#and yes I feel really has 11 versions
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another thing that shows blue box only want () to make money is they get so many album versions compared to everyone else?
i feel (queencard) had 11 (!) album versions while the highest I’ve seen from any other cube group is 3 (love or take, wind and wish)
and while I think 11 is way too much it’s just wild how much effort they put into blowing up ()’s numbers and keeping them up with the market and then they still compare their other groups to () and the rest of the market at such a disadvantage.
another thing is pitigi (not sure about the others but I feel like they won’t be far off from pitigi) have sooo much less fansigns than the other groups they’re compared to, including other mid tier groups. of course a group with a fandom of the same size or slightly smaller will sell more albums when they literally have 10x as many fansigns as pitigi. 10x as many fan signs is also way too much both for artist health and for the environment, but that’s one sure way to inflate album sales that blue box will compare them to pretending the promotional difference doesn’t exist.
#they also don’t really get pobs#not even on ktown4u#vs () having them everywhere#the group with 10x as many fansigns is on3us and it was actually horrible#but somewhere between 2-3x is…probably what’s realistic and a decent marketing tactic#I hate bulk buying but it’s also so not fair to compare a group with very little bulk buying (pitigi) to… 90% of the industry bc of that#lmao#rant#and yes I feel really has 11 versions#cat butterfly and queen regular versions#cat butterfly and queen poca versions (just photo cards but it counts as an album)#and jewel case versions for all five members#and relatively little bulk buying is a very good thing!!! for the environment!!#but it’s irritating that ppl see their numbers as bad bc no one used any common inflation tactic for them lmao#not because they don’t have fans#it’s everyone else doing it wrong 😤
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More Harry Potter Recs
Dramione Fic Recs
Dragon's Heartstrings by pinkinku I Chapters: 33/33 I Completed Inspired by Manacled, Wartime, Forced Marriage, High Reeve Draco, Nobody Wins the Battle of Hogwarts and The War Goes On, Dark Fic, Minor Pancy/Harry
High Reeve Draco Malfoy is not only Voldemort’s most trusted Death Eater but an undercover agent for the Order, plotting Voldemort’s downfall from the inside out as well.
After a fair trade with the Order, the High Reeve asks for the highest sacrifice – to make the brightest witch of her age Hermione Granger his wife.
A Year and A Day by AMLKoko I Chapters 86/86 I Completed CEO Draco Malfoy, Arranged Marriage, Marriage Contracts, Slow Burn
Hermione had hit rock bottom when Narcissa Malfoy offered her something she couldn't refuse. She was without a job, without prospects, and nearly homeless, so she had to say yes.
But Hermione regretted ever opening that door to Narcissa Malfoy because falling in love hurt, especially when she knew her marriage to Draco Malfoy wasn't built to last forever.
This Time Around by Burntbeachglass I Chapters 3/? I Death Eater Draco, Spy Draco, Time Travel Fix-It, Draco is terrifying, Bamf Hermione
Draco Malfoy switches sides halfway through the Second Wizarding War, but by the time he does, its too late. When the war ends in a final, bloody battle that leaves Draco the last man standing he uses the remnants of the spell they had sacrificed everything to keep Voldemort from casting to send himself back in time.
When he wakes up two years in the past he only has one goal. Hermione Granger died to end the war the first time around. This time—he’ll do anything it takes to make sure that never happens.
Reborn by AnnaJohnson72 I Chapters 11/? I Gryffindor Draco, Disowned Draco, Depressed Draco, BAMF Draco, Hogwarts Fifth Year, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Ron Weasley Bashing, AU - Canon Divergence
Despite popular belief, Draco isn’t a coward. He is sly and ambitious, he's the perfect Slytherin. At least he's supposed to be. But he’s also smart, and he can be loyal. And believe it or not brave too. When Draco's 5th year goes off the rails, he's forced to show the world who he really is.
Includes disownment, re-sorting, successful BAMF Draco.
Metanoia by isobelx I Chapters 46/70 I Draco Malfoy Redemption, Slow Burn, AU - Canon Divergence, Hogwarts Fourth Year, Hogwarts Fifth Year, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Horcrux Hunting
When it becomes clear the path his father has chosen for their family will lead to nothing but pain and suffering, Draco Malfoy is forced to question everything he's ever been taught. In his quest for survival, and with the help of an unlikely ally, he'll embark on a journey of transformation and self-discovery, that will ultimately change the very foundations of his identity.
or
What if Draco Malfoy decided he did not want to be a servant to the Dark Lord long before he was forced to join his ranks?
Antinomian by thestarsoforion I Chapters 37/? I AU- Canon Divergence, Secret Relationship-Well Not That Secret, Harry And Ron Are Oblivious, Unhealthy Relationships, Obsessive Draco, Obsessive Hermione, Morally Grey Draco, Morally Grey Hermione, BAMF Hermione, BAMF Draco, Death Eater Draco, Ron Weasley Bashing, Remus Lupin Bashing
He's always watched her. He can't help it. Merlin help him, he's been fucking trying though.
She hates him. He's a vile, bigoted arsehole. Of all the people who have made her feel small, who have made her have to fight and scrape and claw for her place in this world ever since she was eleven, he's the worst of them all.
But when things take a turn at the Yule Ball, Draco Malfoy decides he's done fighting himself, and Hermione Granger is left floored, struggling to understand this new, strange version of him.
Dramione with Fanart
Secrets and Masks by Emerald_Slytherin I Chapters: 75/75 | Completed READ THE TAGS High Death Eater Draco, Smut, Inspired by Manacled, Violence, War
The Disappearances of Draco Malfoy by speechwriter | Chapters: 33/33 | Completed Canon Divergence, Slow Burn, Redemption, Horcrux Hunting, Draco with the Golden Trio
Timeless by alexandra_emerson I Chapters 50/50 I Completed Time travel, Time Loop, Drama and Romance, Married Couple, Redeemed Draco, Tearjerker, mystery
Love In A Time Of The Zombie Apocalypse by rizzlewrites. I Chapters 84/84 I Completed High Reeve Draco, Post-Apocalyptic, Zombies, Slow Burn, scientist Draco, Horror, BAMF Draco, BAMF Hermione, BAMF Harry
Things Without Remedy by onebedtorulethemall I Chapters 32/32 I Completed Time Travel, Auror Draco Malfoy, Time Turners, Draco Redemption
Manacled by senlinyu I Chapters 77/77 I Completed READ TAGS High Reeve Draco, Post-War, AU Voldemort Wins, Harry Potter Dies, dark fic
Remain Nameless by HeyJude19 I Chapters 51/51 I Completed Slow Burn, Past Drug Addiction, Healing, Fluff and Angst, Romance, blueberry scones
Regression by WritexAboutxMe I Chapters 32/32 I Completed Murder Mystery, Auror Draco, Slow Burn, Tattooed Draco Malfoy, Draco loves muggle pens, Past Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Let The Dark In by senlinyu I Chapters: 33/? I No Voldemort au, Durmstrang Student Draco, Dark Magic, Slow Burn, Triwizard Champion Hermione Granger, No Voldemort Does Not Mean No Bigotry, Morally Grey Hermione
Bookmark Series
This World or Any Other by @olivieblake I Part 1-3 I Completed hermione is the one to find draco in the bathroom, Canon Divergence
#dramione#dramione fanfiction#fic rec#fanfic rec#draco malfoy#hermione granger#dramione fanart#harry potter recs#ao3 fanfic#dramione recs
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"my favorite set of stairs is the one up to Your Room"
"let's tangle our legs again, the world doesn't need us to leave our heads. let's tie our breath in knots again, nothing's complicated if we pretend."
synopsis// a normal morning for you and megumi.
pairing// megumi fushiguro x gn!reader
word count// 812
contents// just pure fluff ! also not explicitly specified but you both are adults :)
requested// by an anon!
notes// i don't usually post oneshots mid smau buttt im making an exception bc this is rlly short and fluffy ! anywho this was also inspired by 11:11 by waterparks!! i was gonna use deep red by movements as inspiration but i think 11:11 fit more sigh... dw movements... you'll get ur time to shine eventually...
You blink the sleep away as you take in your surroundings, realizing you're on Megumi’s chest with your hand draped over his waist and your legs tangled together. You yawn, softly rubbing your face against his chest as if trying to get any bit closer to him, and when his heartbeat drumming in your ear starts to sound like a lullaby, you know it's time to get up. So you do.
Kinda.
Your version of getting up right now consists of lazily lifting your head up to stare at Megumi, who’s still fast asleep. His eyelashes brush up against his flushed cheeks—you can't help but reach your hand up to caress his face, and who can blame you? When he’s asleep like this, looking so at peace, it’s almost as if he's begging you to hold his face in your hands, and when you do, it’s like you have the whole world sitting right there in your palm. and as if he can feel you touching him even in his sleep, he smiles, and you find yourself falling in love with him all over again.
The scene before you is just serene, and yeah, maybe you wake up to this every morning, but it never grows old. In fact, it just gets better with time, and you’re over the moon to have all the time in the world with Megumi. ...Except for right now, because you really should be getting up and getting ready for work. You drop your head against his chest and take a deep breath, silently wishing time would just pause so you could stay here, but alas, it does not.
You lift your head again and litter a series of small kisses against his jaw, soft enough that they shouldn’t have woken him, yet he stirs awake, as if you’ve effectively pavlov’d the poor boy to associate that small, soft feeling with you leaving. Megumi wraps his arms around you tightly, holding you in place. You honestly have no idea how he has this much strength when he’s literally half asleep, but you embrace it—his hold on you is as calming as a weighted blanket.
He tucks your head beneath his chin and slurs, “Don’t go.”
You hum and tuck your head further into his neck, placing chaste kisses against him, reveling in how he shivers. "I have to.”
"No, you don't.”
You laugh softly as you pick your head back up to look at him, his eyes half-lidded, looking like he could fall back asleep any second now.
“You’re staring,” he murmurs sheepishly, collapsing under the weight of your gaze.
"Don't I always?”
He lazily lifts his head to kiss you, but his coordination is horrible due to the fact that his brain isn't even entirely awake right now, so his kiss lands more on the side of your mouth than fully on it. He groans at his failed attempt.
“Kiss me.”
"Yes, your majesty,” you tease.
You ignore Megumi's sleepy glare, instead leaning down and softly pressing your lips against his. You do this a few times, feeling Megumi smile into the kiss, yet it’s all onesided, and you pull away with a huff.
“Why am I gonna kiss you if you’re too lazy to kiss back?”
“Because you love me?”
"Sure, whatever,” you mumble, pressing your hands against his chest to push yourself off of him, but he doesn't give you that chance, instead grabbing you by your wrists to prevent you from getting up any further. "Megumi, I need to go to work.”
He doesn't say anything; instead, he opens his eyes—still lidded, but now he doesn’t look sleepy; now he just looks like he's giving you puppy eyes… Because he is, and he’s evil because he knows your conviction crumbles right then and there at the sight of them.
"Don't look at me like that,” you say, turning your head away from him.
Megumi doesn’t accept that and releases one of your wrists to grab your jaw, forcing you to face him. “Like what?”
“You know what.”
He shrugs, feigning innocence. “Stay? Please?”
You sigh and drop your forehead against his, mumbling, "Megumi, I have to go to work.”
You hear him tut before pushing you off of him and rolling onto his side, his back facing you, as he bitterly mumbles, “Whatever.”
You roll your eyes, yet a fond smile adorns your face. “You’re such a big baby.”
“Go to work; leave me alone.”
"Yeah, yeah, whatever.”
You quickly hop off the bed and get ready for work, not leaving without littering a few more kisses on Megumi’s face, who’s already sound asleep once more. You’d be more sad about leaving him if you didn’t already know that tomorrow morning would play out exactly like this again and the next. And the morning after that. And after that—and probably forever after that.
©TODAYISAWTHEWHXLEWXRLD
#jujutsu kaisen megumi#jjk megumi#jujutsu megumi#megumi x reader#megumi fushiguro#megumi fushiguro x reader#megumi fluff#fushiguro megumi#fushiguro megumi x reader#jjk x reader#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x gender neutral reader#jjk fluff#jujutsu kaisen fluff#bimbo's one shots#jjk drabbles#jujutsu kaisen drabbles#bimbo’s one shots; jjk#jjk oneshot#jujutsu kaisen one shot#jjk x gender neutral reader
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Some Things You Aught to Know (this also the index)
“At the end of it all, what’s left of you?”
The long reaching ramifications of an alien invasion… it all starts here.
After the Kraang were defeated, the boys have taken a back step from their usual activities to heal. Which has been surprisingly easy due to sudden lack of activity from their rogue gallery. At least, until Donnie disappears.
Hi! Welcome to the side blog that hosts my comic, Residuum. This little brain baby of mine was conceived in a dream my subconscious cooked up one night and then refused to leave me in the morning! Yes, yes, very interesting, but why is that relevant? Well, my darling reader, dreams can get really, really fucked up. As suuuch, this comic gets kinda, okay a lot, fucked up (￣▽￣|||)
So, this handy dandy pinned post is both the content/trigger warnings and where to find parts. The warnings do contain some spoilers for future installments, so I’ve put them under the read more. I do stress again that this comic is fucked, but to those who don’t read the warnings:
Probably don't read this if you're squeamish. It will contain a lot of, uh. Gore. Seriously. I'm not kidding around here.
This comic will not contain anything sexual, consensual or not. Nothing implied, either. (I can’t believe I have to say this, but no incest, and yes, I am kink-shaming you.)
Directory | F.A.Q.
Parts
Parts that have gore or the more extreme tw's will be red. Parts with mild-ish tw's will be yellow. Censored versions of extreme gore will be blue.
Read it chronologically: [censored gore] [full gore] (only works on desktop as far as I am aware. also! part 17 isn't showing up in either of the links, and i don't know why...)
[ part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 | part 12 | part 13 | part 14 | part 15 | part 16 | part 17 | part 18 C - part 18 G | part 19 C - part 19 G | part 20 C - part 20 G | part 21 | part 22 | part 23 | part 24 | part 25 | part 26 ] - Arc I Complete
part 27 | part 28 | part 29 | part 30 | part 31 | part 32 | part 33 C - part 33 G | part 34 | part 35 | part 36 | part 37 | part 38 C - part 38 G | part 39 | part 40 | part 41 | part 42 | part 43 (no schedules; they are not helping right now)
(Updates every other Sunday at 3:30 pm PST) Update Progress: 22.5%
Content/Trigger Warnings
Subject to change, I’ll tell y’all if they change when I update. They probably won’t change much, but the creative process is annoying :)
Feel free to message directly for any reason, be it clarification or something else
Desturbing Imagery, Trypophobia, Kidnapping, Manipulation, Guns, Gun Violence, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Ableism, Coercion of Minors, Solitary Confinement, Contractual Slavery, Blood & Gore, Implied Death/Actual Death, Major Character Death, Animal Death, Animal Experimentation, Dismemberment, Disembowelment, Non-Consensual Medical Procedures, Irreversible Alterations, Cannibalism, PTSD, Anatomically Correct Organs, Lobotomy, Imprisonment of Innocents, Medical Experimentation, Body Horror, Police Brutality, Corrupt Government Institutions, Xenophobia
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studio ghibli ranking list let’s go
(will include nausicaä and the red turtle)
the these-are-actually-bad section:
24. earwig and the witch
actually the only one I haven’t watched so it’s cheeky to put it here. but I won’t be watching it and no one will blame me.
23. ocean waves
who sincerely cares about these teenagers they’re so annoying. if the boys had been gay it would have honestly been homophobic.
22. pom poko
this film is about shape-shifting raccoon dogs waging a war on humans and there’s copious jokes about their testicles. so on paper a perfect film. execution wise it’s so long and so boring and you care about none of them.
the cure-for-insomnia section:
21. tales from earthsea
hayao miyazaki was right to walk out of this one even though he probably is a terrible father for having done so. some of the animation was really nice but these protagonists made me yearn for the ocean waves cast because at least they have semi-personalities.
20. castle in the sky
proof miyazaki was judging his son too hard for earthsea because this is basically his version of the same thing: a nice idea with good animation and the most boring boy/girl protagonists imaginable. has got that whimsy he does so nicely however.
the passable-films section:
19. the cat returns
but should he have? was that really necessary? has a scene of cats walking in a procession on their hind legs though so that’s a plus.
18. arrietty
visually gorgeous but otherwise a very run-of-the-mill adaptation of the borrowers, which in something that should feel wondrous is less than ideal.
17. my neighbors the yamadas
some harmless and inventive fun that you can put on in the background whilst eating lunch or doing some light yoga stretches.
the don’t-harm-me-I’m-right section:
16. howl’s moving castle
yes I do in fact understand the intricacies of the plot and I still don’t care. this is one of ghibli’s messiest films for sure, it can’t decide what it wants to be or focus on and the plot just seems to happen and then not happen for no good reason. I also think howl’s a whiny bastard and hate that sophie has to mother him and endure his contemptible man tantrums. a shame because she’s actually cool.
15. grave of the fireflies
it was sweet but I’ve watched more moving animated films set in war-time, even. I don’t have much desire to watch it again honestly but maybe I will at some point.
the this-is-getting-there section:
14. the red turtle
I liked it! an acquired taste but I really felt the harshness of the elements and the cruelty and the love. it's also very beautiful to look at, one of the most visually arresting ghibli productions.
13. only yesterday
a tale of two films with this one. the parts where she's a young girl are much more interesting, but if this had stuck the landing and it'd been more even overall, could have potentially been a favourite. alas.
12. the wind rises
a genuinely weird one in ghibli's lineup, in which miyazaki meshes two different stories together (one of inventive 'genius' and a doomed love story, respectively) in a likely attempt to try and grapple with his having chosen his career over all else, including family (noteworthy is that his wife was not able to retain her career as an animator). as a piece of art it's less whimsical and more mature than many of these films, but I struggle to not let my distaste for what it potentially represents get in the way of my appreciation for it as a film, but it's so blatantly personal that it's impossible.
the that-was-just-a-good-fun-time section:
11. nausicaä of the valley of the wind
aesthetically one of the coolest films on this list but I don't remember the story as well. great protagonist too. must have been great to experience when it first came out in the '80s.
