#BUT YOU'RE ON THIN FUCKIN ICE

[thunderheadfred]

Facebook's Instagram Reels bleed-over has started trying to show me tradwife homesteader waifish 20-something blonde women "cutting native grasses" in diaphanous gowns and I'm like

I will burn your house all the way down

[darlin-djarin]

i haven't been this excited about star wars in forever. hold off the filoni assassination guys. just for a bit.

[ningtual]

sad song is a hit a banger it's for the culture for the mind for the soul ‼️‼️

[courtana]

the rational part of my brain trying to tell the gamer part of my brain that we don't have money right now to custom build a pc and that we can wait or even just get a ps5 when it's on sale later this year.

[usercannibal]

if you post your own fucking tiktoks on tumblr, you deserve to be shot, i think

[rose-coloured-boy]

that people blaze shit on this website at all is perplexing to me, but the stuff they choose to shove in front of me at times is beyond confusing

[ataviisms]

How are you doing this Mother’s Day?

" you really gonna ask me that? watch yourself. "

[bam-monsterhospital]

men, never use the word 'feeeeeeeemaaaallleeee' ever again challenge.

[thiefscant]

anais is not as bad a person as she thinks she is, but she's not as good a person as everyone else seems to think she is either.

[pearlzier]

────⠀ ⠀ BRATTAMER!CHRIS who . . .

₊　 ੭ inspired by loveliest @mattsdolll ☆ fic here

BRATTAMER!CHRIS who's used to having to put up with your shit. you have this tendency to act up whenever he isn't giving you attention—like if you're in public, and he physically can't, or if he's just busy doing something else. of course, he eventually gives you his attention, though if you start whining about it? he's gonna put you in your place way before he starts giving you what you want.

BRATTAMER!CHRIS who doesn't immediately go straight into disciplining you when you're sending snarky comments his way or just plain being bratty. he gives you a few chances, he's kind to you like that. "cut it out," he'd tell you, giving you a look which tells you you're on thin ice. it usually manages to get you to calm down a little bit, not be as snappy. and after, he's quicker to make you feel good.

BRATTAMER!CHRIS who, if you don't settle down after his warning, touches you in some way to get your attention. it might be a gentle grab of your thigh, grasping at your face, tapping your cheek, but it gets your attention. "i told you t'cut it out, didn't i? watch it," you're getting on his nerves, and you know it. but even then, you don't stop, sending another petty comment in his direction that only pushes you closer to the line.

BRATTAMER!CHRIS who gives you the silent treatment. you're mouthing off? he's sat there watching you, running his tongue over his teeth or poking the inside of his mouth with it. he's clearly annoyed by you, evident by the cocking of his brows upwards and a wry laugh making its way from between his lips. honestly, the fact he's not even talking to you and simply silent causes you to double down, which in turn has him finally reacting.

BRATTAMER!CHRIS who drags you onto his lap to ensure he has your full attention before he starts speaking. if you even look away for a second, he's tutting and squeezing his hands tightly around your hips. "running your fuckin' mouth arou—hey, hey, who told you to look away, huh? didn't wanna look away when you were damn whinin', did you?" his tone is firm, biting. he's clearly annoyed, and that's when you end up feeling bad about your behaviour.

BRATTAMER!CHRIS who makes you get off on his thigh since whiny little brats don't get his cock, leaving you to hump yourself against his thigh. he doesn't even help you, his phone in his hand as he scrolls his socials, the other one in his pocket. nor does he even look at you, when you whine, he simply hums and continues with his attention away from you. "chris—" you whine, trying to get his attention. the friction feels good, feels so good, of course, but you need more. this isn't what you needed. "not listenin' since not a word i say gets into that head of yours."

BRATTAMER!CHRIS who eventually gets sick of you whining even as he lets you get off on his thigh, glancing down at the wet patch on his sweats. "not enough? literally soaked through my pants, but alright? you need more? so greedy.. always needin' me." so he slaps your thigh, urging you to take off your panties so you finally stay quiet. he scoffs at the moan you let out when cold air fans against your wet heat, but he absolutely loves how needy you are, really.

BRATTAMER!CHRIS who teases you the tiniest bit, running his fingers over your inner thighs gently, just to piss you off a little more. "oh, i thought you wanted me to touch you here?" his brows raise, as if he's doing nothing wrong, "not there? oh, you meant here?" he slowly eases two fingers inside you, no resistance met due to how wet you are from being all pent up. "like that?" that's exactly what you wanted, well, partially. you wanted his dick, but you'd take what you could get. "oh, yeah."

BRATTAMER!CHRIS who pumps his fingers in and out of you at a rapid pace, thumb flicking at your clit to bring you to the edge for what seems like the millionth time in the past.. you didn't know. god, he was a fan of overstimulation when you were being a huge fucking brat. "i thought you wanted this? talkin' my ear off about how much attention you wanted? gonna give me another one, maybe a few more whilst we're at it." his hand is soaked with your arousal, his eyes darting to watch as it leaks down your thighs.

BRATTAMER!CHRIS who finally eases up on making you come, feeling like you've had enough by now. he kisses at your face, free hand wiping away any stray tears from the overstimulation. "there we go," he murmurs, "not gonna be mean to me anymore, are you.." you really can't, your thighs trembling as you hiccup softly, bottom lip trembling. "did so well, did so well for me." he soothes, curling his hands around your thighs and tugging you up into his lap.

OR . . .

BRATTAMER!CHRIS who gets so tired of your shit, the bullshit you're spewing out of your mouth, that he has to stuff your mouth full to shut you up. "always talkin' outta' your ass, damn it," he snarls, standing up from where he was sat before he shoves his sweatpants down his thighs, followed by his boxers. "you ever get tired? ever? fuck," he wraps his hand around himself, giving himself a few quick strokes. "c'mon, open." his tone is firm, maybe even a little harsh. he isn't playing around.

BRATTAMER!CHRIS who slaps his tip against your waiting tongue, watching the way your eyes lift up to his. you're sure as hell not feeling bad about it, and as much as it pisses him off, it makes heat pool in his abdomen at the sight. "take my cock, that's it, look so good with that mouth of yours stuffed," sometimes you just need something in your mouth to keep you quiet, and he uses that to his advantage.

BRATTAMER!CHRIS who easily snaps his hips up against your face, easing his cock further till he almost hits the back of your throat. he pulls back a bit, so his tip brushes against your lips, before he pushes back in again. his pace picks up, almost brutal as he grasps at the back of your head. you can barely even speak, whining with every thrust of his hips. he really loves the sight of your lips stretched around him, finally quiet after whining at him so much. "think you were meant for this. none of that bitchin' you're always doin', baby. none of that."

ִ ֹ ★ @mattybsgroupie, @mattslolita, @stellasturns, @stevelacylovebot, @jetaimevous, @phone4pills, @aesthetixhoe, @venusiers, @pettydollie, @stvrnmc, @sarosfilms, @lovesickgrlsrh0t, @beetlejenna, @funkycoloured, @v3nusasagrl, @imwetforyourmom, @deansbite, @beridollie, @https--roman, @sincerebabydoll, @pillwebb, @cayleeuhithinknot ִ ꒱

[magicalqueennightmare]

It's the Heat

Billy Butcher x Reader

It's the hottest summer in years and the safe house Frenchie's contact handed over to the boys has no air

It's just a smut(ish) drabble

You turned over for what felt like the millionth time. You appreciated having a safe place to crash until Grace could help all of you out of this tight spot but for the love of christ they couldn't have thrown in a singular working air conditioner?

The one fan that had been alloted per bedroom was the only thing keeping what little sanity you had. MM had his own room, Kimiko was in with Frenchie, Hughie was with Annie and that meant you were stuck with Butcher.

"For fuck's sake,if you flip over one more time I'm kicking you out of the bed" you groaned hearing his voice behind you. "It's feels like the seventh circle of hell in here" you turned to face him and the bastard was laying back across the bed with his eyes closed. He'd shed everything down to his boxers,no wonder he wasn't complaining.

You were wearing a tank top and thin cotton pants but they felt like they might as well have been made of wool. He opened one eye and smirked "Strip down. Fan feels pretty decent when nothings stopping it" you knew he was purposely fucking with you but the idea did sound promising.

You shrugged and lifted your bottom off the bed to wiggle the pants off your hips, you cut your eyes at Butcher to see he now had his head propped up on one arm watching you. The look in his eyes told you he didn't mind the view and honestly the fan did feel better already. Butcher was a lot of things but you knew you could trust him to the extent of not touching without consent and well you'd gotten dressed in front of the entire crew before so you figured why not and pulled the tank over your head and tossed it to the floor along with your pants.

"Fuckin hell" he muttered and you cut your eyes at him "Something wrong Butch?" He rolled his eyes "The heat is diabolical" you nodded, closing your eyes as the fan rotated in a pitiful attempt to cool your bodies "I'm tempted to go sleep in the tub but either I'd wake up pruney or Frenchie would toss ice cubes in for shits and giggles"

"That's an idea" Butcher mumbled so you cut one eye at him "What?" He just smirked and got out of bed. He glanced back over his shoulder before stepping into the hall.

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

A few minutes later Butcher walked back into the room carrying a plastic bowl and sat it down on the nightstand "How bad do you want to cool down?" Ok that made you curious "Pretty bad but not sell my soul bad" he smirked but this one was one of those that made your stomach flip. "Cmere luv, let me help ya out"

He sat down on the bed and leaned back against the wall before patting between his legs. You worried your bottom lip with your teeth for a second before moving over and getting comfortable with your back against his chest "How's this supposed to help" "Trust me" "Said the devil to Cain"

"Funny" he leaned up to grab something out of the bowl then told you to close your eyes. "I will stab you if you fuck with me Billy" you warned and he chuckled "Love a woman that doesn't mind a little maiming"

----------

You closed your eyes and after a moment felt something cold hit your neck. A light gasp escaped you but as it moved further down your neck with Billy's fingers working to ease the muscles trying to tense from the cold a moan slipped from your lips from the pure relief the cold brought to your heated skin.

"Sounds like you're enjoying yourself so far" he teased and you wiggled closer into his chest "I didn't exactly say stop" "You're fucking bossy" he scoffed before grabbing another ice cube out of the bowl and continuing down your chest. When his large hand cupped your breast, teasing the sensitive mound with the ice, your breathing quickened just a bit.

His mouth was close enough to your ear you could feel his lips brush your skin when he whispered "Want to keep going?" You turned to look at him, your lips brushing lightly against his as you spoke "Please"

He moved the ice to his left hand to free up the right one to grip your chin "I got ya" he spoke right before the ice teased across your other breast, making you arch into his touch "Fuck Butcher" the relief from the heat was beginning to mix with the pleasure from him teasing your now hardened nipple with his fingertips.

He leaned closer and you met his lips halfway. The kiss was tentative, teasing but made you moan lightly when he rolled his tongue against yours. You felt his fingers dip under your panties, the cold sting of the ice prickling goosebumps up onto your skin.

He broke the kiss and you knew from the look he gave you that he was asking for the go ahead so you let your legs fall apart further "Glad this place didn't have air conditioning" he chuckled as his fingers slipped down further.

You walked out of the bathroom the next morning, dressed in a pair of shorts and a tshirt. You were looking for your sneakers and Frenchie because he could do pretty decent dutch braids.

You walked into the kitchen and Hughie cut his eyes up at you over his cup of orange juice as Annie said "How'd you sleep?" You felt like you were missing the joke but you shrugged "As well as I could with the heat" Frenchie laughed from his place at the stove "I'm sure it was hotter with Butcher on top of you"

You felt your cheeks warm as they all started laughing even Kimiko and MM. Just when you thought it couldn't get worse Butcher walked in behind you "Who said I was the one on top?"

