#another repost of a fic that Tumblr ate

[jinchuls]

ᡣ𐭩 suna rintarou x reader (royal au)

notes 𝜗𝜚 another repost from my og blog bc i forgot i had an ao3 and thought i lost this forever until 20 minutes ago bc sometimes i write straight into tumblr and don’t backup my fics

divider by @/cafekitsune

Watching the sun rise slowly, the sky burns a beautiful orange before the blue begins to settle, a picturesque moment you wish you could capture forever—or, at least, share with the man that intended to be here before you. It’s far too early for you to be awake and even more so for you to be sat in a tucked away garden with a shawl wrapped around your shoulders to keep you warm in the chilling breeze that hit you. But the cold, the wait, the anticipation. It’s worth it knowing he will be beside you; there’s no way more perfect to start your morning.

The soft hue of the sun bores onto the horizon, illuminating the view of the town you were always amazed by: there’s enough beauty in the sight that one day will be in the hands of a Miya—a fearful thought—but it’s the same sight you’ve committed to memory waiting for him each morning.

There’s a quiet sound behind you, much louder in the silence of the nature that surrounds you, and it alerts you that he’s finally here. Turning quickly, a smile plastered on your face in an instant as the familiar grin of the man that stole your heart meets your eye. You call his name quietly, finding yourself in a rush to be beside him, although you’d seen each other only the night before.

You embrace him tightly, relishing in his hold as he wraps his arms around your waist keeping you as close to him as possible. He’d been as excited as you to see you again in a situation that didn’t involve staying away from you and keeping his affection, that burns for you in private, hidden from your mothers, and your protective family, when all he ever wishes to do is hold you close and drown you in the love you deserve.

The glow of the streaming light falls on him as you reluctantly loosen your grip on him. It shines perfectly on every feature, illuminating his eyes; every inch of his face is displayed to you like a painting. each stroke made with precision and care to create the beauty that stares back at you; you’re lost in that very beauty glistening radiant gold under the rising sun.

“I missed you.” you admit quietly, taking his hand and leading him back to where you had been stood for the two of you to bask in the stunning view you shared. He’s grinning widely at your comment; he wants to tease you that it’s only been a few hours since the last time you were together, but he feels the same. His arm rests gently on your back as his eyes glance from the view to you. the lingering gazes you shared the night before. The meal he ate sat opposite you while your families spoke business. It wasn’t enough when he could stand beside you like he is now.

Being close to you, holding you and not having to act as though he wasn't hopelessly in love with you was much easier than the act he performed every time he was amongst your family or your peers. He’s itching for the day he doesn’t have to; for the day he wears the ring that tells everyone he’s spoken for.

In his mind, it couldn’t come soon enough.

You’re happily, and quietly, talking between the two of you, once again telling the other about the dreams you had and wanted to share, he can be heard before he’s seen, the usual scenario that comes hand in hand with Miya Atsumu. He’s stumbling into sight, tripping over stones and branches littered across the makeshift path or, more likely, over his own feet; he’s just as shocked to see the two of you together as you are to see him wandering away from his daily responsibilities at the crack of dawn.

“Your Highness.” you splutter out in your immediate shock, taking a fast step away from Suna. It’s too late; Atsumu had already seen the way Suna’s fingers gently stroked the small of your back. He’d seen the glance Suna sent your way when you were looking down to see the last few minutes of the sunrise before the day truly began.

“You.” he points and stares, eyes dancing between the two of you trying to figure out what he can say in this situation; what he can say. “What-”

“Atsumu,” Suna addresses the prince in a manner most would never, though their long-term friendship allowed for it in the lack of authority present. “Should you not be-”

“Your secret affair is much more important.” the blonde laughs, making his way closer. “Good morning, My Lady.” he addresses you with a smile; you greet him officially with a small bow of your head. “It’s a beautiful day for a rendezvous.”

His words have your face turning red; you’re quick to hide your expression in Suna’s chest. There’s a moment where you think it’s not appropriate, not in front of the prince, but there’s solace in the way his chest shakes as he tries to keep his own laughter at minimum, for your benefit.

“I’ll leave you be,” he says softly, “it would look unfortunate for me if the duke’s son were to find the prince avoiding his duties.”

“The prince should stop running the moment he wakes to do exactly that.” Suna retorts, you turn your head to Atsumu again, watching as a brighter, more mischievous, smile crosses his face. Although you know no bad outcome will come of this, there’s some worry that loiters in your mind.

He bids his farewells, leaving the two of you and returning to the palace where he’ll be rushed into lessons on ruling the kingdom alongside his brother, except now he’s more excited to be sat beside the man who’s clueless to his closest confidante’s morning activities.

“We’re going to be the next talk of the town.” you joke, watching as the man turns away from you with a secret you know he won’t keep to himself. First, Osamu will know–he’s not one to keep secrets from his brother–then Kita. he’ll keep it to himself, he’s not one for the rumours that were thrown around the town, but the twins will continue to share. It’ll find its way to Bokuto and Hinata, the knights closest to the boisterous twin, and then the news will spread to everyone.

It wouldn’t be long before your mothers knew. The women that had grown up together; who’d always dreamt their children would grow up to be wed and now, unbeknownst to them, the two of you shared the same dream.

“Let them talk.” Suna quips, an arm coming to bring you into a comfortable embrace; warming you more than the layers of clothes ever would, “It will be known one day.” Leaving a lingering kiss on your temple, he whispers in your ear, “I want to announce to the world that I am yours.”

[downwiththeficness]

A Need Unleashed Ch. 8

Summary: Horacio Carrillo was a man of control...until he wasn’t. His  carefully regimented life begins to change the second he scents Eva Moore, an unobtrusive omega whose secrets lead the two of them into dangerous territory. Horacio must protect her at all costs while battling a fierce need that threatens to bring him to his knees.  

Word Count: ~4000

Warnings: Graphic sex, masturbation, questionable decisions

Taglist:  @littleone65     @supersanelyromantic      @sistasarah-sallysaidso    

A/N: It is recommended that you read A Need So Great prior to reading this story. There is context and additional information in that fic that influences how this fic is understood. This fic is explicit for canon-compliant blood, gore, violence, and sex. As such, it is intended for an adult audience, only. A/B/O dynamics come with their own warning. Anyone under the age of 18 should not interact with this work. I do not consent to reposting this work to other platforms. Reblog only to Tumblr.

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Start at the beginning

The water was freezing, so cold that Horacio shivered beneath the spray. He grit his teeth, forcing himself to stand there and take it. It was the only thing that might help him to regain some form of equilibrium after a week in hell.

When his face began to numb, he reached forward and turned the knob to the off position. His breaths were shallow and fast. He wiped the water from his face and rubbed harshly at his eyes. The icy shower should have shocked the sharp edge of anger out of him, but another feeling remained. Simmering just beneath his skin, it paced and growled, demanding to be appeased.

He failed.

Again.

Horacio failed to catch Escobar even though he had relatively good information from a reliable source. A week holed up in a tent with his men, no running water, and inhospitable weather—wasted.

He didn’t know who tipped them off that Horacio was closing in on the hidden processing center and it was unlikely that he would ever find out. It had to be someone from the department, one of the people he was supposed to be trusting with his life. A damned, stinking, mole.

He wanted to shoot something.

He wanted to get in a fight—a knock down, drag out fight.

He wanted bruised knuckles and blood under his nails.

Dripping, Horacio reached for his towel and swiped it over his limbs carelessly. He should call Eva. It wasn’t too late and it might do him some good to lay down with her tonight.

No.

Not a good idea.

Horacio was too on edge right now to be with her—had been too on edge even before he’d left her apartment. The drive to work after their last night together was agony. It took ten minutes of sitting in the parking lot to convince himself to walk inside for the meeting. And, once he realized that he wasn’t going to make it back to her, Horacio closed himself up in his office and sat with his head in his hands until he could make the call to tell Eva.

His thoughts over the last week were so focused on her that it bordered on obsessive. If he wasn’t actively working on the mission, Horacio was going over one of their many nights together, or thinking about what she might be doing at that moment, or calculating the number of minutes until he could see her again. He spent endless hours fantasizing about the way her hands tugged at his hair when she came.

And, he couldn’t do anything about it.

Not one. Damn. Thing.

Every second of every day, Horacio was surrounded by his unit. He slept next to them, ate next to them, pissed in the same bushes. Under normal circumstance, he wouldn’t think twice about it. But, Horacio was so keyed up he could barely function.

There was once a time when Horacio would sneer at alphas that couldn’t stand to be away from their omegas for too long. A man used to his privacy, he could hardly imagine wanting to be around someone all day, every day. Living with another person was unthinkable once he could afford to pay his bills on his own. The women he dated rarely stayed more than a day or two at a time at his place.

It was the way Horacio liked it.

Now, he understood what those alphas were going through.

God help him, he understood.

After dressing, Horacio gathered up his sweat and dirt stained clothing before heading back to his office. There would be some forms to fill out before the debriefing next week. He could get a start on them so that he wasn’t behind come Monday morning. Tomorrow, he would call Eva. Maybe he would take her out to dinner as an apology for leaving so abruptly.

He spotted her long before he got to the door of his office. She was leaning over his desk, mumbling to herself. Dressed in a soft yellow sundress that clung to her hips and flared around her knees, Eva’s hair concealed her face. Her scent billowed out from the room, both calming and inflaming him as he approached.

Startled by the scuff of his shoe, Eva spun around, saying, “Hey.”

Her skin was glowing under the unforgiving lights. Her lips spread in an inviting smile that had him clenching the clothes in his hands. The neckline of her dress was low enough that he could see the soft swell of her breasts. Horacio was so struck by how pretty she was that he was slow to respond.

The word, ‘hi’, came out all wrong.

Her smile faltered, “I brought you something to eat. I figured you’re only been eating MREs for the last week and you might like some food.”

She brought him food.

He leaves for a week with no contact and she brought him food. The twisting restlessness from a mission going awry shifted into a need that he knew wasn’t going to be denied a moment longer.

Setting down the bundle of clothes, Horacio closed the door, thumb flicking down over the lock. There weren’t many of his men left in the building, but he didn’t want any possibility of one of them interrupting him. Not until he’d had his fill.

Head canted down, Horacio approached slowly. The smell of savory food wafted towards him along with the warm spice of Eva. She watched him silently as he moved closer, lips parted. The image of her upturned face tugged hard at his instincts, made him want get a good grip and hold tight.

When he reached her, Horacio threaded his arms around her waist and hauled her into his chest. He pushed his face into her neck and breathed deeply. He missed her. Had missed her all week. Eva gasped as her head fell back and it pleased him that she offered him access so easily.

“I missed you,” he said aloud.

Her arms were heavy on his shoulders, her weight leaned into him, “I missed you, too.”

Horacio’s body pleaded with him for more contact, ablaze with every touch. He inhaled through his mouth, letting her scent roll over his tongue. Eyes falling on the desk behind her, he considered urging her back onto it and hiking up her skirt so that he could plant kisses up her thighs.

“How did the mission go? Did you catch him?”

All the air went out of him as he was reminded how he’d fallen short, “No, we didn’t. We did get a few key players, but that’s it.”

Eva’s hands ran soothingly over his arms to the nape of his neck where she kneaded lightly, “I’m sorry.”

He touched his forehead to hers, “Not your fault.”

“I know, but I’m sorry all the same.”

Her hands kept moving, loosening some of the stress he was carrying. Horacio groaned as she pressed against a particularly tough knot and rubbed in circles.

“I want to kiss you,” he murmured without thought, “Can I?”

She smiled, as if he didn’t even need to ask, “Yes.”

Not sure of how he would react, Horacio started with a small kiss. He was so stupid to think he could handle it. Not when he just went through a week of yearning for her. Horacio leaned down to press his lips to hers properly. His arms tightened around her waist, pulling her to her toes. All of his attention narrowed to the way bowed arched forward and the feeling of her breasts pushing into his chest.

“I want to touch you.”

The words were almost a rasp and very quiet. He guided Eva to the couch where he sat down so that he could pull her into his lap. Then, because she hadn’t told him it was okay, he waited. The hesitation cost him, sharpened the need inside his body until he thought it might cut him wide open from within.

Eva blinked rapidly, as if she had forgotten the question. Then, “Yes.”

He kissed her fervently and with no finesse. He wasn’t so much seeking to seduce as he was attempting to satisfy the urgent demand to get at more of her. Hands moving up her thighs, he reached under her dress only to be stopped short by the cinched waistband. Loosing a frustrated growl, he yanked down the zipper and pulled down the bodice.

Palming her breasts, Horacio took half a second to appreciate the sheer fabric of her bra. Her nipples puckered beneath his thumbs, drawing him down so that he could roll his tongue over them. When he dragged his teeth over one, Eva keened, low and throaty.

Her body dropped heavily onto him and her hips moved in a stilted rhythm. Horacio could smell his own hormones as they coalesced into searing arousal. All the pent up anger from half an hour previous working itself up into a hard, driving hunger.

Eva’s lips encircled his scent gland, sucking hard. He gave a strangled sound, hips lifting so that he could grind his cock into her. Her answering whine made him card his fingers into her hair and pull. She groaned loudly—loud enough that someone might hear.

“Hush,” he breathed, even though he could not give a single fuck who heard them, “Have to be quiet, Eva. There’s still others here.” He kissed her, his next sentence coming out in a cajoling tone, “Do you want me to stop?”

Eva shook her head. Her hair fell over her shoulders and her scent washed over him, anew. His sweet, beautiful omega. It had been too long since they were together, too long since he could drown himself in her.

“I want to be inside you.”

The words were urgent. Honest. Forced from his mouth even though he knew better than to tempt himself like this.

“Yes!”

He nipped at her, one hand working on his belt. Eva’s hands fisted in his shirt as he pushed the waistband down far enough to free his erection. It bobbed between them, swollen and already leaking. Eva took no time at all to pull her panties aside and sink down.

She dropped all the way to the base in a smooth, fluid movement that Horacio had never, never, experienced before. Pleasure rocketed up from his balls all the way to the tip of his cock and back down again. His face scrunched with the effort it took to keep from yelling. Eva threw back her head, biting down on a sigh that wanted to become a moan.

“Fuck,” he breathed, staring at where they were joined. He pulled her down for a kiss, speaking words against her mouth, “I thought about you every day. Woke up hard for you. Couldn’t even get myself off because there was no fucking privacy.”

The early mornings were the most difficult. Horacio would lay there, hard and aching to come, thinking about waking up next to her. Thinking about sliding down between the sheets and bringing her off while she was somewhere between sleep and consciousness.

Eva started moving, twisting her hips the way she knew he liked. Horacio met her, bracing his feet against the floor so that he could fuck up into her hard and fast.

“I want—,” he cut off the end of that sentence. This was going too far, too fast. He had to slow down. His body refused to obey the orders of his mind. He couldn’t stop moving, pushing towards an orgasm that had been long denied.

She cupped his jaw, forced him to look at her, “What do you want?”

He couldn’t ask for that. Horacio could not ask for that.

Her hips slowed as she waited. He buried face in her neck to get away from her entreating eyes. Horacio fought with himself, fought to keep from fucking her the way his body was demanding of him.

It was a kind of torture that he couldn’t resist, “I want…”

Eva made him look at her, “Tell me what you want.” She kissed him softly, “Tell me.”

Horacio lost the battle. He never even had a chance, “I want to come inside you.”

Just saying the words made him feel like he was half a second away from coming. The thought of coating her walls with his spend, of how she would walk around afterwards with it dripping out of her, was irresistible.

Her next words shocked the hell out of him, “Yes, alpha.”

Eyes flying open, every muscle in his body flew into action. Horacio wrapped his arms around Eva and held her immobile as he stared at her, “Say it again.”

He needed to hear it again. Needed to know that it was real.

Eva repeated it with a gasp, followed by, “Please, alpha.”

Ah, fuck.

He snarled, rotating so that he could push her down on the couch beside him. Crawling over her, Horacio reached under her dress and yanked off her panties, throwing them to the side. He dropped his hips and shoved back inside where he belonged.

“Feel so good,” he grunted, “So fucking good.”

Horacio wasn’t sure what, exactly, he said after that, but he knew what he was doing. His hands held her still so that he could thrust hard into her heat. She gripped him tight, but the angle wasn’t right. His cock could get much, much deeper. He grit his teeth—needed more leverage. Reaching up, he grabbed the arm of the couch, using it to ground his movements.

The pace was frantic, and it was a God damn miracle that she came before he did. The feeling of her bearing down on him made Horacio want to suck bruises all over her chest and neck so that anyone who saw her would know exactly what they’d done.

Sweet fucking omega.

He poured a week’s worth of come into her, holding his hips hard against her so that not a single drop would be wasted. And, when he could see again, Horacio nosed along her neck, scenting her satisfaction before licking the sweat from her skin.

It took serious willpower to pull out, and he only accomplished it by telling himself that he needed to see her pussy coated in his spend. And, fuck, was it a pretty, pretty sight. He ran two fingers up her slit, gathering some of the slick and pushing it back inside.

Eva breathed a shuddering breath as he stirred his fingers inside her. She grabbed his forearm, her jaw dropping as he proceeded to lick them clean. The taste of her made him want to start all over again.

A bit dizzy, Horacio tucked himself back into his uniform and buckled his belt. Then, he helped her to ease the bodice of her dress back up over her shoulders. Kneeling at her feet, his eyes caught on the thin fabric of her panties. He picked them up with one hand, the other pushing her knees wide so that he could have another look at her.

Just the sight of her pussy made his mouth water. How had he lasted this long without it? He dove down and swiped his tongue over hot flesh. Sweet, sweet omega. Leaning into her curls, Horacio sucked lovingly on her clit, eliciting a hiss. He swirled his tongue over her as his hand tightened on her panties.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

He wanted her again. His cock was already hardening behind his fly. Lifting away, Horacio palmed himself as he cast her a desperate look. He’d just come and he knew he could go again right fucking now. Horacio hadn’t been able to go two rounds back to back for years.

His mind flashed to the night before he left. He assumed that it was the tension of being able to see Eva dressed in nothing but a bathing suit and not being able to touch her that made him act against his better judgment. But, here he was, fucking her in his office—wanting more than anything to fuck her again.

He needed a minute. He needed an inch of space so that he could think clearly.

Rising, Horacio paced away, trying to understand his thoughts, “Did you mean it?”

Horacio hadn’t forgotten for one second that she’d called him ‘alpha’. Eva had never used his designation before, had never even hinted at the word. He needed to know that she meant it, that it hadn’t been something said in the heat of the moment.

To distract himself while he waited for her answer, Horacio ran a shaking hand over his hair and pocketed her panties. Her scent was on him, coating his clothes and skin. It set him dangerously on edge.

Her breath was audible, “Yes.”

That settled it.

Moving quickly, Horacio circled his desk and dug in the middle drawer. Finding what he needed, he stepped back around the desk and sat next to her on the couch.

“This is the spare key to my house,” he said as he put it in her hand, “I’ve got some things I need to wrap up here, but when I come home, I want to find you in my bed—naked.”

She stared at him with a kind of dazed lust.

Running his hand up her thigh, Horacio continued, “This is mine tonight. Do you understand?”

His fingers traced the sensitive edge of her opening as she nodded. Eva swayed when he put pressure on it. He wrapped an arm around her and spread his fingers, rubbing firmly on either side.

“Can I…?”

She trailed off and he had to prompt her to continue with a wordless hum.

“Can I get my overnight bag from the apartment?”

The thought of her deviating from his orders made him bite back a growl, “What would you do if I said no?”

She blinked, “I wouldn’t go get it.”

Good omega.

Pleased, Horacio kissed her temple and lifted his hand from her so that he could right her skirt, “Go get your bag. I’ll be home soon.”

She scurried away, leaving the scent of warm, satisfied omega in her wake. Horacio watched her go, holding onto the desk so that he didn’t follow her. He did have paperwork he needed to do—especially if he wanted to spend the rest of the weekend hearing her call him ‘alpha’ as he made her come.

Horacio sat heavily in his chair, eyes snagging on the food still sitting on the edge of the desk. He reached for it, smiling when he saw a familiar logo on the take out box. He dug in, slurping sauce and meat and dough hungrily until his stomach protested its fullness. Leaning back, he threw down his napkin and sighed.

He couldn’t afford to wait much longer to get started on filling out the debriefing forms and accident reports. It was already getting late and he had plans for when he got home.

Tossing the empty container in the trash, Horacio opened up a folder and grabbed a pen. He filled out form after form, some of them in duplicate, until it felt like his eyes would cross.

It was difficult to keep focused when Eva’s scent remained in the room. More than once, Horacio’s eyes flicked up to the couch and the cushions that still held the imprint of their bodies. He could feel Eva beneath him, could hear her cries in his ear.

Rubbing his hands over his face, Horacio stared at the ceiling as he tried to calm his racing heart. The arousal inside him was banked back, but only just. A single thought about what would be waiting for him when he finally got done with work was all it took to bring it back to a raging fire.

He groaned, pushing the heels of his palms into his eyes. Horacio was fully grown man. He should be able to handle himself for a few hours until he could get his work finished. Looking down at the erection tenting his fly, he was forced to concede that it wasn’t going to happen.

Was he seriously going to do this?

He’d already broken one of his own unwritten rules and fucked a woman in his office. This tiny transgression was mild by comparison. The door was closed, the building was mostly empty. If he was quiet, he could take care of it and get back to the forms.

Working quickly, Horacio unbuckled his belt and slipped open the button of his fly. The sound of the zipper sliding down was loud in the silent room and he bit his lip as his eyes glanced at the door.

Sighing with relief, Horacio pushed down the waistband of his pants for the second time that night. He grasped his shaft, hissing as the startlingly acute feeling that radiated outward. Giving himself a slow pump, he ran his thumb over the bulbous head, smearing precome. His free hand dug into his pocket and pulled out Eva’s panties. They were still damp and gloriously fragrant. He balled them in his fist and brought them to his nose, inhaling deeply.

A curse whispered from his mouth in one long syllable.

Horacio was so busy trying to come inside her that he didn’t take the time to eat her out. It was a mistake he was going to rectify when he got home. If he could control himself long enough, he wanted her slick dripping all over his face and hands. He wanted her so flushed with pleasure that she could barely move.

Mouth open, chest heaving, Horacio drew the fabric he was holding into his mouth. The taste paled in comparison to what it was like to drink it from the source, but it was enough to elicit a pained moan.

Quiet, his mind reminded him. He had to be quiet. Horacio bit down on the fabric in his hands. His jaw clenched around the sounds he wanted to make. Every breath was too loud. Every squeak of his chair echoed back to him as a blaring alarm that gave away what he was doing.

He was close, already. Too close. Too fast.

Wide eyes stared down at the way he was fucking his own hand, widening further as he caught sight of the engorged flesh near the base. It was not nearly the size it would be when Eva went into heat, but it was impossible to deny.

Hips rising, Horacio pushed into his fist in a slow grind. His body wanted to knot, wanted to lock itself into Eva. The fact that he couldn’t have her at that exact moment left him grunting beneath his breath in frustration. Eyes closing, he thought about what she felt like less than half an hour ago. Hot. Wet. Delicious.

Horacio barely remembered to cover himself as he came so that he didn’t make a mess of his pants. He bowed forward and moaned softly, ruining the sheer fabric. His other hand slipped down and squeezed the barely formed knot. He hissed through his teeth as a final, electrifying pulse went through him.

Slowing his breath took a long time. It was still longer before he could open his eyes again. Chin against his chest, Horacio blinked rapidly as he returned to sanity. He felt good. Really good.

It would be a short reprieve.

Horacio didn’t know how long his body had been working its way into a rut, but that wasn’t as important as what that might mean for him and for Eva. She probably wouldn’t care, might even welcome it. He had to talk to her about it, first. He had to be sure that it was what she wanted.

Righting his clothing, he tucked Eva’s panties back into his pocket and grabbed his keys. The rest of the paperwork could wait. He had to get to the drug store and get home before the next wave hit him so that he could have something close to a rational conversation about it.

Rising, Horacio made his way towards the door and cut the lights on his way out.

[moonyslove78]

OKAYYYYY! So I've obviously been out of the fic reading game for a bit now, except for the occasional short one shots I can get to every once in a while. BUT... When @liz-allyn said "Sugar & Vice Vol. 2", I immediately dusted off my tumblr and was ready and waiting. Even though, let's be honest & call a spade a spade... if Liz would've posted her version of the Webster's Dictionary, I'd have made sure to make time to read it... because that would've been the most interesting and well written dictionary there is. ❤️

Soo, I hope for all of your sakes you've missed these long ass detailed (as in a basic repost of the entire chapter with my notes in the margins 😂 but @blooming-violets told me to go with the two Parter, sooooo...🥰❤️) you're about to get another one... and my fingers are probably going to fall off from typing so much after this, but it's worth it for the series that has lived completely rent free, in not only my brain, but my entire life since day 1.

So without further ado, heeeeere we go!!

🕷️🕸️PART 1 - SUGAR & VICE VOL. 2

LOVE ON THE BRAIN SPOILERS AHEAD!🕸️🕷️

So when you first told us what the title was going to be, I could've died. Idk if I ever mentioned this to you, but I know you know how obsessed I was with the Official S&V Playlist... so it's probably no surprise to you that at least one of the songs popped up as my top songs in 2023. But the fact that you chose Love On The Brain and that was my #1 Top song, all thanks to the S&V playlist... it was like it was meant to be! 🥰😭

I'm just going to add here how much I enjoyed the tension and banter in the Cuban restaurant. I was honestly cackling the entire way through like, "Yeahhhh, Pete, you kinda deserve this... this is just a little payback for those not so subtle ways you referred to her as a whore in front of all of New York's 'finest'... oh, even you acknowledge it... good!" 😂

AND PEDRO!! Liz, please, I'm in shambles!! 😭👀

But nowwww we come to the hotel scene... the hallway was the literal eye of a hurricane and I was honestly a little scared... but also,

HELL FUCKING YES, HONEY!!! YOU TELL 'IM!!

We all already know Honey is a complete and utter badass, especially when she tries to be. And she complete ATE him up here with these few blows! I was also very aware of the wide range of emotions they were both feeling in this moment. Her's more verbal... while his were more of the silent type...mainly because 1. he was too nervous he'd say the wrong thing and fuck this up even more... and 2. Honey wasn't gonna let him get a word in edgewise. 💪🏽 Now that was some 'Independent boss ass Mob Queen' shit right there! 👑

And when she slammed the door in his face, I kept thinking... "nononononono, you can't end it like that, Honey!" And his reaction... 😭 Quite literally calling himself out on being a 'bitch' for her. Now that was some 'King of the NY Underworld who's deeply in love' shit there... 👀

So needless to say the next part, where the door flung back open, was where I simultaneously started and stopped breathing yet again.

