enough to cry bucket and buckets and

S.Black: Halloween Scare

Prompt: “I accidentally scared the trick-or-treater you’re babysitting and now I’m the one scared because goddamn you’re intimidating when you’re angry”

Sirius Black. Marauder’s era.

Summary: In which you’re babysitting and Sirius the Asshole scares the kids.

Warnings: None

Genre: Slight angst, fluff

Words: 2235

Halloween was one of my favorite seasons. Not only did I love the decorations and aura of the spooky season, but I loved the trick-or-treaters and festivities.

I had moved into an apartment at the beginning of the year, now completely independent from my parents. My apartment was small and I could always hear the rock and roll music coming from the people next to me. Regardless, I felt much better there than in my parents’ home. But, now I had to worry about bills and money now, which I was personally struggling with. Whenever I wasn’t at class, I was working. Mostly at a coffee house down the street. In my opinion, they had some of the rudest customers whom rarely left tips. This frustrated me to no end as I wasn’t making the amount I needed, but then a miracle happened. I got a stable babysitting job.

It was a single mother who lived down the hall from me. She had two adorable kids, an eight-year-old boy named Jack and a five-year-old girl named June. Most of the time they were easy to manage. I’d help them with their homework, make their dinner and then we’d watch some television before bed. When their mother returned home from her shift at the hospital, she’d pay me a fair amount of cash and then I’d walk two doors down to my own apartment.

On Halloween, Mrs. Benson called me sounding frantic. The hospital called her into work the night shift as they were understaffed. She sounded very apologetic as she begged me to take Jack and June trick-or-treating. I was planning on going to a Halloween party with some friends that night, but the thought of the children looking all sad in their costumes made me say yes.

“You’re a blessing, Y/N.” Mrs. Benson swore. Her scrubs were decorated with pumpkins for the holiday.

“No problems, Mrs. Benson.” I replied with a smile. “I’ll have them in bed by ten.”

“Ten!” Jack exclaimed behind me, dramatically flopping back onto the couch. He was dressed as Superman and was very excited to get going. As soon as I walked in the door he jumped up, ready to start trick-or-treating.

“Keep complaining and I’ll make it nine.” I teased. That made Jack shut his mouth and turn his attention back to the television.

“My manager said I can go home at one, so I’ll relieve you then.” Mrs. Benson promised as she kissed the kids goodbye.

“Bye mummy.” June sulked. She had been looking forward to the night with her mum. She had been telling me about her costume and how they were getting milkshakes after at a local diner. June was only five, but I could already tell her mother’s too busy schedule was hurting her.

Once the door shut, I crouched down to June’s level. She had her pumpkin bucket in a limp hand and was wearing a fluffy black onesie on with cat ears and face painted whiskers and nose. She looked adorable, even with a pout on her face and tears in her eyes.

“June?” I said softly, touching her shoulder. “I knew you were looking forward to your mum is with you, but I’m afraid you’ll have to settle for me. We can still get milkshakes though if you want.”

June perked up at the mention of milkshakes. It wasn’t hard to pull of five-year-old out of a funk. She gave me a little grin and swung her bucket by her legs. “Let’s go, Y/N!”

I gave her a grin back before standing back up. Jack hopped off the couch, snatching her own spider bucket with him. “Yeah, Y/N! Can we go now?”

How could I say no to a puppy-eyed Superman? I nodded and they a few whoops before heading for the front door. I grabbed my purse and the sparkly witch hat that was basically my entire costume. I had to rush over here, so I threw on some light jeans, a red long sleeved top and a pair of comfortable boots. We were staying in the apartment building to trick-or-treat so I only brought a lightweight coat with me. I made sure to grab Jack and June’s coats on our way out.

“Don’t run off, or we’ll go straight home,” I warned. I doubt I’d actually ruin their night over one of them wandering off a bit, but it was good to put the warning out there.

We decided to start near the top of the building and work our way down. By the time we made it back to our floor their buckets were weighing down their arms. We stopped in front of the apartment down in between my apartments and their own. It was the apartment I knew for constantly having music blaring. Tonight seemed no different as I could hear the sound of Led Zeppelin seeping through the door.

I rolled my eyes at the music blasting but knocked on the door anyway. The music lowered significantly and footsteps headed for the door. There was a long pause and I started to think the people were even ruder than I imagined and were ignoring trick-or-treaters.

“What’s taking so long?” Jack asked around the candy in his mouth.

“I think-” I started to speak but was cut off by the door swinging open and a long haired guy with a bloody nub for a hand stood there hysterically screaming.

“My hand! AAAH!” He screamed, stumbling out of his apartment towards us. It looked so real, but I knew it couldn’t be.

June tripped while backing away and her candy scattered all over the hall. Jack screamed with the man and backed onto a wall. I, on the other hand, looked very pissed.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I yelled over his screaming.

He stopped the act and looked up at me with a wide grin. “It’s Halloween. Just some fun.” He shrugged like it was no big deal.

“What are you twelve?” I hissed. He was rather handsome and I’m sure in another scenario I’d find his grin was charming, but right now I wanted to slap it off him. “Scaring little kids isn’t exactly my idea of fun.”