[lis-likes-fics]

Keep Me Warm

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader Word Count: 2.3k words Prompt: Thigh fucking Warnings: NSFW, smut, swearing, alcohol use, thigh fucking, fingering, daddy kink, Dean calls reader "babygirl", aftercare... A/N: Ugh, part of this actually got me there hahaha. Thank you and enjoy!

“This is what Hell is like.”

Dean shakes his head, bringing the lip of his ice cold beer to his mouth. “No,” he takes a swig, “too cold.”

You grumble, turning over in the bed and shoving your face in the crappy pillow in an attempt to warm your frozen nose. The blankets wrap tighter around you, too thin to help as much as you need.

You start to speak, but your voice is muffled against the plastic-y feel of the pillow’s fabric. “Can’t hear you, baby.”

You lift your head. “I don’t even know how you can drink that.” Perspiration dribbles off the side of his bottle and wets his hand. surely adding to the freezing temperatures brought on by the broken motel heater.

Sam is out trying to find some hand warmers or something to help with the cold, but every convenience store he comes across is fresh out. It seems everyone is struggling to deal with the below freezing temperatures.

Dean’s chuckle is gruff. “I’ve been dealing with this for a while. Cold doesn’t beat alcoholism, sweets.” You roll your eyes, emerging from the covers to shuffle over to him. You drape yourself over his lap, curling into him to siphon some of his warmth away.

“If you loved me, you’d warm me up,” you mumble.

Dean laughs again, “Oh, baby. I have a couple ways I can warm you up, but you’d only say that Sammy will come back any second now.”

You roll your eyes, turning to lay on your back so you can see his face. He’s looking down at you, his tanned skin slightly flushed with blood in an attempt to warm his skin. He feels warm to you—Dean always runs hot. He’s like a furnace.

His phone pings, and he grabs it from where it had been thrown into the sheets earlier. “Speak of the Devil,” he says ironically. “Says he’s gonna find a Walmart to look for a space heater.”

He glances at you, bobbing his eyebrows suggestively. “That’s a good ten, fifteen minutes from here.” He leans down, one hand dropping down to the top of your head. The other finds your thigh, squeezing it gently as he smirks. “I think that’s plenty of time to warm up, don’t you?”

You shouldn’t. Sam has to suffer through your relationship enough, if he comes back before you’re done, he’ll probably just wait in the car or something while he waits. You don’t want him to catch you again, especially not when he’s doing so much right now to warm you all up.

But the way Dean’s looking at you has always been hard to ignore. The way his hand curls around your thigh, his fingers dipping down to feel you squeeze them together, is intoxicating. You lick your lip absent-mindedly and let out a heavy sigh as you concede.

“Fine, you dog.”

His smirk widens, like a predator of its own as he leans down further. He lets out a low, deep bark before swooping down to capture your lips in his own.

You moan into the kiss, nibbling on his bottom lip as he sucks on your top. Your hand reaches up to tangle in his hair. He supports the back of your head with his palm, and you already feel warmer as you soak in the heat of his lust.

He doesn't even touch you at first, at least not where you need him to. He mouths hungrily at your mouth and at your throat while his hand paws at your thighs, groping and kneading the doughy flesh with a desperation that pinpoints just why the bulge digging into your back is so prominent beneath you.

“You're terrible,” you breathe, holding him to your neck.

“I don't hear any complaints about it.” He pulls a sliver of skin between his teeth, nibbling at it with an eager hum. You chuckle breathily, the sound nearly coming off as a whimper with the way it shakes. “Fuckin’ love these thighs, babygirl.”

You feel his hand stroke farther up your inner thigh until he cups your clothed pussy. He rubs his hand against you, eventually slipping beneath your sweatpants to feel how wet you've already become.

He groans against your lips, sliding two fingers between your folds to gather your arousal on them. “Jesus, you're fucking soaked.”

You arch your back slightly, drawing his attention to your chest as he smirks. Dean's hand continues to rub up against your clit, teasing you and coaxing you as you keen into his touch.

“Take your shirt off, baby,” he instructs, his voice rough with his growing lust. You do, tugging it over your head, despite the cold of the room. You hardly feel it—you can steadily feel your body heat rising higher and higher under his hands, one on your aching clit and the other petting your hair.

Your nipples peak immediately against the chilly air. Dean leans down and laps at them, sucking them between his lips as his hot mouth makes you shudder. His tongue licks greedily over the peak, his teeth occasionally grazing and making your breath hitch.

Your hand presses against his belly, feeling the curves of his abs beneath your palm with appreciative fingers. You lift his shirt clumsily, pressing your mouth to his skin. You warm him with your mouth and hands as he warms you, keening into his touch and smiling every time his belly tenses beneath your lips.

Your kiss becomes sloppy when he presses a finger into you, parting your pussy with a thick digit that has you sighing heavily. “Oh, Daddy.”

His lips curl around your nipple. He sucks on it, pulling it taut before letting it slip out with a smack. “You like that, baby?”

You nod. “Yeah.” You spread your legs farther apart, inviting him in. He groans, pulling his fingers out of you just to pull your sweatpants off. He prods at you again before shoving then back inside at a new angle, thrusting his finger deeper inside of you and curling until you gasp. “Fuck, right there. Please don’t stop.”

He continues to support your head in one hand as the other keeps fucking into you. When a second finger stretches you even more, he attaches his lips to your nipple again with a grunt.

Your lips part and let out a tiny gasp when he starts to circle your clit. Your hips lift up into his hand, your chest presses up to his mouth. Breaths leave you with a frugality you're not sure you can afford.

“C'mon, baby,” his voice is husky, coarse. “You gonna cum for me, babygirl? You gonna cum all over my fingers? Let me feel it.”

You feel like you’ll burst. There's a deep gasp in your chest waiting to be taken as it curls and curls. Your legs tense, your belly tight as it anticipates your undoing.

Dean keeps curling, keeps coaxing. He's guiding you closer and closer, luring you, reeling you in. “You're so close, baby. Let go. Hm? Do that for me, baby. Let go for Daddy.”

It's an unfurling. Your eyes close, your brows pinch, your lips part as you inhale a sharp intake of desperate breath. The pleasure washes over you like it's trying to wipe sense from your mind and replace it all with unadulterated lust.

You grab onto his shirt squeezing tight as you try to stifle needy moans. “Ah, fuck, Daddy.”

He curls his fingers tight, almost like he's trying to take hold and lift you up, his thumb still circling. “Good girl,” he drawls. “That's my good fucking girl.”

He pulls his fingers from you, using the two, sticky from your slick, to rub at your clit some more before pulling away to smack it lightly. You shudder and shake beneath his touch, whimpering at every contact. “Yeah, you like it, don't you? Feels so fucking good, doesn't it?”

Cold forgotten, you nod and let yourself tremble as the high wanes to something that buzzes in your bones. “Yeah, yes…”

Dean leans down to kiss you, hungry and greedy as he continues to smack your cunt. He smirks every time you whimper, every time you flutter against his hand. It's somehow worse when he gropes your thighs again, his grip tighter than before. He kneads them in his palm, this insistent and possessive thing that makes him harder beneath you.

“Come here.” He moves you from his lap, lays you across the bed as he moves to stand. He pulls you to the edge of the bed, pulling a little chuckle from you as he takes hold of your legs.

“Look at you,” he coos. “So fucking pretty.” He leans over your body, pressing his mouth against yours, your throat, your collarbone. His hands grab at your thighs like a lifeline, squeezing them in his palms and groaning.

You pull his shirt over his head, rubbing your hands eagerly against his chest and his belly, admiring the strong, solid feeling of him against you. “You're abusing my thighs, Dean.”

He hums deeply. “I'm gonna fuck your thighs, baby.”

He lifts your legs, pushing them together and back. His hand rubs along your ass, the back of your thighs. A deep sound rumbles in his chest as he shakes your head and stares. “Maybe this is the real Heaven.”

“Dean.” You clench around him when he shoves his finger back into your cunt.

“What was that?” You shiver, and he laughs at you. “Yeah, that's what I thought.”

You hear his buckle clink. He pulls his pants down, watching you as he goes. His eyes, usually green as apple, are a dark forest that soaks into your skin. It makes you warm, it makes you ache.

“You wanna be a good girl for me, baby?”

You nod, raising a hand to tease your nipple with shy fingers. “Yes.”

“Say ‘Yes, Daddy’.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

He smiles. “Good. You know what you're gonna do? You're gonna hold these thighs together and you're gonna keep ‘em nice and tight while I fuck them.”

You swallow thickly, an emphatic nod of your head outlining your desire for him, to please him, to be pleased by him.

“Say ‘Yes, Daddy’.” He says it as a reminder.

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Good girl.” He kisses you—though a better word would be to say he devours you. He tastes your lips on his tongue and breathes you in like a flower.

You press your thighs together, watching as he takes hold of you, one hand stroking his cock slowly with a hiss.

You feel him slide himself between your thighs, your arousal wetting the bottom of his cock as it glides over your wet folds. He holds them close and lets out a long sigh at the feeling.

He starts out slow, like he's teasing himself with your warmth and your wetness. His brows knit together, his lips part with thick breaths.

“God, you're fucking perfect,” he groans. The blunt head of his cock presses against your clit, and a small whimper falls out. His hips jerk at the sound, quickening his pace until his breaths are heavy and shallow.

Precum dribbles from his tip and onto your belly, smearing along the inside of your thighs. You put so much focus on keeping your legs together that they begin to shake. His arm wraps securely around your legs, keeping your ankles on his shoulder as he palms at your breast with the other hand.

“Always so good for me, aren't you, babygirl? Hm?” He ruts into you, the gathering slick making it easy to move back and forth in search of his release. Each slide through your folds brings a breath from your throat, and each press against your clit makes you whimper.

You can feel his cock twitching. He leans even closer, forcing your legs back more as his measured thrusts become less steady. His breath becomes erratic, his eyes struggling to stay open.

“I'm gonna cum, baby. You gonna take it for me?” You nod eagerly, watching with lidded eyes and shallow breath.

“Cum on me, Daddy. Please, I want it.”

His thrusts stagger until you feel the warm, sticky spurts of his cum painting your belly white. He groans, the sound deep and rumbling, almost a growl as his hands grab onto whatever he can find. “Fucking Christ.”

The sounds of your breaths fill the air. You lay back against the mattress, your fingers itching for him to hold.

Dean lets out a thick breath. He admires the sight of you, heavy-bodied and covered in him. He lightly smacks your side, a little pat of his warm hand that strokes you soothingly.

He lets your legs down, tucking himself back in his pants. “You doin’ okay?” his voice is a hum, a low and gentle sound that makes you grin.

“Yeah,” you sigh. “But you're cleaning this up.”

He laughs heartily, walking away to find something to do it with. You lay there, naked and feeling much better but slowly becoming aware again of the fact that the room is freezing.

He finishes cleaning you up. You groan, turning on your side and pulling the covers back over you. “I think we should just fuck. I'm cold again.”

He chuckles deeply. “We'll put some clothes back on, and I'll cuddle you. How about that?”

You peek up at him with your best set of puppy dog eyes. “You'll cuddle me?”

He nods, his smirk curling over his lips as he gently shakes his head at you. He picks up his shirt to pull back over his head. You watch as it covers his chest. “Yeah, baby, I'll cuddle you.”

You hum, grabbing your shirt and pulling it on. Once you're dressed, you give him the space to join you under the covers. It's much warmer, and you're much happier to lay there with him.

When Sam comes back holding a space heater, his face scrunches in disgust to see the both of you spooning. “Ugh. Did you have sex while I was out?”

Without looking at him, Dean just brings you closer. You glance at him. “Fucked hard, Sammy.”