10. porco rosso
I love this film about a tomboy mechanic and some pilot guy who went off to war and was so changed he is now a pig. watching it feels like if the mediterranean was so small it fit into your back pocket and was also populated by all your friends all your enemies and your ex-lover also.
9. from up on poppy hill
I found this one boring the first time I watched it but it really grew on me with subsequent rewatches. I really like her predominantly female household and the community they share in the backdrop of the rest of the drama is sweet. the bit of drama midway through is still batshit though but in a loveable, disney-would-never way.
the near-perfect section:
8. the tale of the princess kaguya
probably takahata's magnum opus with the studio, if slightly overlong. folktales are tricky because they tend to feel moralistic and the characters one-note if you're not willing to build on them but kaguya herself feels very spirited and alive. the prettiest on the list too I'd say.
7. my neighbor totoro
cozy late summer comfort film. perhaps even more special now because I was able to see the london production. cute!
6. when marnie was there
surprised this one has ranked so high for me but that's the power of tomboy lesbians heck yeah etc. also the fantastical element of this one is so up my alley and touches upon a particular kind of childhood nostalgia I have of being in old houses and imbuing them with magical qualities. the image of anna facing the house across the marshland is burned into my retina.
the I'd-die-for-her section:
5. princess mononoke
aesthetically too cool for school and has one of the best ghibli villains and female characters (lady eboshi). they really said all the spirits of the forest are going to die in this one but well it was a nice thought.
4. ponyo
my comfort movie of all-time! heartwarming! with another great female ghibli character in lisa, sosuke's mum who is legally allowed to drive like that apparently. also one I actually watched for the first time in my childhood when I was around 7 or so at an after school club. the subtitles taught me the useful and now underused gem of a phrase "bog off".
3. kiki's delivery service
asks the important questions such as: what if you were a young witch from a dying tradition who moves to a gorgeous town in sweden? what if your remarkable gifts were no longer appreciated due to rapid advancements in aviation technology? what if you could live in a bakery?
2. spirited away
when you're just a timid child who is scared of admittedly a lot and your parents manage to mess everything up spectacularly so now you're forced to work at the age of twelve for people who steal your identity. still one of the best honestly they may never top this as the peak of their artistic achievement.
1. whisper of the heart
have you ever been a struggling artist? have you ever been in love? have you ever been obsessed with john denver's take me home, country roads? in all seriousness love a story of two artistically inclined people inspiring each other and this has a unique feel compared to other ghibli films forever favourite probably. it feels like basically no one has watched it and that's a shame. rest in peace yoshifumi kondō.
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ok now I need to know about your lannister oc and her targaryen sons uwu
yes siree!!!!
get used to her because despite my boltonposting shes the only one ive been putting in any sort of work writing for . <3
her name is myrielle lannister :-) she's around during the dunk and egg era born aboutttt 192 ac ..? daughter of damon lannister and cerissa brax (one year younger than tybolt and one year older than gerold) - she's honestly just kind of awful sorry . spoiled and vain and selfish like a high school mean girl who goes to nursing school but if you put her in the place of the only daughter of an unbelievably wealthy medieval lord that's given her anything she could ever ask for . while tybolt is heir and the golden boy myrielle ends up being the favourite exclusively off the idea of being a good daughter who smiles politely and sits and looks pretty when they're meeting with this lord or the other . she has a pretty strained relationship with tybolt when they're younger but when they get past being 10 and insulting your sibling over every little thing they end up being really close .
her relationship with gerold on the other hand iiiis . weird . i think they're a little bit too similar in that they like to plot and scheme a little bit and she never really knows what to make of him . they're kind of at odds and while she always has some sense of loyalty to him by virtue of them being family she's never very fond of him, especially after tybolt and his daughter die (which she'd probably believe he's got some hand in).
when you really get into it grrm is notably not very good at telling us exactly what year things happen in this part of the timeline nor is he very in depth with a lot of these targs so a lot of this is going to be headcanon + assumptions etc don't get mad if you're the number one dunk and egg lorehead...
when she's 11 years old she goes to king's landing with tybolt and their father and she ends up engaged to aerion targaryen - which neither of them are suuuper enthused by . aerion because he's a little bit of a child emperor esque horrorshow of a son that holds fast to the idea of the targ legacy and traditions and from what we know about him he'd prefer to marry a sister. myrielle on the other hand finds herself at court and very quickly realizes that She wants to be important and She wants to be special and She wants to be queen so she has a bit of a period where she resents aerion for being a second son of a fourth son (!) and kind of goes well i shouldve married valarr or matarys or even daeron more out of a childish belief that she's owed something that stems from being raised the way she was. her and aerion end up bickering a lot but eventually settle into some kind of acceptance and eventually a fondness for each other in the way only two freaks of nature can . <3
at court she meets odessa dayne (oc + art by chloe), who's betrothed to valarr - they become bestiesss and form a very weird very complicated vaguely homosexual relationship that i don't know how to summarize but i think in some way myrielle ends up wishing she could be odessa's husband . doesn't know how to put words to her feelings that are so different from what she should feel (attraction to a woman) that she ends up kind of taking on a role of makeshift caretaker in the way a husband would - especially when valarr dies later on and odessa is kind of left in the dust at court in favor of her son. myrielle in my mind of much much more fond of her than odessa is of her by virtue of being the kind of person who makes up a complex made up version of their relationship in her mind .
she marries aerion around 208 and instead of being sent off to lys in 209 after the tourney of ashford meadow he's kind of put on house arrest a bit - aerion, myrielle and odessa end up in dorne when the great spring sickness hits (odessa has family business and myrielle + aerion end up tagging along because they have nothing better to do) . valarr dies in 209 and myrielle's dad dies in 210 right before myrielle gives birth to twins anddd well i'll cut the timeline off there for now . sorry anon i could go on for way too long .
she has twin sons with aerion in 210, one of which like in canon aerion insists they name maegor (kid on the left in the first img) and to match she names the other aenys (kid on the right) . funny . by this time given that odessa had a surviving son with valarr she ends up becoming a bit jealous . my son/s should rule etc even if they're like number 234923 in line . raises them to be resentful and ambitious which works for aenys who becomes exactly like she wants but not maegor who ends up being very gentle and kind and trusting . get it.. its funny because theyre like their namesakes but reversed
when she gets a little older myrielle more actively pursues the idea of being queen because these targs just will not stop dying. by the time maekar becomes king she begins to make more and more attempts at convincing aerion to get rid of daeron in advance and really really pushes hard for him to consider himself heir and because he's kind of batshit it works . a strong sense of entitlement between the both of them and a belief that he'd do a better job than daeron when the time comes (very doubtful).
errr.. well in an ideal world in her mind they kill daeron and maekar dies and aerion is crowned after which she also ends up killing him when she gets sick of him or he gets a little older and less nice to look at and one of their sons gets the throne. errr . of course it doesn't end that well . but that's about what i have so far we'll get more in depth one day . <3
#thank u for listening . again!#i like her a lot but the dunk and egg era timeline is going to make me fucking freak it.#why is valarr's birth year listed as Somewhere in this NINE YEAR TIMESPAN#horrendous . anyway .#oc tag#txt#asks#asoiaf#asoiaf oc#dunk and egg#gerold lannister#tybolt lannister
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burnout (teaser) | jeon wonwoo
SYPNOSIS. 11 years. you’ve been loving wonwoo for 11 years. you’ve loved and supported him since you were 16. and you’re starting to wonder if you can keep living like this.
PAIRING. idol!jeon wonwoo x writer!reader
GENRE. angst, it’s mostly just angst.
NOTES. english isn’t my first language !! para sa mga filipino, inspired by "i'm drunk, i love you" and sugarfree's "burnout". reader has done like 3 different jobs + went to college. multilingual!reader, writer!reader.
WORD COUNT. (estimated) 13k
DAY OF RELEASE. (estimated) august / september
“In two days, your new drama comes out. This is the… what is it?”
“12th.”
“12th drama you’ve written that’s somehow about Wonwoo.”
“And?”
“So, when will you finally confess to him?”
It’s not the first time someone’s asked you that– or specifically, not the first time Jihoon has asked you that. He’s been asking you that for years now. You can only look into your glass, staring into the abyss of soju and beer because you don’t have an answer.
You’ve never had an answer to it.
“I don’t know. Never? I’ll get over it eventually, probably,” you say. His eyebrows raise and he can only scoff and snaps his fingers in front of you, drawing attention to his face. “Eleven years,” Jihoon remarks. “You’ve never gotten tired of whatever–” his hands point vaguely at you, “this is.”
He gives you a once over and, you don’t have it in you to be offended when he says, “And you look like you don’t plan to stop. You have had every–”
“Not every.”
“Yes, every, chance to confess but it just seems like you keep delaying it.”
Jihoon gives you that look, the look that says ‘Well?’ and you can’t say anything (again). When he lifts his cup up to drink, he looks at you expectantly, eyebrows raised and ready for your response. But it’s just silent.
“Am I wrong?” He asks.
“You’re crazy,” you say rolling your eyes and taking a sip of your own glass.
“See! That’s not a no,” Jihoon laughs. “Well… it just seems kind of a waste,” you laugh tracing the rim of the glass. “We’re good friends… Ha! We’re good friends.”
“But?”
“But…” You sigh, “But he doesn’t love me back.”
When you look at Jihoon, he’s smug. His face says smug but his eyes say pity, they always have. Every time you have this conversation, he always reminds you of this, and well, who doesn’t like to be right? But you can always tell he pities you.
“Timecheck!” Jihoon shouts, you flinch at the sound, what the fuck was that?
“It’s been 11 years, somehow your hopes are still up and nonexistent at the same time,” he says and you roll your eyes, snarky… as always.
You tap your wrist with a scoff, “I know it’s been 11 years. I can read the time, Jihoon.”
He sighs again, “But that’s why it’s so… I don’t think you realize really how long you’ve been hoping.”
That kind of stops you because fuck, he has a point. 11 years… That’s a decade, probably 1/7th of your life– you spent your youth loving Wonwoo, your college years still loving him, and your adulthood continuing to love him. When you think about it, so much of a person can change in 11 years, no one is the same person they were 11 years ago. He’s changed so much over 11 years, you’ve changed so much.
And yet here you were, still loving him. Loving every version, every iteration.
It’s kind of crazy.
Confronted with the reality in your hands. What the hell am I supposed to do with this?
You’re confronted with this insane reality and all you can say is…
“Give me time.”
When you meet eyes with Jihoon, he’s looking at you like you just said you plan on quitting writing forever. His eyebrows are raised, eyes wide as saucers, staring at you in absolute shock at your audacity.
“GIVE ME TIME?!”
There we go. You close your eyes letting yourself sit and just absorb the lecture he’s about to give you.
“What type of nonsense is ‘give me time’?!” Jihoon asks. “You believe in the cosmic powers or whatever of the universe–”
You mumble, “It’s called fate–”
“Fine! Fate. God, I feel like I say this every time. You believe in the cosmic supernatural possibilities of whatever fate and the universe have given you E L E V E N years! The universe gave you all the time you could need and yet, here you are!”
You let out a small huff, fiddling with the handle of your glass. Yet here you are.
“I don't know why,” you take a small sip again of your drink, “like, I even made like… 12 dramas about him!” Then you take a larger gulp, “Why are they all about him?!”
Jihoon can only shrug, “Maybe you’re a masochist.”
He was expecting you to deny that actually, you can get so defensive about this sometimes but you’re actually thinking about it. Your eyebrows are scrunched up in concentration as you revisit every drama you’ve made in the past 5 years.
When you look back at him, your brows are still furrowed and you say “You know, I might be. Like, what sane normal person writes Twenty-Five Twenty-One?”
“Or Hotel del Luna. Even worse, that was your debut. So from the start, it’s really all been him.”
It’s always been him. “Everything’s always about him, like, my youth revolved around him and whatever he revolved around.”
“Because he was Seventeen, your youth was Seventeen.”
“My youth was Seventeen… Do you think he knows that like for four years straight he was singing songs about himself?”
That one brings a laugh out of Jihoon, your former partner in crime in writing. One of the only people to witness every step of your writing, which involved staring a lot at Wonwoo. “I don’t think he knows, you’re surprisingly not obvious.”
“Everything’s about him… God, maybe I AM a masochist.”
“Okay, let’s just put it this way, let’s do this differently. Let’s enumerate what your and him’s relationship was for those 11 years, each of those 11 years.”
You can only sigh, as if you haven’t done that several times this night, again when he raises his glass triumphantly. “When did you and Wonwoo first meet?”
“You ask this question but I’m sure you know the answer.”
“Should that stop me from asking? It’s about consistency.”
“Fine. Let’s start from the beginning.”
#seventeen fluff#wonwoo fluff#jeon wonwoo fluff#seventeen imagines#seventeen x reader#wonwoo x reader#jeon wonwoo x reader#seventeen scenarios#svt x reader#wonwoo fic#wonwoo scenario#wonwoo imagines#seventeen wonwoo#wonwoo angst#seventeen angst
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love on the brain: sugar & vice, vol 2 [mob!tasm!peter x fem!OC]
summary: You didn’t think it was going to be easy, did you? AKA The night Peter and Honey reunited—Four. Months. Later. [mob!peter parker x oc!MJ]
words: 11.8k (omfg)
NSFW/MINORS DNI - ABANDON ALL CHASTITY, YE WHO ENTER HERE (detailed warnings below)
extended warnings (spoilers): p^rn with plot, detailed smut, really just... filthy and deranged. slightly dubcon parts (although consent is clearly confirmed), no Y/N...ever, arguing, anger, jealousy, physical violence (slapping, scratching, throwing objects), almost hate sex, fem!reader with a vagina and breasts and wears a dress, oral (f! receiving), P in V, rough!dom Peter, sub!reader, possessive!peter, mirrors, titty!worship, shame and slight degradation, use of emojis, f! being restrained, discussion of masturbation, slight breeding kink, non-consensual voyeurism, moderate BDSM kink, “punishment” play (spanking, edging) bratty reader, peter parker being a dunce around women, mob!au, furniture harmed in the making of this
names used: daddy, princess, baby, babygirl
A/N: This is a one-shot standalone story that takes place immediately after the Epilogue of Vol 1. And serves as the official beginning of Vol. 2. If you haven’t read Vol.1, you really should. The main OC is AFAB and goes by the name “Honey.” You’ll need to read Vol. 1 to know why.
I try to be loose with my descriptions for people who prefer a Reader-Insert. But I’m not perfect. In this canon, Honey has a Latina heritage (as do I). Take that as you will.
Thanks to @moonyslove78 and @blooming-violets for cheering me on through this very long hiatus.
This is 18+ AF. And if you think the term ‘AF’ shows how old and out of touch you are, then you’re probably not old enough to read this.
This version of TASM Peter Parker is not canon. The relationships here are not healthy and the characters need therapy. Don’t date a mob boss IRL.
#1 - Love on the Brain
>>> heya boss. how’s your trip? 😜
Peter arched a brow as he peeked down at the text message.
>>> ⋯
>>> your trip to pound town? 🍆🍑
He rolled his eyes, swallowing back an irritated snort.
Real mature, Felicia.
He almost tapped out a haughty reply but stopped. Corners of his mouth turned down, he found himself unable to respond.
“So many choices. I just don’t know what I want.”
An understatement.
The girl of his dreams sat across from him in the quaint East Harlem Cuban restaurant. They were crammed together at a bistro table near the kitchen. The enormous menu took up the entire surface, and she had spent the last 25 minutes reading the items aloud.
It was nearly 11 p.m., and they had yet to pick an appetizer.
The woman he’d called ‘his Honey’ sweetly sighed with a shrug. “Now that we’re here, I just can’t make up my mind.”
Her voice had a singsong tune to it, purposefully careless. Blissfully ignorant of the fact that Peter was starving.
“Maybe I’m just not feeling Cuban food tonight,” she shrugged, nonchalant.
Peter swallowed hard. Tried to rid his expression of any hint of impatience or irritation.
“Oh,” he remarked delicately, thinking of all the different dinner reservations he’d made for tonight. It didn’t matter what magazine talked it up, didn’t matter how many “tire awards” it had won.
Honey was unimpressed.
“M’surprised,” he said, as emotionlessly as possible. “Thought you had your heart set on this place.”
The place was one of those hole-in-the-wall joints that had less than 10 tables, which made takeout the most popular choice.
On this night however—a Tuesday— the restaurant was nearly empty, except for the overdressed couple and the loathsome kitchen staff, who didn’t expect to be subject to “este cabrón” and his picky girlfriend strolling in 30 minutes before closing.
While Peter could feel the heat of their ire over the oven, Honey avoided it. She explained to the manager that Peter was “un ricacho que tiene demasiado dinero.” And with that, they were seated.
When Peter approached her earlier that afternoon in the park, he’d expected a much worse welcome. He nearly died of a panic attack when he spotted her on the park bench. It had been four long months since he’d attempted to communicate with her, and he half-expected her to throw her iced coffee in his face.
Actually, he had no idea what to expect from her. Terrifyingly.
Peter had lamented to Felicia— “There’s no card that says, ‘Sorry, I ghosted you for a few months while attempting to shake the heat off my back.’ Which flowers say, ‘I apologize that the last conversation we had, I called you a whore in front of a room full of cops’?”
The true challenge came when Peter actually looked into her eyes. He didn’t expect that one look would render him useless.
She was even more beautiful than he remembered. Ethereal. Glowing. The human equivalent of a bouquet of sunflowers, with happy round cheeks and her hair tied back in a ponytail. She was the color of rainbows, and summer, and sunshine. She was the cherries of her red lip stain and the golden rays of her yellow linen sundress.
God, that dress.
Peter planned for everything—but not that dress.
His carefully rehearsed speech went out the window when he saw her in that dress: a cotton ruched-waist, tea-length gown in a yellow gingham pattern. It featured a sweetheart neckline that cradled her breasts perfectly between the halter tie-back straps.
He had no idea where that dress came from, but it was the most perfect piece of fabric ever to grace a woman’s body. He would buy her twelve more of them, no matter the cost. He’d buy every last one.
He’d give her the sun, the ocean, Hawai’i, and all the stars in the sky— if only she’d forgive him. He was ready to throw himself on a bed of hot coals as long as it meant that she would take him back. If she would come back home.
Truthfully, he needed her to come home.
