#Also Penny is a series of rings with body parts sticking out of some of them and she wears chunky 00s

[rosielav]

Hello everyone. Sorry I haven't been posting much art, it's been hectic at work.

Please enioy this teeny tiny Penny admiring a very large Chu (Chu is still trying to figure out humanoid hands....give her some time)

[lovingbradshawafterdark]

Feel me up: part 2

Bradley bradshaw x afab!Stripper reader.

Summary: Bradley hasn’t seen you in weeks and starts to worry, things only get worse when you call him.

Word count: 3.6k+

Warnings: drug usage, prostitution, abuse and violence, mentions of blood and guns. Vague mention of a suicide. Smut, handjob and unprotected p in v sex with mentions of tied tubes, minors absolutely do not interact 18+ only please read the warning. Dead dove do not eat

Taglist: @lovelybucky1 @discoseal @marchingicenotes7 @cyrene-world @rafemcameron1 @itmejado @harper1666 @hangmandruigandmav @uwiuwi @iluvweasleys @trippingforyou

Previous part | Series Masterlist

Also can be read on Ao3

Your whole body felt light as you stared up at the ceiling, that familiar fuzzy and warm feeling engulfing you as you took another hit from the blunt. The man next to you could barely move on the uncomfortable bed, which you were happy about. You felt good, but your bones ached, and you were so sore. Sore from the many hours that Jason had scheduled you after the incident that happened three weeks ago. You smiled, thinking about his silly mustache, his little whimpers that left his mouth.

“Bradley,” you said breathlessly, your cheeks warm as your hands went further down your body. The man next to you did nothing, and he didn't even touch you or move. You softly hummed as you heard your phone vibrate as you heard doorsteps outside the door.

***

Bradley hadn't seen you in weeks, not since you both got breakfast not long after he got kicked out. You told him it's probably not the best idea for him to show his face. You both texted and called when you had the time. He finally got your name and stage name.

Stardust

It had a nice ring to it. He smiled, taking another sip of his beer at the hard deck. You told him you were forced to work overtime. Bradley felt awful for that, but you assure him sometimes it's part of the business. He frowned slightly and looked at his phone, you hadn't texted him in over a week, and he was getting nervous.

“You doin' alright?”

He waited for a reply, and when it was over twenty minutes, he decided to play pool with others.

“She ghosting you, Roo?” Natasha asked, rubbing chalk at the end of her pool stick. He shook his head, Brakdey didn't know, but he felt it was something else.

“Think works just getting rough” He shrugged, not letting his nerves show. He never really told them what you did for a living or the scummy practices the club you worked at seemed to have.

“Yeah, the club used to have a secret prostitution ring. My boss stopped it when the word got around. Made one of the girls take the blame.”

Bradley cringed at you while you told him every detail. What some of those men did to you made his blood boil. You only said you weren't a part of that stuff anymore since you were one of the senior dancers. You were, however, one of the famous dancers, and many of said gross men wanted a night with you. They had to pay a pretty penny, though; many rich men were addicted to drugs and prone to violence. He can remember you trying to hide your cheek once when you had to take a few off after passing out during a shift. You were having breakfast, yet he could see the tired look in your eyes and sluggish movements. Bradley saw the bruise on your cheek and immediately clenched his fists and asked you who did it. You gently held his hand and told him you were giving a lap dance, and a guy got a bit impatient, was all. You sounded so calm saying that.

“Does that happen a lot?” Bradley had asked you softly. You only looked at the floor.

“How about we finish breakfast,” you said softly, and that was the end of the conversation.

“Hey, Rooster, your phone is ringing!” Bob yelled, making Braldye tear away from his thoughts. He grabbed his phone from the corner of the pool table. Bradley’s heart sank when he saw that you were calling him. However, Bradley tried to remain optimistic.

“Hey, everything okay?” He asked quietly. Pheonix, Bob, and payback were staring at him now. Bradley only heard the sounds of sniffling and sirens.

“Can you come and pick me up?” You asked so gently as Bradley heard the sounds of an angry man behind you. Bradley's heart squeezed, and he saw the trio look at him, grimacing at Bradley's expression switched from worry to anger.

“Yeah, where are you?” Bradley asked, gripping the fabric of his jeans tightly.

“The police station...”

***

You were shaking as Jason yelled at some of the officers. You could see the blood coating your white dress. Every part of you was sober now, but you half hoped you weren't. Cheryl patted your shoulder and rubbed your back. Finally, they were done questioning you.

“It'll be okay. Just try and Breathe,” Cheryl said, trying to soothe you. Your hands still shook as you attempted to unclench your jaw. Cheryl handed you a bag, “how about you go get changed” You nodded and took the bag so robotically. You walked into the police station's bathroom and quickly changed. You could see some blood still slightly smeared on your face. Cheryl had let you borrow one of her red dresses. You didn't like the color red anymore, not after what happened. You heard screaming before the door unlocked, followed by a gunshot. You shot up and saw a bullet hole through the man's skull which had been sleeping next to you. You covered your mouth, wanting to vomit, immediately sobering up. You looked to the door only to find one of the younger girls, Candy, holding a gun. Her dress was a pastel pink with splotches of blood on them. You shakily raised your hands in the air.

“I can't do this anymore,” Candy cried, her finger resting shakily on the trigger. Her blonde hair was messy now, her makeup ruined by her crying. You got up slowly and walked towards her.

“It's okay...I won't tell anyone, just put the gun down, please” Your voice shook as you tried to grab her hand gently. She moved away from you.

“We know how this ends, stardust. This won't change anything,” she raised the gun, “Jason will just pay off the police and keep things on the down low again” You tried to play your cards carefully and descale the situation.

“I'm tired, so tired,” she lowered the gun again, tears streaming more harshly down her face, “I'm tired of getting hit; I'm tired of being used” you understood her plight. You were tired, too, tired of all of this. You wanted to be free, yet Jason always knew how to keep you under his thumb.

“I understand, but doing this won't help...” You looked pleadingly into her eyes; her hands shook again.

“Then what am I supposed to do?” she cried, looking down at your dress, blood splatter on it, “and now I've gotten you involved...can you do me a favor, stardust?” You all just used your stage names, which was like a second name to you.

“What is it, candy?” You gently squeezed her hand as she looked you in the eye again.

“Get out of this place...if one of us can find a way out, then maybe we have some hope” You nodded, and she smiled; your following words became a blur as the gun went off again.

You jumped, hearing a knock on the door; you washed your face before opening it. Cheryl gave a sad smile.

“Your guy is here,” she said, pointing behind her. You stepped out slowly as Bradley looked at you. Cheryl pushed you ahead of her, “take care of her, please, at least while Jason is here” Bradley nodded as he took you by the hand.

“I will, don't worry,” He whispered, his thumb rubbing small circles along the back of your hand. You felt more at ease as his big hand gently held yours as he guided you to the door.

“Where the hell is she going!” Jason yelled as many officers were detaining him, “she only leaves when I leave! All my girls only leave when I leave” Bradley glared at him as you just hid in his chest. Cheryl bit her lip before taking a deep breath and looking away from him.

“Don’t listen to him; get out of here,” she whispered. You could barely speak, only nod at her.

“You can leave too,” you reminded her. She smiled again before playing with your hair for a second.

“You’ve got someone who can take care of you; many of us don’t have that,” she delicately placed a cute cherry hair clip in your hair, “I’ll be okay, we’ll all be okay, don’t worry too much about us” you wanted to cry, but you knew Jason would use that against you. You were finally outside, the cool California air hitting your skin. For once in your life, you finally felt genuinely free of only for a moment, the sun had gone down. Bradley put a hand on your shoulder, a sad look on his face.

“They didn’t tell me much, but you-“ you hugged him tightly before he could finish his sentence. Your face nuzzled deep into his chest.

“So much…blood on the wall” was all you could say, your knees weak thinking about it. Bradley rubbed your back gently. He looked at your white dress that was soaked in blood, and he winced.

“Was it your blood?” he asked gently. You responded by shaking your head. You gripped his Hawaiian shirt tighter.

“One of the other girls,” your voice shook remembering it, “she snapped, killed about three of the guys there and then-“ Bradley couldn’t stomach this right now, and he didn’t want you dwelling on it too much.

“How about I take you back to my place, yet you cleaned up properly” he gave you a nervous smile. Your legs were refusing to move, shock still flooding your system.

“Can't move,” you mumbled. Bradley understood and scooped you into his arms, walking towards his old bronco. He managed to open the passenger door, placing you into the seat. He closed the door as your head rested gently against the window. A song was playing from an old CD track.

All the leaves are brown (all the leaves are brown)

And the sky is gray (and the sky is gray)

I've been for a walk (I've been for a walk)

On a winter's day (on a winter's day)

If I didn't tell her (if I didn't tell her)

I could leave today (I could leave today)

You smiled. It was the beach boys' version. Back home, your dad would always put it on in that old barn when he would wash the horse. You hadn't seen a horse in many years, which made you laugh. Bradley touched your thigh. Thinking shock was what made you laugh. You only hummed along to the song as he drove to the tiny little bungalow he owned. He parked and got out. Your eyes focused on the night sky. The twinkling stars distract you as Bradley puts you back into his arms. You liked being in his arms. They were big warm and strong, easy to melt into. He opened the door and placed you gently on his couch.

“You wanna have a proper shower?” He asked, squeezing your thigh so gently. You thought about it for a moment. You honestly just wanted to rest.

“Maybe tomorrow. I’m drained” you yawned and stretched. You saw as Bradley’s lip turned upwards, happy to see that tiny little spark return to your eyes.

“Alright, I don’t have a guest bedroom, but I can sleep on the “ he saw the look on your face. It was filled with worry, “something wrong?”

“I don’t think I wanna sleep alone tonight,” you sighed. Bradley only squeezed your thigh again.

“I understand” he smiled as he took off your heels before scooping you off the couch, leading you towards his bedroom. He laid you down on his bed as if you were fragile piece of glass, “you want to sleep in that? I can give you one of my shirts if you want”

“If it’s not too much to ask” you smiled nervously as he handed you one of his old T-shirts. You started to take off Cheryl’s dress, Bradley was startled for a moment as you changed nonchalantly in front of him. He covered his eyes like a little kid making you, “What? It’s alright I’m used to people staring or jerking off while I undress, or even feel me up” you laughed yet quickly realized Bradley wasn’t like the other girls at the club, he wasn’t used to your jokes about it, they mostly happened as a way to cope.