“Dean!”

[the-californicationist]

Hello Cali ❤️. Por alguna razón no te había visto más en mi muro de tumblr y me preguntaba si no estabas aquí, por eso busqué tu perfil y me di cuenta que tumblr me estaba jugando una mala pasada.

How are you??? I'm so busy because I have a loooot of work, pero me tomaré el tiempo de leer todo lo que me perdí de ti ✨✨✨

YOU ARE THE BEST, OK? I LOVE YOU ❤️💍

Quisiera que escribieras un smut de John Price CEO/Mafia con un Reader inteligente y astuto, que queda cautivado cuando John comienza a seducirla, porfis ✨

Anything for you, my friend!! I love you so much <3 <3

Wonderland

John Price is a famous mob boss... but you don't know that. All you know is that you've got a crush on a mysterious, handsome man, and you're willing to go all the way to find out if his bite is as bad as his bark.

The parking garage was dark, and the concrete seemed to hold in the cold like a freezer. It felt like ice on his cheekbone, and not even the blood from his eye socket was enough to warm the skin. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, that odd whooshing sound, and in a distant memory he could recall the first time he had ever gotten a black eye. But, all that was gone now. He had ratted out the one man that no one had dared fuck with in the past five years: John Fucking Price.

Those fucking coppers had said they’d protect him. He even had his people outside his house every hour of every day. How could this happen? He had to admit, he wasn’t even scared, he was just pissed off. Fucking bastards. They’d get what was coming to them. Maybe he’d tell them so. Not like they'd give him any more chances.

“Fuck you, Price. I hope those pigs skin you alive,” he spit out the blood that had began to pool in his mouth, and hoped it hit those stupid boots John was always wearing.

John Price slid his shoe away from the red stain that had began to swell on the ground, keeping his kangaroo leather Berlutis from ruin. The fool beneath his feet had no idea what was about to happen to him, and John almost felt sorry about it, if only for a moment. He and Vinson had been friends once. Hell, he’d even stood up at his wedding. 

“Vince, what did I tell you about that bloody mouth of yours? Said it'd get you into trouble, didn't I? Wish there was something I could do for you now, cause you and me, we used to be mates. But, I can't afford friends like you. Not anymore," Price gave the rat a quick shove with his heel and watched as the stain smeared in a thin streak across the cement. He turned to his men,

"Well, lads, I've got a party to get to. You wouldn't mind cleaning things up here for me, would’ya?"

"No, boss," was their quiet reply.

"You'll be sorry, you goddamn pussy!" Vinson was screaming now, "I hope they hang you from the fuckin’-”

Bang! The loud gunshot echoed through the hollow space.

Vinson didn't say anything after that.

"Let's get outta here, Gaz."

"Right away, boss," Gaz opened the door to the limo and prepared to drive John back into the city. There was a big gala at the Genting Casino tonight, and Mr. John T. Price was never late.

He was never early either. In fact, he was perfection incarnate. When he was younger, that wasn't always the case, but after his father died, he had needed to change. No one was fit to rule Liverpool in his stead, and he was thankful that no one had been foolish enough to try. His father had made this town what it is. Liverpool was built by his family, and even though everyone thought the Price regime had grown tired of their reign on the old docks, they couldn't have been farther from the truth.

John had his cut from all of the major casinos, and he traded security in exchange. He owned two of them himself, along with four shopping malls, five bars, three neighborhoods, two apartment complexes, and a golf course - not to mention the property that wasn't in his name. He made sure to give his men plenty of reign over their own enterprises, even if most of them were strip clubs. But, he didn't care. As long as tribute came in every quarter, he never messed around in their business.

He thought Vinson was one he could trust. He'd even given him a car dealership just last month. 

"Don't run it into the ground, Vince," he had said.

But, no. What had the little bastard gone and done? Put a tracker on his car and dropped bugs in his office. After everything he'd done for him, that's how he was repaid? To tell the truth, John never liked violence. It was awkward. But, his father had given him fists and showed him how to use them, so there was really no going against it. Violence and fear were vital pieces of the only language that men like Vince could understand. Now, with another family coming to Liverpool, John had to be on his best behavior. Even if 'best' was a little more loosely defined.

As he lit the tip of his last cigar, he reminded Gaz to grab him another few sticks on the way home. Gaz would've never turned coat on him like Vince did. He'd give him the car lot.

"You want the dealership on Sefton street, Kyle?" He offered.

"Sure, boss. Thanks a lot," Gaz smiled, knowing exactly which business he was talking about, "You want me to pull around back?"

They had arrived at the main entrance. Throngs of people were craning around the limo, trying to see who was inside. John thought about it for a second, smushed his cigar tip into the ashtray, and adjusted his tie.

"Nah," he said, "We'll give them the show tonight."

"Sure thing, boss."

Gaz parked the car and leapt out of the cab. His hand was on the door before John could take another breath, and on either side of the door, some of Price’s own foot soldiers took up their posts as bodyguards. When he emerged from the muffled quiet of the limo, it shocked John for a moment to be in such a whirl of chaos.

"Mr. Price, can I get a photo?"

"Over here, please, Mr. Price," a cute reporter was frantic enough to step in front of his men. They picked her up and put her back in the crowd.

John made sure to smile and wave, shake hands with those he had seen before, but he knew it was safer inside. 

The manager greeted him warmly and, he noted, by first name,

"John! Good to see you again, mate. We've got just the table for you, tonight. Wait til you see the legs on these girls! It'll be a night to remember."

"I'm sure it will."

"Ah, sorry, but we don't allow weapons past the main floor," the manager's face fell. So did Kyle’s. 

Gaz cleared his throat,

"I'm sure you can make an exception for Mr. Price. We'll be very discreet."

It was more of a threat than a promise, and John smiled at his friend's heavy tone. Kyle was anything if not polite.

"Uh, yes, we can certainly make arrangements. Right this way, gentlemen," and now the manager was nothing if not nervous. Perfect.

The night continued as well as it could, but he had never really enjoyed gambling. Why make all this money if he was just going to throw it into the wind? But, he could mingle with the right people here. Except that these weren't his people. He had come as a favor to his long time friend, Alex Keller, but Alex was nowhere to be found. 

"Passed out on his missus’ tits, probably!" One of the strangers guffawed at the other end of the Blackjack table. 

"He’ll show, don't you worry," another replied.

Well, John didn't have all night to wait on a man to get to his own party. He needed a drink. When he rose to head to the bar, Gaz stopped him,

"I'll get it, boss. No need to bother yourself with it."

The table was silent. The strangers who had been so brassy before were now silent and transfixed on the pair of men at their table, one of whom was important enough to have his slightest whim catered to at a moment's notice.

"It's alright, Garrick. Play my hand, yeah? I'm headed out for a smoke."

"Yes, sir."

John retreated. The awkward stares and weird glances were too much for him to bear. Surely there was a patio around here, somewhere.

By the time he found one, he was disappointed to see it was occupied.

"Oh, beg your pardon. Thought I was alone out here," he said.

To his shock, it was a woman's voice that responded from the shadows. Your voice. 

"You're fine. You got a light? Fuckin’ matches are all wet..." You fumbled with the book, striking to no avail.

He smirked,

"I have the fire if you've got an extra smoke."

"Fair trade," you smiled back jokingly. 

You were dressed in a clean chef's coat, your hair was pulled up, and you might have been going without makeup, but it was almost too dark to tell. It certainly wasn't casino makeup, that was for sure. John watched as you tugged two cigarettes free from the box, put them to your soft lips, and covered his flame with your hand. Your fingernail paint was pink and chipped. You pulled in the fire of both cigarettes and offered one to him. He took it,

"Thanks."

You grunted in a minimal response.

"So, you're a chef?" He asked.

You raised an eyebrow at him, giving him the glare he deserved for such an obvious question.

He back pedaled, 

"I mean, you work here as a chef. I just thought, with the coat...I mean, where's your big bloody hat? You need the hat."

You laughed. It was wonderful to hear, and he liked the way your mouth moved when you started to speak,

"Yeah, I work here. Have for the past three years or so. Bill signed me on as head chef, and I've been slaving away for him ever since."

"Bill?"

"Oh, he's the culinary manager. Runs all the restaurants in the casino and the hotel. When the last guy disappeared into thin air, they had to scramble to find someone, I guess. What about you? Where's your fancy hat? Based on that Hermes tie, I'm gonna assume you're here with the party."

He mindlessly adjusted his tie, noticing its feel on his neck as she called it out,

"Well, I might be."

"Yeah? You some kind of big-shot?" You eyed him again, challenging him to answer with something more than a yes or a no. You had heard yes and no plenty of times.

"I might be," he wouldn't give in.

"If we keep going like this all night, you might end up being the Queen, for all I know."

You both laughed, but then, you sighed, 

"Oh well, Mr. Mystery. Keep your secrets then," you shrugged and turned away from him.

He couldn't have that.

"What's your name?" He asked.

"Sarah," you spun back around, "Rachel. Tiffany. Willamina. Might be anything."

You had the audacity to wink at him.

"Alright, you got me, love," he moved a little closer to you, "I'm John. John Price."

He extended his hand and waited for the bad news to sink in. No one who knew his name in this town would be dumb enough to be on a patio alone with him at night. He had dodged the media for a long time, but his trials always managed to get leaked. Twelve accounts of assault and battery, two separate accounts of theft, three murder charges - all acquitted of course. But, still, he was no stranger to ducking the law.

"John? Of all the names," you shook your head and smiled, taking his hand firmly, "Pleasure to meet you."

"You as well. You've never heard of me?"

"Oh, Jesus," you lamented, "Are you famous or something? Look, if I'm not in the kitchen, I'm at home asleep. Sorry. I don't even watch TV."

"No, nothing like that, I just - " He thought about it for a moment before you saw him decide to take a different trajectory, “Not famous.”

“Why is it that I feel a little bit like Alice tonight?” You took a long drag and let the smoke fall from your lips, “Like I’m following a white rabbit down a deep, dark hole.”

He chuckled, and you enjoyed seeing his eyes shine with his laughter,

“If you follow me down,” he sidled up to you, his face close enough to yours so you could smell the balsam in his aftershave, “I’ll show you just how deep the rabbit hole goes.”

A man’s voice cleared his throat behind you, and you both turned to look at who it was. 

“Garrick?” John asked, clearly annoyed. 

“Yes, sir. Johnny and Simon made it up. They said they know why Keller hasn’t shown.”

John didn’t answer. He simply turned back to look into your eyes, trying to divine some sort of future from them. He must’ve liked what he saw because the next thing you knew, you were being given a golden key card. Top floor. 

Not famous, my arse, you thought to yourself. 

“Why don’t you take the night off, love. Come see Wonderland, yeah? I’ll be right behind you.”

“My, my,” you said, palming the card from him, “No one ever tells you no.”

Another smile, a little colder than the first,

“No, they don’t.”

“Maybe I will,” you pulled the tiger’s tail.

“You won’t,” the tiger growled back.

As you watched him leave the small patio, his broad back stretching that expensive suit, his thick fingers flicking his half-smoked cigarette off the balcony’s edge, you were kicking yourself. You knew you were going up to his room, even though something inside of you really wanted to yank this guy’s chain. But, his dark, purring voice had made Wonderland sound so inviting… maybe just one little peek wouldn’t hurt?

You waited a whole five minutes before slinking off to the service elevator, cutting out for the night. No one was making dinner anyway; it was the bar that was slammed. You’d already cleaned and prepped your station, so no one would miss you. 

You ducked into the bathroom just before the top floor, getting off on the service side in an empty hallway, checking your face for stray flour or coffee stained teeth. You smelled like a pizza oven, but maybe you could sneak a shower before he showed up?.

