#« All In One » est un talk-show

[agendabymooner]

SOMETHING AGREEABLE !!! ESTEBAN O. X FEM!READER X PIERRE G. (18+)

summary: the two alpine drivers were always thought to have been rivals. but little did people know, they’ve always had an affinity for one thing and she was something of a middle ground for them.

content warning: smut under the cut (minors dni!), blurb because i’m tryna get out of a writing slump, explicit language, double penetration, dumbification and size kink if you squint, mentions of team relationships (drivers friendships etc), french dialogue

note: “we have a french sandwich at home” the french sandwich at home:

enjoy xx

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a - n masterlist // o - z masterlist

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people always assumed that the two alpine drivers were nothing but rivals within close proximity. 

they always wondered how esteban ocon and pierre gasly interacted off the track and during their meetings, and if they were on each other’s throats all the time. 

both men had scoffed when they were asked about their relationship off the track— and how they were often pit against each other. 

pierre thought that this was outrageous that he even dropped names of teams that showed lack of off-track friendships or even relationships, telling the reporter that not even his best friend charles leclerc and carlos sainz had something of a friendship away from the cameras. 

esteban and pierre’s friendship was genuine, unlike most people in the grid. even if the alpine duo would argue, they’d always find a middle ground. 

one in the form of a woman, who was stuck between two bodies as esteban and pierre fucked her whilst her lips offered nothing but silent gasps and incoherent mumbles. 

esteban’s arms hooked under her legs as he devoured her mouth sweetly, his cock pistoning in and out of her cunt and making lewd noises as he did so. he hadn’t even allowed her to hook her legs around his hips, instead he lifted her as he thrusted and out of her while he stood. 

she could feel her heart beat rapidly moving, saliva sliding down her bare tits as she craved for more. 

“une fille si impatiente,” such an eager girl. esteban tutted, wiping the liquid off her lips away as he continued to bottom out inside of her. “do you like that, mon cherie?” 

“ye- yeah,” she stammered quietly, crying out when pierre thrusted inside her hole and bottomed out as well. she sunk into both of their cocks, her holes completely filled by their girth and length as she babbled, “oh, oh- fuck. ‘m so full.” 

“yes you are, bebe,” pierre growled from behind her as he and esteban began to thrust inside her. he then taunted her and nipped her ear, “si serré pour nous. est-ce que tu aimes ça? se faire baiser plein de nos bites?” so tight for us. do you like this? being fucked full of our cocks?

she wasn’t able to pick up on any words after they began to move once more, her mind going on an overdrive as the two men took over her senses and had her brain melting. her mind was overwhelmed with pleasure and the feeling of both of their cocks inside her holes. 

“she can’t even speak,” esteban smiled smugly when she uttered nothing but a silent scream, her eyes rolling back as esteban repeatedly hit the sensitive spot inside her pussy. “i think we fucked her too much.” he laughed with pierre. 

pierre’s hands snaked around her stomach as he murmured, “look at you, bebe. i can feel estie’s dick inside of you. so big no?”

“mm,” she cried quietly, now being lifted up and down by esteban and pierre as they increased their pace. “oh fuck! s’good. please fuck me harder, please.” 

pierre merely looked at esteban and exchanged smiles with him, eager to fuck her as she wanted. 

after all, she was someone that they could always agree on. talk about real friendship.

♡ moony’s reminder 🅶 (general): @hiraethrhapsody @avaleineandafryingpan @topguncultleader @enhacolor @roseandtulips @woweewoowa @magnummagnussen @happy-nico @architect-2015

♡   moony’s reminder 🅴 (explicit edition): @glitterf1 @savrose129 @maxillness

#esteban ocon smut #esteban ocon imagine #pierre gasly smut #pierre gasly imagine #pierre gasly x reader #esteban ocon x reader #f1 smut #♔ something sinful ⎯ f1 smut #formula one imagine #eo31 #pg10 #pierresteban

[amirasainz]

The avengers of Formula 1

request: Would love to see baby sainz suddenly approached by a male who is not in F1 and suddenly everyone shows up like the avengers to scare him away ❤️❤️❤️

It was a sunny day at the Marina Bay street circuit. It was the first time Amira had ever visited Singapore. One could clearly see how delighted Carlos was to have his baby sister by his side.

As they entered the paddock, the Sainz siblings were surrounded by Carlos’s fellow colleagues. Of course, it was just a coincidence that Lewis, Lando, and Oscar were at the entrance as well. It’s not like they had been waiting there for the past 20 minutes.

As soon as Carlos saw them, he knew what he had to do. “Hermanita, look! There’s a bit of shade. Why don’t you sit down and wait for me for a second? I will come back with an umbrella. We wouldn’t want you to get a sunburn, right?”

“Okay, Chilli,” she answered with a dimpled smile. Carlos swore his heart melted. He leaned down and gave her head a quick kiss. When he turned around, the other drivers were already approaching. After a quick look back at his hermanita, Carlos began to drag those demons away from his darling sister.

“Hey! You can’t just drag me away like a potato sack, you muppet!” Lando complained. Lewis and Oscar followed them like little children.

“Muppet? MUPPET?! You do not get to call me a muppet when you’ve been lurking at the entrance like a… a… como un bicho raro!”

When Lewis and Oscar started to chuckle, Carlos immediately turned to them. “And YOU! How dare you wait for my sister. I expected it from Lando,” “Hey!” “But you two? Unbelievable!”

During their scolding, the quartet was approached by other drivers. Charles was gloating with happiness. For once, he was not on the receiving end of Carlos’s yelling.

After some time, it was George who interrupted Carlos’s yelling. “Oh, what the hell?! Who is THIS idiot?” All the drivers turned to look at what George was pointing at.

There she was. Amira Sainz was talking to a man. A stranger! From far away, they could see the guy trying to flirt with her. But baby girl was that dense and thought he was just a nice guy trying to strike up a conversation.

When he sat down next to her, the other drivers exchanged amused glances. Carlos clenched his fists, ready to intervene if necessary. Little did he know that this chance encounter would change everything.

When he sat down next to her, the drivers saw red. How dare he sit down next to her, talk to her, or even breathe the same air as her?!

Quicker than a Mercedes F1 car, all the drivers sprinted to her side. The air filled with screams of “Oi, Idiote!” and “Hijo de puta!” and “Back the fuck off, dude!”—followed by Oscar’s emphatic “Stranger Danger!”

Imagine Baby Sainz’s surprise. One second she was chatting with the friendly stranger who called her the most beautiful girl in the world, and the next, she was engulfed by her brother and her friends. From the outside, it looked like a massive puppy pile.

While the drivers were busy scolding the man (and ensuring he’d be banned from the track), Carlos raced to Amira’s side. He instantly dropped to his knees and cradled her face in his hands.

“Pobrecito mío. ¿Este idiota te estaba molestando? ¿Estaba siendo grosero? ¡Oh, Santa María, estás tan pálida!” During Carlos’s rapid-fire rant, she just stared at him with wide eyes. When she made a confused noise, he immediately stood up, took his sister’s hand, and led her toward the parking lot.

“Oh, my poor hermanita. I’m so sorry. Let’s go shopping and grab something to eat. That must have been really scary!”

With that, the Sainz siblings left the track and headed to the nearest high-fashion shop.

As for the man? Well, let’s just say he vanished from the racing scene—never to be seen on any track again. 😇

Let me know what you thought about this littles piece. My request are OPEN. I will try to update as soon as possible💕

-XoXo

@barcelonaloverf1life @omgsuperstarg @formula1mount @xoscar03 @stinkyjax @khaylin27 @iamapersonwholikesunicorns @tinyhrry

#charles leclerc x reader #george russell x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #lando norris x reader #carlos sainz x sister!reader #baby!sainz!sister #oscar piastri x reader

[hedgehog-moss]

Salut madame hedgehog moss!

Maintenant je me prépare à déménager à une toute petite ville au nord-est des États Unis près de la frontière avec Nouveau Brunswick (donc une ville peu peuplée et très rurale). Maintenant j'habite dans une grande ville alors je suis certaine qu'il y aura un peu de décalage au début. Je sais que t'as déménager de Paris vers une très petite village donc peut être tu as des conseils pour comment je peux m'intégrer dans une telle communauté?

Désolé pour des fautes de grammaire. Le français n'est pas ma langue maternelle.

Hi! Your French is really good! :)

I'm not sure I'm the best person to ask for advice on how to fit in with a small rural community, as I chose to live in the woods a few km away from the nearest village because I moved to the countryside in search of solitude. I only leave my lair for groceries once every ten days or so—I'm on a solid "easy friendly small talk" basis with most locals, but I'm only better acquainted with a handful of them, the ones I interact with regularly by force of circumstance (the librarian because I'm a devoted library-goer, the postwoman, the farmer who owns the pasture next to mine...) and that's a level of integration in the community I'm happy with.

I suppose the main thing is to show curiosity and appreciation for the local way of life, rather than expect to live exactly the way you did in the city, but the specifics of what this entails vary a lot depending on locality. Participating in the local small economy, if there is one, is good—I try to attend the yearly events and fairs at the village, like the potter's market; I bought a jumper from the wool shop in town rather than ordering something online, and I buy fruit at the summer market and seedlings for my garden, and some cheeses, from the local farms that sell them, rather than getting stuff from the supermarket even though it would often be more convenient. But I'm glad there are still family farms and local artisans so it's important to support them. There's also a thriving informal gift economy in my village, I offer eggs from my chickens and homemade jams or syrups and later down the line neighbours reciprocate with seedlings or firewood, etc, the more you'll participate in this sort of thing (if it exists) the more connections you'll make.

Another thing re: being appreciative of the local way of life—I know the city people who are disliked around here are the ones who buy land and use it like they would a suburban plot, e.g. build a swimming-pool, mow the grass, remove all 'weeds' indiscriminately (I know brambles are annoying but birds nest in there and eat the berries, you've got to leave some...), or cover their dirt road with asphalt instead of just shovelling some gravel when it gets muddy, etc. Again the specifics vary depending on locality, but people are attached to their local landscapes and way of doing things and as someone who owns some land and has seen the way locals reacted to other people who bought land around here, you're clearly perceived differently if you have a spirit of maintaining and repairing and appreciating the place for what it is, rather than remodelling and innovating and adapting it to what you want it to be.