“Did you want me to look?” He asked softly. A sudden pang hit you, barely anyone asked what you liked or wanted anymore. You only shrugged, unsure of what you wanted exactly, he was being sweet and making sure you were comfortable. He still averted his gaze as you slipped the cherry red dress off and put the T-shirt he gave you on. It was big on you making you giggle and looking back at Bradley.

“You can look now” you said tapping Bradley’s shoulder. His eyes slowly opened, they were a pretty shade of brown. His face flushed slightly looking at you in his shirt, “I’m gonna guess you Navy boys probably don’t have Pot just laying around?”

“No I don’t, haven’t had any since I was in college anyways” He sat next you on the bed, his hands nervous, “would definitely get discharged if I did” You shrugged again laying down, humming against how soft his sheets were.

“It’s fine, just been taking a big hit to help sleep at night, just to help ease the nerves” Bradley frowned at that, he didn’t want you to feel unsafe while you were in his bungalow and in general. He slowly turned over to face you, his hands were still at his sides.

“You can touch me” you chuckled yet he still didn’t budge, he wanted to touch you, not because you were used to it but because you actually wanted it. You gave him a puzzled look before gently stroking his cheek, finally noticing the scars that ran across it. His heart began to race, he could hear it through his own ears, “is it alright if I touch you?”

“Yeah” his voice was raspy as you ran your thumb along his cheek, he noticed the small bruises along your arms, things were to hectic before for him to notice, “did they do that to you?” His voice was soft and sweet, you hummed and closed your eyes.

“Yeah…they did” Bradley clenched his fists, his blood was boiling. You never gave specifics to what happened during those sessions.

“I’m not letting you go back” You froze, you truly didn’t want to go back there but it’s not like you had much of a place to go. You didn’t respond, only stroking his cheek.

“How’d you get these scars?” You whispered, your thumb running along the longest scar.

“Flying accident, happened when I was still training” he hummed at the feeling of your soft fingers gently caressing his skin. While he did really like this, he preferred if you got some rest, “you should get some rest” he said bringing your hand back away from his face. You frowned but nodded. You flipped over to the other side, slowly curling up.

Night pornstar” you said in a hushed tone. Bradley grinned, reaching over to turn the lamp at the side of his bed off. He kissed your shoulder gently, a small grin slowly coming from your lips.

“Goodnight” he said before slowly closing his eyes, sleep slowly enveloping him.

***

Bradley didn’t get much sleep. Heard you tossing and turning, even whimpering in your sleep, he pulled you close and told you he was right here. That eased you back to sleep as you felt one of his arms drape across your waist. What you weren’t expecting was feeling something hard pressing against the curve of your ass. You tried your best not to laugh and wake Bradley up. You rolled over, Bradley’s eyes still shut, snoring slightly. He was warm, it felt good. You waited awhile for Bradley to wake up. the sun hit his face making his face scrunch before slowly opening his eyes.

“Morning” you whispered, nuzzling into his chest. He smiled before letting out a hiss, his own hardness finally hitting him.

“Shit, didn’t mean for that to happen” his voice was low and raspy from waking up. You only giggled as he seemed to try and move his hips away from you.

“It’s alright, it happens sometimes” you tried to make him feel less embarrassed yet he still groaned. He rolled over onto his back. You say up and looked at him, his curly hair messy slightly. He rubbed his eyes, checking under the sheets to see how bad it was. Bradley groaned and sank into the bed again, you lips quirked upward.

“Looks like you’ve got a case of morning wood” you teased with a laugh.

“Don’t remind me” he said with a yawn, rubbing his eyes again.

“Well that must be painful you poor thing” you said with a fake pout. You quickly straddled him, making a chuckle bubble from his throat. His voice was still low and deep from waking up, “You want me to cure your morning wood, Pornstar?” You teasingly rolled your hips, making him groan. You placed your hands over his pecs, gently caressing the scarred side of his face. His hands went to your hips. Now that his jeans weren't confining him, you could see how big he was. You licked your lips as he had the biggest grin on his face.

“Like what you see?” he raised an eyebrow at you as you giggled. You slowly reached towards his boxers.

“I do, but I think I need a closer look” you took his cock out from his boxers, the tip already red and leaking, “even got a dick of a pornstar,” you cooed before spitting in your hand and slowly pumping him. The soft groans escaping his mouth were music to your ears.

“Fuuuuuck” Bradley had his eyes closed shut, his fingers digging into your waist. Why you were doing this, you couldn’t say. Was it because you were needy? Or as a distraction to help ease what happened last night? You could care less, only longing to have him inside you. He could see you licking your lips just thinking about it.

“You want me to ride you, baby?” You leaned down and whispered in his ear. He only whimpered, making you clench around nothing.

“S’Please, Star,” He begged at you pleadingly. You hummed at him, already giving you a nickname. You couldn’t wait any longer, slowly pulling your panties to the side. Bradley gave you a worried look, but you assured him.

“Tubes are tied, honey, was a requirement” you never really liked to mention that Jason had found you young, dumb, and vulnerable. You weren't vulnerable with Bradley, though. You could tell. Bradley just looked at you through a lust-filled haze, his hands shaking as you slowly sank on him, “you're so big,” you whined, getting used to the stretch. He let out another whimper before moving his hips impatiently. Making your mouth fall open as he set the pace, Bradley had many curses fall from his lips as he felt you clench around him.

“Didn't make you cum last time, wanna make you cum” Bradley babbled as he thrust harshly inside you. You threw your head while you tried to meet this thrusts, you hadn’t had someone this big inside you in a very long time, most men Jason had you sleep with were average at best if you were lucky. You tried desperately to not think about the club, Jason, or poor Candy. Bradley was fooling a damn good job at that. Bradley’s Left hand slowly made its way from hips to your aching clit, he began to rub small circles with his thumb making you mewl. The way Bradley was touching and fucking you had you already close to the edge, he was focusing much more on you than himself which you weren’t used to.

“Gonna c-cum” you whined out as you fell forward onto Bradley’s chest. He was still thrusting into you. The two of you were panting, breath hot as you looked at his lips. You pressed your lips to his, kissing him roughly, his hand leaving your clit to your back, holding you in place. You moaned into his mouth, his thrusts becoming more quick and sloppy. Your vision went white as you came, your walls clenched around him so he didn’t last much longer and spilled inside of you. Your whole body collapsed against him, you breathed heavily and so did he. His fingers rubbed small fingers against your back.

“You good?” Bradley asked, kissing your cheek as his mustache tickled slightly.

“Yeah, I’m good” you sighed happily, Bradley was still inside you, his cheeks red. You happily laid against him, content as a post orgasm fog washed over you.

“Looks like you cured me of my morning wood” he chuckled again, his fingers delicately playing with your hair.

“Guess I did, it’s gonna cost you” you joked, your fingers running along his face again. You opened your eyes and looked at him as you pulled out of him, already missing the feel of him.

“What’s it gonna cost me?” He laughed as you brushed some his hair back. He liked having your body against him, it had been awhile since something like this happened.

“Don’t know yet, for right now I want cuddles” you closed your eyes and fully laid against his chest, his heartbeat making you him again. Bradley would gladly cuddle you all day, but he had to go to the base soon and he didn’t feel comfortable leaving you here all by yourself. He kissed your forehead.

“Don’t think I feel comfortable leaving you here while I’m at work” you frowned, you didn’t want him to leave you, “but I think I got a place, you ever work as a bartender before?”

[10kiaoi]

Tactical gear appreciation post lol.

CW: canon typical violence, issues related to death. Notes: Very much unbetaed and written with increasing desperation. Please go easy on me?

----

The first time Bond sees the boy, it’s in the busy shopping streets of Bangkok. 

It’s midday and sweltering but the Pratunam district is buzzing with activity. 

Bond idles along the street side vendors, ambling through the makeshift tents and racks. The crowd is thick enough that he brushes shoulders with others every few steps or so. He keeps half an eye on the lovely trinkets - little wooden carvings of various local fauna. The other half is firmly fixed on a man rumoured to be delving into the international arms trade. 

He inspects a figurine of an elephant, tuning out the shopkeeper’s enthusiastic pitch in broken english. 

A scream pierces the air- a high pitched shriek that sends the crowd careening backwards. As Bond is shoved backwards by the masses, he spots a man toppled over on the ground, motionless. Around him, there are yells in Thai, in English, in various other languages of the disturbed tourists. 

He quickly scans the panicked crowd but catches nothing more than a flash of deep brunette melting away into the throngs.

It’s an unexpected sudden end to his current mission. 

----

Berlin is a mess. 

The woman Bond is tasked with assessing is KGB- turncoat and now looking for a new master. Bond strides into a small chain cafe on a quiet street. The cafe isn’t too busy- the few customers present are already seated and distracted. Anya Pavlova is seated in the far corner up against the wall, engaged in her book and a cup of coffee.

Bond heads to the counter, places his order. It arrives in short order and he chooses a seat by the window. The occasional autumn breeze is refreshing in the stuffy cafe, after sunny, tropical Bangkok. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Pavlova slips into the washroom. 

Bond tucks into his meal. 

She slips back out after a brief pause, prim and proper, returns to her softback. 

No one else gets up. Bond slides into the washroom. The note is exactly where Bond expects it to be. He glances quickly at the series of numbers- a phone number, tucks it into a secure little pocket in the lining of his jacket. He flushes the toilet, washes his hands and steps back out. 

Pavlova waits for him to sit back down at his table before putting away her possessions into the little handbag at her side.

The waitress comes over smiling, a tray with a single cup. Bond frowns, ready to reject the clearly mistaken order. “With compliments, it’s already paid for!” the waitress chirps. Bond pauses, then graciously thanks the waitress as she transfers the cup to his table. He resolutely does not turn to look at Pavlova who is making for the door. 

It’s a lovely rich black, no cream or sugar.  

The napkin is folded neatly under the cup. 

Bond looks down to check his phone.  Pavlova steps out from under the shelter of the awning. The cashier’s cheerful “come again!” switches to a screech of horror, followed by several others both in and outside of the cafe.  

Bond whips up with his heart pounding, only training preventing him from dropping his phone on the way. There’s a telltale metallic glint from a far off high rise, no more than a shimmer off what most would assume is reflective glass. It lasts no longer than a flash.  