The absolutely delicious aggressive makeout sesh that occured after was beautiful in the most filthy possible way... 🤤🥵 Is it hot in here? Or is it just them?

👀🥰

The 'there's my girl' get's me every fuckin' time!

This interaction after she bit him on the shoulder... 😮‍💨 I knew I approved of Peter's very DomDaddy tendencies... but his verbal cues are... 😚🤌🏽 *mwaaaaah* Delicious!!

"Baby, you have no idea." - "Not even a 'please'?" - "Liar." - "I know you, Honey!" - "And you're a needy little slut, aren't'cha?"

Like how Honey's panties aren't just melting off her body at this point, I don't know... cause I'm pretty sure mine were! 😳

When I say Peter's dirty talk game is by far the FILTHIEST and HOTTEST I've ever heard... I'm not exaggerating. There's no way I'd live through THAT man saying those things to me! I'd be deceased! Bury me in the backyard under my favorite weeping willow because there's no coming back from that.

Oh, same, Honey... same. I'm absolutely mesmerized. ✨

Also, I knew Peter wasn't going to let that little flirty interaction go. Of course, she knew he wouldn't either, which was more than likely the reason why she did it in the first place. Bold move, Honey.

Bold and Brave.

And I'm living for it! 🙌🏽

He just has me in a chokehold at this point. And I'm NOT mad about it. Knowing that even though he's saying "if", the truth is, we all know he "was"... so the fact is, these were most certainly all the things he was totally thinking about doing the entire time Honey and Pedro were having their little flirt off. Which... just makes this even fucking better! 🤤😳

Honey's attempt to take back the control she was losing here was admirable. I was totally rooting for her... until Peter said he 'couldn't & didn't leave her'. And he made even me stop dead in my tracks with that "What was my drink order?" question. The amount of nostalgia I got from that single tiny sentence... 😭

❤️‍🩹💔❤️‍🩹

My heart! I don't think I'll ever be able to convey into words just how much these two have made me fall in love with their love. (Or better yet, how amazing of a writer you are to have made that possible ❤️) And this small emotional interaction was packed full of so many feelings and memories, all with just those 2 words.

Honey & Lavendar should officially be S&V copyrighted trademarked. Because when I hear either one or the two together, S&V will be all I can think about. And God, did I swoon a LOT when he made sure that those were the exact words, he wanted from her as their safe word.💛💜

And his slight ramble when he was obviously nervous that she was going to say them right off the bat and leave him hanging like this. Only to be cut off by ✨that kiss✨!!

Honey pulling out the big guns with this one! I'm NGL, I mentioned my panties melting off when Peter was making his declarations earlier. But Honey's request right here may have just done the same thing... 😳

It also reminded me very much of the first makeout session they had on the couch the night of the club incident. I remember very well her saying something very similar to this then and I truly love how you've brought it full circle in such a smutty way.

God help me, I knew it! The man was watching her! Those Spidey-abilities came in quite useful for him in these moments. And damn if he didn't describe in such great filthy details what he'd seen... 👀🥵

I mean... you kinda had that comin', Peter. You did just admit to her that you 'left' her for four months, only to be secretly watching her masturbate to your memory every night... while not making yourself known by coming to help. You definitely deserved her bratty-ness here. Just sayin'.

But then... you had to go and call her a 'Fuckin' brat...' which only made this part all that much hotter. Liz, you have heard from myself and so many others before that you write so beautifully and have so much talent for storytelling. But I have say, you write filth like no one else I know. There's so many amazing writers who do bang up jobs writing smutty scenes. But I can't help but get lost in the scene every damn time I read your smut work. The filth is so fucking delicious! And what's even better?! It only gets filthier from here!🔥

See!? Perfection. This quote is something I have thought about since the first time I read it and will continue to think about for the rest of eternity. Who wouldn't be an absolute mess of a human being if Mob!Daddy Peter Parker... King of the New York Underworld just told you that he was going to punish you, HIS 'Princess', by making you wear a suit out of his cum for a week? Just me? Oh, okay then... 👀🤤

Good God, Liz. The amount of times I've already made very lewd and precocious noises is probably very unholy. But like, we're also not even to the actual P in V! I'm so glad I read this the first time while in the house by myself, because had anyone else been home... I'd have had to have a very awkward conversation.

"Lemme kiss it better."??? "Can't help myself, s-sooo hungry..."???

Like, I'm done. Stick a fuckin' fork in me and call me 'Well Done'! My ovaries imploded back there and yet, I still think somehow I'm now pregnant. Just by his words! 🥵

Damn it, me too at this point! 😳

Now see, I've always found someone doing this extremely hot. Like, hotter than the fuckin' Sahara, but who's keeping track?

But this... this... it had me on the floor.

'Clean up on isle who fucking knows!'

Grab the bucket & mop. 🪣

And that last one... the "maybe I might let you get to taste Her, too..." Excuse me? Sir? Who gave you the right to be SO damn good? Who did it? Because at this point, if I was Honey, I'd have been on my damn knees. 🧎🏻‍♀️

You did... as well as, you should! I think Honey definitely deserved more than an apology & his 'I was just trying to protect you' reasoning. Mind you, I don't think that was a lie. I do believe he was obviously doing this because he had her best interests at heart and didn't want her to get drug into the middle of all the shit he was in at the time. But like, you also clearly just admitted for the second time that you were watching her from her damn window... so closely that you were wanting to crawl through it and take care of her in very intimate ways. 👀🥵

Soooo, that's not really staying away to keep her safe, Mr. Parker. But I will approve of your reasonings now... because that move was slightly idiotic. 😂 Although, without Peter AND Honey's moments of being complete idiots, this wouldn't be S&V! Cause these two are the best 'love sick idiots' you can come by. And I love them both that much more for it. As well as their ability to reflect and realize their errors.

Well, that and I'd probably forgive Peter for just about anything the moment I see those damn doe eyes!

Anyway, I'm just glad Honey got that out there and that he has clearly established that he was being stupid and he'll 👀NEVER👀 be making that mistake again. Because I think he knows at this point, he's on thin ice and even though he thinks he's winning her back fully at this point, he's about to be rudely awakened... a couple times. 😂

(MOVING ON TO PART 2 BECAUSE MY IMAGE COUNT HAS REACHED IT'S LIMIT OF 30! 😂👀)

love on the brain: sugar & vice, vol 2 [mob!tasm!peter x fem!OC]

summary: You didn’t think it was going to be easy, did you? AKA The night Peter and Honey reunited—Four. Months. Later. [mob!peter parker x oc!MJ] 

words: 11.8k (omfg)

NSFW/MINORS DNI - ABANDON ALL CHASTITY, YE WHO ENTER HERE (detailed warnings below)

extended warnings (spoilers): p^rn with plot, detailed smut, really just... filthy and deranged. slightly dubcon parts (although consent is clearly confirmed), no Y/N...ever, arguing, anger, jealousy, physical violence (slapping, scratching, throwing objects), almost hate sex, fem!reader with a vagina and breasts and wears a dress, oral (f! receiving), P in V, rough!dom Peter, sub!reader, possessive!peter, mirrors, titty!worship, shame and slight degradation, use of emojis, f! being restrained, discussion of masturbation, slight breeding kink, non-consensual voyeurism, moderate BDSM kink, “punishment” play (spanking, edging) bratty reader, peter parker being a dunce around women, mob!au, furniture harmed in the making of this

names used: daddy, princess, baby, babygirl

A/N: This is a one-shot standalone story that takes place immediately after the Epilogue of Vol 1. And serves as the official beginning of Vol. 2. If you haven’t read Vol.1, you really should. The main OC is AFAB and goes by the name “Honey.” You’ll need to read Vol. 1 to know why.  I try to be loose with my descriptions for people who prefer a Reader-Insert. But I’m not perfect. In this canon, Honey has a Latina heritage (as do I). Take that as you will. Thanks to @moonyslove78 and @blooming-violets for cheering me on through this very long hiatus. 

This is 18+ AF. And if you think the term ‘AF’ shows how old and out of touch you are, then you’re probably not old enough to read this.

This version of TASM Peter Parker is not canon. The relationships here are not healthy and the characters need therapy. Don’t date a mob boss IRL.

#1 - Love on the Brain

>>> heya boss. how’s your trip? 😜

Peter arched a brow as he peeked down at the text message.

>>> ⋯ >>> your trip to pound town? 🍆🍑 

He rolled his eyes, swallowing back an irritated snort.

Real mature, Felicia. 

He almost tapped out a haughty reply but stopped. Corners of his mouth turned down, he found himself unable to respond.

“So many choices. I just don’t know what I want.”

An understatement.

The girl of his dreams sat across from him in the quaint East Harlem Cuban restaurant. They were crammed together at a bistro table near the kitchen. The enormous menu took up the entire surface, and she had spent the last 25 minutes reading the items aloud. 

It was nearly 11 p.m., and they had yet to pick an appetizer. 

The woman he’d called ‘his Honey’ sweetly sighed with a shrug. “Now that we’re here, I just can’t make up my mind.” 

Her voice had a singsong tune to it, purposefully careless. Blissfully ignorant of the fact that Peter was starving.

“Maybe I’m just not feeling Cuban food tonight,” she shrugged, nonchalant.

Peter swallowed hard. Tried to rid his expression of any hint of impatience or irritation. 

“Oh,” he remarked delicately, thinking of all the different dinner reservations he’d made for tonight. It didn’t matter what magazine talked it up, didn’t matter how many “tire awards” it had won. 

Honey was unimpressed. 

“M’surprised,” he said, as emotionlessly as possible. “Thought you had your heart set on this place.”

The place was one of those hole-in-the-wall joints that had less than 10 tables, which made takeout the most popular choice. 

On this night however—a Tuesday— the restaurant was nearly empty, except for the overdressed couple and the loathsome kitchen staff, who didn’t expect to be subject to “este cabrón” and his picky girlfriend strolling in 30 minutes before closing. 

While Peter could feel the heat of their ire over the oven, Honey avoided it. She explained to the manager that Peter was “un ricacho que tiene demasiado dinero.” And with that, they were seated.

When Peter approached her earlier that afternoon in the park, he’d expected a much worse welcome. He nearly died of a panic attack when he spotted her on the park bench. It had been four long months since he’d attempted to communicate with her, and he half-expected her to throw her iced coffee in his face. 

Actually, he had no idea what to expect from her. Terrifyingly.

Peter had lamented to Felicia— “There’s no card that says, ‘Sorry, I ghosted you for a few months while attempting to shake the heat off my back.’ Which flowers say, ‘I apologize that the last conversation we had, I called you a whore in front of a room full of cops’?”

The true challenge came when Peter actually looked into her eyes. He didn’t expect that one look would render him useless. 

She was even more beautiful than he remembered. Ethereal. Glowing. The human equivalent of a bouquet of sunflowers, with happy round cheeks and her hair tied back in a ponytail. She was the color of rainbows, and summer, and sunshine. She was the cherries of her red lip stain and the golden rays of her yellow linen sundress.

God, that dress. 

Peter planned for everything—but not that dress. 

His carefully rehearsed speech went out the window when he saw her in that dress: a cotton ruched-waist, tea-length gown in a yellow gingham pattern. It featured a sweetheart neckline that cradled her breasts perfectly between the halter tie-back straps. 

He had no idea where that dress came from, but it was the most perfect piece of fabric ever to grace a woman’s body. He would buy her twelve more of them, no matter the cost. He’d buy every last one.

He’d give her the sun, the ocean, Hawai’i, and all the stars in the sky— if only she’d forgive him. He was ready to throw himself on a bed of hot coals as long as it meant that she would take him back. If she would come back home.

Truthfully, he needed her to come home.

Not to get ahead of himself, he started by taking her to dinner. 

That was Felicia’s advice—women love dinner. solves everything. the fancier, the better, with lots of red meat—u know how they say food is the way to a man’s heart? dinner is the way to the ovaries. works every time.

Actually, Felicia gave Peter lots of advice. For once, he was more than grateful to accept it. 

>>> make her feel like you can’t take your eyes off her. but don’t stare. like a creeper  >>> be a gentleman, but not a pushover. you wanna be the good guy. soft YA novel boyfriend type

Followed quickly by—

>>> but not too soft! don’t be a little bitch. if she plays hard to get, you play offense.  >>> and defense.

Peter had no idea what she was talking about. But he knew when it was wise to trust the advice of more intelligent creatures than men.

Five restaurants later...

“I thought going to dinner was your idea?” Honey asked with pursed lips.

“It was; it was my idea,” he nervously replied. “Six hours ago—it was my idea.”

She narrowed her eyes to slits. “Hmm. Six hours. Long time to wait.” Her eyes fell down to the menu again. Her lack-of-sympathy said everything.

Peter’s pocket buzzed again, and he glanced down at the incoming text message from Felicia.

>>> ...???? 

He rolled his eyes. Tapped out a response.

<<< Not great.

“Am I interrupting something?” Honey asked with a clipped tone.

Peter jumped, pocketing his phone immediately. “No, just... just something... silly,” he muttered. “How ‘bout we get a few plates in, yeah? I’m gonna just order some stuff—”

“Like what?” she questioned skeptically.

“I don’t know,” Peter shrugged, his stomach twisting. “One of everything.”

“That’s wasteful,” Honey said, judgment sharpening her gaze. “Food waste is bad enough as it is in this city.”

“Well, at this point,” he snapped with an exasperated sigh, “I might be able to eat two of everything.” The words floated away from him, and he bit the inside of his cheek, wishing they would come back. Hesitantly, he made eye contact with Honey.

She peered at him disgustedly from over the top of her menu. She scoffed, crossing one leg over the other, and dropped the leather-bound book closed. 

“Don’t let me slow you down,” Honey said icily. “I’m not that hungry anyway.”

Peter’s eyes nearly bulged out of his skull. His pocket buzzed again. 

>>> the fuck? what do you mean?  >>> she was in love with you b4... how hard can it be to take her on a date?  >>> christ. did you fuck this up, parker?

He shoved the phone back in his jacket, nearly punching through the silk fabric. 

“If I’m wasting your time, tell me,” Honey sharply retorted. She crossed her arms even tighter across her chest. He had to force himself to look away from the way it plumped her breasts together. “I’d hate to keep you from something important.”

Felicia was right. He was fucking this up. Before he could open his mouth—

“Excuse me, señorita,” a masculine, smoky voice crooned at them. 

Peter and Honey glanced up to see a chiseled man in his 30s approach the table with a hurricane glass of ice. He was a specimen of Latin American art—a bronzed statue, with carved muscles that bulged out of his floral shirt. Deep brown eyes—no, hazel eyes— fixed on Honey as he reached across the table with rolled-back sleeves. The corded muscles in his arm, toned by long hours of hard labor, flexed gracefully as he gently set a cocktail in front of her. 

A frosted, colorless liquid speckled with crushed mint leaves filled the glass. Honey blinked with delighted surprise.

“Our compliments,” the young, disgustingly attractive waiter explained with a sultry smile and a thick accent. “In case you found yourself thirsty while browsing the menu.” 

A blush colored her skin as she glanced up at their handsome waiter. The sparkle in her smile was as blinding as ever, and she graciously looked back between the glass and the server.  The waiter— no way in hell this fuckin’ guy is a waiter— beamed back at her, enamored. 

“Oh, wow!” she gasped, reaching for the glass with dainty fingers. “Is this a mojito? That’s my favorite! How did you know?”

The waiter graciously chuckled. “Lucky guess. You look like a woman of refined taste.”

Peter felt his blood pressure rising.

Honey didn’t even look at her date, as if he was suddenly invisible. “Thank you,” she grinned, self-satisfied. “I mean, I do know my way around a Bacardi bottle.” The waiter chuckled, maybe too hard, at her silly joke.

“We want you to enjoy your evening with us,” the waiter added politely, sparing Peter a glance but keeping all his attention on Honey. “We are honored to have you as our guest.” 

The waiter spoke gentlemanly as he splayed his long fingers across his chest. “Please, take as much time as you need. No need to feel rushed. It is my pleasure to serve you.” 

Peter could feel a twitch behind his eye. Could have been the fire shooting out of his eyes. Fuck this prick, probably another Broadway reject or somethin’, couldn’t buy himself a decent shirt—His mind churned along with his anger.

Oblivious, Honey beamed up at him with a golden smile. “Thank you so much for saying that,” she replied, endearingly sweet. “You are too kind, um... I’m sorry, what was your name again?” 

“Pedro.”

Honey’s brows shot to her hairline. “Pedro?” she repeated, absolutely delighted. She glanced over at Peter. “Isn’t that something?”

The mob boss’ lip curled mirthlessly. “Oh, it’s somethin,’ alright.” 

Peter continued to burn his stare—fuck his stupid accent— into the side of the aloof waiter’s head. He wondered if Pedro’s handsome, chiseled jawline was sharp enough to cut through a noose.

Buzz..

>>> you’re keepin’ your cool, right?  >>> remember what i said.  >>> anything she wants. no questions asked! >>> don’t get all crazy possessive either

The joyful sound of her laughter ripped his attention away from his phone and back towards his charmed date. 

“Pedro,” she sweetly preened. “Can you give us a recommendation?” She briefly flashed her eyes at Peter before looking back at her new friend. “My date’s clearly distracted. He has no idea what I like.” 

Oh? Peter raised a brow at that. And lost his appetite.

Peter followed Honey down the hallway to his hotel suite while storm clouds swirled in his gut. Lighting crackled with each footfall. Tension clogged the atmosphere, and they shuffled in a silent fog to the door.

Despite Felicia’s advice about controlling his inner beasts, Peter’s hackles were raised, and his stomach growled. Now, he was hungry for more than just food. And simultaneously, he’d never felt so powerless. 

Peter noted how tightly she wrapped her arms around herself. Her face suggested she was deep in thought. He wondered if she was just as tightly wound as he was. Wondered if she could break his heart with just a look.

He was flailing. Pathetic.

Peter’s fist clenched his keycard tight. He had to be careful not to snap the card in half between his fingers. Was it from excitement or terror? Desire or rage? 

He had to focus, to make this work. He had nothing if he didn’t have her. 

Rigidly, Peter pushed the door open and stood to the side of the frame to let her enter. 

She paused briefly, lips tight, as she gazed into the rotunda entryway of the lavish suite. They hadn’t spoken in the car, and he hadn’t had the chance to explain the location. 

Letting out a steady breath, she strode through the threshold and stopped. Her body blocked the doorway. She turned to look up at Peter, defiant eyes flashing.

“This is as far as you go.” 

Peter blinked, looking at her in confusion.

Her tone was curt. Icy. He recognized that sound. It was the tone of voice she used when she wanted to draw blood, and it never failed to inflict pain. Her voice. Her eyes. Even her tongue was razor-sharp.

Peter curled a brow upwards. “Sorry?” 

Honey narrowed her eyes. “Not yet, you’re not.” 

He took a step back, blinking owlishly. 

“What did you think was going to happen tonight, Peter?” The ire of Honey’s question sliced through him. “Did you think you were gonna shave your face, take me to a fancy dinner, and then I’d just... open my legs for you?”

A literal ellipsis formed in his mind. 

Peter swallowed hard. “Uhhh—?”

“‘I’ll wait for forever, Honey,’ she parroted his earlier admission mockingly. “Is that all you have to say to me? You left me! For four months!”

Peter nodded his head, not sure exactly why or when he began. “I know, I know...”

“You know!?”

The walls of etiquette and politeness between them began to crack.

“How many times I gotta tell ya? I was tryin’ to protect ya, Honey—”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

It stung like a snake bite. Rage filled her eyes, disdain bubbling out of her mouth. She had only just begun. 

“You buy me all this expensive bullshit!” she scolded. “And you dress up in your ridiculous designer suits and parade me to all these fucking pretentious places! Like I’m some kind of accessory! Like you own the whole fucking city and everyone in it!”

He replied with a string of noises. Or, at least, he thought so.

“Big bad mob boss—all that power—and yet, you couldn’t just talk to me? You had me wait around for you like a stray dog! You can just come and go as you please, but you—you expect me to follow you around on a leash?”

“Honey, please. Let me explain—”

“I don’t want to hear it, Peter!” her voice echoed through the rotunda and down the hall of the hotel. “I don’t want to hear a single one of your lame excuses! I don’t want a fancy dinner, or a new Porsche, or a mansion, or whatever else makes your dick hard!”

Peter blinked rapidly, stunned. His body responded as if she had just kicked him in the place she referenced, “Jus’lemme—”

“And I sure as hell don’t want another apology!” she asserted definitively. “I don’t want you anywhere near me!” 

Peter’s jaw hung open, tongue dead in his mouth. The woman who barely stood at his collarbone stared down at him, making him feel inches tall. 

“Now, I’m going to bed. Exactly as I have been for the last four months.” Her voice thundered, “Alone!”

With that, the door slammed in his face, rattling inches from his nose. The echo reverberated through the empty hallway and inside his chest, emphasizing the deep crack that formed.

Peter let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. The shock subsided slowly, and his heart sank. The ache soon sizzled into a burn, boiling his blood. At the same time, the sting of her rejection was raw. Unbearable.

Unbelievable.

Absolutely unacceptable. 

He should break down the fucking door. Throw her over his shoulder and tie her up. Gag her—Anything to get her to listen.

Haplessly, Peter’s eyes fell on his expensive shoes—his Valentinos. Or maybe these were the Tom Ford’s? He had no clue. Just more bullshit.

Fuck—He was going to cry. Maybe he should let himself just do it. Lean into it. Drop to his knees and beg for forgiveness. Shoulders slumped, he squeezed his eyes closed. 

He was a little bitch.

Peter pictured a door closing on a rocket or an airplane. Whatever it was, it was leaving him behind. He was falling back to Earth, having placed too much faith in miracles. This was his punishment for flying that close to the sun—

The door swung open. 

Two hands grabbed Peter’s jacket, pulling him forward off his heels. It was a surprisingly fluid motion; his heartbreak had reduced the mass of his bones to nothing. 

Honey’s nails practically pierced his lapels. She yanked him through the doorway into the suite, slamming the door behind him, and slamming him into the door right after.

Before Peter could open his mouth to speak, she was on him like a viper.

A sharp, biting kiss swallowed him whole, stealing the oxygen from his lungs. The heat was as intense as he had remembered. This time, they didn’t melt into one another. Honey was like a wildfire, her touch scalding him. 

His skin flushed from the sudden unbearable heat. Before he could react, her lithe fingers started tugging the edges of his jacket. Clumsily, she tried pushing it back over his broad shoulders. As soon as he knew of her intent, he eagerly obliged, shrugging the garment off and to the floor. 

Her hands went to his throat, ebony-painted nails leaving trails on his skin. Buttons popped as she yanked on his clothes. Her goal could have been to draw blood with her kiss.

Every time her teeth tore at his lips, he responded with a groan into her mouth.

Clumsy, he fumbled with his fingers—reaching up to grip her by the hair. Finally, he wrenched her head back, detaching her bite from his face.

Immediately, he was met with an open-palmed slap on the cheek.

Sharp gasps cut through them, and they jumped backward a few feet. Tension and shock reverberated in the chasm they created. Like the barometric pressure plunging before a storm, an eerie calm settled over them. 

Honey blinked at him, jaw agape and her palm throbbing. 

Peter glared at her in silence. He looked a mess—hair unkempt, the top buttons of his shirt torn open to reveal jagged crimson scratch marks across his milky skin.

His heartbeat steadily increased as he gently dabbed his fingertips at the ache in his jaw. The exquisite lines of his face were stained pastel pink, flushed by arousal or anger. His eyes were black as night, so it could have been either one.

She looked just as wrecked. Dress askew, her hairstyle half-unraveled. Goosebumps dotted her skin. She looked shocked at the violence she was capable of, surprised and possibly guilty at her own strength. As the seconds passed, the feelings faded.

Peter watched her, pupils dilating, blood pressure rising. The shadow of a smile curved his mouth. His features darkened into something primal. Something familiar.

There’s my girl.

Slowly, he lowered his hand, studying her threatening look until his own expression began to match.

Physically, his senses were haywire. Danger, excitement, and a sick sort of pleasure rattled his bones and labored his breathing. The hairs on his skin stood on end. Alarms blared in his head. The sound of his own blood was almost deafening to him, thumping like a kick drum. 

Peter could hear her heart, too. Fast. Like a rabbit. He was a wolf in pursuit. 

Maybe the pain of her slap triggered him, a preemptive action against further attack.

She got one in, Peter mused mockingly. He knew she was no match. Not as Peter’s night vision sharpened. Not while he could taste the salt from her perspiration on his tongue. Most intoxicating of all, Peter could smell her desire. Like a rose bursting open.

In another blink, they switched positions. Peter snatched her by her shoulders and slammed her back into the wall, pinning her there. She went feral—hissing and raging at her entrapment.

Not a rabbit. A honey badger, then.

“Get off of me!” Honey spat.

“Shut up,” he ordered. Quiet and fierce.

Fingers gripping her forearms tight, he attacked her lips, teeth colliding. The ferocity stunned her. For a moment, it seemed like she finally submitted to him before she wriggled her mouth free.

“Mmffucker—Let me go!”

His body might as well have been a brick wall. His face was stonelike, eyes just as cold. 

“No.” 

Honey’s brow scrunched up like a petulant child throwing a tantrum. “I’ll scream!” she countered.

Peter smirked, the hickory in his eyes igniting. “Baby. You have no idea.”

Peter’s guarantee sent a shiver down Honey’s spine. He saw the gears turning in her mind as she carefully considered pushing him further. 

He hoped she would. 

His fingers tightened around her forearms. He crucified her under his gaze. And yet, despite the danger anyone else would have felt... A glimmer of curiosity flickered in her eyes.

It set his mind reeling. A tiny sign of weakness to temptation made Peter’s stomach trapeze. He zeroed in on it, licking his chops. 

Not to make it easy, Honey brought her knee up, attempting to make contact with his groin. There was nearly a foot of difference between their heights, and she paid it no mind.

Brave girl. 

Peter admired her tenacity. She had balls. Smart, too, he pleasantly recognized. Honey went for the weak spot first. Good call. 

Pointless, though. 

Nothing below Peter’s belt was weak when she was around.