Also you've got to accept that it can take a very long time to become part of a close-knit community, and try not to take things personally—I remember someone commenting on one of my posts a few years ago that she felt rejected by the people in her village because she was still seen as an outsider, and not allowed to take part in the organisation of some local events, several years after moving there. I wouldn't see not getting to help organise an event as a hostile behaviour towards me, I don't really expect to be included on every level, if locals feel like some things are for people who've lived here their whole lives, okay. I know rural communities are not the most diverse places and I'm not saying to accept discrimination due to bigotry of any kind, but in terms of "being kept out of some things or treated differently because you're not from this specific place", I do see it as something to be accepted. If I'm still seen as a city person and an outsider twenty years from now, so be it, as long as people aren't outright rude about it. I don't think of not being welcome to everything as rude, there are just boundaries that exist and so be it. I'm not saying someone would be wrong for being hurt by this type of exclusion, just that it helps to have this "don't take it personally" attitude when moving to a rural village.

Having a llama also really helps! The only reason I got acquainted with lots of local people in my first year here was because Pampe kept running away and I kept having to knock on people's doors with like a photo of her and go hi, have you seen this criminal. And then people would stop me at the grocery shop or something two weeks later like, did you end up finding your criminal? And I'd complain about her and they'd sympathise and tell me about their own annoying animals. I can't recommend animal misdemeanours enough as a source of friendly mutual understanding with rural neighbours.

Oh and speaking of complaining—another obvious way to integrate in a small community is to fight together against a common enemy. This is anecdotal but last year a state-owned company started to build a metallic structure (I'm trying not to be too specific) outside the village and it spoilt the landscape a bit, and I hesitated to grumble about it when making small talk because I was half-expecting to come across as an annoying city person, complaining about aesthetics while local people's livelihoods would be improved by this thing—but not at all, people also hated the look of it and were like "they hardly even consulted local authorities on this, they think we don't get to have an opinion on what our land looks like" and we went to the town hall to complain and the mayor agreed with us and eventually we complained enough that the company replaced the metal parts with wooden ones, so it at least looks more natural and more discreet in the landscape. It was very satisfying to come together and have this happen, and I never felt more integrated in the local community than when I was in the town hall complaining with everybody else.

#ask

[nalyra-dreaming]

Hi! Love your blog!

We know that made Lestat's abuse of Louis way more prominent in show (decision I still don't agree with but that's not the matter) and we have Jacob saying that s2 is way darker than book. People speculate that it's because they'll include FrankenClaudia who technically wasn't in this particular book but do you think they'll make Loumands relationship more toxic too like they did with Loustat? (I know they added romance to loustat but they also added beating scene that was on way way more smaller scale in book). Do you think they'll add more gaslighting? Emphasize on Armand making Louis turn Madeleine against his will?

Thank you for answering!

Hey nonny!

So glad you like!

I do think that they will heavily lean into that, yes. (And this "interview" is already held with the content of several books, so imho it doesn't really matter where the content comes from... Rolin held 6? or 7 books up to the camera^^). This will be a bit longer^^:

As all things are said to be revisited we will see how s1 will hold up, but of course it will stay correct that they emphasized the abuse vector. And that is a very valid thing for the Vampire Chronicles! There is a LOT in there, especially abuse, but also like... everything else, too. (As the Twitter discourse currently on Marius also... shows.)

So to get back to your actual question: yes I do think they will emphasize this part (though if they add more? We will see.), I think they have already hinted at that in season 1, but the book canon and their chosen promotional posters give us a very poignant hint here as well.

If we look at the "elevator posters" for example, we have Lestat, Louis and Claudia looking sideways at the observer*, in various state of emotions: fear, anger, and aware consternation (maybe), respectively.

And then we have Armand, *the observer, who looks down the length of his nose at them, with an air of superiority and a hint of a smile, clearly the one in charge:

It is also important to note that he is half in shadow but from the front here, not sideways as the others. The other three are almost completely "in the light", visible as it were. Armand... is not.

Now, if you remember the poster of season 1, then this is a direct echo of it, as well as a development from it:

Lestat was only half visible, behind Louis, since we only heard of him through Louis. Now he is in the same "position" as Louis and Claudia, almost fully revealed.

It is interesting that those elevator pictures keep Claudia in this position here, too, but it makes sense when one knows what will revealed only in later books about her and her play (I have talked about the twist from Merrick).

Now the posters sold at SDCC are equally interesting, because they speak their own language:

First off, we have Louis, holding the mask of Lestat in his hand, a mask taken off, and the mask echoes Lestat's "death face". He is looking into space, beyond it, and he seems to be seated in the back of a stage (given that we have a scene photo with Lestat seated on stage that carries ... repercussions^^).

"La mémoire est un monstre". The second half of IWTV is (among other things of course) Louis yearning for Lestat and learning a few... uncomfortable truths. Masks are taken off, and the revelations will be bloody. Louis will be condemned to be a spectator for some of them, and in the book it culminates in a very poignant speech about passivity.

And then there's Claudia. "La famille est un monstre." Dancing as Carmen, the red flamenco dress making her seem older than she is (supposed to be). The dress emulates flames, the audience is dead. She is almost smirking at the beholder, definitely proud of who she is, and her feet are naked.

"Carmen, a searing depiction of a woman who craves love, but creates obsession and jealousy, is one of the most popular operas ever written." (x)

The Carmen reference feels perfect for me, it will be very interesting to see which aspects they take up for the show, who Madeleine will be, given the World War 2 context, and the jealousy of the soldier in the original opera.

Then there is "L'amour est un monstre". Love is a monster. Love is the monster. The lover is the monster. For these vampires all these variations fit, and I do not just mean Loumand here, but generally.

Armand seems to say something to Louis, who is looking into space, with a slight frown.

The movie poster from "Gaslight", a movie about a whirlwind romance and the new husband isolating the wife from the world and "gaslighting" her to make her appear mad and doubt her own sanity to get at what she possesses... now the IWTV people know what they're doing *laughs*

Anyone who has read IWTV and TVA knows that Armand spell-binds Louis on several occasions, and influences him to do things, for example turning Madeleine, as you mentioned.

Interestingly enough there is also a man with a face half in light, half in shadows here - and that is echoed on Louis in the poster, one half is painted red - indicating he doubles with the police officer of the movie, discovering the things that are supposed to be hidden from him.

And, last but definitely not least, the general poster, without caption:

Lestat is "almost" revealed, our "view" of him still restricted somewhat by Louis and Claudia, as well from the theater curtain.

Claudia is engaged with whatever is happening beyond our view, Louis... is not. He is restraining himself, hands in pockets, mouth set and his gaze is dark, somewhere between accusation and anger. Lestat's gaze is open here, carrying a vague challenge, an expectation.

If we take the elevator pictures back into account one could argue they are looking at Armand here - and that would fit with the story:

Lestat will come to Armand hoping for something, expecting something. Louis will come to some very uncomfortable realizations, and events that will make him beyond angry. Claudia will try to move on, leave Armand behind. And even Louis, arguably.

So to wrap this up: I'm not sure they will add more gaslighting. More toxicity.

Because I don't think they actually need to! There is plenty there already. They will however build on what's there, and it has been more than hinted at imho. (Arguably that happened in season 1 as well, as a lot of that ep 5 scene echoes something in later books, and we will know only after season 2 how it will click into place.)

Armand uses his spell-gift on Louis even after promising not to do it (in the book, I talked about it here), and given how this show drags things into the light they will definitely hook into this. I think both definitions of "gaslighting" will apply - given the structure of the show they might make Armand the "villain" (that he was in the first books) this time round, though of course this word doesn't quite fit for these vampires.

Armand is the one who tortures Nicki and chops off his hands. We are getting flashbacks to that time, and we know that we will get to see Lestat and Nicki in that time. I would bet money on it that they will explore that part of their history.

Armand is the one who tortures Lestat, and uses him to pull the mock trial off.

Armand is the one who throws Lestat off a tower, challenging him to love him... a scene many book readers expect to at the very least echo, if not replace the ep5 scene, depending on how they spin it.

Armand is the one who influences Louis to do things, and who lies to both Louis and Lestat about the other.

Armand is the one who has Claudia (and Madeleine) killed, because she was in the way.

I know show only viewers see Lestat as the epitome of toxicity right now, but... he's actually not. Jacob put it well in that interview that Louis is "angry at him and presents him as a monster".

The show made choices, and given that it's Lestat (who is just the tiniest bit important for the following seasons/books after all)... this requires other choices to be made.

And going by the posters they have given us - they do.

#Anonymous #asks #ask nalyra #toxicity #gaslighting #gaslight #amc iwtv #iwtv #amc interview with the vampire #interview with the vampire amc #iwtv amc #iwtv 2022 #interview with the vampire #lestat de lioncourt #louis de pointe du lac #loustat #armand #loumand #claudia de lioncourt #iwtv claudia #posters #iwtv meta #iwtv s2 #monster #poster #elevator

[pedrithink]

prenuptial (2) ✩ kylian mbappé

summary: you and kylian are getting married and the subject of the prenuptial agreement comes into play, but kylian is not so sure about this.

[part 1]

"Your mother has scheduled it for 9:30 tomorrow morning, okay?" You run your hand in a light caress over Kylian's head.

Confusion takes over Kylian's expression. "Hm? What?"

"Stop tripping and pay attention to the things I tell you." You let out a playful chuckle as you pout. "The prenup. We're signing it tomorrow."

Kylian bites his lower lip lightly and tries not to let it show, but he has so much to tell you right now. He doesn't quite know what to do and feels he needs to get it out of his head.

A warning immediately pops into his head to try to get this worry out of his mind and he mentally marks of thinking more about it and having an exact way to talk to you about everything that has been haunting his mind.

"Yeah, sure." Kylian's half-forced smile leaves you confused and you move closer to leave a light caress on his face.

"What? You've been scattered since we talked about this." Your frown frowns, you really can't understand what is going on in Kylian's head. "If it's about me being upset, relax, Kylian. I told you, it's more than fine with me."

Kylian lets out a frustrated sigh. "No, love. It's not that, it's just..." He runs his hand across his face. It's crazy how the frustration of not knowing what to say to you hits him like an avalanche. "I don't know."

"Don't dwell on it too much." You hold his hands to try to pass on a little more confidence about the situation. "It's going to be okay, it's material things and that's not important to me."

You know it's not easy for Kylian, you understand how he must be feeling and you don't blame him for having this relapse of "fear." But, nothing will be able to bring that feeling of upset upon you because of this arrangement.

For Kylian, there already comes the issue that you have shared years of your life with him and he has shared years of his life with you. You were and are present in his life every day, giving your immeasurable support and your constant consolation, always finding ways to make him feel better when he loses a game or always celebrating when he brings a world cup to his country.

It's just a form of gratitude. You deserve it too, you deserve the money that comes along with it.

"It's all right, love. Just a worry I need to put out of my mind." Kylian smiles weakly as he pulls you into a hug. "I love you. Immeasurably."

