#peter steele x oc

[kathy-ifnt]

Just go to his bed already!!!!

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[corrodedcoffincumslut]

Be My Druidess - Eddie Munson X Fem-reader

AU 90’s Eddie & Fem- Reader (mostly referred to affectionately as Kitten, no use of Y/N). Eddie takes girlfriend (reader) go to watch your favourite band, Type O Negative in concert. You get too excited and do something impulsive, it drives Eddie crazy with jealousy causing him to get very possessive, needing to show everyone you're his girl.

Warnings- SMUT - Over 18’s ONLY, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!! M-F (P in V) unprotected, cream pie, fingering, Squirting, Dom! Eddie & Sub! Reader, Mean! Eddie, Possessive! Eddie, Jealous! Eddie, (slight) Degrading, (slight) Humiliation, Orgasm Denial, Public Exposure, Public sex, Choking, Daddy Kink, Breeding Kink, Mentions of reader being Bratty, Drug & Alcohol use Eddie & Reader (Weed & Beer). Reader has nipple piercings. Eddie has a PA piercing.

Word count- 3.8K

Authors Note-Sorry this took so long to write and post after I hinted it all those months ago. Life got crazy like it does sometimes so apologies. Also I met our man JQ and it spurred me on to finish it at 2:30am the day after I met him.

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Eddie had got you tickets to your favourite band tour for your birthday, Type O Negative. The dark grunge, gothic, sexual undertones igniting a fire in you as soon as you heard the sultry tones of Peter Steele's deep, gravely voice. Only encouraged by how attracted you were to him. Hugely tall stature, gloomy outlook, long black silken hair, muscular frame and known openly for his eagerness to please the women he chose to pleasure, to serve. Topped off with the rumours of his huge cock, you were completely sold. You begged Eddie to get you both tickets for months, and he’d surprised you, a week before the gig. Stubs now in his hands, after driving to the city after a long shift at the garage on the release date to queue in the rain, all to surprise you. To see your pretty ruby lips fall open in awe, he could see the hearts appear in your eyes already.

Excited, you dressed to impress. Numerous guys keep staring at you in your skimpy outfit. Eddie is more than proud to show you off as his girl. At the end of the day you’re a hot goth/alt chick and it made the guys drool. You wore your best band shirt, cut up to show more cleavage than should be legally allowed in public, a pvc skater skirt and your new demonic platforms, torn fishnet stockings held up by a black suspender belt.

Eddie knows you’re crushing hard on the lead singer and can tell you're getting horny and turned on, fidgeting as they’re run onto the stage. Eddie lifts you into his broad, strong shoulders for a better view when they play the intro to your favourite song, “Be my Druidess”. As the drum beat kicks in, Eddie starts to bounce up and down causing a criminally delicious friction across the crotch of your thong. The back of Eddie’s neck bumping your clit on every bounce to the beat.

Your thighs start to clench and Eddie notices, your pussy throbbing, he can probably feel your pounding heartbeat through your core down his spine. His hands grip your shins as you feel your sweetness seep through the thin fabric of your panties onto his neck. Hands tight, fingers clasping his hair, his skull to keep you grounded.

Peter Steele notices you and points you out in the crowd, the eye contact alone causing you to fall over the edge into euphoric bliss. Feeling high, impulsive and incredibly horny, all amplified by sharing a few joints with Eddie on the ride to the venue. You flash your bare chest to the stage (after deciding on going braless earlier, something Eddie loved). Showing everyone your perfect supple tits, shiney metal bars catching the stage lights, glistening in the darkness like stars. The erotic image of your bare chest and nipple piercings projected on the massive screens on either the side of the stage for all to see. The band loves it. Peter loves it more. The crowd loves it even more, a hurricane of cheers roars up from the audience. Eddie hates it.

Your cheeks flush red with a blush, caught up in the scandal, all eyes in the room falling on you. The man beneath you is furious. Jealous twists in his stomach, ripping through him uncontrollably sweeping his mind into frenzy. He squeezes your shins in a claw-like grip, fuelled by the envy of everyone’s eyes on you. Admiring the curves of your womanly shape, his Venus incarnate. Aphrodite in the flesh. To him you were his goddess. Your exquisite body was his to worship only! The soft slopes of your breast, the ample curves of your hips that were now on show to the world, or what felt like the world crammed into the tiny venue. What started out as a playful tease quickly became his own personal hell. Hazy headed and caught up in the moment with your inhibitions low, but the repercussions of your actions had become a harrowing punishment you were going to find out. He ripped you down from his shoulders and back on your feet, landing to look him square in the face. His usually soft chocolate brown eyes, swallowed by huge ebony irises, full of anger. The green-eyed monster inside shining through the deep black.

“They can look, but they can’t touch Baby… I’m only yours” you muttered with a kiss to his chapped bitten lips, trying to save yourself from the consequences of your earlier actions. No softness was returned, the same stare locked on your eyes. A sick deprived thought pops into his mind.

“Princess” he growled in your face. Your eyes locked in fear. “You’re right, you are MINE. And you belong to ME. And I think I need to remind you of this. So you’re gonna watch this shitty band you love so much and you’re gonna cum on my fingers while they watch… While they ALL watch” Eddie whispers in your ear, lips and teeth biting the shell. You stand there frozen, unable to move. Slack jawed, eyes wide with fear, your core getting slicker with every word Eddie huffs out. You’d never seen this side of Eddie before, sure he’d gotten moody at a bar if some guy got a little too close for comfort. But a few choice words, mostly consisting ending with a “fuck off” and a swift middle finger in their direction. Then once they’d left he was golden, but this was different. A possessive darkness had overcome him and you couldn’t help but love how it made you feel. Wanted. Owned. HIS.

Eddie’s deft hands turn you back to face the stage, your back pushed flush to his lean chest. Eddie’s left hand holds your chin, forcing your face forward in shame, directly at the object of your desire. His right hand snakes down your chest over your soft stomach, drawing linguine patterns across your goose pimpled skin, before dripping down over your barely clothed soaked cunt. “Actually, bad girls get punished. Maybe I won’t let you cum at all, maybe I’ll edge you till you beg. Beg for MY cock to put you out of your pathetic misery. All whiny…needy. ‘Till you cry those big crocodile tears cause your little cunt aches, ‘cause you know I’m the ONLY one who can make you CUM. Make YOU feel that GOOD. Fucked out and cockdrunk. ALL. FOR. ME. YOUR Daddy”. Heat pools in your sopping cunt, thighs sticky from your sweet nectar, leaking through your tiny thong.

Calloused fingers run agonising circles over your swollen bud through the thin fabric of your thong for what feels like an eternity. Before pushing the flimsy material aside to meet your drenched pussy. Sliding his fingers through your folds a few times spreading your slick from your entrance up to your pulsing clit. Dipping his middle finger in your dripping entrance, he groaned in pleasure at just how wet you were, Your soft gummy walls sucking him in. Stretching your hole he pushed a second finger in and began thrusting them in and out, caressing that special spot only he could reach.

Gasps fell from your open mouth, lost in the crowd of screams and bass filling the venue. Your eyes screwed shut with every pass of Eddie’s nimble fingers surging you towards your ultimate high. Feeling your pussy walls starting to clench and contract as you approached nirvana. Moments from release, Eddie’s touch left you completely. Edging you just he promised.

Your eyes shoot open as you lose your euphoria, eyes landing back on the stage. “Please, Eddie.I wanna cum so bad” you whine.

“I told you, Kitten. Only good girls get to cum. And you’ve been far from good.” Eddie smirked in your ear. Sliding his finger back into your soaked folds, back up to your tingling bundle of nerves. Again feverish chills ran through your body, as Eddie mercilessly rubbed tight circles over your throbbing clit with his thumb and his thick fingers fucked up into your tight hole.

Tears welled in your glassy eyes as the bolts of lightning pleasure shot through you,whimpering trying your hardest to obey. Your hearing started to faze out as your only focus was to hold back your orgasm from overtaking you. Your body started to twitch as the feeling became too much. Your abused cunt spasming around Eddie’s cruel rapid thrusts. Gasping for air, your vision started to white out. Unable to hold back any longer you flung your head back into the crook of Eddie’s shoulder as cum gushed out your pulsating cunt. Incoherent apologies fell from your mouth as your cum ran down your thighs. “Mmmmm… Sssorry, I’m…Mmmm…Sorry, Daddy… Mmmm…couldn’t hold it any longer. It’s too gggooooddd” your moans gasped out. Breathless you panted, fucked out in the middle of the crowd. Your cheeks flushed red with embarrassment, standing shamefully in a puddle of your own nectar. Eddie cruelly laughed into your ear.

“Told you weren’t allowed to cum, Kitten. You’ve made such a mess on yourself and Daddy’s fingers'' Eddie teased, the prominent hard bulge digging into your ass and he curled himself around your slight frame. Removing his hand from your mound, he brought them up to your mouth. “SUCK”. It was a simple instruction and you immediately obeyed, not wanting to annoy Eddie further. Eddie pushed his fingers far into your wet mouth, your tongue wrapping around the thick probes. “Mmmm.. thank you Daddy” you whimpered. “Tastes so sweet”. “Yeah, you do Kitten, give Daddy a taste” Your hand instantly slipped downward and into the front of your drenched panties.

Swirling your nibble fingers around your wet folds collecting your slick. Once sufficiently soaked in your juices, you drew them to Eddie's waiting lips. Pushing them through the threshold onto his pierced tongue. Feeling the metal bar under your fingertips, reminding you of the sinful memories of it pressed on your core, causing another shudder down your spine. “Mmmmm Princess, you are especially sweet tonight. Is this ‘cause Daddy’s being mean to his Kitten?” Eddie cooed, licking and sucking the cum from your fingers. You nodded in response, mouth agape with lust, eyes lost in Eddie’s blown out obsidian pupils.

Eddie grabbed your hand and pulled towards the back of the venue, fighting against the waves of people surging towards the stage. Hand gripped tight in his, interlocking fingers forcing you along. Landing at the back corner of the venue, Eddie forcefully pushed you against the wall. “Need you Kitten. NEED you NOW” Eddie growled through gritted teeth. Hiking you up and onto his thighs, your legs naturally wrapped around his waist, ankles locking, your pressed back supported against the rough of the stone wall.

Impatiently he unbuckled his belt, the metal clanking being drowned out by the bass reverting off the walls. Popping the button of his dark jeans and pulling his zipper down, exposing the very angry tent in the front of his charcoal grey boxers. A wet stain of pre-cum teasing what was waiting inside. Looking down where your bodies met, you bit your lip in anticipation as Eddie freeing his throbbing cock from its confines. “Sooo pretty Eddie” your open mouth moaned, biting your lip, almost drooling at the sight. Eddie was BIG. And THICK. At least eight inches of a beautiful pale porcelain pink, ridged with a prominent vein running on the side, the head a deliciously mauve colour. The slit dribbling with precum adorned with a ring through the end. Your favourite piercing of his for sure, his PA. Licking your lips, you reach down between your bodies to grip Eddie’s cock. A harsh slap handed on your hand batting you away from the object of your desires. “No. You don’t get to play. To decide. This is for me, cause you’re MINE. And you need putting in your fucking place. Silly Kitten forgetting who she BELONGS too.”

Pushing your thong to the side Eddie rutted ruthlessly into your tight wet cunt. Giving you no time to adjust. The action stole the breath from your chest. Stunned you took what Eddie gave you. Hard thrusts from his sharp hips into the plush fat of your thighs setting a relentless pace. Every stab with his cock, took more air from your lungs. Your head started to drown in pleasure. Overwhelmed senses, your skin felt on fire, ears ringing from the deep bass, vision blacking out with every pass of Eddie’s hard cock against the spongy spot inside. The metal ring gliding furiously against your g-spot. Quivering in Eddie’s arms, your thoughts consumed by him. Only him. He was the sun to your moon, heaven to your hell, devil to your angel. And you were HIS. Your love is an engulfing black hole. He’d sucked you inside with no escape. And you were perfectly okay with your fate.

Dragging you back into reality, Eddie’s calloused fingers wrapped around your throat, light pressure squeezed at the sides. Your breath hitched in your throat as the blood restricted under Eddie’s fingers. Your eyes closed as you succumbed to the ethereal bliss. Dizzy and lightheaded the fire inside your cunt burned even hotter. White hot sparks fizzing inside. Pushing you ever close to the edge.

Incoherent words between throaty gasps and moans poured from your lips, Eddie’s eyes fixed down where you met as you fell apart above. You buried your head in the crook of Eddie’s neck. Swallowing his the smell- tobacco, leather and spice cologne, an underlying hint of weed mixed with his apple shampoo that lingered in his hair and the most enthralling of all, Eddie’s natural musk, his sweat. You licked a stripe up the column of Eddie’s neck, lost in the subspace you’d fallen into. Eddie groaned in satisfaction. “Yours Eddie. I’m YOURS Eddie” you mumbled back into his solid, thick neck.

“Yeah, that’s right Kitten. You’re mine and you make me feel so good. Do you feel good? Is Daddy making you feel good?” Eddie breathlessly panted back. “Mmmm yes Daddy, feels so good. Daddy always makes me feel so good, always takes care of me.” you moaned back between breaths.

“Always Kitten” Eddie’s gaze softened slightly, his usual loving self crawling back through the darkness that had clouded his mind. That award winning smile creeping back onto his lips. The curtain of Eddie’s hair that shut out the world fell forward as your lips locked in passion. Messy and chaotic, teeth bashing, misjudged lip alignment, tongues battling for dominance. Burying each other's groans and breaths. Your hands clawed at Eddie’s sturdy shoulders and thick neck, begging for contact, gripping tight with a need to be even closer.

The coil in your stomach, still tightening evermore. Fanning the flames that licked your insides, burning hot lighting the fuses of the fireworks held in your core. All the time Eddie’s thrusts never faulted, determined on hunting both of your pleasure. Engulfing passion overcoming your bodies, as the only things that existed in this moment were you two. Ignoring the noise of the crowd, the heat of the venue, and the very compromising position you were in. Gasping for air, Eddie broke your intense kiss. “I’m close Kitten, need you to cum again for me. Need you to soak my cock. Claim what’s YOURS. Show everyone here I’M YOURS and YOU'RE MINE.” Eddie’s words whipped you back to this realm. Your toes curled in your boots, as Eddie’s fingers found your swollen bud once again. “Hmmm Eddie, make me cum, wanna cum again for you Daddy, wanna soak your pretty cock” you nodded back, glassy eyes like pearls. Eddie’s finger worked tirelessly rubbing hard figures of eight on your clit, using your own release to slicken the friction.

Edging you closer and closer to the edge, your heart pounded in your chest, your hearing dulled from the sound thumping inside, as the squelch between you two intensified. “Mmmmm…Gonna…cum Ed’s” you hummed, which was all the warning you could give as you began to plummet into the depths of your orgasm. The flames licked higher inside your stomach, consuming your body and soul. As you cried hot tears spilling out your eyes, down your damp cheeks, knocking your head back onto the wall behind in ecstasy. If it wasn’t for the blinding pleasure consuming you, you would have been concerned of how hard your head hit the wall behind, fearing a concussion. But in this moment only one thing mattered, Eddie Munson.

Cum gushed from your abused cunt, squirting down, soaking Eddie’s strong hairy thighs. The intensity of your orgasm wetting Eddie’s boxers and jeans impatiently sitting on his mid-thigh, ruched up under your ass. Your back arched against the roughness of the wall behind you, scratching the smooth skin, snagging the threads of your shirt. Your hands shot to Eddie’s messy curls, tugging at the root, grounding you once again, as you felt yourself float away in ultimate pleasure.

“Yes, that’s it Kitten” Eddie ecstatically cooed. “Look at you…so precious, making a mess of me. So sloppy, claiming my cock as yours”.

“Mmm…Eddie, All for you. Love you Daddy” you whimpered. Tears still falling from your wet doe eyes.

Eddie’s punching hips started to waver, as he started creeping closer to his own release. Chasing the feeling, his thrust began erratic and harder, sinking deeper into your slippy, warm, wet cunt. After a few more earth shattering thrusts Eddie groaned, “Gonna cum inside Kitten, Breed this pretty pussy. Gonna ruin you for every other man. Fuck your were made for me. Leave you with my cum dripping out this perfect pussy. Fuck a baby in you. Make you mine forever. Would you like that Kitten, make your belly all swollen with my baby. You’ll look so beautiful carrying our baby. My beautiful baby momma, wanna make you my wifey. Start raising the next generation of mini Munson’s. Fuck baby, I love you so much.”

Lost in his own pleasure his inner secret desires flooding out. And with that image cemented in his brain, Eddie came hard. His hot creamy white seed, coating your podgy warm walls. Eddie kept fucking your quivering pussy, with each thrust contracting, milking his cock until it became too sensitive for Eddie to stand. Pulling his softening cock out of your abused hole, his cum dribbling out as he’d described.

Eddie lowered you to your feet, pushing your panties back over your dipping pussy, trapping his cum inside, pooling in the small cotton gusset. “Gonna keep that inside for me Kitten, if you’re good maybe I’ll fuck another load inside you when we get home.” Standing you on shaking legs, he supported you until you could confidently stand yourself. Stuffing himself back inside his drench boxers and fastening his uncomfortably damp jeans. “Jesus Christ Kitten, what was that flood? Like a fucking tsunami on my jeans” he chuckled, eyes meeting yours. Your cheeks blushed with embarrassment.

“Sorry Ed’s” you squeaked face heated with humiliation. “I didn’t mean to make such a mess… I don’t know what… how… it happened”. Your timid voice squeaked, embarrassed for the soaked wet mess staining Eddie’s dark jean clad thighs.

“T’is okay Kitten, it’s more than okay! That was fucking hot!.. You’re so fucking hot sweetheart!.. I love you so much, Kitten” Eddie gushed,punctuated with hasty kisses. You both still pressed to the safe haven of the wall. “I love you too Eddie, sorry I made you angry” your voice dropping quieter on every word, shame filling your flushed face, tears welling in your eyes at the thought of Eddie’s anger earlier directed at you. As much as it excited you, it also terrified you.

“Hey, hey Kitten” Eddie’s hands grasped your cheeks. Large palms swallowing the sides of your face. “No, I’m sorry. I should of never done that to you. I just got so consumed by the thoughts of all these people seeing you, but I know it’s your body and your choice what you do with it. I’m just so glad it’s me you decide to share it with. I guess this shit music, kinda made me feral too. I think get why you’re always trying to blast it out in the van!” A wicked smile creeping over Eddie’s lips. “How about I grab us some beers and we finish watching the gig. They’ve still gotta play “Love you to death” and I know you know the subtext behind that song, then after I guess we can act that out back home…that is if you can stand?” A quirked eyebrow and another giggle rippled through his chest, a soft kiss landing in your lips.

“Make it two beers each and you’ve got yourself a deal, Munson” you counted. “But remember, they can look but they can’t touch, baby. That’s only for you Daddy, I’m yours and your mine. Don’t ever forget it”. Your finger bopped his nose playfully, lips meeting again.

Spinning on his heels, Eddie practically ran to the bar, wallet in hand, leaving you smiling to yourself. The memory of your beautiful goofball boyfriend, his devilishly handsome face, he was your everything. Him making his pussy drunk confession of his inner desires to make you his forever. This was definitely a gig you’d never forget, and for all the right reasons.

Eddie returned to you moments later, beers in hand as promised. “Come on Kitten, let’s get you back to the front, before I fuck you raw against that wall again. ‘Cause I don’t know if these jeans or your panties can take another soaking like that. God you’re so beautiful, I never want to be apart from you. My Druidess, you’ve definitely cast me under your wicked spell… not that I’m complaining. I’ll serve you for as long as you'll have me, Sweetheart”. Eddie's eyes boring into yours full of want and adoration, a love in which you thrived in.

“You better be joking Kitten, I told you I wanted you to keep my cum inside, that’s gonna be pretty hard to do then when it’s dripping down your legs. And I don’t think you want to disobey me again…so I’d say if those panties are being thrown anywhere tonight, it better be over my rear view mirror with the last pair, from when you bratted out and tried to defy me… I may be under your spell, Princess, but I’m still your Daddy. And what Daddy says goes, or have you forgotten that and need reminding again?” Eddie’s warning whispered in your ear, his hot breath pricking up the tiny hairs on your neck, his hand now clamped back between your legs over your barely clothed, soaked, raw cunt. Your spine jolted you back upright, shook.

“No Daddy” was your only response.

“Good girl”

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@bexreadstoomuch @thecomfortgoth @emotionaldreamer @broccolisoupy @elvendria @capricornrisingsstuff @foxxymunson

[world0fmadness]

OH MY DARLING

peter steele x reader x ( platonic! ) oc daughter

♡ general headcanons for peter as a girl dad!

୨୧ the most adorable request ever, love it and i hope you love this anon! i gave the daughter a name but it isn’t a major thing at all so you could imagine to be something else and the walking dead game brainrot is kind of heavy lol, sweetpea is just such a cute nickname so i ripped it <3

♡ requested by anon | view my metal masterlist here

reading music recommendations: ecstasy by crooked still - apple by cibo matto

♡ i feel like your daughter would be a carbon copy of peter!

୨୧ she has his deep green eye colour, his raven black hair and so on! she probably only inherited very small features from you but peter says he sees them very clearly in her

♡ the only thing she didn’t get from him is his height and build… i mean obviously, because she’s just a baby and all but even still, she’s super small, even for a child

୨୧ she’s the shortest in her daycare and just has the most adorable little features on her face!

♡ her tiny little button nose is your and peters favourite, both of you always place kisses on her nose, ever since she was a newborn

୨୧ maybe it’s just because i’ve been replaying the walking dead and just adore clementine so much but i can see you guys naming your daughter clementine! it’s just such a cute name

♡ peter would sing “ oh my darling clementine ” to her all the time when she woke up crying as a newborn and it just kind of stuck as she grew up

୨୧ whenever she has a bad dream as a toddler and needs help getting back to sleep, he’ll kneel next to her bed and stroke her hair whilst quietly singing the song in his deep voice as you watch lovingly from the doorway

♡ when he’s not singing her to sleep, he’s telling her a custom fairytale!

