cupidysm

[cupidysm]

OH MY GRACIOUS. THANK YOU SO MUCH! You don’t understand how huge it is to hear your response on something written by ME. Love you and your writing sm!!

Vegan Pizza

Just a fic I wrote to practice my fluff writing! edit: I’m so happy so many people enjoyed it!

Steven Grant x gn!shy!reader || masterlist ||

summary: (I gotta practice fluff writing) As Steven makes his way back to his flat after being stood up, he runs into his neighbor who helps him find comfort in a warm meal.

content: fluff, making out, awkwardness (but like in an endearing way? I hope)

word count: 1,218

Steven Grant naturally thought bad luck was simply drawn to him. However, the day he landed a date with his co-worker, Dylan, he thought his luck has finally turned around.

Until she didn’t show up.

Steven was a good neighbor. Always greeting you with a smile or a quick “Good morning.” No matter how late he was for work. Now that you were thinking about it, he was kind of cute.

Alright fine, you were enamored.

His big brown eyes, his tooth aching smile, and it didn’t matter how loose fitting his clothes were you could see the traces of muscle through his wide necked shirts. But looks didn’t matter anyways. It was simply being himself that drew you in.

You found yourself returning home later than usual from a busy day at work, and just as you’re about to enter the door to your flat you hear the steps of someone heading up the stairs.

“Bloody chocolates.” Steven mumbled as he slumped up the steps to his floor.

You didn’t mean to be eavesdropping, but earlier that week you had heard him bragging to another neighbor about a date he landed. You’d be lying to yourself if you didn’t say you were the slightest bit jealous, but Steven had a love life too and it wasn’t like he’d wait forever for you to get over your worries and ask him out.

You turned to Steven with a smile. “Hey Steven! How was your date?”

Steven doesn’t recall ever mentioning it to you, but then again he doesn’t remember much now days between his life and his dreams.

“Oh, hi. Yeah…it didn’t go well. She stood me up.” He mumbled as he rubbed the back of his neck.

Your heart twinged with excitement, but was quickly replaced with sympathy at his downcast expression. “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that Steven.”

“All I wanted was a bloody dinner with someone to spend time with.” He sighs. “Not get stood up.”

The words slip from your mouth before you can even go over them in your head.

“Wellifyou’restillhungrymaybeyou’dwanttocomeoverandhavesomethingtoeat…” you realize how fast you’re speaking and are able to slow your brain down. “I’m making a pizza..? It’s vegan.”

The first time Steven had mentioned he was vegan you immediately bought a vegan pizza, that way when you did have the excuse to ask him on a date you’d be prepared. Apparently now was that time.

His face lights up slightly at the mention of a meal. “That sounds great! Yeah…I’d like that.” He smiles.

He follows you into your flat and sits down while you take out the frozen pizza.

“I’m surprised you actually had something vegan. Most people think vegan food tastes strange.”

You laughed. “Not me.”

That was a lie. You made one a while back and weren’t entirely fond of it, but if this ended well you’d be happy to eat as many vegan pizzas if it meant you’d get to have more times like this one.

“I remember you mentioned you being vegan a while back so I thought I’d buy it.” You immediately winced at your words. You don’t know how long back he had mentioned this, but you think it was pretty far back. He was definitely gonna think you were weird for remembering something as minuscule as that.

“Yeah, that’s right, I… I am. You remember that?” He asked clearly shocked.

Shit. He did think you were weird.

“Thanks, I… no one really takes the time to listen… or care.”

You’re lucky your turned away from him as you load the pizza in the oven so he won’t see your blush.

“It’s no biggie.” You smile.

The rest of the night you chat between each other. Steven’s once dismal night took a flip from simply spending time with someone as lovely as you. When the pizza is ready, the both of you eat your pizza happily.

“This is good. I still can’t believe you remembered I was vegan.” He smiles.

“It’s really not that big of a deal.” Your face is definitely visibly red.

“It’s big to me. No one really remembers something like that about me.” He chuckles as he looks up at you with his big eyes.

You could’ve kissed him right there with the way he was looking at you. His mouth full of pizza making his cheeks puff out in such an adorable way.

“Bloody hell. must sound desperate, don’t I?” He looks off embarrassed. This time he’s the one blushing.

“No, no ‘course not.” You smile with a giggle.

He flushed again slightly before speaking out.

“You’re… you’re very pretty.” His voice trails off as he looks down at his plate embarrassed.

Your jaw practically falls off. “What?”

“You are very pretty.” His eyes glance up at you before staring locked on your eyes. “Really… beautiful.” His voice trails off.

“Did I say that out loud?” He picks his head up in a panic, his face turning beet red.

You stand up quickly. “I, uh… bathroom-“ You sprint in the direction of your bathroom before shutting the door.

You lean yourself against the wall, your beating so fast you think it might fly out of your chest. You eventually realize you just left him alone and put yourself in an even more awkward situation, so you decide to open the door.

You jump back in surprise and see Steven standing there awkwardly.

“I… er,” he fiddles with his hands. “Did I say something wrong? I- I mean you really are beautiful, and oh bollocks, I ruined it didn’t I.” He stammers out quickly.

You quickly cover his mouth with your hands in order to shut him up.

“Steven, stop it. Stop that.”

His eyes widened when you covered his mouth, a bit shocked.

“What— did I say something wrong?” He asked, his voice muffled.

“No- no of course not.” You squeeze your eyes shut to overwhelmed.

“God, if you keep saying stuff like that I won’t be able to stop myself from kissing you and I like you way too much for me to ruin it.”

He was utterly gobsmacked, his eyes wide as you spoke.

Finally, he managed to respond.

“Are—”

He lifts your hands from his mouth.

“Are you saying you… want to kiss me right now?”

You quickly cover your face.

"And it's such terrible timing too! I- I mean your date just stood you up!" You stammer out.

"I don't care if you kiss me right now. I— uh, I wouldn’t mind…" He said, almost breathless. "This— we, I…"

He couldn't find words— so instead he showed it.

His lips pressed against yours softly, just enough so I’d you were uncomfortable you had the space to pull away, but there was no way you were going to now.

A soft whimper left his lips as you pressed yourself further into him. He slid his hands around your waist, until he eventually pulled back to let the two of you breath.

“That was good.” Is all he manages. “That was very good.”

You can’t help but giggle and eventually he can’t either. He laughs alongside you, arms still entangled in eachother.

“…Could I take you on a date. A real one. No getting stood up?” His eyes sparkling with hope.

“Yeah, that would be nice.”

#I fan girled for about 5 minutes. #and im not ashamed

[cupidysm]

recs are open!! My brain is as dry as a dessert so anything would be wonderful!

I do have a tiny idea for something a little longer than a one shot. *cough cough moonknight system!mafia cough cough* would anyone be interested in that..?

#moon knight #moonknight fanfiction #moonknight x reader #tasm!peter x reader #peter parker x reader

[cupidysm]

LOOK I get they’re all in the wrong in their own ways but…

Im frothing at the mouth 😮‍💨

The Fractured Moon - Part 4

Yandere! Moon Boys X f!Reader

PLEASE READ TAGS/DISCLAIMERS/WARNINGS BEFORE READING THIS FIC. THERE ARE DARK THEMES!

Not Beta Read - Series Masterlist

Summary:

After Steven's ruthless beating, you need time to recover, and the boys are going to show you how nice they can treat you, if only you'll let them, and as long as you behave.

Tags/Warnings (for entire series):

Disclaimer: I created this fic for the sole purpose of exploring the yandere thing as a fanfiction "kink" in a safe way and in a safe space. I in no way would want this to happen to myself or someone else. This fic is not a reflection of my moral beliefs. - Further, this fic is not an accurate representation of people with DID (dissociative identity disorder). These men happen to have DID and I'm putting them in a situation where they would have an unhealthy obsession with the reader character. NSFW, Stalking, non-con, somnophilia, rape, mentions of murder, drugged sex, kidnapping, manipulation, dacryphilia, voyeurism, threats of physical harm, copious amounts of sex, copious amounts of unprotected sex, blood, unrealistic refractory period, biting, slapping, hitting, reader is smol, choking. This is a Dead Dove Do Not Eat situation.

Word Count: 3.4k

Marc was still afraid to take any unnecessary risks, so he kept your wrists tied to the dining room chair just in case. Marc fantasized about a time that you would be in complete submission to them. He dreamt of how nice it would be to wake with you in their bed, curled up into his chest while you slept soundly. He thought about what a wonder it would be to have you kissing him and begging him to make you feel good. He wanted you to want them.

