#THERAPY AU RN WHEN

[montypng]

every once in a while i remember that one xmen fic i read ages ago that put pietro maximoff through the most gruesome, agonizing, and soul-crushing time loop experience i have ever seen before or since and well. i am not even into xmen that much . i will never forget it.

[razzle-zazzle]

Ok tell us about imposter au bc 👀👀👀

OH MY GOD I FORGOT ABOUT THIS ONE.

Okay so. without looking through my old stuff for it. What can I remember off the top of my head.... there were clones, I know that, and the clone the story focused on, #424, mainly had an arc about realizing he's not Cole but Cole's clone and then having an existential crisis + becoming his own person.

And then I think the OG Cole destroyed the facility making the clones and then fucked off to be a hermit in the woods because.... OH YEAH he found a BABY in the rubble and needed to protect it! I can't recall if the baby was a clone of all the ninja or just some of them.... I think they were called Coffee though?

Man, some of my old AUs really were just. Whatever concepts I wanted. And I was so real for that kind of self-indulgence actually. I need to be sillier with it tbh

[rose-lalondde]

Naruto Modern Fantasy AU - Bijuu & Patrons

Order and Chaos are two of the oldest divinities and are responsible for the creation of the systems that exist within the Nexus (my world). Respectively, they're famously known for the creation of the Order of Angels & Life (Order) and Hell & Death (Chaos). Other achievements include the Seven Heavenly Virtues and the Seven Sins (Partially out of commission).

At an early part in their life, Order and Chaos formed an understanding relationship that developed into romantic feelings. The result of that romance and their union were the bijuu, their nine (related) children. Very soon after Shukaku was created, they separated and began their long-standing and bitter feud. In addition to their together children, they each have their own offspring, the Goddess of Life and Creation & the God of the Dead (prev the God of the Dead, Death and Decay; alt title as King of the Dead).

In the older days, each Bijuu was worshipped and had devoted followers because they were so important, and at the time were the only minor gods around. Eventually, after the creation of the New Gods, the Bijuu lost relevance and were in danger of fading away. A deal was struck so that they could maintain their form and power but they had to have a patron that they fused their soul with. In rare cases, the patrons are willing participants who offer themselves in exchange for help. In most cases, the patron is an unwilling sacrifice, pushed by devoted followers (or power-hungry men) who want to keep their god alive. In the very special case of Mito Uzumaki who offers herself to keep Kurama alive by making a deal that she'll honor his wishes in exchange for power and safety,,, she absolutely does not follow through. This builds up decades of resentment, especially when he is passed down to Kushina who does the same, which starts off his rocky relationship with Naruto.

In another very special case, Rin, who is forcibly made a patron to Isobu, dies within the early stages of his soul intertwining with hers. Later she is resurrected, as the initial soul intertwining process was botched, and Isobu and Rin's souls are now one in the same. Meaning that instead of switching out consciousnesses like a regular patron and god can do, they share it. After the resurrection, Rin also displays physical features of Isobu such as red sclera and protruding spikes.

Patrons receive their patron god's powers and abilities in exchange for either sacrifices or completing quests/tasks, often they're centered around the patron god's title. For example, Matatabi requires Yugito to exorcise and guide spirits/ghosts to the afterlife. In Killer B's case, him and Gyuuki are just vibing. Gyuuki has a historically good relationship with B's family and all of his patrons volunteered willingly, so he freely exchanges his power. Fuu was unwilling sacrificed, but thankfully Chomei adores her enough to provide her power for protection, even helping her leave her followers.

Kurama - God of Vengence

Gyuuki - God of Persistence and Adaptability

Chomei - Goddess of Luck

Saiken - God of Patience

Kokou - God of Determination & Freedom

Son Goku - God of Courage & Strength

Isobu - God of Still Waters and light rain showers

Matatabi - Goddess of Exocisim and Safe Passage to the Afterlife

Shukaku - God of Overindulgence and Partying

[uncaught-coolfish]

and in an instant this au has become my comfort thing

[miyukisu]

All Over Me .ᐟ

❤︎ | Amidst the cruelty of the world, he's your therapy ╰ feat. toji fushiguro x afab! reader

tags - based on Therapy by Khalid, friends with benefits, angst, p*rn with plot, yearning, toxic-ish relationship, both of them have self-destructive habits, drinking, drunk sex, non-jjk au but Toji remains an assassin, soft dom! Toji, sweet & passionate sex, shower sex, creampies, overstimulation, happy ending, mentions of blood and injuries but not from the sex, second chances, praise, p in v

minors do not interact

They say that time heals all wounds. But you've ceased to believe that. The gaping emptiness in your heart has never seemed to fix itself no matter how long you waited.

But there were rare moments when it felt fine—when your heart felt full enough that it could burst. Temporary fix was what it was. But it was better than nothing at all. You found solace in the one person that you shouldn't. But again, it was better than nothing at all.

You watched as he got up and sat by the edge of the bed, preparing to leave. As much as you loved his broad back and the way his muscles rippled every time he moved, you hated to see it like this—as a sign of his impending departure.

"You're leaving?" you ask as if this wasn’t a regular occurrence. But you still ask the same question each time and he answers every time. It's the same thing no matter what; Toji fucks you real good and leaves right after.

He picks up the black shirt that was discarded to the side before the two of you got frisky. Toji easily slid it back on his hulking frame. And maybe it’s because you were fucking with no strings attached that you oddly felt aroused and sad at the same time. The way he dressed up to leave was effortlessly hot—in fact, anything that Toji Fushiguro did, you found it hot. But that never changed the fact that he always would leave you high and dry.

A soft and almost disappointed sigh left his scarred lips. “Yeah. I gotta go,” he replies flatly.

Every inch he takes farther from you—a part of your heart hollows. And recently, you’ve been feeling as if there was a piece of your heart that never felt filled up like it used to. There was always something missing.

It’s not like you didn’t know what it was. You did know and that part is what scared you the most… because you were sure you have fallen in love with Toji Fushiguro. The missing piece that you were secretly craving for was his love—pure, unadulterated love. The same love both of you agreed to never fall into.

But here you were.

Usually when he said he was leaving, that was the end of it. No more words were to be exchanged. But tonight was different.

“I’m not coming back after this,” he adds. He was as straightforward as one can be, yet the thought couldn’t fully sink in to you. No, you didn’t want it to sink in. It had to be fake or you swear you’d die.

You open your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Any logical argument flew right out the window the moment he said he’d never return. “What? What do you mean! Toji? But we were… we were doing okay? Right?” you asked rather desperately. “Right?”

“Do you love me?”

The question was heavy—too fucking heavy for you to handle. But you figured what would happen next lies in how you choose to answer his question. You knew the right answer—the one that would make him stay.

But by God; you cannot find it in yourself to lie to him and especially to yourself. You loved him. That was the fact of the matter, regardless of how hard you try to deny it.

However, soon as you uttered the word "yes" —Toji Fushiguro was out the door and out of your life.

────────────

Toji thought he had made the right decision. All of a sudden, Shiu was dumping so much work on him that he had to work until the late hours of the evening. He wouldn't really have time to visit you anyway. So it all worked out in the end.

But those were thoughts he conjured up to comfort himself. He didn't really believe that he had gone down the right path with you.