The whisper of an "I love you" that comes out of his lips makes Kylian's heart expand with so much love and you can only concentrate on hugging him tighter and tighter.

You spend the entire morning together, doing your daily chores and some leisure activities all together to try to make up for the homesickness that hits you when you go through a busy work week.

At night, Kylian takes advantage of your tiredness and takes care to go to another room when he sees that you have fallen asleep. He really feels lost and doesn't quite know how to rearrange his thoughts, so it's inevitable when he hits the button to call his mother.

"Kylian?" Fayza's voice is heard along with the sound of some voices in the background of the call. "Y a-t-il un problème?” (Is there a problem?)

Kylian frowns. "Bonjour, maman. Tu es occupée?” (Hi, mom. Are you busy?)

"Non, ce sont juste des amis d'Ethan qui sont venus aujourd'hui. (No, it's just some of Ethan's friends who came over today.)” She lets out a giggle and Kylian hears a few footsteps until they stop. “Qu'est-ce qu'il y a? Tu n'es pas du genre à appeler beaucoup à cette heure-ci. Il s'est passé quelque chose?” (What's up? You're not one to call much at this hour. Did something happen?)

Kylian's thumb rests on his lips and he tries to resist the urge to bite his fingernail from so much anxiety. There are so many thoughts and feelings that he can't control himself.

"Que faites-vous quand vous avez l'impression qu'une chose est juste, mais que trop de gens vous en font douter?” (What do you do when you feel like one thing is right, but too many people make you doubt it?) He fires off the question, without even giving him a chance to assimilate.

"Hm...right." Fayza gasps, and the confusion is palpable in her voice. "Je te dirais de suivre ton cœur et ton intuition, je sais que ça fait cliché, mais ils savent déjà ce que tu veux vraiment. Tout le reste est secondaire.” (I would tell you to follow what your heart and intuition say, I know that sounds cliché, but they already know what you really want. Everything else is secondary.)

Kylian shakes his head positively and for a moment forgets that his mother cannot see him. "Mais pourquoi? Tu ne vas pas me dire ce qui te passe par la tête?” (But why? Aren't you going to tell me what's going through your mind?)

"Tu le sauras demain, maman. Merci pour le conseil.” (You'll find out tomorrow, Mom. Thanks for the advice.)

Kylian says goodbye to Fayza briefly, and in his heart it is clearly imprinted that he is going to follow the script the way he always wanted.

Soon, he goes to bed and when morning comes, he is awakened by her sudden movement around the room. When you see Kylian with his eyes ajar, you smile and approach the bed to caress his face lightly.

"Hey, love. Get up, it’s almost 9:00." Kylian purrs at the cuddling you do and tries not to fall asleep again, but suddenly he sits up in bed and leaves a light kiss on your lips, then gets up to get ready.

He wants to end this situation as soon as possible and let peace reign in his mind.

One minute he is getting ready and the next you are in front of the place to sign the whole agreement.

Kylian can't hide his anxiety and you can only get more and more confused, not knowing what to do to get any insecurity out of his head.

With his leg shaking and the pen in his hands, Kylian can't hold it in. "I don't want to do that."

You and Fayza stare at each other in confusion as Kylian drops the pen on top of the paper. "I don't want to sign that paper."

Fayza directs her gaze at him and as a mother, attends to the way he seems totally sincere about it. "What do you mean by that, Kylian?"

"Kylian stop fooling around, just sign it." You let out a nervous laugh and poke at his leg with your foot. The fear of Fayza thinking you influenced this scares you a little.

"No, I don't want to. You fought for that money too and when we get married I want you to have the peace of mind that my money is yours too." Kylian takes a stand and lays out everything that has been troubling his mind these days. "Mom, she is everything to me. When I told you that night that I was going to marry her. I meant that I want to 100% commit and share everything of myself with her. I mean it in the emotional and financial sense."

Fayza shakes her head as she faces Kylian. "I know you and my father have given everything for me, but I don't want to sign this and feel bad for not giving the trust of something I am most sure of in this world." Kylian directs his gaze to you. "I know that you and I are forever, okay? I know that. But, if something goes wrong, I want to make sure that you will have a life full of tranquility and without having to kill yourself for it."

After Kylian speaks all that has tormented him, you have your eyes watering and Fayza a little smile on her face.

"Fine by me." Fayza's reaction makes Kylian's eyes widen and you are surprised too. He thought it would be a little difficult to convince her. "I'm sure you two are forever, you're made for each other."

Kylian shakes his head positively and tries to hold back a smile, but turns to you and holds your hands. "Ky, are you sure?"

The uncertainty in your voice makes his heart hook. "That is the second most certain thing I am in life, my love."

"Second?" Confusion hits all sides of your mind and your face can't hide the expression. "What would be the first?"

"That I want to spend the rest of my life by your side."

#kylian mbappe x reader #kylian mbappe fluff #kylian mbappe #kylian mbappe x you #kylian mbappe imagine #kylian mbappe fanfic #football one shot #football imagine #football x reader #football fanfic #kylian x reader #kylian imagines

[sainzfilm]

omg i love that carlos drable, do you think you can do one in which they are friends or enemies but he gets jealous and they confess their feelings?

pairing: carlos sainz x reader

a/n: PLEASEEE oh my god i love this kind of trope 😭 thank you for requesting and i hope you like it anon! :) lmk what you think hehehe

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“Happy birthday, Cha!” You grinned as you threw your arms around your childhood best friend, “I am ready to party tonight!”

Charles chuckled as he ruffled up your hair and yelled through the blaring music, “Thank you, petit chou. Have you seen your favorite person?”

“Blech, don’t remind me about him,” You groaned as you pretended to throw up, “All your other friends are nice! But him? Mon dieu, il est une menace!” My god, he’s a menace.

“You know, you did spill coffee all over him for like…three times,” Charles laughed as he guided you to a table with his friends inside the bar, “I can’t blame Carlos.”

Frowning, you punched his shoulder playfully as you sat down and smoothened your skirt, “Just because it’s your birthday doesn’t mean you’re exempted from my punches.”

“Peu importe ce que tu dis,” He grinned as he patted your head, “I’ll head over to Charlotte, just ring me up, okay? The bar’s just everyone I know so don’t worry.” Whatever you say.

“Go on, birthday boy,” You laughed as you tried to push him away, “I’ll see you later.”

Charles smiled at you as he headed off to the other side of the party, leaving you with the other drivers on the grid. Carlos was at the far end of the table, exchanging glances every now and then, but you never bothered to strike up a conversation and opted one with the blonde haired German driver instead.

“Just look at her,” Mick smiled as he showed you pictures of his dog, Angie, on his phone, “A tennis ball seriously can’t last for long with her!”

“Oh my god, my dog too!” You laughed as you took a sip of your drink, “I had to hoard on the tennis balls instead of running out to get one everyday.”

“You know what? We should definitely let them play together sometime,” He offered as he set his phone down, “I feel like Angie needs to have more pup friends.”

“That’d be great!” You eagerly nodded as you grabbed your phone and opened your contacts list before handing it to Mick, “Just put yourself in my contacts. I hope Stella and Angie would get along well.”

Mick smiled as he handed you back your phone, “You know what people say, dogs can reflect their owners and you’re nice.”

“Aw, thank you, Mick. I could say the same to you,” You smiled as you patted his shoulder before standing up, “I’ll catch you later?”

As Mick nodded in response, you smiled as you headed out to the back door of the bar to catch some fresh air on the balcony. But, what you didn’t know was that a certain someone followed you out.

“Guess you’ve got a thing for Mick now, huh?”

Frowning from knowing that voice, you turned around to see Carlos leaning against the wall, “What about it?”

“Nothing, nothing,” He chuckled as he shrugged, “Anyone knows what he was trying to do.”

“Oh please, Sainz,” You rolled your eyes as you crossed your arms, “All we talked about was our dogs!”

“Sure, princesa,” He smirked as he mirrored your stance and expression, “It’s obvious he was into you.”

“Are you being fucking serious right now?” You looked at him with annoyance written all over your face, “Why do you care anyways?”

“I don’t,” He grumbled as he kicked at the ground before walking to stand beside you, “I’m just saying. I don’t think he’s good enough for you.”

“And why is that?” You faced him as you poked at his chest and glaring, “Mick has been nicer to me in a span of an hour, compared to how you’ve been an asshole to me for nearly half a year!”

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah, that’s right,” You scoffed as you confidently looked up at him, “Asshole.”

“You’re seriously trying to pick a fight with me?”

“And what if I am?” You gritted through your teeth, “I’m so fucking tired of your immaturity when I’ve tried to be nice to you! If I didn’t have any respect for Charles, I would’ve never bothered to try and make amends with you!”

Carlos raised his eyebrow as he looked down at you, “Are you finished?”

“No, I’m just getting started!” You throw your hands up as you paced around the balcony, “I hate the way you treat me, how you fucking stare at me. I hate your dumb smile when you’re with other people except me. I hate your stupid laugh, especially when Charles tells you some pointless joke.”

Before Carlos could open his mouth, you raised your finger up at him as you continued, “Every single time a fucking guy tries to talk to me, you always make some stupid comment and it drives them away!”

Carlos took a deep breath and walked over to you, putting his hands on your shoulders, “Now are you finished?”

You sighed as you rubbed a hand down your face, “I’m just so done, Carlos.”

“Princesa…” He trailed off as he whispered, “I just- kiss me.”

“What did you just say?”

“Kiss me,” Carlos looked down at you, gently tucking your hair behind your ear.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you took a deep breath and leaned in to kiss who you had thought to be your enemy.

Carlos smiled throughout the kiss, dropping his hands to your waist to hold you closer. This can’t be happening, he thought as he felt like this was just a dream.

You pulled away as it started to sink in. You kissed the guy you were supposed to hate.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” You exclaimed as you ran a hand through your hair, “What just happened?”

“We kissed,” Carlos shrugged as he had a small smile on his face, “It was pretty nice.”

“Was this your plan all along?” You looked at him, crossing your arms, “Rile me up by being an ass? Then you drive all the other guys away because you’re jealous?”

“Maybe,” He smirked as he shoved his hands inside his pocket, “You’re cute when you’re angry.”

“Oh just shut up and kiss me.”

“Whatever you say, princesa.”

bonus scene!

“You know you need to go,” You mumbled as Carlos kissed you while you were seated on his lap, “He is going to be looking for you.”

“I don’t care,” He replied back as he pulled away to brush your hair out of your face, “I just need time with my girl first.”

“Baby, we’ll have plenty of time later. You scheduled to work out with Cha.”

He grumbled as he pouted, “Stupid mistake.”

“Ay, don’t worry,” You smiled as you kissed his cheek, “I’ll be here when you get back.”