Steven was delusional and Marc knew that. Maybe he was too, he thought. He wondered if it was delusional to think that one day he could have all those things. Every time he looked at you he felt a stab of guilt in his gut. When did things get so fucked up? This wasn’t the kind of person they were, and whenever Marc’s sanity broke through the barrier of his fantasy, he thought about letting you go. But then he thought about you out there where anyone could look at you, talk to you, touch you.

No.

“Your wounds are healing nicely honey,” he said, breaking the otherwise deafening silence in the dining room.

You nodded, still feeling a bit defeated from the beating Steven had dealt you over a week ago. Was it a week ago? You couldn’t remember how long it had been. It was hard to keep track of time there. When Marc mentioned the bruises you could still feel the sting left behind from Steven’s lashing. Your eyes darted to the floor quickly, not wanting to think about it.

“Hey,” Marc’s hand went out, finger tucking under your chin and turning your gaze back to meet his. “Jake and I told you we’d keep you safe, right? Remember? We told you we’d handle Steven? And he’s been much better to you, hasn’t he?”

You nodded slowly, bottom lip trembling while you thought about what his brother had done to you. Even with his and Jake’s reassurance that no further - serious - harm would come to you by Steven’s hands, you still didn’t dare to even touch yourself when the urge arose. If Steven’s goal was to frighten you into obedience, it had worked.

Every night, sometimes multiple times a night, Steven would fill you so full you were stuffed and dripping his cum for the rest of the evening. He was often the first person you’d see in the mornings too, taking your body and bending it to suit his needs. You were exhausted most days, and he showed no signs of stopping.

You couldn’t deny the sweetness that came with his insatiable sex drive though.

“Oh darling, you’re so pretty,” he’d say with his forehead against you, the tip of his nose touching yours. “I…I know you’re so sore and I’m so sorry but, mm-fuh–”

And then he’d come, spilling his hot white spend into your aptly stretched hole. His hips would stutter, and he’d look at you as though no one else in the world existed. Once in a while you even forgot yourself and felt tempted to reach out and touch his face, like you might want to lean forward and kiss those hooded, sex drunk eyelids of his.

But you resisted. 

The part of you that still wanted to fight for survival was stronger than that, and it was screaming inside of you to stay resilient. Sometimes Steven made you feel good though. When you were particularly achy, and full of so much cum you couldn’t hold anymore, he would kneel at the foot of the bed, drape your legs over his broad shoulders, and start cleaning and slurping his spend right out of you. He was better at that than the other two, and when he looked up at you from between your thighs with glossy lips and shoulders heaving with heavy breaths, you had to shake yourself from that small sense of adoration you falsely felt for him. 

He kidnapped you, he raped you, he beat you, you would remind yourself like a mantra over and over again until you were sick of it. You still needed to fight to survive this. You couldn’t accept that this was the end of the line for you. 

“M-Marc?” you whispered.

His entire face lit up to hear you speak his name in such a soft tone. Marc’s hand cupped your cheek gently, as though a firmer grip might break you. His thumb brushed over your skin softly, such a gentle touch for someone so monstrous.

“Yeah honey?”

You gulped, looking around to make sure that neither Steven nor Jake were going to show up before making your inquiry. If Steven, especially, heard you, you’d be in for another harsh reminder of your position and you knew it.

“Can I have those pills again?” You thought about how much they eased your pain before, and how sleepy they made you. If you were going to continue to survive, you would need something to help you get through for now until you came up with a plan.

“Oh, baby, last time I gave you those, Jake and I agreed with Steven that it wasn’t fair to him. I’m sorry I can’t–”

“Please,” you looked at him with such desperation it almost made him flinch.

Your eyes welled until they were nearly spilling over. If you were being honest, you were laying on the theatrics a bit, but another part of you was genuinely in need of something to ease the ache you felt when Steven made you a glorified sex doll. Marc finally nodded slowly and gave you a sympathetic half-smirk.

“Yeah, I’ll give you half a pill to hide in your bedside table. That should relax you enough without knocking you out. You can take it when you know Steven’s coming just…don’t let him see it, alright?” Marc raised his brow in emphasis. “I’m not worried for my sake but you…you know how he can get.”

You nodded eagerly, “yes,” a sigh of relief left your entire body, “yes, I promise.”

“Okay, I’ll get you one after you’re finished eating.”

Dinner was one of Marc’s favorite times of the day because it was one of the few times he got you all to himself. They each had a role to play in your day: waking up with Steven, the greedy little shit wanting you both before sleep and after. Marc took care of your bathing and meals, making sure each time he had you was nicer for you than the time before. Then there was Jake, giving you a firm hand in the early afternoon to make sure you learned to mind, and then making you play dress up and sit on his lap in his study shortly after dinner.

Marc liked to think he was different from the other two. He liked to think you needed him, like he was taking care of you and you wouldn’t be able to survive in this house without him. He was protecting you - as much as he could for being one of the three who did this to you - . But Marc felt justified in that he wasn’t hurting you, not really. He never struck you, and he wouldn’t. When you were afraid of the other two and looking for someone to comfort you, he would be your safe space.

Marc took a strawberry and lifted it to your mouth, watching intently as your precious lips parted to bite into the ripe fruit. He chuckled watching some of the juice drip down your chin.

“My messy little girl,” he cooed, wiping the juice from your chin and popping his thumb into your mouth.

His brow furrowed, feeling your tongue roll over his thumb. Marc’s dick sprang to life almost instantly while you teased him. No…he was starting to think like Steven. You weren’t teasing, you were just cleaning him off, but still…what if you knew exactly what you were doing to him? It was always possible that you wanted him but were just playing coy…right?

“That’s very good honey,” Marc pulled his hand back, “do you want some more?”

You nodded, feeding into his delusion that you did want this.

Marc moaned this time when you bit into the strawberry, more juice dripping down your chin and landing on your chest. He leaned in toward your face, his tongue darting out to lap up the mess and bring it to your lips. You let him in, and he wondered if you actually wanted to kiss him, or if you were just behaving because you were afraid of what may happen if you didn’t.

He didn’t really care at the moment, because you kissed like you wanted it. Your tongue melted with his, and he swore he heard a breathy whine roll up through your throat only to be muffled by the wet sounds of your mouths moving together.

“Fuck, baby,” Marc breathed as he pulled back, breaking the kiss plopping into his chair across from yours. “You’re so…” He couldn’t think of a word sufficient enough to describe the way you made him feel.

Despite yourself, the arousal was building between your legs after that kiss. Something about Marc did make things feel a little less horrible, even if you knew you shouldn’t feel that way. You were feeling yourself giving in, and you hated it.

You realized now how thirsty you were, like your mouth was dry and filled with cotton.

“P-please,” your voice was still a soft croak in the otherwise silent room. 

You looked at the glass full of red wine next to the rest of your meal. You gulped, looking back over at Marc and nodding. He smiled, bringing the glass to your lips and pouring it into your mouth. He started tipping the cup just a little before you drank faster and faster until it was gone. You breathed like you’d run a mile, licking the remnants of the sweet drink from your lips.

“Jeez honey, do you want some more?” He chuckled.

You nodded, watching him as he filled the glass once more and you chugged all of it down quickly. Marc having his way with you was inevitable, and since you knew that, you were going to make yourself at least a little numb to it. Perhaps you could even enjoy yourself without feeling completely guilty. If you were a bit buzzed then maybe you could forgive yourself later when you enjoyed the way he touched you.

Marc shouldn’t like you drunk, but he did. Something about how much happier you seemed to be made him feel at peace. It didn’t take you long to get there either, he could see your eyes start to droop a bit while you looked at him after a few more moments passed.

“Baby, I’m going to take these off your wrists and ankles,” he said, referring to the straps holding you against the chair. “I don’t think you’d be able to go anywhere even if you wanted to.”

He let out a lighthearted chuckle as he finished freeing your limbs. You stood up immediately, stretching your arms and legs to get the blood flow back through your body. You stumbled forward, and Marc stood fast to catch you. God you were so tiny. Sometimes he forgot just how small you were compared to them.

“Easy, easy,” he said, laughing while you leaned against his chest. “Let’s go sit you down in the living room.”

He helped you - basically carried you - to the living room, setting you down on the couch and sitting himself beside you. It didn’t take much, just a little nudge with his hand to get you to lay down on his lap. Marc rubbed your cheek softly with his thumb, looking down at your eyes and the way the fire from the crackling fireplace reflected in your pupils so prettily.

“There you go, just rest honey. If you get tired I’m sure Jake would understand.”

“Speak for yourself, pendejo.”

Marc didn’t reply, still certain he wanted to keep that insanity from you for now. Maybe once you were better adjusted he would feel more comfortable sharing more about his personal life, but until then, he would only subject you to one crazy thing at a time.