Or maybe it was some kind of withdrawal? Perhaps the sex was too fucking good that now he wasn't getting it—he was starting to feel miserable. It was the same as the time he quit drinking or the time he quit gambling.

Then, he wondered when he let go of those things.

"Ah... it was because of her," he thought to himself. He inadvertently became a better person because of the woman he claimed he only slept with.

Toji felt awful for making you feel like it was your fault everything fell apart—when in fact he was the one who fell hard. He was the one who was afraid that his feelings would fuck everything up.

Both of you break rules. Both of you were very very miserable people. And maybe that's why you two go so well together.

────────────

Toji knew he was fucked in the head. He had to be. After all, he did kill people for a living. But also because he was currently walking up to your apartment at 2 in the morning covered in his own blood.

He didn't care if anyone saw him or if you figure out his line of work. All he knew in his head—no, his heart—that he wanted to see you.

The feeling that he had been seeking out for weeks finally filled him to his very bones now that he stood in front of you. He was sure that you'd be asleep, but you answered your door way too fast. Behind you, he can see the glass of whiskey you had been nursing before he came over. It broke his heart a bit that you returned to drinking most likely because of him.

You weren't sure what to feel. On one hand, the man you dreamt of every night of coming back did come back—knocking at your door, asking for forgiveness. But on another, he was fucking covered in blood.

"W-what happened to you?"

"I kill people for a living," he says, not wanting to beat around the bush anymore. "It's mine. Don't worry," he adds, referring to the blood that had dried and painted his body—as if that makes things any better.

Rather than be scared like every other person would be, all your brain did was justify him. The real world was cruel; people like him had to exist. People just live too much of a comfortable life that jobs like these scare them before considering the nuances. Maybe he killed bad people specifically. That was okay, right?

It had to be. You wanted nothing more than to have him again. Every fiber of your body told you so.

Maybe you were fucked in the head too.

────────────

Did it make you a bad person for feeling so good in his arms? With his lips on yours and his hands groping very part of you that he could? Probably. But you could care less.

The warm water of the shower trickled down your entangled bodies. Not much of cleaning was done when the both of you were too busy making out and making up for lost time. Truth be told, it was crazy how both of you just made your way here without much words exchanged.

It was like you just knew—his sins had to be washed away and you had to be in each other's presence again.

"I can't take it anymore," he whispered in your ear. Toji grabbed the flesh of your thigh, lifting your leg up and hooking it around his waist. His aching cock teased your dripping entrance.

Oh, how he missed this feeling.

There was a sense of desperation and need with the way he sunk himself into you so quickly. He sheathed everything right away without a second thought. After not feeling his cock for a few weeks, the abrupt stretch was painfully good.

He had to go faster. He lifted your other leg up, now hooking both around his waist so you hovered in the air. Toji held you up easily by the ass—big calloused hands gripping on your smooth silky skin.

He fucked into you without a care in the world. If anything, all that mattered in the moment was for him to chase that high that he missed. Every hard thrust he gave you earned a new scratch on his back from your nails.

Toji was relentless with how he pounded his cock into your weeping pussy—that all you could do was to hold on to him for dear life. A string of moans and curses left your lips and they went straight to his ears, urging him to go even faster.

You were louder than usual since you were a bit tipsy from the whiskey, but more so because he was fucking you so good. You hoped that the sound of the running water would mask a bit of your noises.

It was like your cunt had memorized the shape, the curve, and every vein of his dick. You were made for each other, more ways than one.

"Fuckkk," he groaned. "You missed this, baby? 'Cuz I sure fucking did."

A breathless moan came out of you rather than a coherent answer. It hasn't even been 15 minutes and you were already out of it. "Hah... yes. Missed this. Missed you."

Toji felt a bit ridiculous how his balls tightened and his cock twitched at your sweet words. It only confirmed his feelings. What he was feeling right now wasn't merely lust, but also love. To show you his sincerity, he made sure to shoot his load deep within you—right where you can feel it.

────────────

He was feeling more generous than usual today. And by that he meant he needs to fill you up even more. Though it was hardly an excuse for him just wanting to wrap his dick with the warmth of your pussy.

The fact that both of you were still wet from the shower became an afterthought as he carried you to bed. It was going to get drenched anyway. Besides, he was starting to feel confined in the small shower space. He had a primal need to bend you over backwards, to fuck you senseless in every way that he possibly could.

"Don't hafta move for me, alright? Lemme take care of you hm?" he gently whispered in your ear. He let you be a pillow princess for the night as a way to atone for his mistake. His pretty lady was about to get nothing else but unsullied pleasure.

He softly bit into your neck before sliding his cock right back where it belonged. Toji felt strange that louder groans were leaving his lips, hence the need to bite your neck, your shoulders, and especially your chest.

His pace never slowed as his lips roamed your upper half. He left marks all over because he thought it would make him feel better—to see the proof that you were all his. He rolled your sensitive nipple between the pads of his fingers, wanting to push you further.

"Keep making those sounds. Fuck. I won't last long if you're like this."

Without warning, he slid out momentarily to flip you over. Your cheek was now pressed against the damp sheet of your bed while he held up your ass in the air. He meant it when he said you didn't have to move at all.

He gripped your waist so tightly that you were sure it would leave marks, but that wouldn't be the first time it happened.

He easily slid his cock right back in, rearing to thrust mindlessly into you again. But before that, he leaned down and pressed gentle kisses on your nape—all the way down to your back. Once he was satisfied, he began to snap his hips against you.

Toji was able to go faster now that you were on the bed. It left you a drooling and moaning mess. He let go of your hips, deciding to plant one hand on the mattress beside your head while the other slithered down to play with your neglected clit.

Toji was a man of many talents, but he was certainly the best at fucking your pussy and toying with your clit at the same time. You don't think any other man could fuck you as good as he does. And you might be right.

For some reason, he too was feeling extra sensitive. Maybe those lonely nights he spent fisting his cock to the memories of you two just weren't enough to satisfy him completely. He wanted this. He needed this.

He leaned down, almost crushing you with his weight as he wrapped his thick arms around your waist. He wanted to feel all of your warmth and inhale your scent while he pounded into you.

"Toji... so good. You fuck me so good."

"Yeah? You think so?" Another groan leaves him. "Pussy takes me in so well... makes me think we're made for each other hm?"

Hearing him say that made your pussy clamp down on him. And you know he felt it with the way he squeezed you even more with his arms. He was totally overwhelming you, but you weren't one to complain.

A small smile crossed his lips once he felt your sweet pussy flutter around him. He missed this feeling too.

"You gonna cum for me now? C'mon let it all out. You deserve it."

And you did while screaming his name. You came so violently that your vision went white and blurry for a moment. Tears rolled down your eyes, overjoyed with the intense orgasm, but more so because of his sweet words.

He hasn't said it yet, but you knew that you felt the same way for each other.

Though he wasn't done yet. He was far from done.

You were still reeling from the mind blowing orgasm he gave you when he peeled your body off of the bed. Toji kept his arms wrapped snugly around your body as made both of you kneel upright on the mattress.

One hand held you by the waist while the other roughly cupped one breast. Now that you've came more than once, he was free to chase his own climax.

He kept fucking into you—wanting nothing else but to cum buckets into your pussy. He couldn't help but bite into your shoulder again, trying to suppress the embarrassing sounds he threatened to spill out.

