#I needed this message rn non thank you

[jymwahuwu]

i loved your jing yuan rq of him texting you and spamming you constantly 😭 it’s got such a nasty hold on my heart rn

like imagine you’re trying to get work done and your phone goes off every 5 seconds because he wants your attention and tries to distract you from whatever you’re doing so you’ll text him back

he usually sends you wholesome things, but once in a while he’ll send you a shirtless pic, or a pic of him in the mirror with his sweatpants sagging just a little bit to show you his boxers n’ waist

he also loves texting you like any regular husband would. constantly asking you how you’re feeling, complimenting you, trying to lure you into fucking him, and trying to make plans with you. just general domestic things

with the phone s*x though???? oh MAN he 100% will call you saying he has an emergency and when you answer his facetime call it’s him just jerking it and suddenly you can’t hang up and he’s laughing about how flustered you are. cue you throwing the phone and him going, “hey don’t throw me :((“

Thanks for the amazing idea! He'll definitely do it lmao but you won't be fooled a second time right?

related content: yan! jing yuan keeps spamming you and calling you yan! jing yuan visits your home

TW: yandere, harassment, masturbation, (implied) non-con, breaking into a home, hacking

Jing Yuan is really being your "boyfriend" and keeps sending you messages no matter what you're doing. He likes to text you like a normal couple, complimenting you, telling you about his work, sending videos of his cute lion mimi playing with balls of wool and rolling on the floor. Or send you some explicit messages to entice you to have sex with him.

If you tell him you are doing something, Jing Yuan will reply you: okkk :;(∩´﹏`∩);: i won't bother you. A minute later, you get a new message saying he read an article about dating places, and apparently there are different dating fads for people on every planet these days. You don't want to reply at all, but suddenly there are some noises outside the window.

There is a Xianzhou style spaceship flying outside your home window, and a new message tells you that he has booked a restaurant 2 light-years away and is now coming to pick you up.

It's like there's a big "?" over your head. You are petrified.

And facetime call! One night, the general keeps sending you messages telling you that there is an emergency. He has to discuss it with you via video call. You ignore it, but feel a little guilty - what if it's true? He might need your help with something…

"…Your inside is so nice… so soft…" Jing Yuan's long white hair is hanging on his shoulders. His hands are moving up and down, panting and moaning your name. "Oh? Hey baby, I didn't expect it to be connected. You miss me too, don't you?"

"Stop, you- what are you doing…" You frantically checked the button to hang up the phone, but it disappeared. He giggles, urging you to spread your legs now and touch yourself gently. You can only throw the phone aside and allow him to see the ceiling of your house. "Hey don't throw me :(("

This gave the general an idea. You don't believe him now, but Jing Yuan can modify your home communication system so that you can communicate with your boyfriend. He will be able to walk freely in your home as a hologram and give you loving company at all times. You must be feeling lonely at home, right? Before Jing Yuan visits your home, presses your legs to your chest and starts thrusting, holograms can give you some comfort.

[liz-allyn]

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

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

words: 11.8k (omfg)

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

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

names used: daddy, princess, baby, babygirl

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

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

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

#1 - Love on the Brain

>>> heya boss. how’s your trip? 😜

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

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

He rolled his eyes, swallowing back an irritated snort.

Real mature, Felicia. 

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

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

An understatement.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Honey was unimpressed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God, that dress. 

Peter planned for everything—but not that dress. 

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

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

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

Truthfully, he needed her to come home.

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

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

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

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

Followed quickly by—

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

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

Five restaurants later...

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

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

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

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

>>> ...???? 

He rolled his eyes. Tapped out a response.

<<< Not great.

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

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

“Like what?” she questioned skeptically.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Peter felt his blood pressure rising.

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

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

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

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

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

“Pedro.”

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

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

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

Buzz..

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was flailing. Pathetic.

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

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

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

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

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

“This is as far as you go.” 

Peter blinked, looking at her in confusion.

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

Peter curled a brow upwards. “Sorry?” 

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

He took a step back, blinking owlishly. 

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

A literal ellipsis formed in his mind. 

Peter swallowed hard. “Uhhh—?”

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

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

“You know!?”

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

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

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

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

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

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

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

“Honey, please. Let me explain—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Unbelievable.

Absolutely unacceptable. 

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

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

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

He was a little bitch.

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

The door swung open. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There’s my girl.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not a rabbit. A honey badger, then.

“Get off of me!” Honey spat.

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

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

“Mmffucker—Let me go!”

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

“No.” 

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

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

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

He hoped she would. 

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

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

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

Brave girl. 

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

Pointless, though. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fucking asshole!” Honey sneered.

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

“Fuck you!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was exquisite and expensive. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Peter was unimpressed. “Liar.”

“M’not lying—!”

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

“Fuck you! What do you know—?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey—Eyes on me,” he commanded.

Mesmerized, Honey blinked up at him like a fawn.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

RIP!

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

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

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

“I don’t care.”

“—re’such an asshole—”

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

“You left me!” she fired back.

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

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

“What was my drink order?”

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

Her brows pinched together. “Huh—?”

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

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

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

She arched a brow. 

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

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

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

Honey and Lavender. 

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

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

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

Reluctantly, she nodded.

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

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

Still, it was a risk he had to take. 

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

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

That word settled like a boulder crushing his chest.

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

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

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

There he is. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh…uhm—?”

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

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

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

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

“Sorry,” he muttered, not sorry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh.

He needed more of that sound.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But she was his wild colt. Difficult to break.

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

“Fuck—gah—ohhhhh…”

He licked up each broken syllable.

“Yes! Oh, god, yes! Oh—” 

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

“...Pedro.”

Halt.

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

Mischievously, Honey’s grin widened. 

She got him, alright. 

Flawless victory.

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

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

Now, she was in trouble.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She was in trouble. But was she in danger?

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

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

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

“Ple-please—“

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

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

The savage tone contrasted with the glow of his eyes. 

It was always opposites with him.

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

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

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

Or… if she wanted it.

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

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

That was a mistake and an impossible endeavor. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Another slap to her cunt made her whole body shake. 

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

Slap. 

