all the heavy lifting, but you're perfectly content to dig through the contents of the attic. Neither of you had realized quite how full it was when you bought the house, but you'd much rather spend your day digging through old boxes than carrying them in from your moving van.

"Come take a look at this for me!"

You turn the little jar over again, shaking it just a bit and making the little flowers inside shift around the bottom. They're quite pretty - a bright pattern of red and pink, with a bit of black at the center - but you've never seen them before.

"What is it, love?" John asks from over your shoulder. You scooch closer to where he's propped on top of the ladder to the attic, forearms resting against the floor.

"Have you ever seen these before?" You pass the jar off to him, folding your legs beneath you and admiring John's shirtless form. He's a little red in the face, a lot sweaty, and you can't help but think about taking a short break from moving in...

"Hmm..." he turns the jar in his hand, just like you had. "I've never seen them before. Not too surprised, though." He shoots you a grin, offering the jar back. "Never did have much of a green thumb."

You take another peek, then pop the top of the jar open. The flowers are much more vibrant without the grime of the glass covering them, and you tip a few into your palm.

"Look," you say, offering your palm out to John. "They're so pretty!"

He takes a deep breath, leans a little further into the attic. "Not as pretty as you, love."

You roll your eyes, but can't resist the small smile. "That one was bad, even for you."

His grin is cheesy, his whole expression lovesick as he rests his chin on his folded arms. "I only speak the truth, love."

You can't help but giggle, tucking one of the flowers behind his ear. It's one of the only ones with a stem long enough to fit, and it looks quite silly next to his sweaty face and thick beard.

"There," you pat his cheek, shifting away to go back to your boxes. "Now you're as pretty as me."

"Now that will never be true."

———————————————————————

You don't see John again until that evening, when you're in the shower.

He'd spent the day downstairs, moving all your furniture about with his classic rock playing loud. You'd spent the day upstairs, finishing up your work in the attic and getting your bedroom and bathroom ready for the night while trying to drown his music out with the likes of ABBA and Madonna.

You'd brushed by each other a few times - playful dances, a bit of heavy petting over lunch - but had worked through what should have been dinner. As you wash the conditioner from your hair, you decide you should suggest pizza in bed for tonight.

You're humming to yourself when the shower door opens behind you, your husband already naked.

You smile when you get over the slight scare. "Hey, honey. Gonna join me?"

That's when you notice that something is a bit... off. He's naked but for the little flower behind his ear, which makes it easy to see how flushed his entire body is, and how obscenely hard his cock is between his legs.

"Oh," you can't help but blush a bit, turning to face him. "Feeling a little desperate, John?"

You mean it as a tease, but the sound that rips from your husband's throat is nearly broken. He's tearing into the shower before he bothers to answer, shoving you back into the slick tile and pressing every inch of skin he can against yours.

"John!" You gasp, giggling a bit when one of his rough hands jerks your thigh up and around his waist, the hot length of him resting between your folds. "Slow down, sweetheart, there's no rush."

He drops his forehead to yours, and you start to really see for the first time how needy he is. His face is almost tomato red under his whiskers, and his eyes are screwed up tight, almost like he's in pain.

"John?" You ask tentatively, one hand resting on his shoulder and the other cupping his warm cheek. "Are you alright, love?"

He shudders against you, only growing more tense. "Yeah, yeah love. Just... need to be inside of you, need it so fuckin' badly."

There's an edge to his voice you rarely hear, and there's a part of you that sparks in confusion, a bit of concern. But you arch your back for him, hike your leg a bit higher on his hip to truly spread yourself. "It's alright," you reassure, petting his cheek. "I'm always here for you, John, you know that."

He pushes into you too quickly, your body far from prepared to take something the size of him. But the slight pain melts into pleasure quickly as you melt in your husbands arms.

He's rough, rougher than he almost ever is, and you know your back will be bruised come morning. Every thrust in forces a loud gasp from you as you try desperately to breathe around his pace, your breaths syncing with his.

"Ugh," he moans against your neck, head dropping. "You feel... so good, so fucking good, love."

"You feel good too, John," you just barely manage to gasp out, nails digging deep into the muscle of his shoulders. "So- so big."

His moan is carnal, a rumbling sound that you can feel in your toes, and his thrusts somehow gets even rougher. The sound of his thighs slapping against yours is loud in the quiet bathroom, the sound of water dampened where it sprays against his back.

"God, you're like a vice," he hisses. "Tightest cunt, so good for me... perfect for me, just for me."

"Yes, yes," you chant, head resting against the tile. You rarely come from penetration alone, but hearing John's pleasure is enough for you to feel satisfied already. "Just for you, love, promise."

That's what finally pushes him over - he latches onto your neck, sucking a bruise there as he buries himself to the hilt, grinding himself as deep as he can go while moaning into your throat. You feel the spurts of his come inside of you, familiar after all these years together.

You're both panting in the aftermath, caught up in the pleasure.

You only realize he's still hard when he stands up fully, gripping your other thigh and helping you wrap it around his waist so he's fully carrying you.

"John?" You ask, shifting against him and causing you both to moan. "You're still...?"

He groans low in his chest as he carries you out of the room, confidently striding towards the bed. "I know."

"How... did you take something?"

He makes an offended sound, dropping you onto the bed and following you quickly enough after to keep himself inside of you. "Course not. Never needed any help in that department, not with you."

You're flattered, of course, but can't help but feel a little disconcerted by the fact that you can feel his come even though he's completely hard still.

"Alright," you say a moment later, tucking your legs as far up on his sides as they'll go.

He lifts his head just far enough for you to see him cock an eyebrow. "Alright?"

"Let's see how long you last, Captain."

You can feel his cock twitch inside of you, and he swallows your giggle with a kiss. He doesn't even bother to tease you back - to your slight disappointment - and instead begins to work his hips out of you, a slow drag out and a harsh push back in.

You both moan in sync, loud in the silence of your bedroom. You can't help but arch beneath him, trying to open yourself up more. As he starts to hit his stride, your knees tucked over his arms and pushed as high as he can without you pulling something, you feel the way the base of his cock rubs against your clit on every thrust in.

"Jo-John," you gasp, clinging desperately to his shoulders. "That feels so good, so good, love... oh, fuck, honey!"

"Yeah?" He grunts, face pulled tight above you. "Feel good? Gonna come for me, love? C'mon, attagirl, squeeze me tight... fuck, just like that, yes..."

He manages to get off much faster this time, but that doesn't seem to dull the intensity of his orgasm at all. He's still vocal, throwing his head back and letting all of his sounds out for you to hear. You manage to work your hips in just the right way to grind yourself against his flesh, and quickly find your own peak beneath him.

And still, it's not enough. You feel him working himself slowly against you minutes later, when you come down from your high.

You can't help but whine, your pussy oversensitive so soon after your orgasm. John doesn't pull out, though. He leans down enough to pepper kisses over your face, and begins to slowly fuck you again.

"J-John," you weekly protest, channel squeezing tight around him against your own will and drawing moans from both of you. "T-too sensitive, honey, I need a break."

"'m sorry," he pants against you, lips pressed to your cheek and leaving a small trail of spit. "I can't... I can't, love, need you too badly.

"John..."

"I know, I know, I'm sorry..." He sounds almost choked up above you, his voice cracked as he starts to pound into you faster and faster, forcing your legs higher. "I need to fuck you, love. Need to come. Can't... can't go another minute without- fuck, without you."

"You have me," you try, unable to keep yourself from trying to squirm away.

He snarls suddenly, forcing your legs so far back that your knees nearly brush the mattress. "Not yet," he spits, more beast than man above you. "Haven't... haven't given you enough."

You can only keen loudly, spine arching as the aftershocks of pain slowly morph themselves into pleasure.

Every thrust drags against oversensitive nerves, the clap of skin almost deafening. He brushes against your clit with just enough force to keep you on edge, keep you whining and moaning beneath him.

"Close," he pants, battering into you. "Just.. just a little... fuck, so close..."

"Come, John, please!"

Your own begging is what pushes him over the edge, your hole milking him for all that he's worth, even as you remain on edge.

He finally lets your legs fall from his arms, and you lightly shove at him until he falls away from you.

The both of you are panting as you lay side by side, staring up at your ceiling fan.

"Holy shit," you whisper, minutes or hours later. Your nerves feel like they're on fire, buzzing beneath your skin.

"Ditto," John echoes, sounding equally as rattled as you. It's almost impossible not to giggle at your poor husband sounding so shocked at his own stamina, and you roll into him so you can bury your face in his chest.

"What?" He asks, smile audible already. You don't even have to say anything for him to laugh too, your happiness always contagious. Soon enough he's wrapped himself around you, tucking his face safely into your hair and hiding his smile.

You fall asleep just like that, thoughts of pizza in bed long forgotten, and wonder if you can convince John to take whatever it is he must've had again sometime soon.

#this is the last one for today! #john price x reader #price x reader #john price #cod fanfic #call of duty fanfic #john price smut #price smut #1k celebration #bo writes

[feverish-cuddles]

Okay I'm really into humiliation + contagion+ mess, so here's a lil scene.

B has come down with probably the worst headcold they've ever had. Definately the drippiest, every sneeze forcing out more snot from the red, swollen passages. They texted A requesting they pick up some more tissues on their way home, and thankfully A listened. When A came home B was in the middle of a fit or well trying to get it out. Holding a tissue to their nose to try and hide all the mess threatening to come out. The bed was covered in used tissues and the one in hand looked like it should've been tossed by now. A couldn't help but grin at this. Seeing the poor thing with tears in their eyes, gasping desperately, their body shivering from not only chills but the need to sneeze! "aaaw my my my, look at you, seems like you really did catch the worst of it, my love." A smirked sliding beside them on the bed with a fresh box of tissues. B sighed as the sneeze fades away again though their face blushed brighter than what the fever gave them. They started sniffling trying to keep back the flood of mess which A caught onto. "You sound rather stuffy, honey, why don't I help you." Opening the box A pulled up a tissue, using their other hand to lower the one B had pressed to their nose. When they did this this had all the snot leaking back down. A then held the tissue just under their nose to catch what was dripping. "Oh look at that poor nose of yours, so drippy and red, it looks so angry too. One sneeze and I think its going to be more than a little mess." B kept trying to sniffle and snort the long thick cords back up, A wrapped and arm around then and gave them soft encouragements. "thats it love, try and sniffles all that back in" "you can do it" "oh there's so much, I'll help you keep it in okay. Just keep going" sdff sdfff sddrrrrck sdck! Finally all of it just barely managed to go back inside. A tilted B's face to make sure. seeing just how full their nose really was. All that snot was blocking B up badly. The nostrils flared widely trying to push the slimy stuff back out, but B did their best to keep it in. "there you go, love. See isn't that better, you did so good sniffling all that snot back in. Should I take away the tissue now?" B shook their head and used their hand to keep A's up at their nose. A soft hitching sound came, A could feel their breathes against their palm even through the tissue. A knew what would happen next, and decided to tease B. "aw is your nose tickling, I bet all that sniffling is making you feel sneezy huh? You don't wanna make a big mess do you? It'd get all over you and that pretty face of yours." B whimpered a little at this blushing harder, they tried to keep a handle on it but. Soon A started to use the tissue to rub a their septum and the tip of their nose. Feeling the soft cloth making teasing circles and rubs at the sensitive and raw skin of their nose. B's mouth dropped right open, their hitches growing desperate as were their sniffles. A could feel the snot beginning to leak out and onto the tissue in their hand, practically pouring out.

