#prompt: violet

[aurescentia]

For the @corrodedcoffinfest Somewhere Over the Rainbow pop-up event - prompt: violet

ao3 || Song: Keep It Warm by Flo & Eddie || WC: 2,456 || Rating: T || CW: language, mild violence, references to weapons || Tags: Season 4 Rewrite, Fix-It, Coming of Age, Friendship, Eddie Munson Has a Crush on Steve Harrington, References to guns 'n' stuff, Not Canon Compliant, Background/kinda foreground Steddie

"Stick another grape in the juicer Or fill your guts with grease and get looser You are what you eat, so eat it warm"

March 27, 1986

Something’s wrong.

Okay, that’s… probably the biggest understatement of Frank’s life, because something’s been ‘wrong’ all fucking week. Honestly put a real damper on what should have been an awesome spring break, and– shit.

Not the point. Anyway–

Something’s wrong in a way that has him scaling up a telephone pole at one in the morning to break into the j-box, which, he supposes, as he opens the panel hidden inside, isn’t that out of the ordinary for him. He’s habitually checked the tape recorder once or twice a month since he started tapping it back in ’83.

What is out of the ordinary, and what led him to where he is now, tossing pebbles at Gareth’s bedroom window, is that the tapes aren’t empty like they usually are. And, yeah– since it’s a voice-activated recorder, no secret government calls meant no secret (i.e., illegal) government recordings. Which meant normally, they were blank.

Except for when they weren’t. Like in fall of ’83 and ’84, when those kids went missing, or last year, when the mall blew up and the whole town was crawling with feds. Except for now, when the whole town was calling Eddie a murderer, and there was nothing Frank could do to prove him innocent.

Until–

Gareth’s window finally opens, and Frank can see him peering out behind his bedhead mop.

“Psst!”

“Dude. What the fuck are you –”

“Can you come down?” Frank whisper-shouts up at him. Jeff’s head pops up beside Gareth’s, looking rumpled with sleep.

“Oh, Jeff’s here too? Sick, that saves us a trip.”

Gareth opens his mouth, probably to ask, ‘who’s ‘us’?’ but then Jeff’s shoving him out of the way to call back to Frank.

“We’ll be down in a minute. Wait there.” And then the window slides shut again.

For the record, it takes way longer than a minute for them to sneak through the side and out to where Frank’s waiting, but he doesn’t have time to waste moaning about them dragging their feet. They have, as Eddie would put it, negative time to get moving, and that’s under the optimistic assumption he can convince them to come.

But Frank doesn’t get to start explaining before Gareth’s shambling over, kicking at the backpacks he left scattered on the lawn.

“Why do you have– Frank, are those guns??” he asks, staring slack-jawed at the shotgun poking up through one of the bags.

Frank nudges it aside with his foot, placing one hand on either of their shoulders, desperate for their attention.

“And a couple of M72 LAWs, but ignore that for a sec and just listen to me,” he urges, shaking Gareth when he tries to argue again.

“Listen! I found Eddie, and he’s in danger. Like, full-on end-of-the-world, government conspiracies, danger. There’s too much to explain, and I’m probably going to seriously regret this, but I– I wanted to ask you guys to come along. Help save him.”

“And the whole world, probably, but that’s sort of a secondary concern,” Frank adds, unable to help himself.

“Whoa, hold on. Can I ask –?” Jeff shakes his head, rubbing at his temples.

“Whatever. I’m going to ask anyway. Is– is this shit tied to your CIA dad?” Jeff asks, lowering his voice.

“Former CIA dad, how many times do I have to tell you?” Frank mutters. “And… kind of? In a super roundabout way that also involves interdimensional monsters, and, more importantly, saving Eddie’s life. Which means I just need a yes or no response.”

“Wait a minute, this –”

Gareth starts to talk, but Jeff interrupts him with a hand to his shoulder, closing their circle in.

“Can you explain on the way?” he asks, nodding once at Frank.

“Uh, yeah– what else are we going to talk about on the way? The weather? That chem assignment you haven’t started?”

“Yes, of course I’ll explain,” Frank mutters when Jeff shoots him an expectant look.

“Alright. In that case, I’m in,” he says after a moment, shrugging when Gareth shoots him a betrayed look.

“But the guns –”

“I raided my dad’s closet for all the beefy shit he can’t sell at the store,” Frank says, waving away Gareth’s protests.

It was less ‘closet’ and more ‘underground bunker,’ but the less they knew about that, the better. Whatever shit his dad sold outside the War Zone (i.e., off the records) was his business. Literally.

“Are you in or not, Gareth?”

He glances warily from Frank’s earnest expression down to the bags, and back. Sighs heavily, like this is all one big inconvenience instead of life or death.

“Fine, yeah. I guess I’ll tag along for the suicide mission.”

Frank slaps him on the shoulder cheerily.

“That’s the spirit.”

Thirty minutes later, they’re rolling Forest Hills, bags heavy with all the shit Frank had to haul solo on his initial ride. He’s done his best to fill them in on everything – his dad’s paranoia, tapping the j-box outside the nondescript building the feds didn’t want anyone to know they occupied when shit hit the fan in Hawkins, how often shit hit the fan here; all of it.

They only had to make one pitstop along the way to pepper spray the absolute shit out of Jason Carver and his cronies. And, yeah, it was possibly (mostly) unprovoked, but Frank figured there was no way they were out this late to do anything good.

And besides, they fucked up Gareth’s drumkit, so Frank assumes they deserved it.

But now that Carver’s taken care of and everyone’s up to speed, there’s a lull in the conversation as the three of them drop their bikes on the familiar steps leading up to the Munson trailer. Maybe less familiar, as it currently stands, with the windows vacant and dark. With the knowledge that Chrissy died here, and knowing that, without understanding how, it wasn’t Eddie’s fault.

“And you’re sure this is where Eddie’s hiding?”

“Seems like the last place he should go in a situation like this,” Gareth mumbles, eyeing the graffiti-covered trailer. 

“He is here… kind of,” Frank says firmly, hoping he sounds more confident than he feels.

From what he’d gathered from listening back to the recorded calls, the feds were aware of something they were calling ‘exits.’ That they’d been popping up everywhere the kids– where Chrissy had died. Didn’t take a brain surgeon to figure out the rest.

And while the feds were too busy circle jerking to finish assembling a ‘task force,’ that meant Eddie could have slipped through unnoticed. Which meant they were about to follow.

Any further questions were met with a resounding, terrifying answer – one that took the unfortunate shape of a ‘YES’ spread out in a jagged chasm across the ceiling. The three of them stared at each other, at the anomalous sheet-bend ladder dangling from nothing.

There might have been a moment of second-guessing, of wondering if they were getting in too deep, but then they could hear voices coming through the chasm, and that was enough to get Jeff reaching for the ladder.

He pauses for a moment, just before he begins the climb, looking back at Frank and Gareth with an air of grave solemnity. 

“If I die, tell Rebecca Ives I’m in love with her.”

Gareth rolls his eyes, but kneels to give him a boost up anyway.

“Like we’d let you die without us.”

Gravity goes weird as Frank hauls himself up (down?) the ladder, everything shifting, flipping as he falls into the awaiting mattress landing pad. He thinks, god, the trailer’s seen better days, huh, even as they’re picking themselves up and following the voices toward the not-Munson-trailer front door.

He doesn’t have time to contemplate the nightmare reverse quality of everything here, or even worry about the spores floating in the air that have him itching for the inhaler he left at home, because Gareth’s already at the door, flinging it open with one hand. He’s got his other hand firmly latched around one of the tire irons Frank had brought.

The earth – if they’re even on earth anymore – seems to stand still. Because there’s Eddie, alive and mostly unharmed. Eddie and Dustin, and– well, shit. A whole fucking gaggle of others.

At the sound of the door opening, everyone outside whirled around to face them, hands on their weapons like they were expecting a fight. Which, yeah, they might well have been. Wasn’t that the whole reason the feds had been calling each other like crazy? Why they were out there, somewhere, assembling a task force at this very moment? The reason Eddie was here at all?

Because there was something out there, too large and inhuman to comprehend. Something that was just that – too much – and they needed to fight it. Had to kill it.

 “Jeff?” Eddie asks after a long pause, glancing surreptitiously back at the older group, as if making sure they could see them too.

“Eddie– Holy shit, dude,” Jeff breathes, taking an aborted step toward him.

He stops when Wheeler – yes, Nancy-goddamn-Wheeler – lifts her shotgun and aims it directly at the three of them, still smushed together in the doorway. Harrington shoots her a scowl, and she lowers it a little, but her fingers stay locked, ready to fire.

“How’d you get here?” Nancy asks warily, eyeing the three of them suspiciously. Frank wonders what else he has missed in the tapped calls – what other tricks of the mind the rest of the group experienced before they got there.

“Uh, we used the front door?” Gareth mutters, side-eyeing Frank like maybe Wheeler had a few screws loose.

“And the rope, don’t forget the rope into another dimension.”

 Wheeler frowns at this, opening her mouth to say argue – probably ‘go back, it’s too dangerous’ or some other noble, heroic shit, but Eddie’s already lifting a placating hand.

“We don’t have time to ask why they’re here. They’re here, and we need all the help we can get if we’re going to stop Vecna –”

“– the DnD guy?”

“– if we’re going to stop him before he gets Mayfield,” Eddie continues, ignoring Gareth’s muttered outburst. “And I don’t know about you guys, but I think I’ve seen enough kids die in the last week to last me a lifetime.”

“Go. Do your job. And make sure you get that fucker.”

The three of them – Wheeler, Buckley, and Harrington – all nod in eerie unison, resolidified by Eddie’s conviction. And they’re about to take off, head toward some unknown, separate danger, when Jeff nudges Frank’s shoulder, nodding to the bag of weapons. Right.