Unfairly, Peter picked up on her attack before her leg was even bent. He snatched her above the knee, lifting her toes off the ground and prying her thighs open. 

He pictured the bruises on her skin that his fingertips would leave behind. Just the thought made him rock hard. 

A year ago, Peter would have been ashamed. He would have shied away from her, for fear of repulsing her, and took out his frustration by himself in the shower. 

Grinding his teeth at those memories, he pressed Honey’s hips into his waist, forcing her legs around him, and—Fuck—her heat.

Peter’s brain nearly short-circuited. She was like a bonfire against his belly. His cock pushed against his trousers, straining for her warmth. He secured her hips to his with a tight grip, which only pissed her off more. She thrashed, enraged. 

She really needed to stop doing that. It only made the burn worse. 

A few months ago, Peter would have been ashamed of the rush he felt from manhandling her. Ashamed of how his cock ached and twitched at her fruitless tantrums.

“Fucking asshole!” Honey sneered.

“Yeah?” he said with a bitter laugh. “You're a spoiled little brat!”

“Fuck you!”

“See what I mean?” Peter scoffed, holding her tighter. He breathed hotly into the shell of her ear. “Not even a ‘please.’” 

His pride was short-lived. Inexplicably, Honey arched her neck and buried her teeth into his shoulder. He roared—“Fuck! What the fuck!!??” —surprised she didn’t bite through the silk of his collared shirt.

Apparently, he wasn’t the only beast in the room.

They tumbled down ungracefully. Peter landed hard on his back, with Honey crashing on top of him. She collapsed on his lungs, knocking the wind from his chest. Sputtering, he reached out to grab her, his fingertips barely missing the hem of her dress. The small woman scrambled to her hands and knees, then to her feet. 

Honey dashed into the suite while Peter’s voice echoed—“Goddamnitareyacrazy!?”—after her. 

Padding on her toes, she ran into a darkened living room with vaulted ceilings that might have been large enough to fit her entire apartment. Outside glass walls, the Midtown skyline surrounded her. The Metlife and Empire State Buildings glittered proudly in a breathtaking view.

The room was situated in the corner of the building. Velvet curtains framed the floor-to-ceiling windows, providing an unobstructed view of the city. The Dark Academia-Meets-Glam aesthetic seating area featured a sleek, modern leather sectional and mod velvet chaise lounge chat set. 

Without time to admire any of it, she scrambled to the first piece of furniture she could reach. She grabbed the first thing her fingers could find—a designer fruit bowl centerpiece made of polished stainless steel and brass pomegranates. 

It was exquisite and expensive. 

Honey spun on her heel and flung the heavy metal at Peter.

He dipped deftly, his spine bowing back, narrowly missing the bowl as it whipped past him. The object barreled through a crystal chandelier, glass shattering like raindrops as they came down.

“Hey—!” he scowled, facing her with an indignant glare.

A moment later, he quickly shielded his face from another flying object: an asymmetrical crystal-and-Riverstone candelabra that crumbled against his forearm. It might as well have been a brick, with ceramic shards tumbling off of his shoulder. 

Peter bristled in aggravation, brushing the pieces off. Now, she was really pissing him off.

He glanced up just in time to see a glass vase containing two dozen roses—meant to be her gift—hurtling towards his head. Reflexively, he snatched it from the air with one hand, water and all. He palmed the crystal vase like catching a baseball. Didn’t spill a drop. 

His quick reflexes stunned the both of them. Peter’s jaw went slack—partially at his ability to save the flowers, but mostly with indignation that Honey had somehow destroyed $1,000 worth of the hotel’s tchotchkes in a few seconds. 

“Enough!” Peter barked, carefully setting the vase down. Ignoring him, the woman darted toward another side table, already reaching for another expensive object to throw at him. 

Suddenly, Honey’s ankle was caught in a sticky grip. Both legs pulled out from beneath her. She flattened immediately with an ooof—her belly dropping to the wool carpet. 

Dazed, she glanced back at her legs with a crease in her brow. With a jolt, she was pulled along by a stringy, spongy substance on her ankle. It felt the way canned compressed air feels when shooting skin at close range. 

Her nails dug into the carpet fibers as she was dragged back. “Agghhh! What the—Getitoff!” 

As soon as the pulling stopped, Honey was on her back again, gazing up at the sharp lines of Peter’s cold gaze. He towered over her, even on his knees, as he mounted her hips. Protesting, she pelted him tirelessly with her fists.

The smell of sweat loomed in the air as he finally restrained her. He caged her in, pinning her wrists to the floor. Nerves buzzing and tempers flaring, she continued to writhe and wrestle with him to no avail. Peter quickly overpowered the more petite woman, fomenting her anger. 

“You’re hurting me!” she sneered breathlessly, teeth gritted. 

Peter was unimpressed. “Liar.”

“M’not lying—!”

He glared back, barely breaking a sweat. “You’re so full of shit—!”

“Fuck you! What do you know—?”

“I know you, Honey!” he charged, silencing her. 

She went still, subdued beneath his dark gaze. Peter loomed over her like a stormcloud. “I know the games you like to play,” he said—both teasing and sinister, toying with his prey. He lowered his lips until they breathed the same air. 

Honey’s focus was split between Peter’s intense stare and glistening, kiss-ravaged mouth. She tried not to notice the sensation of her nipples brushing against the fabric with each labored breath. He could easily reach down and touch her. Tried not to focus on how solid his chest felt against hers, like carved marble. Tried not to focus on the dark chocolate of his eyes melting in the heat of their gaze. 

Just as intensely, Peter watched her watch him—zeroing in on the idle way her tongue darted to wet her lips. The tiny action shot electricity down his spine, straight to his groin. 

Honey felt that, too. A tiny gasp escaped her, her lashes fluttering. The fight suddenly left her arms as she noticed the heavy bulge against her hip. 

He was hot. Not just figuratively. Feverishly hot. He was so hard, too—and just for her. The lewd image of him splitting her open on his cock made her insides clench. 

Peter eyed her dangerously, his voice a dark abyss. “Think you can hide it from me, eh?” The teasing smile on his lips bordered on a snarl. “Gonna sit here an’tell me... that if I were to reach down between your legs right now...” Her heart hammered in her chest, hanging on every word. In her mind, she was begging him to follow through with the threat. “...Those panties won’t be soaked?” 

Honey failed to swallow back a little mewl as he leaned down closer.

“Ya think I can’t feel ya, huh?” he mumbled, lips ghosting the curve of her throat. “Think I can’t smell how wet you are right now?” Another wanton exhale left her belly as she leaned into the heat of his breath on her skin. “Y’know I can already taste you on my tongue, babygirl.”

Honey’s mouth and legs seemed to part further at his vulgar words. She shivered at the sensation of his slick tongue traversing her pulse point.

“You’re... an asshole...” she murmured breathlessly. She sounded half-asleep.

Peter hissed, “And you’re a needy little slut, aren't’cha?” 

The sudden ferocity made her eyes unintentionally roll back. A second later, Peter’s fingers collared her, choking off the small mewl in her throat. He turned her by the chin, wrenching her attention to him. 

“Hey—Eyes on me,” he commanded.

Mesmerized, Honey blinked up at him like a fawn.

“How ‘bout that little stunt you pulled with the waiter?” he prodded. There was an icy edge on the last word. Her throat bobbed while she kept her face neutral. The bright amber of his glare penetrated her. Peter continued accusatorily, “Those flirty little giggles while he gave ya fuck-me eyes? Y’think I didn’t see that?”

Honey sniffed, stiffening her upper lip. This was a power move; she knew better than to back down. “Look who's jealous,” she scoffed. 

With a jolt, she again attempted to wrench her wrists free. He simply held on tighter, closing his talons as she twisted like a snake.

“Jealous?” Peter repeated calmly, narrowing his eyes into slits. “Me? Nah.” His hands suddenly seized her hips as he forcibly jerked her up off the floor. A slew of profanities spilled from her mouth, bucking against him as he carried her.

In a few strides, he was at the edge of a dining table. With little regard for his barbarity, he plopped Honey on the surface, shoving her flat on her back. Peter arched over her as if to dominate her, spine bowing until he filled her periphery with his fierce gaze. 

Honey’s eyes sparkled, cheeks colored from the rush. “Threatened, then!”

Peter’s face softened inexplicably. Blinked at her for a moment, head tilting. Then, he landed an open-palmed smack against her ass. 

It was a surprisingly heavy blow, as close as he’d ever come to intentionally inflicting pain on her. Honey yelped, hissing from the sting on her upper thigh. Right after the strike, Peter’s fingers began kneading her flesh, soothing the welt that was bound to form.

“See, if I were a jealous man,” he noted with an evil sneer, “I woulda gouged his eyes out with a salad fork.” 

Peter swallowed up her gasp with a forceful kiss. A few moments later, he broke away.

“If I felt threatened?” he added breathlessly, “I woulda bent you over the table and fucked you dumb. Let everyone in the Five Boroughs hear you beg for my cock.”

Once the filth rolled off his tongue, Peter went back to using it to lash against hers. Honey was overwhelmed by the soft, wet muscle invading her mouth. Not only that, the violent edge to his words felt like standing in a river and grabbing a livewire. A shiver racked through her body, a current of pent-up anger and desire sending blood rushing to her core.

As if on cue, Peter’s fingertips made contact with the lace fabric between her thighs. She tremored at his touch, heart skipping. He toyed with the soft, stretchy material. Snapped it lazily against her flesh.

His voice was hypnotizing. “I woulda shoved these dirty panties down his throat just to never hear his stupid fuckin’ accent again.”

Honey felt drunk off of the vitriol he poured into her ear. It was violent and possessive... and it shouldn’t have made her so horny, and yet—

Honey trembled with anticipation, panting like a bitch in heat. “I-I... can’t... ugh, fu—” 

The pads of his fingers ran firmly along her seam. She let out an embarrassing whine. Peter's prediction was spot-on. A shameful amount of wetness coated the inside of her thighs. He played with the soaked fabric and smeared her mess across her skin with a smug smirk.  

“Think I don’t know what you like?” he muttered darkly, echoing her earlier jab. 

RIP!

The lace bunched at her waist. Honey’s wet skin felt particularly chilled being exposed to the air. She quivered with anticipation. Her head was spinning, pussy throbbing. She felt worshiped and simultaneously defiled. 

Peter pressed his forehead into hers, skin-to-skin. She stared into the black of his eyes in suspended silence, like the pornographic thoughts in his head were being projected into her mind.

Her own pupils were blown black. “Fuckin’ hate you so much—”

“I don’t care.”

“—re’such an asshole—”

“I don’t care,” he repeated more firmly. Then, “You belong with me.”

“You left me!” she fired back.

The sharpness of her tone sobered him a little. He blinked and sighed. “I couldn’t leave you. I didn’t leave you.”

She attempted to sit up, trying to lift her shoulders unsuccessfully. She writhed with spite, “Fuckin’ selfish prick, I outta cut off—”

“What was my drink order?”

He blurted the last sentence out with a mind-blowing level of calm. At once, their bodies went still. Still pinned to the table with a hummingbird beneath her breast, Honey stared up at him in confusion. 

Her brows pinched together. “Huh—?”

“My drink order,” Peter repeated, his expression void of the aggression he had the previous moment. 

It was like a mask had fallen away, and the man on top of her transformed into a different person. Maliciousness evaporated, replaced by eagerness. Desperation. 

Peter stared at her, intently searching her gaze. “At the shop,” he whispered, eyes soft. “What you used to make for me every time I came t’see you..?” The words fell away as he stared at her expectantly. 

She arched a brow. 

It had been black coffee, bitter and dark. Just like Peter’s entire world. How it had always been. Until—

“You said I should try something new,” he added, with urgency like reminding her of a forgotten dream. “So you made something for me—something... special.”

Peter’s heart swelled through his eyes at the last word. Honey stared up at him, perplexed. He was looking for the answer on the tip of her tongue:

Honey and Lavender. 

Confusion ceded to aggravation. A line formed between Honey’s brows.

“You remember, right?” he asked, hopeful.

She did. He knew she did. He could see it at the corners of her eyes, pooling behind her eyelids. Sobering memories flooded her, cooling the heat between them. A different sort of ache settled in.

Reluctantly, she nodded.

He took a breath, relieved but still anxious. “Say those words,” he said, “if you really want me to stop.”

Her damp lashes fluttered as Honey blinked up at him in surprise. Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, he swallowed dryly. His stomach lurched at the thought of being sent away like this. 

Still, it was a risk he had to take. 

“I can let go, walk away,” he offered tenderly. “Right now. No questions asked.” Each word felt like sticking needles through his tongue. He gave her an out, needing confirmation that her reciprocated lust wasn’t imagined. 

“Say the words,” Peter whispered in lament, “and I’ll leave you alone.”

That word settled like a boulder crushing his chest.

Despite Peter’s heart telling him her rejection would be unbearable, the thought of truly harming her was more so. 

Honey studied him with thoughtful eyes, contemplative and curious. He had won. He subdued her. Restrained her. She remembered when he threw a piano like a toddler throwing a toy truck. 

She could do little to stop him if he wanted to force her. And yet—

There he is. 

This was the man she remembered. The one that was ready to die for her. To die by her hand, if that’s what she wanted. 

“Two words,” Peter sighed, his nose brushing against hers. It was a sweetly affectionate gesture. “Say the words, and this can end right n—”

Honey captured his lips, stealing his breath like it was her only source of oxygen. Static filled Peter’s ears, his body tensing and relaxing simultaneously. He was soaring and plummeting. Rising and falling. 

Her tongue slipped past his lips, dragging along the pad of his mouth. Soon enough, the sweetness melted off in their flames. 

Honey pulled her mouth away, barely able to get out her plea. “Touch me, Peter. Make me feel it.”

And she dove right back in. This time, Peter plunged with her, deep beneath the waves of lust. He sank into her current, dragging her with the tide of desire.

Peter’s hands were frantic travelers. Flitting from her wrists to her shoulders. To gently cup her face. To smooth over the mounds of her breasts. To dig his fingers into the linen fabric of the sweetheart neckline.

“Love this dress,” he idly mumbled between kisses, abusing the neckline. “Mmm—where’d ya say ya got it?”

“Oh…uhm—?”

The question caught her off guard. She blushed, brain foggy with lust. Her instinct was to say something like ‘thank you,’ but her tongue fumbled the words. “Uh... it was, I think, Old Navy—?”

A ripping sound shocked her. She squeaked as a flurry of cotton fibers burst from the top of the dress. 

Peter yanked the linen bodice apart like tissue paper, his tongue chasing away any protest from her lips. Gooseflesh broke out as her skin was exposed to the air. Driven by lust, he shoved the ruined material down to her waist. 

“Fuck, Peter...” she gasped, scandalized.

“Sorry,” he muttered, not sorry.

It was his turn to be greedy. Peter dug his hands beneath the cups of her bra, toying with the peaks of her breasts. 

With a snap, the bra was torn in half. The strength in Peter’s long fingers stunned her. Puzzling her as much as it turned her on.

He laved at her left breast with his tongue, drawing an obscene moan from her. His hand pinched sadistically at her right nipple. The delectable sting traveled from her chest to her cunt. She arched—”ughhh, god”—her spine bowing beautifully.

He held the cleft of her left breast delicately in his hand while lapping at the ridges of her peaked flesh. Warm tongue caressed the tip, drawing shapes and discovering pathways to her pleasure. Every little flick inspired something new. She cooed and twitched beneath him. He was desperate to memorize her taste. 

Languidly, he massaged each of her tits inside his mouth, his cock aching as he imagined licking her pussy with the same fervor. It was almost unbearable. A strangled moan vibrated through his chest at the picture in his mind. 

Her reaction to the sound came out as an agonized mewl. 

Oh.

He needed more of that sound.

Peter felt her push on his shoulders. Trying to wriggle away from his mouth. 

This time, he had no tolerance for misbehavior. He grabbed both wrists and forced them above her head. Honey yanked back, stunned at being glued down to the table surface by his palms. 

The peach of his pouty lips curved upward as his eyes took a turn ravishing her. She was a sight of wicked debauchery. Her hair was a mess, and her nearly-naked body lay across the table like a feast. Her thighs locked around his hips.

He used one hand to rub circles into the delicate skin of her restrained forearms. The other hand mischievously dipped lower and lower, sliding through her wet heat. Calloused, dexterous fingers spread her lips open, playing in her slick and prodding her tight hole. 

Honey was finished. Ruined. Past the point of no return. Unconditionally surrendered. Helpless and eager to subjugate herself to her conqueror. Filthy sounds filled the room, punctuated by weak cries from his new loyal subject.

“So pretty,” he sighed breathlessly as he coated his fingers in her cream. “All this for me, princess?” He cooed at her, edging on cruel.

A broken gasp fell from her lips, her chest pulsing involuntarily. 

“Aww, what’s the matter? Does this little pretty pussy ache, baby?”

A vortex formed deep in her belly, dragging her in. He licked his dry lips, salivating at the image.

“I know it hurts, baby, I know. I know,” he teased. ��It’s been hard playin’ all by yourself, huh?” The sunniness of his voice was eclipsed. “All alone. Screamin’ out my name into your pillow. Fingers buried deep in your wet cunt.”

Honey’s eyes snapped open. Before she could respond, the breadth of his middle fingertip penetrated her. She gasped as his finger speared her open. All the while, he wore a devil’s smile.

“Ain’t that right? Only for me.” Entranced, he watched her every twitch and shudder. “This pussy belongs to me, doesn’t it?”

It was a question feigning the need for her confirmation. She couldn't answer. Couldn't breathe. 

No, that can’t be right—had he been watching her masturbate in her apartment? Was he watching her the entire time he was gone? 

The possibility enraged her. Ten orgasms from the King of New York’s Underworld couldn’t even quell that fire.

Peter smiled wickedly, playing with her pussy. Taking his time toying with her flesh. He was a tyrant-king, dominating her pleasure. With a calloused hand, he held onto her cunt like it belonged there.

But she was his wild colt. Difficult to break.

“Oh-n—ohh god,” she gasped. Unbeknownst to him, an evil plot bloomed in her brain. Her lips curled into a smile.

“Fuck—gah—ohhhhh…”

He licked up each broken syllable.

“Yes! Oh, god, yes! Oh—” 

Sweat beaded on her chest, sin oozing through her pores.

“...Pedro.”

Halt.

Brakes squealing. Full stop. Not only in the physical world between them but also in Peter’s living fantasy.

Mischievously, Honey’s grin widened. 

She got him, alright. 

Flawless victory.

Dark eyes flashing, Peter withdrew his fingers from her. “Fuckin’ brat…”

In one fluid motion, Peter flipped her over to her belly, stunning her. He followed with another forceful slap to her ass cheek. This one was more punishing than the last, drawing a puppy-like yelp. His voice was ice. Eyes black. 

Now, she was in trouble.

“Think that’s funny?” he said through gritted teeth.

Peter manipulated her limbs like a rag doll. He maneuvered her forward until her cheekbone pressed against the table. She panicked for a moment at being in such a compromising position. 

The chill of the air across her wet pussy made her shiver. At the same time, she clenched at his roughness.

Peter kneaded her sides, pressing fingerprint bruises on her waist. He yanked her hips towards him until her knees were on the table’s edge. Honey’s face burned, stricken with modesty and flustered by how he hoisted her ass in the air. 

Her hips were propped up like a rack of lamb, and he licked his lips at the sight. It was too vulnerable, being bared to him like this. Obscene, on display, inches from his face. 

For a half second, she considered using the safe words. 

She squirmed uncomfortably while her mess dripped down the inside of her thighs. Peter denied any attempt to escape, eventually gathering her limbs and pulling her hands behind her back. 

Short puffs of breath fogged the glass surface of the table. Her heart pounded beneath her. Honey had only witnessed this side of him a few times—and never directed toward her. 

She was in trouble. But was she in danger?

The buckle of his belt clinked as it came free. Honey quivered at the sound, pussy aching in anticipation.

And if she was in danger, why did that make her wet?

“Pete—” Honey muttered, a scream bubbling at the back of her throat. Leather nipped at her forearms as he used his belt to tie her hands behind her back. 

“Ple-please—“

He fisted her hair, rearing her head back. Her neck arched beautifully, her chin dangling above the table surface.

“Listen to me, princess,” Peter snarled, hot in her ear. Spite peppered his tone. “If you ever call out another man’s name when I’m inside ya again— I’ll make ya wear nothin’ but my cum for the next week.” 

The savage tone contrasted with the glow of his eyes. 

It was always opposites with him.

This was the same man who coddled and worshiped her. The same one who kidnapped her, drugged her, blindfolded her, and gagged her. 

He forced her, a willing participant, into his bed—by asking her permission. 

Peter was more than capable of keeping her chained to his bedpost if he wanted it. 

Or… if she wanted it.

Peter snickered at her expression. “Ooh, yeah… Betchu’d like that, huh?” He taunted her like she was broadcasting her dirty thoughts. “Such a needy little slut for me, ain't that right?” 

Honey felt his warmth leave her back, like being plunged into the Hudson in winter. His hands reappeared at the back of her thighs, and her first instinct was to try to close her legs. 

That was a mistake and an impossible endeavor. 

He split her thighs like opening a book. Grinned at the sight as if he stumbled across gold.

“Fuck, babygirl, you’re soaked. Just talkin’ about it and look at the mess you made…”

Embarrassment and want ravaged her. The conflicting experiences had her ovaries twisted into knots. Honey bit her tongue, unsure if she was going to scream or moan. 

Instead, it came out like a pathetic mewl. “Pe-Peter, please—”

Then he open-palm-smacked her cunt, fingers landing directly on her labia. 

The wet sound it made was humiliating, and the sensation triggered all of the reactions above. She squealed at the sting on her folds. This was a delectable torture. For Peter, it was an appetizing sight. 

“Ya like that?” he grinned over the sound of her whimpers. He already knew the answer.

Another slap to her cunt made her whole body shake. 

“Like bein’ my kept girl? Tryin’ so hard to get my attention. Drivin’ me nuts. Well, you got it now, Honey.” 

Slap. 

A third strike had her pussy clenching. Honey had never experienced such an erotic rush before. She shuddered with embarrassment, afraid she’d cum from this—

Slap! Slap! Slap!

Honey gasped for air, a scream breaking through her voice. She was drowning in sick pleasure, tears in her eyes.

The mob boss gripped her thighs again, pulling her knees off the table and lifting up the weight of her lower half. The action was as easy as lifting a sheet of paper. 

God, his strength was impossible. She struggled to comprehend it while picturing herself being broken apart by it. A slew of tiny pleas fell from her lips. She didn’t even know what she was begging for—his mercy or punishment.

“Shh, shh, babygirl,” he purred with a candy voice. Brought his lips to where she was split, equal parts seductive and sinister. “Be still for me. I gotcha.” He wore a Cheshire grin. “Lemme kiss it better.” 

Slowly, he licked a line from her clit to the entrance of her cunt. She shuddered, followed by a lewd wail. She bucked her hips as he let the tip of his tongue toy with her. 

“Mmmf—so fuckin’ sweet,” Peter mumbled between languid strokes around her vaginal gate. His grip was inescapable. “Can’t help myself, s-sooo hungry…”

Honey felt an evil smile against her skin before his mouth went back to work on her. Tiny, stinging nips and kitten licks tormented her flesh. With her hips locked in place, he lashed her clit with his tongue.

Honey squirmed against the leather belt, her nails digging into the grain. She wanted to be bound like this forever. 

Peter had no intention of letting her go any time soon. 

With her thighs spread open, he dragged her toward the edge of her ecstasy. As soon as he felt her body begin to shake, he pulled away. The punishment ended with another smack to her swollen clit.

Honey cried out in frustration at having her release snatched away. 

Oh, yes—He was weak for that sound.

“What’s’a matter, baby?” he smirked with a dark chuckle. This was becoming his favorite pastime. “You mad now that you’re not the only one who can play games?”

“Gahh—Peter… fuck, plea—don’t tease—!”

Peter’s fingers slipped inside with a squelch, shutting her up. Simultaneously, he lapped at her juices while massaging her walls. Soon, he settled into an unbreakable focus.

Each kiss to her nether lips sizzled with passion. Fueled by devotion usually only reserved for a wedding day. 

“—mmmm, tastes so pretty,” he murmured into her flesh, “my pretty girls...” 

In her dazed state, Honey wondered with a pang of jealousy who the ‘she’ he was referring to was. 

“—sooo sensitive; she likes it when I kiss her like that, yeah?—” He said, in between languid, open-mouth kisses to her slit.

Jesus Fucking Christ, he’s talking about my pussy? In the third person? 

Honey gasped, scandalized at the preposterous thought. It was the most deliciously erotic moment of her life. Enraptured tears budded her eyes, the coil in her belly nearly suffocating her.

“—Fuck, oh god, Peter, don’t stop, don’stop, donstop, donstah—”

Preoccupied with his own intoxicating thoughts, Peter was eager with his tongue and steady with his hands. The room filled with the filthy, wet sounds of his carressing and French kissing of her cunt. He pleasured her with his fingers and mouth, passionately— reverently— as if making love to two different brides. 

Soon, Honey’s pleas were barely more than breathless whining. He smiled like the devil, lips coated with her slick. 

“Patience, Honey,” he admonished, sing-song and patronizing. “If you’re a good girl, maybe I might let you get to taste Her, too.”

Fuck—she was going to come from this. 

The more perverse his words were, the closer she was. So, so close—

Then, another sharp slap. 

Honey wailed, fingers digging into the leather of her restraints. Her whole body protested. The cycle repeated so many times she lost count—until her flesh was puffy from his torture. 

“Please, don’t—please, Peter, don’t tease,” she frantically begged, tears streaming. “No more— Please, I wanna come so bad—” 

He sucked on her clit.  “Yeah?”

“God, yes, please—Nyahhh-need you—Need you... inside—“

Peter hissed behind his teeth, struggling to keep his pace even as his cock jerked at her pleas. He flashed an evil smile. “S’at right?”

“Pl-please, f-feels so good, ple—gah-I need it—!”

He was in no hurry. It was almost greedy, the way he ravaged her. His fingers pressed Merlot bruises into her hips and waist while his mouth left raspberry welts on her thighs. 

Honey cried out around a moan as she felt his fingers deepen. His loving touches to her sensitive spots turned wicked, reminding her this was also a penalty for her bratty transgressions. She wept and squirmed, practically drooling on the table.

He simply grinned.

“—Mmmhm, that’s it—scream for me, princess—”

Honey’s tiny little hip thrusts fit easily in his palm as he groped her. He found it adorable, really.