Your ass was starting to hurt from all the skin slapping against each other and your cunt was overstimulated as ever. He was breaking you, but you loved every second of it.

"I'm so close, ma... Tell me that you love me. Tell me," he commanded.

"I love you... so so much. I love you, Toji."

Shit. He wasn't strong enough to resist that. Ropes of cum filled your cunt. Toji held you down on his dick as if you were going to escape from him. He rode out his high, letting his cock twitch inside you until nothing was left of him.

────────────

Once you realized that you had passed out, a sinking feeling filled your chest. You were scared to be met in an empty and dirtied bed—alone like before.

But you were surprised to feel clean and dry sheets against your skin. But most of all, you were happy to see him beside you, asleep and with the most relaxed expression you've seen on him.

You could sleep soundly again knowing that he would stay for good this time.

©kzyluvr do not repost/reupload/translate any of my works on other platforms

╰ author's note hmm, I guess I'm kinda happy with this. I hope I did him justice

[emotionaldamages]

soft launch or hard launch - max verstappen

in which shes in a secret relationship with a certain redbull driver

social media au

part one| part two

note- this is my first time writing so it might not be as good, but hope you enjoy♡

masterlist

Liked by lewishamilton,maxverstappen, and 1,132,753 others

lando.jpg wild vera on a train @verahamilton

comments

lewishamilton that is not my child, thank you very much

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lando.jpg shes currently emotional about that

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carlossainz55 shes always climbing something

username I deffo ship her and lando

verahamilton I'm happily taken:)

username I KNOW YALL SEEN THAT

username MY WIFE IS TAKEN

username we just gonna ignore the lonely train..

liked by charles_leclerc, pierregasly, and 3,898,753 others

verahamilton vacation with my love♡

comment

username oh myyyy a soft launch

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username my wife😿

lewishamilton young lady who is that

pierregasly kika is gonna have a huge talk with you about this

landonorris I cant keep quiet for longer

verahamilton better keep ur mouth shut child

landonorris yes mother

username pls he so scared of her

username EVERYBODY STAY CALM STAY CALM

username ima go lay on the highway

verahamilton pls dont

*pretend it says vera and not rihanna

verahamilton guess who @harperbazaarus

comments

username mother.

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username I would go in the shark for u

landonorris yall some horny fuckers

verahamilton lando no cussing

mclaren listen to your mother lando!

landonorris IM OLDER

username I love lando so much

maxverstappen ♡♡

username I know yall see that...

username max...

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georgerussell63 Y'all hear something

verahamilton yo momma(I love ur mother alot)

verahamilton has posted a story

@verahamilton

@landonoriss I know something you doonnttt, I know something you will never knooowww @verahamilton and @hersecrectbf

verahamilton the shit that happens when u bring ur child smh

landonorris you love me tho:)

verahamilton I guess so

landonorris bitch

username lando singing that one song rn

username I WANT TO KNOW WHOOOO THAT IS

username what if THATS lando

username not possible, vera is taller than lando, that dude is taller than vera

georgerussell63 why are you the only one who knows who it is

landonorris I caught them making out in my house😔

username poor lando traumatized

verahamilton bitch I told you not to walk in the room

landonorris LIAR, oh wait.. you did

username vera the children miss uuu

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username I screamed to loud

lilymhe OH MY OH MY DEAR

kikacgomess my heart is broken💔

pierregasly do I not just exist

kikacgomess no you dont not when vera is around

@landonorris tired of these people hiding

comments

username this has ruined me wtf

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username SHUT THE FUCK UP. NO WAYYY

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danielriccardo VERA AND MAX WHAT.

lewishamilton oh..

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verahamilton I'm going into hiding

maxverstappen let me go with u

username THEIR SO CUTE

username I want what they have

georgerussell63 I just heard lewis yell at the top of his lungs in the paddock

username someone check if max is alive

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verahamilton SEE YALL LATER

carlossainz55 cuties

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[hyacinthstears]

So I watch Batman vs. Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles... holy shit I love this movie.

I'd never gotten around to watching this movie till 1am tonight and it is some of the funniest shit I've every seen. It's got found family, silly Mikey who is both party dude and big heart boi, angst, blood, Leo having the the pressure of the world- ok you get it. but while watching it I noticed some things that made me grin and flap my hands like a nerd.

so every leo just has the silly gay slut pose? hell yeah that's hilarious.

god I love this stupid van. I need Leo to say this rn "Batman, we need something stronger to get in that base, the bat mobile just isn't made to take a real beating... so batman, get in the party wagon."

Nightwatcher is canon in tmnt 2019 and no one can tell me otherwise

poor Donnie, just put the poor boy down. not to mention how Donnie gets his arm super broken later in the movie. sigh, send him help.

Leo. GET THERAPY, when you start hallucinating the first thing that pops into your brain shouldn't be: "Oh dang all my brothers are dead and It's all my fault, I'm a terrible leader and it should've been me"

also the first of his brothers both 2012 and 2019 Leo try's to help/cheek on/ try's to get up is Mikey cause he's the baby... omg I love this.

The Movie is so good and if you haven't seen it go do that right now. I will be drawing so much fanart for this movie... oh no.... OH. NO. I"M MAKING AUS IN MY BRAIN!! NOOOOO SOMEONE STOP ME NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

[c4m-th3-gr34t]

inspired by a post from @jamandjazz

How Johnny Cade, Dallas Winston, and Steve Randle are affected by their parent issues.

ok so keep in mind i havent read the book since december (i dont have my own copy) so this might be a bit wrong. im using info from my mind, the movie, the musical, tiktok, and here.

Johnny Cade

so its canon that johnny wouldve ran away if it werent for the gang (starting off strong with dally-johnny parallels OUCH)

the abuse from his parents definitely gave him a fucked up sense on what it means to feel loved

which is why johnny gets along with dally so well, i'll get into that more in dally's part

he 100% thinks that the entire world hates him except for the gang

someone said that he is so sweet its sick, not true. the abuse definitely toughened him up enough that he will be mean to strangers

he canonically is somewhat responsible (going out to the store to buy supplies and giving ponyboy a note)

im saying that because im pretty sure pony says something like twobit and someone else in the gang would forget to buy something johnny remembered

johnny learned that from having to live out on the street sometimes when his parents fought or kicked him out for multiple days

he is the living definition of forgive but never forget

he just wants a home

i personally hc that the abuse started as johnny grew older, maybe when he was 6-8 years old

which is why johnny (especially in the musical) still cares about his parents

because he remembers that they WERE good people

and he hopes to bring them back eventually

Dallas Winston

oh this man...

ran away from his problems. thats canon

his mom died when she gave birth and thats why his dad is the alcoholic deadbeat abuser he is

the abuse from his parents gave him a fucked up sense on what it means to love

which is why he can talk to johnny so well because johnny is used to the type of love dally gives

he 100% hates the world except for the gang

the abuse toughened up both johnny and dally, the thing is dally grew up with it, johnny was raised with love at first

also dally's environment in ny, that place is rough in many areas

tulsa doesnt have that, at least not on the level of ny

he's rough with everyone because thats what he learned

Steve Randle

UGH THIS MAN BRO

screw u se hinton for giving us NOTHING abt him

anyways!!

the neglect sooo fucked him up

then his dad giving physical money for forgiveness?