୨୧ he used to read ones from books for her but she never liked them too much, she’s super creative and original like her father, so she always thought they were just kind of boring and always the same

♡ so now, peter makes his own up as he goes! usually fairytales about vampires and other gothic things but she loves them

୨୧ she’s a total daddy’s girl! the second she was placed in his arms after being born, you could see they would share something special

♡ as a newborn, she’d cry for so long until peter took her into his arms! she would calm down a little with you but she would only fully stop crying when you handed her over to her papa and he rocked her tiny body in his big arms whilst he softly shushed her and leaned his head down to give her eskimo kisses

“ you’re okay, sweetpea… nothings wrong, see? papa’s got you, you’re okay… it’s okay ” ( her crying draws to a stop almost immediately as your mouth drops open in shock, peter simply throwing you a cheeky wink before cooing down at his little girl and giving her his finger to hold )

୨୧ whenever peter holds her in his arms, she almost doesn’t look real! ever since she was a baby, she looks more like a little porcelain doll rather than a real child due to their major difference in size and build

♡ but it’s so so so cute! he loves holding her because she’s just lighter than a feather to him

୨୧ she especially loves being placed on his shoulders because she says it makes her feel like a princess riding a big horse or tamed dragon

♡ taking her to type o negative concerts is always a trip! people backstage will immediately know who she’s related to the second they lay eyes on her, connecting her to the frontman within a split second due to how much she resembles peter

୨୧ you’ll often stand to the side of the stage, backstage and protected, your daughter held on your hip with soundproof headphones placed over her small and sensitive ears and yet she’ll still softly bob her head to the extremely muffled music making it through

♡ peter will usually dedicate a song to her, often her favourite one or one he wrote for her, and blow a kiss to the both of you as she catches it in her small hand and excitedly waves to him with a cheeky smile on her face

୨୧ speaking of a song he wrote for her, he absolutely has at least one song wrote about and for her!

♡ he probably wrote it when she was a newborn, during one of the many early nights where he had been awoken by her high pitched cries and went to comfort her whilst making sure you got your well deserved rest

୨୧ he wrote it on a notepad whilst sitting in a chair in her nursery after putting her back to sleep, looking up from the notepad every couple of minutes to admire his baby girl as she slept peacefully in her crib

♡ yeah, his perfect little girl was the most deserving of a song in her name

୨୧ he’ll always make sure that the backstage staff have juice boxes and snacks for her too! it’s the thing at the very top of the list for essentials that the band will need for a show

♡ peter will absolutely let your daughter colour in his tattoos if she wanted to!

୨୧ you’ll probably be cuddled up on the couch watching a movie or something and she’ll come running up to you two with a box of coloured markers, speaking in a rushed and excited tone whilst climbing up onto the couch, with a lot of help from her papa

♡ both you and peter give a laugh at how excited she is before peter gently ruffles her hair, letting her take his arm onto her lap and start colouring, admiring her with a loving look in his eyes

“ hm? oh! ‘s looking good, sweetpea! wow, look at that, you’ve stayed in the lines so well! ” ( she really hasn’t but it’s his baby girl, she can do no wrong )

୨୧ to be honest, he’d probably get a tattoo of one of her drawings!

♡ he’d give her a piece of paper and tell her to draw something cool and pretty before giving a piece to you too, asking you to write your name and get her to write her own when she’s done with her drawing

୨୧ within the week, peter has a messy dragon doodle and your and her name tattooed on his body, her name being a mere cute little chicken scrawl

♡ your daughter loves trying to scare her papa, always creeping up behind him whilst he writes some lyrics on a notepad or jumping out from behind a curtain as he walks by

୨୧ but of course, it never actually scares peter… he heard her tiny shoes tapping against the floor as she crept up behind him and her muffled giggles as she tried to hide them behind her hand

♡ and of course, he saw her outline behind the curtain and her fluffy socked feet were completely uncovered

୨୧ but he makes sure she doesn’t know that, he always puts on a spooked face and an over exaggerated gasp before kneeling down slightly and taking her into his arms as she giggles up a storm, proclaiming how she got him

“ you sure did get me, sweetpea! how didn’t i hear you, huh? you must’ve been floating like a ghost! my little ghost, hm? ” ( is lying really all that bad if it makes his baby girl show him that bright, beautiful little smile? )

♡ peter will always let her play with his hair!

୨୧ she wants to decorate it with an assortment of “ girly ” clips? go for it! he has no problem with it at all, he’ll sit on the floor in front of the couch whilst she sits on it behind him, so that there isn’t a major difference in height

♡ you and your daughter both love making his hair “ pretty ” and peter just loves seeing a smile on both of your faces, you’ll help her pick the prettiest clips and share beaming smiles with peter <3

[liz-allyn]

bittersweet: sugar + vice vol. 2 (pt 2) [mob!tasm!peter x fem!reader]

summary: "okay. about last night..." [mob!peter parker x oc!MJ] continued immediately from part 1 "Love on the Brain").

words: 5.6 k

tags: fluff and angst, my favs. food. stupid wealthy person antics, jealousy, boundaries, some world-building, PG-13 references to spicy memories from Pt. 1.

Part 2 - Bittersweet

The doorbell chiming yanked Honey unceremoniously out of her morning grogginess as she exited the bathroom. The bell tolled through her throbbing headache, causing her to squeeze her still-gummy eyes tight. She could only think of one word.

Peter.

Honey felt slightly guilty for throwing him out of his house last night. Even if it was an extravagant house. Even if it was at the top of an unconscionably expensive, 5-star hotel, where he could easily afford another place to stay. 

Very slightly.

Even if she threw him out immediately after the most outstanding sex of her life.

Worrying her lip, she debated her next move. She let out a long sigh, tugging on the lapels of the spare bathrobe she'd found. She forced her legs to move, retracing the steps buried in the lust-filled haze of her memory. 

Impatient, the door chimed again.

Her gait was more of a ginger waddle, and every muscle beneath her neck felt like it was made of jelly. Her body beneath the waist hummed. She could describe it as falling between a tender tingle after a deep tissue massage and the aching burn she'd imagined would follow a CrossFit session at the top of Everest. 

Images from last night flooded Honey's brain. How Peter had pleasured and defiled her. He bent her body deliciously, fitting her to and around all of his aching needs while elevating her toward a new stratosphere of ecstasy. 

She stowed those thoughts away. There would be a time for them later. Probably later that night. Maybe even in a week, after her body finally recovered.

For her own dignity's sake, she would not let the morning after Peter Parker walked back into her life be that time. 

She stepped towards the entrance and saw the tattered remains of the clothes she wore last night scattered in the dining area. Shredded like a wild animal had gotten to them. 

She averted her eyes, grinding her teeth as the door chimed again.

"Alright!" she hissed. "Hold your horses––!"

She gripped the doorknob and swung open the door, clipping her tone immediately.

A wide grin beneath a thin mustache and furrowed, silver, bushy eyebrows greeted her.

"Good morning, madam," the older gentleman stated.

He wore a crisp, fitted white uniform and a pleasant smile. She blushed immediately, gathering her bathrobe tighter at her chest, and gawked at the seven uniformed hotel staff in the hallway. 

The man who greeted her had a warm, olive complexion with bronze freckles. Sunspots dotted his face, blended together the tiny wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. "Pardon our intrusion."

Honey jumped out of the way without much time to react as the gentleman dutifully led the staff into the penthouse. Wide-eyed and tongue-twisted, she stared with wide eyes as the man motioned for his staff to follow. 

The scent of coffee filled the entryway as a young man rolled in a cart. It was stacked with an impressive display of cream, sweeteners, and tea bags circling two gooseneck, stainless-steel coffee pots. Her eyes followed the kid as he passed, her stomach growling at the familiar aroma of fresh Colombian coffee beans.

Honey opened her mouth to speak but hushed again as a middle-aged woman in a double-breasted white uniform pushed in another cart stacked with silver serving platters with cloche dome tops.

She could feel the steam wafting off the cart and had just enough time to move as she saw two more women, each with their own cart of linens and sizzling serveware, following behind. 

Honey's stomach growled while her gaze followed. She opened her mouth to speak, but was cut short again. Two more uniformed women walked in wearing matching steel-gray housekeeping dresses. The sleek dark fabric was contrasted with white cotton trim on the short sleeves and the high, Peter Pan collar of the dress.

They moved like a rising surf—fluid, swift, and unstoppable—as they crested and split in opposite directions. They were gone again in a flash. 

Honey barely had enough time to see them disappear before the heat of the subsequent presence was at her back. Her head snapped to the open doorway, and immediately, her face fell flat.

Peter.

His lithe form leaned against the doorframe, and she was sure he would've occupied the entire space had it not been an oversized 8-foot door.

Peter's presence came with a lightness Honey was unused to. Specifically, the light beige Ralph Lauren suit over a lilac button-up.

"Mornin,' sunshine," he drawled through a lopsided smirk. 

The sunshine seemed like it was radiating from him. Sun rays reflected off the linen of his suit. A quick coy smile revealed a flash of his white teeth. His eyes glowed warm amber hues, highlighting the roasted chestnut of his hair. Despite it being freshly cut and combed and his waves being tamed with hair product, a stubborn curl peeked over his forehead, like a flower leaning towards sunlight.

Like the flowers in his hand. He held a thick bouquet of mostly yellow daisies and ivory roses. In between the perfectly crafted arrangement, stalks of delicate, purple flowers protruded from the thicket. They brought out the lilac in his shirt.

She reexamined it again.

Not lilac. 

Lavender. 

"M'surprised you're up this early," Peter dreamily murmured, observing her with starry eyes.

Honey looked down at the flowers pressed against his chest, then back at the gold in his gaze. She observed the gentle curve of his smile.

Honey's face was the polar opposite, with icicles to prove it. "I'm surprised it wasn't the cops at the door." 

It was like popping a metaphorical bubble. Or one of his lungs.

Peter's eyebrows dipped as he pulled his lips into a frown. She turned her back to him smoothly, letting the door swayed open behind her. The door creak followed the sounds of her retreating steps.

Peter shot a quick glance toward the sky. He dragged in a breath and let his shoulders sag. Somewhere in his mind, the phrase 'Well, what did you expect?' echoed. He let the air out of his lungs, and turned on the unflinching charisma.

He followed her— because, of course, he did— meandering in with something of a swagger.

"Y'know, that's a good point," he said matter-of-factly, "now tha'cha mention it." He studied her from behind, watching her pad through his home, searching for the rest of her clothes. 

Peter continued, slyly. "I'm surprised they didn't show up last night. All that screamin' you did when you were ridin' me..."  He couldn't see the embarrassment on her face, but he noticed the way her back stiffened. "Surprised they didn't think a wild animal was on the loose," he added, lips curling with satisfaction.

"Congratulations!" she replied, her tone bright with feigned enthusiasm. "You went thirty whole seconds without bringing up your dick! What. An. Achievement." She pointed expectantly towards the dining area. "Are you hosting a party to celebrate your success?" 

She observed the kitchen staff curiously. They were in prime form, quickly and quietly retrieving plates, serve dishes, cutlery, and linens from the cart. They flowed through their movements, like synchronized swimming. Her gaze drifted towards the housekeepers spraying and wiping down the table surface with cleaner. 

Heat spread across her skin as she recalled how they had desecrated that spot just hours ago.

Blinking the memory away, she watched the servers step in place of the housekeeping staff. They tossed a linen tablecloth flat over the surface, setting the table for a fancy breakfast.

"Brunch for the Royal Family?" she commented.

Peter peeked over to see the flush on her cheeks, the way her skin heated up as she looked away from the dining table. Setting the bouquet down, he smirked. He knew exactly what was on her mind.

"A queen, actually," he shrugged, suppressing the faint curl of his lips. He wasn't here to gloat. "More of a date, really." He watched her next move intently.

"Well, that's my cue," Honey muttered. "I outta get going. Especially if you plan on eating anyone else out at the table." Her chin held high, she turned her back to him once again.

A strangely familiar sound— like a sharp, slick whipcrack— echoed from behind. She felt a tug on her midsection, then went flying backward. The force yanked Honey off her feet—just as it had the night before. She landed in Peter's arms with a shocked squeak.

"What the fuck?" she shrilled, grasping at the foreign substance on her back. It suddenly occurred to Peter that they hadn't discussed what Peter was using to reel her in, like many aspects of his complicated life.

He turned her towards him like manipulating a doll. Smugness and affection layered on his expression, like the cat that ate the canary.

"What is that?" Honey gawked. As she pulled her hand away, she inspected it closely this time. Shimmery, silver twine made from gossamer threads tangled around her fingers. "Jesus— is that... coming out of you?"

"No," Peter chuckled, amused by her horror.

She observed him, confused by his immunity to the web's stickiness as he casually tossed the string aside. While she was distracted, he gathered her close to his chest. At any other point, she would've fought him—because, of course she would. Her curiosity drove her attention.

Her eyes were on the black leather cuff around Peter's wrist. He'd worn it many times before. Honey just assumed it was an odd piece of jewelry. Maybe he didn't like the feeling of $30,000 designer watches on his skin. 

Now, the glint of a tiny metal device hidden beneath the leather caught her eye. Her eyes darted to his other wrist, spotting another device as his fingers enveloped her shoulders. 

She blinked curiously between the balled-up silk, to the leather cuffs, and to the hotel employees. They didn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary. They were likely instructed not to see anything.

Eyes still wide, she blurted, "Seriously, what the fu—?"

A fierce kiss silenced her. Peter smashed his lips to hers, capitalizing on the slight part of her mouth, and slipped his tongue inside. If he could've inhaled her into his lungs, he would have. He noticed faint pressure from Honey's palms against his chest, stubbornly resisting, as usual. The tension drained slowly as she succumbed to his grip. 

Maybe she quit wanting to escape him. 

Maybe she realized he was inescapable.

Peter was the one who couldn't escape Honey. Nor did he want to.

Seconds turned hazy. Peter was dragged deeper into a maelstrom. The longer he tasted her tongue, the more his blood surged like the swell of the tempestuous ocean against a sea wall.

Lust filled his lungs and his brain with gale-force winds. 

Peter remembered last night, too. God, he was already half-hard just thinking about it.

Before he melted from the memory, he pried his lips away from hers. The act took all of his power-of-will. The most he could manage to sacrifice was a couple of inches of distance apart. Peter was already a mess, chest heaving. Honey looked just as wrecked—swaying unwittingly with shaky breaths.

Peter whispered to her, his voice dark, "You're outta your mind if you think I'm lettin'ya walk away." 

A pulse-pounding shudder racked through her body. Peter swore he could feel her pelvic muscles flutter in response. It triggered a sick feeling of validation of the sinful desire polluting his mind. For a moment, he felt free to wallow in its toxicity.

That voice always managed to subdue her. Peter locked this information away for later. 

He was also aware that he needed to touch her. He craned his neck a little further until his nose kissed hers. The action grounded them both. A flicker of levity broke through the lust, and his familiar smirk returned. "And you're batshit crazy if ya think I'm here for anyone else but you."

Honey gazed up at him owlishly, still locked in a haze. She only vaguely registered the breeze as the staff rushed past them. Her cloudy eyes found their way over to the dining table, now fit for a queen. Or a Good Housekeeping magazine cover. 

The door slam pulled her back to the present.

"I thought I made myself clear last night." Peter bit his lip as he said it, holding the sides of her face as he oozed with charm. His sultry eyes fawned over her. "M'not lettin' you go. Not again."

"Let me go, Peter." Honey's voice was firm with a stone expression.

Immediately, Peter's shoulders dropped a full inch, and his voice pitched into a whine. "Will'ya stop being so stubborn—?"

"Let me go, Peter."

"Fine. You're mad at me—Y'made'ya point. Now, can we just talk about this? Like adults? Just sit down—"

"Let. Me. Go. Peter."

Honey's voice seemed to echo as she said it, charged with an electrical current threatening to fry him alive. It was more than a sneer; it was an ominous rattle before a bite. 

Instantly, the teasing nature of their banter evaporated.

Peter blinked several times, like he'd been sucker punched. He was unsure of how to respond. A tick formed in his jaw as he observed her, watching intently, gears turning. Lips pursed together into a thin line.  

Seconds stretched out uncomfortably as she just stared back.

Honey's spine as she stood in front of him—stood up to him—was steel. The little line between her brows popped out like a switchblade, her eyes skewering him just as deeply.

If she was afraid of Peter's unreadable expression, she didn't show it.

Seconds ticked on in their stalemate, during which dozens of scenarios played out in Peter's mind. At least a dozen of those scenarios were inappropriate ways of... making her do it. 

Didn't matter what it was. 'It' could easily be anything Peter wanted. 

He had the power—not just metaphorically.

Peter had enough strength in the upper half of his pinky to simply bend her to his will.

Peter's throat felt so tight it began to ache. A dry swallow rippled through his neck. Then, he made his choice.

His hands opened, releasing her with a forlorn expression. The moment he did, Honey took a giant step back—a recoil. He could've sworn he heard a faint gasp fill the gap they formed, like she'd been holding her breath.

In terror, he realized with disappointment.

Honey curled her arms around herself. His eyes dropped to the floor. 

That look cut him deeper than any blade could. 

"Honey," he said softly, emotions lodged in his throat. Burning mist clouded his vision. He wasn't here to cry, either. But his heart felt heavy all the same. "I just wanna talk."

"I thought you wanted to have breakfast with me."

"I do—!"

"Then ask me!" she snapped, frustration heating up her words. "Ask me! Instead of dragging me around like you're some…some caveman!"

Peter glanced up. The way she spat out the last word gave him pause. 

He studied the pout on Honey's lips. The angry scrunch in her nose. Arms crossed, jaw firm. She glared up at his tall stature, looking courageous and formidable. At the same time, her eyes betrayed her vulnerability. She was desperate to be heard.

Honey had demolished every obstacle placed before her. Even if the obstacle was him, she made it look (and him feel) three inches tall.

The ferocity of her gaze could intimidate a tiger.

Simultaneously, the butterfly wings of her lashes could charm a viper. 

The bow of her lips could force a king to his knees.

How can she not know this? Peter mused with wonder. How on earth was she unaware of how much power she possessed?

Significantly more than he could ever have.

Honey could make Peter do anything.

"If I had five minutes left on this planet," he began, eyes brimmed with an ocean of unspoken words, "I would want them to be with you."

A pause filled the room, consuming all of its oxygen. Peter held his breath in anticipation.

A surge of terror tightened in his chest, but it was tangled with something deeper—an overwhelming sense of adoration. To the outside world, they were two halves of the same sunset, golden rays that kissed a dark, cold earth. 

Honey gazed at him intently. "I would like that," she said.

And he finally could breathe again.

"—But I can't."

Honey stated it matter-of-factly. As if she didn't just reverse the planet's rotation. Peter's gaze dropped to the floor as his heart shattered. He was close to falling apart entirely.

"I can't… I-I…" her words trickled out, trying to support her stance with a lack of conviction. Or direction. Or sense. "I have things to do." 

That sassy tone of hers was back. Peter lifted his eyes to hers, "Oh?"

She shrugged, "Important things."

"Oh," he nodded along, furrowed brows in a serious expression.

"Yeah." She mumbled, almost too quiet to hear. She fidgeted with her fingers, threading them together, until finally, she grasped her arms into a comforting hug. "Like normal people."

The last part was meant to be a jab. "Normal?" Peter replied with decorum.

"Like… taxpayers."

"Hmm."

"—and moms…" she gulped dryly, "on TV." 

Peter nodded conspicuously as if he were fully supportive of her bullshit. His patronizing politeness only frustrated her further.

"Okay, like most people have things to do," she argued harshly, "like bills to pay, people to see—

"Bills."

"And chores! Tasks. Responsibilities."

Peter snorted with feigned enthusiasm, "Wouldn't know anything about that."

"Well, I have a job to get to," she blurted, solidifying her position. "I need to go home and shower and empty my dishwasher, bring my clothes to the laundromat—"

"Uh-huh."

Frustration carved out her tone. "And you know what else? You don't get to hijack my whole day just because you found a couple of hours in your schedule, Peter!" 

He had nothing to say to that.

"And before you ask," Honey pointed a polished fingernail at him, "don't get hung up on last night! You're still in the dog house." She turned to leave but stopped to add, "Or… people house!" 

A moment passed, but she still wasn't done.

"If I had a dog, you would be it!" she growled. "Outside, in the winter, in a tiny wooden shack of shame!" 

Then…

"–Not that I would ever do that to a dog, but maybe a-a cold-blooded— if you were a turtle, or…wait, that doesn't work— A fish! You'd be on your ass! Or fin— is that Portuguese linguiça sausage?" 

Her demeanor had flipped like a switch, from cold to curious, as soon as the smell of food hit her. It was as if the entire conversation had never happened until that point.

Peter couldn't help but smile. "From that place you like," he confirmed, his tone enticing. 

She paused, silent.

Mused.

Deliberated.

"Alright. First—sausage," Honey blurted out, 

decision made. The irritation in her tone seemed directed at herself.

"Then," she warned, "you're in the turtle-fish house!"

She spun on her heel and sauntered towards the buffet as if she'd dropped a mic.

"Okay, so hit me," Peter said.

Honey glanced up at him. The look she gave suggested she was willing to do exactly that.

They sat at opposite ends, so far apart at the dining table that it was almost comical. Only a few minutes had passed since they agreed to sit and eat together. It might as well have been years. Every moment was packed with awkward silence.

Straight-faced, he lifted his arms, extending them in a welcoming gesture. "Let's hear it. I know you got questions. I got answers. Let's go."

"Oh?" she lifted her eyebrow as she pinned him with a mocking glare. 

"Yep," Peter shrugged, maybe a bit too aggressively. "Let's hear 'em. Fire away."

A tension-filled moment of silence settled between them. The whole time, Honey skewered him with her glare. Then—

"Where should I start?" she spat hotly like lava erupting from a volcano. "Should we start from the top? Gimme three hundred words on how you spent your summer vacation." Each word sizzled off her tongue. "Or should we rewind a bit and talk about the ropes of glue shooting out of your body?!" 

An amused laugh burst from his lips, his teeth flashing wolfishly. "I mean… yeah—" he smirked. "When ya put it like that, I'd be willin' t'give you a demonstration—"

"Grow up, Peter!" Honey snapped, her fork clattering on the china.

The accused straightened his shoulders and mouth into a line. 

Contempt filled her incredulous glare. "Y'know what? Let's talk," she sneered, her anger releasing. "Let's talk about you since you're the center of everyone's universe. You, right now. Peter Parker, the Boss." She was flippant, each word intended to pierce his prideful armor. 

"What's been goin'on in your world, huh?" she questioned, pleasant in her tone. "How's crime?" She said it like referring to a common relative.

Peter shot her a brief glare, only encouraging her patronizing. 

"Must be good," she remarked. "What's the mortgage on a ten-thousand-square-foot condo in Manhattan nowadays?"

"Wouldn't know," he shrugged, picking his fork back up to take another bite. He pondered quietly as he chewed. "I bought the whole building."

The crassness of his declaration gave her pause. Honey hated how cocky arrogance looked as good on him as one of his Ralph Lauren suits.

"You bought— a hotel?" she asked in confusion.

Peter's eyes slid over to hers, looking like the devil as he brought a coffee mug to his lips. His eyes were twin flames, burning into her like he was trying to ignite a fire in her belly. Sipping a hot beverage seemed like a lewd act. 

Depraved thoughts filled his skull as he laved his tongue across his scorched lips. He pulled the mug away, and his mouth glistened. He watched Honey's reaction expectantly. 

"Yup," was all he said.