You shifted your face against his lap, your cheek brushing against the obvious tent he’d pitched from when he kissed you earlier. He didn’t think it would go away any time soon, but he could take care of himself later, or maybe even ignore and let Steven deal with it when he was fronting. It was a shock to him though, when you picked your head up and placed a small peck on the clothed shaft of his dick through his jeans.

You did that all on your own.

“Baby, what the hell are you…oh shit…”

You brushed your lips over it, feeling enticed by the scent of his musk. Obviously the wine was making you feel something, maybe something you wanted subconsciously, or maybe it was purely a physical need induced by the arousal building in your core. You felt hot, like your body was made up of pure lust and nothing else. You hated yourself and wished that you hadn’t drank the wine, even if it would make your night easier.

None of it mattered now, because you did drink the wine, and you were feeling yourself grow hotter by the second at the thought of giving Marc pleasure. You fucking wanted him, and you couldn’t loathe yourself more over it. You slipped off the couch to your knees, looking up at him from between his legs and feeling nothing but pure desire for him when you did.

Who the fuck am I? You thought to yourself.

Marc couldn’t believe his eyes. You were on your knees between his legs, a sight he was certain he wouldn’t ever see, not this early on in your life of captivity anyway. Your little hands fumbled with his belt, managing to slowly pull the leather strap from the buckle before you started to unbutton his pants. His mouth hung open while he watched you tug his jeans and briefs to his thighs, letting his cock spring free. 

You looked at it like never before, leaning forward and giving the length of him a small kitten lick all the way from the base to the tip. Marc couldn’t breathe while he watched you. He knew that you could fit it in your mouth, you’d done it with Jake the night they took you, but this time was different. This time, you were acting like you wanted it.

“Take your time honey, I know your little mouth can hardly handle us,” he cooed, reminding you that you didn’t need to rush.

You gulped, lips parting slowly as you stared at his leaking tip. Once more you flicked your tongue out and licked the bead of precum off of him. He wondered if you even realized that you hummed as if you liked the taste. He reached a hand behind your head, not to pressure you, but instead to guide you. Marc wanted to make this as comfortable for you as possible, especially considering it wasn’t very often that you showed eagerness or compliance to satisfy their needs.

You opened your lips wide, leaning up over his cock before lowering your head down around it. The second Marc felt the warmth of your mouth surround him it was like the breath punched out from his lungs.

“Oh…god honey,” he growled through clenched teeth. “F-fuck.”

You didn’t take it all, and he hadn’t expected you to. He was impressed that you even made it to the halfway mark before the head of his cock was probing against your throat. Maybe one of the other two would stretch your mouth out more and teach you how to use it, but it wasn’t going to be Marc, not today.

Maybe it was the fact that you were drunk, or maybe it was that you liked the way Marc was breathing and whining, but you couldn't ignore the feeling of your aching clit any longer. You put your finger between your legs, still using your other hand to hold onto Marc’s thigh for stability, and you started touching yourself. It was embarrassing how wet you were over someone who had done such horrible things to you.

“Does it feel that good honey? You like sucking my cock that much?”

Marc was mesmerized by your eyes and the way you furrowed your brow while you sucked him off. That was the same expression he recognized from before when he’d made you come around his cock. You moaned around his dick, an acceptable answer to his question.

You know you look so pretty like that,” he nodded, breath blowing out through his pursed lips while he tried to hold back from fucking your throat wide open. “Sit back for me, honey.”

With a loud ‘pop’ you let his cock fall out of your mouth and you sat back on your heels. Your eyes were stuck on his throbbing length, mind still fuzzy with arousal and intoxication, feeling yourself wanting nothing more than to have it back in your mouth. You hadn’t stopped circling around your clit with your fingers, your wet slick making it easy to move around just right. Another bead of precum trickled teasingly down Marc’s shaft, dripping onto the floor and leaving you salivating.

“You really want more, hm?” He asked, grabbing the thick base of himself firmly and slowly starting to jerk himself off in front of you.

Yes, you thought to yourself. You didn’t know why, and you were still a little mad at yourself for appearing so eager, but yes, you fucking wanted it.

Marc couldn’t believe his eyes when you nodded, your gaze still trained on his swollen dick while he held onto it. He gave it another firm stroke, slowly, up to the tip. When he squeezed around the top some slick, clear precum dripped down onto his fingers. With his free hand he beckoned you back over, holding the back of your head and positioning his tip at your lips.

“Open, please, quick-fuck-fuck-fuhhh!"

All it took was the brush of your little tongue against the backside of his leaking head before he lost it. He moaned loudly, surprising even himself as he squeezed his cock, aiming the shots of spend over your tongue, coating your mouth in a layer of white. Marc couldn’t imagine a better view than you looking up at him with your mouth wide open as he fed you every last drop he had. 

You came the very second you tasted his cum on your tongue. The delicious hot ropes ran down your throat while you took what he gave you, and you rubbed your clit faster, feeling yourself go weak over his taste. A series of choking gasps were lost in the living room while you felt your cunt contracting around nothing, your hot arousal gushing and dripping down your thighs.

In your mind-numbed state you couldn’t hold your body up anymore and so you fell to the ground in a heap, breathing heavily and letting the soothing warmth of your intoxication wash over you. 

“Someone had too much to drink,” Marc commented with a soft chuckle, tucking his dick back in his pants before lifting you into his arms with a contented sigh.

His heart leapt with a sense of joy and love for you when you held onto him, tucking your face into his broad chest and nuzzling against him. You murmured something nonsensical and unintelligible, inspiring another laugh out of Marc. He wished with all his heart that this was the first of many nights that you would start to warm up to them; that you were finally accepting your place and finding peace with your fate.

He hoped so deeply that it was true. He needed it to be true.

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter (Coming Soon)

Moon Knight Masterlist

#yandere jake lockley #yandere marc spector #yandere steven grant #yandere moon knight #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight x reader #moon knight x you

[cupidysm]

there are no words that could be used to how beautifully written this. Every word appealing to ALL the senses 😳 love love LOVE your writing as always!!❤️

A Pleasant Surprise

Summary: Steven has had something on his mind for a while now, and finally he divulges his fantasy to you; degrading was certainly not on your playing cards.

Rating: nsfw, smut

Warnings/Content: sub!Steven, dom!reader, fem!reader, “mommy” title, degrading, grinding, cumming in pants, lmk if there's anything else I should add :).

Word count: 1,441

Credit: @automnepoet for proofreading ily.

………......................…………………………………….

When Steven had come to you with a “fun idea”, you'd expected something along the lines of ”naive uni teacher gets fucked by his student”, but this was so much better.

“Love? I have a, uh…suggestion,” Steven calls from the bathroom between brushing his teeth. “Well, it's more of a proposal, really.”

“Yeah? Go on.” You're sitting in your bedroom reading some gruesome crime novel that Marc seems to have a real distaste for.

You hear the water running briefly before your boyfriend joins you in the room, warm morning sun streaming in through the cracked curtains and casting a soft glow over his face. “I mean, we don't have to do it now of course. I know you're reading and all that, and I have to get to work in a bit–.”

You close your book and pat the edge of the bed, making him instantly respond to your gesture by placing himself down. “I'm all ears, sweetheart, lay it on me.”

Blood rushes to Steven's face as he actually thinks about saying it outloud, feet shuffling a little on the creaky floorboards. The words feel stuck in his throat now that he has to speak them, despite the fact he'd thought about the whole image on numerous occasions... and in great detail.

“Heeyy c’mon,” your hand brushes his arm, and you move closer to him to wrap your arms fully around his, crinkling his blue floral shirt. “You know I can't read your mind, Steven… Though I wish I could, that'd be super fucking helpful, then the other two couldn't lie to me.”

His chuckle makes you smile and you feel him draw in a long breath.

”I wanna like… grind against you… and I want you to mock me for it, u-until I cum… in my trousers…”

The pauses between his words are almost comical, but you look up at his face and see that he's completely serious, looking at you with wide eyes and waiting for an answer.

“Oh! Right.”

“Ah, Gods! No no... no no no no no, forget it–.” He frantically shakes his head, his hands doing the same as his face scrunches. “It's weird, I'm sorry, pretend I never said anything. Me and my big bloody mouth.”

“Steven,” you say between giggles, hand resting on his soft face to pull his gaze towards you. “It's not weird, silly! I just didn't expect you to be the one that's into degrading.” Careful not to fall back off of the bed, you climb onto his lap, thighs either side of his as you examine his expression, how gorgeous he looks with his brows knitted together and his unruly curls that Marc would definitely be gluing down with copious amounts of gel right about now.

His chest deflates as he lets out a soft sigh, resting his head on your chest out of embarrassment while you link your arms around his neck to run your fingers through the long curls at the back of his head. You feel his hands graze up your back, gliding under your night shirt and making you shiver with the warmth.

“Are you sniffing me?”

