#you got that salt - i got me an appetite

[hoovesandfloorpaws]

and when i sleep i'm gonna dream of how you tasted when I'm all out, I think about the way you ride it

[girl-lostconnection]

Watching cooking documentary on Netflix (“Salt fat acid heat”, if anyone likes them as much as I do) and it got me thinking about Simon Riley with S/O that brings tasty gifts from their travels.

Cheeses and cured meats and teas and full on recipes to try at home. The man comes home from deployment, sees his sweetheart’s bags and practically throws himself through the door because god, he’s eating GOOD that evening.

The house smells heavenly, there is already something on the stove and there are the array of cheeses and meats on the countertops, beautifully cut and presented with some cut fruits. And yeah, he feels a little like a toddler on whom you test drive taste combinations (not that he’s complaining), but the bigger part of him — the one that remembers food insecurity and the one that is very very responsible about food and generally food sensitive — is over the moon.

I feel like he’d be someone who would love to receive actual edible gifts that were bought with him in mind.

He starts dating and puts good ten pounds (some happy relationship weight would do him good), eyes crinkling with excitement when you urge him to take a bite or a sip. To taste for you and tell what he thinks.

I feel like Simon would enjoy a lot different kinds of food — he’s incredibly open-minded in that regard, he has zero allergies and insatiable appetites of a dumpster fire. He’s gonna finish it all.

But I could bet that meat is his favourite. Red meat — tenderly cooked, still a little bloody. Birds like duck or chicken, fish and seafood.

As long as it’s hot and hearty he’s gonna eat it all up.

[dontcare77ghj]

Pinterest, Brains and Chocolate Sauce

Team x reader

Bold Italics is Venom speaking in your head.

Bold is Venom speaking aloud.

Italics is the reader's thinking.

A/N: Hello dear friends, I am not dead surprise!

"Ugh, that's disgusting, you two." Clint's lip curled up in disgust. "Seriously, I think I'm gonna be sick." He said, covering his mouth and turning his head.

"Then don't watch," Venom said, licking the chocolate sauce off your finger.

"And if you're gonna throw up, do it away from the food." You told the archer. "What do you think, bud? Need salt?" You asked, spreading the sauce further with a spoon.

"Salt would be good."

"When did you start adding things to your sheep's brains, Vee?" Natasha questioned the symbiote, watching the two of you with interest.

"Yeah, don't you usually just open your gullet and swallow in one go?" Tony questioned, causing Clint to gag.

"I'm not eating this one."

"This is mine." You told the man, eating a section before letting out an appreciative hum. "This is done. The salt was a good choice." You said, grabbing your plate and moving to sit beside Steve.

"Doll, isn't that raw?" Steve wrinkled his nose as he looked at your meal.

"Yeah, it adds to the flavour." You nodded, cutting your meal into sections.

"Oh, I'm really gonna be sick." Clint groaned, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Which one of you did it?" Bruce called as he entered the kitchen with Thor right behind him.

"I didn't do it."

"It was just a joke."

"Not me."

"Did what?" Natasha rolled her eyes at the table's reactions before turning to Bruce with a fond smile.

"I got a medical alert from FRIDAY," Bruce said, cocking his head. "And when any of you are in the kitchen it's not safe."

"Yeah, that was from me," Tony said, raising a hand. "I got FRIDAY to get you. It's this one." He added, pointing at you.

"I'm not injured, Tony." You rolled your eyes, continuing with your meal.

"Physically, maybe not, but something is going on in your head if you think that's a normal meal," Tony said, cringing as you took another bite.

"Vee eats stuff like this all the time, and no one says anything." You scoffed.

"That's different."

"Yeah, Vee's not normal."

"Hey!"

"No offence, big guy." Clint was quick to reassure the symbiote. "But you're an alien. Your normal is still pretty strange to us." He said as Bruce moved towards you and placed his hand on your head.

"Do you feel sick? You don't feel warm." Bruce tsked.

"You know we can't get sick, Brucie." You said, pushing the scientist's hand off your face.

"We eat the germs." Venom grinned, running his tongue over his teeth.

"Why can't I just eat a meal and not be judged?" You sighed, stabbing at your delicious treat.

"Because that's your second brain of the day," Natasha pointed out to the room.

"Second?"

"I can feel my lunch coming up my throat."

"I've never seen you eat one brain before, let alone two."

"Many women experience a change in appetite when with child." Thor shrugged, sitting beside you. "It's perfectly normal." He added, licking a bit of chocolate sauce off your plate, ignoring the looks the rest of the room shot him.

"What?"

"Excuse me?"

"I'm not pregnant, Thor." You choked on the food in your mouth. "Oh, shit." You coughed, hitting your chest.

"I got it," Venom said, smacking you on the back.

"Okay, okay, thanks, Vee." You brushed his hand away. "Just because you can heal broken ribs, doesn't mean they don't hurt."

"Thor, we're all on some sort of contraceptive, or just can't have children," Natasha said, with Bruce nodding along. "What makes you think Y/N's pregnant?"

"I am the God of fertility." Thor shrugged. "I know these things. Just as I know that it was Steven and my sperm that created the lives of our children."

"Children? More than one?"

"God and super-soldier sperm. That should do it." Tony muttered.

"Vee?" You murmured, the symbiote extending himself towards your uterus.

"Oh. That's what that is." Venom said before retracting and wrapping himself around your womb.

"I know the situation isn't ideal, not being planned and all, but isn't this kind of what we've always talked about?" Steve wondered. "Having a family of our own?"

"I'm not mad about this. I might need some time to adjust, but," Clint shrugged. "I want this. I want to teach our children to shoot. I want them to have better than me or my brother ever did."

"You know I've always wanted children," Natasha admitted, scratching the table before her. "Even when they told me weapons don't deserve children, I wanted one."

"You're not a weapon, Tash."

"I mean, we've already adopted the spider kid and Barton's sidekick." Tony nodded, resting his hand on Natasha's lower back. "Our kids would grow up with older siblings."

"And we were just talking about the possibility of adopting." Bruce agreed.

"Y/N? How are you feeling about this?" Steve asked and all eyes turned towards you.

Your stomach felt heavy as your lunch began to make its way back up your throat. The taste of chocolate sauce and brain, which had tasted so good going down, did not have the same flavour coming back up.

"Bathroom." You muttered, rising to a stand and rushing towards the nearest bathroom.

You'd been in the bathroom for hours. Your partners had found you pretty quickly, FRIDAY being the snitch she was, and had been at the door ever since.

The knocking had stopped around hour two of you ignoring your soulmates, but someone was always at the door, talking to you through it.

As Steve talked you through his latest painting, you were curled up in the bathtub, the curtain hiding you from the empty room.

'How did we let this happen?' You shook your head, pressing your head into your knees. 'How didn't we notice sooner?'

'It didn't seem dangerous. I didn't see the danger.'

'I can't do this again, Vee. They don't even know. We never told them.'

'It never came up.' Venom comforted you, rubbing a tendril down your back. 'We may have to tell them.'

"They're gonna hate us." You whispered aloud, feeling a tear run down your cheek.

'I can eat them.' Venom offered, wiping your cheek.

'That's alright, Vee.' You shook your head as you rose to a stand. 'We can't keep this a secret anymore.'

'No.'

'Are you okay if I tell them?'

'He won't come back because we thought of him. We already knew that.'

"Steve?" You called, causing the soldier to fall silent.

"Yeah, doll?" You heard him stand outside.

"Can you get everyone to go to the bedroom?" You asked, wringing your hands in front of you.

"Of course, doll," Steve said before you heard him walk away.

"Are you ready, bud?" You asked, stepping out of the tub and moving towards the door.

"If you are," Venom said, shifting so his head rested on your shoulder.

Exiting the bathroom, you slowly made your way through the hall before entering the bedroom where your soulmates sat waiting for you.

"How are you feeling?" Natasha asked as you stood awkwardly in the doorway.

"Gross." You said, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Did you throw up?" Tony looked green.

"No." You huffed out a laugh at Tony's germaphobic nature.

"Y/N, we've been talking." Steve started, watching you with serious eyes. "And we shouldn't have started talking about the babies like that without checking you wanted this first."

"So, if you don't want this, Bruce found the names of some good doctors," Tony told you, with the other scientist nodding along.

"It is your body, draga." Natasha smiled at you gently. "And ultimately your choice."

"And there's more than a few adoption agencies in New York who are very discreet if that's the way you want to go," Bruce added.

"We're good with whatever you decide," Clint promised, Thor, nodding at his words.

"It's not that I don't want kids with you." You told your soulmates. "It's just, there's something we haven't told you."

"Whatever it is, we can work through it, together," Thor assured you.

"Well, to be honest, we've been telling everyone a bit of a fib for a very long time." You admitted.

"Okay, what kind of a fib are we talking about?"

"Do I need to call the lawyers?"

"Do you have another alien living in you?"

"Pretty big, no, and no." You answered your soulmates' questions. "We didn't actually leave San Francisco right after Drake. We thought maybe we could handle staying and that we could keep our lives there. So we helped Eddie with an interview with Cletus Kasady."

"The serial killer?" Clint raised a brow.

"Yeah. We got left alone with Kasady, and he got weird."

"Y/N?"

"We were under guard, but it was as if he'd researched us before we got there. He knew about my childhood, where I went to school, the name of my first boyfriend, creepy shit like that." You shivered, Kasady's voice still fresh in your mind. "I wanted to leave, but we got too close to the cage, and Kasady grabbed us. He bit us and tore a chunk of our neck out. The guard pulled us away, but it was too late. Kasady ingested a lot of our blood, and that's when it happened." You said, absent-mindedly rubbing the side of your neck.

"What happened?" Steve asked, leaning forward slightly.

"Kasady had our child." You sighed and the room fell into a stunned silence. "Guys?"

"I'm sorry?"

"What?"

"You said nothing like that happened."

"Also, how did that happen?"

"Nothing like that happened." You assured your concerned soulmates. "Venom's species reproduces asexually, and a host's gender doesn't matter. And when our blood mixed with Kasady's DNA,"

"He made Carnage," Venom spoke, lowering his head as he did.

"Where is he?" Tony wondered curiously.

"Carnage wasn't, Carnage didn't," You licked your lips, struggling to find the words. "Kasady ruined Carnage. His DNA, his insanity, and his blood lust ruined Carnage, and there was no other way."

"Carnage was a red one." Venom took over, running a tendril down your arm. "He tried to kill us. He killed people for fun, not food. Carnage had to be put down."

"We tried reasoning with Carnage, we begged, we tried to separate the two, but it didn't work. They weren't symbiotic like us. They were just tangled. We couldn't separate them." You shook your head.

"Oh, Y/N, Vee, why didn't we know?" Natasha asked, standing and pulling you into her arms.

"It was our condition to Fury. We'd meet the team if he kept it off the books." You mumbled into her shoulder.

"And Y/N thought you'd reject us if you knew," Venom added, wrapping around Natasha's waist.

"That's not going to happen." Thor was quick to deny it. The common Earth practice was akin to torture in the blonde's mind. He would never deny one of his chosen.

"It wouldn't have in the beginning, and it won't happen now," Clint agreed, rubbing the Gods' knee.

"So, you think these children will be the same?" Bruce questioned you as you and Natasha pulled apart. The spy wrapped her arm around your waist and pulled you towards the bed.

"I don't know. This didn't happen last time." You gestured to your stomach. "We didn't think it could happen."

"It feels strange," Venom spoke up, curling around your waist. "We feel the heartbeat but it's not ours. They think but it's not like us."

"We can feel it." You nodded. "Not just movement, but we can feel them sitting there, stretching themselves out." You said, placing your hand on your stomach.

"Not like our kind."

"Then maybe Venom's genes didn't pass on." Bruce hummed, causing you all to turn to him.

"What do you mean, Bruce?"

"Well, if Venom's species reproduce asexually, then perhaps he didn't pass his DNA onto the children," Bruce said, adjusting his glasses. "Or maybe God and super-soldier DNA is just stronger." He added with a shrug.

"We are strong." Venom huffed. "Do you want to put it to the test?" He challenged, turning to Steve and Thor.

"That's not necessary, Vee," Steve assured just as it looked like Thor was going to agree. "We know you're the strongest here." He said placatingly.

"Yes, we are."

"We want these babies." You said, glancing at your soulmates. "But we can't lose another one."

"Y/N,"

"Carnage was ours. We didn't know him, and we couldn't help him, but he was still ours. He was a part of Venom and when we killed him, we felt his pain. We felt the agony of not being able to merge with Kasady and everything we'd done to him. And we can't do that again." You shook your head. "We can't kill another part of us."

"It's not going to come to that," Tony promised you.

"And if Kasady is what turned Carnage, then if these two are like the two of you, they will be fine," Bruce said assuringly.

"You don't know that."

"Kasady was insane, clinically insane. He was a murderer, a sociopath, that's neither of you. And none of us." Bruce said firmly. "Nurture is just as important as nature."

"That's right." Tony nodded. "These kids are going to grow up with Avengers as their family, literal Gods too. They're gonna be just fine." He added, reaching over to take your hand.

"We're pregnant." You whispered, after a moment, the words loud in the quiet room.

"We're pregnant," Thor repeated as a smile crept onto your face.

"We're gonna have a family."

"We already do, doll. It's just getting a bit bigger is all."

And as you sat surrounded by your family, the weight of the twins in your womb and Venom settled protectively around them, you found thoughts of Kasady and Carnage being pushed to the back of your mind.

For now, everything was as it was supposed to be.

"Okay, Vee only two hours max, remember?" You fussed as the symbiote appeared by Clint's shoulder.

"We remember."

"Because you are not allowed to burn Clint out."

"We will not burn out the bird."

"Babe, we'll be chill." Clint smiled, brushing hair from your face. "Vee and I are buddies. Right, dude?"

"Right, bro."

"Please, never say that again." You sighed as Steve chuckled behind you.

You were just over three months pregnant and a combination of super-solder, God, alien DNA and the fact you were carrying twin, meant you were already showing a lot more than you were supposed to.

It was one thing to know you were pregnant, but to see your body physically changing to accommodate for the two had made it all the more real for you.

As well as your six soulmates.

They were already overprotective, despite Venom's assurances he could take care of the two of you, but when you became four instead of two, it kicked into another drive.

They had begged and pleaded with you for weeks to see reason and stop your patrols with Vee.

At first, you had gently brushed their concern off, but when you woke up one morning with a visible bump, you finally agreed to step back as an Avenger and swing with Vee.

But Venom got bored, and hungry, quickly.

It had been Thor's suggestion to find the symbiote a temporary host and when Clint turned out to be the most compatible after you, the hawkeyed Avenger had quickly agreed to take Venom out on the town.

"No promises," Venom smirked.

"Just breathe, go sit with Stevie and Tasha, eat your brain while I'm not here, and I'll close my eyes real tight while Vee gets his." Clint smiled before a frown quickly took over. "I can't throw up while he's in control, can I?"

"You know, there's a first time for everything." You sighed, pressing a kiss to Clint's cheek and then Venom's when he took over. "I'll see you soon, hon."

"You will," Venom promised, licking your cheek before he, and Clint, were gone.

"Don't think you're going to be staring out the window all night," Natasha said, causing you to look over your shoulder. "Because you picked out the movie and you won't be able to see it from there."

"Nat is right, doll. You need to sit." Steve said, jumping up and moving you towards the couch.

"We're, I'm not an invalid you know." You reminded the two as you settled between the two.

"We know."

"But stress isn't good for you, or the babies," Natasha said, resting her hand on your bump and her head on your shoulder.

"So for the next few hours, you're going to breathe, watch a movie with us, and enjoy your food," Steve added, grabbing your plate from the side table, with only a slight shudder.

"Clint will be fine, Med. He and Venom will look after each other."

"I hope so."

It was almost four hours later when Venom finally slipped back through the window, a smile on his face even as he reduced himself to a mere head on Clint's shoulder.

"I'm gonna kill the pair of you." You shook your head, struggling to sit upright. "What happened to two hours?"

"Sorry sweetheart, got a bit sidetracked there." Clint had the decency to look apologetic. "In my defence, you were right. The flying part is fun."

You let out a long sigh as you fondly shook your head.

"So what was it? Chickens or a bad guy tonight?"

"He had to make do with a few of my feathered friends." Clint joked. "But he'll survive another day."

"Did you at least have fun, bud?" You asked as your symbiote transferred back to you.

"Clint took me to a rave." Venom grinned as Clint groaned.

"What?"

"Barton,"

"That was supposed to be our secret dude." Clint shook his head. "Look before anyone freaks out it was a costume rave, everyone was really chill and thought Vee was just an elaborate costume."

"More like really high." Natasha glared at the archer.

"Clint, that was irresponsible and you know it," Steve started.

"Ooh is daddy mad? Are you going to put me across your lap?"

"Why are we having children again? There's two right here." You sighed, leaning back. "I need a nap."

"Bunsen burners down." You demanded, striding into the lab as you pulled your hair into a ponytail.

