#damn it hard to play perfect đŸ« đŸ« đŸ« 
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
nana1000night · 2 years ago
Text
頌! çç ć„¶èŒ¶
頌! çç ć„¶èŒ¶ #GoogleDoodle
Is this only in Taiwan or does everyone could play this game!!đŸ«¶đŸ«¶đŸ«¶
@rookthorne @writing-for-marvel @sparklybarbarianninja @royalwriteroftheuniverse @sapphire-rogers @jamneuromain @lokiandbuckysdoll @lovebittenbyevans @blueberryrock @nekoannie-chan @loving-barnes
4 notes · View notes
spideyjimin · 2 months ago
Text
hot water | jjk
Tumblr media
—  pairing: jungkook x female reader 
—  genre: establish relationship au, a tiny bit of fluff, and mostly purely smut 
— rating: 18+ 
—  summary: you’re on your honeymoon with your new husband, Jungkook, a man you’ve been in love with for years. you’re also in your ovulation period which leads you to constantly want to fuck your handsome husband.
—  words: 2,625
—  warnings: mention of sex, strong language, swearing, teasing, dirty talking, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, sex in jacuzzi, rough sex, and creampie.
—  author’s note: don't even ask me where this is coming from... đŸ„Ž lmao it seems i can't see pictures of jungkook without having wild thoughts đŸ«  hopefully you enjoy this drabble & let me know what you think ✹
MASTERLIST
Tumblr media
Jungkook rests against the jacuzzi’s wall with exhaustion.
“Mhh,” you say as you sit on his lap, your arms resting on his broad shoulder. A little devious smirk appears on your face as you watch your husband. “Wanna fuck,” you whisper before pressing a gentle peck on his lips.
His eyebrows raise. “Pumpkin, we just finished fucking,” a little chuckle leaves his pretty lips. “Little Kookie down there is getting tired.”
You take a quick look down while you move back your ass. Since he’s sitting on the edge of the jacuzzi, his cock is not entirely underwater. His quite huge crotch is half hard, still recovering from the steamy session you just had.
This honeymoon has so far been filled with scorching moments between you and your husband. Well, before you tied the knot, he promised you he’d fuck you senseless once married, and he has kept his word.
“Maybe we should leave the jacuzzi, and shower before going to bed,” your husband suggests. “It’s getting late.”
His hands move to your waist, his thumb caressing your soft skin.
“What?” you pout with the biggest doe eyes. “I’m serious, angel,” your hands move up to his wet hair to play with it. “I’m so so horny right now.”
Jungkook is taken aback. Since this morning, you’ve been fucking like rabbits; you even had to take a nap in the afternoon to rest a bit. For sure, he promised you a lot of sex on your honeymoon but he never expected that much sex. He’s even surprised by his own stamina. He’s unstoppable, but now, he’s not sure he can follow you.
“Are you serious?” he furrows his eyebrows.       
You look down at his toned chest while still playing with his hair. “Yes.”
Your husband chuckles. He can’t believe you.
“We did it this morning,” he starts saying. “We even had to take a nap to recover from it.”
You can still remember how he fucked you so well this morning.
“And now, you’re just so needy in the jacuzzi,” he adds. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m down for it. I promised it before we got married, but I’m not sure I’ll be able to follow up if we keep going like that.”
“I’m ovulating, angel,” you pout. “And you look so fucking hot all the time, especially with your hair wet like that,” you explain.
“Ooh,” he simply says. “That explains it.”
For the past seven years, your husband got to experience the ovulation period. You can get pretty wild during that period. It’s not all the time, but most of it, you get to fuck a bit more than usual. He never complained because damn, you’re a living goddess.   
“Your toned body drives me completely crazy,” your fingers now run down to his torso, your nails scratching him a bit. He hisses at the feeling and his limp cock twitches.
“I know,” he whispers. “Last month, I was just taking a shower and you begged me to fuck you because my head was thrown back and my muscles were flexed.”
You both chuckle at the thought of what happened last month in the shower. However, you both agree that it was a wonderful stress-relieving moment. Back then, you were absolutely stressed about the wedding. You had no reason to be nervous but there was so much work behind it and you wanted it to be as perfect as possible. It was your day after all. It’s a day you’ll forever remember.
“You’re super hot when you shower,” you smile at him. “Even after, when your hair is still wet.”
That, he knows it so well. You’ve repeated it so many times, even at the very beginning of the relationship.
“You too, pumpkin,” he says back.
His face gets closer to yours, his eyes darkening with evident lust before his lips whisper in your ear. “You constantly turn me on, yn,” his teeth grab your earlobe. “You’re a fucking goddess, my fucking goddess, and don’t even get me going on our wedding day.”
Your teeth bite your lower lip. This man is teasing you and turning you on with his deep voice in your ear. The simple feeling of his hot breath against your skin excites you. Your pussy clenches around emptiness.
“Tell me,” you teasingly say. 
“That white wedding dress embracing perfectly every curve of your body drove me crazy,” he murmurs in his deep voice. “As the day was passing by, I wanted one single thing.”
Your husband can make you come only with his deep voice and his words. This is incredibly hot.
“I wanted to undress you and fuck you senselessly.”
A little and barely audible moan escapes your mouth. As he’s speaking, your hands slowly run down to his abs, causing your man to shiver.
“That’s what you did,” the words slip from your mouth as you’re brought back to that night.
You were both exhausted, but you didn’t want to fall asleep without sharing an intimate moment. You wanted to close the day by showing each other how deeply you love the other. Without any doubt, you’ll both say that it’s by far the best sex you had. It had a different taste; it was the first time you did it as husband and wife. It wasn’t just sex that night; it was the celebration of your love. It simply was love.
“It’s what you’ve been doing since that day,” you add.
“Only because you constantly turn me on, pumpkin,” Jungkook presses a wet and burning kiss on the crook of your neck.
His kisses slowly move from your neck to your shoulders to your cleavage but he stops right on top of your breast. Your eyes slowly flutter shut due to the increasing pleasure caused by your hubby. Your hips buck forward, your core brushing against his half-hard dick.
“Let me show you how much you turn me on,” you whisper almost out of breath.  
“Show me, pumpkin,” he answers.
Although he’s kind of exhausted, all he wants now is to have his dick buried deep inside you. A sight leaves his lips as he feels you sliding up and down his cock. He’s surprised that you didn’t even wait a bit after his words. In a matter of seconds, you grabbed his cock and pushed it down inside you.
There’s no doubt that you’re terribly needy.
Slowly his half-awakened dick gets hard. “You’re getting hard,” you whine as you continue to move up and down his cock.
Your husband buries his face in the crook of your neck. “All for you, pumpkin,” he says against your skin. He’s becoming a moaning mess with his face hidden against you. Your fingers find their way to his hair so they can play with it.
Playing with his hair is something you adore to do while sharing an intimate moment. Jungkook adores that.  
“Pumpkin,” he whispers before leaving your neck to look at you. “There might be some remaining cum over my dick.”
Although his cock was partially underwater, you can feel the stickiness of his cum. It’s quite normal considering the fact that you just finished having sex.
Jungkook is mentioning it because you agreed to wait a bit before having kids. It’s your dream to start a family but before, you’d like to enjoy your married life. You’ve been together for many years, waiting eagerly to get married. So you want to at least enjoy for a year before considering starting a family.   
“Are you scared to get me pregnant?” you teasingly say before pressing a kiss on his cheek.
Even though you mutually agreed to wait, the thought of getting you pregnant makes him become rock-hard inside you. This turns him on beyond comprehension. Right now would be a perfect time since you’re ovulating. All he’ll need to do is cum inside you, filling you up with his seed. Also, you’re already married so there’s no need for protection or coming outside you to avoid an unwanted pregnancy.
“Oh, you aren’t,” you stop moving your hips, your eyes deep into his.
“Why would I?” he asks. “You’re my wifey now.”
Hearing him calling you his wife is also a big turn-on. Jungkook understands it when he feels your walls clenching around him. A soft moan leaves his pretty lips at this sensation.
“And now you have a sort of breeding kink,” you add with a smirk on your face. “Should have married you earlier,” you whisper.
“Eeh, I don’t have a breeding kink,” he protests although his cock betrays him.
“Then why are you hard as fuck inside me?”
It takes him a moment to find something to say.
“Well, first, I’m inside you with your walls clenching around me,” he tries to defend himself. “Then, you’re so fucking hot. Whenever I see you, I get hard.”
You move your hips up which makes him hiss at the feeling. He’s only getting harder, especially if you tease him like that. Your face gets closer to his, your lips pecking his.
“You can lie to anyone, angel,” you whisper against his lips. “Anyone but me,” your cunt sucks up his cock as you push down your hips to meet his. A very deep groan slips from his mouth once he fills you up to the brim, his eyes instantly fluttering shut.  “Is it because I’m ovulating?” you teasingly ask.
Your arms wrap around his shoulder and you press your chest against his. This contact sends shivers all over his body.
“Fuck, yes,” he answers.
“Alright then,” you say before pressing a gentle kiss on his lips. “Fuck me, angel.”
His mind instantly goes wild, imagining you filled with his seed and watching it leaking from your body. The mere thought of getting you pregnant makes his cock twitch inside you. He can already picture you pregnant with his child. Fuck, there’s nothing else that he desires right now.
Even though he wanted to wait a bit before getting you pregnant, the way he’s been turned on by you for the past two days makes him want to start a family now. By the looks of it, you also want it. Well, you biologically crave it. This is something totally normal.
“You don’t have to ask me twice,” he says before thrusting his hips up.
The two of you start moaning quite loudly. You don’t really care if anyone can hear you. All that matters now is to be once more overwhelmed with pleasure. A pleasure procured by each other. Jungkook messily thrust his hips to meet yours, not giving you a chance to move your hips. The hot water is going everywhere as he fucks you in it.
Since you fucked minutes ago in the exact same jacuzzi, you already caused quite a mess so you’re just adding more water everywhere. Thankfully, this jacuzzi is inside the suit you booked for your honeymoon. Nobody will see you otherwise, you’re sure tons of people would have been traumatized by you and your hubby.
Your fingernails scratch his shoulders while this man pleasures you with his little monster. For sure, his shoulders will be red once this is over. Your husband doesn’t care since he’s completely lost in bliss.
“I love it when you fuck me raw,” you whisper in his ear.
His cock twitches inside you.
“I can’t wait to feel your cum inside me,” a deep whine slips out of your mouth as he thrusts into you brutally.
Jungkook is losing himself as you tease him. If you don’t get pregnant after this honeymoon, he’ll be surprised.
“Don’t say such things, pumpkin,” he breathes out, his eyes looking deep inside yours.
For a brief moment, you take in the man you married two days ago. Although your body is speaking louder than your heart right now, it warms you to be here with him. Your relationship had many ups and downs, and for a long period, it was very challenging. His parents never truly accepted you for many reasons, and there was a period where they did everything they could to separate you. You thought you’d never survive that period.
But your love proved you wrong.
Since the very first day, you constantly choose each other. There’s not a day that goes by where you don’t choose each other. It’s silly but that’s what makes your relationship work. Jungkook always comes first, and he always puts you first as well.
Eventually, his parents realized that trying to separate you was in vain. They ended up accepting you and since then, you’ve been having a very great relationship with them. You’re truly grateful you all managed to overcome your differences.
“Why?” you ask while caressing now his round face.
“Otherwise I won’t last.”
“I’m not asking you to last long, angel,” you whisper in between moans.
His hips snap faster, and his hands move to your back to hold you as much as possible. The space where the jacuzzi is placed is filled with your moans, the sound of his balls slapping against your core, and the sound of the water splashing everywhere.
“Fuck,” he gasps. “You’re such a fucking tease tonight, pumpkin.”
Well, whenever you’re desperate for his cock, you’re a damn tease. You’ll push him to the edge as much as possible just to get what you want.
“I know,” you deviously smile. “But you like it,” your hand moves to his hair, your fingers playing and pushing his hair while you’re slowly but surely getting overwhelmed by pleasure.
By the way he’s fucking you, you know he’s getting close. He’s being more and more sporadic, groans falling out of his pretty mouth at an impressive pace, and your name slipping in between the moans. He’s so so hot right now. You’re actually surprised he’s still able to be this energetic after all the sex you’ve had today.
“Just admit you like it, angel,” you say.
Before you can even comprehend what is happening, Jungkook completely explodes inside you. The feeling of his hot cum filling you up causes your orgasm to hit you violently. None of you didn’t last long this time around, but this is the second round in less than thirty minutes.
For a couple of seconds, none of you moves as you’re trying to come down from your high. Jungkook presses a soft kiss on top of your nose, his eyes scanning your face contorting with pleasure.
“Fuck,” he finally says when your breathing is finally back to normal. “This time you took the dirty talk to a whole other level, pumpkin.”
You hide your face in the crook of his neck. “I know,” you whisper against his skin. “I’m desperate.”
He giggles while holding you tight in his embrace and placing kisses on top of your head. You finally remove yourself from his cock, but remain in his arms a little longer. None of you can believe that he came inside you. When you’re horny, you definitely go wild but Jungkook loves it.
“Pumpkin,” he says while caressing your back. “You’re shivering, maybe we should leave the jacuzzi.”
“Don’t want to move,” you pout.
“We have to,” he says. “I don’t want you to get sick.”
“Mmhh,” you say as you hold him tighter.
Since you’re not moving, Jungkook stands up, his arms holding you firmly. There’s no way, he’s staying in there with you freezing. He walks to the bed after grabbing a towel that he put around your body. You stay around him like a koala with your legs wrapped around his waist, not wanting to leave him at all.
After that, you both fell asleep like two babies, exhausted by all the sex you had during the day.
3K notes · View notes
milla-frenchy · 6 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
Sexting
600 words | Joel Miller x fem reader Summary: you’re sexting at night with Joel
Warnings: 18+ mdni. age gap (reader in her early 20s, Joel in his late 40s), infidelity, daddy kink, masturbation (f/m), possessiveness, mention of anal play/anal
a/n: same “couple”: Owned collection. Can be read alone, but I recommend to read the “Owned” ficlet first Thank you @aurorawritestoescape for beta-ing 💕 and @saradika-graphics for the dividers 🙏
Masterlist | ao3
Tumblr media
Are you awake, baby girl?
Yes daddy. Miss u
I miss you too, baby
Was watching the video of my cock buried in your ass
Mmm... you fucked my ass so good yesterday
You like my ass daddy?
You love how my little hole tightens around your fat cock?
Christ
Your sweet cunt and you little ass are just made for me
They are, daddy
And what about my mouth? 😏
Oh I love your mouth. Love when it’s full of my cock
Love to fuck your throat
And I love when you come in my mouth, daddy
Fuck
Yeah, me too baby, damn
You'd like to be in my bed right now?
Rather than in his?
Yes đŸ« đŸ„”đŸ„”đŸ„”đŸ„”
Were you thinking about my cock baby before I texted you?
Thinking how I would spread that little cunt?
I was, miss your cock so much
Oh baby
I already filled you this afternoon, but you can’t get enough uh? 
I can’t
You’re always fucking me so good
Such a good girl for me
Is he sleeping, baby? Next to you?
Yes, daddy
I want you to think about my cock, and I want you to touch your pretty cunt for me 
Now, daddy? In his bed?
Yes, baby girl
Ok, I’m rubbing my clit, daddy
What position are you in?
On my stomach. Phone in my left hand, at the edge of the bed
Right hand in my panties
That’s perfect baby
Be careful not to wake him
I want you to be quiet
Won’t wake him up don’t worry
I often cum at night thinking about u, u know
Next to him, when he’s asleep
I bury one finger in my pussy and rub my clit
Think about you and your cock until I clench on my finger
Oh baby
 I’m fucking hard reading this
Keep touching her. Think how my shaft would rub against your pussy, baby
Tell me how wet you’d be
I’d be dripping daddy. Want your 🍆 so bad
Tell me how you’d want me to fuck you, baby girl
Rough. Always rough
Want u to ruin me
Fuck
I’m jacking off baby. 
Wish you could hear me fisting my cock, thinking about your cunt
I wish I could daddy
That’s so hot
I’m so wet
Fuck
Want her so bad. You know she’s mine, right?
Yours daddy, always
Wanna fill your pretty, soft little hole with my cock
Want to fuck your ass with my thumb
And maybe fuck it with my cock too
Your head in my pillow, like yesterday
Yes daddy, please
You know how much I love it
How are you rubbing your clit now, baby?
Fast
I’m so sensitive rn
Gonna come soon
Are you dripping, baby girl? 
Are you soaking his sheets for me
Yes. Fuck
You’re always squeezing me so good, baby
Always dripping on my cock and on my balls
[You bit your lip to stop yourself from moaning and waking his son up]
I came daddy
My fingers are so wet
Fuck. I came too. Fist’s full of my cum
Wish I could eat your cunt rn. Lick all your wetness
Bury my tongue in you
Feel your little pussy pulsating on it
Having my throat full of you
Me too daddy 😍😍
Now, are you gonna be a good girl for me?
Yes, daddy. Always.
I want you to wake him up, and to fuck him
Knowing that you’re wet because of me
That you'll only think of my cock, when he’s buried in you.
Are you gonna listen to us, daddy?
I always do
Tumblr media
Same "couple": Owned collection
Thank you for reading 🙏
Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated ❀
Follow @millafics and turn notifications on for fics updates
@pascalsanctuary @littlemisspascal @survivingandenduring
Tagging those who asked for more of these two 😘:
@mermaidgirl30 @mountainsandmayhem @bbyanarchist
619 notes · View notes
supernaturalgirl20 · 2 years ago
Note
I’ve got Joel living rent-free in my head, too.
Can I get something where Joel takes up for reader, and puts an idiot in his place for disrespecting his girl?
I’ve loved Joel from the game but the way Pedro plays him has me đŸ« đŸ˜. Thank you for the request my love, gotta love a protective Joel. Hope you enjoy 😉
Someday
Pairings: Joel Miller x f!reader
Warnings: Smut 18+, explicit, unprotected sex, cursing, mentions of prostitution, possessive Joel, feelings but no feelings.
A/N: requests still open for Joel Miller đŸ„°
Comments and reblogs really appreciated đŸ„°
Tumblr media
You can’t remember how it started exactly. Or when for that matter. All you do know is that it was a mutual agreement to keep it business-like. 
An outlet for you both to get some relief when the strain of this new life took its toll. Or when either one of you had an itch to scratch. Joel didn’t do feelings, and that was ok because neither did you or at least you didn’t. Now though, those lines are beginning to blur and it’s becoming increasingly more difficult to hide it from him. 
You knew if he ever found out, he’d run. He’d shut himself off from you and your heart would break. So, you don’t kiss when you fuck, don’t hold each other after and you don’t stay the night. 
At least you didn’t. Now though, everything has changed. 
***
You can feel his gaze on you from where he stands, leaning against the brick wall near the alleyway. He’d insisted that you weren’t going alone, especially not after what happened with Tess. 
No amount of protesting on your part could change his mind. Joel Miller was a stubborn man and while most of the time you admired him for it, right now, you wanted to punch him. 
Mack, one of Roberts's lackeys, was sitting across from you with a sick sinister smirk on his face as his gaze drifted from you to Joel. “Couldn’t haven’t left your guard dog at home?” His head tilts in Joel’s direction and you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose trying to remain calm. 
Trying hard not to punch this idiot in the fucking face. “Listen, are you interested or not? There are other smugglers in this area that I could go to.”
He sneers, leaning back in his chair with his arm slung across the thigh. “Oh, I’m interested all right, but not in your ration cards. Was thinking maybe you’d give me a go of that pussy? I mean if it’s good enough for Joel fucking Miller, it’s good enough for me.” 
Your stomach churns at the thought of this man with his hands all over you, you’d rather get killed by a clicker but then you let your gaze flicker to the man you’ve come to love. His face hardened into an almost permanent scowl and how you’d give anything for him to have a small bit of happiness.
“Say I agree,” you say, voice low, hoping that Joel can’t make out what you're talking about. “I want the battery first. In perfect working condition or the deal is off.” 
Mack sits up, his face a mixture of shock and delight at the prospect of getting his hands on you. “Damn, I gotta say I didn’t think you’d go for it. Then again, you ain’t nothin’ but a cheap whore
”
“The fuck you just say?” 
You can see the fear creeping quickly into Mack’s face as he stares behind you to the source of the deep husky voice. Your gaze drifts upwards to find Joel standing directly behind you, his face stern and filled with rage. 
“Now I didn’t mean nothin’ by it, Joel, I was just playing is all.” Mack gulps nervously as he quickly stands, his chair falling onto the ground as he holds his hands up in surrender.
Joel steps forward but before he can get anywhere near Mack, you grab a hold of his arm pulling him back. His eyes drift to yours, his eyebrows furrowed in question before they drop to where your hand is touching him. 
“Leave it, please,” you plead, and his gaze meets yours once again. 
“Yeah, you heard her, leave it. Besides, she offered first.” Mack is slowly backing up but a growl rises from deep within Joel’s chest and he falters.
“What the fuck is he talk in’ about?” His eyes are boring into you, and you silently curse Mack and his big fucking mouth. “It’s nothing ok, just leave it. Let’s go.”
“No.” His voice is harsh and angry as he pulls out of your grasp turning his attention back to Mack. “What do you mean she offered first?” 
“Told her I’d get her the car battery if she let me fuck her. She was gonna do it too. I mean I gotta hand it to ya, having two women on the go, you must be doin’ somethin’ right. The least you could do is pimp them out, make a living.” 
Mack continues on his tangent, and you can see Joel getting angrier and angrier, his fists clenching at his sides but it isn’t until Mack calls you a dirty whore that he loses it. 
Joel lunges at him, his fist connecting with Mack’s jaw knocking him on his ass. The squeal of pain that he emits as blood gushes from his nose draws the attention of some people and you pray you can stop Joel before a FEDRA agent arrives. 
He continues to punch him over and over until Mack apologises to you. “Joel, please. Please we gotta go, he isn’t worth it.”
You plead over and over but it doesn’t get through, not until you place your hand on his shoulder and then his eyes turn to you. “Let’s go home.”
He looks back down at Mack and whispers something in his ear before he stands letting the man go. Turning to you he huffs out a breath in frustration, his face stern and nostrils flaring. Then he turns, grabs your wrist in his hand and pulls you along behind him back to his apartment. 
The door closes with a bang, and he marches over to the kitchen, grabs a glass and his god-awful whiskey and pours himself a drink before downing it. The glass bangs on the table as he finishes.
You just stand there staring, hands wringing nervously as you take in the tension of his shoulders. “Joel.”
“Don’t!” He barks, his gaze turning towards you. “What the fuck were you thinkin’? Were you really gonna whore yourself out for the battery?” His voice is laced with anger as he steps towards you. 
“I-I was just
. look it’s only sex. It wouldn’t have meant anything. Besides, it would have gotten you the battery and you could finally get out of here and find Tommy.” You turn away ashamed you had even considered it.
“And you thought I’d be ok with that, did ya? Thought I’d want to share what’s mine?” His voice breaks at the end, the hint of softness creeping in. 
You turn to face him and startle at how close he’s gotten. Your eyes meet and for a brief moment, the world stops. You can’t hear your own breathing your heart is thundering against your chest so damn hard. 
There’s a tension in the air and you feel something shift between you. His eyes drift briefly down to your lips before your gaze meets again. He steps closer. Invading your space and filling all your senses with him. 
He smells like the bar of soap that you spent weeks trying to save for, that hint of citrus invading your senses and reminding you of the time before the world went to shit. He smells of sweat and dirt and that nasty whiskey he drinks every night. 
He smells like home. Or as close as you’ll ever get to one now. His arm slides along the curve of your hip coming to rest on the small of your back, palm outstretched as he pulls you into him. 
Your hand rests on his chest and you can feel his heart beating fast beneath it. You want to ask what he’s thinking. Or why he reacted the way he did but you don’t get the chance when his lips crash suddenly into your own. 
It’s hot and frantic and his hand is gripping your hip tightly while the other grips you around the neck pulling you impossibly close as his mouth devours you. 
You almost buckle when his tongue licks along the seam of your bottom lip, begging for entry and he groans lewdly when you open up to him. 
He lifts you off your feet ever so slightly as he moves around the apartment towards his bed, pushing you back onto it as he stands staring down at you. 
“Take it off,” he commands, his voice raspy and it sends a spark of arousal straight to your core. You quickly remove your underwear and trousers and slide back along the bed. 
“All of it.” 
You raise your eyebrows in question. He wants you naked! You’ve never been fully nude before, not with Joel. He always wants to be prepared to run. He can sense your hesitation. “I won’t ask again, darlin’.”
Lifting your top over your head you fling it onto the ground and your heart flutters nervously as you sit completely bare to him. His eyes rake over your naked curves and he groans, the outline of his cock prominent beneath his jeans.
His hands work off his belt and trousers and you assume he’ll leave it at that but then he grabs the hem of his shirt and lifts it over his head tossing it with yours on the floor. 
“Hands and knees, darlin’.” He breathes as he takes his cock in his hand and pumps himself. You don’t waste any time, obeying him immediately. The rough pad of his fingers runs along the smooth skin of your back, and you shudder under his ministrations. 
“I’ll show you, darlin’ whose pussy this is.” His voice is low, and you wonder silently if he meant for you to hear. 
The head of his cock runs along your slick gathering your arousal and your breath hitches when he notches at your entrance and sinks in. 
“God damn. So tight
so wet
always so wet, darlin’. All this for me?” 
You moan into the tattered sheets beneath you as he fucks into you, his pace is brutal as he grips your hips tight.
“Yes.” You cry as you come for the first time, clenching tight around him. 
“Damn straight this is my pussy. MINE! Ya hear. Fuck.” Suddenly he’s pulling out and flipped you into your back as he nestled between your thighs and sank back into your heat. 
His hand grabs your thigh and lifts your leg over his ass as he rolls his hips into you. He’s a little softer this time. His lips caress the skin of your neck and breasts before pulling the bud of your nipple into his mouth. 
His tongue licks in circles around its peak and you arch in response, your body tingling as you come hard again. “Joel.” You whimper and it somehow spurs him on as he begins to pound into you. The makeshift bed squeaked slightly with each thrust. 
“Mine,” he whispers into the shell of your ear. “My lady. My darlin’. And I ain’t
. sharin’. You got that, ever.” His voice becomes raspy and his breathing ragged as he thrusts twice more before quickly pulling out and spilling onto your stomach. 
He leans down and kisses you softly. Once. Twice. Before he pulls away and cleans you up, ordering you to dress again. 
Your heart breaks a little and your stomach feels like you’ve been punched in the gut. He’s kicking you out, again. Why did you think that tonight was any different? That you might actually mean something to him? 
You dress quickly and go to grab your stuff when his hand on your wrist stops you. “Where you goin’?” 
“Back to mine, like always.” He shakes his head and takes the bag from you, placing it on the ground. “I think it’s about time you start livin’ here. Need to start letting those fuckers know you're my lady.” 
“What about Tess?” You ask, voice betraying your jealousy. You think you see the hint of a smirk on his face, but it’s gone just as quickly as it appears. 
“She’s a big girl. Besides, she ain’t my girl and she has her own spot. Now come on, darlin’. Let's get some rest.”
***
You brush your fingers gently along the scruff of his cheek and he stirs, a groan slipping from his lips as he seeks you out. The arm that was resting on his chest now slung across your hips, pulling you back into him. 
Joel Miller has a hold on you. One that you cannot explain. One you're not sure even he knows he has on you, and it scares you a little, but if this is all you’ll ever have with him, then you’ll take it.
You’ll take him for all that he is. A shell of the man he once was with no penchant for feelings or emotions other than anger. A man who has suffered too many losses that he has cut himself off from ever being happy.
A man who kills first, asks questions later and protects those he holds dear, fiercely. This is why you want to help him get to his brother Tommy no matter what so that he can have a chance at being happy again. And if nothing else, simply because you love him. 
And maybe he’ll bring you with him?
Everything: @maievdenoir @amneris21 @hnt-escape @elegantduckturtle @harriedandharassed @jediknight122 @ayrusss @hayley-the-comet @sherala007 @alexxavicry @scorpio-marionette @donnaa @practicalghost @tanzthompson @beskarprincessjenny @littlemisspascal @icanbeyourjedi @thatpinkshirt @maryfanson @sunnshineeexoxo @misspearly1 @misspearlssideblog @athalien @its--fandom--darling @sara-alonso @doommommy @browneyes-issac @trickstersp8 @nembees @kaitieskidmore1 @mswarriorbabe80 @allthe-ships @tintinn16 @hungrhay @rosie-posie08 @manuymesut @all-the-way-down-here @iccedays @tusk89 @graciexmarvel @pedrostories @pedr0swh0r3 @musings-of-a-rose @untitledarea @your-voice-is-mellifluous @majestyjade
2K notes · View notes
dreadsuitsamus · 1 year ago
Note
Hey Ellie! I hope you’re doing good! May I please request sfw prompts #39 and #13 with Vegeta? I got hit with the mood of wanting something soft with Vegeta out of nowhere.
Slow | Vegeta x Reader |
#13- "I didn't think it was possible to love someone this much."
#39- "Why are you scared of loving?"
author's note: something soft with vegeta? sign me the hell up đŸ«ĄđŸ«Ą this is also (i believe) the second to last request i have remaining from the prompt lists requests, since i lost the lists đŸ« 
pairing: vegeta x fem!reader
warnings: brief mentions of canon typical violence and death, no dialogue
Tumblr media
Stargazing with Vegeta wasn't a new pastime of yours, but it's always somehow felt so special to sit with your prince in the darkened silence, watching the twinkles above you with no one around to interrupt. It's been a long time of this, with plenty lost along the way, but time and time again you've proven your strength to match up to his and that's why you've remained his second for so long.
You find that your eyes keep slipping to look at him rather than the dipper before you, however.
Oh, how he's changed after all this time. He used to be horrific, cruel even for a Saiyan. He was even unbothered by Frieza's annihilation of your home planet! And now he's at ease, though not without an occasional princely tantrum every now and then. Having his ass absolutely handed to him on Earth ended up yielding results you never could have seen coming; perhaps his death on Namek played the biggest role in his changing ways.
Though it was temporary and will continue to be should he perish again, you'll never quite recover from the scars his death left on you.
Vegeta shifts just a tad, his arm brushing against yours as you both lean on the large rock. It's wide and tall, slanted and perfect for gazing at the stars or clouds alike. It's as if destiny curated this spot just for you and your Prince of all Saiyans— you've never once seen or sensed another soul here.
Goosebumps cover your skin at the vague touch. He's attractive, no doubt, and you've seen him damn near naked more than once and vice versa, but the proximity is a thousand times more intimate and only ever occurs here. Any other time, without this setting, you and Vegeta are both highly prone to distance from the world and each other.
You're certainly best friends, having lived through what feels like three separate lifetimes together. And at one point, it seemed this barrier had the potential to lift. Post-Namek, things were
 Gentler. Vegeta had hugged you for the first time, and you remember it more fondly than you'd like to.
There's a solid few taps on the door to the bedroom Bulma's given you, and you don't need to recognize the strength behind it to know it's Vegeta. It's late, well past midnight even, and perhaps he's also finding it hard to sleep on the too-soft bed. You can hardly stand to even sit on it, though you've been seated at the end of it ever since the shower you took in the extravagant bathroom connected to your new bedroom.
"Come in."
He enters quietly, not even a word spoken as he crosses the room to join you. The bed dips as he takes his place to your left, and together you stare at the carpet. This place is much different from Planet Vegeta, of which your memories hold an unfavorable fog, or any Frieza Station. There's no tyrant to obey, no missions to fulfill
 The world is yours to claim on terms you get to create, for the first time in your thirty years of life.
Will you and Vegeta have those same terms, though? Or for the first time in both of your lives, will you navigate entirely alone?
Vegeta's arm moves around your shoulders, tugging you close enough for him to rest his cheek atop your head, and your lips curl just a bit for the first time in quite a while.
A breeze rolls through and you shiver despite your hot-blooded Saiyan nature. Unbothered by the chill himself, Vegeta tugs off the jacket he's wearing and drapes it over your shoulders. Wearing a small smile, you give his arm a gentle pat.
You find it difficult to believe the man before you is the man you once knew— though he can probably say the same about you. You were his favorite warrior, slitting throats and tearing things apart with your bare hands right alongside him, and now you care for the son he had out of wedlock with Bulma as if the boy was your own.
Vegeta being a father in itself has been hard to believe at times. But just as he's grown as a man, his fatherhood journey has been complex and constantly changing too. In the beginning he chose not to acknowledge the child at all, not until you swiftly nipped it in the bud at least, though one thing you absolutely could not (and wouldn't dream of attempting to) change was his lack of commitment to Bulma herself. Truthfully, it's probably for the best that they co-parent rather than cohabitate as husband and wife.
She's got it all, though. Money, beauty and fame, his firstborn child even. Why he hesitates, you may just never know.
Looking away from the sky and in the face of the man that's already looking at you, his normally sharp features softer than usual and illuminated by the stars and dwindling fire you lit hours ago. You're left to simply stare and wonder as far as your mind can take you.
Why are you scared of loving, Prince? You think to yourself as Vegeta's knuckles brush against you lightly in his effort to adjust his jacket over you properly.
To himself, Vegeta muses something he may never gain the ability to say aloud.
I didn't think it was possible to love someone this much.
111 notes · View notes
itwasthereaminuteago · 2 years ago
Note
Thirsty Frank hours? Well, perfect time to send this.
Imagine... you've always been a little insecure (weight, looks, whatever) and have a particularly hard day. Frank senses your distress and want to make you feel better.
And ehm... He does make you feel reeeealy good 😏
Can just imagine him being so soft, tender, talking you through it and just... God, just being wrapped in his arms đŸ« â€ïž
|| Reminder ||
Tumblr media
Frank Castle x female reader
Tags/warnings: readers insecurities, soft supportive Frank, fingering, p in v unprotected sex.
A/n: thank you so very much for this ask @munsonownsmyass I've read so many mirror sex fics but I thought fuck it, I wanted to do my own with Frank! I swear this man talking sense into you in that rough and sweet way he has would fix me forever.
~
You're barely in the door, late getting back, having had an absolute shitter of a day and feeling like you just want to curl up in bed and cry about it. Frank’s already home and waiting for you, you don't even need to say anything. He knows you, inside and out. He can tell when the crushing weight of your thoughts is dragging you down and he can help lighten them.
Still, you turn away as his eyes meet yours, darkest brown and always so penetrating, stripping you bare. Sometimes you think you can't face him when you're like this, but then he sidles up next to you, his hand curling around the back of your head and holding you as he plants a light kiss on your forehead and the barriers you're ready to put up crumble.