“Told you she wouldn’t find it funny, Padfoot.” A light brown haired man in the doorway said. He looked as annoyed as me.

“Oh, she just needs to lighten up.” The man waved his nub in the air nonchalantly.

I huffed at him and clenched my fists. “Asshole.” I didn’t want to make a scene in front of Jack and June. I stepped forward and spoke soft enough for them not to hear. “Try it again, and I will actually kill you. I’m sure no one will miss an asshole who scares kids for fun anyway. Remember, I know where you live.”

That seemed to touch a nerve because he looked a bit worried. “Okay, dove.”

I turned back to the kids and saw Jack now nervously sucking of a gumdrop and June still sitting in her candy.

“June, are you okay?” I asked softly.

She looked up at me with big teary eyes before letting out a sob and exclaiming, “I hate Halloween!” She got up and ran into the Benson’s unlocked apartment, leaving behind her candy.

I turned back to the man who now only had a deep frown on his face.

“I’m-” He began.

I cut him off with a firm, “Asshole.” I grabbed Jack’s hand and tugged him with me to follow June’s trail of tears.

“June!” I called into the empty house. Jack went to watch the Muppet Show while I took care of a crying June.

June eventually fell asleep after an hour of tears. I felt so bad for her. We didn’t even get the milkshakes she was so excited for. I crept out of her bedroom, making sure not to wake her up.

“Is Juney okay?” Jack asked. He was organizing his candy into piles on the living room floor.

“She’s fine. Just don’t be too loud I just got her to sleep.” I sighed, flopping down onto the couch. “You should be going to bed too,” I told him.

Jack groaned. “Five more minutes?”

I shrugged. I didn’t want to make their night even worse. “Okay.’

Jack stayed up until 10:10 and I had to help him up from where he had curled up on the floor and guide him to bed. Once he was snoring in his bed and I had checked on June, I sat back down in the living room. I flicked through the few stations, yet nothing interested me.

A soft sudden knocking at the door stole my attention. I put down the remote and stood up, cautiously walking to the door. In the peephole, I could see the asshole from earlier, bouncing on his feet with anxiety and his hand behind his back.

I pulled the door open a crack. “What?” I asked in a dry voice.

“I- Listen. I didn’t mean to scare the kid so bad. I’m sorry I made her cry.” He held out June’s bucket which had, even more, candy than it did earlier. “Here. I added some. I’m sorry, dove.”

I opened up the door wide enough to take the bucket from him. His hands were fully intact this time. Now that I wasn’t steaming with anger, I actually looked at him. He was tall and lean and kind of reminded me of a dog. He was dressed like a typical rock fan, Led Zeppelin tee and all.

“Thanks,” I grumbled, about to shut the door.

The guy put his foot in the way and said, “Wait!”

I opened the door with visible confusion on my face.

He cleared his throat. “I’ve seen you around. In the lobby and stuff. We’re neighbours so I thought, I don’t know maybe we should get to know each other.”

I pondered on it for a minute. If he had appeared at my door without ever scaring the kids, I’d jump at the chance to make a new friend, especially one so attractive. But, now I was put off. I opened my mouth to say no but was cut off.

“Before you say no, please just try first.” He looked at me with the most convincing puppy eyes I’ve ever seen.

I opened the door a bit wider. “Fine. Come in, but only for a little and don’t be loud.”

He smiled and walked in. “I’m Sirius Black, by the way.”

“Y/N Y/L/N.”

I made some hot chocolate for us and we sat at the kitchen table. “So, what did you want to say?” I asked after swallowing a gulp of the liquid.

“Well, I’m Sirius.”

‘Got that already.”

“-And you are Y/N. What are your kids’ names?”

I snorted. “First off all, they aren’t my kids. I’m the babysitter. But their names are Jack and June.”

“Oh well, that’s a relief.” He mumbled. “So where do you live then? I mean, I always see you around.”

I had to think of if I’d ever seen him before. I hadn’t as far I could remember. “I live on the other side of you.”

Sirius faked looking shocked. The way his eyebrow shot up told me that he knew this already. “Oh really, interesting. I know who to borrow sugar from now.”

I raised my eyebrow at him. “Why do I feel like you knew I lived next to you already?”

Sirius spluttered, “What? No way! I had no idea.”

I rolled my eyes, but I found his nervousness somewhat cute and entertaining. “Sirius…” I said in a warning voice.

Sirius sighed, leaning back in his chair. He looked up at the ceiling to avoid my eyes. “I might have known.” He grumbled. “I see you in the lobby getting your mail or leaving your apartment in the morning. We leave our apartments at about the same time. I wanted to say hi or something but you always looked so busy. I probably sound like a stalker.” He chuckled.

“Kind of.” I giggled and he gave me a playful glare. “Maybe if you had I would have found your little ‘joke’ earlier funny.”

“Still very sorry about that.” He pointed out.

“Mhm…” I brushed it off with another sip of hot chocolate.

“I want to make it up to you.” He leaned forward to look me in the eye. “Let me buy you lunch tomorrow. Dinner, if you’re busy.”