What a slut, you heard the angel on your shoulder chastise you. 

So, what? The devil’s side replied, indignant. 

You peeled the chef’s coat off of your body. All you had underneath was a black tee. It was cropped a bit too high for work, but you wore it anyway. Your black work pants were covered in flour and dried food. You brushed them off as best you could. It would have to do. You shoved your coat into your bag and headed back to the hallway. 

Luckily, the main elevator was vacant, as was the hallway, so you wouldn’t run into any other guests on your way to Wonderland. 

The angel rolled his eyes. The devil glared at him. 

The elevator dinged, and you inserted the gold card, clicking the very topmost button to the penthouse. 

You’d been up here before. Sometimes, you picked up cleaning shifts on your off days for the extra cash, so you knew the layout. But, that had been in the cold, hygienic light of day. At night, this floor was a sparkling vision. When the elevator doors opened, huge clear windows reached all the way into the ceiling, framing Liverpool’s city center, looking more beautiful than it ever seemed from the ground. 

You took quiet, uncertain steps out of the lift, checking for any signs of life. There were none, so you made your way to the bathroom. Huge black marble monolith slabs were carved in a semicircle, a nautilus that curled around the four separate shower heads, all ready to pour their steaming water down your naked body. 

You stripped, stepping into the stream, letting yourself pretend that you lived in this sort of luxury for a moment. A soft lather of soap and a little shampoo later and you were clean. The single-use toothbrush and paste was in the hidden drawer that no guest would ever notice, so you stole an extra set, scrubbing yourself to a minty shine. 

A pair of black satin robes hung in the closet, so you stole one, tying it around your waist, fully aware that one stiff breeze and the loose-fitting garment would fly right off of you. The soft fabric lay against your skin in the most sensual way, barely touching you and yet making you feel touched. 

You explored the hotel room a bit, avoiding Mr. Price’s suitcase like it would bite you. The kitchen came stocked with ice buckets of champagne, so you helped yourself to one, pouring a glass and lounging by the window, wondering how long you’d have to wait for your date. 

Fortunately for you, only an hour had passed and you heard the elevator ding. Out from the dark lift came the man himself… bleeding from his lip.

“John! What happened?” You put down your wine and rushed over to him. 

He held you back, waving you off like it was nothing,

“Don’t worry, love. Just a bit of a scuffle, tha’s all.”

“But —”

“Seriously,” he grabbed you by your arms and looked you up and down, enjoying the wide opening of the robe as it revealed your body to him, “You should see the other bloke. Let me get cleaned up. Pour me one of those, would’ya?”

Before you could protest, he ducked into the bathroom, out of your reach. You were left standing there, worried and a little concerned for your own wellbeing. You didn’t actually know this man at all, and here you were, lamb to the slaughter, eager and bleating happily. 

While he was in the bath, you decided to do a little research. You searched up his name, and you were finding almost no hits, until you stumbled upon a mugshot.

There he was… the notorious mob boss, ruler of the English underground arms dealing circuit, enforcer and racketeering extraordinaire. And here you were, nearly naked in his room with not so much as a penknife within reach. This guy had been in the armed forces, special forces, black ops — the works. He retired and fell into the armed security world, making a name for himself by pushing out the competition by any means necessary. His father had maintained ties to the dark underground, and now John had taken over the family business, doing shady deals for the government and crime organizations alike. All of it was hearsay, of course, and none of the charges had ever landed a single hit… but you knew the truth. 

John Price was the most dangerous man in the world; Liverpool’s crime arena was just a quiet little hobby for a man like him. If he wanted to, he could make you disappear like a magician behind a mirror. Gone without a trace.

What would you do? Would you run? Where would you go? How would you explain your sudden exit? Food poisoning?

Before you could even begin to formulate a plan, John was out of the shower. He looked incredible. His hulking, heavy form was steaming from the hot water, and his hairy chest was uncovered. He’d slipped into a pair of running shorts and nothing else, so his brutal body was on display for you. He was covered in scars, and he was heavyset, but his largeness was from his strength. His core was bulky and strong, and when he moved, you could see the tight muscles rolling around beneath the skin like a snake ready to strike. 

He turned to you, but even though he wore a smile at first, the moment he made eye contact, his face fell. Somehow, he knew that you knew.

He sighed,

“What did you see?”

He rushed over to his suitcase but found it still locked, looking back to you quizzically. You didn’t move, you didn’t dare. John stepped over to you slowly, deliberately, almost as if he was ready for another fight. 

You turned your phone towards him and showed him his own mugshot.

“Thought you said you weren’t famous,” you whispered. Your voice sounded so small and far away, you almost felt like you hadn’t spoken the words. 

He smiled bitterly, tossing his towel on a nearby chair and sat beside you on the bed,

“Cat’s out of the bag, then?”

“Yeah,” you looked down at your phone, unable to look him in the eye. 

“Go on,” he waved his hand at you, motioning toward the door, “Get out.”

You didn’t move. You should have. Every fiber in your being was telling you to make a break for it. Now was your chance. And yet… you stayed. It was silent for a long while. You could feel his gaze raking over you, hot and heavy. His breaths rumbled in his chest. 

“Go!” He spat, “No one’s keeping you prisoner here, girl. That’s me, alright, and the newspapers don’t even know the bloody half of it. Just go.” 

You reacted to his volume, shirking back a bit, but you still didn’t stand. You looked at him then, searching for the kindness you thought you saw on the patio just hours before, checking to see if it was still there, if it was even real.

When you met his eyes, his fury was masking a very real pain. He was angry, sure, but the ache of being cast out was apparent, even though you were the one doing the leaving, and you just wanted that bit of brightness back again. 

John studied you, watching your every movement, trying to determine what you were thinking but coming up short. He stood right in front of you, his hips inches from your face, and he asked,

“What are you waitin’ on, love?”

A strong thumb lifted your chin, raising your jaw up to look at him again, and he used his enormous hand to grab your face, keeping you there under his will. 

“I know you’re afraid of me,” he commented softly, “I can feel it.”

“So?” You replied, trying to keep your tone steady. 

His voice was bitter and mocking, and as he leaned forward, you could smell his clean, warm skin, 

“You wanna play with the big bad wolf, hm? See if I bite?” 

He grabbed you a little too tightly, trying to scare you. It worked, but you tried not to show it. Instead, you decided to place both of your hands at his hips, your palms flat against his warm belly, feeling the dark hair that formed a faithful trail, guiding your eyes down to his waistband. 

It was his turn to be surprised. You felt his breathing catch as you moved your hands up along his ribcage, rubbing gentle circles into his skin, petting him like a skittish hound, expecting him to snap. 

Letting go of your face, he grabbed your wrist, and just as you thought he was going to stop you, he took your hand and placed it on his chest, stretching your arm all the way up from where you were sat, making you extend your spine as you reached up to him. Your fingers traced the fur that lay flat against his pectorals, and finally, you plucked at his nipples, not allowing there to be any question as to your intentions. 

The tip of his wide finger dipped into the silken collar of your robe, swirling around your neck and following it down to the swell of your breast. He didn’t find your peak, but he didn’t seem to care to. He was just exploring. 

Suddenly, John moved faster than you could even begin to understand what was happening. He had reached under you, lifting you, and then tossed you back down on the bed. You lay, sprawled, trying to catch your bearings, and then you were covered by his huge form, his wide body casting shadows over your vision, cloaking you in his own private darkness.

His mouth was on you like a hot flame, licking and burning and biting and sucking wherever he wanted to, eager to taste every inch of your skin, the imperfections of a wrinkle or a freckle seemed to go fully unnoticed as he devoured you, sucking you down like his last meal. 

You were overwhelmed by the pleasure he was stoking inside of you, and you let a small mewling sound escape from your lips that caught his attention. 

“Mm,” he climbed up your body so that you were face to face, “Enjoying your walk on the dark side, love? Think you’re tainted by me now? Or maybe that’s what you wanted, is it? Something naughty, just for a night?”

You didn’t understand his negativity, nor the self-deprecation, so you tried to protest, 

“No, I —”

“It’s alright. I’ll show you how to be a bad girl. I’ll teach you, love. C’mere.”

His voice was smoldering and sticky, clinging to your ears with some of that same bitterness from before. But, you didn’t have time to worry about that. He was standing by the bedside again, and he grabbed your arms, making your head and shoulders hang part way off of the mattress. You were left staring at his thick thighs and scarred knees, worried about what he was up to.

Then, all became clear. He had dropped his running shorts, and the fattest cock you’d ever seen hung down, shining with drool, ready to be fed into your mouth. 

Your eyes went wide, and although you reached your hand out to try and brace against his legs, it was no use. He supported your head from underneath and bent himself over until the tip of his swollen cockhead touched your lips, the gleaming precome sticking to you like gloss. 

Unwilling to be frightened by his aggression, you opened your mouth for him, laving your tongue across his turgid flesh, allowing him to press himself inside of you. 

His cock was slick on the head but dry on his shaft, so you did your best to wet him, licking and sucking as he pumped himself in and out, already nearing the back of your throat and not even halfway sheathed. 

When he nudged your soft palate, making you gag a bit, you made a noise. You tried steadying him with your hand, and he grunted, grabbing both of your arms by the wrist, holding them above your face, clutched to his hip. Then, he continued to fuck your face, ignoring your writhing gasps for breath. 

Your throat tightened around him, but you tried to stay calm. You’d never taken anyone this deep before, but you stilled yourself, ignoring the urge to panic, and you made a point to swallow, feeling your throat squeeze around his head. You could taste him as he painted the back of your throat, salty and sweet at the same time. 

That made him moan, and you felt like you’d won some sort of battle. If he was trying to frighten you, it was going to take more than just a little rough sex. 

“Mm, fuck… Maybe you are a naughty little girl, aye?”

You hummed, making sure you could feel the vibrations travel through his girth. 

He removed himself fully, taking a trail of your own drool with him, gasping from the pleasure of your mouth. 

“Fuck, I need to taste you,” he muttered darkly, crawling over you and settling himself between your legs. 

You tried to lift yourself back onto the bed, but he kept you hanging there, pinning you down with his strong arm, pressing into your belly with his hand to prevent you from sitting up. Finally, after feeling him kiss and nip at your thighs, teasing you mercilessly, you felt the warm, wet slip of his tongue as it fell between your lips, tasting your throbbing pussy for the first time. 

The robe was half-off, and only the tie around your waist was even providing any coverage, and you realized that as he began to eat you, he was yanking off your clothes as well, ripping through the knot of the robe to free you from the fabric. 

Now, his mouth moved deeper, and you felt him seal his lips to your pussy, messily drinking you in. As he fucked you with his tongue, his mouth and jaw were strong enough to rock your body up and down on the soft bed, making it seem as if he were actually using his smooth wet muscle as a writhing cock, thrusting it up into you and reaching deep into your hole.

The scruff of his beard was enough to make you want to come, much less the power that he ate you with. Every deep, curling lick sent sparks into your core, making your pussy drip with eager stickiness. It was hungry for that fat, uncut cock, forcing you to imagine how delightful it would be when he popped his giant head into your pink flesh. 

You were keening for him. Well, it wasn’t exactly for him, per se. The noises you were making were coming from your throat against your will. If you didn’t scream, you’d pass the hell out, you were sure of it. 

“Fuck, that’s it, love. Get loud for me. Ungh… you taste… mmfh… so damn sweet,” he was ruthless, speaking between long suckles from his mouth, commanding you from below. 

You wished you could see him, but all you could see from your hanging position was the giant window, looking out across the sparkling city. So, you called out to him, your voice thick with want, with need,

“John…”

That was all it took. He tugged your hips down until he was above you again, prowling over you like some sort of beast, all snarling unbridled lust and appetite. As soon as he was in position — and your body knew he was in position — everything stopped. He stopped. 

