Bite Me

Blorbo thought of the day #1

More: Steven Grant x GN! reader

Author’s note: Wanted to start doing a “Blorbo thought of the day” thing. Idea is that I will share a snippet of one of the many blorbo scenarios which pop into my head on the daily, but which I don’t have time to develop into a full fic. Sometimes it will be smut, sometimes fluff, sometimes angst, sometimes… a surprise? And I don’t mean literally every day, but whenever I can! This one turned into more of a smutty blurb, but I intend for others to be much shorter snippets, bits of dialogue, headcanons etc..

Who better to start with than Steven?

Steven is a gentle lover; until he isn’t. (In which you gag on Steven’s cock and it sends him FERAL.)

NSFW/18+ Minors interacting will be blocked.

Steven Grant is a gentle lover.

Until he isn’t.

You are on your knees for him as he stands in front of you. Hadn’t even managed to strip off his work clothes yet before you were stripping them for him. Undoing his belt, and peeling away his trousers and boxers. Pushing his back up against the thick wooden beam of his attic room and taking him eagerly into your mouth.

He’s soft. Careful. Always. Let’s you take the lead.

Tonight is no exception.

Steven rests his hand gingerly on the crown of your head as you suck him - nothing but a gentle, reassuring weight. His long eyelashes flutter as he flits his gaze over you; the angel -divine being- making him feel so good.

You didn’t care who came through the door, you’d said. Whether it was him or Marc or Jake - you were getting down on your knees. Had been thinking about it all day.

But you’d told him, when he walked through the door, that you’d been glad it was him.

He’s still not used to this. To being wanted. To how good your mouth feels wrapped around him. Being buried in you.

Steven is a gentle lover. Makes a point of it. Never wants to hurt you. Push you. Take anything you don’t want to give. Has never even considered getting rough with you.

But tonight, he can’t help but think about what it would be like… just to take a little more.

Maybe because he’s had a stressful day at the museum. Maybe because he’s been thinking about coming home to you all day too and relieving his frustrations.

Whatever the reason, Steven can’t help but think about it; because he knows that the others are rougher with you, sometimes. That they don’t treat you like you’re about to break - like he does.

What were the words he’d heard?

Jake: soft dom. Marc: service top. Him: vanilla, submissive.

And so, he can’t help but think about it, because if they’d arrived tonight instead of him, wouldn’t this all be different?

The thought of that, combined with the feel of your velvet lips and the welcoming, warm wet cave of your mouth makes Steven so hard he can see stars blur the edge of his vision. Makes him grow over eager as you work your pretty mouth on him, bucking his hips and driving his length enthusiastically home, deeper into the cave of you. His hand gripping the back of your head just a little tighter than usual in his desperation to come undone.

He didn’t mean to. Didn’t mean to translate this desire from out of his head into the real world. You didn’t expect it.

It takes you a little by surprise.

Enough, to make you gag on Steven’s cock, just for a second; until you are surging off of him, eyelashes wet as you blink away the instant, spiking surge of tears.

Steven means to say something. He really does. Feels awful. Means to say “sorry, love, I’m so sorry”.

To soothe you. To do something.

But he… doesn’t.

Because…. Fuck.

He liked it.

A lot.

To his great relief, you seem unphased too, your lips curling up into a little smile before you curl them once again around his girth.

You continue: still gentle, still soft. Still in control. Setting your own pace.

Except this time Steven is inwardly going feral.

The thought of you gagging on him again. The thought of you surging off of him because he’s too big. The noises you made. The feeling of your throat convulsing around his cock. Even the tears in your eyes and the thought that you want him so much you’ll try so valiantly to take him all.

He’s panting. It’s awoken something in him. He’s throwing his head back against the beam. Eyes are screwing shut. His teeth are biting into his lower lip. His fingers are curling into your hair and - oh God. It feels divinely good but he wants…

Oh God.

He wants to push you down on him until you heave with the swell of him and he’s resisting the urge and you’re sucking him so deep and he can’t take it because he wants -needs to- bury himself even deeper.

Needs more and he’s aching for it.

“-Steven,” you purr, looking up at him, lips plumped and glistening with spit and god. “If you don’t want to make me gag on you again, you can always just ask. I can tell you liked it.”

He opens his eyes. Looks down at you on your knees. His mouth dropped open in surprise, and his legs nervy and trembling. A wracked, disbelieving moan spools from his chest, his cock almost bursting at the thought of it. Of making you choke on him. “W-would you d-do that for me, love?”

Your eyes glint with mischief. With want. “Steven.” You kiss the swollen head of his cock, swirling your tongue around the contours of him until he twitches, nearly spilling himself right then. “I’d do anything for you.”

He releases a shaky breath.

Steven is a gentle lover; until he isn’t.

Until he fists his hand in your hair and drives you down on his shaft, losing all composure as he hears you, feels you, sees you gagging on his size, your hands pressed calmly to his bared thighs as he holds you there and you let him.

And, as he does you fold the flat of your tongue around him. Let him take you, fill you, fuck into the circle of you, your throat resisting; gagging on him.

Steven can’t take it.

Didn’t know he would like this. Never would have guessed.

But within moments, he is emitting a ragged moan. He is pulsing his hot release down your throat. Giving you everything, as you eagerly take it. Swallow him down, until he’s drained; empty. Your hands smoothing up and down his shuddering thighs. Your tongue cleaning every last drop of mess from him. Humming against his softening shaft.

“Was that good, baby?”

He thinks he might black out. Can’t speak.

Can’t speak; until he can. “Love. C-Can we do it again?”

Your mouth curls into a smile; before you wrap it all the way around him.

When it comes to you, Steven can never get enough. He always want more.

At the same time though, you’re more than enough for him.

You’re everything, and he’s so happy he was the one to walk through the door.

yet another sugar daddy Ari 🥺🫣🥵🥵✨

warnings: age gap, daddy!kink, spanking, sugar daddy Ari, smut, minors dni, 18+

Ari loved showing you off. He loved taking you to his stuffy charity galas and parading you around like you were his little trophy girlfriend — which you were. Well, you were actually his sugar baby, but same difference. The bottom line was that he loved showing you off to other men who desired you and women who were jealous of you.

He’d buy you a pretty little dress — either an elegant gown or a strappy little cocktail dress, depending on the occasion — and it was always tight. He’d also cover you in glittering diamonds, and inform you to never leave his side unless he said so, or else. He’d press his hand to the small of your back and cart you around like you were his property, and you loved every second of it.

Tonight’s dress was form-fitted satin in the most gorgeous deep nude shade. Indecently short enough that several women had already given you disapproving looks. Not that you cared. What did it matter that Ari preferred to dress you in as little as possible? He liked making you wear barely-there dresses that showed off your curves, and he never allowed you to wear a bra because he liked the way your nipples would poke through the fabric. And panties? Forget about it.

But that didn’t mean you wouldn’t be bratty tonight. Seeing Ari looking so delicious in his three piece suit with his long hair combed back? Oh, of course you’d be a little daring.

“Daddy, this event is stuffy and boring,” you complain, running your manicured nails up and down the lapels of his expensive suit. You knew deep down he loved how high maintenance you were, and he’d happily fund your frequent hair appointments, manicures, pedicures, makeup, clothes… anything you wanted.

“Boring?” Ari quirks a brow, rubbing your back soothingly, “you want to go home, baby? You feeling okay?”

Ugh. Of course he wasn’t just your sugar daddy who fucked you good and paid for anything you could ever want. Of course he had to be the nicest guy on earth too. But you took that as a challenge to push him to his limit.