“Wait!” he calls to them, closing the distance with the bag of offerings held out. Wheeler’s eyes go wide.

“Holy shit, is that a bazooka?” Robin sputters, taking a step away from them.

“It’s an M72,” Frank and Nancy say in unison, then eye each other appreciatively.

Seems like Wheeler knows her shit.

“Where’d you –” Nancy cuts herself off with a shake of her head, accepting the bag Frank thrusts into her hands. “This is– wow, thank you. Honestly, it’s impressive.”

“What good would we be if we showed up empty-handed?” he says, grinning at her.

Feels good, knowing all this work wouldn’t go to waste. Nancy smiles at him, shyly, before hoisting the bag over her shoulder. Nods once, and then Wheeler, Buckley and Harrington disappear into the woods beyond.

Frank’s still staring after their retreating forms when he hears Eddie come up from behind, clapping an arm over his shoulder.

“As much as I’d love to bask in the warmth of this surprise reunion, we’re kind of busy preparing for battle,” Eddie says, smiling down his nose at him. “So, if you don’t mind a little walk-and-talk crash course, we can get each other up to speed.”

Frank laughs because, despite everything, it feels right being here with him. Together. Ready to fight for their town, for each other.

“Yeah, man. Let’s get to work.”

THREE DAYS LATER

They’re fourth (fourth!) in line to visit Eddie in the hospital once he wakes. The first and second positions were obvious – Wayne first, because yeah, they’re family; followed closely by Dustin, who was already here for Mayfield this morning when she woke.

But Gareth’s been moaning nonstop about the third person, who currently stood somewhere beyond the closed door of Eddie’s hospital room. His federally guarded hospital room, Frank might add, which was making his skin crawl, reminded of the very tapped, very illegal recordings he had stashed somewhere at the bottom of his bag.

“I just don’t get it,” Gareth’s saying for probably the tenth time since they got here. “We go through all that trouble – bringing the weapons, saving everyone’s ass, crushing all those interdimensional bats into bits–”

One of the feds gives Gareth a wary look, which he waves off with an annoyed flick of his hand.

“Look, buddy, I’m not breaking any NDAs if you pencil-pushers are the only ones to hear me,” he mutters.

“Anyway, point being! All Harrington does is ride in at the last second like a goddamn knight in shining armor, performs a little CPR on Eddie, and now we’re playing second fiddle to him? Where’s the rationale in that!”

Frank and Jeff share a look over Gareth’s shoulder, knowing that’s not… exactly how it went down, and he knows it, too. Frank certainly wouldn’t call what they saw Eddie and Steve do, pressed up against the driver’s side door as they left for the hospital, CPR for CPR’s sake.

More like the ‘holy shit, I almost watched you die’ and ‘holy shit, I almost died and now you’re carrying me, bridal style, to safety’ kind of embrace. One that included a lot of crying. And tongue.

“None of us broke our ankle saving him,” Jeff supplies drily. “I think that’s earned him a little favoritism, at the moment.”

More than favoritism, if Eddie’s blood loss induced, romantic whispers to Frank on the way to the hospital could be believed. But Frank was currently saving that embarrassing piece of blackmail for a rainy day.

“Sorry we were good at saving everyone’s lives and didn’t need to break anything to get the job done,” Gareth mutters sullenly, checking his watch again.

“Hey. Sunglasses,” he snaps at one of the guards, nodding at the closed door.

“Can you knock or something? Tell them their time’s up or–”

Gareth’s interrupted by the door swinging open, revealing a rather pink-faced Steve Harrington, beckoning them in.

“Sorry for, ah. For the hold up, guys,” he mumbles, scrubbing at the back of his neck.

“He’s ready for you now.”

please check out @corrodedcoffinfest for all the other entries, or to generally see what they've got goin' on over there. always tons of cool shit! and if you want to follow along for the rest of the week, you can find my posts here on tumblr, or saved to the Spectra series // Corroded Coffin Fest Collection on ao3 for everyone's submissions.

[corrodedcoffinfest]

6.14.25 || Prompt - Violet

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[swanthief]

1.03 | 1.05 | 3.03

[blooming-violets]

private #5 bent over a table while somethings baking in the oven. is it too much to ask for tasm peter parker bending reader over?

[location based smut prompts]

The To-Do List

[tasm peter x fem!reader]

(reader is described as having a ponytail that is long enough for Peter to wrap around his hand and use as leverage)

His birthday cake was nestled happily inside the heated oven. 

She got up early to make it for his special day. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail to keep out of her face while she had prepped and she was still in her pajamas from this morning. She had planned to have the cake in the oven, get her shower done, and place out his presents on the table all before he woke up. 

Peter, of course, had other ideas. 

He leaned against the kitchen doorway with a lopsided grin as he sleepily took in the sight of her. She paused when she saw him there, silent as ever, and crossed her arms. 

“You are not supposed to be awake for another hour,” she chastised. 

Thirty-five looked good on him. Every year he seemed to get more and more handsome. 

His eye wrinkles grew as his smile widened. A strand of dark hair fell down his forehead and he absentmindedly brushed it away. He was shirtless with nothing but a pair of dark boxers to keep him decent. 

She admired how defined his chest was. A hinting of his six pack was peeking out from just under the surface of his lean body. 

“I smelled cake.” His voice was thick and scratchy with lingering sleep. Peter’s morning voice was one the sexiest sounds she’d ever heard. 

She smiled as she rolled her eyes. It had hardly been in the oven for more than five minutes and it was already enough to get him out of bed. 

“The kitchen is a mess. I was going to clean it all up and have your presents out and I was going to be all dressed up and looking extra cute. You ruined it all with your stupid nose.” 

Peter laughed as he strode across the room to slip his arms around her waist. She looked up to admire him and wiped at a staining of toothpaste still clinging to the side of his lips. She caught it with her thumb and shoved it back into his mouth while he licked it off. 

“You already look extra cute,” he mumbled around her thumb. 

“I’m literally wearing your old, hole filled shirt and bright pink fluffy pants. This is not how I wanted you to see me this morning. It’s your birthday. I wanted it to be special.” She tugged her thumb back with a huff. 

Peter stepped back to appreciate her outfit in the morning light. She had already been in bed by the time he crawled through their window last night.

“I like it,” he stated. “It’s hipster.” 

She let out a laugh in response, “I don’t think you know what hipster means, babe.” 

Peter shrugged, “It means you dress like a bum, right?” 

“Oh my god, why don’t you go back to bed and try this again in an hour when everything is all set up, okay?” 

“No,” he whined. He latched himself onto her back, snaking his arms tightly around her stomach to press her against him. “I’m up. It’s my birthday. Say happy birthday to me and tell me you love me.” 

She grinned, snuggling back against his bare chest, “Happy birthday and I love you.” 

“That sounded insincere but I will take it.” His hand slipped up under her loose shirt to cup a warm hand over her breast, lazily palming it while he nibbled at the edge of her ear. He always liked the feeling of her nipple coming to life and growing harder against his hand. He held onto her chest like one might cling to the safety of a favorite stuffed animal. 

She groaned, “Your presents were supposed to be all set out nicely on the table. Instead you’re just greeted with a kitchen disaster of my cake baking. Are you sure you don’t want to sleep for another hour? I know you’re tired from last night. You were out late.” 

Peter began to slowly waddle them back and forth towards the kitchen table, refusing to release his grip from around her waist or remove his hand from her breast, “I know of a present I can unwrap right here…” 

She gasped under her breath, “Peter. This is no time. I’ve got a list of things to do.”

She felt him laugh quietly against her ear.

“Yeah and I’ve got a list of things to do, too. A whole list. Let’s see what the first thing to do is…” he pretended like he was reading off an imaginary piece of paper as he checked it over. “Ah, yes!” 

He slipped his hands out from her shirt and placed a gentle hand between her shoulder blades to bend her over the kitchen table. With a quick swoop, he tugged down both her pants and underwear, leaving them hanging around her ankles. She let out a shocked cry.

“Unwrap presents…check!” He chuckled to himself, giving her bare ass a soft slap. “And what a beautiful present it is. Couldn’t have asked for anything better. Wow, you really know me, baby, I’m super impressed.” 

“Peter,” she whined, pushing herself back up. “Not fair. I haven’t showered. I’ve got to get ready. I’ve-”

He cut her off with a kiss. His lips crashed against her and his tongue forced its way into her mouth to stop her from trying to protest further. She could taste the mint from his toothpaste still clinging to his tongue and she moaned as he pressed his hips into hers. He was growing harder by the second. 

“Shut up,” he mumbled against her lips with a smile. “My birthday. My rules.” 

“Okay,” she said with a dreamy sigh. It wasn’t hard to convince her. Her complaints were more for show than anything else. If Peter wanted her, he had her. “I love you, Pete.” 

“If you love me so much then why don’t you take off that shirt so I can see my second present.”

She did as she was told, stripping it from her body, until she was standing naked before him. The bulge in his boxers twitched which made her smile. She loved the fact that she could make him so hard from sight alone. 

Peter’s hand reached out to brush a calloused thumb across her hardened nipple, “Beautiful.”

He lifted her up onto the table so she was sitting closer to him and he moved between her legs. They wrapped around him so she could feel the heat of him soaking through his boxers and against her pussy. His eyes traveled down to her chest, taking in the sight, and sighing happily. His head dipped down so he could capture the waiting bud between his wet lips. 

She let out a satisfied moan and ran her fingers through the back of his hair while suckled on her. His tongue bathed her breast, teeth nipping at her nipple, and soothing it over with quick kisses and light sucking motions. His mouth was magic. He didn’t even need to touch her pussy for her to already be soaking through his boxers as she ground against him. 

“Feel that?” He groaned, bucking his hips. “Feel how hard I am?” 