Pavlova is dead before she hits the ground.     

----

M is understandably spitting mad. 

One doesn’t come by an enemy agent offering their services everyday and Pavlova could have been a terrific addition to MI6’s arsenal of covert long term operatives what with already being in the KGB and all. 

The morbid hilarity of the entire situation - Bond hasn’t done anything to influence such an outcome. A textbook execution practically. 

And yet it has gone all tits up.

A fuming M marches him down to Q Branch with carte blanche to use all resources to find the leak. “Something we should have done since Bangkok!” M rages in a rare moment of self reproach as Bond bears her fury with silence.

A forensics team is sent to the building the sniper is suspected to have worked from. They find nothing. Q Branch fares no better, the few low res security cameras of little help when it turns out they have all gone down simultaneously around the time of the incident. 

He’s grilled on what he remembers. Every tiny detail dragged out to be examined on all fronts to determine if he has missed anything.  

There’s little else they can do with no other leads. 

----

In Mexico City, Bond destroys an entire warehouse’s worth of hard drugs before it ever reaches his country’s shores.

The explosion is magnificent- a great blooming flameball and a sound blast that blows out every window in a one kilometer radius. 

It’s almost makes up for being whacked hard enough atop the head that he blacks out instantly. 

----

Miguel Garcia is a terrible host. 

Bond watches as the man drops the unfortunate minion into a pit of crocs. The screams still ring in his ears when Garcia starts in on him. His earwig is long gone. For once, he misses having Q Branch in his ear. 

Standard villain interrogation routine- a couple of hits here and there, a good deal of verbal threats, a few electrocutions to top it off. Nothing a double oh hasn’t been trained to take. 

Bond laughs and screams through the entire facade, a savage grin splitting his face apart. He shoves the desperate need to know that someone is coming into a tiny box and pushes it into a dusty corner of his mind where a stone mansion lies. 

Garcia is coming apart at the seams and for good reason. Between the two of them, Bond would garner Garcia’s in deeper shit and he gleefully tells Garcia so. 

The lacerations with a dull knife are worth the brief terror turned rage across Garcia’s face. 

----

Bond is thrown into a dark room and left to rot without food or water.

His body is a mass of bruises and pain - there isn’t a part of him that feels like he could sleep forever. The relative silence is a much cherished balm against the earlier violence. He’s just drifting off into a light doze- all the better for maintaining his energy reserves when the single shot echoes around the facility. 

It’s loud and forbidding. 

Bond jerks awake, adrenaline rushing through his veins. 

There’s yelling and panic, a desperate attempt to mount some kind of defence but a great deal more bellows that cut off in the middle. 

Bond’s heart pounds painfully in his chest. He staggers up, ignoring the painful pull at all his wounds. 

Somewhere in the distance, there’s a bang of a grenade. 

Outside his prison, there’s a crack. The door swings open. Bond squints at the sudden brightness. A familiar silhouette appears in the light of the doorway. 

“Heard you needed backup, brother!”

Bond could just kiss him. 

--------

What the hospital staff doesn’t know won't hurt them. 

Bond makes it a point to share a drink with Felix whenever he’s in town. Langley isn’t too far from DC and it’s been a while since they have had the opportunity to catch up. 

Well, that and the man rescued him from the clutches of Garcia. Bond owes Felix more than a round of drinks.  

Bond steadily ignores the disapproving looks Felix aims at his shots. More than for the company, it’s an informal exchange of information- information locked behind red tape and bureaucracy in other circumstances. It’s efficient and lays bare the minute details Bond has to work to hunt down otherwise. 

Felix tells him about an operation in Alaska of all places. Bond tells him about Bangkok. They both down a stiff drink. 

Felix pauses, a momentary lapse that blares like an alarm to Bond’s trained eye. 

Bond narrows his eyes. “What is it?”

Felix grimaces. Something like suspicion and dread creeps over Bond. 

“About that, we found the warehouse because of a tipoff. Garcia was already dead when we got there.”

----

Felix doesn’t quite let him in to the CIA secure archives but it’s a pretty close thing. 

He leaves Bond waiting in one of the meeting rooms, blinds drawn. When he returns, it’s with a thin folder. There’s also a ziplock with tiny metal pieces no bigger than pennies. Bond turns a skeptical gaze at Felix.  

Felix waves the reports like a carrot on a stick. “All our agents’ reports of suspected encounters we have had with our man. Maybe you’ll see something our profilers haven’t.” 

Bond’s gaze at the file turns covetous. Felix smirks.

The cases weren’t unlike his own experiences- clean kills, in and out before anyone is aware enough to act. Security cameras were as good as useless with how the feed has clearly been tampered with. Nothing he hasn’t already deduced from his own encounters. It’s entirely frustrating and Bond feels the prickle under his skin, a clawing need to know. 

“Paranoid, that one,” Felix declares, settling into an empty chair. Bond snorts. 

“He knows he’s being hunted,” Bond corrects. 

“No one’s actually seen him, you’d be the first,” Felix admits, leaning backwards.

No traces left behind, no witnesses. Professional to the extreme. 

Bond hisses in displeasure. 

----

Felix insists on sending him to the airport despite his protests. Dulles International Airport comes into sight like a hulking grey beast, ugly and utilitarian. 

“Take care, brother,” Felix wishes over their hug, leaving with several commiserating pats to Bond’s back, carefully avoiding the still healing areas. 

A call comes over the speakers as Bond heads through the express security lane: boarding for flight SQ2522 has begun. There’s a flash of brunette curls in the distance- Bond’s heart lurches, mind flashing back to Bangkok. But no, it’s a lady, petite but tall.  

For one irrational moment he thinks that it’s Vesper. Brilliant, gorgeous, traitorous Vesper with her wit and charm and lovely red lips. 

But the woman moves out of sight towards her gate and the moment’s over and Bond is drawn back into the monochrome present.  

----

It’s a random thought- one driven more by instinct from years in the field rather than any rational explanation. 

He boards his plane- a direct flight back to London. It is after the stewardess has come round offering champagne that Bond pulls the memory of the little slip of paper Pavlova left behind for him in that Berlin cafe.

Pressing send feels akin to stirring a hornet’s nest.  

----

“Thank you for the coffee. It was most delightful. See you soon.”

----

There isn’t much in Pavlova’s handbag- her phone, a softcover likely plucked from a discount bin, a half used tube of lipstick, a writing pad and a fountain pen. 

It is the pen Bond focuses his attention on.

Q Branch excels in the technical fields. They’ve done their bit and gone through the cell. As expected of someone like Pavlova. The phone is clean - clearly a burner phone. It is a dead end.

Bond’s expertise is in people and their sentiments. 

The fountain pen’s barrel glints, polished despite the corners where the gold has gone dull with age. The nib is uneven, as though grounded down by constant pressure on one side. There’s a ring around the feed and the section, perhaps originally gold like the decorative edgings and on the clip but the gold’s almost completely faded. Bond twists the ring. 

A blade springs out from under the nib. 

----

Taipei is unfinished business. 

The cheap street food is an utter delight. Jiufen is beyond crowded on a weekend and going through the long narrow streets is a slow shuffle sandwiched between local hikers and curious tourists. Bond finds himself with a stick of some grilled meat in one hand, 

Several meters ahead, a man walks on oblivious, arms laden down by souvenirs. 

There’s a flash of brunette in the corner of Bond’s eye. His snack falls to the ground, abandoned as he slices through the crowd. Outraged yells go up behind him but his concentration has locked onto the scene before him.  

It is deja vu.  

He barrels through the horde, grasps the slender wrist in an iron grip. 

He’s pinned by a wide eyed stare, brilliant green eyes shocked and surprised behind glasses. 

Then the blade in the pen is abruptly twisted towards him. 

The crowd topples backwards, shrill screaming accompanying the wave of people attempting to flee the altercation. It’s utter pandemonium. 

Bond leaps backwards to dodge the blade, but the assailant follows, a dogged determination in his eyes. They grapple in the narrow stone street, amidst the fleeing crowd. The boy shoves him into a display counter of traditional snacks. He lashes out with a kick to the sternum, sending the boy into the corner of a wall and knocking the breath out of him. 

They clamber to their feet and circle each other, bruised and all the more vicious for it. 

The boy hisses under his breath, like a cat with its tail stepped on. Bond answers with a snarl of his own, blood dripping from the laceration on his cheek. 

The streets have emptied by now, the target having slipped away in the commotion. 

There’s a momentary flash of indecision, of uncertainty. Inexplicably, the boy turns and darts down an adjourning alleyway. 

Bond curses, bolts after the flash of military green parka around the tight corners. He leaps five steps at a time down a steep stairway carved into the street, charging past the backs of residential houses. 

He skids to a halt in the middle of a crossroad, utterly alone. There’s a familiar looking pen on the ground, its owner nowhere to be found. In the distance, there are sirens. 

Bond sends a fist into the ground, knuckles white beneath the bruises. 

----

Wang Guo Pei is a pale faced man, still green from the attempt on his life. 

He is also the younger brother of the man killed in Bangkok, whose death has and still is sending ripples across the networks. The interrogation room is bleak and bare. The cold lights enhance the man’s sickly look, hallowed by fear and anxiety over the threat of death even through the filter of the camera.  

The Underworld really doesn’t care if one is just a foot soldier, not when one is relation and have access to the inner workings of the organization. MI6 has no such qualms either. 

Bond has lost track of how many lesser devils MI6 has had to make a deal with to nail bigger fish. 

He watches as the interrogation is repeated, fiddling with his own souvenir. Unlike Pavlova’s, this model sports a two barrel converter on top of the hidden blade. One is filled with regular ink. The other… Bond replaces the cap firmly, slips it back into an inner pocket. 

He doesn’t put much stock in working with an entire team with how often they just slow him down instead of being helpful. But M’s made up her mind and the powers that be agree. He’s on his way towards the waiting ops team and Wang three hours later. 

----

“Now pay attention, 007, this is a bulletproof suit-”

“Yes, thank you Major, I know what a bulletproof suit does.”

“Not this one, you don’t, now pay attention! I don’t want to have to repeat myself. Now see this here, this little bag, it’s been engineered to be filled with blood- ”

“Isn’t that just a water balloon?”

----

Hours later, Bond lands in Changi Airport, Singapore with new orders and new purpose. 