"oh it must be so tickly, darling sniffling back all that snot, feeling it drag against the inside of your nose aaaw. I bet its almost unbearable for you, and I know this cold has you sensitive." without a second longer B gasps and sneezed, and sneezed, and sneezed. The sneezes were just a forceful as they were desperate. Their nose doing all it could to get this nasty cold out. Snot soaked the tissue with in the first three sneezes, the next absolutely obliterated it leaving A's palm drenched in spray and snot.

When the fit slowed to a stop, B's nose was trembling, anything could set it off now and it looked like it needed to blow badly. Luckily they had A there to get them through it.

"oh look at the mess you've made darling, you're getting that cold of yours everywhere~"

#feverish mess #nonkink blogs don't interact #feverish scenarios #snzblr

[mimastuff]

Sooo do you think if the rise turtles had a human or fluffy mutant so when it’s cold and snowy and the heatings not working, do you think they’d brag to the other turtles that their s/o is their own personal oven and their brothers should be jealous? (Donnie messages them to brag about this rather than speak it in person. Probably locked him and his s/o in his lab so Leo can’t fuck with them in revenge). Also can I get something on s/o offering their turtle cuddles in bed cuz s/o is 100% fine and their boyfriend are freezing?

Thank you for this request!! I really love this one Ilysm <33

Ice cold

——————————————————————————

You met the turtles through big mama. Let me explain. When big mama asked the turtles for help and they set off for the task, you were called into her office. You knew this wasn’t good. As you sat down in her chair you could feel all her eight eyes on you.

“Hello fluffy-poo I have just sent some turtles out to do a curtain job for me. I want you to help me capture them when they get back here. Understand?” You froze. You didn’t like her plans you only stayed here because you had no place to go to. People hated your kind. Mutants. Well you were actually a yokai. A very fluffy yokai. “But big mama I don’t really wan-“ you could barely finish before she interrupted you. “Are you disagreeing with me? After all I have done ! I gave you a place to say , your my best fighter you know. I want you to do great things fluffy-poo don’t you get that?” You looked down and nodded. You felt sick helping her , but she gave you a place to stay when no one else would. She’s the reason your probably not dead right now. As the turtles came in you took the ooze-squitos from the red ones hand you couldn’t help but listen to their words. “She’s…. Adorable” *your turtle of choice* whispered. You smiled at you contemplated giving the green coloured bugs to big mama. Her smirk to you and signal meant you now had to try and capture them. The two body guards moved towards them and the turtles, they could fight !! Pretty well. As they got thrown onto the floor you held off the guards. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING Y/N , I have you home and I can take it!!” You pushed the guards away and knocked them out one by one. The turtles watched in awe as you fought so well ! As you fought the last guard you ran the turtles to help them up. You turned on the elevator and pushed them inside. “Go , get out of this place ! It’s not safe for you. I will take care of big mama.” They gave you a sympathetic look as they all ran to the elevator. The orange one turned around to see you smash the glass bottle of the ooze-squitos and sent big mama into a hissy fit. You turned around to see the brothers running to you as big mama tried to strike you. You ran with a confused look on your face. “We can’t just leave you in here with her, not after you just saved us” you smiled and thanked them. You all moved into the elevator going down to your room to grab your stuff. You only came last month so you still had your suitcase full of things. You Grabbed it and ran with them. Suddenly the blue turtle seemed to have met up with you guys and gave you a questioning look as you ran outside the hotel. The 3 brothers explained what happened and they all took you to their lair. Later that day you met April. Who happened to be your childhood best friend! You two bonded quick and she soon let you stay now at your guys apartment. But , one of the turtles really caught your eye. And apparently you caught their eye as well! You two started talking and now you’re dating ! He loves your fluffiness and your warmth ever since winter came around…

Raph❤️

- he would absolutely love it

- He would text you to come over just because he is cold

- He would be a bit scared about you catching on his spikes but you prove him wrong

- Because your so so fluffy you couldn’t even feel the spikes!

- Cuddle and Jupiter Jim marathons in the winter are to die for

- Also I see him coming up behind you while your doing something and just brushing his face in your fluffiness

- In his eyes , your his personal heater during those chilly months

- When you come over when it cold he would brag about how no one else will get warm because he has his own heat pack

- You!

- They would all roll their eyes at him but once you two get to his room , you two are not coming out soon

- You love it due to your fluffiness being too much warmth so he is the perfect temperature to cool you off while he gets warmed up

- He would carry you around just so he can be close to you and feel the heat!

Mikey🧡

- in my opinion he is the coldest turtle out of the four brothers

- Once he actually realises that your a walking heater

- He will none stop cling to you

- He is just walking around freezing when he sees you cooking

- Mikey would climb your back just to get a piece of your fluffy warmth

- Cuddle sessions after a mission are amazing

- He would always fall asleep on your chest

- The brothers would soon catch on to what he was doing

- The clinginess seemed a bit too much for mikey

- They felt your fur and soon became aware of Mike’s little secret

- He was the coldest turtle by touch , but with you he felt as though your heat could lull him to sleep

- Would defo go on the brothers group chat and brag about how warm he is

- Especially when it snows

- That boy is all over you

- He loves you very much

Leo💙

- omg

- This boy.

- When he finds out your secret heat

- He is all over you

- He would send photos to his brothers of you two cuddling captioned “you guys feel that ? Oh yeah sorry would that be the cold because I definitely can’t 👹”

- Leo would wait at your apartment freezing as ever

- When you walk through the door he is sweet talking you to the couch

- He is smooth , ngl 😩

- He would set you on the couch and fall asleep on your chest floof

- ok , so you have two options

- One take a pic and use it as blackmail

- Orr you can leave him be

- Because he is not going to get up anytime soon

- Sooo get some popcorn because you are in for a long ride

- He would run up and hug you just to feel your floof and heat

- He is physical touch depending

- So you two are a total power couple

Donnie 💜

- as he spends the most time in his lab

- It’s is naturally cold in there

- Soo he did the next best thing

- He has a heater in their

- But one time

- During New York’s biggest snow season yet

- After a huge explosion in his lab

- It broke his beloved heater

- As he sat in his lab

- Inevitably waiting his cold doom

- That’s when you walk in with some hot coffee

- You see him on the ground shaking

- His body Aches for warmth

- You help his get up onto his seat

- You instantly know what to do

- You put the coffee on his desk

- Which he thanks you for

- And sit in his lap

- At first he stiffs up, but when you tap your arms around him he gives in

- He finally felt warmth for what felt like the first time ever

- He hugs you back and falls asleep with his head atop of yours

- Now , he texts you a secret code to indicate he wants warming up

——————————————————————————

Hope you guys enjoyed this one

Phew ! Another one done !! Keep the requests coming !!

#rottmnt x y/n #rottmnt mikey x reader #rottmnt raph #rise donnie x reader confession #rottmnt x reader #rise raph x reader #yandere rottmnt #raph x reader #mikey x you #leon x reader #rise leo x reader #rottmnt

[koiimii]

𝐁𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭 | 𝐀𝐥𝐞𝐱 𝐓𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

“𝙄𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 𝘼𝙡𝙚𝙭 𝙗𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙠𝙨 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙧𝙪𝙡𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙫𝙞𝙨𝙞𝙩𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙩 𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙤𝙣 𝙝𝙚’𝙙 𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙚𝙘𝙩 𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙣𝙤𝙤𝙣…”

———

He couldn’t stop his feet.

They seemed to be moving a millisecond ahead of his every thought as his booted heels clicked down the cobble stone path towards your door.

What the hell was he thinking? What on earth are you thinking Al?

He must enjoy being hurt. He must enjoy being filled up and then discarded, but then again… he was no saint either.

He was no better than you, and maybe right now… it would be best to leave things as they were. To leaves things in the dark, collecting dust by remaining completely absent in each others lives.

The past few months were peaceful! For the best indeed…

The way you left things that night, Alex’s stuff tossed out on your front lawn, your neck bruised from where he had ripped off the locket he gifted you…

Things were better left untouched from then on, and the two of you not in contact. Alex was well aware of that yes, but oh…. How he missed you.

The very idea of you made his heart swell in a way that made he himself feel sick, insane.

He’d never forget the words you two exchanged in your kitchen… the wine spilled across your marble counters, your back pressed against the wall while he kept you steady and unable to escape his petty wrath.

He couldn’t help the tightening feeling in his chest as he now stood out front your bright red door.

The gates of hell perhaps…

He clenched his jaw, and he shifted his weight from foot to foot trying to make this sound as normal as he could in his head. It had been 4 months, yes. You both agreed to never speak again, yes… only you said it in a much harsher way.

But the minute he stepped foot inside his mate’s flat that night, bags in hand and with the shameful request to borrow the air mattress… he missed you.

Your wild, amber eyes blinking back at his boring brown ones. Your smooth, tanned curves molding against his own body like a puzzle. Your mouth, sweet and tinted red with the remains of strawberry lipgloss…

(Y/n).

You had tattooed your name across his mind so that was all he knows… across his tongue so that it was all he speaks.

He needed you, now.

He would come in peace, leave his pride and sarcasm at the door. He’d have his white flag raised high. He lifted a ringed hand to knock, stepping back and stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

It was silent at first, and he wondered just how crazy he’d be to use the key you kept under the welcome mat.

No need.

A few quite clicks, and finally… it opened.

The sight of you made his mouth fall agape, not to mention the undeniable tightening feeling in his jeans.

He hated you…

He hated the fact that that wasn’t the slightest bit true.

You stood there, clad in his oversized dress shirt. Sleeves rolled up, barely buttoned correctly and sliding off your bare shoulders. Your hair flew all over, but still managed to glow caramel against the setting sun… your lips had twisted into an unreadable twitching situation, corners beginning to curl up.

What also grabbed his attention was the smeared paint along your bare hands and arms… and your thighs, and shoulders, your chest… even your cheeks were smudged with soft greens and yellows.

You had been painting again.

You loved painting… he was glad to see you hadn’t changed so much. But then again, he could be rather arrogant to think you’d stop your lifestyle just because of him, especially since you made it a point to push him out of it.

Then he saw your face.

Those Amber eyes… filled with emotions that made Alex’s blood run cold, only because he couldn’t read them.

Had you hated him…? He couldn’t blame you.

“That my shirt…?”, suddenly, the note to avoid pettiness had left the window.

It was official when you cocked your hip and leaned against your doorframe, an unimpressed brow arched high..