hell nahhh

steve definitely felt like he cannot be loved without paying someone

like with real money

which made him feel unlovable because he's like broke as fuck

soda was the first person to show him what love actually is

his mom uhh eloped to wherever after steve's birth ig idfk

steve thinks everything in the world comes with a price, even an ounce of love

i literally cant think of shit for this man rn

All Three

accidentally trauma bonding

johnny mentioned something then both steve and dally said "same"

genuinely concerning from an outsider standpoint but really funny to them

if it was modern au darry or soda wouldve sent them to therapy

one time johnny got kicked out and went to the curtis house and found steve in the kitchen

j: "kicked out?"

s: "...yeah"

j: "same."

then dally walks in

d: "bottles got thrown at me in buck's place"

j: "ptsd?"

d: "no-" *remembers he's with two people who had it happen to them* "...yeah"

j and s- "its good."

johnny convinces them to do a cuddle blob thing (the gang's done them before)

darry wakes up and see them, doesnt comment but remembers for blackmail

[elsweetheart]

ok hi same anon and i agree, i’m not a stone but i love stone identities so much! also can i pls get some nsfw hcs of stone ellie helping her gf de-stress during exam season :))))

stone tops are the backbone of our society i salute them i also giggle and kick my feet for them🫡

combining this request with this one:

your dealer!ellie au is so so so so good !!! her talking about how pretty you are with pretty pink eyes… im literally barking rn pls do a part 2 (maybe with some smut cause im down bad) if you have the chance !!! <3 xoxoxox

it’s dealer!ellie i hope you don’t mind! gotta love our stone stoner 🤭

brief daddy kink mention + obvious usage of weed so skip if that makes u uncomfy. fem reader !

herbal therapy — dealer!ellie

🎀 smut !! reader calls ellie daddy, drugs are involved, mentions of stress

• it had been a long week, you had literally been living in the library with your head buried in your books and laptop preparing for your exams. pressure was being applied from everywhere in your life, and before you reached your breaking point you decided to grant yourself a day to relax.

• well, you don’t exactly decide — you can’t concentrate on your work because you started crying due to the stress, and in that moment you just needed your girlfriend to make it all go away.

• so, you show up to her dorm with your bag and a downturned pout, tears welling in your eyes. her brows furrowed when she saw how done you looked and slowly pulled you into her arms, eyes flickering over you. “oh! hey! you’re crying!” she whispered, eyes wide and face worried.

• she pulled you into her room and shut the door, bringing you over to her bed and sitting down, pulling you onto her lap. “talk to me, what happened?” she was sure to speak gently not knowing how fragile you were feeling. you sniffled loudly, wiping your cheeks with the backs of your hands. “s’just too much. need a night away from it all. wanted to be with you.” you tell her dejectedly and she nods in understanding, squeezing you close and resting her chin on your shoulder. “I’m yours all night, you’ll be alright.” she comfort, kissing your cheek.

• she orders you both a pizza, and god she’s just being so fucking gentle with you it makes you wanna cry everytime you look at her. she even holds you whilst you eat your pizza, her leaning her back to the wall with you laying with your back to her chest, sat up so you can eat. she doesn’t expect you to reply to her too much, but she’ll talk to you quietly in your ear about the movie you’re watching or something that happened to her earlier. her voice is so comforting it soothes you enough for your stress to start melting away a little.

• “you wanna get a little high? might help you relax a little, babe.” she all but whispers in your ear after your food had gone down, the movie on the screen illuminating the room. you turn your face to her, running your eyes over her freckles, her eyebrow scar, her pretty green eyes. it takes you a moment to respond because you’re so mesmerised by her, finally getting out a weak “mhm.” which makes her smile like she’s proud of you, pressing a kiss to your slightly parted lips.

• she prepares it all for you, letting you get the first hit like she always does. the two of you had figured out what your limit was, and honestly the two of you rarely smoked together because she was constantly telling you it was bad for you etc — but times like this did call for a little herbal therapy. you smoked your usual amount until your eyes were all pink and hazy just how she liked it and you felt fuzzy and warm on the inside. she finished off the rest easily, her tolerance way higher.

• she leans back on the bed and you lay down with her, practically trying to climb into her clothes with how close you wanted to be. “wish you could shrink me down so i could be in your pocket all day n’you could take me everywhere.” you hum into her and she chuckles low in her chest, palms flattening against your back as she rubs up and down. “i wouldn’t put you in my pocket, come on now. i’d obviously have you sit on my shoulder like a little parrot. s’way cooler.” she theorises and you pull back, nodding with doe eyes and a serious expression which makes her laugh even more at you taking her answer to heart. “you’re so cute. my cute little lady.” she cups your cheeks with a funny voice making you giggle before she presses her lips to your puckered one’s. you melt into the kiss and it deepens naturally, her hand pushing your lower back to arch you gently into her. you take it one step further, hooking your leg over her thigh and her hands roam lower, squeezing your ass as she slips her tongue into your mouth. you whimper, the weed having you so sensitive to touch that everything felt amazing and you’d barely even started making out. you felt the warmth and wetness begin to spread in your panties and if you weren’t high you might’ve been ashamed over how easy it was.

• her lips attack your neck as she encourages you with her hands to grind against her thigh, causing you to whine in satisfaction at the warm friction against your clit. “mhm?” she cooes against your skin when you do, making you all the more wetter knowing exactly what you had in store. ellie was gonna look after you, just like she always does.

• deciding enough was enough, ellie gently rolled you onto your back— pushing herself up onto her knees as her eyes ran over your heaving figure for a second. “y’wanna take these off for me?” she pat your pants lightly, leaning over to her bedside table to drink out of her water bottle before cupping the back of your neck to sit you up a little and holding it to your lips, pausing you in your undressing. “good girl.” she praised casually, eyes on your wet lips. as she did up the cap of the bottle you were quick to pull off your pants, grabbing at her tshirt to pull her back to you. as you did this, you caught the ghost of a smirk at your desperation on her face before she kissed you again, holding herself up over you.

• her larger hand crept down you, before nudging your thighs a little wider and cupping you through your panties. you gasp at this, and she chuckles at your reaction, digging her fingers in slightly. “ellie…” you whisper against her lips and she pulls away to kiss your chin before dropping her head to look at what her hand was doing. her hand trailed up and brushed over your clit making your legs jerk slightly and her fingers curled around the fabric of your panties. before you could wonder what she was doing, she gently tugged them up, causing the material to bunch and rub against your sensitive button.

• “mm—mgh, o’mygod” you whimpered, not being able to do anything but pant for a moment. she was looking back up at you now, watching your reaction and she let the smirk grace her face once more, continuing to tug. “y’like that?” she mutters, almost slightly taken aback and you nod, swallowing down a thick gulp. “so sensitive.” she commented teasingly even quieter than before, beginning to pull your underwear off completely unable to wait any longer.

• she pushed herself off you so she could ease her way down the bed, coming face to face with your cunt. you went to close your legs, but she gently eased them open— taking your hand that covered your modesty and running her thumb along the backs of your knuckles looking up at you. “s’just me.” she cooed and your heart fluttered, nodding as if hypnotised. “just you.” you repeat in a broken whisper before her eyes are on your pussy again, thumbs coming even side of the lips to spread them apart. she was high, so naturally she was entranced by how pretty it was taking a moment to admire you as she dragged a finger through your soaked slit.