“Mmm...m’sorr—ow—agh!”

“Sorry’s not gonna cut it,” he panted, eyes blown black. Shadow returned to his voice. “You’re mine now, ya hear?” His eyes traveled to where his fingers were buried to the knuckles. “Gonna fuck you every way I want—”

“Pleasepleasepleaseyes—it’syoursit’syoursallyours—”

His eyes swam over her body, drunk with lust.

All mine. 

The sinfulness of his thoughts tugged his insides into a vortex. This was wrong, he reasoned. Not how he wanted this to go. Poor girl sounded brainless, begging to be fucked.  He wasn’t much better off. This wasn’t how he planned this to go. 

But he was willing to pivot.

Hands shaking, he fumbled with his fly. It wasn’t until his cock bobbed free, glistening with precum, that he felt any sort of relief. Peter grabbed her hips and lifted them off of the table, repositioning her so he was lined up with her slit.

“Fuckin’ need you so much, Honey—” he muttered mindlessly, focused on pushing the swollen, leaking crown of his cock against the silk of her pussy. 

Her hips’ weight rested easily in his hands, and she keened at the sensation of his head pressing against her entrance. 

And god, she'd forgotten he was thick.

Honey tensed up, even as her pussy throbbed with want. It was as if all her muscles were reaching for him, heart included.

It was too much. Mascara trailed faintly down her cheeks. Her heart soared. And ached. She felt spoiled with pleasure, delighting in this penance.

More. She wanted more.

“Fuck—wanted ya so bad,” Peter mumbled, watching his cock slip through her lips. He sounded airy, hypnotized by the view. “Wanted t’crawl through your window like the goddamn—ahh— boogeyman... fuck ya in your own bed. Wanted t’take’ya home with me and keep ya there— Never let you leave.”

Honey swallowed back a sob. Then why did you send me away? 

He paused. 

Uh-oh. Did she say that out lo—?

“Because I’m an idiot,” Peter huffed, his voice fragile. 

He leaned forward and lovingly kissed up her spine, each tender press of his lips an apology. 

“I’m a stupid fuckin’ fool.” The heat of his breath ghosted across her back. “So stupid—Thought I could protect ya if I kept you away. Thought I could somehow live like that—without you.” He shook his head. “Goddamn fool.”

Peter felt the sting of tears flooding his vision. Instinctively, he squeezed his eyes shut to keep them out. “I can’t live without ya,” he nearly whimpered. “There is no life for me if you’re not in it.”

“Peter,” she said, feeling her heart lurch. Her spirit was a ship being tossed in a hurricane. One more wave, and she would break. Honey’s voice trembled, “St-stop t-talking—”

“Not until I’ve said what I shoulda said—!”

“If you don’t shut up and fuck me in the next five seconds—”

Peter cut her off by pulling her up by the shoulders and standing her upright. Honey fought it—because, of course, she did—desperately clutching the steel armor around her heart. 

Overpowering her again, he tugged the naked woman closer until her back lined up to his chest. It was an awkward position with her bound arms crushed behind her against his abs. He towered over her, eyeing her face from the side, seeking her gaze. Hooked a finger beneath her chin, forcing her to look him in the eye. 

Always the fighter, Honey tried to wrench herself from his hold. Peter’s body was like a Greek god’s, with pillar-like arms and marble fingers keeping her from wriggling away. But his soft, soulful eyes are what pinned her in place. 

As soon as she peered into their oaken color, she was trapped again. 

“No,” she sneered, shaking her head. The tears weren’t from pleasure anymore. “Don’t—”

“‘Honey and Lavender,’” he whispered, featherlike. “Those are the words. All you gotta do is say ‘em, and I’ll stop.”

She gritted her teeth, bucking against his sweetness. His arms wrapped around her torso, pulling her in.

“I thought you wanted to fuck me!” she revolted, voice getting weaker by the second. “What the hell do you want from me, Peter?!” 

His features softened. Serenity pressed between his lips. “I want all of you, Honey,” he answered with resolve. “Body and soul. Wanna spend the rest of my life with ya. If you don’t kill me first.” 

He said the ‘if’ part with a teasing lilt in his tone and a half-smile. The same smirk that she loathed—and fell in love with. 

Honey squeezed her eyes shut. Peter’s thumb came up gently, wiping a messy tear from her cheek. That loving and pure act was worse than any torture he could inflict.

Walls tumbling down, her body loosened. She went slack against his arms, instead fighting to keep more tears from flowing.

“I love you,” he whispered, pouring his soul into each word. “Forever. Remember? No matter what.” 

Peter waited for her eyelids to peel back, revealing glossy eyes and a weary expression. They stayed still for eons. Nothing but their breaths and heartbeats between them, eyes locked on each other.

“Even if you’re mad as hell at me,” he added. “Even if you hate me—I want it all.”

Her lower lip wobbled. “And what then, Peter? What now?”

A moment passed. He leaned around her shoulder, bringing her chin close, and answered her with a kiss. Gentle at first, his tongue explored hers as she relaxed against him. She felt her toes leave the ground before she realized what was happening.

Peter broke the kiss. “Now?” he breathed into her hairline. “I’m gonna show you what it means to be mine.”

One of his hands left her torso—borrowed to push the head of his cock into her gate. An overwhelming burn erupted between her legs. She arched her back away from his abs as best she could while being split open.

Honey wailed brokenly, voice shattered, as he bottomed out. Peter’s hand instinctively came up to cover her mouth. She let the scream out into his palm, just as he’d promised.

Peter hissed, letting his head fall back in agonized ecstasy. His eyes drifted shut, feeling both relief and torment buried to the hilt in her warmth. 

He barely ground out, “Shh-shhh, s’alright... that’s it, s-so good, so good for me...”

His Honey was already writhing on his cock, and he hadn’t even begun to move. She was so goddamn tight he wasn’t sure he wanted to move at all.

Still, he couldn’t help indulging himself. Never could, around her.

The arm bracing Honey’s torso snaked back across her body. His hand, burning hotter than a branding iron, stretched out and smoothed over the curvature of her belly. Her pussy clenched tighter as his palm found the trophy he was looking for—an obscene bulge in her lower stomach.

A slow, sinful curve played upon his lips. “Fuck, babygirl. Look at you.” When he uncovered her mouth, her roars had quieted down to a wanton purr. He gently tilted her head downwards so she could witness the depravity herself. “Just look at how you take my dick, Honey.” 

She shuddered at the sight, nodding rapidly, unable to speak. She wondered if this was just more teasing, but she couldn’t think beyond the penetration. 

“God, you look so beautiful like that,” he muttered breathlessly. His amber eyes were fixated on the sinful spectacle beneath her waist, unable to avert his gaze. “So pretty with my cock stuffed up inside your tummy...” 

Peter sounded unhinged, even to himself. His abs twisted into knots. Vile, perverse images eclipsed his sense of decency—her body naked and wrecked, with his seed spilling from her holes. Then, her belly round with his children. Just the thought devolved him like his civilized nature was sucked back into a black hole.

Wordless whimpers poured from her lips as her taut muscles succumbed to his girth. Calloused fingertips reached further down, brushing against the hood of her clit. She jolted in his arms with the slightest touch.

At that moment, Honey’s world disappeared. Nothing existed but the exquisite ache between her legs. 

The conquerer inside him preened. “Is that the spot? Is that where it hurts, baby?” he purred into her ear with a filthy, predatory voice. Her body answered him, rewarding him with a delicious squeeze around his shaft. “That’s it,” Peter groaned, insatiable. “Good girl. So good for me.” 

His praise, even if it was teasing, was too much. Peter’s affirmations, paired with his ministrations, tightened the coil in her stomach. Exhaustion crept up on her body even as the bubble of desire swelled.

Ever so slowly, his hips pitched back and then forward. He bottomed out again at the end of the languid stroke. A shattered mewl burst from her lips, pussy pulsating around his dick.

She was magnificent. 

”Fuck, baby. Feels s-so fuckin’ good—ahh, I missed this tight pussy so much. Wanted to play with her so bad…”

Peter’s hips moved of their own accord. They were a pornographic masterpiece in the decorative mirrors situated around the room. He stole a greedy glance at the couple’s reflection. Smiling wickedly, he turned her head, making her see what he was seeing.

Honey’s stomach fluttered at the sight of her body—glistening and restrained—slotted against him. Her head bobbed as Peter gripped her hips and fucked into her like a sex doll. 

Perverse. Debauched. Divine. It made her lightheaded.

Slowly, he increased the pace of his thrusts, panting into her ear. At some point, she started muttering. Broken and embarrassingly desperate pleas and pet names tumbled unwittingly out of her mouth.

One of them must have caught his attention. But she honestly couldn’t remember what she had said.

“Ugh—I lose my fuckin’ mind when you call me that name,” he growled, throwing his head back. “Ya know that, precious? Such a good girl for me. Good girls get spoiled.” 

Honey’s body thrummed at his baby talk. In all its depravity, she started to suspect what she must have said in all its depravity. Slowly, she was losing the ability to be ashamed.

The slick-coated pad of Peter’s thumb circled her clit, before traveling down further. He curiously prodded where they were joined—“Fuck, look at how good ya open up for me.” — His fingers trailed the outline of her stretched hymen wrapped around his cock.

Honey closed her eyes and turned away, blushing from his praise. Timid about how she relished in the filth. Peter brought his lips to her ear as if there was a secret the two of them shared.

“Don’t worry, baby. I gotcha—Daddy’s gonna make the ache go away.”

The spring snapped. She was nearly knocked over by the wave of pleasure that followed. Her pussy fluttered around his cock with no warning, body trembling and toes curling. Her cream gushed down his shaft. 

He snickered as if he’d won a prize. 

Honey could vaguely recognize her pathetic voice through the bells in her ears. She squealed and cried out over his repetitive, patronizing chants — “Awwgoodgirl, fuckin’ so-so perfect— squeezin’ me so tight” — while he fucked her through her orgasm.

It felt like several moments of pure pink haze, herself a willing victim to his delicious, relentless pull. 

“Shit, sweetie, did you just come all over my cock?” he asked, exasperated.

Embarrassment flooded her despite her persistent mewling. 

“Don’t cry, baby. Don’chu worry,” he murmured affectionately, himself obsessed with the cavern of her divine flesh. “When I said I was gonna make you my toy, I meant it.” She whimpered, nodding her head as it rested back against his shoulder. “M’not finished with you,” he said, dropping an octave. “Not by a long shot.”

Time ceased to have true meaning. Peter rammed into her steadily.

“Please don’stop, please use me, please, wan’more—” She yelped like a puppy.

He smiled against her sweaty skin. “Yeah? Ya like bein’ a good girl? My good girl?”

“I’llbegoodI’llbegoodm’yours—fuck—yoursyoursyours—”

“That’s right, sweetheart,” he groaned, with another curse beneath his breath. Eyes drifted shut. “Good, good girl.”

All he could think of was more. 

More of that sound. More of her juices. More of her staccato breaths as he fucked her tits into a steady bounce on her chest. More of her whining, whimpering like a bitch in heat.

“All mine, all mine…”

Peter needed more of her. He needed to watch her fall apart on his cock again. Honey was so close already; he could feel it. He’d give her another orgasm, one that leaves her in tears. Then another. He was going to fuck her into submission atop the throne he built for her. She was already his queen. 

Then—He’d make her his whore.

Flip her on her back against the table—or couch— countertop—fuck, maybe the bed if he could remember where it was. Whatever he could reach first. 

Then he’d split her open again on his cock. That way, he could see the enraptured awe on her face. The neediness. Big, round, wet eyes pleading for his touch, calling him filthy names, as his cock bulges below her pubic bone. Begging him to rearrange her guts.

It was heavenly to witness. Peter loved watching her come. And he would, over and over. Once he relocated her to his bed—as soon as he remembered where it was— he could tie her to it.

Not that Honey was fighting at the present. There was no fight in her body, except maybe the will to keep conscious. With every strike against her cervix, she spread herself wider for him. 

But Peter knew she would like it. Honey wanted his unforgiving ecstasy. To take out the mounting frustration of the last few months on her wet pussy. 

“M’gonna fuck you so good, babygirl, m’gonna use your body like my fucktoy—make me feel s-sogood, don’worry—“ 

Honey full-body shuddered with a sob, her head thrown back against his shoulder. 

“S’okay, baby, you can scream if y’want, makes it feel better, doesn’t it, huh—”

Cock-drunk, she nodded, her words coming out as puffs of air.

“Don’stop—don’stop—please, fuck— fuckmehardDaddyIneedit—“

Oh. 

More. Of. That.

“M’not lettin’ you get away again…” he muttered, voice emerging from beneath his twitching abdominal muscles. With possessed eyes, he was glued to where they joined. “Never—never gonna let you go again… All mine now, Honey—you’re all mine…”

Her arms came up to circle the back of his neck as she panted into his throat. “My-my pussy is yours…”

“Everything,” he corrected.

“Everythi—god—I’m yours, Pete—ahh!”

Peter was getting close. No matter. He’d let himself come inside her soon. There was plenty more to follow. 

He barely recognized his own wrecked voice. “’m not leavin,’ baby. I’m not leavin’ ever.”

A gust of wind followed him as the front door to the suite slammed shut. Peter stood alone in the hotel hallway wearing a sheen of sweat... and nothing else. 

He flushed pink, fumbling to cover himself behind his hands. The cool air made the task easier.

Peter sighed. He’d need to talk to maintenance about better insulation up here.

But not right now. Not while Peter Parker stood ass-naked outside of his door, having been kicked out like a cheap fuck. 

Which might have been Honey’s point, he recognized.

The evidence of their past hour together made his skin sticky. She’d tousled his hair and etched into his back with her nails. He felt sore in places he hadn’t felt in years.

Peter also looked thoroughly fucked. A mixture of pain and relief surged through his muscles. His brain was branded with erotic images of her. He wanted them there.

The door opened again, lifting his hopes. He only caught a fleeting glimpse of Honey, wrapped sloppily in a bathrobe. The rest of her didn’t look much better than Peter. She wore a sour yet adorable scowl on her face.

With a huff, Honey hurled a tight wad of fabric at his nuts, unintentionally intentional in her aim. 

Peter oofed, doubling over to catch the ball of his clothes. At the same time, an Italian leather shoe smacked him in the head. Probably his Tom Ford’s. He heard the door slam closed again, rattling against the frame.

Perplexed, Peter gazed at the molding of the door and the gleaming golden script marking the room number. 

He wondered. 

Would she open the door again to throw him the other shoe? 

Or perhaps the slacks that went along with the dress shirt covering his balls?

Unlikely.

He marveled. 

The nerve of this woman. This goddess-barista who served him his soul in a paper cup. Who held the keys to his heart, his home, and presently, his hotel room. Who somehow managed to kick him out of the penthouse suite of his own hotel. 

Within the confines of his ruined dress shirt, Peter felt another buzz. He fumbled with the shirt, reaching the smartphone concealed inside.

>>> have you moved onto the main course? >>> or are you still tossing the salad? >>> pouring ranch on her hidden valley

Felicia. Peter’s eyes nearly rolled out of his head. With a sigh, he tapped out a reply.

<<<  Kitchen’s closed.  <<< Need clothes. And a new room.

He saw the ellipsis bubbling up on his screen. 

<<< Not another word.

As soon as the message was sent, Peter took another glance at his empty surroundings. Haplessly, he looked toward the closed door. A river of memories flooded him. It surged, swelled, and finally, came to a low simmer.

This was never going to be easy. Nothing ever was with her.

Nothing worth waiting for ever is.

“See you at breakfast,” he whispered aloud lips curled into a smile. “Sleep tight.”

Holding her breath and her ear to the door, Honey waited until Peter’s footsteps faded. When she could no longer hear them, she sighed with exasperation, overcome with exhaustion. Eyes falling closed, Honey leaned back against the door, body aching in places she would feel for days.

After taking a moment, she heard a buzzing sound further in the suite. Honey jumped with alarm, then stumbled on Fawn’s feet to reach the source.

Quickly, Honey waddled to the remains of her yellow dress, fishing out the buzzing object: a 10-year-old smartphone with a black glittery hard case. A holographic cat sticker was fixed to the back, shimmering in the dim light. 

Not just any cat.

She unlocked the phone to see the latest message.

>>> how’d it go? u give him hell?

The heaviest exhale left Honey’s chest, shame creeping up her chest. With her thumb, she scrolled up to review the text messages sent to her. The oldest of which dated back almost four months.

Weeks of correspondence and reassurance from Felicia, not to mention very clear instructions about Peter Parker and how to play his game. 

There was the one from last month:

>>> don’t let him think for one second that you’re gonna let him get off easy!

Then one from last week:

>>> make him suffer. make him grovel. make him lay down in a puddle so you can cross

And these:

>>> go to dinner, but don’t eat anything. order wine, the most expensive one, take one sip and refuse the rest. you pick the restaurant. if he picks the restaurant, hate everything about it >>> play hard to get— but don’t be too cold >>> be flirty. but not slutty.  >>> give him bedroom eyes, but don’t let him stare at you too long.

Finally, there was a clear instruction sent earlier today.

>>> under no circumstances >>> no matter what >>> you need to remember this >>> DO NOT FUCK HIM!!1

Honey frowned as she gazed at Felicia’s text message bubble, sent with so much hope and good intention. A notion soundly defeated. A truly hopeless endeavor, if there ever was one.

Biting her lip, Honey tapped out a reply to her confidant:

<<< Sure did.

Thank you for everything you do. Please keep fanfic healthy and support my writing with a reblog.

[kinkykinard]

Beyond Survival

Fandom: Star Trek AOS. Pairing: Leonard McCoy X Reader. Word Count: 2064. Rating: Mature (18+). Summary: Three years in space takes its toll on a body, and you decide you want to get as far away from the Enterprise as possible for a week, even if it means facing the wildnerness. Author’s Note: For @star-trekkin-across-theuniverse‘s birthday challenge!  Happy now horribly belated birthday you gorgeous, lovely lady!  Love you tons!  Somewhat inspired by Kid Rock’s All Summer Long and with references to Camping with Bones.  Reposting because Tumblr apparently ate the first one.

“I still can’t believe we’re doing this again.” Leonard chuckles from where he’s sunning himself on the beach next to you and turns his head to look at you. “We’ve been here for three days, darlin’,” he teases gently.  “And if memory serves, it was your idea.” You roll your eyes behind your sunglasses and sit up from where you’re lying on the blanket beneath a large umbrella at the edge of the lake Leonard had first brought you to on your first ever camping trip three years before under the guise of getting you survival certified. You’d hated it less than you’d thought you would back then, and while it’s painful to admit it, right now you’re really, genuinely enjoying yourself, even if you know you’ve got another night of getting bled dry by mosquitoes and sleeping on a camp cot ahead of you. “If you ever say you told me so, they’ll never find your body,” you threaten darkly as you shift to a standing position, brushing some sand from between your toes.

It’s for naught a moment later, though, as you just step onto the beach and feel the minute grains working their way right back into the spots you’d just cleared.  Wading closer to the lake you can’t help but feel tiny amidst the towering trees of the woods at your back and the mountain peaks breaking the panorama in the distance across the lake before you. Stepping forward, you take your time approaching the water line, glancing out at the gently rolling waves, inhaling the fresh air.  As you cross the threshold from wet to dry, you feel the water-kissed sediment beneath your feet shift with every step, and you gasp as a wave of glacial water licks at your ankles.  It’s almost too cold to bear, but you persevere as you hike up your beach skirt before it can drag in the wash.  The water feels amazing against your overheated skin and by the time you’re up to your thighs, the slight tremors that wracked your body wading in have subsided and you feel content. You close your eyes as the sun beats on your skin and you relinquish your hold on the hem of your skirt, letting it trail in the water, dragging your fingertips through the wash as it ebbs and flows around you.  It’s all stillness and near-silence around you for a few moments and then, suddenly, you’re being snapped out of your reverie by a warm set of hands coming to rest on your upper arms.  Whipping your head around and glancing over your shoulder, you come face to face with Leonard and he presses a gentle kiss to your temple. “You scared me half to death,” you murmur only half-seriously. “Sorry, sweetheart,” Leonard says with a soft chuckle.  “Just wanted to come and enjoy the view with you.” “I thought I was the view,” you tease playfully. Leonard leans in closer and gently nips at the skin where your neck meets your shoulder, his teeth eliciting an electrifying sensation.  His hands come up to where your bikini is tied between your shoulder blades and you inhale sharply as you feel him tug on the strings, letting them fall aside and freeing your breasts from the top’s cups. “Leonard!”  You admonish with a squeak, reaching up to hastily hold the suit in place. “What are you doing?!  What if someone sees?!” “It’s just you, me, and the birds out here, darlin’,” Leonard says softly.  “No one’s going to see, I promise.” As he speaks, his hands slip higher up along your back, reaching the ties at your neck.  You feel them come loose a half second later and gravity quickly comes to Leonard’s aid, pulling your top down as you move your hands away from your chest, leaving it floating on the waves and you exposed to the sunshine and mountain air. You bite your lip as his hands come to rest on your waist for a brief moment before slowly sliding up your sides and around to your chest.  His chest presses up against your back as he pulls you close and his hands come to cup your breasts, kneading them gently as his lips find purchase on your shoulder. His kisses are so gentle they feel like no more than the brush of butterfly wings against your skin and you exhale softly, closing your eyes and enjoying the sensation. “You’re so beautiful,” Leonard murmurs into your shoulder. His hands are your undoing.  You sag in relaxation, grateful for the support of his body against yours as he massages your breasts, his thumbs occasionally flicking over your nipples.  It’s sensual more than anything and as your head drops back to rest against his collarbone you wish you could stay entwined with him forever. You don’t know how much time has passed by the time Leonard slowly, hesitantly slips his hands down away from your breasts but whether it’s been minutes or hours it’s been woefully little.  You reluctantly turn to face him, reaching out with one hand to fish out the bikini top that’s floating on the waves nearby feeling grateful that it hasn’t sunk yet. “Let’s head back in and have lunch,” Leonard suggests softly, leaning down a little to press a kiss to your forehead. You nod and shiver as he steps away from you, his body heat dissipating in the wake of his departure and leaving you chilled. Gritting your teeth, you slap the now-drenched bikini top back onto your chest and adjust it before reaching back to do up the ties.  It’s a clumsy and awkward process but you manage and wade into the shallows, wringing water out of your beach skirt as you go.  It doesn’t take you long to reach the spot where Leonard is packing up the umbrella and towels and you slip your feet into your sandals as you stop, grimacing at the feel of the sand between your shoes and skin. The walk back to the campsite is a quite one, but the silence is amiable.  You smile as the sun beats down on your face and shoulders, and as birdsong fills your ears and carries you far away from all of your worries back on the Enterprise. You’re still shaken and exhausted after the weeks-long combat situation that pre-empted the shore leave and so the further away from it all you can put your mind, the better. “Go ahead and get changed, I’ll get a fire started,” Leonard instructs you. You snap out of your reverie and realize that you’ve reached the campsite while you were lost in thought.  You smile and nod, half-surprised that he’s not coercing you into proving to him you remember everything he taught you during survival training by having you start the fire. It takes you only a few minutes to strip out of your wet clothes, dry off, and pull on a comfortable pair of shorts and a tank top.  Once you’ve gotten your feet into a pair of hiking boots, you make your way over to where Leonard’s already got a fire going and wrap your arms around his waist as he leans in to stoke it. “What’s for lunch?”  You ask. “I’ve got some chili stewing, and I was just about to whip up some corn bread,” Leonard replies. “That sounds amazing,” you say enthusiastically, suddenly ravenous at the thought of it. “Well it won’t take too much longer,” Leonard assures you with a smile.  “And if you’re still looking to work up a bit more of an appetite, I could use a little more firewood.” “Consider it done,” you say with a nod. You hurry off into the woods, glancing around for hazards and wild animals as you stoop down here and there to pick up some nice, dry pieces of wood.  You’re still a little uneasy being out in the forest by yourself, but the late afternoon sunlight still illuminates enough of the surrounding area that you won’t be surprised by anything creeping up on you. With a bundle of firewood in your arms, you finally turn to make your way back to the campsite.  You can’t see the path immediately ahead of you and so you try awkwardly to feel your way around with the toes of your boots.  You know you’re nearly back at the site when you start to smell smoke on the air and see glimpses of Leonard’s heathered gray t-shirt through the trees.  You’re just about to call to him when your foot catches a root and you’re sent sailing through the air and sprawling out on the ground. You groan as pain flares in your chest, dragging in a lungful of air after being winded upon landing.  You can feel scrapes smarting on your hands and knees and there are loose pieces of wood jabbing at you from all sides.  You’re about to roll over onto your back to relieve some of the discomfort when a pair of boots appears in your view and you glance up to meet Leonard’s concerned gaze as he crouches in front of you. “Alright there, sugar?”  He asks. You grunt at him and slowly haul yourself onto your knees, hissing as you’re reminded of the scrapes there.  You take the hand he offers to help you to your feet moments later and glance around at the wood you’ve scattered everywhere. “Fine,” you reply at last.  “Only my pride is irreparably damaged.” Leonard chuckles and reaches out, gently taking your face in hand and tipping it up.  As you stretch your neck a bit, you feel a stinging at your chin and realize you’ve scraped it, too.  Rolling your eyes, you pull away from his hold and stoop to pick up the wood, piling it back up awkwardly and starting off toward the campsite again, being careful to avoid the root that did you in the last time. Back at the campsite, you offload the bundle of wood next to the fire pit and step back to take stock of yourself. Leonard is right behind you and before you can protest, he leads you over to the truck and guides you to sit up on the tailgate while he retrieves his med kit.  As he pulls out the antiseptic and salve, you set your face in a contemplative albeit grim expression, earning yourself a quirk of his eyebrow. “What’s on your mind?”  He asks. “I’m trying to decide what’s worse – this or the sprained ankle from last time,” you explain. Leonard shakes his head and gives you a second to brace yourself against the stinging before he goes to work on cleaning out the wounds on your palms and knees.  It’s unpleasant but the discomfort becomes a bit muddled as you take in the expression of utmost care and concentration on his handsome face. It doesn’t take him long to finish with your wounds even with as much care as he’s using to avoid causing you any further pain and before long you’re sliding off of the tailgate and brushing the leftover dirt from your clothes. “The chili should be done by now,” Leonard offers as he returns from putting the med kit away.  “A hearty lunch is the cure for what ails you.” You snort at the sentiment and step forward instead, wrapping your arms around Leonard’s waist as your chest connects with his. “How about a little kiss to make it better instead?”  You suggest. “I think that can be arranged…”  Leonard trails off as he dips his head down a little, his lips brushing yours gently before coming in closer for a proper kiss. Soon, his hands are lost in your hair and yours are slipping under the fabric of his shirt to stroke along the skin of his ribcage.  The two of you become entwined in one another as you deepen the kiss and it’s not long until the chili is all but forgotten.   The two of you spend the next hour consummating the trip on one of the camp cots in the tent and as you lie tangled in each other’s arms in a post-coital bliss surrounded by the sounds and smells of summer in the woods, you can’t help but smile at your choice of destination for this shore leave.   It’s just what the doctor ordered.