“Looked better on me anyway…” you shrugged, sipping the tea from the mug clutched firmly in your hand.

“Miss me that much?”, he pulled his sunglasses off and titled his head.

“A bit ironic isn’t it?” You sighed, peaking over his shoulder as if bored with him already and hoping for someone else to arrive.

“Don’t see how..”, Alex shrugged, pushing past you and into your home without a second though.

What you said next, well he had it coming.

“Look who’s popping up on my front porch, and pushing themselves back in again.”

You had made a valid point, and he avoided turning around to face you again, moving through your house towards your studio instead.

You followed, arms crossed and eyes rolled hard. But deep down in the pit of your stomach, those butterflies became to swarm.

You missed this man undeniably. The shirt you wore was only a fraction of the many you had folded neatly in his drawer you still kept…

Not a night went by where you hadn’t cried yourself to sleep with the help of old love letter readings, where you hadn’t driven yourself mad with his name on your lips and your fingers buried between your legs.

You missed Alex dearly. Painfully…

Right now, seeing him felt like a dream, watching and following close behind him as he moved down the halls of your home and into your studio.

The brightness only added to the euphoric feeling in your chest. You watched as he smirked to himself… his eyes took in the various unfinished canvases stacked along the walls, and the shelves piled high with old paint bottles…

The portrait you made of him still hung high above all your other beautiful works.

“Thought you promised to burn that…”, he cleared his throat and tugged off his thin striped blazer.

“Never got around to it..”, you mumbled, moving over to plant yourself down on the old stool in front of your canvas in progress.

“Nice to see you’re still painting… you make quite the mess too.”, he nodded towards your paint covered skin.

You were both childishly dancing around the words that burned on your mouths, like hot gum. Alex nearly felt his skin burn alone at the sight of you. The high open windows let a light in that made you appear ethereal…

Messily decorated and smudged with every color of the rainbow, you were magnificent.

“What’re you doing here, Alex.”, you frowned and watched as his body blew around to face you, limp like a puppet on a string.

Perhaps your string.

“You know why, love. Why’d you let me in…?”, he stepped closer and your frown deepened.

He looked calm, too calm, like he knew how this would all play out and that alone made you bubble with agitation.

“…You know why.”

He swallowed, and you could’ve swore the tips of his ears began to redden, hidden by the fallen Sandy locks of his un-gelled hair.

He liked pressing your buttons, making you tic…

“You’re too cruel...” He spoke, and finally he stood close enough to grip the collar of his shirt you wore, rubbing the fabric between his trembling fingers.

“Don’t do that…”, you glared up at him from your sitting position. “That isn’t fair and you know that.”

You hated how nonchalant he could be. You felt your body begin to brim and you swallowed thickly. The sun from the windows began to bake you both and the tension was rising to a suffocating high.

He needed you, wanted you, craved you like a drug and you wanted to hear him say it.

You didn’t care how…

With tears in his eyes, sweat on his brow, on his knees, underneath you, panting and out of breath…

You wanted him weak, and broken… and at your mercy.

As Alex stared down at you now, he felt his heart was about to beat from his chest. He knew he had stepped into the lion’s den and he didn’t want to look back.

Just then you shot up from your sitting position, acting off sheer instinct when you crushed your lips against his own. He immediately returned it, gripping at your hips and waist with an urgency.

It was like a fire had been lit between the two of you, electrifying and full of something you had grown to know all to well.

Alex’s mouth worked with ravenous intent, and it irked you in the back of your mind to think he had become rather spoiled in your… toxic patterns.

Your lips lingered on each other’s for only a moment longer before you felt yourself being backed into what you quickly learned was your work bench. With one strong arm’s sweep, Alex sent all your paints and colors to the ground with a clattering crash.

He caught your mouth in another painfully delicious kiss before your protests could be heard, lifting you up with ease and setting you down in place.

You had grown drunk.

You had began to devour each other with a fever and soon, you found yourself growing undone. Alex slotted himself firmly between your thighs, his hands reluctantly leaving the smooth skin of your hips and waist to squeeze their plushy flesh in calloused, ringed hands.

You mewled into his mouth and soon, he pulled away, paying close attention to the clean, unmarked skin of your neck. He’d have to change that. Alex payed very close attention to detail indeed.

You rolled your hips against his own and you knew he felt it too, his gentle groans rippling between the two of you. Alex touched your body with the same possessiveness you had shamelessly missed, and now you could only return the favor…

If he’d let you. If he’d let your head stop spinning and hand you the controls.

You felt his fingers find your center, thumb pressing feebly against that swelling ball of nerves that had began to call his name, still protected by the thin layer of your lace underwear... You couldn’t help but gasp, back arching off the table, hips pressing into his palm in search of that friction…

You could feel his smile against your neck, pleased and appreciative… knowing all to well how nicely his fingers made you tick. You rolled your neck around, his lips still painting the flesh more vivid than your violet paints before finally, your cursed and pressed your hands to his chest.

You shoved him back with a new found force, panting and panicked, in a flushed daze.

Alex stumbled until ultimately tripping onto his back, elbows planted into the sheet covered ground as the fallen paints from before splashed up all around him in vibrant puddles. Various hues of red, yellow, violet, and gold touched his clothes, his bare arms and cheeks… splashes of color slapped his skin and hair in a way that could only make such a mess look like art.

Lust swam between his and your own stormy gaze. Hair disheveled, eyes dark, lips swollen and glossed with desire. You didn’t share a word then, none were needed.

You raked a slow hand through your hair and cursed, licking your lips and eyeing the space around you before your eyes found home again in his. Alex stared up at you, swallowing thickly, pink paint rolling down his cheeks only to blend with his natural flushed state.

“Your shirt…”, you breathed, fixing his dress-shirt on your shoulders. “Take it off.”

He quickly obeyed, arms flexing up as he pulled the suddenly obnoxious fabric over his shoulders to toss it somewhere unimportant.

“Pants… and everything else.”, you moved in sync with him this time.

The clatter off his belt was the only thing that could be heard as the two of you shuffled to rid yourselves of any restraints. As Alex finally tossed his jeans, boots and socks aside, he gulped.

He watched as the thin lace underwear you wore slid down your legs, dropping off your ankles to the ground below. He was embarrassingly hard, his arousal prominent in the glossed, flushed red tint of his length.

You slid off the counter and towards him before Alex was finally leaned back on his elbows, quiet and hungry with anticipation for you.

He only wanted to be devoured by you…

“This paint is cold…”, only to fill the silence he spoke, unsteady and nervous. The spilt paint had indeed began to coat his thighs and arms with every shift of his body.

You could only chuckle, you wished you had a camera.

You lowered yourself down slowly, movements careful and calculated. Finally you sat on his thighs straddling him close once he sat up to hug you tight.

“You’re not in charge, Alex… I am.”, you whispered against his mouth, already parted for you taste once more.

“You’ve annoyed me, today. And now I’m going to take it all out… on you.”

That stung, in a way that shot right down to his erection, instantly twitching in approval. Your eyes bore into his soul and stripped him down to nothing. Eye to eye with you alone made him feel as if he couldn’t last another moment.

Alex knew you wouldn’t care, you’d simply sit back to watch him finish, call him names. He secretly liked how cruel you could be like this… He was putty in your hands.

“So mean…”, he murmured, just as your lips met his own.

Your hands, now dipped and smeared with wet pigment ran down his his bare neck and chest until he was graffitied down with crimsons and blues. The purple shades on his neck were rather artistic too.

Back then you had been known to be friends with the pretty boys, when you and Alex found each other… he had fought to be your favorite. Now he he was all yours and best of all… you were his.

Too lost in your lips, he hadn’t realized when you lifted your hips, only to slide down onto him with a slowness that made his shiver. His limbs tightened briefly, gasping against your mouth as you two groaned out careful praises.

You tightened around him, and he squeezed his eyes shut, sinking into your velvety warmth in a daze. You began to roll your hips and he cursed your name, his jaw going slack as the pleasure shot through him in waves.

You were in pure ecstasy, your mouth falling open, eyes rolling back as you nestled your head into the crook of his neck. His shirt began to slide down your painted shoulders, and Alex took the opportunity to kiss the soft skin, biting gently as you rocked faster.

Your head was spinning, the pleasure and emotion sending you reeling into an oblivion. Your rasped cries began to madden and soon you hissed at the sting of Alex’s bite, pulling away enough to shove him down completely.

Alex laid flat on his back, his fair falling from his eyes as he stared up at you, gripping your hips to leave hand prints of magenta and black for later… Your movements quickened, roughened and soon the two of you were lost in each others cries.

You stared down at him, your hips keeping rythme as you watched him closely. Alex looked dazed, eyes half-lidded as his broken, hoarse groans were returned with breathless giggles and sweet praises.

You watched as he took your hands and guided them around his throat, eyes a-little wider now, pleading and desperate. Alex loved to be hurt… you quickly learned that about him.

You learned that he liked not always being in control, especially if it meant you’d ruin him like this. Angry, desperate, rough… he joked about how sick he must be to enjoy such things, but if that were the case you wish everyone were as sick as him.

You stared down at him, lips parted as you leaned down to kiss him slow. It was messy and frantic, a thin string of saliva stretching between the two of you as you pulled away, pressing him down into the ground by his throat when he chased your mouth for more.

For a moment you forgot yourself, in the pleasure, in the emotions, in him.

You tightened your grip around his throat, clenching yourself around him, watching as his cheeks and ears went up in rosy flames. How he groaned out your name in frantic, broken cries and his hips bucked into you, hitting your sweetest spot at a delicious angle.

You cooed, brushing some more hair from his glossy eyes. Sweat glazed over the both of your painted bodies, and you knew Alex was close when he tried to slow your hips to a gentler pace.

“Hands off, darling…~”, you purred, hands leaving his neck to scrape down his chest.

Alex shuttered, whining out in his deeper register, words incoherent now as you bounced your hips steadily. Sounds that were anything but innocent began to bounce off the walls and Alex felt his stomach tighten.

“St-stop, love. I’m coming. Darling, please- I-!”, his pleads were false, Alex knew it. He wanted to be driven mad.

Your hands found his throat again, squeezing hard just as he felt his body tense and release, his bucking upwards and finally locking down into the paint soiled hardwood.

He shook gently, stuttering around a stream of curses along with your name as he finally spilled over. He could hardly breath, his breath catching in his throat as he saw stars, your hands still wrapping around his throat.

Alex assumed the intensity had already reached its peak as you finally slowed your hips to a stop, letting him ride out his orgasm and returning his breath… until your hips began to move once more.

You mentally swooned at the way he stuttered into hushed pleas almost immediately, gripping your hips so hard he’d leave bruises for the following days to come.

You laughed aloud, dreamy and in love. Seeing him so ruined beneath you after how cocky he had been earlier.. it drove you mad.

“I’m not finished, Al…~”, you purred, kissing down his neck as he turned his head to the side, desperate to control himself.

His stomach tightened and released again and he nearly saw white, the over-stimulation so beautiful it hurt.