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

Slap! Slap! Slap!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, yes—He was weak for that sound.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck—she was going to come from this. 

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

Then, another sharp slap. 

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

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

He sucked on her clit.  “Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

He simply grinned.

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

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

“Mmm...m’sorr—ow—agh!”

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

“Pleasepleasepleaseyes—it’syoursit’syoursallyours—”

His eyes swam over her body, drunk with lust.

All mine. 

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

But he was willing to pivot.

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

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

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

And god, she'd forgotten he was thick.

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

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

More. She wanted more.

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

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

He paused. 

Uh-oh. Did she say that out lo—?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She was magnificent. 

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

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

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

Perverse. Debauched. Divine. It made her lightheaded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He snickered as if he’d won a prize. 

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

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

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

Embarrassment flooded her despite her persistent mewling. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

All he could think of was more. 

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

“All mine, all mine…”

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

Then—He’d make her his whore.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh. 

More. Of. That.

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

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

“Everything,” he corrected.

“Everythi—god—I’m yours, Pete—ahh!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He wondered. 

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

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

Unlikely.

He marveled. 

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

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

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

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

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

He saw the ellipsis bubbling up on his screen. 

<<< Not another word.

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

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

Nothing worth waiting for ever is.

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

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

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

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

Not just any cat.

She unlocked the phone to see the latest message.

>>> how’d it go? u give him hell?

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

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

There was the one from last month:

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

Then one from last week:

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

And these:

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

Finally, there was a clear instruction sent earlier today.

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

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

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

<<< Sure did.

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

[lovelyelbowleech]

Hello!! I just wanted to come here and offer my thanks for blessing us with your masterpiece of a story. I have been reading it non stop for the past few days, literally unable to put it down, this is not an exaggeration 😭😭 your writing is so outstanding and amazing!!! I said this in a comment already but i cannot stress it enough! I feel so pulled into the story when reading, like im really there and experiencing all these emotions. I cant believe i get to read this for free!! All your characters are so well fleshed out and well written, and even though i only started for sokka and zuko, ive fallen in love with every other character and their story. Im on the edge of my seat at the end of every chapter! Honestly one of the best things I've ever read, no joke. Im on chpt 22, and i cannot wait to see how it will all progress, its literally giving me the will to live rn😭😭 and i cannot thank you enough for writing this!!!! I can never find the right words to express how much i love something or how much excitement it gives me but i need you to understand that as soon as i wake up this story is the first thing on my mind. I cannot wait to read it. Thank you!!

Thank you for such a nice ask and such kind words! I am really glad you are enjoying the fic so much! It has been a bit of an obsession for me the past few years 😅 And it is always lovely to hear people enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it!

Thank you for this lovely message! I hope you continue to enjoy the fic!

[bitternanami]

hiiiiiiiii were doing this <3

link to my ko-fi commissions interface here. this is useful if you have a card but not paypal.

otherwise we can do it the old-fashioned way and you can send me an email (mk.commissions@gmail.com)

pls rb if u could, thanks love u :*

terms are under the cut ! click thru to read

(these are the same terms as the ones on the ko-fi website, for folks who dont wanna open a new tab. i feel you. i have like 87 open rn)

for pre-existing characters i'll need to know:

who they are (ofc)

the general mood of what you're going for

any other details that matter to you

for original characters i'll also need either:

visual reference as to how they look, or

a written description. be detailed if you can ! itll help me be more accurate

on my acceptance of your commission, expect me to get back to you to clarify details within 3-5 days. total commission turnaround depends more heavily upon the size of the work, but for these you can expect around 1-2 weeks, depending on how busy things get

when it's done i'll send you a flat png (500x500px, 350 dpi) and the workfile with layers (i use medibang which uses .mdp but i can save as .psd if you prefer)

all commissions are for personal (non-commercial) use

full refunds available before work has started, after which point refunds are partial (1/2 the full amount) to account for time spent/work completed. hit me up if there are extenuating circumstances though and ill see what i can do

please feel free message me with any questions! thank u for reading thru all this, have a good day ok 🧡

[butch-reidentified]

thank you for your reply!! i hope it's okay to send you an ask instead so i don't impose on that other post any further haha. but you know what, i never even saw it that way "they're also using it to try to make black women (and ESP black teen girls, who are uniquely vulnerable and socially isolated) feel explicitly invited in." because this is so true, i observed it. there are a lot of younger black girls who get caught up in the online-discussions about "attraction" as it relates to black women and it's brutal. the attacks come from all sides, within the community from black men and women alike, from racist white people, from other women (regardless of ethnicity) so i get that instead of realizing this is racism and ignoring or defining their own black womanhood instead of letting it be defined for them, they understandably look to distance themselves from it entirely. it's traumatizing. and then you have the idea of non-binary with a community of people already there just waiting for you and go for it. you absolutely have a point.

for me personally i think i just realized the amount of misogynist stuff i have to swallow and accept to identify as nb + the idea that i'm supposed to internalize the racist actions of others as some kind of personal flaw didn't sit well with me. it also plays into this idea that many women are groomed into, that if there is something wrong, it's internal and YOU have to fix yourself. not the outside world might need to change to accommodate you as a woman, you have to cease being a woman since you don't fit some misogynistic racist patriarchal ideal. i know there were black women who claimed that people didn't "read them as women" because they never held doors open for them or helped them with their luggage and thus they concluded they were not women. and i just couldn't accept that, why give up control and agency like that? (not to mention people do these things for me and i'm dark brown and live in lily-white europe, like? it says nothing about you as a woman at all.)

and about your addition on tifs and blocklists, you know it's funny. tumblr is full of altright and super racist blogs, there is a corner of tumblr like that. i have never once seen people on this side of tumblr (political or just random blogs) make blocklists for those blogs. because it's not needed because anyone who finds that content knows to block it or just stay away. it's universally bad and easily identifiable. for radfem and rad leaning (etc...) blogs however, this doesn't apply. the posts are simply about womanhood and female reality and it rings true for many if they take their time to read them. and effectiveness lies in their truth, so they need to be blocked.

ngl this made me cry

of course it's okay to send me an ask! or dm, or anything! please please know you aren't imposing if you were to add this to the post - and the "haha" honestly stung because it just (and I already know I'm not gonna be able to put this into words the way I'd like to rn), it's female socialization, yk? and I won't begin to try to imagine what that's like when you factor in antiblackness and specifically misogynoir, but I make it a point to call this out because SO many asks I get start with an apology for existing, for reaching out to me. and it hurts, it enrages me that this world has taught its women & girls to do this, to feel this way. I LOVE getting asks and messages from you gyns, truly. it's my favorite. what you wrote here is so meaningful and raw and important, and I honestly think every word of it belongs on that post. you have a right, every right, and you deserve, to speak and be heard. truly heard. you have every right to reach out and make connections and build sisterhood. please do.