She whimpered.

“All for you,” he whispered, finding her lips once more to kiss her deeply. 

All for her. 

It was his birthday. She should probably be getting down on his knees for him and sucking him off or tending to him in some way but she was nothing but putty in his hands. Lost in the feeling of seduction he was casting over her. 

Peter dragged her down off the table, smirking at the wet spot she had left behind, and spun her around. He folded her back in half over the table, scraping his nails down the length of her spine and over the swell of her ass. 

“The next thing on my to-do list,” he breathed, his voice low and deep. “Is you.”

She heard him discarding his boxers and suddenly felt the wet, hot tip of cock slide up her open folds. She was more than ready for him. He never had to do much to have her begging for more. Her hips grinded against the air as if trying to draw him in closer but he only continued to tease her with the tip.

“Someone’s eager,” he commended, giving her ass another slap. 

“Peter, please,” she gasped. 

He kept up his tantalizing torture. Every time his cock bumped over her aching clit, her hips would jerk backwards, and she’d let out a quiet cry.

“Please what?” He asked with an air of innocence. 

She groaned at his teasing, “Please fuck me! I want you to fuck me.”

“Aww,” he cooed. “Does my poor baby need my cock?” 

She whined and nodded. 

“You got up so early, didn’t you?” His nails dragged along her hips, making her squirm, as she humped frantically in an attempt to get at his cock. “You got up early to make my birthday so special. You baked me a cake. It smells amazing, doesn’t it? Smell it, baby.”

Her eyes widened in frustration, “Peter! Fuck me! Please, stop it.”

He ignored her pleas, getting off of them, as his cock twitched between her thighs, “Did you slip that cake into the oven just for me?”

She was nearly sobbing from her own arousal, ready to attack him if he didn’t shut up and fuck her soon. She arched her back to better entice him, wagging her ass and rubbing it against his hips. She pushed herself up with her arms so he could get a peeking view of her tits swaying in wait for him. 

That seemed to do the trick because he had gone silent as he stared.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “Happy birthday to me.” 

“I want it hard, Peter. Use me,” she whispered in an effort to finally push him over the edge. “I’m yours.”

He lined up his cock to her entrance and eased himself inside. She nearly doubled over against the table at the delicious feeling that flooded through her body. 

“Yes, yes, thank you, baby, thank you,” she cried. 

“You really love this cock, don’t you?” He breathed. “Do you love this cock more than me?” 

“No, baby, never. I could never-”

He pulled out and rammed the full, thick length back into her with a loud slap. 

She shrieked, falling forward into a flurry of mumbled moans, “I do, I do, I do. I love it more than you. I love it more than anything.” Tears pricked in her eyes from the overwhelming sensations taking over. 

Peter chuckled to himself, “That’s my girl.”

Her ass slapped against his body with each plunging drive of his cock as he took her. Fast and hard, just like she asked. Every thrust felt like it was reverberating through her, waking up all her senses, making her feel more alive than ever before. It was sheer bliss. Anticipation already began to build. He knew exactly how hard to take her. Peter could be rough but he never went past her limits. He knew her inside and out. He knew just where to push her before retreating back to safety. The sounds of her tumbling moans and each inhale of breath was all he needed to direct his path. 

He was filling her body, stretching her, taking her, building her up to that beautiful place of divinity. Her nails clawed at the table, scratching at the wood, trying to find some kind of purchase to steady herself with. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Peter!” She cried. 

“That’s it, baby,” he panted. “I got you. Don’t worry, I’ve got you.” 

He wrapped her ponytail around his hand and jerked her head upwards. She arched her back to accommodate the move as he held her against him. She could feel his ragged breaths against her cheek and listened to his erotic panting in her ear. The sound was enough to almost send her flying straight into an orgasm. 

The hand not keeping a tight hold of her ponytail wrapped around her to grab at her chest. He molded her breast between strong hands. 

She loved taking his cock. Loved it so deep. Thrusting. Hard. Stretching her. Forcing her to take him. Peter was thick. Thickest man she had ever been with. He pushed her walls to their max. His beautiful body and the sounds he made when he fucked her where like heaven to her ears. 

That familiar, sensual pressure began to grow inside of her with shallow waves lapping at the edges of her mind. Soon they would turn into giant swells. Taking her over until it was all she could feel. 

His hand slipped from her ponytail to wrap around her neck. He gave a gentle squeeze. Nothing too forceful but enough to send her flying even faster towards that tsunami of pleasure. She was so close. So ready. 

“Harder, Peter,” she sobbed. “Hard. Please. I’m-I’m…close…need it hard. Take me.” 

Peter was never to deny a request like that. He shoved her back over the table and tumbled on top of her, humping frantically with long, heavy strokes into her cunt. He could feel her walls tightening. He could feel her body changing. 

“Come on, baby,” he urged her. “Cum on my cock. Cum for me. Let me feel you.”

The universe exploded into blinding light. 

She didn’t care how loud she was. Didn’t care if the neighbors would hear. In fact, she wanted them to. She wanted them to know exactly how well Peter Parker could fuck his woman. 

Her toes curled and her legs kicked up as the sensory overload rocketed through her with golden waves of pure dopamine. 

Peter took her straight to the edge and held her there, spasming and sobbing, as he continued to fuck her through the orgasm. Even as the waves slowly receded, they still lingered in tiny aftershocks, due to his relentless pounding. He had gotten her where she needed to be and now it was his turn. 

He reangled himself into her, getting a better grip as he held onto her hips, and switched up his rhythm to slow. Peter liked to feel everything. He wanted to drag it out and feel her body wrapped around him. From fast and hard to slow and steady. His change of pace caused a low, drawn out moan to escape from her throat. 

“You like that, baby?” He panted. “You like feeling every inch of me?”

All she could do was whimper in response as her sex spasmed again around him. This was a man who knew how to lengthen an orgasm. She was completely helpless to him. Her body was his play thing. 

“Let me hear how much you love me, baby,” he whispered down in her ear as his cock buried straight to the hilt inside of her. “Let me hear you.”

She struggled to make any noise besides sobbing whimpers and broken cries. 

He moaned in response, “That’s it. Those are those sounds that I love so much. My poor baby, all ravaged on my cock. Can’t even speak.” 

He gave a small shudder and she knew he was close. She did her best to work her hips to meet his thrusts, squeezing him with her walls, sucking him in, clenching down. 

“That’s good, baby, that’s good.” He moaned, his voice slowly losing itself as he got closer to the edge. “Ooh, fuck, keep that up. ‘M gon’na cum inside ya’kay?” 

She loved it when he filled her. She loved feeling him drip down her leg as she carried him around with her. She would bathe in his semen if he wished it. It was his birthday, after all. The birthday boy could come wherever he pleased. 

His long, slow strokes worked her up as another, tiny orgasm rippled through her. That seemed to be all he needed to follow. 

Peter let out a low groan, his thrusts become more unrestrained with each passing second, and she took him. All of him. 

With the sweetest of cries, he emptied himself inside of her. She could feel him swell and pulse until she was impossibly full. That tiny orgasm grew into something much bigger, taking over her body along with him, as she felt him collapse on top of her, both shaking, as he bit at her shoulders with soft, love bites until he finally calmed down. 

He stayed like that, laid against her back and squishing her into the table, until he cock began to soften and he sadly slid back out. She tumbled back into his arms as they both fell to the spooning position against the kitchen floor. Naked, wet, and breathing heavily. 

Peter’s hand found the comfort of her breast once more. 

“Mmm,” he hummed. “Best present I could ask for. Thank you, baby. You’re too good to me.” 

She grunted in response, still finding words to fail her. Instead, she rolled over in his arms, hooking her leg through his, and leaving a trail of kisses across his face to show much she adored him.  

His eyes closed as he smiled happily at the feeling. 

Eventually she would have to get up. Eventually she would have to shower and get dressed and clean the kitchen and set up his presents and frost the cake…but for now…

For now she was happy to just lay here on the floor in his arms.

[shouyuus]

i need a beach ep with vi !!! i miss summer sm and kept thinking abt surfer vi ? (gorgeous) or maybe aquapark idk anything involving water activities with reader

sfw, surfer!vi (rmbr to hydrate kids)

surfer!vi who's eternally kinda sunburnt (there's a fanart yall know the one), figured she'd dye her hair hot pink bc the saltwater and sun's bleached her hair nearly blond, gets drunk one night and chops half of it off on a dare but all her surfer bro friends r saying it's unfair cause she pulls off the weird choppy hair and is pulling way more girls than they are on the beach

surfer!vi who part-times as a lifeguard, with her thin shades and her headphones (hung around her shoulders when she's on duty), who occasionally picks up a shift or two at the beachside bar when it gets way too hot to be in direct sunlight, so she spends her afternoons flirting with patrons and making cocktails with those little paper umbrellas in them

surfer!vi who thinks you're just about the hottest thing on legs when she sees you fumbling with a board, jogs over with a lopsided smile and an offer to help you out. you ask her if she's a surfing coach and it takes everything in her not to throw out some cheesy line about "only for the pretty girls"

surfer!vi who knows you're only here for the summer, but can't help the way her heart speeds up when she sees you making your way towards her across her usual stretch of beach, the stretch that's tucked on the other side of a rocky outcropping, a stretch that not a lot of tourists know about (but she showed it to you anyway), grinning shyly when she runs an appreciative eye over the shape of you in your thin, semi-transparent beach robe and brightly colored bikini

"hey! y'made it," she says, resisting the urge to dig her toes into the sand like a nervous teenage boy. you nod, pursing your lips.

"yep, you said... you wanted to show me something?"