"Y/N, we're a bit busy," Bruce started even as Tony did as you said.

"Don't care. Burners down, pants off." You ordered, ripping your shirt off. "We're pregnant,"

"You're pregnant."

"We're horny."

"You're horny."

"And you two are going to fix it."

"That is true."

"Y/N,"

"Bruce we are six months pregnant with your children. We feel fat, we feel starving and we are horny." You said, narrowing your eyes at the man. "Is your experiment more important than your pregnant mate?"

"Of course not."

"Then take your pants off and join us and Tony on the couch before I start crying about how we can't just do it on the counter anymore." You demanded, grabbing Tony by the hand and dragging him to the couch.

"Yes, dear."

"Tony, why are you walking like that?" Clint snickered from his seat "Did you fall out of the elevator?"

"You're the only one who has ever done that, Clint," Thor spoke, patting Clint's shoulder.

"I'm pretty sure my pelvis is broken." Tony groaned, collapsing into a chair. "I need ice. Someone, please. Ice me."

"Your pelvis is not broken." You said, helping Bruce into his own chair.

"Thank you, love." Bruce sighed, weakly patting your hand. "But it all likely very well could be."

"Just what are you two up to in that lab?" Natasha tutted as she moved to the freezer.

"Might want to make that two orders of ice, Nat." You told her, sitting between the boys.

"Just science. Science stuff." Tony sighed, taking your hand in his. "Gotta test things to prove things, you know?"

"We had sex in the lab." Venom grinned as his head appeared on your shoulder. "A table broke."

"That, that tracks." Clint nodded, shooting a sympathetic look at the two scientists. "They got me in the training room a couple of days ago. Broke one of the balance beams."

"Movie room." Steve nodded. "Though I do want to talk logistics on the balance beam." He told Clint.

"I got them in the showers last night," Natasha smirked, dropping a bag of ice each on Bruce and Tony's laps.

"If we weren't already married, itsy bitsy." Tony sighed.

"Well the three of us thoroughly defiled the kitchen just this morning." Thor grinned.

"I knew that was jizz on the counter!"

"Hey!" You interrupted your partners with a couple snaps of your fingers. "You all got us pregnant you can all suffer the consequences. Consequences include high libido and extra high libido from the symbiote." You told the six.

"Not exactly a consequence." Tony chuckled before pressing a kiss to the back of your hand.

"Damn right."

"Get that out of here."

"You heard the symbiote. Can't come in here." You said from your spot on the floor.

"Vee, Coulson had this made for us. He's going to be upset if he doesn't see it in here." Natasha said, taking the onsie from Thor.

"Smells bad. Not going near spawns." Venom shook his head.

"What do you think of this, bud?" You held up the 'My godfather's the coolest' onesie from Rhodey.

"Smells good." Venom nodded, taking the outfit and putting it in one of the many overfilling drawers. "The colonel has good taste."

"Someone had to influence Tony."

"What if we have it washed? Would that appease you?" Natasha asked, holding up Coulson's gift.

"Maybe."

"I need help, please. Our hips are locking." You said, holding a hand up.

"Elsking, are you sure you are up to this today?" Thor asked as he helped you to your feet. "The twins are very close."

"That's why we have to do this." You reminded the God. "This will be the twin's room for a long time and they need to know their parents made this nest for them thinking only of their safety and comfort. Everything has to be just right."

"You take nesting far too literally." Natasha rolled her eyes as Thor pushed you to sit in a rocking chair. "The twins are hardly going to notice if the paint is chipping."

"Where?" Venom demanded, pulling you to your feet.

"Perhaps not the best joke, darling." Thor smiled at Natasha as he placed his hands on your shoulders. "My loves there is no chipped paint."

"Forgot who I was dealing with for a second." Natasha chuckled, patting the blonde on the arm. "The nest is fine. The twins will love it."

"I hope so." You sighed, still looking over each of the walls. "I just. I want them to know how loved they are. That we want them, even if they were a surprise."

"They will know. We will make them know each day they breathe." Thor swore, his large hand cupping your face.

"How about we go find a couple things of ours to add to here? Would that make the two of you happy?" Natasha asked.

"Yes."

"Very."

"Alright. Thor, keep them off the floor, please. I'll start raiding closets." Natasha said, kissing both you and the God before leaving the room.

"It is not just the twins you think of today, is it?" Thor asked softly, resting his hand on your cheek. "Carnage?"

"He wouldn't have been a baby, but he still would have been ours." You murmured, leaning into his hand.

"He would have been safe with us." Venom huffed.

"Safer than any other in the universe." Thor agreed, smiling at the symbiote. "Often I find myself wondering if I could have done more for Loki." He mentioned, the smile falling from his face.

"You love Loki. They know that." You assured your God.

"Aye, but if I had more care with my words, if I had been as mature as they, I wonder how our paths may have been altered." Thor nodded, his thumb drawing circles on your cheek.

"You may have never come to Earth." Venom pointed out. "We never would have met."

"My point. If we dwell on the past, on what we may have done, we will miss our future and may even sour our present." Thor spoke. "I wish more than anything Loki did not have to spend all those years feeling alone or unworthy, but we cannot change the past."

"We couldn't have fixed Carnage, we couldn't have saved him, we know that. And these babies are not him, but if the worse were to happen it would be our fault this time." You shook your head. "Nothing to do with psychopaths or failed symbiosis,"

"It would be us." Venom agreed. "We have to do the best from the beginning. We have to keep the spawn safe in our nest."

"And we will keep them safe," Thor promised. "Our children will be safe with us."

"I hope so."

"Now, you heard our widow, I am to keep you from the floor. How do you propose I achieve this?" Thor smiled, his hands sliding down to hold your substantial bump.

You let out a sound, a cross between a sigh and a groan, as your eyes rolled back in your head and your hands anchored themselves on Thor's shoulders.

"Take us to bed, feed us brains, and scroll through Pinterest with us?" You suggested and the God smiled.

"Of course, my loves."

"Don't forget the sprinkles."

"We're going to give birth today," Venom announced as the two of you stood in the doorway of the bathroom.

"What?"

"Oh shit! Get the emergency bag!"

"Doll, you need to be sitting down."

"Do you see what happens when we announce things like this?" You groaned at the symbiote. "Everyone calm down, our water hasn't broken yet." You held up your hands placatingly.

"Your water."

"Our water. If I'm pregnant then we're pregnant."

"We are pregnant. You are giving birth."

"You're not gonna just sit there silently watching. You're doing shit too."

"You're going to shit. Bruce told me."

"Do you two need a moment or can we take you two down to the med bay?" Natasha clicked her fingers, drawing your attention back to your confused and amused partners.

"I guess so. We've got everyone on standby just in case this turns into some Cuthulu shit?" You breathed heavily, holding onto your enlarged stomach.

"About twelve, doll," Steve said, wrapping his arm around your waist. "Clint, Tony, can you two grab the bags? Tash, you want to call ahead?"

"Already on it."

"Are we fully packed? Because I coulda swore the list wasn't all checked off."

"You got it, daddy."

"Clint!"

"Oh, I hate you! I hate you all!"

"You're real close, love."

"Why the fuck couldn't we just have a c-section?"

"That's my fault."

"It's all good, Vee, it's an alien thing. She knows."

"I don't know! I hate you all! Oh, fuck, I'm gonna die."

"Elskan, you will not die."

"Time to push, you two."

"Oh fuck!"

"Oh fuck!"

"They look like potatoes." You hummed, smiling as one of your daughters suckled at your breast.

"Don't say that. You're gonna give them a complex." Tony shook his head.

"They're an hour old. Give them another hour and they won't even remember I said that." Clint chuckled, trying to get the girl in his arms to burp.

"They most likely cannot understand a single thing we are saying," Bruce said, holding the baby in Clint's arms hand.

"They smell funny," Venom commented, tasting the air as if he were a snake.

"I wouldn't smell them too much big guy. You might smell something that's a bit more disgusting." Steve joked.

"Alright, I think this little girl is done." You announced as the girl in your arms popped off your boob.

"Ooo, gimmie." Natasha grinned, holding her hands out towards you.

"All yours, love." You smiled as Natasha began to murmur to the baby in Russian. "Vee, what are you doing?" You asked as the symbiote leaned closer to the baby.

"They smell strange."

"It's baby smell, Venom. All newborns have it." Thor explained, but the symbiote continued to sniff at the babies.

Venom's face gently rubbed against the newborn in Natasha's arms. The baby let out a snuffle as it shifted in Natasha's hold, leaning into Venom's touch before letting out a cry of discomfort.

"Don't worry sweetheart. Mama's got you." Natasha hummed, beginning to try to burp the baby.

With her sister crying, baby girl two wasn't far behind. Venom let out a whine at the loud noise, retreating back to your side.

"Scared of the babies, Vee?" Tony teased.

But before Venom could respond, the eight of you watched as the babies in Natasha and Clint's arms both seemingly flickered. Their still pink skin turned shades of purple and black disappearing as quickly as it had appeared.

"They're like us," Venom announced with pride. "We have strong DNA!" He boasted.

"They sure are, bud." You smiled, wrapping your arm around the symbiote.

"What does the purple mean?" Bruce wondered.

"Besides being awesome!" Clint grinned, kissing the baby in his arms cheek.

"They're strong," Venom responded simply. "We have made strong children."

"Well, what do you expect? With God, supersoldier, and symbiote DNA, we're gonna have a hard time finding a daycare." You sighed, leaning back in the bed, watching your soulmates, your symbiote and your children with a smile firmly on your face.

This was your family.

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[luveline]

May I request a roan & eddie & r's first outing after the wedding and roan is so happy she tells everyone "this is my mom"?

dad!eddie x (step)mom!reader —breakfast on the family moon

The sun is high in the sky that afternoon, and every breeze smells of salt and fresh flowers. Eddie turns his head one way and sees a field of lush green grass, turns it the other and finds himself looking out over the white stone monolith of the family hotel where you’re staying. 

Roan climbs up onto the solid wooden table next to empty plates smeared with syrup and melted chocolate, vying for a last strawberry as big as her hand. “You want that one, bub?” he asks. 

“Can I have it?” 

He bites off the stem. He’s not sure if that’s disgusting, but you’ve married him now, no take-backsies, and you aren’t here to see anyhow. He spits the green into a napkin and offers the fruit to his waiting daughter. “Okay?” 

“Thank you,” she says, catching it in her teeth. “All the fruits are so yummy here.” 

“Don’t talk with your mouthful, baby,” Eddie says. 

She shrugs, pulling her knees up. They’re red from crawling along the wooden table but unscathed, stark against the pale fabric of her dress’ skirt. 

“Look,” he says, pointing at the waiter standing near the restaurant's big patio doors, “the waiter’s gonna see you climbing all over the table and getting your spit on me.” 

Roan turns to look. Her behaviour remains unchanged. “Where’s mommy?” 

Eddie drags her backwards off of the wood and into his lap. He kisses her cheek, her forehead, hoping to imbue the intensity of what he’s feeling on to her —he’s never been this content in his life. He’s married you, and marriage is a piece of paper and all his heroes would laugh in his face but would they? Because what’s better than finding your person, and loving them, and getting to be loved back? “She’s getting another plate for you and your good appetite.” 

Roan’s been just as thrilled since the wedding. She cried a little on the plane from the changing pressure, but before and after that she’s been a vestibule of joy. She turns into his kissing to cuddle him by the neck, her arms around him and her hair tickling his throat. “Mommy said we can try surfing today.” 

“I know! Do you think you’re ready to surf? We got you that wetsuit, all we need is a boogie board.” 

“A what?” 

“It’s like a surfboard, but not so big,” he explains, stroking her curls back from her face absentminded, eyes scanning inside of the hotel restaurant for a hint of your pale dress. 

“I want a real surfboard.” 

“Mm, no, babe. You can’t carry a surfboard. It’s okay though, we’re gonna be on boogie boards too.” 

She leans back. “Can we have more breakfast?” 

“Let’s see what Y/N brings back.” 

You’re summoned by his name drop, edging toward the patio doors as you chat to one of the waiters. You’re laughing politely, attempting to point to your two Munson’s but struggling with the plates you carry, one in each hand, while drinks pressed between your arm and chest threaten to spill. The waiter takes one of your plates. 

“Aw, sugar, thank you,” you say, “it’s just there. I’m sorry.” 

“That’s why I’m here,” the waiter says with an easy customer service smile. 

You and the waiter approach and put down the plates and cups. “Hi, baby,” you say, visibly perplexed at Roan’s huge smile. 

“This is my mom,” Roan tells the waiter. 

“And she’s just as beautiful as you are, hun. You are a lucky guy,” he directs his last comment at Eddie. 

“You don’t know the half of it,” Eddie says. 

“We just got married,” you say proudly. 

“But how old are you?” the waiter asks Roan. 

She holds up five fingers, and then a sixth. 

“You were slow,” the waiter says to Eddie. 

“It’s not his fault, we’ve been engaged almost a year,” you say, “and we didn’t know one another until not even three years ago, so–”

Roan doesn’t care about the waiter’s confusion. She reaches for you where she’s sitting in Eddie’s lap, almost tipping onto the floor as she stretches as far as her arms can go. She whines until you take notice. 

“Hi,” you say, cutting yourself off to pick her up. “What, babe?” 

“I love you,” she says. 

You and Eddie laugh. The waiter makes a sound of understanding. “She looks like dad because you are the stepmom,” he says. 

“Just mom,” you say, giving her a little kiss. “She really does look like her dad though, huh? Except he’s not covered in chocolate.” 

“We can arrange that.” 

You laugh against Roan’s cheek, “I love you,” you say, just for her, “I got you a bowlful of strawberries, your skin is gonna turn pink ‘cos you’ve eaten so many. Love you.” 

Roan closes her eyes. She’s been smothered in love for a week straight and there’s no signs of it ever stopping. “I love you too. Let’s have melon.” 

“I got some.” 

Eddie nudges you back into your seat. “Alright, quick, we need to eat and sleep it off for an hour before we go surfing. Chop chop.”

“He’s so bossy,” Roan says.

“I know, baby. Don’t listen to him.” 

[kittenlittle24]

A/n:

Recently started watching House MD and instantly fell deep into the fandom. Please forgive any mistakes, might be ooc, I didn’t write anything in a very very long time! As well as this is my first time writing a Gregory House imagine! Not good at writing summaries!

Summery: Reader and House used to date, and like a little boy now that someone else has his toy he wants it back.

Masterlist

The door to her office slammed open, she didn’t bother raising her eyes, “Yes Gregory?”

Frowning, “You know I don’t appreciate being called like that.”

She smiled, lowered the file she was reading onto her desk, and placed her hands on it, “Ah. Just like you know I don’t appreciate people barging into my office like that.”

He pulled out the chair opposite of her and sat down, he put his legs on her desk and started to play with his cane.

“Nice bling.”

She sighed and lightly smacked his feet, not wanting to hurt him but signaling to take them off.

“Are congratulations in order?”

She stayed silent for another moment, he wasn’t done, she figured.

“Though I really don’t understand why you would do something so idioti-“ he didn’t disappoint.

“House. Say why you are wasting my time or get out.”

Putting his legs down, he sat up, “5-year-old girl, fever, loss of appetite, irritability, and shortness of breath.”

“Did you run an EKG?”

Hitting himself in the head with a fake gasp, “Why didn’t I think about that?”

She got up and walked around the desk to open the door for him.

“You don’t need my consult, you know what it is. I don’t know what the hell it is you want from me, but I want you to leave.” She told him before returning to her desk and resuming her paperwork.

She heard him get up and limp to the door, only looking up when she heard it close, but just to see he was still there, her door closed once again and he was leaning heavily on his cane and looked deep in thought, eyebrows scrunched together and knuckles almost white from his grip on his cane.

“So expect me to watch you walk down the aisle, wearing all white and what?”

She leaned back in her chair and quietly replied, “I’m not sure why you think you’re invited.”

His mouth opened slightly and his eyebrows raised to a shocked expression.

“My fiancé doesn’t want me to invite an ex to our wedding.”

“Who cares what he thinks?” He yelled.

Getting up and walking to stand in front of him, “I do! And frankly, I understand him. House, you want to be miserable, fine, have at it. But please, leave me out of it! I’m done with whatever this is!” She answered with her hands moving between them.

“I don’t think you can be more done with me than not even inviting me.”

“You broke up with me! Don’t you get it? How could I marry another man when you’re sitting right there? I’m marrying him and then I’m leaving the hospital.”

“Leaving me,” he added defeatedly.

She nodded and looked down. Not able to look at his blue eyes.

“Marry me instead.”

Her eyes shot up to him, shocked and so each speechless.

“You don’t want to leave the hospital, you love me, I love you, I’m an asshole and you could tell me that everyday for the rest of my miserable life. Please, be miserable with me.” He asked in a low voice, half jokingly.

Against her better judgment, as if forgetting the pain he put her through when he broke up with her because she got too close and he was too afraid of intimacy and letting anyone break his walls down, she took his scruffy cheeks in her soft palms, raised his head to lock their gazes and whispered, “I guess I am an idiot.” Before she placed her lips on his, kissing him passionately, feeling his salt and pepper beard scratch her chin in the best way possible.