I would love for you to add this to the post, and I'd be honored to reblog it and boost YOUR voice fr. I'm honored you wanted to talk to me about this ❤️

btw, your url is just flawless

[antimony-medusa]

sorry if this is a dumb question but what would you say even qualifies something as kink? i get the whole consent between two adults thing but some of the stuff you mention being in sbi fics is making me a bit confused. i can see what you mean with the fear play and stuff (as an aroace i’ve been exploring non-sexual kink in other fandoms lately so i have definitely looked back at some sbi fics and went hmmm) but where do you draw the line? what’s the difference between a praise kink and someone who likes to get approval from people they look up to? why are using pet names sometimes kink and sometimes not? for the torture stuff: i’ve only ever seen hurt/comfort after a character gets tortured, how is that kinky at all? idk im just so lost rn

This is not a dumb question! Yeah! Unfortunately this is a thing, however, where there is no hard and fast answer for a lot of it, it's mostly down to tone. It's mostly down to vibes. It's the kind of thing where you are messaging your own beta reader like "okay I went hard on [subplot] do I need to tag this" and then they stare at it for you. (And thank you to the group chat for helping me with examples for this post.)

I'd say if you really start squinting at it, for a lot you can spot it if you go, what is the point of this scene, what is the beat being hit? What is the narrative here for? And in cases where like, someone is getting eaten by a giant, it's pretty clear that the point there is vore, and that's a kink, baby. Or like you say, with ones where the character is being pursued through the wood, the point is that Tommy (or whoever) is terrified and thinks he's about to die when he's caught, and that's fearplay with a side of predator/prey. Or ones where Tommy is pinned down against his will and forced to be cuddled by his new family, the point there is the pushing at Tommy's personal boundaries and the fact that he *likes* it anyways, and that's consent play/dubcon (ocassionally noncon, depending on the fic).

Anything with altered states of conciousness, whether that's through drugs, or "instincts", or magical mind control, or anything else, that starts to read as something where you go "what is the point of this scene"— is the point that Tommy's out of it and so floppy and gets manhandled? (I don't know the term for it but there's def a kink about being drugged). Is the point that Techno grabs at the back of Tommy's neck and growls at him and that puts him back in his proper dynamic place as his sub runt (yeah that's D/S right there).

You can also start to kind of spot the kink when you go, okay, how far from canon dynamics have we diverged to make this scene happen? I think that's why the nickname discourse happened, because we know what Wilbur calls Tommy in canon, and so "sunshine" starts to read as a different or extended dynamic from canon, and why is that dynamic there? What's Wilbur getting out of this scene, what's Tommy getting out of this scene, what is the reader supposed to get out of it? If someone who is normally in canon called "brat" or "child" is called "sunshine" or "darling" or "baby" or "mine", what's the reader supposed to get out that? Is the reader supposed to feel gratified by this, loved and affirmed and having that mental itch scratched, is that why the scene exists?

Or like, how is something set up by the narrative? Does it feel like an earned exception to the canon dynamic or is the point of the scene something else?— Do you see a difference between Wilbur hugging Tommy and speaking reassurances to him in a moment of vulnerability after he's been really hurt or something, and both of them are feeling horrible in the situation but are hoping for comfort, vs Wilbur gently cradling Tommy and cooing praises at him just because, and this makes Tommy's brain go all melty?

Like, if you imagine your own siblings or parents in these scenes, would it feel a bit weird? If you stumbled across this scene on TV, what would your first read be? If you genderswapped it and moved the slider on the ages, would it feel out of place in a YA novel?

With the praise kink thing, that's an extremely fuzzy line, but pushed to it I'd say, is the point of the scene that someone completed [task] and trusted person is proud of them for [task], with the focus on task completion, or is the point that someone has someone they trust and they're proud of them, and the focus is on how proud the person is of them and how worthwhile and good the person now feels because they've been affirmed by their trusted person?

And as for how torture can be kinky, uh, there's an entire field of types of kinks based on types of pain being committed— impact play, wax play, spanking, flogging, biting— and again it comes down to how the narrative treats it. Is the narrative expecting the audience to be really into a) watching this guy suffer b) getting in the head of this guy suffering? It isn't necessarily sexual, but it can definately get kinky to just— are you getting gratified by this, how much weight in the narritive is on the pain/helplessness/submission/mind break?

And that's not even getting into guro, which is eroticized gore— some people find torture sexy! Some people write snuff fics! How much does the narrative dwell on the gore, and how does it do it? How much does the story expect you to get out of this guy dying, are you supposed to be crying or are you supposed to be a bit wound tighter now?

And like, I want to reiterate that I'm not judging any of these kinks. Fiction is a safe place to explore a bunch of stuff you would find problematic or just straight up Very Bad in real life, and brains are weird. If you have been wired so that you get the good chemicals when specific story beats happen— look, I have to take so many brain meds to get the good chemicals, if you can hack your brain and get good chemicals off of platonic dubcon, i am applauding you.

Just a) keep it away from the creators, b) even if it's platonic, not everybody is into the same story beats or kinks. Please tag your shit.

[michinnyun]

could i maybe request wanda comforting the reader after they’ve just had a really bad day and are like crying and stuff? wanda just holds them and tells them everything is gonna be okay and gives forehead kisses because they make everything better!! the reader maybe is struggling with mental health / depression? don’t feel pressured to write this!! i just need comfort lmao.