"yeah, c'mon." vi motions for you to follow her, and you do, jogging a few steps behind her, pausing here for there for a pretty shell or a cute little crab scuttling over the salt-washed sand.

surfer!vi who brings you to a tiny little alcove, shielded from the wind, with a perfect view of the sunset and motions for you to sit. so you do, and for a while, you just bask in the warmth of each other's presence, the shush of the tide as it washes again and again into the familiar shore, kissing it like a lover, hesitant of their last goodbyes.

when the sun finally sets and the sky begins to ink indigo, you twist to glance at vi.

"vi?"

"hm?"

"are we... waiting for something?" you ask, looking between her and the everlasting tide.

vi grins, nodding, "shh... just watch." she points towards the receding light as it traces the line of the sea. you follow the line of her finger, and for a while, you're lulled into a sort of trance by the rhythmic rock of the ocean, the silvering shimmers of the coastal lights reflected over the water's surface.

and then --

you let out a soft gasp -- "oh..."

as if by magic, the ocean begins to glow, each inbound rush of tide like a crest of shattered stars, tiny little points twinkling along the line of the waves as it breaks against the the shore.

"apparently, it's caused by bioluminescent algae," vi says, leaning back on her palms. your eyebrows hike.

"yeah? and who told you that?"

vi makes a faux affronted noise, "what makes you think i couldn't've looked it up myself?"

you level her with an incredulous look and she chuckles, nodding.

"fine, fine, my little sister -- powder -- she's into... well, all sorts of stuff. that's what she said, and she's usually right so --" she motions towards the sparkling waves once more, the rippling tides etched in neon lights.

"it's really, really..." you trail off.

"beautiful?" vi offers.

you turn to find her grinning at you, a wide, dopey kind of grin that seems almost incongruous with her too-cool, surfer "vibe" but... somehow, it fits. you feel yourself blushing, as if the heat of the day had been simmering beneath your skin, waiting for this very moment. you briefly thank the heavens that humans don't have the innate ability to glow because you're certain that in that moment, you would've shown a bright, sunset red.

"y-yeah... something like that," you murmur, turning your eyes back to the sea.

distantly, you can hear the sound of tourists cheering and whooping as each wave crests and breaks over itself, casting the entire shoreline in an otherworldly blue light.

"does this happen every year?" you ask, feeling suddenly all too seen beneath the sharpness of vi's dusk-bright eyes.

"yeah... the algae come back almost every year."

"good," you say, nodding, "then i've got a reason to come back next year."

vi reaches out to tug on a strand of your hair, "yeah? that the only reason you're coming back?"

you let out a soft laugh, shaking your head, "no... but it's start, isn't it?"

vi's reciprocating smile is sweet, lit up by the gentle glow of a billion seabound stars.

"yeah. it's a start."

[nolovelingers]

hi omg i loved ur hcs for ethan landry as ur bf <333 do you think you could write something like that, but for tate langdon, please?

TATE LANGDON AS YOUR BOYFRIEND ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧

ೄྀ࿐ requested ! ˊˎ-

headcanons — // cw ! : dark themes ,, obsessive tendencies,, nsfw !! similar to ethans i try to keep these as realistic as my silly little mind is able to think !! very toxic relationship 🌀 talk of self harm & smoking

——————————————————————————

 SFW !!

TATE LANGDON AS YOUR BOYFRIEND . . . is like meeting someone who’s not like anyone you’ve ever met. there are no duplicates, copies or a person even remotely similar to the dark eyed boy.

there’s always been something about his odd personality that has a strange charm to it. he’s always held himself up to his own standards and even back before the entire westfield high situation he’s been very picky about his living style and the people he surrounds himself with.

so therefore when he met you, the stilled silence to his violent tornado, it was as if everything else in the world dimmed and the spotlight shone to you.

he would never leave you alone. not when you move rooms, not if you try to have people over, not when you stormed into the backyard and sat under the flickering moon as you desperately grasped for alone time. not even when you go to the bathroom.

the second he came into your life and you allowed him to, privacy no longer existed. the only time he would ever leave was if he had his own emergency to partake to or if your guardian(s) were around.

at first it was cute, you couldn’t really deny the fact that having a boyfriend so attached to the hip and dependent made your heart flutter in some sort of way. but you quickly learned that even as dreamy as it sounds it’s not all that great.

if you run to the bathroom and lock yourself inside the langdon boy is fast to follow suite, confused on where or what you were running from until he watched you shut the restroom door and he slid his back against it; knees brought up to his chest as he patiently waited for you to come back out. and trust me, he will wait. doesn’t matter if it’s hours or even half of the day. he won’t move an inch.

you hardly invite friends over but the few times you do you’re fast to regret it. you tell him your friends coming over, hoping he’ll take the hint to leave, and he’ll only blankly stare at you; face devoid of any emotion as he mutters a gentle ‘oh’ before returning to looking through your collections of whatever it is you have an abundance of. maybe books, cd’s, vinyls, comics, posters, crystals/rocks, stuffed animals, funky socks or a hoard of animal bones; there’s nothing in your room tate hasnt gotten his hands on.

even after you alert him of the approaching company unless you plan on shoving him out or repeatedly asking him to leave he doesn’t plan on going anywhere. he’s terrible at reading social cues and you have to spell out the simplest things for him.

he’s quick to judge your friends, not one of them is good enough for you in his mind and he’ll be sure to voice that. sometimes even straight to their face; with a blank expression and no emotion behind his eyes. it doesn’t matter how close or how long you’ve known someone, could even be your whole life, they’re not good for you like he is.

he often says the most terrible and disgusting things about them to your face, judging you heavily for the people you hang around and making you feel insecure.

he is definitely the type to drive wedges in between all of your relationships. just with your friends at first but as the relationship furthers he begins to do the same to your family too.

obviously he can’t leave the house but if there was ever a time you ranted about someone you dislike, hurt your feelings or overall anything spoken poorly about them he would remember it till halloween and carefully map out their murder. i mean, you wanted them to die right? why else would you tell him about it?

tate is extremely oblivious to your emotions. he loves you so much and it’s clear to him you must be meant for each other. so no matter how you feel back, reciprocated or not tate would assume you liked him too. he refuses to be in the friend zone and throws a hissy fit if you ever even try.

as we all known he’s one of the prettiest criers out there and this is very useful when it comes to manipulating. he knows you have a weak spot for seeing his tears and now anytime you try to lecture him, kick him out or he feels as though you’re not understanding his (rather malicious) side of the story the tears are quick to fall. but the tricky thing here is that they are always real tears of sadness and regret; it’s just as though he’s reprogrammed himself to cry at any minor inconvenience.

his favorite cuddle position is spooning and he often likes to be the little spoon. no one in his life has ever cared for him enough (or at least in his eyes they haven’t), and when you have your arms securely around him, pulling him into you; it’s like heaven on earth. he feels so safe, warm and comforted. there are of course days where the rolls switch but there’s really no denying he prefers to be the one being spooned.

id definitely say he’s a sort of pathological liar and even when he doesn’t mean for it to happen lies fall from his mouth as easy as tears stream from his eyes. it could be about the stupidest shit or it could be actually serious as he tries to work his way out of a situation he’s actually at fault for.

this makes it really hard to trust him, because it’s eerily scary how easy it is for him to lie straight to your face with even blinking, or come up with excuses on the spot. i know people like to claim they’re usually good at picking up when people are lying to them but with tate it’s a huge challenge. he’s unnaturally good at it and doesn’t hesitate.

it’s not easy to pick up on his fibs in the moment but there are a few times you’re able to realize later on; as his stories don’t add up or he forgot his lie in the first place and comes up with a completely different one when asked the same question from before.

and even then once he gets caught; deny deny deny. you’re the one in the wrong for accusing him of something like that when he just has a poor memory and suddenly you’re the bad guy for pointing fingers even though you’re the one with evidence and he just throws out empty accusations.

if you smoke i think he’d love to break into your stash a lot, he didn’t use weed before his death but once you introduce him i see him as a sort of mini-stoner. he’ll use your stuff without even asking. he kind of contradicts himself in that way because for the most part when he was still living he thought people who smoked or drank were stupid, ruining their body. he looked down on them. when you’re dead though you cant really destroy your body and though he still doesn’t like drinking he’ll indulge in smoking.

if you do any sort of after school activity or club he’ll encourage you to quit, telling you how it’s all stupid and a waste of time that you could be spending together. if you refuse he’ll try to sabotage it for you the best he can while being confined to the house. maybe sending a nasty email to your teacher/coach or by ruining a uniform or equipment you use.

there’s definitely times when he’s asked you to drop out of highschool to which you immediately declined and there’s not really much else he could do about this nuisance.

langdon will put you onto his likes and interests, music or movies he has a taste for. he’ll try the stuff you like as well but he’s quick to judge and doesn’t do second thoughts or tries. if he doesn’t like it he won’t even pretend to and will harsh out negative reviews before you turn it off. and then he’ll act confused on why you suddenly stopped it but he’s very glad you did. he couldn’t stand it.

and because of this when you’re hanging out it’s all about what tate wants to do. the music he wants to play. the things he wants to talk about and the films he wants to watch.

jealousy is a major problem for him and the mention of really anyone, but especially if it’s a guy, will have his blood pumping and his head spinning.

to him, he only has you. it should be the same way around, he absolutely hates that you have and know other people that aren’t just him.

tw? — if you ever try to leave him he goes all out and puts on the most dramatic show you’ve literally ever seen. throwing himself against walls, screaming and crying his eyes out, burying his head in his knees and clutching at his hair while begging and pleading for you to stay. he doesn’t get angry at all but turns more pathetic and desperate as he clings onto you. lots of “ill do better”, “you can’t leave me”, “tell me what I did wrong” and “you’re all I have”’s leaving his lips. if this doesn’t work he’ll harm himself in front of you, smashing his head against the wall or even using a sharp tool to cut into his arm while only asking one thing. “is this what you want?”