“Okay fine,” Carlos mumbled and kissed your forehead, “I’ll cook pasta for us after, cariño.”

As you held onto Carlos a little longer, the two of you didn’t hear a certain Monégasque driver come in Carlos’ apartment.

“Hey, mate, what’s taking yo- when the fuck did this happen?!”

#sainzfilm drabbles #carlos sainz jr x reader #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz jr imagine #f1 driver x reader #f1 imagine #fluff #f1 imagines #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 #drabble #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #carlos sainz #carlos sainz jr #ferrari #cs55 #carlos sainz fluff #carlos sainz jr fluff #enemies to lovers #carlos sainz jr oneshot #carlos sainz oneshot #carlos sainz jr fanfic #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz drabble #carlos sainz jr drabble

[liz-allyn]

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

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

words: 11.8k (omfg)

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

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

names used: daddy, princess, baby, babygirl

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

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

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

#1 - Love on the Brain

>>> heya boss. how’s your trip? 😜

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

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

He rolled his eyes, swallowing back an irritated snort.

Real mature, Felicia. 

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

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

An understatement.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Honey was unimpressed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God, that dress. 

Peter planned for everything—but not that dress. 

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

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

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

Truthfully, he needed her to come home.

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

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

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

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

Followed quickly by—

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

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

Five restaurants later...

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

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

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

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

>>> ...???? 

He rolled his eyes. Tapped out a response.

<<< Not great.

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

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

“Like what?” she questioned skeptically.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Peter felt his blood pressure rising.

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

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

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

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

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

“Pedro.”

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

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

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

Buzz..

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was flailing. Pathetic.

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

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

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

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

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

“This is as far as you go.” 

Peter blinked, looking at her in confusion.

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

Peter curled a brow upwards. “Sorry?” 

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

He took a step back, blinking owlishly. 

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

A literal ellipsis formed in his mind. 

Peter swallowed hard. “Uhhh—?”

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

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

“You know!?”

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

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

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

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

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

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

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

“Honey, please. Let me explain—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Unbelievable.

Absolutely unacceptable. 

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

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

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

He was a little bitch.

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

The door swung open. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There’s my girl.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not a rabbit. A honey badger, then.

“Get off of me!” Honey spat.

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

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

“Mmffucker—Let me go!”

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

“No.” 

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

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

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

He hoped she would. 

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

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

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

Brave girl. 

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

Pointless, though. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fucking asshole!” Honey sneered.

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

“Fuck you!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was exquisite and expensive. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Peter was unimpressed. “Liar.”

“M’not lying—!”

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

“Fuck you! What do you know—?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey—Eyes on me,” he commanded.

Mesmerized, Honey blinked up at him like a fawn.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

RIP!

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

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

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

“I don’t care.”

“—re’such an asshole—”

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

“You left me!” she fired back.

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

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

“What was my drink order?”

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

Her brows pinched together. “Huh—?”

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

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

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

She arched a brow. 

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

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

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

Honey and Lavender. 

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

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

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

Reluctantly, she nodded.

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

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

Still, it was a risk he had to take. 

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

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

That word settled like a boulder crushing his chest.

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

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

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

There he is. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh…uhm—?”

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

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

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

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

“Sorry,” he muttered, not sorry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh.

He needed more of that sound.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But she was his wild colt. Difficult to break.

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

“Fuck—gah—ohhhhh…”

He licked up each broken syllable.

“Yes! Oh, god, yes! Oh—” 

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

“...Pedro.”

Halt.

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

Mischievously, Honey’s grin widened. 

She got him, alright. 

Flawless victory.

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

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

Now, she was in trouble.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She was in trouble. But was she in danger?

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

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

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

“Ple-please—“

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

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

The savage tone contrasted with the glow of his eyes. 

It was always opposites with him.

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

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

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

Or… if she wanted it.

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

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

That was a mistake and an impossible endeavor. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Another slap to her cunt made her whole body shake. 

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

Slap. 

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

Slap! Slap! Slap!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, yes—He was weak for that sound.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck—she was going to come from this. 

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

Then, another sharp slap. 

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

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

He sucked on her clit.  “Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

He simply grinned.

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

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

“Mmm...m’sorr—ow—agh!”

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

“Pleasepleasepleaseyes—it’syoursit’syoursallyours—”

His eyes swam over her body, drunk with lust.

All mine. 

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

But he was willing to pivot.

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

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

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

And god, she'd forgotten he was thick.

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

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

More. She wanted more.

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

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

He paused. 

Uh-oh. Did she say that out lo—?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She was magnificent. 

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

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

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

Perverse. Debauched. Divine. It made her lightheaded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He snickered as if he’d won a prize. 

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

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

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

Embarrassment flooded her despite her persistent mewling. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

All he could think of was more. 

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

“All mine, all mine…”

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

Then—He’d make her his whore.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh. 

More. Of. That.

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

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

“Everything,” he corrected.

“Everythi—god—I’m yours, Pete—ahh!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He wondered. 

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

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

Unlikely.

He marveled. 

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

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

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

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

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

He saw the ellipsis bubbling up on his screen. 

<<< Not another word.

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

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

Nothing worth waiting for ever is.

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

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

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

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

Not just any cat.

She unlocked the phone to see the latest message.

>>> how’d it go? u give him hell?

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

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

There was the one from last month:

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

Then one from last week:

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

And these:

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

Finally, there was a clear instruction sent earlier today.

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

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

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

<<< Sure did.

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

#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.

[blorb-el]

trick or treat! :D

a lil snippet of kryptonians with fangies for you......... •́ᵥᵥ•̀....

600ish words, gen, kon and clark, no particular warnings, does not really fit into canon timelines, just early on in their relationship. written mostly just to dabble in kon's voice as a warmup for wsbf :D

---

Superman sighs after a second. His thumbs press very slightly on Kon’s cheek, and then he lets go. “It looks like your fangs are impacted.”

Kon drops his head, shakes off the weird after touch feeling of Superman’s hands on his face.

Wait.

“Say that again.”

“Your fangs are a little impacted. The left one’s grown in lopsided,” Superman says. His brow’s furrowed again but in that way that means he’s thinking, not in the way that means he’s mad. “My left, your right, that is.”

“My... fangs.”

Superman nods, still thinking.

“Okay,” Kon says slowly, and feels the roof of his mouth again with his tongue, as if he hasn’t been constantly doing that the last two weeks. “My fangs?”

It comes out a little loud. Superman’s attention snaps back to him, the full spotlight of it. “Did I not…” He trails off, looks a little pained.

“Tell me about growing fangs?” Kon says, a little hysterically. This is possibly the best thing that has happened to him since the Justice League continued to allow Young Justice to exist.

Superman winces. “I guess not,” he says. “I’m sorry. I should have mentioned it.”

“But you don’t have fangs,” Kon says, brain still trying to wrap itself around the idea that extra teeth have been in his skull this whole time and he may be about to look twenty times cooler all the time.

Superman looks at him, head tilted again. “They’re retractable,” he says.

Okay. That makes sense. Out of every single superhero Kon has met thus far, Superman is probably the only one square enough to have fangs and not show them off. “And how do I un-retract them?” he asks. That has to be priority one.

“Well, they’re impacted right now. And they’re still growing in. So you don’t.”

This is pure Superman. First tell a guy he has fangs and then immediately say he has to be responsible about them. “Can we un-impact them?”

Superman nods, thinking. “There should be something about it in Kandor,” he mutters to himself, and then refocuses on Kon. “I need to do some research first, but yes.” Kon's maybe-not-so-subtly trying to look at his teeth while he talks. They seem disappointingly human looking. He’s about to make a comment when Superman - huh. Superman lets out a breath of air that on anyone else Kon would call a snort. “Still retracted,” he says.

This might be difficult. Kon gathers all his resources, and hits Clark with his widest eyed, pleading-est stare. “Can I see them? Please?”

Superman looks at him a moment, mouth twisted up into a smile at the corner. Then he drops his head down a little and moves his jaw and tongue in a strange kind of way. He swallows, and then smiles again, slowly opening up from his normal closed-mouth smile to a bared-teeth smile to a wide sort of awkward grimace.

Holy shit. His canines have been replaced with fangs. Twice the size of his other teeth. Superman opens his mouth wider, and Kon can faintly see the tips of his human looking canines just above his gum line, where they’ve retreated to make room for the fangs to slot in. It changes his whole face shape into something leaner, more dangerous, more alien.

Kon needs his teeth to be fixed ASAP. “Holy shit,” he says without thinking. “I mean. That’s so cool. Why the hell would you ever retract those?”

Superman’s eyebrow drifts up. His lips close over his weird grimace. Even with his mouth closed his face still looks strange - his jaw’s opened a bit, to make room for the huge fucking fangs. “I try not to scare people,” he says, and there’s a strange wry note in his voice that makes Kon think he maybe should back off. Still. Goddamn.

#my writing #thanks for the ask :^) #butcherlarry #ask games

[ohmystaxk]

Goodbye, My Dear Stranger (7)*

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Pairing(s): (Jake Lockley x Reader, Steven Grant x Reader) (Marc Spector x Reader later on) [Pre-Moon Knight show]

Chapter Character(s): Steven Grant, Jake Lockley

Content/Tags: SMUT +18, morally grey main character, one sided non-exclusive relationship, Steven just being the nicest man in the world and deserves a hug, Jake being a fucking jealous menace, PinV, praise kink, dirty talk, jealous talk, too many pet names, hair pulling, ass slapping, DISASSOSIATING.

Word Count: 3.7k

Summary: Things between you and Steven seem to be going smoothly. And yet, something seems to plague his thoughts.

Hi everyone! My birthday happened recently (Nov 26!). I had planned on making this chapter WAY longer than my others, but I decided on making the next one the biggest chapter I can cook.

Q&A's are happening, so if there are any questions you have about the story, characters, the process, or the future of this fic pls comment here or on my post and I would love to answer and interact more with you guys!

ENJOY!

It had been a long day, Donna had forced Steven to work an extra-shift given the fact he had not shown up yesterday suddenly, all thanks to Marc and Khonshu. Of course, Steven didn’t know that, and neither did he know of Jake taking the body around town. Steven had immediately headed to bed and passed out, Marc didn’t even try to take over, allowing Steven the rest needed, the rest the body needed. So, after a couple of hours, Jake woke up in Steven’s bed.

It was quiet, except for the white noise coming from Gus tank that filled the noise of the apartment. The night had set already, cold shades of blue filling the dark of the place. Silent creaks of wood were heard, old foundation setting in, Jake stood up, the floorboards immediately came to life, creaking under the weight.