----

Q slips into the office tower easily, waiting for the last few stragglers making their way out to pass by before continuing on his way to the lifts. The night patrol is swiftly dealt with, a quick prick of a gel coated dart with fast acting amnesiac properties. 

The ride up is silent, no cheery elevator music to soften the adrenaline. He uses the time to check on his systems briefly. A flick on his phone brings up the app that mirrors the processes his laptop is carrying out while tucked away safely in his hotel suite. It’s a particular test of his abilities, this city, with all its zealousness in adhering to security measures. His laptop has been running nonstop since the moment he stepped foot on this island. 

The security cameras remain silent in their judgement. His finger twitches, feeling the weight of his missing pen acutely. 

The accomplishment of successful missions has long since worn off. The thrill of travel, of seeing the world and all it offers has dulled with the gravity of the situation he finds himself in. Pavlova’s death is still a fresh wound, the condolences offered by the organization doing nothing to stem the loss and grief that accompanies losing the only maternal figure he has in his life. 

Last one, and then you’re out. 

The rifle is cold and heavy in his arms. 

A robotic female voice announces the level they’ve arrived at and Q steps out. 

Wang is immediately visible in the building across the road, in his office.

Q runs a last check of the cameras. They come back clear so he drops to a knee, setting up his equipment. The thick glass of the skyscraper is easily dealt with, a perfect circle being cut out and lifted away to reveal a small hole through which the rifle can be fired through. 

It takes no more than a few seconds. 

Wang goes down in his office, blood painting the walls. 

Q starts packing up. 

----

Several muffled shots are followed by a heavy thump. 

The man stepping out of the shadows with his Walther primed and ready in his hand is a familiar face. Q can’t tear his eyes away, entranced when the MI6 agent unceremoniously drops the body to the ground. 

Q’s stomach drops, visibly blanching. 

He recognizes the corpse’s issue of equipment- he’s helped design some of it in fact.

He knows for a fact, that particular section never comes alone.

“Seems like you’ve pissed off your employer,” the man he fought in Taiwan drawls. 

Q’s hand goes for his rifle, only to flinch away when the man fires a warning shot. Q freezes. The man motions with his Walter. Q obeys, sliding the rifle away out of reach. He’s mentally flashing through all his equipment, looking for a way to buy time and find an exit, recalling all the areas where he landed hits just days ago.  

“Bond,” the man pauses significantly, “James Bond. 007.” 

Q blinks. Then slowly, “Am I supposed to curse your name as you kill me then?” 

Bond stares, confusion then exasperation. “Oh for Christ’s sake, the one time I try to be civil,” Bond grumbles mutinously. 

Q has to hastily stifle a laugh at Bond’s disgruntlement. There’s a moment of acknowledgement of the ludicrousness, yet it somehow lightens the atmosphere between him and and his would be executioner. It’s jarring, how that one line manages to bring a little humour back to his life. It’s simply another indicator of how much the state of things has deteriorated around him without him noticing. 

It’s almost regretful it isn’t likely to last. 

Q tenses as Bond’s hand creeps to one of his pockets. 

It’s cruel irony, if Bond does indeed intend to use that object as an instrument of Q’s death.  

Q turns distraught eyes upon the agent- a double oh, if he’s to be believed. 

“I gave her that,” Q whispers, eyes locked onto Pavlova’s pen in Bond’s fingers. 

“She gave it to me,” Bond states. 

Q’s face falls. 

“Is what I was ordered to tell you,” Bond continues, voice dropping to a murmur, “But I think you’ve been lied to enough, wouldn’t you say.”  

The full force of grief knocks the breath from his chest once again. 

Q watches with detached fascination as Bond winces, reaching up to remove the earpiece and drop it in a pocket. 

Bond turns back to him in all seriousness, and the dread rises again.

“I couldn’t do this for someone else,” Bond murmurs, catching him around the waist.  And oh, how Q can see the same loss and anguish in the other as if they are kindred spirits. “Someone important to me,” Bond chokes out, “but you have a choice now. You wanted out, this is your chance.” 

How Q wants to believe him. 

He leans in, breathes two words into Bond’s ear. 

Bond breaks out in a small, relieved grin. 

----

Bond cups Q’s face, pressing their foreheads together in reassurance. 

Q takes a steadying breath. His death is now fully in MI6’s- in James’ hands. 

“Now darling, do be a good boy and put this on for me,” James whispers conspiratorially.

[glitterdreamsz]

A Penny For Your Thoughts (part 6)

Roger Taylor x Reader

Summary: Reader and Roger have been a couple since they were sixteen. But what would happen to their relationship now that Roger’s dream of being a rock star is becoming reality? (whole series here)

A/N: I’m fucking back! Did you miss me? (let’s all thank the quarantine that gave me the possibility of going back to write this chapter. I hope you will like it and don’t be afraid of letting me know what you think! Thank you for sticking up with me. Also i’ve decided to switch this fic from BoRhap!roger to the real roger cause i find myself more willing to write for him. But, of course, you can imagine him in any way you prefer him.

Words count: 2,9+k

Warnings :english isn’t my first language so grammar errors, and SMUT (18+)

10th October 1974

“Okay” Roger panted laying the box on the floor “That was the last box.” He put his hands on his hips and took a look at the empty living room that was almost twice bigger than your old one. “I guess that’s it then.” You smiled widely at him “We finally moved into our new flat” you wrapped your arms around Roger’s waist and your hands wandered on his naked torso “It’s October, you shouldn’t go around with your shirt completely open.” You mumbled as your lips were pressed against his back leaving some tender kisses. “I’ve been carrying boxes and furniture for a whole hour, I’m hot even though it’s October.” He argued back, taking your hand and jokingly biting the tips of your fingers. “You’re sweaty and stinky even though it’s October” you chuckled looking up at him and Roger immediately turned around with a smirk on his face. “I guess that it’s time to try our new shower.” “Our new big shower.” You added smiling and already walking to the bathroom. “Who told you you were invited too?” Roger asked following you. But you didn’t argue back and just poked your tongue out at him while starting to undress yourself.

******************

24th October 1974 “And when I told him that I was quitting my job he was so surprised” you explained to Roger while clearing the table “As if it wasn’t clear enough that I hated working for him.” The drummer chuckled softly shaking his head “Did you tell him that now you’ll be Queen’s photographer?” He asked while putting the dishes in the sink. “Hmh” you nodded as you made Roger move away and you started to wash the tableware. “And his response was -you?- as if I wasn’t good enough” you scoffed and gave a wet glass to Roger who started drying it “That asshole” you kept talking “Well, I bet he will change his mind soon. I mean look at me now. I live in a fucking big apartment in central London, soon I’ll be touring the world with my boyfriend and I’ll be the photographer of his band that will surely become the most famous band in the history of rock. What else should happen?” There was silence then, out of nowhere, Roger said it. “Marry me.” You turned around laughing softly, thinking that it was another joke of his. But in front of you there was Roger, serious as ever, and he was looking at you waiting for an answer. “What?” you managed to ask, and suddenly forgot how to breathe. “Marry me (Y/N)” “Roger” it came out almost as a whisper “We…we always talked about how we both didn’t want to get married, how we thought it was just a stupid sign on a stupid paper. That we didn’t need it, that we were happy just like that.” “I know I know everything we said but those were just things we said as teenagers coming out of broken families. We both were afraid of marriage because we saw what it did to our parents. But I’m not afraid anymore, I know I want you and I’ve known it for a long time.” his eyes were watery just like yours, his hands were on your cheeks making you look at him as he was talking “We don’t have to prove anything to anybody. We don’t need a big ceremony. Let’s just get married today, let’s go to the city hall, we’ll have the guys as witnesses and then we can go get drunk at a pub. I just want to spend the rest of my life calling you my wife.” “Yes” you nodded, wiping away the tears that were running down your face. “Yes?” Roger was as surprised as you were with that answer, he thought that he would have had to argue more, that you would have told him to wait. But he was right, you were just afraid of marriage because of your mom. But then you found Roger, and you knew that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him. No one else could ever compare to the love of your life. So why not do that madness with him? “Yes” you confirmed once again and to make it even more clear you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him passionately, with all the love you had in your body “I will marry you today Roger Meddows Taylor.” “I…I just don’t have an engagement ring” he said, almost embarrassed to you. “Who gives a damn about engagement rings.” You chuckled reassuring him “Now go call the guys”

*****

“You guys are completely out of your minds” Freddie stormed inside your apartment gesticulating “You can’t call me and tell me that you’re getting married with such a short notification. It takes time to make the perfect outfit.” “Sorry Freddie” you giggled “The next time we’ll get married you’ll know it with more notice” “That’s not funny” the singer mumbled “Now, to the most important thing. Where’s your dress?” “Actually, I was thinking about wearing a white blouse and some trousers or a skirt, something easy.” “Are you insane? You are the bride, you can’t go dressed like that. Come on, let’s go.” He said taking your hand and pulling you towards the door. “Where are you taking me?” “To buy you a decent dress” he stated as if it was the most obvious thing. “But I want something simple.” “Fine then we’ll go to biba. Mary will help us.” He was already at the door but you stopped him. You couldn’t leave the house without seeing Roger first. You walked to your bedroom where you knew he would be with Brian and John. “I’m going out with Fred, he wants to buy a dress for me.” You said as you peeked your head on the bedroom door. Rog was talking with his mates while buttoning up the shirt he would be later wearing. “Oh.. ok” he said almost nervously “I thought we would go there together but I guess we’d meet there.” “Hmh” you nodded smiling “I’ll see you at the altar” “I’ll see you at the altar” he repeated and quickly pecked your lips “Now go before the whole building will hear Freddie’s screams.