That surprised me. It didn’t disappoint or disgust me though. Sirius seemed nice and had proven himself when he returned June’s bucket.

“Like a date?” I asked cocking my head innocently.

“If you want it to be, dove.” Sirius gave me that wide grin from earlier. “Only if you want it to be.”

I paused to think about this before nodding. “Okay.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow, smiling growing even bigger. “Okay?”

“Yeah, let’s go on a date, Sirius Black.” I nodded again like I didn’t have a stomach of butterflies.

Sirius gave a whoop of glee which I shushed and glance at the kids’ rooms to make sure they hadn’t woken up. When they didn’t stir I looked at Sirius while shaking my head and chuckling lightly.

“I promise I’ll have my whole hand this time, dove,” Sirius promised.

He better. Otherwise, my threat from earlier was going to be fulfilled

[Mark] Teacher's Pet (Chapter 101)

All Chapters

Mark and I manage to spend the rest of the day without talking to each other. We eat on our own and do separate things and avoid each other. It goes like this until I run into him in our bedroom, finding him getting dressed to go out.

“Where are you going?” I ask him, frowning.

“I scheduled a business dinner for today yesterday. With those Frenchmen who work in the boat industry.” He replies, buttoning his shirt. I vaguely remember the men.

“Okay.” I mumble. I don’t want him to go. I don’t want him to  work on our honeymoon, and I don’t want him to carry on with his life 

“I think I’ll be back by half past nine, maybe.” He says. I nod, putting an end to our awkward and stiff exchange. He doesn’t even say goodbye to me when he leaves, just hinting it with the sound of the front door being opened and then closed. This situation really sucks, being mad at each other on our honeymoon, because of a woman who might make him leave me.

I go back to our bedroom and take place in the bed, deciding to watch TV from there. But before that I decide to call Bea, because I miss her and I need advice. I can’t find shelter at her apartment while I’m out here, and that sucks. I dial her number.

“Hi.” She says as she picks up, her voice hoarse.

“You sound tired.” I remark.

“I haven’t slept in days.”

“That means something is worrying you.” I point out. Getting her to sleep while she has something on her mind is like getting Mark let me in a wet T-shirt contest.

“When you try to know about my problems it usually means you have one.” She says right back at me. She knows me too well.

“You’re not my sister for no reason.” I observe. She chuckles.

“Go first.” She says.

“There’s this woman that Mark has been in love with when he was younger…” I trail off. "We saw her yesterday at the gala.“

“Abigail…” She says, disapproval in her tone. I know she’s going to tell me Mark will never cheat on me and all that jazz.

“I know, he’ll never cheat on me, he only has eyes for me and all that shit.” I quote her sarcastically.

“He ignored me the whole time we were there. He wouldn’t talk to me, or try to pull me in the conversation.” I tell her. “He was all over her all night, and she was hitting on him in front of her husband.”

“Are you suuuure?” She asks, not convinced.

“What do you mean am I sure? We didn’t talk after she came, only when I told him I was getting a drink. He barely even cared.” I retort.

“But when I went to talk to this man-”

“Did you make him jealous on purpose?” She asks, cutting me off. Like it’s my style.

“No, I was trying to have a good time.” I counter.

“He went thermonuclear, didn’t he?” She asks; She knows as well as i do how Mark usually behaves.

“Not even.” I respond. “He did get mad, but then he left me with him. He left and went back to her.”


“Exactly.” I sigh. Her reaction relives me. Now I know I’m not crazy.

“He’s not usually like that.” She says, her tone making it sound like she’s at complete loss. "He’s never like that.“

“We fought about it, and he says I’m crazy.”

“You’re not. Not at all.”

“I was a bitch about it. I’m always a bitch when I’m mad at him, and he takes it and calms me down so we can talk, but this time he didn’t. He was an asshole to me as well.” I explain to her. I know I shouldn’t have talked to him like this, and him talking back at me isn’t what is making mad and sad, it’s the fact that he did it just to make me look like an abusive person.

“I know I’m reacting like a spoiled brat, but that’s not what I’m used to. I never take advantage of him being quiet to lash out at him, I just can’t control myself very well, and he knows that, he knows that’s how we work. I don’t want to be like his exes, I can get very nasty but he knows that and he accepts it. Or at least I thought he did.” I mutter.

“So now you’re both mad at each other.”

“And she’s in between.” I sigh. “He took her number.”

“What?” She utters.

“Oh, Bea.” I sighs, not even wanting to comment this. “He makes me look like a spoiled brat throwing a tantrum.” I complain. “Everyone around knows how much of an ass he is to women who hit on him like she did. Seeing him acting like that, and with her, worries me. It kills me to think about it. It was like I didn’t exist.”

“You need to talk this out.” She murmurs. I snort.

“He doesn’t listen. He’ll say no to everything I accuse him of. I’m stuck.”

“Oh, god.” She sighs.

“I’m sorry, baby. I don’t know what to say… he’s.. I never thought he’d behave like this.” She says, confusion in her tired voice.