"Hey, c'mere and tell me what's wrong." His fingers stroke over your hair and you lean against him burying your face into the soft brushed cotton of his hoodie. He smells like home and although it doesn't lift your heavy mood entirely, it helps. Frank wraps you in his arms letting you decompress a little before he'll press you any further. He leans down, laying a peck on your cheek before he guides you to sit down with him on the couch.
"It's just-" you want to tell him but it suddenly all seems stupid as the words are forming in your mouth. Frank is watching you patiently, his gaze soft and open as he lets you take all the time you need.
You sigh and try again. "We were trying on outfits, the girls and I, for Marci's wedding
 and the others, they looked so beautiful and effortlessly gorgeous in everything, and I-"
You pull at a fraying thread of your sleeve and huff, angry at yourself as tears begin to well in your eyes.
"Baby, you look gorgeous in everything too."
You sit up, shaking your head. "No I don't. I just look like I'm playing dress up with my mom's clothes or something. I hate the way everything looks on me, I hate how I feel. Like everyone's staring at me because I look so dumb
"
Frank's brow forms into a deep furrow as you berate yourself, he won't stand for that shit.
"Hey, where's all this coming from? You're fuckin' beautiful darlin', I say it all the damn time but you gotta know it's the truth."
He pulls you onto his lap, gently wiping away your tears with the pad of his thumb.
"Th-they just all seem so strong and don't give a shit what people think. I can't do that, I don't know how. I've never liked how I look, or felt confident or anything
 urgh, and now I'm just whining to you about it like a pathetic idiot! I'm sorry, I shouldn't- I'll go away..."
You go to get up from him but he gently clasps his hand around your wrist.
"If you wanna be alone that's okay I'll let you be, but I've got somethin' I need to show you sweetheart, if you'll let me."
You look at him, confused about what he could want to show you. He's got those big pleading puppydog eyes trained on you but underneath there's something else

"W-what?"
He stays close to you as he rises, taking your hand in his, leading you to your bedroom and standing you opposite the wardrobe mirror in front of him.
"Oh, Frank, no please
" You cringe, turning away from your reflection but he catches you in his arms, reassuring you as he urges you to face yourself.
"Baby, I need you to see what I see." He strokes the back of his knuckles down the outside of your arm, his other hand around your waist and his head resting lightly in the space between your neck and shoulder. His lips brush a kiss to the bare skin revealed by your loose sweater.
"Look at this woman I got." He begins, and you can see him looking at all of you. Eyes flickering over every inch of you as if you were naked in front of him. "She's a goddess."
You roll your eyes, body sagging in his hold. "No she isn't."
Frank stares you down in the mirror. "You callin' me a liar?" He actually seems slightly hurt as you sigh again, then a dark look of determination crosses his features. You know you're in for it now, whatever it is.
“What I see right here in front of me, is the strongest, most confident woman that I ever laid eyes on. You see that girl taking any shit from me? Baby, all those assholes I take down in the Kitchen, they ain’t got nothin’ on you, I ain’t scared of them, but you
 Christ, you’ve got me whipped.”
He holds you around the waist, his big hands warm through your clothes as his lips graze your ear. "You think you don’t look good? I’m tellin’ you, you look goddamn fucking gorgeous to me just the way you are, wearin’ what you’re wearin’.”
His tone drops an octave as he moves his hands down and hooks his fingers under the hem of your sweater, pulling it up over your head. “An’ you look good not wearin’ anything at all too
”
His fingers trail down the bare sides of your ribcage as you bring your arms back down, wrapping them around yourself. You try to shy away as his fingers come up to trace your collarbone and slowly down the cup of your bra, unraveling your arms and placing them down by your sides exposing you as he goes.
“Fuck, look at you sweetheart, I wish you could see yourself through my eyes. I'm thinkin' that my baby girl needs a little reminder..."
You bite on your bottom lip as he drifts his hands to the button of your pants, undoing it and pulling the zip down slow like he’s unwrapping a precious gift. His fingers tease at the waistband of your panties as you feel the hardening shape of his cock pressed up through his jeans against your ass.
"Mm, yeah that's all you." He says, his gruff voice driving straight down to your core as he works your pants off down your legs and helps you step out of them.
"That’s what you do to me
 and this ass?" His hands are all over you as he marks your soft flesh with his teeth while he's down there, making you gasp as he kisses and soothes over it and continues placing adoring kisses up over the curve of your ass cheek as he works his way up your spine.
"Frank
"
"You want me to stop?" He asks you quietly, laying another soft kiss as he reaches the base of your neck.
You glance at the two of you in the mirror. This terrifying beast of a man to most is curled around your body, holding you, touching you, intent on showing you how much he adores you. Were you going to let your insecurities get in the way of that?
"No." You commit. Deep down you know that you need this.
He nods and unzips his hoodie, taking both it and his t-shirt off revealing the canvas of scars littering his massive upper body. His own imperfections that you can never see as such. He unhooks your bra, sliding the straps down over your shoulders, following on one side with his mouth letting it drop from your arms to the floor. A sweet warmth builds within at the sensation of his skin against yours. That basic, unshakable thought that Frank is your home.
He feels the softening in you, the corner of his mouth pulling up a little as he runs his hands up the outsides of your thighs, over your hips and stomach. One hand smoothes up your chest to gently cup one of your breasts, while the other moves south, cupping your sex through your underwear. Your eyes half-close as you let him take you over.
"There's my girl." He growls as he slips his hand beneath the thin cotton of your panties, fingertips meeting the slick pooling of your arousal there. He slides his fingers through your folds, spreading the moisture around before taking your ruined underwear off and sitting down on the edge of the bed with his legs spread wide, still facing the mirror. He lifts you onto his lap like you weigh nothing, the muscles in his arms are thick and prominent, and god if that doesn't turn you on even more.
You watch as he parts your legs, placing them on the outside of his own. He drags his fingers along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, up and up to circle around the apex of them, and you're unable to draw your eyes away from the glistening of your own exposed cunt as he touches you there. Your breathing picks up, becoming shallow while he simultaneously runs a finger and thumb over your hardening nipples, playing with and gently pinching at them. A smile spreads on his gorgeous lips as a small moan leaves your throat, your body arching, your leg muscles twitching and the throbbing pulse behind your clit ever growing with the slow pass of his talented fingers.
"That's it beautiful," He praises, his stubble scratching along the side of your face as you let your head fall back against his shoulder. He dips his middle finger into your soaking entrance, reveling in the sweet sounds you make as he pushes it slow, in and out of your pussy.
Your own hand covers his on your breast, urging him to squeeze and grope. He's rock hard underneath you now and you're getting so wet that you're soaking into the crotch of his jeans, but even so, he's intent on concentrating solely on your pleasure.
He takes his fingers away and you look up, bereft, only to see him bring them up to his mouth to suck your juices from them. You've almost forgotten how you got here.
"Taste so good baby, you know I can't ever get enough of you." He pushes two fingers inside you this time, encouraging your loud moans along with his gentle kisses up the side of your neck.
"You seein' what I'm seein' now?" he drawls, looking at your reflection. “My strong, powerful, gorgeous lady makin’ me weak for her?”
He’s a fucking liar, you think, your mouth starting to stretch into a satisfied smile. Frank Castle would give you the world if he could, you don’t make him do anything he doesn't want to. That thought gives you momentary pause, he wants you. He has always wanted you, right from the beginning.
"Fuck Frank, you always, -uhh, know exactly what to say
 mmm!" You whimper and moan as he fucks you so slowly and lovingly with his fingers. He kisses and mouths at that spot just below your ear as he curls them, searching for that place inside you that will shatter you into a thousand pieces.
"It's just the truth, baby."
He's watching you in the mirror the whole time. Your eyes meet his and you reach a hand back to grasp him behind his neck, your fingertips scratching at the fuzz of short hair there while the fingers of your other hand grip and dig into the muscles of his thick thigh, nails probably bruising his skin through the denim.
His other hand leaves the plush flesh of your breast to massage the pearl of your clit and you move counter to his ministrations, bucking your hips in time with the steady rhythm he sets.
"Attagirl, take what you need, princess." The low timbre of his voice feels like another caress and has your eyes almost fluttering shut as you let him worship you. You see the way he looks at you in the mirror, enraptured by your body writhing in his arms, those dark eyes drinking in every ounce of your pleasure.
"More, Frank," it's not a request. His breath matches yours as he works to bring you to a climax. You're beautiful, stunning, my fuckin' wildest dream in all his hushed, gasped words of praise spoken against your heated skin. Your legs shake when he adds a third finger, slick, wet and noisy as he pumps them firmly. Both your lips and legs part wider as you can feel the tangled knot deep within you about to blissfully unravel. Your clit feels so sensitive and the way his finger glides and flicks over it is maddening, it's right on the edge of wanting to push him away, but Frank won't stop for anything.
"Oh! Frank, god- oh fuck-"
"Yeah that's it baby. Please darlin', let me see you." Frank Castle doesn't plead for anyone other than you.
It hits you then, coming in his lap with absolute and pure pleasure bursting through your core and spreading out in pulses through the rest of your shuddering, sweat-sheened body. Frank's mouth roves over your neck and the side of your face until you turn to meet it with your own, tongues sliding against each other as you reach your climax. He doesn't stop, only slowing down to let you ride out the thick satisfying waves that follow.
You could lie back in his arms like this for the rest of the night but you're desperate to thank him. Of course he protests, says he doesn't need taking care of but when you get up and turn around, unbuckle that belt, ease him out of his pants and take him inside you he's the one at your mercy.
You wrap your arms around his neck and shoulders, face to face now, every little sign of his deep love for you written there so plainly. The dark black of his expanded pupils as they lock on yours, the slight curl of his lip as he grunts, swears almost every curse he knows as you ride him. It's barely half a dozen frantic thrusts of your hips until he's spilling inside you with an unguarded moan, his fingers pressing into the flesh around your hips and your foreheads pressed together as you both struggle to catch your breath.
He falls back on the bed and you go along with him. All of your hangups are forgotten as you lie together, basking in the afterglow with his arms around you.
He kisses you on the top of your head. It's such a simple gesture but it makes your heart swell.
"You need any more reminding of just how amazin' you are? Just gotta give me a few minutes and I'll do it all goddamn night."
You smile wide, softly shaking your head. "You did a pretty good job of that Frank, but the moment I need you I'll be sure to let you know."
"That's right. I'm always here for you baby. You just tell me and I'll do whatever I can to help, alright?"
You nod and your lips brush his shoulder in a kiss. "Thank you, I mean it. You're so good to me."
He squeezes you tight. "How about we go get cleaned up and I'll order us some pizza for dinner. That sound good?"
.
.
Frank tags (as always, let me know if you want added/removed): @divinearchangel @saintmurd0ck @castlesnchurches @mindidjarin @hellskitchenswhore @pedrito-friskito @sweetieswiftie @shedaresthedevil @freshabogados @father4giveme @stress--relief @e-dubbc11 @whistle1whistle @tea-and-wine @emiemiemiii @imherefordeanandbones @realfernmayo @munsonownsmyass @marvelswh0re @frankcastlescumslut @chellestrash @chvoswxtch @messymissy @evilbubu @lucy-sky @yanna-banana @anna-hawk
390 notes · View notes
lestappeninchidents · 2 years ago
Text
My god, you guys are not ready for your future fic update !!! Thanks to @axerocknroll , I think I’m writing the most beautiful lestappen of my life. I'm very emotional while writing it and I even have tears in my eyes because I'm so proud of what I'm doing. 😭đŸ„č
I have for now 13 pages and more than 6300k, and it’s just the begging of the story and the idea that inspired me. đŸ«ąđŸ«  I’m so exiting to share with you this.
I know you didn't get the fluff you deserved in my previous fic, so here you go!! We have a Charles all in love and completely overwhelmed by his feelings for Max, we have love meetings like I've never written and religious symbolism for sensual things. We have art references too. ❀❀
I’M FREAKING OUT THAT YOU DON’T LIKE IT!! đŸ«ŁđŸ˜­
Here a little snippet. It’s just the begging of the request, there’s so much more before and there’ll be so many more afterwards for the whole idea of @axerocknroll.
Austria 2022 (and memories of before), a podium that luxury would envy :
The nightly meetings after the days of racing, in small restaurants or pubs, had increased their relationship a little more. It made them into something, as imposing as the moon, that Charles didn't even fear to be seen late at night in public with Max. He even became proud of it. His heart became like marshmallow every time he had these thoughts and he asked for more every time. Especially with the moments of euphoria and pain that had broken his heart and left open wounds to Charles' soul. Max became his serenity, always camouflaged when he pricked himself or was pricked too hard against the field of roses that offered itself to him this season.
Charles found himself thinking several times, after one hand had caressed a drop of sauce on the corner of his lips by the thumb of the other and the looks that held the secrets of the world, that the house was Max. His soul and Max's were fused together at the heart, like atoms that attract and detach.
Max will be his undoing, he said to himself one day after he had stuffed himself with too much pasta after the Imola Grand Prix and his heart had stopped for a nanosecond when Max told him what Sassy had done to his simulator. They had been in a small Italian restaurant that Charles knew and knew he could trust not to be disturbed by him and Max.
The light was subdued, as if lit by candlelight which gave an air of Beauty and the Tramp. Almost kissing thanks to... no, because... no, thanks... in short, to a spaghetti that would bring them together without realizing it. The Ferrari driver had taken precautions to be at the back of the restaurant, in a corner that was a little more subdued than the others, with the soft, slow Italian music that would camouflage the last indiscreet ears. Everything seemed perfect. The race awaited them tomorrow and Charles was in the best conditions to play the podium, with Max who was supposed to offer him a great battle. Tonight, they would enjoy a sweet night, profiling the path of their flirtation, and tomorrow the protégé of the tifosi hoped that they would be able to close their weekend in the best way before taking the plane.
"...if you had seen this, Charles! The menace that she is, jumped on the screen while I was showering, like she knew what she was doing. The cunning one! I'm sure she's the one who lost me the race in Miami, I couldn't train properly at the apartment. She took advantage of the fact that I forgot to close the damn door, which never happens to me, to sneak in like the little devil she is. And then..."
Charles watched the tagliatelle wrap around his fork energetically, because of the story he was telling. The divine carbonara sauce that the predestinato had already been able to taste several times, had made its way onto the freckle on Max's upper lip. If at this very moment Charles could paint the scene, believe him, it would be obscener than any nude that art could count, and will count in the future. Obscener than Courbet's The Origin of the World, more obscene than Manet's Luncheon on the Grass which had shocked the crowd at the time, even more obscene than Rodin’s bronze Iris, Messenger of the Gods which was even more equivocal than The Origin of the World.
If Charles Leclerc had been able to paint or sculpt Max Verstappen at that very moment: the Academy of arts, the World, the public, the Formula 1 fans, the teams, and the Universe would have half covered their eyes; so violent would the divine be to contemplate for their retina. Which would have ended up burning their eyes, like a solar eclipse. So much the better. Charles would rather keep it to himself, in his Pandora's box, which only he could open and unleash when he wanted to.
Was it wrong if Charles was dying to literally sit on Max's lap, in full view of everyone like an exhibitionist, and lick the little piece of sauce obscenely for several minutes? Then, to feed him and Max on these same strong thighs that he was dying to bite, to suck, to knead and to lick until the groin to make Max crazy. Just like he had done a few months earlier at that party.
Oh, yes. It was the most tantalizing fantasy he'd ever had in his life and especially one that had given him an erection so quickly, right in the middle of a restaurant. His legs tightened to keep anyone from noticing his unchaste thoughts.
39 notes · View notes
acatalystrising · 1 year ago
Note
Hiya! I had a Boba thot that has me in a bit of a chokehold~ I plan on sitting and writing out a full fic eventually, but I wanted to share this little thot with someone who underSTANDS my feelings for this old man đŸ„°
So, reader and Boba sparring? Lightly, not for blood, more hard taps in hand-to-hand than anything. It ends with the two play wrestling and rolling around on the floor mats, giggling and trying to pin the other. Winner gets a big ole' smooch~ ❀
(No one else in the training room, of course, no one else needs to see that side of Boba but reader~ not even Fennec~)
Hey!! OHHH thank you so much for the lovely Boba thots, as always, they are so appreciated! I very much do understand, and am right there with you đŸ«  Boba is just perfect!
A sparring match?!? Sign. Me. Up.
Oh, this is just too good, I had to write something to this prompt! Without further ado

“You’re not even trying, ad’ika.”
Boba’s voice was a low thrum in your ear as he moved behind you with more speed most would expect from a man of his bulky frame. But you knew better.
You felt the playful tap on the back of your head even as you spun to face him, lifting your arms, and making some space between you. The sparring room was empty save for the two of you - barred from anyone who would dare try to enter. This time was for you two, and you two alone.
He watched you, glittering mirth flashing in his amber eyes. He even shot you a small grin, bearing those stark white teeth against bronzed skin. Damn, this man would be the death of you.
“Am too.” You lunged, swooping low and going for his legs. You slipped past his arms and barreled into him, but he only scooted back a mere inch.
“Oh, I don’t think so.” His arms curled around your middle, pinning you in place. “Think someone’s
distracted.”
He tapped your forehead, then the back of your neck, and you grunted, trying to wriggle free to no avail.
“Let. Me. Go!” You kicked at his shins, trying anything to break free, but his grip only tightened further.
Every once and a while, you were reminded of who the love of your life was. Who he used to be. His strength was always the first reminder.
“As you wish.” This was said with a hearty chuckle, one that made you frown in concentration.
You tried a different tactic, meeting his fists with strikes of your own - managing to block some of his attacks. But as always, it was short lived. He had you down on the mat before you could blink, his burly arms holding you down, flat on your back.
“Had enough yet, little one?” His breath washed over your ear, hot and panting.
Heat curled down your spine.
“I
no,” you tried to wiggle away, landing a mock blow to his face.
“Really.” He chucked, leading in and tapping the very tip of your nose. “Thought we decided to be honest with each other.”
You looked up at him with a mock glare, and his lips curved into an easy grin. And then, after a beat of silence, he winked. A laugh bubbled from your chest, you couldn’t help it, and he joined in, collapsing on top of you with a smirk.
“Ohhh c’mon! Not fair!” You didn’t bother trying to escape, knowing he was much stronger. “Whhyyy!”
“So sassy.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Since I won, don’t I deserve my-”
You pushed yourself up before he could finish, giving him a big, long, drawn out kiss. His chuckle reverberated through you - from your throat to your toes, and he cupped your face with a big hand, holding you close. When you finally broke free, he gazed down at you with a smirk.
“You dare silence me?”
“Weeell
” you blinked in mock shyness. “Did it work?”
“Princess.” He leaned in for another kiss, and you grinned when you felt the evidence of your teasing pressing hard against your leg. “I know just what to do with you.”
39 notes · View notes
thetypingpup · 11 months ago
Note
Curse you tumblr😠✊🏿✊🏿/lh
First off, I love the new aesthetic on the blog đŸ«¶. It’s so cute and also kinda a cool contrast to the courage (even though she is a queen who I love dearly). The courage gives me more warmer season vibes compared to this which feels more wintery vibes.
Second, basically my hard hours ask was about general menaces to society/criminals crazy form Hongjoong and Yeosang going to visit their partner after a night of chaos. Either sneaking in through the window (cause adrenaline) or if they have the patience, using the key their partner gave them. Then just going to town on themđŸ˜©. Like real “had a rough time so I need to put my face in between yo legs to fix it” type beat.
Third, since I’m already here, making myself known/lh. I’d also like to throw in rebel leaders seonghwa and his partner‌‌. Omg, big brain moment where it’s mommy! Rebel leader Seonghwa đŸ˜©. They can be monogamous or this can be an open relationship with the rest of the ateez rebellion gang. Wait, dots are connecting, everyone in the group is mommyđŸ« . Or you could switch it up with some of them being more submissive. Either way, I’m eating/lh
I swear I’m about to leave but siren hongjoong or San â€Œïžâ€ŒïžđŸ« đŸ« đŸ« 
I hope I didn’t overload you. Here is to hoping this gets to youđŸ«¶ stay wonderful.
note to self bring courage back for the spring âœđŸŸ
wow ok circling back to crazy form i haven't been crazy form minded in a bit 😅 buuuuuuut, an open relationship with all of them sounds perfect. like a continuation of bouncy where you do mayhem with different members at different times. mommy!hwa in this context just speaks to my damn soul just having all this chaos around, and then you calling him mommy in the middle of all of that, something about that speaks to my soul.
now with hongjoong and yeosang they could visit you back at your place...or y'all could fuck in that alleyway where the spraypainting was. like as soon as y'all lose the cops you're still hopped up on adrenaline and decide to be even more risky, which leads to hongjoong eating you out on the hood of the car and yeosang deciding to join in and start making out with you while playing with your boobs. yea...yea that makes sense to me 😅. and especially if we think about this happening after the van, yeosang would definitely be more bold and pent up and more eager to toy with you out in the open. hell he might even fuck you before hongjoong does, but not before making you cum a few times on his tongue ofc 😏
8 notes · View notes
na-ta-sh-aa · 10 months ago
Text
Wow, this was really sooo sexy, and I loved how there was no shortage of romantic and sweet moments between them, it was truly perfect!đŸ«¶đŸŒ
“but he’d never been good at refusing you. Not when he was younger and certainly not now. So if you wanted to see it he’d be there seated right next to you, just the way he liked to be.”
Aww how sweet Bradley can never say no to her and is willing to go see a movie he's already seen and didn't particularly like just to make her happyđŸ„č
“He was getting used to having more morning of waking up with you than less. In his bed, in your bed. There was nothing he like more than feeling all your warm skin under his palm before the sun was up. After so many years on hard beds, it was your softness he was always seeking out still half asleep before getting up for the day.”
I loved how you wrote and rendered this part. I think feeling the warmth of your partner's skin is one of the most beautiful and intimate things you can share.
“Last night, huh?” he smirked, grabbing your hips and pulling you to him, “Was this before or after I coaxed you into sitting on my face?” Bradley chuckled at the bashful look that coasted over your face as you shoved at his shoulder lightly, but he’d just tugged you in closer, “Awh, c’mon, don’t get shy on me. It was hot.”
Ooh Bradley, I bet that was really hotđŸ« 
“We both know how much you like this mouth, especially when it’s ‘crass’.”
Okay everything Bradley is saying is getting hotter and hotter!
“The sweatpants came off next and your eyes weren’t anywhere near his face when he replied, “Come get in the shower with me and I’ll show you real quick.”
Tumblr media
“We’re at the movie theater, Bradley, we’re legally required to get something with some Red Dye 40 and an obscene amount of sugar in it.”
She is totally right!
“With your help over the last few months, he’s been picking up a few new things to make his place feel more like a home and less like something temporary. Like some throw pillow for the couch, some nicer towels for the bathroom that all match. All little things but he liked that your fingerprints were all over his place even when you weren’t there with him.”
Aww I love how she helped Bradley make his home more welcoming and comfortable, it needed the feminine touch!
“What are you talking about? No, I don’t.” He just gives you a skeptical lift of his eyebrow. “Ok, maybe in the past,” you allow, with a little nonchalant shrug of your shoulder, “But today I want some, it sounds good.”
What does she have in mind?
“As the opening sequence plays, you push up the armrest between the two of you to lean your head on his shoulder, curling into him as much as you can. When you rest your hand on his stomach he decides this might be his new favorite way to spend a Saturday morning, with you pressed against him in a darkened room and breathing in the smell of your shampoo.”
Aww they are so extremely sweet togetherđŸ„č
“But then right as the chase scene through the crowded streets of London starts, you’re popping open the button on his jeans and tugging down his zipper.”
Ooh this is definitely going to be so hot!
“Your teeth graze his earlobe, and goosebumps erupt along his forearms. Your words hushed so that only he could hear them. Only meant for him. “God, Bradley, you’re so good to me. You’ve always been so good to me.”
“He looks down to where your hand is working him in smooth strokes, your fingertips not touching until they reach the from ridge of the head of his cock. He knows he’s not small by any means, but in your hands he looks huge.”
“You’re so damn handsome,” you hum, your lips brushing over one of the scars on his neck, the ones he’s never told you the full story about just how he got them. “I’ve never been so desperate for someone before, I want you all the time. I didn’t know it could be like this, Bradley. I lo-like you so much.”
“Bradley can feel your grin against his neck right before you drag your teeth down the column of his throat, “No one has ever fucked me as good as you do. I’ve never come so hard as I do with you.” 
“Holding his gaze, you slowly stick your shiny, pink tongue out to him and he almost comes on the spot.”
“Bradley leans over and cups your jaw in his hand, his thumb skimming along your cheek right before he spits into your open mouth.”
These parts literally made me feel butterflies in my stomach because they were so sexy, spicy and hotđŸ« 
“Well, you were right, sweet girl. I think that might be my new favorite movie.”  
I had no doubt that this movie would become his favorite!
“He catches it in his and presses a quick kiss to your palm, “And what if I told you I like you too? Would that change anything?”
“It’s no secret what he really means. He knows what almost slipped out of your mouth. But if you’re not quite ready to say it then he can be patient. You’re more than worth the wait.”
I love how they both know they love each other but neither puts pressure on the other to say it. I love the way they respect their times without ever forcing anything but letting things happen naturally.
“Hey, I’ve still got at least half a bucket of popcorn left should we make it a double feature? I’m more than happy to return the favor. Those jeans of yours might make it a little difficult, but I’m up for the challenge.” He gives you a playfully suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows.”
He is always ready for challengesđŸ« 
“I thought it might help to block any potential wandering eyes,” you admit, blushingly, “Just in case, there was any last-minute Kevin Hart super fans who wanted to go to a matinee first thing in the morning.”
AHH I had suspicions that popcorn had other purposes for her. I love how she thought of everything!
“Oh, I more than like you for it, sweet girl,” he confirms.”
Aww đŸ„č
“He still wants to get a new dresser, he wants you to have a place to put things in his home. But if his girlfriend wants to spend the rest of their Saturday in bed together, who is he to deny you.”
the best way to spend Saturday!
“You don’t make him wait long to hear it though.”
“They are the first three words he heard out of your mouth the next morning.”
“And it is without a doubt the best thing he’s ever heard in his life.”
“Nothing has ever felt as easy or as right to him as it does saying it back to you against your smiling lips.”
“I love you I love you I love you I love you”
Tumblr media
AHHH they said they love each other!!đŸ„č
I absolutely loved reading this! Their relationship and their bond is something so unique and special. I'm so happy that they understood that there was something more between them than just a friendship, I think it was the best choice they could have made to start their relationship, they are literally made for each other. I love how they always manage to tease and surprise each other. I loved how hot the movie part was and also romantic at the same time. Their relationship is truly something wonderful and reading about them always makes me crazy with happiness, I absolutely loved reading this, it was really beautifully written💗✹
I Like Your Cinema
Synopsis: Bradley wasn’t sure why you wanted to see the movie again, especially when neither one of you had particularly liked it the first time you’d seen it together. But when you’re tugging down his zipper, things start to make a lot more sense.
Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw X Female Reader
Length: 6K
Warnings: Unapologetic Smut (minors dni)
(author's note: this fic is set in the 'Like I Can Universe', but can be read on it's own! )
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Bradley wasn’t expecting to find himself rolling up to the mostly empty movie theater parking lot at 11am on a sunny Saturday morning. But here he was.
He’d had to exercise more self-control than he knew he was capable of when you’d all but skipped out his front door wearing the tightest pair of jeans he’d ever seen. It was all he could do to follow after you to the Bronco, his eyes glued to all of your denim clad curves, instead of pulling you right back into bed with him like he wanted to.
In the passenger’s seat next to him, you’re surprisingly upbeat for someone who was only running off of two cups of coffee instead of the usual three you needed to become a semblance of a functional human being. You’d happily hummed along to the songs playing on the radio the whole ride to the theater.
The two of you had already seen the movie a few weeks ago. It had been fine, but they’d clearly used the funniest moments in the trailer as a way to get people in the seats. It wasn’t one he was particularly interested in seeing again in theaters, but he’d never been good at refusing you. Not when he was younger and certainly not now. So if you wanted to see it he’d be there seated right next to you, just the way he liked to be.
Although Bradley was still trying to remember just when last night it was that the two of you had talked about going to see a matinee showing of it again. He can only guess that it must have slipped his mind after the way you’d come on his mouth.
Less than an hour ago you were hustling him into the shower, he was thinking he was about to get lucky until you’d told him to hurry up or the two of you would be late.
“Wait, late for what, kid?” he’d asked confused. To his knowledge other than meeting up with Mav and Penny for dinner later that night, your Saturday was wonderfully free of plans.
He was getting used to having more morning of waking up with you than less. In his bed, in your bed. There was nothing he like more than feeling all your warm skin under his palm before the sun was up. After so many years on hard beds, it was your softness he was always seeking out still half asleep before getting up for the day.
He’s learned so many things about you from a lifetime of friendship, but he’s only had a couple of months learning what makes you sigh and gasp and keen and come.
It was one thing to know that you weren’t a morning person, regardless of how much you claimed you to be one, and another to see your adorably sleepy pout first thing in the morning with the pillow crease still etched on your cheek.
Bradley liked knowing what your preferred brand of toothpaste was and how many steps were in your bedtime routine. For as well as he’s always known you, there was so much more to discover and he was loving every new bit of you he got to uncover.
He liked your cozy apartment filled with all your pretty things and framed pictures on the walls. He’d never thought of getting a rug for in front of the sink in the kitchen until he was doing the dishes one night at your place, that night he’d ordered one for himself. However, he’d rather see your impressive shoe collection next to his minimal assortment of boots and sneakers in the closet of his condo.
More often than not, you were coming to his place with a tote bag full of your things, spare clothes and travel sized products. He didn’t want you to feel like a visitor passing through, he wanted to be your home. He was still working out how to ask you to move in with him, but he’ll figure it out. He always does.
He wanted more mornings, more nights, more days with you.
“For the movie,” you’d said slowly, looking at him deliberately. Tilting your head at him like his confusion was confusing you.
“Sweet girl, what movie? When did we talk about this? I literally don’t remember.”
The exasperated sigh that came out of you would have been funny if he hadn’t been wracking his brain trying to catch up with something he didn’t realize he was missing to begin with.
“Bradley, come on,” you huffed, petulantly, “We talked about it before bed last night. You said you’d come with me, I already bought the tickets for it.” You wiggle your phone at him like it’ll somehow help to jog his memory.
Well, that explains it. You’d done a number on him last night.
“Last night, huh?” he smirked, grabbing your hips and pulling you to him, “Was this before or after I coaxed you into sitting on my face?” Bradley chuckled at the bashful look that coasted over your face as you shoved at his shoulder lightly, but he’d just tugged you in closer, “Awh, c’mon, don’t get shy on me. It was hot.”
He liked being the one that gets to make you all flustered.
You just shook your head at him, not taking the bait, “It was after.”
“Well if it was after then you can’t blame me for not retaining that conversation.  You should know by now that you can’t hold me to whatever comes out of my mouth when I’m still pussy dru-”
“Don’t be crass,” you’d tutted at him, tugging at the hem of his worn Navy shirt.
He slides his thumbs under your shirt, letting them skim over the soft skin above your underwear, “We both know how much you like this mouth, especially when it’s ‘crass’.”
You’d hummed at him- admitting nothing, denying nothing - before a mischievous grin overtook your face, “That’s a good a tidbit to know though, seems like the kind of thing that could work in my favor for the future.”
Those dimples would be the end of him.
“Troublemaker,” he’d said, pulling off his shirt and dropping it onto the bathroom floor.
You weren’t subtle about the way you checked him out, “What are you going to do about it?”
The sweatpants came off next and your eyes weren’t anywhere near his face when he replied, “Come get in the shower with me and I’ll show you real quick.”
You’d sauntered up to him slowly. And for a moment he thought you were going to reach for his cock, instead you’d grabbed a fluffy white towel and pressed it into his chest, “Not going to happen, Bradshaw. We’ve got a date with seats F9 and F10 in 40 minutes. Chop-chop, pretty boy.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Although, it didn’t stop him from snapping the towel at your ass when you’d spun away in your triumph.
He’s given up trying to remember the conversation from the night before or when you bought the tickets because you are happily tugging him towards the doors to the theater and he’d do just about anything to see the pretty curve of your smile.
Including seeing the action comedy that had one too many explosion sequences and a car that ends up in space for whatever reason.
The last time he made a fuss about you not letting him be the one to buy something for the two of you, you’d given him a look that had nearly pinned him to the damn wall and then said: “Don’t be a caveman. It’s not the 1950’s, I am allowed buy you things too.”
He’d hate to be called anti-feminist, so he was trying to get better about letting you pamper him in your own ways. But that didn’t stop him from trying to be the first one to reach for a credit card every chance he got. You were his girl and he couldn’t help himself.
Bradley opens the door for you and is hit with the smell of freshly popped popcorn. He looks down at you in time to watch as your nose scrunches the same way it always has in all the years that he’s known you.
Once the tickets on your phone are scanned by the yawning teen at the podium in the lobby entry, you’re lacing your fingers between his again, “Let’s get some snacks.”
“How are you even hungry right now?” He’d made the two of you a big breakfast to recoup some energy after being thoroughly worn out by you last night. So he doesn’t know how you even have junk food on the brain right now.
“We’re at the movie theater, Bradley, we’re legally required to get something with some Red Dye 40 and an obscene amount of sugar in it.”
“My bad, you’re right.”
“Of course, I am,” you preen.
He huffs an amused laugh as you lead him to concessions stand. It’s early enough that there’s only one person working the counter. The two of you get in line behind the family with three small kids who have their faces and little hands pressed against the glass display with all the colorful boxes of candies excitedly making their selections.
Bradley is watching as you mull over the choices on the flat screen TVs displaying the theaters offerings, your lips quirked to the side deep in thought. As he watches you, it dawns on him that the two of you will have plenty of time after the movie to run a few errands before they meet Mav and Penny for dinner.
“Hey, I was thinking about getting for a new dresser. I think mine might be too small now that all my things are here in San Diego now. If you’re up for it afterwards, do you want to come help me pick one out? Anything outside of IKEA is bit outside my area of expertise.”
With your help over the last few months, he’s been picking up a few new things to make his place feel more like a home and less like something temporary. Like some throw pillow for the couch, some nicer towels for the bathroom that all match. All little things but he liked that your fingerprints were all over his place even when you weren’t there with him.