Not to get ahead of himself, he started by taking her to dinner.
That was Felicia’s advice—women love dinner. solves everything. the fancier, the better, with lots of red meat—u know how they say food is the way to a man’s heart? dinner is the way to the ovaries. works every time.
Actually, Felicia gave Peter lots of advice. For once, he was more than grateful to accept it.
>>> make her feel like you can’t take your eyes off her. but don’t stare. like a creeper
>>> be a gentleman, but not a pushover. you wanna be the good guy. soft YA novel boyfriend type
Followed quickly by—
>>> but not too soft! don’t be a little bitch. if she plays hard to get, you play offense.
>>> and defense.
Peter had no idea what she was talking about. But he knew when it was wise to trust the advice of more intelligent creatures than men.
Five restaurants later...
“I thought going to dinner was your idea?” Honey asked with pursed lips.
“It was; it was my idea,” he nervously replied. “Six hours ago—it was my idea.”
She narrowed her eyes to slits. “Hmm. Six hours. Long time to wait.” Her eyes fell down to the menu again. Her lack-of-sympathy said everything.
Peter’s pocket buzzed again, and he glanced down at the incoming text message from Felicia.
>>> ...????
He rolled his eyes. Tapped out a response.
<<< Not great.
“Am I interrupting something?” Honey asked with a clipped tone.
Peter jumped, pocketing his phone immediately. “No, just... just something... silly,” he muttered. “How ‘bout we get a few plates in, yeah? I’m gonna just order some stuff—”
“Like what?” she questioned skeptically.
“I don’t know,” Peter shrugged, his stomach twisting. “One of everything.”
“That’s wasteful,” Honey said, judgment sharpening her gaze. “Food waste is bad enough as it is in this city.”
“Well, at this point,” he snapped with an exasperated sigh, “I might be able to eat two of everything.” The words floated away from him, and he bit the inside of his cheek, wishing they would come back. Hesitantly, he made eye contact with Honey.
She peered at him disgustedly from over the top of her menu. She scoffed, crossing one leg over the other, and dropped the leather-bound book closed.
“Don’t let me slow you down,” Honey said icily. “I’m not that hungry anyway.”
Peter’s eyes nearly bulged out of his skull. His pocket buzzed again.
>>> the fuck? what do you mean?
>>> she was in love with you b4... how hard can it be to take her on a date?
>>> christ. did you fuck this up, parker?
He shoved the phone back in his jacket, nearly punching through the silk fabric.
“If I’m wasting your time, tell me,” Honey sharply retorted. She crossed her arms even tighter across her chest. He had to force himself to look away from the way it plumped her breasts together. “I’d hate to keep you from something important.”
Felicia was right. He was fucking this up. Before he could open his mouth—
“Excuse me, señorita,” a masculine, smoky voice crooned at them.
Peter and Honey glanced up to see a chiseled man in his 30s approach the table with a hurricane glass of ice. He was a specimen of Latin American art—a bronzed statue, with carved muscles that bulged out of his floral shirt. Deep brown eyes—no, hazel eyes— fixed on Honey as he reached across the table with rolled-back sleeves. The corded muscles in his arm, toned by long hours of hard labor, flexed gracefully as he gently set a cocktail in front of her.
A frosted, colorless liquid speckled with crushed mint leaves filled the glass. Honey blinked with delighted surprise.
“Our compliments,” the young, disgustingly attractive waiter explained with a sultry smile and a thick accent. “In case you found yourself thirsty while browsing the menu.”
A blush colored her skin as she glanced up at their handsome waiter. The sparkle in her smile was as blinding as ever, and she graciously looked back between the glass and the server. The waiter— no way in hell this fuckin’ guy is a waiter— beamed back at her, enamored.
“Oh, wow!” she gasped, reaching for the glass with dainty fingers. “Is this a mojito? That’s my favorite! How did you know?”
The waiter graciously chuckled. “Lucky guess. You look like a woman of refined taste.”
Peter felt his blood pressure rising.
Honey didn’t even look at her date, as if he was suddenly invisible. “Thank you,” she grinned, self-satisfied. “I mean, I do know my way around a Bacardi bottle.” The waiter chuckled, maybe too hard, at her silly joke.
“We want you to enjoy your evening with us,” the waiter added politely, sparing Peter a glance but keeping all his attention on Honey. “We are honored to have you as our guest.”
The waiter spoke gentlemanly as he splayed his long fingers across his chest. “Please, take as much time as you need. No need to feel rushed. It is my pleasure to serve you.”
Peter could feel a twitch behind his eye. Could have been the fire shooting out of his eyes. Fuck this prick, probably another Broadway reject or somethin’, couldn’t buy himself a decent shirt—His mind churned along with his anger.
Oblivious, Honey beamed up at him with a golden smile. “Thank you so much for saying that,” she replied, endearingly sweet. “You are too kind, um... I’m sorry, what was your name again?”
“Pedro.”
Honey’s brows shot to her hairline. “Pedro?” she repeated, absolutely delighted. She glanced over at Peter. “Isn’t that something?”
The mob boss’ lip curled mirthlessly. “Oh, it’s somethin,’ alright.”
Peter continued to burn his stare—fuck his stupid accent— into the side of the aloof waiter’s head. He wondered if Pedro’s handsome, chiseled jawline was sharp enough to cut through a noose.
Buzz..
>>> you’re keepin’ your cool, right?
>>> remember what i said.
>>> anything she wants. no questions asked!
>>> don’t get all crazy possessive either
The joyful sound of her laughter ripped his attention away from his phone and back towards his charmed date.
“Pedro,” she sweetly preened. “Can you give us a recommendation?” She briefly flashed her eyes at Peter before looking back at her new friend. “My date’s clearly distracted. He has no idea what I like.”
Oh? Peter raised a brow at that. And lost his appetite.
Peter followed Honey down the hallway to his hotel suite while storm clouds swirled in his gut. Lighting crackled with each footfall. Tension clogged the atmosphere, and they shuffled in a silent fog to the door.
Despite Felicia’s advice about controlling his inner beasts, Peter’s hackles were raised, and his stomach growled. Now, he was hungry for more than just food. And simultaneously, he’d never felt so powerless.
Peter noted how tightly she wrapped her arms around herself. Her face suggested she was deep in thought. He wondered if she was just as tightly wound as he was. Wondered if she could break his heart with just a look.
He was flailing. Pathetic.
Peter’s fist clenched his keycard tight. He had to be careful not to snap the card in half between his fingers. Was it from excitement or terror? Desire or rage?
He had to focus, to make this work. He had nothing if he didn’t have her.
Rigidly, Peter pushed the door open and stood to the side of the frame to let her enter.
She paused briefly, lips tight, as she gazed into the rotunda entryway of the lavish suite. They hadn’t spoken in the car, and he hadn’t had the chance to explain the location.
Letting out a steady breath, she strode through the threshold and stopped. Her body blocked the doorway. She turned to look up at Peter, defiant eyes flashing.
“This is as far as you go.”
Peter blinked, looking at her in confusion.
Her tone was curt. Icy. He recognized that sound. It was the tone of voice she used when she wanted to draw blood, and it never failed to inflict pain. Her voice. Her eyes. Even her tongue was razor-sharp.
Peter curled a brow upwards. “Sorry?”
Honey narrowed her eyes. “Not yet, you’re not.”
He took a step back, blinking owlishly.
“What did you think was going to happen tonight, Peter?” The ire of Honey’s question sliced through him. “Did you think you were gonna shave your face, take me to a fancy dinner, and then I’d just... open my legs for you?”
A literal ellipsis formed in his mind.
Peter swallowed hard. “Uhhh—?”
“‘I’ll wait for forever, Honey,’ she parroted his earlier admission mockingly. “Is that all you have to say to me? You left me! For four months!”
Peter nodded his head, not sure exactly why or when he began. “I know, I know...”
“You know!?”
The walls of etiquette and politeness between them began to crack.
“How many times I gotta tell ya? I was tryin’ to protect ya, Honey—”
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
It stung like a snake bite. Rage filled her eyes, disdain bubbling out of her mouth. She had only just begun.
“You buy me all this expensive bullshit!” she scolded. “And you dress up in your ridiculous designer suits and parade me to all these fucking pretentious places! Like I’m some kind of accessory! Like you own the whole fucking city and everyone in it!”
He replied with a string of noises. Or, at least, he thought so.
“Big bad mob boss—all that power—and yet, you couldn’t just talk to me? You had me wait around for you like a stray dog! You can just come and go as you please, but you—you expect me to follow you around on a leash?”
“Honey, please. Let me explain—”
“I don’t want to hear it, Peter!” her voice echoed through the rotunda and down the hall of the hotel. “I don’t want to hear a single one of your lame excuses! I don’t want a fancy dinner, or a new Porsche, or a mansion, or whatever else makes your dick hard!”
Peter blinked rapidly, stunned. His body responded as if she had just kicked him in the place she referenced, “Jus’lemme—”
“And I sure as hell don’t want another apology!” she asserted definitively. “I don’t want you anywhere near me!”
Peter’s jaw hung open, tongue dead in his mouth. The woman who barely stood at his collarbone stared down at him, making him feel inches tall.
“Now, I’m going to bed. Exactly as I have been for the last four months.” Her voice thundered, “Alone!”
With that, the door slammed in his face, rattling inches from his nose. The echo reverberated through the empty hallway and inside his chest, emphasizing the deep crack that formed.
Peter let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. The shock subsided slowly, and his heart sank. The ache soon sizzled into a burn, boiling his blood. At the same time, the sting of her rejection was raw. Unbearable.
Unbelievable.
Absolutely unacceptable.
He should break down the fucking door. Throw her over his shoulder and tie her up. Gag her—Anything to get her to listen.
Haplessly, Peter’s eyes fell on his expensive shoes—his Valentinos. Or maybe these were the Tom Ford’s? He had no clue. Just more bullshit.
Fuck—He was going to cry. Maybe he should let himself just do it. Lean into it. Drop to his knees and beg for forgiveness. Shoulders slumped, he squeezed his eyes closed.
He was a little bitch.
Peter pictured a door closing on a rocket or an airplane. Whatever it was, it was leaving him behind. He was falling back to Earth, having placed too much faith in miracles. This was his punishment for flying that close to the sun—
The door swung open.
Two hands grabbed Peter’s jacket, pulling him forward off his heels. It was a surprisingly fluid motion; his heartbreak had reduced the mass of his bones to nothing.
Honey’s nails practically pierced his lapels. She yanked him through the doorway into the suite, slamming the door behind him, and slamming him into the door right after.
Before Peter could open his mouth to speak, she was on him like a viper.
A sharp, biting kiss swallowed him whole, stealing the oxygen from his lungs. The heat was as intense as he had remembered. This time, they didn’t melt into one another. Honey was like a wildfire, her touch scalding him.
His skin flushed from the sudden unbearable heat. Before he could react, her lithe fingers started tugging the edges of his jacket. Clumsily, she tried pushing it back over his broad shoulders. As soon as he knew of her intent, he eagerly obliged, shrugging the garment off and to the floor.
Her hands went to his throat, ebony-painted nails leaving trails on his skin. Buttons popped as she yanked on his clothes. Her goal could have been to draw blood with her kiss.
Every time her teeth tore at his lips, he responded with a groan into her mouth.
Clumsy, he fumbled with his fingers—reaching up to grip her by the hair. Finally, he wrenched her head back, detaching her bite from his face.
Immediately, he was met with an open-palmed slap on the cheek.
Sharp gasps cut through them, and they jumped backward a few feet. Tension and shock reverberated in the chasm they created. Like the barometric pressure plunging before a storm, an eerie calm settled over them.
Honey blinked at him, jaw agape and her palm throbbing.
Peter glared at her in silence. He looked a mess—hair unkempt, the top buttons of his shirt torn open to reveal jagged crimson scratch marks across his milky skin.
His heartbeat steadily increased as he gently dabbed his fingertips at the ache in his jaw. The exquisite lines of his face were stained pastel pink, flushed by arousal or anger. His eyes were black as night, so it could have been either one.
She looked just as wrecked. Dress askew, her hairstyle half-unraveled. Goosebumps dotted her skin. She looked shocked at the violence she was capable of, surprised and possibly guilty at her own strength. As the seconds passed, the feelings faded.
Peter watched her, pupils dilating, blood pressure rising. The shadow of a smile curved his mouth. His features darkened into something primal. Something familiar.
There’s my girl.
Slowly, he lowered his hand, studying her threatening look until his own expression began to match.
Physically, his senses were haywire. Danger, excitement, and a sick sort of pleasure rattled his bones and labored his breathing. The hairs on his skin stood on end. Alarms blared in his head. The sound of his own blood was almost deafening to him, thumping like a kick drum.
Peter could hear her heart, too. Fast. Like a rabbit. He was a wolf in pursuit.
Maybe the pain of her slap triggered him, a preemptive action against further attack.
She got one in, Peter mused mockingly. He knew she was no match. Not as Peter’s night vision sharpened. Not while he could taste the salt from her perspiration on his tongue. Most intoxicating of all, Peter could smell her desire. Like a rose bursting open.
In another blink, they switched positions. Peter snatched her by her shoulders and slammed her back into the wall, pinning her there. She went feral—hissing and raging at her entrapment.
Not a rabbit. A honey badger, then.
“Get off of me!” Honey spat.
“Shut up,” he ordered. Quiet and fierce.
Fingers gripping her forearms tight, he attacked her lips, teeth colliding. The ferocity stunned her. For a moment, it seemed like she finally submitted to him before she wriggled her mouth free.
“Mmffucker—Let me go!”
His body might as well have been a brick wall. His face was stonelike, eyes just as cold.
“No.”
Honey’s brow scrunched up like a petulant child throwing a tantrum. “I’ll scream!” she countered.
Peter smirked, the hickory in his eyes igniting. “Baby. You have no idea.”
Peter’s guarantee sent a shiver down Honey’s spine. He saw the gears turning in her mind as she carefully considered pushing him further.
He hoped she would.
His fingers tightened around her forearms. He crucified her under his gaze. And yet, despite the danger anyone else would have felt... A glimmer of curiosity flickered in her eyes.
It set his mind reeling. A tiny sign of weakness to temptation made Peter’s stomach trapeze. He zeroed in on it, licking his chops.
Not to make it easy, Honey brought her knee up, attempting to make contact with his groin. There was nearly a foot of difference between their heights, and she paid it no mind.
Brave girl.
Peter admired her tenacity. She had balls. Smart, too, he pleasantly recognized. Honey went for the weak spot first. Good call.
Pointless, though.
Nothing below Peter’s belt was weak when she was around.
Unfairly, Peter picked up on her attack before her leg was even bent. He snatched her above the knee, lifting her toes off the ground and prying her thighs open.
He pictured the bruises on her skin that his fingertips would leave behind. Just the thought made him rock hard.
A year ago, Peter would have been ashamed. He would have shied away from her, for fear of repulsing her, and took out his frustration by himself in the shower.
Grinding his teeth at those memories, he pressed Honey’s hips into his waist, forcing her legs around him, and—Fuck—her heat.
Peter’s brain nearly short-circuited. She was like a bonfire against his belly. His cock pushed against his trousers, straining for her warmth. He secured her hips to his with a tight grip, which only pissed her off more. She thrashed, enraged.
She really needed to stop doing that. It only made the burn worse.
A few months ago, Peter would have been ashamed of the rush he felt from manhandling her. Ashamed of how his cock ached and twitched at her fruitless tantrums.
“Fucking asshole!” Honey sneered.
“Yeah?” he said with a bitter laugh. “You're a spoiled little brat!”
“Fuck you!”
“See what I mean?” Peter scoffed, holding her tighter. He breathed hotly into the shell of her ear. “Not even a ‘please.’”
His pride was short-lived. Inexplicably, Honey arched her neck and buried her teeth into his shoulder. He roared—“Fuck! What the fuck!!??” —surprised she didn’t bite through the silk of his collared shirt.
Apparently, he wasn’t the only beast in the room.
They tumbled down ungracefully. Peter landed hard on his back, with Honey crashing on top of him. She collapsed on his lungs, knocking the wind from his chest. Sputtering, he reached out to grab her, his fingertips barely missing the hem of her dress. The small woman scrambled to her hands and knees, then to her feet.
Honey dashed into the suite while Peter’s voice echoed—“Goddamnitareyacrazy!?”—after her.
Padding on her toes, she ran into a darkened living room with vaulted ceilings that might have been large enough to fit her entire apartment. Outside glass walls, the Midtown skyline surrounded her. The Metlife and Empire State Buildings glittered proudly in a breathtaking view.
The room was situated in the corner of the building. Velvet curtains framed the floor-to-ceiling windows, providing an unobstructed view of the city. The Dark Academia-Meets-Glam aesthetic seating area featured a sleek, modern leather sectional and mod velvet chaise lounge chat set.
Without time to admire any of it, she scrambled to the first piece of furniture she could reach. She grabbed the first thing her fingers could find—a designer fruit bowl centerpiece made of polished stainless steel and brass pomegranates.
It was exquisite and expensive.
Honey spun on her heel and flung the heavy metal at Peter.
He dipped deftly, his spine bowing back, narrowly missing the bowl as it whipped past him. The object barreled through a crystal chandelier, glass shattering like raindrops as they came down.
“Hey—!” he scowled, facing her with an indignant glare.
A moment later, he quickly shielded his face from another flying object: an asymmetrical crystal-and-Riverstone candelabra that crumbled against his forearm. It might as well have been a brick, with ceramic shards tumbling off of his shoulder.
Peter bristled in aggravation, brushing the pieces off. Now, she was really pissing him off.
He glanced up just in time to see a glass vase containing two dozen roses—meant to be her gift—hurtling towards his head. Reflexively, he snatched it from the air with one hand, water and all. He palmed the crystal vase like catching a baseball. Didn’t spill a drop.
His quick reflexes stunned the both of them. Peter’s jaw went slack—partially at his ability to save the flowers, but mostly with indignation that Honey had somehow destroyed $1,000 worth of the hotel’s tchotchkes in a few seconds.
“Enough!” Peter barked, carefully setting the vase down. Ignoring him, the woman darted toward another side table, already reaching for another expensive object to throw at him.