“At least you don’t think I’m crazy.” I point out.

“You’re not.” She says. “It took him years to start hugging me. I know how he is.”

“Yeah.” I sigh, drained. “What’s your problem?”

I hear her shift again.

“Work.” She declares. “Work is driving me crazy.”

“You’ve been working a lot?”


“Take sleeping pills. You say they help you.” I advocate.

“I might just to that.” She says, her words hanging in the air. I feel like she has more to tell me.

“You’d tell me if if was anything more serious than that, right?” I as quietly.

“Of course.” She responds. “I’m gonna take some time to think about what my brother in law has done. Let me call you tomorrow.”

“Okay.” I agree. “Love you.”

“Love you too.” She says before hanging. It’s only when I put my phone down that I notice the pain I feel in my lower stomach. At first, I ignore it, thinking it will go away om it’s own. But then it doesn’t. I decide to leave the TV room and go upstairs to lay down.

I try to watch TV from bed, but the pain becomes uncomfortable. It travels up my stomach.

“What is wrong with you, peanut?” I muse, running a hand over my faintly round belly. “Give mommy some rest.”

Peanut doesn’t hear me. I start to feel both nauseous and in pain. I curl myself into a ball, a position that usually helps me with stomach aches. It starts hurting so much, I have to do useless breathing exercises to try to reduce the pain. I feel like my insides are being shifted and crushed. God, it hurts.

“Abigail?” I hear Mar'ks voice from downstairs. I hadn’t heard him come back. Why is he back any way? He left half an hour ago. Unable to respond, I want until he finds me.

“Hey.” He says, peeking through the door. My face is contorted in pain. "Are you okay?“ He asks, his eyebrow scrunched together, as he walks up to me.

"It hurts.” I moan.


"My stomach." 

His face falls.

"Why didn’t you call me?” He scolds, and I can feel anxiety gripping him. He sits down next to me, placing a hand on my belly.

“Why are you already back?” I ask him, his face hardens.

“I felt like something was wrong.” He says. "I just had to come back. I knew you weren’t okay.“

"I thought we were mad at each other.”

“We are.”

“You’re still mad at me?”


I whimper, my stomach aching badly. Mark curses,  moving further down the bed. He grabs the waistband of my cotton shorts and starts pulling them down.

“It’s not peanut. It’s my stomach.” I whine as he slides them off.

“Let me check.” He orders, parting my thighs. "You’re not bleeding.“ He states. He shifts again so he’s sitting next to me.

"Do you want to go to the hospital?” He asks me. I shake my head, starting to feel nauseous.. "Must be my uterus expanding. It can hurt sometimes.“

"Does it feel like contractions?” He asks.

“No.” I whimper. “My back hurts too.” I groan. “I’m going to throw up.”

“Okay. Bathroom.” He says, making a move to pick me up. I cry out , my spine paralyzed by pain.

“I Can’t move.” I breathe.

“Alright. Let me find a bucket.” He prompts before rushing out of the room. I feel the puke coming up, and I know he won’t be back in time. I try to get myself out of bed, rolling to my side. My stomach twists, and I have just enough time to tilt my head and throw but on the floor. The pain, the vomit, it’s all too much for me. I start to cry, helpless, my stomach emptying itself.

Mark comes back when I’m done and still sobbing over the edge of the bed.


"I’m sorry.” I sob, mortified and ashamed. Mark drops the bucket and rushes to me.

“It’s okay, I’ll clean it up. Lay down.” He murmurs, pushing me back down to the mattress.

“I’m sorry.” I repeat, choking on my tears.

“It’s okay. You know I don’t care about those things.” He says reassuringly.
“I’ll take care of you, okay?” He murmurs. I nod weakly, sniffling. He rises and disappears in the bathroom, coming back with a glass of water to rinse my mouth. I spit in the bucket and wipe my mouth.

“Thank you.” I murmur, handing him the empty glass. I squirm and whimper in pain.

“Pain killers. You need pain killers.” He declares. I throw my arm over my eyes, breathing heavily.

“I can’t swallow.” I moan, the thought of swallowing a pill making me nauseous again.

“Okay.” He mutters. He moves so he’s sitting on the bed at my side. He pushes my top up to reveal my stomach, and starts tracing circles around it with the heels of his palm. I frown as the pain reduces.

“Does it feel better?” He asks me after a moment.

“Where did you learn this?” I ask him.

“I’ve been reading a lot.” He confesses. Mark reading baby books? Oh, dear. It almost makes me smile. I close my eyes.

“I’m sorry for throwing up on the floor.” I murmur.

“Don’t worry about it.” He says. "Let me make you feel better.“

I let him do, letting him massage me until I fall asleep, exhausted from the pain I’ve felt.

I wake up early the next morning, to the sound of fingers typing on a keyboard. I open my eyes and find Mark’s profile as he focuses on the screen on his laptop, which lays on his thighs. His brow slightly furrowed, he scratches his chin distractedly. I yawn, drawing his attention. He turns his head to me.

"Good morning.” He says, staring at me.

“Morning.” I mumble, stretching beneath the sheets.