[sweetrevxnge]

Ghosts In The Snow

Chapter Seven

Pairing: Vampire!Kylo Ren x Reader AU

Summary: Six long years had passed under the reign of the First Order. The bitter winters grew longer, and as they did, hope faded from the hearts of the citizens of Hosnian Prime. As a lieutenant in the Resistance cavalry, it was your duty to nurture that ember of hope. After a mission takes an unexpected turn, you are taken prisoner by a commander in the First Order, a mysterious man with an insatiable appetite—for violence, power, and you. In the coming days, you must keep the spark of your own hope alive from the dark confines of the Commander's castle.

Warnings: sexual content, violence, blood kink, gore, mentions/descriptions of injury and death

*concurrently being published on AO3 and Wattpad as well!

Chapter I

Chapter II

Chapter III

Chapter IV

Chapter V

Chapter VI

Spotify Playlist

Word count: 3.6k

Chapter-specific CW: torture (what fun!), period-typical sexism

A/N: the dead speak! lmao at least that's what it feels like coming back after an entire YEAR??? I kinda got sucked into playing 1,200+ hours of baldur's gate 3, romancing a certain vampiric elf time and time again, which gave me plenty of inspiration to continue this fic. I never meant to be gone for so long, so if you're still interested in this story, please let me know!

───────── ❅ 🦇 ❅ ─────────

What have you done?

To say that you were restless would be an understatement. The first order of business when you returned to your chambers was finding a safe place to store your stolen weapon, and now, hours later, you had yet to succeed. 

You paced the room, wearing holes in the soles of your slippers as you wondered if you had made the right decision. It was unlike you to have sticky fingers, but then again, these were unprecedented times. Boldness meant survival.

Above all, you feared Ren was privy to your thievery, despite his silence on the walk back to your chambers. The prick of blood seemed enough to distract him for a moment, or perhaps he was practiced in hiding his tells. Either way, the consequences of him knowing gnawed at your sanity.

Rey had tended the hearth while you were away, ensuring your chambers were kept warm and filled with the familiar scent of dry wood. Her diligence as a handmaid proved to be an unforeseen complication in hiding your contraband.

Instinct urged you to keep it close to your bed, but reason told you it would be found too easily there. Same with the lounges circling the hearth, whose velour cushions could conceal many things if asked to. Though a dagger lodged in one’s rear would raise many concerns, as well as promise unspeakable punishments to come.

For these reasons, you ultimately settled on the bookcase.

Towering in the corner was a collection of books and texts, dense enough to put even the most curious scholars to sleep. A perfect place to hide a dagger.

Dragging a footstool over as a makeshift ladder, you reached for a leather-bound book embossed with gold letters along its spine. Imperium Nunquam Fuit. Though written in Old Basic, you understood its meaning.

The Empire That Never Was. A phrase coined by Grand Moff Wilhuff Tarkin to describe the destruction of Alderaan during the Revolution. An unsavory way to speak about a fallen civilization—considering he was the man responsible.

You made quick work of hollowing the historical text, skimming the page you’d turned to before defacing it. This passage detailed the last of the Imperial attacks on Alderaan, near the end of the Rebellion. One of the more infamous sieges of the war, earning its place in history with a tithe of blood and destruction.

The lines of script told the story of how Imperial soldiers salted Alderaan’s lands and butchered the citizens—babes and crones included. The Empire was thorough, wiping out an entire civilization over a mere conspiracy. With few survivors, and even fewer successors, Alderaanian blood was a rarity. You supposed that was one of the many things that set General Organa apart from the rest.

Considering the contents, it was a book of little interest to the First Order—a perfect hiding place.

The point of your blade pierced the parchment with ease, as if slicing through a block of butter rather than a thousand-page text. Tragic as it was to ruin a book like this, what other choice did you have? Hosnian Prime’s Grand Archives likely stored dozens of copies; one locked away in the depths of the First Order’s fortress would not be missed.

The fit was snug, but it would do for now. As for the pages you’d carved out, they laid in a pile at your feet, a messy reminder that your room was not private.

You slammed the book shut and returned it, hurrying to clean the shreds of paper scattered across the red carpets. Despite your efforts, the fragments proved too difficult to clean with just your hands alone, forcing you to sweep them into your skirts.

As you carried the pieces to the hearth, a gentle knock sounded through the oak doors. “Gods,” you muttered as you rushed towards the fire, dumping the pages unceremoniously onto the crackling wood.

Another rap on the door.

“Just a moment, please!” It was impossible to hide the panic in your voice as you prodded at the withering pages with an iron poker. Time seemed to slow as you watched the flames engulf the ink, turning Alderaan’s history to ash once more.

“It’s me, my lady.” Muffled by the wood, Rey’s voice was barely audible over the fire, hissing with fresh fodder. If any good came from her being your visitor, it was her staunch etiquette. She would not barge in uninvited—unlike some of the castle’s residents.

Brushing the slivers of evidence from your gown, you opened the doors, mindful of the lingering ash in the hearth. “My apologies. I was…” You cleared your throat, smoothing out your skirts before finishing your lie. “Indecent.”

Demure as ever, Rey dropped her gaze as she curtseyed before you. “It’s no matter, my lady. I was sent to fetch you; the Supreme Leader requests your presence.”

The moment his name left her lips, cotton filled your mouth, forcing its way down your throat as you swallowed your fear. What reason would the Supreme Leader have to summon you—at this late hour, no less?

Your thoughts immediately turned to Commander Ren. Perhaps he had noticed your theft after all and reported your offence to Snoke. If that were true, you vowed to slice his throat first. 

“Did he give a reason?” you asked, trying to maintain your resolve.

Rey’s throat knocked in her slender neck. “He did not say.”

Part of you wanted to take the damned blade with you, but recklessness wouldn’t serve you. Though you did not recognize him as your ruler, you were not keen on adding treason to your ledger.

You sighed, coming to stand beside Rey at the door, shoulders pressed back and hands folded over your lap. “I’m surprised he didn’t send you with manacles.”

She said nothing, but the trace smile on her lips told you all that you needed to know. You couldn’t blame her for watching her tongue around you. Given what transpired last night, you would do the same in her position.

The two of you walked in near silence to the throne chambers, passing countless tall windows with panes stained a deep red, dark enough to block most light from entering. What little light did manage to seep through painted the halls crimson, giving the appearance of blood spilling over the floor.

The burned pages of text flashed in your mind.

Every step forward was committed to memory, including the number of paces between notable fixtures, as well as where each one stood in relation to your chambers. Still, there was no sign of an access point in this section of the castle. But your resolve did not falter. If there was a means of entry into this accursed fortress, there must also be a means of escape.

As you rounded the corner to another corridor, you glanced at your handmaid, noticing that her usual singular bun had evolved into three smaller ones, meeting the nape of her neck in a uniform line.

“You’ve changed your hair.” The observation came out as more of a question than a comment.

“Yes, my lady,” she said, delicate fingers reaching to touch the one near her collar. “An effort to be closer to the gods.”

You furrowed your brows. “How’s that?”

“As there are three of them, there are three knots. We servants are forbidden to worship openly, so we find other ways.” She closed her eyes for a moment, tilting her chin towards her chest. “Divine strength allows clarity of the mind.”

While you were not necessarily a pious woman, you were familiar enough with the gods from your upbringing to understand what she meant. As a child, you often prayed at your family’s shrine, asking for a bountiful harvest, good health, and, most of all, peace in the realm. For many years, they fulfilled your wishes. Now, your faith provided you with little comfort.

“Certainly,” you said, not wanting to discuss the subject any further. “Are we nearly there?”

“Just down this hall,” she said, her tone clipped. Either she was annoyed with the change of subject, or just as uneasy about seeing the Supreme Leader as you were.

True to her word, Rey came to a stop near the end of the corridor, leaving a short distance between you and the two looming oak doors, with iron enforcements woven into the grain and a guard posted on either side. Their faces were concealed by crimson veils, the signature regalia of the Praetorian Guard. Those tasked with protecting the ruler of these lands, whether they carried the title of Chancellor, Emperor, or Supreme Leader.

The warmth drained from your face at the sight.

“This is where I leave you, my lady.” Her face lacked its usual peachy hue, her freckles washed away by the candlelight. “The Supreme Leader does not allow us to enter these chambers, save for when he is passing judgment upon us.”

Standing before the faceless guards, you understood her unease.

“Will you be here to escort me back?” you asked, palms growing damp as you clutched the fabric of your gown.

“It is late. I must turn in for the evening.” She shifted her weight, eyes darting between you and the guards, whose presence seemed to loom over you from meters away. “Besides, I should think you do not require my assistance from this point.”

With that, she turned on her heels and retreated, her steps muted as she faded into the stretching darkness of the hallway. Turning to face the guards, dread settled in your stomach. Surely these warriors would not accompany you back to your chambers.

You studied them for a moment, the strategist in your mind seeking to understand what threat they posed. Both were tall and well-fed, given the size of their uniforms. The one to your left carried a bisento, while the other held a tall voulge, both equally unnerving. Their blades were pristine, foreign to combat. You wondered if the same could be said for those wielding them, too.

As if seeking to test your theory, they readied their weapons as you approached, each blade humming as it sliced through the air.

You came to a halt, the hair on the back of your neck now stiff. “I’ve been summoned by the Supreme Leader.”

The two remained poised to strike for a long moment before returning to their sentry state, offering one another a brisk nod as they pushed the heavy doors open, revealing the grand throne room. With tentative steps, you approached, pausing at the threshold.

Black marble columns lined the walkway to the throne, each manned by a knight of the Praetorian Guard, their crimson armor matching the First Order banners draped along the cobbled walls. Above the throne was the room’s sole window, with red stained panels filling the space between the spokes of the First Order insignia. Six steps carved of the same dark mineral as the columns led to the throne, lined with black velvet upholstery and a towering slate backing. Perched comfortably in the seat was Supreme Leader Snoke, draped in golden robes that flowed over his limbs like smelted ore, barely concealing the matching jewelry wrapped snugly around his fingers.

The paragon of humility.

He was joined by another: the fire-haired General Hux. His gaze snapped to you as the doors creaked open, beady eyes piercing you like darts from across the chamber.

“Ah, my guest of honor,” Snoke crooned, clasping his hands before his chest in delight. His tone fell icy as he turned to address the General. “Leave us.”

Confusion spread across his pale features as he turned to face Snoke once more. “But, Supreme Leader, there is still much to be discussed.”

“Perhaps I did not make myself clear. You are to leave these chambers at once, General Hux, or you will be removed.” Snoke’s gravelly voice rumbled through the hall with the force of a thousand footsteps, and reluctantly, Hux obeyed.

You watched the scene play out before you from the safety of the doorway, your feet rooted to the floor.

Snoke relaxed in his chair once more, beckoning you in with a hand gesture. “Please, come in, darling.”

Willing your feet to move, you did as he asked, eyes flitting between the Praetorian guard and the approaching General Hux, whose expression could only be described as irate as he brushed past you, black coat fluttering behind him.

Your heart was lodged in your throat as you neared the throne, feeling like a lamb being shepherded towards the maw of a lion. You stopped in line with the last of the guards before the Supreme Leader, leaving some distance still.

Snoke watched you with keen eyes, a stark contrast to his stoic front. “I do hope you are well, my dear. I can only imagine the days spent in anticipation of your wedding are agonizing.”

You frowned. “Is that why you summoned me? To ask me about my wedding?”

“Of course not. But pleasantries are the foundation of any proper conversation.” The humor fell from his voice. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yes, Supreme Leader.” The words left a sour taste in your mouth, like wine crafted from grapes plucked too early.

Satisfied, he settled back into his throne, resting his hands over the ornate armrests. “See? Deference needn’t be cumbersome.”

His mocking tone made your vision red, but you held your tongue. Invisible threads tied you to him and his guards, each one pulled taught in the silence. It would take nothing more than a misstep to cause one of them to snap.

He spoke again, this time with authority. “It has come to my attention that you are unaware of what is expected of you as a noblewoman.”

You let out a terse exhale. “I suppose I am. Perhaps that is because of the conditions under which I am becoming one.”

A thin smile curled on the Supreme Leader’s lips. “These are unprecedented times, lieutenant.”

The emphasis on your title made your skin crawl. Snoke was calculated, sadistic. With his power, he was untouchable. The red veils surrounding you served as a constant reminder of his invulnerability.

“Now, I am curious. How did you manage that?” he added, tilting his head in intrigue. “A commoner like yourself rising to the rank of a commanding officer is no easy feat—even more so for a woman.”

You narrowed your eyes. “I hardly see how this is relevant to my new status as a noblewoman.”

Despite your outward naivety, you knew too well what being a noblewoman would entail. You’d known from the moment your betrothal was announced. You were to be the docile wife of a commander, providing him an heir, a spare, and a warm bed whenever he pleased. Your military career would be swept away by the title of Lady Ren, all traces of your independence lost to time. You couldn’t think of anything less appealing.

“As a Lady of the First Order, you will be granted privileges seldom given to others, such as this.” Snoke motioned to the surrounding space, and you found yourself unable to decipher his meaning.

He isn’t referring to having an audience with the ruler of the realm as a privilege, is he?

He continued, “The safety of the castle. Our stronghold. You will be protected within its walls.”

Oh. Of course.

You suppressed a scoff. “I find that hard to believe, considering Commander Ren has attempted to strangle me twice over since my arrival.”

“I see,” he mused, pressing an index finger to his lips in thought. “My mercurial underling. If only his mind were half as quick as his temper.”

Somehow, your first instinct was to defend Commander Ren from his inflaming remark. While the Supreme Leader was correct about Ren’s temperament, he didn’t see the side of him that you saw—however infrequently it may have showed itself. There was a tenderness to him, fleeting in nature, like a luminescent star ripping through the night sky. You saw it in his eyes as he sat before your hearth, again when he laced your bodice.

Or perhaps what you felt was just the lingering effects of his charm.

Snoke’s rough voice broke your reverie. “Nevertheless, I’m sure Commander Ren had his reasons. Just as I’m sure whatever actions may have led to these outbursts will cease henceforth, won’t they?”

Before you could answer, a searing pain sliced through your skull, its barbed tendrils reaching into the deepest part of your consciousness. Every muscle in your body became succinctly rigid, frozen in place as an invisible force suspended you midair. You squeezed your eyes shut and tried to call out; for the gods, for your mother—even for Commander Ren.

“You will behave yourself, insolent girl, or you will be disposed of.”

Despite your efforts, no sound would come from your throat. An eternity seemed to pass as the Supreme Leader kept you trapped, holding your feet to the fire of his anger. Mustering every ounce of strength, you forced your chin down in agreement, hot tears distorting your vision.

Without moving a muscle, he relinquished his hold on you, your knees cracking against the marble floor in an instant. The violet fabric of your gown pooled around you like the blood of a slain enemy, collecting the tears that fell from your chin.

Before you could find your voice, the creak of wood and subsequent rustling of armor behind you swiped your attention. The guards had readied their weapons, aiming at something other than you.

You flinched as the doors slammed shut, followed by a heavy—yet quick—footfall.

“What is the meaning of this?” Commander Ren’s voice was biting, filled with untamed fury as he entered the grand hall. His cloak rippled behind him like the night sea, silver sword in hand as he marched forward.

You scurried backwards on your tender palms, caught between his rage and the throne. He drew closer, only stopping at the intersection of two of the guards’ blades.

“Commander Ren, what a welcome surprise,” Snoke crooned. “Your bride was just leaving.”

His eyes found yours in an instant—wild and dark. Silently, you pleaded for his cooperation. If he were to strike at the guard, your life would be forfeit.

Outnumbered by eight blades, he stowed his own. “What have you done?” he demanded.

Though he was looking at you, his question was directed at the man atop the throne, whose enthusiasm at his subordinate’s display was palpable.

“Nothing you have not already done yourself,” Snoke growled. With that, he stood to his feet and stepped down from his throne, closing the gap you’d deliberately left and standing over you. “See her back to her chambers, Commander.”

A snarl flashed across Ren’s face as he pushed past the guards and kneeled before you, extending a gloved hand for you. Though he was quiet, his eyes were heavy with guilt.

With legs like a new foal, you accepted his help, gripping his hand like a lifeline as you stood. “Thank you.” The words floated from your mouth, burning your throat as they passed through.

He only nodded in return, guiding you away from the chamber. Because of his intrusion, the outer guards were now sealed inside, allowing some privacy in the dimly lit hall.

Ren came to a halt, moving both of his cool hands to rest on your shoulders, inspecting you. “Are you hurt?”

Averting your eyes, you shook your head dismissively, ignoring how your knees seemed to rattle with every step.

He let out an amused hum. “I find that hard to believe.”

“Believe what you will, Commander,” you managed to say through your dry mouth. “I’m fine.”