Suddenly, Honey’s ankle was caught in a sticky grip. Both legs pulled out from beneath her. She flattened immediately with an ooof—her belly dropping to the wool carpet.
Dazed, she glanced back at her legs with a crease in her brow. With a jolt, she was pulled along by a stringy, spongy substance on her ankle. It felt the way canned compressed air feels when shooting skin at close range.
Her nails dug into the carpet fibers as she was dragged back. “Agghhh! What the—Getitoff!”
As soon as the pulling stopped, Honey was on her back again, gazing up at the sharp lines of Peter’s cold gaze. He towered over her, even on his knees, as he mounted her hips. Protesting, she pelted him tirelessly with her fists.
The smell of sweat loomed in the air as he finally restrained her. He caged her in, pinning her wrists to the floor. Nerves buzzing and tempers flaring, she continued to writhe and wrestle with him to no avail. Peter quickly overpowered the more petite woman, fomenting her anger.
“You’re hurting me!” she sneered breathlessly, teeth gritted.
Peter was unimpressed. “Liar.”
“M’not lying—!”
He glared back, barely breaking a sweat. “You’re so full of shit—!”
“Fuck you! What do you know—?”
“I know you, Honey!” he charged, silencing her.
She went still, subdued beneath his dark gaze. Peter loomed over her like a stormcloud. “I know the games you like to play,” he said—both teasing and sinister, toying with his prey. He lowered his lips until they breathed the same air.
Honey’s focus was split between Peter’s intense stare and glistening, kiss-ravaged mouth. She tried not to notice the sensation of her nipples brushing against the fabric with each labored breath. He could easily reach down and touch her. Tried not to focus on how solid his chest felt against hers, like carved marble. Tried not to focus on the dark chocolate of his eyes melting in the heat of their gaze.
Just as intensely, Peter watched her watch him—zeroing in on the idle way her tongue darted to wet her lips. The tiny action shot electricity down his spine, straight to his groin.
Honey felt that, too. A tiny gasp escaped her, her lashes fluttering. The fight suddenly left her arms as she noticed the heavy bulge against her hip.
He was hot. Not just figuratively. Feverishly hot. He was so hard, too—and just for her. The lewd image of him splitting her open on his cock made her insides clench.
Peter eyed her dangerously, his voice a dark abyss. “Think you can hide it from me, eh?” The teasing smile on his lips bordered on a snarl. “Gonna sit here an’tell me... that if I were to reach down between your legs right now...” Her heart hammered in her chest, hanging on every word. In her mind, she was begging him to follow through with the threat. “...Those panties won’t be soaked?”
Honey failed to swallow back a little mewl as he leaned down closer.
“Ya think I can’t feel ya, huh?” he mumbled, lips ghosting the curve of her throat. “Think I can’t smell how wet you are right now?” Another wanton exhale left her belly as she leaned into the heat of his breath on her skin. “Y’know I can already taste you on my tongue, babygirl.”
Honey’s mouth and legs seemed to part further at his vulgar words. She shivered at the sensation of his slick tongue traversing her pulse point.
“You’re... an asshole...” she murmured breathlessly. She sounded half-asleep.
Peter hissed, “And you’re a needy little slut, aren't’cha?”
The sudden ferocity made her eyes unintentionally roll back. A second later, Peter’s fingers collared her, choking off the small mewl in her throat. He turned her by the chin, wrenching her attention to him.
“Hey—Eyes on me,” he commanded.
Mesmerized, Honey blinked up at him like a fawn.
“How ‘bout that little stunt you pulled with the waiter?” he prodded. There was an icy edge on the last word. Her throat bobbed while she kept her face neutral. The bright amber of his glare penetrated her. Peter continued accusatorily, “Those flirty little giggles while he gave ya fuck-me eyes? Y’think I didn’t see that?”
Honey sniffed, stiffening her upper lip. This was a power move; she knew better than to back down. “Look who's jealous,” she scoffed.
With a jolt, she again attempted to wrench her wrists free. He simply held on tighter, closing his talons as she twisted like a snake.
“Jealous?” Peter repeated calmly, narrowing his eyes into slits. “Me? Nah.” His hands suddenly seized her hips as he forcibly jerked her up off the floor. A slew of profanities spilled from her mouth, bucking against him as he carried her.
In a few strides, he was at the edge of a dining table. With little regard for his barbarity, he plopped Honey on the surface, shoving her flat on her back. Peter arched over her as if to dominate her, spine bowing until he filled her periphery with his fierce gaze.
Honey’s eyes sparkled, cheeks colored from the rush. “Threatened, then!”
Peter’s face softened inexplicably. Blinked at her for a moment, head tilting. Then, he landed an open-palmed smack against her ass.
It was a surprisingly heavy blow, as close as he’d ever come to intentionally inflicting pain on her. Honey yelped, hissing from the sting on her upper thigh. Right after the strike, Peter’s fingers began kneading her flesh, soothing the welt that was bound to form.
“See, if I were a jealous man,” he noted with an evil sneer, “I woulda gouged his eyes out with a salad fork.”
Peter swallowed up her gasp with a forceful kiss. A few moments later, he broke away.
“If I felt threatened?” he added breathlessly, “I woulda bent you over the table and fucked you dumb. Let everyone in the Five Boroughs hear you beg for my cock.”
Once the filth rolled off his tongue, Peter went back to using it to lash against hers. Honey was overwhelmed by the soft, wet muscle invading her mouth. Not only that, the violent edge to his words felt like standing in a river and grabbing a livewire. A shiver racked through her body, a current of pent-up anger and desire sending blood rushing to her core.
As if on cue, Peter’s fingertips made contact with the lace fabric between her thighs. She tremored at his touch, heart skipping. He toyed with the soft, stretchy material. Snapped it lazily against her flesh.
His voice was hypnotizing. “I woulda shoved these dirty panties down his throat just to never hear his stupid fuckin’ accent again.”
Honey felt drunk off of the vitriol he poured into her ear. It was violent and possessive... and it shouldn’t have made her so horny, and yet—
Honey trembled with anticipation, panting like a bitch in heat. “I-I... can’t... ugh, fu—”
The pads of his fingers ran firmly along her seam. She let out an embarrassing whine. Peter's prediction was spot-on. A shameful amount of wetness coated the inside of her thighs. He played with the soaked fabric and smeared her mess across her skin with a smug smirk.
“Think I don’t know what you like?” he muttered darkly, echoing her earlier jab.
RIP!
The lace bunched at her waist. Honey’s wet skin felt particularly chilled being exposed to the air. She quivered with anticipation. Her head was spinning, pussy throbbing. She felt worshiped and simultaneously defiled.
Peter pressed his forehead into hers, skin-to-skin. She stared into the black of his eyes in suspended silence, like the pornographic thoughts in his head were being projected into her mind.
Her own pupils were blown black. “Fuckin’ hate you so much—”
“I don’t care.”
“—re’such an asshole—”
“I don’t care,” he repeated more firmly. Then, “You belong with me.”
“You left me!” she fired back.
The sharpness of her tone sobered him a little. He blinked and sighed. “I couldn’t leave you. I didn’t leave you.”
She attempted to sit up, trying to lift her shoulders unsuccessfully. She writhed with spite, “Fuckin’ selfish prick, I outta cut off—”
“What was my drink order?”
He blurted the last sentence out with a mind-blowing level of calm. At once, their bodies went still. Still pinned to the table with a hummingbird beneath her breast, Honey stared up at him in confusion.
Her brows pinched together. “Huh—?”
“My drink order,” Peter repeated, his expression void of the aggression he had the previous moment.
It was like a mask had fallen away, and the man on top of her transformed into a different person. Maliciousness evaporated, replaced by eagerness. Desperation.
Peter stared at her, intently searching her gaze. “At the shop,” he whispered, eyes soft. “What you used to make for me every time I came t’see you..?” The words fell away as he stared at her expectantly.
She arched a brow.
It had been black coffee, bitter and dark. Just like Peter’s entire world. How it had always been. Until—
“You said I should try something new,” he added, with urgency like reminding her of a forgotten dream. “So you made something for me—something... special.”
Peter’s heart swelled through his eyes at the last word. Honey stared up at him, perplexed. He was looking for the answer on the tip of her tongue:
Honey and Lavender.
Confusion ceded to aggravation. A line formed between Honey’s brows.
“You remember, right?” he asked, hopeful.
She did. He knew she did. He could see it at the corners of her eyes, pooling behind her eyelids. Sobering memories flooded her, cooling the heat between them. A different sort of ache settled in.
Reluctantly, she nodded.
He took a breath, relieved but still anxious. “Say those words,” he said, “if you really want me to stop.”
Her damp lashes fluttered as Honey blinked up at him in surprise. Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, he swallowed dryly. His stomach lurched at the thought of being sent away like this.
Still, it was a risk he had to take.
“I can let go, walk away,” he offered tenderly. “Right now. No questions asked.” Each word felt like sticking needles through his tongue. He gave her an out, needing confirmation that her reciprocated lust wasn’t imagined.
“Say the words,” Peter whispered in lament, “and I’ll leave you alone.”
That word settled like a boulder crushing his chest.
Despite Peter’s heart telling him her rejection would be unbearable, the thought of truly harming her was more so.
Honey studied him with thoughtful eyes, contemplative and curious. He had won. He subdued her. Restrained her. She remembered when he threw a piano like a toddler throwing a toy truck.
She could do little to stop him if he wanted to force her. And yet—
There he is.
This was the man she remembered. The one that was ready to die for her. To die by her hand, if that’s what she wanted.
“Two words,” Peter sighed, his nose brushing against hers. It was a sweetly affectionate gesture. “Say the words, and this can end right n—”
Honey captured his lips, stealing his breath like it was her only source of oxygen. Static filled Peter’s ears, his body tensing and relaxing simultaneously. He was soaring and plummeting. Rising and falling.
Her tongue slipped past his lips, dragging along the pad of his mouth. Soon enough, the sweetness melted off in their flames.
Honey pulled her mouth away, barely able to get out her plea. “Touch me, Peter. Make me feel it.”
And she dove right back in. This time, Peter plunged with her, deep beneath the waves of lust. He sank into her current, dragging her with the tide of desire.
Peter’s hands were frantic travelers. Flitting from her wrists to her shoulders. To gently cup her face. To smooth over the mounds of her breasts. To dig his fingers into the linen fabric of the sweetheart neckline.
“Love this dress,” he idly mumbled between kisses, abusing the neckline. “Mmm—where’d ya say ya got it?”
“Oh…uhm—?”
The question caught her off guard. She blushed, brain foggy with lust. Her instinct was to say something like ‘thank you,’ but her tongue fumbled the words. “Uh... it was, I think, Old Navy—?”
A ripping sound shocked her. She squeaked as a flurry of cotton fibers burst from the top of the dress.
Peter yanked the linen bodice apart like tissue paper, his tongue chasing away any protest from her lips. Gooseflesh broke out as her skin was exposed to the air. Driven by lust, he shoved the ruined material down to her waist.
“Fuck, Peter...” she gasped, scandalized.
“Sorry,” he muttered, not sorry.
It was his turn to be greedy. Peter dug his hands beneath the cups of her bra, toying with the peaks of her breasts.
With a snap, the bra was torn in half. The strength in Peter’s long fingers stunned her. Puzzling her as much as it turned her on.
He laved at her left breast with his tongue, drawing an obscene moan from her. His hand pinched sadistically at her right nipple. The delectable sting traveled from her chest to her cunt. She arched—”ughhh, god”—her spine bowing beautifully.
He held the cleft of her left breast delicately in his hand while lapping at the ridges of her peaked flesh. Warm tongue caressed the tip, drawing shapes and discovering pathways to her pleasure. Every little flick inspired something new. She cooed and twitched beneath him. He was desperate to memorize her taste.
Languidly, he massaged each of her tits inside his mouth, his cock aching as he imagined licking her pussy with the same fervor. It was almost unbearable. A strangled moan vibrated through his chest at the picture in his mind.
Her reaction to the sound came out as an agonized mewl.
Oh.
He needed more of that sound.
Peter felt her push on his shoulders. Trying to wriggle away from his mouth.
This time, he had no tolerance for misbehavior. He grabbed both wrists and forced them above her head. Honey yanked back, stunned at being glued down to the table surface by his palms.
The peach of his pouty lips curved upward as his eyes took a turn ravishing her. She was a sight of wicked debauchery. Her hair was a mess, and her nearly-naked body lay across the table like a feast. Her thighs locked around his hips.
He used one hand to rub circles into the delicate skin of her restrained forearms. The other hand mischievously dipped lower and lower, sliding through her wet heat. Calloused, dexterous fingers spread her lips open, playing in her slick and prodding her tight hole.
Honey was finished. Ruined. Past the point of no return. Unconditionally surrendered. Helpless and eager to subjugate herself to her conqueror. Filthy sounds filled the room, punctuated by weak cries from his new loyal subject.
“So pretty,” he sighed breathlessly as he coated his fingers in her cream. “All this for me, princess?” He cooed at her, edging on cruel.
A broken gasp fell from her lips, her chest pulsing involuntarily.
“Aww, what’s the matter? Does this little pretty pussy ache, baby?”
A vortex formed deep in her belly, dragging her in. He licked his dry lips, salivating at the image.
“I know it hurts, baby, I know. I know,” he teased. “It’s been hard playin’ all by yourself, huh?” The sunniness of his voice was eclipsed. “All alone. Screamin’ out my name into your pillow. Fingers buried deep in your wet cunt.”
Honey’s eyes snapped open. Before she could respond, the breadth of his middle fingertip penetrated her. She gasped as his finger speared her open. All the while, he wore a devil’s smile.
“Ain’t that right? Only for me.” Entranced, he watched her every twitch and shudder. “This pussy belongs to me, doesn’t it?”
It was a question feigning the need for her confirmation. She couldn't answer. Couldn't breathe.
No, that can’t be right—had he been watching her masturbate in her apartment? Was he watching her the entire time he was gone?
The possibility enraged her. Ten orgasms from the King of New York’s Underworld couldn’t even quell that fire.
Peter smiled wickedly, playing with her pussy. Taking his time toying with her flesh. He was a tyrant-king, dominating her pleasure. With a calloused hand, he held onto her cunt like it belonged there.
But she was his wild colt. Difficult to break.
“Oh-n—ohh god,” she gasped. Unbeknownst to him, an evil plot bloomed in her brain. Her lips curled into a smile.
“Fuck—gah—ohhhhh…”
He licked up each broken syllable.
“Yes! Oh, god, yes! Oh—”
Sweat beaded on her chest, sin oozing through her pores.
“...Pedro.”
Halt.
Brakes squealing. Full stop. Not only in the physical world between them but also in Peter’s living fantasy.
Mischievously, Honey’s grin widened.
She got him, alright.
Flawless victory.
Dark eyes flashing, Peter withdrew his fingers from her. “Fuckin’ brat…”
In one fluid motion, Peter flipped her over to her belly, stunning her. He followed with another forceful slap to her ass cheek. This one was more punishing than the last, drawing a puppy-like yelp. His voice was ice. Eyes black.
Now, she was in trouble.
“Think that’s funny?” he said through gritted teeth.
Peter manipulated her limbs like a rag doll. He maneuvered her forward until her cheekbone pressed against the table. She panicked for a moment at being in such a compromising position.
The chill of the air across her wet pussy made her shiver. At the same time, she clenched at his roughness.
Peter kneaded her sides, pressing fingerprint bruises on her waist. He yanked her hips towards him until her knees were on the table’s edge. Honey’s face burned, stricken with modesty and flustered by how he hoisted her ass in the air.
Her hips were propped up like a rack of lamb, and he licked his lips at the sight. It was too vulnerable, being bared to him like this. Obscene, on display, inches from his face.
For a half second, she considered using the safe words.
She squirmed uncomfortably while her mess dripped down the inside of her thighs. Peter denied any attempt to escape, eventually gathering her limbs and pulling her hands behind her back.
Short puffs of breath fogged the glass surface of the table. Her heart pounded beneath her. Honey had only witnessed this side of him a few times—and never directed toward her.
She was in trouble. But was she in danger?
The buckle of his belt clinked as it came free. Honey quivered at the sound, pussy aching in anticipation.
And if she was in danger, why did that make her wet?
“Pete—” Honey muttered, a scream bubbling at the back of her throat. Leather nipped at her forearms as he used his belt to tie her hands behind her back.
“Ple-please—“
He fisted her hair, rearing her head back. Her neck arched beautifully, her chin dangling above the table surface.
“Listen to me, princess,” Peter snarled, hot in her ear. Spite peppered his tone. “If you ever call out another man’s name when I’m inside ya again— I’ll make ya wear nothin’ but my cum for the next week.”
The savage tone contrasted with the glow of his eyes.
It was always opposites with him.
This was the same man who coddled and worshiped her. The same one who kidnapped her, drugged her, blindfolded her, and gagged her.
He forced her, a willing participant, into his bed—by asking her permission.
Peter was more than capable of keeping her chained to his bedpost if he wanted it.
Or… if she wanted it.
Peter snickered at her expression. “Ooh, yeah… Betchu’d like that, huh?” He taunted her like she was broadcasting her dirty thoughts. “Such a needy little slut for me, ain't that right?”
Honey felt his warmth leave her back, like being plunged into the Hudson in winter. His hands reappeared at the back of her thighs, and her first instinct was to try to close her legs.
That was a mistake and an impossible endeavor.
He split her thighs like opening a book. Grinned at the sight as if he stumbled across gold.
“Fuck, babygirl, you’re soaked. Just talkin’ about it and look at the mess you made…”
Embarrassment and want ravaged her. The conflicting experiences had her ovaries twisted into knots. Honey bit her tongue, unsure if she was going to scream or moan.
Instead, it came out like a pathetic mewl. “Pe-Peter, please—”
Then he open-palm-smacked her cunt, fingers landing directly on her labia.
The wet sound it made was humiliating, and the sensation triggered all of the reactions above. She squealed at the sting on her folds. This was a delectable torture. For Peter, it was an appetizing sight.
“Ya like that?” he grinned over the sound of her whimpers. He already knew the answer.
Another slap to her cunt made her whole body shake.
“Like bein’ my kept girl? Tryin’ so hard to get my attention. Drivin’ me nuts. Well, you got it now, Honey.”