“M’- I- sweetheart, please-~”, over and over the helpless begs spilled from his lips, and you couldn’t help but comb your fingers though his purple streaked hair.

You felt that knot begin to tighten in your stomach and soon you, slowed down, clenching around him as your body jerked in place, the orgasm hitting you like a shockwave, and Alex as well.

You cried out, collapsing on top of him as he held you close. His dress shirt had fallen to pool around your elbows and waist now, your chest ok full display pressed against his own.

You let it wash over, your heart racing a mile a minute, and you could feel Alex’s too. You kissing his bare shoulders and cheeks, soothing the intensity as you both came down…

There was a moment where it had just been breathing. Erratic, then hesitant, then steady… the two of you coached each other through it with touch alone.

After another moment, you sat up again and slowly pulled yourself off of him, watching as Alex peered up at you, eyes hardly open.

“Are you alright…?”, you questioned softly, rubbing his chest, and adding your name in purple paint.

He only nodded, small yet firm , resting his hands on your thighs and smearing them yet again with partial hand prints.

“…Let’s talk, Alex.”

It was evident that there was much to be discussed, the wave of ecstasy only leaving you both with a feeling of… anxiety.

It was only after a shared shower with colorful mud mixed water running down your limbs, hushed giggles and gentle kisses on warm wet skin, that the two of you could then cuddle up and talk…

———

𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝.

A/N: This was…filthy. But I feel like it was fitting. Submissive Alex, rough sex on the floor, in an art studio, covered in paint… He can be so odd yet captivating with romance. I love him.

#alex turner #arctic monkeys #alex turner imagine #alex turner fanfic #alex turner headcanons #alex turner x reader #arctic monkeys x reader #writing #art history #bodypaint

[amyispxnk]

Back home

Summary: Javi returns home and you guys have some fun 😜 (I'm bad at summaries haha)

A/N: I wrote this before Halloween ended so forgive the Halloween activities. I can't be bothered to change it. Also I don't really know what perspective this is written in..?

I have not proofread this so I'm sorry if there's any confusing bits or mistakes. Lmk if there's anything major!

Javier Peña x f!reader

Word count: 1858

Warnings- pet names, smut (oral f receiving, PiV) fluff

DO NOT COPY THIS WORK IN ANY WAY PLS AND TY.

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He turned off his car and walked outside, unlocking the door to his apartment and stepping inside, admittedly a little excited to finally see his girlfriend after a long mission abroad.

As he opened the door, she jumped up and ran over to him, crushing him with a hug as she practically jumped on him.

"Javi! I missed you so much!" She squealed.

He laughed heartily, catching her in his arms as she leaped towards him. He spun her around once before setting her back down on the ground, kissing her passionately. "I missed you too, mi amor. It feels good to be home."

Pulling away, he took a step back to look at her, taking in every detail of her appearance. Her hair was longer than he remembered, and there was a new sparkle in her eyes that made his heart skip a beat.

"You look more beautiful than ever." He said sincerely, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "How have you been holding up while I was away?"

"Been good.. kinda bored though, without you. I did some decorating as you can see..." She said, nodding her head in the direction of the Halloween decorations strung up thoughout the apartment.

His eyes lit up as he took in the festive decorations adorning their home. Skeletons hung from the ceiling, cobwebs were draped across corners, and pumpkins sat on every available surface.

"Wow, you really went all out." He remarked with a grin. "Looks like we're ready for Halloween."

He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer as they surveyed the scene together.

"So what do you say we make the most of my first night back? We could watch a scary movie, eat some popcorn...maybe even carve a pumpkin or two."

"Oh, scary movie marathon was already on my list of stuff to force you into. Sit, I'll go bring some popcorn. Put a movie on too, you get first pick as a courtesy of mine." She winked before kissing him again then going to get the popcorn ready.

He chuckled, watching her walk away before turning his attention to the television. Flipping through the channels, he settled on a classic horror film - one that had given him nightmares as a kid but seemed strangely comforting now.

By the time she returned with a steaming bowl of popcorn, the opening credits were rolling. She handed him a large handful before settling in next to him on the couch, resting her head against his shoulder.

"This better not give me nightmares," she teased, reaching for another handful of popcorn. "But if it does, at least I know who to blame."

Halfway through the movie, she moved to sit between his legs on the couch and pulled the blanket on top of them, muttering something about being cold and Javier's body being a 'fucking heater'.

He laughed softly, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her closer. As the tension mounted on screen, he couldn't help but feel a sense of peace wash over him - there was no place he'd rather be than right here, with her.

She moved to tug the blanket tighter around them as she complained how cold it was when it was barely November.

"You're cold?" He asked playfully. "Let me help you with that."

With a mischievous grin, he began to tickle her sides, eliciting a fit of giggles from her. When she tried to retaliate, he captured her wrists in his hands, holding her still as they both dissolved into laughter.

"Okay, okay," she gasped, breathless. "I surrender!" But he didn't let up.

"Javi, stop!" She shrieked as her face went red from laughing so hard. "I'm gonna piss myself, stop!"

His eyes twinkled with amusement as he relented, releasing her wrists and leaning back against the couch. But even as the movie continued, his gaze remained fixed on her - taking in every curve of her body, every freckle on her skin.

"You know," he said softly, running a finger down her arm. "There's only one way to make sure you don't have nightmares tonight."

Leaning in, he brushed his lips against hers in a gentle kiss. She responded eagerly, her hands tangling in his hair as they lost themselves in the moment.

"We need to make sure you stay awake," he whispered, making her breath hitch slightly as she turned to face him fully.

"How do you plan on doing that?" She pressed, any attention she was paying to the movie before long gone.

A smile played at the corner of his mouth as he traced a finger along her collarbone, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. His voice was low and husky when he spoke, sending shivers down her spine.

"I have a few ideas," he murmured, leaning in to capture her lips once again. This time, there was nothing gentle about their kiss - it was fierce and hungry, fueled by weeks apart.

Breaking away, he looked into her eyes, his own dark with desire. "Are you game?"

"Am I game?" She laughed before moving to sit completely on his lap.

"Yeah, I'm game."

His heart raced as she straddled him, her warmth enveloping him like a second skin. He cupped her face in his hands, kissing her deeply before trailing kisses down her neck.

"Good," he growled against her skin. "Because I've missed you too much to wait any longer."

With that, he stood up effortlessly, carrying her bridal style towards the stairs. She buzzed with excitement as he climbed each step, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

"It's really hot how you can just carry me like this." She said with a little giggle as she looked up at him.

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to her forehead before answering.

"Years of working in the DEA have paid off, I guess." He flashed her a grin as they reached the bedroom door. Setting her down gently on the bed, he took a moment to admire the sight before him - her flushed cheeks, her tousled hair, the heat in her eyes.

"Now," he said softly, crawling towards her on the bed. "Where were we?"

"I think we were here." She said as she straddled him once more and leaned back slightly to pull her top off.

His eyes widened in appreciation as she revealed her perfect breasts, her nipples already hard from their earlier encounter. Leaning in, he took one into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue before switching to the other.

"Fuck, you're beautiful," he groaned, his hands wandering over her body. Reaching behind her, he unclasped her bra completely and let it fall to the floor, revealing even more of her smooth skin.

She gasped as the cold night air hit her breasts before her hands came to grab for his shirt, fumbling to get it off.

Laughing softly, he helped her remove his shirt before moving on top of her. His lips trailed down her stomach, leaving a path of kisses in their wake. Reaching her jeans, he undid them quickly, sliding them down her legs along with her panties.

"So wet for me," he murmured appreciatively. "Just like I knew you would be."

Dipping his head, he ran his tongue over her clit, causing her to cry out in pleasure. Her taste was intoxicating - sweet and tangy at the same time. He lapped at her folds greedily, drinking in her essence.

"Oh my god" she moaned, head tipping back as she fisted his curls tightly, begging him for more.

Encouraged by her reaction, he redoubled his efforts, using his fingers to massage her clit while his tongue delved deeper inside her. She was so close - he could feel it in the way her body trembled beneath him.

"That's it, baby," he growled, adding another finger to increase the pressure. "Come for me."

And with a loud cry, she did just that, her orgasm crashing over her like a wave. He held her through it, his arms wrapped around her waist as she rode out the aftershocks.

"Wow," she breathed finally, looking up at him through heavy-lidded eyes.

"You're really good at eating pussy." She said with an airy chuckle as she leaned forward on her forearms.

He grinned at the compliment, leaning in to steal a kiss. "I aim to please," he said cheekily.

Rolling onto his back, he pulled her on top of him, enjoying the feeling of her naked body pressed against his. Her breasts were soft against his chest, her thighs slick with sweat where they rested on either side of his hips.

"Your turn," he said, reaching down to cup her ass. "I'm not done with you yet."

"You better not be." She murmured against his lips before pushing herself up and steadying herself with her palms against his chest, starting to rock slowly against his erect length.

His breath caught in his throat at the sensation of her moving against him. It felt amazing - the friction of her wetness against his cock driving him wild. He could feel himself getting closer to the edge, but he didn't want it to end yet.

Reaching up, he grabbed her hips, guiding her movements until she was riding him just right. Her moans spurred him on, and soon they were both lost in the rhythm, their bodies moving together in perfect harmony.

"Querida," he groaned, unable to form coherent words anymore. All he knew was that he needed more of her - needed to be inside her.

"What?" She teased as she slowed her movements slightly, head resting sideways on her shoulder.

Gritting his teeth, he tried to hold back, but it was no use. He lifted her up and pulled her back down on him in one swift movement, barely giving her a chance to breath before he was thrusting rapidly inside of her.

Her head fell back and he bent down, attaching his lips to her nipple once more and swirling his tongue around it, his pace inside of her still relentless.

Her hands tugged on his disheveled hair when he angled his hips a little differently, making his cock hit that perfect spot inside of her.

"Fuck, don't stop! I'm gonna come, Javi!" She moaned.

"Come on baby, come on. Soak my cock. Come on." He urged, moving faster and faster until she finally came undone, clenching around him and making her pussy impossibly tight around his dick.

With a final thrust, he came inside her, his release so powerful it left him weak and breathless. As the last of his orgasm subsided, he pulled her down onto him, wrapping his arms around her tightly.

"Fuck," he breathed against her neck. "That was...amazing."

She smiled, pressing a kiss to his jawline. "It certainly was," she agree before resting her head in the crook of his neck until her breathing slowed and they both came down from their highs.

He lay down in a more comfortable position after a moment and she shuffled to the side slightly so her head was resting on his chest, slowly drifting to sleep.