“No, but I wish your friends weren’t so boring.”

Ari pinches your ass, “don’t be a brat, princess.”

That was code for: be brattier, so daddy can punish you.

You stick your chin up, “Maybe I should go hang out with Mr. Barber over there. He looks kinda lonely, doesn’t he? I heard he’s no longer with his wife…”

That comment has you bent over the sink in the ladies’ bathroom (which was thankfully empty). And okay, so maybe you shouldn’t have brought up Ari’s mortal enemy, but as you said before, you’d been feeling extra bratty. And now, your daddy was pressing his crotch against your butt, and you can’t help but smirk.

“Don’t look so smug, little girl,” Ari warns, running his hand up and down your back and making you shiver.

“I’m not smug, Ari.”

He narrows his eyes, “Don’t call me that.”

You don’t know why you’re pushing him so much tonight. Maybe it’s because he hasn’t punished you in a while now. Maybe it’s because things have been way too sweet lately, with Ari taking you out on romantic dates and shopping trips. Maybe you need a bit of thrill tonight, a bit of adventure. A rush of adrenaline. Or maybe you’re just a brat.

“Call you what, Ari?”

“Oh, baby girl. You’re in for it now.”

He rips your dress in half. And you were so not expecting that—because he’d literally gifted you this dress today! And it was Versace for crying out loud! What the hell was wrong with him? You’re about to ask him just that when his palm cracks against your bare ass. Hard.

“OW! That fucking hurts!”

“Good. You deserve it for disrespecting me.”

“Why? Just because I called you Ari? Which, by the way, is your name—OW!”

He slaps your ass five times in succession, each slap harder than the last. Harder than he’s ever spanked you before.

“Watch it,” he warns, although you can feel how hard he is. You know he likes it when you’re bratty, you know how horny it gets him to put you back in your place, to exert his power over you and remind you of how he’s in charge. “I had a diamond bracelet waiting in the car for you, but maybe I’ll return it if you don’t stop misbehaving.”

You scoff, “Return it. I don’t care.” (You do care).

He spanks you several more times, till your ass is stinging with that delicious pain. And of course you’re wet too, your slick running down your legs because getting smacked on the ass by Ari always gets you wet.

“You’re really asking for it tonight, aren’t you? But remember, you can only push daddy so far before it comes back to slap you in the face.” Ari grabs your ass cheek and jiggles it lewdly before smacking you again. “Or in your case, your ass.”

You have two options in front of you right now. You could give in, apologise and enjoy a thoroughly good fucking. Or you could push his buttons even further, further than you ever had before, and then dare to see what happens after that.

“It’s not my fault you dragged me along to your boring event, Ari. Maybe you don’t value me that much anymore, maybe I should find a new sugar daddy. As I said before, Mr. Barber’s single now, and I’m sure he’d love it if I called him da—”

CRACK.

You’d been too busy running your mouth to even notice that he’d undone his belt. It’s only when you feel it crack down on your ass that you stop short, crying out and gripping the marble sink beneath you. Fuck. That hurt. He hasn’t done it too hard (he wasn’t sadistic and you were still his baby girl) but it’s hard enough to make you gasp, knowing it’ll leave a mark on your poor ass.

“Try and smart mouth me again, sweetheart. Try it, I dare you.” Ari grabs your jaw roughly and tugs you up till you’re standing with your back flush against his torso.

You can’t speak because his grip on your jaw is too tight, so all you can do is desperately shake your head, rutting back into him to let him know you’re done with being a brat.

“Who am I?” He hits the belt on your ass once more, and the sting makes you wetter than ever. “Who am I, baby?”

He lets go of your jaw and you sputter, “daddy, okay?! You’re daddy!”

Ari smirks, his hand wrapping around your neck while he uses the other one to spread your legs, roughly running his fingers over your wet folds and making your knees buckle.

“Oh, now I’m daddy, huh?” He slams three of his fingers inside of you and you gasp at the intrusion and the immediate feeling of fullness. “Bratty fucking baby just loves to run her mouth, don’t you? Where’s that attitude disappeared to, huh?

Your legs already feel shaky and weak, your orgasm fast approaching because his fingers feel so thick and good, and the spanking had already turned you on. Not to mention how he’d been petting you and showing you off all night — that always got you hot too. You were this close to cumming.

“Daddy, please!” You garble.

“Not so feisty now, huh?”

“Nooo, daddy, please! Gonna cum!”

Immediately, Ari’s fingers leave your cunt, making your eyes pop open in shock. He brings his wet fingers up to your face, smearing your juices all over it, making you messier than you already are.

“Bad girls don’t get to cum.” He smirks.

“But daddy! I was only teasing! Please don’t leave me hanging, daddy! I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry!” (Maybe you are, maybe you’re not… you just want to cum, in all honesty).

He scoffs, “Please. A flimsy apology like that would work on punks like Andy Barber. But not me.”

He drags you back outside. And he’d originally wanted you to go out in just your dress which is completely torn from the back, but you’d begged him to give you his jacket. Thankfully, he’d done you this small service. But everyone could tell what had just gone down in the bathroom. What with your torn dress, dishevelled hair and shiny face (he hadn’t let you clean it) paired with the fact that you were limping.

Yep. It was pretty obvious you’d been utterly wrecked — wrecked without even having been fucked. And Ari couldn’t be smugger. You were just thanking your lucky stars that at least his jacket was long enough to cover your ass with all its bruises and belt marks.

You expect him to take you home after that (he was hard after all, and you knew you’d be in for the fucking of your life once he got you alone). But instead, he makes a beeline towards Andy Barber, who looks white as a ghost at how inappropriate and fucked out you look.

“Andy, listen. We’re gonna have to leave early tonight.”

Andy manages to tear his gaze away from you. “Huh? How come?”

Ari looks at you meaningfully, “Baby, tell Mr. Barber why we have to go home.”

You look down and shake your head. There was no way in hell you were gonna say what he wanted you to say, what he’d coached you to say not minutes ago inside the bathroom. What you’d promised him you’d say.

But you don’t have a choice, because Ari pinches your ass not-so-subtly, and you yelp. Fuck.

“Tell him, baby.”

You hang your head and grit your teeth.

“I was naughty, so my daddy has to take me home so he can punish me. I’m sorry for being naughty at your event, Mr. Barber. My daddy will set me straight tonight.”

Ari looks smugger than the Cheshire Cat, you know he’s been wanting you to call him daddy outside of the bedroom and in front of other people for a while now. You’d always said fuck no, but he’d got his wish tonight. So you guessed you being bratty had paid off for one of you tonight…

But later, you find out, it pays off for you too. Ari fucks you like he’s never fucked you before. So hard and fast and frenzied, till you’re covered in bruises and your legs are shaking. And then he kisses you sweetly on the lips, and clasps your new diamond bracelet around your wrist. It’s got an inscription on the inside, which reads:

Daddy’s naughty little girl.

***

THE END SOCNSKKXKSAK BYE!

THIS IS SO GOOD!!

More Moon Knight for the tl.

This one was a challenge, the face was complicated and the shadows were very strong which is a bit hard to do with tempera , and to top it all off i had the brilliant idea to paint it in my sketchbook which has pretty thin pages. So it was an adventure what can i say. I donno if i really caught his face that well but i tried my best.

Rock Me to Sleep

Summary: Joel makes love to you in a rocking chair. Cock warming. Size difference. Size kink. P & V, unprotected sex. Creampie.

Warnings:18 +. Smut.