Slap.
A third strike had her pussy clenching. Honey had never experienced such an erotic rush before. She shuddered with embarrassment, afraid she’d cum from this—
Slap! Slap! Slap!
Honey gasped for air, a scream breaking through her voice. She was drowning in sick pleasure, tears in her eyes.
The mob boss gripped her thighs again, pulling her knees off the table and lifting up the weight of her lower half. The action was as easy as lifting a sheet of paper.
God, his strength was impossible. She struggled to comprehend it while picturing herself being broken apart by it. A slew of tiny pleas fell from her lips. She didn’t even know what she was begging for—his mercy or punishment.
“Shh, shh, babygirl,” he purred with a candy voice. Brought his lips to where she was split, equal parts seductive and sinister. “Be still for me. I gotcha.” He wore a Cheshire grin. “Lemme kiss it better.”
Slowly, he licked a line from her clit to the entrance of her cunt. She shuddered, followed by a lewd wail. She bucked her hips as he let the tip of his tongue toy with her.
“Mmmf—so fuckin’ sweet,” Peter mumbled between languid strokes around her vaginal gate. His grip was inescapable. “Can’t help myself, s-sooo hungry…”
Honey felt an evil smile against her skin before his mouth went back to work on her. Tiny, stinging nips and kitten licks tormented her flesh. With her hips locked in place, he lashed her clit with his tongue.
Honey squirmed against the leather belt, her nails digging into the grain. She wanted to be bound like this forever.
Peter had no intention of letting her go any time soon.
With her thighs spread open, he dragged her toward the edge of her ecstasy. As soon as he felt her body begin to shake, he pulled away. The punishment ended with another smack to her swollen clit.
Honey cried out in frustration at having her release snatched away.
Oh, yes—He was weak for that sound.
“What’s’a matter, baby?” he smirked with a dark chuckle. This was becoming his favorite pastime. “You mad now that you’re not the only one who can play games?”
“Gahh—Peter… fuck, plea—don’t tease—!”
Peter’s fingers slipped inside with a squelch, shutting her up. Simultaneously, he lapped at her juices while massaging her walls. Soon, he settled into an unbreakable focus.
Each kiss to her nether lips sizzled with passion. Fueled by devotion usually only reserved for a wedding day.
“—mmmm, tastes so pretty,” he murmured into her flesh, “my pretty girls...”
In her dazed state, Honey wondered with a pang of jealousy who the ‘she’ he was referring to was.
“—sooo sensitive; she likes it when I kiss her like that, yeah?—” He said, in between languid, open-mouth kisses to her slit.
Jesus Fucking Christ, he’s talking about my pussy? In the third person?
Honey gasped, scandalized at the preposterous thought. It was the most deliciously erotic moment of her life. Enraptured tears budded her eyes, the coil in her belly nearly suffocating her.
“—Fuck, oh god, Peter, don’t stop, don’stop, donstop, donstah—”
Preoccupied with his own intoxicating thoughts, Peter was eager with his tongue and steady with his hands. The room filled with the filthy, wet sounds of his carressing and French kissing of her cunt. He pleasured her with his fingers and mouth, passionately— reverently— as if making love to two different brides.
Soon, Honey’s pleas were barely more than breathless whining. He smiled like the devil, lips coated with her slick.
“Patience, Honey,” he admonished, sing-song and patronizing. “If you’re a good girl, maybe I might let you get to taste Her, too.”
Fuck—she was going to come from this.
The more perverse his words were, the closer she was. So, so close—
Then, another sharp slap.
Honey wailed, fingers digging into the leather of her restraints. Her whole body protested. The cycle repeated so many times she lost count—until her flesh was puffy from his torture.
“Please, don’t—please, Peter, don’t tease,” she frantically begged, tears streaming. “No more— Please, I wanna come so bad—”
He sucked on her clit. “Yeah?”
“God, yes, please—Nyahhh-need you—Need you... inside—“
Peter hissed behind his teeth, struggling to keep his pace even as his cock jerked at her pleas. He flashed an evil smile. “S’at right?”
“Pl-please, f-feels so good, ple—gah-I need it—!”
He was in no hurry. It was almost greedy, the way he ravaged her. His fingers pressed Merlot bruises into her hips and waist while his mouth left raspberry welts on her thighs.
Honey cried out around a moan as she felt his fingers deepen. His loving touches to her sensitive spots turned wicked, reminding her this was also a penalty for her bratty transgressions. She wept and squirmed, practically drooling on the table.
He simply grinned.
“—Mmmhm, that’s it—scream for me, princess—”
Honey’s tiny little hip thrusts fit easily in his palm as he groped her. He found it adorable, really.
“Mmm...m’sorr—ow—agh!”
“Sorry’s not gonna cut it,” he panted, eyes blown black. Shadow returned to his voice. “You’re mine now, ya hear?” His eyes traveled to where his fingers were buried to the knuckles. “Gonna fuck you every way I want—”
“Pleasepleasepleaseyes—it’syoursit’syoursallyours—”
His eyes swam over her body, drunk with lust.
All mine.
The sinfulness of his thoughts tugged his insides into a vortex. This was wrong, he reasoned. Not how he wanted this to go. Poor girl sounded brainless, begging to be fucked. He wasn’t much better off. This wasn’t how he planned this to go.
But he was willing to pivot.
Hands shaking, he fumbled with his fly. It wasn’t until his cock bobbed free, glistening with precum, that he felt any sort of relief. Peter grabbed her hips and lifted them off of the table, repositioning her so he was lined up with her slit.
“Fuckin’ need you so much, Honey—” he muttered mindlessly, focused on pushing the swollen, leaking crown of his cock against the silk of her pussy.
Her hips’ weight rested easily in his hands, and she keened at the sensation of his head pressing against her entrance.
And god, she'd forgotten he was thick.
Honey tensed up, even as her pussy throbbed with want. It was as if all her muscles were reaching for him, heart included.
It was too much. Mascara trailed faintly down her cheeks. Her heart soared. And ached. She felt spoiled with pleasure, delighting in this penance.
More. She wanted more.
“Fuck—wanted ya so bad,” Peter mumbled, watching his cock slip through her lips. He sounded airy, hypnotized by the view. “Wanted t’crawl through your window like the goddamn—ahh— boogeyman... fuck ya in your own bed. Wanted t’take’ya home with me and keep ya there— Never let you leave.”
Honey swallowed back a sob. Then why did you send me away?
He paused.
Uh-oh. Did she say that out lo—?
“Because I’m an idiot,” Peter huffed, his voice fragile.
He leaned forward and lovingly kissed up her spine, each tender press of his lips an apology.
“I’m a stupid fuckin’ fool.” The heat of his breath ghosted across her back. “So stupid—Thought I could protect ya if I kept you away. Thought I could somehow live like that—without you.” He shook his head. “Goddamn fool.”
Peter felt the sting of tears flooding his vision. Instinctively, he squeezed his eyes shut to keep them out. “I can’t live without ya,” he nearly whimpered. “There is no life for me if you’re not in it.”
“Peter,” she said, feeling her heart lurch. Her spirit was a ship being tossed in a hurricane. One more wave, and she would break. Honey’s voice trembled, “St-stop t-talking—”
“Not until I’ve said what I shoulda said—!”
“If you don’t shut up and fuck me in the next five seconds—”
Peter cut her off by pulling her up by the shoulders and standing her upright. Honey fought it—because, of course, she did—desperately clutching the steel armor around her heart.
Overpowering her again, he tugged the naked woman closer until her back lined up to his chest. It was an awkward position with her bound arms crushed behind her against his abs. He towered over her, eyeing her face from the side, seeking her gaze. Hooked a finger beneath her chin, forcing her to look him in the eye.
Always the fighter, Honey tried to wrench herself from his hold. Peter’s body was like a Greek god’s, with pillar-like arms and marble fingers keeping her from wriggling away. But his soft, soulful eyes are what pinned her in place.
As soon as she peered into their oaken color, she was trapped again.
“No,” she sneered, shaking her head. The tears weren’t from pleasure anymore. “Don’t—”
“‘Honey and Lavender,’” he whispered, featherlike. “Those are the words. All you gotta do is say ‘em, and I’ll stop.”
She gritted her teeth, bucking against his sweetness. His arms wrapped around her torso, pulling her in.
“I thought you wanted to fuck me!” she revolted, voice getting weaker by the second. “What the hell do you want from me, Peter?!”
His features softened. Serenity pressed between his lips. “I want all of you, Honey,” he answered with resolve. “Body and soul. Wanna spend the rest of my life with ya. If you don’t kill me first.”
He said the ‘if’ part with a teasing lilt in his tone and a half-smile. The same smirk that she loathed—and fell in love with.
Honey squeezed her eyes shut. Peter’s thumb came up gently, wiping a messy tear from her cheek. That loving and pure act was worse than any torture he could inflict.
Walls tumbling down, her body loosened. She went slack against his arms, instead fighting to keep more tears from flowing.
“I love you,” he whispered, pouring his soul into each word. “Forever. Remember? No matter what.”
Peter waited for her eyelids to peel back, revealing glossy eyes and a weary expression. They stayed still for eons. Nothing but their breaths and heartbeats between them, eyes locked on each other.
“Even if you’re mad as hell at me,” he added. “Even if you hate me—I want it all.”
Her lower lip wobbled. “And what then, Peter? What now?”
A moment passed. He leaned around her shoulder, bringing her chin close, and answered her with a kiss. Gentle at first, his tongue explored hers as she relaxed against him. She felt her toes leave the ground before she realized what was happening.
Peter broke the kiss. “Now?” he breathed into her hairline. “I’m gonna show you what it means to be mine.”
One of his hands left her torso—borrowed to push the head of his cock into her gate. An overwhelming burn erupted between her legs. She arched her back away from his abs as best she could while being split open.
Honey wailed brokenly, voice shattered, as he bottomed out. Peter’s hand instinctively came up to cover her mouth. She let the scream out into his palm, just as he’d promised.
Peter hissed, letting his head fall back in agonized ecstasy. His eyes drifted shut, feeling both relief and torment buried to the hilt in her warmth.
He barely ground out, “Shh-shhh, s’alright... that’s it, s-so good, so good for me...”
His Honey was already writhing on his cock, and he hadn’t even begun to move. She was so goddamn tight he wasn’t sure he wanted to move at all.
Still, he couldn’t help indulging himself. Never could, around her.
The arm bracing Honey’s torso snaked back across her body. His hand, burning hotter than a branding iron, stretched out and smoothed over the curvature of her belly. Her pussy clenched tighter as his palm found the trophy he was looking for—an obscene bulge in her lower stomach.
A slow, sinful curve played upon his lips. “Fuck, babygirl. Look at you.” When he uncovered her mouth, her roars had quieted down to a wanton purr. He gently tilted her head downwards so she could witness the depravity herself. “Just look at how you take my dick, Honey.”
She shuddered at the sight, nodding rapidly, unable to speak. She wondered if this was just more teasing, but she couldn’t think beyond the penetration.
“God, you look so beautiful like that,” he muttered breathlessly. His amber eyes were fixated on the sinful spectacle beneath her waist, unable to avert his gaze. “So pretty with my cock stuffed up inside your tummy...”
Peter sounded unhinged, even to himself. His abs twisted into knots. Vile, perverse images eclipsed his sense of decency—her body naked and wrecked, with his seed spilling from her holes. Then, her belly round with his children. Just the thought devolved him like his civilized nature was sucked back into a black hole.
Wordless whimpers poured from her lips as her taut muscles succumbed to his girth. Calloused fingertips reached further down, brushing against the hood of her clit. She jolted in his arms with the slightest touch.
At that moment, Honey’s world disappeared. Nothing existed but the exquisite ache between her legs.
The conquerer inside him preened. “Is that the spot? Is that where it hurts, baby?” he purred into her ear with a filthy, predatory voice. Her body answered him, rewarding him with a delicious squeeze around his shaft. “That’s it,” Peter groaned, insatiable. “Good girl. So good for me.”
His praise, even if it was teasing, was too much. Peter’s affirmations, paired with his ministrations, tightened the coil in her stomach. Exhaustion crept up on her body even as the bubble of desire swelled.
Ever so slowly, his hips pitched back and then forward. He bottomed out again at the end of the languid stroke. A shattered mewl burst from her lips, pussy pulsating around his dick.
She was magnificent.
”Fuck, baby. Feels s-so fuckin’ good—ahh, I missed this tight pussy so much. Wanted to play with her so bad…”
Peter’s hips moved of their own accord. They were a pornographic masterpiece in the decorative mirrors situated around the room. He stole a greedy glance at the couple’s reflection. Smiling wickedly, he turned her head, making her see what he was seeing.
Honey’s stomach fluttered at the sight of her body—glistening and restrained—slotted against him. Her head bobbed as Peter gripped her hips and fucked into her like a sex doll.
Perverse. Debauched. Divine. It made her lightheaded.
Slowly, he increased the pace of his thrusts, panting into her ear. At some point, she started muttering. Broken and embarrassingly desperate pleas and pet names tumbled unwittingly out of her mouth.
One of them must have caught his attention. But she honestly couldn’t remember what she had said.
“Ugh—I lose my fuckin’ mind when you call me that name,” he growled, throwing his head back. “Ya know that, precious? Such a good girl for me. Good girls get spoiled.”
Honey’s body thrummed at his baby talk. In all its depravity, she started to suspect what she must have said in all its depravity. Slowly, she was losing the ability to be ashamed.
The slick-coated pad of Peter’s thumb circled her clit, before traveling down further. He curiously prodded where they were joined—“Fuck, look at how good ya open up for me.” — His fingers trailed the outline of her stretched hymen wrapped around his cock.
Honey closed her eyes and turned away, blushing from his praise. Timid about how she relished in the filth. Peter brought his lips to her ear as if there was a secret the two of them shared.
“Don’t worry, baby. I gotcha—Daddy’s gonna make the ache go away.”
The spring snapped. She was nearly knocked over by the wave of pleasure that followed. Her pussy fluttered around his cock with no warning, body trembling and toes curling. Her cream gushed down his shaft.
He snickered as if he’d won a prize.
Honey could vaguely recognize her pathetic voice through the bells in her ears. She squealed and cried out over his repetitive, patronizing chants — “Awwgoodgirl, fuckin’ so-so perfect— squeezin’ me so tight” — while he fucked her through her orgasm.
It felt like several moments of pure pink haze, herself a willing victim to his delicious, relentless pull.
“Shit, sweetie, did you just come all over my cock?” he asked, exasperated.
Embarrassment flooded her despite her persistent mewling.
“Don’t cry, baby. Don’chu worry,” he murmured affectionately, himself obsessed with the cavern of her divine flesh. “When I said I was gonna make you my toy, I meant it.” She whimpered, nodding her head as it rested back against his shoulder. “M’not finished with you,” he said, dropping an octave. “Not by a long shot.”
Time ceased to have true meaning. Peter rammed into her steadily.
“Please don’stop, please use me, please, wan’more—” She yelped like a puppy.
He smiled against her sweaty skin. “Yeah? Ya like bein’ a good girl? My good girl?”
“I’llbegoodI’llbegoodm’yours—fuck—yoursyoursyours—”
“That’s right, sweetheart,” he groaned, with another curse beneath his breath. Eyes drifted shut. “Good, good girl.”
All he could think of was more.
More of that sound. More of her juices. More of her staccato breaths as he fucked her tits into a steady bounce on her chest. More of her whining, whimpering like a bitch in heat.
“All mine, all mine…”
Peter needed more of her. He needed to watch her fall apart on his cock again. Honey was so close already; he could feel it. He’d give her another orgasm, one that leaves her in tears. Then another. He was going to fuck her into submission atop the throne he built for her. She was already his queen.
Then—He’d make her his whore.
Flip her on her back against the table—or couch— countertop—fuck, maybe the bed if he could remember where it was. Whatever he could reach first.
Then he’d split her open again on his cock. That way, he could see the enraptured awe on her face. The neediness. Big, round, wet eyes pleading for his touch, calling him filthy names, as his cock bulges below her pubic bone. Begging him to rearrange her guts.
It was heavenly to witness. Peter loved watching her come. And he would, over and over. Once he relocated her to his bed—as soon as he remembered where it was— he could tie her to it.
Not that Honey was fighting at the present. There was no fight in her body, except maybe the will to keep conscious. With every strike against her cervix, she spread herself wider for him.
But Peter knew she would like it. Honey wanted his unforgiving ecstasy. To take out the mounting frustration of the last few months on her wet pussy.
“M’gonna fuck you so good, babygirl, m’gonna use your body like my fucktoy—make me feel s-sogood, don’worry—“
Honey full-body shuddered with a sob, her head thrown back against his shoulder.
“S’okay, baby, you can scream if y’want, makes it feel better, doesn’t it, huh—”
Cock-drunk, she nodded, her words coming out as puffs of air.
“Don’stop—don’stop—please, fuck— fuckmehardDaddyIneedit—“
Oh.
More. Of. That.
“M’not lettin’ you get away again…” he muttered, voice emerging from beneath his twitching abdominal muscles. With possessed eyes, he was glued to where they joined. “Never—never gonna let you go again… All mine now, Honey—you’re all mine…”
Her arms came up to circle the back of his neck as she panted into his throat. “My-my pussy is yours…”
“Everything,” he corrected.
“Everythi—god—I’m yours, Pete—ahh!”
Peter was getting close. No matter. He’d let himself come inside her soon. There was plenty more to follow.
He barely recognized his own wrecked voice. “’m not leavin,’ baby. I’m not leavin’ ever.”
A gust of wind followed him as the front door to the suite slammed shut. Peter stood alone in the hotel hallway wearing a sheen of sweat... and nothing else.
He flushed pink, fumbling to cover himself behind his hands. The cool air made the task easier.
Peter sighed. He’d need to talk to maintenance about better insulation up here.
But not right now. Not while Peter Parker stood ass-naked outside of his door, having been kicked out like a cheap fuck.
Which might have been Honey’s point, he recognized.
The evidence of their past hour together made his skin sticky. She’d tousled his hair and etched into his back with her nails. He felt sore in places he hadn’t felt in years.
Peter also looked thoroughly fucked. A mixture of pain and relief surged through his muscles. His brain was branded with erotic images of her. He wanted them there.