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Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated and requests are open! 💞

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #javier peña smut #javier peña angst #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña #javier peña x reader #narcos #javier peña narcos #amyispxnk fics

[battydora]

my personal take on my hero academia men (pro heroes) and their preferences in bed

alphabetically.

masterlist | rules

¡ +18, minors dni !

characters: all might, best jeanist, cementoss, ectoplasm, edgeshot, endeavor, eraserhear, fatgum, gang orca, hawks, ingenium, manual, present mic, sir nighteye

content: nsfw, general sexcanons, reader x various characters, gender neutral but mentions of breasts and vulva (all might, eraserhead, sir nighteye) and penis (eraserhead), reader referred as mommy (manual), some romance, some fluff, roughness and freakness, but above all, sexy time.

warnings: suggestive content, mentions of various kinks, sexual activities, cock riding, rimming, dirty talking, public teasing, foreplay, rope bunny, oral sex, fingering, cunnilingus, rough sex and much more.

note: i think i never had an idea better than this. enjoy

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all might: big fan of nipple kissing (him receiving), ass grabbing and slapping (both giving and receiving), he loves seeing you ride him, he likes the way your titties bounce up and down, whenever he gets a chance he grabs them. i believe he's very much into rimming, anytime he asks you to eat his ass you will soon have toshinori moaning softly into the pillow, your mouth feels so good in him it makes him go crazy. a bonus: he likes when you strip for him before doing it. i think he's insecure about his body so you'll have to be patient and loving, and maybe take control most of the time.

best jeanist: im gonna go wild with this one, i love him. he's a switch. as a dom, hakamada enjoys rope bunny (or bondage if he's really in the mood), he likes tying up your hands and feet when you're fully naked on his bed, he's very gentle though and gives soft/please dom energy, whatever you desire, you'll have him working hard to give it to his love. as a sub, tsunagu tells you he submits completely to you, he's probably on his knees hugging your torso waiting for instructions like a little puppy willing to follow its master. he lets you decorate him with bites and hickies all over. the pro hero is also a gentle moaner, his moans and whines are the cutest and softest you've ever heard, it almost sounds like a melody when you give him a handjob and play with his balls. he also loves the idea of having his face ridden... or maybe edging..... another plus is that he loves lingerie, the idea of your cute butt being adorned with only a tiny bit of cloth makes his mind flash the dirtiest ideas, imagine him getting home just to find completely naked on the couch except for a thin dark red pantie, he'd fall on his knees in front of the sofa completely enchanted by you as he worships your gorgeous body. idk he's so romantic ugh💍💍

cementoss: not sure how his body works, but if he happens to have the same touch as humans, he'd be the type to please his partner, honestly i think he befriended more with toys and he relies on them a lot to give you the pleasure you deserve, because ken deep inside is worried you won't enjoy having sex with him thanks to his quirk.

ectoplasm: a romantic one, he probably enjoys more vanilla sex rather than very lewd stuff, he's so full of compliments for you, he enjoys adoring your body, kissing and caressing it with his hands. he has particular interest in your thights so don't mind if you find him grabbing and squishing them during sexy time (which is also the only place he'll allow himself to bite if you let him :))

edgeshot: just as ectoplasm, shinya is a very romantic partner, sexy time with him might include candles, gifts, roses and praises all along the way. he's not here for quickies, he's determined to take entire minutes of his time to explore every inch of your body and give them costumized attention to each. sitting you on his lap to make out with you as he grabs your ass and caresses your lower back and shoulder blades. you want your genitalia touched? he already has his hand working. you want to be railed nonstop? “we will break the bed if that is what it needs to be done for your enjoyment, darling”. he personally enjoys moans and whines, i think he is a man who likes to know what he's doing right, so please, praise him he wants to know his lovely partner is having the best they can get, he'll do anything to provide the orgasm(s) their significant other deserves to make them scream of pleasure so please congratulate him and tell him his doing an excellent job, because he sure is.

endeavor: a very, very rough partner. i feel like you two have a rivals with benefits dynamic, you tease him and he teases you. in bed you never fail to insult eachother, merciless scratching, mean bitting, feral kissing. he loves it, he loves being able to expulse his stress on you, specially when you walked around town teasing him, calling him a bastard and acting like a brat around him all day because the more teasing, greater the punishment when back home. bruises of all types can be done here. enji has no problem on taking you anywhere around the house, he loves laying your body over the dining table and rail you nonstop, the couch aswell, oh and did i mention that one time in the shower?

eraserhead: uuhh, this one might dissapoint some of you. i personally headcanon aizawa as a demiromantic/demisexual person so it took you a while to get him open about his sexual desires but once you gave eachother explicit consent and boundaries, you unleash all your fantasies at once. shouta seems like the guy to go for classic positions at first, such as the missionary and doggy style, buuut... if you ask him to go rough and wild, oh dear, bet he'll go rough and wild until you're a whiny dirty mess underneath him. shouta also likes giving oral, as you make out, he sits you down on the edge of the bed, he takes his kisses to your neck, chest and tummy as his hands caress your body shamessly, once he gets down there, he gifts you a wide devilish smile before putting his mouth to work (you do him a favour by pulling his hair up, he also wouldn't mind if you pull it hard). not a messy eater, but he swears he has never tasted something this good like your cock/pussy before.

fatgum: one of my favourites indeed. i hope you're ready because things have never been freakier, taishiro is a MENACE in bed, he seems so sweet and innocent but this big boy hides the most naughty kinks and fantasies (under his bed?). very freaky and hungry while approaching you, likes to pin you down on bed and is always in the mood for sex! he sure is no dissapointment, plus his stamina>>, imagine the possibilities. taishiro is very open minded too! so if you go to him with a new idea to try in bed, he'll be the first in line to try it out! but this is not it, he knows quite well pleasure does not and never relies on penetration, no, the last thing he thinks of is penetration, he takes time to explore your other senses, he plays with your sight and smell, may you picture yourself blindfolded and handcuffed as toyomitsu caresses, kisses and bites your skin, pulling you closer to make you feel his fragance and maybe using a little vibrator on your sensitive zone to push you to your limits, please?

gang orca: i know some of you are down bad for this gal, dw i got you. kugo can be... intense, despite his mean and bold personality at work, he is a man who enjoys having fun with his partner whenever he can, indeed, he is a great and spontaneous teaser, specially in public, you could be out on a date at a cafe and then suddenly get a risky hint from him... “i bet i can take you anywhere looking so tempting like you do right now” “did that catch you off guard? mmh...” “i'm not afraid of people knowing how bad i want my partner, specially how i want to spread their legs over the tabl-” you have to stop him because if you didn't, he wouldn't. he never tries to hide how aroused you make him feel sometimes, he's so proud to have you as his partner, you're so hot and attractive and he sees you like a treasure, kugo wants everyone to know you're his. did i tell you that one time he dragged you into a public restroom for you to ride his cock as he sat on the toilet? he definitely enjoys doing risky things in public, the adrenaline he feels has no comparison, specially when you put up with this behaviour and become touchy with him.

hawks: great friends with dirty talking and teasing, keigo is the type of man to whisper lewd things into your ear all through the act (from foreplay until you are done with eachother), he whispers compliments on how hot you look but also in the many positions he would like to put you to rail you (or to rail him). he enjoys performing penetration, but he also loves receiving anal attention, he remembers that time for his birthday you gifted him a dildo and used it that same night, thinking how it would feel if you were there to help him... he phone called you before having his orgasm and you never ran so fast in your life just to reach the hero's home, making sure to give him all the anal sex he wished making him cum multiple times. this turned into a habit because he enjoys anal play a whole lot, now you know what to do to have number 2 hero screaming of pleasure and cumming over and over.

ingenium: unpopular ik shut up, iida's are so hot a switch! i like to think tensei iida has preference for vainilla sex rather than anything too intense. whenever he takes control, he's such a sweet and loving partner, always asking for your consent on things and asking you how are you feeling. very sweet and caring, very focused on your pleasure! when you take control, tensei enjoys a lot when you give him hand jobs while fingering his ass, he adores how your hands make him feel and doesn't like to admit it but he moans quite softly and gets flustrated when you tease/compliment him about it.

manual: IDK WHAT I'M DOING ANYMORE HELPJDKD he's so pretty pls agree w me definitely a sub, no matter how much he tries to hide it and prove his "dominance" to you, masaki still submits to your touch almost inmediately after a few kisses. he enjoys being bit and marked all over (as long as no one at work sees the marks) and when going very intimate with you, he let's you peg him, he loves the feeling of his prostate being constantly hit by your plastic cock. if i'm going to give manual his own sexcanons, i'm gonna do it right: he has a mommy and degradation kink, he might seem so cute and sweet from the outside but indoors you know he falls on his knees for you, telling him how much of a whore he is for you and what would his coworkers think if they knew how dumb and pathetic he looks when mommy fucks him hard. masaki also goes weak when you slap his ass, he does not mind if you leave any red marks and scratches.

present mic: for someone who is as intense and loud like he is, hizashi is surprisingly a very soft partner in bed! i feel like he is the type of guy you can laugh with during sexy time and make fun jokes about the weird noises that can occur during some parts of the act. yamada probably studied the kama-sutra back and forth so everyday you get to try a new and fun pose for sexy time! having sex with hizashi is very entretaining and passionate, he's very gentle but can go rough if you ask him to, if you ask him his favourite pose, he'll probably choose reverse cowboy (with you on top) and maybe 69. plus: he likes listening to music as you fuck! the music tastes my vary depending on you and the mood of the day.

sir nighteye: it took you a while to convince mirai to have an active sex life with you, his main excuse was because of his quirk, he is a pro hero yes, but he might get carried away during sex because you're so sexy ;) and use it on you by accident. you discussed this for months until you proposed you could cover your eyes and let sasaki use you at his will. the idea surprisingly fit mirai's liking so you gave it a chance. you never thought the so composed, ellegant and serious man could be so good at stimulating all of your sensitive zones, the guy is amazingly good with his fingers, his thumb rubs your clit so deviously slow as other two fingers bury deep inside your vagina, teasing your insides mercilessly. his other hand does not stay still, it joins the fun playing with your chest, rubbing and pinching your nipples and squishing your breasts every now and then. but the fun isn't over, some other day you decide to blindfold sasaki, at first he was uncomfortable and unsure for not being in complete control of the situation (because he is a control freak you know) but as soon as you got your hands on him, stripping him, kissing and marking his body, rubbing his sensitive zones; he found himself enjoying this way of love making more than the one where he was in control and doing all the job (he's a man that works hard everyday and work expectations don't let him rest, so you guessed it was time for him to enjoy and relax!). mirai doesn't like to admit it but he likes doing it in his office, you did it only twice there, but he wishes to do it more often, he's just too embarassed to ask (the second time he took off his all might poster from the wall because he felt observed and very ashamed)

⋆°• .·

thanks for reading!

#[ ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ] ≫captain's library #mha #mha smut #bnha #bnha smut #mha x reader #bnha x reader #all might #best jeanist #cementoss #ectoplasm #edgeshot #endeavor #eraserhead #fatgum #gang orca #hawks #ingenium mha #ingenium #manual mha #present mic #sir nighteye #aizawa sensei #my hero academia hizashi #dom!reader #sub!reader #dom!mha #sub!mha

[byersbootyshorts]

Sweet Sorrow (S.R.)