The mild afternoon breeze drifts through the thin curtains of the living room. It gently blows the damp strings of hair from your face from the humid summer heat. Your thin cotton dress clings to you like a second skin, pooling around your hips that sit atop his own. Legs are dangling in the air at the sides of his thighs, through the opening of the arm rests of the rocking chair.

You lay into his chest perfectly, nuzzled into him like a child with their favorite blanket. He's safe. He's your security. Your arms wrapped around his neck, salt and pepper curls brushing against the back of your wrists. A low rumble hums in his chest when you gently nibble his salty, musky skin at his trapezius. He has one large hand planted firmly at your low back and the other brushing gentle strokes at the base of your skull through your damp hair.

He rocks the chair forward and so does your weight, adding depth where he can only touch, and weight to his balls. As he rocks back, the drag of his head pulls from deep in that place that's just for him and pulls back to tease that soft space at the roof of your swollen pussy, making open mouth whimpers ghost his neck.

He slowly rocks you. Forward and backward, in and out, your milky arousal begins to collect at the base of his girth. He brings you into a tight embrace and buries his nose and mouth in your shoulder, leaving open mouthed muffled moans. His eyes are closed, eyebrows furrowed with droplets of sweat threatening to spill over the crest of his brows and down his temples.

Forward and backward.

Forward and backward.

Your labored breathing matches each other. You communicate in grunts, gasps and muffled moan into each other's skin as his rocking picks up the pace. When he rocks forward, he can't help himself as he lifts his hips up into your weight. He's deep, he makes you ache. Your head falls back and a high whimper squeaks from your throat. He moves his plush lips and scruff to the column of your throat and huffs.

"Oh baby, oh baby", he whines.

"Jo - oh Joel. Yes".

He continues to dig and pull, deeper and faster with every thrust and rock. As he kisses that spot deep inside over and over, he nearly cries into your neck, teeth clenched.

" 'S that my spot?", his voice quivers as he rocks you forward and thrusts higher into you.

It makes you howl high at the ceiling and squeeze fists of his hair and shirt. "Yes!".

His beard scratches at your throat and his breath is hot like fire.

The arm around your low back scoots you along his pelvis and into his belly. His thick coarse pubic hair drags against your oversensitive clit. Your mouth falls open in an exaggerated gasp. You cling to him for purchase as he continues dragging, digging, pulling and rocking you. You feel a throbbing ache in your low belly that shoots hot fire through your womb and into your swollen pussy. You pulsate around him with a pinpoint burst of extasy from your clit that spreads heat through your whole body as you cum.

His mouth is open on your neck, eyes squeezed shut and face twisted in a grimace of pleasure as he feels your thighs shake and your pussy spasms around his cock. He spills into you with a shout and jolts his head into your cervix with every contraction of spill from his balls. You both go limp in the chair, heaving and sighing after your release. Your head falls into his neck again, nuzzling his collar as he strokes resume on the back of your neck and base of your spine. He gently rocks again, forward and backwards, this time rocking you to sleep.

workin on one right now :))))

What Good Girls Get

Pairing: Switch! Marc Spector x Sub!reader x Dom!Layla El-Faouly

Summary: While Layla is away, Marc wants to play. Being the good girl you are, you reject his advances and she rewards you while Marc is left to face the consequences.

Warnings: Dom/ Sub dynamics, polyamory, punishment, brat!marc, dirty talk, praise kink, degradation, rough sex, sex toys, strap-ons, squirting, oral(f) receiving, oral(m) receiving, pet names, fingering, begging, spitting, slapping, aftercare, cuddles(Let me know if I missed anything:))

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: This is only my second fic so I'm still working on getting better at exposition and stuff but I'm actually really proud of the smut and dialogue in this one. As always, feedback is welcome and encouraged. Enjoy!!

"We shouldn't. Layla told us we can't fool around while she's gone." you whine as you lay on the bed, Marc hovering above you. His face is buried in your neck while he plants sloppy kisses across your skin. You do your best to stand your ground but make no move to try and get him off you.

"Marc, I'm serious. Did you see the look in her eyes? She really meant it. I don't know about you, but I don't want to get on her bad side. We just got off punishment for the kitchen incident." It was quite a punishment too, but to be honest you deserved it. A few days ago, Layla had gone out to get dinner while Marc graciously offered to stay behind and help you finish preparing the dessert you were making for your friend's birthday. His help soon turned into a distraction as he started grabbing at you and pulling you against him, despite your determination to focus on the task at hand.

It started with Marc innocently feeding you a few of the strawberries you were cutting up and by the time Layla returned he had you on your knees, his dick covered in whipped cream, and you eagerly cleaning it off with your tongue. She had forbidden you two to touch yourselves or one another for the rest of the week as punishment and didn't let either of you out of her sight. She knew that would lead to more trouble.

That's why when she had been called to attend an event that would require her to stay across town overnight, she was hesitant. If it were just you, she wouldn't have worried. You're always on your best behavior. Unless Marc is there. He's always the instigator. You can count on one hand all the times you've been punished for something that didn't involve Marc. You craved Layla's approval, needed her to be proud of you. Marc made that incredibly difficult, though. Despite your better judgement, you almost always gave in. He had this hold over you that made him impossible to resist. Especially when Layla isn't there and you miss her.

Marc misses her desperately when she's gone as well, and that's part of the reason he acts out. It also doesn’t help that he is a brat through and through. For him, all the rules fly out the window the moment she steps out the door. He loves to rile her up. Lately he's been pushing his luck and punishments have been getting increasingly severe. Instead of turning soft at the end like Layla has a habit of doing, especially when it comes to you, she's started implementing 'no touching rules', ruined orgasms, edging with no release, withholding pleasure, etc. He also just can't help himself when he gets you all alone. It's like a switch flips in his brain and he just wants to pounce on you. Make you misbehave like he does. He knows you're Layla's good girl and he loves to see you turn into a dirty little slut for him.

"C'mon, it's not like she just ran out to the store, she won't be home until tomorrow. There's no way she'll find out." He continues to kiss down your neck and palms at your chest, making you arch your back.

"Yes, she will. I don't know how she does it, but she can always tell."

"That's because you can't lie to save your life, baby. You know, you really need to work on your poker face." he jests, and you shoot him a glare. But you can't help the small smile that forms on your face because you know he's right. If you're ever hiding something, you distance yourself from Layla, unable to even look her in the eyes. When she finally makes you, whatever you're hiding comes spilling out of you, completely out of your control. And if it had something to do with Marc, which is usually the case, he gets in trouble as well. It's detrimental to you both.

" You really don't want to?" Marc asks. He gives you puppy dog eyes, pulling out all the stops to try and get you to give in.

"Of course, I do." You play with the hem of his shirt, trying to ignore the way you feel his bulge against your thigh.

"I just really don't want to disobey her. We don't have to wait too long; she'll be back tomorrow. And who knows, maybe she'll even reward us for being good. It's been a while." You offer, trying to convince not only him but yourself to resist the temptation.

"It's been a while for me. She rewards you all the time. It's not fair." He pouts and pinches your sides, making you giggle.

"That's because you actually have to behave for that to happen, dummy. You just have to learn to follow the rules. And tonight is the perfect opportunity to try it out." you stroke his hair reassuringly. It would do him some good to practice some restraint.

"I'll try." he says, with absolutely zero sincerity in his voice.

"How about we go watch a movie instead? She never said we couldn't cuddle." He nods, smiling at you innocently enough to convince you he has given up. You cup his face and pull it to yours, and you plant a soft kiss on the tip of his nose. He stands, helps you up, and you both head to the living room.