tw? — it’s a very draining relationship and can impact your mental space a lot. if you self harm he will catch you eventually, whether it’s while in the act or the scars/scabs from after. he’ll grab your arm (not assuming that’s where you sh, just so he has a grip on you), asking you how you could be so selfish (which is his way of caring) and then asking you to cut him instead anytime you wanted to hurt yourself. this is obviously off putting and drives a wedge between you for a while, which he will trap you back by guilting you and apologizing. (even though he was completely serious when asking and still is.)

the blonde haired boy lives for your validation. he’s constantly asking for reassurance and pestering you with loads of questions. whether if it’s if you like his outfit to if you still had feelings for him or not.

he’s a huge listener than he is a talker and could sit for hours, happily criss crossed and a toothless and content smile on his face while you go on about every little detail of your day.

he’s definitely asked you to do his eyeliner before but would rather die (again) than have anything else applied to his skin. it would cripple his masculinity.

overall he’s very touchy, craving for any contact he can get with you. resting his head on your shoulder, holding hands, his hand on your thigh or pinkies intwined. he always has to be touching you in some way.

recommending books and songs are one of his all time favorite things to do and he does expect you to read or listen to all of his suggestions. he’ll ask you about it a few days later after initially suggesting it and will get upset if you still haven’t looked into it.

tate hardly gets angry, he’s very sensitive as we all know and most of the time it ends in his hysterical sobs; but when the fire inside him lights it’s terrifying.

if you weren’t the one to make him angry you’d usually be okay, he’d rant about it to you while you played with his hair; describing all of the horrendous ways he wanted to see the person or thing he’s mad at crash and burn. if he’s angry at you it’s like he moves on his own, putting you in a chokehold and slamming you against the wall, yelling and pointing fingers at you. pushing items off your desks/dressers/shelf’s and you make him go away; scared of him hurting you. he wouldn’t, not intentionally, but it was a very scary sight to see.

of course within hours he’d return, tears streaming down his face and begging on his knees for your forgiveness, arms latched around your legs as he sobbed into them and refused to let go until you forgave him.

as much as he loves you and wants you to be together forever, he would never purposefully go to the extent of killing you in the house so you could stay with him forever at the age you are. it sucks, he knows it sucks, but he does have a boundary set for that. he doesn’t want you stuck there for the rest of your life. he’s just hoping you’ll stay in that house with him willingly anyway. he’d let you go after crying his heart out for days, but he’d never let you forget him or move on. and being honest; he would probably start to regret the decision.

his love for you goes beyond words, it consumes him completely. he knows now his purpose. the day he died in that house and the years that passed waiting up to the day he met you.

he was made for loving you, in his own sick way. you are his entire heart.

NSFW !!

tate is a switch in the bedroom, but he’s so easy to dominate which makes him lead towards being more submissive. of course he’ll be in his dominant moods, there’s no doubt, but it’s laughable how easy it is to take control back over him.

he loves to overstimulate you, fucking you or relentlessly giving you head for hours, not giving you rest inbetween as you beg for him to stop through shattered moans.

(if you’re a female) — we all know about his mommy issues and he definitely incorporates that into the bedroom in some ways.

(if you’re a female) — he’s a tits man rather than ass and anytime you’re going at it your shirt has to be off, he doesn’t care what size breasts you have all he wants is to attach his mouth around your nipples and tease them with his tongue, sucking lightly before leaving hickeys all over them.

(if you’re a female) — he has the best fuck me eyes the worlds ever seen and when he’s bottoming he can’t stop himself from calling you ‘mama’.

he’s very kinky, and he has put on the infamous leather suit before to fuck you. it makes him feel more powerful, like he’s in control.

when he’s topping he’ll have one hand pinning one of your arms above your hand while using his other to interlace your fingers, crying into your neck with all the pleasure he’s feeling.

he’s not the greatest on cleaning up afterwords but he always snuggles you, cuddling up to you in a ball and resting his head soundly on your chest as his breathing slows and he drifts off.

but the most important thing to know — tate is godly at sex. he doesn’t have the most experience in the world but he definitely wasn’t a virgin by the time you met and he knows what he’s doing.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ a/n : thank you sm for requesting , made my day !! i hope that this is to your liking, i appreciate the compliment ab my ethan headcanon i tried my best <33. my inbox is open to all !!

started 08.06.23. finished 08.07.23.

©️nolovelingers 2023

[femmeetart]

"You have to be quiet, Vi!"

@femslash-february's bingo, first kiss + marking

[tales-of-the-ghost-zone]

DP X DC crossover prompt

Sam and Tucker, thanks to living in Amity Park and being overshadowed and controlled by ghosts so many time, had become very liminal. Until an accident while trying to stop the newest ghost enemy led to the two of them becoming halfa’s. Sam’s ghost form looks like what she looked like during the whole Undergrowth thing. And Tucker’s ghost form looks like his King Tuck design.

After a reveal gone wrong, Danny, Sam, and Tucker flee Amity Park. The trio run away to Gotham, and using money Sam managed to snag from her account before they left, they buy a nice sized building right in the middle of Crime Alley. They decide to turn it into a bookshop and cafe. There’s a garden/greenhouse attached to the back end of the building where Sam grows all her plants and herbs. Tucker has his own tech room in the basement alongside Danny’s tiny lab space. They live together in the apartment above the bookshop/cafe.

One day while out on a walk, Danny stumbles across two tiny twin half formed baby ghost cores. They’re nothing more than tiny little balls of glowing light at the moment. Baby ghosts that are just starting to form but are nothing more than cores at the moment. But they seem to be slowly fading. Danny refuses to let them fade away into nothing. He scoops them up, infuses them with some of his ectoplasm to get them going, and then shoved them into his chest for safe keeping and so that they can be close to his own core which starts slowly feeding them energy.

Danny rushes back to the shop and drags Sam and Tucker to the upstairs apartment and shows him the baby ghost cores he’s found. The three all agree that they’re going to help these cores develop into actual ghosts. They switch off on who carry’s the ghost cores around. Some days it’s Danny. Some days it’s Tucker. And some days it’s Sam. Each of them feeding the cores a little bit of their ectoplasm to help them grow.

One of the cores feels distinctly female and has a purplish blue glow to it. The three start jokingly calling her violet. The other core has a distinctly male feel to it. It’s an orangish red and has a small crack along one side of it. Danny jokingly said one time how he (the baby core) kind of looked like Nemo’s egg at the beginning of Finding Nemo and ever since they’ve been calling him Nemo.

The two cores have been developing very slowly, both seemingly unable to absorb the needed ectoplasm, to form into full ghosts, quickly. The trio is fine with this, they can be patient, and wait to meet their twins.

Then one day there’s some kind of massive ghost attack. Maybe a cult or something attempted to summon the ghost king but messed up the summoning and accidentally summoned something else. The Justice League try and fight the thing, but they’re no match for this ghost monstrosity. And the JLD aren’t available to help for whatever reason. The trio decides to step in and help. They kick the crap out of the ghost pretty easily and send it back to the ghost zone. Then Danny, in his King Phantom garb (crown of fire, whispy white fire like hair, a regal looking version of his hazmat suit, the ring of rage on one finger, and a cape around his shoulders, the outside being pure white but the inside looking like the vastness of space) approaches the cult and rebukes them, telling them how even if they had managed to summon him he never would have helped them take over the world.

After that the trio become members of the Justice League. Thanks to some of Danny’s previous time travel shenanigans, and Danny being the ghost king, and Sam and Tucker his consorts/mates(?) the Justice League all think that the trio are ancient eldritch ghost gods.

And then one day when the trio are in the Watch Tower with the rest of the League their twin baby ghost cores come up. Maybe it was time to switch out who was carrying them, and mid meeting or lunch or whatever, Danny just reaches into his chest, pulls out two small glowing orbs. He cradles them close to his chest for a moment, looking at them lovingly, and whispering something soft to them in ghost speak. Then hands them over to Sam, who does the whole cradle them close and whisper softly in ghost speak before shoving them right into her chest.

They look up from this to see the whole League staring at them wide eyed and confused. Danny just casually explains that those are their children but they’re still forming so the trio needs to keep them close to their cores to help them grow, but they like to switch up everyday who carry’s them. Every member of the Justice League becomes super protective of the trio after this. They see it as the three essentially being pregnant (sort of), and they don’t always know which one of them is carrying the baby ghost. So best to just be protective of all three. The trio finds this kind of amusing and a touch bit sweet.

When the twin baby cores finally develop into actual baby ghosts, the two kind of look like a mixture between Danny, Sam, and Tucker’s ghost forms. Though Violet has dark purple hair and eyes and Nemo has bright orangish red hair and eyes.

[isthatmyjacket-covenofchaossq]

So, vampire!Cait and vampire hunter!Vi when?

[empyreanevents]

Riorgail Week: June 16th-22nd

Riorgail prompts! Two prompt lists in one day, oh my! Keep an eye out for one more. Make sure to tag @empyreanevents and use #riorgailweek2025, or use the AO3 collection. As always, prompts are open to interpretation. I can’t wait to see what you create!

Day 1: Professor Riorson | For the Teacher/Student trope lovers.

Day 2: Bond | They have a magical dragon mating bond connecting them to each other. Explore that.

Day 3: Signet | Inspired by the 'inapproprate use of signet' tag on AO3, but can be intepeted however.

Day 4: Jealousy | They’ve both had their moments of jealousy and it was H-O-T! Give us some more.

Day 5: Truth | All Violet has ever wanted from Xaden is the truth and in some aspects that is the one thing he can’t give her. Explore the ways that the truth, or the lack thereof, affects their relationship.

Day 6: Domestic | What do we want? Domestic Riorgail? When do we need it? Now!

Day 7: Free Day | Canon or AU, the freedom is yours!

