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taegimood · 11 months ago

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later than promised but i’ve returned for that last big dick soobin thought…

firstly: (this is ALL based on opinions because every pussy is different and everyone has different preferences/tolerances) so in a lot of fics it’s a common thing to talk abt their tip repeatedly hitting your cervix and usually it’s in the context of rougher sex but in reality, for most women/afab people, i’ve found it’s more common than not for that to actually hurt really bad when it’s rough or just too deep. some really love it and some really hate it, but either way the common denominator that i’ve heard most of us agree on is that if it’s with a gentle touch, tapping it or rubbing against it, then it feels heavenly and often brings a better/stronger orgasm..

SO ANYWAY WITH SOOBIN,,,,, i stand by the hc that he has one of the biggest dicks in the industry 😐☝🏼 he’s certainly the biggest you’ve ever had — i can imagine how worried he’d be about hurting you, and since the cervix changes positions depending on your monthly cycle, i think when you and soobin first start having sex there’s probably some trial and error.. what he did a couple of weeks ago didn’t hurt but suddenly he’s doing the same thing and you’re gasping out in pain, because your cervix is in a different position than before and his tip hit it too hard. he feels so guilty and needs a lot of convincing from you to keep trying because he never wants to see you in pain because of him again :(( but eventually, you guys discover by accident the thing that has your head reeling, and this time in a good way..

you were just cuddling at first, which then turned into kisses along your neck and heavy petting until you got to the position that you’re in now: soobin half hovering over you and two fingers deep in your pussy, sliding them in and out of you languidly with his lips pressed to yours and your tongues tangling lazily together. you moan softly into his mouth, spurring him on even further, stroking you deeper while his pace remains leisurely, making you shiver as you feel every ridge of his slender fingers. with a curve of his wrist he’s changing angles, pumping them even deeper until his fingers are in all the way up to his knuckles —

he quickly halts and pulls his lips away from yours as you gasp loudly, his eyes wide and worried as they rapidly travel across your expression with furrowed brows and a flurry of “are you okay?” and “did i hurt you again?” (☹️). but you’re shaking your head quickly, gripping his wrist to stop him as he goes to pull out — you’re out of breath from the sensation as you plead, “n-no, don’t stop.. felt.. felt so good. need it again, please, keep going, soob..”

his long fingers had gently nudged against your cervix from the deeper angle, and the orgasm that followed as he began repeating his actions was practically pornographic, and shocking to you both. so, with the realization that it actually did feel good when he touched you that deep, just at a gentler pace, you felt an all new vigor for taking his cock.

even after the orgasm he gave you, he’s unsure at first — “isn’t avoiding that part of you the whole point to begin with?” — but you insist that it’ll be okay, to just try, practically pleading as your eyes shamelessly zone in on his hard, leaking cock that he’s hesitantly pumping in his hand.

when i tell you that this would become like an all new kind of foreplay for you two……

he’s simultaneously edging and overstimulating the both of you as he drags his cock so slowly against your walls, never pulling out much but giving tiny, focused thrusts to bring his head tapping gently against your cervix, so deep inside of you that you feel utterly stuffed to the brim; he’s panting and you’re moaning at the absolute teasing that this whole sensation is. his thick cock stretching you out so good, the burn turned to pleasure; every vein rubbing against your warm, tight, gummy walls; and every time either of you feel a climax nearing, he’ll stop just in time as the two of you catch your breaths.

soobin slowly leaning down to your level, getting comfortable in a new position as you wrap your arms around him, moaning into each other’s mouths as he brings his lips to yours and begins moving his hips again.. “feels good?” he’d mumble against your lips, you nodding and whimpering back, “so good.. you’re s-so big..” and you can feel the way his cock twitches at your words. “not hurting you..?” his voice more hesitant this time, but you’re reassuring him, pulling him closer - “no, baby, making me feel SO so good, please don’t stop~” — and so he doesn’t.