Emily’s death effected the whole team, but it hit Spencer the hardest. And when he’s at his lowest, it’s you he comes running to.

MENTIONS OF DRUGS AND ADDICTION!!

Word Count: 1,878

Warnings: s6!Spencer, gn!reader, hurt/comfort, mentions of Emily’s ‘death’, Spencer crying, mentions of drug use, mentions of addiction, language

well this turned out deeper than I expected

It was 11pm when you heard your doorbell ring. It was awfully late for someone to be at your door, you thought, but you hadn’t planned on sleeping anytime soon anyway, so you decided to answer it. You got up off your couch and as you were walking to the door your doorbell rang again, followed by insistent knocking.

“Alright, alright, I’m coming,” you shouted, annoyed at this person’s impatience.

You rolled your eyes as you reached the door, suddenly not in the mood for visitors anymore. But your mood shifted when you looked through the peephole and discovered who was outside your apartment.

“Oh my God, Spence,” you said, unlocking your door as fast as your fingers would allow. You flung the door open and took in the image in front of you. Spencer was standing in your doorway, his eyes red and puffy from crying. His whole body was vibrating under his large coat.

“Can I come in,” he mumbled after you’d been staring at him in shock for a bit too long.

“Yes, of course, sorry.” You quickly moved aside, allowing Spencer to enter your home. He slowly shuffled in, not daring to look up from the ground. You shut the door and walked over to comfort him by taking his hand in yours.

“Spencer, what’s wrong,” you asked, although your question was futile. You knew exactly what was wrong.

Ever since Emily’s passing none of the team had been the same. But Spencer was hit the hardest with grief. It wasn’t necessarily because they were the closest or because he missed her the most. Stuff like this just effected Spencer. You hated admitting it to yourself but you’d almost grown numb to the grief your job as an FBI profiler gave you. Obviously, Emily’s death broke you, but it had been weeks and you’d had to force yourself to get over it and move on.

Spencer wasn’t like that, though. He couldn’t just let the pain slide off his back. You’d noticed it at work. He’d been distracted and wasn’t his usual genius self. But you didn’t know how bad it was until he was standing in the middle of your apartment, trembling with misery.

“I just-,” he began, but he couldn’t continue. He started to sob, tears streaming down his face.

“I’m sorry,” he choked.

“Hey, it’s ok,” you said, pulling him tight to your chest in a hug. You shushed him, rubbing the back of his head in an attempt to comfort him.

You stood there for a while, just holding him as he wept into your shoulder.

After a few minutes his breathing became slower and he calmed down. He pulled away from you and slumped down on your couch.

“I just miss her,” he mumbled.

“I know,” you replied, sitting down beside him and placing a consoling hand on his knee. “We all do.”

“Well then why am I the only one still crying about it every night,” he said, fiddling with the corner of one of your cushions.

“Ok, first of all, I’m sure you’re not the only one still crying over her. Have you met Penelope Garcia?” you asked sarcastically. He let out a hesitant chuckle.

“And secondly, who cares if you’re still crying about it? I’m glad you are,” you revealed.

“What do you mean?” Spencer looked up at you with a confused expression.

“I mean, I’m glad you still have the humanity to be upset about this. I’m glad your letting your feelings out rather than bottling them inside you.”

“Please stop acting like a shrink,” Spencer complained.

“I’m not,” you retorted. “Ok, maybe I am. But I’m serious. I’d rather you come here every night and cry to me than stay alone in your apartment and hold all your sadness inside you.”

You couldn’t tell what had set Spencer off again but something caused his eyes to begin to water once more.

“Oh, Spence,” you said lovingly as he nuzzled into your chest. His tears began to soak through your hoodie but you didn’t care. He cried for another few minutes. You couldn’t do anything except wrap your arms around him and whisper to him that everything would be ok eventually. The agonizing sounds of his sobs were enough to bring you to tears, but you resisted. You had to be strong, for Spencer’s sake.

“Hey, why don’t we get this coat off you,” you said, noticing his red face. “Let’s get you comfortable.”

You began pulling on his sleeves, but he grabbed your hand.

“No,” he said authoritatively.

You raised your eyebrow, confused as to why he was so defensive over a coat.

“Ok, ok,” you said, taking your hands off him. “If you insist.”

From the minute you mentioned his coat something about Spencer’s demeanour changed. It was as if his sadness turned to anger.

“This is so fucking stupid,” he snapped, leaping up from the couch in rage. “Why can’t I just get over it, huh?”

“You will,” you said, trying to make your voice remain as comforting as you could. “You just need more time.”

“Oh yeah, how much more time?” he shouted. “Because, to be honest, I’m pretty fucking tired of this.”

He ran his hands through his hair. You didn’t know what to do. You knew how to comfort Spencer when he was sad but you’d never seen him this angry before.

“How come everyone has been able to move on with their lives except me?” he asked.

“I don’t know, Spencer,” you answered honestly. “You’re just more sensitive than everyone else.”

“Sensitive?” he yelled, his voice increasing in pitch the more he shouted. “No, I’m not sensitive, I’m weak. I’m just weak.”

You stepped closer to him and placed your hand on his arm.

“No, Spence, you’re not weak. You’re just a normal human being who’s experiencing grief because your friend just died. You’re normal, Spence, not weak.”

“Well, if I’m not weak then explain to me why I bought this before I came over here?” Spencer said, his voice cracking as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny bottle.

And suddenly everything made sense. The reason he didn’t want you taking his coat. The reason he was so angry. Hidden in his pocket was a bottle of the drug that he had worked so hard to recover from, and he was craving a fix.

You inhaled sharply in shock, but you couldn’t get a word in before Spencer started rambling.

“I tried for so long to resist the urge,” he explained, his voice still raised higher than necessary. “I told myself I couldn’t go through that again. But as time went on and I still wasn’t over it, it got harder and harder.”

You stared at the bottle and needle in Spencer’s shaking hand and tried to interrupt him.

“Spencer have you-,” you attempted, but he interjected.

“So, you see, I am weak, because I bet none of you the rest of you needed drugs to get over your grief.”

“Spencer!” you shouted, finally grabbing his attention. He looked down at your concerned face.

“Spencer, have you taken any?” you asked quietly.

“No,” he murmured.

You sighed in relief and you saw the anger dissipate from Spencer’s eyes. But that anger was only replaced by more sadness.

“I thought about it. That’s why I bought it. But as soon as I did I realised I needed help and you were the first person I thought of. That’s how I ended up here.”

“And I’m really happy you came,” you said, holding out your hand. “Now, I want you to give me the bottle and the needle, Spencer.”

He hesitated, pulling his hand away from you. You looked up at him expectantly.

“Please give them to me, Spencer.”

You could see the pain in his eyes as he decided to place the Dilaudid in your hand.

“Thank you,” he said, relieved that you had taken away his weakness. But there was also a part of him that wanted to grab the drugs from you and run out the door. He stayed put though, watching as you poured the drug down the sink and threw the needle in the trash.

“There you go,” you said, returning to him and pulling him close to you. “It’s gone now.”

“I’m sorry,” he sighed, melting into your embrace.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” you said, pulling his head down and leaning your forehead against his. He sniffed and you wiped a tear from his cheek.

“Do you need to go to a meeting,” you asked.

“I’d rather just stay here,” Spencer whispered.

You smiled at him sympathetically and led him back over to the couch. He sat down beside you and rested his head on your shoulder. You turned your face and planted a kiss in his hair.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” you mumbled into his hair.

Spencer sighed heavily before answering.

“I get these cravings all the time, you know. But recently they’ve gotten worse, and today I just couldn’t bear it anymore.”

“That’s understandable,” you reassure him. “With everything that’s happened lately you’re allowed to struggle. And I’m so glad you came to me instead of using. That just shows you how much you’ve recovered.”

“Yeah, but I still want it,” Spencer sighed, covering his face with his hands.

“That craving’s always going to be there,” you told him. “You just need to find a way to satisfy it with other things.”

You swiftly rose from the couch and headed towards your kitchen. Spencer’s eyes followed you with curiosity. You opened the fridge and lifted out a white box.

“Why don’t we try this?” you smiled, sitting back down on the couch and opening the box.

Spencer laughed when he saw what was inside. Chocolate sprinkle donuts.

“These are my favourite,” he chuckled.

“I know,” you replied. “And I know these can’t even begin to fulfil your cravings, but maybe they can distract you for a little while.”

“It’s perfect,” he said, biting into one of the chocolate covered treats. “You know, Emily used to buy these for me all the time. She said she was trying to put some meat on my bones.”

Spencer smiled, a genuine smile. Your heart melted at the sight.

“I think that’s the first time you’ve smiled when someone’s mentioned Emily since she died,” you pointed out, your eyes tearing up at his happiness.

“I think you’re right,” Spencer said, taking another bite. “I think I’ve been focussing on the sad memories for too long. I need to think of her as the funny, smart, amazing agent that she was, not some cold body in a coffin.”

“That’s more like it,” you beamed. “That’s the Spencer Reid I know.”

You knew Spencer still wasn’t completely over his grief. But at least in that moment he was happy. The journey to recovery wasn’t over. He’d still have the urge to start using again. He’d still spend nights crying himself to sleep. He’d still have bad days. But at least there were times like these when all those negative feelings seemed to go away. And at least you were there with him, making everything just a little bit sweeter.

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid hurt/comfort #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid gifs #criminal minds #hurt/comfort #hurt/comfort oneshot #hurt/comfort fic

[k1ngpin42]

✨Abandoned Lot ✨ (A Dinellabs story) 

Request by: @Osteologistimposter

Warnings: Switch Ellie, Sub Dina, Dom Abby, fingering, public, threesome,  other sexual stuff I don’t remember what honestly, minors DNI

Note: I’ve never even heard of this ship until this suggestion so bare with meee. Also Joel didn’t kill Abbys dad in this and Joels still alive too cause I mean 🤷 we’ve seen enough heart break in the show and game to have that angst with us today. Enjoy my pookies 

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

Ellie had never been the type to be subtle when she had a crush on someone. This wasn’t to say she was a flirt, in fact it wasn’t definite Ellie even knew how to flirt, but her blushing and awkwardness (more so than usual) when she’s around someone she’s into says it all. This worked in her favour when it came to her relationship with Dina, who practically did all that scary, first kiss stuff for her, and now they were happily in a relationship. Mostly.

After Joel saved some chic called Abby from a horde of infected, Jackson had recently allied with her large group in Seattle. Women, children, a LOT of soldiers, and both Ellie and Dina alike had been interacting with them a lot. It was no secret that Dina had found Abby attractive when she would help her move stuff between the bases, and Ellie had similar experiences when she took up the shooting range and found Abby already immersed in it, not missing a single headshot on any of the mannequins. 

The two hadn’t brought their attraction up seriously, but Dina had made one or two subtle jokes about Abby “joining them” when Ellie and Dina would go shower or get changed for patrol, to which Ellie would react with “reckon we should ask her?” Or simply a playful smile or laugh. 