As he walked away from the bed, Gus swimming in the tank caught Jake’s attention. The little fella had been fed in the early morning when Marc had arrived, having not eaten enough throughout the day. He walked towards the tank and grabbed the fish food from the book case that sat right above it.

“Parece que a Steven se le olvidó darte de comer, Gus.” Taking off the lid of the food container, he sprinkles enough for Gus, the little guy swimming with all his might to get a bite. “A este paso no me sorprendería si un día te encuentras boca arriba.” (Seems Steven forgot to feed you, Gus. At this rate I would not be surprised to see you face up one day.)

Jake closed the container and placed it back where it was. It was then the flick of a light made him turn towards one of the windows. He backed away from the tank and using the dark of the apartment he moved closer. As he did, he found his eyes on the window across the street, sheer drapes making the inside of the place slightly hard to make out. He could see a kitchen, even what seemed like a living room. Then a person walked into the kitchen, their back facing Jake.

He clicked his tongue as he watched the person turned around, still not seeing Jake standing near his own window. It was you, in your own apartment having just arrived from who knows where.

“Ay, si tan solo supieras.” He said as he tapped the frame of the window, finally backing away. Tonight, he would not see you, Marc would know, Jake had the feeling Marc was itching to wake up tonight. (Oh, if only you knew.)

You bounced, your hands gripping Steven’s shoulder tightly. Head fell back as you felt the man’s lips on your breast, running circles with his tongue around your nipple. Steven squeezed your waist, breathy wines left his mouth as you continued to fuck yourself with his cock. You slapped his hands away, making Steven yelp as you pulled his hair with no effort, making him rest against the back of your couch.

“What did I say, Steven? No touching until I tell you so.” You feel his hip jerk as you lower all the way to the base of his shaft and slow down your movements. Purposely clenching around him, he looks at you through half lidded eyes, mouth agape as you start grinding in slow circles.

“I need to feel you, need to touch you, please.” Steven begs, you had almost forgotten why you were given him this punishment, but of course, you remembered quickly.

“Should have thought of that when you made me wait 3 hours at the pub.” You spat, starting to move your hips up and down again.

“I’m sorry! Love, I’m so sorry, please let me make it up to you, please.” At that you speed up your movements, making the both of you whine at how good it felt.

“This is the fifth time in less than two weeks, Steven.” Your hands travel from his shoulders to his hair, pushing it away from his face, burying your fingers on the strands.

You lean forward, your nose brushing against his as his hips jerk once again, trying everything in him not to thrust into you.

“I know, I know . Use me, but please just let me touch you , that’s all I ask for.” You smile at his words, placing a sweet kiss on his lips.

“How can I refuse you, Steven? Come on honey, you can touch me.” Your voice softens as you feel his hands grab your cheeks, he didn’t even let you finish your sentence as he was already pulling you closer to him, nose brushing yours as he closed his eyes.

“Thank you, love.” He whispers to you.

As the two of you lay on the couch, Steven underneath you as you try catching your breath, you feel him rub your back. Gently kissing your hair, you look up. He is staring at the ceiling, gaze seemingly lost there.

“What’s the matter?” You ask softly. Steven shakes his head, a frown appears on his face.

“I am really sorry about being late.” He explains, there is a heaviness in his words. “Again.”

You shift, laying on your side with a hand on his chest. 

“Steven,” you bring your hand to brush the curls away from his face. “It’s okay. I am not actually mad at you, I know you are trying your best to keep up with the doctor’s treatment. I can not relate with your sleep problem but I understand, I do.”

He sighs, leaning in your touch. 

“I just want to be normal, being able to go out with you without having to make you wait.” You moved to straddle his thighs.

“You are normal. I don’t want to hear you say that again.”

He gives you a weak laugh. Nodding as he looks into your eyes.

“Thank you.” He says to you, his fingers brushing your thighs. “I should head home.”

You sigh at that, rolling your eyes as you lean down, hugging him.

“Can’t stay a little longer?” You whispered to him. He embraces you, arms wrapped around you.

“Got to wake up early.” He grunts with disdain as you bury your face between his neck and shoulder. “I promise to stop by on my lunch break.”

“You better do, Mr. Grant.” A hand reaches your hair, brushing it. 

“I promise, my love.” At that, Steven feels you tense. He moves his head in hope to look at you, but your face is still buried on his neck. “Love?”

“You,” you paused, Steven moved your hair and tucked it behind your ear. His thumb caressing your cheek. “You have never called me that before.”

He frowns for a second, trying to recall his words.

“Love?” He sees you shake your head.

“My love.” Your voice is hard to hear, but he understands. He feels his pulse quicken, cheeks burning up as he gulps.

Things were supposed to be slow between the two of you. That was how you wanted it, but one night you suddenly called him to your flat. You had prepared dinner, telling him you had accidentally cooked too much and asked him to eat with you. Next thing, the two of you were making out in your kitchen, too worked up to even make it to your bedroom.

That night then turned into more dinners at your flat. Sometimes you would show up at the Museum to bring him something from the café. Then you suddenly asked him on a date. Steven was over the moon seeing you wanted to spend time with him, feeling like he was walking on clouds whenever he got to see you.

In his mind, the two of you were together; except nothing had been made official. And now, he guessed he was just too in the moment, allowing himself to slip off.

“I-I did? Oh, I’m sorry about that.” He lets go of your cheek a little too fast. The movement made you finally look at him.

When he stared into your eyes, he saw a spark in them. With your cheeks blushed you smiled at him with such a gentle smile he felt his heart jump.

“Don’t apologize. I actually like it; it just took me by surprise.” You looked away, trying to hide away from his gaze.

“Are you blushing?” He says with a smile, he can already imagine he looks like a fool. 

You look at him, rolling your eyes while trying not to smile.

“Don’t laugh!” You slapped his chest gently, hiding your face on the crook of his neck.

“I’m not!” He laughs, making you huff as you sit back on his hips.

“You are!” Steven pulls himself up, bringing the two of you to sit eye to eye. His hands find your hips as he smiles brightly at you.

“Only a little, but not at you! I would never laugh at you, my love.” You blush again, trying to look away. “Don’t do that.” He grabs your chin, with both hands he carefully brushes your cheeks.

You look at him with soft eyes, lips pulled in a smile. He wishes he could look at you till his dying breath. You looked tired, makeup messy, hair undone, a love mark on your shoulder; you looked gorgeous.

He wants this, more nights like this, just the two of you next to each other. He wants you, he needs you in his life.

“Would you like for me to be your-.” His words are stopped by a phone ringing. Your eyes widen, quickly getting off him.

“That’s mine. Sorry Steven, one second!” You hurry to your feet and jog towards your purse by the kitchen.

Steven huffs, his heart is pounding so loudly he feels he might throw up. He sees you bend down on the floor, looking inside your purse for the phone.

He swings his legs and sits correctly on the couch. He hears you answer the phone and start a conversation. Steven runs his hands on his face before he starts fixing his shirt, standing up to zip his pants and buckling his belt. He grabs his jacket from the other couch.

You are still on the phone when he walks up to you, his hand coming to lay on your back. You turn to look at him, but he kisses your cheek.

“Gonna head off.” He whispers and you frown.

“You sure?” You whisper.

Steven gives you a quick smile and nods.

“Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow. Good night, love.”

You nod and kiss him, waving at him as he heads to the door. Steven makes it to the elevator, the doors closing. He lets his head fall, a heavy sigh escapes him.

He finally makes it to his flat. He tossed his keys on the kitchen counter, he dropped his jacket on the couch as he started undoing his shirt. Steven noticed your light was off, you probably went to bed, he thought.

Steven gets dressed for bed, well, if he was. He walks towards it, sitting down as his gaze lands on the wood post next to it. He had gone with a sleep specialist, you had gone with him. He had done the treatment, followed each and every instruction, but to his disappointment it wasn’t working. If anything, he seemed to realize he was starting to sleepwalk. He tried doing research of his own, looking for alternatives, but this one, it was the only one he could think of. 

He dragged his hands down his face as he sighs one more time. With no other option he leans down, hand gripping the ankle restrain, fasting it. He laid on the bed, eyes staring at the old wooden ceiling.

“I can’t tell her.”

“I think he was going to ask me to be his girlfriend.” You blurred out. Feeling your face heat up at the memory of you sitting on Steven’s lap. The way he looked at you so lovingly.

“And you decided to answer my call instead?” Deanna questions you as the two of you lean on the counter. “Why would you let him simply go home?”

“I don’t know, Deanna!” You close your eyes, holding your head in your hands.

The woman simply sighs as she watches the customers that are sitting at the furthest corner of the shop. Then she turns to look at you.

“And I am guessing he still has no clue about your little escapades with Jake?” You groan, burning your face in your hands. “His unknown twin brother.”

“You don’t have to put it that way.” You complained, your words mumbled.

“Listen babes, you do you. Got a sweet guy, and a hot fuckbuddy. But you can’t keep things hidden forever. Especially if you think of starting something with Steven.”

Of course, Deanna had to be right, but even when you found reason, it was hard to hear it, well want to hear it. 

“What if?” You stopped yourself, pausing in thought. Deanna raises an eyebrow, immediately shaking her head.

“No, no!”

“What?” You raised your eyebrows, confused by her sudden change of tone.

“Babes, you need to pick one.” As she said that you snorted.

“I wasn’t gonna say to keep both! I just, well, I don’t know if I can choose Steven that easily.” At your confession, Deanna’s face softens, exhaling as she closes her eyes. “I adore him, I really do. But-.”

The door of the shop opened, allowing the cold air of November to hit your skin. You looked up, ready to give your best smile when you immediately felt your face heat up.

“Speak of the devil.” Deanna whispers as she sees Jake walk towards the counter.

“Hey Jake.” You greet him with a smile, which he returns. “Haven’t seen you in a few days.”

The man shrugs, tilting his head to the side, keeping his eyes on you.

“Good to see you, angel. Been too busy to pay you a little visit.” He grins as you nod at his words, he then moves his gaze to look at Deanna, he gives her the tiniest smile alongside a frown. “Deanna, hey.”

“Jake, what a shock to see you around.” Deanna turns around and leaves, heading to the storage room.

“She sure loves me, huh?” Jake leans with one arm on the counter. You shake your head, waving him off.

“It’s nothing. Don’t mind her.” Jake scoffs at that. “What are you doing here?”

“To get my usual.” He eyes you up and down. “And my coffee, muñeca.” He gives with a wolfish smile.

You hold onto the edge of the seat for dear life, your throat hurts at how dry it is, your constant panting and moaning drying it completely. Jake’s hand on your hips are hurting you, the sting from the palm of his hand fresh on your ass as he pounds into you with such force you think you might pass out.