[onlymingyus]

cw; seungcheol (s.coups) x gn reader, reader is sick or having a bad day, food is ate, there is just fluff here, self indulgent because i am once again writing fluff to make myself feel better while i am sick

imagine laying in bed, you are just not yourself. you've been sick all day or something is just off with you. it's not your day. but then cheol comes home and you smell him before you see him. his cologne hitting your nose along with the comforting smell of soup.

when you look up to the doorway you instantly pull the covers over your head because he literally looks like an angel whereas you in your own mind think you must look like the creature from the black lagoon who just happened to be snuggled into your shared bed. seungcheol laughs and sheds his coat while you listen to the sounds of the bags in his hands being sat down.

"you can hide from me but you are still going to eat." you shake your head at his words and sniffle making him laugh again before he sighs. his eyes looking at the lump under the comforter as he takes out the food and sits it on the nightstand before finally sitting down pulling the covers from over your head.

"cheol...no I look so awful. Just leave the food and go." the smile drops from his face as he shakes his head at your words as he smooths your messy hair from having been in bed most of the day before he moves to pick up a container of soup and a spoon gathering some.

"you are perfect and i'm not leaving. you don't feel well and my place is right here, feeding you soup and then i'm going to hold you while we watch bad tv until you fall back to sleep." you pout at the man as he blows on the soup making sure it isn't too hot before he offers you the spoon which you sip the broth off of.

the soup and his company makes you feel warm and comforted. tears almost threatening the brim on your eyes as you watch him get you another spoonful of soup. "thanks cheol..." he smiles and offers you the spoon once again as he watches you with loving eyes. "of course baby. i want you to feel better."

you nod and take the soup closing your eyes making seungcheol smile again, pleased with watching you eat. "so do you want to watch a home improvement show or a cooking show?" you can't help but to smile as he winks at you gathering more soup.

———————————

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© onlymingyus - all rights reserved. Reposting/modifying of any fic, or pieces of original writings posted on this blog is not allowed. Translations not allowed.  

[starseungs]

➳ universe. ksm

pairing: kim seungmin x gn!reader

Every day, he thanked the universe for placing you in his life. Out of the millions of heavenly bodies in the vast sky, you outshone every single one in his eyes. He was waist deep in a slowly sinking phenomenon he could only describe as love.

genre/s: roommates au, angst, fluff, writer!seungmin, unrequited love

warning/s: work & financial struggles, high real estate prices (yes im putting this here), the angst tag is before the fluff tag for a reason (is this a spoiler? probably)

wc: 2.5k

note: behold, another angst from me. don't question it- at this point its the only thing i can write properly;; also this fic is connected to my felix fic if you want to read that after! the two are written to serve as stand-alones too, so it won't affect the stories much if you don't. UPDATE: this has a part 2 now !

2022 ⓒ starseungs on tumblr. do not steal, repost, or edit.

Seungmin finally looks up from the blinding light of his laptop and stretches his limbs for the first time since the sun said its goodbyes. His room was dark—the only source of lighting being the laptop’s screen, which only reminds Seungmin that he should probably lower the brightness setting before working in an environment like this. He already had a sinking feeling that he’d be needing a trip to the eye doctor soon. 

And ending up with glasses would be such a hassle.

It’s not that Seungmin hated wearing them per se, but having to use the tool for reading things would hinder the efficiency of his job somehow. Of course, not to the point of a drastic difference, but he liked being able to work on his craft right away whenever and wherever.

You see, Seungmin is a writer. 

Well, calling it his job is sort of a reach. His "actual" job was as a journalist for a news-based company—still in the same field, just different specializations. Seungmin considers himself quite good at both, though.

He loved creating stories. It was his way of destressing from all the chaos that was his list of news topics to cover. Who said journalism was easy? It was enjoyable, yes, but it physically hurts him sometimes when he’s being told to cover devastating topics. Maybe he was just too soft for the line of work. After all, his colleagues seem to be doing just fine with similar coverage.

Seungmin originally wanted to be a book author anyway. It has been a long time dream of his to watch his story and characters come to life in the minds of those who read it. 

His passion for creative writing was something he discovered back when he was still a child. Books were always of interest to him; the concept of experiencing the characters’ lives through words and bringing life to the reader’s imagination was greatly thrilling. And that’s why one day, he simply found himself wanting to try it out.

Years after that event, Seungmin was now a fairly well-known writer on a platform where anyone could post their work. Along the way, he realized that being a professional author was so much harder than it seemed—but this chance was already enough for him. His stories were seen by more people than he had originally imagined, and that itself was a big achievement.

Like a normal person in society, though, he still had to find a job. Posting for free wasn’t going to support his daily life, which is why he ended up working as a journalist. The pay was decent enough to not make him live off of cup ramen like in his broke college days. Despite this, he initially struggled to keep a place to live.

Real estate prices were crazy high in Seungmin’s area. So much that it ate a good chunk of his paycheck just to keep the apartment he had. Sure, he had a stable job, but it wasn’t the highest-paying one out there—it was only about time that he would be struggling to keep up with rent.

And that was when he met you.

"Can I please just have another extension? I had to send money home this week, so I’m really lacking on the payment," Seungmin remembered pleading with the landlord. 

He was severely behind on two months of rent at that moment, and the owner of the complex he lived in was starting to have his patience run thin. 

It wasn’t something he could control! Seungmin’s sister had broken her leg and needed extra money to cover the hospital and recovery fees. He wasn’t about to leave his family hanging like that!

The landlord sighed and patted his back. "Sorry about this Seungmin, but if you can’t pay the two months by tomorrow, we have to ask you to move out. There’s another person who is interested in an apartment here, but we were already full," he said, dropping his arm off Seungmin's back. "We’re running a business here. I hope you understand."

Seungmin was left dumbfounded as the landlord started walking away. What was he going to do now? It’s not as if he could just magically conjure up enough money to fully pay two months of rent. Asking his family was out of the question—they already had their hands full with his sister. So what’s next? His friends? How comedic.

He didn’t have any.

The closest would probably be his co-workers, but it was a very professional relationship and stopped at general concerns. He doubts they would be willing to lend him more than simple pocket money.

"Hello? Excuse me, sir?" He hears a person calling out to him. He turned around and spotted you—who was peeking out your apartment’s front door. Oh, right. You were his neighbor.

"Yes?" 

Seungmin watches as your eyes light up at his response. Why do you look so happy to talk to him? "I’m sorry for the sudden conversation, but it's just that I overheard your talk with the landlord. You’re going to be kicked out tomorrow, right?"

That was certainly one way to say it, he grimaces. Surely, you didn’t mean it in an insulting way, but the cheerful tone in your voice reminding him of the current situation was kind of putting salt over his wound. 

Sighing, Seungmin decides to reply and get it over with, "Apparently. What about it?"

The universe must have been on his side at that moment, because your words certainly caught him off guard. This was not what he was expecting—

"Do you want to share an apartment? I have an extra room."

Granted, any random person who offers to live together would've been sketchy in Seungmin's eyes. But maybe it was your positive vibe that pulled him in, telling him that this was a good idea.

You were literally giving him a place to live, at half the original price. Having a roommate wouldn't be such a big problem, right? Plus, you seemed like a decent person to live with.

However, all his other considerations were thrown out the window at the speed of light once he realized once again how severe his issue was: he was on the brink of becoming homeless. 

"Sure."

And that was where it all started.

Living with you was quite possibly the best decision Seungmin had made in a while. Not only did he continue to live in the same apartment complex (which was the closest to the train station in his area), but he also ended up with more money for spending because the monthly amount he had to pay for rent was cut in half.

You were such an angel too. Always making sure the kitchen was stocked, so that the two of you were living like proper functioning adults. It would take some more time before Seungmin was willing to go back to his college dorm lifestyle days. He's already been avoiding the instant noodle aisle in convenience stores for the past year. 

In exchange for your generosity, he started doing most of the chores in the apartment—something you heavily thanked him for, because washing the dishes really wasn't your favorite pastime.

Due to this dynamic you both developed, a lot of your neighbors mistook you two as a couple. And no matter how many times you tried to correct the assumption, it just comes back stronger in the form of: "Oh, young love. You don't have to be shy about it! Both of you are adults now. Living together isn't that bad."

Except it is that bad. 

The main reason you decided to have Seungmin as a roommate was that you, too, were running late on rent for that month. Unlike him, who was on it for the second time in a row, though, you had lacked just one month at that point, so the landlord let you get away with it. 

Your job had to cut employees due to a financial crisis, and the pay was lowered by about one-fourth of the original. Luckily for you, your workplace considered you one of the best workers and decided to keep you among the remaining employees. Because of that, you didn't lose your job—only a pay cut.

Basically, that leaves you and Seungmin in the "struggling young adults" classification. Sharing an apartment was the best move you two could make in an effort to save your living standards.

On the other hand, if you asked Seungmin about the misunderstanding, he'd honestly say that it doesn't bother him as much as it did you.

Half a year into your roommate agenda, he found himself falling for you. The crush started not long after you first found out about his hobby of writing.

"So, you post stories online? That's so cool!" Was your genuine praise, looking at Seungmin's laptop screen with interest.

He, on the other hand, was developing cold sweat—a result of having you so close to him. You were currently hovering over his back, trying to get a peek at his draft document. 

"Yeah—I, uh, post stuff sometimes," Seungmin replied with a small voice, not used to people praising his hobby in person. "It's nothing too special. But I like the reactions of the readers."

You hum. "How do you plan stuff? I'm not really a writer kind of person, but I do enjoy reading. I want to take a glimpse at your writing process."

Seungmin tried his best to not swoon like a fool.

Someone interested in his work? As well as the process? What a way to make him fall for you.

"I normally just have these bursts of ideas. It can be lines, plots, concepts, character traits, all that stuff. When I do get them, I open my phone's recording app and just say my ideas for future use," Seungmin explains. "I know others write them down as notes, but personally, I prefer verbally describing them, even if it's messily done."

The way your eyes sparkled as he pointed out more stuff in his writing process had him whipped in an instant. It was from then on that Seungmin's adoration for you grew even more romantically.

Every day, he thanked the universe for placing you in his life. Out of the millions of heavenly bodies in the vast sky, you outshone every single one in his eyes. He was waist deep in a slowly sinking phenomenon he could only describe as love.

It's been about two more years since he deciphered his feelings for you. He'd never know how you'd managed to still be living with him—what he did know, though, was that it was a mutual decision. 

You both never talked about it up front, but it was obvious that the two of you were now in a better place financially. It would be reasonable to want to live separately again, but the bond you formed throughout the two and a half years of living together was something that could not be broken easily.

"... Min?" He hears your voice calling out. You must be home already.

After stretching once again, he headed towards his door to greet you. Your eyes quickly caught his, the sight making you smile. This reaction was what kept Seungmin going every day.

"Were you asleep? Did I wake you up?" You asked, setting down the plastic bag you were carrying on top of the kitchen table. He shakes his head as a no. "Oh, that’s good. Your light was turned off, so I just assumed."

Seungmin laughs at you while he approaches the plastic bag. Once he got a closer look, he realized it contained takeout food. He looked at you in question. You merely motioned towards it. "Did you eat already? I brought you take-out just in case. Just place it in the fridge if you’re not hungry yet."

The action has him grinning unconsciously. It was one of your love languages to do acts of service, and knowing that, he felt extremely loved.

Taking out the food, he started unwrapping it while watching you take off your shoes on the sofa. It was endearing to see you relax and become more comfortable once inside your shared apartment. He felt special knowing that he was one of the only people to see you in your natural form.

Sadly, his joy-filled illusion was destroyed right away when he noticed the outfit you were currently still wearing—a devastating reminder of what had just gone on with your night.

"How was the date?"

You beamed at his question. At least you’re happy, he thought bitterly. 

"It was great, Min! He was such a gentleman the whole time, I was practically swooning. His name is Felix, by the way. Just in case I end up introducing you two. You have an Australian co-worker, right? Chris, was it? He’s Australian too—do you think they know each other?" You chatted enthusiastically.

How fun. He could already tell that this Felix guy was a topic that would stay for a while.

The conversation hurt him, but Seungmin decides to entertain you nonetheless. "Maybe. I can ask tomorrow or something." You give him a thumbs up.

"Cool! I'll go and change out of this now. Good night, Min!" He waves back at you, watching your form disappear behind your room's door. When he finally heard a click, his arm dropped immediately.

It wasn't the first time you've gone on a date with someone else before. But it was the first time you went home approving of one—a very big deal, because this means whoever this Felix is, he's definitely getting a second date from you.

Seungmin was envious of the guy. He doubts he'll ever be on the receiving end of your dates. Something he knows and has tried before, albeit more indirectly. The result was soul-crushing, though.

Bzzt, bzzt.

His phone vibrated for a while, indicating an important notification. Considering he had all other notifications off except for messages, it must have been a text. He lazily picks it up, glancing at the message.

Y/N 🤍: i hope you liked the food i got you btw

Y/N 🤍: love you bro 🤪👊

He simply smiles at his phone, even through the tears that have piled up in his eyes. As much as Seungmin hated being seen as a brother to you, he'd rather have that than nothing. 

Yes, you saw him in a more familial light. It completely broke him for a while when he first confirmed it, but there was nothing he could do. Seungmin wasn't about to force you to like him romantically. 

No, he would rather leave the shared apartment than ever hurt you on purpose. Both were thoughts he despised to the bone. 

Exhaling shakily, he opens up the voice recording app and presses start.

"I know there’s a universe out there where we'll end up together. It’s just not this one."

[ PART 2 ]

mastertag 🏷️ : @h0neydewmoon

[kirathehyrulian]

Non-Challenge Art 🧱Another Brick in the Wall🧱  Art Master Post

(right click, open image in new tab images for better quality view) (Please do not edit/alter. Feel free to reblog, but please do not repost. At the very least please give me credit.)

Artist: @kirathehyrulian | Ao3 | LJ Author: @road-rhythm​ | Ao3 | Storylink: Ao3 Pairing: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester Fic Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Word Count: 19,898 Summary: When Sam vanishes on a case, it feels like every nightmare Dean's had since he got his brother's soul back is coming true. Waking up buried alive doesn't exactly make it Sam's favorite day, either. The Winchesters will do anything to save each other: that’s almost a natural law. But in nature, everything has a cost, and Sam and Dean have a bad history of not examining the price tag.

For more art from me please check out my “myart” tag here on Tumblr.   👇(Artist Notes, Bonus art and Spoilers below the cut) 👇

Artist notes:

“A room in darkness. In the middle of the floor, a thing on fire. Sam came near. It was a heart. The heart burned, but did not char. The flames licked along the surface of the organ in blue and orange, but the flesh within was fresh, perfect, wet, and red. Underneath the fire, the heart pulsed. He took it in his hands, in awe of its beauty. He trembled to touch it. It seemed he had never seen heat or light before now, and in the logic of dreams, he knew what he had to do with it. He was always going to do it. He raised it to his mouth. When he ate, he felt it burn all the way down.Then he woke.” - Another Brick in the Wall Chapter 18

Months, this art project has been in the works for months. If I look back at the text logs, it was all the way back in May, this year, when I started trying to crack down on it. Part of why it took so long was because I felt so drained in a lot of different ways. But, hey better late than never, right?

Normally, I have more things to say in this section, but because this set was stretch out over months I don’t remember everything off the top of my head. So, I’ll just go with a few bullet points that come to mind: •I know I started out wanting to do something more abstract but that went out the window when I started drawing. What can I say, I prefer defined art. I did try there at the beginning, though, I promise. •Sam’s green because first of all he’s dreaming of the sewer he’s trapped in (and sewers to me mean green atmosphere) and it’s supposed to be otherworldly/strange because it’s a dream. I promise it had nothing to do with the Grinch or Kermit. Though that was a funny happenstance. •The heart was originally going to be red surrounded in flames, which was closer to what the text described, but then I saw a reference of a heart on fire that looked like it was lit up like the sun. Which I think still fits the dream’s description still. So, I switched tracks on that part because that was like bright sun heart. •Originally what the blue and orange flames description meant just a single flame with the blue color as a core and the orange flame at the tips. Think of the type of flame you’d see on the stove top. But I thought it meant separate orange and blue flames, and once I had that idea it was hard to accept in my head. Plus, a lot of references of things on fire didn’t incorporate that combination. So, that’s how I end up doing what I did. •The hardest part was probably trying to figure out the heart/fire, runner up or alternatively how to draw an open mouth Sam. Thank god for the many Jared/Sam pics easily accessible out there. •I’ve been listening to a lot of Doja Cat lately, the main song was the one I linked below but really it was the hour long vid version, several times. •I made the title card last because I completely forgot about it till the end. So, I quickly made it mostly within a day. My favorite part about the process for the title card was deciding the font with author. We tried out four, one was a joke font, but I said I was going to try them all out and I did.

Idk, if anyone has any other questions they want to ask send me an ask or reply or reblog I’ll try to get back to you.

Bonus:

These pieces just show a little bts of the art. I removed most of the fire and the blood and took away the black filter so you can see the foundation of the work that was built upon. The fire covers up some of Sam’s face and I was proud of some of those profiles which I had to sacrifice for the fire in the final pieces, lol.

🎶Musical inspiration or just music I was listening to during (watch/listen at your own risk):

[festive]

Before you follow:

I am an adult blog, 18+ which means 17 and below you will be blocked for following me. I write and interact with a lot of dark content, and sexual content and it personally makes me uncomfortable interacting with a minor.

Almost all my reader inserts are female!reader unless stated otherwise. (Sometimes I write just afab or gn, but it is rare.)

Do not follow me if dark content makes you uncomfortable, as stated before, I am a dc friendly blog — normally all is tagged but in the case it is not, then this is your warning.

Do not follow me if you are racist, transphobic, fatphobic, a purist, hypocrites or lack common sense.

Do not follow me if you send anonymous hate mail, or if you’re in fact, a bad person, overall mean to everyone you come across.

It will never be ok to repost my content anywhere, or plagiarize my ideas that you’ve seen me post about whether it’s just a thought I’ve had, or a fic I’ve written — DO NOT.

This is a multifandom blog, sometimes I lean more into one fandom than I do the other and that’s ok, do not ask me why I haven’t wrote for a fandom in awhile.

Interacting with my content:

Now obviously I’m not going to check everyone’s pages who like and reblog my stuff (I’m busy.) but please be 18+ if you’re going to comment/reblog.

Another thing, please no spam liking, it’s really discouraging putting your heart into your fics just to only receive likes without any reblogs, after 5 spam likes you will be blocked.

Please don’t ask me for a part two, or be in my comments telling me to make a part two, I’d prefer if you just tell me you liked my content and go.

Do not ask to be on my tag list, especially if you’re not going to interact if tagged — and if you ask to be on my tag list, you must have a visible age displayed in your bio! (as it is I hate doing taglists bc it feels like I’m bothering people.)

I do not take requests, so if you dm me asking can you write … it will be ignored. However I am open to thirsts, I love expounding on them.

Do not send me unwarranted feedback on fics I’ve written, such as ‘why did you write him like this,’ ‘they would never,’ if you don’t like how I wrote something, please just block me and go in silence.

I am a dark content blog, do not ask me why I wrote such and such or try to shame me for writing it.

I will not write or interact with this type of content.. scat, vore, pedophilia, anything race play related, illness kinks, incest, anything harmful and hateful to others, this list will grow larger when I can think of other things!

Interacting with me:

To interact with me you must have a visible age in your bio, or any indicator that will let me know you are an adult. (I do check these, and will block accordingly.)

Do not ask me why you are blocked if you fit the criteria of my dni, or are in fact a blank blog.

I love getting asks, but sometimes I really suck at responding (I work a lot, and sometimes I just don’t feel mentally well enough to chat.) please don’t think I’m purposely ignoring you, sometimes my asks get ate as well.

If you are going to send me fanart you found, please send the link from the original artist — I always feel bad, it’s nice that you wanted to show me but I want the original artist to get credited.

Do not bring discourse to my inbox, I do not do the tumblr witch hunts, especially when you bring harmful information to me — I will not answer it.

on that topic, do not send me harmful messages about my mutuals.

If by the chance the mutual is broken, please hardblock me — bc I don’t want to accidentally tag you in something and the whole time I’m softblocked, it’ll make it awkward for both of us.

If I softblock you, there is no hard feelings, I do not hate you — I’m just clearing up my own blog.

DM’s are for more private conversations — so please do not abuse that and spam my dm’s with things that are not important.

Do not argue with me on my own blog, I am always right here, and do not disrespect my boundaries.

This is my blog and sometimes I’m busy, don’t get mad at me when I don’t reply to your ask, sometimes I get so many and end up overwhelmed. This applies with tags as well, don’t get too dejected if you tag me in something and I don’t see it, most times it’s just that; didn’t see it.

[spencers-dria]

Like Real People Do

🎉150 Follower Celebration Day 3!!

(Repost cause tumblr ate it 🙄)

REQUEST: congrats on 150! for the requests - how about a fic based on 'like real people do' by hoizer? i was thinking something like reader telling post-prison!spencer that who he is now matters much more than who he was in the past, but feel free to take it in whatever direction you want to! 💛💛

Spencer x gn reader

Angst

Content/Trigger Warnings: anxiety, depression, PTSD, implications of drug cravings

Yet another week of seemingly meaningless work at the office while my colleagues, my friends spend their time out in the field, doing the hard work, catching the criminals, seeing the joy of family and friends reunited at the end of a case. I couldn’t help but feel jealousy, resentment. But it was more than the actions of Cat Adams that put me in this place; it was my own ill-advised choices. How can one help but to be completely reckless and desperate for the sake of family? In the end it was sorted out. Here I sit, not behind bars, well, not in the prison anyways. The four walls of the building had become their own kind of imprisonment. I knew it wouldn’t last forever, but it was simply one more thing on the list of problems to deal with and reminders of the past. Of my past.

Coworkers offered kind smiles and gestures, all well meaning. None of it broke through the barrier made up of many types of bricks: anxiety, depression, PTSD, self-loathing, cravings, regret. None of them seemed aware of the newest walls put up, but that’s alright. It keeps them at a distance just the same. It serves its purpose to protect them and myself. Or so I thought. The last thing I expected when they returned from their latest case was the urgency in which my coworker, my dearest friend, pulled me aside into an empty office, fear in their eyes.

“I can’t be quiet anymore.”

I used my silence as a means to beckon them to continue.

“You’re not okay, Reid.”

“That’s what this is about?” I scoffed. “I’m fine. Everyone says so. The therapist says so. Emily says so. And most importantly, I say so. So if you don’t mind-” I moved to make my exit only to find myself blocked by their determination and hard-headedness.

“Sit!” They scold, but their eyes still hold a gentle and caring manner.

We both took our seats on a couch at the far end of the room, leaving enough distance for comfort.

“Look, I’m okay really I just-”

“Stop, Reid.” I felt a gentle hand on top of mine as I found the strength to raise my eyes to meet theirs.

For a moment, I couldn’t be sure how long, we shared nothing but a gaze, silence, and the gentle squeeze of a hand. It said more to me than any words they could have spoken, because at that moment I saw it. I saw myself. My pain, my regret, my anger, I saw all of it in their eyes, in its own form. I knew in that moment they understood more than I could have or would have ever expected.

One moment we sit in silence, but the next is filled with cries that hold pain, once buried deep but now rising to the surface. It’s a nasty business, digging through the graveyard of your past. I never expected to work through any of it, nor did I want to, that is, until they held my hand and didn’t let go, right by my side every step of the way.

“I can’t do this anymore. Sometimes I wish I was just-”

“I know, Spencer. I know.”

We spent days, weeks, debriding every wound, airing out the freshest of cuts so that they may finally begin to heal. Long talks, hard cries, hours spent in silence, in darkness. They did whatever necessary to get me through all of it. I grew closer to them than I ever dreamed possible. We were bonded together as the wounds healed. One day it finally occurred to me, what was it they saw? How was it, amongst a group of profilers, only they seemed in tune to how deeply I was buried underneath it all? Why did they choose to dig as deep as they did, to pull me out? Could it be a darkness in them that sought out the darkness in me?

“Do you think we could pretend?”

“Hmm”

“That I’m okay? That none of it happened? That we can just be- you and me?”

“Maybe, just for now, Spencer.”

Distractions. 

Lips on lips, staggered breaths, wandering fingers, skin on skin.

Wondrous little distractions.

I have been so wrapped up in everything, my pain, my healing, me. Only someone who knew this kind of pain could have understood or been able to help me through it as well as they have. Maybe they have worked through theirs, but what if they haven’t? What if they’re hurting just as badly as I was or worse? Is it not my job to reach out? Don’t I owe them for everything they have done? I know I can’t push. It’s a dangerous game, digging through your past. I trust they'll let me know when they’re ready, if only from the look in their eyes. After all, isn’t that how they knew it was time with me, when I had finally had enough?

“You know I’ll always be here to take care of you, right?” I place a kiss to their forehead, pulling them in impossibly close.

“Oh Dr. Reid, I thought that was my job.”

I feel the way they melt into the kiss, soft and sweet.

I may not be able to put a face or a name to their pain and their past, but seeing my demons reflected in their eyes cuts deep. I would protect them with my life if given the chance, not just from physical danger but emotional damage, scars, wounds that don’t heal. I know they could heal too, if they would only let me help, let me listen.

“You’re so much more, Spencer.”

“More than what?”

“More than all of it. More than your past. “

“So are you.”

Until that time I will be here. I will hold them, care for them, kiss them as though it can cure every ailment, lift every burden, wipe away every tear. We are merely ghosts of our pasts, desperate to feel something good again like real people do.

“I had a thought, dear

However scary

About that night

The bugs and the dirt

Why were you digging?

What did you bury

Before those hands pulled me

From the earth?