“No! Well…” he pauses, “yeah, but not in a creepy way.” The man lifts his head and looks up at you with those big doe eyes, and you watch them close as you start rolling your hips down on him slowly. You're only in your underwear underneath that shirt, but Steven is fully clothed and ready for work… or at least he would be, if his eyes weren't fluttering shut and arousal wasn't growing in his tummy.

“I promise you, darling, I like your idea.” You reassure him with your hips drawing slow circles against the material of his trousers, creating a delicious friction. “As long as you tell me if it's too much, alright?”

The bed creaks a little with your grinding before he looks up at you, nodding with a kind of desperation in his eyes that lights a fire in your gut.

“You promise?”

“Yeah love, yeah I promise.” He says, his voice a little more whiny.

You don't bother yourself with working out the psychological reasons for why your boyfriend enjoys being degraded about how long he can last, chalking it up to his masculinity, despite your reassurances that he's just as much of a man as his other two alters.

“You've got 10 minutes, think you can do that?”

Steven groans at your question, since both of you know all too well that 10 minutes is more than enough time. Still, he nods, big puppy dog eyes looking up at you and begging you to divulge in his vision.

A smirk creeps across your face when you see those glassy eyes, your gaze trailing down to the blush dusting his cheeks and the straining muscles in his neck.

“God Steven, I love the way you look at me. Look at those big soft eyes, all for mommy, aren't they?”

He lets out a whimper with the use of that title, his cock stirring in his trousers and reminding you of the thin barrier that's stopping you from grinding on the rough material of his slacks all together. The man doesn't take his gaze off of you; he drinks in every one of your features as if he's seeing you for the first time.

Rocking his hips up, he pants.

“Yes mommy, all for you, I'm all for you.”

“That's right, sweetheart, those desperate eyes are for me. that dumb little face is mine.” You lean forward and nip his bottom lip, soothing it afterwards with your tongue as he gasps and bucks his hips.

“I can feel you twitching, baby. You just can't help it, can you? Always getting so worked up and hard when I'm around, maybe I should put this pretty cock in a cage, what do you think?”

Steven's shoulders drop as he leans forward into your neck, biting and sucking any skin he can get his mouth on while his hot breath and whimpers raise goosebumps over your skin.

The suction he had in your neck is broken as his head is suddenly jerked backwards, your grip tight in his hair and making him whimper pathetically.

“I asked you a question, sweetheart.”

His adam's apple bobs in his throat as he tries to suppress his moans, his head nodding wildly. “Yes mommy, I'd– agh–I'd love that.” His hips buck again.

“Mhm.. then you'd at least last longer than 5 minutes, you'd actually be able to fuck me properly.”

Steven's mouth hangs agape, his eyes now squeezed shut as his grip on your hips tighten and he guides your hips down on him harder, wanting more, anything.

“Sh–it… Ah- Feels so good.” His eyebrows knit together in a beautifully strained way. “More, gimme more–.”

You tut with a small smirk on your lips, rocking back and forth to coat his trousers in your own arousal that's seeped through your underwear.

“Oh, look at you, you gonna cum in your pants, baby? Gonna prove how pathetic you are to mommy?” You feel the muscles in his shoulders and back tighten. “C'mon sweetheart, cum for me, ruin those pants.”

Sweet moans and whimpers tumble from the man's rosy lips as he finally lets go, staining his boxers enough that you feel the wetness as it soaks a spot on his trouser leg.

His grip on your hips loosens, but he doesn't stop whimpering, soft babbles and huffs escaping his throat as he calms down. You stroke his head, combing your fingers through his hair as your hips slow. “Good boy, you're such a good boy, Steven.” You smile brightly at him, despite the fact his eyes are still shut.

They only flutter open when he feels your hand stroking his cheek and tilting his head down.

“Are you ok, baby? How do you feel?”

His cheeks are flushed bright red still, beads of sweat sitting on his forehead from the warmth of his button-up shirt. A smile cracks across his face as he nods shyly, “I'm ok– great, yeah.. I'm great, actually.”

“You sure? I didn't hurt your feelings, did I?”

He shakes his head and tilts face to kiss your palm. “No, you didn't, love. I promise.”

His eyes drift down to the wet patch on his trousers, your eyes following as you chuckle softly.

“Should probably change…” He mumbles while resting his head on your shoulder.

“Yeah, that's probably a good idea.” You place a kiss on his neck as you embrace him, ignoring the fact that he will most definitely be late to work… again.

...........................................................................

Tags 🖤: @boredzillenial @cowboymarcs @chichimisaki @faretheeoscar @fanofstuffidk @minigirl87 @marisferasiop @red-hydra @summonthesoups @steven-grants-world @queerponcho @ominoose @mynamesstevenwithav @rinverse @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @mooksmouse @cupidysm

#moon knight #steven grant #steven grant x reader #steven grant smut #oscar isaac characters

[cupidysm]

Your Pen

Shy!Steven Grant x gn!reader || masterlist || shy!Steven playlist

summary: Part 2 to My Pen! With the aftermath of your interaction with Steven leaving him hopeless for another chance, fate seems to have other plans…

content: fluff, mutual pining, awkwardness (hopefully it’s endearing??), QUICK read, no mentions of the system, NOT EDITED

word count: 1,188

A/N: I am deeply sorry for the late post on this, my schedule has been extremely hectic and my mental health hasn’t been so great either, but I’d like to give a quick thank you to all the people who have enjoyed my other fics, my love goes out to all of you for taking time out of your lives to read something of mine! xoxo

Read the first part here!

A week has passed since your interaction with the timid man working the gift shop.

Steven couldn’t get the day off his mind either, rethinking and reliving the moment over and over again, visualizing a reality where it could’ve gone right. A reality where he would’ve gotten your number. A reality he asked you out for ice cream, maybe even gelato if he was feeling fancy. Would you like gelato? Would you even like him? These were thoughts that sped through his mind on repeat. He only wished he could get another chance at it, but he never did.

Everyday he’d look for you from his spot behind the counter, watching the door. If he wasn’t of sound mind, maybe he would’ve called himself creepy and stopped this obsession, but he couldn’t.

He was simply too in love.

When you first went to the National Art Gallery, it was simply in a research project for your class in Ancient Egypt. Yes you were interested in the subject, but mixed with the internship alongside some other’s taking the class, you didn’t really see the time in your schedule to go out to a museum.

The next day after your short conversation with Steven you were back in the lecture hall.

Turns out the internship had a few pros to it.

You were invited to a gala hosted by the National Art Gallery where they would be showcasing a few new artifacts that would be added to their Egyptian exhibit, along with giving thanks to their sponsors and donators. You were sat at a table with the other interns, a woman, Donna? you think, just finished her lengthy thanks to the board for donating to her department and is quickly replaced by a much older man who drones in about the description of the Exhibit. You try to pay attention, really you do, but with your empty stomach, dropping eyes, and the fact you feel someone watching you makes it pretty hard to keep your focus.

You slowly card your eyes through the crowd of tables in the ballroom before landing on a tuff of curly hair, and wide brown eyes staring at you without remorse. Spotting you staring back, he quickly pulls his eyes from your own, face red as he looks back at the speaker while fidgeting with the napkin draped across his lap. He glances back up to see if you’re still looking. You are, and he quickly looks away. You can’t help but smile to yourself in amusement.

After all the speakers have finished, a small buffet and champagne are open to the crowd resulting in people crowding the line of tables filled with small snacks.

You grab yourself a flute of champagne and a small plate of fruit before heading back to your table. However, your stopped by a figure, the word nervous practically spilling out of his pockets as he trys to pry the words from his thoughts and convert them into actual sentences. Words that he's spent the last 15 minutes trying to piece together to say, in hopes that he might be able to get at least a name.

Yeah, that was it, he thought. If he could get at least your name he would feel accomplished, maybe even obtain some courage from it to ask for a number- No, no that's probably too forward. Name, name is good and- oh wow you smell good. Not good, nice. Good sounds a little creepy. I could tell her that, yeah that's good.

"Oh hey! You’re the guy from the gift shop- Steve- Steven!"

Oh shit.

The only reaction Steven could summon up within the second was a curt nod, his gaze was stuck to anywhere but your face and- bloody hell did you look wonderful in that outfit.

Lucky enough for Steven, instead of taking his reaction for disinterest or being rude you saw right through him and saw just how shy he really was. Your lips crept up into a friendly smile, one that had those pesky little fireworks spark within him once more before continuing. And that’s when you said it.

That one word answer he’s been hoping- praying for since the moment he met you. Your name.

It was beautiful, elegant, stunning and fitting to you. All those things put together couldn’t amount to just how perfect it was- you were.

You, were perfect.

He couldn’t help but repeat your name on his lips, a silent thanks to whatever force out there had made him so lucky.