She stared at him, face unreadable. Not the kind of way she stared at his hands or his mouth.

"I suppose…" she crooned in a silky voice that edged on seduction and trepidation. For a moment, Peter's belly flipped with the excitement of a fisherman sensing the first slight tug on a lure. "The fact that Wilson Fisk used to own it had nothing to do with that decision?"

A bucket of ice water had been dropped on him. Coldness stabbed his heart and splintered his bones. 

That name.

The name that paralyzed him. Made his hair stand up on end, even after all these years. She exposed a nerve with just a couple of words.

"Oh," she said knowingly, reading him like a book. "Are we still afraid to say his name?" 

Peter's own words echoed back at him.

"...We don't say his name..."

Peter traveled to the day he rescued Honey from Fisk's men. He remembered inexplicably snapping at her, his hackles raised at the thought of what Mayor Wilson Fisk could do—what he had already done—to Peter's family. What depraved violation he would have done to this unassuming, bright-eyed girl. 

Unassuming, only because she had no idea at that point that she was his. 

The memory blurred and morphed into a twisted reflection of the current moment. 

Innocent. But smart.

Trying to ignore the sudden pulse behind his eye socket, he lifted a shoulder and dropped it. Peter's practiced indifference returned to his face. He returned to his plate, calm and collected. "I'm layin' down plans—"

"With Carol?" Honey finished, eyes narrowed into slits.

Peter's eyes shot to hers, and he looked truly confused momentarily. His expression only seemed to anger her further.

"Is that who you're 'layin' down plans' with?" she asked lividly. There was no concealing it. Honey's eyes were sharp enough to cut his throat.

"What?" Peter blurted out. "Carol??"

God, he hoped he didn't look as stupid as he sounded.

"Yeah!" Honey hissed back, hopping to her feet. The chair creaked loudly across the marble floor as she shoved it away. “Carol. Fucking. Danvers.”  Honey spat each word out like they were sour. "I believe that's her full name, no?"

Peter's brow arched, bewildered. Confused.

"'America's Sweetheart'!" she added through gritted teeth, pushing her fists into the table. The plate clattered at the impact. "Captain America?" she said as if to aid his memory. "You know?"

He blinked. 

She bordered on shrill. "The one with America's Ass?"

Of course, she referred to the former Air Force pilot who became a TikTok sensation, a pop star, a fashion model, and a feminist icon. Everyone's favorite.

Typically, Honey wouldn't resort to bashing another woman, avoiding the "cycle of patriarchal misogyny which pits women against each other," to quote her sister. But deep within her fiery eyes, jealous voices conspired against her rationality.

Meanwhile, Peter's eyebrows squished together, as if he couldn't quite grasp what language they were speaking. "Wha-What're we talkin' abo—?"

Her glare was razor sharp. "What's Carol laying down, huh? What's she like?"

Peter stared back with eyes like saucers and an empty thought bubble next to his head. "She's… Fine?" 

It took less than one second for him to deeply regret his answer. 

"Oh, I'll bet she is!"

Something wild sparked in Honey's eyes like a crackling bonfire. She rounded the table marching towards him. "Y'think I'm stupid? I follow Deuxmoi, asshole!"

Peter let out a long groan, practically dragging his fingernails down his face. "Honey—"

"Don't 'Honey' me!" she sneered, adding a mocking dramatization of his voice. She threw her hands up in front of her face as if waving them at an invisible breaking news chyron. "'Carol Danvers spotted at 1Oak last night with alleged Syndicate crime boss Peter Parker... Is Captain America About to Break Bad?'"

Frustration filled his tone, "That's—! That was noth—"

"Oh, don't gaslight me, Peter!"

"I'm not!" 

"Don't gaslight me about gaslighting me!"

"That was all TMZ bullshit, and you know it!" Peter shot back, now on his feet as well. She pursed her lips together, shaking her head in disbelief. Peter took a steadying breath. "Yes," he admitted, more composed, "I met her at a club, yeah. Because that's where she wanted to meet! I had a business proposition–"

"Business?" she bitterly laughed, crossing her arms. "You two goin' in on a new restaurant? Hipster gastropub called Peter's Cockpit?"

"Jesus Christ, Honey, I didn't fuck her!" he exclaimed in a near whine, waving his arms like a windmill. "It was—" he fumbled over his tongue. "Nothing else happened! No one is in anyone's… cockpit…" 

He winced at his own words. Raw memories from last night flared up in his chest. "Where d'ya get off accusin' me, huh?" he interrupted, suddently. "What about you and Pedro, eh?"

Honey's eyes bulged out of her head in shock.

Peter was referring to, of course, the sexy, hazel-eyed waiter that flirted at the restaurant the night before. Clearly, Honey didn't see the correlation. 

"Pedro!?" she bellowed in disbelief.

"Pedro!" Both of their voices echoed off the stone of the lavish suite.

Honey groaned so loudly, it was a roar. "Pedro's gay, you dunce!" 

Peter's brows furrowed as he considered this. "Come again?" 

"I've known him since junior high! He helped Becca get her first job when she was 15. At that very restaurant!" 

Silence.

Peter blinked, a trench forming between his eyes. 

More silence.

"So. You're... not... ...into him?"

Honey scoffed at the question with a rueful chuckle. He sensed she would've laughed if she hadn't been so furious. "Seriously? I've seen rainbows that were straighter!"

He felt his skin fluster. The thumping percussion inside of his chest leveled out to a dull thud. His heart ached all the same.

Peter's eyes rested on her. She stayed rigid, arms wrapped tightly around herself in a way that reminded him of a tree fighting to remain upright in the wind. A cherry blossom braving an early-spring cold snap.

Her eyes were cast to the side, and filtered sunlight gave her an ethereal glow. Anxiety reflected across the color of her irises.

"Did it hurt?" Honey asked, barely above a whisper.

He tilted his head at her question, glancing briefly at the shimmer resting on her lower lashes. Her voice was meek but raw with unspoken emotion, like a wave of tears being held back. "Thinking I wanted him?" He recognized her attempts to look anywhere else but at him.

Peter's chocolate eyes softened. "Did you want it to?" he questioned gently. Not an ounce of judgment thrown her way. "Hurt me?"

His beautiful girl swallowed dryly, blinking the shimmer away. Her eyes wandered to the floor. "Maybe," she replied thoughtfully, discovering it herself. 

Peter hadn't expected her honesty but wasn't surprised. If anything, he found it disappointingly refreshing. 

He watched her fidget with her hands. "Regardless," she said, clearing her throat. "I guess now you know how it feels." 

Shame brimmed her gaze as it bounced off the walls and floor. Peter considered her expression, silently reading all the emotions she could not conceal.

"Carol isn't what you think she is," Peter said, matter-of-fact. His ferocity had calmed, and his arrogance had dissipated like a storm cloud. Tiredly, he ran his hand back through his hair. "Matt heard that she might be making the leap into politics. People are saying she could make a play for Congress. Maybe even the governorship." 

Honey stared at him in silence. Waiting.

"I was hopin' I could convince her to stick a little closer to home," Peter sighed with a half-shrug and a dim spark of hope in his smile. "Somewhere... maybe like City Hall."

Honey arched a brow, processing. "Mayor," she said, contemplative. "You want her to run against Fisk." 

He looked sheepish now, pocketing his hands. "Lotsa people think she could win."

Honey's eyelids narrowed. "Do you even vote?" 

"She'd have mine," Peter replied without hesitation, then his eyes snapped to hers. "And no," he added, muted but coy. "Before you say anything, that wasn't a euphemism. Or an objectification of any of her..." The words dwindled as he struggled to form the right word. "...Assets."

Peter cringed after saying it, and he could've sworn that her eye twitched.

"I wasn't lying, Honey," he added. His heart was in his throat. "Last night. When I said, 'There wasn't anyone else for me.' I meant it."

She was silent momentarily, but a million words bubbled up behind her glassy eyes. "There has to be something else for me," she whimpered, vocal cords tight. 

Her vulnerability was in plain sight. No further posturing. The heartbreak in her voice felt like a knife jammed between his ribs.

"I can't—I-I just can't..." Honey struggled, losing her composure. 

"I don't…" Peter muttered half-consciously. Terrified at the realization. "What-what are you saying, you-you don't wanna be with me?" 

The tears bubbled up again on her lower lash line. Her plea ground out miserably, voice breaking, "There has to be more to me, to my life, than just being… yours."

He blinked at her, confused.

"I can't belong to you, Peter," she replied. Tears glided down her cheeks, now flooded with raw emotion. "I can't belong to anyone else." 

His Honey shivered before him, choking back sobs. She barely looked strong enough to stand.

And that's when it hit him.

The sharp contrast between the woman who stared him down and the shivering girl before him became apparent. It was day and night, fire and fear.

Fear.

"Mari."

The word snapped her out of her downward spiral. Wide-eyed and caught off guard, Honey's gaze flicked up to his.

Peter gazed at her with a worried line between his brows. He focused on her eyes, made impossibly brighter from tears. The sight broke his heart.

Peter took a careful step forward, the way one would approach a wild horse. The slightest twig snap might send her running.

"I'm not trying to put you in a cage," he offered gently. Saying those words were painful, in a nauseating way. "Not again."

The gentle relief he spotted in Honey's gaze tore through his sternum. Peter couldn't decide whether he would rather bleed out or trap her away beneath his ribs.

Peter's hands itched, desperately wanting to close the gap between them, wipe away her tears with his thumbprints, and blanket her with his hold. Vigilantly, he kept his heels glued to the floor. He'd like to think he did so out of respect for her wishes and not with fear that she'd run away from him.

"I'm— I'm not," he babbled, dread filling him. Everything felt suddenly upside down. Reversed. He was a stranger again, with a frightened girl trembling in his bathtub. The thought terrified him. "If-if-if that's what you think—"

"I love you so much," Honey declared, clear as a bell. His heart was in his throat again. He swallowed it down, afraid he would empty his stomach in front of her. "I really do."

The opposite emotions tugging at his psyche felt like an ax swinging downwards, severing thick brush with a satisfying whistle. They culminated in a wet chopping sound—the split of his heart in two pieces.

"It's the first thing I think of in the morning and the last thing I think about at night." She dabbed at her chin with the back of her hand, taking a measured breath. "Sometimes I think that it's all I have left."

His heart sank. "But it can't be, though. " 

The knowingness of his voice pierced her further. "It can't," Honey replied gently. Sorrow weighed down the corners of her mouth, though he could tell she was still trying to smile. "I need to love myself." The last word had her lip wobbling.

Peter tightened his jaw, trying to channel the energy of his agony into something other than tears.

"For now," Honey added. The soft reassurance flickered like candlelight, providing the only warmth he could hold onto.

Peter locked his jaw and nodded slowly, understandingly. The more he thought about the equation, the more sense it made to him. 

It wasn't about him.

He declared, resolved. "You're the boss."

A/N: Go ahead. Let's hear it. If you loved this, reblog. If you thought it could be better, give it a like. If you hated it, do nothing. Thanks to my muses, now and forever. 🦌 Back to S&V Masterlist • Back to Main

Thank you for supporting fanfic authors by reblogging and keeping the community healthy. ♥️

[randomestfandoms-ocs]

Newly Named OCs

thank you thank you thank you @cecexwrites for talking me off the edge of a metaphorical cliff and helping me figure all of this out let's go

Upcoming Plot Bunnies (not going to share details now bc I'll post their asks once I make headers)

Vanya Baker – Gilmore Girls, x Max

Lillie Ledger – Bridgerton

Theodosia Byrd – Bridgerton, x Benedict

Samira Devlin – Supernatural

Archie Quinton – Doctor Who

Zenais Rosier – Harry Potter, x Pansy

The Society

Claire Tomkins ( Olivia Holt ) — Elle’s twin sister, thinks Campbell is a sketchy ass bitch

Luca Clarke ( Froy Gutierrez ) – poly Sam & Grizz OC, chaotic rich football player and leads the guard after Grizz goes on the expedition, hates Campbell

Camryn Clarke ( Madelyn Cline ) – poly Hallie OC, Luca's step sister and best friend, also Harry's best friend, rich bitch wild child

Jurassic World (blame Cece)

Joss Murphy ( Madelyn Cline ) – Lex's daughter, head empty

Courtney Krill ( Kristine Froseth ) – Vivian's younger sister, waitress on the island, x Matthew Steele

Matthew Steele ( Tom Holland ) – bar tender on the island but wants to one day work in the research & development department, x Courtney Krill

Miles Shepherd ( Chris Evans ) – runs security on whichever exhibit Devon runs, x Devon Grady

Elijah Lewis ( Dylan O'Brien ) – head 100% empty, x Raegan Mitchell

Everest Ledger ( Tom Hiddleston ) – head empty, future oc ship but can't decide between a few options

Tanner Kane ( Brenton Thwaites ) – head empty, future oc ship but can't decide between a few options

Kai Forrest ( Josh Hutcherson ) – head empty, future oc ship but can't decide between a few options

Decker Haynes ( Dwayne Johnson ) – head empty, future oc ship but can't decide between a few options

OUAT

Ariana Galanis / Ariadne Bayern ( Nicola Coulghan ) – Bluebeard's final wife, but Bluebeard is Peter Pan. Hook rescued her from being the latest sacrifice and hid her in the Enchanted Forest, but then the curse happens

Marigold "Goldie" Thistle / Thumbelina ( Sabrina Carpenter ) – Thumbelina, fairy princess, just vibes

Kieran Iverson / Ambrose Morvan ( Aaron Tveit ) – in the Enchanted Forest he was a travelling musician/writer but Regina killed his first love, he ended up leading a band of rebels fighting against her reign, tbd what he's doing in Storybrooke, x Pearl Gale

Bridgerton

Hermione Bridgerton ( Millie Bobby Brown ) – Hyacinth's twin, just vibes

Callum Linfield ( Henry Goulding ) – head empty just vibes, x Euphemia Bridgerton

Thomasin Elkins ( Anne Hathaway ) – widow in the ton, friends with Violet & Agatha (and Charlotte?), ends up starting a flirtation with Jon Lockwood which soon turns into more

Narnia

Molly Pevensie ( Millie Bobby Brown ) – Lucy's twin, ends up back in Narnia before them in Prince Caspian, has to survive alone when there are no Narnians to help or protect her and ends up befriending Caspian

Recasts / Updates

Eulalia Rosier ( Kacey Rohl ) – Carissa Rosier's new name

Lea Aldrich ( Grace Van Dien ) – Zoe Aldrich's new name / face

Mandy Holbrook ( Olivia Scott Welch ) – Mandy Holbrook's new face

Eilwony ( Kiernan Shipka ) – Eilwony's new face

[thesugarclubs-blog]

Put A Little Love on Me - Sam Wilson x OC

warnings: hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, air force friends, soft smut, 18+

word count: 8.4k

WP: https://www.wattpad.com/1437355323-put-a-little-love-on-me-lane

vibe: "That's not fair, Sam," she whispered, hugging her arms around her middle, her fingers gripping into the fabric of her dress.

Sam shook his head and stepped closer to her, chewing on the inside of his cheek, "No it's not, but it's all I had. We promised we'd always have each other no matter what happened. After everything you helped me through when Riley -" his words cut off and her let out a breath, keeping his dark eyes on hers, "I just wanted to be able to help you the way you helped me," he finished

Masterlist

A few raps sounded at his bedroom door as he changed his tie once more. 

“Mr. Wilson, sir?” Sam smiled  at Peter’s voice coming from the other side. “I don’t mean to rush you but Barnes-”

“Completely means to!” 

Bucky’s exasperated voice boomed through the first floor of the compound interrupting him causing Sam to snort out a laugh as he tightened his tie and looked over himself quickly in the mirror. The soft pink tie he had finally landed on looked great  against the crisp navy suit he had chosen for tonight. 

They had been invited to a spring gala in honor of the Armed Forces tonight and they’d asked him, as Captain America and former Air Force, to say a few words. 

“Looking good Wilson, looking good.” He winked at himself before pocketing his phone and wallet to head out the door. 

Sam made his way over to where Bucky was sitting alongside Peter in the common room, looking like he was going to burst into flames as the youngest showed him something on his phone excitedly. 

“Don’t scare him off Parker, he might bail on us.”  

His partner rolled his eyes and cleared his throat before standing and running a hand through his hair. 

Sam whistled, “You know for a person who didn’t wanna go you clean up real nice Buckaroo.” 

“Don’t push your luck Sam,” he replied pointedly. 

“But where’s the fun in that?” Sam grinned as he grabbed his coat and headed for the door. “Are you guys coming?” He asked innocently, just catching the way Bucky glowered, unimpressed, as he followed with a heavy trudge. 

The car waited outside, tinted windows and a security detail that felt entirely unnecessary and did little to ease Sam’s nerves. It’s not that he hated public speaking, it was a given now, but the cause for tonight was important. It sat close to his heart, in both pride and heartbreak, and he just hoped the small speech he had prepared did it justice.

As the cavalcade approached the Plaza, Bucky looked through the tinted glass and whistled. "Very fancy Sammy boy." The car pulled up in front of the huge double doors, the red carpet lined with press and reporters. "And they're all here for you." As the door opened Bucky held his arm out, "After you, I insist," he smirked to Sam, "Me and the boy will just hang here until the heat dies down." 

"So much for moral support, " Sam complained, over his shoulder as he stepped out of the car. The camera flashes and the cacophony of voices that greeted him confirmed that Bucky had the right idea.

He took a breath and transformed his face into the friendly, all-American grin that he knew the public loved and stepped forward. He held his arms out slightly, as if he were about to give the crowd a hug, and then waved. Here, there, up to the right, wherever he heard his name called as he slowly but resolutely made his way towards the doors of the building.

His right hand went to the watch on his left wrist and he surreptitiously fingered the tiny control panel. Gasps of delight came from the crowd as Redwing swooped down and performed some aerial acrobatics, guiding Sam the rest of the way to the doors through a chorus of cheers and applause.

Once inside, he took a moment to steel himself with a breath as everyone in attendance bustled around the room; taking pictures, grabbing glasses of champagne from trays. He took his phone out quickly typing out a text to Bucky and Peter letting them know he’d find their table. As soon as Bucky responded, he pocketed his phone and made sure his speech paper was still  safely tucked inside his jacket pocket before making his way through the crowd of attendees.

He scanned the room until he found the seating chart by the bar — open, he hoped — and found their names under table number one, right front and centre. 

The table was still empty when he arrived, eight exquisitely laid places and a beautifully crafted centrepiece. Sam wandered around the table, searching out his name and slid into his seat, just taking a moment of calm before he would inevitably be thrown into the fray. 

Bucky and Peter’s voices mingled with the music as they bustled over behind him. 

“I was waiting for a text so we could sneak in, Wilson. Do you know how many hands I had to shake tryin’ to find you?” Bucky grumbled, slumping into the chair beside him.

Sam cocked an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips, "Poor little super soldier, having to mingle and get appreciated"

The small stifled laugh from Peter caused a chuckle to bubble from his lips as Bucky rolled his eyes. Sam knew the spotlight was something Bucky was still getting used to and for the most part he always supported his friend's decision to hide in the shadows but with their recent successes and their new team growing, he'd have to accept the supportive attention, even if it was just for one night.

"To be fair Bucky, you were the one who insisted every man for himself," Peter started to explain, before seeing the look Bucky was sending him and pulling himself short. "I know, shut up kid, " he finished, pushing his chair backwards, he stood and suggested, "should I to go see if they have any Asgardian Mead?"

"Good idea, kid," Bucky replied, "I've a feeling I'm going to need it."

"You need to go easy tonight Buck," Sam advised.

"I know how to behave in polite society," Bucky shook his head at Sam, "I was brought up by a lady and know how to treat the dames."

“Rule number one,” Sam countered, “don’t call ‘em dames. They don’t like that anymore.” 

“Aw, shucks! That’s why I can’t get a date.” 

Sam rolled his eyes and turned his attention to the rest of the room. It was probably time to get this show on the road, be the man of the people and shake some hands. 

“I’m gonna go mingle, hold down the fort and don’t let Parker drink.” He pointed a finger at Bucky as he stood. Brushing his hands down his suit, he took a deep breath and headed towards Rhodey, the first face he’d recognised since he walked in.

Clapping his friend on the back, Sam grinned his signature grin and extended his hand to the two council members that Rhodey was talking too, "Gentleman, I hope my friend here isn't boring you with his tank story, again," 

"That story is a classic and always kills," Rhodey defended as the men with him laughed, shaking their heads. 

"Only to people who haven't heard it ten times," one of them retorted with a booming laugh. 

Sam nudged his shoulder into his friends with a smirk as the conversation moved on to the recent PR that was needed for their growing team and how it was going to be handled. They wanted Kate and Yelena to make appearance's at schools and Peter needed to do tech presentations, stepping into the shoes that Tony had left for him. But something caught Sam's attention, and the councilman's words drifted out to a dull whisper. 

A girl with soft brunette waves stood by the bar in a navy blue satin gown, her deep chocolate brown eyes trained on his with a soft smile playing on her lips as she took a sip from her wine glass. Sam's chest squeezed as his mind jolted to the last time he'd laid eyes on the girl in front of him. The soft goodbye she'd whispered into his ear, and the press of her lips to his cheek before she'd walked out for her last mission. The day she'd walked out the door, taking his heart with her. 

"Yeah, yeah that sounds good, we'll talk about it Monday," Sam mumbled, squeezing Rhodey's shoulder, "Will you excuse me?" He didn't wait for an answer before he walked away, his tunnel vision setting in as the rest of the room faded.

His heart rate picked up with each step he took towards her. Sam slowed to a stop in front of her, those eyes he'd fallen into time and time again trail up and down the navy suit he wore. "Lanie?" Sam breathed out her name like an unanswered prayer and her smile only grew. 

"I'm a little disappointed you didn't wear the wings." She quipped, taking a sip of her drink. 

He was too busy admiring just how much more beautiful she had gotten since the last time he saw her for her words to register and when they did he couldn't help but chuckle. "Shoot, I left them in the car." 

Lane laughed and the sound hit deep in his core. The feelings he had bottled up and tucked away started to bubble in his chest as her laughter slowed and it was just the two of them. 

"You look good, Sam," Lane said softly.

"This old thing," he gulped, trying to get his racing heart under control.

 Lane had always had this effect on him, even before the feeling was mutual. Just a look from her in his direction or a parting of her lips sent his pulse through the roof. Lane had been so weary of the guys in their squadron, conscious that they were a bunch of entitled A-holes, who made a female pilot work twice as hard for the privilege of wearing the wings.

 She'd finished in the top 5%  of their class, proving herself and nabbing a commission most of the other flyers could only dream of. When Sam had transferred to Dulles Air Force base a year after graduating he'd been delighted to discover not only was Lane still there but had blossomed into a confident, pack up your shit and take a hike, no-nonsense lady. Well-liked and respected by her squad, she had remembered Sam fondly and had been happy to show him the ropes and eventually allowed him to take her out for a drink.