I will not ask you where you came from

I will not ask you, neither should you

Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips

We should just kiss like real people do

I knew that look dear

Eyes always seeking

Was there in someone

That dug long ago

So I will not ask you

Why you were creeping

In some sad way I already know

I will not ask you where you came from

I will not ask you and neither would you

Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips

We should just kiss like real people do”

[angeloroki]

IM NO LONGER ACTIVE ON THIS BLOG

hi everyone!

well i've been thinking about it for a few weeks now, i've decided to give up this blog and simply start another one.

(i just hope it doesn't turn out like on wattpad where i changed my account every 2 weeks because i got bored every time on the new one, and my friends kept yelling at me 💀)

before i start, i'm not going to delete it, i'll let people read what i wrote here but all the fics that are supposed to have a part 2 will be deleted and reposted in my new blog. the rest of these stories will be posted there too :)

obviously, i don't allow anyone to repost my work on tumblr or even other platforms. it still remains my work!

so the reasons are as follows;

- first of all i noticed that i've almost reached 700 followers (thank you<3), but, that, barely 10 people interact with my posts, if not sometimes none lol. so it's just discouraging to write for 0 returns, but in the end it's not the most important thing.

- some people have fun sending uncool anons, i replied to one, the rest was deleted, don't want to pollute my blog and your feed with it, so if you see this anon fuck off

- and finally my old writing style doesn't fit me anymore :/ i used to write only requests, almost forgetting what it was like to write for me, and in the end i realized that i didn't like it at all, so maybe starting a new blog and starting over would be better ? idk

(and to think, that i originally created this blog to read fic about shoto and nanami, while improving my english for my exams 😭✋🏾)

- and also i changed my url too many times, i think people don't know who i am anymore.

i hope you are all well, that you drank your water and ate, and that you have a good day full love <3 bye :)

[lokispettigerr]

Washed In Moonlight: Loki x Female Reader (NSFW) SMUT

So sorry all that I have to repost and retag everyone! Tumblr ate my fic. I mean if it was delicious it could have just said so.  Summary: While attending a party on Asgard, Reader stumbles upon Loki and is surprised at what she finds. As she retreats to her quarters she runs into trouble and an unexpected reunion and boiling tensions. Warnings: Non-con, Whump, Damsel Arch-type, Bondage Word Count: 4242 A/N:  Yes, this is reader being a damsel arch-type which is not something I condone, but to be fair I really needed this. I needed a reader that was going to be stood up for, taken care of, and not left behind. I am really hoping this is something you might need to. Taglist: @njavezan​  @lovelyxserpent-br​ @kamaroon​ @britkane-shsl-librarian​ @not-made-of-glass​ @archy3001​ @witch-loki​ @purplekitten30​ @mad-doctor-mew​ @bakerstreethound​ @jmb959​ @little-moonbeam-666​ @bingewatchingmylifegoby​ @fkngparadise​ @lucywindigo​ @screw-real-life-i-pick-fandoms​ @chocolatealmondmilkk​ @mellowgirl01​ @fyeahlitaajpunk​ @drakesfiance​ @wicked-starlight-collector​ @kenzieam​ @sherlocksuperfan666​ @confessionsofastrugglingteen​ @joseyslo​ @ms-munchkin​ @saintwiz​ @thathedonistgirl​ @thegrandmasterschampion​ @this-side-of-midnight5​  @lokislilslut​ @vioietta​ @rainthekittycatsblog​ @fire-in-her-veinz​ @cutie1365​ @puff1408​ @joyofbebbanburg​ @brokenthelovely​ @tehgvicious​ @lovelylazerbeams​ @fyrecrafted​ @lilith-akemi​ @sarcsep​ @alexakeyloveloki​ @lotus-eyedindiangoddess​ @iris-suoh​ @brucesflightattendant666​ @station1485​ @disney-kingdom-hearts​ @bluestaratsunrise​ @devilbat​ @smolangstbean​  @dangertoozmanykids101​ @dracosmudbloodd @barelyreality​ @laochbaineann​ @steampowerednightvaler​ @shockwavee​ @wegingerangelica​ @nightrose64​  @wegingerangelica​ @calamity-queen  @mischeviousliar​ @zainabmmm​ @micki-smiles​ @kara-kimura​  @pinkzz123 @rightfulkingofjotunheim​ @cyenakarma​ @holykryptonitekitten​ @avenging-blackwidow​ @dragon--dragon​ @onelazy-cat​ @doralupin01​ @hp-hogwartsexpress​ @lokislilslut​ @cherrygeek86​ @fandoms-wither-me-away​

The liquid in the crystal glass was of the darkest garnet and I swirled it around meticulously.

A shadow passed on quick feet and the air stirred feeling like an icy wind had just blown past me. 

I glanced up, my eyes landing on Loki’s broad, leather-clad shoulders. 

Most of the night he had been lounging around on one side of the palace ballroom. I had tried to hide many of my attempts at watching him behind the glass of wine I had been drinking. 

I was certain he could not see me watching him as I made the shadows my friends and let them swallow me up. He was washed in the golden glow of the candelabras, but all the while I thought he would have been more at home in the shadows with me. 

He had lounged against the far wall, cooler than ever, listening to an animated conversation before him. His head was tilted down and ever so often he would peek up, a strand of his dark hair against his temple, only to look back down again. 

Women and men had been drawn to him throughout the evening. With each exchange, he seemed to grow more agitated. Encounter after tiresome encounter I watched, until finally around the corner another patron came. She was brazen, thinking her chances with the Prince would be far better than her predecessors. 

Whatever words flowed from her mouth were likely the supplications he experienced on a day-to-day basis and I watched as she reached out to stroke his shoulder. I straightened, focusing on his reaction, wondering if he would finally embrace this woman’s attention. Loki dodged her caress and made a face I could only judge as sheer and utter disgust. He pushed passed her, rudely, obviously too drained from the evening for any pleasantries. 

Loki did an odd thing as he walked elsewhere in the ballroom. He searched the crowd of faces. I was sure he was looking for someone, almost as if glancing them would set his mind at ease. 

I had been given as a gift to Odin’s family years ago, but the palace was so big and so vast and so deep that I lived on one side of the universe while Loki inhabited all the rest. 

I felt like I fit the common storyline-- a princess locked away in a tower. A pretty little thing collected, polished for a time to a beautiful glean, cast aside and forgotten about-- only taken out to be paraded like a broodmare in heat at gatherings such as the one I was watching the Prince of Asgard at now. All the while, from the first encounter with Loki, I had desired him. 

I watched as Loki stood for a time with his brother, Thor. However, he must have grown bored of his brother’s animated grunting because he pushed off the wall with his heel to begin walking into the shadows, underneath the torch lights to the vestibule outside. 

I held the glass of liquid courage to my lips, gulped it down, feeling the fire trail down my throat and began to walk towards where Loki stood. His palms were planted on the wall of the balcony, his broad shoulders spread wide. I twinged thinking about running my own palms over the leather that adorned his broad, muscled shoulders.

Loki heard me approaching. 

He was never one to be taken by surprise-- he always had his guard up. I often wondered if he hid behind it so the real world could no longer harm him. 

My hips softly bumped the balcony. I didn’t look at Loki; I knew that if I did I might dart back to the party, to safety and comfortable invisibility. 

Unsure of what to do with my hands, I picked at my fingers, settling on placing them in front of me on the balcony, the metal of the palace surprisingly cool against my damp palms. 

I was beginning to feel woozy and I splayed my fingers wide. My pinky finger accidentally bumped Loki’s. 

Loki’s head snapped towards me, his eyes were set in a hateful scowl and I shrank into myself, my eyes widening out of fear and self-preservation. 

“Is there something you need?” Loki hissed.

“What? No. I, er…” I trailed off. 

“You could not possibly have grown tired of the charade taking place in the eastern ballroom?”

I looked at him, parting my lips to speak only to close them tightly again. 

The “liquid courage” I had downed must have been catching up to me. My body pushed against the balcony, leaning out too far over the edge, the wind softly tugging at my hair and a strand came loose to float away from my face. 

Loki’s hands shot out, grabbing my arms tight enough to leave red marks. 

“Could you be more careful?” He asked, his voice full of disdain. 

I snickered inappropriately, his anger seemed funny and not so scary anymore, “What is it to you?” 

Loki surprised me further, for the first time since meeting him, he seemed genuinely shocked. His jaw slackened and his eyes became lidded-- it was evident he was reinforcing his ever-present wall. But was it for his protection or mine?

“Enjoy the night,” he said in a hushed tone. He turned away from me, his hand remaining against the stone wall before he began to walk away, “You look radiant washed in the moonlight, Y/N.”

I grabbed the balcony to steady myself at his words. What had possessed him? I had never heard him utter my name and the way he said it, like honey slipping from his lips. Never had a name sounded so completely erotic-- like some dirty deed had taken place.

I didn’t want to be there anymore; I felt small and alone. I had a balcony attached to my bedchambers anyway, I could just as easily stand there looking out over all of Asgard. Of course, I knew, seeing all of our world before me would do nothing to abate the ever-present feeling of being alone.

 As I walked back through the palace I kept my head down, shame making me a prisoner to my thoughts. Loki’s face haunted me, how he had looked at me with what I thought was annoyance or anger, but later how he had softened towards me. Isn’t that what I had always wanted? 

Before I knew it, I was turning down an unlit corridor. Throughout the palace were lanterns and other torches that burned brightly at all hours of the night, but this corridor… What had happened? I wasn’t expecting it and my mind was still fuzzy from the spirits I had imbibed. I stumbled. Picking myself up, I shook my head, trying to clear my vision and make the walls stop spinning. 

My hand shot out in the dark to fumble blindly against the stone wall. Each step I took was more unsure than the last. 

I heard something, like the heel of a boot against the cool stone floor. “Anyone here?” I asked, but only the wind howling against the wall of the palace answered. 

All at once, I turned a bend and ran into something solid-- unmistakably a male body. I squeaked in surprise. 

“Aren’t ye a pretty thing?” The voice was slurred and the scent of wine assaulted my nostrils. 

“William, look what we have here. The wet heat between her legs was most like seeking us out.”

“What? No, no I didn’t,” I said, almost as confused as I had been when I was with Loki on the balcony at the party. 

The voice receded and another man, bigger than the first, placed his unwelcome, tree-trunk arms around my waist dwarfing me-- making me feel like I was in danger of being crushed. 

I sniffed, straightening up as much as my clouded mind would allow me too, “Please unhand me.” 

The men laughed, “Please?” William spat, “What lovely manners you have been trained to ‘ave.

“Now stop that, no one is letting you leave. Besides our mates wouldna like it if you didn’t come for a visit.” They both laughed boisterously. 

“No, no, this is a mistake!” 

William picked me up as I kicked, my feet dangling in the air, striking nothing. 

I drew in a deep breath to let out an ear-splitting scream but before I could, a gag was placed between my wine-stained lips. “Can’t have ye drawing unwanted attention to yerself.”

“Oh come off it,” the first voice said, “it is obvious by the way she dresses that she wants attention. None of it’s unwanted.”

They both laughed. 

I wouldn’t cry, but the fear that gripped my heart with it’s long, icy fingers made me long to. At least my tears would be warm. 

As William dragged me I would go between bouts of no movement to complete rage driven fighting, my nails scraping against the wall, bloodletting from my fingertips. 

I thought I had been everywhere in the castle, but I found that I was wrong. 

The men who held me captive passed through a passageway and I lost all sense of where I was. 

The further we went, the deeper into the bowels of the castle we traveled. A part of me wondered if they were taking me deep into Hel. 

Finally, I was thrown to the ground, miraculously landing on my hands and knees. 

I scrambled trying to get up but before I could someone grabbed me by the hair, as it had come loose in our descent. 

“I heard whores like being treated roughly and we’re glad to accommodate,” a crackly voice said. 

I was pulled to my feet and forced against a grimy wall, my arms raised above my head and chained. The gag was removed from my lips.

“I beg your pardon! I’m not a whore!”

The man put one stubby finger to my lips, shushing me. 

“Wait here,” the man rasped. 

As he walked away I studied my surroundings. It was as if I had been brought to some underground club of some sort. 

Raucous men were all about drinking, playing games, and cursing one another. Serving wenches sashayed from table to table filling glasses and stroking shoulders, bowing low enough before the men’s wandering stares to expose the tops of their bosoms. 

My eyes wandered up to the chains that confined my wrists and I tugged at them testing their strength-- the cool metal bit into my flesh as they were achingly tight. 

Another woman, dressed in scanter clothing than I pranced towards me, stopping along the wall next to me. “Alfred, tie me up would you love?” she called out and the man who had confined me to the wall merrily obliged.

He glanced at me tugging at my restraints, obviously and futilely trying to escape. “You’d be wise to learn a thing or two about whoring from Winfred here, young bitch.”

Winfred acted as if she noticed me for the first time, “Who is she? I’ve never seen her in the brothel, Albert-- Madame Duncan must have gotten a new brood of vipers to tend to you rough lot!” She cackled, “You must stop being so rough with them, Albert! You will ruin us all!”

They both laughed together at a joke that I did not care to find humorous. 

Albert walked away. 

A tear shed from my eye as I began to feel more hopeless. 

“Ah, now don’t cry, there is no need for tears. I’ll show you how it is done,” Winfred crooned. 

“But I’m not supposed to be here,” I replied.

“I thought that too many times when I first began. But now I have five mouths to feed.”

I did not respond, too saddened by both what Winfred was sharing and my own predicament. 

“Listen, deary, just go to a place in your mind that brings you the most calm,” Winfred paused, “Mine is the farm I grew up on-- truly peaceful. Oh! Here comes a patron now, you’ll be fine.”

I watched a stout man approach chained Winfred, he lifted her skirts and shoved himself into her with a grunt. She whimpered and grimaced, but then began moving with the man moaning with a smile on her lips. She was a good actress. 

I couldn’t continue to watch; if I didn’t want to go through what Winfred was going through now I needed to escape. But how? I looked away, biting my lip, fighting back what felt like a constant stream of tears. 

I was so occupied with finding my escape that I didn’t hear the brute approach. 

“Crying are ye?” His hot, rancid breath blew on my face. 

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing you aren’t getting paid more than fair for.” He knelt forward, pushing my head against the wall so he could whisper in my ear.

“Keep up the tears and struggling whore, I like to use force.”

I began to tremble, “No! No, please stop!” I cried.

“Just like that.” His hand went to my skirts, pulling and bunching them up. 

The roar of the patrons in the room that had been the constant sound since my arrival suddenly quieted to a murmur and then a hush. 

The energy in the room became a stiff tension and the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. I felt *danger* with every fiber of my being, screaming at me to run, to get away. The man who was raping me was nothing compared to the feeling of this new threat. 

The man in front of me sensed the same danger and he stepped back, his body trembling. 

There before me was Loki, lethal energy radiating from him in powerful waves. Words were not needed to convey to the patrons his full-bodied rage. He stepped towards me, and his energy consumed me, threatening to make my body catch fire. 

His lips touched my ear, “Who brought you here?”

I wanted to point, to throw around accusations, but my hands were still confined to their iron cuffs. 

Loki followed my gaze, his eyes resting on the metal that bit into my flesh. 

“Let’s get you home.” His hands covered mine, they were cool and a welcome sensation to the wounds that were lighting my nerves on fire. 

I could hear the soft clink of the cuffs unlocking, and my wrists were released. “Can you walk?” Loki inquired.

I nodded but Loki grabbed my arm and supported me.

Foolishly, the man who had been violating me placed his hand on Loki’s chest in a desperate attempt to stop him and to gather what little reputation he may have had left.

Loki turned to the man like a venomous pit viper, a misplaced smile on his face, “This is not the last time you will see my face, you can be sure of it.” Loki pushed past the man and turned towards me as we walked away, his voice was gentle, “Come along now.”

Surprisingly, Loki knew how to get out of all the twisting and winding tunnels that led to the secret chamber, and even more so that he knew exactly where my chambers were located. Perhaps it was silly of me to take note of it, it was his home after all, but I couldn’t help wonder that perhaps he had been making a point to keep tabs on me after all. 

Upon entering the room, Loki looked at me, his eyes full of concern and determination. 

“I’ll call for your maidservant to bathe you.”

“No, please.” I sounded scared and I tried to relax a bit, “Don’t leave.”

“Well, alright. Stay here while I draw a bath.” 

I stood, afraid to sit down for fear of being unable to stand. 

Loki returned, steam pulsating enchantingly from the piping hot bath. 

I tried to undo my bodice, but my fingers were still shaking. I pulled at the strings, but only managed to knot them further. 

Loki’s fingers appeared before me, gently pushing my own fingers aside. He deftly undid my bodice while my eyes went to his face to watch his expression.

His fingers fell away to allow me to unclothe myself without his eyes upon me, but I pulled his hands back. 

“Don’t stop, please.”

Loki’s eyes flashed with recognition at my request, as if I was a perfectly wrapped present he was being allowed to finally unwrap after a long wait. 

Without hesitation, he pushed back the opening of the bodice and it fell to expose my shift. 

My breath caught in my throat.

His eyes were on fire with lust and he glanced at me through dark lashes looking for my approval to continue, as if he half expected me to stop him. 

I grasped his hand, my fingers unusually cold, and slowly slid them up my form to my breasts. 

His eyes closed, the lids fluttering. I heard a low grumble in his throat indicating his pleasure. 

His fingers closed around my breasts, softly squeezing them and his body moved closer in response to his arousal. 

I noted how he towered over me, making me feel safe and child-like. 

His hands slid to the neckline of my shift and he lightly slid it down my shoulders to fall in a heap around my ankles. 

I was completely and utterly exposed, the cool air of the chamber rushed to my skin like a lost lover, causing my nipples to stand harshly erect and chill bumps to spread along my skin. 

Loki leaned closer, resting his forehead against mine. He shook his head back and forth, as if restraining his own animalistic desires. 

“Your bath will get cold,” he stated. 

“I don’t care.” 

“Bath, now.” Loki purred, a smile resting on his lips. 

He held me close to his muscled form, lovingly and slowly backed me towards the piping hot water. 

I knew that if I took a bath he would leave.

“I am staying right here. I want to be sure you are alright.”

I stepped into the bath, the tendrils of steam falling and twirling around my skin as I lowered myself into the fragrant water. 

A  sigh escaped my lips. 

I settled into the water, reclining, “Why are you being so kind to me, Loki?”

“How do you mean?”

“Why do you care?” I asked, “You never have seemed to before.”

Loki straightened, apparently wounded by my words. 

“I have always cared, which is precisely why I have tried to keep my distance.” My gaze was a prisoner in his own, “Do you not see I am no better than the man who...who…” Loki paused, his anger clouding his thoughts, “violated you.” He hissed venomously. “I am dangerous, Y/N.”  

“How can you possibly think that, Loki? You helped me get away from that place, they were never letting me leave. They truly believed me to be a whore.”

“A *whore*?” Loki echoed. His nostrils flared and heat seethed from him.

Loki picked up a pitcher sitting next to the bath, in an attempt to distract himself from the anger that threatened to turn his vision red. 

Hot water rushed into the pitcher as he dunked it and then poured it repeatedly over my sensitive skin. Over and over again until I felt at one with the cleansing flow. 

The water stopped and the world seemed to still. 

I opened my eyes, to find Loki staring at my lips. 

“You are so frustratingly beautiful.” I leaned forward, my back coming off the tub. 

“You want to kiss me.”

“Yes, and I want to do so much more to you… I want to do bad things to you. Don’t think for a second that I could not have done all of them and more.” 

I brought my lips closer to his, my eyes looking determinedly into his, “Do them.”

“I never once told you after finding you that you were safe. You can be certain you are not. You are no safer now than you were before I found you.”

And with that, faster than a bolt of lightning striking a tree to light it on fire, Loki was upon me.

His lips coaxing my own, making my body rise out of the water like a Kraken hunting for a ship. 

Water was dripping from my hair, sliding down my breasts, and coating the lips of my womanhood. 

I left the tub behind and we moved towards the bed. 

The pillowy mattress gave way under me and my wet hair splayed around my head like Medusa’s coils. 

Loki’s broad shoulders were above me and I rested my hands on them. 

“Are you certain?” He asked. 

Logically, after what I had just been through, I knew I should not want this. Not now. Yet, Loki tugged on my heartstrings, and every atom, every cell that made me, *Me*, sang for him, craved him, and belonged to him as if he was my creator and as if he was my God. 

“I have never been more certain of anything in my life.” With that, we took one another, like some drug or some medicine for the soul. 

My hands grabbed at his clothes, unfastening and removing them until he was laid bare before me. 

I traced over his marble-like skin, my fingertips caressing his scars and pleasure spots with an unfeigned sense of dedication and curiosity. 

Loki had magic in his fingertips and they were rolling and caressing my wet labia and ever increasingly sensitive clit. My body would jerk and my hips would buck as his thumb would roll around my clit, commandingly. 

I could feel a roiling heat within me, a volcanic rupture of neurons and passion threatening to release. 

I was maddened with a sense of urgency to make him feel the same.

My hand slid from his chiseled shoulder, turning, my knuckles gliding over the hard ridges of his abdomen. My fingers grazed over the neatly groomed, dark hair to close solidly around his cock. 

I could feel my pupils dilating with heated excitement as I felt his manhood pulsating and the veins protruding. I looked up to find his pupils, the same dark pits as my own, threatening to be my demise. 

I carefully pushed the head of Loki’s cock toward my opening. One flick of the tip against my clit would surely send me into oblivion. I wasn’t ready for that just yet. 

His cock pressed harshly against my lips. I could feel his excitement between the tips of my fingers. 

Loki’s hips surged forward, his cock plunging into me and I cried out in painful pleasure. My back arched and his arm slid between the arch and the mattress pulling my body closer to his. 

He lifted me with him as he moved creating a most desirable friction. 

Loki’s chiseled abs tightened with each thrust. 

“So wet for me,” Loki breathed against my lips as he kissed me, “So soft.”

He moved his arm from behind my back, his fingers greedily raking against my skin. Loki’s fingers closed around my throat, they splayed wide enough to push against my jaw making me tilt my head up and to the side. 

Loki pulled back just enough to look at the mess I had become. 

I watched as he slowly and forcefully pushed further into me, only to slide out and do it all again. 

“Mine,” he growled, full of conviction. 

His fingers tightened and his hips pushed ever deeper, “You are *Mine*.”

Loki was right. I was exactly where I belonged. 

His words, his touch, his movements and our intimacy finally allowed me to cum. It blew through my body like a forest fire urged on by the wind. Through it all, I felt Loki joining me. He cried out, hips pushing, muscles twitching as his hot cum poured into me. 

Loki filled me. Where once I was empty he had taken up indefinite residence. 

I could not help but meditate on our undeniable connection as I drifted off to sleep. All the while he whispered how beautiful I was washed in the moonlight. 

The next morning I awoke to find the covers pushed aside and someone else in the room with me. 

“The Prince left in the wee hours of the morning, but wanted me to tell ye he would be back for you, Mistress.” I was shocked to see Winfred. “What are you doing here? Are you alright, Winfred?” I asked. I never thought I would see her again. 

“Why wouldn’t I be? I am more than grateful to the Prince for hiring me as your maidservant.” A dreamy look misted her eyes, “The way he talks about you… A strong and pure possession.” She clutched at her breasts, “It is as though there is nay anything he wouldna do for ye, Mistress.”

She came closer to me to talk in a hushed voice, “The man, the one that violated you. Some men found him this morning, dead.” 

My breath caught in my throat, “What? What happened?”

“Nay anyone knows, Mistress. They say it was the work of the darkest Seidr. Only a most accomplished and powerful sorcerer could leave a trace of the darkest kind.”

My thoughts flooded my mind, yet through it all I wanted nothing more than to be safe in Loki’s embrace once more, after everything he had done for me.

****** I hope you all enjoyed it! So sorry that I had to repost this because Tumblr ate it! I lost all my good comments, likes and reblogs. I’m sad. Anyway, if you enjoyed give me a comment and reblog.  If you would like to be added to the Loki and/or Tom general taglist please send me an ask. If you don’t I may miss it.  Until next time,  Loki’s Pet Tiger

[the1918]

Hello! Since you write such amazing smut, i’m curious if you have any favorites smut ARTISTS. i love when a fic is paired with a drawing or smth, give such a visual vibe.

Thank you so much for the compliment, and what a great question! (All are warned: all links in this post are explicit/NSFW!)

So I will preface this by saying that I have only been in this fandom post-2018-- i.e. post-tumblr nsfw purge of December 2018. So I may not have been exposed to as many great NSFW art artists as are really out there. I don’t do twitter really so even though there’s art there, I only find it through google. Please recommend me some smutty art!!!

That said, my two definite favorite stucky smut artists whose material are still on tumblr are: 

@seplus​ - incredible. beautiful manga-esque art style with amazing detail and emotion. a fantastic SFW art as well. Faves are here and this a/b/o art!

@elkane​ - gorgeous and talented illustrations. breathtaking line art. my hands-down NSFW fave is this one, but they have so many (oh also ‘good boy’ AH daddy)

Other than that, I actually get most of my stevebucky porn from google image searching “stucky nsfw art” with safesearch off. Highly recommend. Through that I have found:

@leehanjiart on twitter. personal fave is steve gettin’ his ass ate (another here)

‘You'd Better Keep It Tight, Rogers’ on ao3, art by kurozawa46

i love this racy M-rated piece by liduke

this masterpiece is my all-time favorite piece of stevebucky fan art, and i have seen countless uncredited reposts but have never been able to identify the artist. please tell me if you know it! I spent over an hour one day trying to find out because all I want to do is throw money at them. the artist is @cindyfxx !

I’m the glad the question was “smut artist” because there are so many incredible stucky fan artists and I would be here all day if I were trying to list the SFW ones too

oh p.s. myself

[sierracolorstheworldofwords]

Yandere googlepliers x chubby reader

An:I went really experimental with formatting, because I was really inspired by Winter girls by Laurie Halse Anderson, the author of speak. Anyway, this is a repost because tumblr ate up the original post. I plan to post fan fics more often now that I have a laptop, so if you like my writing, requests are open! :D

Chaos. So much burning.

Smoldering, smoky buildings, streets covered in bloody corpses. A woman's head twisted at an odd angle, her eyes ice cubes as they stared at you, her mouth opened into a frozen scream.

Walking down the road, you shuddered, holding yourself, almost as if trying not to fall apart.