🎨 by hmmr.art

[endeerling]

I love how arven —who has been introduced as a somewhat douche —has this bright colourful Rotom case that literally has flowers and a flabebe on it

And yet Nemona —who has been introduced as someone who’s meant to be your best friend/rival and someone who is full of joy and has a seemingly endless amount of energy —has the solid colour phone case and it’s literally just plain black with no pattern’s whatsoever

[lapseinart]

I have so many ideas for the Bridgertons as babies, like, you have no idea because some babies have quirks and particular about certain things and I just know the Bridgertons were quirky, particular babies ngl this is based on my family

Anthony was a fussy and particular baby. The only way he would calm was when people walked up and down staircases while carrying him. Edmund's glutes did not thank him the exercise. No ones not sure how they figured it out, but he quite liked when Edmund did sort of a droning sort of hum/whine/sound instead of humming a regular song. The only one this trick doesn't work with is Francesca (Bridgerton spouses are quite disconcerted when they first hear it but admittedly its rather effective)

Benedict in contrast was super easy and sleepy. He slept through the night even as a newborn--had to be woken to eat, sometimes ate while still mostly asleep--to the point to which made Edmund and Violet call a doctor (bc didn't babies cry?? Anthony cried all the time he was crying now) who told them to simply be grateful for the sleep they got

Colin was mostly a calm and easy baby except he got fussy after eating and Edmund and Violet did not understand why until someone asked if they had burped him, and it was in that moment that they realized Anthony and Benedict had never cried to be burped. Like Anthony cried for a lot of reasons but not burping. All subsequent children had to be burped tho.

Daphne was the only biter of her siblings after her teeth came in. Her parents and nursemaids lived watching her mouth and had near permanent teeth dents on their hands to prevent her from biting her siblings. This was ultimately not successful and she bit her older brothers (mostly Colin) several times and also baby Eloise once. Her daughter Belinda is a biter, and Anthony calls it karma

Eloise enjoyed being vigorously bounced in lieu of being rocked. This was discovered when they left her with 9 year old Benedict, who did not quite grasp with how much vigor one ought to bounce a baby. It calmed her screams more easily, but Edmund's muscles did not thank him for this discovery as much as his ears. She was also a fan of stairs, but not as much.

Francesca may not like the droning hum, but it's not because she liked Edmund's singing. Actually, it made her cry harder. She did like it if her mum sang or hummed though. (in all honesty, Edmund was a bit tone deaf) (that's probably where the more monotone droning came from) apart from that she was very chill

Gregory was fussy, but that could very well have been because he was constantly being poked at as the newest baby. Of all of them, he was the slowest to start talking, partially because he was so doted after he rarely needed to make his demands more clear.

Hyacinth was also particular and would only fall asleep if Anthony walked up and down staircases while holding her. If Violet was less depressed, she probably would have called it karma

People always write normal ass babies. But sometimes babies are weird.

[alphieshplife]

Violet - @moonwater-microfic - wc: 333 - fem!Moonwater

Violets represent modesty and humility and are historically associated with lesbians!

Remus shifts on her feet where she stands in the dungeons, just outside the door to the Slytherin Common Room. She stares down at the bouquet of violets in her hands, suddenly feeling idiotic. She doesn’t even know if Regulus likes violets. She doesn’t even know if Regulus likes flowers. But it’s too late, because the door opens, and out steps Regulus, flanked by her friends and looking just as gorgeous as always.

Before she has a chance to lose her nerve, Remus steps up to Regulus, stopping her in her path. She’s almost expecting to be yelled at by her friends, or by her, even, but instead, Regulus’s friends back off, just a step, and Regulus looks up at Remus through thick lashes and smiles softly. It makes Remus’s heart skip a beat, and she almost forgets what she’s doing here.

“Hi,” Regulus says. Her voice is as smooth as velvet, but it grounds Remus, reminding her of why she’s in the dungeons in the first place. “Pretty flowers.”

Remus feels her face warm, and she shuffles awkwardly under Regulus’s knowing gaze. “Oh, erm…they’re for you, actually.” She thrusts out the hand holding the flowers, and, despite the stiff clumsiness of her movements, Regulus accepts the flowers with a pleased look on her face.

“And to what do I owe the pleasure?” Regulus is still giving Remus a knowing look, but Remus doesn’t let it deter her. She’s a Gryffindor, goddamnit. She can ask out a pretty girl.

“I wanted to ask if…if you’d like to go to Hogsmeade with me,” Remus says, biting her lip shyly. Before Regulus has a chance to answer, Remus continues, “I don’t presume to be good enough for you, but, well—I really fancy you. And you can say no, of course, but I hope you’ll keep the flowers. Purple suits you.”

“I wasn’t going to say no,” Regulus says. She steps forward and takes one of Remus’s hands in her free one. “It’s a date.”

[goddessofroyalty]

Prompt for Zaun Family, if we already have Naph can we have Amaranthine as Jayvik’s daughter? Months or a year later they discover Viktor is pregnant again this time with a daughter and the reactions of the rest of the family. Please

Tags: omegaverse, mpreg 

I’ve realised I forgot to include an Isha-focused scene (she’s mentioned/included in others). Will have to write it before I cross-post on AO3 but want to post this tonight before I go back to work and get snowed under for a week again.  

This is another one of those where scenes end jarring because I kind of ran out of what I wanted to write in them. But also it’s meant to be a lot of short-sharp moments so hopefully it still works.  

Relevant grandparent names to Naph: Vander – Grandpa; Ximena – Gramdma; Silco - Granddam 

--------------

“Has Mylo said anything to you about possibly being pregnant?” The fact Silco has a question for him is hardly surprising to Viktor. While they both work in Piltover the most out of the family Silco doesn’t typically suggest they have lunch together in his office unless there was something he wanted to discuss.  

“No.” The idea of it somewhat terrifies Viktor if he is being honest. He might logically know his siblings, except for Isha, are either nearly or over 20, but the idea of any of them having a child does not feel right. Nor would Viktor know what to do if any of them came to him to discuss it. Even with Naph now 3 and parenting starting to feel a bit more natural for him and Jayce. 

Silco gives a contemplating hum.  

“Jinx would have come to me if it were her,” Silco says, more to himself than Viktor. “And I know Mylo is fooling around with that alpha waitress of Vander’s try as he might to hide it.”  

“And what makes you think one of them might be pregnant?” 

“I found a test in the bin after you visited last,” Silco says. “I, thankfully, no longer have that concern anymore. And would have known it if were mine anyway.”  

“Ah. Of course.” Viktor knows exactly where the test came from seeing he had taken it while visiting his family so Jayce wouldn’t possibly find it. He hadn’t considered his nosy paranoid Dam would likely be on high alert for something like that with two omega children still under his roof.  

Not that Viktor is going to own up to it. Better to put off the awkward conversation a bit longer.  

Silco levels him with a look.  

“Why did you take a pregnancy test Viktor?”  

Shit.  

“I- ah- think you know.” He had been feeling off in a way that reminded him of when he was pregnant with Naph so he had taken one as a precaution. He hadn’t expected it to come back positive.  

Silco curses.  

“You said you were done after Naph,” he hisses, voice quiet as if they might be overheard in his office.  

“I was.” Even before Naph was conceived Viktor had planned to only have one. And even that was because he couldn’t stop thinking about what a child made from him and Jayce would be like. “It was, eh, not intentional.”  

“So you are pregnant?” Silco asks. By the time he would have found the test the results would have been unreliable.  

“Yes.” If he tried to lie Silco would have just made him take another one. “And I have not told Jayce yet so you will not say anything to him.”  

It’s not that Viktor thinks Jayce will be unhappy about the news. No, he will be excited. Viktor just needs to process it a bit more himself before he does. As much as he loves Naph and will love this one as well, pregnancy comes with a cost to his work’s progress and it is better he work through accepting that fact so Jayce’s excitement is not met with bitterness.  

“I won’t,” Silco promises, because he has no problems with keeping secrets from one's mate. “But are you truly doing this again? You hated being pregnant.”  

“So did you. And yet you had four of us.” Viktor definitively isn’t looking forward to the coming months but he would be well supported between Jayce and their families. And Naph had proven that Silco had been right when he said they were worth the effort to make.  

--------------- 

“We need to talk,” Viktor says after Naph is settled and asleep for the night and Jayce feels his heart plumet.  

He had noticed how Viktor had watched him put their son bed without really helping. An odd expression on his face as he leaned on his crutch braced against the doorframe. Jayce had tried not to think too much into it – even with all the years and a pup into their relationship there were still parts of Viktor that were a mystery to Jayce. Ones he hoped to learn for many years to come.  

“Yeah, sure.” Jayce forces his panic down as he follows Viktor to the main living room and sits across from him the couch. Holding his hands in his lap to hide his panic.  

“I, ah, have something to tell you,” Viktor says. And the panic runs right up Jayce’s spine.  

“Are you dying?” Jayce asks before he can think. The idea of losing Viktor and the life they had together a terrifying and overpowering thought.  

“What? No. Or, well, no more than I normally am,” Viktor says because he loves to remind Jayce that he will not live to an old age. “No, Jayce, I’m pregnant.”  

“Oh!” It’s better news than Viktor’s health taking a sudden dive. Much better news even if Jayce had been perfectly completely happy with them only having Naph. “We’re having another baby?”  

“Yes. That is generally how pregnancies end. Although, I suppose I may miscarry,” Viktor says with a twist of his head as if he is discussing the possibility of the weather changing from the forecast. “Hopefully that does not happen though. If I am going to endure another pregnancy I would like to get another child out of it.”  

“How are you feeling?” Jayce hadn’t forgotten how miserable Viktor had been for most of his pregnancy with Naph. Nor how much work it had been for Viktor to bring him into the world.  