“You, uh… you look good too, Lanie,” Sam murmured softly, taking her in properly. She’d always been beautiful, even with her hair in the regulation bun, slicked back and shining with gel and a fresh face. Now though, he wasn’t sure he could be in her vicinity much longer without a drink in his hand. 

“Thanks, big shot,” she smiled, that heart-stopping, flirty thing that always sent his heart a flutter. “How is that going? Being Cap?” 

Sam sucked in a breath. “Big shoes to fill,” he chuckled as Lane caught his elbow gently, leading him towards the bar. 

“And yet they fit you so well, Sam,” she replied, “I certainly had no doubt they would.”

A familiar fluttering filled his chest as Sam felt a blush creeping up his neck, “Thanks Lanie, that uh, means a lot coming from you” 

She smiled again, that smile that was seared into his brain from the first moment they met at training camp. A smile that brightened the room and dulled away all the worries that plagued his heart since taking up the mantle. 

“And you,” Sam cleared his throat, as his tongue darted out to wet his suddenly dry lips, “I hear you’re basically running the program now, but not flying anymore what’s that about?” 

A flash of a pained expression crossed her face, before she covered it with a soft smirk and shook her head, “you keeping tabs on me, Wilson?” She questioned, teasingly.

His heart flipped at the question. He had been keeping tabs on her, a small obsession and mainly just to make sure she was still kicking. "You know how airmen and women are." 

Lane raised a brow, "and what about you? Any new aliens I should know about." 

Sam chuckled and shook his head thankful for the change of subject. If she knew just how much he had been following her career on his own it would open that can of worms they decided to close a long time ago. "Androids maybe, aliens..." he shook his head, "not as of late."

"Good to know the world's in safe hands." She turned to the bartender. "Can I get an Old Fashioned and...?"

"Just a beer for me," Sam ordered. The area around the bar was getting crazy busy, with other attendees pressing against them trying to get served. 

Lane passed him his beer and stepped away from the bar, taking a gulp of her drink, she then motioned her glass towards the balcony doors. "I need to get some air, it's a little warm in here." She turned away from him and took another couple of steps. "It really is lovely to see you Sam," she smiled, a shy smile which reminded him so much of their first time together. "Maybe we don't leave it so long next  time."

He wanted to say something else, to follow after her. To continue the conversation that he craved so desperately but he could see she needed out. She had never quite fit in events like these. She was beautiful and good at pretending she was social but Sam could see the obligatory scowl flicker to her face when the important people weren't looking. Same old Lane. Wanted to be anywhere else than where she had to be. 

Sam spent the night fielding questions from politicians, and making sure his overgrown, chaotic dates, Bucky and Peter, stayed out of the mead. It wasn't until he was sitting alone with his third beer in the wind and the band started to play the after dinner music that he realized his mind had been on Lane all night. She floated around the room, avoiding the big crowds and speaking directly to a few important people but it never lasted long and she disappeared as quickly as she appeared. 

"Why don't you ask her to dance?" Peter slumped down into the chair beside Sam. "I've been watching you, watching her all night." 

"I haven't been watching no-one, Squirt." Sam brushed him off but his eyes found her again, slender curves and bright, fake smile as she awkwardly shook hands with another man. 

"She looks like she needs saving," Peter shrugged. 

But Lane had never needed saving, not really. 

"Chicken," Peter resorted to name calling and as soon as he turned on him the squawking stopped.

“I will put you on mission laundry duty,” Sam threatened, “and I know for a fact Barnes leaves his go-bag far longer than he should between washes. Every. Single. Time.”

Peter shuddered and Sam cackled as the younger man scurried away to the bar. 

“No mead!” Sam called after him before his gaze fell back to Lane. She was holding her own against the man, a Sergeant in full dress who was pushing his luck with how close he was standing. It wasn’t until his hand skimmed across the small of Lane’s back and she stepped out of his reach that Sam chugged back the rest of his beer and heaved himself up. 

“Not saving her, just deterring the creep,” he muttered to himself as he headed in their direction.

"Sergeant, I think it's important to remember we are in the company of many of our superiors." Lane reminded the man with that sickly sweet smile that to others seemed just polite, but Sam knew the venom around it. 

The man was just about to part his lips to counter when Sam stepped to her side, "Sir I believe Rhodey was looking for you." 

He frowned and shook his head walking away from them. 

"I didn't need saving Cap." Lane said after a moment when the man was out of earshot.

"No you didn't, but he did. I remember when you almost roundhoused a guy who thought touching you was a god given right." Sam responded, "And as you say, we're surrounded by superiors."

"That was a lifetime ago Sam, the new me doesn't get violent, I just get even. Unfinished business and all that." She bit her lower lip and looked like she wanted to say more, but took another sip of her drink instead.

Sam watched as another uniform approached her from behind and instead of leaving her to the dogs like she so clearly wanted to be Sam extended his hand. 

"How about a dance?" He asked. 

Lane eyed his hand, thoughts swirled around behind those pretty eyes and then she downed her drink and set it aside and slid her hand into his. 

"You still step on toes?" She teased and Sam huffed. "I'll take that as a yes."

“Hasn’t stopped you before,” Sam quipped, leading her onto the dance floor and Lane laughed lightly. 

“I’m a risk taker, Wilson. It’s like you don’t know me at all.” 

The music grew louder the closer they got to the band, big brass swelling around the crooning of the singer they’d hired. Sam pulled Lane closer, holding her slender frame against his body as they began to sway gently. 

“Now, I don’t know about that, Lanie. You’ve never hidden yourself from me.”

"That you know of." Lane smirked up at him, her long hair cascading down her back as her chin lifted to look up at him. Those dark eyes finding his, "I'm pretty good at keeping secrets." 

Sam raised a brow, "you can't keep a secret for the life of you." 

She grinned up at him again, a mischievous look behind her eyes, "that you know of."

Sam led Lane around the dance floor, the two of them in comfortable silence, but he was sure she could see the words brewing in his eyes, something he had been dying to offload ever since they parted ways. 

He cleared his throat, pulling her closer to him so that their cheeks met, entwining their fingers so that there was no escaping his nearness. "Before, when you mentioned unfinished business, did you mean us? Is that what we are?"

"What do you think, Sam?" she asked softly, "Are we unfinished or was this over a long time ago?"

Sam felt his breath catch in his throat before speaking, "You tell me, Lane. I wasn't the one who took a mission and didn't come home."

"That's unfair Sam," She said, "you know what it's like on those missions..." She trailed off. Her hands tight in Sam's as they spun in a lazy circle. 

"Out there, sure," Sam answered, "but you came home, all I expected was a phone call." 

"Phone calls can still be hard when you don't know what to say," She hummed and let him spin her out and away from him, before gently bringing her back against his chest. Her back molded to his front as their cheeks pressed together as they silently worked through all those hard unspoken emotions. 

"We were never very good at talking anyways, Lanie."

Sam felt the reverberation of her hum through his chest and he turned his head, letting his lips graze lightly over her jaw. 

“Sam,” she said softly, her breath hitching. 

“Tell me you didn’t want it to be over,” he whispered lowly, “because I know I didn’t.” 

Lane tensed in his arms and Sam sighed. He should have known. 

“Sam, you have a speech to make soon. Let’s not do this now, please? Just dance with me a little longer.”

"Give me something, Lane," he was battling to keep his voice neutral. He was sure that once he left her to make his speech, she'd take off again. 

"I can't do this here, tonight Sam. Just for now let's pretend that we're a couple," she rested her head against his shoulder and Sam tightened his hold on her slightly as she turned her face and rubbed her nose up and down his neck. If Sam  closed her eyes, he could imagine that he was her wingman, murmuring sweet nothings in her ear, making her shudder with want. 

When she spun away this time, her fingers slipped from his and just like before she slipped into the crowd and away from him. 

He made to go after her when the crowd parted and the mic screeched over the heads of everyone, "everyone please welcome to the stage our very own Captain America, Sam Wilson!" 

Sam nodded, turning on his heal and painting a smile on his face and raised his hand in the air making his way to the stage to do his speech but his mind wandered to his Lanie, where she would have run off to and how far he'd have to go to chase her down this time.

Jogging up the steps to the microphone, Sam squinted against the lights and gathered his wit, feeling a little out of sorts now. 

Under the attention of literally everyone in the room, he cleared his throat and patted down his pocket for his speech as his eyes settled on Bucky and Peter, the two of them lounging at their table with tumblers that were definitely filled with the Agardian mead he told them to steer clear of. Bucky grinned up at him and flashed two over-enthusiastic thumbs up and Peter cupped his hands around his mouth, whooping and cheering far too loudly for such a dignified gala. 

Still, it settled something within him and he dragged his eyes across the room, telling himself he wasn’t searching for her as he unfolded the piece of paper in his hand.

His entire speech felt distant, like he was on autopilot as he said the words and the crowd laughed from time to time. When the applause started and he folded the paper back up his heart raced with one last scan of the crowd. It wasn't until he caught a glimpse of navy satin disappearing out onto one of the balconies that he finally took a breath and followed her outside.

As he tried to make his way through the crowd, people clapped him on the back and stepped in front of him to comment on his speech. His eyes stayed trained on the balcony door, politely and professionally stepping around everyone who got in his way. He'd fight his way through an alien battlefield if it meant Lane was waiting for him on the other side. The glimmer of hope that clung to his chest drew him forward, through everything. 

Stepping out into the fresh spring breeze, Sam felt his breath catch in his throat once more as the moonlight shimmered on across her gown and illuminated her eyes, "Leaving me again so soon, Lanie?" he commented. 

"That's not fair, Sam," she whispered, hugging her arms around her middle, her fingers gripping into the fabric of her dress. 

Sam shook his head and stepped closer to her, chewing on the inside of his cheek, "No it's not, but it's all I had. We promised we'd always have each other no matter what happened. After everything you helped me through when Riley -" his words cut off and her let out a breath, keeping his dark eyes on hers, "I just wanted to be able to help you the way you helped me," he finished.

She stood there, throat bobbing. 

"Listen, I don't want to spend anymore time here and I don't think you do either. I did my speech, I paid my dues," Sam stepped forward, "why don't we go home?" 

Sam watched as her whole body tensed at his use of the word. He knew what he was doing, they had never lived together but home was less of a place for the two of them, more of a feeling. "You can talk," Sam said quietly but firmly as he reached out to her, "I can listen."

He watched the tears pool in her eyes as they darted softly across his face, almost like she was looking for the man he was all those years ago. Trying so hard to ground herself before putting her hand in his. Lane never did like showing her feelings, she always felt like she couldn’t and he could only hope to make her feel as safe as she did for him.

"Damn you, Sam Wilson," she muttered, but there was a soft, tentative smile on her face as she threaded her fingers with his. "If we're gonna do this, I need the greasiest, cheesiest burger you can get around here."

"I'll do you one better. You come back to the compound with me and I'll cook you up somethin' special, maybe somethin' from my Mama's secret recipe stash." 

"You mean Sarah finally shared them with you?" Lane chuckled, her eyes still glistening. "God, I used to love going home with you for that cooking." 

"Just for the cooking?" Sam replied, flashing her his best smile as Lane rolled her eyes. "What do you say, Lanie? We're both here, now, and if this is the only chance we get..."

"Take me home, bird boy," Lane smirked playfully, squeezing his hand gently. 

Another swarm of butterflies fluttered against Sam's rib cage at the familiar nickname he'd earned from his friends back on base. He let out a loud laugh, throwing his head back, "Oh that's what we're doing now?" 

Smiling brightly, Lane hummed and nodded once, bumping her shoulder into his as she dragged him back towards the door. Sam shook his head once more as he followed, tucking the two of them close to the wall as they snuck through the crowded room. Only a few people tried to catch his attention but there was nothing that was going to take him away from escaping with his girl.

The car was waiting out front and when he finally had her in the back seat it was like a tidal wave of relief had washed over him. He always knew how much he missed her, but seeing her here, ready and finally willing to just talk to him. It was different. He couldn't explain how real it all felt. So he kept his hand tucked in hers, craving the sensation of her skin until he could get her alone. 

Lane was nervous, he could feel it in her touch when she squeezed his hand with worry. He couldn't even remember the last time she had gone home with him. 

God he had missed her. "We're almost there," he rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand.

Lane smiled, small and tight, when the car pulled in through the security gate and she peered out the window at the sprawling compound. Once parked up, Sam helped her out, tucking her under his arm as they headed through the front door and through to the common room. 

The place was in relative darkness, the soft lighting usually set for night time, and Sam caught the way Lane’s shoulders fell, tension physically oozing out of her. 

“Take a seat,” he murmured softly, “I’ll open a bottle of red.”

He wandered over to the small wine storage, searching for the bottle of Lane’s favourite he knew he kept for memory’s sake, when his phone buzzed in his pocket. Sliding it out, he was met with a selfie of Bucky the idiot took when Sam wasn’t looking — Peter’s doing really, he’s sure — and he brushed his thumb across the screen to quickly take the call. 

“Are you allowed to bail on your own gala?”Bucky asked immediately, “at least tell me you’re alive.”

Sam breathed out a short laugh, "Alive and well, Buck. Just something I need to take care of," he smiled softly, grabbing the wine bottle off the shelf and turning it over in his hands. 

"Something or someone?" Bucky pressed, the hint of a joke in his grumpy voice, "If I have to stay here, I don't think it's fair that you got to leave, even the kid is leaving with Kate and Yelena, something about playing Kings" he grumbled, "but there's no royalty visiting the city,"

With a shake of his head, Sam couldn't help the roll of his eyes, "It's just a game Buck and you can leave too, just give the kitchen and common floor some space, I'll talk to you later" 

Letting out another laugh as he hung up his phone, Sam sauntered back into the living room presenting the wine bottle to Lane, with a proud smile, "Rippon Pinot Noir, just the way you like it,"

"Almost like you kept that sitting around in case I showed up," Lane teased but her voice was tight. 

"Better to be prepared than empty handed," Sam uncorked the wine. 

"Don't," Lane covered her glass with her hand, "straight out of the bottle or not at all," she smiled.

"Just like the good old days?" Sam nodded. 

"I wouldn't call them good, but they were days, and there was wine." Lane added, "and you."

"Then we got all we need," Sam replied softly as he took a seat beside her on the couch. Lane had kicked off her heels  and made herself comfortable, and something about that made him smile. That she could be so comfortable in his space again after so long apart. 

"So," she started, making grabby hands for the bottle and sipping it delicately. "Are you ready to listen?" 

"I'm all ears, sweetheart," he breathed, pressing his body against hers as offered him both the bottle of wine and her hand. He squeezed her fingers gently as Lane took a deep breath.

Lane turned her eyes down to their intertwined hands and swiped her tongue over her lips. Using two of his fingers, Sam lifted her gaze back up to meet his with a soft nod of his head, ensuring she knew that he was right there, whatever happened, he was with her. With a gentle smile ghosting her lips as her dark eyes skated over his face, Lane cleared her throat and began the story of her last mission. The amount of people they'd lost, and how she did everything to save as many as she could, but even the ones who came home didn't really. The emotion in her voice as she talked about her troops, the soft voice cracks and the small tear that escaped down her cheek made Sam's whole body ache. It was supposed to be a track and report mission, but it turned into a search and rescue. He'd been on difficult missions himself but this was something else all together. 

Sam wanted to gather her up in his arms and never let her go. To remind her that she was home and safe back in his arms. To tell her that he was never going to let anything bad happen to her again. 

"... I was shot out of the sky, just like Riley," she whispered, taking a small sip from the wine bottle in front of her, "My wings wrapped the wrong way and I just... fell. Shrapnel from the shot was lodged in my back with bits from my pack, if I hadn't been over water, I would've -" her voice broke again and Sam traced his thumb over her cheek, catching another tear. 

"There's a reason I didn't wear an open back dress tonight," Lane tried to joke, "The scars from surgery after surgery, it's not pretty Sam... and the - mental scars that I carry, it was too much to put on you. You were working with Steve Rogers when I got back, I wasn't about to swoop in and take that away just because I'm broken."

The words caught in Sam's throat, broken. He'd never once thought of Lane as anything but strong and fierce. Like a tidal wave. To hear her talk about herself in a way that was anything less than that, it broke down a wall inside of him.

"Show me, Lanie," He urged, knowing the chances of her saying no were high but he also knew that telling her that she was beautiful, unmarked and flawless. Those words would mean nothing to her, he needed to show her. "I'll show you mine," he added with a soft smile. 

"I've seen all your scars, Sam." She whispered, her fingers tighter around the bottle now. 

"I have some new ones," he returned the tease, trying to make her comfortable enough to give in and trust him just one more time.

"I don't know, Sam." Her voice was hushed, a quiet murmur in their little corner of the common room. 

"How about I go first?" He responded, and with the slight nod of Lane's head, Sam hopped to his feet and shrugged off his jacket, chucking it across the arm of the couch. She looked up then, her sad eyes fixed on his fingers as he worked quickly to undo his tie. Sam flashed her a grin, wiggling his eyebrows as if he were undressing for any other reason but to show off the jagged lines and mottled skin he carried with him now. And he'd do it a million times over if it meant Lane could see the beauty in the scars she carried herself. 

Once he reached the last button of his shirt, he let it hang open before he moved onto his belt, ridding himself of his clothes until he stood in nothing but his boxers and his socks and he began to point out his most recent scar, a long, freshly pink line that was a deep slit in his thigh just a few months ago. 

"Sam," Lane breathed, her breath hitching. 

"One for one?" Sam replied as he held his hand out, waiting patiently for her to take it, to trust him with her hurt like he had with her all those years ago.

Hesitantly, Lane placed her hand in his and stood, leaving a few inches between them as she spun slowly and paused with her back to him, looking over her shoulder, "could you help me?" She whispered. 

Sam trailed his fingers softly up her back until he reached the zipper of her dress, pulling it down agonizingly slowly. A long line of raised, discolored flesh ran along her spine, growing the lower he got. He stopped his fingers when he reached the end and Sam swallowed thickly, tracing his thumb over the scar that ran the entire length between her shoulder blades. 

 "Surgery number one," Lane breathed, leaning into his touch and meeting his gaze once more.

His breath caught in his throat as she let the dress slip from her hips and stepped out of it, turning around to face him. Her face was tight and every agonizing motion she felt was on display as she arched her neck and closed her eyes. "Number two," she whispered, showing him a fleshy twisted scar that spiraled over her bicep and cut into her shoulder. Sam couldn't believe the pain she must have endured from the fall. Not knowing if she was going to survive it, even worse the agony she must have felt waking up alone, completely transformed by the accident.

The strength she must have held, still held, to get through that. Sam would never know what it was like to come out the other side of something as intense as what Lane had been through, but he knew a little something about grief, about the loss of something and the heaviness you live with after as you rebuild your life. 

"I think you might be the strongest woman I know," he murmured, taking a small step closer. "but then, you always have been." 

Lane's mouth curved into a soft smile, not quite meeting her eyes as she reached for Sam's hand and brought his fingers to her stomach and around to the side of her waist. 

"Scar number three," she murmured, as she pressed the pads of Sam's fingers along the thick, raised line that stretched around to her back. "This one's from a piece of my pack that decided to embed itself in my side on impact."

"Lanie," her name came out as a breath as his fingers traced over her skin. 

Scar after scar, each and every little one a small reminder of everything she'd been through. Every moment he wasn't by her side to remind her how amazing she was to him. He didn't see the ugliness that she did, all Sam saw was a strong, incredible woman who had been through hell and stood taller because of it. He saw her. 

He used his free hand to place two fingers under her chin and bring her eyes up to meet his, "You're beautiful, Lane. Every piece of you. Inside and out. And I will show you that as many times as you need me too and more, if you'll let me," he spoke quietly, drawing her closer, pressing their bodies together.

Sam felt her tremble when he dipped his head and his lips pressed to the scar on her shoulder. Her entire body giving into the soft, slow praises in the form of kisses. A tiny moan slipped from her tired lips as Sam began to show her just how beautiful each scar was. 

"I missed you," he said, so quietly it might have been missed over the sound of their breathing but it was out there and it was true. "More than anything."

"I missed you too, Sam," she breathed, as she tilted her head back and to the side as Sam's lips trailed up her neck to her earlobe. 

His fingertips dug gently into her skin as he moved up and pressed his forehead to hers. He needed her. He needed her to understand just how much he missed her. Just how beautiful she was in his eyes. Sam swooped down, and lifted Lane into his arms, pulling a giggled from her perfect lips as she pulled back a little to look at him. 

Sam shook his head once, and rounded the couch, heading straight down the hallway to his bedroom. There was no way his first time with her was going to be on a couch or the floor of the living room. Those pesky butterflies tickled his chest once more the closer they got and he let the feeling of them wash over him just like her warm citrus scent. 

"Sam," Lane practically whined as she dipped her head and kissed a small scar he had on his collarbone.

Electricity shot down from his head to his toes as her lips touched his skin. He’d been waiting, dreaming of her back in his arms for so long and here she was, finally. His Lanie. 

He held her tighter reaching a hand out to open his door as quickly as possible, once inside he kicked the door shut and walked them over to his bed. Lane kissed a line up his neck as she ran her fingers delicately through his scalp. A shiver ran up his spine as she reached his jaw and pulled back to meet his eyes. He propped his knee on the mattress before softly laying Lanie against it. He stared at her, looking just like the angel she was to him with her hair spread out along the mattress. Her throat bobbed under his gaze, and her breaths picked up, Sam smiled at her soft and full of all the love he’d been holding onto for her. 

He pushed her legs open a bit with his leg before he settled into a hover atop her body, holding onto his weight he dipped his head and touched his nose to hers eliciting a gasp from her lips. 

“Can I kiss you Lanie, please?” He whispered, his heart pounding in his chest. 

“If you don’t I’m definitely gonna kiss you,” she said with a soft chuckle.

Sam didn't hesitate, dipping into her soft laughter and consuming it whole. He wanted everything. Her lips felt like heaven dancing against his as he cupped her face and tangled his fingers into her hair. He missed her so much that nothing else mattered, he barely remembered to breathe. Her mouth parted and he swiped his tongue against hers, deepening their connection as her hands roamed his chest and back. 

Her fingers dragged over his shoulder blades, tickling his skin and drawing a throaty laugh from him as he broke away. 

"I'm glad we haven't forgotten everything," he winked at her as he pulled away and started to work down her throat with his teeth and lips.

Her soft laugh turned into a breathy moan as he moved over her skin, paying attention to the little scars that littered it like a story of everything she'd overcome. "My strong," he dragged his lips across her collarbone, "incredible," a soft kiss to the scar on her shoulder, "beautiful, girl" he moved down to press his lips to the large scar on her side. 

Her breath picked up pace as her fingers trailed, "Baby please," Lane whispered, as her eyes followed him down her body, "Come back to me," 

Sam obeyed, stretching his body back up and capturing her lips with his with more passion than he knew what to do with. Everything he'd ever dreamed of was laying beneath him and it was his new mission to make her understand how much she meant to him.