Marc manages to keep his hands to himself through most of the film. He has you held against him, fitting snuggly in his side. You rest your head on his shoulder, enjoying the safe and warm feeling he provides. You even start to doze off, but awaken when Marc shifts, telling you he's heading to the bathroom. In his absence, you lay your head down on the cushion. Rolling over on your stomach, you feel yourself succumb to the drowsiness again. A few minutes later, you are startled awake when you feel the couch dip, and a weight settle on your backside. You curiously turn your head to find Marc straddled across your thighs. You try to wriggle away, but he puts his full weight on your back and effectively stops you. He starts kissing and licking down the back of your neck.

“Marc, you were doing so well. Let’s just go to bed.” you plead.

“I'd love to take you to bed.” he responds, then starts softly nipping at your skin.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” You feel him grin against you and it sends tingles across your skin.

“C'mon it’s not like I'm going to tell. And you’ll have until tomorrow evening to get yourself together enough to face Layla. You can keep one little secret, can’t you?” You are already putty in his hands and let wanton moans fall from your lips at the warmth of his mouth on your skin and his hands grabbing at your sides.

“I want to so bad. I just… I wanna be a good girl.” you whine.

"Well, it's nice to know one of you respects me.” Layla chimes in, and you both jump, startled by her surprise entrance. Neither of you had heard her come in. You freeze, and so does the man above you. A feeling of dread falls over you but is overtaken by a feeling of delight when your eyes land on your beautiful girlfriend. She’s still wearing the outfit she wore to the event, and she looks breathtaking.

"I managed to find a way to come home early to the loves of my life and this is what I find. Did I not make myself clear before I left?" She scolds, but there is a slight playfulness to her tone.

Marc, still refusing to look at her, lifts himself into a sitting position. You glance back at him and see the look of contemplation on his face. He could play this one of two ways. He could apologize profusely and get on his hands and knees begging for forgiveness, or he could stand his ground and see how far he can push his luck. Being the brat he is, he obviously chooses the latter. Not even bothering to answer her, he flips you over and Layla rounds the coffee table to stand in front of you both. He moves his eyes to hers as he starts grabbing at you and sliding your shirt up, exposing your breasts. Layla’s silence is deadly, yet the look on her face is eerily calm.

He grabs your bare chest and starts tweaking your nipples, and you whimper at the sensation. You don’t want to upset her, but it just feels so good. You rub your thighs together trying to relieve some of the pressure building in your core.

Neither of your partners notice as both sets of eyes are locked in a stare, waiting to see what the other will do next. The mischievous grin on Marc's face makes you nervous. You know he’s playing with fire and isn’t considering the consequences. But as always, his behavior manages to stoke the flames in the pit of your stomach. You don’t know what it is, the thought of testing Layla's patience yourself never crosses your mind. But seeing her reaction when Marc does it makes you want him to keep going, even though you know he’ll pay for it later.

You grab Marc’s wrists, not even sure if it’s to stop him or urge him on and you shoot Layla a pleading look, silently begging her to do something. Marc finally looks away as he brings his mouth down to one of your breasts. He latches onto your nipple and rolls it between his teeth. You let out a squeal and squeeze your eyes shut.

“Do you want him to stop?” You don’t even hear what Layla says as Marc's other hand travels down your stomach and lands on your clothed mound.

“Look at me, angel. I asked you a question. Do you want Marc to stop?” Trying to steady your voice as his fingers slip into your underwear, dragging up and down your wet folds, you whimper, “It feels good but…but I don’t want to disobey you.” She gives you a soft smile and wears a proud look on her face, causing a warmth to bloom in your chest. She walks towards you and bends down so her face is level with yours.

As she starts petting your hair she coos, “Of course you don’t. Because you’re my good girl, aren’t you?” you preen at her words. No matter how good Marc’s touch makes you feel, nothing compares to Layla's praise. With a newfound strength and determination to prove her right, you push Marc’s hand out of your pants and shove his face away. He watches you cover your chest, making it impossible for him to continue, and he huffs.

He sits up and contemplates his next move. He was really banking on you giving in and being able to test your girlfriend's patience together. Even when he's facing punishment himself, he loves seeing you endure one too. Seeing Layla's little angel get in trouble turns him on in a way he can’t describe. But it looks like you had more willpower than he thought, and he’ll be taking this one on his own.

As a last-ditch effort, he blurts out “She started it.” You gasp, knowing that’s a bold-faced lie.

He continues, “She was on me the moment you walked out the door. But you know how irresistible she is when she begs, I couldn’t help it. I’m just doing what you would’ve done.” He leers back at her, trying to stand firm. Layla sighs, not believing him for a second. She's getting frustrated. As much as she hates it when you two break the rules, she hates when you lie about it even more. She usually lets you off easier if you come forward and tell her what really happened. You always do but Marc has the habit of dodging the truth until she drags it out of him. It’s a nasty habit that she’s determined to break, and now is the perfect opportunity.

“He’s lying! He was trying to fuck me all night! I told him you’d be mad, but he wouldn’t listen.” You match the glare he shoots you, and he grabs your thigh firmly in warning, not appreciating the outburst. But you weren’t going to roll over on this one. You had worked really hard to finally find the strength to not give in for once and you’d be damned if you went down for this with him. You want your reward for being a good girl and you aren’t going to let him ruin that.

“You believe me don’t you, Lay?” You look up at her through your lashes and give her the sweetest look you can muster up. The nickname brings a smile to her face, and she replies, “Of course I do, baby.”

“But” Marc starts, and Layla raises her brow at him, daring him to keep testing her patience. He backs down immediately, hanging his head in defeat.

“Go lay on the bed sweetheart.” She instructs and leans down, connecting her mouth with yours. Marc, enjoying the show, subconsciously starts stroking your thigh but she is quick to swat his hand away. “You, go stand at the foot of the bed. And keep your hands to yourself.” she commands, and he follows you into the bedroom, dragging his feet.

He stands in front of you now, arms crossed in annoyance, and you smirk at him. “Thanks a lot.” he sneers.

“Hey, I said to be patient and we’d get rewarded. Maybe this will teach you a lesson.” you say smugly, and he rolls his eyes.

Layla enters, grabbing the chair from the desk and placing it in front of the bed. She makes Marc strip. She then ties up his hands and orders him to sit but leaves him unrestrained otherwise. She removes her jacket and proceeds to strip you, softly caressing your sides as she does, and your skin heats up under her touch. Shifting you, she lays you at the end of the bed, parallel to the headboard, and gives Marc a full view of her body and yours. Normally he'd be thankful but under these circumstances it's torturous.

She makes her way down your body, nipping and sucking at your skin. She's always thorough, taking the time to admire every inch of you. After leaving your stomach and thighs covered in love bites, and running her tongue over your marked skin, she buries her head between your thighs. She's gentle and diligent but she doesn't rush. Doesn't eat you out in a frenzy like Marc tends to do. She knows your body better than you do and knows just what to do to have you fall apart on her tongue.

She has to hold your waist down as you writhe on the bed. Your sultry moans and desperate cries have Marc involuntarily bucking his hips into the air, begging for relief. Before you know it, she has you cumming hard and you grind your hips against her mouth as she sucks on your clit, helping you ride the waves of pleasure. Giving you a second to catch your breath, she then positions you on the edge of the bed, exposing you to Marc, and takes her place behind you. She wraps her legs around yours and uses them to spread your thighs. Her movements begin slow, like before, and she starts by gently circle your clit with her fingers. The torturous speed has you crying out for more. Wanting to give you whatever your heart desires, she dips her fingers into you. They slip in easily, and each delicious drag of her digits against your walls has you bucking your hips against her hand.