“Mírate, tan desesperada.” He spits out as he slaps your ass again, the pain making you jolt. “Que patética, me das lastima.” (Look at you, so desperate. How pathetic, you make me pity you.)

You rest your forehead against your arm, sweat already forming due to the closed space of the limo. But you quickly yelp, Jake’s hand grips your hair, forcing your head back towards him. 

“Don’t fucking do that.” He grits, you feel him press his chest against your back, the angle making him thrust in deeper. “Come on, don’t act like you can’t take it.”

“Fuck you.” You say back at him. Your response makes him laugh, immediately followed by a sharp slap on your ass. You hiss in pain, your pussy clenching tightly around him.

“There we go, that’s my fucking girl.” Jake kisses your left shoulder, his teeth teasing the skin.

“No biting.” You quickly say, but this only seems to excite him. 

“Of course, sugar. We don’t want Stevie knowing I’m fucking his girl; I think having my cock so fucking deep into you should be the biggest problem.” To make his point clear, he pulls all the way out. “Mía.” He thrusts back in with such harshness that you cry out, feeling tears forming in your eyes and your yelp dies on your throat. (Mine.)

Your clench again, your body feels so stretched you fear you might snap at any second. Something you come to learn from Jake is that he seems to fixate deeply in your secrecy; the quick fucks in the limo. He enjoys bringing up Steven every single time as he is fucking you, always promising not to leave a mark, only to do it over and over again. 

The first time it happened, he had left marks on your ribs and thighs. You had to get creative and fuck Steven with the lights off, or simply suck him off for a week until the hickeys were gone. After that you told Jake to not do it, so his solution was to fuck you from behind, leaving as many marks as possible.

“Fucking hate how he gets to mark your pretty tits, angel.” You clench again, the memory of Steven’s lips around your nipples, his stupid pretty eyes all full of lust. “Oh there we go, you fucking like it, don’t you? Fucking love it when I say his name?”

You shake your head, feeling Jake sneak his hand down to your mound, fingers finding your clit. You moan as he starts touching it, you feel your head spinning.

“I bet you have dreamed of having him watch as I fuck you. Oh, I bet you have.” His touch is torturous, the tightness on your belly is becoming unbearable. “But who are we kidding?”

You felt it, your orgasm starting to peak, your grip on the seat the only thing that could ground you. It was hard to even pay attention to Jake’s ramble. He pushed your head towards him once more, his breath next to your ear.

“He almost came on your couch just because you didn’t let him touch you.” You frowned, the scenario he was selling you a little too familiar. “You are no angel, sweetheart. You are cruel for doing that to the poor guy. That’s why you are gonna come on my fucking cock tonight and not his.”

“What are you-?” His finger started working faster, the sudden orgasms making you choke on your own words. You were able to bob your head when Jake let go of your head, your forehead resting against the cold leather of the seat.

You were now on the passenger seat, Jake silently driving you home as the radio played a song in spanish. You had already fixed your appearance to the best of your abilities. 

“Jake.” You started, looking at his profile as the man adjusted his cap. 

“Sweetheart.” He gave you a quick glance, a smirk on his lips as he then focused ahead.

“I think Steven wants me to be his girlfriend.” The sentence felt weird in your tongue. You felt yourself cringe, not because of the implication, but because of who you were saying them to.

Jake’s eyes narrow, jaw tenses.

“So little Steven finally got the guts to ask you, huh?” The scenario strangely gave you deja vu to the night you had confessed to Jake you had slept with Steven.

“Well, I said, I think. I got a call when he was about to, so I had to answer.” That seems to catch his attention.

“So, you ignored him, to take a call?” He turned to you during a red light. He looked at you with a glint in his eyes and a shit-eating grin. “Fuck, you are a little cruel.”

“I didn’t know that’s what he was about to ask! I realized after he left.” You turned away; hearing Jake laugh in amusement.

“Oh, sweetheart.” You frowned, turned to face him again. Jake clicked his tongue and shook his head. “Better give him the best night of his life to fix the damage then. How about you take him on a nice date, buy him roses, tell him how pretty he is. That should do it.” 

Jake laughed once more. But you, you could not believe him. The mockery in his words should not surprise you anymore.

“You do know that if I say yes, we can’t meet up anymore, right?” He stops laughing.

“Says who?”

“I do, Jake.” Of course, you had yet to actually think things over, but you were sure you wanted Steven. He was the right one for you. “It’s not like I can see a nice happy life by only being fucked in the back of your limo every other week.”

“Not like you can have one with him.” He throws at you, you could clearly tell he was upset, the tone making you wonder for a second.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Steven is not someone you can actually have a life with.” You scoff, rolling your eyes trying to suppress the laugh that is threatening to slip.

“And I can with who? You? I barely see you, all we do is have a quick fuck and then you take me home. I don’t even know you outside of this fucking car! And to be honest, it makes me worry you are cheating on someone with me.”

Jake grips the steering wheel tightly, simply shaking his head slightly. You see his eyes gaze off at another red light. “Every time I’ve tried to ask you anything you immediately distract me. Do you have kids? Are you dating someone? Are you married?”

It’s then you see it again, the same thing that happened the first time you slept with him. He seems to stare too far away, his body tensing before he relaxes, his gaze lost as he seems to take in his surroundings. He frowns, not from anger, but confusion? 

“What’s wrong?” You ask softly, your voice seems to startle him. 

His eyes fall on yours, his eyes widened as he seems to just realize you were even there. You feel a lump form at the pit of your stomach as you hear him speak again.

“What’s-. Love, what’s happening?” It’s Steven’s voice that makes you want to vomit, you feel your heart stop as he glances at you, he looks confused, scared.

Add yourself in the taglist!

Taglist: @22carolina08 @wandasupremacy @jesusbussy420 @ninebluehearts @whitearmsredhands @silversweetpea @siimiasoi @stuckybarton @jbearre85 @virgin-mojitos @theking-arthur @btsluvr1 @belladri @amasdaydream @bt21tatakeyakey @l0ki3000 @kittytiddywinks @yuukiyoko @laaundromat @fanfichotel @insomniacfigure @philiasoul @magicwithaknife @spidey-3 @chaimantis @username21mk @yoshidoes-stuff @deadbirdcz @the-rabbit-king

#jake lockley #steven grant #marc spector #jake lockely x reader #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #moon knight #moon knight fanfic #marvel #fanfic

[sarahalainn]

Polymanga - Suisse. Quelle organisation ! Quelle gentillesse ! Quelle patience !

Chère Suisse, vous m’avez séduite ! Merci infiniment.

Les Suisses sont vraiment polis et gentils (j’ai été surprise d’entendre les jeunes dire "volontiers" à la dédicace).

Merci encore ! Quelle salle ! Vous étiez tous magnifiques ! J’espère avoir encore l’occasion de jouer devant vous.

J’ai pu être moi-même grâce à un environnement très amical et positif. J’ai ressenti la même chose en rencontrant le public, ce qui est sans doute une caractéristique de la culture animés/jeux vidéo.

Je me suis vraiment senti à la maison et j’espère que je pourrai régulièrement revenir en Suisse.

Thank you for such a warm welcome... especially when my voice failed me.

The concert on the first day was changed literally at the last minute to a talk show with a phenomenal solo performance by Benyamin Nuss - saved the day!

One week after the convention and I am still recovering... I had a full anime/VGM vocal repertoire ready just for Polymanga, but due to "extinction de voix", I could only play the violin on the first day. One was my original piece "Animus", and I decided to play "Isabella's Theme" from "The Promised Neverland" too. Everything was improvised on stage - didn't even know what Benyamin was going to play but conveniently all his pieces were linked to very personal experiences I had with Japan. But people were so kind to say things like they discovered different sides to me. I somehow managed to talk, a lot more than what was originally planned!

It was difficult to accept that my voice completely disappeared (hasn't really happened since I was 13 in Australia?) especially after an extremely smooth rehearsal. But gosh the team who also do the Montreux Jazz Festival were la crème de la crème ! Their professionalism is truly unrivaled. Not to mention the completely improvised shows... so intuitive. No one knew what was going to happen over the next 2 days.

À la dédicace le premier jour, so many Xenoblade fans came. Those who attended the second day will know I tried to sing just one excerpt of the ending theme "Beyond the Sky". The second day was originally meant to be a talk show, but I was still doing everything I could to sing and somehow managed to squeeze a few tunes out, including "Eight Melodies" from “Earthbound” (ou ‘Mother’ en japonais) and "Isabella's Lullaby" TPN. Again on the second day, I had no idea if I could sing and when I would do so, so a huge bravo to the team who were on point!

My throat aside, I was surprised at how comfortable I was talking to you on stage and in person. Maybe it was a language thing. Maybe the Swiss/Polymanga audience were just so nice. Maybe the questions you all asked were interesting and different! I was able to be myself. Such a positive, friendly environment. I felt the same vibe from many of you too. I guess we all owe that in part to the anime, game, culture world.

I hope that there will be another opportunity to perform for you again.

I felt so at home that maybe one day in the future I'd like to call Switzerland a second home!