The door opened again, lifting his hopes. He only caught a fleeting glimpse of Honey, wrapped sloppily in a bathrobe. The rest of her didn’t look much better than Peter. She wore a sour yet adorable scowl on her face.
With a huff, Honey hurled a tight wad of fabric at his nuts, unintentionally intentional in her aim.
Peter oofed, doubling over to catch the ball of his clothes. At the same time, an Italian leather shoe smacked him in the head. Probably his Tom Ford’s. He heard the door slam closed again, rattling against the frame.
Perplexed, Peter gazed at the molding of the door and the gleaming golden script marking the room number.
He wondered.
Would she open the door again to throw him the other shoe?
Or perhaps the slacks that went along with the dress shirt covering his balls?
Unlikely.
He marveled.
The nerve of this woman. This goddess-barista who served him his soul in a paper cup. Who held the keys to his heart, his home, and presently, his hotel room. Who somehow managed to kick him out of the penthouse suite of his own hotel.
Within the confines of his ruined dress shirt, Peter felt another buzz. He fumbled with the shirt, reaching the smartphone concealed inside.
>>> have you moved onto the main course?
>>> or are you still tossing the salad?
>>> pouring ranch on her hidden valley
Felicia. Peter’s eyes nearly rolled out of his head. With a sigh, he tapped out a reply.
<<< Kitchen’s closed.
<<< Need clothes. And a new room.
He saw the ellipsis bubbling up on his screen.
<<< Not another word.
As soon as the message was sent, Peter took another glance at his empty surroundings. Haplessly, he looked toward the closed door. A river of memories flooded him. It surged, swelled, and finally, came to a low simmer.
This was never going to be easy. Nothing ever was with her.
Nothing worth waiting for ever is.
“See you at breakfast,” he whispered aloud lips curled into a smile. “Sleep tight.”
Holding her breath and her ear to the door, Honey waited until Peter’s footsteps faded. When she could no longer hear them, she sighed with exasperation, overcome with exhaustion. Eyes falling closed, Honey leaned back against the door, body aching in places she would feel for days.
After taking a moment, she heard a buzzing sound further in the suite. Honey jumped with alarm, then stumbled on Fawn’s feet to reach the source.
Quickly, Honey waddled to the remains of her yellow dress, fishing out the buzzing object: a 10-year-old smartphone with a black glittery hard case. A holographic cat sticker was fixed to the back, shimmering in the dim light.
Not just any cat.
She unlocked the phone to see the latest message.
>>> how’d it go? u give him hell?
The heaviest exhale left Honey’s chest, shame creeping up her chest. With her thumb, she scrolled up to review the text messages sent to her. The oldest of which dated back almost four months.
Weeks of correspondence and reassurance from Felicia, not to mention very clear instructions about Peter Parker and how to play his game.
There was the one from last month:
>>> don’t let him think for one second that you’re gonna let him get off easy!
Then one from last week:
>>> make him suffer. make him grovel. make him lay down in a puddle so you can cross
And these:
>>> go to dinner, but don’t eat anything. order wine, the most expensive one, take one sip and refuse the rest. you pick the restaurant. if he picks the restaurant, hate everything about it
>>> play hard to get— but don’t be too cold
>>> be flirty. but not slutty.
>>> give him bedroom eyes, but don’t let him stare at you too long.
Finally, there was a clear instruction sent earlier today.
>>> under no circumstances
>>> no matter what
>>> you need to remember this
>>> DO NOT FUCK HIM!!1
Honey frowned as she gazed at Felicia’s text message bubble, sent with so much hope and good intention. A notion soundly defeated. A truly hopeless endeavor, if there ever was one.
Biting her lip, Honey tapped out a reply to her confidant:
<<< Sure did.
Thank you for everything you do. Please keep fanfic healthy and support my writing with a reblog.
#Lizzy writes! sugar and vice#peter parker x reader#the amazing spiderman#the amazing spiderman fanfiction#spiderman au#spiderman fanfiction#tasm!peter parker x reader#tasm!peter parker x oc#andrew garfield#tasm peter parker#tasm!peter x reader#tasm peter parker x reader#peter parker smut#spiderman smut#spiderman x oc#tasm!peter parker#peter parker x you#mafia au#mob!peter au#spider man#tasm fanfiction#tasm fic#tasm peter x reader#tasm smut#tasm x reader#tasm!spiderman x reader#tasm spiderman#Lizzy writes.
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LILY HI ITS ME STAR!!! HOW ARE YOU I LOVE U AND WISH U ALL THE BEST MUAH MUAH!! also: perhaps smth a little naughty at 11:36 PM with lab partner!wonwoo 👀👀
tags: college!au, inexperienced!wonwoo x f!reader, nerd!wonwoo, experienced!yn, oral (m!receiving)
[11:36]
wonwoo has never liked chemistry.
the periodic table looks like a colorful placemat and a titration might as well be a long winded recipe for a terrible cocktail. (although the ones at the delta tau delta chemistry themed party were good. they served them in little beakers, and wonwoo thought those were quite cute. that was also the party where he met you.)
speaking of you—unlike chemistry, wonwoo does, however, like you a great deal.
which makes chemistry much more tolerable because you are his lab partner.
on the first day of lab, when they had asked the class to pair up, you walked over to him, and wonwoo almost melted right into the ground.
"you're the only one here i know," you whispered, waiting for him to lean down to your height. he did, and you smelled like cherries. "we talked at the delt party. wonwoo, right?"
"yes, i'm wonwoo," he had said, words tripping and tumbling off of his tongue like he was learning to speak for the first time.
it was no better at the party, except he was drunk and you were drunker, and you had made the grave mistake of asking him what classes he was taking. two mike's hard lemonades and a battery acid vodka shot later, his dumb ass was still talking about emily dickinson, and you, somehow, were standing there in those mile-high heels, listening as if he was the most interesting guy at the party.
i think she's totally into you, mingyu had said, in that loud, spitty cadence he has when he's 90% beer.
don't be ridiculous.
but then you had asked wonwoo to walk you to your dorm, and you took the long way, winding right through campus.
he doesn't dream often, but he thinks the one he had that night was red and smelled like your lip gloss.
now, he thanks god for the miracle that is you in an oversized hoodie and shorts in his room past sundown.
granted, you're there to work on the last lab report of the term, and he had seen you just two nights ago at the kappa party, but wonwoo thinks he likes this version of you best. (that night, you had tried to break in your new heels. he ended up holding onto them, and you ended up holding onto him on the drunken stumble home. whether it was for support or for something else, wonwoo doesn't know, but he wishes he wore something different than the ratty polo from the back of his closet.)
"thanks for all your help," you say, closing your lab notebook. "i don't know how you're so good at all of this."
"i'm not," he laughs. he hands you your pencil case with the sailor moon charm, the one you were so proud to show him when he mentioned he watched anime. "it was all you."
you wave him off and bend down to put your things in your bag.
wonwoo tries his best to avert his eyes. he really does.
it's a valiant effort. there's a book out of order on his shelf (anna karenina, tolstoy). he really should have put that gundam figure away before you came over.
and your ass is perfect, but that doesn't really surprise him because he doesn't think there is a single thing wrong with you.
"you know," you start, still rifling around in your bag. "i heard something real interesting from mingyu the other day."
"hm?"
wonwoo changes the backlight color of his keyboard. it does not make him calmer. instead he feels all the peely leather on his gaming chair poke through his sweats and he tries not to think about the little birthmark you have on the back of your thigh.
"he told me that..." you stand straight and turn to face him. there's a fresh coat of gloss on your lips, like a magic trick. "you have a crush on me."
wonwoo doesn't know what to say. he likes to think before he speaks but now you're walking towards him and thinking isn't really an option anymore.
"right?"
"um."
not good. he didn't think he was that obvious but he's no liar.
"fine, i'll start." you're standing right in front of him now, and he thinks the gulp he takes is audible. "i like you."
he watches your lips form around the words, glittery and confident, and if he wasn't doomed before, he certainly is now.
his near perfect gpa is doing jack shit to help him understand why someone like you, gorgeous and funny and smart and popular, would ever take a second look at the gangly boy in the glasses.
but you are—in fact, you're staring with an intensity that makes him afraid you can actually see right through all the clothes he's got on.
"i—" come on, wonwoo thinks. they're the words he wanted to tell you outside your dorm building three weeks ago when you said you didn't know anyone quite like him. "i like you too. a lot."
"good."
the first thing he learns is that you're forward, and he likes that.
the second thing he learns is that your lip gloss tastes like cherry.
your mouth is hot and soft on his. he thinks he died and went to heaven, and then you're kissing him again, catching his bottom lip between your teeth so he whines into your mouth.
the last time he tried kissing was during senior prom. his date stood on her tiptoes and he accidentally bumped his nose into hers and missed her mouth and the whole thing was a disaster.
and yet now, wonwoo feels like he's melted right into your hands. you lead and his body just knows how to follow.
"you're shy, huh?" you murmur, pulling back to look at him. "that's so cute."
he doesn't quite know what he looks like but his glasses are slipping down his nose and he feels the menthol sting of your lips all over his. there has never been this much blood in his cheeks but that doesn't quite make sense to him because he feels all of it going straight to his dick.
"you're perfect," is what the primordial ooze in wonwoo's brain manages to put together.
you kiss him again, and when he remembers to relax his lips enough, you're slipping your tongue in and letting him suck, and you moan.
wonwoo swears he could have blown his load right there and then—when it came to you, it really didn't take much, and now he's wondering what your skin tastes like, craving the cherry of your cunt.
your hand on his chest, sharp nails and glittery rings, trails down nice and slow. it feels like he's on fire. it's a wonderful distraction from the sensation of your teeth on the pretty, taut skin over his collarbone, but then you're biting and licking and he feels his balls get so tight and heavy in his pants he might just cry.
and then your hand comes to rest on his lap, right over his hardness, and wonwoo's about to protest—no, no, sorry, i don't mean to have a boner! i've never been kissed like that before in my life!—until you drop to your knees, right in between his parted thighs.
"has anyone ever touched you like this?" you say, voice low, dizzying. "anyone ever made you feel good?"
he shakes his head no, a new, sudden wave of desire climbing his bones.
mussed hair and swollen lips, you look more beautiful than anyone wonwoo's ever seen in his entire life. he doesn't know what he did in a past life to earn this but he must have saved the world.
"p-please," he says, but it's somewhere between a moan and a gasp because you're palming him through his sweats, the sensation foreign, thrilling.
"patience," you tease, and he would be morbidly embarrassed at the spot of precum on his pants if you weren't already thumbing at it yourself.
once you take his cock out of his sweats, he knows he's losing whatever battle he was fighting. he sees how your hand looks so little around it, and it's his nth struggle to make sure he doesn't just cum in your face. maybe another day, if he's so lucky.
"i-i might cum really fast," he confesses, because he doesn't know how to really say he's never gotten a blowjob before.
"good," you answer. unlike him, somehow you always know exactly what to say.
the third thing wonwoo learns that day is that he's fully, wholly, entirely obsessed with your mouth. with your slick bottom lip, with your tongue, and now with the way he sees your gloss-smeared mouth wrap taut around his cockhead.
wonwoo can never return to watching porn again. there is simply no one quite like you.
"f-fuck," he pants, the feeling overtaking him all at once. "feels so good, mouth's so good—"
one look at your eyes, big and watery and good for him, and he feels his cock twitch in your mouth. and then you start moving; you take him all the way to the base and then some. he feels your tiny little throat close around him, and the groan he lets out is nothing short of pornographic. he never thought he was that big, but seeing your eyes well up and your mascara get all dewy as you gag around him is doing something crazy to his brain.
it doesn't take long for you to fall into an easy rhythm. you're figuring him out so fast, and that would scare him if it didn't feel so good. your tongue's on his veins, the underside of his cockhead, and he's already gripping the armrests of his chair with white knuckles.
you sink down again and swallow around his length, let your throat do all the work, and wonwoo throws his head back, chest heaving. his eyes flutter shut, and the fluorescent ceiling light phases in and out of vision as you give him what could possibly be the best head you've ever given someone in your whole life.
"gonna cum s-soon," wonwoo manages. "you're so fucking hot."
it's either a moan or a whimper that comes out of you when he says that, and he thanks his lucky stars he has the wherewithal to put that information in his back pocket. he doesn't know when or how but his plan is to return the favor to you in full. and if that involves a copious amount of praise, he's all the better prepared because he has no shortage of nice things to say about you.
you take him once, twice to the base and wonwoo feels all the heat in his balls and his belly and then he's cumming, more and harder than he ever thought possible. he almost thinks it's like a piece of his soul was taken from him.
"d-don't have to swallow," he says, but you do, every last fucking drop until it's dribbling from your perfect mouth, and wonwoo is now fully convinced you are a real life goddess.
i'm an addict in the making, he thinks, but then you smile at him with those eyes, and he doesn't think that's such a bad thing.
he searches for the right words to say, something cool, experienced. it's a constant effort to be that guy for you because he's still not really sure why any of this happened.
"stop thinking so hard," you say, coughing once, then wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. "i can see your wheels turning."
how you can read him so easily is beyond him. he wonders if you knew he was in love with you the second he laid eyes on you at the delta tau party.
where are my manners, wonwoo then remembers, and the post-nut clarity possesses him to brush the hair out of your eyes and help you up from your position on the ground.
"i like you. i don't care how experienced you are."
he hears you, and he believes you. instead of arguing, he cups your tear-streaked face in his hands and uses his thumbs to wipe your cheeks.
"plus, i think i'm a pretty good teacher."
you smile, and wonwoo has the confidence to kiss you back, for real this time.
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I have fallen down a Fourth World rabbit hole (this is @ngoziu's fault) and am now reading everything DC has ever published with these characters, in order, as is my wont, and I have a lot of thoughts and feelings, so I'm going to start dumping them all here. Sorry.
Background if you have no idea what I'm talking about but want to read this post anyway (why?): in 1971, Jack Kirby left Marvel because he couldn't put up with Stan Lee any longer and came to DC, where they were like "Yes you can do anything you want" (this was a lie). He immediately began writing, drawing, and editing an incredibly ambitious epic that stretched over four simultaneously published books: Superman's Pal Jimmy Olsen (we can mostly ignore this one), New Gods, Mister Miracle, and The Forever People. These books came to be known as Jack Kirby's Fourth World Tetralogy.
The books all center around the war between the utopian planet New Genesis, ruled by the benevolent Highfather, and the dystopian planet Apokalips, ruled by the evil Darkseid. At the heart of the narrative is "The Pact," aka The Cosmic Baby Swap. To ensure a (temporary) truce, Highfather and Darkseid traded sons when said children were very young - so Orion, Darkseid's son, is raised on New Genesis, and Scott Free, Highfather's son, is raised on Apokalips. Neither knows who their real father is until adulthood.
Orion grows up in a utopia, but tormented by his feelings of rage and otherness that he can't explain. Scott is raised in a torture orphanage, because that's just what happens on Apokalips, but eventually he escapes to Earth and becomes the escape artist Mister Miracle. The Cosmic Baby Swap begs what to me is the central question of the Fourth World, which is: what is the nature of good? Which boy will be a hero? The one born to good and raised by evil, or the one born to evil and raised by good?
TRICK QUESTION THEY'RE BOTH HEROES!!! GOOD IS MORE POWERFUL THAN EVIL! LOVE WINS AND FASCISM LOSES! This is so, so important to me and any version of these characters that doesn't understand the really not very complex symbolism here is invalid and kind of embarrassing for the writer (looking at you, Tom King).
Also Scott falls in love with and eventually marries Big Barda, one of Darkseid's fiercest warriors, who was born on Apokalips and raised on Apokalips and chooses good anyway. LOVE WINS AGAIN! BARDA TOPS HER TINY HUSBAND IN THE NAME OF PEACE AND COMPASSION!
Sadly DC canceled New Gods and Forever People after only 11 issues, which kind of killed Kirby's whole vision. Mister Miracle limped along until #18, but as a really pale shadow of itself. So we never really got the full scope of Kirby's original plans.
ANYWAY. That's the background. Now thoughts on the actual comics:
Superman's Pal, Jimmy Olsen: I love Jimmy, I love Superman, I love the Newsboy Legion, but this book feels very tangential to the whole Fourth World experiment and I think we can safely set it to the side. However, if you love the 90s Superboy series, I recommend dipping into this because it's the source material for a lot of Kon's worldbuilding (Cadmus, Dubbilex, clone Guardian, etc.).
The Forever People (1971): So I originally read all the Jack Kirby Fourth World stuff like...at least 15 years ago, when I was still relatively new to comics, and I'll be honest: I didn't get it. Kirby is sort of an acquired taste, and I didn't really have any context for what he was doing. I understood the metaphors, but I didn't get why people found the work appealing. And Forever People in particular was the book where I was like "Why. What is the point of this" the most.
Rereading it many years later, I find it to be a lot more moving and profound - like, the Happyland issue alone is a knockout. That said, Kirby is, uhhhh...not great at ensemble characterization without Lee, and the Forever People themselves are unforgivably bland. Default Guy! Big Guy! Black Guy! Girl! Kid! Props to Kirby for making it a not all-white group - and for introducing five out of seven of DC's first Black characters in the space of, like, two years - but it would have been nice if he gave them personalities, too.
New Gods (1971): This is Orion's book and the heart of the Fourth World. At its best, it's the pinnacle of "Makes no sense...compels me, though." Like, "Glory Boat?" I don't understand a single thing that happened in that comic but it's so fucking good. I just want to read thousands of words of comics scholars over the past 50 years going "????" in collective confused admiration.
Mister Miracle (1971): This was the book I was most invested in when I read the Fourth World years ago, because I already loved Scott and Barda from JLI, but now I think it's weaker than New Gods and arguably even than Forever People. Kirby doesn't seem as invested in going all in on Big Concepts here, and Scott escaping endless weird deathtraps is only compelling for so long. The later issues, after the other books were canceled and DC made Kirby pivot away from the Apokalips/New Genesis war, are nothing. But Scott and Barda (and Oberon and Shilo) are everything, so I guess it balances out. Anyway Scott clearly already knows a lot about Earth by the time he meets Oberon and Thaddeus Brown, so DC please feel free to hire me to write a Mister Miracle: Year One miniseries about Scott's arrival on Earth, thank you.