However, instead of what he thought to have been said in silence was repeated with the same volume you had used, you laughed in response, his ears immediately turning a soft pink.

Steven needed to pull this together, he just needed to. He was making himself look like a bloody idiot and who knows what chance he would have after this, he needed to get your number and quick before you escaped-

“Could I grab your number..?”

Everything stopped. I mean everything. The crowd of people in the hall, the scrape of silverware, even the soft thump of his heart seemed to stop. You did that to him. A soft glow enveloped you like an angel, Steven wouldn’t be surprised if that was exactly what you were, an angel. This… hope felt like an answered birthday wish, a Christmas morning, lazy Sunday mornings, a feeling no word could describe besides relief.

Steven’s response was made up of 2 words. Probably the most pathetic reply in existence, but it was something.

“Yes please.”

You smiled ear to ear before digging through your bag, rambling to him- yourself- maybe just in general, about never having a writing utensil at the right time.

That is until you finally retrieved one from your bag.

A black pen, nothing too fancy, but simple and convenient. With white polka-dots.

His lips parted slightly at the sight, you took his arm softly before giving him a look that must have meant something along the lines of ‘Shall I continue?’ ,but he only swallowed in response. You rolled up his dress shirt sleeve and quickly tested the pen on your own hand before pressing the tip onto his arm, not hard enough for it to be utterly painful, but just enough to get some ink.

And there it was. Your number written beautifully on his arm, but before you could open your mouth your name was called from your table where hands waved you over. You hurriedly capped the pen before walking hurriedly before turning back.

“You’ll call me, yeah?!” You called over the voices of the crowd.

“Most definitely!” He replied, this time with the most confidence he’s had all night.

You smiled one last time before hurrying back to your table and that’s when he knew it.

People say love takes time, love at first sight doesn’t actually exist, but he knew this was different. From that moment and before he even knew your name, he knew deep down that you were who he wanted to spend his life with, every birthday wish, Christmas morning, and lazy Sunday mornings.

You, you gave him love.

#moon knight #steven grant #steven grant fluff #steven grant x reader #moonknight fanfiction #Moonknight #marvel #mcu #mr knight #fanfic

[cupidysm]

this. this was a lie.

not really a lie, I've just been super sick.

i PROMISE it'll be out soon enough. 💕

part 2 to My Pen coming soon!

#yeah so I lied

[cupidysm]

No one can understand how I feel right now. I mean NO ONE. This is beautiful. Liz, honey (pun definitely intended) no words could express the sheer amount of emotions and giggles I have gone through in the past 5 minutes. This fic makes up for how sick I've been feeling for the past week and I love you for it. ❤️❤️

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 #holy fucking moly man #that was a ride

[cupidysm]

part 2 to My Pen coming soon!

#moon knight #steven grant fluff #steven grant #steven grant x reader #oscar isaac #oscar issac characters #oscar issac x reader #moonknight x reader #moonknight fanfiction

[cupidysm]

My Pen

Just a late birthday fic I wrote while I was bored. It has nothing to do with a birthday/birthdays. Just another fluff piece.

Shy!Steven Grant x gn!reader || masterlist || shy!Steven playlist

summary: Steven lands a chance to talk to a girl he’s been pining over.

content: fluff, hint of angst, swearing(once), mutual pining, awkwardness, it’s a QUICK read, no mentions of the system word count: 601

Steven didn’t know how it happened. It just… did. You showed simply out of the blue and ever since he saw a glimpse of you he was enamored. The way your eyes lit up as you observed the relics scattered throughout the museum made his heart pound. You were just so… interested every time you visited—something incredibly rare since most simply chaperoned on school field trips—barely ever out of pure enjoyment.

Then there you were again. The third time this week you had visited the museum, scribbling- no, note taking what you saw as you made your way past the different exhibits. Steven began to fill his mind with false hopes that you had visited for him.

Then again it could’ve been his shitty excuse of a sleep schedule.

Either way, he was practically buzzing with excitement at the sight of you… until you began to walk in his direction- but that was no problem, you could simply be making your way around one the glass exhibits in the center of the floor. They did place them terribly after all.

And then you entered gift shop area. Okay… maybe you were just perusing, looking around and then head back to your observations of the artifacts. Nope you were heading in his direction, staring at him with a sickeningly sweet smile. Steven began to panic, he could feel a cold sweat wash over him. His heart quickened and his hands began to shake.

“Hi,” You lean in to read his name tag before standing upright. “-Steven,” you smirk at the small accomplishment. “Do you have any pens that I could buy?” Your smile returns making the already existing butterflies in his stomach turn into bloody fireworks.

“I, uh… it’s.” He pauses realizing your look of confusion. “Oh bollocks.” Was all he could muster up. His embarrassment has risen to a ludicrous degree. All he has to do was answer a simple question about a pen.

You can’t stop a giggle from erupting. Steven should probably feel embarrassed by that, but his heart only swells with adoration at being able to actually hear the sound for the first time, not just from observing as you read the cheesy jokes about mummy’s attached to the plaques.

“So, a pen?” You ask with an awkward smile.

“Oh- right, right yes.” Steven fumbles to grab at a black pen, decorated with white polka-dots, in one of the cardboard holders before placing it in your hand. You scribble something quick to check the ink before reaching for your wallet, but Steven reaches out to stop your hand. You look up at him in confusion and Steven swears he could’ve fainted. The wide eyed look from behind your lashes were enough to send him to the after life and back.

“There’s really no need. It’s a pen. Well it’s uh my pen, but you can keep it.” he scratches the back of his neck, trying his hardest not to make eye contact.

His kind request throws you off. “Oh- well are you sure? I’d be glad to pay.”

Steven feels like a lovesick schoolboy. He probably is a lovesick schoolboy, but what’s stopping him?

Apparently everything.

He insists that you keep it and you take a step backwards, stopping yourself just in case he were to continue the conversation, but you eventually turn and walk away.

If only Steven had been just as observant of you at that moment as he had been for the past few days, maybe he would’ve seen the disappointment in your eyes when he didn’t call you back.

Because you had wanted to continue talking to him…

Perhaps just as much as he had.

#steven grant fluff #steven grant x reader #steven grant #moon knight #steven grant angst #moonknight x reader #moonknight fanfiction #steven grant x you #moonknight

[cupidysm]

Back Home to You

pairing: tasm!!peter parker x reader

description: peter made a mistake letting you go. it takes traveling to another universe for him to do something about it

warnings: reader uses she/her pronouns, swearing, angst, fluff

word count: 2171

a/n: i wrote this all in one sitting after rewatching nwh so don't come at me for the quality. also tagging @arkofblake because i told her about this last night and she freaked

read it on ao3

“Peter? Where are you?” You asked as you walked into your shared apartment, putting away your coat and your purse. By the time you had gotten your shoes off, there was still no response. “Peter?”

“In the bathroom.” You heard his voice softly call. It sounded as if he was in pain, so you rushed to see what was happening.

Peter’s suit was halfway off, a large gash on his right side and smaller cuts and bruises littered around the rest of his body. He was currently attempting to stop the bleeding without much luck.

“Oh my god, Peter.” You mumbled as you walked over to him, grabbing the towel from him. You pressed it into the wound, causing him to wince in pain. “Sorry, sorry, this is the only way to stop the bleeding. What happened?”

“I was trying to stop Vulture and he got the better of me. It’s really not a big deal, I’ve had worse.” Peter says through clenched teeth. You roll your eyes at that, quickly peeking to see if the bleeding had stopped yet. It hadn’t. “What?”

“Nothing, Peter. I just— I’m tired of seeing you like this.” You say as you grab his hand and place it over the towel, making sure that Peter kept the right amount of pressure on it as you got the first aid supplies out.

“What do you mean? Seeing me like what?” He asks as he turns to face you. You ignore him, getting out the needle and thread, as well as the disinfectant. “Y/N, what do you mean by ‘seeing you like this’?”

“Peter, you have a fucking gash the size of Texas on your side. Don’t act dumb.” You snap as you remove the towel from his side, wiping the excess blood away. Peter groaned in pain again, flinching away.

“Y/N, I knew what I was getting into when I became Spider-Man. A couple rough days are nothing to me. I’ll be fine.” Peter says as he gently places a hand on your shoulder. You mumble something under your breath as you thread the needle, although Peter couldn’t understand what you said. “What?”

“Peter now is not the best time to have this conversation. Let’s just drop it.” You say dismissively as you get ready to stitch up Peter’s wound.

He rolls his eyes, deciding to let it go for now. Once you had gotten him stitched up and left, Peter was left to his thoughts as he showered off. What could you possibly be talking about? Yes, being Spider-Man was dangerous, but he knew that. You knew that, and you accepted it. At least, that’s what he had previously thought.