At that, the two of you carried on in silence, meandering through the castle, passing knights and servants alike down each corridor. Ren’s emotion rolled off of him like heat from a flame, slowly dwindling the further you were from the throne room.

As your legs regained their strength, so did your voice. “How did you know I was in there?”

“Does that really matter?”

“I’d say so. For all I know, you’re the reason he summoned me in the first place,” you argued, head spinning as you tried to recognize your surroundings. Only when you realized these walls were unfamiliar did your pace falter. “Stop!”

He obeyed, meeting you where you stood. “What?”

“Answer me.”

He let out a terse breath. “No, I am not the reason he summoned you. Come, we can discuss this later.”

At that, he began his stride again, but you didn’t follow. “No. I will not take one more step. Not before I know where you are taking me, as it is clearly not my chambers.”

“I’m bringing you somewhere private,” he finally answered.

“Are my chambers not private enough?”

“By the gods,” he hissed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “As I’m sure you’re well aware, it is unbecoming of me to be seen entering your chambers before we are wed.”

You scoffed. “How pragmatic of you.”

Ignoring your comment, he continued, “After your encounter with the Supreme Leader, I think it’s best if we avoid unnecessary speculation—for your sake.”

You couldn’t argue with him. If Snoke was inclined to submit you to the rawest agony over the slightest display of defiance, you could only imagine what else he was capable of.

“Fine,” you conceded, seeing reason in his words. “But let it be known that my cooperation does not reflect my satisfaction with this decision.”

A smile ghosted over his lips. “I know.”

[allwaswell16]

[4 pics, 4 quotes, 4 iconic 1D fics]

Iconic Fics By...

- sadaveniren -

[1]

“You smell like strawberries. It’s why,” his voice sounded far away. “It’s why I texted you instead of my sister. I have her in my phone as Straw, and you’re in as Strawberries.”

“What?”

“She bleached her hair when she was like sixteen and I told her it looked like straw. Nickname stuck.” Louis pulled his head out of Harry’s neck and his eyes were glazed over.

“You have me in your phone as Strawberries?”

Louis nodded. “Always wondered if you tasted like them too. Your scent is so overpowering. Do you do it on purpose?” Harry’s eyes went wide as he watched, and then felt, Louis dip his head down and lick his neck. Louis hummed. “Not quite like what I was imagining.”

[2]

“A slew of boyfriends but nothing ever stuck. I’m single and ready to flamingle.”

Score, Louis thought, but he tried to keep it together. “Then I should take you down to the bar so you can find someone to play with.”

“I already know who I want to play with,” Harry said. “I wanted to play with you.” Louis’ stomach knotted up in excitement. “If you’re up for it, I mean.”

God, if only Harry knew.

Louis shifted in his seat, nodding as he spoke. “What are you looking for? I’m pretty flexible, myself.”

The room was suddenly charged as he felt Harry’s eyes sweep down his body from across the desk. Harry licked his lips and Louis shifted again. The electricity he remembered from years ago was still very much real.

[3]

“There would have been no need to have a war. I’ve told you. Me and Louis are just friends.”

Niall snorted, just like he always did. “Friends. You keep saying that word but I really don’t think you mean it.”

“Not this again,” Harry said, sinking his body deeper into the water.

“Listen, Harry, my prince. I’m going to be honest with you.”

“You haven’t stopped since finding out about Louis,” Harry muttered.

“Do you know the difference between friendship and infatuation? I’m not entirely sold. You’ve never been in love. You’ve never had a close friend.”

“Thank you for rubbing that in.”

[4]

“Okay, but if you’re setting my brother up with someone,” Lottie said, “it’s not just enough that this person is in the scene or whatever. He’s got that whole savior complex too. So it would need to be someone he’d want to help. And also he like only dates, I don’t even know. Brunets? Muscular?"

“He told me once when he was drunk that he’d climb James Bay like a tree,” Niall said.

They all went silent as they tried to mull this information over. They worked at the best toy company in the world, but they knew they weren’t Build-A-Bitch. Finding the perfect person would be nigh impossible. Especially considering how much Louis didn’t leave the office on a good week around this time of year.

The door to the meeting room swung open and Harry Styles, assistant to the CFO, stumbled in. “Sorry I’m late. I was cleaning up a scheduling problem. Someone booked the phone meeting with LA at the same time as the meeting with Sydney and trying to find a new time that would work for both was surprisingly difficult.”

Niall looked up and his eyes lit up.

Liam looked up and his eyebrows danced in delight.

Steve looked up and rubbed his chin in thought.

Bebe looked up and steepled her fingers under her chin.

Lottie looked up and immediately sighed as she saw the looks of the others in the room.

Zayn kept scrolling through his phone because he had already come to this conclusion the moment Niall had mentioned James Bay.

Answers below...

[1] Tastes like Strawberries

I’m stressed. I’m nesting and demand cuddles. Come over

Harry frowned and double checked who the text was from. Yup, it still said Louis - Grad, which meant it was from Louis from his grad school.

aka Louis texts Harry by mistake. It works out

[2] Salt and the Appetite

No Control is a No From Me By Harry Styles

I know this is probably a controversial opinion and review because I have only heard great things from people going to No Control before but I cannot recommend it to anyone. While the facility is nice, the people who work there do not seem to care for their clients well being, and I do not feel safe going there in any capacity. I suppose when I want to play next I will have to travel back down to London, or maybe, unfortunately, Liverpool. If I must.

Aka Harry, a popular BDSM blogger, writes a negative review about Louis’ club. Louis wants to have a chance to make it up to him.

[3] Just for Tonight (I can be yours)

Harry, prince of Cestrescir, has been betrothed to Ludvic, prince of Yorvik, since birth. He'd accepted a loveless marriage as his duty to his country, until an accident threw him in the path of a gentle alpha

[4] Santa Baby Honey

“Let’s cut right to the chase,” Niall said, loading the powerpoint, which was just one page, comprised of Louis’ face and the words How do you solve a problem like this asshole? “It’s the beginning of November and Louis is already being a fuckwit. How are we gonna have him knock that shit off this year?”

aka Louis is the CEO of a toy company and Christmas is a stressful time of year so his assistant decides the best way to make him chill out is by getting him laid through a Secret Santa

[freelancearsonist]

and they'd find us in a week

➔ Javi Gutierrez x gn!Reader - 1.8k

➔ Javi whisks you away to Italy for your honeymoon. The only problem is, you're too busy exploring your new husband to leave your hotel room.

➔ Rated MA for basically just husband!javi fluffy cock-worship, oral (m receiving), handjobs, cum swallowing, lots of spanish pet names (reader is spanish speaking), no use of y/n, reader is able-bodied but no description of anatomy and no pronouns used. [please let me know if i missed any :)]

You’ve never woken up quite as languidly as you do today.

The first thing your senses are alerted to is the roaring crash of waves. Bright light floods your eyes even through your closed eyelids, and you roll over with a groan to press your face into the plush pillow beneath your head for a few more precious seconds of darkness. It smells of your favorite leave-in conditioner after your shower last night��a familiar scent in this otherwise unfamiliar bed.

Not that you can complain–this is the softest bed you’ve ever slept in. The mattress is cloud-like and the sheets are silky and warm… except on the other side of the bed. Those sheets are rumpled and turned back, cold with absence.

You sit up and rub the remaining dregs of sleep from your eyes, glancing around the sizable hotel room in search of your fiance–husband. You’re still getting used to that shift in title, but it’s a very welcome change.

The balcony door is open, which is why you can hear the waves so clearly. There’s a gentle breeze swirling in through the opening, fluttering the curtains and sending a slight chill down your spine despite how warm the morning already is. The air smells so fresh here–salt and water and everything you love about the beach. It’s spring, the season of rebirth, and things are changing. Leaves are returning, flowers are blooming, and you’re starting a new page in the story of your life with the man of your dreams.

The man of your dreams, who is currently nowhere to be found.

You swing your legs over the edge of the mattress with a groan of protest, still sore and shaky from yesterday–your third day of honeymoon bliss. Your suitcases still sit on the dresser across from the bed, zipped and neatly packed; you haven’t worn clothes in three wonderful, languid, pleasure-filled days. It’s been absolute bliss.

The sound of the shower shutting off alerts you to the fact that it was running in the first place–it was barely noticeable over the sound of the ocean outside the windows. You smile to yourself and lay back down against the pillows, the mission of finding your husband completed. 

Javi comes out of the bathroom moments later, wrapped in the most plush white robe you’ve ever seen while toweling his hair dry. And really, you’ve done nothing over the last three days except wet your sexual appetite–repeatedly and vigorously–with your husband. But seeing him like this makes you hungry; it drives a burning hot rod of arousal straight through the deepest, most unfathomable part of your gut. Your want over the past few days has been completely insatiable.

You look up at him—sleepy eyes half-lidded, wet hair slicked back, the faintest of smiles tugging at his perfect lips—and you are so, so in love with him. 

“Oh, you’re awake!” He says with a smile. “Do you want to order breakfast?”

You’re shaking your head before you can really stop yourself, because there’s only one thing that could quench your appetite right now and it’s standing right in front of you. “No, I’ve got my breakfast right here.”

His mouth opens to ask what you could possibly mean, but you catch his hand and pull him into a deep, languid kiss before he can say anything. It’s slow and syrupy, the morning bleeding into the action. You trace your tongue over his bottom lip and his mouth parts so eagerly to accept you. He’s become so familiar with your desires over the past few days, even after years together thinking he knew everything there was to know. But he keeps learning and adapting, finding new ways to draw little sounds and reactions from you. He’s nothing if not attentive to details and extremely eager to please.

He’s been doing a lot of pleasing over the past few days, though. He’s certainly earned a break and some appreciation, you think.

He lets out a little grunt when you gently push him into the mattress; his lips curl into a smile when you crawl over him to straddle his sturdy hips.

“Mi amor,” he mumbles, trying his best to lean up so he can keep kissing you despite your hands pinning his torso to the plush mattress. “Por favor–”

You lean down to appease him, lips feather-light against his as you whisper, “calmate, mi esposo. Yo cuidaré de ti.”

You can feel how quickly he hardens from your words even through the thick robe covering him and it sends a heady sense of power rushing through your veins. Your husband is a strong, important, powerful man–you’re the only person in the world who can bring him to his knees. He’ll even beg for it, if you ask. He’s putty in your hand, but you don’t take it for granted. You’re lucky and you know it–you’ll spend every day for the rest of your life thanking whatever deity there is for giving you Javi.

“Mi cielo,” he murmurs as your fingers find the tie of his plush white robe. “You don’t have to–”

“I want to, Javi,” you assure him as you slowly pull the knot apart. “Please?”

You can see the gulp that bobs his throat even as his eyes flutter closed and he tilts his head back. “Okay,” he whispers.

You unpeel the robe like a wrapping around a candy, appreciating the sight in all of its decadence but desperate to dig in. 

He’s desperate for it, too. Aching and hard just from your kisses, thick and flushed with arousal. Every beautiful inch of him is ready and waiting for your attention, from the soft curls at his base to the weeping mushroom head of him. 

The first touch of your fingers against his length is electric–he nearly jolts from it. Your fingers are so light and soft, it’s more like a whispering breeze than an actual touch. That is, until you wrap him firmly in your hand, fingers barely long enough to completely circle him. He moans then–a shuddery, shaky, utterly wrecked sound not quite like anything you’ve ever heard before.

“Still sensitive?”

He nods wordlessly, and you can’t blame him really. All you’ve done since arriving in Italy is go at it like rabbits, and last night he actually came dry. He’s bound to be a bit overstimulated, the poor thing.

You halt your hand and meet his dark brown eyes when his head pops up. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No!” He flushes a bit, surprised at his own desperation. “No, amor, por favor no pares.”

You can’t help the gentle laugh that flows from your lips–you love him like this. Stripped down, not just physically, but spiritually. Soul bared to you in a way that no one else has ever seen him. He allows himself to be weak and vulnerable in your arms because you build him back up stronger every time.

You lower yourself to him and lick languidly, one large stroke of your tongue up the vast length of him. He shivers with the stimulation and lets out a groan, hands clenching into fists at his sides to will himself not to squirm. It’s so hard to sit still like this, though–just the barest touch of your tongue, and he’s already near the brink.

He takes a deep breath, then another, then wills every cell in his body to not come.

Somehow, miraculously, it works–when you take his tip between your plush lips and swirl your tongue just right, he manages to hold it together. He lets loose a low grumble from deep in his chest, though, when your fingers dance down his stomach and over his hip to cradle his balls.

“Ay, dios mio…”

“Good?” You giggle when you ask, because you don’t really need him to answer. You can feel the way his thigh trembles beneath your free hand and see the way his chest hitches with shuddering breaths. His body is tuned like a fine guitar string to your skilled fingers–you know exactly the right chords to strum to get the sounds you want.

Your mouth presses deeper and deeper, the thick head of his hitting the back of your throat long before your nose finds those soft, soapy-smelling curls at the base.

“Ay, mi amor.” It’s more of a whimper than an actual spoken statement–high-pitched and needy. “Por favor…”

You pull off with a pop and let your hand take over with firm strokes that make him whimper. “Qué necesitas, mi cielo?”

“I need–” He gulps thickly, hips stuttering up into your grip, cock twitching as if in anticipation of your permission. “Need to come.”

You hum and lick slowly around his tip, dragging the flat of your tongue over his slit to taste the salty precum pooling steadily there. “Then come, darling.”

And Javi–ever only obedient to you–does exactly that. His body shakes with the force of it, beautiful damp sandy-brown curls splayed out against the pillows and broad hands scrabbling for purchase in the sheets as he fills your mouth. 

You never get tired of the taste of him; he’s the perfect mix of salty and sweet and something wonderful that can only be described as Javi. The first drop that meets your tongue makes you crave more–you push as far as you can to take every following spurt that he pulses into your mouth.

You swallow around him–drawing a whine from his throat in the process–before pulling off to admire your handiwork. And surely you can call yourself an artist, because the fruits of your efforts are a masterpiece. He’s flushed red from the shoulders up, chest heaving as he slowly steadies his breath, mouth agape around moans that have finally ceased.

You kiss up his body as he comes down from the high, over the soft round of his stomach and up his flushed neck, finally coming to his parted lips. His eyes meet yours, and suddenly the entire world is spinning on its axis until it’s flipped onto its back–your back. He chuckles as he hovers over you, scattering kisses all over your face.

“Gracias, mi amor,” he hums contentedly. Like this, you can feel every inch of his skin pressed against every inch of yours, the open robe falling around the parameters of your bodies and caging you into a soft, feathery cocoon.

“Was that what you needed, my darling?”

“Everything I needed and more,” he tells you earnestly. His kisses start to stray off course–across your cheeks, then along your jaw, then down your neck. “May I return the favor?”

It’s a tantalizing offer, certainly; as much as you’re eager to finally leave this room and go explore Italy, it’s not looking like today is going to be the day.

“Por favor, mi esposo.”

And Javi, ever the faithful servant, is more than willing to oblige. Con gusto.

THE END

➔ Translations:

calmate - calm down yo cuidaré de ti - let me take care of you por favor no pares - please don't stop qué necesitas - what do you need? con gusto - with pleasure

➔ A/N: the title of this one is another hozier song (big surprise cece) - "in a week" is so beautiful, pls give it a listen :) thank you as always to @shakespeareanwannabe for betaing this lil thing 🥺 thank you as well to the dieter bravo brainrot club for always enabling me <3

➔ Want to see more from me in the future? Follow @freelancearsonist-updates and turn on post notifications to be notified when I post new fics!

➔ Want to support me? Please reblog this fic! It helps boost it in the algorithm and gives it more circulation no matter what your follower count is :)

[mistress-violence]

Prompt: Salt from @into-the-jeggyverse (September 2)

Word count: 610 words

Pairing: Jegulus (modern AU - genderfluid Regulus)

⚠️ Warnings: none

James has been acting a little strange for about two days. He was tense around Regulus and had long moments of silence, totally uncharacteristic of him. Even now, when they were at the table eating a late dinner, James could barely look up from his plate. Regulus was confused and maybe even slightly panicked. They had only moved together for two months. If James regretted the decision and didn't know how to tell him? If they would move separately as they were before, would they still be a couple? Maybe that was the problem, maybe James actually wanted to break up with him. Regulus swallows, and his appetite died.

"James..." he said, but immediately gave up his intention to be so direct. "...Salt. Can you give me the salt, please?"

James raised his head towards Regulus and read the fear and confusion on his face. He puts down the fork he was eating with, taking the salt and holding it out in front of him. Regulus grabbed it, but James wouldn't let it go. Instead, he looked at him with his penetrating and calm eyes.

"Reg," James began. "I found the skirt in the closet".

The boy froze, and James let go of the salt. Regulus didn't know what to say. He didn't know what he should do, what excuse he should find. Was it better to lie or tell the truth? In the end, not even Regulus knew for sure what the truth was. Sometimes he hated his body, other times it seemed absolutely normal. Sometimes he wanted to let his hair grow, other times he wanted to put the scissors in it and make it as short as possible. Sometimes he would walk down the street and his eyes would run after girls in skirts and dresses, and he couldn't stop thinking how it would have been if he was the one wearing them. He has such confused feelings and he feels like a stranger, as if no one could fully understand him. Was it just an attraction to feminine things or was there something more, something that was hiding in him and wanted so viciously to surface? Was he going to be judged or made to choose between being cis or trans? He wanted to know just one person who could give him the answers.