They had never expected to be in the position they were in now. Or rather, positions- with Dina leaning up against a truck, sitting in only her underwear on the ground of the abandoned parking lot with Ellie’s hand on her waist, watching Dinas eyes roll back as her fingers curl inside herself, all while Abby’s hand wraps around her neck while she leaves a line of hickeys down one side of it. 

“Look how wet our girl is.” Abby remarks as she notices the shiny liquid coating Dinas fingers. Ellie hums. “Let me get that for you.” Without much more warning than that, she puts her whole mouth over Dina’s clothed area, tonguing her clit like it was necessary for their survival, and getting a chorus of desperate gasps as a result. 

Abby doesn’t miss the chance to put both her wide hands on the smooth skin of Dinas face, kissing her deeply and muffling some of her gorgeous moans. It’s not long before Dina’s first orgasm of their afternoon swirls in her stomach, washing over her hard and causing any and every thought she could possibly have shatter into a million, insignificant pieces. 

“Suck for me baby.” Abby coos, presenting Dina with a rather large black strap. She blushed hard.

“You’re gonna use that?” She asks, causing Abby only more amusement. 

“You can take it, sweet girl. Or would you rather I dick your girlfriend first?”

“No. No I can take it." Dina tries, and neither Ellie nor Abby believe that. 

“What do you think Ellie? Should I give it to her nice and slow? Or all at once?” Abby grips onto Dinas thighs, thrusting her into a new position.

“Let her get stretched out….” Abby chants, more to herself than to Ellie.  “See how her pretty little body reacts to the two of us, hmm?” Abby tilts her head, admiring the view of the two of them.

“Take off your top.” She instructs Ellie, who’s face becomes red, much against her favour as she battles to keep her composure, convincing Abby she isn’t the brat Abby could so easily make her be. 

“Fuck..look at you.” She exclaimed, cupping one of her warm breasts and fiddling with Ellie’s sensitive nipple between her fingertips. Ellie gasps at the suddenness of it all. 

“So fuckin’ pretty.” She adds simply, sucking on the other as she continues feeling it. Dina chuckles shortly. 

“You two know how to make a girl jealous.” She remarks, and Abby pulls her mouth away, smiling.

“M’sorry baby. Ellie, kiss your girlfriend for me while I put this on.” Abby effortlessly puts the strap around her waist, gripping onto Dina’s hips.

“Good girl Ellie, now just watch for a second m’kay? If you be good I’ll reward you is that okay?” Ellie sighs, already internally folding at Abbys words.

“Yeah.” She replied, lamely. Abby offered her hand to Dina as she thrust at least the first quarter of the strap inside

“Sorry…it might sting at first, just hold onto me.” Abby explained, not taking her eyes off of Dina’s cunt and the way it greedily swallowed at the tip of the strap. “I…like it.” Dina admits, and Abby just nods, already knowing by the way her body reacted to every bit of contact Abby had offered her so far. She increases the pressure, inching more of it inside her.

“Oh fuck…” Dina remarks, eyes rolling back to her head. Ellie pools at the sight of them, already feeling desperate to touch herself, but she knows better than that. Besides, the thought of being fucked within an inch of her life as a punishment from the significantly stronger woman was too intimidating for her to consider right now. And so she just watched in awe as Dina takes more and more of Abbys strap. 

Abby cautiously puts a hand around Dina’s throat again.

“Can I squeeze it? I’ll be gentle.” Abby grazes the question against Dinas ear, almost entirely inside her now. Dina was already so cock-drunk, which only added to Abbys arrogance as she moved effortlessly in and out of Dinas pretty body. Ellie and Dina rarely used a strap. Ellie claims it feels better natural, whether that involves grinding on each others thighs or pussies, Ellie preferred it that way. This was far different. It was hard, desperate, and Abby had so much control, more than Ellie ever had over her physically, and for some reason both Ellie and Dina were fucking encapsulated by that. 

“I asked you a question.”

“Fuck…fuck sorry- yes…choke me please.” 

“Please?” Repeats Abby teasingly, directing her gaze to Ellie.

“Hear how fucking polite your girlfriend is when I fuck her? I’ll show you what good girls- fuck- fucking get.” Abby groaned out, filling Dina entirely while fiddling her fingers over Dinas neck. Ellie let out a slight moan, which she pretended had not come out of her mouth.

“I’m sorry, did you say something Ellie? Or were you moaning without me even laying a finger on you like a fucking slut?” Ellie hesitated, she wasn’t usually this desperate. When she slept with Dina it was always passionate, equal. As there wasn’t usually much topping Ellie could just use her words to assert dominance. Words that Abby was using on Ellie right now, and that felt embarrassing and so fucking good all at once.

“I’m sorry just…please let me touch myself, you’re both driving me crazy.” Ellie pleads, not directing her gaze at either of them. Abby just smiles.

“Good things happen to those who wait.” Dina’s close again. The anticipation of her orgasm feels so fucking good her head feels like jelly. She’s a moaning whimpering mess, clinging onto the muscles in Abbys shoulders and grinding down on the strap like the perfect person she is. Abby moans back, sighing and gasping as she stretches the orgasm out.

“So…so close please…please let me cum.”

“That’s my good girl, you wanna cum? Okay, cum for me then Dina.” Abby kisses her harshly so that when Dina does cum, her wetness flowing between her thighs and even a little on the cold ground beneath her, she can practically taste her moans as they vibrate through her mouth. Dina continues clinging onto her for a while, riding the orgasm out, questioning if she’s seeing fucking stars for a while before they open again and the world falls back into place. 

“You did so fucking good baby.” Abby tells her, gently lifting Dina off of the strap and reaching her hand to Ellie. 

“I…I can’t cum like that.” Ellie blurts out, and the suddenness of her words make both Dina and Abby laugh.

“What?” Abby questions, still smiling. Ellie blushes more.

“I’d like to….but I can’t cum with just a strap I….need to be touched too.” Abby thinks for a moment, removing the strap and tossing it beside them.

“Sit on my face.” 

“I- What?” Ellie practically gasps. Abby shrugs.

“You’ve been eaten out before surely….”

“Yes but, I’ve never sat on someones face, how will you breathe?”

“Don’t worry about me Ellie.” She grabs her arm and pulls her up so she’s near Abbys face.

“Your whole body weighs less than my warm up weight, now get on, and none of that hovering bullshit or I’ll fucking stop before you can even get your eyes back open.” 

“Okay…”

“Yes. Abby.” Abby corrects. This is what makes her finally look Abby in the eye.

“Yes Abby.” Ellie murmurs, her face bright red. She cautiously sits on Abbys gorgeous nose. It’s not as big as Dinas, Ellie notes as she adjusts herself, but her pretty little nose bump immediately hits a place that causes a moan to escape her lips which sounds embarrassingly similar to that of pornography. Abby takes this as a sign to tongue ever so slowly between Ellies slick coated folds, moaning as she devours her taste. Ellie moans even louder.

“Fuck….Abby please…don’t tease me…need it.” Is all she can managed. Abby smiles into Ellie’s pussy, going faster directly on her clit, probably just to prove that arrogant, beautiful girl knows just were to put what.  She sucks eagerly, not stopping even as Ellie whimpers and lets out a “I’m so fucking close Abby…” In fact, she doesn’t even stop as she swallows all of Ellie’s wetness with her thighs shaking, Ellie gripping onto Abbys braid as support, it was a sight to fucking see. 

“Okay…okay please…please stop it’s too much.” Ellie begged, her hips bucking into Abbys face. Abbys pace still didn’t relent. 

“Fuck!” Ellie cried, and Abby finally pulled away. 

“There pretty girl, was that so bad?” Ellie gasped for air, still light headed from her orgasm.

“Fuck you.” Ellie teased, smiling. Dina smiled too and Abby pulled them both into her.

“I must say, I’m rather happy I almost turned into a runner that day.” Dina laughs.

“Yeah well, Joel can’t help himself when it comes to saving people. And doing things that are reckless.” This is when Ellie chimes in.

“It’s a gift, he says.” Abby kisses her deeply, then Dina.

“I’ll say.” Abby whispers to herself. 

#tlou2 #abby anderson #ellie williams #dina tlou #smut #dinellabs

[cosmic-spider]

The decision

��� — — — — — — — — —

After the human left I looked at the paper she filled out. Seeing if anything they wrote down was off? It looked…fine. But to many thoughts went running around my mind.

What if she worked at the factory?

She could be a spy for the ones that were looking for.

No I can’t allow her to get into out town. We did so much to have this place. But, at the same time we are having a harder time with the outside world.The supply for stuff is getting thin with the shipment people getting suspecios of not seeing anyone.

Plus we do need some one to help out in the school especially the daycare. The Orphans also need to learn how to interact with people. Others of there own kind.

They may be able to be of help. They were nervous during the meeting, but that’s expected with the way things were done. But they were rather calm and nice to me in a sense. They even said goodbye to me and were very kind with Bobby Bearhug when they came in.

I continued to think of what to do. The was Bobby talked about them. It showed that they were as kind and gentle as they were here even bud they were a bit nervous and confused.

After a bit I called the them.

As I discuss the options of what to do with the human. They all gave their own opinions, so I’m saying to not let her in this thing it might be good for the orphans, and for others to know how to interact.

After a bit, we all agreed we will allow the human to be here. As long as one or two of us can keep an eye on them.

Some of them were still suspicious and said they want to keep a low profile and not interact with them so I love them too.

One in particular was very offputting by the decision, he  leaned on the wall as we continue to talk about what we could do. He seem to be in his own head at the same time, listening into what we all said.

After a bit, I have decided where we would keep the human as well as what job offers they would be allowed.

I just hope that what I’m doing would cause any harm.

— — — — — — — — —

Y/n pov

After a week I went back to the field with a few things to keep me occupied as I waited for Bobby.

I felt uneasy, as well as excited on what their leaders decision will be. I hope that they allowed me in since I was running out of money to pay for a another day at a hotel. I only had enough for about three more days, not including for food and for cleaning my clothes.

So I was getting into a rough situation at the moment.

After a bit, I heard a the sound of something off in the distance. It was muffled, but it was fine. It sounded almost like squeal.

I looked over where the sound was coming from inside was the force close by maybe a good five maybe 10 minute walk from the field.

 I just had to go check what it was. When I eventually got to the edge of the for the squealing got louder, seem to be only a bit more father in.

Turn around look at the fields, checking to see if Bobby or anything else was close by. They close was clear. And then walk to the forest for a bit the son of the school and got louder it’s almost sounded like there was more than one thing making the sound.

After a bit, I didn’t saw some thing off in a few bushes moving around it looked to be…orange?

As I walked closer to what it was, I thought it was more color sticking out of the bush, purple blue, yellow, red.

When I eventually move the bushes over to see what it was, I looked down to see about 6 to 7 ….plushies?

It was strange they look to be regular kids toys plushies but they were alive?