“You’re working?” I ask him.

“I took my laptop so I could keep an eye on you.” He explains. “How do you feel?”

“I’m okay.” I respond.

“No cramps?”

I shake my head.

“Do you feel like throwing up?”

I shake my head again.

“Good.” He says, turning back to his work. "That’s better.“

"Are you hungry?” He asks without looking at me.

“No.” I just woke up.



“Alright. I’ll go get myself something to eat.” He prompts, closing his laptop and putting it on the nightstand. He leaves the bed and heads towards the door. His behavior is confusing. Yesterday, he was kind because I was in pain, but now I wonder where we stand.

The day answers my questions. Apparently, we’re not going to make up any time soon, but the animosity is gone. He spends most of the morning in his office, but not in the self excluding way he did yesterday. Since my days are quite empty now, I decide to commit to my decision and go hit the gym again. Thanks to Mark’s megalomaniac tastes, we have one in the basement.

I decide to practice boxing, because this sport puts so much different muscles to work. I usually hit a punching bag, and opt for that option, since I can’t beat Mark up for fun. I practicing for about 30 an hour, probably a little bit longer than I should, considering I have,’t worked out in month. But I like being sweaty and tired and feeling like my body’s getting stronger. Mark interrupts me as he makes his appearance in the gym. He’s in sweatpants and running shoes, his chest bare and a towel hanging on his shoulder.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, his dark eyes traveling up and down my form. Registering his presence, I go back to my exercise.

“Skydiving, can’t you see?” I say sarcastically. He walks around the punching bag and holds it in place for me.

“I think you should rest.” He says quietly.

“I’m fine.” I assure him. He nods, but I’m not sure he’s convinced. I don’t really care though, I really need to work out.

“Can I?” He asks, holding his hand up and halting me.

“What?” I ask, wiping my sweat out of my forehead with my glove. He steps in front of me.

“Gather you elbows like this.” He says, balling his fists and front of his face. I try to mimic him.

“Like this?”

“Perfect.” He comments. “When you want to hit, you twist your wrist like this.” He says, showing me the motion with his own hands. I do the same thing.

“Yeah, good.” He praises, stepping back. “That’s better.” He says, taking place behind the bag and holding it for me. I try to hit the way he showed me.

“Again.” He orders. I obey, finding it harder but more efficient. “We have to talk about Melissa.” He says, almost destabilizing me. I’m so surprised I almost miss the bag.

“Right now?” I ask, forcing myself to hit harder. I just need to imagine her face on the punching bag.

“If you promise to keep calm.”

“Keep calm while you tell that you only paying attention to your first love for hours is not ignoring me?” I ask through gritted teeth. I feel my blood starting to heat up. This is not good.

“Promise or not?” He asks blatantly. I don’t answer,


“No.” I snap, stopping in my tracks. Bristling, I remove the velcro of my gloves with my teeth, taking them off and tossing them angrily on the mat floor. I turn on my heels, mad at both him and myself for getting so angry.

“Come back here.” Mark calls after me. I feel a strong draft around my middle, and within a nanosecond I’m pulled down to the floor, Mark laying on top of me. I look up at him, my eyes wide in shock.

“Are you crazy?!” I utter. He replies with a deep, primal growl, his lips crashing onto mine. I shriek, reaching up and grabbing his shoulders. He kisses me madly, his ferocious lips moving possessively over min. He catches my hands and pins them on either side of my head. His lips move from my mouth to my neck, letting me gasp for air.

“One thing I hate when we’re mad at each other is that I can’t fuck you.” He groans, licking a path up my sweaty neck. I gasp again, confused and angry.  "You make me so mad all I want to do is fuck that sass right out of you.“ He mutters.

"Get off me.” I grind out, pulling on my wrists to free myself. He doesn’t budge.

“Mmmh.” He moans, his lips hovering over the damp skin of my throat. “Sweaty and mad and turned on.” He muses, nibbling at my skin. My body temperature rises, I can feel myself getting feverish. “My favorite combination.”

“I’m not turned on, I’m sweaty and mad.” I retort, my uneven tone giving me away.

“You’re not turned on?” He challenges, knowing too well I am. He gazes down at me, his eyes hot and dark, his breathing harsh, matching mine.

“You’re telling me if I put my hand in your panties I won’t find you all wet for me?” He smirks.

“I’m not fucking you right now.”

“The hell you’re not.” He mutters,catching both of my wrists and one hand, his other hand disappearing inside my yoga pants. He slips his hand past my panties, finding my already dripping heat. I moan, my mouth falling open in a silent plea.

“Oh, baby.” He groans appreciatively, discovering the hot wetness of my arousal with his fingers.  Air catches up in my throat, my nails sinking ij the skin in his shoulders.

“You need to be fucked, don’t you?” He says says seductively, his middle finger gently parting my folds. I screw my eyes shut, my breathing becoming trembling.
The pad of his finger finds my clitoris, making me whimper. He brings his mouth to my ear.

“You want me to take care of that greedy little pussy.” He rasps, his fingers repeatedly circling my oversensitive bundle of nerves. He takes my earlobe net his teeth, nibbling as his finger tortures me. His words and actions are too much for me.