James got up from the table and left the kitchen for a while, returning with a paper bag. Regulus followed him with his eyes, observing how he reached into his bag and took out a black skirt. Although it was similar, it was not the skirt that Regulus kept hidden in the closet, so the confusion was bigger.

"I bought this today" James said slightly restrained. "I was thinking of wearing it tomorrow when we go out downtown, and you could wear yours. If there are two of us, maybe it will be less awkward to go out like this."

Regulus was speechless. James bought a skirt and was willing to go out in public with it just to give Regulus more courage. Maybe James didn't understand exactly what his lover felt and wanted, but he had decided to support him without forcing him to reveal anything without being prepared to do so. James just wanted to make sure Regulus knows he was on his side no matter what. The boy let out a short laugh and smiled widely, sprinkling a little salt over his dinner.

"Sounds very good. I think it would show off your legs," Regulus said, continuing to eat.

James smiled in return and put the skirt aside to sit down at the table and finish their dinner together.

[coyotelip]

starchaser (+ onesided moonwater) microfic: salt, hypnotized || MCD || @into-the-jeggyverse @taylorswiftmicrofic || wc: 687

Every Saturday, the same man comes to the restaurant. 

They are a fairly prestigious restaurant, so regular customers are not uncommon, but this man is particularly eye-catching. He is always dressed in a perfectly tailored suit over a black shirt. In fact, all of his clothes are black, which suits his pale skin and black hair. He books a table for the same time, arrives exactly 5 minutes earlier, orders the same dish with the same wine. 

He is always alone.

This sets him apart from others, because such prestigious places are used for dates or meetings with partners to impress. However, it seems that the man has no one to impress. He is sitting at a far table under a painting of a forest landscape, eating his meal slowly and with manners and watching the candles on the table. 

He seems to be hypnotized, sometimes he can take a sip of wine and roll it around in his mouth, watching the flame at the end of a long candle for a couple of minutes. 

Remus is equally hypnotized by these moments, but it's not the candle, it's this man, his slow and graceful movements. And although he is dressed in black, he acts on Remus like a flame on a moth. He wants to get closer, wants to hear his voice and smell his cologne. 

However, the man's table is not assigned to him, and Remus does not even get the opportunity to ask if he needs some water or the bill, or to say bon appetit or good evening. 

So he stays in the corner, hypnotized by the unattainable flame, running through hundreds of questions in his head and wondering why. 

◇◇◇

Every Saturday, Regulus comes to their place. He comes to their restaurant, at their time, sits at their table, orders their favorite dish, and spends exactly the same amount of time as it took James on their first date to charm Regulus completely. Thirty-three minutes.

He recalls how the wine tasted the sweetest on those evenings together, how everything around them disappeared for him, and they existed in their own bubble, sharing events in their lives, discussing colleagues and friends. They met their anniversaries, birthdays, and celebrated promotions at work here.

James proposed to him here. At this table, with a bottle of this wine, five years ago. He hid the ring in the salt and made Regulus laugh with this incredible performance.

“Oh, I think the salad is under-salted today... Mm, something is wrong with this saltine, could you please take a look, dear?”

“Oh my god, it's probably just empty, call the waiter and they'll replace it”

“I don't want to bother them with something so stupid, but look, for me?” James' big eyes does wonders on Regulus, so he couldn't refuse and took the salt in his hands, unscrewing the lid.

Only to find a silver engagement ring with an emerald inside instead of salt.

Four years ago, they got married.

Three years ago, they bought a house on the outskirts of town because James wanted Regulus to have a studio at home.

Two years ago, their house burned down with everything inside. With James inside.

And the most painful thing was that Regulus was left with nothing, not a single thing, because the house had everything. He didn't care about the documents or his studio, all of which could be repaired with money. However, he did care about the things they had earned together, about their photos and books with notes, about gifts from his husband, about his things. He cared about James's body, which remained there, right in front of the door, because he hadn't managed to get out before he lost consciousness.

Regulus was left with only memories, and he decided to drown himself in them, finding no other way out.

And every Saturday he came to their restaurant, sat down at their table and ordered their meal, hypnotized by the candle in front of him, begging for the little flame to swallow him up and take him away with it, just as it had once taken James away from him.

[gayvorestories]

it's very long and doesn't have nearly as much gay sex as I usually write but enjoy

"Two tickets," Ricky said to the man at the ticket counter as he slid $40 under the glass.

"The movie starts in 30 minutes in Theater 3"

Ricky winked at the guy behind the glass and slid a $100 bill underneath.

"Theater 2, knock on the side door by the entrance."

"Thanks man," Ricky said as he put his arm behind his date's back and led them inside.

"What was that about?" Jack asked quietly.

"Just a little something the guys here do to make a little money with the empty rooms."

They approached the snack counter and Jack stepped slightly in front of Ricky, "We'll have two large popcorns, two large sodas, and a box of whoppers."

As he stepped over to the Now Playing posters, Ricky felt his stomach groan. When they had started dating a few weeks earlier Jack had told him he was into guys with big appetites - he just didn't mention that meant date night was going to be an all-you-can-eat until he felt like he was going to explode.

Jack gave the most insane head Ricky had ever had though, and he wasn't about to pretend a full stomach and empty balls were something to complain about, so he'd happily stuff himself for the little guy until he couldn't force anything else down.

He gave his painfully full stomach a gentle press and turned around to see Jack with what looked like two jugs of soda and two popcorn buckets big enough to carry groceries in. Good thing we got the private room, Ricky thought to himself.

They slipped into the door into the totally black room, knocking on the door to the tech closet as they walked past.

Jack set the two buckets and cups down as Ricky lowered himself into the seat, his bloated stomach making it hard to maneuver between the rows.

"Movie starts in ten," a voice from down the hall said just before the door to the theater closed.

Jack looked around behind them as the projector turned on and lit the room. "So just us?"

"Mhmm, just us," Ricky said as he leaned in and kissed Jack on the lips.

Jack smiled and ran his hand along the inside of Ricky's thigh, grazing over his dick for just a brief second before leaning in and giving him a kiss in return. "You want your popcorn big boy?"

"Mmm, I'm starving," he said as his stomach let out a low groan of disapproval. He reached into the first bucket and shoveled a big handful into his mouth.

Jack rubbed his swollen stomach, "you're practically skin and bones, we better get it into you."

Ricky put a few more handfuls into his mouth at a normal pace until he felt Jack grab the bottom of the bucket and put it up to his lips. He opened his mouth as Jack shook, causing it to fall down into his mouth. He ate as quickly as he could, with Jack reaching over and picking up pieces that fell from the side of his face. What felt like minutes passed and at some point he was just swallowing some of the pieces without even chewing. When he felt the unpopped kernels slide into his mouth in a big group he gave a swallow and felt them go down easy.

He opened his mouth to talk but was cut off by the next bucket. After a minute of half-chewing, Ricky had switched to just swallowing whatever he could move towards the back of his throat as quickly as he could, the salt drying him out close to the end and making the last few swallows rough and difficult. He reached for his soda as soon as he was finished took a few big gulps. His throat was so dry, he popped off the top and started chugging.

It wasn't until he looked at Jack that he realized he'd just thrown back an entire 54 oz cup of soda in one go. Jack's face and ears were bright red as he reached forward and rubbed Ricky's noticably-larger stomach.

He's so turned on he looks like he's gonna jump on top of me, Ricky thought to himself. The look on Jack's face had him hard as a rock and he reached for the second cup. Tilting his head back to give Jack a clear view of his throat, he started chugging the second cup as quickly as the first, feeling his stomach stretch painfully as the fizzy liquid filled him up bigger and bigger.

Halfway through the cup, Jack moved onto his knees in front of Ricky, undoing his belt while he kissed his belly. By the time he finished the cup, Jack was pulling his dick out of his underwear with one hand and rubbing his stomach with the other. He leaned back in the chair, his stomach popping out of him like a basketball.

Ricky let out a small sigh as he leaned back in his chair, and bit his lip to stop from moaning when he felt Jack's lips slide down his shaft. He looked down but couldn't see anything other than his round, bloated belly. He rubbed his stomach and smothered another moan as Jack bobbed up and down on him. A burp tried to make its way up his throat and he swallowed it back down, the gurgling sounds from his stomach drove Jack wild and head or no head he was going to fuck that man senseless when they got back to his place.

It didn't take long for him to blow his load, the sensory combination of his aching stomach and Jack's mouth short-circuited his brain. He had to cover his mouth with his hands to stop from moaning loud enough to be heard in the next theater, and was completely out of it now.

Every part of his body tingled as a voice whispered something into his ear that he couldn't quite make out. His mouth opened and he waited for whatever Jack was about to feed him next, swallowing gently as soon as he felt it hit his throat. He gave a few more swallows, the mass moving further down with each one. After a few more, his mouth started to stretch, the tightness mixing in with the post-orgasm haze and the constant dull ache in his stomach.

Ricky kept swallowing, the feeling of his stomach stretching further than it had ever gone becoming almost a little fun. After a few more swallows he opened his eyes and felt his heart stop for a moment. Oh fuck, oh fuck oh fuck, fuck fuck fuck what am I doing, he thought in a panic. That painful stretching was his jaw unhinging for Jack's shoulders to fit past. He was practically halfway down this throat - and Ricky felt himself give an involuntary swallow, dragging him a few inches deeper.

He tried grabbing Jack by the sides and pulling him further out, but Jack just wiggled in his grip. He braced the seat in front of Ricky with one foot and pushed, causing Ricky to swallow involuntarily and pushing himself almost a foot and a half further down. Before Ricky could react, he put his other foot on the seat and pushed again, this time forcing himself down to his knees. Ricky gagged and tried to force jack back up, but from the inside he felt a pair of hands brace against the walls of his stomach as Jack pulled himself the rest of the way in.

Ricky felt the moment Jack's feet slipped into his stomach and tried to heave as hard he he could. "Jack, don't worry baby I'll get you out, I'm so sor-".

Ricky paused for a moment when he felt shaking and moaning from inside of him. He sat in stunned silence for a few moments while he felt Jack shudder and moan.

"Baby I gotta spit you back up, what did you do, how do I get you out?"

A handprint pressed against the outside of his stomach as Jack's muffled voice came from the other side, "you don't baby, it's a one way trip."

"W-what? What do you mean, I gotta-"

"Just watch the movie and let your belly do its work."

"J-Jack no, I gotta let you out, my stomach can't tell the difference between you and the food from earlier!"

"Shhh, you're gonna get really tired soon, just lean back and watch the movie."

His eyelids were already getting heavy, his body was trying to make him sleep to save energy. He tried to heave a few more times, but nothing came up and the exhaustion was taking over.

"Just let me be a good meal for you baby, lean back and let me be yours."

"Jack.. I can't... my stomach won't...." Ricky said as sleep started to take him.

"That's right, fall asleep big boy, let your belly do what it does best."

...

The end credit music played loud through the speakers, jerking Ricky awake. What's going on, why am I-

Ricky saw his huge stomach in front of him, like an overinflated beach ball, and remembered what had happened. He got to his feet as quickly as possible and felt the contents of his stomach slosh. The outside was a tight as a drum but the inside made him feel like a water bed.

Down the hall he heard someone coming and felt a wave of panic. There was no way he could explain this, he buttoned his pants and booked it for the other door, bumping his stomach on several seats on his way out. Directly across was a door to the parking lot, and he slipped out as quickly and quietly as possible, barely able to keep himself upright from the weight in his stomach.

When he got home, he collapsed on his side in bed, his stomach gurgling and groaning happily as it worked on its meal.

"Jack you dumb asshole..." he sighed to himself as he rubbed his sore stomach.

...

The next week, his stomach had shrunk back to its normal size - albeit with an extra 15 pounds of weight in his middle. As Ricky got out of his car at the usual all-you-can-eat buffet, he gave his stomach a rub with his thumb. He hadn't been able to satisfy his hunger all week. As he walked in, he looked around the room and spotted a guy in the back corner with a cute haircut and little bit of a belly. I know what I want, Ricky thought to himself as he fixed his hair and walked in the guy's direction, god I'm so fucking hungry.

[otomehonyaku]

Diabolik Lovers Lost Eden Drama CD Translation ☽ Vol. 4 Mukami Saga ☽ Track 4・The Flaw Called 'Prejudice'

Original title of this track: 思い込みという弱点 Voiced by Sakurai Takahiro (Ruki), Suzuki Tatsuhisa (Yuma), Kishio Daisuke (Azusa), Kimura Ryōhei (Kou) English translation by @otomehonyaku Click here for the audio (as always, BIG thank you to @karleksmumskladdkaka!)

TRACK 1 ・TRACK 2 ・TRACK 3・TRACK 4・TRACK 5・AFTER STORY

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

This is the fourth volume of the Lost Eden drama CDs! I'll make separate posts for each track and update the links above as I go. This is the fourth track of this CD. The next one has a little more spice for my fellow Ruki and Yuma enthusiasts ( ⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝) Happy listening and reading along!

Please do not reuse or post my translations elsewhere or translate my work into other languages without my permission.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

[The scene starts at the Mukami dining table.]

00:00 Yuma: But really. Azusa always takes the good stuff right from under your nose, huh? He fuckin’ outsmarted us…

Kou (with food in his mouth): I know, right? Kitten was gone before I knew it—it’s our fault for not paying attention, though.

Ruki: Hey. Don’t talk while you’re eating.

Kou: Okay…

[You silently stare at your plate of food.]

Ruki: What’s wrong, Livestock? Have you had enough to eat?

[You don’t respond.]

Ruki: You’ve lost your appetite, haven’t you? Well, I suppose that’s only reasonable, given what you’ve been through.

Azusa: You’re not eating much, either… Ruki.

Ruki: Hm. I’m not very hungry, either.

[Meanwhile, Yuma is happily scarfing down the food.]

Yuma (with food in his mouth): Y’all’re almost makin’ me look bad for havin’ a healthy appetite. 

Kou (with food in his mouth): You can’t really fight when you’re hungry.

Ruki: It’s alright. 

[You want to talk to Ruki, but...]

Ruki: Wait. Let’s take the time to talk later, so you can tell us about all that happened before you came here. It’s not something we should discuss during dinner, is it?

[You agree.]

Ruki: Good. Eat a little more, then. If you want, I can cook you something else that’ll boost your digestion.

[You tell him you’ll just eat a few more bites.]

Ruki: I see. Then I will do the same.

[You eat together for a little while longer. After dinner, you tell the Mukami brothers everything you know—most importantly, about Karl Heinz’ alleged illegitimate child.]

01:52 Ruki: Oh…

Yuma: Karl Heinz’s got an illegitimate child? No way.

Kou: Is there some kind of proof?

Azusa: Then, it might actually be false…

Ruki: It might. We should take this with a grain of salt.

Yuma: The Demon World’s in chaos. Those Ghouls, the other four Species…

Azusa: Everyone’s fighting… to rule the Demon World…

Kou: That’s because a certain someone (1) is not doing a proper job of governing it in the first place.

Ruki: That certainly plays a big part in it, but even if he had welcomed his powers and faced his responsibilities head-on, he could not have prevented this chaos.

Kou: That’s true, but…

Ruki: We should not expect anything from him. Especially not now.

Yuma: What’re we gonna do, though? If we let those rioting idiots march on Eden, aren’t we the ones avoidin’ responsibility because we didn’t protect our home?

Azusa: Do we… even have the strength to do that…?

Ruki: With that attitude, no.

Yuma: Ruki…!

Ruki: We’re no purebloods, but Lord Karl Heinz gave us this life. We are His sons.   We have no reason to be afraid just because some lowlife is claiming to be Karl Heinz’ son, don’t you think? Besides, why do you assume our powers are inferior? We were, without a doubt, given life by the grace of Karl Heinz’ power. We are simply prejudiced because we cannot become Adam. Because we used to be human. If the four of us join forces as brothers, we can protect Eden. If you all want to protect this place, that is.

04:12 Yuma: ‘Course we do. D’ya really think we’re that heartless? Right, y’all?

Kou: Of course!

Azusa: I want to… protect Eden, too…

Kou: We really convinced ourselves that we won’t stand a chance… that we can’t do it just because we used to be human. 

Yuma: We did.

Azusa: We won’t know… until we try.

Ruki: Exactly, that’s it. You cannot know anything unless you try.

[You start fidgeting.]

Kou: What do you think, Kitten? Are we doomed?

[You half-heartedly tell him that you don’t think that at all.]

Kou: Thank you, but could’ve said so with a less anxious look on your face.

Yuma: You do think we’re doomed, don’t ya?

[You answer honestly this time.]