When one of them notice me the others as well did, and most of them squealed and run away. Only leaving one of them that seem to be a plush orange and brownish gold dog plush.

As I got on my knees to take a better look at them, he gave me a small grow, trying to be intimidating.

Hey it’s OK buddy I’m not gonna hurt you. I just wanna see what’s wrong OK?

Looking over at the plush, I see that they seem to be tangled in a bit of thorns as well as pieces of their leg and lower body having cuts from the thorns.

I move my hand closer to it, but the dog plus just growled at me and backed away. Then a yelped in pain as it pulled on the thorns.

Hey hey it’s OK it’s OK  I’m not gonna hurt you I want to help OK?

I move my hand closer to it.The plush only looked at me and fear closing his eyes, and turn its head, almost getting ready for an impact of some thing. 

Grabbing bit of thorns, and pulling them out of the dog pleasure then pick it up by its little front arms seen the damage it had.

The dog plushy’s eyes opened up and confusion, and looked at me confused as they held it up to my eye level.

See, I told you I was gonna hurt you little guy. I haven’t looked over it’s lower half seeing that had a few cuts, and even a bit of stuff in coming out.

You’re pretty banged up little guy here let me just get my sewing kit.

I didn’t held him with one hand as a thin, looked into my purse and got my mini sewing kit always brought a long since I always got my clothing stuck on the door or some thing as well as over here in the field since it was always get a river something whenever I fell or played a little bit too rough with Bobby.

They took out the needle and a School, close of a color scheme to us plush fabric. The plush then looked at me scared, and turned away at the side of the needle.

Hey, it’s OK I’m not gonna do anything to you. I’m just gonna saw these little openings you have.

After a bit, I so close to feel openings that it had one on the side of it, still make another one on the top of its hind leg, where it connects to the body base. I finish sewing and cut it off the thread.

There are more than little guy. How do you feel?

The dog place looked at me confused, and looked down at the stitches. And then grow big smile then jumped out of my hands and onto me. It started to work and rub his head against my cheek and neck.

Well, they’re little guy almost gave me a freight. Well I’ll take this as a thank you.

The little dog then looked around, for I think the others. If not, I said, the other ones were gone as well so within got off of me and went off to a few wishes to the side, it looked at me for a few seconds before running off.

YYYYYYY/NNNNNNN!

Y/N ARE YOU HEAR.

WERE ARE YOU!!

Getting up I ran over to were Bobby was. Hey wear were you?

Sorry about that I saw a butterfly and sallowed it into the forest close by. I told her as I then gave her a hug. So what’s the news? What did he decided?

Well they will let you in but, you’ll be under watch for a bit. Since there going to be causes about you.

Ok I’m fine with that. I also finished out the packet he gave me. I then when to my page getting it out and handing it to Bobby.

#poppy play time sweet home au #poppy playtime x reader #poppy playtime #bobby bearhug #sweet home au

[mackjlee9]

Luca x GenderNeutral!Reader [Lime]

Warning; 2nd person narration, masturbation, cum eating, just me loving when men taste their own cum.

Masterlist.

The Bear

A sigh leaves your mouth as you realize just how horrible this pastry looks. Baking really is not my thing, eh?. That's something that Luca has also realized, standing next to you, watching you try your hardest for the umpteenth time, giving you his best advice and encouragement, but he noticed it's just not something you're not good at.

Despite all the times you've tried this same pastry and the amount of time he has helped you with it, it just doesn't work out, which he definitely doesn't mind or upsets him, and you've come to accept that you're not cut out for it.

Even so, you do like to help Luca around the kitchen with anything simple enough for you while he's busy working on the harder stuff, and now, with him taking over what you've left unfinished, you were allowed to sit down and watch him attentively.

He was wearing a tight tank top and sweatpants that hung low on his hips, and well, it was rather hard to hold yourself back.

Even if you were only sitting for a few minutes, you stood up and walked around the kitchen island, standing behind him and placing your hands on his waist, nuzzling your face on his back, applying a little bit of pressure with your fingertips, hearing Luca chuckle and shift slightly in place.

You moved your head a little bit to the side so you could press a kiss on the exposed skin of his shoulder, your hands slowly going down to his hips, your swift fingers sliding under the waistband of his sweatpants.

"Hey~ stop that, I'm working-" Luca's words got trapped in his throat when your hand cupped his bulge, slowly stimulating him, making him release a sigh, "Love..." He whispered, feeling himself get hard under your gentle grip, his hands holding himself up on the counter, his head tilting down as his eyes stared at your hand inside his pants, quietly letting out moans and gasps with each stroke of your hand.

Your teasing hand, stroking his cock but avoiding the spots where he liked, only making him grow frustrated, his cock twitching in your hand, feeling how his underwear was getting wet with his pre-cum, making you hold back a smirk as you decided to touch him directly, pushing past his underwear and wrapping your fingers around his cock.

"Fuck..." Oh, there wasn't anything better than to hear Luca cursing between moans, it always made you want to toy with his body for as long as you could, and well, your free hand had found its way up to Luca's chest, gracing and pinching his hard nipple.

Biting his lip, Luca started thrusting his hips forward into your hand, holding tightly onto the counter, groaning as he felt your lips leaving kisses on his shoulder, followed by the gentle bites you left behind as you made your way up to the back of his neck. His cock throbbed and more pre-cum oozed from his red tip, Luca's eyes were struggling to stay open, wanting to watch your hand pleasuring him like only you knew how to.

You were the only one allowed to drive him crazy, and the only one that could make him beg.

His breath became ragged as the squelching sound your hand made around his slicked cock echoed in the kitchen, and you heard how his breath became louder, mixing with soft whines.

You pressed your lips to his shoulder, humming softly into his skin, "You're gonna cum, baby?" He nodded a few times, closing his eyes tightly and clenching his jaw, awaiting your permission.

"Yes, fuck- you gonna make me cum-" you couldn't hold your smirk now, increasing the movement of your hand and hearing him whining and whimpering as he got closer to his orgasm, "Please, I wanna... I need to cum."

You bit your lip, humming pensively, feeling how much he was dripping and how hard it was for Luca to hold back, so you decided to be a little more merciful than you wanted.

"Okay, you've been good..." Your hand on his chest reached further up to hold his chin, making Luca turn his head toward you, watching how he slowly opened his eyes, pupils blown with lust and staring at you with a pleading look, "You can cum," you whispered against his lips before kissing, hearing the muffled cry he released against your mouth as his climax coated your hand, your movements steadily slowing down to ride his high.

Luca's legs wobbled a little, and you held his waist while your stained hand released his softening cock. Slowly, you helped him turn around and lean on the counter for support as he regained his breathing.

He had a dazed look in his eyes, a smile pulling at his lips as he stared at you, only for his bright green eyes to stare at your cum-covered hand as you raised it in front of his face. You took a step forward and placed your leg in between his thighs, pressing your chest to his.

"Clean it," you muttered, feeling the cum dripping down your palm to your wrist, and Luca wasted no time in picking that drop of cum on his tongue, never breaking eye contact with you.

Well, maybe being a bad cook wasn't such a bad thing after all.

#luca the bear x reader #luca x reader #luca the bear #will poulter x reader #will poulter #will poulter imagine #x reader #gender neutral reader #reader insert #lime #.mackjlee9 writes

[greycaelum]

HI!I LOVEEEE YOUR WRITING!!!!

Can i pls pls plssss request a one shot with gojo and his girlfriend,where his gf always get really excited about snowing,to the point of jumping up and down and her eyes twinkling like a child?!

Its snowing in my city and i keep jumping up and down ;)

Scribbles and Doodles: { Let it Snow }

—Gojo Satoru X Reader

"Hi sweetheart, thank you for your kind words, I'm sorry it took me so long. Research and my job kept me preoccupied. I hope it's still snowing and be careful too! Have tons of warm stuff to keep you toasty and snug in the winter!" —Grey,

Satoru woke up to a chilly morning. He remembers turning the air condition mid-2 of the dawn after getting chills but now, it was even colder. Peeling off his mask, Satoru turn to his window and saw the grey skies, and he has to double-take at the white thing slowly falling off and cluttering on his windowsill.

It's snowing.

And by any chance, he's hearing a familiar voice faintly laughing.

Satoru groaned, pulling off the covers from his naked body. Rubbing his bleary eyes, he walks to his window and looks down. As if in a queue, you run through the small pile of gathering snow, a wide smile adorning your face, still in your hoodie pajamas.

"She'll catch a cold." Satoru clicked his tongue and grab his clothes. His muscles are aching and he'd rather sleep than trudge into the frosty powder winter has to offer. Satoru stop his tracks and went back to the bedroom. Rummaging through the cabinets he found his jacket and went out of the room.

"'Toru! It's snowing!" You shrilled at him. You ran in his direction and almost tripped on the slippery ground.

"Fuck, Baby, you trying to give me a heart attack?" Satoru held your arms and steadied you.

You just grinned in reply and stood on your tiptoes, grazing your lips to smear a kiss on your boyfriend's cheeks before turning your heel and tumbling on the snow again.

"Slow down, you little rascal, you wanna catch a cold or somethin'?" Satoru pulled back the scruff of your hoodie making you recoil and yelp.

He wraps his thickest available jacket around you, zipping the thing that reaches your ankles all thanks to his height, and pulls the hood over your head.

"There," Satoru smirked at your pout. "Now that's what you call a burrito."

"I can't move!" You flail around with difficulty, all the blame falling into the jacket's thick insulation. "'Toru! Get this off, you cheater, you're not even wearing one." You accused.

Satoru is tempted to hold a carrot around your nose but throws off the idea if he doesn't wanna sleep on the couch. After all winter's privilege is getting to cuddle you more to share warmth.

"I don't catch a cold, because I'm the stro—" Satoru pointed at himself assuringly.

"Because you're abnormal." You deadpanned and turn around, marching off.

"Hey! That's just mean. Come back here!" Satoru bends down and makes a ball of snow throwing it on you.

"Y-You!" You turned around only to get hit by another on your chest. It didn't take long for you and Satoru to have a snowball war filling the front yard with squeals and snowballs hitting whatever it hits.

By the time you're both spent, laying on the snow with a snow angel behind you both, your hands are all numb from the snow and Satoru's nose is almost as red as Rudolph's. Both of you panting but holding your hands together. This time a thin layer of Satoru's Infinity encases you to keep snow from getting in your eyes. Catching your breaths you both went inside, got into a warm bath, and eventually found yourselves tucked on the couch of the living room, hot cocoa in your hand, a bowl of chicken broth in Satoru's, and a thick quilt covering the two of you.

The snow quietly piles up outside, sweeping the city into a white wonderland. You and Satoru curled up on each other, snug and cuddled in each others' arms.

—GreyCaelum

PLAGIARISM IS A CRIME

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General Series Taglist: @ice-icebaby @aeanya @lexiene @tender-rosiey

#scribbles and doddles #warm winter for everyone #gojo fluff #gojo x reader fluff #jjk gojo fluff #greycaelum #gojo x y/n #gojo x you