“Please.” I groan.

“When I make you mad, I make your body mad too.” He muses, plunging a finger inside me. "Mad for me.“

I moan out loud, my thighs tensing closing around his body. Slowly, he moves his fingers in circles, rubbing against every wall of my sex, which tightens and grips him.

"You’re so sensitive. So wet and ready for me.” He murmurs, his lips lingering over mine. I pant against his mouth, my mind becoming a blur,saturated with the building need to come. He thrusts his fingers in and out of me at a languorous pace, torturing me and stimulating me at the same time. He presses his thumb against my clitoris, adding more and more sensations to the mix.

I let out a begging moan, my hips chasing the sensation, needing to ride his skilled fingers. “Mark, I can’t take it. I can’t.” I whine as he picks up pas, plunging his fingers in and out, faster but still unhurried, his teeth grazing this spot where my neck and shoulder connect.

“I need to come. Please, make me come.” I beg.

He removes his fingers, his hand pushing my knees apart. He shifts a little, his erection pressed against my groin. He bites the place where my shoulder and neck connects, rolling his hips onto mine.


“You’re so fucking sexy.” He groans, rubbing his erection against my clothed slit, his hard shaft presded against my clit. I meet him thrust for thrusts, my hips bucking up.

“I’m so hard for you.” He whispers into my ear, his words traveling directly to my aching sex. And I am wet for him, so obscenely wet and turned on. My hands travel down his back and I grab his bottom, hauling him closer while I grind against his cock.

“Fuck.” He mutters, his voice tight. “I can feel you.” He breathes, his hips moving faster. I throw my head back, unable to hold back, shamelessly grinding on him.

“I need to come… I - fuck… aaah…” I moan incoherently.

“Fuck.” He groans. “Feel how hard I am for you?” He rasps, his hips stuttering little bit. Everything tightens inside me. I can feel him. And I want his cock so bad. I need him to fuck me.

“Yes.” I whimper. “Oh god, I need you inside me.” I moan, my hips moving frenetically. I can feel my wetness soaking my yoga pants. I know he feels it too.

“Fuck me.” I groan, trying to pull his shorts down the best I can. “Fuck me hard, Mark, please.” I beg, struggling and writhing against him.

He pulls away from me, making a quick matter of his clothes, letting his hard length spring free while I peel my ruined yoga pants off. He looks at me dead in the eyes, towering over me. His eyes don’t say anything else than lust and sex, and that’s perfect.

It’s just angry, frustrated sex, exactly what I want. I reach up and pull him down to me, pressing his body against mine.

It’s just something quick, gross and animalistic. The physical tension and the emotional tension had gotten too much. We needed to get this out of our systems. When he rolls off me after we’re done, the same unwanted distance between us takes place.

I stare up at yhe ceiling, panting and sweating even more than before, thinking about how ridiculous it is to be able to fuck him but not being able to have a discussion. But then after wild sex is not the right moment either.

I find myself not knowing what to do. Laying there, half naked and dirty on the floor. What do I tell him? Do I comment the sex? I can’t possibly not say anything. Or should I?

What I know is that now is definitely not the right time to have a discussion. Feeling gross, I quietly lift myself up, and walk out without looking at him. I head straight to the shower, not wonder what he’s thinking. It was just sex. We’re still mad at each other.

Five minutes in, I hear the bathroom door being opened. When I turn around, I see Mark, completely naked in all his glory, stepping inside. Without a word, he gets in the shower next to me, turning on the second showerhead.

“You could have asked for permission.” I tell him.

“I owe you an apology.” He says from behind me. I stop scrubbing myself, intrigued and slightly shocked. Is he really doing this in the shower? Is he doing this at all.

“For what?” I ask quietly.

“Everything.” He sighs, reaching out and grabbing the shower gel bottle in front of me. My psychologist side immediately understands why he’s doing this now. I don’t think neither of us could handle a serious, face to face, sat down discussion. I’d end up jumping off a cliff.

“You were right, and it made me mad.” He admits. Oh, thank god. I know I can get irrationally jealous, but this time I felt it in my gut, from the second she arrived. I’m not sure I like being right in this case, because it means he did ignore me to spend time with her, and that hurts.

“So I tried to convince myself you were wrong.” He confesses. "I wasn’t being honest with myself.“

"You’re attracted to her?” I ask quietly, trying to pretend his answer couldn’t literally destroy me.

“No.” He says immediately. "I thought I was… I guess.“ 

I feel the urge to turn around, to look at his eyes and see if he’s sincere. I realize I’ve stood frozen since he arrived. I’m too nervous to continue showering. I wrap my arms around myself in a protective manner. I hear him sigh.

"Before I met you, all I wanted was being loved my an older woman. Everything I did was in her influence.” He explains to me. I listen, my heart still tight. “So when I saw her the other night, and when I realized she could want me now…I got confused.” He admits.

“You wanted to give it a try?” I breathe.