• “please.” you eventually pouted and she snapped out of it, dragging a thumb up to your clit making you moan. dipping her head down she began leaving wet kisses on your thighs, pleased hums leaving her when the sensation of this would cause you to spread your legs for her even wider trying to urge her face closer to your heat. “m’gonna take care of you. gonna take care of you so well, pretty girl.” she promised against your warm skin and you mewled, hands curling into the sheets beneath you.

• ellie pushed a finger inside your wet warmth and you melted into the sheets, for once not making sound. your eyes were screwed shut and you were holding your breath without realising, trying to focus solely on the feeling of her finger being gripped by your walls. her finger didn’t move, and you were pulled out of it when she looked up at you with a gentle yet stern expression, hazy eyes focused in one yours. “breathe.” her hand stroked your thigh lovingly and you released a shaky breath. she began moving her finger again, working you open before adding another and curling them up against your gummy spot.

• your back arched off the bed and she took that as the perfect opportunity to wrap an arm around your thigh and pull you closer until her hot mouth was on your slit, licking up any juices that had leaked from you. the substances inside you heightened the euphoria of this, tears welling in your eyes as she mouthed at you hungrily.

• you didn’t know how much time had passed, it all had blurred into one as ellie made you cum over and over. during the last orgasm she drew out of you, her hand dragged up to your tummy feeling the way it spasmed and clenched and remained tense after you had hit your peak. something in you was still holding onto that stress whether you realised it or not.

• she pushed herself up rather abruptly, and your eyes fluttered open to see her staring at you, taking in all of your features analytically like she was going to draw a picture of you. your brow was still slightly tense, your jaw too. you pressed your lips together swallowing, just waiting for her next move — because ellie always knew what to do, ellie always knew how to make it better. you still looked hungry, and she realised you needed more. “you need to get fucked.” she told you so casually like it was an obvious realisation and you inhaled through your mouth, head dizzy with just how serious she was. you couldn’t help a whine slip out your mouth as your teary eyes gazed into hers, still convinced that you were too sensitive from the orgasms you’d already received. “i know, baby.” she whispered, cupping your face as if she’d read your mind. “my girl is still all tense. y’just need a little bit of dick to let go of it all don’t you?” she cooed so gently that you felt a tear roll down the side of your cheek and onto the pillow beside you. she swiped it away with her thumb, lips still glistening from you and nodded, a pout on her own face. “yeah. need me to make it all better.” she kissed you, and your breath caught in your throat when you tasted yourself. ellie had a way of making your head get so fucked, to the point where all you knew was her. she didn’t even have to try to take charge you just naturally… gave it all to her.

• you don’t remember her getting up, you just knew she was just suddenly lazily clipping her strap on onto her harness, not bothering to remove her sweats underneath. your senses were alive and practically vibrating within you when she swiped the plastic tip along through your folds, sighing like she could feel it herself. “els, want it—please.” you heard yourself say and she didn’t keep you waiting, pushing it in slow to the hilt and holding it there, kissing you through the stretch.

• “need you to relax for me. big breath in, okay? do it with me.” she whispered and you blindly followed her. the two of you, faces close, eyes locked just breathing together. your high felt elevated, and in that moment you thought the two of you might just become one person. she seemed to give in, latching her lips to yours and sucking on your bottom lip, both hands cradling your neck like she couldn’t get enough. “you gonna let me take care of that pretty pussy?” she breathed into your mouth and you were whimpering out desperate ‘yes!’s before you could even stop to think. ellie was fucking you, slow and deep and you were crying because there was truly nothing better in the world than her giving you exactly what you needed in that moment.

• lost in the moment, she pushed your knees up to your chest and your mouth fell open as she hit your spot which spurred her on to grind her strap into you with even more energy. “‘taking me so well. look at that. look how good you’re taking it. fuck me.” she cursed, gently wrapping her hand round your chin to make you look down at the soaked plastic disappearing in and out of you.

• “mm—hmhph daddy!” you sniffled and she was suddenly kissing you again so hard it nearly knocked the wind out of you. you didn’t mean to say it, but nothing ever seemed totally off the table with ellie as she just wanted to make you feel good — she knew being ‘daddy’ was what you needed, and boy did it sound pretty coming from your swollen lips. “mhm. i’m daddy. cum for me m’right here. keep takin’ it for daddy.” she groaned against your lips, doing everything in her power to get you there. she knew snaking a hand between you and letting you hump your abused clit against it would seal the deal and it did— your ears ringing as you tumbled over your last peak. somewhere in the back of your mind you thought about the students living on the other sides of ellie’s dorm walls hearing all of this but you couldn’t bring yourself to care as she talked you through cumming. “good girl, so fuckin’ beautiful.”

• ellie got what she wanted too, a completely relaxed and limp girlfriend. it’s almost like she could see the previous, remaining stress float away from your body like steam and she smiled, catching her breath. she slowly pulled out, glancing at the mess you’d made of her strap and the blanket beneath you. “messy girl.” she tutted lightheartedly with a grin on her face and you reached weakly for her, using the rest of your energy to do so. “gotta clean you up, babe.” she reminded you but you pouted, so naturally she was crawling back over you and pulling you into her chest to cuddle. “inna bit.” you slurred, seeming drunk and fucked out which filled her with endless pride.

• she kissed the top of your head, resting her chin on it as you enjoyed the sleepy silence before she spoke. “‘that help you at all?” she knew the answer, hell— she was feeling smug as ever, but she needed verbal confirmation. she needed to hear you say it. “mhm. needed it bad n’i didn’t even know. but you always know.” you were muffled in her tshirt, practically asleep at this point.

• it was true. ellie always knows. ellie always makes it better.

• her lips attacked your neck as she pulled you to grind lazily on her thigh and you let out another shaky moan, causing her to hum an encouraging “mhm?” against you, turning you on even more. her hands were warm when they pushed up your shirt to squeeze at your tits, your moans only getting more lustful.

• deciding enough was enough she gently rolled you onto your back, pushing herself up on her knees.

• she orders you food, your favourite kind - and the two of you curl up and watch a movie, ellie doing her best to

[yoursweetestbunny22]

Would you do a Rudy x film writer and director social media au where it also mentions an interview they did together talking about first impressions: Rudy and reader meet by him not realising she’s the director, checking her out when he passes her smoking outside the audition building and trying to chat her up & when he asks for her name and number she says “you’ll probably find it on the front of the script” 😭😂

Thank you for your request hope you like it !!

Rudy Pankow x Director!Writer!Reader [social media au]

Rudeth

Liked by madelyncline and 789 274 others

rudeth love you cupcakes! and my girl<3

View all 7840 comments

hichasestucks still finding sand in weird places…

⤷randomuser CHASE?!

⤷rafecameronwife that’s not-

⤷madelyncline I’m reducing your screen time babe

⤷mady234 @madelyncline NO MADDIE IM BEGGING 😭😭!!!!!

drewstarkey why am I not in there man?