#polymanga #sarah àlainn #sarah alainn #サラ・オレイン #サラオレイン #サラ #サラスタイル #ヴァイオリン #violin #tpn #the promised neverland #Xenoblade #beyond the sky #eiyuden chronicle #百英雄伝 #ビヨスカ #ゼノブレイド #ローザンヌ #Lausanne #Suisse #Switzerland #Benyamin Nuss #MOTHER #Earthbound #Eight Melodies #maetel #メーテル #violinist #vgm #Isabella’s Lullaby

[mochademic]

100 Days of Productivity [Day: 80] || 100 Jours de Productivité [Jour: 80]

interesting conversations were had in the office today. since I work alongside a few other FSL people [French Second Language], the conversation came up about how best to learn. Duolingo came up & all of us agreed that while it's a good app to practice already learned skills, it provides very little in terms of actually learning the language. before I enrolled in actual French classes, I used a combination of other language programs, listened to podcasts that were in slow-French [as people tend to speak quickly when talking in a language they're familiar with] but one of the biggest things that helped me learn was actually watching children's shows/reading children's books. no matter the language, any content produced for learning-age children use the basics of that language in order to communicate.

combining oral practice [speaking] as well as listening to & reading in a language are all essential in fluency. I started learning French in grade school at a young age, & even now I still struggle sometimes, especially when using it to communicate professionally. my grammar still isn't perfect, but thankfully I'm in an environment where I get to cultivate those skills daily - plus I have this blog where I write in both languages as regularly as I can :]

currently listening // we fell in love in october by girl in red

Des conversations intéressantes ont eu lieu au bureau aujourd'hui. Come je travaille avec quelques autres personnes en FLS [français langue seconde], la conversation a porté sur la meilleure façon d'apprendre. Duolingo a été évoqué et nous avons tous convenu que, bien qu'il s'agisse d'une bonne application pour mettre en pratique les compétences déjà acquises, elle n'apporte pas grand-chose en termes d'apprentissage réel de la langue. avant de m'inscrire à des cours de français, j'ai utilisé une combinaison d'autres programmes linguistiques, j'ai écouté des podcasts en français lent [car les gens ont tendance à parler vite lorsqu'ils parlent dans une langue qui leur est familière], mais l'une des choses qui m'a le plus aidé à apprendre a été de regarder des émissions pour enfants ou de lire des livres pour enfants. quelle que soit la langue, tout contenu produit pour des enfants en âge d'apprendre utilise les bases de cette langue afin de communiquer.

la combinaison de la pratique orale [parler], de l'écoute et de la lecture dans une langue est essentielle à la fluidité. J'ai commencé à apprendre le français à l'école primaire à un jeune âge, et même maintenant j'ai encore parfois des difficultés, surtout quand je l'utilise pour communiquer professionnellement. ma grammaire n'est toujours pas parfaite, mais heureusement je suis dans un environnement où je peux cultiver ces compétences quotidiennement - en plus j'ai ce blog où j'écris dans les deux langues aussi régulièrement que je le peux :]

chanson // we fell in love in october par girl in red

#100 days of productivity #day 80 #100dop #100 jours de productivité #jour 80 #100jdp #studyblr #studyspo #study blog #study motivation #study aesthetic #bookish #gradblr #langblr

[pompadourpink]

Les déterminants

Les articles

#1. Indefinite articles (unknown noun)

Un (masculine sg) > j'ai une chienne - I have a dog

Une (feminine sg) > j'ai un chat - I have a cat

Des (plural) > il y a des oiseaux dehors - there are birds outside*

#2. Definite articles (known noun)

Le + consonant, L' + vowel (masc sg) > le dîner est servi - dinner is served

La + consonant, L' + vowel (fem sg) > la table est prête - the table is reay

Les (plural) > les invitées sont là - the (female) guests are here

#3. Partitive articles (portion of the noun, not all of it)

Du > je vais prendre du café - I'm going to get coffee

De la > je voudrais de la salade - I would like some salad

Des > le matin je mange des céréales - In the morning I eat cereals

*Des becomes De 1/ when there is an adjective before the noun > tu as de beaux yeux - you have got nice eyes or 2/ in negative sentences > je n’ai pas de chaussettes - I don’t have socks.

N.B. When attached to prepositions à or de, le and les become contracted articles: au (à + le), aux (à + les), du (de + le), des (de + les): au clair de la lune - in the moonlight, j’ai des allergies - I have allergies.

*

Les déterminants possessifs

#1. For a single owner

Mon, ton, son (masculine singular) - my, your, his > mon chat est blanc

Ma, ta, sa (feminine singular) - my, your, her* > sa chienne est noire

Mes, tes, ses (plural) - my, your, their > son lapin est gris

*When a feminine noun following a possessive determiner starts with a vowel, we use the masculine version > c'est mon amie - she's my friend.

#2. For several owners

Notre, votre, leur (singular) - our, your, their > notre chien est vieux

Nos, vos, leurs (plural) - our, your, their > leurs chats sont jeunes

N.B. French focuses on the gender of the property > c’est son chien - it's his/her male dog (there is no information given about the owner).

*

Les déterminants démonstratifs

Demonstrative determiners (from verb montrer - to show, point at) are used to point out the thing or person that is being talked about. They all start with the letter C (mnemonic: here's what I want you to "see").

Ce + consonant, c' + vowel (masc singular) - this > cet arbre est grand

Cette (fem singular) - this > cette maison est immense

Ces (plural) - these > ces fenêtres sont en bois

Les déterminants exclamatifs et interrogatifs

Quel (masculine singular) > quel est ce bruit ? - what is that noise?

Quelle (feminine singular) > quelle belle maison ! - what a beautiful house!

Quels (masculine plural) > quels drôles d'oiseaux ! - what peculiar people!

Quelles (feminine plural) > tu vas acheter quelles chaussures ? - which shoes are you getting?

NB. In front of a stative verb (être, rester, sembler...), those determiners become modifiers and therefore agree with the noun they are referring to > quelle était sa surprise quand je suis arrivée ! - what great was her surprise when I arrived!

Les déterminants indéfinis

Indefinite determiners are used when the object is vague or unknown, can come with another determiner (les quelques - the few) or be locutions formed by a quantity adverb and the preposition de. Some are invariable. They can express:

A non existent quantity: aucun-e - no(ne), pas de - no > Tu n'as fait aucun effort !

A quantity of one: chaque* - each, n'importe quel-le - any

A quantity slightly over two: un peu de - a little of, quelques - a few, plusieurs - several, certain-es - some, d'autres - some others (works with certains)

A large quantity: beaucoup de - a lot of, trop de - too much of, la plupart de - most of suffisamment de - enough of, tant de - so much, différent-es - many, divers-es - various, énormément de - a great amount of

Everything: tout, toute, tous, toutes > Tu as mangé tous les chocolats !

*Chaque is not very common except in à chaque fois (every time), one would typically use tous with a plural (tous les jours, not chaque jour).

N.B. It's always beaucoup de. Beaucoup des is sinful and punishable by death.

*

Les déterminants cardinaux numéraux

Cardinal determiners express a quantity and take the place of an article. They are invariable (can't agree in gender or number) except for one (un, une) + twenty and hundred that get an -s when there's no other number after (vingt, cent: cent-trois but deux cents) + thousand, million, billion that can be pluralised (millier, million, milliard)

*

L'article zéro (physically absent but theoretically present)

#1. Proper nouns

Je vis à Paris (works for cities and islands),

C’est Noël (holidays),

Je l'ai vu sur Facebook (brands),

Tu as rencontré Isabelle (first and last names)

#2. Regular nouns

Des livres pour enfants, des croquettes pour chats (categories),

Pierre qui roule n’amasse pas mousse (proverbs),

Hommes, femmes, enfants (enumeration),

Avoir faim, sans crainte, homme de loi (locutions),

Elle part vendredi (about something happening a particular day),

Appartement à vendre, sel de mer (signs, labels),

Céline Dion, reine du metgala (apposition)

Movie: La Jetée - Chris Marker, 1962 (inspo for Terry Gilliam's Twelve monkeys)

Other posts: is it les or des?

#déterminants #basique #grammaire

[maleyhae]

French lesson

bill kaulitz x native French fem reader

warnings- none

A/n- disclaimer! I don't know French that greatly so if i say anything wrong please dm or tell me in the comments thank you<3! and also i made them date if that's not want you wanted anon let me know so I can fix it! also, if it wasn't as long as you want anon, I'm sorry it is probably because i ran out of ideas for it! did i put a french as a laungue on my laptop for this yes adn i regret it

BILL KAULITZS POV:

"Meine Lieb please will you teach me French?" I asked my girlfriend since I wanted to learn French since her parents were coming to our upcoming show in France. to support their daughter.

"Oui" she said getting up and I followed her to the table where I assume she was going to teach me her mother language.

"Okay what do you want to learn mon amour ?" she said. "The basics and stuff so I can impress your family." I say and I hear her laugh.

READERS POV :

"The basics and stuff so i can impress your family." I hear Bill say and i started to laugh. "Is that why you are wanting to learn French?" I asked sill laughing shocked that when I was talking, I didn't speak at least one French word which usually I tend to do (it happens when my mom speaks Italian so kind of basing that of her) "alright mon amour what do you already know from our last tour in France?" i asked not remembering if I had taught them any of them French or not.

BILL POV:

" malheureusement je ne parle pas très bien français, mais j"essaierai de m'améliore pour la prochaine fois" I said since that in all true reality I knew. She looked at me like I was a French man instead of a German man. Wait does that make sense? Oh well.

Time skip due to me not having anymore ideas :3

*still bills pov*

"Chers Monsieur et Madame (Nom de famille), je souhaite demander la main de vos filles/Dear Mr and Mrs. (Last name) I want to ask for your daughters hand in marriage" I said and my girlfriend looked impressed and she looked so beautiful when she was happy.

READS POV:

"Chers Monsieur et Madame (Nom de famille), je souhaite demander la main de vos filles" I heard my boyfriend say I had No clue why he said that but hey it works! " Wow mon amour c'était génial/Wow my love that was great" I say amazed and a little tired. " Allez mon amour, dormons un peu, il est 2 heures du matin/Come on my love let's get some sleep it's 2 in the morning" I said as my French accent got more noticeable (again this happens with my dad with his German accent so based of him)

3rd person:

Très bien mon amour, allons-y/Alright my love let's go" Bill said as he picked you up to put you in y'all shared bed and you had already fallen asleep due to your lack of sleep the previous day.

A/n- sorry if this sucked I'm tired and I'm thinking about putting my one shots and stuff onto my wattpad let me know what y'all think!!

#maleyhae fanfictions #tokio hotel #bill kaulitz #i 🫶 bill kaulitz #bill kaulitz x reader #bill kaulitz fluff #french!reader #gustav schäfer #georg listing #tom kaulitz

[baki-tiene-un-simp]

Hey it's me again, could you please do some hc about mumon, jun and miyamoto musashi with a masculine looking S/O who is a woman but people usually think that she is a man due to her height (by the way could you make her taller than the other please?) muscular physic and also because she is a really good fighter who not once but twice beat the sh*t out of them when helping then train or something?

By the way,i'm glad that your back again, your works really help me and my anxiety and other mental illnesses.

Situation: S/O masculine looking / S/O de aspecto masculino

Character: Jun Guevaru, Mumon Katsuragi and Musashi Miyamoto.

Jun Guevaru.

As if there was anything in this world that could make this man stop being madly in love with his S/O, he's stupidly in love, no one is going to get him out of there.

He's writing poems about the beauty behind his partner's sculpted muscles and the way all the depressions between his partner's muscles are little bits of hell that tempt him to touch and touch with love for his S/O.

The man is so lost in his love that he doesn't see a problem with his S/O, in any case, the others would be the problem in Jun's eyes.

Speaking of Jun's eyes and the way he sees his partner, do you know about the pink glasses of love, which is the metaphor that when we fall in love we put on glasses that make us see everything that has to do with our partner as a good thing and, in short, gives us a picture of a pink world that is perfect? You know what I'm talking about, right?

Well, Jun doesn't have the pink glasses of love on, he has them attached to his eyes.

Mumon Katsuragi.

Funny, because he is often mistaken for a woman because of his soft features, it's funny.