Ruki: You’re afraid of us getting hurt… Heh. That sounds like something you would say. I’m grateful that you think so, though. Unfortunately, the situation is so dire that we cannot avoid making sacrifices. I’m fully prepared to make sacrifices. You all understand this, right?

05:37 Azusa: I understand.

Kou: Yeah.

Yuma: Yep.

[You agree, too.]

Yuma: Heh. Aren’t you perceptive today? I thought you’d straight up try ‘n talk us out of it.

[You tell Yuma that you feel for them.]

Azusa: You understand how we feel…?

[You tell them you know what it’s like to lose your home.]

Kou: Ah. That’s true… Kitten doesn’t have a place to call home anymore either, after all.

Yuma: Then why don’tcha call this place your home? We didn’t have anythin’ before we came here either. This is our home now.

Azusa: Yes, Eve… I think it’s a good idea. I would be happy… if you protected Eden with us.

[You vow to help them.]

Ruki: Then it’s settled.

[The scene shifts to Ruki’s inner monologue.] 

07:03 Ruki: And just like that, we vowed to work together to protect Eden as best we could. It is a fundamental instinct—a desire, even—of all living creatures to wish to be close to something. That’s why it’s no pity to make sacrifices to protect what we love. We will protect Eden, and we will protect Eve.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Meaning Shuu, the rightful heir to Karl Heinz’ powers.

[five-miles-over]

For All Time, It Was Always You

Chapter 4: Kitty Makes Three

(Pairing: Loki x Wife!Reader)

Click here for Chapter 3: Happy to Keep His Dinner Warm

Summary: Your husband comes home from work, and he's brought someone new.

Warnings: None, really. Fluff and allusion to smut

"Loki…" You reached behind him and fished a stack of letters out of the mailbox. Among them were a few frivolous catalogs for home and gardening goods, a magazine that proudly advertised gourmet gifts of chocolate, salted nuts, and cheeses, and a few letters inviting Loki - or rather Mr. Laufeyson - to apply for a credit card. You closed the door behind Loki and turned the lock.

The sounds of the evening news floated from the living room television into the hallway…Something about a variant being caught and pruned, identified only by a serial code that you'd never remember. Loki let the kitten jump out of his arms, freeing them so he could give you a hug and a gentle kiss on the lips. His arms encircled your shoulders, the smell of rainwater mingled with the faint smell of sweat becoming apparent as he held you close to him. "My beautiful bride…" He whispered your name with relief in his voice before hugging you again. 

You couldn't help but put your arms around him, letting yourself be comforted by the embrace. Standing on the tips of your toes, you pushed some of his dark hair back. "I've got dinner on the table. Why don't you…wash your hands?" You added, "Darling?"

Loki pecked your cheek before removing his TVA jacket and placing it on a hook. "Absolutely." While Loki turned on the water and rinsed the mud off his fingertips, the black kitten cantered towards you, looking up with curious yellow-green eyes. 

You knelt down, your smile disappearing as you extended your hand out. "Hello…" The kitten stopped moving for a moment, and then nuzzled against your fingertips, moving her nose to smell you. She meowed, revealing a set of tiny yet sharp teeth. "Although she be little, she is fierce," you breathed, amazed by how docile this kitten seemed despite having such striking features. You began to pet the kitten's head, watching her close her eyes and purr.

"She likes you." Loki remarked with a smirk, exiting the bathroom with a few buttons of his white shirt undone. He crossed his arms and chuckled, leaning against a wall. 

You looked up. "Where did you find her?"

"At work." Loki remarked. When you asked him what exactly he does for a living, he simply said that it's classified, and that he's been recruited to do some work for the agency that protects a Sacred Timeline. "Let's eat, darling. The smell of your cooking is whetting my appetite." 

"Of course." Reluctantly moving your hand away from the kitten, you followed Loki into the dining area, where you'd already set dinner for two. "Do you think it'd be alright if I opened a can of tuna for the…?" The black kitten meowed before you could finish.

With a shrug, Loki opened a bottle of wine and poured two glasses: one for you, and one for him. "I thought of naming her Sylvie."

Taking the tuna from the pantry, you opened the can. placing it in front of the kitten. She opened her mouth and shook her tail as a little 'thank you'. Then, she took a mouthful of the tuna and chewed it. "Good girl…" You stroked her head once again. 

Loki dryly chuckled. "You know, when I tried to call her that, she almost scratched me."

"Maybe she was just getting used to you." 

The God of Mischief graciously pulled the chair for you before you sat across from him at the table. "This all looks amazing…Almost made me think it was our anniversary, which I know it won't be for another nine months, two weeks, and three days." Loki served himself a large helping of spaghetti bolognese using a pair of tongs. Before you could even ask if he wanted some cheese grated on top of his food, he already shoveled a mouthful inside. He closed his eyes and moaned, still for a moment before looking at you. "Darling, this is really good." Loki swallows, his fork immediately twirling around the spaghetti for a second mouthful. 

"I'm really glad you like it." Watching Sylvie enjoy her tuna from the corner of your eye, you began to eat as well, helping yourself to bites of salad and spaghetti. Not bad, you thought to yourself. Though if you were being honest, much of the taste came from simply watching Loki - yes, Loki your husband - relish every morsel of the dinner you prepared for him. "I'm impressed with how much you remember about our wedding." You let out a small laugh before sipping from your wine glass. "A lot of men tend to forget things like this…Or at least that's what I've heard."

"I'm not like most men." Loki winked. "I thought I made that quite clear on our wedding night. But…maybe you need a reminder, pretty bride." He slurped his spaghetti, leaving a spot of sauce staining the corner of his lip.

You looked down, laughing a little more. "Sylvie can hear you!"

"She'll get used to it."

You and Loki continued to eat while the television in the living room served as background noise. You could hear the cheers and the upbeat music coming from some kind of game show, but it didn't really spark your interest. You were more fascinating by how Loki finished his spaghetti, gulped his wine, and after serving himself another heap of spaghetti, served himself a few spoonfuls of your cucumber salad. You loved the way he dabbed his mouth clean with the napkin after every two or three bites, how he ate the remaining sauce with a spoon after all the noodles were finished, and how he ate his salad one piece at a time. So he'd feed himself a piece of cucumber, and then a piece of onion or tomato, followed by another piece of cucumber. Call it novelty if you will, but there was something…entertaining about watching your husband eat, and learning every little nuance of his. 

"How was your day?" Loki asked you after a while, wiping his mouth yet again.

You swallowed a mouthful of salad. "Good. Joyce Hazeldine stopped by with her son Bill."

His eyebrows rose for a moment. "What for?"

"She wanted to visit, see us after the honeymoon. What do you think about having her and her husband at our house for dinner sometime this week?" You casually asked, looking up at Loki. 

"Only if Bill comes," Loki chuckled. "Still remember how he was the youngest of my groomsmen. The only one who couldn't come to the bache-" He smiles before correcting himself. "The pre-wedding celebrations, I mean. How is he?"

You shook your head at your husband's mischief. "Not too well. He broke up with his girlfriend."

"Jewel? Good riddance. I remember her grabbing the microphone at our wedding and singing "Like a Virgin" just so she could have everyone know that Bill was the one who…erm, took her innocence."

Eyes wide, your jaw dropped. "What?"

"How can you not remember that?" He laughed while spearing his fork into a piece of tomato. "She even put on a veil while singing."

"And you didn't stop her?" "Darling." Loki ate the piece of tomato on his fork. "It was more fun to watch her crash and burn in her own embarrassment."

You couldn't hold back your laughter, dropping your fork to cover your mouth. "You're so bad!"

He smirked, leaning closer, his blue eyes darker with cunning. "It's why you married me, right?"

"And because of your money." You quipped, relieved to see him laugh in response. After a few moments, you gathered yourself. God, he was so handsome in the candlelight, how were you just noticing the way his eyes glimmered? The way his cheekbones shone and his dark curls fell perfectly in place with no effort? "Loki, I... " Before you could finish, Sylvie purred against your leg. Looking down, you gently scratched her head. "I think she's done with her dinner."

"So am I." Loki rose from the table and put his empty plate into the sink, his eyes on you while you threw Sylvie's empty can of tuna in the garbage and cleared the table. Pleased to find almost no leftovers of spaghetti, you put the remaining cucumber salad into a little Tupperware container destined for the fridge. But just as you leaned forward to blow the candles out, you felt Loki's breath tickle your ear. "Not yet, darling," he whispered. 

"No?"

"Not. Yet."

You continued to clear the table, putting the dirty dishes in the sink. As for Sylvie, she trotted into the living room and curled at the foot of the couch, yawning before stroking herself with her paw. She lazily eyed the television, which featured a recorded performance of a lean country singer wearing an all-white ensemble, holding a guitar in his hands. He grinned at the audience, announcing the title of the song he wanted to sing for them tonight. 

While the music played, you poured some soap onto a sponge and started scrubbing the stains from the silverware. While you lathered the plates with foam and bubbles, a pair of arms wrapped around your waist. Loki pressed a kiss behind your ear, swaying with you in time with the song.

Say hey, good lookin' - what ya got cookin'?

How's about cookin' somethin' up with me?

Hey, sweet baby - don't you think maybe

We can find us a brand new recipe?

"I'm done cooking for the night," you laughed, rinsing the soap.

I got a hot rod Ford, and a two dollar bill

And I know a spot right over the hill

There's soda pop and the dancing's free

So if you wanna have fun, come along with me

Say hey, good lookin' - what ya got cookin'?

How's about cooking somethin' up with me?

Loki put the cleaned dishes on the rack, and took your wet hands in his. "Loki, what are you doing?" You teased as he led you to the center of the kitchen, his grin wide from ear to ear. As the fiddle began his solo, your husband held you in his arms and moved side to side in a rhythmic fashion. And then, he twirled you, making the two of you laugh while dancing.

I'm free and ready, so we can go steady

How's about savin' all your time for me?

No more lookin', I know I been tookin'

Hows about keepin' steady company? 

Loki's hand rested on your hip, slowly wandering down. "I never quite understood why, but you always loved Hank Williams's music. Every Wednesday night, his songs would be on television, and you would always have them on."

"He's…he's got a certain charm." You lied before leaning in to kiss the corner of Loki's mouth. "But his charm is nothing compared to yours." 

And that was all that it took for Loki to pull you in for another, deeper kiss filled with devotion as he ran his fingers through your hair. "I love you so much," he murmured against your lips. 

"I love you, Loki." You said it as if it were the easiest thing you could ever say. Earlier this morning, when you first found your wedding photograph with him, the word 'darling' could barely escape your tongue. And now? Saying 'I love you' felt like second nature. You leaned in for a second kiss, breaking away with a gasp when you felt your husband gently squeeze your behind through the fabric of the dress. You exclaimed his name, unable to hold back a smile.

"You're so irresistible…" Loki teased, kissing the tip of your nose. "Please, darling…" His hand continued to stroke your rear, and his lips made their way to your neck, leaving a trail of soft, enticing kisses. "I can't stop myself."

 "I'm all yours tonight…" You sighed before Loki took you by the hand, almost dragging you into the bedroom and closing the door with a slam.

Tagging: @anukulee @smolvenger @pineappleandro @lotsoflokilove23 @talklokitome @rumin8ting @12-pm-510 @painedfever @iambetterthanbefore @princess-ofthe-pages @thenotoriouserg @lokischambermaid @lokiismineforever @lokidbadguy @lokisgoodgirl @lokisprettygirl22 @holdmytesseract @wheredafandomat @wolfsmom1 @lovelysizzlingbluebird @evelyn-kingsley @muddyorbsblr @stupidthoughtsinwriting @icytrickster17 @thatdummy-girl @fantasyfan4life @huntress-artemiss @itsdoni @gruftiela @ellooo0ooo @ireallyneedtherapy @jennyggggrrr @turniptitaness @fandxmslxt69

[dazzlinglybitter]

It's Disability Pride Month!! Let's talk about POTS!

Hello beautiful people. Since it's Disability Pride Month, I wanted to talk about my disability. I have a condition called POTS. It stands for Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Sydrome, which is a very long name, and you can see why we just say POTS. Essentially, it means that when I change position or stand up, my heart rate gets too high. It is normal for your heart rate to go up when you change positions. But what makes POTS different is it changes too suddenly and much higher than average. The National Institutes of Health defines that a person with POTS has "an increase in heart rate of 30 beats/min or more when moving from a recumbent to a standing position that lasts more than 30 seconds". Which on its own doesn't sound all that bad. I would be a much happier human if that's all it was. However, POTS comes with its own host of symptoms. That swing in heart rate can cause dizziness, lightheadedness, blurred vision, and sometimes fainting. Other symptoms of POTS include:

Exercise intolerance

Headaches

Nausea

Fatigue

Anxiety

Dry mouth

Excess thirst

Leg pain

Blood pooling

Brain Fog

Swollen Extremities

Sleeping problems

Bladder problems

Digestion issues

Tremors

Shortness of breath or chest tightening

Memory issues

Poor temperature regulation

Chronic dehydration

Neuropathic pains

Increased sweating to the extremities

Loss of appetite

Light sensitivity

Dry eyes

Heart palpitations

Chest pain

Cold extremities due to poor blood flow

Heat intolerance

Hypovolemia (low blood volume)

And probably more that I've missed! Doesn't sound all that fun, and trust me, it isn't! POTS is a condition under the larger umbrella of Dysautonomia. There are several different types of dysautonomic conditions, POTS is only one of them. Here are some fun facts about POTS:

POTS effects around 0.2% of the world's population

It is most common in females, 75 to 80% of all patients are female

Though it can be diagnosed at any age, it is most commonly diagnosed between the ages of 15 and 25 (I was 19 when I got diagnosed!)

There is no cure for POTS and it's a chronic illness

Some teenagers will outgrow the condition in their 20s

The average time to diagnosis is 5 years and 11 months (took me almost a year, luckily)

According to Dysautonomia International, 25% of POTS patients are so disabled they cannot work or attend school

There is no singular cause for POTS, and many patients will likely not know what caused their condition

Research on POTS is incredibly sparse, making advocacy, treatment, and diagnosis even harder

The usual recommended treatment is increased fluid intake, increasing salt intake, wearing compression stockings, raising the head of the bed to conserve blood volume, reclined exercises like rowing, recumbent bicycle, or swimming, and a healthy diet

While there is no FDA approved medication for POTS, some medications such as beta blockers can be used to aid the condition

Though the heart is directly involved, POTS is not technically a heart condition. It is technically a nervous system disorder stemming from the autonomic nervous system

There's lots to be said about POTS! I don't think I could fit it all in one post if I tried. But if you made it this far into the post, thank you for taking the time to learn about it! Awareness is key, and the more people that know about the condition, the better we are. Happy Disability Pride Month!!

[scotianostra]

On 21st July 1796 Robert Burns died in Dumfries, he was just 37.

Rather than go over Rabbie's life, this post mainly covers the last few weeks of his life, and him dealing with his iminent demise………

It is apparent from Burns’s correspondence, his poetry, and even from his First Commonplace Book that the bard was plagued by ill health on several occasions throughout his short life. ‘A Prayer in the Prospect of Death’, first published in the ‘Kilmarnock’ edition of Burns’s Poems, Chiefly in the Scottish Dialect is believed to have been written in 1784 when the bard was just twenty-five years of age and suffering a bout of ill health: O Thou unknown, Almighty Cause Of all my hope and fear! In whose dread presence, ere an hour, Perhaps I must appear!

Burns gives this poem the longer, more explanatory title, ‘A Prayer, when fainting fits, & other alarming symptoms of a Pleurisy or some other dangerous disorder, which indeed still threaten me, first put Nature on the alarm.’

Indeed, we might consider that the threat of illness never truly left the bard: there are several references throughout the poets’ correspondence to rheumatic episodes, hypochondria, physical injury, toothache and periods of ‘melancholy’. However, the first signs of the illness which would eventually claim Burns’s life began in the winter of 1795 when the poet was confined to his sick-bed for several weeks. His health declined over the course of the months that followed, and from the bard’s correspondence in the summer months of 1796 it would appear that he sensed the finality of this particular episode of ill health. In a letter to George Thomson on the 4th of July hewrote: ‘ I received your songs, but my health being so precarious nay dangerously situated, that as a last effort I am here at sea-bathing quarters. – Besides my inveterate rheumatism, my appetite is quite gone; & I am so emaciated as to be scarce able to support myself on my own legs.’ If you remember my last post about Burns at the beginning of the month where he sought the healing powers of the Brow Well and bathing in the Solway Firth near Ruthwell. Burns was soon aware that the sea-bathing was ineffective, writing to his father-in-law James Armour on the 10th of July that;

‘I have now been a week at salt water, & though I think I have got some good by it, yet I have some secret fears that this business will be dangerous if not fatal.’

Tragically, Burns’s final letters became increasingly desperate, and the poet expressed deep concern for the welfare of his family, it became clear the bard was preparing for the worst when he wrote to his brother Gilber:

God help my wife & children, if I am taken from their head! – They will be poor indeed. – I have contracted one or two serious debts, partly from my illness these many months, & partly from too much thoughtlessness as to expense when I came to town that will cut in too much on the little I leave them in your hands.’