⤷ rudeth …….. sorry kook

y/nuser love u pookie<33

⤷ rudeth love u pookieeee❤️❤️

⤷user23876 I want what they have..take care of my gf rudy 😔

⤷ rudypankowupdates @rudeth babe don’t cheat on me like that 😫

madisonbaileybabe miss y’all @y/nuser PLS MAKE SEASON 4 HAPPEN

carlaciagrant omg don’t make me cry rude boy 🫶🏻

jonathandavissoficial why am I the hottest?

y/nuser

liked by rudeth and 100 237 others

y/nuser Penning the next chapter of Outer Banks, and it's a wild ride! 📝 Thrilled to be shaping the story for Season 4 alongside our amazing cast and crew. Get ready for more drama, mystery, and heart-pounding moments. Big thanks to my partner Rudy for always being by my side.❤️#OuterBanks #Season4 #BehindTheScenes

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randomuser IM LITERALLY CRYING IM SO EXCITED FOR SEASON 4

User3768 IM BEGGING FOR MORE JJ AND KIE MOMENTS RN!!!

rudeth I’m so proud of you princess ❤️

⤷y/nuser love you jj

⤷user6902 @y/nuser SHE CALLING HIM JJ OMG I WANT WHAT THEY HAVE

User2749 is rafe and Sofia have something in season 4??

⤷y/nuser I vote for rafe + therapy <3

randomuser if the new season brings more close-ups of John B’s abs, I might need to invest in a new TV screen…😔

User2783 RAFE CAMERON BACK ON MY SCREEN?!?!?

obxupdates_22

obxupdates_22. Rudy spilled the tea in a recent interview he did with yn, the director and writer of outer banks, revealing his first impression of her. Turns out, he had no idea she was the boss when they first met! Caught checking her out while she smoked outside the audition building, he tried to make a move, but when he asked for her name and number, her response was, 'You'll probably find it on the front of the script.' #OBX #rudyandyn❤️

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randomuser HAHAHHA imagine rudy thinking like “omg I’m soooo that man” and she just say that😭😭

kiaramygirl they’re living a wattpad romance in real life

User36784 This interview just made me love them even more! Who else ships Rudy and Yn?

rafecameronwh0re she’s so ugly and that response?…lol

⤷user2837 it’s so funny that you think that your opinion matters…gurl he’s not givin you a chance💋

User5748 NOW HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO SEE JJ AND SHIP HIM WITH KIE?

User19873 let me know if y’all need a dog..I CAN BARK 🐶🐶🐶

User78349 yn is so THAT girl?!she wrote this badass show and is also dating rudy pankow..AAAA

[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.

Continue to Part 2 - Bittersweet

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[anonzentimes]

this might be a dumb thing to say idk im so tired rn im shaking a bit but i never get how people try to say things like "komahina is so toxic they literally hate each other and never get along" because even aside from if you actually Play the Game and see that their relationship is far more complex than just "like" and "dislike" and whatever tf, at the end of it all you still get interactions like this

like they. they clearly Don't hate each other. in the end the entire class is continuing to build that sort of friendship and trust, like ship it or no you can't play all the games and watch the entire anime and still try and argue that they DESPISE each other (which i've seen a lot of people try to claim) it's so stupid. like its right There anyways im going to bed

People either through not having media literacy or just trying to say their ship is better deny that Komahina is reciprocal or not toxic constantly. They try to undermine their relationship in favor of what they like more, or commonly because they're homophobic pretend they're outrageous together. To cut to the chase they're stupid. For media literacy being an issue that's more forgivable, but not checking the text again to know the info can avoid that problem. If they don't care enough to double check the text they shouldn't be saying anything major on it anyways, But that's just my opinion.

Komahina is reciprocal but have a breakup period due to circumstances that they overcome and become stronger together because of it. They're not toxic, they do not despise each other, even in a no despair au they wouldn't be entirely aggressive to each other. They require growth together that can be accomplished without the killing game, this is literally seen in the Dangan Island events! They love and enjoy each other's company when they aren't at their worst, They both still need therapy/growth but they can love each other and in the process learn to love themselves. All the rambling to say: people frustrate me when they try to say Komahina despise each other. Anyone with a brain, even if it takes a second glance, can tell they are very fond of each other, that they have grown and forgiven each other, and that they trust each other. They're very special to me, trying to say they're something they aren't piss me off.

[a-court-of-moonlight-and-ire]

Alright, I took a quick nap and Ive decided that I wanna get the UTM reenactment over with as quickly as possible so Im reading chapter 42 and then I'll reward myself with some pain au chocolats and not thinking about this book for the rest of the day and watching the 2002 takarazuka flower troupe production of elisabeth instead. lets go

Chapter 42

here we fucking go with the illyrian wingspan-dicksize correlation, how would Amren even know that isnt she above sex or something. Honestly, I think Cassian would know wayyyyy more about that. on account of all the gay sex hes having i mean. I thought of that joke and then I realized that you could interpret it to mean that he knows about that because hes illyrian and has a dick, but I want to make it very clear that this is a gay sex joke

how come wings are so sensitive that just barely stroking them makes you moan and shudder but you can still fly with them in harsh winds with no issue. My headcanon is that wings arent actually that sensitive, Rhysand and Cassian are just weirdos with a specific kink

This conversation Feyre and Rhys are having about his wings is so weird, its like dirty and yet uncomfortably clinical

oh Rhysand is quicker than death just fucking kill me, im getting so angry again

Syphons are called 'Trichtersteine' ['funnel stones' or 'funnel gems'] in german which is more accurate to how we're actually told they work imo but it sounds pretty lame

Is it just me or is Rhysand being kinda weirdly paranoid rn. I mean granted, they did just get attacked with ash arrows so maybe hes actually doing a good job for once and Im just biased against him

Okay so we finally get some night court fae wearing white, but of course its not for moon symbolism its so they can blend in with the rock of the mountain because this series does nothing but disappoint me

The Hewn City actually sounds really cool, why couldnt this have been the secret city where we spend most of our time, you couldve made it a whole thing about Feyre healing from her trauma UTM through like, exposure therapy or something idk. That wouldve been neat and dramatic, her healing from her UTM trauma in the place that inspired it with the person that inflicted it. I mean, maybe that would be less healthy and even more controversial than Feysand already is but then you could atleast lean into the dark romance of it

I mightve said this already but you knowwww sjm is NOT a painter and consulted ZERO painters because Ive never heard of anyone think about creating art the way feyre does

and Mor is wearing red AGAIN why would you make this a trigger for Feyre just go back and edit it out its not like it matters

God, the description of her outfit is so deeply discomfortingl like it literally is exactly what she wore while she was being drugged assaulted but atleast they left the bodypaint out this time

"[Keir] looked at my face, then my body. I had thought that he would stare and drool greedily but... there was nothing. No emotion. Just ice cold. Shaking internally, - from anger and revulsion - I followed Mor." Im sorry, is she mad that Keir doesnt find her hot????

Theres something uncomfortable about Feyre referring to Rhysand as 'Mor's Lord' especially when we just had a whole paragraph describing her as a proud and empowered queen

"Usually, one Syphon was enough for an Illyrian to to able to steer his urge to kill down the right path." what???