“Oh yeah?” you say as you turn your face to look up at him, eyes alight with interest, “I’d be happy to, it’ll be fun! I can think of at least 5 places off the top of my head. You’re in good hands, trust me.”
“Don’t I know it,” he winks and drops a kiss on your cheek.
When it’s your turn to order you get a Cherry Coke for yourself and a Root Beer for him. Along with a bag of gummy bears, a box of Milk Duds, and a packet of Red Vines. But it’s your final request that surprises him.
“Oh, and a large popcorn, please,” you say with a smile.
He peers down at you quizzically, “But you hate popcorn.”
“What are you talking about? No, I don’t.” He just gives you a skeptical lift of his eyebrow. “Ok, maybe in the past,” you allow, with a little nonchalant shrug of your shoulder, “But today I want some, it sounds good.”
Bradley has never in his life seen you eat anything other than the homemade stuff from on a stovetop, but at the determined tip of your chin he isn’t about to press it. You’ve always been the type of girl who knows what she wants. And gets it.
“Whatever you want, kid,” he says handing over his credit card to the girl behind the counter. Feeling more than a little pleased with himself as she swipes it since you’re still trying to reach for your wallet in your purse.  
You smile and shake your head at him as you press that overly large bucket of popcorn into his chest for him to take, it’s shiny and yellow with artificial butter. You grab a stack of the thin, single-ply napkins and stuff them into your purse before grabbing the rest of the goods from off the fingerprint covered counter.
He trails after you popping a few salty buttery pieces into his mouth, admiring the curve of your ass in those jeans. His own personal preshow entertainment.
The seats you had grabbed were to the left side in the very back row of one of the smaller theaters that are usually reserved for movies about to hit on-demand and streaming services. Bradley can’t say he’s too surprised that the zoom kaboom movie isn’t going to have a long theatrical run.
It doesn’t escape his notice the way you set his drink in the cup holder on the left side of his assigned seat, your own soda going into the cup holder on your right before you settle into your own seat. It’s the little things you do for him, like putting his cup on his dominant side or stocking the fridge at your place with his favorite beer, that make him fall more and more for you every day.
The two of you get competitive when the movie trivia segment plays. You’re a split second faster than him blurting out Matt Damon in Ocean’s Twelve and securing your win against him. Your victory shimmy in your seat is cut short when a man comes walking down the aisle heading towards the front row of the theater.
Bradley plays a couple rounds of the beer pong game on his phone that you always tease him about in between eating handfuls of popcorn waiting for the lights to dim and the movie to start. He offers you the bucket, but you press it back towards him and tell him you’ll have some later.
He thinks he catches the movie app with the seating chart from the corner of his eye, but you’re probably just closing it out from using it to get the tickets scanned earlier. But you’re more fidgety than normal. It’s only after he clocks you pulling your phone for the third time that he asks, “You seem antsy, you ok?”
“I’m just excited to see the movie again,” you reply, putting your phone on airplane mode and tucking it back into your purse.
“I didn’t realize you liked it so much.”
“Well, I did. I think you’ll like it more this time too, it takes at least two watches to catch all the nuances.”
“I didn’t realize a Kevin Hart movie could have so many layers,” he jokes as the lights turn down.
“You shush, it’s starting.”
As the opening sequence plays, you push up the armrest between the two of you to lean your head on his shoulder, curling into him as much as you can. When you rest your hand on his stomach he decides this might be his new favorite way to spend a Saturday morning, with you pressed against him in a darkened room and breathing in the smell of your shampoo.
Bradley isn’t surprised in the least when you turn down his offer of popcorn again 20 minutes later when it’s revealed the best friend in the movie is actually a rogue CIA agent. He smirks to himself when you push until its resting on top of the thigh furthest away from you. He couldn’t wait to tease you about it after the movie was over.
As the movie builds to the first big action sequence, your hand slowly slides lower down his stomach. It’s all he can to do try and focus on the movie in hopes of distracting himself from getting a hard-on like some horny teenager rather than the grown ass man that he is.
But then right as the chase scene through the crowded streets of London starts, you’re popping open the button on his jeans and tugging down his zipper.
And then you’re pulling out his now very hard cock.
“Oh, shit.”
Your delicate fingers are teasing along the length of him with a featherlight touch. He couldn’t care less about the half a million-dollar car on screen that’s on its way to the junkyard with the way it’s getting destroyed, and is entirely enthralled by the way your hand looks loosely wrapped around his cock as you toy with him.
“This ok?” you ask quietly, in a way that has him wanting to flutter his eyes closed. Your thumb sweeps slowly along under the flare of his head in the way you know he likes.
He’s always been a bit adventurous, he likes the adrenaline rush both in the air and on the ground, and he was learning you were too. You’d never come so quick for him as you did the night in the parking lot of the Hard Deck when the fire alarm went off unexpectedly causing everyone to start flooding out as you were riding his cock in the driver’s seat of the Bronco.
Bradley had never been more thankful to have arrived late enough that he’d had to park on the other side of the dumpsters. The only person who was allowed to see you undone and unraveled was him.
“So fucking ok, sweet girl,” he rasps as soundlessly as he can. The one other person in the theater with them is quite a few rows ahead of them, but he wasn’t about to give away what was going on in the back row of Auditorium 17 at the AMC Chula Vista 10.
“Shh, don’t you know talking during a movie is rude, Bradley?” you whisper into the shell of his ear. And god does he want to laugh, but he has to grit his teeth together to hold back the moan he’s desperate to release when you more firmly grasp him in your hand.
He already knows that is something that’s going to keep him occupied on those nights the two of you spend apart. Something to dream about on a cramped bunk bed on a carrier in the middle of the ocean when he is thousands of miles away from you.
You and your pleased smile and your hand on his cock.
There’s no way he could have prepared himself for the way you lean over him and lick up the length of him with a broad stroke of your tongue.
You’ve got one hand at the base of him and the other braced on his thigh supporting you. He’s clutching at the rim of that damn bucket of popcorn like it’s a lifeline as you drop wet, open mouthed kisses along his cock.
His pulse is thrumming in his throat and he can’t quite remember how to push the air out of his lungs. He’s had years of learning specialized breathing techniques and it all flies out of his mind at the stroke of your hand and the bob of your head and the swirl of your tongue.
Bradley is desperate to see you face, there’s nothing he loves more than looking into your eyes when you’re treating him to your perfect mouth. It’s not possible at this angle, but he gathers your hair into his fist so that he can see your lips stretched around him. He’s not guiding your motions, he just wants a better look at you. Even in the dimly lit auditorium, he can see how spit-slicked you’ve gotten him.
You’re taking as much of him as you can, with each dip of your head more and more of him disappears into your hot mouth.
And when he hits the back of your throat he nearly loses his mind.
“Jesus,” he curses up to the ceiling, throwing his head back and trying not to pant. Thankfully in time with some explosion on screen and he knows without a doubt that you’d done it at that moment on purpose.
You pull off of him and the string of spit glinting between your lips and his cock is going to fuel his one-handed fodder for the next month. He watches in rapt until its pulled taut enough to break. Your lips are shiny and wet, there’s a satisfied smile on your face as you take him in, still pumping him with your hand.
Your teeth graze his earlobe, and goosebumps erupt along his forearms. Your words hushed so that only he could hear them. Only meant for him. “God, Bradley, you’re so good to me. You’ve always been so good to me.”
“Sweet girl,” he whispers, roughly. His chest is tight with his sheer want of you.
You kiss his cheek, “Just enjoy the movie, Bradley.” Your hand is gliding up and down his shaft easily, your thumb skimming over his sensitive head on every upstroke.
Your tongue dips out to lave at the divot at the base of his neck and you nudge him with your nose in a silent request. He leans his head back along the red velvet seat and angles himself away to give you all the access to column of his throat. With his eyes tightly squeezed closed, every touch feels that much more heightened to him. Your hot breath on his throat is at stark contrast to the air conditioning wafting through the auditorium.
The feel of your lips mouthing and sucking and licking along him is worth any shit he’d get if he goes onto base on Monday wearing your handiwork on his neck. He’d do those extra push-ups with pride.
He looks down to where your hand is working him in smooth strokes, your fingertips not touching until they reach the from ridge of the head of his cock. He knows he’s not small by any means, but in your hands he looks huge.
It feels so wrong and so right. The movie is loud enough to cover any slick sounds your hand is making and the other person is far enough away that there’s no way the two of you will be caught, not above the surround sound of screeching tires on pavement and the shattering of glass.
Your lips graze his ear, “You always know just what I need and what to say. You make feel so seen and so special.” With every generous word, his heart hammers harder and harder against his ribs. Your sweet voice and your hand working his cock have him dizzy with need. “And it’s not just me. I don’t miss the way you check to see if anyone else needs a drink before you go to get another one or the way you’re always the first to help when someone needs an extra set of hands. It’s so hot the way you take care of everyone.”
Bradley’s face feels warm, he’s sure he’s flushed pink. He’s trying to keep his breathing under control, but you’re making it difficult for him. He’s never shied away from the praise that comes with his career, he’s worked and sacrificed for that. But with you, he never wants to stop earning it from you.
“You’re so damn handsome,” you hum, your lips brushing over one of the scars on his neck, the ones he’s never told you the full story about just how he got them. “I’ve never been so desperate for someone before, I want you all the time. I didn’t know it could be like this, Bradley. I lo-like you so much.”
He breathes your name unevenly.
He didn’t realize how hungry he was for those three words from you until just now. He’s loved you his whole life, in the affectionate way that friends do, but it’s been increasingly clear to him over these last few months that he is also in love with you.
Bradley already knew he was never going to feel the same way about anyone else the way he feels about you.
He’s never felt more himself than he does with you. You know the best parts of him and the worst, you’ve been there and seen it all. He doesn’t have to just be Rooster or Lieutenant Bradshaw all the time. He can just be.
It’s never been like this for him before either. He’s always orbited around your sun, but now you’re his whole universe.
He loses himself to the sound of your voice and pretty praise, soft and low, and to the feel of your lips and tongue on his skin as you work his cock in the way that he knows is going to have him seeing stars soon.
Bradley can feel your grin against his neck right before you drag your teeth down the column of his throat, “No one has ever fucked me as good as you do. I’ve never come so hard as I do with you.” 
He has to swallow down the groan that almost escapes him as he jerks into your hand as a tidal wave of masculine pride crashes into him.
Damn right you do.
You are his girl.
He knows your body. He knows you.
His. His. His.
Yours. Yours. Yours.
A cough from the front of the auditorium startles the both of you. The tension makes his throat tight, but when it’s followed by a sniffle rather than a second more pointed noise, the two of you know you’re safe to continue.
“Bradley.” He can hear the request in the way you say his name. With no minimal effort, he cracks his eyes open and turns his head to you. Half of your pretty face is illuminated by the movie playing in front of the two of you.
Holding his gaze, you slowly stick your shiny, pink tongue out to him and he almost comes on the spot.
He can see the playful dare in your eyes and the wicked curve of the corners of your mouth around your waiting tongue.
You know exactly what you are doing to him. A menace, his favorite menace.
His favorite person.
Bradley leans over and cups your jaw in his hand, his thumb skimming along your cheek right before he spits into your open mouth.
You let him admire his handiwork for a moment and then you wink at him.
It’s in that instant that he knows he’s played right into your winning hand because you’re leaning back down over his cock and letting the combination of his spit and yours drip right on to the top of him.
The two of you watch as the thick dribble slowly slides off and down, down guided by the thick vein along the length of him.
When it reaches the base of his cock, your mouth is chasing after it as you take him right down to the hilt.
His stomach and thighs are tensing with the strain of holding himself back when you hollow your cheeks around him. He almost doesn’t want to give in just yet, but the feel of your soft lips and the firm strokes of your hand on him is just too good.
That pressure that has been steadily building behind his bellybutton is too hard to ignore. He’s so close now. You must be able to tell he’s right there too because you’re humming around him in that way that makes his lower stomach and inner thighs coil in anticipation. He reaches for your leg, driven by the overwhelming need to touch you. Bradley can feel all your soothing warmth through your painted on jeans under his palm.
And with a tricky twist of your wrist at the base of his cock as you tongue at the firm ridge of him, he spills into your perfect mouth as you finish him off.
Bradley’s mind goes blank with pleasure as it hits him like a sucker punch. 
It’s intense. It’s a rush. It’s all because of you.
Spent and sated he melts further into the comfortable movie theater seat as you clean what cum you couldn’t swallow with your tongue, laving at him until you were content before tucking him back into his boxer briefs.
He doesn’t know how he made it through that without sending that giant bucket of popcorn to the floor, but the rim of it is noticeable crumbled on one side. He balances it on his leg as he adjusts himself and rebuttons his jeans.
When he looks over at you, you’re popping a Milk Dud into your mouth like a prize for a job well done. And you grin widely at him.
“C’mere,” he murmurs, affectionately pulling you back to him. He kisses the top of your head as you tuck yourself into his chest, that box of candy clutched in your hand.
The rest of the movie passes in a hazy blur as his heartrate returns to normal while he plays with the ends of your hair.
He tries offering you the popcorn again, but once again you push it away. This time he does laugh and you tilt your head up and press a soft kiss at the base of his throat. He can’t help but smile to himself every time you hold up one of the chocolate-covered caramel candies up for him to eat, your eyes never leaving the screen.
And this time, he’s not even annoyed when they misidentify the Immelmann Turn for a Barrel Roll Attack. Although how they got a Pontiac Fiero airborne is still beyond him.  
When the man in the front row leaves as the credits start rolling he turns to you, “Well, you were right, sweet girl. I think that might be my new favorite movie.”  
Your smile is beaming, but your laugh is even brighter.
He still can’t believe that just happened, but he’s already planning to preorder the damn collector’s edition Blu-ray the second he can. “Can I ask what brought that on?”
“You keep trying to get handsy with me at the library, but you know I can’t desecrate the books. Knowledge is power, Bradley. But I figured this was something you might like too.”
“Are you telling me you brought me here for the sole purpose of getting me off in the back row, kid?
“I am and I did,” you preen.
Bradley chuckles and leans over for a kiss. It’s soft and sweet.
He pulls away and looks into your eyes, grinning he asks, “So you like me, huh?” He knows he’s probably pressing his luck, but he’s willing to take a gamble if it means he gets to hear that from you again.
You press you lips together trying to fight back your own smile, “I’m not saying those three words to you for the first time after blowing you in the back row of an AMC, Bradshaw.”
“Is it just the AMC then?” he teases, setting his bucket of popcorn to the side before pulling you into his lap. Your knees balanced on the seats to either side of him as you settle on him, “Because we could hit up a Regal if that’s more your speed. Or-”
“Bradley,” you laugh, trying to cover his mouth with your hand.
He catches it in his and presses a quick kiss to your palm, “And what if I told you I like you too? Would that change anything?”
It’s no secret what he really means. He knows what almost slipped out of your mouth. But if you’re not quite ready to say it then he can be patient. You’re more than worth the wait.
Bradley sees the way your eyes light up and the way your smile gets even wider only a sliver of a second before you’re ducking down to eagerly kiss him.
For a moment he feels like he is a teenager again, making out with his girlfriend in the back of a movie theater without anyone around. Wild and reckless and carefree.
Your hands slide up his chest and into his hair, your nails on his scalp have him sinking further into the seat. His hands grip your ass, just like the way he’s by dying to touch you since he saw you in them this morning. He takes advantage of your gasp to slide his tongue against yours. He didn’t know that happiness tasted like the Cherry Coke you had been sipping on, but it does and he can’t get enough of it.
He probably would have kept on kissing you if it were for the pointed clearly of a throat that has the two of you flying apart like you’ve both been electrocuted. The teen standing in the aisle just awkwardly lifts up the broom and dust pan.
You bite your lip to keep from giggling at getting caught as you scramble off of his lap collecting your things, hastily shoving the candy back in your purse and babbling a sorry, sorry that he personally didn’t think sounded too terribly apologetic. He’s quick to follow your lead, checking his pockets to make sure he still had his wallet and keys, not forgetting to grab that large cardboard popcorn bucket as you head for the double doors to the auditorium.
The two of you manage to keep it together until the swinging door closes behind and then you’re bursting out into a fit of laughter in the hallway.
“Oh my god, Bradley, I’m mortified,” you giggle into his chest, “We can never come back here.”
“Nah, I’m sure that’s not the first time that kid has busted people for necking in the back row. Plus this is the best reviewed AMC in the area,” he says with a grin, dropping his arm over your shoulders. “Hey, I’ve still got at least half a bucket of popcorn left should we make it a double feature? I’m more than happy to return the favor. Those jeans of yours might make it a little difficult, but I’m up for the challenge.” He gives you a playfully suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows.
“Maybe next time,” you grin, reaching up and threading your fingers through his to tug him towards the exit. “I am worried we might be arrested for public indecency if we stay here a second longer.”
He tosses the popcorn bucket into the trash as the two of you pass by the concession stand on your way out.
“Ok, kid, but I have to know, why did you order the biggest size they had if you weren’t going to eat it too? We both know you hate movie theater popcorn.”
“You’re not allowed to tease me if I tell you.”
“I promise not to tease you,” he says holding open the door for you.
“I thought it might help to block any potential wandering eyes,” you admit, blushingly, “Just in case, there was any last-minute Kevin Hart super fans who wanted to go to a matinee first thing in the morning.”
He tips his head back and laughs, “She’s smart and pretty.”
“And you like me for it,” you say, squeezing his hand in yours.
“Oh, I more than like you for it, sweet girl,” he confirms.
Any other plans he had for the day are forgotten when you press him against the Bronco for another thorough kiss.
It was a miracle the two of you weren’t late meeting Penny and Mav later that night.
He still wants to get a new dresser, he wants you to have a place to put things in his home. But if his girlfriend wants to spend the rest of their Saturday in bed together, who is he to deny you.
Not when he knows you like him.
You don’t make him wait long to hear it though.
They are the first three words he heard out of your mouth the next morning.
And it is without a doubt the best thing he’s ever heard in his life.
Nothing has ever felt as easy or as right to him as it does saying it back to you against your smiling lips.
I love you I love you I love you I love you
Tumblr media
Shout out to the AMC Chula Vista 10! They're the real MVP here. Bradley and Sweet Girl definitely return, and the next time she wears a dress đŸ€—
A big thank you to Jordan (@gretagerwigsmuse) for being the ultimate hype girl, I know when the vibes are right when the ALL CAPS come out. Ames (@laracrofted) you saved the day with the color edit for the banner, thank you! And Elle (@callsignspark), you know what you did and I thank you for letting me join you on the 'spit in my mouth' agenda, haha!
If you enjoyed these two, you can read their story from the start here!
You can read my other stories here!
Tag list:
@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @shanimallina87 @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader
727 notes · View notes
kithtaehyung · 2 years ago
Note
OMG RYEN
Like that
. wow
. this is one of my favorite things. Smut with feelings! They are so hot and have such amazing chemistry and they so obviously have it bad for each other. She’s trying to not go there because she knows this is their last day but it’s too late. It was too late so long ago.
I love the callbacks to the first 3tan. How she’s aware of how much she’s grown and how much he means to her.
The way he encourages her and reassures her and how that gives her confidence to own what she wants and what she likes and what she wants to do
 I just love it so much!!!
Everything he says to her is perfect. How is he so perfect??? The line that killed me this time: “I’ll wait forever if I have to.” Min Yoongi shut up before I lose my mind!!!
I just about melted into a puddle when she was playing with his hair. It was so intimate and so soft and he just let her do it and probably loved every second of it.
And the way they just feel asleep together. If only they could stay in that perfect bubble forever.
How do you do this? Seriously how??? You’ve written so much for this series and it’s all exceptional. It’s all perfect. We are so spoiled with how hard you work and how much you share with us. You are amazing ïżœïżœïżœïżœ
Tumblr media Tumblr media
APRYLđŸ„ș💕đŸ„ș💕 thank you so much for providing such beautiful commentary as always!
Their chemistry has been my absolute favorite so far.. It’s true and genuine and you are so right. It was waaaay too late a long long time ago. I’m so happy you caught all the callbacks to the OG 3tan, too! I was hoping people would catch those. Both of them have grown a lot.
And we know from his POV to start out Dalo that he wants her to own that confidence even in areas where she isn’t comfortable. So it’s nice to see him being so fcking stoked that reader is doing more than ever before😭🩋🩋🩋 I’m just so DFGDHG for them it’s amazing. And him saying that
.. cries.
And the hair playing??? I wanted to just melt into a puddle. He really did just let her play with it, which is unheard of for a guy that doesn’t even want people staying after sex. Like. The significance is there. It’s right theređŸ« đŸŠ And then them sleeping togetherđŸ„ș So damn intimate.
I’m just so happy y’all are still here and sticking with me.. I’ve been having a blast with this series so it’s so cool to have all of you excited, toođŸ€ Seriously, thank you for the beautiful feedback!
5 notes · View notes
milla-frenchy · 1 month ago
Text
Wow!!! This dark!Javi fic is so good, I loved the vibes, you wrote him so perfectly 👌😍😍
He heads the Cali operation with a boldness and confidence that pushes the limits of the diplomatic courtesy extended by his Columbian hosts.  Running missions and chasing leads that leave no slack on the legal reins handed to him by the US government.  He’s brash, brave, and reckless – ferocious in his pursuit of justice, almost daring the wings of Lady Luck who rides into battle with him to fail them both.
That's him 😍😍 that's Javi 😍😍
And the worst part is, they had let him continue and go through the motions of putting the Rodriguez brothers behind bars, letting him think he had actually accomplished something when in reality, he had only played the role of clueless puppet in the ruin of innocent lives.  It made Javier sick, and he left the DEA jaded and cynical.
This is so good. That's the end of season 3 Javi 👌đŸ„č
He’s back to doing what he needs to: hunting down the remnants of the Cali mafia that had entrenched themselves in New York City and carrying out the government’s stated directive against all drugs - marijuana, heroin, steroids. 
Javi the hunter, ooooooooof. I love it so much!! And it's hot af, too 😏😏
By night, Javier hunts alone. 
Hot 😏😏😏
The judgment and retribution Javier dispenses is fearsome and precise.  Choosing targets that he knows will inflict immeasurable damage during the time it will take the DEA to bring them to justice (if ever), he methodically crosses off the names on a too-long list one by one. They never know he’s coming for them until it’s too late. 
Damn. I could read 15 chapters of this
He almost likes it when they fight back – giving him permission to discard any restraint he might have been exercising over his savagery in the name of efficiency.  With every blow he lands and every vital organ he guts, Javier feels like he’s fighting for them all: Carrillo, President Gaviria, Helena, Christina, sweet little Olivia’s mother, freaking Puff the cat.  Fighting for them now like he should have fought for them back in Columbia.
Damn. Fuck yeah.😍😍
He fell for you hard and fast, head over heels since the day he saw you buying a hotdog from the vendor outside the DEA’s downtown office.  Chain-smoking away the stress induced by the bureaucratic red tape he had waiting for him upstairs, Javi watched in slow motion as a mugger took advantage of your attempts to balance your belongings with your lunch – violently grabbing your purse off your arm.  His fists clenched instinctively and he was about to leap into action when you rendered him unnecessary - karate chopping the perp with your briefcase without a drop of mustard falling from your hotdog.
Wow she's a fn badaaaaaa đŸ« đŸ« đŸ« 
And that ending omg!!! I didn't see it coming, it's perfect đŸ€ŒđŸ‘Œ
I really love this universe you created, Emily 😍😍😍
Freya's mood board is beautiful, but I also love the pics and gif you used 🙏
Dodge
2.9K / Vigilante AU Javier Peña x fem!reader
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Summary: Javier Pena does in New York City what he could not in Columbia.
Warnings: AU set after canon events of Season 3. Maybe a wee bit dark but wasn’t Narcos hella dark sometimes? Mention of violence and weapons. Implied ambiguous powers. Established relationship, brief allusion to smut (1). No nicknames in this one! (So weird for me 😂)
A/N: Vigilante AU is the brainchild of the brilliant @almostfoxglove, who inspires constantly with her beautiful moodboards.  Here’s the one for Vigilante!Javi and it’s the entire reason this fic exists - thank you, Freya my dearest 😘😘
Tumblr media
Dividers by @saradika-graphics 😘
âŹ‡ïž Barely edited and mainly just vibes đŸ«Ł
Tumblr media
Dodged a bullet.  It was just a saying.
Or was it?
For a very long time, Javier thought he was just a very lucky man. 
Though he did not realize it at the time, for the entirety of his career Javier had held his proverbial breath waiting for that luck to run out - but it never did.  When he thinks back to all the Medellin fire fights he’s been caught in, his involvement with Los Pepes (that he’s still not sure he regrets completely), the tense relationship he struck up with Don Berna, and all the times Escobar’s scheming and machinations could have easily rendered him collateral damage, he can’t help but marvel at how many actual and metaphorical bullets he’s dodged.
And if he was to renumerate on it further, he might even count his political tangling with Stechner, his role in Elisa’s escape, and (if he was really honest about it) his almost marriage to Lorraine, as near misses.
While not unscathed and usually worst for the wear, Javier Pena has always landed on his feet.
He had never questioned it before.
But now he decides to test it.
When he miraculously evades any major consequences for his “alleged” partnership with Los Pepes, dodging the treason charges that Judy Moncada had almost gleefully laid at his doorstep before her exile, Javier cannot ignore the brushing feathers of some higher power looking out for him.  By the time his deposition in the matter some how lands him a promotion as the DEA's US attachĂ© to Columbia in charge of the fight against the Cali cartel, Javier is certain of its presence.
He heads the Cali operation with a boldness and confidence that pushes the limits of the diplomatic courtesy extended by his Columbian hosts.  Running missions and chasing leads that leave no slack on the legal reins handed to him by the US government.  He’s brash, brave, and reckless – ferocious in his pursuit of justice, almost daring the wings of Lady Luck who rides into battle with him to fail them both.
The way Agent Pena works is not without frustration or devastation; he wins some, he loses more - but at the end of it all, he remains standing.
Javier is almost afraid to put a name to it.  To call it luck seems almost derivative of this protection that he’s inexplicably been afforded.  Enhanced self preservation?  An uncanny ability to evade major bodily harm or danger to his person and livelihood?  It doesn’t matter - after Cali Javier knows that he is someone’s god’s favourite.
The price of this so-called gift appears to be guilt.  Guilt that he was unable to extend this unmerited favour, that he could not invite others to join him under its umbrella of safety.  That he wielded no additional power to protect those that needed protecting was a source of deep shame and anguish that Javier wrestles with on a daily basis.
While he remained relatively intact, Javier could not say the same for the more deserving fellow officers with whom he had the honour of serving alongside: brave Columbian policemen, incorruptible members of Search Bloc, his friends. Carrillo.
What was the point?  Why him?  Avoiding the direst of consequences for only himself, but unable to prevent the same suffering for others feels like a curse at times.
The months after the downfall of the Cali cartel that Javier spends at Chucho’s ranch is supposed to bring him peace in working the land, being with family.  But he cannot find peace.  Not when there had been so many causalities and lives destroyed back in Columbia, and he had learned from Stechner, of all people, that it had all been for naught.
Agent Pena had played fair and abided by Uncle Sam’s rules, and it hadn’t mattered at all.  Unseen political powers were playing a different global game and with their long reaching arms of corruption, swept all of Javier and the DEA’s strategically placed game pieces off the board before the game had even started.  And the worst part is, they had let him continue and go through the motions of putting the Rodriguez brothers behind bars, letting him think he had actually accomplished something when in reality, he had only played the role of clueless puppet in the ruin of innocent lives.  It made Javier sick, and he left the DEA jaded and cynical.
How could he be at peace when those that made the rules didn’t have to play by them, and through hubris and indifference allowed the destructive cycle of the drug trade to rage on endlessly?
But Javier didn’t have to play by the rules, did he?  He had something on his side that allowed him to push the boundaries of the rigged game - but he couldn’t push if he didn’t play.
So, to Chucho’s disappointment, Javier leaves for New York City to seek out his old boss; not for the first time, bureaucratic politics works in his favour and Messina hands Special Agent Pena a new title: Head of the DEA’s NYC field office. 
Javier will never know what strings Messina pulled to get him back in, but he never had any doubt of her success - confident now that when it really matters, fortune will favour Javier Pena.  He’s back to doing what he needs to: hunting down the remnants of the Cali mafia that had entrenched themselves in New York City and carrying out the government’s stated directive against all drugs - marijuana, heroin, steroids.  It’s not easy work by any means, but somehow, he feels at more at home weeding out stateside trafficking networks and shutting down home grown labs in the five boroughs than he did those months he spent in Laredo.
By day, Agent Pena hunts the scourge of the city with the aid of his team of talented agents, all eager to make a difference and brimming with strong moral fibre.  He can’t quite bring himself to destroy their faith in the system that he now knows actively works against them and their efforts.  He allows them to fight the good fight so that they can go home and sleep at night in a way that Javier almost doesn’t remember anymore.  Wiretaps, stakeouts, informant deals, raids and busts – all done by the book, slow going and above board. 
By night, Javier hunts alone.  Armed with the intel collected via those same formal and official channels of his government day job, he sets out to informally and unofficially deal with cartel and drug trade players under the cover of dark.  Hats off to you, Uncle Sam.
The judgment and retribution Javier dispenses is fearsome and precise.  Choosing targets that he knows will inflict immeasurable damage during the time it will take the DEA to bring them to justice (if ever), he methodically crosses off the names on a too-long list one by one.
They never know he’s coming for them until it’s too late.  They don’t know that this vigilante leverages intel painstakingly gathered and vetted by DEA resources in the only way it will ever be truly effective; that he’s more than acquainted with their whereabouts and routine movements.  Their executioner has memorized all of their weaknesses and vulnerabilities before they even know they’re on his chopping block.  They don’t know that the masked avenger stalks through the night and scales building without fear or hesitation, imbued with a confidence that can only come with doing the right thing, and something else that all but guarantees his success.
The investigative and strategic mind that serves Javier as an officer of the law remains his most trusted weapon when he’s off the clock.  He tirelessly pours over surveillance data, building and city plans – identifying single point entrances and exits, quick escape routes, and areas where there will be no witnesses
 or civilian casualties.  Never again will Javier Pena allow the pursuit of a criminal to hurt another innocent.
He finds that he’s partial to knives and blades, avoiding firearms completely for his nighttime pursuits.  From Javier’s experience, guns are too easy traced unless he were to engage with the illegal arms trade, and there are some lines he’s still unwilling to cross.  Guns are the weapons of the loud and arrogant, the sometimes ignorant – knives obey only skill and discretion.
But his preference is to use his hands.  Every time Javier feels the crush of bones or the splitting of flesh beneath his fists, his chest fills with pride and accomplishment.  The splattering of blood and the swollen, mangled bodies of his targets after he’s through with them become like therapeutic art; his hands are his chosen instrument and he paints his canvas for the evening with bloodshed and barbarism, expressing his bottled-up fury at his past failures and the grief he still keeps buried deep for those he’s lost.
Even the squelching of the red sticky liquid that pools out from where his blades land true and the gurgling of blood-filled mouths become welcomed melodies to his ears.  The final desperate gasping for air and the crunch of shattering bones act as the percussion section of a violent orchestra – one that Javier that conducts with the passion of a musician who’s finally found his muse.
He almost likes it when they fight back – giving him permission to discard any restraint he might have been exercising over his savagery in the name of efficiency.  With every blow he lands and every vital organ he guts, Javier feels like he’s fighting for them all: Carrillo, President Gaviria, Helena, Christina, sweet little Olivia’s mother, freaking Puff the cat.  Fighting for them now like he should have fought for them back in Columbia.
His actions do not go wholly unnoticed.  The DEA picks up chatter about a masked vigilante who seems to only target drug lords and narcotics organizations, one who seemingly appears out of nowhere to strike deadly and crippling blows to the cartels before disappearing without a trace.  It sounds like something straight out of a comic book.  A few news outlets run a couple of pieces on him, but the NYPD and federal agencies are all too overwhelmed by this War on Drugsℱ that Javier knows they’ll never win, to look a gift horse in the mouth.  For now, the hunter does not become the hunted.  Once again, luck favours Javier Pena.
Though he is satisfied with his ongoing results, Javier is nowhere near immortal or indestructible.  He bleeds and bruises, his ribs crack and his knuckles split.  He’s constantly dog-tired and concussed, every part of him is scraped and achy, but he heals.  He’s alive. 
Each poorly set bone break and new scar carved onto Javier’s body is worn with pride – collected like trophies that fuel the fire of his resolve and righteousness. 
He doesn’t feel the guilt anymore.
The only time self reproach creeps up on him is when Javi lies to you.  He feels the low stir of something uncomfortable in his chest when he claims to be going on a DEA nighttime raid and your sweet response is to tell him to be careful and wish him back to you soon.  It feels even worse when he slips out of your warm, safe bed while you remain unaware and asleep like an innocent angel, and it surges hot and shameful when he slips back under the covers while it’s still dark and you welcome him, soft and inviting, oblivious to the violence and brutality that now clings to his naked skin.
He should leave you be, let the goodness you radiant remain unsullied by his darkness, but he can’t.  He fell for you hard and fast, head over heels since the day he saw you buying a hotdog from the vendor outside the DEA’s downtown office.  Chain-smoking away the stress induced by the bureaucratic red tape he had waiting for him upstairs, Javi watched in slow motion as a mugger took advantage of your attempts to balance your belongings with your lunch – violently grabbing your purse off your arm.  His fists clenched instinctively and he was about to leap into action when you rendered him unnecessary - karate chopping the perp with your briefcase without a drop of mustard falling from your hotdog.  He’s amazed, amused, tickled – a litany of light and joyous emotions Javi had forgotten were possible.  He comes over to ensure the would-be mugger doesn’t retaliate and asks if you’re okay; he swears the smile you give him is more dangerous than Escobar himself ever was.
You’re the most perfect thing in Javi’s life and the only thing he has just for himself.  You play no role in his quest to snuff out the insidiousness that sinks its teeth deeper and deeper into this city everyday, and unlike the women of his past, you aren’t an atonement for his previous complacency and deep seeded regrets.  You just let him be – and he’s just Javi to you, not Agent Pena or even Javier.  Just Javi with whom you happily wile away hours talking about nothing and everything, who holds you when you cry to sappy movies, who you convince to try every ramen joint on the island of Manhattan, who pulls the most stomach caving, soul shaking orgasms from you.  In return, you give him a new peace – one where his nightmares end with soft and loving arms hugging him awake, where the confessions of his past misdeeds and failures in Columbia aren’t met with pity or judgment but with compassion and tenderness; a peace that seems to know no end - entangling and weaving its delicate and ever-growing tendrils with something that reminds Javi of hope.  You give him a peace he didn’t know was possible for someone like him, and one that he’s not sure he deserves.  Javi loves you.  But he lies to you.