Your arousal starts to form a ring around her fingers and drips onto the floor. The sight has Marc falling to his knees in front of you, face nearing your center. Layla gives him a warning look, but she can feel you getting close, so she doesn’t want to stop. Then she gets an idea. She pushes faster against that sweet spot inside you and matches that rhythm as she starts rubbing your swollen bud. Mesmerized by the sight, Marc leans his head against your thigh.

“No touching.” Layla commands and he nods. He doesn’t move any closer, practicing more restraint than he ever has in his life. She starts nipping at that spot under your ear and it has you squirming. You feel that familiar pressure building that you didn’t feel with your previous climax and smile, realizing what’s about to happen, and your whole body tenses. “I'm cumming” is all you can say before you start spasming and you explode all over his face. Marc flinches slightly at the unexpected splash of your arousal. It just keeps streaming out of you and he quickly opens his mouth wide, groaning as your sweet nectar coats his tongue. He gives Layla a pleading look, and she knows what he wants.

“You can clean off her thighs.” she says, loving the hungry look on his face. He laps at your drenched thighs and savors the taste that he's been dying for all night. You let out a satisfied purr and you eyes fall closed, feeling soothed by the warmth of his tongue. When he's finished, he takes a moment and just stares at your sex. Before he can stop himself, he lurches forward to indulge in your arousal from the source. Before he can reach you, though, Layla yanks his head back by his hair, clicking her tongue at him.

“Still don’t want to listen, huh?” She moves from behind you and drags him back to the chair. You already miss her warmth, but your excitement grows as she goes to open the trunk you keep on the corner of the room and pulls out some rope and a harness with the familiar pink silicone attached to the base. Your heart starts beating faster and you bite your lip, thrumming with excitement at what’s coming next. She inches the chair closer to the bed, and Marc is now just inches away. She ties him to the chair now, ignoring his grumbling. With her guidance, you are now on your hands and knees, head halfway off the end of the bed, now face to face with Marc. As Layla puts on the strap-on, you can’t help but smile at the pout on his face. You've never seen him this frustrated before and you would feel bad for him if it didn't turn you on so much.

Your girlfriend situates herself behind you, kissing up your spine, and you pull her up so her mouth meets yours and you moan at the saccharine taste of her. When she breaks the connection, her mouth finds your ear and she whispers, “You’re doing so good for me. My obedient girl.” The comment makes your heart swell. You hum, looking her in the eyes, and whisper “I love you.” She nuzzles her face against yours she affectionately replies, “I love you too, angel."

She sits back onto her haunches and rubs the silicone up and down your folds, each flick against your clit making your breath hitch. As she slides the length in to the hilt, you cry out and she sets a maddeningly slow pace. You're about to beg for more, but she already knows what you want. She slowly pulls out to the tip and then slams back into you, and begins giving you those hard, deep thrusts you crave.

After a while, your arms give out underneath you and you fall onto your chest. The arch of your back gives her a delicious view of your ass and she gives it a quick slap. You whine for more and she continues, landing multiple hits to both your cheeks and thighs and you squeal in delight. When she's done, she grabs firmly onto your hip with one hand and the other comes up to settle on the back of your neck and she pulls you back to meet her thrusts.

With your face now just inches away from Marc, you stick your tongue out, unable to resist the temptation to taunt him. It's a pretty juvenile thing to do, you admit, and can’t help the giggle you let out at the sight of the frustration bubbling up inside him, the aggravation showing clear as day on his face. Before you can pull your tongue back in your mouth, he leans forward and spits fast and hard, some landing in your open mouth, and some on your cheek. You gasp, but your surprise quickly morphs into a pathetic whine, loving the taste of him. You drag your tongue over your lips and the surrounding area, trying to get to the spatter that missed your mouth. A satisfied smirk appears on his face, and he mutters, "filthy fucking slut." You whine at his words, and it has you clenching down onto the silicone filling your cunt.

Layla, however, was not amused. She shoves your face down onto the mattress and leans over you to deliver a harsh slap to Marc's face. He moans at the contact, relieved to finally get some sort of stimulation. Before the sting can even settle over his skin, she delivers another. Then, she removes her weight from you and pulls your head up once more.

“That wasn’t very nice, was it baby?” You don’t respond, honestly wishing he'd do it again.

“Oh, you liked it didn’t you, naughty little thing.” You moan at her teasing and look Marc in the eyes, whining, "I want something in my mouth.”

He jolts forward, wanting to break free and give you what you want. An anticipative look crosses his face, and he hopes Layla will make him part of your reward.

“Oh, I'm sorry baby. Here you go.” Determined to keep Marc out of this, Layla hooks her fingers into your mouth. She chuckles at Marc's reaction as she sees his shoulders slump, clearly disappointed. You immediately wrap your lips around her digits and he zeros in on your movements, imagining it was him in your mouth instead.

Her thrusts become more brutal, each one knocking the thoughts right out of your head. You feel yourself mentally slipping, unable to form even one coherent sentence. All you can do is babble nonsense, hoping she understands how close you are to your release. Layla drags your head up by your hair and you face Marc again, mouth open and drooling down into the sheets. He's seen that look before and he knows you're right on the edge. He looks you right in the eyes and whispers, " Do it, baby. Cum." He's not even sure you heard him, but your eyes immediately roll to the back of your head, and you start shaking. Layla holds you against her, knowing you love the closeness and skin to skin contact when you fall apart. All you can feel is white hot pleasure and you're crying out, mouth open in a silent scream as you gasp for breath. You don't even have time to come down from your climax before Layla starts pounding into you again, hard and fast. She holds you down, making you cum again and again.

When she can tell you've had enough, she stops her movements but stays planted inside you to the hilt, knowing you don’t want to feel empty just yet. She runs her hands all over you, trying to bring you back to her and help steady your breathing. You can't tell how much time has passed but when you're finally conscious of your surroundings again, the first thing you see is Marc's pitiful form in front of you. You want to help him. His angry red tip looks painful, and you actually start to feel bad for him. You somehow muster up the strength to reach an arm out to him and he looks at you lovingly. You were just fucked into oblivion, but you still want to make sure he feels good. It makes him smile and he desperately wants to pull you into his arms.

“Can I touch him, please?” You look over your shoulder and give Layla your best puppy dog eyes, hoping she'll cave like she always does when you look at her like that. She arches her brow at you and asks, “Am I not enough, sweetheart?”

“No! You are!” you reply frantically, immediately regretting your words. You continue, “Just look at him. So pathetic. I think he's learned his lesson.” He's been waiting so long and he’s so frustrated he can feel tears starting to form in his eyes. “Please. I'm so sorry. I'll behave. I promise." he begs.

She sighs, feeling conflicted. She knows she has pushed him hard but he did deserve it. She feels herself turning soft at that needy look in his eyes and concedes. She knows what he really wants. He wants one of you to ride him until he sees stars. This is still a punishment, however, so she decides to give him another form of relief.

Leaning down and kissing the crown on your head, she checks in, making sure you're not too overworked. She really gave it to you hard and wants to make sure you don't overdo it. "Are you sure? You look a little worn out." You're touched by her concern but nod eagerly.

"Go ahead baby. He can have your mouth." The sigh of relief that leaves Marc makes you want to laugh. You turn back to him, and your outstretched hand moves to caress his face. He leans into your touch, and kisses at the palm of your hand. You slide it down off his face and Layla helps you to your knees. He makes the most pitiful noise when you take him into your mouth, finally feeling the relief he's waited hours for. You have him cumming in just a few minutes and he thanks both of you profusely.