He got out of the shower a few minutes later, getting dressed, and heading into the living room to see you pacing back and forth. “Y/N? What’s going on?” 

“I don’t think I can do this anymore, Peter.” You whisper as you continue pacing. Peter gives you a confused look, stepping closer and placing his hands on your arms to stop you.

“Do what? What can’t you do anymore?” He whispers softly as he looks into your eyes, hands moving up to cup your cheeks.

“Us. I don’t think I can do this relationship anymore.” You say. In that moment Peter’s whole world crumbles. What had he done wrong? How had he made you unhappy?

You placed your hands over Peter’s, moving them off of you. “It’s not something you’ve done necessarily, it’s just… I’m not cut out for this anymore. I can’t stand to watch you come home like this every day. You’re not taking care of yourself properly, and I’m scared that—” You’re cut off by a burning feeling in your throat, tears welling in your eyes. You take a step back, wiping them away.

“Scared that what, Y/N?” Peter asked, tears forming in his eyes now. 

“I’m scared that you won’t come back, Peter. I’m scared that one day, I’m gonna come home and instead of you there’ll be police at my door, telling me that my boyfriend died fighting some giant fucking lizard, or a guy who has some high-tech suit that costs more than our whole apartment building! I want more for myself, but most importantly I want more for you. And I wish that I was the type of person to be selfish, and ask you to give up doing what you love. But I’m not. So I’m leaving. It’s better for the both of us.” 

There’s a moment of silence. Neither of you know what to say. Peter wants you to stay. He wants to tell you that he’ll do better, that he’ll be better for you. But he can’t. Because he knows what that means, and as much as he would like to think so, he’s not ready to stop putting his all into being Spider-Man. Even if it means losing you.

The silence is enough for you. You take a deep breath, moving past Peter to your bedroom to pack some clothes. You come back a few minutes later with a duffel bag and your purse. “If you change your mind, I’ll be staying with my sister.”

Those are the final words Peter hears from you before you leave the apartment. Before you leave him.

—

Peter never considered himself to be jealous— especially of other people’s relationships. But seeing how much Peter 1 and MJ cared for and trusted each other— it made him sick. Not because they didn’t fit together— it was almost as if they were made for each other. It was because it reminded him of you. Of what the two of you had before he went and fucked it all up.

The first few weeks after you left were hard for Peter. He’s ashamed to admit that he stopped being as kind as he was before. Quite a few of the villains he ran into left their encounters beaten within an inch of their lives. He stopped visiting May as much as he used to— which he really regretted because she had done nothing wrong and was honestly the only person he could’ve gone to about his troubles.

But he isolated himself because he thought that that was what was best. It wasn’t, he knew that now. After he finally realized that he was just proving your point, he started to better himself. He stopped being reckless, started thinking about why he was actually doing what he was doing.

By now he knew he was a much better man than he had ever been when he was with you. But it wasn’t enough, at least not in his mind. He’d almost texted and called you multiple times, even showed up on your doorstep a few times. But he could never bring himself to say or do what he needed.

For now, he was content with just checking in on you every once in a while. You had found an apartment about 15 minutes away from where the two of you used to live. You had decorated it nicely. That was always something you were good at, figuring out what looked good together.

“What are you thinking about?” Peter 2 asked, grabbing Peter’s attention. 

“Nothing.” He said quickly, prompting Peter 2 to give him a knowing look. “It’s just…seeing them together reminds me of someone.” He says with a little smile.

“Oh? Is this someone someone special?” Peter 2 asks as he takes off his saftey goggles. 

“She was—is. She is special to me.” Peter mumbles as he finishes writing the equation for the formula.

“Was? What happened?”

The question causes Peter to sigh. “I fucked up, really bad. She cared so deeply for me, and I took that for granted.”

“Yeah, I get what you mean. I think that’s one of the downsides of doing what we do, especially if you don’t have everything together. It’s usually the ones we love the most that end up getting hurt by our foolishness.”

Peter takes a moment to think on what was said. “Wow, that was really deep.” He pauses for a moment before continuing. “So, how did you get the courage to try and win her back?”

“Honestly? I didn’t. I ran into her one day and everything just…came pouring out of me. If we hadn’t of run into each other, I honestly don’t think I’d ever have gotten the courage to talk to her again.” Peter 2 explained as he worked. Peter nodded, understanding what he meant.

He had a lot to think about when he got back home. 

—

When he had finally gotten back to his home—his universe— Peter had immediately collapsed on his bed. He had every intention of going to you that night, but it was extremely late, he was tired, and he had just fought off 5 different villains. The man needed his rest. 

That rest turned into 2 days, then 4, then a whole week, and he still hadn’t gone to speak with you. Again, he had fully intended to, but something was stopping him. He kept telling himself that he was going to do it the next day, but he knew deep down that that was a lie. 

It was late at night when he got the urge to see you again. This had become a normal occurrence over the past few years. On nights when it was pretty tame, he would sit on the fire escape of your apartment and make sure you were alright. Sure, it was a little strange but he didn’t particularly care.

Only this time, when he came to perch on your fire escape, you were sitting on your windowsill, a mug in your hands. “Hello, Peter.” You say with a soft smile as he lands.

He gives you an awkward smile, shifting uncomfortably on his feet. He wasn’t used to this feeling, especially when it came to you. “Hey.”

“You know, for a superhero, you’re not the most stealthy person in the world.” You say as you hand him the mug. “It’s tea, just the way you like it.”

“Thank you.” He says. He takes a sip, humming at the taste. He looks up at you behind the mug. “So, are you uh, are you upset that I’ve been spying on you?”

“No. I expected it.” You whisper with a giggle, leaning your head against the windowsill. Peter nods, not sure of what to say. He sets the mug down, running his hands over his face. He couldn’t believe that he was doing this.

“Look, Y/N, I am so sorry for how things ended 3 years ago. I hate that I hurt you, that I made you worry about me when I wasn’t even worried about myself. I took your words to heart and I got better. I stopped being impulsive and started being more calculated. And I so badly wanted to come to you, but I just… I couldn’t. I didn’t want to risk hurting you again.” He finishes, slightly out of breath. There was a moment where nothing but looks were exchanged. Finally, you got up and walked over to him. “What are you doing?” Peter asked softly as he looked down at you.

You don’t say anything, just smile and pull his face down so that your lips touch gently. He practically melts into the kiss, his arms finding their spot around your waist once again. He’s missed this. You’ve missed this. 

When you pull away from each other, it’s all smiles. Peter is grinning like a child on Christmas and you love it, reaching your hand up slightly to move his hair out of his face. 

“Does this mean that you forgive me?” He whispers. You chuckle at that, playfully rolling your eyes.

“You get a kiss like that and you’re questioning whether or not I forgive you?” You ask, causing Peter to throw his head back with laughter.

“What, I feel like it’s a fair question. Don’t leave me hanging.” He says as he playfully shakes the two of you. 

You laugh, shaking your head at his antics. “Yes, Peter Parker. I forgive you.”

This causes the smile on Peter’s face to grow even wider. He leans down, giving you another kiss. You lean up into it, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer.

“I love you, Y/N. And I promise that I will never, never hurt you again. And if I do, I give you full permission to beat my ass and never look back.” He says once the two of you pull away.

“I don’t think that I’ll need to do that, but thank you for that.” You say with a smile. Peter and you share another laugh, before you turn and look inside your apartment. “It’s a little chilly out here, why don’t we head back inside?”

Peter hums, allowing you to pull him into the warmth of your apartment. He was glad to have a sense of normalcy back in his life.

[cupidysm]

i have zero dignity when it comes to this man.

#I don’t know whether to cry #laugh or cum.

[cupidysm]

As seen on twitter

#god he's so hot

[cupidysm]

I LEAVE FOR LESS THAN 2 DAYS AND RETURN TO THIS??

I’m so grateful to all the people who enjoyed my fic, I was feeling held down from some hate on a past fic I posted but this has really been a wonderful reminder to why I even started writing. Thank you lovelies ❤️

#oscar issac #steven grant x you #steven grant #moonknight #moon knight

[cupidysm]

Vegan Pizza

Just a fic I wrote to practice my fluff writing! edit: I’m so happy so many people enjoyed it!

Steven Grant x gn!shy!reader || masterlist ||

summary: (I gotta practice fluff writing) As Steven makes his way back to his flat after being stood up, he runs into his neighbor who helps him find comfort in a warm meal.

content: fluff, making out, awkwardness (but like in an endearing way? I hope)

word count: 1,218

Steven Grant naturally thought bad luck was simply drawn to him. However, the day he landed a date with his co-worker, Dylan, he thought his luck has finally turned around.

Until she didn’t show up.