Now shes describing Azriel as dark and beautiful as death and oughhhhhh i knoww im the only who cares about this and its for a pretty stupid reason but I care a lot and it makes me very angry

Feyre referring to a 19 year old Mor as 'barely more than a child' is weirdddddd

of COURSE hes wearing a black tunic for this, I cant believe this is the guy that the fandom has designated the fashion lover when he has two (2) outfits

Feyre describing Rhysand as sooooo powerful and beautiful with a face of nightmares and dreams makes me want to vomit, but more importantly, it makes me yearn to rewatch the 1996 takarazuka star troupe production of Elisabeth with Asaji Saki as Death who unirionically fits all of Feyres descriptors 1000 times better

Not Rhysand using Feyres Cursebreaker title while hes thoroughly humiliating her

Now Feyre is calling him a god, bro youre not gonna be able to have sex if you jack him off this hard hes gonna be all sore

Imagine being a hewn city noble and you all get together because your high lord wants something from you and youre kinda scared because hes the worst, and then you just have to watch him finger some random lady. and you cant leave because then he'll just kill you

I dont like that this is framed as empowering to Feyre, i think its one thing to write a female character who sexualises herself in order to empower herself but the fact that Feyre is doing this at the behest of Rhys automatically renders it non-empowering to me. Like yeah, she obviously consented to this but it wasnt her idea but this was not her idea and this is not something she usually does, the only times shes been sexualized like this is because it was part of some plan that Rhysand came up with

"[Keir] apparently clung to the power. But Rhys was the power." i hate that that sentence made me think of Keir/Rhysand as a ship why am I so goddamn yaoi-brained. And yeah, i know theyre related but according to Rhys himself, he and Mor are only cousins in the most distant sense, so. Man, that would make the IC dynamics so much more fucked up but also so much funnier

Theyre trying so hard to make this hot n sexy but its just so unappealing and dragged out. Granted, sorry if this is TMI, but I did just jerk off so Im all out of horniness for the next little while so maybe I just dont like this because Im not in the mood but idk. theres something so annoying about this, i think its how over-the-top and artificial Rhysands hotness feels, not to mention the fact that he is absolutely not my type

Imagine being Keir rn, just trying to do your job and tell your high lord everything that he needs to know, meanwhile his high lord is sitting in front of him fondling his new sex slave and you just have to keep a straight face. i mean, he sucks ass so i guess he deserves it but man

Presented to you with no further comment: "My breasts became heavy and full, longing, desiring, just like my crotch."

goddamnit, Rhysand just said that he put Feyre on his leash and then Keir made a kinda slutshame-y remark about her clothes and then I thought Rhys was like "maybe I'll put you on a leash too" but it was Feyre who said that. another loss for big gay incest

"He liked this as little as I did" uhhhhh no offense girlie but you actually seem to be having a pretty great time rn

I dont even know what to say about this part where Feyre is like, detaching herself from her thoughts that are calling her a traitor a liar and a whore ?? I think thats whats happening here?? Like, its trying so hard to be sexy but its invoking the imagery of Feyre's (and even Rhysand's) trauma and its just very strange

It took Rhys a fucking eternity to actually touch her pussy

What if Keir developed a voyerism kink because of this. would that be fucked up or what

Its so weird how Feyre thinks about how maybe Rhysand doesnt like sex or being desirable anymore because of amarantha and that certainly sounds like a trauma response he should have but instead it just never matters

"I had been tortured and tormented but my pain was nothing compared to his." YOU DIED

Oh man I cant believe I completely forgot about the absolutely iconic part where Rhysand gets so mad Keir for calling the woman he introduced as a whore a whore that he telepathically breaks his hand about it

what was the point of doing that, Feyre didnt even seem to like it that much

[inthememetime]

Cursed necklace DPxDC AU

Vlad is a 24yr-old student who dies in college...in the early 1900s. Since then, he has haunted the University of Wisconsin by virtue of his his old necklace.

He likes the school- and the students like him! Since photography became accessible, students, teachers, staff, and visitors alike have been trying to get photos with him, students bribe him to help with homework (after all, he's been auditing classes for a century), mainly with cheep beer, fried cheese-related foods, and (since some kid introduced him to the Green Bay Packers), Packers memorabilia.

The students leave the game on for him, and the brave ones turn the lights off and leave a spot open for him in the hopes of seeing the Wisconsin University ghost up close and personal. (If they combine this with cheese sticks and beer, it's a near guarantee).

In general, he's a beloved figure. But then the Fentons start college there. At first, it's cool! These humans have made machines to let them listen to him (with some translation errors), they're building a portal to the GZ, which means he can have other ghosts to talk to, again, and they're fun!

Oh. Wait. They're being kicked out because they tried something unethical. Oh well! Somebody just turned on a Packers game, and he can smell the cheesesticks already.

Little does he know, the Fentons have created their prototype thermos. Until his necklace (and due to the lack of ambient ectoplasm), essentially his core is in there.

For 15. Long. Years.

Danny- not as Phantom, just Danny- finds the box and, with the curiosity of a 9-year-old opens the box. Soon, he's contaminated, despite his new buddy trying to keep him safe. And dies. Yep 9 year old Phantom.

BUT WAIT! THERE'S MORE! See Damian was a TWIN! Bruce is, when he tracks down said twin, Very Displeased by the lack of safety measures, and takes his other biological son (and his son's sister who is only 12 rn) home with him.

Bruce does NOT know about his hitchhiker; a centuries-old vampire ghost. He also doesn't know Danny's dead. More under the cut!

Clark gets mind controlled and tries to start a fight. Tries being the operative word here, because his 9-year-old is fighting a grown Kryptonian. And winning.

Plasmius steals cheese a lot, turns TVs to Packers games, and is generally a nuisance. Constantine is called.

Constantine has a new best friend because holy shit, a real ghost who's willing to talk to him! He can get so much info!

Bruce: Can you get him out of my house? Plasmius: Where Danny goes, I go.

Danny: Hey, can I have this? *eats a blob ghost in front of everyone*. *shares half with Plasmius*

Constantine is both horrified and curious. Clark gets punted across state lines by a vampire ghost who was Not Happy his kiddo got in a fight. Jason gets therapy a la a 12-year-old girl, a 9-year-old half-dead kid, and a centuries-old ghost.

There's enough ambient ectoplasm to thrive on, so Plasmius can roam and Danny can start learning powers. Vlad starts teaching Jason on the sly too.

Danny starts talking to bats, cats, rats, and a snake Damian rescued. Damian takes him to break into zoos to see what else he can talk to. Bruce is tired.

Plasmius uses his doubles for housework purposes in exchange for cheese from Alfred. Alfred abuses this shamelessly to drag Bruce up from the cave and make him eat.

Jasmine is Aggressively Normal. To the point where they're considering therapy, but then she gets kidnapped, talks to Harley, and embraces her alter identity as The Mindflayer.

Ok fine, she admits that is a little villainous. Maybe she can be Wraith or something? "Look, it seems you guys are being a little too upset about-", " Jazmine, you turned the Joker into a vegetable." Jason: YEAH she did! C'mon, we're going to have some fun, kids!

Just- Bruce thought he was getting two kids from an abusive household. He did NOT sign up for 2 half-dead OP kids, a cheese and football-obsessed vampire ghost, and a...NO, Danny, you CANNOT keep the giant green hellhound. Damien, stop encouraging him!

[bestjeanistmonster]

How did dc au sonic and shadow meet? Was it like Harley Quinn where they met while sonic was Nicky in Arkham? Where Harley was one of the only nice people there to ivy . Or was it like animated series where they just knew of each other due to reputation?

It was a mix of both!