Sam pulled his lips from hers with a soft tug of her bottom lip, pulling a whine from her with the action. He kissed along her jaw and down her neck the soft mewls coming from her pushing him forward. He reached the curve of her breasts and breathed in her scent, smiling against her skin. 

“Sam please,” Lane whispered. 

He pressed wet  kisses along her clothed breasts, flicking his tongue lightly along her pebbled nipples. He pulled back, smiling at her and moved a hand under her lifting her gently, pressing her chest flush against his. 

“I’m taking this off now, yes?” 

Lane nodded and took his lips in his in a feverish kiss.

Sam smiled against her skin as his fingers worked deftly at her bra, unhooking it with ease and tossing it aside. He palmed her breast and brought her exposed nipple between his lips, sucking gently until her hips arched into his touch. Her hands raked over his scalp as he massaged her chest. 

"What do you want?" He asked her, not knowing where to start himself. His touch was fuzzy against her warm skin and all he wanted to do was kiss her until she begged him to stop.

"You... just you," Lane breathed, moving her hips up into his, "touch me, baby, please" 

Sam groaned into her skin at her words, kissing his way down her body and stopping at the edge of her panties, "Can I take these off, beautiful?" he hummed. 

It still felt surreal to him that she was here, allowing him to explore her body and take in each and every sound she made for him. He wanted to savour the moment, remember every movement but his own body betrayed him. It ached to touch her and drink her in, to keep her skin pressed against his and make her whine his name over and over. 

With a nod of her head, Sam hooked his fingers into the sides and pulled them down her legs, pressing soft kisses along the way until he flung her panties across his room, landing them over a picture of him and Steve, making Lane giggle softly.

He sat back and admired her taking his time to commit every single inch of her body to memory. He wrapped his fingers delicately around her ankle lifting her leg up and pressing his lips to her calf with a teasing smile as she writhed under his touch. 

“Really, all this time and you wanna tease me now?” 

Sam breathed a laugh against her skin, pressing more kisses along her leg, inching closer to her center painfully slow even for himself. 

“I’m savoring you,” he hummed. “Two very different things, your cute little scowl is just a bonus.”

"This cute little scowl is impatient," Lane cooed at him but her words were swallowed by a sharp gasp. 

Sam's tongue flickered out over Lane, already so wet and sweet. He couldn't stop himself as his hand roamed over her hip and pressed against her stomach. He peered up at her, drinking in how euphoric she had become under his touch. He worked in slow circles that drew the sweetest sounds from her lips as he quickened in pace, chasing the sounds of her pleasure.

Lane’s hands ground him in place, soft but firm as her hips moved in sync with his tongue. Her moans filling the room as she whispered his name over and over like a prayer as she chased her high. Sam felt her tense up beneath him before he fingers reached for his cheek, calling his attention to her. 

“Sam please, I need to feel you,” She panted and he smiled pressing a kiss to her thigh, “Come here handsome.”

Despite wanting to please her, Sam took his time, kissing his way back up her body, paying specific attention to each scar that littered her torso. A soft whine escaped her lips and her soft hands found his cheeks as she gently tried to pull him back to her. 

"So impatient," Sam whispered, ghosting his lips up her throat and capturing her with his before she could say anything, tangling their tongues together and letting her taste her sweetness. 

He settled himself between her legs and teased her entrance with the head of his cock, ignoring his own throbbing to take in more of her beautiful pleading sounds. He hoped to any god listening that they would have many more moments like this, just the two of them enjoying each other, but he also knew that life could be reckless and unpredictable, their scars telling that exact story to one another. It just made this moment with his girl all that more important to him. 

Lane's hand travelled down and cupped his ass, urging him forward, "Sammy," she breathed against his lips.

Nothing else mattered in that moment as he slipped into her entrance with a soft, silky thrust that melted their bodies together. She was so tight that it took him an moment to adjust, gently rocking his hips back and forth until she was a puddle of breathless moans and tiny huffs. His lips found hers again, needy and hungry for more. He wanted to be closer than ever before and he accomplished that mission with each thrust forward. 

"You're so beautiful," he hummed when he parted, cupping her face with his hand and admiring the soft freckles that danced across the bridge of her nose. Her lips partially open and her eyes searching his as they rocked together at a delicious pace chasing their high in unison.

His fingers danced along her skin trailing from her cheek down her side. Her scarred skin was soft and smooth under his touch while he mapped a constellation of scars on her side. Lane wriggled beneath him, her moans bringing a smile to his face. There were so many times that he felt an incredible pang in his chest with every moment he ached for her and now having her so close feeling the way her body molds to his, Sam wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to let her go after this. 

“Lanie,” he breathed, dipping his head and pressing soft chaste kisses along her collar bone to the spot on her neck that always makes her squirm. His hands traveled down her sides to the outside of her thighs, pulled her even closer and hiked her hips off of the bed in a new angle, one that dragged a delicious moan from her lips.

Lane's head lifted as she pressed a kiss to the scar on his collarbone, gasping into his skin as he thrust forward and hit her sensitive spot. A shiver of pleasure shot down his spine as she gripped his length tighter and fluttered around him, her orgasm growing within her. They're soft sounds echoed through his room as his pace became quick and needy, chasing their highs together. 

"Sammy," she whined, moving her hips in tandem with his, craving the same closeness that he was as her head fell back into his pillow and pressed backwards. 

The pressure grew deep within his stomach but Sam needed her to reach her climax first. He needed to give that to her, to feel her pleasure erupt around him.

Her nails dug into his skin as her breathing became ragged and her body tensed in his arms. He felt the cord snap within her as his name danced off her lips in a series of breathless moans that made him heavy dizzy with pride. 

"That's my girl, keeping going," he praised both verbally and physically as he picked up the pace, his rhythm growing sloppy as he chased her orgasm in search of his own.  Her lips on his skin was enough to drive him crazy as her cunt fluttered around him, dragging him inch for inch closer to the edge.

She felt like heaven around him, gripping his length and still fluttering. Warmth spread through his veins and pleasure curled around his lower back the further he pushed himself. Lane’s moans turned into soft whimpers as he buried his face into the crook of her neck, whispering soft praises as his hips snapped against hers, out of rhythm until it was too much. He felt her nails dig into his back, her legs hooked around his waist as he came. 

His hips slowed, rocking lazily as he trailed kisses along the inside of her neck.

Her fingers trailed up his spine and scraped into his scalp as she did her best to catch her breath. The overwhelming sense of comfort drifted over Sam as he kept his lips pressing into her skin, relishing in the moment of their bodies together. The sound of a hitch in her breath made him sit up slightly, catching her soft brown eyes with his own as he furrowed his brow. 

"Lanie, what's wrong? Did I hurt you?" He asked, his hand coming up to cup her cheek gently. 

She shook her head with a ghost of a smile and placed her hand over his, "I just - I missed you so much, Sam" 

With a small breath of relief, Sam returned the smile, leaning his forehead down against hers and brushing their noses together, "I missed you too, Lanie. More than you know"

[orangeboulevard]

Two: Talking Back (Marvel, Male!OC x AndrewGarfield!Spiderman)

Day two of the prompts, this one is regrettably shorter than I'd like but it's been a busy day.

Summary: Spider-Man is caught in an act of vandalism, luckily for him the officer arresting him is total eye-candy.

Words: 533

"What do you think you're doing?" A deep voice startled Peter Parker, the spandex-clad male almost dropped his phone. 

Peter investigated the source of the voice through the tinted lenses of his suit, a police officer -possibly in his mid to late thirties, cuffs and his gun attached to his belt, surprisingly handsome- stood looking at him expectantly with his hands on his hips. Peter coughed awkwardly and tried to shuffle to the right, trying and failing to cover up the artwork he had graffitied onto a random wall.

"... Drugs." 

"Funny. Get over here now." 

"I don't usually like my men so bold, take me to dinner first, geez."

The officer's stone expression did not shift, if Peter didn't have unnatural abilities that allowed him to see ten times better than the average human, he would have missed how the sides of the officer's lip quirked upwards. 

"Don't make this any harder than it has to be-" Peter snorted. "-I need to take you into custody." 

"Wait, what? Nuh-uh." Peter grabbed his backpack, it contained all his spray paints and school equipment. "I'm sorry, okay. Is that good? Can I go?"

"I'm afraid not, I need you to step over here." 

"Officer-" Peter glanced at his name card, "-Matthews. Officer Matthews, I'm sorry really but I have stuff to do! Crime fighting, babe saving, etcetera. Can't you just lay off this time?" 

Officer Matthews clicked his tongue as he undid his cuffs from his belt. He took the shorter masked man and patted him down for any weapons; he started to repeat the Miranda Rights as was the law.

"Come on, officer," The spandex-clad man whined as he was pushed onto the hood of a cop car. 

The police officer clicked the pair of steel cuffs around the younger man's wrists, "You've already had a warning when it comes to your graffiti, you were told that if you were caught doing it again, you would be facing charges."

The masked vigilante yelped as he was pulled to his feet with surprising strength, "Wow, and I thought we lived in a free country. You just can't handle my artistic expression! Damn, you're strong." 

The officer ignored that last comment, "It's vandalism. End of. Don't whine too much, you'll probably just have to pay a fine." He guided Spider-Man to the side of his car, opening the door for the cuffed man.

"In this economy?" Spider-Man asked with an incredulous tone, "Do you think I get paid to do this?" 

"You know how I told you that you have the right to remain silent?" 

"Yeah?"

"Exercise that right." The officer pushed the lanky man into the car, ignoring his protests and not-so-subtle attempts at flirtation, he closed the door behind the man. The officer walked around and sat in the driver's seat, sighing as he ran a hand down his face. 

"Hey, man. You look way too handsome to be that tired. Wait, how old are you? Definitely bee-keeping age. Are you single-" The window between the front and the back seats slid shut with a slam. 

[komotionlessqueenmm]

PART ONE

Okay so this is a list of my short stories, with links leading to each post. Some stories have been discontinued, some are complete. And some are ongoing. I list the name of the story, who is paired in the story, what the character/person is from, and lastly if it's complete, ongoing, or discontinued. If there are multiple parts, they should all be linked.

NON-REQUESTED STORIES

1.) The Phoenix & The King (1-?)

• King Harald Finehair X Jade Clegane OC

• Vikings & Game of Thrones crossover

|DISCONTINUED|

--

2.) Lean On Me (1-2) - (2-2)

• John Marston X Reader

• Red Dead Redemption 2

|COMPLETE|

--

3.) You Are Mine, And I Am Yours. (1-1)

• Toecutter X Reader

• Mad Max (1979)

|COMPLETE|

--

4.) My Sweet (1-?)

• Dani Filth X Yandere!Reader

• Cradle of Filth

|DISCONTINUED|

--

5.) My Sweet Domesticated Demon (1-1)

• Hellboy X Reader

• Hellboy (2004)

|Completed|

--

6.) One man's trash, is another man's treasure. (1-4) - (2-4) - (3-4) - (4-4)

• Bo Sinclair X Reader

• House of Wax (2005)

|COMPLETED|

--

7.) Sudden Appearances (1-1)

• Dr. Nelson Wright X Reader

• Flatliners (1990)

|COMPLETED|

--

8.) Giving into Desire (1-1)

• Jeff Hardy X Reader

• WWE

|COMPLETED|

--

9.) Swimming Lessons (1-1)

• John Marston X Reader

• Red Dead Redemption 2

|COMPLETED|

--

10.) This wasn't supposed to happen, but I'm glad it did. (1-5) - (2-5) - (3-5) - (4-5) - (5-5)

• Peter Steele X Reader

• Type O Negative

|COMPLETED|

--

11.) Life & Death (1-1)

• Death!Jeff Hardy X Life!Reader

• WWE (Supernatural entities edition)

|COMPLETED|

--

12.) Lustful Desires (1-1)

• Incubus!Jeff Hardy X Human!Reader

• WWE (Supernatural entities edition)

|COMPLETED|

--

13.) Leprechaun King (1-1)

• Leprechaun!Sheamus X Human!Reader

• WWE (Supernatural entities edition)

|COMPLETED|

--

14.) Those Werewolf Eyes (1-1)

• Werewolf!Jon Moxley X Human!Reader

• WWE (Supernatural entities edition)

|COMPLETED|

--

15.) Bear Cuddles (1-1)

• Human!Roman Reigns X Werebear!Reader

• WWE (Supernatural entities edition)

|COMPLETED|

--

16.) Lokabrenna (1-?)

• Osferth X Reader

• The Last Kingdom & Vikings crossover

|ONGOING|

--

17.) Hellhound (1-3)

• Tyler Galpin X (Y/n) Wolfgang Von Frankenstein

• Wednesday (series) & Misfits (Sorta)

|ONGOING|

--

18.) Hail To The End Of The World~ (1-?)

• Gunnar Jensen X Reader

• The Expendables (movies) & The Walking Dead (Series)

|ONGOING|

--

REQUESTED STORIES

1.) NO TITLE (1-1)

• David X Reader

• The Lost Boys

|COMPLETED|

--

2.) NO TITLE (1-1)

• David X Reader

• The Lost Boys

|COMPLETED|

--

[practically-an-x-man]

Gift Fics/Bonus Pieces Masterlist

____

Lucky - for @can-of-pringles, featuring their OCs Arith and Iriel. Posted on AO3

King - for @can-of-pringles, featuring a crossover between their OC Lee and my OC Prometheus. Posted on AO3

Sick Day - for @can-of-pringles, featuring their OCs Arith and Iriel. Posted on tumblr

Karaoke - for @can-of-pringles, featuring their OC Marigold. Posted on tumblr

Without Leaving So Much as a Feather Behind - for @can-of-pringles, featuring their OCs Arith and Iriel. Posted on AO3

Roses and Tulips - for @can-of-pringles, featuring their OC Silas. Posted on tumblr

Steel Christmas - for @vexic929, featuring a crossover between their OC Berrie and my OC Quinn. Posted on tumblr

Through the Haze - for @negative-speedforce, featuring his OCs Hyun-Ki and Jessi. Posted on tumblr

Face in the Mirror - for @negative-speedforce, featuring his OCs Athena and Laila. Posted on tumblr

Picture Perfect - for @negative-speedforce, featuring their OCs Jessi and Hyun-Ki. Very dark, you have been warned. Posted on tumblr

Sneak Peek at a future Stranger Things fic - the previously-unposted first scene from a future Eddie Munson x OC fic, due for a rewrite. Posted on tumblr

Breakfast Drabbles - a drabble for each of my OCs with the theme of "breakfast". Posted on tumblr

Whump Drabbles for Jimmy, Rae, and Quinn

Whump Drabbles for Ophelia and Gia

Whump Drabbles for throwaway OCs

No Going Back - a brief, angsty character study about TASM!Peter Parker as he tangles with his morality. Posted on tumblr

Brief snippet with @can-of-pringles' OC Arline

Brief snippet with @negative-speedforce's OCs Siv and Hailey

Brief snippet with @witchy-self-shipper's OC Abi

Brief snippet with @vexic929's Tiff and Bernadette

Hurt/comfort snippet for @negative-speedforce's OCs Reyna and Iorhael

An Exercise in Desperation - for @angst-is-love-angst-is-life, HEAVY whump fic featuring Barry Allen kidnapped and forced into a SAW-like self-mutilation. Very bloody and angsty, you have been warned. 5.5k words. Crossposted on AO3

[aikoiya]

Miguel O'Hara x Murdock Spiderwoman!OC

Her name is Mary Murdock & the thing is that this spiderwoman's canon event wasn't just that she lost someone else, it was also the fact that, in many ways, she lost herself.

She is the daughter of Matt Murdock & in her upper teen years, she was kidnapped & sold into sexual slavery. Her father, of course, eventually found her & saved her life as well as the lives of the other teens, children, & women, but by then, she'd already been… damaged…

Despite everything, Mary had intentionally drawn as much ire from their captors as she could in order to divert as much of their attentions away from the others as she could. She didn't necessarily always succeed, but she tried her hardest. She did everything she could to protect the other victims, but she could only do so much.

She saw... so many horrors there... So many horrible, twisted things that she swore that she heard God's voice comforting her as she slept at night. Keeping the nightmares away. He told her that her dad was coming & God never lies, so she believed him. And she was filled with a determination to do it all again the next day. Then the next, until finally, her dad came to save them. Not Daredevil, just Matt Murdock.

During her time there, she became as an older, very protective sister to the younger ones there. Even long after getting out & everyone was returned home, she kept in contact with them all. Except for one, he had no family to return to & at her request, Matt adopted the boy, Jude.

He has... the poor boy went through a lot. And his new family helped him to process those thoughts & memories. Though, for a good while he was attached to Mary at the hip.

Since then, Mary was filled with an unbearable rage & vowed to have every last sack of shit abuser & slaver & sexual offender that she could manage, put on death row. Especially the ones who dared to touch children! So, she studied as a prosecutor & had her father teach her self-defense before eventually being bitten by a radioactive spider.

In the face…

The spider's poison took her vision from her much like her father's had been, but gave her spider powers. Including organic spinnerets that produced webbing as strong as steel, proportional strength of a spider, the strongest spider sense out of all the Spiders, & even better senses than Miguel. The last two mixing together to almost become a sonar. She also has venom similar to Miguel, but hers has a different effect.

She's also extremely good at creating traps with her webbing. If you remember that one Spiderman movie where Peter uses his webbing to make a spiderweb & used it like a spider to capture the Lizard; Mary does that a lot too. Especially when she's planning on ambushing criminals. Basically, she senses the vibrations that run along her webs. Her heightened senses allow her to detect even the most minute of movements & judge the weight & force behind what caused the movements. She can even sense things through the webbing to a degree. In a similar way to how cats can sense things through their whiskers.

As a result of her heightened senses, she also has heightened instincts & intuition, allowing her to be able to positively identify natural phenomenon such as weather & other natural disasters, predatorial intent in a similar way to animals, & even supernatural phenomenon to a degree. She can even track using scent, however that's something she needs to practice.

Her father, Matt, had denied allowing her to be a vigilante before, but now, he literally could not stop her. So, he might as well prepare her the best he could. He hated that she'd jumped so easily into this life, having tried so hard to shield her from it, but at the same time, he understood. He trained her in the advanced way of fighting blind, having taught her the basics before, just in case.

She has never been under any delusion that there wasn't some degree of desire for revenge in her motivations. She's honest enough with herself to not allow such lies within her own mind & knows that she is no better than any human & thus she is prone to selfishness at times like anyone is. However, just because it's partially for her own sake doesn't take away from the fact that 75% of her motivation was to rescue those who weren't so lucky as to be saved & to keep as many away from that life as possible. She's also trying to get better about that through emotional growth & God's aid.

Mary became the best prosecutor in the country, not to mention having studied in criminology, criminal psychology, audio Hellstromism, investigative science, & forensics science. Girl threw her back into helping her city in whatever way she could.

While she also deals with a lot of super villains like any spider, her main focus is on the systemic corruption & exploitation of the innocent by the rich. Corrupt corporations, black market dealings, criminal organizations, organ harvesting, human trafficking. She deals with the darkest side of justice.

She also studies engineering & chemistry, but it isn't the sort of thing that she's invested in the way the other Spiders are. It's more a means for her to accomplish her actual goals. Jude is sorta her man in the chair & normally, she has him be her eyes for things like actually seeing blood or finger prints. Like, her sense of smell is strong enough that she can basically smell blood & when someone's touched something, but it's nice to be able to confirm that she's right.

She also has investigative features such as video & audio recording devices, luminal spray, a pressurized spray that acts similar to aluminum power but in spray form, she can press the palm of her suit to a fingerprint & it'll record it to be analyzed by her in-suit computer.

Miguel actually gave her an AI to identify & analyze things visually. This way, she won't have to rely so much on her little brother. His name is Alfie & he's Jude's buddy.

Anyway, even though she's as much of a powerhouse as any Spider, she's actually more stealth-focused as her preferred branch of crime fighting requires a lot of investigation. She's, likewise, mastered the art of going unnoticed. Which means being seen, but it doesn't register. It's all about posture & the energy you give off & whatnot. She's also the most silent Spider anyone knows.

As for her civilian identity, she is called the Ice Queen of the Courts. She has a near perfect record. The only reason she doesn't is when she knows for a fact that the defendant isn't guilty. She also takes such "defeats" with grace, congratulating her opponent's & wishing the defendant well. Yet in her mind, she still has a perfect record. Because the thing that matters most to her is the innocent being given their rightful due & the guilty likewise. As such, to her, she still won.

Because you see, when she knows for a fact that the defendant is guilty, she always wins. And the sentence is always to the fullest. Especially if she turned the bastard in personally. Is always able to prove their guilt to such a degree that not even the most corrupt judge is able to avoid sentencing without some serious side-eye & investigation of them. As a result, she is utterly detested by the corrupt sects of the justice system, which she wears as though it were a badge of honor. (Though, it does tend to result in her civilian identity & her family being targeted. Which she hates.)

She's both proud of & demoralized by how sharply child molester deaths in prison has increased, because on the one hand, it means that there are just so many of them out there, but on the other, she's at least making progress in her extermination efforts.

Because that's what these people are to her; parasites, vermin, pests. Good for nothing but wasting space & resources that could be better used elsewhere.

It's taken a her a long time, but she takes comfort in the words of Romans 8:28. "All things work together for good to them who love God, to them who are the called according to His purpose." As while what happened to her was wicked & evil, she believes that it was allowed to happen so that she could become what she has. A woman who lives her life protecting people & especially children, with as much vigor as she does.

Of course, she never breaks the law. Maybe bends it a bit, but never breaks it. As far as anyone knows that is & if it was ever revealed that she was the Spider of her New York, she'd be able to easily defend her actions under the self-defense, defense of others, & other such laws.

Her influence has also been attributed to why so many corrupt cops & judges have been revealed & imprisoned.

There have, admittedly, been times when she, as Angel Spider, has had to fight such evil individuals, personally, having caught them in the act. (Not often, but it does happen.) And, there have even been instances where she's had to kill them, specifically when protecting others. However, in such situations, she's been able to defend herself as Angel Spider by using the defense of others law as her spearhead.

Interesting thing, even Super Villains don't mess with Mary Murdock because even they see molesters as the scum of the earth. Hell, Sandman openly protected her at one point because of it. Turns out he's an avid despiser of people who hurt kids being a dad & actually can't bring himself to hate Angel Spider due to her own very vocal disgust with child abusers. This results in Mary being determined to help him rehabilitate. (He later becomes a semi-casual hero in her universe & the 2 regularly team up. He dads her a little bit.)

Anyway, her father, despite himself, is exceptionally proud of her. Which is partly why it was so devastating when he was killed & became her canon event.