John looked down at you and became… different. The flirty bloke from the patio was back, and he smiled at you. You smiled back, out of breath and already drunk with hunger, but that was all he needed. He kissed you deeply, making you taste your own musk, and as his soft lips slid over yours, you felt the pressure of his huge cock at your hole, pressing through your folds to reach your hot, soaked center. 

You gasped through his kiss, both of you moaning in the same timbre as you felt his heavy dick fit into you for the first time, a sparkling desire swirling within you as every delicious inch of him buried itself in you. He began to thrust himself up into your aching slit, fucking you on half of his length, and then using your own sticky fluid to slip himself the rest of the way in. 

“Bloody hell, this fuckin’ pussy… fuck me,” he groaned, wrenching his eyes shut from the pleasure. 

“Holy shit,” you breathed.

“Yeah?” He asked, seeking your praise. 

“You’re fucking huge,” you didn’t mean to sound so concerned, but there was a part of you that was. 

He sat back on his heels, taking some of the pressure away, staring down at your body lecherously, savoring your tits and fondling them in his hands,

“Alright, love?”

“You feel so good,” you insisted, wrapping your hands around his arms as he enjoyed your body. 

“Tell me again,” he said, grunting again as he fucked his cock deeper inside of you, reaching a new end before dragging himself all the way back out just so he could start the journey again. He upped his tempo, pounding into you with his weight, the loud smack of his body against yours beating into you like a drum. 

“Tell. Me. Again,” he growled his warning, snarling down at you, pinching your nipple to punish you for your silence. 

You were gasping for breath. He was so deep now, you could feel the pressure of it in your belly. Between sharp intakes of air, you hissed, 

“You… feel.. so… fucking… good…”

“That’s my girl,” he bent over you again and that familiar pressure returned. His cock was too big, and yet you took it anyway. Your body was panic and pleasure all at the same time, and he had you pinned down for the ride of your life. 

You weren’t sure how many hours passed that night. He seemed to have the stamina of a much younger man, and every time you dozed off, you’d wake up again to fingers or tongue or cock playing inside of your folds, coaxing you to open yourself up to him. You were happy to oblige, but you were properly fuck drunk. If someone asked you for the alphabet, you weren’t positive you trusted your answer. But, when John Price asked you to open your mouth or your legs for him, you were the top scholar. 

A golden, creamy dawn was rising up over the docks as you stared out the window. John’s hand was rubbing your bare back in long, relaxing strokes, and he was leaving soft, lazy kisses down your spine. You knew you were a mess. Your hair was tangled; you’d thrown it up into a messy bun on the second runthrough, done with trying to pretend to be a pristine hot girl. Your body was covered in his marks. Bruises from his teeth and red welts from a delightful slap on the ass or two were painted across you like little tattoos to commemorate your coupling. 

“You alright, love?” He checked in on you. 

He’d been checking in all night. For all his ruthlessness, he never crossed a line, and he never forgot to make sure you were safe. Sometime in the wee hours, he’d even made you drink a bottle of water and eat some fruit to hydrate, teasing you with grapes like some sort of earthly Baccus. 

“Yeah,” you nodded, “Looks like it’s time for me to get out of your hair. Not sure I should be seen by the public in my current state.”

“You have work, or…” John looked confused. 

You thought about lying to him for a moment. It would hurt so much less for you to just break it off now in the soft dawn glow rather than a painful goodbye over cold breakfast. But, you didn’t.

“No, just… don’t wanna fool myself into thinking this was something that it wasn’t.”

Your truth hung there in the air for a moment, but before he could open his mouth to reply, you heard the elevator ding.

You turned to look at it, but he didn’t. Instead, he pulled you off the bed and forced you to the floor. It was so fast that you didn’t even realize what he’d done until your nose was in the carpet. Then, you heard a sharp, snapping pop of something hitting the bed.

You watched in horror as John’s hand reached under the mattress and pulled out a small pistol. He held it like a professional, calm and trained, and shot twice. Then, it was quiet again. 

He helped you to your feet, and he was telling you something, but your brain wasn’t registering his words. What had happened? Why were there bullet holes in the mattress? Who had he shot?

Then, you saw it. A man’s body was laying across the door of the elevator. Wanting to descend, the elevator’s alarm wailed, beeping and beeping. 

John grabbed your jaw and made you listen to him,

“We have to go. Now. Get your clothes on. Now. Now.”

“Okay…” You couldn’t move. It was so hard to even lift your arms. They felt like solid lead. You just wanted to sink back to the floor. Maybe if you could just…

“Hey! Now!”

He shoved your clothes into your hands and you started to put them on, doing your best not to look at the elevator. John was packing a black bag, half-dressed himself, and checking the windows over and over, looking for something in the streets below. 

“There’s no time, c’mon, love.”

You felt his hand cover yours as he led you to the elevator. You watched him ruthlessly kick the body away from the doors and push you inside. Once you were in, the doors closed and you rode in silence with him. You could only hear your heart in your ears. 

“...to my car. Stay close to me.”

“Okay…” It was all you could say. No other words even dared to come to mind.

“Hey,” he held your face in his as the floor numbers dropped to the teens, “You’re alright. I’ll keep you safe.”

“Okay.”

The doors opened, and you found it extremely weird that the lobby was empty. There were no workers, no guests, not even a custodian. It was just a big, silent cavern in what was usually a lively casino. 

He was leading you out to the parking garage, and just as you stepped into the concrete enclave, you heard the screech of tires round the corner. John stood in front of you and gripped the gun in his hand, but he didn’t move away. 

The car stopped in front of you, and you braced yourself, hiding behind your lover as much as you could. 

“Get in, boss! They’re right bloody behind us. Soap, shove over,” a man’s voice came from the car. He was in the driver’s seat, and he was wearing a ballcap with the Union Jack emblazoned on the top. In his passenger seat was a man in a black balaclava, and in the back was a bright-eyed man with a mohawk who you guessed had to be Soap.

“C’mon, love,” John shoved you inside just as a black SUV rounded the same corner, the engine roaring when it saw Price’s car. 

Gunshots rang out, and you knew some of them had hit the car. You worried for John, but he stood straight up, aiming carefully for the driver, and fired his gun. As if you were in some sort of action movie, the SUV careened off-course and slammed into several parked cars. Men began to pour from it, armed to the teeth. 

John jumped in beside you and made you kneel in the floorboards, holding his body over yours protectively. 

“How’d they find out? Gaz!” John yelled at the driver, shouting his name when he saw another SUV approaching from the side. 

Gaz swerved, narrowly missing being rammed, and sped off down the highway, trying to run from his pursuers. 

“No idea, mate, but they think it was us who tore up the warf. Banno’s man must’ve turned snitch. Only explanation.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” the masked man sighed, rolling down his window to fire shots at the SUV chasing you down. 

“Who’s the bonnie hen, boss?” Soap peered down at you before turning his attention back on the car chase. 

“Uh… she’s…” John tried to explain, but you realized that you never even told him your real name, “I dunno.”

“You dinnae ken?” Soap’s brows knitted together.

“Soap! Shut up and shoot, mate,” Gaz turned his attention back on the fight.

“Well,” the masked man grumbled loudly, “She’s stuck with us all the way to Hadrian’s Wall. Heading to Katie’s house. No place else is safe.”

“Aye, good call,” John agreed. 

Finally, after leaving the city, your pursuers turned back around and left you to your escape. John helped you back into the seat and checked you for injuries. 

“John… I’m…” Your voice shook with fear, and you felt all of that stress tumbling down into your chest, turning into shock and tears. 

“Shh, it’s alright, love. I’ve gotcha. I’m… I’m sorry. Should’ve known better.”

“Better?” You whispered as he held you to his chest.

“Aye. Thought I could be a normal man for a night. Hit on the hot bird at the bar, go to a fuckin’ party. But, nothing’s normal right now. I’ve put you in this mess, and I’m sorry.”

You didn’t have a reply, not one that made any sense, and as he held you, you watched the English countryside come into view. Rolling green hills still wet with their dew made everything that had just happened to you seem so far away, but you could smell the gunpowder on his hands as he pet your cheek, and you knew that nothing could be further from the truth.

[mingi-s-dimples]

Pushed too far - JongJoong

~reader has been thinking about "playing" with Jongho for so long, teasing him around the house and in front of the other members (she’s the group’s submissive that they share). Hongjoong won’t allow it because Jongho is a little more rough than she’s used to. So Jongho shows reader exactly how rough he can be, and Hongjoong can’t help but to participate 🤭~ req. by @miyaluvvsyou

pairing: hongjoong x fem!reader x jongho

genre: 18+, filth

summary: when you tipped the stakes just a little bit higher than you're supposed to.. jongho made sure to let you know just how rough he is.

wc: 4.9k

warnings: rough dom!jongho, softer dom!hongjoong, reader is ateez's fuck toy, neck choking, bulge kink (thru pants and neck/stomach i promise it's nothing too wild), hair pulling, head pushing, double blowjob, multiple orgasms, loooooots of cum, deepthroating, cursing, some pet names, 3some, lots of teasing, manhandling, unprotected (boo use protection irl!), completely consensual!, for sure forgot something, might edit later (probably).

Author's Note: this was hot ngl. tysm sweetie for requesting this... this was truly inspiring LMAO, i wrote it it one day :>. AND I ALSO LOVE HOW IT IS so it's a win win ^^. i hope you like itttttttt if you do plsplspls let me know down below or dm me ^^

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and does not represent the reality of the members.

The penthouse was buzzing with low chatter and the occasional clink of ice against glass, but none of that mattered—not when the real tension in the room was crackling between you and Jongho like a live wire, waiting to snap.  

You had been at this for weeks, pushing, testing, toeing the line Hongjoong had drawn between you and the one man you weren’t allowed to have. Jongho was too rough, he had said. Too intense. He wouldn’t hold back the way the others did, wouldn’t handle you with the same measured control.  

But that was exactly what you wanted. So you pushed.  

Tonight, you were being particularly cruel. Draped lazily over the armrest of Jongho’s chair, your bare legs stretched out across his lap, your silk shorts riding dangerously high. Every few minutes, you shifted—innocently, sweetly—just enough to brush against him. You let your fingers dance along the hard muscle of his arm, traced slow, teasing circles against his bicep, whispering soft, honeyed nothings just to see how long he could take it.  

Jongho had been silent the entire time. His drink sat untouched in his hand, his other arm draped over the back of the chair, muscles flexed so tight you could see the strain in his forearm. His jaw was locked, his throat bobbing with every controlled breath, his legs stiff beneath yours.  

You bit your lip, suppressing a grin. He was close. So close.  

Time to end him.  

You let your foot drop lower, your toes grazing the inside of his thigh. The movement was slow, deliberate, teasing. And then, as if it was the most casual thing in the world, you nudged your foot forward—right against the thick bulge straining beneath his sweatpants.  

Jongho inhaled sharply. His fingers twitched around his glass. But you weren’t done.  

You pressed a little harder, just enough to feel the outline of him through the fabric, your breathy little sigh slipping past your lips like a sweet, wicked confession. “Poor thing,” you murmured, voice laced with faux sympathy. “Bet that’s been aching for me for a while now, huh?”  

Glass shattered.  

You barely had time to process what had happened before Jongho moved. One second, you were smirking, enjoying the control you had over him—the next, you were being yanked off the armrest and into his lap, a sharp gasp escaping you as his hands gripped your thighs with bruising force.  

“Fuckin’ brat,” he muttered, voice low, dark, dangerous. His hands tightened, keeping you pinned against him, the hard length of him pressing against your core through thin layers of fabric. “You have no idea what you just did.”  