“Tired mostly,” Viktor says. “And a little queasy but I have not vomited yet.”  

“Okay.” Not much different to when he was first pregnant with Naph. Hopefully it wouldn’t be any worse than that one. “We’ll make an appointment with the doctor to see if there’s anything we need to think about that’s different this time. And we probably need to think about moving into a bigger place. And-”  

“Jayce,” Viktor says, cutting Jayce’s continuing to plan off. His expression caution. “Are you happy with the news?”  

“Yes! Of course!” On reflection he had kind of skipped over his excitement in his relief at the news not being bad. Reaching out he takes Viktor’s hands in his own. “I am so excited about us having another baby Vik. But I know it’s not easy on you and I still don’t know how to make it up to you or make it any easier.” 

It had been a thought that had occupied his mind through the entire previous pregnancy. Trying to think of anything he could make or do that would ease the burden on Viktor’s body. Anything more than just be by his side as he suffered.  

“You did a good job last time, so just that again if you could,” Viktor says. “Just one more time though. There will not be another after this.”  

“Of course.” Even though Viktor said that with Naph as well Jayce still believes him. Two is more than enough for them.  

---------------------- 

“We have something to tell you,” Viktor says to Naph in the morning as their son sits up on Jayce’s lap at the table having breakfast. There is a proper chair for him but Jayce is a pushover and always lets him sit in his lap instead.  

“Tell me!” Naph says, looking up between them. His impatience at things inherited from both sides according to all three of his grandparents.  

“You’re going to be a big brother soon,” Jayce tells their son, squeezing him in a tight hug.  

“Eh- in over half a year’s time,” Viktor corrects. The pregnancy still fairly early. “You will be four when your little sibling arrives.”  

“Where are they now?” Naph asks, because he is their child in endless curiosity as well.  

“In your dam’s belly,” Jayce says and Naph eyes immediately hone in on Viktor’s stomach. “They have to grow a bit before you can meet them.” 

“Your belly doesn’t look any different,” Naph says.  

“It will, “Viktor promises him. “I will look very different when they are ready to be born.”  

“Okay. Then can I play with them like Isha?”  

“Not right away. But you will be able to teach them things like Isha teaches you.” The age gap between them will be similar.  

That seems to satisfy Naph’s current curiosity. The usual morning routine being easily returned to.  

--------------------- 

There’s a knock at the door to the lab and before Viktor can look up from his work Naph is yelling for his grandpa. Small footsteps echoing as he races to the door.  

“There’s my favorite grandson!” Vander says, swinging the boy up into his arms as soon as Naph reaches him. Settling him against his hip with well-practiced ease as Viktor finishes his work to a place he can walk away from it and come over. “Where’s your dad?”  

“Jayce had a meeting.” And Viktor felt perfectly comfortable sending him on his way to it while Viktor stayed in the lab with Naph despite Jayce’s many attempts to get an excuse for him not to have to go to the meeting and instead stay in the lab as well.  

“Then how about you go play with your toys while I talk to your Dam and then after we all go get ice-cream?” Vander asks Naph which of course is met with joyful agreement from the child as Viktor mourns a naptime lost to sugar rush.  

“Must you bribe my child?” Viktor asks, leaning on his crutch, as Naph runs off to do as he’s instructed.  

“I’m his grandpa – it's called spoiling when I do it,” Vander says as he pulls Viktor into a hug. “Your dam said you’d have something to talk to me about?”  

“Did he tell you what?” Viktor doesn’t know if he would prefer his dam did or not.  

“No, he didn’t - he’s good at keeping things to himself when he wants to.”  

Viktor well knows. His childhood had been spent asking Vander things if he knew his parents were trying to keep something from him because Silco would never tell.  

“What’s happening Vik?” Vander asks, taking Viktor’s silence as worry.  

“Nothing bad,” Viktor promises. “Just that you will be having another grandchild soon. I’m pregnant.”  

“I take it this wasn’t planned?” Vander asks as he squeezes Viktor tighter against him.  

“Not exactly, no,” Viktor admits freely. His parents can hardly judge for that. “But we are not in a bad position to have another.”  

They were comfortably wealthy from Hextech and Viktor’s health was holding steady for the time being.  

“No, you’re not,” Vander agrees with the odd tone he gets when he’s thinking about how Viktor and his siblings grew up. He gives Viktor one final squeeze before pulling away. “And how’s Jayce taking it?”  

“He’s excited. It feels less scary the second time.” So many of the unknowns feel a bit more known. And they’ve already successfully done it once.  

“Don’t drop your guard – the second born will give you different challenges to your first,” Vander advises.  

“Don’t you mean the third-born?” By all accounts Claggor was the easiest of Viktor’s siblings and Mylo the one who really brought trouble.  

“Claggor might have been easier than Mylo but he was still different to raise to you,” Vander says. “He could run for one. And couldn’t be entertained for hours by letting tinker around Benzo’s shop.”  

Viktor gives a hum as he heads back to his work. There’s a bit further he would like it to be before an ice-cream break.  

“What do you think of being a big brother soon?” Vander asks as he goes to entertain Naph while they wait. Sitting across from his grandson on the floor despite the crack of his knees as he gets down. 

“I’ll be a good one,” Naph says, sounding slightly couched from how much Jayce and Viktor had already started talking him up to it. “And I’ll be extra helpful while dam’s pregnant.”  

“I’m sure you will be,” Vander says, ruffling the boy’s hair. “You’re gonna’ be the best big brother, aren’t you? And good big brothers deserve ice-cream.”  

“Yeah!” Naph cheers. “I want ice-cream.”  

Vander laughs as if he hadn’t put the idea into the boy’s head. And Viktor can only grumble about his son being spoilt by his grandparents as he finishes up so they can go get ice-cream.  

-------------- 

“I can’t believe you were hiding the fact you were knocked up from us!” Jinx says after just showing up to Viktor and Jayce’s lab and making herself at home in one of the corners.  

It’s moments like this that Viktor misses the days his siblings weren’t allowed in Piltover.  

“I was not hiding it,” Viktor argues. “I just hadn’t told you yet.”  

Jinx snorts.  

“Same thing,” say says, coming over to drape herself over his back. “Didn’t think you’d be one to have a brood – always too busy for us with your work and your experiments.”  

“Two is hardly a brood,” Viktor says as he tries to bat her off.  

“Sure, but how long until two become three and three become four and four become six,” Jinx says as she flits around the room before stopping dead and gasping. “You could be having twins.”  

“No. No twins. It is not twins.” They can’t actually know that for sure until he’s far enough along for a scan. But one is more than enough for his body to handle.  

“Twins would be cute though. You could dress them up in little matching outfits. And it’s one less pregnancy in having your little tribe.”  

“I am not having twins. And we are stopping after this.” Viktor had already starting looking into sterilization options to ensure that fact.  

“You really can be no fun you know,” Jinx says with a pout on her face even as she fiddles with one of the pieces they’ve been working on.  

------------------ 

“Gross!”  

If Mylo had of known the bathroom was already occupied by his brother puking his guts up, he would have gone to the one in the bar instead. At least there the scent of puke was only lingering.  

“Thank you for the commentary, Mylo,” Viktor says, tone frosty as he glares at Mylo between hurls. Completely unjustified in Mylo’s opinion seeing how it's not an inaccurate summary of the sight.  

The alpha of his shoots Mylo a nervous smile where he’s crouched next to Viktor. One hand rubbing along Mylo’s brother’s back as the other holds a glass of water for him.  

Mylo leans against the doorframe as Viktor rests his head against the toilet. Breakfast apparently finished being brought up.  

“Are they really worth all this?” Mylo had watched Silco go through the same when he was pregnant with Isha and of course Viktor with Naph. As cool as Isha and Naph are now he’s still not sure it’s worth it, especially with how at first, they’re just blobs that cry and shit.  

“Right now, I am not sure,” Viktor says, accepting the cup from Jayce, swishing a mouthful of water before spitting int into the toilet. “But ask me again after they are born and I have seen Jayce hold them. It may be a different answer.”  

Mylo snorts at it. For all his brother's independence and leaving home to go to the fancy academy in Piltover when he was a teenager, he and his alpha sure seem attached to each other.  

“Yeah, well, tell me if there’s anything I can do or whatever,” Mylo says despite being pretty sure it isn’t anything.  

“Thank you, Mylo.”  

---------------- 

“You’re starting to get big again Vik,” Claggor can’t help but point out as his older brother slowly and carefully makes his way to the booth in the bar they currently have dinner at when he is visiting so his back can be better supported.  

Viktor’s small enough he can still easily slide into the booth despite his now stomach now well protruding from pregnancy.  

“Yes, the doctors have already started strongly recommending I resign myself to bedrest for the remainder,” Viktor says as he rests his crutch against the side of the booth and settles his weight against the back of it.  

“Right,” Claggor says for lack of knowing how else to respond. “Can I get you anything?” 

“Soda, if you could,” Viktor says with a wince. His hand coming to massage at his stomach.  

“’course.” The benefit of having dinner in the bar is it makes it easy to get nearly any drink they could want.  

Viktor gives a small smile when Claggor puts the glass in front of him. Taking a small sip as Claggor sits across from him.  

“Do you know what you’re having yet?” It was around the point Viktor started to look big that they announced they were having a boy with Naph.  

“A girl,” Viktor answers.  

“That’s exciting right?” Something different than they had with Naph.  

“Eh,” Viktor says with a twist of his head. “It does not change much really. I suppose we will use more of Isha’s old clothes than we did with Naph.”  

“That’s fair I guess.” It hadn’t exactly been that big of a deal when Isha was born a girl. Other than the general surprise with the other three of them being boys and everyone having just assumed she would be one as well as a result.  

------------------ 

“Vi, I really don’t think this is a good idea.”  