Your foot steps echoed, bouncing off alleyways and jagged skyscrapers, whose metal interiors now exposed, reminded you of broken bones. Blood littered the streets like bright red watercolor, while organs, scattered like rose petals and party streamers, lay exposed on grey sidewalks and hung from lamp posts.

Gagging, your breathing grew heavier as you turned a corner, seeing a baby's head hanging  by its spinal cord like a twisted piñata from a store front, it's eyeball clinging onto a pink string as it dangled from its eye socket. Oh.. oh.. oh god.

No, no, your boys— couldn't.. couldn't do this! You ran past the store, and ran past an apartment building. You ran past an alleyway, a library, caught in the maze. Trapped like a rat. Turning left and right frantically.

They couldn't do this. They couldn't do this.

They changed, they changed.

You kept passing dead bodies. The smell of burning metal and flesh haunted the air. The streets covered in a blanket of broken glass, and the buildings that remained intact almost had all broken windows and doors. Cars had been turned upside down and squashed like a wads of construction paper.

Everything silent. Except for the eerie and distant noise of sirens, echoing throughout the city. You didn't notice at first. Too caught up in the violence. Now, you heard them, and ran towards them.

Your boys couldn't do this.

The boys who loved blue and green and red and yellow. Whose colors always reminded you of wildflowers.

They couldn't.

Prime, who you loved with all your heart couldn't do this. Oliver, who you loved with all your heart couldn't do this. Rowan, who you loved with all your heart couldn't do this. Conan, who you loved with all your heart couldn't do this.

Running, you turned a corner, getting closer to the noise.

Where was everybody? Could they really murder an entire population? They couldn't— could they?

Desperate, you pushed yourself faster. You passed a man with his chest gouged out. Someone had their hands torn off and stuck up their— you wished you hadn't seen that. A girl lay crumpled on the side walk, her pigtails pulled off, and her face smashed in.

Too many bodies to count. All of them, chopped up like vegetables, and torn up like dolls in the jaws of a dog. So much violence. So much destruction.

The sirens screamed for you to keep running. Why did you stop, they asked. You hadn't even noticed you stopped, until you heard your breathing, and felt you legs shaking like plates stacked too high, your whole body ready to break.

You stopped right in front of the little girl, staring at her carnage.

   You caused this.

You gave them admin permission, or whatever it was called— you gave them autonomy! And they waited, they waited and bid time and gained your trust, waited till you loved them, till you let your guard down. Then, like a viper, they bit.

Sinking to your knees, the sirens faded as your breathing increased, filling your ears.

You touched the body, it was stiff, cold. The skin was an odd color, and maggots crawled in every crevice— in her nose, where they twisted, a hive feasting on her flesh. How long had she been here? How long had they all been here? You looked around, and touched her again, squeezing her arm. It wouldn't move. Rigor mortis. Then, you went down, and squeezed her leg. The whole body stiff. Every inch.

Your eyes widened in horror as you realized— these bodies had been here for around six hours. Yes, you remembered, rigor completely set in after six hours.. why did you know that? Some class from high school? A book? A documentary?

Panic set in more as you got up, and staggered towards the noise.

    They couldn't do this.

Prime, who loved technology and loved to study space, couldn't do this. Oliver, who loved to study psychology and how humans worked couldn't do this. Rowan, who read so many books, going through them in hours, couldn't do this. Conan, who loved to study biology and evolution couldn't do this.

Your boys, your loves, couldn't do this.

 They couldn't.          They couldn't.                         They couldn't.

                               They couldn't.

Your shoulders shook as you entered the center of town, full of cafés, bookshops, tea shops, and cute ritzy restaurants all covered in dried blood. People lay dead on chairs, and some held books, others held shopping bags, or cell phones.. all of them stopped. Frozen in time. Like a clock who's gears got stopped up with ice.

The sirens loomed closer, and, taking another glance at the bodies, you continued walking. You passed a green and white bookstore, you took a turn down a street, full of bodies, bodies stuffed together like sardines. So much blood. Blood the color of rust and bricks. It scattered everywhere. Everywhere, every street sign and store front. No one was spared.

You continued further, legs shaking, throat dry.

The sirens screamed louder. Bursting like red and blue fireworks in your ears.

You saw the police cars, white covered in scarlet, in dead bodies.

So many.

Heads twisted, noses punched in, stomachs full of holes.

You couldn't call out their names, you couldn't. They scared you too much. Each name a monster, shadows that cut.

        Your boys couldn't have done this.

Shakily, walking closer to the carnage, you leaned on a police car, panicking. Your heart pounded in your chest as you walked slowly. Corpses bleeding into your eyes as you heard the buzzing of flies.

You screamed.

You collapsed.

More bodies.

Corpses piled up in a heap, you saw your boys, dragging the corpses, like stiff statues, across the pavement.

They turned towards you, eyes wide as they dropped bodies. "Darling?" Asked Oliver, yellow as a sunflower, and soft as one as he stepped towards you.

Your hands wouldn't stop. Your arms wouldn't stop. Everything kept shaking. Your whole body felt like an avalanche. Like it was tumbling and full of rocks and snow.

"Oh, sweetheart.." Whispered Rowan, red like a rose, "You weren't supposed to see. I made sure to put enough pills in your drink."

You   couldn't    breathe. Breaths. came in short. gasps.     Air barely leaked.                   In— Lungs—     couldn't.

Collect air.

Everything.                Heavy. Lungs full of frozen snow,            heavy with grey rocks, frozen over with icicles.           Blood invaded by ice crystals.  Heart covered with frost.     Paralyzed.

They approached you, surrounding you. Oliver leaned down, blood covering his hands as you started to cry, howling. "Oh, oh, shh, shh, it's alright." He wrapped his arms around your waist, comforting you like a kitten.

The boys did the same, Conan, green like spring, began petting your hair gently, while Prime, blue as the sea, kissed your cheek. Rowan, hugged you from behind, and the two other brothers hugged you from the sides. All of them warm.

"It's alright.. it's alright— they're all gone now, little one, and can't hurt you." His warm voice l crawled into your ears. You said nothing, your stomach curling into a twisted iron knot.

Tears poured down like rain in the middle of a blizzard. You couldn't control the sobs and screams. You smelt the blood on them, hot copper. Your heart beat ferociously in your chest, shuddering from the cold that invaded your body.

Oliver lifted your chin, tears streaming down your face, "It's okay. It's alright. All you need is us."

The others echoed back, "All you need is us."

Your heart clenched.

The bright flickering lights of memories came.

Blue burst in your mind.

You and Prime watching a space documentary, his eyes widening as the camera zoomed across the solar system— like an arm, reaching, reaching, reaching towards space. The lens retracted, going further and further away. The milky way bloomed before your eyes, the galaxy blossomed into Christmas lights and swirls, everything expanded. Stopped. Then, in a flash, a dash, the colors swirled into lines, zooming back to earth.

Blue faded into red.

Rowan shyly smelling roses when he thought you weren't looking, sitting at the table and fingering the scarlet fish scales of velvet petals. His smile like a rose, too, slowly blooming underneath the sunset that sailed through the window. His skin shining with tangerine and goldfish rays, you remembered him smelling like roses, and the next day, you planted a rose bush in your backyard.

Red ran into yellow.

Oliver smiling at you, in the afternoon. His hand reaching towards yours, his fingers warm, comforting. His hand so much bigger than yours; yours covered in lines and scars, his clean and pristine, like a piece of computer paper. Your lips saying how do you do as you kissed his fingers, and his smile like a ball of sunshine, as his lips replied I'm doing wonderful, by touching yours. He tasted like lemonade. You kissed underneath the swing set that hung from the grand oak in your backyard.

Yellow flipped into green.

Conan letting your head rest on his shoulder. A biology book in his lap, it was about— sloths. Those fuzzy three toed creatures. You remember saying, "Did you know sloths.. used to live under water?" He turned towards you, his eyes like the woods, stacked with trees and leaves, deep and dark, untrusting and full of secret wonders. He blinked in surprise, his eyes wide and lips turned down slightly. "Don't act like a know it all. That's not true." You frowned, and told him to look it up, he did. You were right. You smirked, you knew a lot. Just as you were about to continue, he asked what else you knew. The two of you talked about biology the rest of the night and evolution until morning. Plants and animals blooming into the living room as the sun rose.

All the colors dropped down your mind, and splashed down into a single memory—

All of you in the new bed you bought, surrounded by comfy pillows. You heard them humming. The sound of their insides working. Everything warm. Safe. You nuzzled into Prime's neck, since he's always the warmest because he's the oldest and tends to get hotter than the others. Everything felt safe. Perfect, covered in the moonlight. Hazy snores came from Conan, who always snores, because he sleeps with his mouth open. Rowan's breath on your neck, a soft nuzzle into your cheek, Oliver resting on his brother's chest, holding your hand.

You realized that night that love isn't one color, it's a burst of colors— Blue and Red and Green and Yellow. It's the color of wild sunflowers and a kitchen filled with cups from the 70s, it's the music of soft breathing and the feeling of your cheek warmed by another, it's a quivering river full of enchanted hues.

The memory slipped down, became a drop of multicolored paint, and splashed on the white floor of your mind.

So many memories— too many memories.

Your eyes watered again as you looked up at them.

"Wh-why?" You whispered. "You don't need to worry about that." A blue voice said, robotic and stiff. "It is— well, was our primary objective." "But— But— I thought, I thought maybe.. maybe you didn't care about that anymore..." you whispered, your shoulders sagging as you burrowed back into Oliver's chest, closing your eyes, "...Maybe you wouldn't care about destroying humanity because you didn't need to. You had me— wasn't that enough? Just the all of us? Together? What— what did everyone else matter?" You asked, taking a shaky breath, "And now what? What? Your Primary objective is complete and you probably don't need me anymore, because wasn't your primary objective to destroy all of humanity? Don't I count? I don't understand at all. I don't know..." your voice faded, "..I don't know— I don't. I— I don't know. I just— why? Why did it have to be so much violence? Why? Why did you have to hurt all those people? What did they do?"

You wanted to melt into the earth and never come back. You could smell the scent of rotting flesh, and the smell of it as it burned in the big pile, smoke starting to fill the sky. "We would never hurt you." Your questions didn't get an answer, as Rowan spoke, "We love you— you taught us to love." He whispered, "And, we had to protect you from.. from.. them." He spat, voice filled sharp red knives. "They were nothing like you. All they did was take up space." Said Conan, his voice seething acid, "All they did was hurt you. Why shouldn't they feel the same pain they caused you?" "N-not everybody hurt me.." you whispered, voice as soft and fragile as melting snow. "Knowing humans, they would have. Look what they already did to you— all those mean words and comments, isn't it better that they're gone? Now," he gripped your chin, his fingers digging into the soft flesh as he turned you towards him, "It's just us."

They echoed back, voices a mixture of color, "Just us."

Colors plopped and sizzled in your mind, like an egg dropped into a hot skillet. Your own color lost somewhere— what color were you, anyway? Red or Blue or Green or Yellow or Purple or Nothing? White? Blank? Your memories have always been covered in white, and tasted like cigarette smoke and the smell of old rotting houses.

Then, they came, all of them, bringing color. Bringing so much color— But could they bring color to the outline of a memory that crossed your mind?

No.

A blank wall, Curtains drawn. The music turned up. Books scattered left and right. Everywhere. A tornado hit your room, and the tornado was you. You, you caused distraction everywhere you went. Blobs of paint pounded at the door of the blank canvas of your room, asking what was wrong. All you did, was rip. Rip the pages of the books, become an outline. You had always been an outline, You just— Forgot. Outline kept ripping up pages of books, saying how stupid outline was. Outline knew outline was stupid. Stupid outline, everyone was right. No one would want to hire outline. Outline got a job, outline got comments about weight, outline snitched.

Outline got fired.

Outline forgot they had been lines, and only lines, all along.

Outline forgot what white was, became filled with cyan skies, poppies, sunshine and grass. Outline got filled with yellow courage and red passion and blue happiness and green kindness.

They want you. The memory changed shape. They want you. Or, at least, that's what they said, when you cried.  Sobbing, curled up on the floor, they told you they wanted you. They told you  everything was going to be alright.

One of them had picked you up, taken you to the couch, while the others offered to make you cookies, or tea, or anything you wanted. Sniffing as someone wrapped you up in a blanket, you asked softly for hot cocoa, with cinnamon.

A flash of red gave you a cup, the color of a robin's egg, filled with hot cocoa. He sat next to you, and somehow, you ended up in Prime's lap, sniffing. "I'm so bad." You said. "Why?" "I should've just kept my mouth shut.Everyone likes me better that way."

Then, you felt hands, the hands of your mind stretching down, clear as crystal, distorting the world as they ascended upon your mouth. "Well, I like it better when you talk." It was Conan, standing in front of you, hands on his hips, "And unlike other humans, you aren't annoying." You laughed a bit, sniffed again, and took a sip of the hot cocoa. The hands shattered just as quickly as they came.

The air rippled and chirped, purring with happiness and warmth as you snuggled further into the fluffy blanket. "Yeah.." whispered Rowan, "And unlike other humans, I quite like your voice." Another smile from you, Conan sat down next to Prime, and immediately snatched you into his lap.

Prime turned, "Excuse you?" You laughed again, a tinkle of golden bells, and he let it go. Snuggling into his chest, you smelt his shirt, which smelled like books. Mostly the new book smell, but it also smelled of chemicals, and preservatives, because of the experiments he often conducted. It also smelled a bit metallic, yet human. They all had that in between smell of metal and.. natural musk? It was often how you recognized them, by how they smelled, and their heights too.

Everyone snuggled on the couch, and you felt yourself getting sleepy as you kept drinking. You noticed the humming increasing, the whirring of fans filling your ears like a lullaby as you slept.

"..We care so much. That's why I put that pill in your drink. It's part of the plan— you weren't supposed to wake up." Rowan's voice pulled you out of your thoughts, "We—" "—We weren't originally going to do it." Whispered Oliver, "Because we didn't care anymore." "Until they hurt you." Hissed Conan, "And nobody hurts you. Nobody. We got rid of them. It's only us now. Only us."

Their voices echoed slightly as they repeated, "Only us."

You looked into Conan's eyes, then Oliver's, then Rowan's, then Prime's.

    They loved you.

    They all realized it when you got sick. Oliver realized it when he found you over the toilet, a hand on your sweaty forehead as you retched, gagging and pushing your hair aside.

Rowan realized it when he saw you in bed, with a fever, when he got so afraid you'd die, and held your hand, crying.

Conan realized it when you tried to stumble out of bed, saying you had to work on a research paper, because that's how the bills got paid.

Prime realized it when he felt relief after you got better, when he saw you slowly walk into the kitchen, sit down at the table, and eat a bowl of cereal. You hadn't eaten in three days.

From you, they learned about love. It tamed people, it tamed animals, it made things stay, even if it was just for a moment. Love, is like a dandelion, it grows and then contracts, then spreads into the wind, growing more. Love, is like the moon, waxing and waning, always coming back. Love, is like the sun, like warmth, it always comes back, but it blooms in a different color than before, and dies only to rise again.

You taught them that.

A human, small and weak, who spent too much time in doors reading books— any books, but they could be picky sometimes— tamed them, made them ask if the world was really all choked up with smoke.

They found out it was. That the world is always on fire, always combusting, it never rests and let's itself regrow again.

You, you're the small island surrounded by a pond in the middle of the burning woods. Always treating them with kindness, saying "please" and "thank you" and "I'm sorry" constantly. You always asked if they want to spend time with you, and of course they do— always, always and forever.

When they saw you yesterday night, so sad and broken, Prime picked you up, and immediately the others put the plan into action.

They had incorporated you into doomsday, deciding that your house was the safest, since it was far from town. (You walked all the way here, poor thing, they thought.) When you fell asleep, they tucked you into bed, turned off the lights and locked the advanced security system. You beat it anyway. (Did you worry about them? That was so like you— always worrying.)

Prime rested his head on top of yours, and then got up. His brothers frowned, their arms still reaching for you.

They all wanted to hold you, to keep you close.

Slowly, you reached out for Rowan, since Prime wasn't carrying you right. You smiled, forgetting it all for a moment.

The air wasn't filled with smoke. It didn't smell of burning hair.

Only they mattered, Their colors, their eyes, their smell. Only they mattered.

He gently took you from his brother, and cradled you. You could see the blood. You could smell it.

You buried yourself into his neck, wrapping your arms around him, smelling roses. He always smelt like roses, because he built a green house once summer started to end. Rose petals always lingered in his hair, pink, red and white, scattered amongst the locks. He grew all kinds of roses now, he loved them dearly.

You loved him dearly— all of them. That's why everything kept coming and going, bursts of color fading into ice, starting to burn and decay.

You burrowed deeper into his neck as he walked down the road. Tears fell out of your eyes, as you heard the sirens die out. "It's alright now.." he whispered, hugging you close, "It's alright. We'll be out soon." He murmured, kissing your cheek.

The city echoed with their foot steps and your sobs.

Another kiss landed on your cheek, and another and another.

Looking up at him, you noticed that everyone stopped, surrounding the both of you. A tear leaked from your eye, and quickly it was kissed away by Prime.

At the edge of the city, you looked at all the bodies— all those people gone, just like that. Did they really do that, all for you?

Should you be proud? Should you be ashamed?

Whirlwinds swirled in your stomach as you looked at your boys. Your lovers.

Yours.

You needed them just as much as they needed you, or, you wanted them just as much as they wanted you— or, both. Biting your lip, you felt another kiss on your cheek, Oliver.

Then, another one on your other cheek, Conan. Then, one on your lips, as Rowan kissed you.

You didn't need the world. All you needed was them.

Smiling, you wrapped your arms around his neck again, and burrowed into his warm skin, closing your eyes, putting a shutter over the images that flashed through your mind—

A bloodied hand, An old grandmother with a stab wound— The piles of bodies The blood. The blood.

You buried yourself deeper into his neck, trying not to cry. Rowan felt so comforting, and warm, he felt so safe, like a blanket wrapped around you when least expected, that comforted you even though you shivered.

Rowan smiled and kissed your head as he walked down the road, as Prime watched you from the corner of his eye, and listened to the world around them. Conan scanned the nearby woods, shooting at whatever animals came in his (or your) direction. Oliver walked next to Rowan, with Conan by his side, watching you.

They didn't need anyone else. Didn't you know what they were before you?

Outlines, white spaces, no color, ready to serve their objectives, but you— you.. brought out something, in each.

They didn't need the other colors, they only needed you, you and your bright cherry, blueberry, green apple and banana colored personality, that glittered and gurgled through the ocean of darkness.

You're the most important objective of all, didn't you know that, little human?

All they need is you. Only you, nothing else.

The world could burn, for all they cared, and it did— they burned it, all for you. All for you.

They continued walking as the world descended into night, like a bird falling through the air, and shedding feathers, only to reveal new ones made of violet petals and the noise of crickets.

Didn't you know, little human, thought Oliver, that once you started loving them with all of your human heart, that you bound yourself to them forever?

No, no you didn't.

Oliver reached over suddenly, and took you from his brother's arms, carrying you instead as they continued walking, the world awfully silent— full of no one, not a single human in existence—

Except you, of course.

The world is safe, now that every human is dead, it took a while to do it, but they did. The pill lasted for three days, and that's what all it took for them to kill all the humans. They started outside, and slowly went in, reaching your town last. And now, now you're safe, safe from all the hardships and stabbing words. Safe, safe at last.

Oliver felt you nuzzle into his shoulder and sigh contently, falling asleep.

He fell in love with you because of kindness, you're always so kind. Always. He knew his brothers fell for it too. He remembered when you came home, crying, and locked yourself up in your room, barely talking through the door. Prime ended up picking the lock, picking you up, and dragging you to the living room. Rowan drugged your hot coca, and they all cuddled you until you fell asleep.

That's when they knew, what they had to do.

Because forever and always, you will be theirs...their precious human.. forever.

[jtargaryen18]

The Shape of My Heart

Chapter 33

Warnings: Violence, Threesome, Smut, Angst, Explicit Sexual Content, Jealousy, Polyamory, Blow Jobs, Oral Sex, Double Penetration, Anal Sex, Voyeurism, Stucky, Spanking

A/N: One of my resolutions in 2020 is to finish this story. It’s on AO3 but I thought I’d bring it here to pull me back into it. I’ll be posting new chapters when I get to that point on both platforms.

This is not a dark fic and there’s an OC instead of a reader.