Okay, now for the post-Kirby (or really, intra-Kirby) stuff:
Mister Miracle (1977): This picks up the numbering from the Kirby series, running from #19-25, and was written by Steve Englehart and then Steve Gerber, and it sucks so bad. For three reasons, in escalating importance:
Riddled with continuity holes and factual errors that don't match what Kirby established. Himon is shown on New Genesis - how did he get there? Metron is depicted as subservient to Highfather when Kirby showed him as a neutral, independent agent. Etc.
The treatment of non-Scott characters is largely terrible. Oberon is written really condescendingly (Scott's like "Ride on my shoulders like you used to!" even though they definitely did not ever do that before, because Oberon is not a child). When Scott feels guilty that he's not actively fighting the war, Highfather's like "I don't want you to fight because I feel bad that I traded you to Darkseid, let Orion do it" as if that isn't the root of Orion's severe emotional trauma TOO. And worst of all is Barda, who is knocked out and captured in the first issue and spends pretty much the entire rest of the series unconscious, waiting for Scott to rescue her - except for the brief scene where she wakes up brainwashed, requiring Scott to beat the shit out of her. Lovely.
The series is reeeally fixated on the notion that Scott is a god, and extrapolates that to Scott deciding he's the messiah. Now, I'm not going to say that the Fourth World can't be used to explore Christian themes just because Kirby is Jewish, because Kirby was very definitely exploring biblical themes extensively and frankly I don't know enough about the Bible to say whether he was sticking religiously (ha) to the Old Testament. But I do think taking one of the central characters of a Jewish man's magnum opus and making him the messiah is, uh, pushing it. And there's no way to argue he's not a Christian messiah because, uh, he T-poses a lot in this series and Granny also specifically states that if Scott is the messiah, she'll find an anti-Christ to combat him (which...wouldn't that sort of by default be Orion? which just further proves that the idea of a messiah really doesn't work in the Fourth World framework). Anyway it's gross and I hate it.
New Gods (1977): I'm kind of using this as a catchall to cover all of Gerry Conway's New Gods work, which includes the actual 1977 New Gods series (which picks up the numbering from Kirby, so it's #12-19), the conclusion of the story in Adventure Comics, and the Justice League of America crossover with the Fourth World. (Also there's one issue of Super-Team Family where Lightray and Metron team up with the Flash to save Orion, who has grown really really big, but that doesn't fit with the rest of Conway's continuity so I guess we can ignore it.)
Anyway this stuff is not as infuriating as Mister Miracle, but it's also not...good. The central concept is that Darkseid has discovered that the Anti-Life Equation is contained within the brains of six humans, so Highfather sends six New Gods to protect said humans: Orion, Lightray, Metron (he doesn't work for you, Highfather), Forager (also does not work for you), Lonar, and Sensational Character Find of 1977, Jezebelle of the Fiery Eyes (Original Character Do Not Steal).
Mostly this series is frustrating because all the New Gods are wildly incompetent and fail completely at their tasks. Orion is dumbed down to The World's Most Basic Superhero (he has a big O on his chest now!). I spent the whole time yelling "HE CAN'T FLY, GERRY!" at the comics. Forager is lumped in with no mention of that whole thing where...he's a New God who was raised among the Bugs, who are being persecuted by the New Gods? I feel like that should be explained or at least addressed? (Presumably Kirby would have gotten around to it eventually.) Forager also should not be flying but here he does. I guess. Lonar flies too but mostly on his horse, which bothers me less for some reason, I'll accept a flying horse. (Also Lonar's human he's supposed to protect is Inuit and hoo boy is this comic racist. The poor guy wears a fur diaper the whole time and speaks a completely made up language.)
And then there's Jezebelle of the Fiery Eyes. Who is blue, for reasons that are never explained, and wears a bikini and fishnets because it's 1977, and mentions her fiery eyes (heat vision) every time she speaks. She's from Apokalips, but defected to New Genesis during battle. Which, like...I appreciate that Conway recognized that this team should have a female character, but what with Orion, Scott, Barda, and Inexplicably Present Himon, it feels like we have enough characters who have defected from Apokalips in some way? And it's just super weird that the ONLY female characters we have seen from New Genesis are Beautiful Dreamer of the Forever People (trapped in another dimension indefinitely) and Scott's dead mom. Like, what's the implication here? Heaven doesn't have women? Also, I know Conway was going for biblical names to match New Genesis and Izaya (he also introduces a Lucifar), but, like...Jezebelle? JEZEBELLE. Your only female New God and you named her "whore." Amazing.
And with that, we have covered the New Gods in the 70s (minus some Mister Miracle/Batman teamups). Next time: the 80s, and Kirby tries so so hard to kill Orion but DC won't let him.
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USEFUL ANARCHIST AND LEFTIST SITES ON THE WEB
1: The Anarchist Faq: this attempts to answer any questions one might have about anarchism. (the anarchist library, which this faq is on, is also an absolutley excellent rescource and maybe the biggest collection of anarchist theory on the web)
2: the tv tropes page for anarchism (yes, im serious). this manages to be a suprisingly well done and easy to read explanation of what anarchism is, what its about, and the different types of anarchists idealogies.
3: Anarchopedia. like wikipedia, but specifically for anarchism
more resources below the cut! and feel free to add more in reblogs.
4: the iww. the iww isnt anarchist, but im putting it here as its a member-led, grassroots union for all workers of the world.
iww.org
5: Zoe Baker has a PHD in anarchist history and is one of the few well researched and well read left politcs channels on youtube
youtube.com/@anarchopac
6: Organize magazine is a good source of anarchist news in the UK
organisemagazine.org.uk
7: Freedom News is another great source of anarchist news in the UK
freedomnews.org.uk
8: Mutual Aid Hub (afaik this is US only)
mutualaidhub.org
9:Black Rose Federation (also US only)
blackrosefed.org
10: symbiosis revolution (US only)
symbiosis-revolution.org
11: Marxists Internet Archive. while this site isnt really anarchist, it is leftist and has some anarchist texts. i also think marxism is worth learning about even as an anarchist whos views do not align with Marx.
Marxists.org
12: Neighborhood Anarchists. Neighborhood Anarchists is a direct action anarchist group based in Springfield and Eugene Oregon.
neighborhoodanarchists.org
13: Anarchist News. This is a site that provides news that is relevant to or about anarchism
Anarchistnews.org
14: A-Infos. This is a multi-lingual news service by, for, and about anarchists.
https://www.ainfos.ca/en/
15: CrimeThInk. This is an international network of aspiring revolutionaries all over the world.
crimethinc.com
16: It's Going Down. This is a digital community center for anarchist, anti-fascist, autonomous anti-capitalist and anti-colonial movements across so-called North America.
itsgoingdown.org
17: Libcom. This is is a resource for everyone fighting to improve their lives, communities and working conditions.
libcom.org
18: Unicorn Riot. This is a decentralized, educational non-profit media organization.
unicornriot.ninja
19: Submedia. Submedia is an anarchist digital media collective that produces videos and podcasts
sub.media
20: Zine Library. This is a compilation of anarchist zines and booklets, imposed for easy printing, as well as a few posters. (zines can be downloaded by pressing code > download zip)
github.com/rechelon/zine_library
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almost uploaded a picture of my bank statement instead of this header! happy days!
thanks for the tags @hippolotamus @kiwiana-writes @happiness-of-the-pursuit @rmd-writes
@nancygillianmvp @terramous @tellmegoodbye @freneticfloetry @beautifulhigh
@orchidscript @myheartalivewrites and @strandnreyes (don't think that was a real tag but i'm taking it anyway to force you to love me).
1. How many works do you have on Ao3?
49 (last time it was 46 but i feel like that isn't enough of a difference? disappointed in myself dfhskjh)
2. What's your Ao3 bodycount word count?
1,119,086 which does include some co-writes, but I also have around 200k of unposted WIP in my google docs so i'm counting it (including a fully written fic - someone put their hands around my neck and force me to edit it PLEASE).
3. Which fandoms do you write for?
red white and royal blue, 911 lone star, top gun maverick (flirting with winter's orbit always)
4. Top 5 fics by kudos?
the order of these has changed but not the identity:
Speak for Yourself (RWRB) (you know when eminem said he'd never be able to top My Name Is? this is my version of that)
Fifty First Dates (RWRB) (oodie agenda reigns supreme)
The RIng-In (Lone Star) (otherwise, lone star is in danger of being eviscerated from this top 5 lmao)
(Not) A Cinderella Story (RWRB) (NDAs are hot, apparently)
Cursed is a State of Mind (RWRB) (cursed caffeine is the main drawcard let's not lie)
5. Do you respond to comments?
i try my absolute best to. i am currently really behind and i apologise for that (the problem is, i reply to comments before i post anything and i haven't posted anything in ages).
6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?
serious answer - Contaminated
my answer - oh baby i'm a fool for you because we never find out if they actually watch twilight and that's a damn shame
7. What is the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?
literally everything else - i don't really do open endings or sad endings! in the words of the great philosopher, skepta: "nah, that's not me."
8. Do you get hate on fics?
i used to, but i haven't in ages! thank god for that.
9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?
yes, although i have to say i've been moving away from pwp lately. i feel my best smut is written into longer fics where the sex serves a plot or characterisation purpose within the frame of the overarching narrative.
10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?
yes, a RWRB/LS but i never finished it. ALTA is a veronica mars inspired tarlos fic which kind of feels like a crossover at times.
11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?
not to my knowledge :)
12. Have you ever had a fic translated?
yes! Phonography (Lone Star) has been translated, as has Baby, Make Your Move (Lone Star) and Warm Whispers (Lone Star). I'm very grateful to the incredible people who have made these translations happen - you are so talented.
13. Have you ever co-written a fic?
yes, many with @dustratcentral. I also wrote a chapter of a co-written fic with a whole bunch of incredible RWRB authors called never the same twice.
@rmd-writes and I have created (Un)Professional Services and (upcoming) Call Me (By Your Name).
The Rainbow Fish was co-written with @strandnreyes.
I love co-writing so much and I am always open to anyone who wants to give it a go!
14. What's your all time favourite ship?
me + my unposted wips.
15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?
probably the aforementioned crossover which was apparently also my answer last time.
16. What are your writing strengths?
i'm allergic to giving myself compliments but i would say maybe dialogue/banter and worldbuilding.
17. What are your writing weaknesses?
keeping things short. also, exposition.
18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?
kinda scared to because i don't speak any other languages and i'm so hesitant to annoy my very talented multi-lingual friends with my annoying questions.
19. First fandom you wrote for?
we don't talk about that.
20. Favourite fic you've written?
probably still Love Game because the experience was just so amazing and i never wanted to stop writing it.
heaps of people have already done this so leaving an open tag and also a couple of suggestions under the cut but apologies if you've already participated or been tagged 7 million times:
@bonheur-cafe @theghostofashton @thebumblecee @indomitable-love @eclectic-sassycoweyes
@tailoredshirt @vineofroses @liminalmemories21 @mikibwrites @birdclowns
@ladytessa74 @basilsunrise @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @rosedavid @sanjuwrites
@alrightbuckaroo @three-drink-amy @marjansmarwani @dumbpeachjuice @doublel27
@lemonlyman-dotcom @blueink3 @ambiguouspenny @clottedcreamfudge @emmalostinwonderland
@sail-not-drift @inexplicablymine @celeritas2997 @cricketnationrise @reyesstrand
@goodways @carlos-in-glasses @heartstringsduet @sunshinestrand @sherryvalli
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Steven's first v-day - s.g x gn!reader
posted feb 2nd, 2024 11:38 pm (barely made it!!)
day 2 of counting down to valentines day! I'll also be doing marc and jake versions :D hope u enjoy xo
summary: it's Steven's first valentine's day!! reader has to make it special! oh but so does Steven, of course. Not proofread, possible use of Y/n.
this is my first moonboys fic! although it's steven focused there is mentions of jake and marc also being romantically involved with reader!! if anything i wrote pertaining to DID is offensive or not cool please let me know!!
masterlist
wordcount: 0.9k
For years Steven had essentially been locked up inside Marc’s mind unknowingly, of course he caught blips, little pieces of Marc’s life, and short memories that Marc purposely shoved down to the deepest depths of their brain, yet even now with Steven fronting on his own much more often he still was missing so much.
Steven had yet to experience any holidays, though knowing Marc wasn’t exactly a fan of any of them, he still wanted to see them for himself, feel them for himself. Even though Marc and Layla hadn’t really celebrated Valentine's Day during their marriage, Steven still felt he was missing out.
Which of course is when you come in, Steven’s first real partner, he didn’t get you all to himself, but despite sharing you with Marc and Jake, Steven knew he was your very best friend, taking out romance completely you had always been close with him. Making him feel special and loved when he needed it most, and now he has the privilege to replace “love” with “my love” when speaking to you.
Steven just had to make this day special for you. Marc had his day earlier in the month, Jake planned for next weekend but Steven, Steven insisted he get the 14th. He needed the full experience even if it meant fighting with Donna to get off work early on a Wednesday afternoon.
Steven spent all of Tuesday night at the shops, getting chocolate and your favorite snacks, options just in case you didn’t like the snacks or candy you did previously.
He loaded everything up into a pink basket, half believing it was actually an easter basket. Steven ignored the suspicious feeling about the basket though, dismissing it as unimportant before moving on to buy two of the books on your TBR, ignoring every mirror in the place and snarky remarks from Marc and sarcastic jokes from Jake about Steven outdoing both of them.
It’s only Valentine’s Day, Steven.
But it was so much more than that.
But he did ditch the easter basket.
What Steven had yet to realize was that you thought so too.
Today was just as special for you as it was for Steven, because of Steven, actually.
Yes, you had loved the sweet night in with just you and Marc, but with Steven and Jake, you had planned for just a little more, it was practically Steven’s first Valentine’s Day, it had to be special, just like your Steven was.
You had hung heart-shaped decorations up on the few lights in Steven’s apartment, a vinyl you had just bought him on the record player playing softly in the background as you threw a few rose petals across the kitchen counter opting that it would be an easier cleanup then anywhere else in Steven’s cluttered (but of course, comfy) apartment.
Looking around you were pretty stumped on what to add for decor, before deciding to rummage through some of Steven's cabinets in hopes you'd find a vase, if so, you could buy him flowers, you couldn't think of anyone who would love them more.
“Yes!” you shouted happily as you found a vase hidden behind the bowls, now why would he have them with the bowls? You ignored the questions in your head and seemingly missed the sound of the front door opening and closing due to all of your excitement.
“Oh my days” that you heard, the sound of Steven’s voice filled with surprise and adoration filled your ears as you turned around, not even attempting to hide your disappointment in not being able to get Steven any flowers but the moment you laid eyes on his wide eyes, and agape mouth all of it melted away, quickly replaced by a smile.
“Surprise!” You lifted your arms as if to gesture to your surroundings as Steven finally turned to look at you. “Oh, my love, this is” He paused as he looked around again before continuing. “This is incredible.”
You gasped at the flowers in his hands, rushing over to him and pecking his cheek before taking them from him and quickly rushing back to your vase. Well, Steven’s vase really but finders keepers and all that.
Steven looked back at you, almost in a daze as he followed your movements into the kitchen. “You got off early, I wanted to get you flowers but-” Steven cut you off as you set the pretty bouquet in the glass, “We can share” he abandoned the bag of miscellaneous snacks on petal covered counter and instead used his hands to pull you away from the fresh flowers by your waist.
“Happy V-day, Stevie” You smiled at him, earning one back in return. “All this for me?” Steven’s voice was quieter now that you were closer, soft eyes gazing at you most lovingly.
“It’s your first Valentine’s Day, had to make it special for you.”
Steven responded with a hug this time, shoving his face in the crook of your neck as your hands moved to hold onto his old grandpa sweater.
“Hey, are there any sour strips in that bag?” You asked, words muffled by his shoulder as he chuckled, leaning back just enough to see that look in your eyes that matched his perfectly.
“Of course, there is, love.” “Oh, he loves me!” Your excited words earned an actual laugh this time and a nod of agreement. “I grabbed as many of your favorites as I could remember, only the best for my first Valentine,” Steven said, releasing his hold on you to begin emptying the bag of goodies. You didn’t take too long to join his side, quiet ohs and ahs as he set everything in front of you.
“I was planning on cooking tonight, surprise you with dinner when you got off, but now maybe we could do it together, yeah?” Your soft tone only added to his smile.
“What’s for dinner, my love?”