You're all exhausted, but that doesn't stop them from loving on you. Layla goes to draw a bath while Marc picks you up off the floor, placing soft kisses all over your face. He carries you to the bathroom, where Layla begins to do the same as Marc places you in the tub. The feeling of their love wraps you like a warm blanket, relaxing your mind as the bath water relaxes your tired muscles. You're half asleep when you all finally pile into bed, cuddling up close to one another. Layla lays you in the middle of them the middle and they wrap their arms around you and each other. Not having the energy tonight, you and Marc will be sure to give her a proper 'welcome home' in the morning.

in this household, we love and support trans folk and make sure they always feel welcome and safe

inspired by boop day, reblog this post if its ok for people to send you random asks and interact on your posts with no judgement. i want to talk to people.

Steven Grant random thought #2- what sex is like with the moon boys

--🔥 Content: nsfw, what sex is like with Marc Jake and Steven, language, dirty deeds, Steven Grant doesn't understand what hate fucking is (~700 words)--

Steven thinks it over, then looks at you. "Like, I'm not the most experienced guy, but I love what we've done of it so far."

You and Steven are sitting in his flat eating lunch. Your legs are over his lap as you eat smoked tofu sandwiches.

You shake your head. "That's not what 'hate fucking' means, love. It's not that you don't like it. It means that you fuck someone you hate and that's what makes it so good."

His face scrunches up a little. "Doesn't sound very nice."

You smile and try to think of a way to relate it to him. Usually, Steven is the one teaching you things. And even if it’s just this ridiculous concept, it’s nice to be able to teach him something.

You brush the crumbs off your hands. “Remember that time you were mad at me?”

“What? I wasn’t mad.” Steven insists.

“Okay, remember that time when I pushed you into annoyance?”

A smile lifts the corners of his mouth and he gets a slightly dreamy look in his eyes. “You had my handprints on your ass for days. Was absolutely lovely to look at.”

“It’s kind of like that. Hate and love and passion are strong emotions. And then there’s the satisfaction of seeing someone that you’re usually at odds with become absolutely desperate for you.”

He finishes his sandwich thoughtfully. “Is it kind of like how Jake does it? I mean, he gets pretty rough.”

“No, Jake goes after it like my pussy owes him money and my throat is the ATM. Not the same thing.”

“And Marc-“

“Not the same,” you explain patiently. “Marc has sex like,” you don’t even know how to explain the feelings Marc brings out in you, “like he’s trying to pull apart my soul and claim it with his cock."

Steven finishes his sandwich. After a bit he says, almost shyly, “and how would you describe my… skills?”

You blow out a breath. “You’re hypnotizing. You get me to do things and feel things, whatever you want, and you make it feel like it was my idea. Like I’d felt that way all along and you just opened the door and walked me through it. It’s like an out of body experience.”

Steven blushes. “That’s quite a generous description, love.”

You lean forward and kiss him on the lips. Then, you collect the plates and take them to the kitchen to wash up.

He follows you, rubbing circles on your back with his hand. “Since we’ll never get to experience this ‘hate fucking’ thing, maybe we can stick to the next best scenario.”

You rest your hip on the kitchen counter. “What’s that?”

“Just that, well, if I’m so convincing and all, maybe I can go over to my desk. Do a little reading. Really study, you know?”

“And I suppose, I shouldn’t disturb you?” You rinse off the plates and dry your hands.

“No. Definitely not. Nothing on offer for you m’afraid.” He backs away toward his desk, slides his readers out of his pocket and puts them on.

You wait patiently for him to sit down at his desk. “So, nothing like last time, where I sat in your lap and tried to get into your pants until you got so annoyed that you snapped and got into mine?”

“None of that.” Steven says seriously.

You start to cross the room toward him. “Maybe this time, I really need to push it. Really piss you off.”

“I don’t think you could. I love you too much.”

You smile. “Yeah, I don’t think you’re a hate fucking kind of guy, Steven Grant. And I love that about you.” You fold your arms. “But you have to take it easy on me this time. I have to be in meetings all day tomorrow.”

Steven smiles, a look somewhere between absolute glee and intense purpose. “Oh love, you’re going to be thinking of me all day, sitting on that sore little bottom I’m going to give you. That’s a gift from me to you. But, Jake has some thoughts on the hate fucking thing that he’d like to show you later. That one’s your fault for bringing up the silly thing in the first place.”

I would eat my left shoe for a couple of lines about Steven being eager to get the reader pregnant.

Something about him becoming unhinged over the idea of breeding is all I can think about lately. xx

“I’m the only one you let fuck you like this, righ’?” Steven whines into the hollow of your throat. His thrusts have long descended into mindless rutting, both your fronts plastered against each other, sweat slicking your skin.

“Fuck me how, baby?” you coo, scratching his scalp softly through his curls. It drives him mad. Not just playing with his curls—but talking to him in such a mothering, borderline condescending manner. “How do I let you fuck me?”

“You, you know,” he groans. “Without a—a condom.”

“Just you, baby,” you assure him. It’s true; you haven’t let Marc or Jake fuck you bareback yet. Not out of any fear of disease—they share a body for fuck’s sake—but mostly because of the intimacy. You knew Steven first. You were still coming to know the others. Maybe in time…But during moments like this, that isn’t how Steven wants to play. “Just you. Gonna make you a daddy.”

“Fuck, yes, yes gods please. Gonna show them,” he gasps, hips jerking against you. “Gonna fill you up til it takes, and then they’ll know you belong to me, you’re mine—“

“Do it,” you breathe, letting a little whine fill your voice. “Steven, please. I want everyone to know I’m yours, your slut—“

“Oh my days—“

“—cum in me, please. Don’t pull out, I don’t want to lose any of it, plug me up, I’ll—“

Steven stiffens, cock jerking where it is buried inside you, head brushing the tender entrance to your womb. His seed is warm where it fills you, soothing any ache the fierce pounding he gave you minutes before might have left.

And when he’s finished and pulls out, he takes his shaky fingers and scoops up the cum leaking from your clenching cunt, coaxing it back inside. Your eyes fall shut, a pleased sigh passing your lips.

Then There Were Three

Pairing:  Marc Spector x bi f!reader x Layla El-Faouly

Summary: Things get complicated when your two friends, Layla and Marc, who you may or not be madly in love with, invite you to be their roommate. Prequel to What Good Girls Get and how their relationship started. But it can be read on its own, I guess. 

Warnings: No explicit smut, but subtle illusions to masturbation and some mentions of kissing, ANGST( resolves with happy ending tho :) ),friends to lovers, jealousy, slightly toxic behavior from everyone involved, reader gets drunk and makes questionable choices but Layla and Marc come to the rescue, mentions reader kissing stranger, feelings of unrequited love followed by profession of feelings, happy ending :). Let me know if I missed anything

 Wc: 3.6k

 A/N: Soooo, why did no one tell me writing angst was so fun?? I wrote this as a prequel to What Good Girls Get because I really want to make a series out of their relationship/dynamic. So, I decided to write this to sort of set everything up and give some background into how they all came together. I'll most likely still write Marc x Reader x Layla fics separate from the series, but I think this'll be fun. Let me know what you think and if you'd like to see more. As always comments/feedback are always welcome and encouraged!!

You first meet Layla in a self-defense class she's instructing at the community center. You hit it off immediately and begin hanging out outside of the class. She even introduces you to her husband, Marc. He's really great too, so you eventually all start hanging out together. Your friendship quickly grows, and you find yourself seeing them multiple times a week.