Okay um. I went way overboard. Are we all depressed rn LMAO. i also like don't think i followed the prompt correctly but IF IT'S BAD JUST LET ME KNOW AND ILL TRY AGAIN

A Hug and a Kiss

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x gn!Reader

Summary: Love is patient, love is kind

Tags: Showers × showering together × milf moments tm × im love her × non sexual showering × Depression × Crying × Fluff × Fluff and Angst × Self-Esteem Issues × Self Confidence Issues × True Love

Words: 1.2k

Ao3 link

Some days are better than others. That’s how it is for everyone, right? So then why is extra damn hard for you sometimes?

That's what you think while you wallow in bed. You had things to do today, errands and chores and such. Self care. Meals to make. None of them got done.

You don't want to call Wanda. She shouldn't see you like this. Strong, beautiful Wanda, who can create new realities with a snap of her fingers. She’d just think you were pathetic.

Tears slip out for what feels like the millionth time at that thought and soak into your pillowcase. You thought you’d run out of those by now.

As if your thoughts had summoned her, there’s a knock on your apartment door as Wanda lets herself in. You bolt up in bed, panicking. She calls your name and you scramble to make yourself look semi-decent.

Your hair is a greasy rat’s nest and you've had the same sweater on for three days. What is she going to think of you now? She’s never seen you during an episode before.

“Are you okay? You weren't answering any of my messages-” she says, walking into your bedroom and taking in the sight of empty water bottles and protein shakes on your nightstand.

Your lower lip wobbles, and you can't meet her eyes. You feel ashamed, caught. She was never supposed to know about this.

You’re positive she's going to leave, disgusted with you, when she coos and descends upon you, taking you in her arms.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she murmurs, kissing your forehead, your cheeks. You start crying in earnest, and she kisses your tears too. “How long has this been going on?”

You sniffle. “A couple of days. I don't know. I kind of lost track of time.”

“Have you eaten anything?” Your eyes dart to the empty bottles on your side table and she nods, understanding.

She kisses your mouth, sweetly, and you fight the urge to push her away. “Haven't- brushed my teeth. Or showered. ‘S gross,” you say, embarrassed. She kisses you again anyway. You wrinkle your nose.

“Let’s take care of that then, hm?”

You nod hesitantly as she leads you into your bathroom, lifting your sweater over your head and taking her own clothes off. She ties her hair into a high bun on her head and turns on the shower as you take off your pajama pants and underwear. Your cheeks burn.

She grabs your toothbrush and puts a dollop of minty paste on it, coaxing you into the warm spray so you can wet your hair and brush your teeth at the same time.

Once that’s done, you leave your toothbrush next to the shampoo bottle as she lathers two pumps of the suds into your hair.

She’s careful to keep it out of your eyes. You didn't realize how much you needed this, how good it feels to get clean again. How good it feels to have some help when you can’t take care of yourself. Plus, a little bit of human touch never hurt anybody.

You sigh involuntarily as Wanda massages into your scalp. She laughs softly. “Feels good?”

You hum, nodding. She rinses the suds out, then starts on the conditioner.

You’re crying again, suddenly. After feeling nothing for so long, the tightness in your chest is unbearable. You want to hold her, thank her, kiss her and praise her until you dissolve into each other and disappear from the face of the Earth. You can’t believe she's doing this for you. It’s so unbelievably kind, especially coming from someone who’s been through so much.

You turn around, wrapping your arms around the soft skin of her middle and kissing her. It’s not with any urgency, you just can't find the right words right now to let her know how you're feeling. How she makes you feel.

Wanda seems to understand. She strokes your cheek, a gesture filled with so much affection that you think you're going to die. She’s going to kill you, and you're going to go happily, because it's her and she's taking care of you.

She pulls away, smiling at you as she takes the shower head and rinses away the rest of the slippery product.

Finally, she soaps you up, bending down to clean your legs and reaching around you to scrub your back. She presses a kiss to your mouth and leads you under the water, finally clean for the first time in days.

You step out onto your bath mat, grabbing your towel and drying yourself methodically while Wanda quickly finishes in the shower.

She comes out in all her naked glory, and you hand her her own towel.

You dry off together, then head into your room to grab fresh pajamas.

Wanda sits on the edge of your bed, her fiery hair slightly frizzed, wearing one of the huge cotton t-shirts that you keep just for her.

She beckons you over with a towel, scooting back so you can sit in the cradle of her thighs, silent as she methodically dries your hair.

You’re deeply refreshed in a way you haven't felt in a while. Her hands have transformed you, made you clean and better and whole. Well, you'll never be whole, but you've been pieced back together, at least temporarily.

She tosses the towel into your overflowing hamper when she's done, pulling you back into bed with her until your head is laying on her chest and your legs are tangled together.

She makes you so warm. You don't want to cry again, so you just turn your face into the crook of her neck. Hiding from the world. She smells so good, like honey and skin and soap.

“Thank you,” you murmur, and she strokes your hair, still a little wet from the shower.

“Of course. I wish you would've called me,” she says quietly.

Don’t cry, don't cry. You sniffle again. God damn it.

“I just- I didn't want you to worry about me,” you say lamely. She holds you closer, pressing a kiss into the crown of your head.

“Silly. I'll always worry about you.” She rubs her hand comfortingly up and down your arm, and God, this is more than you deserve.

“I don't deserve you,” you say, echoing your own thoughts.

She tsks. “Don't say that. I love you. We deserve each other.” Then she hesitates. “I get like that too sometimes, you know.”

You furrow your brows. “You do?”

She shrugs. “Well, yeah. Sometimes it all just gets to be too much, and I just shut down. All the sadness, and the what-if’s. It drains you. Drowns you. There obviously more to it but- yeah, I get it.”

You nod, amazed that you're not alone. That she understands you.

“I love you so much,” you murmur, snuggling into her, sighing gratefully when she holds you a little closer, a little tighter. “You’re wonderful. I can’t believe I met you.”

She laughs, kissing your forehead. “I love you. You’re going to be okay.” She tilts your head up, pressing her lips to yours. “I’m here. I love you.”

“I love you,” you whisper between more kisses. “I love you."