Sonic and Shadow met like they did in the original batman animated series

Sonic had screwed up and gotten kicked out by Eggy onto the streets, leaving him to fend for himself so out of spite he goes on a solo heist to steal the ‘harlequin diamond’ from a museum

Telling himself that he’s doing it for himself and no one else but he’s doing it to like prove himself to Eggy (even though he technically ‘out’ he’s still very much brainwashed and doesn’t really have a purpose or sense of self besides serving Eggy in, so even though he was kicked out Eggman knows that when he calls he’ll just come running back)

Sonic was real stealthy, dodging laser sensors, security cameras and then using as tool to carve a circle in the glass case that had the diamond in it and he’s so close-

Then the alarm starts blaring like crazy and a black and red hedgehog slides into the room holding onto something and runs through all the laser sensors

And Sonic’s like wtf????

Then he's just like, "fuck it", breaks the glass steals the diamond and runs in the same direction as the guy with the security guards after them and he hears police sirens already from outside

He finds a hiding place and then he's face to face with the guy that tripped the alarm

"Nice job tripping the alarm, why don't ya turn on the bat-signal while you're at it?!"

"You think i wanted to get caught?!!"

"Coulda fooled me!"

They have a mini fight before security show up and they’re forced to work together to evade capture, they escape off into the night on Shadow bike (the only reason Shadow didn’t leave him behind was cuz he didn’t want this guy tattling on him if he got arrested)

They get to a temp base of shadow’s and catch their breath, Shadow recognises Sonic as Eggman's right hand and is immediately on edge but Sonic is like, "me and the Doc are kinda having a rough time at the moment, so im kinda on my own rn, im sure it’ll blow over though.” He said with a nervous smile

Now when they had physically fought earlier Shadow was surprised to see that this clown actually posed a bit of a challenge for him. Shadow usually didn’t care what people thought about themselves or others, but with Sonic being the only person he’s met to actually give him a good fight and to hear him talk so low of himself actually came off as an indirect insult towards Shadow and he would not stand for slander

So Shadow ends up saying smthn like, "Look imma be honest but you’re a bit of a doormat and squandering your potential so much that it's pissing me off a lil bit." Then takes him with him on a city wide rampage to kinda build up that self esteem and give the guy a bit of independence

And from there the rest is history

Nicky and Shadow met during the internship

The first was when Nicky had to ask him some questions about eggman cuz he was in group therapy with Eggman until Eggy killed the psychiatrist and wanted to know if there was something, anything that he could further ask Eggman about so he could use it to get Eggman open up more during their interviews

To get him to go away Shadow told him the little he knew

Then Nicky returned a week and a half later thank him

Nicky: Dr Eggman fessed up, thanks to you

Shadow: I didn’t do anything.

Nicky: (raises eyebrow) you told me about his grandfather

Shadow: that was barely information. I wouldn’t have even told you about it if you were going to be so smug about it

Nicky: (shrugs) eh like it or not you helped me (slips plant cutting into the food delivery box) everyone needs help sometime, and since you wanna wipe humans from the face of the earth…

Shadow: (picks up clipping) so what? You cut a *plant* for me? I could kill you with this.

Nicky: (smiles and walks away from cell) yeah. I guess you could.

Shadow:…

Nicky had read his file before talking to him and in the notes it said that Shadow felt more comfortable around plants due to the nature of his biology and abilities

Shadow has a cell in Arkham with zero plants around just in case he got out of that power restricting collar they made all of the inmates wear and raised hell

So Nicky giving Shadow that plant cutting was him doing Shadow a solid for helping him out with this even though there is a risk of that collar coming off and him breaking out, cuz if he didn’t manage to get it off Nicky supposed that he’d still feel more at ease in his cell with a plant around

Shadow didn’t realise they were the same person till prison roll call

[muuurder]

I’m coming here after your gf’s propaganda, hi >:D

Could I ask about Modern AU (Gaalee)? *O*

(also while looking for your AO3 account in your carrd, I found out that the link is not working!! Just so you know è_é (there is just the “s” missing gbizeubguebgz))

Hehehehe You mayyy. Also thank you!! I'll be real honest I am pretty sure I have one fic on my AO3 Account.

Okay so this specific Au I have plans on writing a fic about but I do not have it written out just a loose plot with elements in my noggin.

But essentially it focuses on trans! Gaara raised in modern day with a conservative cop father.

After the death of his mother, things proved to get harder and his father began to dive deep into his work. Only time he's present is when he's home usually drinking. He's not exactly a good cop by any means. He has a temper and he has his stern beliefs and he quite literally hates his fucking kids, but he especially hates gaara who has always been tomboyish, always the reminder of his failures, and ever the stubborn mule even when he is trying to stay out of Rasa's way. Gaara was never one to listen, he always marched to the beat of his own drum anyways.

After a particularly nasty incident where Rasa went a little too far on the job, Rasa picked up the three kids moved them closer to the city (coughcough Konoha.) Gaara ended up getting involved with drugs, and between the dangerous mix of everything he becomes a spiralling mess as per usual, targeting anyone who breathes at him wrong or he percieves as a threat of sorts. On one ocassion, Our beloved Rock Lee (star track runner, i'm debating on making i'm former head of boy scouts or just a kid who goes to a dojo that Gai totally owns.) ends up getting involved for justice reasons (He's autistic your honor.) and it ends with Gaara beating him with a lead pipe. Obviously charges are pressed and Gaara is sent to a psychward and given community service instead of going to juvie (I do not know if this is even fucking possible tbh but I like it.) While Gaara is in the psychward ( I am so sure there is another reason why he got sent there but w/e I can't remember rn), His father dies in a shoot out with a notorious criminal in the area (wonder who that could be.) Leaving these kids slapped into foster care while things are figured out as Temari isn't old enough to care for her three brothers. Yashamaru works to get custody of these kids in time but in the meantime, it's rough and Gaara is picked up from the psychward not by family. He is picked up by a foster care agent (social worker???) and he is made to serve out his community service. There he meets Naruto, who is also doing customer service for vandalism and they do fight and Gaara forms a baby crush. There is alot that happens around here and then there is a time skip essentially where things change once Yashamaru gets custody of these kids and they find a new normal with a crusty white dog. Gaara gets a safe space to heal and explore who he is.

The plot really begins picking up down the line where essentially gaara post moving away from the city with yashamaru back in their home town, He decides to move back to pursue college. he wants to get into therapy to try to reach others like him and Naruto integrates him into his friend group (or tries rather Gaara is pretty stand offish even if kankuro and temari have done so easily) and Gaara keeps fucking running into Rock lee against his will. Lots of healing, lots of forced proximity for healing reasons. Slow burn. It's a very loose plot I'm still fleshing out. We may see nods to the Moss because I wish I was joking here, That fic altered my fucking brain chemistry. I am still figuring it out. I do know that the main relationships i plan on showing/mentioning are: Gaalee, kakagai ofc, shikatem, kankiba, the polycule themselves narusakusasu, nejiten, hinata is a lesbian idc, and so is ino also perhaps past sakuino I am really excited for this fic ngl but I want to like do everything justice so I don't want to publish till i finish rewatching naruto and refreshing everything so I can figure out what elements I want to bring in and the like. Ngl y'all can ask more about this fic I have thoughts of scenes that would be so cute. HEHEHEHEH THANK YOU FOR ASKING!!!