********

“Do you think we’re doing a stupid thing?” You asked Freddie while flattening the hem of your dress with your hands. “Well, usually people don’t decide to get married all of a sudden and tie the knot the same day.” He answered chuckling “But it’s you and Roger, you are not ordinary and you are made to be together for life so why not?” he shrugged “Do you think you’re doing a stupid thing?” he asked back. You shrugged “Am I afraid? Yes, my hands are fucking sweaty and my heart is beating as fast as ever. Did we take this decision too fast? Yes. But I know that in the other room there’s the love of my life, we’ve been together for nine years and I know that marrying him is the right decision.” “So don’t make him wait.” Freddie pecked your cheek and then walked to his mates in the other room, you took a deep breath and once you opened the door you saw him. Roger immediately turned around facing you, a big smile on his face as you walked toward him “You look amazing, you’re so gorgeous” he whispered as he took your hand and kissed it. “I love your jacket” you smiled looking at his white jacket with birds printed on it “And you’re handsome” “Do you have the rings?” the man in front of you asked “No” “Yes” you and Roger answered in unison. “Yes?” you whispered looking at Roger. “You weren’t the only one who went shopping before coming here” He smiled taking two gold wedding bands. “Hope you like them.” “They’re perfect” you smiled squeezing his hand that never left yours since the beginning of the ceremony. “Will you, Roger Meddows Taylor, take (Y/N) as your wife?” “I do” Roger said with watery eyes as he slid the ring on your finger. “And will you, (Y/N), take Roger Meddows Taylor as your husband?” “I do” your eyes didn’t leave Roger’s gaze as you put the ring on his finger and then held his hand tight. The rings touched, a new sensation, a new feeling that you already loved. “I now pronounce you husband and wife” Roger wasted no time in cupping your cheeks and kissing you, leaving you out of your breath as you wrapped your arms around his waist and held him close to you. As background you could hear Fred, Bri and Deaky, with their respective wives, whistling and clapping their hands making you smile widely against your husband’s lips.

******* “I may now introduce you the newly Mr. and Mrs. Taylor” Freddie screamed as he walked into the pub. “Fred, keep it quiet” Roger told his friend as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders. “I don’t want to draw any attention on us.” The drummer wanted to spend the best day of his life signing autographs or taking pictures with girls who were too touchy. “Sorry if I’m happy that my best friends just got married.” “God, it sounds so weird. Roger and (Y/N) just got married.” Brian said while walking toward the counter. “I actually love how it sounds” You told looking at Roger who looked back at you smiling and kissed you softly. “Okay, too much sugar for today, let’s drink.” John joked sitting on a stool. “I want to propose a toast” Roger announced lifting his beer bottle. “To my wife” his arm was around your waist and his blue eyes never left yours. “I knew you were the one from the first time I met you and you had that Who vinyl on your bike basket. We’ve been together for nine years but they’re not enough for me, I want the rest of my life with you. We’ve had our ups and our downs but we never let them break us. You know me like no one else does, you’ve always been my rock and you have always believed in me when the rest of the World didn’t. And I don’t need the whole World to believe in me or to love me, I only need one person to love me, and that person is you. To my beautiful wife (Y/N)” Everyone cheered clicking their glasses and you had tears streaming down your cheeks as you cuddled to your husband “I love you Roger, I always had and I always will”

****

“Wait” Roger said as you opened your flat door “The bride can’t walk inside the house by herself” and saying so he picked you up in his arms making you life. “You, Roger Taylor, are completely crazy.” “Crazy about you” “So cheesy” you wrinkled your nose and pecked his lips “But you’re excused since we just got married.” “Right answer” he smiled while walking towards your bedroom. “Where is my husband taking me?” you joked already knowing his intention, which were the same as yours. “I bet you already know where we’re going” he said as he put you back on your feet once you got in your room and then whispered in your ear “I’ll make you lose your innocence tonight” “I’m sorry to inform you that I already lost it to a rock star” you whispered back grinning. “Did you?” he started leaving kisses down your neck “Is him in a famous band?” You nodded running a hand through his hair “He’s in Queen” “Is he John Deacon?” You both laughed at his question. “Can you please help me out of this dress instead of talking about your bandmates as we’re about to have sex?” “Your wish is my command” Roger joked and then the atmosphere got serious all of a sudden. You could feel his fingers unzipping your dress till your lower back and his lips left kisses all along your spine any time a piece of your bare back was shown. “You weren’t wearing a bra underneath your dress?” he asked as he pulled down one of your straps. “Such a naughty bride” he smirked pulling down also the other one revealing your bare breast. He lowered down, his lips on your nipple and your hands through his hair. Even though at the beginning you wanted it to take it slow, now you couldn’t wait anymore and you started to undress Roger. Your naked bodies moved together toward the bed and you pulled him down with you on the mattress. Just as if he could read your mind your husband asked you “How turned on are you?” “Very much” you replied as you cupped his cheeks and kissed him. “So no fore-” “Yes, let’s just go straight to it” you cut him off. “Okay, we can do it later. I mean, I bet there will be more rounds tonight.” You chuckled nodding “Yeah, there will surely be more rounds.” “Good” he smiled and just wanted to hold him tight to you cause now that you had him over you, now that those blue eyes were lost in yours, you could feel that your heart could burst for how much you loved him. And that’s what you did that night, you made love to each other. There was no lust in your actions. Roger took his time and moved his hips slowly, feeling every inch of you taking him so well “God, (Y/N) you feel so good” he cried out. His forehead was hidden in the crook of your neck as his fingers were intertwined with yours. Then his hands were wandering all over your body, he wanted to feel you, feel your skin under his hands, his lips on your torso wanting to savour you. And you were completely lost in full bliss, feeling loved and wanted by the man you adored. “Let me be on top” you managed to say. Roger didn’t say anything, too lost in you to be able to speak, and helped you switch position. “Sit up, I want to feel you close.” You instructed him. That was your favourite position, because like that you could have him closer to you, his skin on yours, your chest pressed against his. You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him deeply before starting to move your hips on his shaft, taking him again in you “I love you so much Roger” you moaned against his lips. The room was filled with your praises and the sound of your skin colliding together. “L-love, I-I need to go faster” Roger mumble “w-we have to switch” You nodded laying on your back and opening your legs for him. Rog held himself on the headboard with his hand as he slid one more time inside you. He didn’t waste any time and immediately moved his hips quickly and firmly. “God Roger” you moaned loud. By his cries you could tell that he was close so were you , you squeezed your walls against him and that made him lose all his strength making cum moaning your name. Your husband collapsed on you, still moving his hips to help you reach your high and his fingers run down your body drawing circles on your clid. “I’m close” you cried. “Come for me love” and as if those words were a spell for you, you reached your high moaning and holding close to Roger. Your naked bodies were tangled under the covers, your head laid on your Roger’s chest. You were playing with his hand as your fingertip traced his wedding ring. “A penny for your thoughts?” he asked, kissing your head tenderly. You chuckled looking up at him “You used to say that when we were still teenagers” a smile formed on your face at the memory “I found a new meaning for Penny, A penny for your thoughts, cause you’re all I think about.” “You still didn’t tell me what you were thinking of” Roger said as his hand ran up and down your spine, caressing your back. “I never thought that we would be here, as a married couple. But I don’t regret it at all. I love you Roger, more than anyone else in the World. And it doesn’t matter all the difficulties we will find down the road. I will be by your side, I will always choose you.” Roger smiled fondly and you could feel his heart beating fast against your ear. “You know what Bukowski says?” he asked, putting a lock of hair behind your ear. “Is this an intellectual moment?” you chuckled softly. “I’m trying to be romantic here, telling you what I feel and you are mocking me?” he pretended to be offended. “Sorry, I didn’t want to ruin the moment” you kissed him softly and encouraged him to go on.“ “Well, he always talks about how men are always late and how they can’t keep promises.” You nodded listening to him and wondering what was his point of those words. “(Y/N), I can’t assure you that I’ll always be on time, but I promise you that even if late, I’ll always be here for you.” *****

reader’s wedding outfit:

and roger’s iconic wedding outfit

taglist:

@heda-mikaelson @deakyspuff​ @espresso-and-a-cig @everybodyplaythegame​ @oxuminaa​ @heartsforhoran​ @thewinchesterchronicles​ @hissom1933​ @johnricharddeacon​ @allornone​ @lokilaufcvson @langdonzvoid​ @vanitysfairr​ @mcrmarvelloki​ @lady1505​ @belenportal @rogxrtaylxr @queenrrogertaylor @spideyyypeter​​ @the-galaxy-witch​​ @rockyroadthepastryarchy​​ @borhapqueen92​​ @jennyggggrrr​​ @queen-crue​ @deaconsposts​​

[raspberryparker]

chocolate orange | four

Peter Parker x Fem!Omega!Reader — A/B/O Verse AU

← previous | series masterlist | next →

word count: 4,714 decided to split it up so ur getting 6 parts now summary: peter tries to come to terms with his presentation... alone. y/n can’t stand the thought of being alone. warnings: see masterlist heat/rut and how shitty it is. m*sturbation. phone s*x. praise kink. breeding kink. don’t look at me.

read it on ao3 add yourself to my taglist! like my work? check out my commissions!

BONUS PLAYLIST: spotify or apple music

━━━━━━━━

  All Peter could hear was the beating of his own heart as his blood pounded through his veins. Each heavy thump rang in his ears, preceded by the one before and followed by another, the sounds echoing through his skull.

  “No, he didn’t—no listen to me, I-I don’t know what to do, I’m by myself…”

  May’s voice was distant, a ringing in his ears blocking out the sound. It was muffled, as if he was hearing her speak from underwater. The lethargy that clung to him, the heaviness that felt like lead ran through his veins in the place of blood made him feel like he was sinking in that water, drowning in his own sweat. She was… talking to someone. Who?

  It didn’t matter, anyway.

  It didn’t matter to Peter because the only thing he was worried about was how hard he was, how hard he’d been all day, the arousal under his skin practically making him vibrate against the mattress that felt way too uncomfortable to be lying on. The cotton sheets felt like burlap, scratchy and coarse.

  “...You’re not listening to me, he doesn’t have anyone else—”

  He brought his hands up, looking at the sweaty palms. But as he did, the pale blue sheets of his bed did as well, adhered to his fingers. He shook his hands out but they wouldn’t budge.

  Peter’s arms fell heavily against the bed, another peak in the tide of arousal washing over him. He looked down at himself, noticing the sheets sticking to his feet and legs as well, but more importantly taking note of his ever hardening cock, exposed as he tried to kick the blankets away with futile attempts.

  The head of his cock tingled unbearably; it was hot and swollen, a drop of precum forming at the tip. Peter brought a hand up, still sticky from both his sweat and his abilities, and curled it around himself. He bit his lip, suppressing a whine as he squeezed on it so tightly his knuckles turned a pale yellow, sliding in and out of his grip.

  “I’m worried about him. He called an Omega over, for Christ's sake… No, he didn’t tell her! He didn’t know! I didn’t know!”