Mary refuses to take up the Daredevil name, not because she's ashamed of her father, but because she doesn't just want to strike fear into the hearts of criminals, she also wants to instill said criminals' victims with comfort. Similarly, she just does not want kids to associate devils with comfort & goodness. As such, she becomes Angel Spider. At night, her suit becomes almost pitch black, turning her into Night Spider, allowing her to fade into the background of the city at night.

While she has the characteristic, expressive spider-eyes, they're not see through & work mostly like cameras for Jude to see what she's doing & when he's not available, she records everything so he can look through it when he has the chance.

Her name & alias is a reference to cobwebs which are also called Angel Hair & Mary's Yarn.

Plans to name her firstborn son some variation of Timotheus meaning "one who honors God," Timmy for short; after Saint Timothy, who protects children. Ending up with Miguel, she names him Timoteo instead.

For Spider Society, she is a very sobering reminder that there are far darker evils in the world than super villains. Just her presence tends to encourage those around her to begin following her example & trying to deal with those same demons within their own worlds.

Peter B. had been especially struck upon learning her story, he'd tucked Mayday even closer to his chest as his mind replaced the scene with someone so dearly irreplaceable &... he just couldn't ignore it.

He was like a man possessed & begins rooting them out in his own universe whenever he could.

Pete becomes really protective of the youngsters super quick as a result. A little overbearing even.

Black Cat is a dude in Mary's universe & every bit as... Black Cat... Black hair, green eyes. Very teen heartthrob after college. Dude's a complete fuckboy. That's all I'm gonna say. Also extremely bisexual. Or... maybe he's just pretending to be to mess with her? She isn't sure. He's one of the only people she knows who she can't get a good read on.

He certainly flirts with enough men. Then again, maybe he just flirts with everyone regardless of whether he finds them legitimately attractive or not?

He's a mystery & hasn't been her type since she got out of college.

Mary is generally a pretty serious individual, but she can be funny in that she has a dry wit & deadpan humor. Doesn't do much witty banter in battle, but will banter at home whenever.

Enjoys debate & is an advocate of common sense.

She can also be mischievous, but more so in little ways.

Can think circles around most people with PhDs.

A master tactician.

Is actually a Dungeon Master, which she says helps her to be a resourceful & flexible strategist because players are chaos grimlins.

A very quick, on-the-spot thinker as a result.

DMs for Jude & his buddies, who all just think she's the coolest. Also sometimes DMs for the younger Spiders, but she actually prefers to be a player at Spider Society. Her current build is Shinigami Ninja which works like a multiclass of a Phantom Rogue & a Shadow Monk, just without the multiclassing. It's a subclass that she homebrewed herself.

Does a lot of homebrewing as she tends to be very creative.

SV Masterlist

[kathy-ifnt]

König the battering ram Bass player of Call of duty based on Peter Steele’s pics!

GO TO MY PATREON FOR THE UNMASKED AND FULL NSFW PIECE!!!! RUN BESTIESSSSS💖

Press HERE for pipi

[m00nz-writes]

I try not to ramble too much on my art blog, so instead I will ramble here about my new X-Men oc!!!

(this entire post is just me being the mayor of yappersville over my silly little oc fyi)

Meet X-14 - Olivia Hope Howlett

Olivia exists in a mashup between the XMCU and X-Men Evolution (because I love to mash them together) and is also paired with NBC's Heroes because fuck them for fucking it up so bad, I will rewrite it with my bare fucking hands.

Anyways; X-14 is the biological daughter of Wolverine and when her mother, Kaitlyn Grove, realized that she was pregnant from a one night stand with a mutant, she willing gave the baby over to the Weapon X program basically right after she was born.

X-14 was raised in the Weapon X program and was forced to be injected with adamantium in order to "recreate" the original Weapon X when she was only 5. She was saved by Charles Xavier and he became her surrogate father, teaching her the tools she'd need to keep her feelings and anger regulated and even helping her out of that mistrust she had of others.

Xavier renamed X-14 to Olivia Hope. And when she was old enough, she was enrolled in the institute and was put in a room with her soon-to-be best friend, Rebecca Hudson.

By 1998, Liv and Becca graduated from the institute and they moved out into the city. Around this time, college courses had been implemented at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. Becca attended a "normal" college instead.

In 2000, Olivia meets her upstairs neighbor; Peter Petrelli.

(Peter, Rebecca, and Olivia)

Olivia and Peter begin a friendship after they meet on the fire escape while she's out smoking, and it becomes a routine for them. Every single day after school and work, Peter sits on the fire escape in wait for Olivia to get back so they can just talk for hours on end. Unsurprisingly, this prompts Liv to become VERY attached to him.

But due to the fact that Olivia wants to keep her hero life and civilian life separate, she doesn't tell him what she is or what she does. Plus, she's terrified that if he finds out, then he'll abandon her.

It's this same year that Logan Howlett and Marie D'Acanto come to the mansion and Olivia finally meets her father. At first she has no clue who he is until Kitty Pryde informs her of the rumors that he has "steel claws".

This prompts Olivia to properly meet him and realize that they look surprisingly similar, but definitely not the same. Their claws, however, are exactly the same. This causes Liv to want to know Logan better as she quickly realizes that he's her father, though Logan isn't too ecstatic about having a kid. Liv doesn't take any offense to this, instead giving him space and time to hopefully come around to it. After all, she's a grown woman and doesn't need a parent over her shoulder. She already has that with the professor.

When Magneto kidnaps Rogue, Olivia becomes involved and aids in the fight at Liberty Island. Olivia fights alongside Wolverine against Sabertooth, and Liv finally finds her own superhero name; Badger. She's not a female Wolverine, because that'd require her having claws on her feet. Plus she just likes the title much more.

In 2004, Olivia catches wind of a new Weapon X program and she decides to pay them a visit. Here, she meets and saves an 11 year old Laura.

(Laura being a little shit :))

Olivia realizes that Laura is a clone of Logan, thus making the girl technically her little sister. She decides to take parental guardianship over her and becomes Laura's legal guardian. At the same time, Logan and Kamea Palakiko (Melanie's mother) reveal to Liv that they're in a relationship and Liv is forced to spend time with Melanie.

In 2005, Kamea and Logan get married, thus making Olivia and Melanie stepsisters.

(Mel and Liv attend the wedding!!!)

By 2006, Peter begins to have visions in his dreams and starts to tell Olivia about them, making her realize he might actually have powers. Despite realizing this, she still doesn't tell him who or what she is, instead keeping him in the dark out of fear of losing him.

Liv struggles to maintain her double life while Peter is starting to realize what he can do. After being visited by future Hiro Nakamura, Peter tells Olivia about what he'd learned and Liv tells him that she'd help him. After meeting with Isaac and Peter finishing the painting, the duo goes to Odessa, Texas to try and "save the cheerleader".

After they meet her and they see Sylar for the first time, Olivia forces Peter and Claire to run while she stays behind. She fights Sylar off for a good bit and returns to the others, only for her to be attacked by Sylar. She finally reveals what she is to Peter after she enters what she calls "feral rage", attempting to kill Sylar in this blind rage, only for Peter to jump in and take Sylar down with him off the roof.

Liv and Clarie go to Peter and he heals from the deadly fall, finally asking Olivia what she is while Claire contacts the police. Liv tells him that she's a mutant and a former lab experiment, but that she wasn't dangerous. Thankfully, he's understanding of why she'd want to keep it a secret after she goes into detail about the very little she remembers of her childhood before the X-Men.

The police come and take Liv and Peter into custody. Olivia doesn't want to be involved with the police, but works with them to tell her side of the events. Olivia's and Peter's stories line up and prove to the police that they're both telling the truth, and Matt Parkman attempts to read Olivia's mind but quickly realizes she's managed to learn how to block out such powers due to Charles Xavier always using his powers to get her to talk to him when she was little.

After Nathan comes to get both Peter and Olivia released from the police station, Peter passes out from his growing health issues. Nathan tells Olivia to head home, assuring her that he'd make sure Peter would be okay and Liv reluctantly agrees, giving him her number so he can contact her if they needed anything.

Upon returning home, Laura questions Liv about why she's been on the news. Olivia is extremely confused until Laura shows her the news broadcast that had been released about Olivia and Peter having been taken into police custody after a cheerleader was found mutilated at the high school.

Liv assues Laura that they didn't do anything and not to worry, but the girl isn't fully convinced.

When Peter gets back home, Olivia checks up on him and tells him how glad she is that he's okay.

And that's all she wrote, y'all. Not actually, obvi. I just don't want this post to be way too long... which I know it already is. Oh well.

Honestly? I just LOVE the concept of forcing Heroes and X-Men together like the dumbass I am. I know I could be normal, but I'm still fucking LIVID that they fucked up so damn badly with Heroes. It had such good potential but they fumbled the ball with the storytelling AND with Peter. Maybe I'll go into more depth later about the rest of the story. Because the storyline for my version of Heroes series 2 is a mixture of retelling X-2 and Last Stand, but more intense.

As for right now, have my favorite not as pivotal arts I've made for Olivia (+ a lil bit of Peter)

Becca 100% just handed Liv the shirt and told her to pose without letting her see what it said 😭

Peter joked about her getting this shirt for 4th of July and she actually got it simply because she's actually Canadian and it's fucking HILARIOUS

GOD I JUST LOVE THEM SO MUCH!!!!! 🥹😭💕

[maddieautobot273]

Silk & Cologne (47)

A Miguel O'Hara x OC - link to AO3 (X)

Chapter 47: Slumber - previous chapter (X)

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Female OC

Words: 4.1K + words

Warnings: Slight implied sexual content, intimacy, overall fluff and therapy/healthy communication

Summary: Miguel visits Lisa for the night.

/////////

Miguel’s P.O.V. 

Miguel had finished reviewing the mission reports as requested, only to find over a dozen errors in the multiverse monitoring software. It seemed Gabriel had implemented a software update and didn’t tell him about it. Or Miguel was so swamped with the incoming stream of messages from other Spiders that he must have missed it in the flood and didn’t go back to read it even after silently reminding himself to do so. 

Nonetheless, it was enough to get under Miguel’s skin to the point he felt like he was near the verge of snapping. Hunched over, his back muscles tense and throbbing as he took deep breaths, trying to fight off the urge to punch or throw something if something went wrong in the next 10 seconds. No matter how efficiently he worked, something always came up. 

He didn’t want Lisa to see him so tense and agitated after he went the extra mile to initiate a date night. Miguel knew he had to calm himself down, telling himself that Lisa deserved better than how he was acting, so Miguel decided to quickly pop by the training center and work out the stress in his body. He ran laps around the center, followed by a series of pushups, situps, and a few rounds on the punching back for good measure. 

He had managed to get a few sets in, listening to Lisa’s playlist to help himself calm down as he took big, steady breaths as he lifted some weights to end his routine. He finished his last set, setting the weights down, his body covered in sweat as he wiped his head with a cool towel. Footsteps caught his ear, and he was praying that it wasn’t Peter B. with another security report. 

If he sets me off and I gotta do all of this again–! 

“Don’t you need to be somewhere?” Jessica Drew spoke up. 

Prayers answered. 

Miguel glanced over, seeing Drew standing there. One hand on her hip, the other hand gently over her baby bump. But the look she gave Migue through her spider-shades made him question that perhaps he should prefer seeing Peter B. over her. 

“Lisa and I planned for 8. I got time,” He quickly reassured her, gently brushing her off as he grabbed his bag and began to walk away. 

“It’s almost 9, Miguel,” Drew stared at his backside, watching the second his muscles seized up and twitched at her words. 

Oh shock! 

“Thanks, Jess!” Miguel immediately runs off, not giving Jessica a chance to say anything else. 

He runs off to his private room, quickly showering to wash the sweat and gym smell off of him.  Once cleaned, he changed into some casual clothes whilst combing through his messages, finding Gabriel’s contact. Instead of wine, he recommended a champagne bottle, something light, but simple. 

He went for his wine cabinet, finding the champagne bottle. He quickly huffed some breath onto his palm, smelling it. Seemed fine, but he popped a breath mint just in case. 

Miguel typed in the coordinates for Lisa’s dimension, locking on to her apartment on his gizmo. Simultaneously, he opened up a separate chat box window, quickly typing up a message. The chat was labeled, ‘Team Louvre’. 

“At ease for the night team. I can take it from here,” - Miguel 

Miguel didn’t wait for a response before a portal opened before him. Sucking in one more quick breath, he steeled his nerves and jumped through the portal. Traveling through the interdimensional tunnel, he emerged at the otherside, arriving in Lisa’s apartment. 

But something was different. Not quite off, but different. Most of the lights were off or dimmed to a low setting as his sensitive eyes adjusted to the lowly dark room. The blankets Lisa usually kept on the couch had been moved to her bed, the curtain pulled back. There was a scented candle on the coffee table in the living room area, it smelled like. . . lavender? 

Footsteps caught Miguel’s attention as a female figure emerged from the kitchen. Lisa stepped towards him, arms crossed over her chest, wearing comfy sweatpants and a long sleeve shirt. She looked so cute and Miguel wanted nothing more than to hug her tightly and apologize profusely, but he held himself back.

Miguel tried to get a read on her, analyzing the look on her face. A neutral expression, lips in a thin line. She raised a brow towards him. 

Here we go. . . 

“Held up at work?” She asked him, her head tilting slightly to the side. 

Miguel didn’t detect any sign of hurt or tiredness in her voice. A tiny part of him felt relieved, but that was what scared him the most. Sure there could be slip ups here and there when couples first start dating, but this felt like a fumble if anything. 

“Mi Mona Lisa, I’m so sorry I’m late,” He apologized, his gaze pouring into hers. 

“What happened?” Lisa asked him with a calm expression, her arms lowering to her sides. 

“I finished reading the reports, but there were errors in the monitoring system I had to fix that I wasn’t made aware of,” Miguel sighed deeply, doing his best to keep his frustration in check. “By the time I fixed everything, I was tense and agitated I– I didn’t want all that seeping on to you so I went to work out and get it out of my system,”

“As you were doing that, you lost track of time?” She asked him for clarification. 

He nodded softly, relief coursing through him that she had spoken his explanation in much more simple terms. “Yes,”

Please don’t be mad, please don’t be mad, please don’t be mad. . . 

Lisa seemed to stare at him, evaluating him for what felt like unbearable seconds. Until she finally spoke, her voice soft, “Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t getting any sleep?”

Miguel froze, his eyes widening. She wasn’t mad? She wasn’t going to yell or scream at him?

You are in so much trouble young man! Faintly fluttered through his mind. His mothers voice. 

He shuddered briefly at the memory. “You’re not mad. . .?” Miguel’s voice muttered, wandering off. 

“Miguel?” Lisa called out to him, snapping him back to reality. 

His gaze fell upon her sulk expression and his heart nearly shattered. “Lisa, I’m sorry, I know it sounds like an excuse, but I– I didn’t want you to worry,”

Lisa sighed, shaking her head, “Miguel, as I keep gently reminding you,” She steered her gaze back to him, a calm expression on her face. “You can talk to me, you know that,”

“I do know that, I swear,” Miguel insisted heavily, inching a step closer as his grip on the champagne bottle tightened at his side. 

“Then why didn’t you tell me back when I was visiting you in the lab today?” She asked him. “Or the day before?”

Miguel managed several deep, calming breaths to keep his emotions in check. His mind was spiraling. Lisa wasn’t blowing up on him. Not like her, but she was talking to him. 

“You can’t keep hiding things like this, Miguel,” She spoke gently. 

Just like Xina did. . . 

////////

Earth-928 - Nueva York - Babylon Towers - 5 years ago 

Miguel arrived home later than normal that night. After working a long shift at Alchemax, he had stopped by the psych ward to visit his mother, Conchata, with his little brother, Gabriel. As always, Gabriel was the sunshine son that could do no wrong, but Miguel. . .

Well, it was better to not repeat those things. All the words and insults she said, once was enough in Miguel’s mind. But he always came back, for Gabriel’s sake. 

Miguel was tired, exhausted even. He let out a deep sigh as he shut the door behind him. Xina had to be long asleep by now, and didn’t want to risk waking her, or the baby. 

Soft whimpering caught his ear, as Miguel glanced over, peering into the dark living room to see a baby crib, tiny hands beginning to fidget. His lips curled into a soft smile as he set aside his house key card, taking long, quiet steps towards the crib. He peered down at the little body, its bottom half swaddled in a blanket. 

Little baby Gabriela. 

“Hey, sssshh, it’s okay, mija,” Miguel’s voice was a soft whisper as he carefully picked her up in his large, warm, protective hands, “It’s only papa,” - darling

He cuddled her close to his chest, calming her down as he rubbed his hands up and down her small back, humming affectionately. It took a few minutes, but eventually Gabriela stopped whimpering, making soft little noises as her tiny eyes peered up towards Miguel. Miguel smiled softly at her, gently rocking her. 

“It’s okay,” he whispered gently, “Go back to sleep. Wouldn’t want to wake up mama now, would we?”

As if on command, her little eyes started to droop down, her little body snuggling in her blanket as Miguel carefully adjusted it for her. He set her back down in the crib gently, brushing a large finger along her head. Miguel swore he would have melted in a puddle right there and then. 

If not for the sound of footsteps coming from the master bedroom of the penthouse apartment. “I was worried something had happened,”

Miguel’s heart stopped as he turned, taking in the form of the Cantonese woman wearing PJ’s with a silk robe overtop. Her long, silky black hair draped past her shoulders. No matter the time of day, Xina Kwan-O’Hara always looked so angelic to him. 

“Mi amor. . .” Miguel greeted her softly. - my love 

Xina offered Miguel a soft nod, a ghost of a smile on her lips as she walked closer towards him. A hand snaked up his back in a loving manner as the both of them turned to glance down at Gabriela who had fallen back asleep. “Did something happen at work?” She asked. 

“No, everything was fine, just the usual, fixing everybody’s mess,” Miguel answered softly, keeping his gaze locked to the baby. “I was just. . . out with Gabriel tonight. I meant to message you about it, but. . . time got away from me,”

“. . . You two were visiting your mother tonight?” Xina asked him, her hand brushing up to his shoulder. “How is she?”

“Yes, she’s. . . the same as she always is,” Miguel nodded. 

Xina hesitated briefly, before her fingers curled over against the fabric of Miguel’s jacket. “You haven’t told Gabriel yet. . . that you want to take a break from seeing her?”

A wave of shame coursed through Miguel as he curled his fingers into a fist at his side, steering his gaze away from his daughter. His eyes briefly met Xina’s before lowering them to look at the floor. “No. . .”

Xina sighed quietly, muttering a prayer in her native tongue as her hand snaked down his arm, engulfing her fingers around his. “You can’t keep hiding things like this, Miguel,” She spoke gently.

Her voice was calm, but direct. A little blunt. But that’s how Xina was. 

Most days Miguel felt that Xina was his rock, his very conscience if he dared to go so far. It was enough to make Miguel steer his face from the floor to look at her square in the face. Xina was so smart, confident that he hated the idea of making her worry about him. 

“I know, Xina. . .” Miguel’s gaze softened as he gently pulled Xina closer to him, their bodies brushing against one another. 

“We’ve talked about this,” Xina insisted, “You need to talk to Gabriel about setting boundaries for the two of you. I know your protective big brother instincts always kick in when its the three of you,” 

“It’s just. . . she is the light of his world as much as he is hers,” Miguel sighed. “I. . . don’t want to ruin that for him, because a part of me never got that from her,”

“You may not have gotten it from her, and honestly, she’s an adult, she was the parent, she chose to be this way and that’s on her,” Xina\s voice was calm, but her expression stern as she lifted a hand to cup Miguel’s cheek. “But you found that light elsewhere, here, with her,”

She steered her gaze down towards Gabriela’s sleeping form and Miguel smiled. He didn’t remember smiling this much growing up. He loved this feeling, and would fight tooth and nail to keep it. 

“Talk to Gabriel,” Xina instructed with loving authority. “He’s smarter than you let on about what’s been going on between the two of you, and I know you’re smarter than to keep this bottled up. He’ll understand. He’s your brother,”

Miguel took a long deep breath, taking it all in. The place he was standing in, the words that fluttered from Xina’s mouth. When he exhaled, he felt this weight lift from his shoulders and suddenly didn’t feel so stiff anymore. 

“Alright,” he nodded softly. 

“Yes?” Xina raised a brow at the man. 

“I’ll talk to him in the morning,” Miguel went on. 

“Good,” Xina patted him on the cheek before glancing down at Gabriela. “Kiss your daughter goodnight and come get ready for bed,”

“Yes ma’am,” Miguel chuckled with a faint smirk as he brought a hand up to cup XIna’s chin, offering her a soft, loving kiss on the lips. “Remind me again why she can’t still sleep with us?”

“She needs her own space, Miguel,” Xina smirked up at him. “But she knows papa isn’t too far away if she needs him,”

Xina smiled at Miguel’s romantic gesture before walking off back to their shared bedroom. Miguel watched her leave before glancing back down into the crib, snagging one last look at his baby daughter. He carefully lowered his upper body down into the crib, his lips brushing gently on her forehead. 

“Dulces sueños pequeña,” Miguel whispered softly, his voice warm like another blanket being tucked around her. - Sweet dreams little one 

Miguel walked off into their room, immediately pulling his shirt off. He was about to make his way over to the dresser when Xina beckoned him over. “Come’ere,”

“What?” Miguel smirked over at her sitting on the bed with a curious glint in his eyes. 

“It’s not about that, Miguel,” Xina rolled her eyes at the man as he sat at the edge of the bed. “You’re not going to bed when you’re still clearly feeling tense,”

Miguel immediately clued into what Xina was talking about as he turned her back towards her, reaching down to pull off his socks from his feet. “Give me a second to–” But the sentence halted from his lips as she felt Xina’s delicate hands begin to massage his shoulders. 

The soft groan of relaxation that left him was everything Xina could have hoped for. “Now how do you feel?”

The corner of Miguel’s mouth curled into a smile, “A little to the left?”

Xina followed his request as she shifted her hands over as she slowly worked down his back and another sigh of relaxed pleasure fluttered from his throat. 

“What did I do to deserve you?” He asked her, turning his head towards her. 

“Everything and more,” Xina smiled before pressing one more kiss to his lips. “I’ll be here to help you, you know that. Just promise me you’ll put in the effort to take care of yourself, Miguel?”

“. . . I promise,” 

///////

Earth-12128 - New York City - Lisa’s Apartment - Present Day

“Miguel?” Lisa’s voice brought Miguel back to the present as she gently took the champagne bottle from his hand. “We’re partners, right?”

“Yes?” he nodded softly. 

“As partners, we should look out for each other’s well-being, right?” She went on, smiling softly at him. 

“Right . . .?” Miguel answered again, yet more slowly as he drew out the word. 

Where is she going with this? 

“You’ve constantly looked out for me, so, let me do the same for you,” Lisa stated. “You made a promise to me that you’d take better care of yourself, and in turn, I promised I’d make sure that you do just that,”

Miguel’s fingers seemed to twitch as he mustered all the strength he had to not tackle Lisa in a bear crushing hug and kiss her silly. 