gradually picking up the pace until his tip is bumping into your cervix rhythmically, the pressure taking your breath away as you wrap your trembling legs around his waist, whimpers and staccato moans coming from you both as you beg him to cum inside you, and that’s what sends him over the edge as he presses deep into your cunt with a groan — the warmth of his release makes you shiver, and you reach a shuddering climax as you feel his tip throbbing against your cervix when he finishes. you end up cumming so hard that you see white, and the rest is history.

despite all the trial and error with soobin’s monster cock, you become obsessed with the sensation of it filling you up to your pussy’s limit.. cockwarming him as he plays video games and you’re rolling your hips over his, his tip rubbing into you so deep that you end up shaking around him and soaking his lap in your cum — (he’d definitely get you to squirt at some point btw) — or whether it’s getting used to the feeling of him thrusting in and out of you while you build up familiarity with the feeling of his huge cock reaching all the deepest places of your cunt.. whatever the case, eventually you learn to fucking love feeling him so deep and you can just never get enough of your boyfriend’s big long cock and his powerful hips that he knows how to use oh so well 🤧

and when there’s no time for sex, he never says no to you bucking your hips on his long, pretty fingers as he massages them in and out of you with a thumb on your clit and a whisper in your ear of it’ll be my cock soon, baby, don’t worry — gonna fill you up so, so good.

that’s all. just you learning to take soobin’s huge size in your lil pussy <3

this thought feels almost too obscure for anyone to like it but 🤷🏻‍♀️ just had to get the soobie’s big dick kissing your cervix concept out there… also now i’m thinking about him making you squirt lol 🫠

#mj’s hard thoughts #txt #txt x reader #txt hard thoughts #txt thoughts #txt smut #soobin #soobin x reader #soobin hard thoughts #soobin thoughts #soobin smut #soobin fluff #txt fluff #soobin soft thoughts #txt soft thoughts #taegimood

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diejager · 10 months ago

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What are your thoughts on Stepdad!price (or Johnny) who intentionally get you pregnant

Cw: STEPCEST, DARKFIC, DUB-CON/NON-CON, forced pregnancy, misogyny, forced breeding, breeding, creampie, mating press, doggy style, office sex, tell me if I missed any.

Price would act different with you than with your mother, something about him knowing what’s best for you because you’re younger and more naive than your mother. She didn’t need his guidance or help, unlike you, who was still so young and pretty, a beautiful gem that was corruptible if handled by the wrong men. So he took it into his own hands, teaching you who was in charge in this family.

He might tolerate your mother working and acting as her own being, he respected her for being the sole provider of her household for so long, caring for you and your younger brother who was still young and impressionable. You might have taken longer to accept him into your home, but your brother was in the phase of wanting - missing and needing - a father figure in his life, seeing him as the most dependable and powerful person in his world as his step-father and a Captain in the SAS. It was something your brother could brag about and feel proud, a turn of a new leaf in a life where he always told people he was fatherless.

Bot your mother and your brother took his sudden appearance so well, perhaps it was her aged exhaustion and your brother’s jovial and receptive mind, but you were still in your peak, beautiful and bright-minded. His only issue with your lifestyle was your brainwashing, mind filled with feminist and liberal thought that went against all the morals and values he grew up with. It was something he had to fix, something he didn’t want to leave alone and fester and rot your brightness.

Your mother worked so much, she flied offshore multiple times a month, leaving you to care for Ethan with the money she wired to you to look after yourselves. She worked and provided, and you watched the house and cared for Ethan’s schooling and life. You cooked, you cleaned the house, you watched your kid brother and you did everything a mother would for her child. You were left with such a big load without anyone to shoulder it with you, and that’s where he came in.

Your mother left him to his own devices, letting have free range of her home and her children, one third teen year old and another in her twenties. He cared for you when no one would, helping you ease the tent in and exhaustion off your shoulder, his hands wandering your body like he owned it, making it’s curves and grooves until he burned it into his mind.

You might fight and struggle, that pretty mouth of yours spewing delusions about not consenting to his advances, the age difference, the women’s rights and humanitarian rights that had his patience running thin. He truly hated what people put in your mind, the crazed and nonsensical ideas that went against familial values and would eventually break the family he envisioned building with you. Despite your thrashing and threats, he moved forward with his plan, splitting you apart on his girth, hips snapping and bottoming out until his tip kissed your gummy cervix.