I do not consent to have my work hosted on any third party app or site. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but archiveofourown, tumblr or fanfiction.net, it has been reposted without my permission.

~~~

Since it was time to get back to work, and not just for Stark Industries today, Chris wanted to be ready.

Bucky got up with her for her morning barf. They took a shower together with Bucky doing everything he could to entice her into a round of shower sex, but she gently put him off. She stayed so tired with the pregnancy, even that early, that she knew if she did that, she'd go to bed instead of work.

Steve came back from his run to make her the same breakfast she'd enjoyed the day before and once she finished it, her stomach settled, and she felt better. Steve tried to stick around to make sure she ate all of it and she just knew he was so happy that he'd been able to help her with all the morning sickness business in his own way.

Bucky begged her to return to the apartment after the meeting. There wasn't anything she couldn't do up there, he reasoned. Well, according to Steve, Ross wasn't going to be there so she decided to take her chances.

She was going to be ready.

Chris picked out a pantsuit in dark gray, it made her eyes look darker, and she put herself together as if she were going back to the bureau. Honestly, it did make her feel better. She pulled on low pumps, sedate silver jewelry. Her hair and makeup were professional.

Chris smiled as she grabbed her new laptop and her briefcase and headed for the meeting.

Nat, the only one in the conference room when she arrived, looked up and grinned when she walked in. "You look great," Nat told her. "How are you feeling?"

"Trying not to let morning sickness get the best of me," Chris admitted. "I'm okay."

The beautiful spy watched as she got her laptop started.

"You ready for this?" Nat asked.

The sincerity in the beautiful spy's eyes moved her. The sincerity of her emotions nearly moved her to tears. Not only to have such a woman as a friend but to be part of their family here. Outside of Aunt Jenny, Chris had never been part of a big family. She decided moving forward to spend more time with them and less time hiding.

Someone placed a cup from the food court in front of her. Chris smiled up at Phil.

"Your soda," he told her, knowing she hated coffee right now but needed caffeine.

"Can you have that?" Nat quirked a brow at her.

"Not you too." Chris blew out an exhale as another larger metal hand snatched up her cup.

"What's this?" Bucky asked, gently shaking it to hear the crushed ice in there. "Soda? Can you have that?"

Chris snatched it back while Steve snickered behind him.

"Yes. I. Can." She told them with feeling.

"Great, now that Bob the Builder is here for the meeting," Tony said as he walked down to the head of the table, "let's get the show on the road."

"Bob who?" Steve asked.

Chris shook her head. She'd explain it later.

Sam wandered in, letting his gaze roam over her before he winked playfully. Bucky stared him down the entire time, so Sam succeeded in riling him up.

Yeah, she needed this.

Clint, Bruce, Vision, Wanda, and Maria filtered in slowly and Chris took a deep breath, feeling more confident than she had in while. This was familiar.

This was her arena.

Chris took a seat at the opposite end of the table with Steve and Bucky on either side of her. She started up her laptop and Tony began going over the intel he'd gathered and the ideas he had about HYDRA's attempt to resurrect Project Insight. As usual, the others had ideas, brought up issues with what was being discussed, brought up unaddressed issues. It was a highly constructive meeting.

In the end, she and Tony got into a back and forth about what it would take to track down the algorithm copies, any plans. Her boys were listening so intently to every bit of it even though she knew a lot of it was over their heads. Bucky kept glancing up at her with something like admiration in his steel blue eyes and it had her heart clenching in her chest. To have the admiration of someone like him? Well, that was no small thing.

Steve was a different story. It wasn't that he wasn't proud of her. He looked concerned that she'd make some plan to sacrifice herself but say it in computer nerd terms, so he wouldn't immediately understand it. Steve watched her like a hawk when she was outside of their apartment.

When the meeting adjourned, Tony held up a hand to Chris. "Stay."

Chris nodded.

"Why?" Bucky muttered.

"Another meeting with Fury," Steve explained.

"Everyone isn't needed for this one," Tony told Bucky.

"I'm staying," Bucky said flatly.

"Suit yourself."

Phil came down to Chris as they waited, wanting to go over a couple of notes on the computer files that Tony had sent her. Steve and Bucky quietly talked until Fury showed up, he and Tony joining them at her end of the table.

"I hear congratulation are in order," Fury said to Chris.

"You heard right," she said with a grin. "Thank you."

Fury nodded. Then they continued the conversation about the online onslaught involved in their plan, the parts that Tony and Chris would play in tracking down Project Insight.

"What I need to know is when the search will begin," Fury said slowly.

"After this meeting," Tony told him. "I'll help Chris with it but as Ross pointed out, I'm not as experienced with this arena."

Steve and Bucky wore nearly matching scowls.

"And will they be able to trace it back to you?" Steve was direct.

"Not if I do it right," Chris told him confidently, willing them to believe her, to have faith in her. "And keep in mind, the targets and programs? They won't be online for the taking. Most of the copies I find will be on remote servers in even more remote places. It's going to take time. It might even take weeks."

"Ross isn't going to give us that," Fury let her know. "So you'd best move quickly."

"And carefully," Steve added.

Chris nodded. As if she needed to be told that. It went without saying that she'd be careful.

"What about the plans to track down their production?" Chris asked.

Fury nodded, laying a folder on the table in front of them. There were maps, pictures of what looked like an abandoned factory. Chris noticed the recognition on Bucky's face before she ever felt his emotions take a leap.

"I know that place," he told them. "I think I was there for a time."

"Really?" Steve asked. "Do remember the layout of the building?"

Bucky really concentrated and after a couple of moments, he slowly nodded. "Some. I seem to remember a lot about the lowest layer. It's deep. There's only one floor above the ground, I think, but many below it."

Placing a hand on his shoulder, Chris smiled. "I'll see if I can dig up any blueprints or architecture drafts on it and we can go over it."

Bucky nodded. "Yeah, that would be good."

Fury nodded, seeming pleased with that as was Steve.

"Ideally, the targets and plans should be eliminated before we move against their production site, but something tells me Ross isn't going to give us that time," Fury explained. "Chris, do your best to find any of it as quickly as you can. I'll try to hold him off as long as I can."

Chris nodded her agreement.

"See if you can find plans for that and review it with Barnes. Any intel would be useful."

"Absolutely," Chris told him.

"Have you seen Dr. Cho yet?" Fury asked her.

"This afternoon," Chris told him.

Fury nodded. "The fewer people who know about your pregnancy, the better for obvious reasons. Outside of the group from Thanksgiving, does anyone else know?"

Again, the stupid tears came on and Chris was blinking them back. "The only family I have is my Aunt Jenny and I haven't gotten to talk to her in over a year."

Chris hated the way her voice shook, hated the way they were all looking at her with sympathy. Including Fury, damn him.

"Who am I going to tell?" she wanted to know.

Chris closed her laptop and gathered her things as quickly as she could with shaking hands.

"Is that all?" she asked.

"That's all, Danforth," Fury said quietly.

Chris scrambled out the door heading for her office, hoping she could keep from bursting into tears before she reached it.

***

"What the hell was that?" Steve demanded, rising to his full height and stepping towards Fury.

Fury stood his ground, holding Steve's gaze with his good eye. "I needed to stress to Danforth and the rest of you that it's in everyone's best interest for as few people as possible to know about her pregnancy."

"That was not the appropriate way to go about it," Steve shot back. "Not in this meeting. Not in front of any of us. She's a member of this team. She deserved more respect than that."

Bucky's glare at Fury told they were in agreement on the issue. Fury dropped his head. "I see your point. I'll apologize… later. I can see how that could be taken as offensive though it wasn't my intent."

Steve nodded, accepting that. But he was still pissed off. It was bad enough Fury said what he had with the smaller audience from the second meeting. He knew his girl well enough to know how proud she was, how hard she'd worked to get where she'd gotten.

It was another matter to remind her that she was trapped in the compound and couldn't communicate with her aunt. That had probably not crossed Fury's mind.

"That being said," Fury went on, "you know I'm right. What would some people out there give to get their hands on the child of Captain America? Or the Winter Soldier? Did it ever occur to you that they've been trying to break Erskine's code for decades and if they got their hands on her or that baby, they might succeed?"

Steve had thought of that. And the safety of their girl and their child was far more important than anything else.

But her happiness mattered too.

"Stark, you'll keep me up to date on any progress made on locating and destroying the plans and the targets," Fury said. "We'll continue to develop plans for the move against the production site and I'll try to hold Ross back as long as I can."

With that Fury, quietly left the room and Phil followed him out, leaving Steve, Tony, and Bucky.

"You think if we find you the plans you could layout that place?" Tony asked Bucky.

Bucky nodded slowly. "I think so."

"I don't have to tell you guys this but take care of Chris," Tony bid them. "She's one of the best in the world at what she does but she gets full-blown obsessed with it… just like I do. Pepper's looked after me for the last few years but… You know what to do."

Steve and Bucky followed him out. Yes, they did know.

They worked on training with Peter and Wanda before going through the armory and figuring out what they needed as far as ammunition and weapon repairs. Everything had to be right on this mission and Steve was going to do his best to ensure that every "I" was dotted.

When it came to lunchtime, they headed for the food court to get lunch for their girl. Steve wasn't sure just plain mashed potatoes and bread rolls were the best lunch, but he didn't argue when Bucky ordered it. When they reached her office, they found her focused on the laptop before her. So much so that she didn't seem to notice when they came in. She jumped when Bucky gently placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Sorry, doll," he whispered by her ear. "We brought lunch. Want to take a break and eat with us?"

Steve watched as her mind slowed down and she took in his question. Finally, she nodded and smiled.

Steve wasn't happy with the situation. She'd slept well. But already her suit coat had been discarded, her hair was coming down from the way she'd worn it earlier. She was the picture of stress and it couldn't be good for her or the baby.

They got her talking about training with Peter and Wanda, the preparations they were making. Bucky actually had her laughing about the bet he made with Sam about asking out Jeri at the front desk of the compound.

"When are we meeting with Dr. Cho?" Steve wanted to know.

"You want to go?" Chris smiled at each of them. "In… in about an hour. I'm a little nervous."

Bucky placed a hand on hers. "Don't worry. Helen is going to take very good care of you."

"I know she will," Chris told him. "It's just… I've never done this before and here we are with a really high-stress situation and… yeah…"

"We're going to be here with you through the entire thing, Sweetheart," Steve assured her. "Buck's already made me agree that one of us is going to be here at all times as soon as you hit six months."

Chris's smile had his heart squeezing in his chest. "Really? You'd do that for me?"

"It's for us too, doll," Bucky told her. "I'm hoping we'll both be here for the birth, but I want to guarantee at least one of us will."

"And that's more likely to be you?" Chris teased.

"Sucks to be Cap," Bucky said with a laugh.

"Can you really do that?" she asked Steve.

"It's not a matter of can I," Steve told her calmly. "I'm going to."

Steve didn't often play the Captain card unless the situation warranted it. And this one did. The relief on her face made him happy, made it worth it.

"Thank you," she told them, meaning it.

"Anything for you." Bucky kept flirting with her through lunch and Steve just tried to stay out of his head and in his heart.

There he sat with his two loves just having lunch. Getting there had been a long road and hard fought. It wasn't hard to remember a time when he yearned for Bucky from afar when he was consumed by jealousy the first week Chris was at the compound and Bucky had pretty much lived in her bed.

He was going to try not to worry so much about all the things that could go wrong and try to be there in the now, to enjoy it.

They killed some time back in the armory before heading down to medical to meet their girl for her appointment with Dr. Cho.

Chris was already in the exam room with the doctor when they arrived and to Steve, Chris looked so small sitting up on Helen's table as they talked quietly.

"Here they are," Helen said with a smile. "Come in."

Bucky followed him in, both of them kissing Chris before taking a seat.

"I'm not an obstetrician," Dr. Cho started with, "but I will be monitoring the entire pregnancy and I'm here to help in any way I'm needed. There's a doctor coming who is an OBGYN, Dr. Meadows, who will deal with the normal pregnancy visits and who will supervise the birth. She's got excellent credentials and I've got a copy of those for you, Chris."

Chris nodded. She looked nervous.

"So, I have to ask," Helen went on, "we're all one hundred percent sure that we're moving forward with the pregnancy?"

The smile that split Bucky's face when he nodded had him and Chris doing the same. There wasn't a lot Steve liked better than seeing him smile, seeing him happy like that. Steve was so grateful they both were going to have this experience, having a baby, and with someone as wonderful as Chris.

"On the issue of the father," Helen said more carefully. "Have you given that any thought? I know this situation is a little different."

"I don't care which of us it is for my part," Bucky stated, cutting his gaze at Steve. "We may want to know for medical reasons. Steve had really bad asthma as a kid, some other health issues. I don't know if that will be a factor here…"

Helen picked up a clipboard that had a thick pile of papers pinned to it, scanning the pages quickly. Steve's heart raced.

"Hmmm, looking at the records Tony pulled on Steve, I don't think there's going to be an issue there. The serum enhanced everything and that would include your DNA. It would be highly unlikely for any of those ailments you had before the serum to have slipped through to pass on to a child."

Steve released the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Bucky winked at him and Chris reached out for his hand. And Steve took hers. It was small and cold, trembling in his hand.

Helen gazed at each of them in turn. "That, however, comes with a different set of concerns. Both fathers are enhanced, and that DNA was passed to the child. The baby should be marvelously healthy and that's a good thing."

There was always more.

"We're going to want to keep an eye out for Chris, however," Helen explained. "A half-enhanced baby is likely to be larger than the norm and Chris isn't very big to begin with. I'm going to recommend higher nutritional requirements for you, Chrtheso they baby doesn't start leeching your resources. I'm going to look into prenatal vitamins with Dr. Meadows and see what we want to do there."

"If the baby is too big for her?" Steve wanted to know everything he could.

"We'll have to see how it goes," Helen told him. "Normally, nature doesn't give a mother a baby bigger than she can handle but this is a different situation. The pregnancy can continue as long as she isn't endangered in any way. There's bed rest which is often what happens with mothers of multiple births. Should the baby's size be an issue, we'll hold off as long as we can, but we can always take him or her early if we have to."

Chris's other hand rested on the flat of her tummy. "What if there are more than one in there?"

That got Helen's attention. "You're what? Five weeks?"

"Six," Chris told her.

"We won't be able to determine twins until somewhere between ten and thirteen weeks. So around that time, if you'd like, we can do a transvaginal ultrasound and take a look."

Chris nodded. "I'd like that. Yes."

"How are you feeling?"

"Sick," Chris told her. "Morning sickness for a good two hours each day. At first, I thought it was a psychosomatic thing because I was so wound up about it but I guess not… Isn't it early for morning sickness?"

Helen shrugged. "Not necessarily. It could be that the child is advanced and it brought an early onset of it. So it does go away?"

Chris tipped her head at Steve. "The last two days he's made me this ridiculously large breakfast sandwich thing that you wouldn't think I could ever possibly eat but I have, and it has helped."

Bucky smirked, shaking his head.

"What?" Chris wanted to know.

"I'm the one who got up with you and took care of you when you were sick," he teased, "and punk here gets all the credit for making a sandwich?"

"I'm sorry," Chris meant it. "You know I love you."

Bucky seemed pleased at that.

"So you feel better after eating and it's a large portion." Helen furiously scribbled notes. "Anything else out of the ordinary?"

Chris shook her head. "Not so far."

Helen offered cards to Steve and Bucky. "So you all can reach me at any time, okay?"

They arranged a time for her to meet Dr. Meadows the next week, Helen was going to send them some nutritional guidelines for Chris, Dr. Meadows' information, and then the three of them headed back up the hall. Back to finish out the day.

Bucky ran up to their apartment to shower and order dinner. Steve stopped by Chris's office so he could walk her to the apartment. Fury stopped them as she locked her office door.

Fury held out an old flip phone to Chris and she warily took it.

"Sorry about earlier," Fury grumbled. "When you have a few minutes, dial 9."

And with that Fury walked the other way.

Chris shook her head. They got back to the apartment and she immediately changed into a fuzzy pair of purple pajamas she'd ordered. Their dinner was delivered, and they enjoyed that, Steve encouraging them to eat at the table for at least meal each day.

Afterwards, Chris stood in the living room contemplating the phone Fury gave her. With a steadying breath, Steve watched her open it and dial 9.

Chris nearly burst into tears when someone answered it. "Jenny? It's my aunt. Oh, my God. Hi! Oh, Jenny, I've missed you so much."

Bucky smiled at him as she dashed into her cave to talk, crying happy tears all the while.

"That was decent of him." Bucky flipped through channels to catch the news. "She's probably going to be in there a while. What are you doing, handsome?"

Steve took a seat next to him on the couch and placed a hand on one of his heavy thighs.

"You. I hope."

Bucky's grin was absolutely wicked.

@what-is-your-plan-today  @jennmurawski13 @badassbaker @caffiend-queen @disneylovingal  @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123

[villain-enjoyer]

First of all Sam-I-Am is strong, so jot that down.

I’m writing a really domestic briefcase buddies fic :-) It’s not nearly done but here’s a part I like so far.

__

Guy was a deep sleeper, once he was out anyone would need to make a whole lot of fuss for him to wake up again. It was the sensation of being hoisted up that jostled Guy from his sleep now.

He slowly became aware that Sam was carrying him. And despite Sam’s seemingly secure hold, Guy felt a bit unsteady as Sam marched them closer to their bedroom. Guy held on to him a little tighter as he squeaked out his name.

“Sam?” He yelped.

“Yeah bud?” Came Sam’s muffled reply.

“You’re carrying me?”

“Yeah, you fell asleep in front of the tv and I know how much the couch hurts your neck when you-

"No, HOW are you carrying me?”

The smaller who let out a soft chuckle before simply responding “I work out?”

Guy was about to rebut when his drowsy brain caught up to him. In the first month that Sam had moved in he had left his pull-up bar between one of the doorposts in their apartment. Guy hadn’t paid attention and had run into it face first. Sam had explained what he was using it for and had been so so sorry. After that it only happened a handful of times, Guy had mostly gotten used to looking before he entered a room. He’d never actually seen Sam using it before, but now that he’d mentioned it he thought that watching his boyfriend do chin-ups would be more than intriguing.

At this point Sam had squeezed them through their bedroom door and they’d reached their low queen sized bed. Sam put him down gently, his strength only waning a little.

“You carry me around a lot so I thought why not try to return the favor, you know?” He quipped, "Care to cop a feel?” Sam asked slyly as he put out his right arm for Guy and flexed it.

Guy had been a sceptic. Back at the prison when Sam had caught him he’d seen it as a stroke of luck. A herculean effort in the face of danger that, if only for a moment, made Sam strong enough to catch Guy right out of the air and let him down safely. Sams arms didn’t look very sturdy but once Guy tried to pinch his bicep he knew he’d been wrong.

You couldn’t see it through his thick layer of fur, but underneath Sam-I-am was yolked. Like properly ripped.

Sam still surprised him, he was quietly delighted to find out another fact about his boyfriend. His Sam, shredded, he couldn’t quite wrap his head around it yet. Guy tried reign in his admiration, but Sam’s flirty smile told him he was doing a bad job.

__

(this is a repost tumblr ate the original)

[shounenkitsune]

Cake One Shot Sick Fic

Reposted from fanfiction.net, but I feel like I wanna move everything over here bc I prefer tumblr.

Vocaloid fanfic, but tbh they might as well be OC’s bc nothing in the story is relevant to them being Vocaloids XD

Rin stretched out on the floor, trying to get a better look at her painting. She'd already put a lot of water on it. She had to be careful with her next moves, because the paper wouldn't accept much more water here soon. She needed to blend more black into the background, but there was already so much in there, that the rest of it seemed to look like blobs of blue rather than that cool galaxy look. She frowned. Maybe there was another dark color she could use to add depth?

Len released a rather obnoxious belch from his side of the room. He was lying on his back with his eyes closed, one hand resting lightly on his stomach. Rin glanced up at him, then immediately went back to her painting. It wasn't really unusual for him to do that. He was a teenage boy after all. Not that he wasn't respectful, just that he felt comfortable enough around his sister and she didn't mind it, so he didn't feel the need to be so proper and polite. He usually said excuse me afterwards though, but it wasn't such a big deal. Rin didn't care either way.

Rin grabbed a purple watercolor pencil and began shading heavily around the black. She needed it to be prominent, that way she didn't have to use a lot of water to blend it. She heard another large belch as she dipped her brush into the cup of water on the floor in front of her. She brushed it off again and began painting. This happened several times, all of which she ignored, until she started hearing his stomach gurgling all the way on the other side of the room. She looked up at him curiously.

"What's going on?" she asked. Len opened one eye to look at her, then closed it. He muffled another belch.

"What do you mean?" he asked back, not sure what she was talking about. He belched again.

"That," she said. She propped her elbow up on the floor and rested her chin on her hand. "Why are you so gassy? Did you eat too much or something?" Len didn't reply. Most likely he wasn't expecting that answer and got embarrassed. He didn't mind burping in front of her, so long as she didn't draw attention to it.

After not getting an answer for several seconds, she tried again. "Does your stomach hurt? You okay?" Len sighed, knowing he would have to answer her eventually. He didn't particularly like discussing this topic, however.

"I'm fine," he mumbled. He forced down a belch from entering his throat by swallowing. "Must've just been something I ate…"

Rin pursed her lips and furrowed her eyebrows. There was something he wasn't telling her. Len peeked at her with one eye, then opened both eyes once he saw the face she was making. "What?" he asked defensively. Rin squinted her eyes. Len stared back, waiting for her to do something. This went on for a while until Rin blinked and shook her head. She looked back up at her brother, who looked very, very confused. She furrowed her brows again.

"What did you eat today?" she asked. Len was on a diet. Well, technically he was always on some sort of diet. He had marching band, track, cross country, and dance, so he absolutely needed to be fit in order to keep up with the activity. He was pretty good about his home workouts, which was basically just a run every night before bed. He showered in the morning, which was kinda gross, because that meant he went to bed all sweaty, but that's another reason why they had their own sides of the room. But aside from the workouts, he really had a poor will to avoid unhealthy foods he wasn't supposed to have. It wasn't such a bad thing, since he didn't do it very often, and it's also not healthy to completely deny a kid unhealthy foods or desserts while he has to watch everyone around him enjoy them. The only issue is that he kinda binges on junk food from time to time. Knowing Len, he probably did something like chug a 2 liter, or eat a whole box of pizza rolls.

Again, Len took a while to answer. He knew she was gonna chew him out like always, because she was his "diet coach" (which she appointed herself), and he really just wanted to lie down for a while and relax.

He let out a heavy sigh. "Cake," he replied curtly. Rin wasn't surprised. But it made her think for a moment. Eating a singular piece of cake wouldn't make you that gassy.

"How much cake?" she asked. Again, a long pause. Rin expected the worst at that point.

"A cake," he said. Rin furrowed her brows in confusion.

"What do you mean "a cake"?" she asked, then realized what he meant and widened her eyes. "You ate an entire cake!?" she shouted. Len nodded, refusing to open his eyes and look at her. Rin was shocked that he could eat a whole cake by himself. Where did they even get a cake? Rin looked down at Len's stomach, something she hadn't really paid much attention to, and realized that the more she looked, the more she could see how bloated he was. He definitely ate a lot of something.

"How big was it?" she asked. Len held up his hands about a foot apart, then moved them to the side perpendicular to where he first hand them, only closer together, making an imaginary rectangle about one foot by six inches.

"What the actual fuck, Len," she said. Len shrugged. At least she wasn't yelling at him to go for a run. Rin looked at him, concerned. "Are you okay though? I mean, do you think you're gonna puke or something?" Len opened his eyes and looked at her, surprised that she even thought about that. Normally she just told him to do some sort of workout, usually jokingly, sometimes seriously.

"Yeah, I'm alright," he said. "I'm a little nauseous, but I don't think I'm actually gonna throw up." Rin nodded once and chewed her bottom lip nervously, looking over his body. He looked like he was okay, but Rin was actually worried about him this time. I mean for Pete's sake, he ate an entire freaking cake!

Rin stood up and walked over to his side of the room, stopping by his bed. She pulled up his shirt, to which Len didn't object. He even moved his hand out of the way to let her pull it all the way off his stomach. She put her hand on his belly and immediately felt the sloshing and gurgling going on in there, his stomach kicking into overdrive to try and break down that massive lump of food. She rested it there for a moment before slowly dragging her palm across the smooth surface of his skin, making a circular motion. She felt him tense up, then slowly relax and melt into her touch. She rubbed his belly for a while. When they were little, their grandparents used to do this when they had an upset stomach. Normally it was Len who had the tummy ache, since he was the one obsessed with food, so Rin watched a lot of the time. She started doing it herself at around maybe ten. The first time she did it, Len had no idea what she was doing and it got...very awkward to say the least. But now he doesn't mind. He actually rather enjoys it. Belly rubs are really relaxing, and they really do help with the pain of an upset stomach.

Len closed his eyes, the slow motion of Rin's hand lulling him to sleep. He let out another belch and his eyes popped open again, caught off guard by himself, not even feeling it before it happened. Rin could feel it though. His stomach rumbled again, the air bubbles making their way up towards the belly button. She took two fingers and gently pressed them into his stomach just beneath his belly button, rubbing in a circle, but not moving in a wide circumference. Len's stomach gurgled loudly, bubbling angrily. Len flinched. That gurgle had upset his stomach more and he felt a sharp stab of pain where Rin's fingers were. He almost grabbed her hand and pulled it away, but he started to feel better as the air made its way up. He could feel warmth rising up towards his throat. For a moment he waited for the belch, but then leaped forward and made a mad dash out of their room, leaving Rin standing there beside his bed, dazed.

The bathroom was upstairs, so he ran into the kitchen, dropping to his knees in front of the large trash can. He retched violently, coughing and sputtering as the warmth moved up into his throat. He could now feel the burning pain of the stomach acid in the back of his throat. He retched again and vomited into the trash can, coughing and struggling to breathe.

Len's mom was sitting at the kitchen table playing a game of cards by herself while reading an ebook on her tablet. She was surprised when someone suddenly raced into the room and dropped to the floor in front of the trash can. It took her a moment to realize what was going on and who it was. She stood up and briskly walked over him.

"Len? Hey hey hey, are you okay?" She put her hand on his back and pulled his hair out of his face while he puked. She looked into the trash can and became worried. His vomit was a muted pink color, and it was very liquidy. What did he eat? Or maybe it was blood mixed in with his stomach contents…

His mom rubbed his back and waited for him to finish before asking any more questions. He wouldn't be able to answer them until he was done anyway. After a while, the retching died down a bit. He started letting out low belches instead, with a little bit of retching mixed in. Thinking he was almost done, his mom pat his back and looked him in the eye. He looked tired.

"You alright, baby?" she asked. Len thickly swallowed, then spit into the trash can. Some saliva stayed on his bottom lip though, creating a small string that started to drip down into the trash can. He spat again to get rid of it, but it wouldn't budge. He tried again, but coughed harshly and groaned. He nodded softly, no longer looking at his mom. He still felt really nauseous, and he knew he wasn't done, but he felt a lot better now that his stomach was empty.

His mom put her hand on his forehead, feeling for a fever. He felt normal. She furrowed her brows and pursed her lips, a trait she very noticeably passed onto her daughter. Maybe he ran too hard and made himself sick? The treadmill was upstairs though, so he should have ran into the bathroom, not all the way downstairs into the kitchen.

"You think you're almost done?" she asked. Len mouth breathed for a few seconds, trying to catch his breath. He wanted to be done, but his stomach still felt hot, and it was swishing and gurgling. He shrugged, the motion upsetting his belly more.

"Ohh," he moaned softly. "It still hurts." He was about to take a breath in when he suddenly lurched forward and belched up another string of vomit. He coughed softly, almost as if he was crying. His mom got worried and looked to check. His eyes were watering, but he didn't look like he was actually crying. His nose wasn't red or anything, and he looked more tired than in pain. A few seconds passed before he retched again. That felt like it might be the last of it though. He hurled one more time before his stomach felt empty. He could hardly breathe when he was finished.

His mom pat his back a few times and waited for him to say something or get up. She didn't want to bug him with questions or make him feel pressured to be done quickly. He tended to get embarrassed whenever he got sick. He always wanted to be alone. He surely didn't want her to be there right next to him while he threw up.

"Ohh...I feel better," he mumbled, closing his eyes. He let out a deep sigh and relaxed, leaning back into his mom. He let his head rest heavily on her chest. His mom pulled him up into her lap and pressed her cheek on the top of his head.

"What happened, baby?" she asked in a sweet voice. "Do you feel sick? Did you eat something bad?" It wasn't like him to just randomly throw up.

"I'm okay," was his reply. He was too exhausted to explain any further. He lied there in his mom's lap for a while, trying to catch his breath and get some energy back. His mom asked him more questions.

"Were you feeling bad this morning?"

That just happened to be Tuesday, a school day. The kids had been home for about an hour or so. She wondered if he'd gone to school feeling sick. It wouldn't have been the first time. He liked to hide it for some reason. She could feel him shaking his head, however.

"No," he mumbled. He didn't feel like answering her questions. He wanted to go back to his room and lie down. He felt better getting that out of his stomach, but he still felt awful. "Mom, I'm tired. Can I go back to my room?" His mom bit her bottom lip after hearing that. She didn't want to just send him to his room without knowing why he suddenly got sick.

"Yeah, okay," she said. She rubbed his back a few times, then helped him to his feet. She would check on him later. Maybe he would feel more up to talking then. She led him down the hall to the twins' room. Rin was sitting on his bed, sketchbook in her hands. She looked up at them as they entered.

"Hey, you doing alright?" she asked her brother. She could hear him from their room. Len nodded, his eyes half closed. He was sleepy before he got sick. He was even more tired after his abdominal muscles forced out everything in his stomach.

Rin moved off of his bed so he could lie down. He got in bed and dug himself under the covers. He curled up into a ball, cradling his knees to his chest with one hand tucked between his stomach and his legs, holding his stomach.

Rin frowned and sat down beside her sick brother. He may be an idiot for being so reckless, but she still felt bad for him. She slowly rubbed his arm up and down in a soothing manner. Len whimpered and squeezed his eyes shut, curling in even tighter on himself. God, his stomach was killing him. He didn't think he would get this sick from eating a simple cake. Despite the cake no longer being in his system, his stomach still gurgled and groaned uncomfortably. He muffled a few belches into his pillow.

"Do you want some water or anything?" Rin asked softly. "Any medicine?" She felt helpless just watching him suffer.

Len could hardly bring himself to speak. His throat was so dry and cracked from all the stomach acid. "Water…" he croaked out. Rin nodded, even though he couldn't see her face. She went to the kitchen to get him a glass of water. Her mom stopped her before she could open the cupboard.

"Rinny?" she called out to her. Rin turned around to face her mother.

"Hm?" she replied, turning back to get a glass down from one of the shelves. Her mother looked at her worriedly.

"Have you seen your brother recently?" she asked. Rin slowly looked back at her and nodded, frowning. Her mother bit her lip, concerned.

"Yeah," she mumbled. "He had an upset stomach, so I tried to give him a belly rub to make him feel better, but then he ran away all of the sudden." She saw the look on her mother's face and could only guess what happened when he was gone. "I assume he threw up?" Her mother nodded.

"He was pretty upset when I last saw him," she added. "He looked like he was in a lot of pain. I didn't know what to do, so I asked him if he needed anything, and he said some water would be nice." Remembering that he needed the water, Rin hurriedly filled the glass with ice and water and started to make her way back to their room. Her mother stopped her again.

"Did he tell you anything about why he's feeling bad?" she asked. "He was pretty drained after he threw up, so he didn't really explain anything to me about what was going on." Rin nodded.

"Yeah, he uh…" she shook her head and laughed at him in pity. "He told me he ate an entire cake. I'm sure he's learned his lesson about portion control, though." Her mother sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"What am I gonna do with him…" she mumbled. Rin shrugged and went back to their room to deliver the water to him. Surprisingly, he had fallen asleep in the short time she took to get it for him. She sighed and set the glass on the nightstand beside his bed. Taking a seat next to him, she leaned down and gave him a quick kiss on his forehead before ruffling his hair lightly.

"You're such a dummy, Lenny…" she mumbled to herself, then lied down next to him, spooning him. Len tossed a little in his sleep, whimpering to himself. Rin hushed him and rubbed his arm up and down. Eventually he relaxed from his fitful sleep and fell into a deeper dream state. Rin was beginning to feel tired as well. She ended up falling asleep next to him, keeping him warm while he recovered from his bad decisions. Hopefully he had learned his lesson.