He thinks, no, he knows, that one day it will all come to a head - the people he hunts as DEA, the vigilante justice he dispenses at night, and the life he’s come to treasure in the home he’s built with you.  And when that time inevitably comes, Javi hopes – prays - that whatever grace has deigned to keep him from succumbing to fates suffered by many better men than he, will once again come to his aid and prevent him from losing what’s truly important, what makes his life worth living.
That time might be tonight.
The evening has been wonderfully typical, bellies full, you and Javi are on your way to try a new ice cream place for dessert when you hear two gunshots ring out.  Then more shots in rapid succession as sirens approach.  Javi pushes you down behind some parked cars - finding a safe line a sight from which he assesses the situation to ensure that the two of you are a safe distance away before properly reading the scene. 
With some weariness, Javi realizes he’s played a role in what’s happening in front of him.  Two nights ago, he took out the numbers man and head of security for the remnant of one of Pacho’s old distribution networks.  It seems a local gang has decided to take advantage of the sudden power vacuum and take the territory by force.  But with the NYPD now arrived on scene, the rival gangs unite against their common enemy, and Javi counts four, five, police officers currently being pinned down behind their patrol cars by round after round of gunfire.
He should help.  But he doesn’t have a firearm on him and his DEA badge alone isn’t going to do any good.  He could pretend he’s a citizen, but that would never fly – for all the same reasons he wears a mask during his nightly crusades, Javi knows he would be identified sooner or later, and without some flexibility to do what’s needed, he would likely find himself pinned under a hail of bullets like his brothers in blue.
And you.  How could he leave you?  You must be so scared right now.  He looks over to you and to his shock, not only do you look calm and determined, you’re holding out the black cashmere scarf that you’ve unwound from your neck, offering it to him in your open hands.
Javi looks at down the scarf, then up at you – confused, stunned.
Pushing your scarf towards him, you give your brave boyfriend a wise and reassuring smile, “Take it, Javi.  You need to cover your face, don’t you?”
It takes Javi more time than the situation affords him to comprehend what you’re saying.  How long have you known?  His world is simultaneously eerily still yet wildly spinning, with you at its calm centre.  Wordlessly, Javi takes your scarf and wraps it swiftly around his head until only his eyes remain exposed, securing the ends with a tight knot against the back of his head so his makeshift mask doesn’t slip.
Your eyes now wide and worried, you nonetheless press a confident kiss to Javi’s lips through the luxurious fabric, “I’ll be fine, I promise.  Go and be careful, my love.”
Feeling Javi return your affections and the air of something like ‘thank you’ puff through the soft wool against your lips, you hold steady the look of adoration and devotion in his chocolate brown eyes with one of your own before you see them turn towards the ongoing cacophony of bullets with a steely resolve. 
Holding your breath, you watch your Javi slip into the night.  “Come back to me,” you whisper, unaware that you’ve already been gifted the promise of his safe return. 
Tumblr media
114 notes · View notes
sugarcoated-lame · 1 year ago
Text
Tumblr media
oh I’m so happy to be catching up on this series, and this chapter had me giggling and kicking my feet and just losing my damn mind because it’s so, so GOOD!
What you do mind, is that the man in this book was described briefly in the beginning as having brown curls. And now, now that the protagonist is throwing herself at him, there’s only one person that you’re picturing playing him.
Bradley’s stare is something to behold. He really has perfected it. It’s mean, hardened and it’s superior all at once. And yet, it still doesn’t make him look any less handsome.
curse professor Bradley for being so damn irresistible!!
also Bradley calling her kid shouldn’t make me swoon as hard as it does lmao
He lifts a hand and strokes it tenderly over the top of your hair, careful not to catch of tug at your lengths. He repeats the motion a few times. You feel him shift closer.
“It’s alright,” Bradley says quietly, stroking your hair back with a surprisingly gentle hand. “It’s a hard class. That was good. You’re doing well, I’m impressed.”
Slowly, his thumb swipes along the same trial. Over the skin covering your temple, just slightly into your hairline. It doesn’t even cross your mind to move. Maybe because you’re too thrown off by this sudden tenderness, maybe because you don’t actually hate this feeling.
The third time, he doesn’t follow the same route. His thumb swipes tenderly along the skin of your cheek, gently trailing in a small circle along the apple of your cheek. Further down. You stare up at him. Your heartbeat betrays you, thudding away in your chest as his thumb leaves your cheek and meets the corner of your mouth.
this whole part !!!! the tension is just so good, and even though nothing had even happened yet, it had me sweating
“I asked him where he was. If he knew where you were. He asked me if you were still sulking on the curb outside of the quad. He knew exactly where you were.”
Something about Malcom is definitely sketchy and I can’t wait to find out what it is 😡 but I’m so happy that Bradley told her about what happened the night of the party, AND that he presumably told off Malcom?? I’m so intrigued to learn more about that night, like what Bradley said to him and what their fight was even about in the first place.
And they kissed again !!! And that kiss, oof đŸ«  needless to say, I am down bad for professor Bradley and I’m so excited to keep reading!! 🧡💗💕
The Odyssey | 0.5 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader (18+)
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist
You leave Como, your arrival in Verona is going to make the rest of the trip much more complicated.
Warnings: enemies to lovers, power imbalance, professor / student relationship, age gap ( 22 / 33), will be smut, virgin reader, swearing, infidelity, bickering and teasing, extremely suggestive, somewhat graphic towards end, minors dni. WC: 5.8k


You’re driving him fucking crazy. You’re spending far too much time together. The worst part? — You’re actually listening to him now. No, the worst part about that is that you’ll listen to what he tells you, but you’re still giving him all of that fucking attitude about it.
The two of you have spent so much time together, in fact, that Bradley didn’t get another chance to get Natasha alone. It’s for the best, because she actually smiles and waves him off when he leaves this time. Normally, they’ve argued by now. He never moved on and she’s not coming back — the usual kind of stuff.
Today, she had stretched up onto her tiptoes and draped her arms around his thick shoulders, exhaling calmly against the warm skin of his neck. “We’re looking forward to seeing you again next year, Bradley.”
And then, she had taken a step back and entwined her fingers with her husbands. And Bradley hadn’t said anything. He’d looked the woman that he spent so long loving in the eye, and said absolutely nothing. And now, he’s sitting on a packed minibus to a different location, with nothing but you on his mind.
In a professional sense of course.
It’s professional, because he’s sitting here and watching you read the play that he gave you. It’s from the Gracchan period, a time where social mobility was a big focus, but the play itself is by a very wealthy man — making fun of that. It’s about a girl from a poor family of farmers who falls in love with a very powerful man in their town.
Bradley’s eyes scan the page, then flicker up to your face. Your brows are furrowed in concentration, the small playbook open against one thigh and your dictionary wedged open between yours and Bradley’s. You’re just past the first act.
“I don’t
 she
?” You shake your head in confusion, lifting it to look at Bradley. “She wants to belong to him? — Like work for him?”
Bradley’s lips twitch. He gives a small shake of his head, leaning closer and taking the dictionary. He flips around a little, his shoulder pressing into yours. Warm skin, the smell of his cologne, the rumble of the wheels against the uneven road.
Pasquale’s love for the 1970s American rock pours through the car in the form of an Eagles album. Bradley knows which one. You couldn’t have less of a clue.
“She’s saying she wants to give herself to him. Not belong to him.” Bradley explains patiently, turning the book towards you so that you can see the rough translation. It’s an easy mistake to make. That’s why he has you reading the play, so you’ll be able to use the context of the scene to eliminate the mistakes you’re making.
You look up at Bradley briefly. Belong to, give herself to — you’re stuck on how that could possibly not mean the same thing, until it hits you. Give herself to. Her body, she means.
“Oh. Thanks.” You set your headphones back on your ears and turn your attention back to the play. Bradley gives you a curt nod and adjusts his sunglasses. He spreads his thighs just a little. His knee presses gently against yours, not pushing, just sitting there.
You don’t mind it much. But, you’re beginning to notice a pattern. He touches you too much. When you’re studying together, his feet rest on your side of the table, constantly nudging your ankles. He’ll get too close when you’re walking by each other. He’ll sit with his legs spread so far that you’ve got no choice but to let his thigh smush into yours. But, you don’t mind that too much.
What you do mind, is that the man in this book was described briefly in the beginning as having brown curls. And now, now that the protagonist is throwing herself at him, there’s only one person that you’re picturing playing him.
It’s not your fault. He’s arrogant, he mocks her constantly and he’s got brown curls. Sounds like Bradley. Unfortunately, at this moment in time, Bradley’s character is all too willing to make the wrong choice. You swallow softly, brows knitted together as you try to convince yourself that you’ve got the translation wrong.
That his hands aren’t trailing up, under the fabric of his skirt. Your eyes dart from the page to Bradley’s hands resting against his thighs. You study the tanned flesh, the sun-bleached, blonde hair at his wrist. The protruding veins on the back of his hands. The gold class ring on his finger.
Bradley feels you shift in your seat, your thigh knocking into his. He glances down again and quickly back to the road. Those denim cutoffs fit your thighs perfectly. But, he can’t stop himself from taking a peek at your face. Plastered in discomfort.
Maybe he shouldn’t have given you a book with a sex scene in it, but this is mild compared to some of the content in his class. This book is the introduction to virtus versus pudictia. He figures the concept will be something you get your head around pretty quickly. Men doing whatever the fuck they want and women waiting patiently for a husband. Sounds exactly like what you’ve got going on already.
It’s only a three hour drive from Como to Verona, and Bradley’s got prep work for his research here to get done. He sits there and cards through the papers like he’s working, but really he spends most of the journey just observing.
Your reaction to his syllabus irritates him, but intrigues him in a way that he just can’t explain. He wants you to stop being so old-fashioned and wake up to the concept that sex is just a natural part of life — but also, he isn’t used to being around girls like you. He has made a point of surrounding himself with people who are nothing like you.
“Hey, Bradley,” You broach the topic tentatively, and he feels you shift slightly closer to Pasquale. He sighs. You dog-ear the page and close the book of the play. His eyes linger on that, before he finally looks up at you. You shift once more, taking a deep breath before speaking. “So, I spoke to my parents
”
You’re not going home. That wouldn’t make sense. You wouldn’t have just spent three hours giving yourself a headache by trying to read a raunchy Roman play if you were going home. Bradley’s brows draw together. He sets his papers down on his legs.
Pasquale winces as he looks between the two of you — it has been such a smooth drive so far.
“My dad has spoken to the Dean, he wants me to have my own room for the rest of the trip. He’s paying.” You explain calmly, pulling your knees up to your chest and resting your feet against the bench. Dog-earing pages and sitting like a kid, it just doesn’t fit into this image that Bradley has of you in his head.
He scoffs, lips twitching under that stupid moustache. “Of course he is.”
Between the two of you, neither one is really sure what his problem is. Maybe he wants you to be more independent, maybe he just likes the way your face looks when you scowl at him. Either way, he’s an expert at getting under your skin.
“Would you rather pay?” You bite back. Pasquale cringes, leaning away from the two of you. Bradley’s stare is something to behold. He really has perfected it. It’s mean, hardened and it’s superior all at once. And yet, it still doesn’t make him look any less handsome.
“I’d rather that you at least try to get along with the other kids. It would make your life easier.”
“I’m not a kid.”
“You know what I meant.” He knows that. It doesn’t make him feel any better about the way he feels about you. But, he knows that you’re more mature than he gives you credit for. Even if you punched him in the nuts last week.
“It’s really none of your business either way, I was just letting you know.”
It’s quiet between the two of you for a while. Almost long enough for the entirety of Hotel California to play through those dusty speakers.
“Does your dad know that you’re the one who started that fight?” Bradley really can’t help it. He’s a decade your senior, he should really be more mature about things. But, there’s just something about you that makes him want to put an end to your know-it-all attitude.
“I didn’t.” You cross one knee over the other, lifting your chin and straightening your spine.
“Pulled a good handful of her hair out, kid.” He scoffs, turning his attention back to his paperwork. His tone is so dismissive that even Pasquale wouldn’t judge you for hitting him in the balls again.
“I’m not a kid!” You turn sharply towards him, scowling furiously.
“Right. That’s why you’re here, huh? — Because you’re grown up enough to stand up to your dad?” He doesn’t even look up at you. That’s the worst part. Pasquale winces so hard that he has to fight with himself to keep his eyes open and on the road. He waits for the sound of an impact, a hit, a scream — anything.
Instead, you lean in so close that the soft curve of your breast nudges Bradley’s arm. “I’m grown up enough to know that pining over a married woman is pathetic.”
“Pining? — Kid, your own fucking fiancĂ© couldn’t care if you lived or died. Don’t fucking lecture me about love.”
It falls quiet quickly. The voices in the back of the bus fade out, everyone turns their attention towards the two of you, arguing again. You look down slowly. Bradley follows your gaze to his fingers curled around your forearm, tight. He looks back up and this is all to familiar. Sitting with you facing him, blinking at him like you’re about to cry.
“Get out.” He breathes finally, releasing your arm and sitting back against the door. Your face twists, confused. Pasquale shoots a look at Bradley — they can’t just leave a kid on the side of the road, surely. “Sit in the back. Finish that fucking play, we’ve got more to cover.”
Pasquale pulls over to the side of the winding, countryside road and steps out of the van, pulling his door open. You’re silent as you get out and step into the back, finding all of the seats taken. Abigail pushes Luke’s backpack off of a seat and gestures for you to sit with a pitiful smile. You take the spot and secure your headphones over your ears again, reaching to the Walkman at your side and skipping the song.
You don’t say another word for the rest of the drive. Bradley doesn’t even look at you. He gives you your key first just so you’ll go. This place does have an elevator, it’s just dusty and creaky and awful. You’re on a different floor to everyone else too. That doesn’t help.
You sit down, settling against the foot of the bed with your suitcase abandoned in the corner. He doesn’t know anything about your relationship. He just has so many cruel things that he could say to you — she’s all that you’ve got on him, and clearly she is a sore subject. The thought bubbles in your chest to the point that it makes your face warm. It makes you entire body hot.
That stupid look on his face. Like he knows anything about you, or Malcolm, or the way that you love each other.
You wish you had longer to sit and stew. Instead, you’re interrupted by his stupid, big fist slamming against the other side of the door to your hotel room. You know it’s him because he’s the only one rude enough to do it. Unsurprisingly, when you tear the door open, he’s the one in the hall. Without saying anything, he brushes past you and walks inside, then lifts up the textbook in his hand.
“Let’s get this shit over with so that we don’t have to see each other later.”
You wouldn’t be foolish enough to think he was here to apologise, but still, his attitude makes you want to hit him with that textbook. But, he’s got a point, and you would rather not see him this evening either. So, you sit down on the bed and fold your arms over your chest.
He takes a look at you and frowns, then does a survey of the room. Wardrobe, your own bathroom, two nightstands, suitcase rack, floor lamp. No desk. Begrudgingly, he takes a seat beside you on the bed.
“Alright, the play that I gave you,” He exhales like that will make him let go of all of the anger he’s holding on to. It doesn’t. “It focuses heavily on the sexual roles of men and women in developing Rome. Did you pick up on that?”
You watch him open the textbook and flip through, searching for something in particular. It really would be quite easy to tear the book from his hands and get him with it. It’s a hefty book. Instead, you shrug your shoulders and leave him with a simple, “I guess.”
He looks up at you, bored. “You guess? — The male main character had a wife, a girlfriend and a mistress. The female main character devoted herself solely to this one man, that she knew was never going to be hers. What do you think that suggests about gender roles back then?”
“I don’t know.”
“You do know, stop acting like you’re stupid.” He bites back. There’s a second where you stare at him and both of you take a moment to decide whether this is going to become another argument. You sigh softly.
“It’s patriarchal.”
“Right,” Bradley nods, “So there were these concepts back then called—“
The lesson goes on, and the more you engage, the less hostile he becomes. As much as you struggle when it comes to reading text excerpts and answering the questions he gives you on those, it gets to the point where you’ll crack a joke and he’ll laugh. That’s got to be diplomacy of some kind.
Both of you grow unintentionally closer, shifting periodically, leaning closer to see the text, or look at a picture. So, when you’re stumped by a question and you turn sharply away from him and throw yourself down, smushing your face into the pillow and growling in frustration, he finally realizes just how close the two of you have gotten.
You, laying on your front on this double bed, groaning into the pillow. Him, close enough that if he moved his leg, it would graze your hip. Bradley stares at you for a moment, then — while you’re not looking — lets his eyes trail. Along the feminine length of your legs, up over the curve of your waist in those cut-offs.
He lifts a hand and strokes it tenderly over the top of your hair, careful not to catch of tug at your lengths. He repeats the motion a few times. You feel him shift closer.
“It’s alright,” Bradley says quietly, stroking your hair back with a surprisingly gentle hand. “It’s a hard class. That was good. You’re doing well, I’m impressed.”
“Please,” You scoff without lifting your face from the pillow. You shift just a little and hook your arms under it, hugging it closer to your body. His eyes dart down to the way your back curves into your eyes, then slam shut. He should make an excuse to leave. “The only thing that could impress you would have happened a hundred years ago.”
“You know that this course focuses mainly on things that happened from —“ Bradley stops correcting you as you turn your head and glare at him. His eyes are trained on your face. He’s not looking at the way those denim cut-offs hug your figure, but fuck, he’s thinking about it. “Nevermind.”
He stares forwards. His hand is still resting in your hair. He should move it. He should leave. He hasn’t ever felt like this — countless students throwing themselves at him and he’s ignored every single one. He’s being ridiculous. It’s just the forbidden fruit effect. The proximity.
He should move his hand. He just can’t take his eyes off of your face. The swell of your lips. The slight scrunch of your nose. The narrowed look in your eyes. Bradley lifts his hand.
Then, he takes the length of your hair resting against your cheek and brushes it softly back, revealing the rest of your face to him. He shifts his hips, sitting just a fraction closer, making you easier to reach as you lay at his side.
“I mean it,” He says quietly. Your lips quirk softly, almost a smile. You’re about to tell him that he’s probably never spoken to you so kindly ever. Then, he speaks again. “You’re trying. I see that you’re trying. You’re doing a really good job.”
His thumb swipes softly over your temple, guiding your hair back further out of your face. The smile fades from your face. Then, you’re just blinking up at him. Your face is calm. His doesn’t reveal anything.
Slowly, his thumb swipes along the same trial. Over the skin covering your temple, just slightly into your hairline. It doesn’t even cross your mind to move. Maybe because you’re too thrown off by this sudden tenderness, maybe because you don’t actually hate this feeling.
The third time, he doesn’t follow the same route. His thumb swipes tenderly along the skin of your cheek, gently trailing in a small circle along the apple of your cheek. Further down. You stare up at him. Your heartbeat betrays you, thudding away in your chest as his thumb leaves your cheek and meets the corner of your mouth.
His eyes dart from his thumb to your eyes, studying your expression briefly, before he looks down again. You’re silent as he swipes his thumb delicately over the plump skin of your bottom lip.
“What did you mean earlier? — About Malcolm?” Your sudden question surprises the both of you, putting an abrupt end to the out of body feeling that was fogging Bradley’s mind. He blinks, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he pulls his hand away from your face.
“What?”
“You said he wouldn’t care if I lived or died. Why?” You push yourself up from your front, settling onto your knees instead. Bradley’s brows knit together. The only thing he can think to say is your name. He stumbles it out, baffled. “You don’t even know him. Why would you say something like that?”
He could turn this into another screaming match. Avoid answering until you’re yelling so hard that you’re blue in the face. But, he won’t. He deserves answers too — he’s tired of that night clouding his head, having no idea if you remember or not.
“Because he left you on the side of the road to freeze to death last December,” Bradley’s suddenly acutely aware of the fact that he’s sitting on your bed, alone in your room. Your face twists in confusion. He’s not done yet. “And the only reason you didn’t freeze to death was because I hauled your ass into my truck and drove you to your parents’ house.”
He’s expecting to have to elaborate further, but you know exactly which night he was talking about. You remember the three days after blacking out that Malcolm wouldn’t so much as answer the phone to you.
“No you didn’t.”
Bradley raises his eyebrows at you. He wishes there was something he could show you, some way he could prove to you how fucked up you had been when he had found you on that curb.
“You were wearing a blue dress with sparkly shit on it,” Bradley says, his voice too calm. You were. You woke up still in it the next morning. “Open-toed heels.”
What the fuck were you thinking? — In the middle of December?
“Your parents live at the end of a long street with a bunch of Oak trees on it,” They do. Last house on the left. You stare at him, unblinking. “Your room is on the second floor, at the back of the house. Your window overlooks the swimming pool. I called your fiancĂ© from that stupid fucking pink phone on your nightstand eight times before he picked up.”
Your chest shudders with the next slow breath that you draw in. He sits there, watching you try to rationalize what he’s telling you. There’s too much information for it to be a lie. The look on his face tells you that he isn’t lying.
“You
 spoke to Malcolm that night? — What did he say?”
Bradley makes a face, then turns his chin towards the ceiling and sighs. He looks down and rubs his rough palm over his jaw, shaking his head at you. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that he left you in the fucking snow, unconscious.”
The air conditioning unit rattles behind you, making you all the more aware of the sweat starting to bead on the nape of your neck. You swallow softly and look down at the textbook between the two of you.
“We were fighting that night, but he — I think I — I think I ran off
” Your memories of that night are fuzzy. Truthfully, you can’t even remember what the two of you had been arguing about, much less what happened for him to be so angry even days later. “Whatever happened wasn’t his fault—“
“No?” Bradley interrupts, a level louder than he had been previously. You pull back from him subconsciously, bracing yourself on the bed behind you, trying to find purchase in the sheets. “It wasn’t his fault? — Anything could have happened to you, you know that? — What kind of man lets someone that they love put themselves at risk like that?”
“He probably didn’t realize. I’m sure he thought that I got a cab. Wait, Bradley, what did you say to him?”
Wait, Bradley, what did you say to him? — He’s looking at you, but he’s had this conversation before with Natasha. All those years ago. Seconds before he had answered her and watched any love she had had for him ebb away.
“We had a conversation.” Bradley answers you dryly. Your brows knit together, leaning just slightly closer. “I asked him where he was. If he knew where you were. He asked me if you were still sulking on the curb outside of the quad. He knew exactly where you were.”
Finally, he renders you speechless. For the first time, maybe ever, you’re left without something to say to him. There’s a brief silence between the two of you before he speaks again.
“What were the two of you arguing about that night?” Bradley presses.
“I — I can’t remember. Something stu—“
“Why did you kiss me?”
Your eyes go round, widening incredulously at the man sitting on the other side of your bed. The man that you’ve spent the last week and a half screaming at. The smug, over-confident man ten years older than you who refuses to dress his age or pay grade. The man who threatened your fiancĂ© back in December.
“What?” You shriek, pushing up onto your knees and scrunching your face up at him.
“You sat in my car and begged me not to take you into your parents’ house. You kissed me. I dragged you out of the truck and put you to bed.” Bradley says it so calmly — you wonder how often he has thought about this moment to be able to recount it so easily.
You look him over. There’s no more distance between the two of you than there would be between a driver’s seat and a passenger seat. Obviously you were out of your mind that night, running away from Malcolm and not kicking and screaming when this oaf had put you in his car. But there’s not a chance in hell that you would have kissed him. You can’t stand him.
Still, here with just the two of you, you’re not sure how it would benefit him to be lying about this.
So, you take a deep breath and try to ignore the heartbeat thudding in your ears. You stare at him. His hair is neat enough. Short at the back and sides, curly on top. It would have been shorter when he was in the Navy, but you remember it being longer at the beginning of the year. You hadn’t shown up to many of his classes, so you can only guess at what he wore during the winter. Vaguely, you’ve got a memory of him in grey slacks and a navy sweater. Still not wearing a tie.
If he had come straight from his office, he would be in his work clothes. You would be sitting in the passenger side of his truck. It was snowing out, so you know he would have been cold. The sun-kissed pink hue on his cheeks was probably still there, just frost-chilled in variety this time. His facial hair is always neat. Everything tidily shaved, his moustache always trimmed. He’s certainly not ugly.
Long lashes. A slight bump in his nose, like he might have broken it once, but it suits him. Slightly raised scar tissue on his cheek, his throat. Lashes that touch the bone of his eye socket when he closes his eyes. Freckles dotting his cheeks, the bridge of his nose. Eyes that can’t quite decide whether they’re brown, black, amber or hazel. Pink, plush lips.
Ah. That’s where your attention catches. You practically take a mental snapshot of the place where your eyes land. The hollows of his cheeks, the scars on his left side. His strong jaw, usually clenched when he’s looking at you. The thick length of his neck, his protruding adam’s apple, the gold chain usually visible just inside of his collar. Those thick, reddish pink lips.
Pushing up on your knees, you lift your gaze and find him already staring. He knows exactly what you’re about to do. His hand finds your hip and grabs at it roughly as you put one knee in front of the other and crawl to him. He guides you where he wants you and lifts his other hand, cupping your jaw.
His rough palm sits against your jaw bone. Tenderly touching your cheek, just slightly grazing your throat. Eclipsing the side of your face with the magnitude of his hand size. Even up close, you’ve still got no clue of why you would kiss him. Well, nothing that you can rationalize. No explanation that would make any kind of sense to you on any regular day.
But, if you’re being honest with yourself, it’s because you know that there is no rationalizing this. The want that you feel for him just doesn’t make sense. His fingers curled around your hipbone, pressing roughly into the denim there — it doesn’t make sense.
And yet, when the strong hand on the side of your jaw pulls you forwards, you’re all too willing to lean all the way into him and kiss him. Softly, slowly. Your bottom lip between his, controlled even though all he wants to do is throw you down on his bed and kiss you like he means it.
Bradley figures that’s a bad thing, that he’s in control of the situation enough to be gentle with you, but not to stop himself from making this mistake. His tongue swipes softly against your lip at the same time his hand tugs at your hip. You wobble forwards, he parts his thighs and tugs again making you land unceremoniously against his legs.
You can feel the abandoned textbook digging into your ankle. Its glossed pages, open and forgotten.
His hand trails from your jaw, around to the back of your neck. He feels you tense against him as he pulls you close by your neck and your waist, lifting, and then planting you on your back. The second that your spine touches the sheets, you tear your mouth away from his with a gasp.
He stills, kneeling between your parted thighs, staring down at you. You glance down. He watches your brows knit together and follows your gaze down to the necklace that has slipped from his shirt. You lift your stiff hand from your side and reach out for it. He swallows as the delicate tips of your fingers graze the gold cross. You wonder where his dog tags are. Why he’s wearing this today. If he just wore the tags for Natasha’s benefit, maybe.
“I didn’t know you’re religious.” You breathe out. He’s just close enough to be able to hear you. His hands flex around the pits of your knees, skimming down your calves.
“I’m not,” He answers you quietly. “It belonged to my dad.”
You breathe out hard, but it doesn’t make that weird feeling in your chest go away. You just keep on staring at that dangling necklace. Something keeps you from looking him in the eye. Fear, shame — lust — you’re not sure exactly what it is.
Turning your head, you’re met with the sight of his flexing forearm, planted beside your head. Bradley watches through darkened eyes as you reach out once again, starting at the back of his hand. You trail the vein in his skin from his fist, up along the inside of his forearm, onto his bicep. Stopping at the hem of his white t-shirt sleeve.
Bradley leans down, moving to the side to catch your mouth. This second kiss is different from the first. It’s all him. His tongue swipes your bottom lip and you’ve got the sense to press into him, to open your mouth. Both of you are surely aware of how dead still you’re laying, the way your hands are balled in the sheets at your sides.
But, you lift your chin and chase his kiss like he’s got your next breath. He pushes harder against you, his tongue pressing forwards and grazing yours. Suddenly, your hands aren’t so still any more. They’re up and shoving at his chest.
“What are you doing?” You gasp, horrified.
He sits back on his knees and stares at you. You’re right. What the fuck is he doing? — You’re one of his students, and fuck, your father would never let this go. Your fiancĂ© too. Fuck, your fiancĂ©.
“Keep your tongue in your mouth, what is the matter with you?” You snap at him, sitting up swiftly and hitting his chest with another hard shove. Bradley stares at you. Never in a million years was he expecting your issue here to be with the fact that he’d barely grazed your tongue with his.
“Excuse me?”
“Your tongue, you animal! — What do you think you’re doing?” You pull your legs out from between his thighs and shift away from him, leaping off of the bed. His jaw falls slack, staring at the way you’re glaring at him from the bottom of the bed.
“Kissing! — What? — Are you telling me that you’ve never—“ He shakes his head, trying to make sense of what he’s hearing. He knew you were inexperienced but french kissing has been popular in the US for a lot longer than you’ve even been alive.
“No, I haven’t! — What kind of girl—“
“Alright, stop yelling, stop yelling!” Bradley stands up swiftly and catches hold of both of your biceps. Quieting, you crane your neck back to look at him. He looks down at you and exhales. “That was a mistake. Right?”
His thumbs brush gently along the backs of your arms. You’re silent, just staring up at him, but he gives a quick nod anyway. That’s good enough. Squeezing your arm, he lets you go and then moves.
“Fuck. Okay,” He runs a hand over his jaw and turns, dizzily trying to collect his things. “We’re good. We just need to not get in each other’s way, get you a C — and then we’re out of each other’s hair.”
There are so many things you want to say. Even more that you want to ask him. But, you don’t. You just nod silently at him and tuck your hands behind your back. Then, you make the mistake of glancing downwards. The khaki colouring of his shorts has never looked as indecent as it does now.
Bradley doesn’t need to follow your gaze to know what you’re staring at. He knows all too well that he has been rock hard since he first grabbed at your hip. The little squeak you had made had sent every red blood cell in his body rushing south, and the way you’re staring at his straining dick now doesn’t help.
You make it worse too. There’s no shock on your face, you’re not saying anything. You’re just staring at the way his thick length is pressing against the fabric of the shorts, hard, and because of you. Natasha, that you had understood. She had been touching him and she was undeniably gorgeous. And they had history.
“Stop —“ Bradley pinches the bridge of his nose with one hand and dips a hand into his shorts to adjust himself with the other. That still doesn’t stop you from staring. He frowns at you. First you don’t know how to kiss, and now he’s realizing that you’ve probably never seen a dick either. “For fucks’ sake.
Your eyes finally go wide as he grabs the textbook, turns on his heel and leaves the room with a slam of the door. You flinch at the sound, suddenly completely alone in your room, reeling. Ashamedly, your first instinct is to call Matthew.
Bradley walks down the hall, takes the stairs, and into his own room. It’s empty, meaning that Luke’s probably in Robin’s room. Bradley should be an adult and go and lecture them both. Instead, he slams the door to their bathroom and twists the lock. Cold water probably would have been the best thing to do. Instead, letting the warm stream soak his body, his clothes ditched on the floor, he feels like he can finally breathe.
Truthfully, your fiancĂ© is the furthest thing from his mind. The fact that you’re his student has never felt as minuscule as it did when he was kneeling between your thighs and watching your delicate fingers toy with his necklace. You’re graduating. This is just extra credit. If you had passed the first time, you’d be out of his class already.
All the excuses in the world doesn’t make it okay that he has kissed you twice now. But, that doesn’t stop him from trailing his palm along his toned stomach, wrapping a hand loosely around the base of his cock and planting his free palm on the tile in front of him.
Upstairs and three doors to the right, you’re sitting criss-crossed on the same bed that you had just kissed your professor in with an old plastic phone pressed to your ear. The line rings, and rings until it feels like you’re about to burst into tears until finally his voice comes through on the other end.
“Hello?”
“I need to ask you something and I need you to please answer me honestly. Okay?”


Tags: @thedroneranger @batdanceq @wkndwlff @cassiemitchell @himbos-on-ice @bradshawsbaby @damrlova @fudge13 @xoxabs88xox @mak-32 @sihtricswife @callsignvenus @callsign-joyride @harper1666 @krismdavis @sheisanangell @thecitysgraveyard @cherrycola27 @sugarcoated-lame
353 notes · View notes
moonyslove78 · 7 months ago
Text
Reblogging this one again cause I am obsessed with it!
Here’s just a few of my favorite lines!
Tumblr media
I will never deny “playing” with Peter!
Tumblr media
Oh fuck! The “that’s not my name, princess.” And then “come get me then.” ??? Katie, are you trying to destroy me?? The blindfolded cat & mouse game! đŸ„”đŸ€Ż
Tumblr media
You already know how i felt about this quote cause i had to message you about while reading! 😂 this quote did so many different things to me including made me crack up laughing!
Tumblr media
Yet another one I had a snort laugh come out while reading! This one was priceless! đŸ€Ł
Tumblr media
Oh the moment where she realizes! I know I would probably be slightly apprehensive at first, buuuuuutttt, it’s Peter. He’d definitely have me convinced in seconds flat! đŸ˜…đŸ„”
Tumblr media
❀Spider-Man Red❀ is my favorite red of all! Especially when it reminds me of “who that ass belongs to.”!! đŸ€©đŸ˜đŸ‘€
Tumblr media
Oh this was just utterly brilliant as far as ‘light degrading’ goes! I’m fucking obsessed with this part! And that’s all I have to really say about that! It speaks for itself! 😏
Tumblr media
😂😂😂 she was like “fuck no it’s not too hard! Don’t even think about it!”
Tumblr media
👀 Peter went from deranged sexual exhibitionist to protective possessive husband in no time! And I’m here for it! đŸ˜â€ïž
Tumblr media
Lmao!! đŸ€Ł this was exactly what I could expect to feel like after that! Broken but sated! And in a few moments? Ready for round two!
Soooo I would’ve totally pasted the entire damn fic in here as my favorites but tumblr mobile has made me stop at 10 images 😭 so just know that this was perfect and just enough for my exhibition, daddy and slight Dom kinks!
I can only imagine how the rest of their honeymoon is going to play out! đŸ‘€đŸ„”đŸ˜
You are brilliant and so fucking talented at describing a landscape and situation to place the reader right in the scene! And it worked out even better here with her being blindfolded through most of the beginning stages of the spicy playtime cause then Peter explaining what she looked like in that moment just đŸ« đŸ„Ž!!