[askfallenroyalty]

since the epilogue is close to ending, here's some sketches of wip designs

this is very rambly so i'll add ID descriptions later, sorry. (its 4am for me rn)

Frisk looks too older, they've only aged 2 years. both chara and asriel's designs here are SO beta and non refined. I think this was drawn even before Flowey came out -I wasn't sure how much of the trans aspect was going to come into play. I initially wanted the comic to end with Chara and Asriel reconciling after the Toriel-Asriel Airplane Call scene, but realized that there was too much unsaid between the two that needed to be hashed out and the epilogue had enough to cover already.

It was going to be a last minute "oh btw, since coming home Asriel is trans now, deal with it" but THANK GOD i didn't just sneak it in like that and explored the topic in the comic instead.

I forgot where this artwork was saved so I tried to draw it back from memory a few months later:

Chara's form was starting to come together -i assume this was around the time that Chara got their boss monster form in the comic itself. I like that Frisk has a Bi flag shirt here -I should of gone with that! The cheeks are more square but ultimately I thought age 15 wouldn't allow for that much of a change. so yeah, this is what an adult frisk would look instead.

oh! for funsis: did you know i was originally going to have the other fallen humans be skeletons instead of different monsters?

I thought it was too similar to insanelyadd's skeleton fallen kids. I actually am friends with Addy now, but then I had to message and be like "🥺is it ok if i also do this i swear i'm not copying" to which they were chill about. ultmatly i felt the designs were to Sans-like and didn't allow for much creativity. (also why tf does Hol have green instead of cyan colors what was wrong with my computer or me in 2018 lmao

I always wanted to show the kids age and progress throughout the comic. oh my god the hair is SO anime here ouch! anyway I wanted Chara to really lean into the "prim and proper" role they give themself. I thought it was so cool to have them cut their hair short in the back and have long hair in the front. (wait. wait, thats what Chara does now in the epilogue. huh.)

honestly??? i like "pissed off librarian" vibes this frisk has here. Also weird to see my Frisk without an afro!

sadly no beta adult asriel designs. no idea why i never drew any then.

Here's me figuring out how Chara should have a monster form -here's proto boss monster chara, as you can see i planned out the red hair aspect early on enough that this was before the timeskip happened.

um. anyway, pre-epilogue concept sketches. I think Raine had bird wings at this stage?? dang wild. Don't ask why Franky looks like a new yorker paper boy. Hol looks too much like a raggedy ann which is funny. Ursus... well, they probably won't look much different.

Hol eye concept art. done before they were revealed in the comic itself. ..........less said about this the better

And lastly, chara's boss monster design drawn right before they showed up. First one drawn <- left to right <- You can see I wanted Chara to have a hippy/punk design, but realized like, that jacket was going to be a binch to draw over and over. so i simplified it, and then was like, "ok this is TOO plain, i need SOME detail" and got very close to the final version.

alright since I know some people like color ref sheets, here

Continue Arc full cast. Was SUPER annoying to scroll thru to find the right character lmao

hol's prequel story color ref -actually changed the Berry's hair color last minute and never got around to updating the color sheet. was very annoying to hand-color pick from a previous page instead of using the ref :/ smh @/ me

Baker's Trouble.

OLDIE. From the Start Again? and Christmas sections of the tumblr version. God. Hol is so small. Asriel looks like a mess. Good lord.

Cancelled Christmas Arc. Chara was supposed to meet up with Asriel on a boat offshore of Monsterland for Christmas, but turns out Asriel was using Chara as publicity. Except... not fully. He did want to meet up with Chara, but they get the wrong impression that Asriel was only doing this for image's sake. It'd explore how the public views Chara as an idolized figure and how Frisk plays into that too.

Anyway the story was too ambitious and I should of started this on December 1st instead of days before Christmas. Plus, I wasn't happy with how I started it and the vibes were off. I might have this as a side story in the redraw but idk

Back to the Epilogue. I changed Asriel's dress just a little bit to improve the body shape silhouette (the dress is so plane its like she's wearing a towel! gah! I should have added SOME flair to that dress dang it!) anyway the dress is more... swooshy? swirly? and the teal ties up to the neck which works nicely with the heart locket and bow combo. Actually. Shit. Why didn't I just put the locket OVER the bow i'm so stupid that'd be so much easier-

If I could redo it, I'd make some changes...

now here's the cousin and sib groups here. Flowey is actually a little TOO big and not up to scale which is funny hehe (also more blocky looking??? weird) In the Redraw version I'm modifying Raine's dress to have a sash and other details, this thing is TOO plain. Franky's Mad Scientist like outfit could of just been an actual labcoat and ideally, the fact that Franky wasn't at the party could of foreshadowed that they knew it was going to be reloaded.

(...Which, actually, Chara's surprise was a surprise for me as well. That was a impulsive idea that came to me when we were getting very close to meeting with Chara again. Thus I couldn't foreshadow it. Redraw WILL have better foreshadowing U_U;)

ACTUALLY SCREW IT for the remainder of the epilogue, i made some changes I wanted to add detail and change some designs a tad -mainly to make the designs more distinct from each other and for story continuity. (AKA: Asriel and Papyrus are supposed to be the only "red scarf" wearers. Asriel's bowtie is knitted like a scarf. previously, hol and yun had red bows which made this match up less distinct. mew Mew's design was a little too similar to Sans' and Alphys and needed some changes.)

anyway i think thats all i can share now! thanks for reading and hope you guys keep following the redraw. I really really want a completed version of this story that's not missing holes. i want AFR to be complete and well, even with the epilogue ending, it won't be "done" for a long while. But thank you guys, it's been a journey!

If you hadn't guessed, I might be finishing the epilogue today (tomorrow for me, cause i'm going to bed in a few minutes). Depends on how much I manage to draw today, but yeah. Chara is going to the party, we'll get to say hi, close some loose ends and come to end. worst case scenario, i'll have to do a little comic to tie it off (like I did with the main storyline's ending) at a later date and this will be the end of the ask-able portion of the epilogue.