Burns was right to be concerned. Indeed, he died in significant financial difficulty, overshadowed with the threat of debtors’ jail. Burns himself acknowledges this in a letter to his cousin, James Burness, on the 12th of July in which he states: ‘When you offered me money assistance, little did I think I should want it so soon. A rascal of a haberdasher, to whom I owe a considerable bill, taking it into his head that I am dying, has commenced a process against me, and will infallibly put my emaciated body into jail.’

Before this threat could be realised, Burns died surrounded by his family and close friends on this day in 1796.

While biographers and critics have offered several theories surrounding the cause of Burns’s death (many of which are fanciful and without evidence, some even hinting at conspiracy), scholars and medics who have examined the poet’s own account of his illness, together with those of his contemporaries, agree that the poet most likely died from bacterial endocarditis: a serious complication of his recurring rheumatic illness. Of course I dn’t think his like of alcohol helped though.

Robert Burns’s funeral took place at midday on the 25th of July 1796, I will cover it in more detail in a few days……

[apprenticestanheight]

Work Stress- Adam Stanheight x gn! reader

ALLLLLLL RIGHT, welcome to the monthly "my mental health is shit" fic that I bestow upon the people whenever my mental health isn't as great as it could be, which--in fairness--is nearly all the fucking time.

Two of these might be coming out this month, though! I have not had the greatest streak of days without anxiety lately and I write fics whenever it gets really bad. The day I finished this one, I was like "I am going to write something. for chainshipping (again)" so a chainshipping fic will probably be out by the end of the week

On some other notes, A: while it's not explicitly stated, the reader is what's traditionally considered midsized as that's what I am and I wanted to write a fic with my body type. As per usual with me, the reader is generally gn but as I know the anatomy best, they're AFAB. B: requests are starting to get looked at! I have one waiting to be finished, edited and posted sitting in my drafts but otherwise will have probably looked through and decided which requests I will do vs which ones I won't by the time this has been posted. Things will probably start coming out at the end of this week and keep coming out into next.

Fic type- this jumps into a lot of differing areas, but the main genres are quite possibly the oddest combination I've ever written--smut and angst.

Warnings- as this fic contains smut it caters to an audience of people 18+, so minors, DO NOT INTERACT. There is A LOT here--p in v, oral (both recieve, even if on Adams end the oral is only mentioned), doggy style, fingering, petplay kind of (I was trying to think of a gender neutral petname and puppy was the only thing my brain could think of at first. It's literally just used as a petname and gets overshadowed by 'baby' after a point bc I remembered that that word existed--I wrote a lot of this while tired, pls take some of the stuff in it with a grain of salt), as for sfw warnings: there's a mention of loss of appetite in relation to extreme stress

It's no secret to Adam that you've been having a very, very rough year.

You've been living together since just a couple weeks after he'd escaped the trap--he was taken from his apartment and found it too anxiety inducing to stay there so you let him move into yours.

You'd been dating since you were twenty one and at twenty six, moving in was bound to happen eventually, but getting out of his lease was taking a hell of a lot more time than Adam had originally anticipated.

He noticed every rough day in the bags that you'd begun to sport underneath your eyes, how late you came to bed and your reluctancy to be very affectionate with him--whenever things got bad, be it at work or with stuff going on in your head, you withdrew and pushed him away--and in the fact that you weren't eating as much, in that you always looked like your mind was somewhere else, wandering off completely.

So, one day near the middle of November--where he'd started to notice your bad days in very early March--he joins you in the kitchen while you speak to one of your bosses via phone call.

He presses a kiss to your forehead, grabs your hand, gives it a squeeze. He wants to cheer you up--you're prone to bad days due to insecurity and because of a long-standing not so great track record where your mental health is concerned--and, in that particular moment, finds himself willing to do anything.

You give your best go at grinning back at him, but it comes out looking like more of a grimace. You let Adams hand go to run a stressed hand through your hair, returning your hand to Adams and letting him interlace your fingers thereafter.

"Yes," you whisper. "I understand that things are always tough in the last quarter, but--" you sigh dejectedly as your boss cuts you off, and Adam presses another kiss to your forehead, letting his lips linger for a minute.

"Yes, Earle--but you're not seeing the point here. I'm eligible for the raise because I've kept the teams afloat! The only reason you're not also eligible for the raise is because you took an eight month vacation with PTO that you quite literally stole from other employees, myself included, and just because Monica isn't willing to fire you over that doesn't mean your actions didn't warrant alternative punishments," you lean forward, press a kiss to Adams shoulder. Adams grin widens slightly as he notices that you're visibly relaxing from his touches.

A solid two minutes of shouting pass by on the other end. Adam gives your hand a supportive squeeze whenever Earles voice raises another octave in his shouting, pressing kisses against your temple when you let him pull you into a half hug. He keeps hold of your hand when the position changes, your torso pressing against the counter as Adam stands in front of you.

"Earle--I am eligible for the raise because you took six weeks of PTO from me, which I only get thanks to our companies union," You snap. "Now, because I had to spend so much time doing my fucking job, unlike you, I'm eligible for enough of a raise to make me capable of buying a home by '06, and if you're pissed off at me for that, I genuinely cannot help you any further. I have a boyfriend who I would much rather be talking to over your sorry arse, so I'm going to hang up now and if you call me back, I will ignore it. Have the day you deserve, asshat."

You hang up the phone and sigh, gaze meeting Adams in an instant.

"'M sorry," you whisper, biting your top lip for a few seconds as you look at him. "Work has been a fuckin' mess since like, the end of February. I just--damn it all."

"Eh, Earle sounds like a dickhead," Adam laughs. "How does one even get away with--eight full months? Of PTO? How?"

"Per the union agreement we have, we get six weeks a year," you start. "It's why I'm always off in December--I like staying home when it gets cold, gives me an excuse to read and drink more tea than I should--but we've moved to digitizing off time recently. Took the six weeks I'd planned to pace between the end of this month and all of next and switched them up for himself. Did that with five other employees and still, Monica doesn't fire him. Just makes me eligible for a raise of fifteen dollars on company dime because the off time I lost out on forced me to do more while I was there. Our company has one hundred and eighty-six employees in the Jersey branch and a bunch of 'em like taking spaces in the last six months of the year off, so it was me managing two teams of eighty people. Not easy work at all."

Adam blinks. "Did Monica even offer to give you the PTO back?"

"She gave me hers," you shrug. "Earle can have a lot of fuckin' fun managing one hundred and sixty people by himself. I'll find out if I get the raise tomorrow morning and my PTO will kick in then, too. He can eat shit as far as I'm concerned, I have a long list of books and two boxes of my favorite tea to drink my way through as of tomorrow."

You let Adam lead you into your shared bedroom, humming as you lay down on your bed and close your eyes.

"Are you okay?" Adam asks.

"Been a very, very stressful eight months," you laugh. "Trying to think of what I need and only one thing continually comes to mind."

"What's that?" You can hear the eagerness behind the teasing tone in Adams voice.

"I need--uh--" You laugh, suddenly feeling a little awkward. Propositioning Adam for sex was not typically done with words but kisses and your hands on his chest, relishing in the way that he looked when he lead you to your bedroom and fucked you senseless.

"Go on, baby," Adam whispers, his lips suddenly near your ear. "Gonna say it?"

You hum, suddenly embarrassed at yourself, and Adam laughs.

"Use your words, puppy," He whispers, pressing a kiss against your earlobe. "How am I supposed to know what you want me to do if you don't use your words?"

You moan helplessly in response.

"You really are cute," Adam says. "Tough while at work, one phone call later and now you're helpless that you can't even speak. Can't even say one word."

"Adam," you breathe, both because it's the one word that's coming to mind and also because you know he loves the way you say his name when all you want is for him to fuck you.

"Good puppy," Adam presses a kiss to your cheek. "Tell me what you want me to do, mm? I'll do whatever you want, but if you want me to fuck you, know that you'll be in bed for a long time once we go to sleep. You're going to come a lot tonight, puppy. You deserve it."

You moan in response. "Please," you whisper.

"You want me to fuck you, puppy?"

"Yeah," you nod. "Adam--I need you to. Don't wanna think anymore. In eight months, I've thought enough for eight lifetimes. Fuck me senseless, please."

"Whatever you want," Adam says, pulling you into a long kiss that has your head spinning.

You spend the next few minutes like that, in a kiss that's so intense, so loving and so fucking good that you wonder how you've been able to go so long being fine with quick kisses and self gratification.

The first kiss reminds you of how amazing it is to be kissed by Adam whenever the more dominant side of him comes out for a bit of fun, the way that his hands anchor themselves on your hips before one slides up your torso to cup your face, the sureness of his tongue in your mouth--everything feels amazing, and it's almost like it's too good to be true.

And then Adam pulls away for air and your eyes are opening and his lips are against your clothed shoulder, breathing in deeply with a smile on his face.

"I'm sorry we've not been--well--" you start. Adam tilts your chin upward and presses a kiss on the underside of your jaw. "I've been a terrible--"

"I've missed this, sure," Adam says, pressing another kiss against the underside of your jaw. "Yeah. Of course I've missed it, Y/N, but I absolutely understand that you've been busy. Work has kept me busy, too, so I'm just glad we can have tonight. I've missed you so much and I just wanna make you forget about how shitty the past months have been. Wanna make sure the only word you remember how to stay is my name, and that's what I'm going to do tonight, puppy. Sounds good?"

You nod eagerly, which makes Adam laugh as the hand that's on your hip gives it a squeeze.

Your gaze becomes affixed to a random point on the ceiling as Adams kisses rove across the scope of your neck, one hand on your jaw to move your head whenever he wants better access.

After a point, you start to realize that his kisses are getting longer and not too long thereafter you realize that Adam is carefully laying hickeys over your neck and is taking his time with doing it.

You want to murmur a quip, do something to jab at the possessiveness hickeys usually carry, but right as you go to do so his lips and tongue find a home on the pulse point on the right side of your neck and all you can do is moan softly, one hand finding his hair.

"Adam," you whisper. "Fucking hell, Adam--you're going to drive me insane. Please don't stop."

You hear Adams laugh, slow, amused, a little sadistic. "Well, if I'm the one who drives you to insanity, I think that means I'm the one who has to pull you out of it, doesn't it, puppy?"

With the use of that one, silly nickname, you're reduced to what is basically a human shaped puddle, and Adam knows it. Whenever he calls you his puppy in a slightly dominant tone, your knees are at risk of giving out and the look you give him is tantamount to torture if he intends to tease you until you're begging.

"Mhm," you hum, moaning as Adams lips press in a peck against your pulse point. "Also means the same if you put me into subspace with all this foreplay, Adam."

Adam grins, and you let him tilt your chin so that your head turns to meet his gaze.

"Of course," he says. "I'm basically an aftercare god, despite the fact that Scott dunked on me for it while believing a cigarette afterwards is anything less than the bare minimum--I'll take good care of you once the session is done, puppy. I promise."

Your shoulders relax at the reassurance, and you grin as Adams lips press against your forehead.

You nod after a second. "Okay," you say. "I--thank you, for this. Pre-emptively."

Deep enough into subspace and you'll borderline on mute, only able to focus on how Adams ministrations feel. You have no doubt he intends to take you there tonight, so you feel the need to thank him before you slink that far in and have to wait for it to wear off to speak a coherent sentence to him again.

"We both need it, so it's my pleasure," Adam says, starting to undo the buttons of the black long sleeved button up you'd worn to work and had yet to take off that day. "And yours--it's both of us. I promise I'll start getting more dominant in a sec, these buttons hate me."

You laugh a little, helping him undo the rest of the buttons. "They're square. They hate everybody, me included. Getting this shirt on was a nightmare this morning and I've been reminded as to why I never wear the damn thing."

Adam uses the small of your back to guide you off the bed just enough to be able to completely take the shirt off, following it by the oddly quick--Adam is very, very good at undoing the pesky little hooks that hold bras together, oddly--removal of your bra.

His lips are on yours again, one hand on your bare hip while the other finds itself cupping your face, tongue gliding across your lip in asking for entrance which you grant as your arms wrap around his shoulders.

Kissing Adam in moments like that is always amazing--kissing him has been one of your favorite things since your romance started, even quick and chaste kisses that don't last more than a few seconds. Kissing Adam has never ceased to be an absolute delight, whether it led to sex or was used as an alternative form of "hello" "goodbye" "good night" or "good morning."

And then his lips start traversing down your neck once more, and then they go further.

Adam starts draping kiss after kiss across your torso, lips pressing against you in a way that allows his tongue to poke through his teeth as he kisses you with his mouth slightly open. Every single touch of his cold tongue against your warm skin makes you clench around nothing, quickens your heart rate and feels so impossibly delightful. Adam is kissing you in a way that damn near drives you insane, and you feel yourself sinking into how good his lips and tongue feel against you as he delivers praise between kisses.

"Such a good puppy for me, mm?" Adam murmurs when he's close to your belly button. "Taking all of this so well even though you probably just want me inside you already. Such a good cumdump for me, puppy. Perfect."

You hum in response, eyes drifting down to meet his gaze as he looks up at you. He smiles, briefly, before continuing with his kisses, letting himself spend a lot of time on your hips before his kisses rove across your stomach.

He kisses along your v-line slowly and in a way that makes you want to start begging, hands roving up from your hips to your biceps.

He glances at you for a second in the asking, waiting for you to nod. You do so and Adams hands move to your pants, taking them off along with your underwear before laughing at himself.

"I've got you here, lookin' fucking perfect," he says, kissing your bicep. "And yet I'm still clothed."

Your hands go to the hem of his shirt and he lets you pull it off, kissing the side of your shoulder as he watches you toss it near the laundry hamper in the far left corner of the room. Next come his pants and his boxers, which Adam takes off in a manner that's somehow effortless despite his continued kisses to your biceps throughout the process.

"I forget how much I love your arms until I'm kissing your biceps again," Adam says, laughing a little. "Fuck, baby. Your arms are fucking gorgeous."

You hum, pressing your head into the pillow behind you as Adams kisses start up again and his hands start wandering. One settles against your face, cupping it softly, and the other goes wandering delightfully down your torso, not stopping until his fingers are millimeters above your clit.

He pauses, gaze meeting yours in a way that feels almost a little sadistic.

"Gonna make you come so many times tonight, baby," he says. "Safe word?"

"Hibiscus," you whisper. It's a precaution for when you get really kinky, a word you came up with but, five years into your relationship, have yet to actually use.

Adams lips press against the center of your collarbone, "good puppy," he whispers against the skin.

His fingers start making slow, tantalizing circles around your clit, and his kisses continue, roving down your torso and staying in the general area of your hips and stomach.

A few minutes pass you by, and right when Adam has picked up the speed and is bringing you to the edge of an orgasm, he stops.

When he notices the disappointment in the way your head falls back onto the pillow, he wastes no time in licking his fingers clean of the wetness spread across them.

"Didn't think I'd let you come so soon, did you, puppy?" Adam moves up, lips near your ear. "I did say I'd make you come multiple times tonight, but I said nothing of letting you do so without a little edging first. Gonna edge you until the sun goes down, at least, and then make you cum until at least one or two in the morning. Gonna call in sick tomorrow, too, so that I'm not worrying about waking up and going into work."

"How much more time until the sunset?" You ask. It's four--the sunset can't really be so far off, can it?

"An hour," Adam says. "But--to be fair, a lot more can be done in an hour than one might think. Also--eight hours between five and one am. Assuming that the session exhausts you, you'll probably wake up close to noon tomorrow, but there's snow in the forecast and I'll probably make you a cup of tea if I wake up before you do."

You hum. "Thank you, Adam," you whisper. He kisses you deeply, and you can still taste yourself on his tongue.

"Don't thank me," he says when he's pulled away. "It's what good partners do, especially when I'll have practically rearranged your guts and it'll be a reward for doing good anyway."

You laugh. Adam presses a kiss to your forehead as his hands once again ground themselves on your hips and yours find his shoulders, holding him close.

"I love you, baby," he says. "Sorry that work has been shit."

"I love you too," you respond. "And--that's not your fault. Please don't blame yourself for mistakes that aren't yours, Adam. Please, just kiss me. Wanna forget about work and stupid fucking Earle--just wanna think about how good it feels to be touched and kissed by you. Please."

Adams lips press against your forehead again, his hands cupping your face.

"Gonna make sure you do," he says. His lips move to your biceps again, and you shudder an intake of breath as he leaves a hickey in the wake of one of his kisses.

You have a thought to call him a hickey fiend but don't--the risk of joking with him when Adam is in dom mode is not worth the reward even slightly.

His kisses trail down your face to your neck, and from your neck to your chest. You moan a little when his lips find your nipples, biting gently as his hands give your hips a contented squeeze.

Your head falls back onto the pillow beneath it, and you smile slightly as you hear Adams contented hum as he kisses along your chest from one nipple to the other.