 You're out grabbing coffee with them one day and tell them how you are looking for a second job. In turn, Marc mentions that they have been going away for work more frequently and are considering getting a house sitter, not wanting to leave their place empty for days and possibly weeks on end.

 "The job is yours, if you're interested of course," he offers.

 "Really? Yeah, that'd be great." You nod, relieved to not continue the job hunt, something that has been huge stress on your life

 "Of course. You're there all the time anyway,” Layla says and you all chuckle. She's right, you're always coming over to have dinner and watch movies, often times sleeping over since your apartment is across town.

 You adjust well to the new ‘job’. It isn’t difficult. All they have is a fish and few plants so it isn’t too demanding. You really just laze about their apartment and clean up here and there and await their return. It begins to feel like a second home. You rarely spend time at your own place, really only going back to get clothes.

 Not that you’re complaining, you hate your apartment. Things are always breaking and the landlord is an asshole, so when it comes time for your lease to be up, you decide to look for a new place. You voice your concerns about finding somewhere on such short notice and, yet again, the couple present you with a convenient solution. They offer up their spare bedroom.

 "Oh, no, I wouldn't want to impose," you say, although not voicing the real reason for your reluctance.

 Since you first met Layla, you may or may not have developed a crush on her. And then you found out she's married and you decided to push those feelings aside, out of respect for their relationship of course.  But then you all started hanging out together and in no time, you started falling for Marc too.

They're both so great, but you know nothing could ever happen between you and them. Layla had once opened up about her and Marc having been through a lot and said they’re finally in a happy, healthy place. That's all you needed to hear and immediately buried those feeling deep inside you. They're relationship is finally stable again, who are you to come in and shake that up over a little crush?

 Well, what started out as a little crush soon develops into some very serious feelings for both of them and it's getting harder and harder to ignore. You start to envy their relationship. Seeing them together makes you think about what you don't have. But it's more than that, you're envious that you don't have it with them.

 You like being able to be roommates, but the proximity makes it harder to keep your feelings for them at bay. You're constantly coming home and finding them all cuddled up on the couch or just seeing little glimpses of them being couple-y in general and it really starts to get to you.

 You eventually decide to start dating again, hoping it'll help you move on from your feelings for your roommates. While they're away for work, you decide to invite a guy over that you had been out with a couple of times. They end up coming home early and Marc flips out. Layla tries to calm him down but he says you can’t just be bringing strangers into their home. He storms off and Layla apologizes. You send the guy home. Technically this is your home too, but you realize it would be better if you mentioned your plans to them before hand, just out of respect.

 That isn't an isolated incident, though. Marc doesn't seem too keen on you dating in general. Layla seems to be supportive, yet constantly warns you to be careful meeting people online. So, you try to keep them in the loop of who you're seeing, hoping that resolves the issues. But any time you mention a date, Marc goes silent. You had met this girl a while back and suggested a double date to try and ease some of the tension and Marc flat out refused. Anytime you would even bring her up he would dismiss it and get short with you.

 After a while of him acting like that, Layla surprises you by saying she shares that same feeling. She tells you that it’s probably not the best idea, although she's a lot kinder about it. She won't give you a reason why, though, and you just assume it's to not cause division between her and Marc.  She had initially said it was fine to have people over while they weren't home but she eventually sides with Marc on that, too, saying not to just to be safe. You're disappointed and their decision starts making dating even harder. 

Not wanting to jump through the hoops of dating, you feel like your back to square one with nothing to distract you from your feelings for Marc and Layla. They feel bad since you seem to have given up on dating, so they begin inviting you everywhere with them. You love being with them, but at the end of the night you go back to your room, alone, wishing you could hold their hands, kiss them, and show them affection like you're desperate to do. You're frequently tempted to turn down their invitations and offer the excuse of not wanting to intrude, especially when it seems like a date night type of activity, but Layla just tells you you’re always welcome and that they’d really like you to join.

 There is one thing that they don’t ask you to join in on. It's the thing you crave most. It’s what you dream about when you’re alone at night satisfying those needs with your hand while you know they’re fulfilling them for each other.

It’s almost torture on those nights you're all watching a movie and they start getting closer and closer on the couch. They snuggle up together and give quick kisses when they think you aren't looking. They're obviously wanting more, but out of respect for you, they keep things tame. But you know. You know when they leave halfway through the movie, telling you they're tired and run off to their room, and you hear the giggles and whispers as they sneak away.

 Then you're left alone, only imagining what they're doing in there, and the emptiness in your heart is joined by an ache between your legs. So you go to your own room, giving yourself a pitiful orgasm that leaves you with even more longing than you felt before.

One night, you walk into the living room on your way out to meet your friends and they’re going at it on the couch, hands roaming over their clothed bodies. They sense you walk in and pull apart, going to apologize but you turn away, and rush out the door with an awkward 'bye'.

 You try to brush it off, but it puts a damper on your evening and you drink more than you should. You find some random person to go home with, hoping to take your mind off things. You end up making out on their couch but all you can think about is Marc and Layla. Not feeling it anymore, you tell them you want to stop and get your things and leave. You walk out of the building, then realize you don’t have a ride.

You make a feeble attempt to order an Uber but the level of intoxication makes it seem like an impossible task. You finally manage to open your messaging app and see a bunch of text from Marc and Layla. They're freaking out because you always text them if you’re not coming home that night and they fear the worst thinking something happened to you.

 You call Layla. You brace yourself for Marc to go off on you for not telling them where you are. She answers immediately, clearly on edge but relieved to finally be hearing from you. “Where are you, babe?” The nickname she calls you sends a pang of hurt to your heart, knowing that when she calls Marc that, it holds a totally different meaning.

 “Please don’t call me that,” you mumble.

 “What? Where are you?” she asks, hearing the slur in your voice and hoping you’re somewhere safe.

 “I don’t know? Umm…” You look around for a street sign, but turning your heads around has your head spinning and you get dizzy and take a seat on the curb.

 “Are you still at the bar?” She knows where you'd gone and with who, but judging by the frustrated whine you let out she can tell that you're no longer there.

 “Put Gina on the phone,” she instructs, hoping you were still with the group.

“I'm not with her. She…I don't know where she is. Probably still with the girl she was talking to earlier. I don't know though.” You sigh, wishing you had thought this whole thing through before running off.

 Layla sighs, frustrated that you split from the group. You hear Marc exclaim, “What?! They left you alone? Where are you?”, letting you know you’re on speaker and he’s heard everything.

 “Marc, she just said she doesn’t know,” Layla says, trying to calm him down a bit. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

 “I met someone and we went back to their place but now I'm outside and… please come get me.” You slur out your explanation and you hear Marc grumble something, but you can’t make it out.

 “Marc, don’t. Babe? Babe, you still there?” Layla's voice crackles on the line.

 “Please. Stop,” you plead, you voice laced with hurt.

 "Stop what? I need you to listen to me. Can you turn on your location for me?" You fumble for a good five minutes and they both try walking you through the steps and you finally manage to share your location with them. “Stay put. We’ll be there soon," Layla assures.

 They stay on the line but you sit in silence, wishing you were tucked into bed and ready to forget this whole night. When they finally arrive, Layla gets out to open the door for you, and guides you gently into the back seat.

 There's a tension in the air and you're left feeling like someone whose parents caught them sneaking out. Marc sits in the driver's seat, grumbling out various comments like “How could you be so irresponsible?”, and, “Going home with some stranger, do you have any idea what how dangerous that is? You’re lucky they let you leave.”