[eskawrites]

hi

i just binge read the celebrity fake dating au for the past couple of hours non stop

the chokehold it has on me is truly something

you are amazing

i have no words to describe it atm and i do need to sleep rn oh boy it’s 2:30 am bUT i have no regrets

once again you are amazing and thank for the fic, and you are a wonderful writer <33

up until 2:30! for my fic! holy shit thank you, this is so sweet <3

i'm glad you enjoyed it! it is my pride and joy! and these messages always make my week so thank you, seriously

[theblackfemininesociety]

This guy I’ve been on a total of 4 dates which he all payed for, drove me to and from we haven’t slept together yet only kissed, swiped up on my story I posted a selfie and goes “you’re so beautiful😍” and I was like “thank you ☺️” and he goes “I wish i can see you rn, id pull up on you” and I was like “did you go to a bar in cap hill?” And he goes “Nah i went a local bar but id be down to see you tonight if you down imma be up late anyways” Then sent me a picture on Snapchat of alcohol saying this could be us” I said “Oh okay haha I was kidding I didn’t think cap hill actually 😂 I’m sleepy though I just woke up, I want to see you too I just need to know before tonight’s not great” and he goes “damn I really want to see you though and Then goes “I really don’t care tbh want to see how big I am then sent me a Snapchat which I didn’t open then I next morning deleted the picture and the 2 other messages saying “damn I really want to see you tho and I really don’t care tbh want to see how big I am” ...I didn’t open any of those messages just half opened...the next morning I see he deleted the Snapchat he sent (idk if it was a dick pic, I’m assuming it was?) and deleted the other messages that said “damn I really want to see you though and I really don’t care tbh want to see how big I am”...he doesn’t know that I saw those messages but I’m honestly bothered he would do that? I made it clear I want a relationship and that’s my intention so why would he think it’s okay to attempt to booty call me or if I’m wrong see me this last minute? Our other dates he would always ask me a week in advance and never day of last minute...he may have been drunk but I’m just confused? He also hasn’t been talking consistently especially after I’ve canceled on him...we don’t and never have texted everyday even though he says he wants a relationship we have only been texting when he has initiated dates and he even called them dates too...I have canceled on him last minute and other times so not saying I’m perfect but don’t get why he’s behaving in this way? Should I cut him off?

Hey bestie,

I'm here to offer some perspective but we can't decipher on whether or not you should cut someone off. This is the challenging part of dating that we often don't enjoy, but it's necessary. I believe that his behavior was influenced by being drunk and in the mood, which can lead people to act in ways they normally wouldn't. However, it's important to remember that if a man is willing to do something, he will try it.

We're aware that men often prioritize hooking up, so it's crucial for you to avoid getting caught up in the fear of losing him or desperately wanting a relationship. Sometimes, in our eagerness for a relationship, we may overlook certain red flags.

My advice :

Stand firm in your morals and standards. If you desire a relationship, it's essential to reflect those qualities in your own behavior and expect the same in return. It helps to get a pen and paper and write this stuff out! Write down all of your needs, wants, non negotiables and boundaries. Additionally, open and honest communication is key. Make sure you communicate maturely and sincerely, and be prepared for the response he gives. Take things slow and trust your instincts babe!

Xoxo,

The B.F.S 💋

[signedkoko]

Hii! Could I get a romantic Hazbin Hotel matchup?

I'm bi with male preference, an ISTP and a Leo

Appearance: 4'11 with waist-long black hair and blue eyes + glasses. i've been told that i look rather cold and unapproachable (and tired cuz of those damn huge dark circles under eyes i have). 99% of times dressed whole in black with slight addition of red or blue + lots of chains as an accessory

About me: Absolutely exhausted comp sci student living off energy drinks and garlic baguettes trying to survive and not lose sanity. Rather aloof, rational and private loner with a sharp tongue. Also unbelievably stubborn and trying to play off as extremely independent when i'm a huge walking mess. Honestly all I need is peace. Peace, headphones and good 12+ hours of sleep. Since I get overwhelmed extremely easily I often have days/weeks when I'm moving much slower and talk more slowly and quietly or don't talk at all. I often hear that I give off "uneasy" vibes (but I am autistic so yeah, checks out). I don't talk much nor engage myself socialy but i will drop a few words or a little pun/joke into a conversation if needed. ppl tend to come to me for advice or just to confess and get a non judgemental opinion/adcise. I'm usually just going around minding my own business, not a huge fan of drama or gossip. I can't read social cues for my dear life so I never know if ppl like me as a friend or want sth more but if I start liking someone I'm suddenly loosing all my cool and get terribly awkward around them and overthink every interaction (while praying they didn't see the change in my behavior). I'm a gif giving & acts of service type of girl since I'm not the best with expressing emotions with words. But I do enjoy teasing and flirting with my friends (but i shut up the second someone actually flirts back cuz i get too flustered) I'm that friend you call at 3AM because u did sth stupid and now u need help (and i will get there, after spending 30min screaming at u for how dumb u are and telling u that there's no way i'm getting out of my house rn)

And a little fun fact about me: i always have a lighter on me. No, i don't smoke but there's always someone who needs a lighter and that's a great way to meet some rly cool ppl

Hobbies: collecting vinyls, astronomy, stargazing, reading, playlisty violin, gemology, long walks, cloudy and rainy weather

Dislikes: eye contact, loud noises, hot temperatures, bright lights, childish & reckless ppl, coffee and alcohol (never grew to like it, don't think i ever will)

Thank you so much in advance! Hope you're doing well and have a great day♡

You got…Husk!

He doesn't know shit about technology, let alone computers, so he may not get your career or your specialties, but he shrugs it off. If anything, it's better that you know because it means he won't have to, and less is always better when it comes to this demon. 

Both of you are very standoffish, and while it took a long time for the two of you to really meet and get along, your 'alone' becomes 'alone together' real quick. 

He's a very sleepy guy, and while he wishes he could sleep all day, he'll settle for half if it means he gets time with you awake and in rest. Husk doesn't have a preference for weather, but he finds that when it rains, you'll stick with him a little longer, so he learns to love it. 

Your jokes and puns are always strangely timed, and they usually catch him off guard. You have a bit of a game going where you try your best jokes when he's busy just to see if he'll laugh. So far, he's winning, but he never wants you to stop trying. It makes his work a lot less boring (or annoying when it comes to the others). 