What did I do to deserve her? 

“So, change of plans for tonight,” Lisa spoke up as she set the champagne bottle aside, setting it on the kitchen counter. “When was the last time you got a full night's sleep?”

Miguel’s heart began to flutter in his chest, his palms sweating as his eyes glancing around at nothing in particular. “Uh. . . Does it matter?”

“How many, Miguel?” She asked him. 

“. . . 2 days,” He answered after a brief hesitation. 

“And in those two days you haven’t gotten any sort of rest?” Lisa pressed on gently. 

Miguel shook his head, sulking like a child that was about to get reprimanded by their mother. 

Lisa nodded softly, glancing down at the floor, “Alright then,” She returned her gaze to him as Lisa dared one step closer towards him, then slowly another, “So, Miguel, I know you’re a very smart man. What happens when our human bodies don’t get enough sleep?”

Miguel processed the question, the gears of his mind turning with the strength and energy he had left in the day. “Are you genuinely asking or are you quoting Big Bang Theory?”

“Both,” Lisa managed a soft grin before it loosened, “Now answer the question, smart boy,”

Miguel couldn’t stop his cheeks from flushing at the comment, his mind scrambling. “They. . . lose their sensitivity to serotonin and norepinephrine, receiving less signals from the brain,”

“Which then leads to?” Lisa dared another step closer.

“Impaired cognitive function?” Miguel’s cheeks started to burn. 

“That’s exactly right,” Lisa nodded, her head motioning towards the bathroom door. “So, instead of a movie, I’ll hold onto the champagne for another night. You’re going to be a big man, march over there and brush your teeth, and go to bed and spend the night here,”

Wait. . . she’s not mad? She doesn’t sound like she’s mad, does she?

Miguel had a frazzled look on his face, daring to scoff even as he raised a brow at the lady before him. “Seriously?”

“I had the sheets cleaned, pillows fluffed, extra blankets in case you get cold, and scented candles to help soothe the senses,” Lisa smirked, feeling accomplished with her tasks. “I just hope the candle smell isn’t too sensitive,”

There was a playful glint in her eyes as she suddenly smirked up at him. First Miguel was surprised. Now he was scared. 

“You didn’t have to do all this,” As reluctant as he was, Miguel couldn’t help but smile at what Lisa had done. She had done all of this for him. “Can’t we stay up just a little longer?”

“I’m going to count to 3,” She taunted. 

Miguel’s mouth gaped open, his jaw nearly dropping to the floor. “You wouldn’t dare–!”

“Try me,” Lisa grinned. The pair locked eyes, provoking a staring contest as they both waited to see who would crack first.  “. . . 1–”

“You are not–” Miguel gawked at the woman. 

“2–?” Lisa raised her voice an octave as the look in her eyes told him that she wasn’t playing around. 

“Alright, alright, I’m going!” He surrendered, his head and hands shaking with a surprised laughter as he sauntered into the bathroom. 

“Your spare toothbrush is in the cabinet,” There was a hint of a grin on Lisa’s voice as her voice fluttered over the sound of Miguel shutting the door behind him. 

Miguel found everything he needed, brushing his teeth and quickly rinsing off his face. Flicking his finger across the touch screen of his gizmo, his clothes changed into a comfy t-shirt and sweatpants before he stepped out of the bathroom and walked over towards the bedroom. Lisa was already sitting on her side, gently patting her hand on the mattress for him to join her. 

“Come on,” She beckoned him. 

“I don’t need to be told twice,” He teased, grinning at her as he carefully crawled across to the other end, plopping down on his back. 

Lisa pulled back the covers for him as Miguel adjusted himself, tucking his lower body under the sheets. Everything felt warm, and silky smooth. His pillow smelt clean, feeling cool against his skin. It was only then he realized how tired he truly was. 

He contemplated passing out right there and then, but he willed his eyes to stay open. He wanted to see Lisa, talk to her, just be with her. Miguel reached a hand out, his large fingers brushing against her cheek as she reached up and held his hand with her delicate fingers. 

“What did I do to deserve you?” His voice was quiet, soft, and low as he cupped her cheek. 

“Everything. . . and more, Miguel,” Lisa smiled softly at him. 

He smiled softly back at her. Lisa’s body shifted, and at first Miguel thought that she was settling in beside him so they’d both get some sleep. But she scooted over and suddenly straddled in his lap, Miguel’s eyes went wide, his cheeks turning pink. “Lisa, what are you doing?”

“I’m making sure you actually go to sleep and stay that way,” She crossed her arms over her chest, trying to appear authoritative and intimidating as she narrowed her gaze down towards him. “That means no getting up in the middle of the night to sneak in more work, or calls. Just sleep,”

“You’re going to stay there until I do?” he asked her with a curious look in his eyes. “Like, watch me sleep?”

“If that’s what it takes,” Lisa stated. 

The pair seemed to be stuck in an intimidating staring contest for what felt like long minutes. The curious glint stayed in Miguel’s gaze as his smirk slowly grew. He wanted to test Lisa’s claim for himself. 

“Miguel. . .” Lisa’s voice gives off an audible warning drawl.

Miguel tries to sit up, but is stopped short when Lisa quickly stretches her arms out. Her hands grip his shoulders and push him back down. Miguel was genuinely caught by surprise by her strength as she pins him back down to the mattress, the back of Miguel’s head falling into place on the pillow. 

“Miguel O’Hara!” Her lips flickered into a grin, staring down at him as she called him out for his attempted defiance. 

Her long brown hair dangles on the side of her face, and try as he might, Miguel couldn’t hold himself back as his gaze began to linger down. He loved Lisa’s face, her sweet, almost innocent looking gaze, her soft expressions and loving smile. But Miguel would be lying to himself if his mind wasn’t screaming at him to, at least once, admire and appreciate Lisa’s body. 

Elegant curves, a strong form, he couldn’t be more proud of her and the progress she had made since joining the Spider Society. In Miguel’s eyes, Lisa was beautiful inside and out. When his gaze retracted back to her own, and he saw the realization in her eyes of what he had done, there was. .  hesitancy, doubt even as her cheeks flushed, and her grip on his shoulders loosened. 

Was there a part of her that didn’t believe what Miguel saw in her?

Miguel’s expression faltered for a split second. Right now was probably not the correct time to discuss something like that. Tonight was about taking care of him and his health, Lisa had made that very clear. 

“Fine, I’ll get some rest,” Miguel sighed deeply, his body relaxing into the mattress as Lisa’s hands snaked away from his shoulders, across his chest. 

“Good,” Lisa nodded her head. 

Miguel’s smirk was playful as his arm hooked around her back and gently pulled her down. Lisa landed with a soft ‘PLOP’ along Miguel’s chest, her head tucked under his. “Especially now that I have my favourite body pillow,”

His low rumbling laughter caused Lisa’s cheeks to burn as his hand gently stroked along her back. If Miguel was going down, he was taking Lisa down with him. Two could play at this game. 

“Miguel O’Hara, go to sleep!” She ordered, hiding her face in the fabric of his nearly skin tight shirt. 

“Yes, mi Mona Lisa,” Miguel’s voice drawled as his laughter quieted down. 

Miguel reached over with his free hand, grabbing a spare blanket and pulling it over Lisa. He made sure she was snuggly and warm before he kissed the top of her head, holding her close. Slumber took hold of him minutes later and when he breathed in deeply and snored for the first time, Lisa truly relaxed, nuzzling against him completely as sleep overcame her as well. 

//////////

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[liz-allyn]

sugar and vice, pt. 21 [mob!tasm!peter x fem!oc]

summary: still don't know my name.

words: 5 k

chapter warning: blood and smut. a lot of it. in detail.

series warnings: mob-typical bang bang violence, hurt/comfort. Spicy situations. spousal abuse. family trauma. PTSD, psychotic breaks/episodes, drug use. coercion. manipulation. kidnapping. gore. blood. possessive!peter, protective!peter. toxic/yandere!peter (maybe, sorta), negative self talk, shameless forced proximity trope. ‘only ten one bed oops’ trope, imprisonment. slowest burn. a dash of questionable and/or morally grey intentions. extremely toxic relationships.

This version of TASM Peter is not canon. The relationships and characters here are not healthy.

Don't date a mob boss.™️

18+ You’re responsible for your own media consumption, but if you

don't know the connection between cartoons and Saturday mornings

don't remember a time when phones didn't have touchscreens

never had to listen to the CRINK CRINK CRINK of winding up a camera to take a picture

= if one or more of these elements apply to you, you may be entitled to compensation, which you should come back for when you're 18.

Back to Part 20.

A/N Might be a good time to throw on the official Sugar and Vice Spotify playlist...

Part 21

“You still with me?” Peter asked so softly it could be a croon. 

The sound startled her. Her body went rigid from where she sat on the bathroom floor. She pushed her back against the ebony-stained vanity, her legs tucked under the blanket of her arms. The whole moment felt eerie, overwhelmed with a sense of deja vu in the sanctuary of Peter’s bathroom. Exquisite black marble, gold fixtures, and ivory subway tile surrounded her; by contrast, her blood-splattered appearance was ghastly.

At least she wasn’t the only one. 

She didn’t know how much time had passed since she murdered John. All she knew was that his blood had gone cold and tacky on her skin. Peter had called for Felicia to back them up immediately, warning her “if I see anyone else’s face but yours, I’m puttin’ a bullet in it.” 

Ironically, he said this with the phone pressed against one shoulder while he ripped a sleeve from his suit jacket to use as a bandage around his bullet wound. Despite his injuries, he carried her in his arms from the carnage, instructing her to keep her cloudy eyes on his face until they were secure.

As soon as they crossed the threshold of his bedroom, Peter reached for a hidden panel on the wall near the frame. She heard the whirring of an electronic device and the pressurized hiss of something moving within the wall. Seconds later, the doorway was sealed with a steel door, locked down tighter than a bank vault.

He brought her to the bathroom, gingerly placing her down before ripping open a drawer, vigilantly loading another weapon hidden inside. He kept it close, peeking briefly beneath the makeshift bandage on his arm. His white dress shirt was torn, splattered with merlot hues. 

She kept her eyes forward, breathing steadily through her nose. 

The next few minutes were filled with pacing, fidgeting, and clenched fists. He muttered useless words, mostly reassurances that she knew he couldn’t promise and apologies he didn’t need to make. After confirmation from Felicia via an intercom system that the Penthouse was secure, Peter finally began to relax.

Honey still wondered if anything was real. Maybe her entire existence was a crazy, fever-dream. A dark fairytale filled with heroes and monsters. Kings. And Demons. And Robots. And Prince Charming. 

“It’s okay,” Peter gently reminded her as he kneeled before her. Hearing his voice pulled her back to the present. Slowly, he brought his hands up to the sides of her face. Her eyes fluttered closed when she felt the rough pads of his thumbs brushing away her tears. 

That dizzy feeling hit her again, and she tried to swallow it down. When her eyes opened, she saw her friend staring back at her, the shadow of a smile adorning his face. Tears budded in the corners of his whiskey eyes. Chocolate, oranges, and the golden hue of an Old Fashioned.

She leaned her cheek into his palm, nuzzling it as she gazed up at him anxiously. 

“Need ya to trust me, okay?” he cooed as if their minds were synced. “Is it okay if I help you get cleaned up?” Innocently, his eyes traveled down her neck to her shoulders and the carnage beneath them. He took in the sight of her, chewing his bottom lip. “Just... just wanna take care of you, alright? Nothin’ else.”

He waited. She nodded.

“Okay, jus’-just take my hands, and I’m gonna help you stand up, okay?” He turned over his palms and waited for her to them. She did.

He came to a gentle stand, pulling her up with him. “Are you hurt anywhere? Are you in pain?”

She paused. Shook her head. 

“Good, good, good,” he breathed in relief. He placed a hand on her lower back, keeping her other hand tight within his, and took a step forward with her. Gently, he guided her across the bathroom up to the glass of the enormous, obsidian walk-in shower that took up half of the room. 

He stepped inside and twisted the golden knobs on the wall. A wide column of rain showered from the ceiling, clouds of steam forming around it.

She stood with arms wrapped around her soiled camisole top, which clung uncomfortably to her skin. Quietly, she observed him as he fussed with the shower handles, dipping his hand in the stream, before diligently adjusting the temperature until it was perfect. 

His movements were somewhat frantic, as if he were completing a checklist. The next move was to unbutton his destroyed shirt and tenderly peel it off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. His belt was next as he undid the trousers and stepped out of them. 

“Peter.”

Her voice was silent as falling snow, but he snapped his head in her direction, eyes wide at attention. “Yeah? What’s wrong? Do... d’you not... I... I can-I can turn around, or-or leave, if-if you want... I-I-I’ll do whatever you want.”

She fixed him with eyes that were almost surreal. They glistened something meek and melancholic in their depths. At the same time, there was a sense of uneasy awe, her fascination fueling a frightening notion. Whatever her mind was thinking of, she was both timid of it as much as she was tempted by it.

And it terrified him. “Jus’... jus’ tell me what you need. Whatever you want.” He gazed at her worriedly, afraid that she was drifting into the darkness away from him. He took her hand firmly in his own, worried she might be lost in the galaxy.

It took centuries to find her voice. “I... I want... I want to know...” she fumbled clumsily, her lips parted as she gazed at his. “I want you to tell me that I’m good.”

Peter’s breath hitched as something sharp twisted in his chest. He pursed his lips together, eyes filled with sadness. “Oh, Honey...” he breathed out. Unshed tears gathered at his lower lashes as he gazed upon her with a tragic heart. Carefully, he inched closer to her.

She watched him struggle to find his words, and when he did there was a tremor in his voice. “Honey,” he slowly repeated, bringing his hands up to embrace her cheeks. “What happened back there...” He winced as his throat bobbed. “Wh-what you just did... was… it was necessary.”

He bit down on his lower lip to keep it still. It occurred to her that he was having flashbacks. He was remembering a pair of green eyes that fixed him with a similar brokenhearted gaze.

“You saved our lives,” he breathed with resolve. “You saved my life.” Peter caressed her cheek, staring down at her like a goddess. Each touch was a gospel of gratitude. “You were strong and smart, and so... so incredibly brave.” He lamented with an aching heart, “Don’t ever forget that. You did the right thing.”

“Peter—” 

“Of course, Honey. Of course, you’re good—”

“Peter, stop.”

He held his breath, blinking curiously. 

“That’s not what I meant,” she softly replied. He watched the way her eyes trailed from his, back down to his mouth. She inched closer to him, breathing through parted lips, stopping only when she could feel the heat radiating off of his chest. Peter barely registered the labored breathing clawing from both their chests.

Her eyes were dark. And they were ablaze. Darkness and light. Fire roared inside them. Curiously, Peter observed how she burned and fixed him with a look that could incinerate him where he stood.

He suddenly gasped at the most gentle of sensations, shuddering like his whole body had been electrified. Her delicate fingers brushed over the cotton of his trunks, cupping his bulge. Mouth agape, he turned to putty. Clay for her to mold however she saw fit.

Entranced, she watched his reaction, hunger written on her features. “You said I can have anything I want,” she said in a devious tone. “I wanna ride you, Peter.”

His breath hitched as he felt her tiny hands pull back the elastic of his trunks and sneak inside. He gaped at the feeling of her warm fingers stroking the delicate skin of his shaft. 

She chanted dangerously, her desire drawing the sounds from her belly, “I want to feel you... all of you...”

Peter trembled as her hand tightened, glancing down for a brief second. If he lingered on the sight of her hand jutting out of his briefs for too long, he was afraid he’d pass out and die.

“I want your cock...” she cooed with a filthy tone, sliding down her hand from base to head. Her fingertips brushed across the tip, smearing the silky wetness leaking out. His erection had come to life in record time, straining against his trunks. “I want it buried in me so deep,” she breathed, “that I can feel you in my belly.”

Peter groaned as she rubbed her palm over his head, lubricating his shaft with his precum as she drove it back down the sides. His lashes fluttered shut, face twisted in torture.

“I wanna feel you inside days after,” she declared, her voice heavy and erotic. She slid her hand up and brought it back down again, with a slow twist of her wrist as she approached the head. He grunted at the sensation, hunger building up as his abs tightened and twitched.

“I want you to fill me. Everywhere.”

He flicked his eyes open, gazing down at her through heavy lids and a slightly lifted chin. He dragged each exhale out from his core, the heat of his lungs rivaling the steam of the shower.

“With your body. With your cum.”

The filth of her words shocked his cock to attention, mesmerized by her sudden dominance. He brought his hand to rest on her lower back, pulling her closer. Part of the reasoning was self-interest, allowing her a better angle to pump his dick, her languid pace increasing with each jerk. The other reason was to steady himself, keeping his knees from buckling and reassuring himself that he wasn’t dreaming.

“I want you to make me take it all,” she groaned lustfully, sending another jolt down his shaft. She tightened her grip as she pumped up and down. The intensity of her words increased with her speed. “All night... Every night... For the rest of my life.”

Peter gasped at the thought, choking back a moan. His forehead briefly dipped to rest on hers before he straightened himself and poured his lustful gaze into her wanton eyes.

“No shame. No guilt. I want you to fuck me like I can’t get enough,” she breathed hotly. A mix of fluids lubricated his cock. She melted as noticed his hips meeting her palm with tiny uncontrollable thrusts.

“‘Til I’m weak... ‘Til I beg you to stop because I couldn’t possibly come anymore.”

Dizzy with desire, he glanced down at the lewd sight, mouth falling agape at the depravity. Blood from their bodies had crept down her wrist, coating her hand. His thick erection was tinted with blood, both from the inside and coating the outside. 

His voice strained and shattered beneath an irrepressable moan. Even if she stopped speaking at that moment, he was sure he’d explode from the debauched sight alone.

“After that, I want you to hold me close,” she muttered, heartwrenching need infiltrating the throaty sound of her chants. “And I want you to tell me I’m a good girl.” 

Longingly, he found her eyes and was trapped there, a loyal subject strapped down and helpless to her ministrations. Clenching his canines, he fixed her with a hungry expression that promised all she asked and more. Her whole body shuddered at that look. She dripped with desire, achingly wet, as she felt his fingertips dig trails behind her back. 

“And then I want you to hold me down and fuck me all over again.”

Peter snapped, letting out a deep groan that reverberated in his chest, snatching her lips up in his. She moaned at the burn of his beard on her lips, shuddering as his tongue glided over hers. His grip crushed her chest to his. He pulled back a moment, panting. Her lips tasted like tears and blood and all he wanted was to eat her alive.

“Fuck,” he muttered breathlessly, gazing at her with eyes that begged his body to let them fuck her first. “C’mere—”

He scooped her into his grasp, pulling her into the shower stream. His hands were tantric, everywhere at once. She released his erection, instead wrapping her arms around the back of his neck. 

His tongue pried her lips open. Once inside, it dominated hers, pushing back her head until a whimper stirred in her throat. She trembled and gasped as his free hand reached up beneath the camisole’s front, sliding beneath the sticky fabric to knead her breast.

Her mouth fell open, a helpless sigh breezing over the roar of the shower. Hot water poured over them, but it felt cold on their bodies and did little to put out the flame within. She mewled at the feeling of his rough fingertips teasing her nipple and his tongue forcing her mouth open further. Peter tipped her back into an arc, his slippery arms somehow locking her in place as his lips set fire to her neck.

He kissed away the stains of the past while she desperately tried to rid herself of her joggers, all while simultaneously grinding her core on his thigh. As soon as he sensed what she wanted, he pulled back to remove the camisole. It tore apart like tissue paper in his grip, exposing her cranberry-stained chest to him.

He peeled it off her arms, then hooked his fingers in her waistband, shoving it down to her ankles. She returned the action with hungry eyes and greedy hands, yanking his trunks down to land the pooling crimson on the shower floor. Her mouth fell open at the sight of his erection bobbing free.

The drain ran red, as did their lust. In moments they were both bare skinned, with nothing but red rivers and rain droplets between them. Hurriedly, she reached for his cock again, returning to the pace she’d set earlier. 

After a couple of quick pumps, Peter snatched up her hands, denying her control. He pushed her back against the tiled wall, pinning her wrists above her head. 

“Gah—yea-yes!” she heaved desperately with a moan. His hands shackled her wrists to the wall, while his lips attacked the junction of her shoulder and neck. He sucked tiny, raspberry-colored welts alongside the rusty art pieces that hung on her skin, using his tongue to redecorate her body.

“So fuckin’ good,” he muttered like a man possessed, bending his neck to get a better angle. “So fuckin’ sexy...”

Honey squeaked as his mouth surrounded her nipple, his teeth and beard scraping gently. She gazed down at the lewd image of him suckling on her breast with bloody lips. She winced, her cunt shamefully clenching at the sight. He playfully nipped at the flesh beneath her nipple before returning his lips to her jawline. 

“Aah, aghh, Peter, please!” she gasped.

“Please, what, baby? You wan’me to stop?”

“No, don’stop don’stop—”

“Gotta use your words, baby girl—”

“I need you inside me!” she cried out. “Please...!” 

“Please?”

“Please, Peter, fuck me! I need—”

“Ah-ah-ah,” he tutted in a tone that was almost cruel. “I know what you need.”

He then lowered one of his hands, dragging it slowly down her cheek, then her throat, applying extra pressure over her voice box, and further down her breast to the round of her belly. Driving further, he pivoted his wrist, caressing her folds with the delectable calluses on his fingers. 

“Gotta get you ready for me…” 

Her breath hitched as he wasted no time sliding his middle finger into her core. She preened beneath him, perched on her toes with her arms pinned above her head, panting with every swirl of his digit. 

“Fuuuck, you’re so wet.” 

He intently observed each micro-movement of her enraptured expression. It was a mouth-watering display, his cherry lips falling open at the sight. Thunder rumbled deep in his chest.

“Ya like that?” His hot breath tickled the shell of her ear.

She mewled, desperately nodding her head. 

“Ya want more?”

“pleasepleasepleaseyes—”

His ring finger joined the first, languidly—teasingly penetrating her core. “Oooh, there ya go…that’s it… spread your legs...”

She brought up one thigh, planting her heel against the wall. Her pelvic bone bucked as she opened up her hips obediently, allowing his palm more access to smooth over her clit. Her desire turned feral as she ground her pussy into his hand. Licking his lips, he gawked lasciviously as his fingertips touched places in her she didn’t know existed.

“Such a good girl,” he cooed insatiably over her obscene cries.

He tightened the tendons in his arm, speeding up the pace at which he rubbed her clit. Her heart hammered in her chest and in his ears like a drum. Her lashes fluttered, gazing longingly into his desire.

“That’s it, ’s’okay, princess. Use me. Grind that pretty pussy against my hand. Gonna feel so good.”