As always, I’m blown away by your ability to make me feel so many emotions all at once! (Plus a few intense moments but I explained that to you already đŸ«ŁđŸ€ŁđŸ„”)
Anyways, I loveeeee you! đŸ˜đŸ„°â€ïž
Tumblr media
The Exhibit
[tasm!Peter Parker x fem!Reader]
Warnings: use of pet names such as Daddy/Princess/Babygirl, BDSM in the form of dom/sub, bondage/spanking/blindfolds/nipple clamps/a bit of masochism, anal play, exhibitionism/voyeurism
WC: 8K
A/N: This was an anon request for window smut off of this prompt list but tumblr said a big no no to (what I'm assuming) was one of the gifs I used for the graphic and hid the post so I had to delete it. I'm reposting it again minus the very bad so naughty terrible gif I used. Porn bots can run free and terrorize the tags with their tits and wide open pussy on display but how dare a smut writer use a tastefully erotic, black and white, gif of a blurry couple making sweet, sweet love against a far away window. So naughty. Such a bad girl.
Tumblr media
The elevator chimed with a pleasant musical melody as the doors slid open to their floor. There were only four rooms in this hallway. Behind each door held a luxury suit overlooking the busy streets of Florence. 
Peter had gone all out for their honeymoon. 
They’d spent the last week in Sardinia, making love on the beaches, drinking wine, making love on sailboats, drinking more wine, making love in their hotel room in the early morning with the windows open to enjoy the breeze
more wine
more sex

They were struggling to keep their hands off of each other. Even now, as Peter guided her towards their room, his hand was slipped under her vibrantly red sundress and fingering the elastic waist of her cotton underwear. 
They left the beaches of Sardinia to come to Florence specifically to see the art but she wondered if they would ever actually make it out of their room with the way Peter’s hands teased her. She was surprised that he wasn’t sick of her yet. Seven straight days of love making and he was still as rowdy as ever. 
He let her admire the suite, watching her as he leaned against the wall, more interested in eying her legs in that dress than the luxury accommodations he had provided for them. 
“Peter,” she whispered, eyes wide as she took it all in. “This is gorgeous.”
Their beachside Sardina resort had a more airy and cool feel whereas this room screamed of sophistication and class. She knew Peter had been working like crazy leading up to their wedding but she had no idea this was why. 
“Like it?” He asked with an arrogant smirk toying at his lips. “A room fit for a queen.” 
She dropped her bag beside the bed and kicked off her shoes, flopping backwards onto the bed to stare up at the arched ceiling with thick, exposed wooden beams. Even the ceiling was stunning. 
She felt the bed sink as Peter crawled on top of her. 
His white, loose button up had the first few buttons undone so his athletic chest peeked through. She loved the sight of his chest hair being exposed. He looked so relaxed, laid back, and blissful with life. Filled with wine, good food, and love. The perfect blend of medicine for him to simply shine. 
He placed a soft kiss against her lips, humming appreciatively, “You look sleepy, babe. Why don’t you take a nap while I unpack our things. I’ll be quiet as a mouse.” 
A nap sounded wonderful after traveling between hotels. She rolled onto her side. It was warm enough that she didn’t need to snuggle under the covers. Peter ran his hands up her bare leg and slipped under her sundress to take one last squeeze of her ass before she slept. 
Tumblr media
She awoke to light kisses tickling her stomach. Peter was laid over her legs, her dress rolled up under her breasts so he could let his lips roam over her belly.
She stretched, a sleepy smile growing on her face, as she peered down at him. 
“What time is it?” She mumbled through the lingering sleep. 
“Time to wake up and play,” he said. He blew a raspberry on her belly with his mouth, making her laugh. “It’s about 4 in the afternoon. You slept all morning. I missed you too much to let you keep sleeping. Wake up and play with me. I’m bored.” 
He had his shirt completely unbuttoned and was stripped down to his boxers to get more comfortable while he lounged around waiting for her. 
Judging by the state of his hair, he looked like he might have gotten in an hour or so of sleep, too.
“Alright, alright,” she giggled. “I’m up. Let me go freshen up and then we can go explore the city.”
Peter pulled her up to her feet and gave her a quick spank as she walked off into the bathroom. That man always needed to have a hand on her ass in some way. 
By the time she came back out, she was surprised to see that he had yet to get dressed and had actually lost an item of clothing.
His shirt was now thrown onto the bed, cast aside without a care.  
“Underwear is a bold choice to go walking around Italy in but I admire your confidence,” she said with a teasing smile.  
Peter didn’t smile back. He had a look in eyes. A look that she knew very well. 
It wasn’t the “making love” look. 
It wasn’t the “quickie” look. 
It was dark, ravenous, and screaming of dominance. 
He had yet to give her that look on their honeymoon. So far, he'd been more playful and loving. This evening, he had other plans. 
They were not leaving this hotel room any time soon. 
A shiver of excitement shook off whatever sleep might have still been clinging to her mind. 
She blinked and he was pouncing on top of her. 
Her back hit the wall but his hand slipped protectively behind her head before it slammed, instead, falling into the cushion of his palm. 
Her breath exhaled from her lips at the force but, before she could catch it, he was attacking her lips with hungry, demanding kisses. His tongue pushed possessively into her mouth at the same time he slid a hand over her breast to fondle her over her dress. 
Taking what was his. 
“‘Can’t stand the sight of you in this dress.”
He moaned into her open mouth. 
“Makes me want to rip it straight off your body.”
He grabbed at her breasts, aggressive and horny, rutting his hips against her. 
“Do you know how hard it was not to fuck you while you slept?”
Her hair was being violently pulled, head crashing against the wall, her mouth falling open into a cry.
“Laying there, all innocent, legs spread open and begging for me to touch them.”
He clawed down her bare legs. Nails dragged against her skin. Feeling like she was getting attacked by a raging bear with the force of power behind each of his movements. 
“Teasing me even in your sleep. A foxy, little minx, aren’t you?”
She shuddered, lowering her voice to a whisper, ready to play along, “I picked this dress just for you. I knew what it would do to you.” 
He grabbed her wrists, slamming them above her head against the wall, and holding them in place. He let out a groan, grinding his stiff cock into her thigh. 
“Daddy knew his babygirl was a little tease.” 
A trickle of wetness soaked into her panties at the use of her favorite pet name for himself. 
What had started out as a joke early in their relationship, quickly became a genuine kink to turn them on. 
With that name on his lips, she could guess what kind of torture was held in store for her. It was going to be a dizzying whirlwind of fast, hard pleasure. 
Peter’s voice lowered to a near growl. 
“Pretty, little thing like you shouldn’t be traipsing around in a dress like that. You don’t know who might snatch you up.”
With both her wrists bound tightly in his one hand, he lifted her off the ground, dragging her up the wall, blatantly showing off his inhuman strength so she knew exactly what he could do to her if he wanted. 
To him, she weighed nothing. This was a man who had stopped moving trucks with his bare hands and thrown cars around like a kid with a ball. 
He let go and she dropped the few inches back to her feet with a surprised yelp. 
“You’re lucky you have me to protect you. Daddy won’t let anything bad happen to his little princess, will he?” 
She was shoved straight back against the wall, getting off on the feeling of being handled so roughly. 
He nipped at her ear lobe, sucking it into mouth the sounds of her tumbling whimpers. 
“Do you like to show off when you wear dresses like this? Do you like having men look at you? Do you like that they imaging fucking you when you walk by?”
“I only want you to fuck me. Only you,” she whined, trying to free her hands from the hold he had on her.
“Of course I’m the only who will ever fuck you, princess.” 
He tugged her hand back down to flash her newly placed wedding ring in front of her face. 
“That right there means that my cock is the only one that will ever split you open again. But that doesn’t mean others can’t look. People have eyes. They can see what I’ve got hanging off my arm.”
He brushed her hair away from her neck so he could lean down to graze his lips along her pulse points, murmuring against her heated skin as he continued to taunt her with his words. 
“How do you expect anyone to keep their thoughts pure when you’re walking around in this?” He pulled at the bottom of her sundress. “You’re putting on a show for them, babygirl.” 
“I didn’t mean to,” she cried. “It's hot out! I wanted to stay cool.”
Strong arms twisted her around so she was facing the wall, cheek shoved against the rough wallpaper. The force knocked the air from her lungs. 
He bent both her arms behind her back and a strong, sticky substance shot out to bind them in place. She knew the feel of those webs well and a smile danced on her lips. 
She loved being bound.
The pressure of being restrained was like a tiny slice of heaven.  
“Daddy doesn’t like it when you show off, princess.”
He flipped up the back of her dress to palm at her rounded cheek, giving it a harsh slap to the sounds of her delicious yelp. 
“Do you look at other men, too, when they’re looking at you? Do you imagine yourself with them?” 
She gasped in horror at the thought, “Of course not! I would never!”
No other man could ever compare to her husband. Not even in the game they were playing. There was always only Peter.  
He hummed like he disapproved of her answer, “Well
just to be certain...I think we need to make sure you can’t let those eyes wander.”
Something smooth slipped over her eyes, leaving her in the darkness, while he tied the blindfold tightly behind her head. 
Leather. 
She smelled leather. 
She couldn’t remember them ever owning a leather blindfold before. It must have been something Peter picked up when they arrived here but she couldn’t recall a time when he left her sight. 
She liked how heavy it felt against her eyelids. There was no way she could peek through this one. 
“There,” he whispered. “Perfect. Blind to my advances. Lost in the dark. Never knowing when or where I will touch.” 
He gripped her hips and spun her back around to face him. 
A wave of dizziness over took her and she swayed on unsteady, bare feet. 
“Careful, babe,” he whispered with a tenderness to his voice, breaking his haughty charade, and reaching out a hand to steady her. “I got you.”
Peter teased a finger under her chin, leaning down, to kiss her again. Soft and gentle, filled with the love and joy only a newly married man on his honeymoon could give. 
A coil of tension spread throughout her stomach as she melted into him. 
Her mouth opened to willingly accept his tongue past her worshiped lips to kiss him with all the passion she could muster with her hands bound behind her. 
Peter’s own hands couldn’t stay still for long before they began to wander. 
He squeezed her breasts through her dress, molding them to his palm, and rutting his hips into her. 
She moaned, long and drawn out, leaning her head back against the wall so he could attach his lips to her neck. He sucked on her pulse points like a vampire draining blood and she wished he had fangs so she could feel the sting of pain as he sank into her flesh. 
And then he was gone. 
She stumbled forward, nearly losing her footing without him to push against. 
Her head whipped around in the dark to try and find him through sound. 
It was useless. 
He was as silent as a spider.
“Look at the sight of you,” he chuckled, his voice dark and deep, dripping with desire. From the sound of his voice, he was across the room near the window. 
“You have no idea what you look like right now, do you? Don’t fret, I’ll describe it for you.
He was moving. Pacing back and forth down the length of the room against the far wall.
“The strap of your dress is halfway down your arm. The nipple of your left tit keeps poking over the fabric, desperate to be sucked upon. Your hair is already a damn mess and I’ve barely touched it. Your mouth keeps parting like it’s just waiting for a cock to fill it up. A horny little thing, aren’t you?” 
“Mmm,” she moaned, only getting more turned by his descriptions. “Peter. Come back. Touch me.”
“That’s not my name, princess,” he shot back.
His voice sounded different now, like he was up on the ceiling. 
“Daddy,” she begged, craning her blind head upwards toward the sound. “Touch me, Daddy.”
He gave a quiet laugh, “Come get me then.”
He was back on the floor. In a different corner by the bed. Jumping around the room. Silent. With only his voice to guide her. 
She took an unsteady step forward, blindfolded with her hands bound behind her. She didn’t know this hotel room very well. He knew that. 
Which was why he kept moving. Teasing her. Making her work for his love. 
She kept inching ahead, little by little. 
“Tick tock, princess. Daddy doesn’t have all day.” 
Behind her. 
She gasped, whirling around, stumbling back the way she came only to find nothing but air. 
With another step, her body bounced against the wall he had pinned her to and she staggered backwards. 
She tried to spin back to the way she started but was getting all turned around. 
He laughed at her pitiful efforts. 
In front of her again.
Near the windows.
Or maybe the beds? 
Was he at the door? 
She was spinning in circles. Getting disoriented. 
This wasn’t a fair game and she was getting frustrated. Her foot stomped angrily against the rug with a grumpy whine to accompany it. 
“Is my poor princess getting dizzy?”
She had half the thought to plop herself onto the floor and stay there until he came to her. 
But she didn’t want to lose the game. 
She was too stubborn to give up. 
“Watch out,” he warned. Still by the window. At least
she thought that was the direction she was facing. “If you move any more, you’ll run straight into the side of a table. Wouldn’t want my baby girl to get hurt.” 
The table. She remembered where that was in the room. 
He was by the windows. He was close. 
Excitement tumbled around in her stomach as she tasted her nearing victory. 
She shuffled to the left, feeling the table at her hip, and kept going towards the last place she heard his voice. 
Blind and bound until she heard his soft breaths directly in front of her, thankful that he hadn’t moved again. 
“Good girl, you made it,” he whispered. A soft kiss was placed on her lips as a prize. “As a special reward, Daddy’s going to take your dress off, okay, baby? He’ll be really gentle even though he wants to rip it to shreds.” 
She felt him snake an arm around her waist to rip through the webs binding her wrists. She immediately went to reach for him but he slapped her hands away. 
“Hands at your side or else I’ll spank you,” he ordered. “I’m taking my time. I’m in Florence. I’m here to admire the art. Don’t rush me.” 
The zipper at her side slowly inched down until it rested at her hip. 
His big, warm hands slipped under her straps, fingers scraping along her shoulder, as he pushed them down her arms. His head fell down to kiss her shoulder, dragging his lips across her heated skin. 
Her breasts held the dress up but the moment he gave a light tug to the bottom, it yielded quickly and pooled around her ankles on the floor. 
His shuddered breath told her that he was enjoying the view. Bare chested, nipples taut, and in nothing but her underwear and blindfold. 
The underwear didn’t last long. 
Peter slid them down straight after the dress until she was completely nude. 
“More beautiful than The Birth of Venus. We should put you in a frame and have tourists come to gaze upon that instead. Maybe I should dangle you from the wall
all tied up with nowhere to go
I’ll start my own museum right here since you love to be such a tease. I’ll put you on display and have everyone see the kind of beauty I married.” 
She was surprised to feel a wave of appreciative tears dampening her lashes. There was genuine love and admiration behind his words. 
Married. They were married. Finally. 
Her husband. 
She loved that she got to call him that now. 
Cool air breezed against her throbbing clitoris, halting the tears, to remind her how horny he had made her before she was chasing him around the room. She was too hot and eager to think about where that breeze was coming from. Drunk on her love for him. She bucked her hips to try and find some kind of friction for her to grind on. 
She squeezed her thighs together, rubbing them back and forth. 
“What’s the matter, baby?” Peter teased. “Need a hand?” 
“Please,” she gasped. 
“Hmm,” he pretended to think about it. 
She wished she could see him. 
She hated that he was so close but she couldn’t see exactly where. 
“I don’t know. With the way you were strutting around in that dress, showing off to the boys, I don’t know if you deserve my touch. Maybe you deserve to be punished instead? What do you think?”
He didn’t wait for any answer. 
Thwip!
Her left wrist was encased in a sticky, impenetrable substance and she jumped in surprise. 
She was yanked forward until she felt the cool breeze against her bare chest. 
The wind was softly blowing. 
She could feel it rustling through her hair and dragging up the goosebumps along her flesh. 
For the first time, she questioned exactly where in the room she was. 
Why did it feel like outside when they were inside?
“Pete?” Her voice wavered. “What are you-”
Her arm was dragged out to her side and lifted high above her head as she gave a yelp of fright. 
“Not my name, princess,” he chastised from up on the ceiling above her. 
Thwip! 
The same treatment was done to her right arm until she was bound, outstretched, and helpless. 
Her fingers wrapped around the thick web, holding onto it for purchase, as her toes just barely scraped along the floor. 
Peter chuckled to himself in amusement at her struggles, the sound coming from the ground behind her.
Always so damn silent. 
“You look like a sexier version of Jesus on the crucifix. I want to drive nails through those dainty little hands of yours and listen as you cry out for mercy.”
If her eyes weren’t confined under heavy leather, she would have rolled them in response to his dirty talk. 
“That sounds very appealing. Thank you,” her voice was dry and full of sarcasm, refusing to take him seriously.
Slap!
Her entire body jerked forward from the force of his blow against her ass. 
Strong. Stinging. 
Done with direct intention to cause pain. 
Punishing her for the sarcasm. 
She shrieked, mostly from the shock than the hurt, but immediately felt a trickle of wetness run down her thigh. 
“Won’t you be a good girl and remind me of my favorite rule?” 
His hand spread out over the stinging, hot skin of her cheek, giving her swift, hard pats to make sure the pain didn’t disappear too quickly as he spoke. 
She shivered under his touch, “Don’t talk back to Daddy. Ever.”
“Good girl,” he cooed. “Next time use that pretty, little brain of yours and think before you speak.”
Her hair was tangled in his large hand as he shook her head back and forth to further his point. 
“Otherwise, I’ll be forced to ball gag you.”
Fingers slipped between her thighs. 
She parted her legs the best she could for him to get better access to her core. 
A squelching of wet, soaked squishing sounds followed as two long fingers sunk inside of her. 
A low, deep moan of approval rumbled out his throat at the sounds. 
“You are absolutely drenched, my little whore. Something tells me you liked the pain. Maybe you were using that brain after all. Did you like it when Daddy spanks his naughty girl?” 
Her tumbling whines followed as nimble, expert fingers stroked at her pussy, drowning out any worded response she might give. 
Coaxing her to life. 
Waking up all her senses. 
She tried her best to hold her legs open for him despite feeling unsteady in her web binds. She wanted him to give her as much pleasure as he could and that meant letting him have easy access. 
“Does my baby like the pain?” He asked again, running the hand not buried inside of her against her still stinging ass cheek. “Come on, I asked you a question, use your words, pretty girl.”
“Mmm, yes, Daddy. I like it. I like it!”
Smack!
She yelped, throwing her head back as waves of arousal washed over her. The pain from the spank mixed with the pleasure of his touch was enough for another gush of fluids to soak into his hand. 
“Look at how hard your nipples have gotten,” he gave a dreamy sigh. “Oh wait, you can’t. My sweet, blind baby. All lost in the dark with nothing to look at.”  
Her breathing was becoming ragged in her ears. Her body swayed against the webs. 
Knowing hands wrapped around her stomach, leaving the warmth of her cunt, much to her displeasure. 
They trailed upwards, through the valley of her breasts, until they gripped around her neck. 
Her mouth opened in a silent gasp. 
“Guess where I went today?” His voice was nothing more than a low, darkening whisper. 
She couldn’t respond. His hand had tightened around her, softly squeezing, using a mere feather touch of his strength but still able to restrict her air flow. 
“While my princess was napping, Daddy slipped out to buy you some presents. Found myself a little sex shop. You would have loved it,” he mused. “They had vending machines full of toys. Picked myself up a few fun gadgets to play with.” 
He released his hand from around her neck, never wanting to hold her there for too long, and admired the way she gasped for breath. 
Fingers tweaked at her nipples. He hadn’t been lying before, they really were rock hard. She could feel how tight they were from his rough menstruations.
She could hear him rummaging around behind her when something cold dragged across her breasts. 
“Deep breath, princess.” 
Following his warning, the cold, grooved metal clamped down over her left nipple. 
She let out a genuine cry, her back arching from the pain. 
It gripped her tighter than his teeth ever had, dragging her nipple out from her body, and squeezing down painfully hard. 
The groves made it feel like little razors digging into her sensitive flesh. 
Peter huffed out a laugh in a sadistic amusement at her reaction, “You know, when the woman running the store saw these come out of the vending machine, she looked over with a nod and said something like ‘molto doloroso’. Now, I don’t speak much Italian but I’m going to assume it translates to ‘Those hurt like a bitch and your pain whore of a wife will love them.’ Am I right?”
She choked out a sob, squirming uncomfortably against the webs, “Ow. It hurts
too much
hate ‘em.”
“Oh, don’t worry, there’s another one right here! It’ll help balance out the pain so both those beautiful tits get a turn.” 
Another agonizing clamp bit down against her other nipple. The sharp, grooved metal felt like it might rip her nipple straight off her breast. 
The nipple clamps they had at home were capped with a smooth rubber. These were bare and ready to grip on to her tender skin with the strength of a fucking bear trap. 
She let out a full scream the moment it bit down, thrashing her body in an attempt to get away from the clamps. Crocodile tears rolled down her cheek from under the blindfold. 
“Shh, shh, shh!” 
A heavy hand cut off her cries by wrapping around her mouth. His breath was against her ear, hushing her, soothing her, running his lips over her forehead with quick kisses.
“Not so loud, baby,” he whispered. “You’ll draw a crowd with those cries.” 
“What?” She gasped through heavy, pained breaths. “Crowds?”
Peter’s hands reached up to slide the blindfold up off her eyes and tossed it onto the floor. 
He took a step to the side, watching her blink in confusion, as her tear blurred sight came back into focus. 
She had forgotten about the breeze. 
He had distracted her. 
Kept her mind occupied so she wouldn’t ask questions. 
She was tied up, stark naked, and splayed out directly in front of the arched floor to ceiling window overlooking the streets of Florence. 
The top half of the glass was pushed open, letting in the cool evening summer breeze, and making sure nothing muffled the sounds of her screams. 
And she had been screaming. 
“Peter!” She cried in horror, paranoid that anyone could look up and see her. They weren’t that high up in the hotel. Any curious person who decided to glance upwards would certainly catch her out in all her glory. 
Wack!
The sound of her sore ass being slapped filled her ears. 
Nothing could hurt more than her breasts at the moment and she welcomed the familiar pain his hands brought. 
She also couldn’t deny that growing, aching pressure happening between her legs. Her masochistic tendencies had yet to fail her. 
“Not my name,” he scolded. 
She whined, bouncing her leg against the floor in protest, and trying to tug at her bindings. 
“Let me down!”
She knew full well that those webs would never give but it didn’t stop her from giving it a shot. 
He leaned against the wall beside the open window, arms crossed, a prideful smirk sitting on his smug face, watching her struggle. 
“I told you I was going to put you on display.”
She never thought he meant it literally. 
Tears burned in her eyes at the wave of shame at being so exposed.
At least the shock helped to dull the pain in her breasts.
She scanned the tight streets below and was thankful to see that no one was stopped and staring. 
Yet. 
Her watchful eyes followed Peter as he pushed off from the wall and moved behind her.
Breath caught in her throat as his fingers found a home back inside of her drenched pussy. 
“Still as wet as ever, I see,” he noted. “You can cry and beg and plead all you want but Daddy knows the truth. He sees behind your tears.” 
Slick fingers circled around her aching clit. 
Toying with it. 
Teasing her. 
“You like being held up on a pedestal.”
A long, skinny middle finger sunk inside of her. 
Her head rolled back. Eyes closed. 
“You like people hearing you cum.”
His thumb on her clit. 
Brushing. Stroking.
Building her pleasure. 
“You like having others watch as your Daddy pleasures his princess.” 
In and out. 
Slowly penetrating her with his finger. 
Tending dutifully to that tiny bundle of nerves.
“You like the pain.”
He flicked at her nipple clamps. 
Sending shots of pain throughout her breasts.
Electrifying her. 
Soothing it over with those wonderful ministrations at her pussy. 
“You love me and you’ll let me do anything I want to your gorgeous body
isn’t that right?”
She whimpered. 
Eyes closed tight. 
Feeling that build of orgasmic pleasure rising. 
“I love you,” she breathed back, tears in her eyes. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”
He practically purred in her ear. 
Or maybe it was a growl. 
Whatever it was, the noise caused her cunt to gush in reply. 
He chucked, “That’s it baby, you’re so close. I can feel you tightening around my fingers. What do you say we give the people a show?”
He was gone. 
Leaving her empty. 
Dripping. 
Pathetically whining and begging for a finish. 
“Don’t worry, princess,” he called from the other end of the room. “Daddy bought some more toys. He’s going to treat his baby tonight.” 
She listened to the zipping of a bag as he rustled through to find what he was looking for. 
Her chest rose and fell in anticipation. Each breath brought back the dulling sting from her nipples. She tried to keep still, terrified more movement would draw attention upwards toward the window. 
She gave a quiet shudder at the thought and tried to imagine what she would look like from down below. 
The image brought a glint of a wicked smile to her lips. 
Something small and chilly brushed against her back door and she yelped in surprise. 
Slap!
“Hold still!” He scolded. 
The sound of a bottle squirting caused her to try to careen her head around to see what he was doing behind her.  
She managed to catch a glimpse of the butt plug he held in his hand. 
It looked a bit bigger than the small one they used at home but had the same metal teardrop shape. A red jewel flattened out the end. 
“Figured this was the next size up from your old friend. You leveled up from girlfriend to wife. Time to level up in other areas, too.”
Lube smeared over her tight hole as the cold, rounded point pushed against it. 
Not even a warm up with his fingers first. 
Peter really was in a dominant, pent up mood.
Her eyes slipped closed and her head fell back against her arched spine. She let out a deep breath, relaxing her body as much as she could, so it could slide in easier. 
“Ah, ow,” she gasped, hissing in pain. “Oh, fuck.”
Slow and steady he sunk it into her. 
He held it there, stopped in place, over the thickest part of the teardrop. Forcing her body to stretch to the foreign object. 
She tried to control her whines from being too loud. Her thighs trembled under her. Her face contorted into pain and her jaw clenched. 
More lube trickled down between her crack to help the little device along as Peter took note of her tensing body. 
“There you go, baby,” he encouraged. “Nice and easy. Breathe through it.”
He teased it through her ass, pushing it in a little ways and pulling it back out, making her continue to take on the thickest part of the plug just to keep up to torture a bit longer. 
“Please, Daddy,” she whimpered. “Just put it in. Please.”
“Aww, does my sweet baby need her ass filled? You’re Daddy’s little fuck toy. Daddy’s going to have any hole he wants. You have no say in where he ends up.” 
He refused to move it past the diameter, holding it steady. 
“Did you happen to catch the color of that tacky, little jewel they stuck on the end?” 
He pulled it back out. 
Teasing just the tip.
Exciting the bundle of sensory nerves around her anus and making her wriggle around. 
“Spider-Man red. Just for you.”
Finally, he eased the entire thing inside of her. 
“Ahhh!” She wailed. “Fuck!”
Filling her up. 
Swallowing the plug. 
Feeling it heavy inside of her. 
“So you’ll always remember who owns this ass.” 
Smack!
His hand came down hard against her bruising cheek. 
Ecstasy coursed through her veins at the sting. 
She was so full. Stretched and heavy. Uncomfortably aroused. 
An arm snaked up her own outstretched one to brush his fingers over her wedding ring, lacing his fingers with hers.
His bare chest pressed against her back, grinding his hips over her ass.  
His face fell against her neck, inhaling her scent, nuzzling his nose against her.
“My beautiful wife,” he breathed. “All tied up. Horny for her husband. Put out on display for all of Florence to see.”
Fingers wrapped around her waist to dip through her pubic hair, finding her heated crevice, needy for his touch. 
Palming. Flicking. Penetrating. 
“Nipples clamped. Ass filled. My name, cursed forever on your lips. All you need now is a cock to fill that empty cunt.” 
He fished it from the confines of his boxers. 
Dragging it along her soaked valley. 
Feeling it pulsate against her waiting lips. 
“No!” She gasped, staring down at the people below. 
She knew once he started to fuck her she couldn’t keep quiet. Her voice would soar out the open window and onto the people below. 
They would look. 
They would see her. 
“What if-” Her breath quickened. “What if someone looks up? They’ll hear me. They’ll look. I know they will.”
She didn’t need to see his face to know Peter had a cheshire cat grin growing. The sound of his voice was enough to hear his rising libido. 
“Then they’ll see a little princess fucking herself on her Daddy’s cock.” 
The bulbous head of his thick rod pressed between her folds. 
Sinking in. 
Stretching her out. 
He hesitated there. Stilling behind her. 
“Go on, baby. Fuck yourself. Let everyone see what a whore you can be.”
She almost didn’t want to move. Didn’t want to give in. She could play games, too. 
Her breath held in her lungs. Closing her eyes. Biting down on her bottom lip. 
Peter waited. 
The crown of his manhood nestled patiently in her pussy, being squeezed by her heated walls, kissed by her slick. 
Letting her throw her silent tantrum. 
She hung there, counting the seconds, fighting the urge to move, trying to breathe through her body’s desires.
Her legs were trembling. Her toes ached from holding her weight. 
It would be so easy to just
ease back
impale herself on his sword
give up. 
She could hear his labored breaths behind her. Smelled his cologne. Felt him twitching inside of her. 
“Close the windows,” she struggled to whimper out through her held breaths. “Let’s go to the bed. Take me there. Fuck me there. I’ll let you do anything you want. Just
not
not in front of the window.”
Peter tutted his tongue, “Since when has Daddy ever let you make the demands, hmm?”
He reached his hands up to her shoulders and gave a gentle push, getting tired of her defiance, “When I tell you to fuck yourself, you fuck yourself. I’m not going to do it for you.” 
Even the smallest of shoves from her shoulders was enough for her tiptoed feet to give out. She stumbled back, feeling his cock sink deeper. 
She let out a strangled cry. 
“No! On the bed. Bring to me to the bed!”
Her eyes were squeezed shut, refusing to see the window in front of them, torn between finding it extremely arousing and positively mortifying. 
“I’m sorry, princess. The bed is for good girls. The bed is for well behaved women who don’t wear little dresses and shake their ass as they walk for all the men to stare at. The bed is for lovers.” His hand gripped around her hair and shoved her face towards the window. “The window is for whores who get off on pain and love the attention their Daddy gives them.”
His voice lowered into a commanding, deep tone, “Open your fucking eyes and look at your audience.”
She blinked through the flow of overly emotional tears clinging to her lashes and forced her eyes open. 
People lined the tight, winding streets, walking lazily to their destination. Not one glanced up at them. Not one seemed to notice her out on display, front and center, above their heads. Peter was protected behind her body. She would be the one they see. 
Framed by the window. 
Art. 
That’s what he called her earlier. 
She was art and Peter, the artist. 
Helpless to whatever ways he wanted to exhibit her 
Little by little she sunk back onto his cock. Taking him into her. Eyes rolling back. Submitting to his demands until he bottomed out.
His chorus of pleased moans let her know he had won. 
She let her body get used to him inside of her. Her pussy knew his cock well by now but she liked to reacquaint them carefully every time they would meet. 
Peter was always a bit of a stretch. 
With the girthier plug shoved in her ass, her arms bound and outstretched, and her nipples screaming in pain, she felt the need to move a little slower with her pussy today. 
Gradual, small movements, easing herself up off his cock and then impaling herself back down. 
Slow and steady. 
She shifted on her toes, rocking her hips back and forth, taking him with longer and longer strides as her shameful whimpers grew into desperate cries. 
“There you go,” he murmured, brushing her hair back off her shoulder to nip at her skin with his teeth. “Ride Daddy’s cock, babygirl. Show everyone how good you can take it.”
Her own slick coated his shaft, making it slip through her without resistance.
He stayed fairly still behind her apart from making sure his hips were pressed forward enough for her to have easy access to his body. 
She was getting into a rhythm. Starting to get lost in the feelings. 
But, the harder she fucked herself, the more her breasts would sway. 
The more they moved, the more pain the clamps created as they bit down like they might cut clean through her flesh. 
It was getting to the point where it might be too much pain for her to enjoy and ruining her momentum on his cock. 
She hissed, biting down on her lip, trying to endure it the best she could manage. 
Peter shifted behind her, bringing his lips to her ear, and whispering for reassurance, “Color?”
She swallowed, trying to decide exactly what she was feeling, “G-green?”
He stilled her by gripping onto her hips, keeping himself buried inside her warmth, but moving his head around in an attempt to better see her face. 
“You sure? You don’t sound sure.”
She nodded, breathing heavily, “Almost yellow. Not quite though. But almost.”
“Which part?” He trailed loving kisses of safety along her neck, wrapping his arms around her waist to hug her sweetly from behind. 
“The clamps.” When she saw his hands immediately move to take them off her, she hurried to add. “Not yet! I
still like them
but soon, okay?”
“Soon,” he agreed, giving her one more adoration infused kiss to her cheek, before slipping back into character. “Daddy never told his little princess to stop, did he?” 
To shove her back into the role, he slapped her ass with three hard, lashing blows of his open palm. 
Each slap caused her breasts to bounce, sending shooting shocks of pure, agonizing pain through her body and a rush of warmth to her cunt. 
Pain and pleasure. Her favorite combination. 
“Looks like the sweet little angel is getting quite the bruise back here. If you keep misbehaving, you won’t be able to sit down for our breakfast tomorrow. Then everyone will know what a bad, little whore you’ve been.”
She whined in response, bucking her hips backwards to find his cock again, needing more pleasure to balance out the scales. 
“Eager little thing, aren’t you?”
He soothed his hands over her shoulders, pushing her down, sinking her onto his length.
“My pain hungry baby.” 
It wasn’t difficult to fall back into her previous rhythm. Her cunt was soaked and starving for its lover to come back home. 
“Fuck yourself on Daddy’s cock. Let those people down there know how much you love me. Be louder, princess. I want them to hear.”
She whimpered out a tiny cry. 
Her motions grew frantic the more he continued to talk dirty in her ear. 
That tiny cry grew into loud, unadulterated, guttural moans. 
The sounds of a whore taking her favorite cock. 
She struggled against the webs binding her. Her shoulders were starting to ache. Her arms were losing feeling. 
Her body was stretched tight. Nipples crying. Ass sore. The weight of the plug was even more noticeable with his cock pushing in and out of her. 
It felt like it was bouncing inside of her each time he pushed under it. 
Her toes hurt from being hung up on such an unsteady height. 
“Peter- Daddy,” she gasped. “Daddy, please
” 
She didn’t know what she was asking for.  
Some kind of relief. 
Something steadier. Something more concrete. 
“Shh, baby, it’s okay, Daddy’s got you.” 
He reached around to her chest with both hands, simultaneously unclamping her nipples from their prison. 
Fire erupted in its place as the blood rushed back. 
A new kind of pain bloomed. 
Searing and hot. 
Her breasts were in flames. 
She cried out. Loud and sharp. 
At the same moment, Peter ripped her down from the webs, still embedded on his cock as he wrapped her up in tight arms and pushed her flat against the window. 
Her hips pressed against the cool glass but her torso nearly bent out the opening. 
Her anguished nipples happily sought out the cool breeze. Soothing over the sting. Settling her inflamed body. Not caring who looked up. 