 Layla places her hand on his thigh, trying to get him to let up, but she doesn’t say anything. She looks just as disappointed as him. He continues, “I just don’t know what you were thinking…", and you see him shake his head.

 You become fed up with the scolding. “I just wanted to have a little fun, ok? I don’t have a partner at home I can run to whenever I need a good screw. We’re not all as lucky as you two!”, you shout, crossing your arms. Your sober self will regret that, but right now you don’t care.

 “Were not saying you can’t go out and meet people, we just wish you’d be a bit more careful,” Layla says, sensing your agitation, but frustration continues to bubble up inside you. “Yeah, well you sure act like I'm not allowed. You treat me like a child! You monitor who I'm going out with like you’re in charge of me or something. Unless you’re going to include me the next time you guys run off to your room to fuck each other, then I'd appreciate it if you would just stay out of my business.” You huff and slum against the seat.

 "Babe…we don't mean to-" Layla starts, but before you can stop it, and all your pent-up feelings start flowing out of you uncontrollably. "Enough! Cool it with the 'babe' and 'honey' and 'sweetheart'. I'm not your 'babe' and I'm clearly never going to be so would you spare me the hurt and…and disappointment and stop calling me that?" You feel tears well in your eyes and your voice quivers as you speak. You get no response, both of them clearly not knowing what to say.

 Just moments ago, you were seething, but it's morphed into a sadness that makes your chest feel heavy. Not wanting to let them see you cry, you turn and lean your head against the window, not noticing the look they give each other. Your comment seemed to shut them up so you finish the ride in silence.

  When you pull up to the apartment, you stumble out of the car and storm into the building before they can help you. Once you're through the door you go to your room, slam the door, and throw yourself onto the bed. You lay there, already drifting off, but Layla walks in with a glass of water and some ibuprofen that she knows you’ll be needing in the morning. Marc follows behind her with a washcloth.

 She helps you sit up and gives you some water, then gets up to grab you some pjs. While she rifling through your drawer, Marc gently wipes your face, cleaning the sweat and tears of the night off. You sigh at the feeling of the warmth on your skin. You lean into him as he does it and he soothingly strokes your back.  You feel yourself starting to drift off in his arms but hear a “No, no, no. Not yet,” and he chuckles while he sits you back up.

 Layla’s hands you your clothes and they both turn around, wanting to be respectful, but also to be there in case you fall, which in your state is very likely. It takes a bit, but you manage to slide your shirt and shorts on and fall back onto the bed. They turn back and bid you goodnight. You mumble a 'night' before sleep overtakes you.

You wake up and the events of the night come flooding back to you. Your head is pounding, and your breath quickens as you replay the conversation you had in the car the night before. Fuck. You’re never drinking again. Those feelings that you tried so hard to bury had finally come to the surface. What's even worse is that the two people you absolutely did not want to hear them, did. You stay in your room as long as possible, but eventually you can no longer ignore the grumbling in your stomach. You tip toe to the kitchen, hoping not to run into the couple. Luckily, it seems like they’re both gone so you make yourself breakfast and sneak back off to your room.

 As you finish your food, you decide that you can’t stay here. Everything you worked desperately to keep a secret has come to light and you can’t face them. You pack up your things, the tears coming and going as you realize your two favorite people will no longer be in your life. They've become your support system, your safe haven and it's all gone. And it's all your fault. You reluctantly leave your keys on the counter along with note. You can’t seem to figure out what to say, you stare at the blank slip of paper. All you write is, 'I'm sorry' and leave it at that.

  Luckily, your friend offers to let you stay at their place until you can figure out a new living situation. After about a week of hundreds of missed calls and text from your ex-roommates and withering away on your friend's couch, they invite you out. They can tell you're hurt and don't want you to completely fall apart, so they try to get your mind off of things.

 You spend the night trying to dance and have fun with your friends but you're too distracted. You don't dare drink. The shame from what happened last time making you consider never drinking again.

 You fall back into a semi-normal routine, but can't seem to pull yourself out of this funk. You decide to use your day off to visit your favorite coffee shop, somewhere you usually go every morning before work but haven't had the energy to go.

 Drink in hand, you walk out of the café and feel the sun shining bright and warm on your skin. You smile at the feeling, something you missed while you holed yourself up in the apartment for weeks.

 You turn to walk towards the park, but your smile immediately drops as you come face to face with the two people who haven't left your mind since you last saw them. You almost drop your drink as they walk up to you.

 "Hey," Marc greets softly, not wanting to startle you further.

 "What are you doing here?" you ask, breathlessly. The sight of them causes the events of your last encounter to flood your mind. You suddenly feel very overwhelmed, your nerves telling you to run away, but your feet remain glued to the ground.

 "Can we talk?" Layla asks. You're obviously hesitant, but the way you left was abrupt and there was no closure, so you feel like you owe it to them. You're just not ready to face the rejection you weren't giving them the chance to voice to you.

You follow them to the park across the street. You walk along, your body swirling with emotion. More than anything, you feel embarrassment and shame for the way you acted. But that calmness you always seem to feel when they’re around soothes you.

 As you all take a seat at one of the picnic tables, you speak first. All the things you've wanted to say to have been rattling around in your head for weeks, so you waste no time in letting them know.

 "Look, I disrespected you guys and your relationship and I was totally out of line. I've thought about it a lot and I care about you two so much, but it wouldn't be fair to you guys or even myself if I pretend like these feelings aren't there." You don’t want to stop having them in your life but you can't push these feelings down any longer. "It was really taking a toll on me and I think it might just be better to cut ties completely to allow myself the space move on," you confess. It's not easy though, and every second you look in their eyes makes saying goodbye seem even more unbearable.

 A look of hurt flashes across their faces as you mention breaking off the friendship and you feel guilt bubble up inside you once again. This is your fault. If you hadn't drank, if you had just kept your mouth shut, this wouldn't be happening. But you would still be hopelessly in love with them and the unreciprocated feelings would be too much to bear, regardless.  

"I can't keep following you guys around like some lovesick puppy. I just…I can't do it," you declare, voice cracking as you feel your throat start to get tighter as the sadness overtakes you. Layla reaches across the table and places her hand on top of yours.

 "Listen," she starts, "we want you in our lives. You're our best friend and we love you so much."

"But," Marc speaks up and you think to yourself, here we go. They get you alone to tell you what’s already been made perfectly clear, they don’t feel the same and you would just be getting in the way of their relationship. You feel tears start burning in your eyes and turn to the side trying to blink them away.

 "we had no idea how to tell you we want this relationship to be something more." Your head swings to look at them, confusion written all over your face.

 "It was selfish to act like we did. Inviting you to date nights, being all cuddly, not being supportive of your relationships," Layla interjects. " We should have communicated our true feelings and it must have been very confusing for you. We are so sorry to have dragged it out this long. We should have spoken up sooner but we just didn't know how to tell you. We didn't want to scare you off if you didn't feel the same.

 "Really?" They both nod and Marc's hand joins Layla's on top of yours. You let out breath that feels like it was trapped in your chest, and you relax your shoulders. You've been dreaming of this moment. Dreaming they'd pull you into their arms and tell you they want you, to have a relationship with you. You almost don't believe it, having convinced yourself there was no way they feel the same.

 "So…now what?" you ask and they both chuckle. As elated as you are, this is going to be new for all of you. You have no idea what it's going to look like, and how you're all going to adjust.

 "We go get your stuff and you come home," Marc says, and gives you a warm smile.