I really don't think it bothers him that her partner looks muscular and masculine, if he fell in love with her it was for a reason, right? The exterior or the image that his partner shows to others is not going to change what he feels.

Mumon appreciates that the practice together and teach him new things when it comes to fighting. He learns everything very quickly, he is incredibly dedicated to what he is passionate about.

He is also a bit dramatic, if his partner knocks him down he will lie on the ground only to laugh when his S/O apologizes for hurting him. He's fine, but he loves to joke around, that's all. Hit him again.

But it's funny that they both get confused by the way they look, it's funny.

Musashi Miyamoto.

He's a bit conflicted, it's the first time he's seen such a worked body of a woman. Some somewhat archaic ideals are pressing on his brain.

But Musashi does not understand many things and he is not interested in understanding either, the only thing he contemplates is that his partner is strong, although his brain is restless to find a "why", he ends up getting used to it.

Probably, he tests the strength of his mate day by day, like he attacks her every day to check that she is still strong. He's a bit annoying, he really is.

Versión en español.

Jun Guevaru.

Como si existiera algo en este mundo que pudiera lograr que este hombre deje de estar perdidamente enamorado de su S/O, está estúpidamente enamorado, nadie va a sacarlo de ahí.

Está escribiendo poemas sobre la belleza detrás de los esculpidos músculos de su pareja y de la forma en que todas las depresiones entre los músculos de su pareja son pequeños trozos de infierno que lo tientan a tocar y tocar como muestra de amor hacia su S/O.

El hombre está tan perdido en su amor que no ve problema con su S/O, en todo caso, los demás serían el problema ante los ojos de Jun.

Hablando de los ojos de Jun y la forma en que ve a su pareja, ¿saben de los lentes rosas del amor que es la metáfora acerca de que al enamorarnos nos ponemos unos lentes que nos hacen ver todo lo que tiene que ver con nuestra pareja como algo bueno y, en pocas palabras, nos da una imagen de un mundo rosa que es perfecto? ¿Saben de qué hablo, cierto?

Bueno, pues, Jun no tiene puestos los lentes rosas del amor, él los tiene adheridos a sus ojos.

Mumon Katsuragi.

Gracioso, porque a él suelen confundirlo con una mujer debido a sus facciones suaves, es gracioso.

Realmente no creo que le moleste que su pareja se vea musculosa y masculina, si se enamoró de ella fue por algo, ¿verdad? El exterior o la imagen que su pareja muestra a los demás no va a cambiar lo que él siente.

Mumon aprecia que practiquen y le enseñen cosas nuevas a la hora de pelear. Aprende todo muy rápido, es increíblemente dedicado a lo que le apasiona.

También es un poco dramático, si su pareja lo derriba de un golpe se quedará tirado en el suelo solo para reírse cuando su S/O le pide perdón por lastimarlo. Él está bien, pero adora bromear, es todo. Golpéalo otra vez.

Pero es gracioso que a ambos los confundan por la forma que se ven, es gracioso.

Musashi Miyamoto.

Está un poco conflictuado, es la primera vez que ve un cuerpo tan trabajado en una mujer. Algunos ideales algo arcaicos están presionando su cerebro.

Pero Musashi no entiende muchas cosas y tampoco le interesa entender, lo único que contempla es que su pareja es fuerte, aunque su cerebro este inquieto por encontrar un “por qué”, termina por acostumbrarse.

Probablemente, prueba la fuerza de su pareja día a día, como si la atacara todos los días para comprobar que sigue siendo fuerte. Es un poco molesto, realmente lo es.

#jun guevara #jun guevara baki #jun guevara x lector #jun guevara x reader #mumon katsuragi #mumon katsuragi baki gaiden yuuenchi #mumon katsuragi x reader #mumon x lector #musashi miyamoto x lector #musashi miyamoto x reader #musashi miyamoto baki #miyamoto musashi #baki the grappler #baki son of ogre #baki dou #baki headcanons

[woundthatswallows]

film recs?

i have a lot lol! i could break things up into catergories but since this is a general ask i'm just gonna cover mostly everything! i listed a lot of movies so i'd be happy to organize them a bit more into categories if anyone wants that, i just did it off the top of my head + w a little help from lists i've made on letterboxd. :)

here r some of my all-time faves that i’d rec: possession (1981) dead ringers (1988) harold and maude (1971) l’une chante, l’autre pas (1977) the piano teacher (2001) la morte vivante (1982) ginger snaps (2000) pink flamingos (1972) the rocky horror picture show (1975) twin peaks fire walk with me (1992) crash (1996) repulsion (1965) let’s scare jessica to death (1971) nekromantik (1988) + nekromantik 2 (1991) (second one is my fave but u have to watch the first first etc) girlfriends (1978) carnival of souls (1962) blue velvet (1986) martyrs (2008) a zed & two noughts (1985) multiple maniacs (1970) wild at heart (1990) 3 women (1975) dans ma peau (2002) dazed and confused (1993) kissed (1996) videodrome (1983) female trouble (1974) malina (1991) wings of desire (1987) persona (1966) the cremator (1969) the before trilogy teorema (1968) scenes from a marriage (1974) sunset boulevard (1950) les demoiselles de rocherfort (1967) the living end (1992)

and then some movies that i love/like and think people should watch: cecil b. demented (2000) ringu (1998) excision (2012) hausu (1977) the belly of an architect (1987) moonstruck (1987) les deux orphelines vampires (1997) valley girl (1983) angela (1995) may (2002) nashville (1975) phantom thread (2017) daisies (1966) candy (2006) society (1989) nowhere (1997) velvet goldmine (1998) caché (2005) the mafu cage (1978) funny games (1997) les raisins de la mort (1978) mysterious skin (2004) true romance (1993) y tu mamá también (2001) vampyres (1974) under the skin (2013) alice sweet alice (1976) audition (1999) vagabond (1985) high life (2019) spring night summer night (1967) secret ceremony (1968) candyman (1992) belle de jour (1967) hatching (2022) brain damage (1988) happy together (1997) in the mood for love (2000) cat people (1942) cléo from 5 to 7 (1962) je tu il elle (1974) thirteen (2003) masculin féminin (1966) vivre sa vie (1962) lost highway (1997) le bonheur (1965) une femme est une femme (1961) les parapluies de cherbourg (1964) babette’s feast (1987) arsenic and old lace (1944) the daytrippers (1996) a history of violence (2005) polyester (1981) ganja & hess (1973) impetigore (2019) volver (2006) pea d’âne (1970) the addiction (1995) train to busan (2016) chungking express (1994) smooth talk (1985) death in venice (1971) the incredibly true adventures of two girls in love (1995) my beautiful launderette (1985) wild (2016) lake mungo (2008) possum (2018) jeanne dielman, 23, quai de commerce, 1080 bruxelles (1975) les cent en une nuits de simon cinéma (1995) lola (1961) the passion of joan of arc (1928) le cérémonie (1995) stoker (2014) contempt (1963) eastern promises (2007) les yeux sans visage (1960) shivers (1975) american mary (2012) serial mom (1994) pierrot le fou (1965)

#this is long whoops #asks

[kilfeur]

Je pensais à quelque chose pour Adrien et ce qui pourrait lui arriver dans la saison 6. Dans la dernière scène qu'il partage avec Marinette, il dit qu'il se sent libre. C'est quelque chose qu'il a toujours souhaité mais maintenant quoi exactement ? Je ne pense pas que juste parce qu'il voit son père comme héros. Qu'il a tout oublier, il le sait que son père est très loin d'avoir été modèle. Mais je me demande si certains vont pas justement avoir des attentes sur le fait que son père est un héros donc il doit en être un lui aussi. Mais surtout dans le public et pour faire parler pas comme pourrait le faire avec sa double identité.

Tomoe Tsurugi pourrait justement faire sous déguisement d'honorer son père. Kagami, sa fille pourrait justement s'y opposer provoquant justement d'autres conflits avec sa mère. Ou bien sa liberté peut être volé par Lila alias Cerise en volant sa bague. Lui faisant croire à des mensonges pour qu'il soit de son côté et sous son contrôle.

La saison 4 était avant tout sur sa quête d'identité, lui faisant comprendre que justement chaque partie de lui sont importants et font parti intégrante de lui. La saison 5 était justement de comprendre comment marchent les relations amoureuses montrant aussi qu'il se détache de son père, le faisant face en tant que Chat Noir, sacrifiant son miraculous pour le donner à Plagg et ainsi le transmettre à Marinette par craindre de perdre le contrôle. Alors que Gabriel s'enfonce dans sa folie destructeur, lui va de l'avant ! D'ailleurs je trouvais que cette saison 5, il faisait plus ado, tu le voyais plus avec les autres personnellement. Alors que par exemple en début de saison 4, il ne voulait pas montrer ce qu'il est vraiment à Kagami dans la scène du dessin.

Donc celui qui pourrait mettre des limites et craindre que sa liberté pourrait être hors de contrôle, pourrait être Adrien. Ce qui donnerait un développement intéressant en terme de psychologie ce qui irait avec Marinette que j'y pense, aura un tiraillement concernant les mensonges envers Adrien.

I was thinking about something for Adrien and what might happen to him in season 6. In the last scene he shares with Marinette, he says he feels free. It's something he's always wanted, but now what exactly? I don't think just because he sees his father as a hero. That he as forgotten everything, he knows that his father was far from a role model. But I wonder if some people won't just have expectations that his father is a hero so he has to be one too. But mostly in the public eye and to get people talking, not like he might with his double identity.

Tomoe Tsurugi could do just that under disguise to honor her father. Kagami, her daughter, may oppose, provoking further conflict with her mother. Or his freedom could be stolen by Lila aka Cerise by stealing his ring. Making him believe lies to get him on her side and under her control.

Season 4 was all about his quest for identity, making him realize that every part of him is important and integral. Season 5 was all about understanding how relationships work, and how he detaches himself from his father, facing him as the Black Cat, sacrificing his miraculous to give it to Plagg and then passing it on to Marinette for fear of losing control. While Gabriel sinks into his destructive madness, he moves forward! In fact, I thought that in season 5, he was more of a teenager, and you saw him more personally with the others. Whereas at the start of season 4, for example, he didn't want to show Kagami what he really is in the drawing scene.

So the one who might set limits and fear that his freedom might be out of control, could be Adrien. Which would make for an interesting development in terms of psychology, which would go hand in hand with Marinette, who I think will have a tug-of-war about lying to Adrien.

#miraculous ladybug #ml #ml s6 #ml theory #ml speculation #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #I could be completely wrong about Adrien theme in season 6 and maybe it will be something else #But i'm curious so I'll see