Peter gripped onto her hips so he could better ram into her. Her job was over. She had done what he wanted. 
Now it was his turn to take over. 
Her body surrendered to him. 
“Ugnnn,” she whined. “Fuck!!” 
Her hands clenched into fists against the glass. Her back arched. 
Eyes wide. 
Taking his thrusts with near drooling moans. 
His rigid shaft drove into her, surging deep up inside, stretching her walls and drawing out the most luscious rumbles of pleasure. 
His balls slapped up against her. The sound echoing around their vaulted ceiling. 
Filling her. Stuffing her full.
Both holes used and defiled. 
She couldn’t stop the noises she was making. Throaty moans, shrieking cries, babbling coos.
He was getting it all out of her.  
Someone was watching. Looking at them. Spying them from down below. 
A young couple.
“Daddy!” She sobbed. “They’re-”
“Shh,” he hushed her. “I know, baby. I see ‘em, too. They like what they see. They’re talkin’ about us. Enjoyin’ it.” 
A broken cry fell from her lips and she stared down through her tears at the couple. 
Her eye sight wasn’t the greatest. She couldn’t make out their faces very clearly but neither of them looked horrified. 
They looked
giggly

The woman was running her hand along her partner's arm. His hand disappeared behind her back and traveled down to her ass. 
Harder and harder Peter slammed. 
She was being ravaged by his strength. Losing the ability to make any noise. 
Nothing but silent, open mouthed gasps and a raining of tears were all that came out. 
“Too-” He grunted, crashing into her again. “Hard?” 
Through a shuddering, gasping breath, she managed to choke out, “Don’t you fucking stop.”
As long as Peter was fucking her like this, he could do it any way he wanted. He could drag her out onto the streets and fuck her at that nosy couples feet if he pleased. 
It was his art show. He held the control. 
He didn’t stop. Didn’t slow. Didn’t pause. 
His finger marks would be bruised into the soft flesh of her hips for the upcoming days with how tightly he gripped them. 
She held eye contact with the watching woman down below. Stared straight at her. Sizing her up, silently challenging her to get as good a fuck from her partner as she was from Peter.
She wanted to make her jealous. Or horny.
Either was fine as long as the woman was thinking of her.  
“Yes, Daddy!” She cried, loud enough for her voice to carry down below. “Feels so good! Making your little girl feel so good!” 
She knew damn well Peter’s face was cast in the shadows behind her. The idea of this couple truely thinking she was being fucked by her own father made her laugh under her breath.
“Somethin’ funny, princess?” His voice was getting strained and she knew that meant he was getting closer to his release.
“Just enjoying my fans,” she gasped back. “They love what you’re doing.”
Her eyes were wild as she breathed in the fresh air. 
She felt free. 
She was married and in love. They were on their honeymoon in Italy. 
She was getting absolutely pounded by her husband in full view of a watching, interested couple.
She should be embarrassed, ashamed. 
But all she felt was bliss. 
That plunging, relentless cock, massaging her channel, thick veins grazing over that tender g-spot whenever she angled her body correctly, the weight of the plug in her ass, her aching nipples

Everything was pushing her straight towards her final hurdle. 
Without much warning, it suddenly became all too much. No build up. 
Just explosions.  
A wave of ferocious, intense pleasure roared over her, sweeping her up, taking her by surprise. 
She came hard and fast. 
Sheiking. Crying out. 
Thrashing against the window, leaning half way out of it, trying to gasp for air. 
Peter grabbed at her hair to yank her back inside like he was terrified of losing her over the edge. 
“Fuck, princess,” he grunted. “Where ya goin’?” 
Her ears defended under the rush of blood swelling to her head but she was certain she was screaming in ecstasy from the way Peter’s hand clamped over her mouth to muffle her sounds. 
She contracted tightly around his cock, squeezing him, using him to further her explosion of pleasure, still feeling the stinging pain of her breasts to only shove her deeper into subspace. 
On and on her orgasm went. Unstoppable. As Peter kept driving into her and furiously rubbing his fingers over her clit. 
He kept her heightened. Overloaded. Knowing that it would destroy her.
She had the brief sensation of feeling him cumming inside of her. Feeling the spurt of warmth. Feeling full. 
But her agonizing long orgasm only served to weaken her rational thinking. She no longer existed. She was no longer on solid ground. 
Floating. Drifting through space. 
Lost amongst the stars. 
Finally, her body gave up. 
Finally, the orgasm came to a simmering hault. 
She was done. 
She hung limply against the window pane. Eyes rolling in her head. Twitching and whimpering. 
Peter scooped her into his protective arms, cradling her against his chest, peering his face to see their onlookers. 
“Shows over!” He called down to them. “Fuck off!”
Without his raging, pent up, sexual energy to seize control of his brain, he no longer liked the idea of anyone getting to view his naked wife besides him. His protective nature spiked to replace his dwindling arousal and he turned his back to the window to shield her with his body. 
He carried her away from their stares back into the safety of privacy where she belonged.  
She made no protests or struggles as their game finished. Her head hung limp against his shoulder. 
“My sweet girl,” he murmured in her ear. She was being placed on their bed. “Daddy’s going to clean you up. Wait here.”
Time wasn’t real. 
She blinked and he reappeared holding a warm, wet cloth to her legs. 
Over her thighs. 
Spreading her open. 
Cupping it against her used and battered sex. 
Gently cleaning away their mess. 
“There,” he whispered. “All better.”
Peter crawled into bed in front of her, wrapping an arm over her waist and kissing at the tip of her nose. 
Gradually, she returned to her body, her mind drifting slowly back into her skull. 
“Mmmm,” she groaned. “Everything hurts. Think you broke me.”
He chuckled to himself, soothing a hand over an abused nipple, “Sweet girl. I’ll try to find you some ice in a minute. But, right now, I’m not leaving your side until you fully wake up. Rest, baby. You’re safe. I’ve got you.” 
When she adjusted herself on the bed, sliding a leg through his, she took note of the fact that the plug was still snuggly lodged inside of her. 
Their night was only just beginning. 
He had left it there on purpose. 
She kind of liked it. 
Maybe she would wear it out to dinner

114 notes · View notes
moonyslove78 · 10 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
So here's Part 2 because I have no fucking self control when it comes to these two and have to talk about everything when it comes to @liz-allyn's writing!
đŸ•·ïžđŸ•žïžPART 2 - SUGAR & VICE VOL. 2
LOVE ON THE BRAIN SPOILERS AHEAD!đŸ•žïžđŸ•·ïž
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Jesus, the way my brain did a complete 360 in this moment! Completely filthy smutty thoughts to utterly emotional and heart wrenching. The "I love you, Forever. Remember? No matter what." Took me out. ❀‍đŸ©č😭
And I'm quite positive Honey was feeling the same way. You could see her quickly trying to put those walls right back up and regain her control on the situation.
But, jokes on us & Honey, she's always in control. Even when she's 'not', she actually is. Because Peter will make sure of it. He may play that tough exterior Mob Boss attitude up but when it comes to her, he admitted it himself. He wants it all.
Btw, this small part had such "Bad Romance" vibes and now I wanna listen to Gaga & dance around my kitchen.
Tumblr media
đŸ« đŸ« đŸ« 
That is all. Thank you for your time. đŸ™ŒđŸœ
Tumblr media
Holy. Shit. Liz!
Where do I even begin to start here? I honestly wish I could even form coherent thoughts at this point. This had to have been one of the most filthy, while simultaneously being one of the most beautifully written smut scenes I've read in so long. (if not, ever)
I just can't with Peter's dirty talk. It makes my toes curl, while also making me want to cry from praise. If that's not Honey's ultimate lover, I really don't know who is! 😭
But also... damn... that was fuckin' hot. đŸ„”đŸ€€
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Just a few of my favorite dirty quotes from the Mob!Daddy himself, Peter Parker, everyone... đŸ‘đŸœđŸ‘đŸœđŸ‘đŸœ
Also, same here, Peter... same here... I, too, lose my fuckin' mind when she calls you that name. Cause then you proceed to refer to yourself as such and fall head deep into the role. đŸ™ŒđŸœđŸ˜źâ€đŸ’š
Tumblr media
đŸ™ŒđŸœđŸ™ŒđŸœđŸ™ŒđŸœ
Yessss... all of it. Give me it alllll!
Or well, give her all of it and I'll just read about it and pretend for that I'm Honey for a few. 👀
Oh and that slightly condescending tone with the "Shit, sweetie..." part... holy hell. 😈
Tumblr media
I am always totally down for some gut rearranging when it comes to Peter & Honey. So like, this thought process of his in this moment was a complete and utter wet dream. đŸ‘đŸœ The way you've written this scene is just perfection and I cannot get enough! Nor can I put into words how much I truly loved this with a passion.
Tumblr media
I'm noticing now how & why I was so enthralled with this scene. His reassurance and love for her shining brightly behind the utter filthy things he's saying and doing to her in the process, as well as her with him is outstanding. And I really cannot wait to see how things progress after this... (đŸ„Č since I already know what's about to happen)
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Like I had mentioned to you previously, this was where I simultaneously wanted to laugh, cry and help Peter beat down her door. But his reaction to such a situation was priceless. The way he very calmly decided that he wouldn't cause any scenes and that he wasn't going to give up in his proceeding to win her back. (Even though we all know he's won her back already... she's now just giving him hell. Which, I too, agree he deserves. 👀😂😭)
I just hope she doesn't go too hard on him. 😂
But also, liike... if it's the cause of chapter's such as this... go hard, Honey!! đŸ‘đŸœđŸ˜‚
Also... I know we all agree...
I fuckin' love Cat so much. I just wanna be her friend so bad.
Tumblr media
And yet another reason I want her to be my friend. đŸ˜‚đŸ‘đŸœ
The "Sure did." had me rolling though. Cause she certainly did "give him hell"... as well as a hell of a good time. 😈
Tumblr media
Okay, so my final thoughts...
I mean, you're fucking incredible Liz. You have literally brought these babies back us and in the best filthy smutty way possible, reunited them.
I cannot wait to see what you have planned for the future and also, take any amount of time you need to do so. Your writing speaks for itself as to the time and dedication you put into it. It's truly breathtaking how you can make a smutty piece be such a well rounded, amazingly written piece of art. And I know so many of us can agree on that.
You have made me and so many other people so happy with the new beginning these two are embarking on. And I am so excited for the ride from here on out. đŸ‘đŸœđŸ™ŒđŸœ
And for the record, I know @blooming-violets will probably agree, it was our pleasure & great honor to be your cheering squad! You both are such amazing, talented writers and just human beings in general and I am so damn lucky to have gotten to call you both my friends. đŸ„șđŸ„°đŸ€—
I love you Liz!! And thank you again for creating this amazing world that we can all escape to! â€ïžđŸ‘đŸœ
Tumblr media
love on the brain: sugar & vice, vol 2 [mob!tasm!peter x fem!OC]
Tumblr media
summary: You didn’t think it was going to be easy, did you? AKA The night Peter and Honey reunited—Four. Months. Later. [mob!peter parker x oc!MJ] 
words: 11.8k (omfg)
NSFW/MINORS DNI - ABANDON ALL CHASTITY, YE WHO ENTER HERE (detailed warnings below)
extended warnings (spoilers): p^rn with plot, detailed smut, really just... filthy and deranged. slightly dubcon parts (although consent is clearly confirmed), no Y/N...ever, arguing, anger, jealousy, physical violence (slapping, scratching, throwing objects), almost hate sex, fem!reader with a vagina and breasts and wears a dress, oral (f! receiving), P in V, rough!dom Peter, sub!reader, possessive!peter, mirrors, titty!worship, shame and slight degradation, use of emojis, f! being restrained, discussion of masturbation, slight breeding kink, non-consensual voyeurism, moderate BDSM kink, “punishment” play (spanking, edging) bratty reader, peter parker being a dunce around women, mob!au, furniture harmed in the making of this
names used: daddy, princess, baby, babygirl
A/N: This is a one-shot standalone story that takes place immediately after the Epilogue of Vol 1. And serves as the official beginning of Vol. 2. If you haven’t read Vol.1, you really should. The main OC is AFAB and goes by the name “Honey.” You’ll need to read Vol. 1 to know why.  I try to be loose with my descriptions for people who prefer a Reader-Insert. But I’m not perfect. In this canon, Honey has a Latina heritage (as do I). Take that as you will. Thanks to @moonyslove78 and @blooming-violets for cheering me on through this very long hiatus. 
This is 18+ AF. And if you think the term ‘AF’ shows how old and out of touch you are, then you’re probably not old enough to read this.
This version of TASM Peter Parker is not canon. The relationships here are not healthy and the characters need therapy. Don’t date a mob boss IRL.
Tumblr media
#1 - Love on the Brain
>>> heya boss. how’s your trip? 😜
Peter arched a brow as he peeked down at the text message.
>>> ⋯ >>> your trip to pound town? 🍆🍑 
He rolled his eyes, swallowing back an irritated snort.
Real mature, Felicia. 
He almost tapped out a haughty reply but stopped. Corners of his mouth turned down, he found himself unable to respond.
“So many choices. I just don’t know what I want.”
An understatement.
The girl of his dreams sat across from him in the quaint East Harlem Cuban restaurant. They were crammed together at a bistro table near the kitchen. The enormous menu took up the entire surface, and she had spent the last 25 minutes reading the items aloud. 
It was nearly 11 p.m., and they had yet to pick an appetizer. 
The woman he’d called ‘his Honey’ sweetly sighed with a shrug. “Now that we’re here, I just can’t make up my mind.” 
Her voice had a singsong tune to it, purposefully careless. Blissfully ignorant of the fact that Peter was starving.
“Maybe I’m just not feeling Cuban food tonight,” she shrugged, nonchalant.
Peter swallowed hard. Tried to rid his expression of any hint of impatience or irritation. 
“Oh,” he remarked delicately, thinking of all the different dinner reservations he’d made for tonight. It didn’t matter what magazine talked it up, didn’t matter how many “tire awards” it had won. 
Honey was unimpressed. 
“M’surprised,” he said, as emotionlessly as possible. “Thought you had your heart set on this place.”
The place was one of those hole-in-the-wall joints that had less than 10 tables, which made takeout the most popular choice. 
On this night however—a Tuesday— the restaurant was nearly empty, except for the overdressed couple and the loathsome kitchen staff, who didn’t expect to be subject to “este cabrón” and his picky girlfriend strolling in 30 minutes before closing. 
While Peter could feel the heat of their ire over the oven, Honey avoided it. She explained to the manager that Peter was “un ricacho que tiene demasiado dinero.” And with that, they were seated.
When Peter approached her earlier that afternoon in the park, he’d expected a much worse welcome. He nearly died of a panic attack when he spotted her on the park bench. It had been four long months since he’d attempted to communicate with her, and he half-expected her to throw her iced coffee in his face. 
Actually, he had no idea what to expect from her. Terrifyingly.
Peter had lamented to Felicia— “There’s no card that says, ‘Sorry, I ghosted you for a few months while attempting to shake the heat off my back.’ Which flowers say, ‘I apologize that the last conversation we had, I called you a whore in front of a room full of cops’?”
The true challenge came when Peter actually looked into her eyes. He didn’t expect that one look would render him useless. 
She was even more beautiful than he remembered. Ethereal. Glowing. The human equivalent of a bouquet of sunflowers, with happy round cheeks and her hair tied back in a ponytail. She was the color of rainbows, and summer, and sunshine. She was the cherries of her red lip stain and the golden rays of her yellow linen sundress.
God, that dress. 
Peter planned for everything—but not that dress. 
His carefully rehearsed speech went out the window when he saw her in that dress: a cotton ruched-waist, tea-length gown in a yellow gingham pattern. It featured a sweetheart neckline that cradled her breasts perfectly between the halter tie-back straps. 
He had no idea where that dress came from, but it was the most perfect piece of fabric ever to grace a woman’s body. He would buy her twelve more of them, no matter the cost. He’d buy every last one.
He’d give her the sun, the ocean, Hawai’i, and all the stars in the sky— if only she’d forgive him. He was ready to throw himself on a bed of hot coals as long as it meant that she would take him back. If she would come back home.
Truthfully, he needed her to come home.
Not to get ahead of himself, he started by taking her to dinner. 
That was Felicia’s advice—women love dinner. solves everything. the fancier, the better, with lots of red meat—u know how they say food is the way to a man’s heart? dinner is the way to the ovaries. works every time.
Actually, Felicia gave Peter lots of advice. For once, he was more than grateful to accept it. 
>>> make her feel like you can’t take your eyes off her. but don’t stare. like a creeper  >>> be a gentleman, but not a pushover. you wanna be the good guy. soft YA novel boyfriend type
Followed quickly by—
>>> but not too soft! don’t be a little bitch. if she plays hard to get, you play offense.  >>> and defense.
Peter had no idea what she was talking about. But he knew when it was wise to trust the advice of more intelligent creatures than men.
Five restaurants later...
“I thought going to dinner was your idea?” Honey asked with pursed lips.
“It was; it was my idea,” he nervously replied. “Six hours ago—it was my idea.”
She narrowed her eyes to slits. “Hmm. Six hours. Long time to wait.” Her eyes fell down to the menu again. Her lack-of-sympathy said everything.
Peter’s pocket buzzed again, and he glanced down at the incoming text message from Felicia.
>>> ...???? 
He rolled his eyes. Tapped out a response.
<<< Not great.
“Am I interrupting something?” Honey asked with a clipped tone.
Peter jumped, pocketing his phone immediately. “No, just... just something... silly,” he muttered. “How ‘bout we get a few plates in, yeah? I’m gonna just order some stuff—”
“Like what?” she questioned skeptically.
“I don’t know,” Peter shrugged, his stomach twisting. “One of everything.”
“That’s wasteful,” Honey said, judgment sharpening her gaze. “Food waste is bad enough as it is in this city.”
“Well, at this point,” he snapped with an exasperated sigh, “I might be able to eat two of everything.” The words floated away from him, and he bit the inside of his cheek, wishing they would come back. Hesitantly, he made eye contact with Honey.
She peered at him disgustedly from over the top of her menu. She scoffed, crossing one leg over the other, and dropped the leather-bound book closed. 
“Don’t let me slow you down,” Honey said icily. “I’m not that hungry anyway.”
Peter’s eyes nearly bulged out of his skull. His pocket buzzed again. 
>>> the fuck? what do you mean?  >>> she was in love with you b4... how hard can it be to take her on a date?  >>> christ. did you fuck this up, parker?
He shoved the phone back in his jacket, nearly punching through the silk fabric. 
“If I’m wasting your time, tell me,” Honey sharply retorted. She crossed her arms even tighter across her chest. He had to force himself to look away from the way it plumped her breasts together. “I’d hate to keep you from something important.”
Felicia was right. He was fucking this up. Before he could open his mouth—
“Excuse me, señorita,” a masculine, smoky voice crooned at them. 
Peter and Honey glanced up to see a chiseled man in his 30s approach the table with a hurricane glass of ice. He was a specimen of Latin American art—a bronzed statue, with carved muscles that bulged out of his floral shirt. Deep brown eyes—no, hazel eyes— fixed on Honey as he reached across the table with rolled-back sleeves. The corded muscles in his arm, toned by long hours of hard labor, flexed gracefully as he gently set a cocktail in front of her. 
A frosted, colorless liquid speckled with crushed mint leaves filled the glass. Honey blinked with delighted surprise.
“Our compliments,” the young, disgustingly attractive waiter explained with a sultry smile and a thick accent. “In case you found yourself thirsty while browsing the menu.” 
A blush colored her skin as she glanced up at their handsome waiter. The sparkle in her smile was as blinding as ever, and she graciously looked back between the glass and the server.  The waiter— no way in hell this fuckin’ guy is a waiter— beamed back at her, enamored. 
“Oh, wow!” she gasped, reaching for the glass with dainty fingers. “Is this a mojito? That’s my favorite! How did you know?”
The waiter graciously chuckled. “Lucky guess. You look like a woman of refined taste.”
Peter felt his blood pressure rising.
Honey didn’t even look at her date, as if he was suddenly invisible. “Thank you,” she grinned, self-satisfied. “I mean, I do know my way around a Bacardi bottle.” The waiter chuckled, maybe too hard, at her silly joke.
“We want you to enjoy your evening with us,” the waiter added politely, sparing Peter a glance but keeping all his attention on Honey. “We are honored to have you as our guest.” 
The waiter spoke gentlemanly as he splayed his long fingers across his chest. “Please, take as much time as you need. No need to feel rushed. It is my pleasure to serve you.” 
Peter could feel a twitch behind his eye. Could have been the fire shooting out of his eyes. Fuck this prick, probably another Broadway reject or somethin’, couldn’t buy himself a decent shirt—His mind churned along with his anger.
Oblivious, Honey beamed up at him with a golden smile. “Thank you so much for saying that,” she replied, endearingly sweet. “You are too kind, um... I’m sorry, what was your name again?” 
“Pedro.”
Honey’s brows shot to her hairline. “Pedro?” she repeated, absolutely delighted. She glanced over at Peter. “Isn’t that something?”
The mob boss’ lip curled mirthlessly. “Oh, it’s somethin,’ alright.” 
Peter continued to burn his stare—fuck his stupid accent— into the side of the aloof waiter’s head. He wondered if Pedro’s handsome, chiseled jawline was sharp enough to cut through a noose.
Buzz..
>>> you’re keepin’ your cool, right?  >>> remember what i said.  >>> anything she wants. no questions asked! >>> don’t get all crazy possessive either
The joyful sound of her laughter ripped his attention away from his phone and back towards his charmed date. 
“Pedro,” she sweetly preened. “Can you give us a recommendation?” She briefly flashed her eyes at Peter before looking back at her new friend. “My date’s clearly distracted. He has no idea what I like.” 
Oh? Peter raised a brow at that. And lost his appetite.
Peter followed Honey down the hallway to his hotel suite while storm clouds swirled in his gut. Lighting crackled with each footfall. Tension clogged the atmosphere, and they shuffled in a silent fog to the door.
Despite Felicia’s advice about controlling his inner beasts, Peter’s hackles were raised, and his stomach growled. Now, he was hungry for more than just food. And simultaneously, he’d never felt so powerless. 
Peter noted how tightly she wrapped her arms around herself. Her face suggested she was deep in thought. He wondered if she was just as tightly wound as he was. Wondered if she could break his heart with just a look.
He was flailing. Pathetic.
Peter’s fist clenched his keycard tight. He had to be careful not to snap the card in half between his fingers. Was it from excitement or terror? Desire or rage? 
He had to focus, to make this work. He had nothing if he didn’t have her. 
Rigidly, Peter pushed the door open and stood to the side of the frame to let her enter. 
She paused briefly, lips tight, as she gazed into the rotunda entryway of the lavish suite. They hadn’t spoken in the car, and he hadn’t had the chance to explain the location. 
Letting out a steady breath, she strode through the threshold and stopped. Her body blocked the doorway. She turned to look up at Peter, defiant eyes flashing.
“This is as far as you go.” 
Peter blinked, looking at her in confusion.
Her tone was curt. Icy. He recognized that sound. It was the tone of voice she used when she wanted to draw blood, and it never failed to inflict pain. Her voice. Her eyes. Even her tongue was razor-sharp.
Peter curled a brow upwards. “Sorry?” 
Honey narrowed her eyes. “Not yet, you’re not.” 
He took a step back, blinking owlishly. 
“What did you think was going to happen tonight, Peter?” The ire of Honey’s question sliced through him. “Did you think you were gonna shave your face, take me to a fancy dinner, and then I’d just... open my legs for you?”
A literal ellipsis formed in his mind. 
Peter swallowed hard. “Uhhh—?”
“‘I’ll wait for forever, Honey,’ she parroted his earlier admission mockingly. “Is that all you have to say to me? You left me! For four months!”
Peter nodded his head, not sure exactly why or when he began. “I know, I know...”
“You know!?”
The walls of etiquette and politeness between them began to crack.
“How many times I gotta tell ya? I was tryin’ to protect ya, Honey—”
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
It stung like a snake bite. Rage filled her eyes, disdain bubbling out of her mouth. She had only just begun. 
“You buy me all this expensive bullshit!” she scolded. “And you dress up in your ridiculous designer suits and parade me to all these fucking pretentious places! Like I’m some kind of accessory! Like you own the whole fucking city and everyone in it!”
He replied with a string of noises. Or, at least, he thought so.
“Big bad mob boss—all that power—and yet, you couldn’t just talk to me? You had me wait around for you like a stray dog! You can just come and go as you please, but you—you expect me to follow you around on a leash?”
“Honey, please. Let me explain—”
“I don’t want to hear it, Peter!” her voice echoed through the rotunda and down the hall of the hotel. “I don’t want to hear a single one of your lame excuses! I don’t want a fancy dinner, or a new Porsche, or a mansion, or whatever else makes your dick hard!”
Peter blinked rapidly, stunned. His body responded as if she had just kicked him in the place she referenced, “Jus’lemme—”
“And I sure as hell don’t want another apology!” she asserted definitively. “I don’t want you anywhere near me!” 
Peter’s jaw hung open, tongue dead in his mouth. The woman who barely stood at his collarbone stared down at him, making him feel inches tall. 
“Now, I’m going to bed. Exactly as I have been for the last four months.” Her voice thundered, “Alone!”
With that, the door slammed in his face, rattling inches from his nose. The echo reverberated through the empty hallway and inside his chest, emphasizing the deep crack that formed.
Peter let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. The shock subsided slowly, and his heart sank. The ache soon sizzled into a burn, boiling his blood. At the same time, the sting of her rejection was raw. Unbearable.
Unbelievable.
Absolutely unacceptable. 
He should break down the fucking door. Throw her over his shoulder and tie her up. Gag her—Anything to get her to listen.
Haplessly, Peter’s eyes fell on his expensive shoes—his Valentinos. Or maybe these were the Tom Ford’s? He had no clue. Just more bullshit.
Fuck—He was going to cry. Maybe he should let himself just do it. Lean into it. Drop to his knees and beg for forgiveness. Shoulders slumped, he squeezed his eyes closed. 
He was a little bitch.
Peter pictured a door closing on a rocket or an airplane. Whatever it was, it was leaving him behind. He was falling back to Earth, having placed too much faith in miracles. This was his punishment for flying that close to the sun—
The door swung open. 
Two hands grabbed Peter’s jacket, pulling him forward off his heels. It was a surprisingly fluid motion; his heartbreak had reduced the mass of his bones to nothing. 
Honey’s nails practically pierced his lapels. She yanked him through the doorway into the suite, slamming the door behind him, and slamming him into the door right after.
Before Peter could open his mouth to speak, she was on him like a viper.
A sharp, biting kiss swallowed him whole, stealing the oxygen from his lungs. The heat was as intense as he had remembered. This time, they didn’t melt into one another. Honey was like a wildfire, her touch scalding him. 
His skin flushed from the sudden unbearable heat. Before he could react, her lithe fingers started tugging the edges of his jacket. Clumsily, she tried pushing it back over his broad shoulders. As soon as he knew of her intent, he eagerly obliged, shrugging the garment off and to the floor. 
Her hands went to his throat, ebony-painted nails leaving trails on his skin. Buttons popped as she yanked on his clothes. Her goal could have been to draw blood with her kiss.
Every time her teeth tore at his lips, he responded with a groan into her mouth.
Clumsy, he fumbled with his fingers—reaching up to grip her by the hair. Finally, he wrenched her head back, detaching her bite from his face.
Immediately, he was met with an open-palmed slap on the cheek.
Sharp gasps cut through them, and they jumped backward a few feet. Tension and shock reverberated in the chasm they created. Like the barometric pressure plunging before a storm, an eerie calm settled over them. 
Honey blinked at him, jaw agape and her palm throbbing. 
Peter glared at her in silence. He looked a mess—hair unkempt, the top buttons of his shirt torn open to reveal jagged crimson scratch marks across his milky skin.
His heartbeat steadily increased as he gently dabbed his fingertips at the ache in his jaw. The exquisite lines of his face were stained pastel pink, flushed by arousal or anger. His eyes were black as night, so it could have been either one.
She looked just as wrecked. Dress askew, her hairstyle half-unraveled. Goosebumps dotted her skin. She looked shocked at the violence she was capable of, surprised and possibly guilty at her own strength. As the seconds passed, the feelings faded.
Peter watched her, pupils dilating, blood pressure rising. The shadow of a smile curved his mouth. His features darkened into something primal. Something familiar.
There’s my girl.
Slowly, he lowered his hand, studying her threatening look until his own expression began to match.
Physically, his senses were haywire. Danger, excitement, and a sick sort of pleasure rattled his bones and labored his breathing. The hairs on his skin stood on end. Alarms blared in his head. The sound of his own blood was almost deafening to him, thumping like a kick drum. 
Peter could hear her heart, too. Fast. Like a rabbit. He was a wolf in pursuit. 
Maybe the pain of her slap triggered him, a preemptive action against further attack.
She got one in, Peter mused mockingly. He knew she was no match. Not as Peter’s night vision sharpened. Not while he could taste the salt from her perspiration on his tongue. Most intoxicating of all, Peter could smell her desire. Like a rose bursting open.
In another blink, they switched positions. Peter snatched her by her shoulders and slammed her back into the wall, pinning her there. She went feral—hissing and raging at her entrapment.
Not a rabbit. A honey badger, then.
“Get off of me!” Honey spat.
“Shut up,” he ordered. Quiet and fierce.
Fingers gripping her forearms tight, he attacked her lips, teeth colliding. The ferocity stunned her. For a moment, it seemed like she finally submitted to him before she wriggled her mouth free.
“Mmffucker—Let me go!”
His body might as well have been a brick wall. His face was stonelike, eyes just as cold. 
“No.” 
Honey’s brow scrunched up like a petulant child throwing a tantrum. “I’ll scream!” she countered.
Peter smirked, the hickory in his eyes igniting. “Baby. You have no idea.”
Peter’s guarantee sent a shiver down Honey’s spine. He saw the gears turning in her mind as she carefully considered pushing him further. 
He hoped she would. 
His fingers tightened around her forearms. He crucified her under his gaze. And yet, despite the danger anyone else would have felt... A glimmer of curiosity flickered in her eyes.
It set his mind reeling. A tiny sign of weakness to temptation made Peter’s stomach trapeze. He zeroed in on it, licking his chops. 
Not to make it easy, Honey brought her knee up, attempting to make contact with his groin. There was nearly a foot of difference between their heights, and she paid it no mind.
Brave girl. 
Peter admired her tenacity. She had balls. Smart, too, he pleasantly recognized. Honey went for the weak spot first. Good call. 
Pointless, though. 
Nothing below Peter’s belt was weak when she was around.
Unfairly, Peter picked up on her attack before her leg was even bent. He snatched her above the knee, lifting her toes off the ground and prying her thighs open. 
He pictured the bruises on her skin that his fingertips would leave behind. Just the thought made him rock hard. 
A year ago, Peter would have been ashamed. He would have shied away from her, for fear of repulsing her, and took out his frustration by himself in the shower. 
Grinding his teeth at those memories, he pressed Honey’s hips into his waist, forcing her legs around him, and—Fuck—her heat.
Peter’s brain nearly short-circuited. She was like a bonfire against his belly. His cock pushed against his trousers, straining for her warmth. He secured her hips to his with a tight grip, which only pissed her off more. She thrashed, enraged. 
She really needed to stop doing that. It only made the burn worse. 
A few months ago, Peter would have been ashamed of the rush he felt from manhandling her. Ashamed of how his cock ached and twitched at her fruitless tantrums.
“Fucking asshole!” Honey sneered.
“Yeah?” he said with a bitter laugh. “You're a spoiled little brat!”
“Fuck you!”
“See what I mean?” Peter scoffed, holding her tighter. He breathed hotly into the shell of her ear. “Not even a ‘please.’” 
His pride was short-lived. Inexplicably, Honey arched her neck and buried her teeth into his shoulder. He roared—“Fuck! What the fuck!!??” —surprised she didn’t bite through the silk of his collared shirt.
Apparently, he wasn’t the only beast in the room.
They tumbled down ungracefully. Peter landed hard on his back, with Honey crashing on top of him. She collapsed on his lungs, knocking the wind from his chest. Sputtering, he reached out to grab her, his fingertips barely missing the hem of her dress. The small woman scrambled to her hands and knees, then to her feet. 
Honey dashed into the suite while Peter’s voice echoed—“Goddamnitareyacrazy!?”—after her. 
Padding on her toes, she ran into a darkened living room with vaulted ceilings that might have been large enough to fit her entire apartment. Outside glass walls, the Midtown skyline surrounded her. The Metlife and Empire State Buildings glittered proudly in a breathtaking view.
The room was situated in the corner of the building. Velvet curtains framed the floor-to-ceiling windows, providing an unobstructed view of the city. The Dark Academia-Meets-Glam aesthetic seating area featured a sleek, modern leather sectional and mod velvet chaise lounge chat set. 
Without time to admire any of it, she scrambled to the first piece of furniture she could reach. She grabbed the first thing her fingers could find—a designer fruit bowl centerpiece made of polished stainless steel and brass pomegranates. 
It was exquisite and expensive. 
Honey spun on her heel and flung the heavy metal at Peter.
He dipped deftly, his spine bowing back, narrowly missing the bowl as it whipped past him. The object barreled through a crystal chandelier, glass shattering like raindrops as they came down.
“Hey—!” he scowled, facing her with an indignant glare.
A moment later, he quickly shielded his face from another flying object: an asymmetrical crystal-and-Riverstone candelabra that crumbled against his forearm. It might as well have been a brick, with ceramic shards tumbling off of his shoulder. 
Peter bristled in aggravation, brushing the pieces off. Now, she was really pissing him off.
He glanced up just in time to see a glass vase containing two dozen roses—meant to be her gift—hurtling towards his head. Reflexively, he snatched it from the air with one hand, water and all. He palmed the crystal vase like catching a baseball. Didn’t spill a drop. 
His quick reflexes stunned the both of them. Peter’s jaw went slack—partially at his ability to save the flowers, but mostly with indignation that Honey had somehow destroyed $1,000 worth of the hotel’s tchotchkes in a few seconds. 
“Enough!” Peter barked, carefully setting the vase down. Ignoring him, the woman darted toward another side table, already reaching for another expensive object to throw at him. 
Suddenly, Honey’s ankle was caught in a sticky grip. Both legs pulled out from beneath her. She flattened immediately with an ooof—her belly dropping to the wool carpet. 
Dazed, she glanced back at her legs with a crease in her brow. With a jolt, she was pulled along by a stringy, spongy substance on her ankle. It felt the way canned compressed air feels when shooting skin at close range. 