Across the room, Hongjoong hummed in amusement, setting his drink down as he stood. “Oh, I think she knows exactly what she did.” His lips curled into a knowing smirk as he watched you squirm in Jongho’s grasp. “She’s been waiting for this.”  

Jongho exhaled through his nose, chest heaving as he stared down at you. His pupils were blown wide, his restraint hanging by a thread.  

You swallowed, lips parting as your breath hitched. “So,” you whispered, voice soft, teasing. “Are you gonna do something about it?” Jongho snapped.  

In a blur of movement, you were hoisted up and thrown over his shoulder, a surprised squeal slipping past your lips as he stormed toward the bedrooms.  

“Hey!” you whined, kicking your legs, but his arm tightened around your waist, holding you in place like a ragdoll.  

Behind you, Hongjoong let out a low chuckle, following close behind. “No point in fighting it now, sweetheart,” he taunted, voice laced with something dark and eager. “You asked for this.”  

As Jongho shoved open the bedroom door, dragging you inside with zero hesitation, one of the other members exhaled heavily from the couch, shaking his head.  

“Well…” he muttered, smirking as he took a sip of his drink. “She’s fucked.”  

And as the door slammed shut behind you, locking you in with two ravenous men who had been waiting for this moment for far too long, you realized—  

He was absolutely right.

The second the door slammed shut behind you, Jongho wasted no time. His hands were on you instantly, rough and possessive, dragging you closer as his chest rose and fell with heavy breaths. His shirt had already been discarded, and now his dark eyes raked over you with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.  

“You think you’re funny?” His voice was low, dangerous, the calm before the storm.  

Your lips curled into a smirk, tilting your head up at him defiantly. “A little.”  

Wrong answer.  

Jongho scoffed, fingers tightening around the hem of the oversized shirt you had stolen—his shirt, because you liked the way it smelled like him. But right now? He didn’t seem to care about sentimentality.  

“Not anymore, you’re not,” he growled before yanking it off you in one swift motion, leaving you in just your barely-there shorts. His gaze darkened, jaw clenching as he took in the sight of your bare skin. His palm traced the side of your waist, fingers flexing like he was restraining himself from grabbing you too roughly.  

But then his control snapped—because those tiny, teasing shorts were mocking him.  

With one sharp tug, he had them halfway down your thighs before you could protest, his hungry gaze drinking in every inch of newly exposed skin. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, almost to himself.  

Behind him, Hongjoong let out a low chuckle. “Mind if I join in?”  

Jongho didn’t even hesitate. He glanced back at him, pupils blown wide, and rasped, “You better come here.”  

Hongjoong smirked and pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it aside before stepping closer. The two of them towered over you now, chests bare, muscles flexing under the dim lighting.  

You swallowed hard, your breath hitching as you knelt at the edge of the bed, looking up at them with wide, innocent eyes—eyes that only made them harder.  

Jongho’s sweatpants did nothing to hide how much he wanted you. The thick, aching outline of his cock pressed tightly against the fabric, straining almost painfully. Hongjoong wasn’t far behind, the bulge in his jeans prominent as he tilted his head, watching you with that ever-calculating gaze.  

“Look at you,” Hongjoong murmured, voice smooth, teasing. “Got exactly what you wanted, didn’t you?”  

Jongho let out a slow, shaky exhale, his fingers twitching at his sides. “Not yet,” he muttered. “But she will.”  

And just like that, the last of your teasing had run its course. Jongho reached for his waistband. And you knew—this was only the beginning. 

Jongho smirked down at you, tilting his head slightly, amusement flickering behind his darkened eyes. His hands settled on his hips, his cock still straining against his sweatpants, evident even in the dim lighting of the room.  

“Now what are you gonna do about it, hm?” His voice was deep, slow, condescending.  

You swallowed, heat pooling in your stomach at his tone.  

Hongjoong chuckled, brushing a thumb across his bottom lip as he watched you from the side. “You’ve been begging for this for so long, sweetheart,” he mused. “Are you gonna take us like a good girl? Or are you just all talk?”  

Jongho clicked his tongue. “I think she wants to prove herself,” he drawled, eyes burning into yours. “Wants to show us how desperate she is. Isn’t that right?”  

You couldn’t answer—not with the way they were looking at you, towering over you like they had been waiting for this moment just as much as you had. Your body felt hot, heavy, completely under their control without them even touching you.  

So instead of speaking, your hands moved on their own.  

Your fingers ghosted over the thick outline of Jongho’s cock first, pressing lightly through the fabric of his sweatpants, feeling the sheer heat of him underneath. He let out a slow exhale, his jaw tightening at the sensation.  

Then, your other hand found Hongjoong’s jeans, palm smoothing over his length, feeling how hard he was beneath the rough material. His breath hitched ever so slightly, but his lips curled into a knowing smirk, eyes half-lidded as he watched you.  

“You’re trembling,” Jongho murmured. His voice was quieter this time, taunting. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? You were so confident earlier.”  

You sucked in a shaky breath, your fingers tightening around the fabric of their pants as if grounding yourself. Then, without another word, you hooked your fingers into the waistbands of their pants and pulled.  

Hongjoong let out a low chuckle. Jongho groaned. And then— Their cocks sprung free.  

Your breath caught in your throat, eyes flickering between them, heat flooding your veins.  

Jongho’s was thick, heavy, the head flushed a deep red from how hard he was. A bead of precum sat at the tip, evidence of just how much you had worked him up. Hongjoong’s was just as impressive, slightly longer, the veins along the shaft prominent as he exhaled slowly, watching your reaction with amusement.  

You barely registered the way your thighs pressed together, how your breathing grew uneven as you stared.  

Jongho let out a breathy laugh, his fingers brushing along your jaw. “Speechless now, are we?”  

Hongjoong leaned in slightly, voice smooth as silk. “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he murmured, tilting your chin up. “You’ll be using that pretty little mouth soon enough.”  

And from the way their eyes darkened even further, you knew—  

You were in for it.

Your lips parted, tongue darting out instinctively as your eyes flickered between them. The sheer size of them, the heat radiating off their bodies, the way they were both staring down at you with predatory intent—it had you dizzy.  

Hongjoong smirked, brushing a hand through your hair as he nodded toward Jongho. “Go on, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Show him what that mouth of yours can do.”  

Jongho didn’t say a word. He just watched you, eyes dark and burning with expectation. So, you did.  

Your fingers wrapped around the base of his cock first, warmth pulsing against your palm as you leaned in. You started slow, kitten-licking the tip, feeling the way he tensed under your touch. Then, you parted your lips and took him in, inch by inch, savoring the weight of him on your tongue.  

Jongho inhaled sharply, his head tilting back slightly as his grip tightened at his sides. “Fuck,” he muttered, his voice strained.  

You bobbed your head, working him deeper, your tongue swirling around his length as your other hand reached for Hongjoong. Your fingers wrapped around his cock, stroking him in tandem with your movements, teasing him even as you focused on Jongho.  

Hongjoong let out a low chuckle, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “That’s it,” he murmured. “Such a good girl for us.”  

You hummed around Jongho in response, the vibrations making his breath hitch. His patience was wearing thin—you could feel it in the way his fingers twitched, his thighs tensed, his chest heaved.  

And then, suddenly, his hand tangled in your hair, tugging you off him with a wet pop.  

“I don’t feel like sharing,” he rasped. His pupils were blown wide, his jaw clenched. “Not like this.”  

Before you could react, he guided your head toward Hongjoong’s cock instead, pushing you to take him next. Your lips barely had time to part before Hongjoong slid in, groaning as he felt the warmth of your mouth around him.  

You tried to pace yourself, but Jongho wasn’t having it. His grip tightened, tilting your head just so before he muttered, “Open wider.” And then—he pushed you back toward his cock, his length brushing against Hongjoong’s as he nudged himself past your lips again. Your eyes widened as you felt them both pressing at your mouth, Jongho’s impatience clear in the way he guided you to take them together.  

“Come on,” he murmured, his voice deep, teasing. “You wanted this, didn’t you?”  

Hongjoong exhaled sharply, his fingers tangling in your hair. “Let’s see how much you can handle, sweetheart.”  

And from the way Jongho smirked down at you, one thing was clear—  You were about to find out.  

Jongho's grip in your hair tightened, a silent warning before he and Hongjoong began moving in tandem, setting a brutal pace.  

Your throat burned, lips stretched wide as they thrust into your mouth, using you just how they wanted. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, slipping down your cheeks as you gagged around them, but the needy whimpers vibrating in your chest only spurred them on.  

"Look at her," Hongjoong groaned, his fingers tangling deeper in your hair. "So fucking pretty like this—just a little mess between us, yeah?"  

Jongho let out a low chuckle, but his jaw was clenched, his restraint hanging by a thread. His cock twitched every time he felt the tight squeeze of your throat, every time he saw your pretty eyes glass over with need. He wanted to finish—God, he wanted to—but he refused to be the first. His pride wouldn’t allow it.  

So he held back, even as his body screamed for release, watching through half-lidded eyes as Hongjoong fucked into your mouth a little faster, his own control fraying.  

"Fuck," Hongjoong exhaled, his hips stuttering. His fingers tightened in your hair before a sharp inhale hissing escaped through his teeth. "Shit—"  

Hongjoong let out a shuddering breath, his grip in your hair tightening as his hips jerked forward. “Fuck—” he hissed, voice strained. His cock twitched against your tongue, and a second later, he groaned deep, spilling himself inside your mouth.  

The heat of it coated your tongue, the bitter taste making your body tremble. He didn’t pull out right away, his breath uneven as he let the aftershocks of his orgasm ride out. Then, with a sharp inhale, he finally eased back, his release dripping from the corner of your lips.  

You barely had time to process it before Jongho took control. His patience had run out.  

A hand tangled in your hair, forcing you onto his cock with a harsh thrust. The sudden depth made your throat clench around him, your eyes going wide as a strangled sound escaped you.  

Jongho groaned, head tilting back slightly, his other hand pressing against your cheek, feeling the bulge in your throat as he fucked deep into your mouth. His muscles were tight, his control slipping with every drag of your lips around him.  

“Fuck,” he growled. “That’s it—take it all.”  

You tried to breathe, tried to keep up, but he wasn’t letting you go.  

His hips snapped forward one last time, burying himself deep as his cock pulsed. Hot spurts of cum flooded your throat, thick and overwhelming, making you choke around him. Your nails dug into his thighs, your body shaking, but he didn’t move—he held you there, making sure you took every drop.  

Only when your throat convulsed around him did he finally pull out, a thin string of saliva and cum connecting your lips to his tip. Your chest heaved as you gasped for air, dazed and spent, but Jongho wasn’t finished with you just yet. His fingers tilted your chin up, dark eyes locking onto yours.  

“Swallow.”  

Your breath hitched, but you obeyed, tongue darting out to catch what lingered on your lips before you swallowed every last drop. Jongho groaned, thumb brushing against your lower lip. “Good girl.” Then, with one firm push, he sent you sprawling onto the bed.  

Your back hit the mattress, your mind still hazy, as the two men finally kicked off the pants that had been pooled at their ankles.  

Your pulse raced, anticipation curling in your stomach as you stared up at them—both fully bare now, standing at the edge of the bed, looking at you like they were ready to devour you whole.  

And from the heat in their eyes, from the way Jongho cracked his neck and Hongjoong smirked down at you— You knew they weren’t anywhere near done.

Jongho ran a hand through his hair, his chest still rising and falling with exertion, but his eyes? His eyes were locked onto you, full of unrestrained hunger.  

“Fuck, look at her,” he muttered, his voice rough, raw. “She’s already ruined, and we haven’t even started.”  