  His arms felt limp, as if they weren’t even attached to his torso, but with every ounce of strength he had, he continued to tug on his length, his movements sloppy, wet, and desperate. He tried to breathe out, let himself relax enough so his body would stop sticking to everything around him, but the exhalation quivered around a gasp. He moaned softly and bit down hard on his tongue, making sure May couldn’t hear him. He tasted pennies as the warmth bloomed from underneath his teeth. He’d definitely feel that later. Again he tried to relax, but to no avail. Peter hadn’t lost control of his abilities in four years, not since he’d first acquired them. But it felt like he was a kid again, trying to re-learn basic motor functions and failing miserably while also being insufferably horny.

  He needed to cum. He needed it so badly because if he didn’t he was worried he was going to catch on fire. His skin burned and the sheets felt like sandpaper underneath him, and his other hand was fisting the fabric so tightly he worried he’d rip it.

  When he came, he didn’t feel any different.

  He didn’t feel better, didn’t feel satisfied. But his mind cleared for a moment, enough for him to finally be able to shake himself free of the fabric clinging to him, enough to realize just how much cum was cooling on his stomach and thighs. How much he stained the sheets. Now that he wasn’t using his abilities, they were sticking to him for a different reason.

  May was barking into the receiver when his mind finally cleared enough to take in his surroundings. The sun was setting, the winter bringing an early twilight as the rain froze into snow outside. But despite the cold that blanketed New York, Peter was hot enough that if he could, he’d gladly crawl out of his skin.

  “No, Stark, I need you to listen to me!”

  May was yelling. Her words were muffled through the walls but he could hear her with astounding clarity, his already heightened senses going into overdrive. Each of her footfalls as she paced through the living room, the sighs she let out through her nose, the click of her teeth as she clenched her jaw; he heard it all as if the sounds were being blasted by a megaphone next to his ear.

  “He chose you, Stark!” she was saying. “You’re the Alpha in his life, he doesn’t have anyone else, and he needs you to help him! I… I need you to help him. I don’t know what to do, I’m not cut out for this.”

  Peter heard himself groan before he even realized he’d made a sound. He heard May stop pacing and he almost called out for her to help him, but what would he ask her to do? Bring some snow in from the street and smother him in it, try to alleviate the burning of his skin? There wasn’t much his aunt could do. He knew what he needed, who he needed, and she’d been sent away.

  The growl tore from his throat as he remembered that afternoon, the overwhelming longing making his want to claw his eyes out. He grew hard again, miraculously quickly, his body getting ready to bury himself into his Omega at merely the thought of her. Without thinking, he rolled over onto his stomach, the sheets over the mattress scratching at his skin as he did, and began grinding his hips into the bed. The wetness of his own cum felt cold against his skin, almost uncomfortably so, but he was so hot that it didn’t even matter. He’d given up on wearing clothing, knowing it’d drive him insane sooner than later. So there he was, lying naked and tangled in his sheets, pathetically humping into his mattress like a horny pubescent child.

  That’s what he felt like, at least.

  When he woke up that morning, he was sweating. There was an itch under his skin, a buzzing static that would not go away despite his attempts to alleviate it. His vision blurred as he looked at himself in the mirror, his toothbrush frozen in his mouth, and he tried not to keel over from the way his head grew light. And the shower, oh no, when he showered the temperature of the water was comparable to that of arctic seas, and yet (though this may have been a hallucination because he wouldn’t put it past himself) it seemed that the drops would evaporate the second they landed on his skin.

  May found him doubled over in his bedroom, his jeans pulled halfway up his legs, interrupted as he was getting dressed, whimpering with his cheek pressed to the carpet as he grew more and more incapable of basic movement. She had been frightened, worried he’d hurt himself or something of the like, but the moment she stepped into his room and caught a whiff of his rut scent, she coughed and sputtered from the sheer force of it.

  She called into work, letting them know she had to say home. My son just presented, she said. I need to make sure he’s alright. Can’t leave him home alone.

  Peter was too distracted by the realization that he was indeed presenting to notice that May had called him her son. And he was too preoccupied with how increasingly hard he was growing by the second, how aroused he was, to be pleased that it finally happened.

  He’d spent the day jerking off, groaning, and thinking of only one person.

  Peter didn’t remember texting or calling Y/N, the day blurring together in one giant mass of arousal, desperation and warmth, but never before had he experienced the kind of mental clarity that he did when he caught her scent.

  He’d have given anything to have her, to hold her in his arms, to pound her into the mattress underneath him until she was crying for his knot. It frightened him how desperately he needed her, and he almost cried when she refused to allow him to open the door.

  He was glad he’d had the mind to listen to her.

  “Thank you. Yeah, he’s calmed down, but I don’t know how long it’ll last… Okay, I’ll see you soon.”

  He heard the click of the phone as May put the receiver back into its dock. He heard her approach his door, raise her fist and hesitate before finally knocking softly against the wood.

  “Peter?” she asked. Her voice was unsteady, frightened and unsure. “Can I open the door? I won’t come in but I wanna give you something.”

  He grunted in response, making a half-hearted attempt to pull his sheets up so May wouldn’t have to be faced with his bare ass. Turning his head to face the door, he watched as his aunt pushed the door open slightly, her nose scrunched against the smell.

  “Tony’s coming to get you,” she told him, her voice nasally as she raised her hand to pinch her nostrils. “He can help you. He’s got some special room or whatever, I don’t know he didn’t tell me a lot but… yeah. That okay?”

  Peter nodded weakly, turning back to press his nose into the pillow and keep from groaning out loud. He bit the cushiony fabric, his tongue wetting the cover.

  “Oh, and,” May said. “Thought this might help. Y/N left her jacket.”

  At the sound of her name, Peter felt his body tense, turning back to the door just in time to see the soft winter coat as May threw it into the room. He caught it easily, raising one hand and closing his fist around the fabric.

  May shut the door quietly behind her.

  Bringing the jacket up to his nose, he allowed his eyes to flutter closed as he inhaled deeply.

  It was like he was drowning in her.

  His mind was racing, every fibre of his being screaming at him to find his mate and rut into her like he’d die if he didn’t. The scent invaded every single one of his senses. He smelled the tang of lemon peel and tasted the sugar of clementine juice. There was the undertone of something like orange liqueur, a heaviness he realized with a grin was her heat scent, and he groaned against the jacket. He was grateful he wasn’t so far gone as to shove it into his mouth. He at least had some semblance of decency remaining.

  He turned around once again, leaning his back against the wall, his head just missing the bottom of the top bunk as he pushed himself to sit up.

  Peter felt like an addict, clutching his drug of choice to his nose as he huffed heavily, his hand curling around his throbbing cock. His arousal hadn’t let up in the slightest all day, and he was still as hard as he had been that morning. He was heavy in his own hand, the base of his dick already swelling as the beginnings of his knot started to form. It wouldn’t fully form until it was clutched tightly inside an Omega, but the confirmation in his own hand, the heat of it as he pumped himself faster and breathed his Omega’s scent in, making him high and lightheaded in the most delicious way, was comfort enough.

  He was an Alpha.

  He swallowed the saliva down as he began to drool onto the fabric of Y/N’s jacket, muffling his moans as he panted against it.

  He felt like he was going to burst wide open, all the pent up emotion from the day coming through as his hips bucked up into his fist, as if searching for something in the air. His toes curled, every muscle in his body tensing as he drew himself closer and closer to where he needed to be.

  Peter was certain that May could hear his lewd groans and pants but he didn’t care anymore.

  He was full of the scent of home. Of summer. Of Y/N.

  Of mate.

  He bit the collar of the jacket roughly, where her scent gland had rubbed against it and where her presence against the fabric was the strongest, imagining it was her neck as he came. Peter longed to bury his teeth into her skin, feel the burst of her warm blood against his tongue as the mating mark took hold on her. He imagined what she’d sound like as he did, how she’d cry out or mewl or whimper as she trembled under his mouth. He grunted. His cock spurted one-liners of cum all over the bottom of the jacket. The Alpha in him, the new one that had only made its presence known that morning, hummed in satisfaction. The jacket belonged to his Omega, and he’d marked it with his seed, and as primal and gross as that thought was, he couldn’t help the smile the crossed his lips. He let out a breath, allowing his eyes to close gently as his mind cleared for a moment. He felt… satiated. Though he knew it to only be temporary.

  And then, because the universe was just so cruel to him, he remembered the events that unfolded that afternoon.

  He’d asked Y/N to come over, worried her beyond belief, and then shocked her with his presentation. He’d triggered her heat early, practically throwing himself at her and begging to let him fuck her. He’d made her cry. He’d hurt her.

  Peter’s eyes shot open as the thought echoed through his mind.

  He’d hurt his Omega.

  He didn’t even care to take notice of the ache as he let his head fall back against the wall with a thud, a pained sound leaving his lips. Whatever chance he’d had with her, if any at all, had been ruined all because of his own stupidity.

  He could only hope she didn’t hate him too much.

━━━━━━━━

  Empty.

  That’s all she felt. Unbearably empty.

  “...Alpha…”

  Was that her voice? Evidently it was, because she’d moved her lips, the cracking and chapped skin making her cringe as it touched. Her vocal chords hummed softly as the word croaked from her throat. Her mouth was dry. She felt like she was suffocating.

  It was dark in her room. She wasn’t sure what time it was, but she knew the sun had gone down and she knew that she’d been lying on the floor all day.

  She almost laughed at herself.

  But Y/N didn’t have the strength to, so the only sound that left her lips was a high-pitched whine.

  She’d been lying on the floor, naked and sweating, because even the thought of having anything touch her skin made her want to rip her hair out. Her body was lying in a strange pool of sweat, tears and slick, the combination of fluid making her skin stick uncomfortably to the hardwood floor. Her mother had moved her rug at her request, and she glanced over at it now, the soft material bunched against the wall under her open window. Her bed was beside her, her makeshift nest waiting for her, but she didn’t have neither the will nor the strength to push herself to her feet.

  “Alpha, please…”

  How pathetic.

  Her mother could probably hear her too, and the thought made her want to crawl inside herself and hide away for the rest of eternity, but at the same time it was just too much.