Her nails dug into the carpet fibers as she was dragged back. “Agghhh! What the—Getitoff!” 
As soon as the pulling stopped, Honey was on her back again, gazing up at the sharp lines of Peter’s cold gaze. He towered over her, even on his knees, as he mounted her hips. Protesting, she pelted him tirelessly with her fists.
The smell of sweat loomed in the air as he finally restrained her. He caged her in, pinning her wrists to the floor. Nerves buzzing and tempers flaring, she continued to writhe and wrestle with him to no avail. Peter quickly overpowered the more petite woman, fomenting her anger. 
“You’re hurting me!” she sneered breathlessly, teeth gritted. 
Peter was unimpressed. “Liar.”
“M’not lying—!”
He glared back, barely breaking a sweat. “You’re so full of shit—!”
“Fuck you! What do you know—?”
“I know you, Honey!” he charged, silencing her. 
She went still, subdued beneath his dark gaze. Peter loomed over her like a stormcloud. “I know the games you like to play,” he said—both teasing and sinister, toying with his prey. He lowered his lips until they breathed the same air. 
Honey’s focus was split between Peter’s intense stare and glistening, kiss-ravaged mouth. She tried not to notice the sensation of her nipples brushing against the fabric with each labored breath. He could easily reach down and touch her. Tried not to focus on how solid his chest felt against hers, like carved marble. Tried not to focus on the dark chocolate of his eyes melting in the heat of their gaze. 
Just as intensely, Peter watched her watch him—zeroing in on the idle way her tongue darted to wet her lips. The tiny action shot electricity down his spine, straight to his groin. 
Honey felt that, too. A tiny gasp escaped her, her lashes fluttering. The fight suddenly left her arms as she noticed the heavy bulge against her hip. 
He was hot. Not just figuratively. Feverishly hot. He was so hard, too—and just for her. The lewd image of him splitting her open on his cock made her insides clench. 
Peter eyed her dangerously, his voice a dark abyss. “Think you can hide it from me, eh?” The teasing smile on his lips bordered on a snarl. “Gonna sit here an’tell me... that if I were to reach down between your legs right now...” Her heart hammered in her chest, hanging on every word. In her mind, she was begging him to follow through with the threat. “...Those panties won’t be soaked?” 
Honey failed to swallow back a little mewl as he leaned down closer.
“Ya think I can’t feel ya, huh?” he mumbled, lips ghosting the curve of her throat. “Think I can’t smell how wet you are right now?” Another wanton exhale left her belly as she leaned into the heat of his breath on her skin. “Y’know I can already taste you on my tongue, babygirl.”
Honey’s mouth and legs seemed to part further at his vulgar words. She shivered at the sensation of his slick tongue traversing her pulse point.
“You’re... an asshole...” she murmured breathlessly. She sounded half-asleep.
Peter hissed, “And you’re a needy little slut, aren't’cha?” 
The sudden ferocity made her eyes unintentionally roll back. A second later, Peter’s fingers collared her, choking off the small mewl in her throat. He turned her by the chin, wrenching her attention to him. 
“Hey—Eyes on me,” he commanded.
Mesmerized, Honey blinked up at him like a fawn.
“How ‘bout that little stunt you pulled with the waiter?” he prodded. There was an icy edge on the last word. Her throat bobbed while she kept her face neutral. The bright amber of his glare penetrated her. Peter continued accusatorily, “Those flirty little giggles while he gave ya fuck-me eyes? Y’think I didn’t see that?”
Honey sniffed, stiffening her upper lip. This was a power move; she knew better than to back down. “Look who's jealous,” she scoffed. 
With a jolt, she again attempted to wrench her wrists free. He simply held on tighter, closing his talons as she twisted like a snake.
“Jealous?” Peter repeated calmly, narrowing his eyes into slits. “Me? Nah.” His hands suddenly seized her hips as he forcibly jerked her up off the floor. A slew of profanities spilled from her mouth, bucking against him as he carried her.
In a few strides, he was at the edge of a dining table. With little regard for his barbarity, he plopped Honey on the surface, shoving her flat on her back. Peter arched over her as if to dominate her, spine bowing until he filled her periphery with his fierce gaze. 
Honey’s eyes sparkled, cheeks colored from the rush. “Threatened, then!”
Peter’s face softened inexplicably. Blinked at her for a moment, head tilting. Then, he landed an open-palmed smack against her ass. 
It was a surprisingly heavy blow, as close as he’d ever come to intentionally inflicting pain on her. Honey yelped, hissing from the sting on her upper thigh. Right after the strike, Peter’s fingers began kneading her flesh, soothing the welt that was bound to form.
“See, if I were a jealous man,” he noted with an evil sneer, “I woulda gouged his eyes out with a salad fork.” 
Peter swallowed up her gasp with a forceful kiss. A few moments later, he broke away.
“If I felt threatened?” he added breathlessly, “I woulda bent you over the table and fucked you dumb. Let everyone in the Five Boroughs hear you beg for my cock.”
Once the filth rolled off his tongue, Peter went back to using it to lash against hers. Honey was overwhelmed by the soft, wet muscle invading her mouth. Not only that, the violent edge to his words felt like standing in a river and grabbing a livewire. A shiver racked through her body, a current of pent-up anger and desire sending blood rushing to her core.
As if on cue, Peter’s fingertips made contact with the lace fabric between her thighs. She tremored at his touch, heart skipping. He toyed with the soft, stretchy material. Snapped it lazily against her flesh.
His voice was hypnotizing. “I woulda shoved these dirty panties down his throat just to never hear his stupid fuckin’ accent again.”
Honey felt drunk off of the vitriol he poured into her ear. It was violent and possessive... and it shouldn’t have made her so horny, and yet—
Honey trembled with anticipation, panting like a bitch in heat. “I-I... can’t... ugh, fu—” 
The pads of his fingers ran firmly along her seam. She let out an embarrassing whine. Peter's prediction was spot-on. A shameful amount of wetness coated the inside of her thighs. He played with the soaked fabric and smeared her mess across her skin with a smug smirk.  
“Think I don’t know what you like?” he muttered darkly, echoing her earlier jab. 
RIP!
The lace bunched at her waist. Honey’s wet skin felt particularly chilled being exposed to the air. She quivered with anticipation. Her head was spinning, pussy throbbing. She felt worshiped and simultaneously defiled. 
Peter pressed his forehead into hers, skin-to-skin. She stared into the black of his eyes in suspended silence, like the pornographic thoughts in his head were being projected into her mind.
Her own pupils were blown black. “Fuckin’ hate you so much—”
“I don’t care.”
“—re’such an asshole—”
“I don’t care,” he repeated more firmly. Then, “You belong with me.”
“You left me!” she fired back.
The sharpness of her tone sobered him a little. He blinked and sighed. “I couldn’t leave you. I didn’t leave you.”
She attempted to sit up, trying to lift her shoulders unsuccessfully. She writhed with spite, “Fuckin’ selfish prick, I outta cut off—”
“What was my drink order?”
He blurted the last sentence out with a mind-blowing level of calm. At once, their bodies went still. Still pinned to the table with a hummingbird beneath her breast, Honey stared up at him in confusion. 
Her brows pinched together. “Huh—?”
“My drink order,” Peter repeated, his expression void of the aggression he had the previous moment. 
It was like a mask had fallen away, and the man on top of her transformed into a different person. Maliciousness evaporated, replaced by eagerness. Desperation. 
Peter stared at her, intently searching her gaze. “At the shop,” he whispered, eyes soft. “What you used to make for me every time I came t’see you..?” The words fell away as he stared at her expectantly. 
She arched a brow. 
It had been black coffee, bitter and dark. Just like Peter’s entire world. How it had always been. Until—
“You said I should try something new,” he added, with urgency like reminding her of a forgotten dream. “So you made something for me—something... special.”
Peter’s heart swelled through his eyes at the last word. Honey stared up at him, perplexed. He was looking for the answer on the tip of her tongue:
Honey and Lavender. 
Confusion ceded to aggravation. A line formed between Honey’s brows.
“You remember, right?” he asked, hopeful.
She did. He knew she did. He could see it at the corners of her eyes, pooling behind her eyelids. Sobering memories flooded her, cooling the heat between them. A different sort of ache settled in.
Reluctantly, she nodded.
He took a breath, relieved but still anxious. “Say those words,” he said, “if you really want me to stop.”
Her damp lashes fluttered as Honey blinked up at him in surprise. Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, he swallowed dryly. His stomach lurched at the thought of being sent away like this. 
Still, it was a risk he had to take. 
“I can let go, walk away,” he offered tenderly. “Right now. No questions asked.” Each word felt like sticking needles through his tongue. He gave her an out, needing confirmation that her reciprocated lust wasn’t imagined. 
“Say the words,” Peter whispered in lament, “and I’ll leave you alone.”
That word settled like a boulder crushing his chest.
Despite Peter’s heart telling him her rejection would be unbearable, the thought of truly harming her was more so. 
Honey studied him with thoughtful eyes, contemplative and curious. He had won. He subdued her. Restrained her. She remembered when he threw a piano like a toddler throwing a toy truck. 
She could do little to stop him if he wanted to force her. And yet—
There he is. 
This was the man she remembered. The one that was ready to die for her. To die by her hand, if that’s what she wanted. 
“Two words,” Peter sighed, his nose brushing against hers. It was a sweetly affectionate gesture. “Say the words, and this can end right n—”
Honey captured his lips, stealing his breath like it was her only source of oxygen. Static filled Peter’s ears, his body tensing and relaxing simultaneously. He was soaring and plummeting. Rising and falling. 
Her tongue slipped past his lips, dragging along the pad of his mouth. Soon enough, the sweetness melted off in their flames. 
Honey pulled her mouth away, barely able to get out her plea. “Touch me, Peter. Make me feel it.”
And she dove right back in. This time, Peter plunged with her, deep beneath the waves of lust. He sank into her current, dragging her with the tide of desire.
Peter’s hands were frantic travelers. Flitting from her wrists to her shoulders. To gently cup her face. To smooth over the mounds of her breasts. To dig his fingers into the linen fabric of the sweetheart neckline.
“Love this dress,” he idly mumbled between kisses, abusing the neckline. “Mmm—where’d ya say ya got it?”
“Oh
uhm—?”
The question caught her off guard. She blushed, brain foggy with lust. Her instinct was to say something like ‘thank you,’ but her tongue fumbled the words. “Uh... it was, I think, Old Navy—?”
A ripping sound shocked her. She squeaked as a flurry of cotton fibers burst from the top of the dress. 
Peter yanked the linen bodice apart like tissue paper, his tongue chasing away any protest from her lips. Gooseflesh broke out as her skin was exposed to the air. Driven by lust, he shoved the ruined material down to her waist. 
“Fuck, Peter...” she gasped, scandalized.
“Sorry,” he muttered, not sorry.
It was his turn to be greedy. Peter dug his hands beneath the cups of her bra, toying with the peaks of her breasts. 
With a snap, the bra was torn in half. The strength in Peter’s long fingers stunned her. Puzzling her as much as it turned her on.
He laved at her left breast with his tongue, drawing an obscene moan from her. His hand pinched sadistically at her right nipple. The delectable sting traveled from her chest to her cunt. She arched—”ughhh, god”—her spine bowing beautifully.
He held the cleft of her left breast delicately in his hand while lapping at the ridges of her peaked flesh. Warm tongue caressed the tip, drawing shapes and discovering pathways to her pleasure. Every little flick inspired something new. She cooed and twitched beneath him. He was desperate to memorize her taste. 
Languidly, he massaged each of her tits inside his mouth, his cock aching as he imagined licking her pussy with the same fervor. It was almost unbearable. A strangled moan vibrated through his chest at the picture in his mind. 
Her reaction to the sound came out as an agonized mewl. 
Oh.
He needed more of that sound.
Peter felt her push on his shoulders. Trying to wriggle away from his mouth. 
This time, he had no tolerance for misbehavior. He grabbed both wrists and forced them above her head. Honey yanked back, stunned at being glued down to the table surface by his palms. 
The peach of his pouty lips curved upward as his eyes took a turn ravishing her. She was a sight of wicked debauchery. Her hair was a mess, and her nearly-naked body lay across the table like a feast. Her thighs locked around his hips.
He used one hand to rub circles into the delicate skin of her restrained forearms. The other hand mischievously dipped lower and lower, sliding through her wet heat. Calloused, dexterous fingers spread her lips open, playing in her slick and prodding her tight hole. 
Honey was finished. Ruined. Past the point of no return. Unconditionally surrendered. Helpless and eager to subjugate herself to her conqueror. Filthy sounds filled the room, punctuated by weak cries from his new loyal subject.
“So pretty,” he sighed breathlessly as he coated his fingers in her cream. “All this for me, princess?” He cooed at her, edging on cruel.
A broken gasp fell from her lips, her chest pulsing involuntarily. 
“Aww, what’s the matter? Does this little pretty pussy ache, baby?”
A vortex formed deep in her belly, dragging her in. He licked his dry lips, salivating at the image.
“I know it hurts, baby, I know. I know,” he teased. “It’s been hard playin’ all by yourself, huh?” The sunniness of his voice was eclipsed. “All alone. Screamin’ out my name into your pillow. Fingers buried deep in your wet cunt.”
Honey’s eyes snapped open. Before she could respond, the breadth of his middle fingertip penetrated her. She gasped as his finger speared her open. All the while, he wore a devil’s smile.
“Ain’t that right? Only for me.” Entranced, he watched her every twitch and shudder. “This pussy belongs to me, doesn’t it?”
It was a question feigning the need for her confirmation. She couldn't answer. Couldn't breathe. 
No, that can’t be right—had he been watching her masturbate in her apartment? Was he watching her the entire time he was gone? 
The possibility enraged her. Ten orgasms from the King of New York’s Underworld couldn’t even quell that fire.
Peter smiled wickedly, playing with her pussy. Taking his time toying with her flesh. He was a tyrant-king, dominating her pleasure. With a calloused hand, he held onto her cunt like it belonged there.
But she was his wild colt. Difficult to break.
“Oh-n—ohh god,” she gasped. Unbeknownst to him, an evil plot bloomed in her brain. Her lips curled into a smile.
“Fuck—gah—ohhhhh
”
He licked up each broken syllable.
“Yes! Oh, god, yes! Oh—” 
Sweat beaded on her chest, sin oozing through her pores.
“...Pedro.”
Halt.
Brakes squealing. Full stop. Not only in the physical world between them but also in Peter’s living fantasy.
Mischievously, Honey’s grin widened. 
She got him, alright. 
Flawless victory.
Dark eyes flashing, Peter withdrew his fingers from her. “Fuckin’ brat
”
In one fluid motion, Peter flipped her over to her belly, stunning her. He followed with another forceful slap to her ass cheek. This one was more punishing than the last, drawing a puppy-like yelp. His voice was ice. Eyes black. 
Now, she was in trouble.
“Think that’s funny?” he said through gritted teeth.
Peter manipulated her limbs like a rag doll. He maneuvered her forward until her cheekbone pressed against the table. She panicked for a moment at being in such a compromising position. 
The chill of the air across her wet pussy made her shiver. At the same time, she clenched at his roughness.
Peter kneaded her sides, pressing fingerprint bruises on her waist. He yanked her hips towards him until her knees were on the table’s edge. Honey’s face burned, stricken with modesty and flustered by how he hoisted her ass in the air. 
Her hips were propped up like a rack of lamb, and he licked his lips at the sight. It was too vulnerable, being bared to him like this. Obscene, on display, inches from his face. 
For a half second, she considered using the safe words. 
She squirmed uncomfortably while her mess dripped down the inside of her thighs. Peter denied any attempt to escape, eventually gathering her limbs and pulling her hands behind her back. 
Short puffs of breath fogged the glass surface of the table. Her heart pounded beneath her. Honey had only witnessed this side of him a few times—and never directed toward her. 
She was in trouble. But was she in danger?
The buckle of his belt clinked as it came free. Honey quivered at the sound, pussy aching in anticipation.
And if she was in danger, why did that make her wet?
“Pete—” Honey muttered, a scream bubbling at the back of her throat. Leather nipped at her forearms as he used his belt to tie her hands behind her back. 
“Ple-please—“
He fisted her hair, rearing her head back. Her neck arched beautifully, her chin dangling above the table surface.
“Listen to me, princess,” Peter snarled, hot in her ear. Spite peppered his tone. “If you ever call out another man’s name when I’m inside ya again— I’ll make ya wear nothin’ but my cum for the next week.” 
The savage tone contrasted with the glow of his eyes. 
It was always opposites with him.
This was the same man who coddled and worshiped her. The same one who kidnapped her, drugged her, blindfolded her, and gagged her. 
He forced her, a willing participant, into his bed—by asking her permission. 
Peter was more than capable of keeping her chained to his bedpost if he wanted it. 
Or
 if she wanted it.
Peter snickered at her expression. “Ooh, yeah
 Betchu’d like that, huh?” He taunted her like she was broadcasting her dirty thoughts. “Such a needy little slut for me, ain't that right?” 
Honey felt his warmth leave her back, like being plunged into the Hudson in winter. His hands reappeared at the back of her thighs, and her first instinct was to try to close her legs. 
That was a mistake and an impossible endeavor. 
He split her thighs like opening a book. Grinned at the sight as if he stumbled across gold.
“Fuck, babygirl, you’re soaked. Just talkin’ about it and look at the mess you made
”
Embarrassment and want ravaged her. The conflicting experiences had her ovaries twisted into knots. Honey bit her tongue, unsure if she was going to scream or moan. 
Instead, it came out like a pathetic mewl. “Pe-Peter, please—”
Then he open-palm-smacked her cunt, fingers landing directly on her labia. 
The wet sound it made was humiliating, and the sensation triggered all of the reactions above. She squealed at the sting on her folds. This was a delectable torture. For Peter, it was an appetizing sight. 
“Ya like that?” he grinned over the sound of her whimpers. He already knew the answer.
Another slap to her cunt made her whole body shake. 
“Like bein’ my kept girl? Tryin’ so hard to get my attention. Drivin’ me nuts. Well, you got it now, Honey.” 
Slap. 
A third strike had her pussy clenching. Honey had never experienced such an erotic rush before. She shuddered with embarrassment, afraid she’d cum from this—
Slap! Slap! Slap!
Honey gasped for air, a scream breaking through her voice. She was drowning in sick pleasure, tears in her eyes.
The mob boss gripped her thighs again, pulling her knees off the table and lifting up the weight of her lower half. The action was as easy as lifting a sheet of paper. 
God, his strength was impossible. She struggled to comprehend it while picturing herself being broken apart by it. A slew of tiny pleas fell from her lips. She didn’t even know what she was begging for—his mercy or punishment.
“Shh, shh, babygirl,” he purred with a candy voice. Brought his lips to where she was split, equal parts seductive and sinister. “Be still for me. I gotcha.” He wore a Cheshire grin. “Lemme kiss it better.” 
Slowly, he licked a line from her clit to the entrance of her cunt. She shuddered, followed by a lewd wail. She bucked her hips as he let the tip of his tongue toy with her. 
“Mmmf—so fuckin’ sweet,” Peter mumbled between languid strokes around her vaginal gate. His grip was inescapable. “Can’t help myself, s-sooo hungry
”
Honey felt an evil smile against her skin before his mouth went back to work on her. Tiny, stinging nips and kitten licks tormented her flesh. With her hips locked in place, he lashed her clit with his tongue.
Honey squirmed against the leather belt, her nails digging into the grain. She wanted to be bound like this forever. 
Peter had no intention of letting her go any time soon. 
With her thighs spread open, he dragged her toward the edge of her ecstasy. As soon as he felt her body begin to shake, he pulled away. The punishment ended with another smack to her swollen clit.
Honey cried out in frustration at having her release snatched away. 
Oh, yes—He was weak for that sound.
“What’s’a matter, baby?” he smirked with a dark chuckle. This was becoming his favorite pastime. “You mad now that you’re not the only one who can play games?”
“Gahh—Peter
 fuck, plea—don’t tease—!”
Peter’s fingers slipped inside with a squelch, shutting her up. Simultaneously, he lapped at her juices while massaging her walls. Soon, he settled into an unbreakable focus.
Each kiss to her nether lips sizzled with passion. Fueled by devotion usually only reserved for a wedding day. 
“—mmmm, tastes so pretty,” he murmured into her flesh, “my pretty girls...” 
In her dazed state, Honey wondered with a pang of jealousy who the ‘she’ he was referring to was. 
“—sooo sensitive; she likes it when I kiss her like that, yeah?—” He said, in between languid, open-mouth kisses to her slit.
Jesus Fucking Christ, he’s talking about my pussy? In the third person? 
Honey gasped, scandalized at the preposterous thought. It was the most deliciously erotic moment of her life. Enraptured tears budded her eyes, the coil in her belly nearly suffocating her.
“—Fuck, oh god, Peter, don’t stop, don’stop, donstop, donstah—”
Preoccupied with his own intoxicating thoughts, Peter was eager with his tongue and steady with his hands. The room filled with the filthy, wet sounds of his carressing and French kissing of her cunt. He pleasured her with his fingers and mouth, passionately— reverently— as if making love to two different brides. 
Soon, Honey’s pleas were barely more than breathless whining. He smiled like the devil, lips coated with her slick. 
“Patience, Honey,” he admonished, sing-song and patronizing. “If you’re a good girl, maybe I might let you get to taste Her, too.”
Fuck—she was going to come from this. 
The more perverse his words were, the closer she was. So, so close—
Then, another sharp slap. 
Honey wailed, fingers digging into the leather of her restraints. Her whole body protested. The cycle repeated so many times she lost count—until her flesh was puffy from his torture. 
“Please, don’t—please, Peter, don’t tease,” she frantically begged, tears streaming. “No more— Please, I wanna come so bad—” 
He sucked on her clit.  “Yeah?”
“God, yes, please—Nyahhh-need you—Need you... inside—“
Peter hissed behind his teeth, struggling to keep his pace even as his cock jerked at her pleas. He flashed an evil smile. “S’at right?”
“Pl-please, f-feels so good, ple—gah-I need it—!”
He was in no hurry. It was almost greedy, the way he ravaged her. His fingers pressed Merlot bruises into her hips and waist while his mouth left raspberry welts on her thighs. 
Honey cried out around a moan as she felt his fingers deepen. His loving touches to her sensitive spots turned wicked, reminding her this was also a penalty for her bratty transgressions. She wept and squirmed, practically drooling on the table.
He simply grinned.
“—Mmmhm, that’s it—scream for me, princess—”
Honey’s tiny little hip thrusts fit easily in his palm as he groped her. He found it adorable, really.
“Mmm...m’sorr—ow—agh!”
“Sorry’s not gonna cut it,” he panted, eyes blown black. Shadow returned to his voice. “You’re mine now, ya hear?” His eyes traveled to where his fingers were buried to the knuckles. “Gonna fuck you every way I want—”
“Pleasepleasepleaseyes—it’syoursit’syoursallyours—”
His eyes swam over her body, drunk with lust.
All mine. 
The sinfulness of his thoughts tugged his insides into a vortex. This was wrong, he reasoned. Not how he wanted this to go. Poor girl sounded brainless, begging to be fucked.  He wasn’t much better off. This wasn’t how he planned this to go. 
But he was willing to pivot.
Hands shaking, he fumbled with his fly. It wasn’t until his cock bobbed free, glistening with precum, that he felt any sort of relief. Peter grabbed her hips and lifted them off of the table, repositioning her so he was lined up with her slit.
“Fuckin’ need you so much, Honey—” he muttered mindlessly, focused on pushing the swollen, leaking crown of his cock against the silk of her pussy. 
Her hips’ weight rested easily in his hands, and she keened at the sensation of his head pressing against her entrance. 
And god, she'd forgotten he was thick.
Honey tensed up, even as her pussy throbbed with want. It was as if all her muscles were reaching for him, heart included.
It was too much. Mascara trailed faintly down her cheeks. Her heart soared. And ached. She felt spoiled with pleasure, delighting in this penance.
More. She wanted more.
“Fuck—wanted ya so bad,” Peter mumbled, watching his cock slip through her lips. He sounded airy, hypnotized by the view. “Wanted t’crawl through your window like the goddamn—ahh— boogeyman... fuck ya in your own bed. Wanted t’take’ya home with me and keep ya there— Never let you leave.”
Honey swallowed back a sob. Then why did you send me away? 
He paused. 
Uh-oh. Did she say that out lo—?
“Because I’m an idiot,” Peter huffed, his voice fragile. 
He leaned forward and lovingly kissed up her spine, each tender press of his lips an apology. 
“I’m a stupid fuckin’ fool.” The heat of his breath ghosted across her back. “So stupid—Thought I could protect ya if I kept you away. Thought I could somehow live like that—without you.” He shook his head. “Goddamn fool.”
Peter felt the sting of tears flooding his vision. Instinctively, he squeezed his eyes shut to keep them out. “I can’t live without ya,” he nearly whimpered. “There is no life for me if you’re not in it.”
“Peter,” she said, feeling her heart lurch. Her spirit was a ship being tossed in a hurricane. One more wave, and she would break. Honey’s voice trembled, “St-stop t-talking—”
“Not until I’ve said what I shoulda said—!”
“If you don’t shut up and fuck me in the next five seconds—”
Peter cut her off by pulling her up by the shoulders and standing her upright. Honey fought it—because, of course, she did—desperately clutching the steel armor around her heart. 
Overpowering her again, he tugged the naked woman closer until her back lined up to his chest. It was an awkward position with her bound arms crushed behind her against his abs. He towered over her, eyeing her face from the side, seeking her gaze. Hooked a finger beneath her chin, forcing her to look him in the eye. 
Always the fighter, Honey tried to wrench herself from his hold. Peter’s body was like a Greek god’s, with pillar-like arms and marble fingers keeping her from wriggling away. But his soft, soulful eyes are what pinned her in place. 
As soon as she peered into their oaken color, she was trapped again. 
“No,” she sneered, shaking her head. The tears weren’t from pleasure anymore. “Don’t—”
“‘Honey and Lavender,’” he whispered, featherlike. “Those are the words. All you gotta do is say ‘em, and I’ll stop.”
She gritted her teeth, bucking against his sweetness. His arms wrapped around her torso, pulling her in.
“I thought you wanted to fuck me!” she revolted, voice getting weaker by the second. “What the hell do you want from me, Peter?!” 
His features softened. Serenity pressed between his lips. “I want all of you, Honey,” he answered with resolve. “Body and soul. Wanna spend the rest of my life with ya. If you don’t kill me first.” 
He said the ‘if’ part with a teasing lilt in his tone and a half-smile. The same smirk that she loathed—and fell in love with. 
Honey squeezed her eyes shut. Peter’s thumb came up gently, wiping a messy tear from her cheek. That loving and pure act was worse than any torture he could inflict.
Walls tumbling down, her body loosened. She went slack against his arms, instead fighting to keep more tears from flowing.
“I love you,” he whispered, pouring his soul into each word. “Forever. Remember? No matter what.” 
Peter waited for her eyelids to peel back, revealing glossy eyes and a weary expression. They stayed still for eons. Nothing but their breaths and heartbeats between them, eyes locked on each other.
“Even if you’re mad as hell at me,” he added. “Even if you hate me—I want it all.”
Her lower lip wobbled. “And what then, Peter? What now?”
A moment passed. He leaned around her shoulder, bringing her chin close, and answered her with a kiss. Gentle at first, his tongue explored hers as she relaxed against him. She felt her toes leave the ground before she realized what was happening.
Peter broke the kiss. “Now?” he breathed into her hairline. “I’m gonna show you what it means to be mine.”
One of his hands left her torso—borrowed to push the head of his cock into her gate. An overwhelming burn erupted between her legs. She arched her back away from his abs as best she could while being split open.
Honey wailed brokenly, voice shattered, as he bottomed out. Peter’s hand instinctively came up to cover her mouth. She let the scream out into his palm, just as he’d promised.
Peter hissed, letting his head fall back in agonized ecstasy. His eyes drifted shut, feeling both relief and torment buried to the hilt in her warmth. 
He barely ground out, “Shh-shhh, s’alright... that’s it, s-so good, so good for me...”
His Honey was already writhing on his cock, and he hadn’t even begun to move. She was so goddamn tight he wasn’t sure he wanted to move at all.
Still, he couldn’t help indulging himself. Never could, around her.
The arm bracing Honey’s torso snaked back across her body. His hand, burning hotter than a branding iron, stretched out and smoothed over the curvature of her belly. Her pussy clenched tighter as his palm found the trophy he was looking for—an obscene bulge in her lower stomach.
A slow, sinful curve played upon his lips. “Fuck, babygirl. Look at you.” When he uncovered her mouth, her roars had quieted down to a wanton purr. He gently tilted her head downwards so she could witness the depravity herself. “Just look at how you take my dick, Honey.” 
She shuddered at the sight, nodding rapidly, unable to speak. She wondered if this was just more teasing, but she couldn’t think beyond the penetration. 
“God, you look so beautiful like that,” he muttered breathlessly. His amber eyes were fixated on the sinful spectacle beneath her waist, unable to avert his gaze. “So pretty with my cock stuffed up inside your tummy...” 
Peter sounded unhinged, even to himself. His abs twisted into knots. Vile, perverse images eclipsed his sense of decency—her body naked and wrecked, with his seed spilling from her holes. Then, her belly round with his children. Just the thought devolved him like his civilized nature was sucked back into a black hole.
Wordless whimpers poured from her lips as her taut muscles succumbed to his girth. Calloused fingertips reached further down, brushing against the hood of her clit. She jolted in his arms with the slightest touch.
At that moment, Honey’s world disappeared. Nothing existed but the exquisite ache between her legs. 
The conquerer inside him preened. “Is that the spot? Is that where it hurts, baby?” he purred into her ear with a filthy, predatory voice. Her body answered him, rewarding him with a delicious squeeze around his shaft. “That’s it,” Peter groaned, insatiable. “Good girl. So good for me.” 
His praise, even if it was teasing, was too much. Peter’s affirmations, paired with his ministrations, tightened the coil in her stomach. Exhaustion crept up on her body even as the bubble of desire swelled.
Ever so slowly, his hips pitched back and then forward. He bottomed out again at the end of the languid stroke. A shattered mewl burst from her lips, pussy pulsating around his dick.
She was magnificent. 
”Fuck, baby. Feels s-so fuckin’ good—ahh, I missed this tight pussy so much. Wanted to play with her so bad
”
Peter’s hips moved of their own accord. They were a pornographic masterpiece in the decorative mirrors situated around the room. He stole a greedy glance at the couple’s reflection. Smiling wickedly, he turned her head, making her see what he was seeing.
Honey’s stomach fluttered at the sight of her body—glistening and restrained—slotted against him. Her head bobbed as Peter gripped her hips and fucked into her like a sex doll. 
Perverse. Debauched. Divine. It made her lightheaded.
Slowly, he increased the pace of his thrusts, panting into her ear. At some point, she started muttering. Broken and embarrassingly desperate pleas and pet names tumbled unwittingly out of her mouth.
One of them must have caught his attention. But she honestly couldn’t remember what she had said.
“Ugh—I lose my fuckin’ mind when you call me that name,” he growled, throwing his head back. “Ya know that, precious? Such a good girl for me. Good girls get spoiled.” 
Honey’s body thrummed at his baby talk. In all its depravity, she started to suspect what she must have said in all its depravity. Slowly, she was losing the ability to be ashamed.
The slick-coated pad of Peter’s thumb circled her clit, before traveling down further. He curiously prodded where they were joined—“Fuck, look at how good ya open up for me.” — His fingers trailed the outline of her stretched hymen wrapped around his cock.
Honey closed her eyes and turned away, blushing from his praise. Timid about how she relished in the filth. Peter brought his lips to her ear as if there was a secret the two of them shared.
“Don’t worry, baby. I gotcha—Daddy’s gonna make the ache go away.”
The spring snapped. She was nearly knocked over by the wave of pleasure that followed. Her pussy fluttered around his cock with no warning, body trembling and toes curling. Her cream gushed down his shaft. 
He snickered as if he’d won a prize. 
Honey could vaguely recognize her pathetic voice through the bells in her ears. She squealed and cried out over his repetitive, patronizing chants — “Awwgoodgirl, fuckin’ so-so perfect— squeezin’ me so tight” — while he fucked her through her orgasm.
It felt like several moments of pure pink haze, herself a willing victim to his delicious, relentless pull. 
“Shit, sweetie, did you just come all over my cock?” he asked, exasperated.
Embarrassment flooded her despite her persistent mewling. 
“Don’t cry, baby. Don’chu worry,” he murmured affectionately, himself obsessed with the cavern of her divine flesh. “When I said I was gonna make you my toy, I meant it.” She whimpered, nodding her head as it rested back against his shoulder. “M’not finished with you,” he said, dropping an octave. “Not by a long shot.”
Time ceased to have true meaning. Peter rammed into her steadily.
“Please don’stop, please use me, please, wan’more—” She yelped like a puppy.
He smiled against her sweaty skin. “Yeah? Ya like bein’ a good girl? My good girl?”
“I’llbegoodI’llbegoodm’yours—fuck—yoursyoursyours—”
“That’s right, sweetheart,” he groaned, with another curse beneath his breath. Eyes drifted shut. “Good, good girl.”
All he could think of was more. 
More of that sound. More of her juices. More of her staccato breaths as he fucked her tits into a steady bounce on her chest. More of her whining, whimpering like a bitch in heat.
“All mine, all mine
”
Peter needed more of her. He needed to watch her fall apart on his cock again. Honey was so close already; he could feel it. He’d give her another orgasm, one that leaves her in tears. Then another. He was going to fuck her into submission atop the throne he built for her. She was already his queen. 
Then—He’d make her his whore.
Flip her on her back against the table—or couch— countertop—fuck, maybe the bed if he could remember where it was. Whatever he could reach first. 
Then he’d split her open again on his cock. That way, he could see the enraptured awe on her face. The neediness. Big, round, wet eyes pleading for his touch, calling him filthy names, as his cock bulges below her pubic bone. Begging him to rearrange her guts.
It was heavenly to witness. Peter loved watching her come. And he would, over and over. Once he relocated her to his bed—as soon as he remembered where it was— he could tie her to it.
Not that Honey was fighting at the present. There was no fight in her body, except maybe the will to keep conscious. With every strike against her cervix, she spread herself wider for him. 
But Peter knew she would like it. Honey wanted his unforgiving ecstasy. To take out the mounting frustration of the last few months on her wet pussy. 