Steven was a good neighbor. Always greeting you with a smile or a quick “Good morning.” No matter how late he was for work. Now that you were thinking about it, he was kind of cute.

Alright fine, you were enamored.

His big brown eyes, his tooth aching smile, and it didn’t matter how loose fitting his clothes were you could see the traces of muscle through his wide necked shirts. But looks didn’t matter anyways. It was simply being himself that drew you in.

You found yourself returning home later than usual from a busy day at work, and just as you’re about to enter the door to your flat you hear the steps of someone heading up the stairs.

“Bloody chocolates.” Steven mumbled as he slumped up the steps to his floor.

You didn’t mean to be eavesdropping, but earlier that week you had heard him bragging to another neighbor about a date he landed. You’d be lying to yourself if you didn’t say you were the slightest bit jealous, but Steven had a love life too and it wasn’t like he’d wait forever for you to get over your worries and ask him out.

You turned to Steven with a smile. “Hey Steven! How was your date?”

Steven doesn’t recall ever mentioning it to you, but then again he doesn’t remember much now days between his life and his dreams.

“Oh, hi. Yeah…it didn’t go well. She stood me up.” He mumbled as he rubbed the back of his neck.

Your heart twinged with excitement, but was quickly replaced with sympathy at his downcast expression. “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that Steven.”

“All I wanted was a bloody dinner with someone to spend time with.” He sighs. “Not get stood up.”

The words slip from your mouth before you can even go over them in your head.

“Wellifyou’restillhungrymaybeyou’dwanttocomeoverandhavesomethingtoeat…” you realize how fast you’re speaking and are able to slow your brain down. “I’m making a pizza..? It’s vegan.”

The first time Steven had mentioned he was vegan you immediately bought a vegan pizza, that way when you did have the excuse to ask him on a date you’d be prepared. Apparently now was that time.

His face lights up slightly at the mention of a meal. “That sounds great! Yeah…I’d like that.” He smiles.

He follows you into your flat and sits down while you take out the frozen pizza.

“I’m surprised you actually had something vegan. Most people think vegan food tastes strange.”

You laughed. “Not me.”

That was a lie. You made one a while back and weren’t entirely fond of it, but if this ended well you’d be happy to eat as many vegan pizzas if it meant you’d get to have more times like this one.

“I remember you mentioned you being vegan a while back so I thought I’d buy it.” You immediately winced at your words. You don’t know how long back he had mentioned this, but you think it was pretty far back. He was definitely gonna think you were weird for remembering something as minuscule as that.

“Yeah, that’s right, I… I am. You remember that?” He asked clearly shocked.

Shit. He did think you were weird.

“Thanks, I… no one really takes the time to listen… or care.”

You’re lucky your turned away from him as you load the pizza in the oven so he won’t see your blush.

“It’s no biggie.” You smile.

The rest of the night you chat between each other. Steven’s once dismal night took a flip from simply spending time with someone as lovely as you. When the pizza is ready, the both of you eat your pizza happily.

“This is good. I still can’t believe you remembered I was vegan.” He smiles.

“It’s really not that big of a deal.” Your face is definitely visibly red.

“It’s big to me. No one really remembers something like that about me.” He chuckles as he looks up at you with his big eyes.

You could’ve kissed him right there with the way he was looking at you. His mouth full of pizza making his cheeks puff out in such an adorable way.

“Bloody hell. must sound desperate, don’t I?” He looks off embarrassed. This time he’s the one blushing.

“No, no ‘course not.” You smile with a giggle.

He flushed again slightly before speaking out.

“You’re… you’re very pretty.” His voice trails off as he looks down at his plate embarrassed.

Your jaw practically falls off. “What?”

“You are very pretty.” His eyes glance up at you before staring locked on your eyes. “Really… beautiful.” His voice trails off.

“Did I say that out loud?” He picks his head up in a panic, his face turning beet red.

You stand up quickly. “I, uh… bathroom-“ You sprint in the direction of your bathroom before shutting the door.

You lean yourself against the wall, your beating so fast you think it might fly out of your chest. You eventually realize you just left him alone and put yourself in an even more awkward situation, so you decide to open the door.

You jump back in surprise and see Steven standing there awkwardly.

“I… er,” he fiddles with his hands. “Did I say something wrong? I- I mean you really are beautiful, and oh bollocks, I ruined it didn’t I.” He stammers out quickly.

You quickly cover his mouth with your hands in order to shut him up.

“Steven, stop it. Stop that.”

His eyes widened when you covered his mouth, a bit shocked.

“What— did I say something wrong?” He asked, his voice muffled.

“No- no of course not.” You squeeze your eyes shut to overwhelmed.

“God, if you keep saying stuff like that I won’t be able to stop myself from kissing you and I like you way too much for me to ruin it.”

He was utterly gobsmacked, his eyes wide as you spoke.

Finally, he managed to respond.

“Are—”

He lifts your hands from his mouth.

“Are you saying you… want to kiss me right now?”

You quickly cover your face.

"And it's such terrible timing too! I- I mean your date just stood you up!" You stammer out.

"I don't care if you kiss me right now. I— uh, I wouldn’t mind…" He said, almost breathless. "This— we, I…"

He couldn't find words— so instead he showed it.

His lips pressed against yours softly, just enough so I’d you were uncomfortable you had the space to pull away, but there was no way you were going to now.

A soft whimper left his lips as you pressed yourself further into him. He slid his hands around your waist, until he eventually pulled back to let the two of you breath.

“That was good.” Is all he manages. “That was very good.”

You can’t help but giggle and eventually he can’t either. He laughs alongside you, arms still entangled in eachother.

“…Could I take you on a date. A real one. No getting stood up?” His eyes sparkling with hope.

“Yeah, that would be nice.”

#steven grant #moon knight #steven grant x reader #steven grant fluff #mr knight #fanfic #shy reader

[cupidysm]

I know we’re all obsessed with frat!peter, but are there any instances where nerdy!peter gets a lil mean too?

for the first time ever, peter is ignoring your call. there are times he's unable to answer, but you know he's purposely watching his phone ring before he silences it.

he's actively ignoring you and you want to scream.

peter doesn't get mad at you. but he is. and it's making everything worse. you can't apologize if he won't talk to you.

it's been two days.

'if you don't call me back in an hour i'm coming over.'

'and yes, that's a threat.'

peter must be really mad. because he didn't answer.

'hi, is peter around?' you can tell may wants to shout the truth, instead she shows solidarity to her nephew. 'sorry, honey. he's out right now.'

you challenge her, 'can i wait for him?' may isn't playing your games, 'he didn't say when he'd be back.'

it's not may's fault, but you still huff at her. 'he has to talk to me at some point.' you see a flush of parent coat over her features.

'sometimes when someone is hurt, they need to think about how to react to it before it gets worse.'

you feel like crying, 'is he really that mad at me?' may slowly closes the door, 'i'm sorry, but peter isn't home.' you want to catch the door and bark out to peter, who you know is holed up in his room, but you respect his space and leave.

it was all your fault. you pushed his harshest barrier and you swear you didn't mean to, it was just the most hurtful thing you could spit out in a moment of fury.

instant regret. you swore you heard peter's heart break the second you finished. his crushing silence hurt more than an equal blow. he just calmly grabbed his backpack and left. and you let him, you were speechless, you couldn't believe the things that came out of your mouth.

you retreat with a few texts.

'i'm sorry, peter. i really, really am.'

'i won't keep bothering you, just talk to me when you're ready.'

'i love you. and i know you love me too, so you don't have to say it back tonight.'

and he doesn't. not when you check before bed and not when you wake the next morning. you've never felt peter's cold shoulder before, but it's icy and stings.

you'd see him on campus and he couldn't ignore you in person, right?

there was only one way to tell, and it was when you saw him sitting at an outside table. scribbling in a notebook while he looked over a textbook and some sheets, he never looked so pretty.

it's selfish, but you want nothing more than to kiss him.

'hi.' sitting backwards, your back hit the edge of the table. if he tells you to fuck off you'll make a quick escape. looking at his side profile he shows no reaction, he was expecting you to join him.

'hi.' peter doesn't share the interest to look at you.

'wanna talk?' you hold your breath, hopeful he'd say yes and you could do your best attempt at damage control.

'not really,' his calm nature unsettles you. you'd rather he spit in your face.

'can i talk?' peter didn't want to talk, but he might listen. you just wanted to make it okay, or try.

you think he agrees just to get you to leave quicker. 'sure.'

anxiety scratches your insides, you've never been so ashamed in your life. it was an odd feeling wanting to do nothing but hold peter close to you while you apologize, while also knowing he wanted nothing to do with your touch.