She looked so pure in her ecstasy, and so depraved in the impurity of it all. It made him weak. Obsessed, he followed the current of hot water and blood cresting over her curves, joining the juices on his fingers. 

“God, you make me so hard… ya don’even—ugh— C’mon, almost there, baby. Doin’ so good...”

With a choked mewl, she gushed around his fingers. He groaned as he felt her core twitch and flutter. He touched her through her high, as long as he possibly could wait, impatiently releasing her wrists and lowering to his knees as she came down. He dragged his mouth across her body, pressing open-mouth kisses to her skin. 

It was only when she neared the twilight of her climax that she noticed him kneeling in front of her thighs. She mewled warily, and he fixed her with a devilish smile.

“Now…lemme taste you, baby,” he whispered with a selfish, needy lilt in his voice.

Prying her thighs apart, he hooked one of them over his shoulder. She gasped, bracing herself carefully against the wall, squirming in his hold. With his tongue, he spread her open, greedily teasing as he licked into her entrance. 

“Y’taste so good...” 

Peter’s breathy voice pitched into a near whine as he ravished her with his tongue. It was an obscene sound that could coax an orgasm from her without ever touching her. Voraciously, he dragged his tongue from her entrance to her clit, kissing the bud tenderly. He teased it with kitten licks, making her tremble above him.

“I gotcha,” he whispered, noting her distress. “Don’t worry, I’ll give ya what’chu want, princess. Gonna spoil you.”

She whimpered as he devoured her. Her eyes swam looking down through the clouds of steam to his crown of soppy brown curls. She watched his eyes flutter shut, locked on her cunt like it was a prayer. He worshiped her honeysuckle lips, weak for the taste. She wondered if he was prone to addiction from the way he indulged himself. 

The intense memory of the first time he ate her out washed over her. The vision excited her and tightened the coil in her belly, drawing a needy groan from her mouth. His eyes shot open at the sound, peering up at her through the crimson-streaked valley between her breasts. 

When their eyes met, she felt more than an orgasm coming. A white-hot surge of energy was bursting from her core. It was a comforting sensation and an equally dangerous one. 

It was more than safety. It was power.

Not just the metaphorical ‘power’ in her relationship, or even ‘power’ over her own sexuality. She wielded both of those and more. It was a different kind of power, having been baptized in the fire roaring beneath Roosevelt Avenue, and now christened with the blood of her tormenter.

It was barbarically satisfying. She wondered if this is what Peter felt when she saw him at his most savage. In the train station. Inside the VIP lounge of Web. Bloody and gloriously brutal. Conquering his enemies. Defending what was his. 

She was his.

If he was Ruler of the Underworld, she was his Spring. 

She saved his life. 

That made him hers.

Her fate was hers. Her life was hers. 

And she knew exactly who she wanted to spend it with. 

“Peter…”

How she wanted to spend her time in this world.

If Heaven was the moment you want to live in for all eternity, and that moment was now within her grasp, did that make her a god?

“God, Peter, oh... yes—”

“Give it all to me, love. Be a good girl—”

Back arching off the wall, the blood in her body crashed towards her center in a tide of pleasure. He growled as she came in his mouth, his lips eagerly moaning around her folds. This time he didn’t stop, despite how painfully hard he was. Devotedly, he milked her pleasure, drawing it out in waves. 

“Gahhh—pleaseplease— s’too much—”

“You can take it, Honey. I know you can. You’re doin’ so well— so good for me. My sweet, good little girl...”

Possessed by a new fervor, she rode his lips again to another orgasm. He rewarded her, again and again with his mouth, until vertigo began to set in.

Through the haze, she heard him whisper, “We don’t have to keep going.” 

Peter’s voice was as gentle as a feather, a vast contrast from the gravelly, desperate tone he’d had while on his knees. 

Towering over her, he leaned his forearm against the wall above them while the other forearm wrapped around her pulsating torso. He clung her to his heart, drawing circles on her shoulder blade. Patiently, he waited for Honey to float back down to the Earth. Meanwhile, he relished in the warmth of her labored breaths across his skin.

“We can stop right now,” he muttered in secret.

Slowly, she leaned back to peer up at him beneath her wet lashes. “Do you wanna stop?”

He drowned himself in the depths of her eyes while he choked down his needs. “You don’t owe me anything. I don't wanna take what you’re not ready to give.”’

The longer she gazed at him, the dizzier she became. She felt intoxicated as if his eyes were indeed made of bourbon. “I’m ready,” she said. “M’ready to give you the world.”

His gaze softened. The sentiment sparkled in their amber hues, and his stomach took flight on the backs of butterflies. “You’re my world.”

She swayed in the wind of their colorful wings. “Lucky for you, then.”

Her smile lit up his life. Had he not been desperate to kiss her, it would’ve killed him to cover it up. He embraced the darkness, making sure it was worth it. Peter felt his heart bursting as he kissed her deeply, the intensity of which made them both lightheaded. 

They parted lips, and he gazed down at her with half-lidded eyes. “You sure?”

She touched her nose to his. “Yes, Peter. Please.”

A tremor racked through him, despite his eagerness. He pressed another kiss to her lips as he lined himself up to her core. Trembling, he was so hard that even the slightest brush made him ache. Desire dripping from his shaft, he pressed the head of his cock up against her entrance.

“You tell me,” he breathed, his eyes fixed on hers, “If you wanna stop. Just say the word... if it’s too much.”

Her fingers scaled the nape of his neck, brushing idly over an old scar. As she carded them into his hair, she scraped her nails through his scalp, drawing a hiss and triggering a jolt she could feel against her cunt.

“You, too,” she murmured, pushing her tongue past his ravaged lips. 

He breathed deep and slow, steadily applying pressure. The burn of their union was so intense, they both thought they’d melt. Peter groaned as Honey slid tightly over his head, his hands gripping the backs of her thighs to control her descent.

Gasping through an open mouth, she cried out as she neared the base. He stilled immediately, kissing away her budding tears. “So good, baby... So, so good...” The squeeze of her hips on his cock was a drug in itself. “So tight for me.”

He lapped up her pornographic moan, lowering her further down his shaft. A soft mewl echoed from his chest, as he muttered her pet name in exasperation. A moment later, he was fully seated inside of her, with her back pressed against the wall and her thighs in his grip. 

Slowly, he moved his hips.

Heaven. He was in Heaven. It was the only explanation that made sense. Peter gazed at the ecstasy unfolding in her enraptured face. His hungry eyes glanced down to steal a sinful glimpse where he impaled her. He thrust his hips adding a dizzying jolt of electricity. 

He was obsessed with the view, watching his cock slip in and out of her folds. 

This was a dream. 

It was better than a dream. 

They spoke an ancient language, made up of carnal sounds and heartwrenching sighs. With every roll of their hips, they wrote another line of their declaration together. Another verse of the vow they made to each other.

“God, you’re so perfect,” he breathed as his pace picked up. “Such an angel...”

“I’m-m’ not,” she muttered through gasps of air. It was hard to form a response when she could feel his reach all the way up in her brain. “I’m not innocent—”

“You’re mine,” Peter growled defiantly. “That’s all that matters. I know what I said. I don’t care if it’s wrong to say. Don’t care if it makes me sound possessive, or whatever... M’done pretending I don’t wan’it to be true. You’re mine, ya hear me? All of you. Your innocence. Your sweetness. Your sins.” 

With a gutteral groan he jerked his hips up, pulling a desperate, wet sigh from her mouth. 

“I want it all,” he said in a throaty whisper. “Wanna give you everything y’want. Anything.” 

His voice got weaker as his hips pivoted upwards to strike even deeper. He was completely in control of her hips, hooking his elbows beneath her knees and opening a new gateway to her soul.

“s s-s-so deep...”

“Ya like that?”

“Uh-huh...”

“You wan’me t’keep goin’?”

“Ye-yeah...”

“Wan’me to take you? Keep ya next to me forever? You’ll never want for anything again. Never be afraid again. Swear to god, no one else’ll touch you ever again—”

“Ugh, god... Peter... You’re so fucking hot—”

“M’gonna make love to you every night. Gonna make you scream for me.”

Her cries got louder, moans twisting up into a higher octave. Her pussy clenched around him with each of his words, drawing a hiss from him. She gripped his shoulders for balance as he fucked up into her, pinning her hips against the wall and bestowing her with pleasure.

“M’gonna fill you up,” he babbled, voice trembling. “Ga-gonna breed you, princess. Fill you with my cum, my babies... n’anything else you want. Just say it, an’it’s yours, Honey. Gonna make you a mommy, and you’re gonna make me a daddy.”

Her cunt quivered at the word, triggering a flood of sin washing over her body. “Fuck!”

“That’s it... my naughty girl. S’okay, good girls can be naughty sometimes—”

“Fuck, Peter, you’re gonna make me come.”

“God, if you clench around me right now, I’m gonna lose it. Gonna blow my load and pass the fuck out—”

“I wan’it.. Wan’it s-so bad.”

“S’at right?”

“Please, ah—egnh—god, please! Wanna be good for you. So good for you, daddy—”

Their words collapsed into meaningless cries and shattered sentences— godyesyesyes— comeonmycockbaby— as they worked each other towards a divine release. 

Honey pulled him deeper into her center, tightening around him as she felt a whip crack in her gut. Relishing in the flutter and spasming inside her core, his hips sputtered. He groaned as he released inside of her, filling her with his seed and his very soul.

Peter held her steady with wobbly legs, barely able to use his strength as the blinding lights cleared from his vision. He opened his eyes to look upon her blissed-out face, wondering how on Earth can someone make him stronger and weaker in the same moment.

Even as he conquered his darkness, she commanded the light in his heart. She was always his Queen, and he was a slave to the fruit of her hive.

“I want you to ask me, Peter,” she mumbled weakly. He was still seated inside of her.

“Ask you what?” He breathed heavily in her hold.

“I want you to ask me again. For my hand.”

He went still. Heart stopped. Breath turning to frost in his chest. 

Coyly, his honey-hued eyes saught hers with the timidness of a fawn. He was afraid to move. Afraid that a twig snap could chase this moment away. Unsure of what he’d heard and what day it was and what year it was and what he ever thought he was going to do with his life had he never walked in to that shop—

“But I don’t want you to ask me yet.” Her eyes shimmered and the sight made his heart swell. He curled a brow upwards as he considered her remark. 

“I want you to wait... just for a little while... until I know I’ve become the person you’d want to ask.” 

Heaven. Peter was certain of it now. No other explanation made sense. A smile curled his lips as he gazed at her longingly. His affection soared above the clouds.

“Could you do that for me?” she asked shyly.

He beamed. “Could I wait?” He couldn’t hold back the soft chuckle that spilled out. “Oh, Honey. I’ve been waiting forever for you. I’ll wait until the end of time.” He smirked, “Or... ‘til I’m back in diapers again, if ya want.”

She snorted gently, unable to contain her smile. He giggled at the sound, touching his forehead to hers, and falling in love with her all over again.

And finally, they were both made clean.

Continue to Part 22

[back to masterlist]

A/N thank you for the outpouring of love after the last chapter. a note on our 'Honey':

Her birth name was mentioned, but her name is Honey. In my head, she is an AFAB character with a Hispanic surname, but I've tried hard to avoid descriptions of hair color, skin color, eye color, body shape, or otherwise. In many ways, she's an OC, but she's written like a reader-insert character. I will continue to try to be as inclusive as possible with my writing, while acknowledging that I am limited (and inherently biased) by my narrow, personal experiences, and they don't reflect everyone else's experiences.

Do you feel like you resonate with Honey? Good! Continue to do so. You are Honey. And I love you.

And thanks for reading. 💜

please don't send me hate or discount this whole story over 2 words.

[blitz3--0]

𝙸𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚍𝚞𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗

Hello Im Blitz! I use He/It/Xey pronouns and please respect and use them or just leave. I'm a minor who is an artist and writer! I have my own world that I create and will post about here.

What I will write

Romance

Oc's x CC, Oc x Oc, Cc x Cc

Fluff

Angst

Platonic

Drabbles

Headcannons

Imagines

GN! Readers that includes Trans and Nb readers as well. If your a cis woman please fuck off you have 80-85% of fanfics.

Fandoms I Will Write

MW2 (141, Los Vaqueros, König, Horangi Oc's)

Haikyuu (Karasuno, Aba Josai, Nekoma all aged up)

JJK (Gojo, Nanami, Itadori, Nobara, Megumi, Mai + Mei, Panda, Inumaki, all aged up)

YOI (Viktor, Yuri, Yurio, Otabek)

OHSHC (Kyoya, Tamaki, Haruhi, Mori, Honey, all aged up)

Penumbra Podcast (Juno Steel, Peter Nureyev, more as I get more into the Series)

Spider verse (Miguel, Gwen, Miles, Peter.B)

TMA (John, Martin, Tim, Sasha, Elias, Peter Lucas, Micheal Shelly, Oliver Banks, Georgie, Basira, Melanie, Daisy, Breekon +Hope)

Doctor Who (9th, 10th, 11th, 12th, 13th, Rose, Donna, Clara, Martha, Jack Harkness, Amy)

What I Will Not Write

Smut

Self unaliving

S/H

Period stuff

Incest

Pedophilia

Fandoms I Won't Write

WTNV(haven't seen enough)

MHA

DSMP

I will add more as time goes on

I Will Refuse Any And All Requests That I Feel Uncomfortable And Disagree With Spamming Requests Will Get You Blocked Please Be Respectful As I Am A Full Time Student With Extracurricular Activities. Thank You!

[deathmybride]

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ these violent delights | davos blackwood (part 4) *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 ❤️‍🔥| Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 ❤️‍🔥

ship: davos blackwood x fem!oc

warnings: 18+ explicit smut at the very end of the chapter

summary: cersha and davos sleep rough in the wilds between stone hedge and riverrun.

word count: 1788

a/n: I accidentally smuttified the end of this one?? i must be in heat. who knew my first published smut would be of glorified extra davos blackwood? I hope Kieran feels special...

The song that Davos sings in the middle of this chapter is a slightly edited version of Gone the Rainbow by Peter Paul and Mary.

Even with the oaken cane Cersha had salvaged from her mother's possessions, the first few days were a struggle for Davos. They made little headway and found no inns to rest in, nor palfreys to barter for, and Davos slipped and scraped his hands more than once. On the first night, they shared a meagre meal of the last of that morning's rabbit, and two small morels each, and laid down on the floor of an empty stable with their backs pressed together in cold, hungry silence. Cersha woke first, as she always did, and found she had turned over in the night and had curled herself around him. If he had noticed, he made no attempt to show it when he stirred, and they walked on.

On the second night, they were without shelter, but had come far enough that Cersha deemed it safe to light a fire. They sat at the edge of a tributary stream of the Tumblestone, and she entertained her companion by tickling brown trout. Spirits were high and they ate well that night on fish and cress, and warmed themselves by the fire.

"The gods are smiling on us tonight." She remarked, watching the curves of his face touched by orange light and how he sat with his injured leg stretched out beside him, and the other tucked up under it.

"Which gods?" He mused with a teasing smirk.

"The old and the new." She tossed a green leaf into the fire and watched it crackle and twist. "They dance together in the flames, and bless our strange union."

"Do they now? Aren't we... disturbing the order of things?"

"Is it not high time they were disturbed?"

"Mayhaps."

They fell back into silence. Davos picked his teeth with a fish bone, and Cersha noted the habit.

"You said you're a singer."

"Ah." He ducked his head, blushing. "I'm alright."

"You said there's no-one finer." She reminded, enjoying how he squirmed.

"Allow me a white lie here and there, my lady. Besides, my brother Bailey plays the lute. I can't sing without him."

"Oh, please." She begged, wide eyed and earnest. "Just one song. I caught you this trout-"

"Tshh!"

"I saved your life, I treated your wound, fed you-"

"Alright, alright!" He groaned. "I'll sing for my supper."

"Thank you." She whispered, leaning in eagerly. He took a moment to think, then straightened his back.

"This is a song the milkmaids sing back home. Some say the passages are in the Old Tongue and have survived since the First Men ruled the Riverlands; or it might just be nonsense, I don't know." He cleared his throat and went on in a soft, clear voice.

Shule, shule, shule-a-rule

Shule-a-rak-shak, shule-a-baba-kule

When I saw my sallie-babbie-beal

Come bibble in the boo-shy-lorey

Here I sit on Buttermilk Hill

Who could blame me, cry my fill

Every tear would turn a mill

Jonny's gone for a soldier

I sold my flax, I sold my wheel

To buy my love a sword of steel

So it in battle he might wield

Jonny's gone for a soldier

Oh my baby, oh, my love

Gone the raven, gone the dove

Your father was my only love

Jonny's gone for a soldier

Shule, shule, shule-a-rule

Shule-a-rak-shak, shule-a-baba-kule

When I saw my sallie-babbie-beal

Come bibble in the boo-shy-lorey

She did not notice the wetness of her face until Davos cringed away at the sight of it.

“Don’t go soft on me now, Bracken.” He muttered gruffly, averting his eyes as if her tears frightened him.

They fell into an awkward patch of quiet, broken only by her sniffles as she wiped furiously at her face, willing herself to be still. They stole glances at each other, gazes darting like minnows in the dark, until they met in the corners of their eyes. Davos looked away first, face creasing in discomfort, and made out that he was stoking the fire with a nearby stick. She watched the sparks dance against the black stones of his eyes. She shuffled closer. He glanced at her cagily. A heartbeat passed between them. She leaned in and laid a kiss on his cheekbone, warm from the fire. A stray tear splashed onto his face and rolled down his jaw as if it were his own. He tensed for a moment as she pulled away, baffled, but softened at the sight of those tears over spilling against the Bracken girl’s command. He pulled her to him without a second thought, and she wept into his chest as he kissed her hair.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered like a prayer. “He was just a boy.”

“So were you.”

They laid down together that night, her ear at rest above his heart and his chin on her head, arms knotted about each other, and when they woke they walked on arm in arm.

It seemed the gods were truly smiling on them, as by the next dusk they found a small inn by the King’s Road where Cersha could trade in her mother’s coin. It seemed the coming war had already touched the inn; a hearty supper, breakfast, and a single room to board in cost them a gold dragon. Another gold dragon bought them a pair of geldings; a bay and a chestnut, half-brothers the innkeep claimed, born on the same day, and never two palfreys had such love for one another. A silver silenced the innkeep’s prying after their histories.

“That miser’s been fleecing you, sweetling.” Davos remarked as he reclined on the hay-filled mattress, covered only by his smallclothes.

“Sweetling? You’re sounding awfully familiar tonight, Blackwood.” She said drily, untangling her hair with her fingers. “Asides, are you not happy to have a roof over your head?”

“I just think we could afford to stretch our coppers.” As if to punctuate his point, he stretched, arching his back and settling with his arms folded behind his head. Cersha tried to ignore the way her thighs clenched with the same rhythm of the muscles flexing in his torso.

“Mayhaps you should do the bartering then, O Davos the Wise.”

“I’m just your half-wit step-brother, remember?” He crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue, earning a fit of giggles from his companion. “You’re laughing!” He exclaimed. “Actually laughing! Properly!”

“Hush!” She turned away to hide her face and busied herself plaiting her hair back. “We really must think of a better cover story.”

“I’ll say.” He sniffed. “Are you nearly done? I’m getting lonely.”

“Yes, dear.” She rolled her eyes.

She felt his eyes burning into her as she undressed, laying her cloak over the stool in the corner and slowly, deliberately unlacing her dress. She let it fall to the floor, and stepped delicately out of the folds of linen. As she turned to him, her eyes demure and dove grey, she noted the pinkness of his tongue as it darted to the corner of his lip. His eyes, like chips of dragonglass, scraped her wiry body up and down, lingering on the curve of her hips and the suggestion of breasts beneath her slip. Still, he made no move to touch her as she settled down beside him, a fact that surprised him most of all.

“Are you sure your bandage is comfortable?” She asked. Her mouth suddenly dry, she took her cup from the splintery milk crate that served as a nightstand and sipped. “I didn’t tie it too tightly?”

“Aye.” He blinked in sleepy exasperation. “Maester Cersha.”

“You’re too kind.” She tapped the scar on his puggish nose with her forefinger, giggling as his face crinkled from the sensation as he swatted her away. “Good night, crow boy.”

“Night.”

She leaned over and blew out the candle. They laid in darkness and silence unbroken but for their breaths, a question hanging between them. It was Davos who asked it first. His fingers found her side, stroking the soft linen of her smallclothes. She replied, her hand crossing the space in the dark to find his uninjured thigh. The skin there was smooth and his hips lifted in response to her touch. He grunted softly as she ran her knuckles up to his hipbone, brushing painfully close to his heat. His own hand wandered up her stomach, feeling for curves and soft places to press into. Her lips found his shoulder, then shifting closer, his neck. She pressed kisses there like flowers on the back page of a tome, feather-light and chaste, a show of inexperience. Davos shivered, and it surprised him. No woman’s lips had ever felt so sweet.

When she pulled away, she nudged his cheek with her nose, asking silently for more. He responded with a light huff against the lingering pain, and propped himself on his side, one hand coming to rest on her collarbone while the other brushed the length of her arm, past her shoulder, and grazed against her cheek. They were close, breathing as one with lips so close to touching.

“I would not defile you, my lady.” His thumb found her lip, betraying his words, his aching morality.

She whined wordlessly and parted her lips, her tongue reaching instinctively to lap at his thumb. With a groan, as if in annoyance, he slid it into her mouth. Instinctively, she began to suck the tip. That place between her thighs throbbed, and she said a silent prayer to the Maiden to close her eyes. His thumb was thicker and longer than her own, and as he began to slide it deeper, pumping slowly in and out, it nearly made her gag. His free hand pressed gently on her neck, collaring her. In the deprivation of sight, she grew bold, and reached for that strange, hard thing beneath his smallclothes. He gasped at the touch, panting as her fumbling grasp found its away around the head. His hips rocked as he thrusted into her hand, finding some release from the engorged ache in the friction of the fabric.

“Sinful girl.” His voice came low and gravelly as he pressed down on her tongue, forcing her mouth open as he dragged his thumb from her lips, painting a trail of wet down her chin. “Have you known men before?”

She shook her head, mewling as she tried to grasp the concept of speech in the whirlpool of her mind.

“My sweet filly.” He whispered and kissed her forehead tenderly. “Tell me to stop. Say its not me that you want.” She whined, shaking her head more forcefully. “Or else tell me to be gentle, but say it. Aloud.”

“I want you, Davos Blackwood.” Those were the only words her addled mind could hold onto.

“Then you shall have me.”

Thanks to @aemondslove @disillusioned-phantasma @anaviieiraaa @deepestlovert @flordiakilos @kitty2694 @kpopfanfictionfantacies @sometings @nikkilsworld @gladiatorgladiator @borislava17 @oshun22 @spider-stark @marvelenthusiast10 @itsyagirl01 @disillusioned-phantasma for your reblogs and comments! I'm doing it for you guys :)