The next several minutes are spent in pretty much the same state. Adam kisses your chest and neck with an open mouth, tongue all too eager to leave a trail of saliva behind his kisses. He's mostly quiet as he goes about it, but every time he does something to make you moan his hands squeeze your hips in acknowledgement.

And then his lips move to your stomach, spending an absurd amount of time leaving hickeys in the less obvious places. He spends more time on your hips which tells you you'll have dark hickeys to look forward to once you have the time to investigate the state of your body in a mirror, but he's not always the dominant one when you two are having sex--you'll find your moment where he's in a particularly submissive mood and douse his body with light-ish hickeys in some very obvious spots.

His lips move down to your thighs, and his gaze meets yours.

"You're feeling all right?" He asks, lips pressing gloriously against the top of your right thigh. "Need you to make space for me, puppy. Haven't paid your thighs attention in so fucking long--'nother minute of waiting and I will go insane."

You laugh as you spread your legs and Adam positions himself in between them, lips moving across your thighs as his arms slip under them and his hands find your hips.

The amount of attention he devotes to your legs alone is almost a little excessive--it takes him ten minutes before he's content to move from your right leg to your left, and then he's focusing on that leg just as long.

Then again--Adam has always loved your thighs. You've had moments of insecurity that they were too big to handle but he's always met your insecurity with reassurance, promised that he'd tell you if he was having trouble breathing whenever he asked you to sit on his face. He loves your thighs and your biceps, which are two of the areas where you find most of your insecurity.

And then you feel his breath against your folds, and you breathe in deeply while clenching around nothing.

"Wanna taste you, puppy," Adam says. You're nodding eagerly before he can even finish the sentence, wondering how it was that you managed to go eight months without feeling Adams mouth over your folds, his lips on your clit.

Adam is good at giving oral--he is fucking amazing at it, and as his tongue presses flat against your folds, his gaze holding yours, you find that it seems he's still as good as he was eight months ago.

His tongue runs through your folds for a very long few seconds before it presses against your clit. You moan at the contact, eyes nearly rolling into the back of your head as his tongue moves in circles around the bundle of nerves.

His tongue moves back to your folds, and your hand goes to his hair. You don't hold him in a tight grip or anything, just enough to ground yourself and keep yourself from slipping away.

It's hard not to slip into it, though. The grip that Adam has on your hips, the way he's eating you out like a man starved and that goddamned nickname he always uses whenever he's domming. All of it is so much combined, so much after eight months, and all you want to do is slip into subspace and just let Adam use you however he wants.

He keeps going until you're so close--teetering on the edge, nearly ready to come on his face--and then he stops, pulling away with a glistening mouth to take a breath.

And then he's lifting himself off of you, pulling himself up to press kiss after kiss after kiss to the spot where your neck meets your shoulder, and his hand is cupping your face.

"Please, puppy," he says. "Don't wanna go eight months without this ever again. Missed it."

It takes everything in you to drum up a response, still working through the second almost-orgasm of the evening.

"Never," you manage to mumble as your head turns, seeking Adams lips. He kisses you slowly, meaningfully, and you have a moment--just a moment--where you hate yourself for letting sex get away from you for such a long time.

Work has been eight months of never ending stress, eight months of managing one hundred and sixty people, dealing with a boss who claims to care about the team but only offers a raise to the five people from whom a guy stole off time rather than firing the idiot. You feel bad--work has taken the majority of your head space since March, and that doesn't feel fair in the fucking slightest.

"Adam," you whisper. He presses a peck to your lower lip and darts his tongue out to wet his own.

"Yeah, puppy?"

"Missed you," you respond. "'M sorry about work. I promise I didn't mean to get so busy, it's just--Earle and his fucking scheme, and Monica refusing to fire his sorry ass while he has the time of his goddamned life in Monaco, and--ugh. I don't mean to ruin the mood but it's just not leaving my head."

Adam laughs, presses a kiss to your forehead. "I know how you get, Y/N," he says. "I'm too drunk on the thought of your thighs around my head to even get slightly turned off right now but that's not the point."

He laughs again, thumb gliding across your bottom lip. "I've been worried about you but I knew work was probably the reason for your late nights, baby. I promise, it just made me cherish our lazy mornings even more. If you don't like working there, you can always quit, too--you've got your rainy day savings, and my job lets me cover the rent and have money left for groceries if you don't get something right away. Has anything else been bugging you or is it just work?"

"Just been in a funk," you respond. "The sex is helping a lot, but I've always found that being with you helps me like nothing else can. Needed this, Adam. Even if you've kept me from orgasming twice so far."

"Fifteen more minutes til sundown," Adam says. "You'll be so sick of coming when I finally start letting you, baby. I think I have it in me to last eight hours, but that's because I'll be giving myself a reprieve. You, however, might not get one. Dunno--it depends on if you'll want one, really."

"You'll know I do if I use the safe word," you respond. "Just--be soft with me, mm? I don't think I can handle being degraded too much, if at all. I'm scared that if you call me a slut with a mean tone I'll just fall to pieces and start crying."

Adam laughs, presses a kiss to your temple. "Think I've done enough edging," he says. "Kind of just wanna kiss you until you're begging me for more, baby. Sound okay?"

You nod, arms wrapping around his shoulders. "You really wouldn't be mad if I quit my job?"

"I would be the opposite of angry at you if you just announced it and didn't even give your two weeks," Adam says. "You've spent the majority of the last year giving them an arm and both of your legs in the effort it's taken to keep things afloat. You're up for a significant raise which I would wait to see if you got, but there are places that pay the amount you'd be getting after your raise as the starting salary, which only goes up after the first six months. I'd start applying to those places if I were in your shoes and I didn't get the raise I fuckin' deserved."

Adams lips drop to your collarbone. "'M so in love with you," he says. "And I'm sorry that work has been such a shitstorm lately. If you want, you can switch from a marketing job to working for a salary that covers rent and groceries with me at the bookshop? They're hiring all the fucking time and it means I can basically just...spend the entirety of my break just kissing you relentlessly if you do decide to join up."

You laugh, pulling a hand through his hair. "Maybe," you say. "If I don't get the raise."

Adam laughs, gently biting against your collarbone as his hands find your hips again.

"Love your hips, puppy," he says. "Will probably have to put lotion on the hickeys I left on 'em. Got a little carried away."

"I'll get my revenge somehow," you respond. "If you ever find yourself in a submissive mood, I will absolutely cover your neck in them."

"I like hickeys in obvious places, so long as you keep them light,"

"Oh, they will be. Everywhere but your pulse point--I happen to like your pulse point, Adam. Might get carried away worse than you did with my hips."

Adam bites your collarbone again, kissing up the center of it to the underside of your jaw before his lips are once again against yours.

"I love you so fucking much," Adam says into the kiss, giving your hips a hard squeeze. "Fuck, Y/N. Gonna make sure all of your stress is gone from your mind completely. Just want you to be thinking about me, puppy."

All you can do in response is moan into Adams mouth, closing your eyes and moaning once more as he uses your moaning to slip his tongue into your mouth, one hand coming up to cup your face.

You spend the next little eternity kissing, moaning whenever Adams hands squeeze whichever part of your body they've ended up near or on--typically your ass, just below it on your thigh, your hips, or your tits--and occasionally tugging at the hairs near the nape of his neck, where one of your hands rests.

And then, Adam pulls away. You gaze at him as he holds himself up by his elbows, a handsome smirk on his face.

"You're all right?" He asks.

The truth is, all you can think about is the memory of his cock inside you and you're convinced it's slowly driving you nuts, but by all other accounts, yeah.

You nod. "I'm amazing, Adam," you say. "Need to feel you."

As you speak the words, Adam is already reaching for his night stand on his side of the bed, grabbing a condom.

You roll it onto his length, one of your hands overlapping the hand he places on your hip as you lie back down.

Adam positions himself at your entrance, pushing into you slowly even despite how wet you are--you're more than ready to feel him, but Adam still goes slow to be cautious.

When he bottoms out, both of you moan. Your lips are almost right next to Adams ear, his forehead pressing against your shoulder, so the sound of you moaning just makes Adam want you more. One of his hands is on your breast, and he squeezes it, rolling the nipple between his first finger and thumb as you clench around his length.

After a minute, you're telling Adam he can start moving and his thrusts come to a slow start as Adam figures out the pace he wants to start with.

His lips have dipped close to your ear when he whispers, "you're so wet for me," and he kisses the side of your head before adding "such a good puppy. Fuck--you're amazing."

And you're moaning in response, starting to get cockdrunk as Adam moves in calculated thrusts, one hand propping himself up by the elbow and the other against your hip.

Your thighs wrap around his waist to keep him in place, and Adam laughs as he lifts the hand on your hip to cup your face.

"You like this, baby?" He asks. You moan, nodding slightly as your eyes close, giving his shoulder a squeeze.

"Such a good puppy for me," he says. "So good, baby. You're doing so good."

And then you moan again, and Adam presses a kiss to the corner of your lips. He quickens the pace of his thrusts, lips moving to your neck as the hand that was on your face moves to your clit, rubbing circles around it and delighting in the moans it brings from your throat.

Your release spurs his on, and while you moan and release around him Adam releases into the condom, thrusting his way through the aftershocks and the way that your legs start shaking with them.

He pulls out and discards the condom, heading back to you quickly and peppering your face with kisses.

You find yourself in a state of complete and total relaxation and euphoria. Adams hands on you make you sink further in, and Adam laughs a little--you're looking at him like he's the love of your life while you're practically drowning in post-orgasm bliss, which is a delightful and meaningful addition to the times in which you've looked at him like that, particularly whenever he's decided to surprise you with breakfast or when you wake up to find him admiring you as he'd woken up before you had.

"You're feeling all right?" The orgasm had been a little intense.

You nod, and Adam presses his nose against the apple of your cheek, pressing a quick kiss there as his hands find your face.

"Going quiet?" He presses his lips to your forehead. "Not for long, baby. I have at least seven more hours with you, yeah?"

You nod, and Adams lips are on yours again.

A lot of the time, you start to realize, will be passed with Adams lips against yours, his hands going somewhere on your body as you moan and whine at his touches.

You don't hate the idea, though--Adam is a damn good kisser and absolutely knows what he's doing with his lips and tongue. You've proven yourself capable of lazily making out with Adam for hours several times, though that was when the two of you were kiss fiends in the honeymoon phase and couldn't go more than twenty minutes without it.

But then, Adams lips trail from your lips to your chest, paying attention to it as his hands move from your face to your hips. Once he's paid satisfactory attention to your chest, he moves to your stomach, where, per the presence of your hips close by, he stays for a long ten minutes.

Then his lips are on your inner thighs and your hand is in his hair and all you can do is moan, one word waiting and ready at the tip of your tongue but not falling off of it.

You watch through half lidded eyes as Adams eyes lock on your cunt, nod fervently when his gaze meets yours and his head tilts in the asking.

His tongue finds your clit and he moves one finger, slowly, into your hole as his lips follow his tongue. You turn your head and moan into the pillow in an effort to silence yourself, but the noise level at which the moan sits is still so obscene that Adam chuckles, shaking his head as his left arm slips under your thigh and his hand finds purchase at your chest.

Adams tongue moves around your clit in evenly paced circles, finger moving at a calculated pace as he adds another. Adams fingers curl around your g-spot once every fifteen-ish seconds, and every time your moans get louder because of the action, Adam laughs a little and presses his tongue flat against your clit.

Adam has you pushed to your orgasm in fifteen minutes. You barely have time to warn him before you're coming over his mouth, chin, and his hand, but Adam hardly cares. He only licks his fingers to clean them and juts his tongue out to run it over his lips, all while holding your gaze.

And then he's kissing you and you're tasting yourself, humming into the kiss as Adam reaches one arm out and fumbles for the nightstand in search of another condom.

Adam gets it and rips it open, sliding it onto his length and motioning for you to get on your knees and turn around. You do as he says and Adam slowly slides into you, the both of you moaning slightly as he bottoms out.

Adam waits a minute for you to adjust to him, and once you have he starts thrusting. He sets an even, quick pace and moves a hand to your clit, moaning as you lean back and press your back against his front.

Adams lips find a spot in the space between your neck and shoulder, and every last one of the sounds you make spurs him on. His moans are low, typically comorbid with yours, and they come in between the praise he manages to mumble out as he moves and you start moving back onto him.

"So good," he mutters, biting gently against your shoulder. "Fuck--"

You moan in response, unable to form any coherent thought other than Adams name.

"Adam," you whisper as the pace at which Adams finger touches your clit increases. "Adam--"

You feel him smile against your skin, a cocky grin taking up his face.

"Yes, baby?" He asks, moaning as you clench around him. "Gonna use your words for me, mm?"

"Adam," it's the only word that comes to mind right now, though it'll be one of ten, at best, once he's pushed you to orgasm again.

"Adam, oh--" You moan as he snaps his hips up into you.

Adam keeps the pace he's set and it's not long before you're moaning loudly as Adams lips and tongue suck a hickey into the space where your neck meets your shoulder, your release occurring just seconds before his own, before he's a moaning mess as he thrusts into you through the aftershocks.

Adam pulls out and lays you back onto the bed before rolling the condom off and tossing it into the trash.

The cycle continues that way until you find yourselves nearing one in the morning. Your lips are wet with your own saliva after you've pulled off of Adams length and he's being sweet, your face in his hands as you start moving to sit on the bed.

"One more for me, baby," he says. In eight hours, you've come more than eight times, your legs are basically jelly, and all you have on your mind is Adam. "Just one more, mm? Then I'll run us a bath and we can just relax, I promise. Aftercare god, remember?" He laughs a little at the tail end of his sentence, cringing at himself a little bit.

And you're nodding, smiling at Adam as his lips find your inner thighs and you're blissed out on post-orgasm euphoria--Adam had let you touch yourself while sucking his dick, and you'd come over your hand as he shot his load into your mouth, which you'd agreed to let him do--and it's fifteen minutes til one and Adams lips against your thighs is absolutely amazing.

And then his lips and tongue go to your cunt, and you're moaning as your thighs wrap around his head, which leads to him laughing and squeezing your hips.

And Adam eats you out carefully, slowly, moaning as he does so. He's taking his time with you because you're blissed out and will definitively need to be easy on yourself in terms of walking after all that's been done. He's moaning, tongue moving through your folds in a way that feels incredible to both you and him, and his lips find your clit as he moves to start fingering you.

Adam sets a good pace, quick but not too quick, and curls his fingers at your g-spot with every thrust. You're moaning loudly despite the time and Adam is loving it, and then you're coming on his lips and his tongue and Adam is licking it off your cunt and his lips with a focused precision.

Then Adam is getting up, pressing a kiss to your forehead and telling you he'll be back in a few minutes. He tells you he loves you but doesn't expect a response--you're absolutely too blissed out to say much of anything, and he loves it because it's the first time in eight months where you've looked so relaxed, the first time in eight months where you've felt it.

Your eyes close as Adam leaves your shared bedroom, and you hear him starting up a bath. You smile to yourself, pressing your cheek against the pillow, having a brief, floaty thought of I am so lucky before Adam comes into the room again, smile on his clean face.

He kisses your eyelids, hands finding and interlacing themselves with yours.

"C'mon," he says. "I've run us a bath, baby. Gonna relax your legs, which are definitely sore by this point."

And then your eyes are opening and he's helping you stand as he tells you how much he loves you and how amazing you were during the session, and his lips are against your forehead in a kiss.

You're mostly quiet as Adam leads you to the bathroom, humming as you get into the tub with him.

You press your chin against Adams shoulder and in the next few minutes, you're still tired but the water is still hot and you're starting to form coherent thoughts again.

"Thank you," you whisper, pressing a kiss to Adams wet shoulder. He hums, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"For what?" Adam asks.

"For the last nine hours," you say. "For making me forget about work stress and for the sex."

Adam laughs, pressing another kiss to your forehead. "The sex was enjoyable for both parties, then," he says. "And--you're welcome, but you don't need to thank me. Just wanted to help you de-stress a little, and I'm glad I could do that."

You're in the bath together for thirty-ish minutes after that, and you let Adam wash your hair as he peppers your hickied neck with kisses and his hands run along your biceps. You wash his, and you spend the time waiting for the conditioner to set talking about your plans for the day as the day has turned.

Adam intends to let you sleep in and to make breakfast, and you intend to at least move from the bedroom to the living room after you've woken up so that you can read from the comfort of your couch.

You get out of the bath and, because your legs are still pretty sore, have barely any choice but to let Adam help you back to your room and sit on the bed as Adam gets dressed and grabs you clothes.

You get dressed into a pair of black boxers--they, Adam decides, will be comfier than sweatpants--and a hoodie Adam had during his baggy clothes phase that's baggy on you, too, and covers two thirds of your thigh before your knee amidst laughter and kisses that you share in the relative dark.

You and Adam end up going to sleep on the couch anyway so as to avoid halfhearted fighting about who sleeps on the wet spot on the bed from the sweat emitted during sex, curled up in each others arms with a thick, warm and fuzzy blanket covering you both up to your shoulders.