“Don’t worry cupcake,” Vi says as she continues to fiddle with the base of Jayce and Viktor’s living room window trying to unlock it from outside. “Vik will be glad to have company while he’s stuck in bed again from the baby. And Jayce asked us to check in on him to make sure he had lunch.”  

“But won’t it be alarming to have someone breaking into his house?” It would be alarming for Cait and she isn’t currently so heavily pregnant the doctors had suggested she stay in bed all day.  

“Not at all,” Vi says grinning as the latch of the window clicks open and she lifts it up climbing through. Leaving Caitlyn no choice but to follow her. “This way he doesn’t have to get up to open the door.”  

“No. Instead I have to get up to see who is breaking into my house,” Viktor’s voice responds from the dark living room The lights flickering on to reveal him in the doorway to his bedroom, wearing one of Jayce’s shirts and leaning heavily on his cane. The strain of the weight of his stomach clear. “You could have at least told me you were coming Violet. I would have gotten dressed.”  

His eyes flicker to Caitlyn when she awkwardly finishes climbing through as well.  

“And that I would be entertaining guests.”  

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Vi says, going over to wrap her arm around Viktor’s middle so he can brace against her as well as his crutch. “We’re here to entertain you. So, let’s get you back to bed.”  

Viktor grumbles something Caitlyn doesn’t understand but lets Vi lead him back to his bedroom.  

“Coming cupcake?” Vi asks.  

“Vi I’m not sure-” Cait starts because she isn’t going to just go into their bedroom.  

“It’s fine Cait,” Viktor says. “It is not as if I can join you in the living room so you may as well join me here.”  

Cait faulters for another moment because it still feels like an overstep before following.  

Vi helps Viktor back into the bed that is covered with notebooks and crayon drawings. Caitlyn catching one as it goes to fall off.  

“Naph has been keeping me company,” Viktor explains when she hands it back to him.  

“That’s sweet of him,” Caitlyn says, bringing the desk chair over to sit beside the bed as Vi settles next to her brother in it, moving the papers around to make room. “You must be nearly due now.”  

“Another month,” Viktor says, rearranging the papers Vi moved. “Assuming I make it to term again.”  

Jayce had mentioned the doctors being worried about that. But Caitlyn isn’t sure how to respond so lets Vi direct the conversation into a different route. 

------------------ 

Naph holds grandma’s hand tightly as they walk into the hospital. She had been sleeping over with him the last two nights while his parents went to the hospital to have his little sister. She said they could go visit them and his new sister now so long as he was very good and listened to what the adults tell him. 

Grandpa meets them at the entry. Ruffling Naph’s hair and he talks quietly to grandma.  

“You ready to meet your new sister?” Grandpa asks, picking Naph up to sit on his hip.  

“Yes!” Of course he is. He’s waited so long while they grew in dam’s belly.  

“He wouldn’t stop talking about it all last night,” Grandma says and grandpa laughs at it, his chest rumbling where Naph is held against it.  

Grandpa carries him through the hospital halls, grandma following behind. Naph only put down once they reach one of the doors as grandpa knocks on it.  

“Just us,” he calls before opening it. All of Naph’s aunts and uncles gathered around the edges where dam sits up in bed with granddam and dad around him. The three of them all look tired but Naph can’t see where his baby sister is.  

“Where is she?” he asks when dad comes over to hug grandma.  

“You gotta’ be a little patient Naph,” Aunt Vi says after dad hugs him as well and tells him that he’s officially a big brother now. “Come sit down yeah.”  

“But I want to see my little sister!” Naph protests. Because he’s waited so long for her! 

“You will, you just gotta’ sit down first,” Uncle Claggor says, guiding Naph over to the couch in the room where Isha is sitting. Picking him up to put him next to her while grandma goes and talks to dam and granddam.  

Dam hands over something to grandma and Naph cranes his neck because he’s pretty sure that’s his sister. But all he can see is a blanket.  

Dad sits next to him as grandma walks around the room for a minute before finally coming over. She bends over so Naph can see a tiny face peeking out of the blankets.  

“Is that her?”  

“Yes, that’s your little sister Naph,” dad says, an arm wrapped around Naph’s shoulders. “Do you want to hold her?”  

“Yes!”  

“You gotta’ be very careful Naph,” Aunt Jinx tells him, leaning over from behind the couch to look at his new sister as well.  

“I will be,” Naph promises, holding up his arms to take his sister.  

“No, keep your hands in your lap,” dad says, taking hold of Naph’s arms to pull them back to his side. Grandma slowly handing the baby over to him once he has. “And you have to support her head.”  

Isha’s suddenly got her hand under Naph’s baby sister’s head. Giving him a pointed look when he looks over to her and he adjust his arm so it’s where her hand it.  

“There you go,” grandma says drawing her hands away and looking down at him with a proud smile. “You’re doing great.”  

“What do you think Naph?” dad asks, his hands still wrapped around Naph.  

“She’s very pink.” The adults all laugh but it’s true! His little sister is more pink than anyone he’s ever seen before.  

“It will settle down in a couple days,” dad tells him.  

“Okay.” Naph figures his parents know more about little babies than he does. “What’s her name?”  

“Amaranthine.”  

“Ama- Amar- why did you give her a hard name?” Naph was much easier to say than Ama-ran-tine. 

The adults laugh again and Naph puffs his cheeks out because that hardly seems fair when they gave his sister a stilly long name.  

“I told them she should have a Zaun name like yours,” granddam says, because he at least sees sense.  

“You can call her Amara for the time being,” dad says, pressing a kiss to Naph’s hair. “You’re going to help us look after her right?”  

“Yes.” He was her big brother after all and that’s what big brothers did.  

[dipplinduo]

Announcement: A Wild DIPPLINSHIPPING HYPE WEEK appeared!

As you may know, the Indigo Disk DLC released on December 14th, 2023. In anticipation of the upcoming 1 year anniversary, we're banding together to celebrate the wonderful conclusion of the DLC storyline and all of the swoony & angsty moments of dipplinshipping as a whole!

This event and its prompts are based entirely on community ideas and voting. According to final responses, most dipplinshipping community members prefer to celebrate from Saturday, December 14th, 2024 (Indigo Disk Anniversary Date) to Friday, December 20th, 2024.

Event Guidelines:

Any art form is welcome. Whether you want to draw, paint, write, create music, or so on - we love and encourage it!

Participation is entirely up to the creator. While the official start and end dates of the celebration week are outlined, you are more than welcome to release submissions at your own pace and liking. If you only want to do 1 or 2 prompts, no worries! If you want to do all 7, have at it! Just make sure you're having fun. :)

Please mark your content accordingly and remain mindful of community safety and comfort. I plan to promote all content that is created for this event, but will not be promoting inappropriate themes (e.g., NSFW, violent/graphic content, inappropriate treatment of minors or pokemon, or any other related themes that may be questionable or discomforting). Off theme submissions will also not be promoted (e.g., OC shipping).

How to Submit:

Use the Tumblr hashtags: #dipplinshipping, #dipplinshippinghypeweek2024.

Submission Link for AO3 Collection.

Have fun!!! I can't wait to celebrate with you. <3

Special shoutouts to @mimilovesfurret for suggesting this event idea, and to @kekstala, @mandachuart, and @tuttiflutie for co-creating the lovely infographic above on short notice!

With love,

dipplinduo

[thereyoflights]

29 for the caitvi ficlet pls

29. sweat

cw for implied sex

—

When Caitlyn wakes up, Vi is gone, her side of the bed long gone cold.

Darkness hangs over Piltover past Caitlyn’s window, so she figures it’s the early hours of the morning. Her bare feet meet cold tile as she rises out of bed, and she wraps a robe around herself as she slips into the hall. Her father is never up this time of day, but she’d rather not risk being seen half-naked when he knows she’s been sharing a bed with her girlfriend.

There aren't many places for Vi to disappear to in the Kiramman mansion.

Caitlyn settles on her best guess.

She finds Vi in the doorway of the gym room, using her arms to lift her head over the pull-up bar secured in the frame. She’d broken the header off and fallen on her ass twice before Caitlyn was able to get it installed, much to her dismay, but she can appreciate it now. Especially the view.

Vi is only wearing a pair of sweatpants and a sports bra, leaving the majority of her tattoo on display. The defined lines of her arms deepen as she pulls herself up over the bar once, then again and again. Sweat glistens across her skin, beaded in some places and streaking down paths of moisture in others.

Caitlyn’s mouth waters at the sight.

Vi seems to notice her presence then, stormy gray eyes falling to meet hers. Her arms go slack on the bar before she lets go and lands on her feet. “Cait,” she says, “hi.”

“Hi,” Caitlyn greets. “You weren’t in bed.”

“Sorry,” Vi says. “Just had to get my mind off things.”

Caitlyn nods with a hum. She’d figured as much. Vi never leaves bed without her unless she’s tossing and turning, unless she’s thinking too much for her own good. Working her body to its limit was the only thing that seemed to help — well, that and… other equally physically demanding things. The thought tugs at Caitlyn’s gut, desire thrumming deep in her veins.

Caitlyn hides her blush in Vi’s neck. She smells like sweat and leather and chalk, and it’s all so undeniably Vi that she feels intoxicated with it. But Vi’s body feels tense against hers, and it tells Caitlyn everything she needs to know: her mind has been on overdrive.

“Did it help?” she asks, anyway.

Vi shakes her head. “Not really.”

Next best thing, then, Caitlyn decides.

She flicks her tongue out along Vi’s sweat-slicked neck, salt bursting on her tastebuds, and Vi gasps. Vi’s body shudders against hers, then loosens, and Caitlyn smiles against her skin, victorious. “Maybe I can help, then?” she prompts, voice low.

“Yeah,” Vi says, already breathless. “Maybe you can.”

Send me a number