With his many years as a bartender, he's met all kinds of people. His ability to understand others is almost uncanny, so there's no need for you to express yourself to him in words; he already knows. It just takes one glance for him to get the message. 

Carrying a lighter around when you don't smoke is a bit strange to him, but eventually he starts giving you any of the lighters left behind by barpartons. From bic to intricate zippo lighters. 

Expect a lot of nights helping him close the bar, tasting the mocktails he makes for you, and long evenings spent cuddled up together.

Author’s Note - I hope you enjoy Husk, I really think he'd suit you! Your runner up was Stolas, but you mentioned hazbin so I left that out. Thank you for requesting!

[defilerwyrm]

heyo! i’m trans neutral but have reaaally been wanting to get a hysterectomy at some point in the near future (like <10yrs preferably), do you have posts from the past talking about what yours was like or got any general info to share? somehow it’s easier for me to read about peoples’ personal experiences on tumblr than it is to look up the procedure itself (major major squicking) so really i’ll take anything and everything you got. how much of That Organ Situation you managed to throw in the garbage can (i personally would like as much of that as possible out of my own carcass), how long recovery was after the surgery, sort of what the process looked like to get it done (like who you had to go through or any tests like seeing a g*no), etc etc etc. i’m on mobile so tumblr is kicking my paragraph break like halfway down the screen rn which is why this is a thick blob of words but thank you in advance for any advice you have or even just for reading this message :>

Happy to help!

Prep work

I did some internet searching to find a trans friendly OB/GYN in my area. It was actually pretty easy since I was living in Austin at the time, but ymmv. If you, too, are anywhere near Austin, I highly recommend Dr. Jenna Mushtaler. I told her what I wanted done and she basically went Cool, let's do it. It sounds like this won't apply to you, but I needed a total hysterectomy (removal of the uterus, cervix, and both ovaries) to get phalloplasty, and also my mom & her sister have both had tumors and/or cancers in those parts, so there was plenty of medical justification for it. If you're not transitioning and don't have other extenuating circumstances like PCOS or teratomas, you'll probably be given a standard hysto, which does not remove the ovaries; otherwise you'll be on HRT for the rest of your life (which isn't such a bad thing, it's just an extra thing).

I had to get I think two letters from mental health professionals, but that's a gatekeeping step non-transitioning folk aren't forced to endure.

Note that if you're under 35 and in the US, you may get pushback, but that's where going to a trans-friendly doctor comes in handy because they're less likely to piss and moan about children.

I asked the doctor if I could get one of my ovaries in a specimen jar, but that was a no go.

I'm pretty sure they made me take a piss test for pregnancy right before surgery, which was just lip service really in my case since I hadn't done anything that could conceivably lead to that in almost a year.

Right after surgery

I was kept overnight in the hospital. I woke up about once an hour to piss like a racehorse—they kept me pumped full of fluids all night, so that was the intention—while being gently made fun of by two jovial nurses who disconnected and reconnected my IV lines for me as needed.

I went home the next morning. My doctor gave me photos of my insides from the surgery and of the uterus & cervix on the little tray after removal. I still need to get those framed. In my opinion I have a cute liver.

Recovery

I was out of work for I think 4 weeks; I work an office job so that was sufficient, but if you lift things at work you might be out 6-8 weeks.

The first two weeks I was absolutely useless, sleeping in a recliner most of the time and only waking up to pee and take more Vicodin. Some friends gave me a freezer buddy, which is a stuffed toy filled with temperature-retaining pellets (mine's a penguin!), which I kept on my lower belly most of the time. I didn't have a lot of soreness, I think largely because I was taking pain meds on a timer, but standing up was not particularly fun. The second two weeks I was more cogent and mobile; by the fourth week I was fully ready to be a living person again.

One week after I had a follow-up appointment. My doctor comfirmed what I had suspected for a very, very long time: both ovaries were riddled with cysts.

One thing that kinda sucked was I could only take sponge baths and use dry shampoo for the first two weeks. Get you some wet wipes.

Every so often for the first year, I'd get a little bit of pain in one of the voids where an ovary used to be. Nothing serious, just a short-lived little ache. I haven't had one of those for a few years now. I also had a few hot flashes here and there because my estrogen level had fully flatlined.

Overall it was a pretty easy recovery—but a big part of that is I had someone there with me pretty much at all times.

There has been exactly one downside to life without my puppy box and cyst factories: I have to pee ALL THE TIME. Usually once every 1-2 hours, sometimes more often than that when I'm drinking a lot of water. I talked to my mom and a friend who've both had hysterectomies and they confirmed it happened to them too. I drink 3-5 liters of water a day, though, so that's a factor. But I could definitely not make it in an Amazon warehouse or as a youtuber now, not that I could before. 1000000000% worth it.

[myloveforhergoeson]

separate ask in case you dont want it on your blog, but no pressure to answer the last ask. the situation honestly fucking sucks and i totally understand if you wanna separate yourself from the fic for a while <3 and if you still have the itch to write, a pre hollywood roxy fic /one shot could be fun if youre up for it. take care <3

oh my friend this is such a kind message thank you so much. i've got no issue answering questions about this whole thing; i'm trying to be as transparent as possible while everything goes down.

what needs to happen now is i just need a bit of time to do what i can to learn and understand more about the situation. i kind of hinted that i don't talk about things like this much on my fandom blogs because i see it ten fold on my personal socials and i'm doing what i can from there. james diamond is not james maslow, and the character i'm writing is pretty distinct from the canon james diamond anyway. i see him more as mine than than the show's and that's what i've been holding onto these past few days. i just need a bit of time to sort that out more! it might be a second before you see anything major for me just because i'm worried about my own online perception and what others may think if i continue with a story about "him" at a time like this.

which woo-hoo. making something that has absolutely nothing to do with me all about me. so i need some time to sort that out too :/ there are literally so many bigger things going on rn than my stupid story lol :/

and yes! ah!! the pre-hollywood one shot!!! it's been living in my head for ages, i just haven't had the time to get it all out. it's super cute, non-canon to my story of course, but very fun nonetheless. if you like

the campiness of a silly stupid big time rush plot line (i.e. the Christmas episode)

hockey games (they made them hockey players and NEVER TALK ABOUT HOCKEY. I'M MILKING THE FUCK OUT OF THIS)

roxy's old car (bonus points if you remember its name)

new beginnings (aww!)

you'll love it once i get it out!