#steven grant x y/n#steven grant x you#steven grant headcanons#steven grant fluff#steven grant x reader#steven grant x gender neutral reader#moon knight x reader#moon boys x reader#steven with a v#Spotify
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hello, i'm finales georg...
i don't want to further clutter up the notes on this post while responding to the tags below but the persistence of the "finale is short/scenes are missing/extra ad break” conspiracies drives me absolutely bananas when i've watched the finale ten times and have posted about this A LOT trying to clear things up. (disclaimer that yes, i'm a goddamn destiel shipper but i care about Facts above all.)
ok but this is weird because i'd swear the episode was shorter (11 missing scenes!) but okay. maybe we all mandela effected ourselves into #beleving that. because it felt shorter. but i will die on the hill that it had another ad break. i understand this person has the thing #recorded with ads so i am thinking maybe different ad breaks in different idk time zones??? #because the finale did air an hour earlier in canada so maybe idk i am reaching here but maybe different states or whatever had different #ad breaks??? as for the last minute changes - wasn't the cover band asked for permission to use their version of carry on like a week before #the thing aired??? so even if the episode was 42 minutes and had no additional ad break - which i am side eying but lets say all was normal #i will always say they were changing thing until the absolute last minute (carry on my wayward son X 2 #the crew on the bridge which is not only giant 4th wall breaking but also wow they really got all those people in one place in times of #covid???) #anyway. tinfoil hat stays on sorry guys :/ (via @officialmisha)
short and snarky: there are plenty of real and sourced examples of network homophobia and scripted/directed destiel scenes being cut to point to. we don’t need to make this stuff up just bc the finale wasn’t what we wanted. so it’s not the mandela effect — it’s ppl repeating a conspiracy/rumor bc it supports their narrative and it’s easier and more fun to repeat something that supports a narrative they already believe (misha or something destiel was cut) vs the boring act of fact checking.
longer circumspect answer with links bc like many ppl i am in my debunking era and i rewatched "roblox_oof" last night.
like i said. i've watched the finale ten times. i’ve gone over the episode with a fine toothed comb and posted a detailed breakdown of timing marks on my blog. it’s actually extremely obvious where the ad breaks are once you know roughly where to look for them (they have a longer fade to black instead of a quick cut scene change). there’s no room for extra ad breaks and i think this conspiracy/rumor persists in part bc the episode feels so sparse in terms of cast and the fact that the episode’s momentum hits a barn post (and rebar) less than 20min into an hour-long programming block.
also i’m begging ppl to actually look at that timing mark post. it’s very straightforward and i spent a lot of time on it. i don’t care if ppl plagiarize it at this point if it means this conspiracy stops. i've got almost every second accounted for.
the "eleven missing scenes" that you're thinking of are probably from the finale script of questionable authenticity that @spnscripthunt acquired back in 2021 which can be found here. it's dated as the “final draft” from 11 sep 2020 and filming on 15x20 wrapped on 10 sep 2020. as noted at the bottom of this superwiki page "[the] script came from someone claiming to have been the person who did the closed captions for the show in Russia. There are some indications that it possibly may not be authentic, but this has not been confirmed."
if we go with the possibility that this was a transcript meant for subtitles, the "omitted" scenes were probably written but never filmed since it's the "final draft" and not a color revision (blue, green, yellow, etc). unfortunately, i’ve lost track of where i read it and a preliminary duckduckgo search isn’t bringing it up bc there's a program for script writing called final draft, but iirc the “final draft” version of a script is a transcript of what was filmed (e.g. there are parts of that 15x20 script that ended up being deleted scenes on the DVD). spnscripthunt also has an example of a confirmed final draft for 09x02 (funnily enough, also a dabb-penned ep). if anyone can confirm with a source that i have the purpose of the “final draft” version designation wrong, please let me know! i love being proven wrong with Facts.
i do want to acknowledge that the two “final drafts” do look different from each other and the 15x20 one doesn't look like a “real” final draft script since it lacks the revision/versioning dates that a script would normally have on the cover page. it could be that it was intended for subtitles; there's the chance it's been re-typed to anonymize it if there was anything indicating who the "owner" was, tho that seems a wee bit cloak and dagger to me. and again: it's considered of questionable authenticity. there are some things that don't quite line up but oh dear god i don't want to get even further out into the weeds than i already am.
i won't disagree that it's weird as hell that neoni only got asked about using their cover seven days prior to the episode airing (tiktok here). my personal theory is that they were hoping to get a more expensive song (maybe a zepp song, idk) and didn't manage to secure the rights in the end. again: this is pure conjecture on my part! but i could absolutely see someone working on the show hearing neoni’s cover and liking it and then maybe they were using it as a placeholder until it got down to the wire and they had to make a call/send the ep to networks. because yes, it is baffling they played a song and then a cover of it with only a 40 second break between. (i do actually really like the neoni cover! the placement is just weird and i think it could have worked if they had the kansas version at the beginning and closed with neoni's full cover.)
as to the 4th wall break COVID stuff: robert singer talked with variety magazine about filming the last two episodes and the logistics of filming during a pandemic. whether they should have been filming during a pandemic is a separate discussion but their use of office vs set pods, strict quarantining and daily testing meant that they had zero positive tests in the month they were filming (18 aug to 10 sep). so given all that, i personally don’t think it’s totally out of pocket to have everyone standing outdoors on a bridge for maybe an hour to get a drone shot of them together. (i won’t get into incubation periods and viral load, but if everyone tested negative that day and every day for a month prior, it was a fairly low risk scene to film outdoors and for all we know everyone was masked until the last possible second. there were plenty of outdoor masked protests in 2020 that weren't superspreader events.)
and before anyone brings up “but misha was in vancouver!” i know someone who looked into it and they said no dice, nothing matched up between the backgrounds in those pics and places in vancouver. his statements about “us” going back to set over the summer were pretty generic in hindsight and “we”/"us" could be him or the spn crew generally. unfortunately i’m not able to find those tweets but the use of “we” was likely so as not to give away he wouldn’t be returning to set. (bc we were absolutely casbaited!) and bc it comes up a lot: the "onion field pic" was from when they were filming 15x17 and was not taken while filming 15x19 and 15x20.
besides, it would be ridiculous to go through the financial and logistical headaches of bringing someone into the country to film during a pandemic, only to cut their scenes in the end! honestly, the script is pretty tight when the scenes are given so much breathing room! the only thing i could see being further cut down is The Monologue and even then, i don’t think there was any intent to cut it down given it was filmed in fairly long takes.
i’ve said it many times before, but i believe the finale was fucked long before they returned to set. walker got the green light in sep 2019 and it was being marketed heavily as a “follow on” show to spn given jared’s involvement. the demo they were courting for walker has little to no overlap with the demo for destiel fans — why would they want a finale that catered to a demo they weren't interested in courting? we just went through a historic double strike that exposed so much of the rot of business interests overriding creative vision. this isn't completely unfounded conjecture.
i will not apologize for the length of this bc i wanted to be thorough, but i do want to give context that i think the reason these conspiracies and rumors grind my gears so much is because anyone can fact check all of this. the truth is out there and absolutely none of it is that hard to find. the most time consuming/difficult part of this was finding someone who had a DVR’d copy of the finale from when it aired live and they actually found me themselves after i’d been low key asking around for a year!
and like. i get it. conspiracies are fun. but there are so many sourced instances of network homophobia and destiel being cut that it's like. why is this something folks are hanging onto? the cw is notorious for having upper level meddling with finales bc there's a follow-on show they want to shuffle fans along to and spn is no exception.
#this is my personal bugbear / debunking hill to die on#it's so easy to disprove and has been disproved for so long at this point and it just keeps. on. getting. repeated.#finales georg#destiel#spn#unfortch most destiel folks don't venture outside the ship harbor and this has been LONG debunked by w/incest blogs#as in like. days after the rumor first started circulating in nov/dec 2020. (and it takes next to nothing!)#i'm a more recent arrival to the fandom (feb 2021) which i think gives me a bit more distance being able to watch the finale 10 times lol#but like. it is RIGHT THERE. folks don't even have to watch the ep. just pull it up on netflix/DVD/whatever to see the runtime.#the 'new post' button is right there. screencap my post and dismiss the effort i've put in somewhere i don't have to see it.#fandom debunking#i heard tommy tallarico was the first american hired to work on supernatural (his mother is very proud)
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Part 1 Here! / Part 2 Here! /Part 3 Here! / Part 4 Here! / Part 5 Here! / Part 6 Here! / Part 7 Here! / Part 8 Here! / Part 9 Here! / Part 10 Here! / Part 11 Here! / Part 12 Here! /Part 13 Here! / Part 14 Here! / Part 15 Here! / Part 16 Here ! / Part 17 Here! / Part 18 Here! / Part 19 Here! / Part 20 here! / Part 21 Here! / Part 22 Here! / Part 23 Here! <This is Part 24!>
And a reminder that my book interest check is still open to run a campaign for the physical version of waking up in pjo, please make sure answer it if you're interested!
A/N :Okay, I think you've been waiting for this one! Hopefully it’ll take my mind of the fact that we were all simping for a person that takes the cringeat nudes
* This is bad
* This is really, really bad
* You watch Ares — Kronos now— in full possession of his body, two inky black voids staring back at you, mouth quirked up in a sadistic grin.
* Your hand tightens around your scepter, eyes flicking to Annabeth, Percy and Grover
* ‘Right now the priority is protecting the children.’
* You tap the ground twice, concentrating on space and time itself wrapping around you ementating a force field, you watch the familiar purple hue begin to take shape, electricity whirring, but before it can reach its crescendo, Kronos waves it’s hand and immediately the field disappears.
* ‘What?’
* “You dare use my own powers against me child?”
* Of course, Kronos was the titan of space and time, your powers won’t work on him.
* And your despair…is nothing compared to what he’s endured, to be cut into tiny pieces at the hands of your own children.
* ‘Hades.’
* But before you can kneel you’re pushed into the ocean, off of your home turf, and ankle deep into unfamiliar land.
* “And there will be no hitting the ground thrice, this is between you and I godling.” He hisses, roaming over you with a keen eye. “You’re just a godling, but I can smell it—the powers of fertility course through your veins.” He licks his lip, as if he’s already imagining devouring you whole.
* ‘What can I do in this situation? Annabeth? No, she’s only got that knife, Grover? No, he only has tin cans and they’re all gone anyway, Percy—‘
* Yes, Percy is the right option. He has a good weapon, and he’s talented too, the sea is his home turf and in the original he beat Ares.
* ‘But even so he’s no match for Kronos.’
* He’s only a twelve year old boy, he needs more time to develop into a hero.
* ‘But I can give him power.’
* A fertility god can grant someone the right to tap into their power, a near limitless supply. You could give that to Percy-
* “Why should you sacrifice yourself for someone else?” A voice whispers in your ear, snapping you out of your thoughts.
* Goosebumps rise down your spine and along your arms.
* “And why should you run from battle?” Another voice calls, you recognize this voice.
* ‘It’s Persephone's voice.’
* “Look at him child, look how he trembles. He needs you, to stay in that body, he’s still not strong enough to inhabit a god’s body while his soul is in Tartarus.” She whispers.
* And sure enough, Kronos is heaving, he has a cocky expression on his face, but you can see the strain across his face.
* ‘He can’t keep this up for much longer.’
* “Descendant of the gods, close your eyes and borrow our power.”
* ‘Well I’m screwed either way.’
* You close your eyes, and for a moment there’s total darkness, and then all at once four eyes open in front of you.
* Green. Purple. Gold. Pink. And Red.
* Staring at you as if appraising you on a pedestal, and then there’s a sound.
* It feels like the howl of wind, the sound of a box unlocking, and the sound of a bird chirping.
* You open your eyes, your body encased in a blue sheen.
* “Aren’t you tired of bending to the will of the gods little godling?”
* ‘I’m tired of you disrupting my sleep for three years.’
* You feel flowers grow out of your skin, encasing your arm, but it doesn’t hurt.
* “Don’t you want your revenge—“
* You raise your hand, the ground beneath him automatically raising as well, as large as any cliff.
* “—you could join me—“
* ‘First he was going to swallow me whole, and now it’s that I can join him huh?’
* You swipe your hand to the side, opening dozens of portals, a bright blue light leaves your scepter traveling through the portals and striking Kronos.
* “—we could rule Olympus together—‘
* ‘The jerk is still talking.’
* You twirl your scepter, transforming it into a bow and arrow.
* “—you will regret this!”
* “Shut the hell up!” The words leave your mouth like a siren’s screech, ichor curling out of his ear as he winces.
* You aim your arrow for his heart and shoot.
* The arrow becomes engulfed in blue light, like a blazing inferno, like—
* ‘It looks like hell fire.’
* There’s a scream and you avert your eyes as Kronos reveals his true form, when he’s gone Ares is left behind.
* Simultaneously whatever power you felt rush into your veins is now gone, leaving a very sore, fourteen year old behind.
* You wade through the water, holding a bleeding and fatigued Ares in your arms.
* “Wh-where am I?” A cough rips through him and you shush him.
* “It’s fine, I’m here now.” Golden light emanates from your hands, and you watch his wounds begin to close.
* “Well who would have thought.” He mumbles to himself.
* “So are you free later tonight?”
* “I’m fourteen you freak.” He gives you a toothy grin.
* “Give me a call in ten years then?”
* Before you can ask if he can get the hell out of here and to Olympus he’s gone in a crack of thunder. Disintegrated to dust before reorganizing into golden light.
* That looks familiar.
* You turn to them, to the two shocked children and the satyr who are staring at you with slack jaws.
* They want answers.
* ‘Well damn, me too. What the hell was that?’
* Before you can organize a single thought, you’re surrounded by policeman.
* ‘Well shit.’
A/N: And that was the soft end of the second arc, I hope you guys liked it! There's a few more parts until the hard end, and I think I have a few more spots on the tag list for anyone interested!
And a reminder that my book interest check is still open to run a campaign for the physical version of waking up in pjo, please make sure answer it if you're interested!
Tag list :
@holybatflapexpert @atomicsoph @fadingunknowncoffee @hopeworldsupremacy @padsfirewhisky @magical-dreamland @kookiedesi @kiritokunuwu @bleepmorp @flickeringlizard @luckyzipperscissorsbat @jessiegerl @undecided-as-always @officiallydarkgeek
@marsbars09 @yizhoutv @alicesolengg @luxaryllis-primaryacc @time-shardz @cryinghotmess @crow-with-a-hoodie @the-nerdy-fangirl @crackedpumpkin @geekyandgay98
@lazydreamers @agentsofblinks @justsomestuffiguessman @elodietea @mxacegrey @angelic-simp @astrial @babypink224221 @weaponb33 @redactedhimbo @heart-charming @psychomanias @aliinunderland
@karnellius @lunavixia @cerberus-the-cutie @bes2005 @girlcrafter408 @loser-keiji
#percy jackson#percy jackson x you#percy jackson x y/n#percy jackon and the olympians#percy jackson imagine#percy jackson x reader#percy jackson and the lightning thief#waking up in pjo#waking up in percy jackson#waking up in percy jackson series#pjo x you#pjo x reader#pjo imagine#hades#hades imagine#hades x reader#hades game#waking up in hades#lore olympus imagine#waking up in lore olympus#lore olympus x reader#lore olympus#superhero--imagines
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I was reading terrible things about Sansa Stark and now my blood is boiling. How could people HATE an 11 yr old child who has absolutely no control over her own life. They went as far as to saying the mountain-clan will kidnap her and she will marry Timit!!!!😳
They also say Sansa will remain in the Vale until the end of the last book, but have no objections to Arya and Dany on a revenge killing spree. And for God's sake don't mention Sansa with Jon. They absolutely go INSANE, saying Dany and Jon will save humanity. Dany can't save anyone if she is killing millions of people and burning others alive.
Sansa will kill LF with the help of Timit is what they say and OHHH, Jon will marry Val. How TF can Val be QINT when she is a wilding and no real princess. She looks the part as Jon says, but we ALL know what kind of woman Jon REALLY CRAVE. A high born willowy creature who brushes her hair waiting for some knight to save her.
Jon craves Sansa Stark aNd I personally believe he always HAVE. My response to "these idiots was this: (and I could be wrong) but who knows.
Alyas Karstark was a red herring. Sansa is definitely the girl in grey. Miranda also has a grey cloak that went missing and WHY would Miranda mention Jon being LC to Sansa? There is a reason for all of that. Just like Arya and Jon were to fall in love in original version, it's going to be Sansa and Jon.
Jon even says he has no sister (,5Never considered Sansa a sister) he then says “my half sister truly” (that's what he and Sansa referred to each other as) He mistakes Melsandra for Ygritte, and says all robes are GREY in the dark, yet suddenly hers were RED. Martin is a hell of a writer, and I was in denial about Sansa being the grey girl as well. Not anymore.
Sansa is getting the hell out of the Vale. There will be no kidnapping from mointain-clans or falling in love with a secondary character such as Timit. What sense would that even make? Some people act as if Sansa doesn't matter, or she is some side character when she has one of the most tragic SAD stories in the whole series. She is scared and do whatever she has to do to survive, even if it means allowing LF to kiss her and molest her in which she has NO CONTROL over. It also blows my mind how people were “shipping” (and I hate that word) Sansa Stark and the HOUND of all monsters. Sansa has had 4 FALE BEASTS in her life. Joffery, Tyrion, The Hound, and LF. These men are evil and takes advantage of a young lonely 11 yr old girl who has been captured like a butterfly in a Jar. They are evil, YES; BUT they are NOT the real BEAST.
The real BEAST is Jon Snow. As we know, Jon was already a bit ruthless before the stabbings. (I do not think Jon died that night) For ONE: We need to think about the SNOW and hypothermia which can save the lives of people who are bleeding by knife wound or gunshot would. It's simple Science. Will Jon be on the brink of death and have a Near death experience? YES. There will be a lot of chaos at Castle Black and the wildings are very loyal to Jon. Eventually they will be ruling the wall while Jon recovers along with a few other loyal CROWS that love and respect Jon.
Master Ameon had a dragon dream when him, Gilly and Sam sailed off. He couldn't shake the feeling that he needed to tell Jon Snow that “ the cold preserves.” A fan asked GRRM about Jon's resurrection, and Martin said, “You think Jon is dead do you?” Maybe he was toying around, but everyone automatically assumed he DIED when there is absolutely NO EVIDENCE.
“He never felt the 4 knife only the cold” How do we even know there was a 4th knife or any other knives afterwards? Why was Jon’s hand clumsy when he tried to pull his sword out? Did they drug him? Why was Ghost acting hostile before the stabbings? Of course Ghost knew what was up. There is no telling who is involved in the attempt on Jon's life. Melsandra told him to watch the ones who smile in his face while they sharpen their daggers. I don't even rule Satin out, as Ive said many, many times.
On the show, Ollie was Satin in my opinion. They did not want to give it away. Back to Jon and Sansa and a few other things. First I want to say, Melsandra will definitely burn Shrinee thinking Stannis is actually dead. She will play absolutely NO PART in bringing Jon back from his “coma”. It's going to be Jon's wolf who saves him and release his soul back into his body, and Ghost will die, also sliding his shadow into Jon because Jon IS GHOST.
He will definitely be a beast and he will not be the same Jon as we know him. This is where Sansa Stark ( girl in grey) will come along and temper Jon just like she did the hound. They will eventually work together and fall in love and struggle with these feelings because keep in mind, Jon and Sansa does not know each other AT ALL. Yes, he will welcome her in open arms and be extremely protective of her, and yes they will fight while trying to get their home back or when they have to rebuild Winterfell together. (The blood of Winterfell)
Sansa Stark is destined to go North because she is the only one out of all the Stark children who has her wolf buried at Winterfell, and as Melsandra like to say: “the bones remember"
#jon snow#jonsa#jon x sansa#sansa stark#jonsa meta#girl in grey#jon x sansa meta#i dont think jon died the boy in him did#jon is in a coma like bran and will warg ghost
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