Hongjoong hummed in agreement, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips. But then, an idea flickered in his gaze—one that made his cock twitch back to full hardness. He leaned in slightly, voice low, teasing.  

“I think I have an idea,” he murmured, making sure Jongho was paying attention. “You’re gonna love this.”  

Jongho’s jaw flexed as he listened, his dark eyes narrowing, and then— A slow, wicked grin spread across his lips.  

“Perfect.”  

Before you could even catch your breath, they moved.  

Jongho grabbed your legs, lifting you effortlessly as Hongjoong settled himself against the headboard. You let out a soft gasp as your back was pulled flush against his chest, his cock—still sensitive, still dripping from earlier—pressing hot and heavy against your ass.  

His arms wrapped around your waist, keeping you snug in place as he leaned down, whispering against your ear.  

“Relax, sweetheart,” he murmured, amusement lacing his tone. “You’re gonna need it.” But Jongho wasn’t in the mood to wait.  

You barely had time to process what was happening before he was there—towering over you, gripping your thighs, spreading you wide for himself. His breath was uneven, his control frayed, and without so much as a warning— He pushed in.  

Your body arched, a choked sound escaping your lips as Jongho buried himself deep in one swift, brutal thrust. No teasing, no slow adjustment—just the sudden, overwhelming stretch of him filling you completely.  

Your fingers dug into Hongjoong’s thighs, your legs trembling as Jongho set a relentless pace, fucking into you hard, fast, possessive. Your head tipped back against Hongjoong’s shoulder, mouth open, breathless.  

“Fucking hell,” Jongho growled, his grip bruising on your thighs. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? To be ruined?”  

You couldn’t speak, couldn’t think—only moan as he fucked you senseless. But then—  Jongho shot Hongjoong a glance. A silent signal. And Hongjoong understood immediately.  The arm around your waist tightened, and suddenly—you felt it. The thick press of his cock nudging at your entrance alongside Jongho’s. A soft, broken sound escaped you. Your body jolted, legs shaking, but Hongjoong just shushed you gently, pressing a kiss to your temple as he started to push in.  

The stretch was unbearable.  

The feeling of them both inside you at once had your mind blanking, your breath hitching into little whimpers as your body struggled to take them.  

But they didn’t care.  

They were focused only on the way you clenched around them, the way your body trembled, the way your nails dug into Hongjoong’s arms as they filled you together, stretching you beyond what you thought you could handle.  

And then— They moved.  

A sharp cry ripped from your throat as Jongho’s hips snapped forward, burying himself deep just as Hongjoong thrust up into you. There was no adjustment period, no easing you into it—they were already ruining you, just like they promised.  

The pace was brutal, overwhelming. Jongho’s grip on your thighs tightened, using them for leverage as he fucked into you hard, deep, his body completely lost to the feeling of you wrapped so tightly around him.  

Hongjoong groaned low against your ear, his fingers trailing down to press against your clit as he rolled his hips up into you, pushing impossibly deeper.  

Your body shook, overstimulated, overwhelmed, tears slipping down your cheeks as they took you together—fucking you open, stretching you beyond anything you’d ever experienced.  

Their pace didn’t slow—it only grew rougher.  

Jongho’s thrusts turned ruthless, his cock slamming into you with deep, unforgiving force, stretching you wide around him. Hongjoong groaned against your neck, his hands gripping your waist tightly, his own thrusts erratic as he drove himself up into you from below.  

You were wrecked between them, their cocks dragging against every sensitive spot inside you, pushing you higher and higher. Your body trembled, your nails digging into Hongjoong’s thighs, your legs barely holding up.  

“Look at you,” Jongho growled, voice wrecked, gripping your waist even tighter. “So fucking desperate, so fucking full.”  

Your breath hitched, tears pricking at your eyes. “Please—”  

Hongjoong chuckled against your skin, pressing a hot kiss to your shoulder. “Please what, sweetheart?”  

A sob tore from your throat. “Let me come—please, I need to—”  

Jongho cursed under his breath, his grip turning bruising. “Fuck—”  

Hongjoong groaned, hips stuttering for a moment. “You gonna come for us, baby?” His voice was dripping with heat. “Gonna let us feel you?”  

That was all it took.  

Your body seized up between them, your head tipping back, a choked cry escaping your lips as pleasure crashed over you like a tidal wave. Your walls clenched down hard, milking their cocks, leaving you shaking and gasping.  

That sent them over the edge.  

“Shit—” Jongho lost it first, slamming deep one last time as his cock throbbed inside you, his release spilling hot and thick. The feeling of him filling you up sent Hongjoong right after, his grip on your hips tightening as he groaned into your skin, emptying himself inside you, stuffing you impossibly full with their combined release.  

The overstimulation made your whole body tremble, soft whimpers spilling from your lips as their hips twitched against you, drawing out every last drop.  

Jongho pulled out with a low groan, watching his release leak out of you, mixing with Hongjoong’s. Something dark flashed in his eyes.  

“You’re not done yet, sweetheart,” he murmured.  

Before you could catch your breath, Jongho flipped you over, pressing your face into Hongjoong’s lap. The older man chuckled, brushing damp strands of hair from your face as you blinked up at him, dazed.  

His cock was still hard, slick with release, right in front of your lips.  

“Open up, baby,” Hongjoong murmured, his fingers tracing your jaw. “Let’s see that pretty mouth of yours.”  

Your lips parted instinctively, your tongue darting out to tease his tip.  

Behind you, Jongho was already moving again, gripping your hips and thrusting back inside you without hesitation, filling you up with their combined mess.  

A muffled cry escaped you, your throat tightening around Hongjoong’s cock as Jongho started moving again, his thrusts just as deep, just as brutal.  

“Fuck—” Hongjoong groaned, his head tipping back as you swallowed around him. “That’s it, baby. Just like that.”  

Jongho’s breath was ragged as he fucked into you, his cock pushing every bit of their release deeper inside you. “You’re taking us so well,” he muttered darkly. “Hope you’re ready, because we’re not stopping yet.”  

And from the way they were both panting, their hands gripping you tighter, their eyes locked onto you with nothing but hunger—  

You knew they were about to ruin you all over again.  

Their pace was merciless.  

Jongho was buried deep inside you, slamming into you with raw, relentless force, hitting every spot that had you seeing stars. His grip on your waist was bruising, holding you in place as he pounded into you, making you take every inch.  

At the same time, Hongjoong had a fist tangled in your hair, guiding your head down onto his cock, forcing you to take him deeper than before. The tip nudged against the back of your throat, making your eyes sting with tears as you swallowed around him.  

“Look at her,” Hongjoong groaned, his free hand cupping your jaw as he watched the tears spill onto his lap. “So fucking pretty like this.”  

Jongho’s breath was ragged behind you, his thrusts only getting rougher. “She wanted to be a tease, huh? Wanted to act like she could handle me?” He let out a low, satisfied chuckle. “Bet you’re regretting it now.”  

Your muffled cries were drowned out by the lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin, of your mouth working over Hongjoong’s cock, of the slick mess Jongho was thrusting into. Your body was trembling, overwhelmed, teetering on the edge once again.  

And when they both pushed as deep as they could—  

Hongjoong inching further down your throat, Jongho stretching you wide with one final, brutal thrust—  It hit you like a tidal wave.  

Your body tensed, your back arching as the orgasm crashed over you, your walls clenching around Jongho so hard it nearly knocked the breath from his lungs. But this time— You didn’t just come.  

You squirted.  

A sharp cry was muffled around Hongjoong’s cock as your release gushed out of you, soaking Jongho, the sheets, everything in its path.  

Jongho *froze* for a split second—before a deep, pleased chuckle rumbled from his chest.  

“Fuck—look at this messy little thing,” he said, voice dripping with satisfaction. “She just fucking squirted all over us, Joong.”  

Hongjoong groaned, thrusting harder into your mouth, pushing you right to the brink of overstimulation. “Shit, baby. That was—” His sentence was cut off by his own wrecked moan.  

Jongho smirked, still buried deep inside you. “Come on, Captain. Pick up the pace. Let’s *really* wreck her.”  

And just like that, Hongjoong’s grip on your hair tightened.  

He didn’t hold back.  

He fucked into your mouth with sharp, deep thrusts, making you choke around him, your throat spasming. Your fingers curled into the sheets, your body barely able to hold itself up, completely at their mercy.  

A few more thrusts—Hongjoong gritted his teeth, his hips stuttering—  

“Fuck—”  

With a low groan, he buried himself deep one last time, his cock twitching as he came straight down your throat, hot and thick. The taste of him flooded your mouth, dripping from the corners of your lips, but before you could even think about pulling away—  

Jongho *grabbed* your jaw.  

“Swallow.” His voice was low, commanding.  

You obeyed immediately, the muscles of your throat working as you took every last drop, a soft whimper escaping your lips.  

Jongho *grinned*.  

“Good girl.”  

But he wasn’t done.  

Before you could even process what was happening, he *yanked* your head back by your hair, arching your spine, making your back curve beautifully for him.  

It made you take him even *deeper*.  

You sobbed out his name, hands gripping at anything you could reach, your body trembling. The sheer angle of his cock had you completely wrecked, hitting spots so deep you swore you could *feel* him in your stomach.  

The sounds spilling from you only made him go harder.  

“Not so bratty now, are you?” Jongho growled, his grip tightening as he pounded into you. “Not teasing me now, huh?”  

Your walls clenched desperately around him, squeezing every inch, and that was it— His breath hitched, his hips slamming into you one last time, burying himself deep as he let go.  

“Fuck—”  

His release filled you up once more, hot and overwhelming, stuffing you full until you felt like you couldn’t possibly take anymore.  

He groaned through gritted teeth, thrusting a few more times, making sure every drop stayed inside you, before finally stilling.  

For a long moment, the room was filled with nothing but heavy breaths. Then— Hongjoong chuckled, his fingers tilting your chin up to meet his gaze.  

“Maybe next time you’ll think twice before teasing him like that.”  

Jongho, still panting, smirked as he let your body collapse against the mattress.  

“But honestly?” He exhaled, dragging his fingers down your trembling thighs, admiring the mess they’d made of you.  

“You should do it more often.” 

Your body was spent, trembling from exhaustion as you lay limp against the mattress, your chest rising and falling in ragged breaths.  

Jongho, still hovering over you, watched the way his cum slowly dripped from between your thighs, his expression dark with satisfaction.  

But then, something shifted.  

The intensity in his eyes softened, and his hands—so rough just moments ago—were suddenly gentle as he ran them over your body, soothing the marks he’d left behind.  

Hongjoong chuckled beside you, dragging the pads of his fingers down your arm, his touch featherlight.  

“Look at her,” he murmured, voice laced with amusement. “Completely ruined.”  

Jongho hummed, leaning in closer, his lips ghosting over your skin. “Mhm… but she’s *ours*, isn’t she?”  

Before you could answer, he *bit down* on your neck, right where everyone would *see*.  

A sharp gasp left your lips as his teeth sank in, not enough to hurt—but enough to mark you. To claim you.  

The sting faded into pleasure as he trailed kisses along your collarbones, biting down again, this time just above your breast.  

Hongjoong exhaled a laugh, watching the possessiveness unfold with a knowing smirk.  

“You just *had* to mark her up, didn’t you?”  

Jongho pulled back slightly, admiring his work. The faint bruises on your skin, the evidence that you *belonged* to them.  

“Damn right,” he muttered.  

You whined softly, your body too exhausted to even pretend to be bratty anymore. Hongjoong wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you into his chest, his warmth instantly comforting.  

“Mm, let’s get cleaned up,” he murmured against your hair.  

Jongho smirked, brushing his lips over your ear. “Let’s take a shower together.”  