...i also... because i'm mad at james... had a "what if one of the other boys got to roxy first" day dream... complete with a few situations in my story in which kendall, carlos, or logan could've moved on her first. maybe i'll even include jo and camille for the hell of it. and that has been keeping me going. of course, in the real story they just don't see her like that and she doesn't see them that way either... but there are some times i have thought up that are pretty cute and romantic in which the scene could have gone very differently. so if i'm still mad in a few days I'll probably write those too and put them out into the world.

any guesses as to when????? mwahahah

[sir-puppyboy]

full disclosure: this post will change as i discover myself. be sure to check back regularly.

pronouns: he/him/his

age: 27

you may call me: blu, moth, baby, honey, angel, pup/puppy, anything with -boy as a suffix (ex. pretty boy, angel boy, puppyboy, etc)

previous usernames: dreamofblu

i am a trans man (on t since 7-7-23) and i'm (pretty sure i'm) a top-leaning switch, i do have subby moments however. whenever i'm subby, please call me puppy!

FOR MY POSTS (this goes for mutuals and non-mutuals)

green lights (perfectly okay!): flirting, teasing, praise, telling me im a good boy, messaging, sending asks (messaging and sending asks are encouraged!!)

orange lights (please ask): sending pictures/videos, engaging in roleplay-type messaging or asks

red lights (will result in a block): crossing any boundary, interacting despite my dni, trying to force me to be sexual with you, unsolicited pictures or videos

DNI: terfs/swerfs, pedophiles/MAPs, minors, racist/sexist/ableist, homophobe/transphobe, truscum/transmed, cishet, fandom (no hate for fandom pages! this just isn't the blog that will cater to you if you're fandom), ageless blogs, ageplay blogs (this includes diaper kink), sissy/detrans/forced fem kink blogs, violence & gore blogs, ED & pro-ana blogs (we love fat people here and i'm also trying to not be in the mindset of thinking my body is ugly, thank you).

YOU MUST HAVE YOUR AGE IN YOUR BIO OR PINNED IF YOU INTERACT WITH MY POSTS/FOLLOW ME. NO AGE IN BIO OR PINNED = BLOCK.

i have a boyfriend; he has the right to revoke consent if he's uncomfortable with situations i am in. don't cross any lines and we will be just fine.

kinks (that i know of): possession/ownership, collaring, leashes, hands, petplay (i'm a puppysub), dumbification, humiliation, marking/hickeys, exhibitionism, voyeurism, breeding, praise, worship, cockwarming, LIGHT impact play, spitplay, intoxication, monsterfucking, somnophilia, dubcon/CNC, hypnosis/brainwashing, scent/musk

experimenting with: puppyplay

hard nos: zoophilia, bodily functions (scat/piss/puke), dd/lg & dd/lb, daddy/mommy kink, ageplay, diapers, incest, detrans/misgendering, pregnancy

for my genitals, i use the following words: dick, tdick, pussy, boypussy, boycunt, cunt, hole, slit. in terms of my chest i call it my chest, or my tits. i don't like the word "breasts" in reference to my chest. do not call my lower half a vagina. okay that's all

!! i also have material that i am willing to sell. please dm me for information regarding that :) !!

(non-horny about me under the cut)

i've decided to add a non-horny about me to this blog, in case anyone wanted to know more about The Guy Behind The Blog lmao. idk if anyone will read but if you do, thank you!

i prefer to go by blu in this space. any of the above nicknames are okay as well!! i have an SFW blog that i use a LOT more than this one, however i would prefer to be at least acquaintences before i divulge my username there. i dont rly have other social media so... tumblr is rly it LMAO.

here are some of my interests!!

🎮: omori, overwatch, splatoon (2+3), stardew valley, skyrim, danganronpa, earthbound, undertale, super mario sunshine

📺: moral orel, invader zim, aqua teen hunger force, doug, south park, beavis and butt-head, pop team epic, china IL, home movies, superjail, king of the hill, twin peaks, smiling friends, letterkenny

🎥: hereditary, midsommar, donnie darko, labyrinth, coraline, the exorcist, the perks of being a wallflower, we need to talk about kevin, the kill bill series, edward scissorhands, corpse bride, perfect blue, the spiderverse movies

🎵: kpop (i am super into stray kids rn but i like a few groups that i just cant be bothered to list off), patricia taxxon, freddie dredd, sophie, death grips, devin townsend, red vox, tame impala, yung gravy, doja cat, $uicideboy$, rammstein, 100 gecs

and if you wanna know what i look like, i'm not sure i'll ever feel comfortable with anyone to show face ahaha. here's a picrew, use your imagination.

thank you for reading! enjoy... whatever this is!! lmao

[attollogame]

Hi Ames! Happy Anniversary!! I wanted to send you a message to thank you for the work you do on Attollo. I feel like you've done so well in representing the fears I have as a Canadian whenever I travel to any major city in the US: literally getting stuck in a city where you don't care about the politics and it's not like you can fix any problems. It's such a subtle emotion but I feel very seen. It's wonderful and exciting, I'm looking forward to seeing where you take it next. So to answer one of your questions: Who’s your fav RO and why? This is an unfair decision to make: they're all fantastic. I will pick Dreamwalker because I respect that he did NOT want to flirt while he's working and MC needs to repect his boundaries. I love a non-biological Dad figure. And the poly route with DW and Sysba is fascinating. Anyway, have a great day!

THANK YOUUUU ♡ as a Canadian who has also traveled to U.S cities I feel that exact same emotion all the time 😭😭 I'm glad it makes you feel seen!!

DW is truly out here as the parental-ish figure despite having a terrible first impression (i swear he becomes more fleshed out the more you interact w him but he's got that idol-complex rn). I'm glad you're fascinated by the poly too!!

Have a great day as well!