“I didn’t think that far.” He says. "I wasn’t sure where my place was.“

So, for a second he thought he was that 16 year old boy who didn’t feel loved by anyone.

"It was just a moment of madness.” He murmurs. He takes my hips in his hands, indicating me to turn around. I obey, my eyes meeting his. He’s soaked, his hair sticking to his forehead, his eyes giving a confusing mix of emotions away.

“And by denying it I blew everything out of proportion, and I hurt you even more.” He says, his eyes turning apologetic. This is all I want to here, and that’s scary. I don’t know if he’s sincere of if he just knows what to do.

“I don’t want you to feel insecure.” He murmurs.

“It’s hard not to.” I reply, my voice shaking. “I mean, you’ve made me feel like a goddess for so many years, and she comes and you’re not even looking at me anymore.”

“I’m looking at you now.” He says.

“And I’m pregnant.”

“And breathtakingly beautiful.”

“I don’t feel beautiful.” I whisper, my eyes starting to sting. His brow furrows, his gazing becoming one of worry.

“What happened the other night had nothing to do with your body.” He says to me. I stare up at him, my throat tight. “Come on, Abby. You know me better than that.”

“I can’t help but think you’re still here just because of the baby.” I confess.  I think about her, and how I’ve behaved, how I’ve done nothing to show him how much of a good wife I am, and I don’t get why he didn’t leave me, slamming the door closed and wen back to her. Only him being trapped with a baby could explain it.

“No, baby. I’m here because I love you.”

“She made you doubt.” I retort.

“Just for a brief moment.” He counters, taking my gin between his fingers and keeping my eyes on his.

“When I saw you with that prick, I understood how badly I’d behaved, and that my place was always at your side.And nowhere else.” He murmurs.

“Why did you leave, then?” I ask him.

“I was mad.” He responds. “Melissa is kind, she’s very nice, but she’s not what I want anymore. I want you and as always I’m an idiot about it.”

I don’t know whether to believe him or not. Even if we move on, I’ll always have that fear in the back of my head that he’s thinking about her, and I’m not sure I can live with that.

“I don’t want to lose you.” I confess. I wouldn’t handle losing him, it would kill me.

“You’re not losing me, baby. Never.” he murmurs, pulling me to his bare and wet chest. The feeling of our skin touching makes me weak and vulnerable.

“I’m so sorry I made you feel like this. It’s over, I promise.” He says reassuringly, bringing his lips down to mine. He kisses me tenderly, his velvet lips feeling like a caress against mine.

He pushes his fingers in my hair, his tongue dipping between my lips, touching mine in soft, rhythmic licks. I whimper, needing more than physical closeness, needing reassurance. One of his hands slides down my back, cradling my spine in the warmth of his pal. I uncross my arms, gripping his shoulders tightly.


“Shhhhh.” He breathers, trying to soothe me. “I’m not going anywhere.” He says, wrapping his fingers around the base of my throat.

“I’m never leaving you.” He murmurs, flexing his fingers, his thumb caressing the side of my throat. The gesture is very dominant, but it’s reassuring.

I want him dominant, because when he is, it means he’s mine. I want him to be here.

“Don’t hurt me.” I plead, looking up at his eyes. “That’s all I’m asking for. Don’t hurt me like this.”

He places his thumb under my chin, tilting my face up some more. He gazes down at me, his eyes shiny with sincerity.

“I promise.” He declares. I take a deep breath and hold it in, watching as he leans closer to me. He kisses me, and I let it all go, everything. He literally takes my breath away. And while he makes love to me, I let him take my doubts too.

anonymous asked:

Can you do the M!Shepards scaring the trick or treaters please? It would be funny hue hue.. (Dont forget Henry please, if you decide to do it.)

i’m not sure how this one will fit with most of the m shepherds tbh

Henry: He doesn’t even intend to do it; or at least, he swears he doesn’t. Somehow he manages to procure a fake Risen hand (you pray with all you have that it’s fake) and has it coming out of the bottom of the candy bucket. “It’s an aesthetic, nya ha!” he says, even as the children all run away screaming, one unfortunate soul still clutching on to the gruesome decoration, unable to let it go.

Henry’s a little disappointed by the loss of his hand. “It was really handy, you know?” he sighs sadly.

You find it an apt enough punishment for him and hope that he doesn’t further terrorize the children.

Brady: His face is all it takes to scare them. “Monster!” they cry and scurry way; not before taking the bucket from said terrifying monster.

