![]() Your chest is heaving-and since your bust has gone up a size in the last month, it’s quite visible. “You taste like marshmallows,” he says, when he pauses for breath. One of his hands cradles your face, thumb moving along your cheekbone. He’s good at this-at drawing the breath from your lips and making you squirm. You give a little wriggle, and he draws in a breath. You can feel the length of his cock, hardening against your thigh. “Maybe I’ll find a way to distract you,” he murmurs. The warmth of his body, the presence of him, has your heartbeat picking up. “Oh, ha ha,” you answer, but you’re smiling, too. “I’ll show you legwork,” he says, grinning. His weight doesn’t rest on you, but on the elbows to either side of you. The bag of marshmallows goes flying and you give a little yelp as you find herself on your back, Eddie grinning down at you. The corners of his mouth twitch and he rolls over, taking you with him. You reach over and lightly poke his cheek with a marshmallow. Part of you wonders if it’s because his editor asked him to do it, or so Venom could find a few more tasty snacks. Don’t know why.”Įddie has been working on a series of articles about crime in the Bay Area, ranging from opportunists to serial killers. I went back, and the guards wouldn’t let me see Kasady. His face creases with something like annoyance. “So how goes the prison interviews?” you ask, nodding at Eddie’s laptop. You regard your swollen ankles with some irritation. Eddie sits beside you he’s wearing little more than sweats, and not for the first time, you consider how useful it must be to have a symbiote to protect him from the elements when he ventures outside. You end up sitting with your back to the headboard, eating contentedly. “I think any insects that try to infest this apartment will meet an untimely end.” “Do you think we’ll get ants if I eat them in bed?” “It’s fine.” You pick up the bag of marshmallows. That little half-smile, as if he was laughing at himself. He has that lopsided smile-that’s what won you over, in the beginning. Ripples of black run up their arms and legs, and after a few heartbeats, Venom retreats. And then Venom grumbles quietly, pulling back. For a moment, you’re both content to remain that way. “Sweetling.” It is both a nickname and an answer. At once, you feel them draw you closer-arms thick with corded muscle and a small tendril stroking over the swell of your stomach. “I love you,” you murmur into their chest. Without a word, you drop the bag onto the bed and put your arms around Venom’s shoulders. Venom tilts their head, as if mildly bewildered by your question. “Let me get this straight,” you say, “I was talking in my sleep about candy and so you jumped out a window at two in the morning to get them for me.” You hadn’t even realized you were hungry. Your stomach lurches forward, as if trying to crawl out of your ribcage to reach the food. “You were speaking of food.” They reach into the bag-a cotton tote Eddie got from work-and withdraw a bag of marshmallows. “Why were you shopping at two in the morning?” “Hey, big guy,” you say, putting a hand on his shoulder. You’re used to this scent is such a bigger thing for the symbiote than it is for you-more often than not, they greet you at the end of the day by pressing their face into your neck and inhaling. The sound seems to delight Venom they drop their bags on the floor and lean in, face close to the crook of your shoulder. “Wonder if they give you discounts for that,” you mutter. We ate the person responsible before doing our shopping.” You can see more of Eddie in the gesture, particularly in the twist of their mouth when they reply, “No.” A pause, consideration, then they add, “Someone else did. At least you’re no longer sick twice a day. You feel gritty and exhausted, which seems to be your new normal. “We were,” they reply, but then you see the two tote bags dangling from their long claws. “What are you doing?” you say, swinging your legs over the side of the bed. Your heart pounds until you see the familiar features of Venom. It isn’t too big yet, but you’ve had to forgo jeans for the last few weeks. Your hand goes instinctively to your belly. ![]() You sit up, blankets falling away from you. There’s a cool breeze, and then you see the curtains flutter as a hulking black form slips into the bedroom. You wake to the sound of a window sliding open. Summary: A bit of a follow-up to sweet indulgence, featuring a pregnant reader, fluff, and a bit of smut.
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