  She was so empty. But not physically, of course. The second she’d arrived home and her mother had settled her into her room, laying her carefully on the ground and making sure she had enough water to get her through the night,  she’d stuffed herself full with the fake knot she kept in the bottom drawer of her dresser underneath her socks. It’d been so easy. It slid home, stretching her deliciously, but it was so cold and hard and nothing like she needed though it’d have to do. She was so wet already, the slick her body produced dripping down her thighs and making them slide against each other as she clenched around the silicone, trying desperately to relieve the heat that consumed her. But it was incomparable to the real thing, and her body knew it.

  Whatever relief she could manage to bring herself as she squirmed around in the mess of her own fluids, tilting her hips whichever way she could and squeezing her thighs together in an attempt to get the replacement for what her body really needed to press against her insides just right, was far from enough.

  Her sweaty palm would come up to her breast, rubbing the mound almost painfully before pinching her nipple in a forlorn attempt to bring herself some relief. The other hand would reach for her neck, pressing her nails into the swell of her scent gland just at the junction where her neck and shoulder met, trying to replicate the feeling of teeth. She was sure she drew blood but she didn’t care, furiously scratching at her skin and digging her nails into her neck. It never compared to a mating bite, but the pressure alone was enough to relieve her if even just a little bit.

  Each orgasm was less effective than the last.

  Every time she came, she’d cry out, a guttural scream tearing from her throat before the groans would settle into sobs. Pressing her cheek against the cold wood of the floor underneath her, her face would contort as the pain racked her body and she cried, a hollow ache in her lower abdomen that begged to be filled.

  Begged for an Alpha.

  “Peter, please!”

  She was screaming now. Y/N couldn’t hear anything but the gross wet sounds of her body slipping on the floor, the squelch of the fake knot as she tried to press it impossibly farther inside herself by arching her back and pressing her hips into the floor, and the pounding of her heart as the blood screamed through her veins.

  It had never been this bad before. Never hurt this much. The aches and pain were normal for heats but she’d never experienced them like this. Some part of her told her it was because she’d been so close to a rutting Alpha, in such close proximity that his pheromones managed to affect her, and now that they were apart, her body was punishing her for it. It might have been what happened. It seemed logical enough to her.

  But her mind was racing far too much for anything to be logical.

  “I—I can’t—!”

  Another shriek of pain.

  Another pang of arousal.

   This was the worst heat she’d experienced since she presented. And she’d do anything it took to relieve the pain.

   Anything?

   Yeah, she thought. Anything.

   It took far too much effort to flip herself onto her stomach. And when she did, the way her nipples tugged painfully against the cold floor made her cry out. She pushed herself up with her arms, crawling like a child along the ground until she reached her night table, where her mother had carefully placed her phone. Her head was against the ground as her arm stretched up, feeling around blindly until her fingers closed around the cold metal of her phone.

   Collapsing back to the ground on her back, she held her phone up in front of her face, squinting against the bright light. Her hand trembled as she scrolled through her contacts.

   She found the one she was looking for, pressing it with a shaking finger before holding her phone against her ear.

   The ringing of the line reverberated through her skull.

   “Hey—”

   “Peter!” she cried. “Peter, please I—”

   “—you’ve reached Peter Parker’s cellphone. Uh, leave me a message and I’ll call you back when I can? Is that okay, I don’t kn—”

   The beep of the voicemail recorder cut his voice off, and Y/N almost threw her phone across the room in frustration.

   She tried again.

   Nothing.

   She tried three more times, and each time he didn’t answer, her cries grew louder. The tears were hot as they slid from the corner of her eyes to the floor. More fluid to add to the mess that she’d already made.

   It wasn’t until the fifth time she dialed his number that he picked up.

   “Y/N…”

   At the sound of his voice, she let out a stuttering sob. “P-Peter.”

   “Shit.” He sounded out of breath as he spoke. She could almost feel him panting against her ear through the phone. Though his voice was distorted, she could picture him there with her. “You okay? You don’t sound—”

   “Alpha,” she whined. Peter growled on the other end and she let out a pained moan. “It hurts so bad, Alpha. I-I need…”

   “Omega,” he snarled. She could see his lips curling back in her mind’s eye to display his teeth, and she longed for them to be pressed against her neck.

   “Help me.”

   She was crying. Bringing up her free hand to wipe the snot away from under nose, she mumbled incoherently as she pushed her heels up against the base of the silicone knot, her legs butterflying out along the floor as her knees bent, pushing the dildo up so the swell of the knot along the base of it pressed against her walls as hard as it could. Biting her knuckles, she tried to hold in her groans of pain as they mingled with whimpers of pleasure.

   “What are you doing, Omega?” Peter’s voice was rough, gravelly and harsh. “Are you touching yourself? Tell me you are, need to hear you say it.”

   “Yes.” The word wasn’t anything more than a breath, but she knew Peter heard it because of the rumbling purr that sounded through the phone. “But… it’s not enough.”

   It wasn’t enough. It wouldn’t be enough until she had him.

   “I know, little Omega, I know,” he said in a pained voice. “You don’t know how—how bad I wanna be there with you. Wanna smell you, taste you, wanna lick your thighs clean of all that pretty slick.”

   Y/N let out a strangled moan, her gyrating hips making the silicone press against the parts of her where she needed it the most.

   “Alpha… it hurts…”

   “Bet you look so beautiful all wet and spread for me,” he sighed. “You gonna take my knot like a good girl?”

   “Yes!”

   At the thought of his knot, she gave a shriek. Her voice was still coarse, grinding with want and lust as she pictured him there with her.

   “I’ll be so good for you, Alpha,” she whined. “So good, please…”

   “Wanna fill you up.” The unmistakable sound of skin slapping against slick skin came through the phone. She imagined the bright red head of his cock as he fucked his own fist, and that itself lead her to let out an incoherent sound as another wave of pleasure swept over her, tangling with the pain. “You sound so sweet for me, princess. Makes me wanna stuff you with my cum.”

   “Please, that’s all I want,” she panted. “Peter, I can’t—”

   “You can,” he assured her. There was a little more authority in his voice now. He sounded more in control. Y/N had no doubt it was the Alpha in him coming through. “You can because you’re so good for me, baby, taking my cock like that.”

   “So… so big.”

   And then suddenly she wasn’t full of silicone, she was full of Peter, his thick knot pressing against that spot inside her that made her limbs tremble with pleasure. She felt him above her, pressing into her, could smell the sweet chocolate that filled her senses as he talked her to the edge.

   “Gonna fill you,” he began, a sharp groan cutting off his words. “Fill you with my pups.”

   “Alpha!”

   “You like that?”

   “Yes!”

   “Of course you do,” he purred. “Of course because you’re so perfect for me, ‘Mega. My perfect girl. Gonna mate you the second I get the chance, gonna watch you grow round with my pups.”

   She was so close, almost there, and she could tell Peter was too. His soft grunts through the phone, his rumbling growls as he tugged himself closer and closer to his climax. The thought of Peter filling her with his cum, breeding her like her body told her she wanted to be, was enough to bring her over the edge.

   “Alpha, gonna cum,” she whispered. The tears were already drying on her cheeks.

   “Come on, Omega,” he groans. “Cum all over your Alpha’s cock.”

   The screams were quieter this time, less like screeches and more like crying groans. Her body convulsed along the hardwood, chest pushing up into the air as her back arched and her mouth fell open. The cold air around her made her stiffened nipples hurt, and she brought a hand up to rub at them as she rode out her orgasm.

   Peter’s shout in her ear let her know he’d cum as well.

   The quiet that followed was stifling. The only sounds were her own breathing and Peter’s panting in her ear.

   “Y/N…”

   He sounded… upset. It made her heart tug as he sighed through the phone.

   “Peter,” she replied. “Thank you.”

   “Don’t—” He cut himself off, and there was the sound of skin rubbing against skin, as if he’d run a hand over his face in frustration. “Don’t thank me. This is my fault and I… I’m sorry.”

   “It’s okay,” she whispered. “‘M already better.”

   And she was.

   She’d stopped crying, the aching emptiness in her abdomen momentarily sated. She was still sweating, her arm slipping softly along the mess of fluid on the floor as she reached down to pull the fake knot out of her entrance. She winced as she did, giving a sharp sigh as it bounced onto the floor between her legs, the slick it had plugged up finally spilling onto her thighs. She grimaced at the feeling.

   “I shouldn’t have—” he said, before a pained whimper cut him off. Y/N was afraid he’d start crying. “I shouldn’t have texted you. I triggered your heat and now you’re suffering because of me and I—”

   “Peter.”

   She was falling asleep, her voice a soft breath. Peter immediately stopped talking, as if worried he wouldn’t hear what she said.

   “We can talk about that later,” she said. “Just… just talk to me. I wanna hear your voice.”

   “O-okay.”

   He sighed into her ear and she smiled softly.

   “I don’t even know what to talk about,” he said. The quiet laugh that followed made the smile on Y/N’s face grow.

   “Anything,” she told him. “Anything’s good.”

   “Uh, well,” Peter began. “I don’t… I don’t even know where I am.”

   When she didn’t reply, he took it as a sign it was working.

   “Mr. Stark came to get me, brought me to the tower. But there’s no windows and it’s dark in here and… I don’t know what floor I’m on. There’s this big lock on the door so I can’t really get out. But I guess it nice enough. Kind of wish I was in my room but I feel like I’d have destroyed it by now.”

   He laughed again, and Y/N let her eyes flutter closed.

   “The bed’s pretty comfy, though. Just wish you were here with me. Then I’d be okay.”

   Her breathing had gotten softer. Steadier.

   “Y/N?”

   No response.

   “You fell asleep on me,” Peter laughed. “That’s okay. You need to sleep. I guess I gotta sleep too.”

   He knew he was talking to himself, but he didn’t care. He pulled the phone away from his ear, about to hang up, but he hesitated. Y/N’s breathing was slow and steady. He smiled.

   “Good night,” he whispered.

   And before he could convince himself not to, he added, “I love you.”

   The dial tone never sounded so haunting.

━━━━━━━━

A/N: this is basically some filth to keep u all at bay while i finish this. i keep adding part to this dshgjLHGlhglG. i swear it wont be longer than 6 though. place your bets now on how long that promise lasts.

read it on ao3 add yourself to my taglist! like my work? check out my commissions!