Keep reading

The Vamps Blurbs #6 ~ Halloween

blurb request: You spend Halloween with the vamps 


“Connor, stay still.” You giggle as you try your hardest to get the perfect shaped mouse nose you possibly can. He was making your job much harder than you needed as he kept squirming and complaining that the paint was itching his nose. Once you had finished he was looking absolutely adorable. “Y/N. I still don’t understand why we need to dress up to answer the door.” He whined as you admired your work. “Because. You look adorable like that.” You giggled kissing his nose and totally forgetting that the pain hadn’t dried. “Besides its nice to dress up once in a while.” He smirked. “Would you totally have sex with me dressed like this Y/N? Am I cute enough?” You rolled your eyes at your hoeny boyfriend as he attempted to press himself against you. Just at that moment the doorbell sounded. “Not nose mister. Trick or treaters are here.” You eagerly stood up and grabbed the bowl of sweets and headed towards the door with a very rejected Connor following from behind. “Trick or treat.” The group of small children chanted all smiles whilst others attempted to look terrifying. “Happy Halloween!” You smiled holding out the bowl in front of you. “What are you supposed to be?” One of the little boys asked who was dressed up as a skeleton. Stereotypical.
“Mickey house.” Connor answered pointing to the Mickey ears on his head as if it were obvious. “That’s stupid.” He grumbled taking his candy and joining the rest of the children as they head off down the street. You laughed closing door. “Babe. I feel stupid.” Connor grumbled. “I just got insulted by an eight year with a cooler costume than me.” He pouted sticking his bottom lip out. You chuckled at him hooking your arms around his neck and kissing his law line.
“Well, I think you look sexy. In fact why don’t we skip out on answering the door and have a little fun of our own?” You winked at him tugging on his bow tie. He hastily followed you up the stairs to your bedroom. [Lol, imagine what happens next.. Imagine Connor fucking you dressed as Mickey Mouse ooh role play]


“James. Look at me!” Your eight year old sister squealed stepping out into the kitchen where you was sat waiting to take her out trick or treating. She was sporting her Elsa dress and her hair was styled into a messy braid similar to the one in the film. “Wow I thought you was a real princess then!” James said smiling at her. She blushed. “Really?” He nodded. “Yes. Now little miss. Shall we go get you some sweeties?” You admired the way James acted with your little  sister and it was no secret that James was her favourite person. Whenever James was on tour she would constantly ask about him and You’d end up skyping him together. You quickly each grabbed a hand as her bucket for seats hung loosely off her arm. About an hour later, the bucket was almost over loading but your little sister proceeded to claim that there wasn’t enough and so you trekked on down the streets. You came across a gang of teenage boys that were smoking and sitting on bikes at the end of the street. “Hey princess. What you got in that bucket?” They laughed nudging each other. Your sister became very uncomfortable. One them snatched the bucket from her and before you or James could react they had taken off with the buckets full of her sweets. “Your dress is shit by the way!” One shouted. “My sweets!” Your little sister started to cry and James pulled her into his arms rubbing her back. “Why would they do that to a Littlr girl?” He asked you and you just sighed. “Y/s/n. Come on baby girl lets get you home and get you another bucket.” You said scooping her up into your arms with James at your side. “Will we come and get me more sweets?” She asked tears still in her eyes. “Yes of course and they will be way better than the ones you had before.” She snuggled her head into the warmth of your neck as you walked back to your house. Just as you were looking for a new bucket for your sister James appeared wearing your prom dress with one of Y/S/N’s crowns on his head. “Do I look pretty?” He asked earning a laugh from you and Y/s/n. “Pretty James!” She clapped finally smiling again. James spent the rest of the night walking around the street holding hands with your sister wearing the dress and singing Let it go with her until on the way back where she fell asleep in his arms. [James feels,]


“Babe. Are you done?” Tristan called. He was sitting in your bedroom playing with his car keys. “Tris. Umm, I think this outfit you picked is a little much.” You responded from the bathroom turning in different angles to get a better look at the costume. “Just come out and show me.” He was smirking to himself as you sighed and walked out the bathroom and into your bedroom. Tristan’s jaw dropped at the sight of you. You was wearing a figure hugging black dress that was low enough to highlight your cleavage. The dress ended just above the knee paired with black stockings and heels. Not to mention the little nose and whiskers you’d painted on with cat ears on your head. “Looks like we’re not going to the party after all.” He declared throwing his keys onto the pillow and standing up. “What do you mean ‘we’re not going to the party’ Evans. Brad invited us.” He chuckled darkly walking towards you. He was wearing a police officer outfit and you had to admit her looked pretty amazing. “I guess I finally have a use for these.” He says reaching into his pocket and pulling out a pair of shiny silver handcuffs. He moved the hair away from your neck and left a trail of sloppy kisses before softly biting your earlobe. He grabbed your hands and placed them behind your back. The cold metal of the hand cuffs against them as he cuffed you. “You’ve been a bad girl Miss, and I’m going to punish you and you may only call me Officer Evans.” [Officer Evans is what I live for.. I hate myself bye]


“Y/N. Get your ass In here and cuddle me.” Brad hollered from his place on the couch. The opening credits to The Conjouring were beginning. You rushed into the room with two cans of Coke, some crisps and a bowl of popcorn for the two of you to share. You cuddled into him as the film progressed burying your head into his chest at the scarier scenes. “Are you scared Y/N?” He teased with a big smirk evident on his face. “No of course not.” You tried to sound confident but found yourself hiding again. He chucked wrapping his arms around you protectively. “Don’t you worry my Little Y/N. You have me. I won’t let anyone hurt you.” Soon you and Brad both fell asleep with your head on his chest and your arm lazily over him whilst he was gripping you against him even in his sleep he can’t bare to let you go.