'i'm sorry. i've never been more sorry for anything in my entire life and i don't know how to make it right. i would do anything to take it back, if i could go back in time to stop myself i would.'

it's unfair, but the reality of the situation hits. tears prickle at your eyes. you just feel so bad.

'i don't know why i said that, and i regretted it the second it left my mouth. i could try to come up with a million excuses, but i said it and i'm taking accountability. i know it doesn't help, but, like...'

you close your eyes, when you open them a tear races down your cheek. you're quick to wipe it. it's not about you.

'i am really fucking disgusted in myself. i'm ashamed and embarrassed and i know i broke your heart. peter, i... i took the darkest part of you and weaponized it. i broke your trust and i am a really, really, really bad girlfriend.'

you deserved the silence. 'you're mad at me and that's fair. i can't say it enough, but i want you to know i'm sorry.'

the last sentence caught his attention, peter shakes his head and laughs under his breath.

'you see, the thing is, i don't think i'm mad. i'm just really fucking hurt. you told me ben was just waiting on someone to put him out of his misery.'

you wince. it sounded so much worse coming from his mouth, it was like the words burnt him and left a bad taste behind. they were seared into his brain. there was nothing in the world to justify what you did.

'you were right. you broke my heart and trust in one go. how do you fix it? i don't know, but i can't even look at you right now. talking to you feels like i'm pulling glass out of my skin.'

'i'm glad you're disgusted with yourself, because i am too.'

there was the blow. it wasn't half as harsh as yours, but it dug deep. you couldn't blame him either. it's entirely too selfish, but you need to know if there's something to work for.

'are you going to break up with me?' you sound sad but you wouldn't blame him if he said yes, you would only blame yourself forever. you don't like how long the silence was, it felt like he was actually thinking about it.

'i don't know.'

three words made you feel empty. the future of your relationship and happiness was a gamble all because you couldn't shut your mouth.

'okay.' it wasn't. 'i know it seems pointless now, because i already failed at it, but i'll never say anything like that ever again. i never, ever wanted to hurt you like this.'

for the first time in three days, peter looks at you. he looks tired.

'you did. that's why you said it. you were mad and i wasn't feeding into it, you got even more upset and said the most hurtful thing you could've to me.'

you're desperate, 'i know! but i swear it wasn't on purpose! i didn't know what i was saying until i said it, and i mean, c'mon peter, you know me. i've never said anything like that before, and i won't ever again.'

peter throws you a bone, maybe he really heard the desperation in your voice. 'i know you're sorry, i know you feel terrible and you wish you could take it back. but that doesn't make it okay. and i need you to understand that.'

you nod quick, 'i do! i understand, i promise.'

peter sees it differently. 'i don't think you do. if you did, you wouldn't be here begging for me to say everything's okay.'

his words make you pause, you see his stance in a different light. your apologies have done nothing but make peter feel like he has to accept them. may said he needed space and you haven't given him any, instead hounding him with texts or forcing him to listen to the same string of sorry's.

you stand, it's very clear to you what needs to happen. if you have any chance of reconciliation. you need to cut contact.

'you're right. i didn't see it like that, but you're right. the second i walk away, i promise i'm done. no more texts, no more surprise visits, no more bothering you on campus. nothing. you come to me when you're ready. no matter the conversation.'

you follow your word and do just that while trying to ignore the worst form of anxiety that crosses over your chest. walking away, unsure if your boyfriend still loved you, was a feeling you wouldn't wish on anyone.

it spreads the longer you hear nothing from peter. was he adjusting to life outside you? should you be doing the same? you didn't realize how much you wrapped peter into your life until he wasn't around.

you had to find a classmate to do revisions with. you had to plan lunch with friends instead of peter. you had to scroll past articles and memes he'd enjoy. you had to stop yourself from texting him a hundred times a day.

the closest you got was a glimpse at his face when he was talking to a friend across campus, he was laughing. you felt relieved knowing he was happy, until you noticed it didn't seem like he missed you all that much.

after four days and all hope lost, you decided it was time to wave the white flag. it was over, if you grieve the relationship now it won't be so bad when he tells you officially. you'd be able to walk away without a panic attack.

while wallowing to yourself in your room, you berate yourself internally for ruining the one true good thing you had. spider-man was entirely too calm when he entered your room right as you felt a tear race down your cheek.

'why are we crying?'

you sit up, you've never been so happy to see the masked hero. until you piece together why he's there, you weren't pre-maturely crying after all.

sniffles around your words, 'cause we broke up.'

the mask is off in a second, 'who said that?' you shrug, the answer is in front of your face. 'isn't it obvious?' peter sits next to you, 'we're not broken up.'

you still don't feel comfortable, 'are we going to be?' peter rewords himself, 'i'm not here to break up with you, no.' 

‘then why are you here?’

peter exhales deeply, a tired excuse of a laugh. ‘i can be upset with my girlfriend and miss her at the same time.’ for just a second, you brighten. ‘you miss me?’

‘yeah. of course i do.’ you almost explode when peter pats your knee, ‘you’re my best friend.’ it’s enough to make you want to cry. you fall into him, an awkward hug, he doesn’t say anything.

‘you’re my best friend too. i missed you so much, i’m so, so, so sorry, peter.’ you melt when a gloved hand rubs your back, it’s not even his skin but you’ve missed his touch so much it’s enough to settle you.

‘it’s okay.’

the words you’ve been looking for, your heart soars. digging your fingertips into his shoulder blades, you hold him tight. ‘is it?’ you don’t want to force him into it.

‘it is.’

except when you remember your words it still doesn’t feel okay. you’re not sure if it ever will. you wonder if that’s what peter was waiting on. 'i don't know, peter. i don't want you to resent me.'

'hey,' you're held at arm's length, peter wants to make sure you're looking at him. 'i took time away so i wouldn't resent you. you really, really hurt my feelings, staying away helped me protect yours.'

you can't imagine the strife you placed on peter, you know actions speak louder than words, but it's a promise to yourself that you will never do anything like it again.

'i'm so sorry, peter. i feel terrible.'

a hint of a smile, 'i know you do. watching you squirm has been a little fun.' you drop your jaw, the nerve. 'oh, you're so mean for that!'

peter cleared his throat, you weren't out of the fog yet.

'but, seriously. that fucking killed me, i mean, i really thought i couldn't breathe. i was just... shocked. shocked more than mad or sad or... i'm not sure.'

you open your mouth, peter stops you, he knows what you're about to say. 'and i don't want you to keep apologizing. it happened, we worked through it, and it doesn't need to keep being mentioned.'

'okay.' it's quiet, you understand what he means, but you feel like you can't explain your sympathy enough.

'ben was one of the most important people in my life and i opened up to you about it. i know it was in the heat of the moment, but you can't use those things against me. it will make me feel like i can't share anything with you.'

'i'm-' peter cut you off with your name, you held your lips closed.

'you're not a bad girlfriend either. you tried. you reached out, you stopped by, you apologized, you stayed away. you did everything you could do to prove how sorry you felt. even if i ignored you, that didn't go unrecognized.'

peter takes a deep breath, 'so,' his hands cup your face, thumbs brush your cheek bones softly. 'i love you, i'm not breaking up with you and it's okay.' peter rubs his nose against yours, 'okay?'

peter isn't saying it's okay because it's fine you talked to him like that. peter's saying it's okay because he sees your imperfections and loves them. peter's saying it's okay because he's said some things he doesn't believe either.

peter's saying it's okay because we're all allowed to fall from grace from time to time.

you want to say sorry, instead you smile and push against his face with your own.

'okay.' 

'good. now give me a kiss, i've been dying for one.'

#my heart #i love him AHH

[cupidysm]

if irura is character x mc, why are u tagging character x reader? some people r so thirsty for clicks, its insane

I apologize if my tag was misleading to you, but I would also like to point out that there is a better possibility of more people being able to be introduced to my writing by a tag such as character x reader, though i promise to be considerate of the thoughts of people such as yourself. Again im truly sorry if the fic wasn't what you were looking for because it wasn't containing reader.

#cupidy replies

[cupidysm]

Steven Grant Masterlist

Sorry Love - 🍒🍊

You and Steven had discussed the idea of somno, but never actually gotten round to doing it... until now.

Bite Me - 🍒

You and Steven wanted to go to a Halloween party, but your costume makes you both a little distracted.

You Know I Love it When You Beg - 🍒

You, Steven, and a vibrator walk into a restaurant, what could go wrong?

Filled to the brim - 🍒

Steven gets a bit carried away, leaving you... well, filled the brim.

I Can Feel You Both - 🍒

Jake and Steven wanna share some alone time with you.

Unexpected Outcome pt.1 - 🍒

Marc wants to watch what you and Steven get up to alone.

Unexpected Outcome pt.2 - 🍒🍊

A little blossom flourishes after a fun night.