“M’gonna fuck you so good, babygirl, m’gonna use your body like my fucktoy—make me feel s-sogood, don’worry—“ 
Honey full-body shuddered with a sob, her head thrown back against his shoulder. 
“S’okay, baby, you can scream if y’want, makes it feel better, doesn’t it, huh—”
Cock-drunk, she nodded, her words coming out as puffs of air.
“Don’stop—don’stop—please, fuck— fuckmehardDaddyIneedit—“
Oh. 
More. Of. That.
“M’not lettin’ you get away again
” he muttered, voice emerging from beneath his twitching abdominal muscles. With possessed eyes, he was glued to where they joined. “Never—never gonna let you go again
 All mine now, Honey—you’re all mine
”
Her arms came up to circle the back of his neck as she panted into his throat. “My-my pussy is yours
”
“Everything,” he corrected.
“Everythi—god—I’m yours, Pete—ahh!”
Peter was getting close. No matter. He’d let himself come inside her soon. There was plenty more to follow. 
He barely recognized his own wrecked voice. “’m not leavin,’ baby. I’m not leavin’ ever.”
A gust of wind followed him as the front door to the suite slammed shut. Peter stood alone in the hotel hallway wearing a sheen of sweat... and nothing else. 
He flushed pink, fumbling to cover himself behind his hands. The cool air made the task easier.
Peter sighed. He’d need to talk to maintenance about better insulation up here.
But not right now. Not while Peter Parker stood ass-naked outside of his door, having been kicked out like a cheap fuck. 
Which might have been Honey’s point, he recognized.
The evidence of their past hour together made his skin sticky. She’d tousled his hair and etched into his back with her nails. He felt sore in places he hadn’t felt in years.
Peter also looked thoroughly fucked. A mixture of pain and relief surged through his muscles. His brain was branded with erotic images of her. He wanted them there.
The door opened again, lifting his hopes. He only caught a fleeting glimpse of Honey, wrapped sloppily in a bathrobe. The rest of her didn’t look much better than Peter. She wore a sour yet adorable scowl on her face.
With a huff, Honey hurled a tight wad of fabric at his nuts, unintentionally intentional in her aim. 
Peter oofed, doubling over to catch the ball of his clothes. At the same time, an Italian leather shoe smacked him in the head. Probably his Tom Ford’s. He heard the door slam closed again, rattling against the frame.
Perplexed, Peter gazed at the molding of the door and the gleaming golden script marking the room number. 
He wondered. 
Would she open the door again to throw him the other shoe? 
Or perhaps the slacks that went along with the dress shirt covering his balls?
Unlikely.
He marveled. 
The nerve of this woman. This goddess-barista who served him his soul in a paper cup. Who held the keys to his heart, his home, and presently, his hotel room. Who somehow managed to kick him out of the penthouse suite of his own hotel. 
Within the confines of his ruined dress shirt, Peter felt another buzz. He fumbled with the shirt, reaching the smartphone concealed inside.
>>> have you moved onto the main course? >>> or are you still tossing the salad? >>> pouring ranch on her hidden valley
Felicia. Peter’s eyes nearly rolled out of his head. With a sigh, he tapped out a reply.
<<<  Kitchen’s closed.  <<< Need clothes. And a new room.
He saw the ellipsis bubbling up on his screen. 
<<< Not another word.
As soon as the message was sent, Peter took another glance at his empty surroundings. Haplessly, he looked toward the closed door. A river of memories flooded him. It surged, swelled, and finally, came to a low simmer.
This was never going to be easy. Nothing ever was with her.
Nothing worth waiting for ever is.
“See you at breakfast,” he whispered aloud lips curled into a smile. “Sleep tight.”
Holding her breath and her ear to the door, Honey waited until Peter’s footsteps faded. When she could no longer hear them, she sighed with exasperation, overcome with exhaustion. Eyes falling closed, Honey leaned back against the door, body aching in places she would feel for days.
After taking a moment, she heard a buzzing sound further in the suite. Honey jumped with alarm, then stumbled on Fawn’s feet to reach the source.
Quickly, Honey waddled to the remains of her yellow dress, fishing out the buzzing object: a 10-year-old smartphone with a black glittery hard case. A holographic cat sticker was fixed to the back, shimmering in the dim light. 
Not just any cat.
She unlocked the phone to see the latest message.
>>> how’d it go? u give him hell?
The heaviest exhale left Honey’s chest, shame creeping up her chest. With her thumb, she scrolled up to review the text messages sent to her. The oldest of which dated back almost four months.
Weeks of correspondence and reassurance from Felicia, not to mention very clear instructions about Peter Parker and how to play his game. 
There was the one from last month:
>>> don’t let him think for one second that you’re gonna let him get off easy!
Then one from last week:
>>> make him suffer. make him grovel. make him lay down in a puddle so you can cross
And these:
>>> go to dinner, but don’t eat anything. order wine, the most expensive one, take one sip and refuse the rest. you pick the restaurant. if he picks the restaurant, hate everything about it >>> play hard to get— but don’t be too cold >>> be flirty. but not slutty.  >>> give him bedroom eyes, but don’t let him stare at you too long.
Finally, there was a clear instruction sent earlier today.
>>> under no circumstances >>> no matter what >>> you need to remember this >>> DO NOT FUCK HIM!!1
Honey frowned as she gazed at Felicia’s text message bubble, sent with so much hope and good intention. A notion soundly defeated. A truly hopeless endeavor, if there ever was one.
Biting her lip, Honey tapped out a reply to her confidant:
<<< Sure did.
Tumblr media
Thank you for everything you do. Please keep fanfic healthy and support my writing with a reblog.
145 notes · View notes
r0und3bitch · 2 years ago
Text
HONEY! Baby fucking girl!!!!!!!! Please forgive me for how long it has taken me to get this to you!!!!!!!  PART FUCKING 3!!!!! As sad as I was for the JJ part because I knew it was going to kill Rafe
. It was so fucking perfect!
Mimosas and champagne?! A fucking vibe. I can smell her from here and she’s sexy AF đŸ€€ a hot ass pissed off baddie about to take it out on a subby little boy. I arguably will never forgive you for the feral thoughts you have made run through my head reading your writing. Love you forever 😘
EVERYONE KNOWS SHES TROUBLE! *que T.Swift - Trouble on repeat while reading this*
“You like to be hurt” đŸ«  holy fuck she read him like a book. Man fucking eater!! Her yanking on her hair when she doesn’t get the response she demands from him?  When I say I’m obsessed with her?! It’s not even close to how attracted I am to her. I WANT HER. BADLY. SO BAD.
Shoving him down on his knees? “you gonna to make me cum, baby?” “Better make it good if you want to cum too”
NOT EVEN PROMISING HIM AN ORGASM?! Jesus, she’s just so perfectly cruel. I love her.
HER PARENTS BEING 50 FEET AWAY!!!!
Her eyes opened and she looked down at him - so damn pretty on his knees for her. His face was shiny with her release and it ignited a new fire in her. She pulled him up by his shirt and kissed him. Hard, needy, so turned on they were both struggling to breathe. She tasted herself on his tongue and moaned at the absolutely erotic feeling of it. He was gripping her waist, trying to keep himself together, the whole thing overwhelming his senses.
^^UNHOLYYYYYY. She's just toying with JJ. "So fun to play with"
"Make it hard. I wanna feel you for days." WHAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
This whole thing with JJ write literally might be the hottest thing I've ever read and that's coming from a hardcore Rafe stan as you very well know.
HE DIDNT CUM TILL SHE SAID SO. Okay, wow. just wow babes.
It's so interesting to get her point of view when she walks out because she does feel guilty.
And yet, the overwhelming guilt bubbling inside of her was claiming different. She felt ashamed and she hated herself for it. For letting him get to her like that. Because it had worked. She hadn't thought of him once when she was with JJ. She felt good and had fun. And she was going to be damned if she let this make her feel bad about herself. No way. She was a grown ass woman, with every right to enjoy herself and she wasn't going to let some guy have that kind of power over her.
Her eyes finally met his. Her resolve clear. She was not letting that guilt make itself at home. She was not some little girl, desperate to belong to a guy. Her plan remained the same; having as much fun as she could this summer before going back to her life and being responsible again.
^^ LOVE LOVE THIS! Yes, she feels guilty but she clearly has that battle waging in her head. She has some type of feelings developing but doesn't want someone to have that power or control over her. She's an independent beautiful baddie. We cant blame her! Ugh ❀❀❀
WHEN HE CONFRONTS HER IN THE PARKING LOT!!! BESTIE!!! THE ENDS OF ALL YOUR PARTS ARE LITERALLY JUST FUCKING TO DIE FOR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The give and pull from these two is fucking amazing! I seriously live for it.
OKAY I'm going to sound crazy as FUCK for saying this considering it's called "Wild Summer" and homegirl is having the TIME OF HER LIFE BUT GOD DAMN the two of them together of a LITERAL LOVE STORY!!!! đŸ« 
"Rafe..." His name leaving her lips sounded like a prayer. He wanted to melt into her right there and then. But she was pushing at him, finally gathering some of her strength.
When she looked up at him her eyes were glossy and his heart clenched at the sight. She was hurting too. He could see it clearly then. She felt something too and she could deny it all she wanted but it was written on her face and the way she held back tears. She was stubborn. So damn stubborn. And so, so beautiful
"I missed you." His words were soft, full of longing and something else she wasn't ready to read into. When her eyes met his again they were eerily empty. No longer on the verge of tears. She was closed up tight like a safe and it left him frustrated. Why did she have to make it all so difficult?
"It's been two days." Her voice was cool, steady, not giving anything away. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about you for a second."
^^^^TELLL ME ITS FUCKING NOT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
HOLY SHIT THE WAY RAFE DOES NOT BACK DOWN!!! I AM NOT OKAY!!!!! YES YES YES YES! HOLDS HER UP AGAINST THE CAR. I'M SWEATING!!!!!!!!!!! đŸ„”
"If that's what works, yeah. Fuck me out of your system and you'll be okay." She gave him a fake smile and tried turning around but he pushed her onto the car, trapping her there. "Did it work for you? Hmm?" She gulped at the fire in his eyes and the way he was holding her so tight. "Did he fuck me out of your system?" She was holding back tears now. "Did he? Huh? Are you over me, now?" It hurt so bad to have him so close and so angry at her. So desperate to get her to let her guard down for one second. Just one second.
It was like a spark was set alight with both their hurt and anger and it was spreading through every cell in their bodies. That pull, that stubborn, annoying, magnetic pull, making them shake with need and want. The tension at a breaking point.
^ UGH THIS PART SO BEAUTIFUL ABOUT THE PULL THEY HAVE ON EACH OTHER!
"Yes." Her voice shook. Just a little. But enough for him to pick up on. And then he smirked and she knew she was fucked.
BESTIE I AM CLUTCHING ONTO EVERY WORD AND WHEN HE SMIRKED?!!?!?!!?!? OMG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
"I'm not wearing any." His brain short circuited and he was left gaping at her like an idiot.
GIRLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! MIC FUCKING DROP HOLY SHIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HOW!?!?! WOW!!!!!!!!!!! I am truly stunned. this is fucking amazing. đŸ€ŻđŸ€ŻđŸ€ŻđŸ€ŻđŸ€ŻđŸ€ŻđŸ€ŻđŸ€ŻđŸ€ŻđŸ€ŻđŸ€Ż
I truly don't know how to even process this. I AM BEGGING FOR PART 4!!! I cant fuckign wait to see how these two drive each other more crazy!!!
love this and you so so so so so so much bestie. Wild Summer is perffff in every way â€ïžâ€đŸ”„â€ïžâ€đŸ”„â€ïžâ€đŸ”„
Wild Summer (Part 3)
Tumblr media
Pairings: JJ Maybank x Reader, Rafe Cameron x Reader
Synopsis: Y/N and JJ have fun in the supply room. Rafe figures out what happened between her and the pogue and he's not happy about it.
Warnings: SMUT (18+), sub!JJ, dom!Reader, oral (f + m receiving), rough sex, semi-public sex, pain kink (slight), unprotected sex (y/n is on the pill), angst, jealous!Rafe in the end
Word Count: 5.4k
A/N: Hiii! This part contains JJ smut, followed by jealous Rafe confronting Y/N about his feelings. These crazy kids' journeys are only beginning! As I've said, this series will feature several OBX characters. I hope you enjoy it and do let me know if you like the concept of this series and would like to see more!
My work is my own; it’s not to be copied, transferred or translated (but reblogs are welcome).
Happy reading! đŸ„°
Catch up here: Part 1, Part 2
Wild Summer (Part 3)
"I want you to fuck me so hard I forget my own name. Can you do that?" JJ gulped at her question, the words igniting a fire inside of him.
He could tell she was aching for a distraction over something. He wouldn't judge, he'd done the same thing plenty of times. So he nodded his head and grabbed her face in his hands, crashing his lips against hers.
Their tongues met and he pulled her closer. She tasted of mimosas and smelled like strawberries - it was a delicious combination. Their tongues danced together, battling for domination, neither willing to relent. She bit down on his bottom lip and he groaned. She was wearing him down and he liked it.
"Your wish is my command, princess." He whispered against her lips and she sighed in pleasure as his mouth made it's way down her neck. This was good. This was what she needed.
He left wet, hot kisses over her neck and collar bones, grazing her skin with his teeth, making her tug on his hair in response. She was breathing heavily, her chest moving against his. The thin material of her sundress gave him the opportunity to feel exactly how turned on she was, her nipples hard already. He groaned as he bit down on her shoulder and she gasped at the audacity of his actions. She pulled him off her by his hair, roughly - and he moaned at the feeling. She was so hot when she was pissed off.
He smirked at her and her pupils dilated. He was asking for trouble. Little did he know, she'd deliver more of it than he could imagine. She tugged his hair harder and he groaned, no longer smirking but looking at her in surprise. He was incredibly turned on with her taking control of the situation, his dick straining against his pants painfully.
"You like to be hurt?" She was looking right into his eyes as she posed the question and he gulped at the intensity of it all. He didn't really advertise all his kinks so her reading him like that really shook him. He projected the image of a guy who likes control but nothing got him harder than the idea of being used. Somehow she could see right through him. He wanted her to be rough. Wanted her to fuck him. He needed it so badly he almost begged. But he didn't. He still had his pride after all.
"Are you a subby little boy? Huh?" She was teasing him, both with her words and her movements. She was scratching at the back of his neck and looking at him with dark eyes that made him want to get down on his knees for her.
When he didn't respond she tugged at his hair again, harder, drawing a whimper out of him. "I asked you something." He nodded his head rapidly, too turned on to find his words. "Yes?" "Y-yes." She hummed in response.
She looked him over for a moment, he was panting in anticipation. So hard he wanted to burst. And then she was pushing him down by his head, until his knees hit the floor and he was looking up at her with hungry eyes. "You gonna make me cum, baby?" He nodded, wide eyes, licking his lips in preparation for what's to come.
"Go on then. Better make it good if you wanna cum too." Her words had his eyes rolling back. She was so filthy and it was driving him insane. She widened her legs for him and he didn't need to be told twice, flipping her dress up and diving in head first.
He kissed her thighs and hips until he finally made contact with her panty-clad core. He licked her clit over the cotton fabric and her eyes closed in relief. He was looking up at her, needing to see her reactions, to know just how good he was making her feel. He didn't play around too much, slipping his hands under the band of her underwear and pulling it down her legs quickly. She stepped out of them and he stuffed them into his back pocket, not wanting to waste a second more before tasting her.
He pulled one of her legs over his shoulder and buried his face in her heat, finally giving her the sweet release she'd been craving. He moved expertly on her; licking and sucking on her lips, nudging her clit with his nose, lapping up her excitement eagerly. He was moaning into her pussy as he worked her, and it drove her crazy. The vibrations paired with his ministrations felt so fucking good she wanted to be loud, to reward him. But she couldn't. They were still in his place of work and her family was not 50 feet away, clueless as to what she was getting up to with the bartender. It turned her on so much.
He watched her sigh and pant above him as he ate her expertly, her head falling back against the wall, fingers burying into his hair. His tongue made its way into her heat and she gasped, louder than she intended, causing his cock to twitch. She was biting down on her lip to suppress her moans as he started sucking on her clit right before two fingers made their way deep inside her. And then he was pumping into her, licking and sucking and biting on her clit and she had to clamp her hand over her mouth to keep quiet.
He felt so fucking high on it - seeing the pure pleasure he was bringing her was so hot he could barely stand it. He was louder than her, letting out moans and groans into her pussy as he brought her closer and closer to the edge. He didn't care if someone caught them, didn't care that he'd definitely be fired or even arrested if someone walked in on them. The view of her falling apart for him was all he cared about in that moment.
She started clutching on his fingers and he knew she was close so he picked up speed and force, working her harder, sucking her deeper. And then her nails dug into his scalp and she was shaking and twitching on him. She came so hard that his face was drenched and he wanted to curse at how sexy the whole thing was.
He cleaned her up with his mouth, enjoying the taste for as long as he could while she tried catching her breath, legs feeling like jelly after her climax.
Her eyes opened and she looked down at him - so damn pretty on his knees for her. His face was shiny with her release and it ignited a new fire in her. She pulled him up by his shirt and kissed him. Hard, needy, so turned on they were both struggling to breathe. She tasted herself on his tongue and moaned at the absolutely erotic feeling of it. He was gripping her waist, trying to keep himself together, the whole thing overwhelming his senses.
Her hand cupped him over his pants and he moaned into her mouth. He was so hard it was painful and she decided enough was enough. She made quick work of undoing his pants, pushing them down his thighs and massaging him over his boxers. He was letting out delicious whimpers and moans at her actions and they were making her feel high.
She pulled his underwear down, finally releasing his cock and he wanted to sigh in relief. She looked him over, all panting and flushed and hard for her - so red, tip wet with precum - and she groaned at the sight.
She pulled him back by his hair and kissed his neck as she started pumping him. He was putty in her hands and she was on an adrenaline high. It was so hot, the way he relinquished control to her. So hot she couldn't wait any longer. She rubbed his tip and he whined, causing a smirk to make its way onto her face. So fun to play with. She wanted to drag it out longer but they were on a clock after all, and she really wanted to feel him.
"You're gonna fuck me now. Yes?" He was moaning and nodding, so lost in lust it was hard to find his breath. "Yes?" She repeated and he struggled to find his words. "Ye-yes. Yes." His voice was trembling and it was the sexiest thing.
She wrapped her leg around him, pulling him closer, their cores touching. He was a mess, she was driving him absolutely insane and he didn't mind it one bit.
"Make it hard. I wanna feel you for days." His eyes rolled to the back of his head at her filthy orders. He groaned and nodded, kissing her lips in hopes she won't force him to speak again cause he didn't think he could.
He picked her up, legs wrapped around him, cock pressing into her soaked heat. She leaned half back against the wall and her fingers found their way into his hair again. She loved tugging on it, it was so fun, with his reactions always being so immediate.
He positioned himself at her entrance but before he could push in she pulled his hair to make him look at her. "You don't cum until I say so. Got it?" Fuck, he wanted to cry at how hot that was and how hard it was making him. He didn't think he'd ever been harder in his life.
"Yeah." He mumbled before he pushed inside her. And then they were both letting out desperate pants and low moans, trying so hard to stay quiet but so high on the feeling their self control was slipping.
He was following her orders - fucking her hard and deep, swallowing her moans, squeezing her ass and trying not to pass out from her rough tugs on his hair and the way she clenched around him. It was hot and sloppy and rough and needy and it felt so fucking good. So good that they were both approaching their highs a lot quicker than they expected.
The items on the shelves shook with how hard he was fucking her against the wall. Her nails were digging into his neck and shoulders, drawing groans from deep inside of him. If anyone passed the door they definitely would have known exactly what was going on inside. But they didn't give a shit. It felt too damn good that the risk was worth it.
She started clenching harder, getting closer to the peak and he slipped one hand between them to roughly rub at her clit. That was all it took for her to fall off the edge as she bit down on his shoulder to muffle her screams, her climax rushing through her. It was so intense her eyes rolled back and she was definitely drawing blood with how hard her nails were pressing into his back.
He fucked her through her orgasm, twitching inside her from the intensity of her grip on his cock. He was so pussy drunk he could hardly handle it - so fucking close and he was trying so hard to stay in control, to wait for her say so.
As soon she came down from her high she was pushing him off of her. He was confused at how quickly she jumped down from him, leaving him hard and cold. It didn't take long for him to realize what she was doing as her knees hit the ground and her lips wrapped around his cock. The sight alone had him moaning. Her movements on him having him on the edge in no time.
She was sucking on him so good, tasting her own juices on his dick and moaning around him. He was whimpering with pleasure. She reached down and rubbed his balls and he was right there but she realized he was still holding back. And then she figured out why.
She pulled back, catching her breath. "Cum for me." And as soon as her lips wrapped back around him he did. He came inside her mouth, grunts leaving him as his climax took over and his knees buckled.
He came so hard he felt like he was floating. Her mouth moving on him, working him through his orgasm. It was absolute euphoria. She sucked on him hard, drawing out every last drop until she was sure he was finished. She pulled off of him, opening her mouth to show him his cum swirling in it. He whimpered at the sight - so pornographic he couldn't believe it was happening. And then she swallowed and licked her lips, making sure to get every drop. She licked him clean as his hands against the wall held him upright so he wouldn't fall.
She got up and kissed him, making him taste himself on her tongue and he moaned into her mouth. He swore her middle name must have been Trouble because she was crazy and he loved it.
She pulled away smiling at him, brushing back the hair that fell onto his forehead as they caught their breaths. She was so beautiful he could hardly believe she was real. He found himself smiling too, post orgasm high making them both giddy. She kissed him again, a sweet kiss that almost had him questioning if what just happened was real or if he'd imagined it. But the taste of him on her mouth was more than enough to convince him it was. He moaned into the kiss and she pulled back grinning.
She put her dress back in place and tried to fix her hair with her hands. He was still trying to steady his breathing, just looking at her in awe. She saw him and smirked. That damned smirk that started it all. Trouble.
"You should probably get dressed." She nodded her head down and he realized he was still standing there with his pants down and cock out. He blushed and she laughed reaching down to help him put his underwear back on.
"You're cute when you blush, you know?" She helped him buckle himself back up, his fingers still shaky. His cheeks were bright red now and it was endearing. A simple compliment made him react like that after everything they had just done. Fucking adorable.
She fixed his shirt for him and stood back looking him over, just to make sure he looked presentable enough to go back out into the world. His bow tie was crooked so she reached up to fix it. His eyes were focused on her, too in trance to do anything else but look. Look at this stunning woman in front of him. This filthy, troublesome, beautiful woman.
Her eyes snapped up to see him staring and she cocked a brow. "You're so pretty." She chuckled at his words and kissed his cheek, making him blush all over again. "So are you." She grinned and stepped back, turning round to unlock the door.
His mind finally caught up to him before she managed to turn the handle and he grasped her by the arm, gently. She turned around in question and he pulled her panties from his back pocket handing them to her. She smirked and shook her head leaving him confused.
"Keep 'em. You can give them back to me next time." And with that she opened the door and left him standing there, clutching her underwear, in pure shock over what just happened. Someone passed by the door and he quickly snapped out of it, tucking her panties back into his pocket and fighting off another boner that was quickly starting to form. Trouble.
She passed a mirror on her way back and took a second to fix her appearance. Her cheeks held a healthy flush and she was glowing with that post sex glow. She was sated and feeling happy. But that all came crashing down as soon as she stepped back into the dining hall and reality came flooding back.
Quickly making her way back to her seat, she tried hard not to meet his eye. She could feel his gaze burning into her and she knew - he knew what she'd been up to. And for some reason she felt shitty. She knew she didn't owe him anything. They'd had a one night stand, had no right to each other. She knew she hadn't done anything wrong. She had every right to sleep with whomever and do whatever she wanted.
And yet, the overwhelming guilt bubbling inside of her was claiming different. She felt ashamed and she hated herself for it. For letting him get to her like that. Because it had worked. She hadn't thought of him once when she was with JJ. She felt good and had fun. And she was going to be damned if she let this make her feel bad about herself. No way. She was a grown ass woman, with every right to enjoy herself and she wasn't going to let some guy have that kind of power over her.
Her eyes finally met his. Her resolve clear. She was not letting that guilt make itself at home. She was not some little girl, desperate to belong to a guy. Her plan remained the same; having as much fun as she could this summer before going back to her life and being responsible again.
Rafe could see it in her eyes - she didn't feel bad about it. It seemed for a while like she had, like she was struggling with something in her head. But it seemed she decided not to be bothered about hurting him or making him jealous. And that should have told him that she really didn't care, that she didn't feel the same things he did, that she was done with him. But all it did was make his resolve stronger. He wouldn't accept that, not just like that, not without speaking his piece. Not without showing her just how much he wanted her. Not without trying for her. For them.
He didn't care if she fucked every pogue on the island. He still wanted her. More than he wanted anything in his life. And as much as it hurt, he knew she wasn't in the wrong. He had no right to her, no monopoly. But he wasn't giving up without a fight. He would show her exactly why he was the only one she needed.
Whatever was going on at the table with his friends, Rafe didn't care. Whatever was going on at the table with her family, she didn't care. They were staring at each other, unwilling to relent. As if whoever blinked first admitted defeat. It was perhaps childish and ridiculous but there they were. And the more their eyes stayed on each other's, the more they were both feeling deep inside. The tension, the chemistry, that magnetic pull was still there, as strong as ever. Like it was oxygen in their lungs or iron in their blood. It was undeniable, powerful and real.
Eventually they did break contact, neither knew who it was that blinked first but they were pulled back into conversations at their respective tables, their companions none the wiser of the storms brewing inside of them. And as time passed, they felt the other's eyes on their bodies but they didn't meet again. Not until her family was ready to leave and panic stirred within him. He needed to talk to her. He couldn't just let her leave again without saying anything.
She gave him an intense and calculating look before she spun on her heels and followed her parents out of the club. He jumped up from his seat, leaving Topper and Kelce confused as he made to follow her without a word of explanation. All he could think about was catching up to her. Nothing else mattered.
He hurried out the door of the Island Club and laid eyes on her just as she was unlocking her car. Her parents were still chatting with their associates at a separate vehicle and he took the chance to corner her. He couldn't wait until the next time they accidentally ran into each other. He needed to talk to her now.
He crossed the parking lot in quick strides, reaching her just as she was opening her door. He pushed it closed and she jumped, startled. It took half a second for the scowl to reach her face and he was cursing under his breath. Why did she have to look so god damn adorable while she was mad. While he was mad at her. Fuck!
She stood her ground giving him a look that said - better speak now before I slam this door in your face. She cocked a brow at his dumbstruck expression and silence, rolling her eyes and grabbing the handle again. He grasped her shoulders and turned her around, crowding her against the car with his hands on either side of her.
The breeze blew through her hair and that sweet smell of strawberries and cream invaded his senses making him close his eyes. That damn scent. The same one that had all but disappeared from his pillow from the time they showered together and his hair smelled like hers. He had been breathing it in for two whole days trying to envision her by his side, to pretend she was there. And even though she wasn't, the scent lingered. It drove him insane.
He took a deep breath, forcing his eyes open. She was looking at him with a mix of confusion and excitement running through her veins. He was so close, his warmth enveloping her just like it had that night at the beach. She wanted to melt into a puddle at his feet. Dangerous.
This was exactly why she needed to stay away from him. When he was close she couldn't think straight, she wanted to fall into him and never let go. Which is why him being so persistent was starting to piss her off. She was holding onto her sanity by a thin fucking thread and the more he chased her the closer she was to falling off the edge and crashing into a bottomless pit of feelings, hurt and heartbreak.
She made to push him away, get him out of her personal space, to breathe air that wasn't so infused with him - but he caught her hands against his chest and she didn't have the strength to do it anymore. She wanted to cry. Why couldn't he leave her be? Why couldn't he just move on and let her live in peace? Let her forget and move on from this? It was impossible.
His eyes were desperately searching hers, taking in every freckle on her face. Feeling the warmth of her wrists in his hands, like fire on his skin. He wanted to kiss her so badly his entire body was aching for it. Wanted to drop to his knees and beg her to give him a chance. To cry and hug her and never let go. It was impossible.
"Rafe..." His name leaving her lips sounded like a prayer. He wanted to melt into her right there and then. But she was pushing at him, finally gathering some of her strength.
She managed to push him a foot away and took a breath in hopes she'd feel stronger. But his essence still remained in the air around her, as if mocking her for thinking it would be so easy breaking from his spell. She almost cried - feeling weak and pathetic - like she needed him to hold her and she hated that. Hated feeling like that. So vulnerable, so small.
When she looked up at him her eyes were glossy and his heart clenched at the sight. She was hurting too. He could see it clearly then. She felt something too and she could deny it all she wanted but it was written on her face and the way she held back tears. She was stubborn. So damn stubborn. And so, so beautiful.
He cupped her cheek with one hand and she had to refrain from leaning into his touch. Instead she pulled back and crossed her arms over her chest in hopes of creating a boundary between them. Any kind of safety net between him and her aching heart.
He let his arms fall back at his sides and clenched his fists to keep from touching her. They stood there for what could have been a moment or a century, they couldn't say. Her parents had left without sparing them a second glance and she wasn't surprised but a sliver of anger coursed through her. Now she was alone with him. All alone in this big parking lot with no one to save her from herself. Dangerous.
"I missed you." His words were soft, full of longing and something else she wasn't ready to read into. When her eyes met his again they were eerily empty. No longer on the verge of tears. She was closed up tight like a safe and it left him frustrated. Why did she have to make it all so difficult?
"It's been two days." Her voice was cool, steady, not giving anything away. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about you for a second." He was putting it out there. It shook her how open and vulnerable he was being, she wasn't used to it. It didn't seem like he was either, given how awkward he looked. But he wasn't holding back. He was being honest. It terrified her because she could feel herself melting and her walls were make believe as it was, she didn't know how much of it she could take.
"It'll pass." There it was. The cut. The only way she knew how to push him away was to make it hurt. And she hated herself for it. Hated the look on his face when she said it. Hated the way he swallowed his pain down. Hated how small he looked while towering over her. Hated it all.
But he wasn't giving up yet. "I don't think so." He closed the gap between them, not quite touching but right there, a breath away. She could feel it. Feel him slipping past her defenses, the facade, making his way inside like a vice taking over her system. It was scary how easily she could feel him inside her chest and heart and she wanted to kiss him. So badly. But it was her head that was desperately trying to grasp the threads that the universe seemed to want to manipulate in his favor - trying to change course, to protect her.
"Give it a few more days." He took a deep breath at that, trying to keep his temper in check. Her feigned indifference was so blatantly obvious and it was making him angry. He was trying so hard. Opening up to her the way he never had with anyone before. So desperately trying to get her to admit she felt something for him too. Just to give him that little bit of hope that he wasn't alone in it. Some fucking silver lining to hold onto.
"You think if I go fuck someone else right now I'll feel better?" She looked like he slapped her. "Do you? Feel better?" She had to swallow down the sting that came with her thinking of him actually moving on with someone else. Took everything in her to convince herself that that was exactly what he should do. He needed to move on and give her a chance to put herself back together. To breathe. To let him go.
"If that's what works, yeah. Fuck me out of your system and you'll be okay." She gave him a fake smile and tried turning around but he pushed her onto the car, trapping her there. "Did it work for you? Hmm?" She gulped at the fire in his eyes and the way he was holding her so tight. "Did he fuck me out of your system?" She was holding back tears now. "Did he? Huh? Are you over me, now?" It hurt so bad to have him so close and so angry at her. So desperate to get her to let her guard down for one second. Just one second.
The way his eyes bore into hers, the way his body was pinning her against the car door, the way his hands were holding her as if she'd disappear if he let go, drove her mad. She could feel every muscle of his straining against her, every ridge of his hard body wired tight from frustration. Frustration at her; how stubborn she was, that pogue touching her, how fucking pretty she was, how good she smelled and how badly he wanted to remind her just how good it was when they were together.
It was like a spark was set alight with both their hurt and anger and it was spreading through every cell in their bodies. That pull, that stubborn, annoying, magnetic pull, making them shake with need and want. The tension at a breaking point. They were both wound up and breathing heavily. Him trying to stop himself from taking her right there. Her trying to stop herself from letting him.
She took a deep breath and shoved him off of her roughly. "Yes." Lie. Big fucking lie. "I am." He could see it. She was lying through her teeth.
"Yeah?" He got in her face again. "You sure about that, angel?" The pet name had her holding back a whimper, his energy so possessive and dangerous and hot. So hot. She wanted to curse her body for betraying her desire. Curse him for being so persistent in reading her like an open book.
"Yes." Her voice shook. Just a little. But enough for him to pick up on. And then he smirked and she knew she was fucked. That damned smirk made the tingles in her heat turn into a burning fire. She was so close to giving in and he knew it. He had her right where he wanted her.
"Yeah? So if I check right now your panties won't be soaked for me? Huh?" His filthy words nearly had her eyes rolling back. She needed to get control of the situation and she needed to do it now.
"No. They won't." The conviction in her voice took him by surprise. He could tell she was just as turned on as he was. So why did she sound so sure of herself?
She used his confusion to her advantage and pushed him off of her again. He didn't protest. Did she mean it? Was he wrong? Was it all in his head? And then her words nearly knocked him on his ass in shock.
"I'm not wearing any." His brain short circuited and he was left gaping at her like an idiot. She took advantage of it and quickly made her way inside her car, closing the door. By the time his brain rebooted she was turning the key in the ignition.
He wanted to stop her, to rip that door open and take her. Bend her over and bury himself inside her until she screamed for him and everyone, including Maybank, knew who she belonged to.
But she was backing up before he could and he was left standing there in the dust, panting, with a hard cock, wanting to scream with anger and arousal.
She knew exactly what she was doing, telling him that. She knew what his reaction would be. Knew it would drive him insane. But she also gave him the confirmation he had so desperately been searching for. She was just as into him as he was her. She was turned on, wet for him. She wanted to throw him off with her smart comment but she gave him exactly what he needed - hope. His resolve was stronger than ever. He was going to make her his. He would fight tooth and nail for her. Put his blood and sweat and tears into making them happen. Because she did feel it. He wasn't alone.
He grinned thinking that if that was how she wanted to play it, he would give as good as he got. He would drive her crazy until she finally accepted her feelings. He wasn't going anywhere. He was hers and she was his. He would make her see it soon enough.
Taglist: if anyone wants to be tagged in future work let me know; @r0und3bitch , @lurkymurker , @tianotfound , @wannabestarkeysgirl , @wishing-i-was-rafes-princess
496 notes · View notes