← previous | series masterlist | next →

peter taglist + mutuals: @butwhyduh @girl-tips-from-satan  @lexi-laz  @niall2017  @shamelessbookaddict  @yeahbutmarvel @spidey-holland67 @hungoverhellhound @laucontrerasv @merrynewtmasx @katieisanaveragekid @thequeensardine @stormyparker @skelkitt @sassylibrarygirl @scatterbrainedgenius @nedthegay @trustfundparker  @awkwardfangirl2014 @stylemute @lesbianphantom @alex--awesome--22 @fuckyou-imspiderman @naturallytom @hollandroos @loverholland @tomshufflepuff @peterstrainingwheels @marvelsswansong @themarauderstheoutsidersandpeggy @psychedelicmagnum @katherine-nielsen @spideypeach @neptuneparker @peterporkerpete @lovelyspidey @holland-holla @the-lost-fairy-tale

[itsworn]

A 5.3L that shows you don’t need to go broke to enjoy some LS power in your Chevy

The biggest complaint about LS-type engines is they cost a lot of coin to get into. Yeah, the typical LS mill will bleed more cash from your wallet compared to a traditional small-block, but if you’re careful and don’t need a bazillion hp, then it can be more of a flesh wound instead of a gushing flow of Benjamins. You see, not every LS build has to be a dry-sump LS7 or 600+ hp stroked LS3. There are many LS variants out there and some of them are downright affordable. Shop smart and set realistic expectations and you can have modern LS EFI goodness under your hood for not much more than a quality Gen I small-block.

The term to keep in mind is “economy of scale.” That’s to say, you need to think about what is plentiful in the marketplace. If it’s easy to find (large supply) then the prices will typically be less. So, with that bit of Econ 101, the most affordable LS variants on the planet would be the 5.3L and 4.8L examples. Hundreds of thousands of these have been produced and are now easy to find parted out online and languishing in salvage yards.

We decided to try a 5.3L since it’s by far the most common engine out there. Rather than buy a complete engine we opted to build one from various sources. Why? Well, when you buy a pull-out engine you typically end up with a lot of leftover bits and a complete engine tends to cost more than if you buy the components separately. We were going to go this direction with the block, but Summit Racing had 5.3L blocks so cheap it wasn’t worth the effort to hunt one down in a salvage yard. The rest is a combination of new and used parts to end up with a done and ready-to-run engine. Now, if your wallet is a bit light, you can do things even cheaper than we did by going with used parts. But keep in mind that running used lifters or a “broken-in” oil pump does up the risk factor a bit.

As for our goal, it was simple. To make at least 400 hp on the cheapest 87-octane fuel California has to offer. We wanted a ton of vacuum at idle along with smooth performance. Yeah, 600+ hp is cool, but in reality most rides are fine and a ton of fun with 400. Hell, a fifth-gen Camaro barely made over 400 and nobody considered it a slouch. If you need more than the 416 hp we made you can up the camshaft a couple of steps, mill down the heads to boost compression, or maybe treat the heads to massaging. Of course, our engine is only few psi of boost or a sweet shot of nitrous away from knocking down much bigger numbers.

1. Millions of LS engines have been produced, which means that parts are easy to find and pretty easy on the wallet. The “economy of scale” also helps lower the cost of new LS parts like this 5.3L GM block from Summit Racing. It priced out right around $300, which makes it one of the best deals around.

2. The Summit 5.3L block came ready to rock and already honed to the required 3.780 inches. After looking over the block we found that no machine work was needed. By the way, the smaller bores makes for a very strong cylinder wall just begging for some nitrous or boost. The block came bare (but with cam bearings installed) so we picked up an engine plug kit, with the needed oil restrictor plug, from Summit (PN SUM-G1584).

3. 5.3L LS engines are one of the most common ones on the planet and were stuffed into scores of SUVs and trucks. They’ve also been around long enough so there are rotating guts available for cheap at swap meets and online.

4. Of course, some of these parts have been beat down so you need to be careful when shopping. We scored a 5.3L rotating assembly from a friend but found that the crank must have tossed a bearing, resulting in a beat-up crank journal and two bad rods. To fix the crank, our friends over at Rancho Machine, in Rancho Cucamonga, California, were able to turn the crank 0.010-inch. But that still left us two rods short of a full set.

5. Overall, these parts, whether new or used, are pretty cheap so we weren’t too concerned about finding two replacement rod/piston combos, but then luck showed up to the party. David Freiburger of Hot Rod and Roadkill fame was doing a story involving swapping out the rods/pistons of a new 5.3L LS engine. So, instead of finding two used pieces we ended up scoring a full set of nearly new rods and pistons to go with our turned crank. I guess we owe him a favor now.

6. If you’re just building a cruiser and don’t need big power, the heads for your LS engine can be pretty budget friendly. We scored a pair of used early LS1 (1999-’00) 853 heads (GM PN 12559853) for under $300, which is about the going rate. They’re nearly identical to the later 241 LS heads and have 66.67cc combustion chambers and 200cc intake runners. Now, these will drop the compression ratio of our 5.3L since the combustion chambers are larger than what a 5.3L typically fields. If you want max power, these should be milled down a bit. But, we want a cruiser that will be happy on the cheapest gas we can find so we left them as is.

7. With our freshly machined and polished crank back from the machine shop we were ready to start putting it all together. First up, installing the crank using a fresh set of Clevite main bearings (PN CB1776A108).

8. The block came with main bolts but we needed a set of new cross-bolts. For this we picked up a set from Summit Racing (PN SUM-910230).

9. With the crank torqued to spec, we started sliding in our slightly used 5.3L piston and rod combos. The rings were just inexpensive stock-replacement pieces from the local auto parts store. The 0.010-inch undersize bearings were Clevite AL Series (PN CB-663P).

10. Big cams typically make for big power, but our goal here is a 400hp street mill, not a lopey street monster. Our choice was a stick we’ve used before with good results. The Comp cam (PN 54-414-11) spec’d out at 216/220-degrees duration at 0.050-inch, 0.525/0.532-inch lift, and an LSA of 114.

11. After securing the cam with a Summit LS thrust plate (PN SUM-150106) we went ahead and installed the timing set, making sure to line up the dots on the sprocket and timing gear. The sprockets we had and the timing chain was a new replacement from Summit (PN SME-143012).

12. Oil pumps are pretty critical, so resist the urge to reuse an existing one. We’ve had great luck with these new ones from Summit (PN SUM-121170) and, at just $70 it’s cheap insurance.

13. Our block came to us bare so we needed hydraulic lifters and a set of the plastic guide trays. The easiest route was a kit from Summit (PN SUM-HTLSKIT) that included 16 lifters, four trays, and even the four specialized bolts needed for installation.

14. Rancho Machine went through our 853 heads, cleaned them up, and surfaced them just enough so we would be assured of a good head gasket seal.

15. We also installed a fresh set of Comp springs (PN 26918-16), retainers (PN 774-16), Viton valve seals (PN 511-16), and spring seats (PN 4705-16) that matched up with our new camshaft.

16. After sliding on Fel-Pro replacement head gaskets, we put the heads in place and bolted them down with a torque-to-yield head bolt kit from Summit (PN SUM-910210).

17. To be honest, we have tons of used LS rockers laying around, but we doubt you do. So, we picked up a wallet friendly set from Summit (PN SME-K-143021) along with the needed bolts (PN SME-143005 x2). We had a set of stock GM pushrods on hand (7.400-inch), but if you need some, the part number for a set from Comp is 7955-16, or you can get a complete set from Summit for a hair over $30 (PN SUM-G6400-LS).

18. We then sealed up the 5.3L mill with a used top valley cover and a new front cover (PN SUM-G6320). The front cover was only $30, but we had to fork out another $25 for the required gasket (PN MRG-61030G) and $10 for some bolts (PN MRG-60900G) from Mr. Gasket.

Intakes can really eat up a large chunk of your budget. You could go with a carb, but by the time you buy the carburetor and the intake you’re well over a grand. And, while you won’t need an ECU to run the engine, you’ll still need a box from MSD to fire the coils. Given all of that, we opted to go with a factory-style EFI setup. The intake we chose is a new offering from Dorman. In testing, we found it to be better than a GM LS1 or even LS6 intake manifold. As a bonus, it came with bolts, gaskets, and new fuel injector O-rings. Ours ran $400 from Summit (PN RNB-615-901).

19. The fuel rail and injectors are actually used GM stuff from an old LS1 project. We’re looking at just over 400 hp, so even smaller fuel injectors will work. Just make sure they are the right height to work with your fuel rail.

20. Our early Gen III 5.3L LS uses a cam position sensor that mounts in the rear of the engine, just behind the valley cover. This one from Summit (PN RNB-917-715) set us back $34. Be sure to factor in the cost of sensors and such when budgeting your LS engine build. If you’re a bit of gambler, you can score used ones at salvage yards for pennies on the dollar. After all, most of the cars drove themselves to the accident.

21. Coils are another item that you could scrounge up at a salvage yard, but we opted for a new set from Accel (PN ACC-140043K-8). The LS valve covers and coil racks were left over from a Week To Wicked project. We did have an interference issue with the LS1 fuel rail and the more modern LS3 valve covers and coil pack rails. Our solution was to notch the coil pack rack a bit and flip the one coil forward using two small spacers (or a stack of washers in a pinch) to help the coil clear the coil rack.

22. We completed our budget 5.3L mill with a used GM oil pan and damper (both from the same Week To Wicked project as our valve covers) and added a set of Hooker long-tube headers. The Dorman intake accepts a four-bolt throttle body so we ran a Holley 90mm piece. Our guesstimate is that you could, with careful shopping and a few trips to the local boneyard, duplicate this build easily for under $3,500.

23. After some tuning, the best pull, with 29-degrees of timing, was 416 hp at 6,100 rpm and 394 lb-ft at 5,700 rpm. Best of all, the torque curve is fairly flat with over 300 lb-ft from 2,900 rpm on up. That’s great power from a budget engine that roughly displaces 327 cubic inches.

Sources

Clevite 662.893.2860 us.mahle.com/mahlemotorsports

Competition Cams – COMP 800.999.0853 compcams.com

Don Lee Auto donleeauto.com

Fel-Pro felpro-only.com

Holley / Hooker / Accel 270.781.9741 holley.com

Summit Racing 800.230.3030 summitracing.com

Westech Performance 951.685.4767 westechperformance.com

The post A 5.3L that shows you don’t need to go broke to enjoy some LS power in your Chevy appeared first on Hot Rod Network.

from Hot Rod Network http://www.hotrod.com/articles/894713/ via IFTTT