Hongjoong raised a brow, teasing. “What, no *round two*?”  

Jongho rolled his eyes, but his smirk didn’t waver. “You *wish* she could handle another round right now.”  

You let out a breathless laugh, melting between them as they both chuckled, their bodies surrounding you in warmth.  

And as they carried you off to the shower, you knew one thing for sure—  

You were so in for it next time.

NETWORKS:

@blossomnet

@illusionnet

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@mingleshine @musiclovingfairy @crazylittlebisexual @sanhwalvr @artistic-rendition @hongjoongtime117 @cypher-03 @peachy-bell26 @atiny1 @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @atzlordz @chai0tea @miyaluvvsyou

[the-kr8tor]

Happy 1 year !!! It went by so fast I didn’t even realize until u mentioned it 😭

Hope u don’t mind me adding an apothecary req to ur pile QwQ

Could I get cardamom + heart shaped bottle of waking up a little past midnight from a nap with hobie ? Lots of snuggles and maybe some random ass cozy 2-4 am activity 🥺

Happy writing! Remember to drink water, eat snacks, and take breaks ❤️ !!!

Thank you for sticking around! Here's your potion, I hope you like it 💕

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), cw suggestive, FLUFF!

Katy's one year celebration 🎉

The metal fan whirs in the background of your shared bedroom. It's warm and humid, almost seethingly hot as you lay side by side with Hobie in deep slumber. Sweat dribbles off your back, moist clinging to the back of your shirt and seeping through the thin bed sheets. You groan, eyes still closed, hand reaching towards him blindly, fingers patting along the sheets to find his warmth. Still half asleep, you huff, unknowingly scrunching your face.

Hobie, also asleep, and yet his spider senses wake him up from your need to be near him. He snorts, foot kicking the blanket off him and onto the foot of the bed. Groaning, he flips himself to face you, eyes closed, he scooches closer to you despite the heat.

Your fingers brush along his bare arm and you instinctively hold onto him like a life preserver. He feels the sweat on your palm, making him crack open one eye in the dark. He sees your uncomfortable expression, and his senses fully wake him up.

“Fuckin' hell.” Hobie whispers, exhaling tiredly, he feels like ice under a heat lamp. You make a sound akin to the start of a sob, he immediately pats your bicep. “Sorry, go back to sleep.”

“It's so hot.” You softly complain, eyes half lidded, frown deepening with every drop of sweat. “I'm dying, Hobie.”

He chuckles, “I know, love, you won't even cuddle me like always.” The crickets outside chirp, summer air blowing right outside the houseboat window.

“If I get anymore near you I'd melt.”

“You always melt when you're near me.”

“That's different,” your tone has a slight lilt of playfulness. “this one is a disgusting kind of melt. The kind where you only see in the gym.”

“The disgusting kind?” His eyes sparkles with amusement.

“Yeah,” you blink away the remaining sleep. “the stinky kind.”

His knuckles brush along your arm, making you flick his elbow. “Ow, what's that for?”

“Too hot.” You say, face shoved into your pillow. “Sorry, I'm sticky, I feel icky, augh.”

“D’you want me to do something ‘bout it, stinky?” He smiles tiredly, fighting off a yawn, hand still atop your arm that you don't brush off.

“Our AC is broken, Hobs, you said it yourself. Unless you use that gorgeous brain of yours to fix it.” You change position, lifting yourself slightly off the mattress, you now face the ceiling, arms away from you like you're about to flap your nonexistent wings. “I'm dying, I'm gonna kill the AC cleaning company for not coming yesterday. I think they're the reason why it's broken. Too much dust.”

“The entire company?” He teases, beaming at you, tapping the pads of his fingers on your warm skin. “That's a bit ambitious innit?”

“I can handle them, ‘fear a woman scorned’ or whatever the saying goes, I'm too hot to remember.” You chuckle at the end.

“I don't think that's how it goes, love.” He slides himself closer to you, skin sticking to your skin. You make a face but don't push him away. His face looms above you, smiling softly, moonlight bathing him in all his glory. “You're right about one thing though,” the pad of his thumbs wipe sweat off your brow, and you do him the favour of wiping the sweat clinging to the tip of his nose. “You are bloody hot.”

You smile at him, leaning closer to his touch while he does the same. “Do you know what's gonna make me hotter?”

“Lingerie—?” You slap his arm. “What? You asked and I answered.” He laughs, palms rubbing the sweat off your temple.

“No!” You shake his shoulders, “the AC finally working and us sleeping peacefully.”

“I agree with the first one, but the second? I can think of other things—” He stops at the sight of your pointed glare. “—I can check it for you. I might be able to fix it.”

You sigh dramatically, like a weight off your shoulders is gone. “Please? I bet a genius like yourself can fix it.”

He fakes a scoff, already lifting himself off the bed, “you don't need to gas me up, love, ‘m already on it.”

“Thank you, the most genius, handsome Spider-Man in the whole universe—” His lips are suddenly on yours, pecking quickly before you could even hold him in place.

“Stay there,” Hobie stands on the foot of the bed, you place your chin on your palms, fluttering your eyelashes like a schoolgirl with a crush. “We're not done yet with our conversation.” He says while walking backwards towards the door.

“Fix it please and we'll have a very long conversation.”

He tilts his head, brow raised, laughing at the double meaning. His own foot betrays him, making him trip on nothing when you wink at him. A wink that is sub-par due to your lack of sleep, but it has him weak nonetheless. With a click of the door, your head hits the pillow once again, trying to survive the heat.

It must've been a good fifteen minutes since Hobie left but it felt like the most excruciating hours for you. Your pajama shorts and shirt have basically melted into one with the bedsheets, and yet you keep dozing off despite it. The roar of the AC finally starting has your skin jumping from your body, and you hear a faint cheer from somewhere around the houseboat.

You smile softly as cool air finally billows out, a cold breeze hitting your moist skin. Sighing, you comfortably adjust yourself on the bed, cheek squished on the pillow, eyes drifting off— Until the bed dips and you open your eyes to a very smug yet happy Hobie. He waits for your thank yous with a lopsided smile, he's clearly proud of himself.

“Do you accept payments in cuddles?” You murmur, arm already reaching up towards him, fingers beckoning him over.

Hobie acts as if he's thinking long and hard about his decision. “Am I free to negotiate?”

You shake your head with a smile, giggling against the pillow that smells like him. “Nope.”

He plops himself next to you, arm sliding under you, lifting you off the bed effortlessly to be placed on top of him. You laugh, immediately, placing your head on his chest. His arms envelope you, fingers kneading the small of your back. Meanwhile you cup his jaw, giving sleepy kisses until you're both satisfied.

“This is the best form of payment,” you say against his skin, eyes closing, sighing in content. You expect a rhetoric or a sarcastic reply from him but all you get from him are soft snores. “Thank you, Hobie.” You join him in dreamland, comfortable and cozy in his arms.

[forcryingoutlloud]

Patient

warnings: smut (18+ minors dni!), cockwarming, choking, spanking, dom!matty

a/n: hey! so it’s been a while. this is shit i’ll be completely honest but i just wanted to put something out to try and get my enthusiasm for writing back? anyway it’s mediocre at best but i hope you enjoy! also hasn’t been proofread :|

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

she frowned at him and stood up, moving over to his desk and plopping down on the floor next to his chair, placing her head on his thigh.

she blinked up at him and scowled when he didn’t take his eyes off his computer, huffing lightly to try and get his attention.

she had been at this for almost an hour now. she had woken up from a nap wet and needy but he claimed he ‘had to finish this’ and that it was ‘extremely important’.

she almost felt embarrassed, begging for his attention like this but his bare chest and snug-in-all-the-right-places grey joggers called for desperate measures.

she nuzzled her face into his thigh, running her nose lightly against his bulge, before he grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her away from him, glaring at her.

“what are you doing?” he tightened his grip on her hair when she didn’t answer and she pouted her lips.

“i’m sorry daddy, jus’ need you so bad”, he rolled his eyes and moved his grip to her cheeks, forcing two of his fingers in her mouth.

she moaned, happily sucking his fingers, thinking she had won and that he was going to give in and fuck her within an inch of her life, but she figured she was wrong when he took his fingers out her mouth and slapped her harshly on the cheek.

“stupid little girl. i told you when you came in here that i had shit to do, yet you didn’t listen and disobeyed me,” he shoved two fingers into her mouth and pressed on her teeth, forcing her mouth open.

he smirked at her doe eyes, blinking up at him with devotion, before he spat roughly in her mouth. she let out an utterly desperate moan and squeezed her thighs together, trying to get some relief but whines when he shoved his foot between her legs, ceasing her movements.

“such a needy little thing huh? you need daddy to fix it for you?” he pouted at her mockingly, and she nodded furiously.

“please daddy, ‘ve been so good and patient, need you please-,” she was cut off when he slapped her cheek again, harder this time, and she could feel her cheek get warmer from the impact.

“you’ve been patient hm? i don’t think so princess. my good girl would’ve waited until i was finished with my work, then i would’ve fucked her so good, left her dripping with my cum when she slept.” he sat back in his chair, leaving her to blink up at him with teary eyes.

“but my good girl isn’t here right now is she?” she frowned and shook her head, desperate to please him.

“no, no ‘m here, im a good girl, swear!” she whined. he scoffed and began to unbutton his trousers, pulling them down just enough to reveal his rock hard cock.

he wouldn’t admit it but her desperate begging had affected him too, he was just better at hiding it than she was.

her head perked up when she saw his cock, her eyes lighting up at the thought of finally being filled and fucked. she shuffled on her knees, squeezing her thighs together.

he leaned back against his chair and patted his knee, causing her to scramble up onto his lap. she grabbed the base of his cock and brought it to her entrance, ready to sink down onto him when he grabbed her neck and squeezed, roughly.

"what do you think you're doing?" he spat the words out through gritted teeth and she attempted to swallow. "you seriously think you're going to get what you want, after you blatantly ignored what I said?"

she pouted at him and attempted to roll her hips against his, trying to get him to break and fuck her, but stopped when he brought his hand to her hip, surely leaving a bruise in its wake.

"you'd do well to listen to me sweetheart, you're on thin fuckin' ice already," he spat the words out through gritted teeth and a clenched jaw, brining one of his hands down to lazily thumb at her clit.

her jaw went slack at the touch, arching her back causing her tits to be pushed against his chest through her (his) t-shirt, nipples rubbing against his bare chest, mumbling out a 'sorry daddy'.

he peered up at her over his glasses and sunk her down on his cock with no warning, the utterly desperate moan she let out bringing a sleazy smirk to his face. "oh thank you daddy, thank you."

he pulled her t-shirt over her head and tossed it carelessly on the floor somewhere, pinching her nipples roughly. she groaned and adjusted her knees ready to bounce on his cock before his deep voice stopped her in her tracks. "don't think so brat."

she frowned and looked at him, confusion clouding her face when he smiled menacingly up at her, rubbing small circles into the soft skin of her hip bone. "god you really don't get it do you?"

he grabbed a fistful of her hair, tugging on it so hard that her head fell back and she felt his hot breath on her ear. "stupid girl, still thinks that she's gonna get rewarded for breaking the rules."

he tutted at her and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his thumb over her clit. she jolted at the pressure and he chuckled darkly in her face.

"now you're gonna sit there looking all dumb and drooling on my cock until I finish this. if you so much as move an inch, ill fuck this tight little cunt until you're dripping with me and you won't get to cum for a week. gonna use you as my little fucktoy. understand?"

she whimpered and felt her eyes fill with tears at his demeaning tone, her lip wobbling as she nodded slowly. he raised an eyebrow and slapped her arse hard, surely leaving a handprint in his wake.

"I understand daddy."