He filled you up every moment he could, painting your walls with his thick, salty and viscous cum, listening to you mewl and cry, moaning out like a bitch until you milked him dry. He wrestled you in bed, bending you over his desk, paperwork left strewn across the room , then he’d fuck you in the living-room when Ethan was off to school, pressing you down to your knees and ploughing into you with reckless abandon, and he’d take you in your bed at night, folding you in half with your feet hanging off his shoulders and he slammed into your warm cunt. It was a perpetual cycle, a fill and refill schedule that would never tire him out and that would fuck your mind into the right space. He had to right the wrongs and that started with breeding you.

It really shouldn’t be that surprising that he knocked you up after a few months, a new life growing in your little womb that he drowned with cum.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @infpt-zylith @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts

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twistedcharismaaa · 2 years ago

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Ari Lennox ❤️

#ari lennox #ari lennox music #my baby cakes #away message #shea butter baby #age sex location #blackberry sap #gummy #queen space #black women so beautiful #so beautiful

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hanjisungs-bigtittyg0thgf · 1 month ago

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Kinktober Day 12: High sex with fuckboy!Jisung

Trigger warnings: recreational drug use

Content warnings: names (babe, baby), oral (f receiving), a couple ass slaps, jisung is a huge tease with a little crush

Summary: He’s an old friend and a terrible influence and he’s determined to give you the best night of your life.

A/N: hi all 🥰 after much consideration, i’ve decided to repost my kinktober 2022 stories. i had a great time writing these a couple years ago and want to share them again now that it’s been a while and i’ve had time to fall in love with them again. i hope you all enjoy! and by all means, feel free to send a message or comment here if you’d like to be part of the new tag list!

Word count: 3k

Tags: @bahng-chrizz

Smut below the cut

It had been thirty minutes since you’d had your gummy and the fifty milligrams of Delta 8 was hitting faster than you’d anticipated. It usually took an hour for both of you but this was a different brand and you weren’t exactly mad about it. You couldn’t be mad about it, not when your senses were pleasantly dulled and your friend was sitting across from you looking like a whole damn buffet.

You watched as Jisung slumped in the cozy chair, manspreading as he got comfortable. He looked unbelievable like that, all relaxed sighs and lazy grins. He was stoned out of his fucking skull and it showed, given he was usually extremely animated and goofy. He tugged the front of his baggy charcoal shirt down, likely trying to adjust the collar, and your attention was drawn to his lap, where loose gray sweats outlined every inch of his lower half in excruciating detail. Fuck…

“Whatcha starin’ at, babe?” He teased, quirking an eyebrow at you. You took a deep breath and blinked back the fog in your mind, realizing you’d completely zoned out while staring directly at his dick. What had you been thinking about again?

“Hmm?” You looked at his face and he seemed to be checking you out. That couldn’t be right. You’d gotten high with him plenty of times - in fact, he was with you the first time you got high - and he’d never stared at you with such intensity before. You suddenly felt like his prey, just a piece of meat he clearly wanted to take a bite out of. Was something on your shirt? It had to be. Why else would he be staring at you like that? You looked down at yourself and found nothing amiss so you turned your eyes back to him and waited.

“You were totally checking me out.” He accused in a clearly amused tone and you shook your head immediately. No way. He was an old friend. Sure he looked like fucking Adonis, but there was no way you’d been checking him out. Right? “You were.” He chuckled and shifted in an attempt to draw your gaze back to his lap. It worked. You looked at his lap for a brief moment before quickly averting your eyes upon noticing the slight tent in his sweats. “You just did it again.” He teased. “Why don’t you come here and sate your curiosity?” He challenged and you finally looked at him again.

“Is this what you’re like with all women?” You rolled your eyes, amused and very obviously flustered.

“Only the pretty ones.” The way his gazed raked over your body was entirely deliberate. He glanced back to your face and winked at you, one corner of his mouth twitching upwards in an obnoxious smirk, before letting his eyes fall back to your chest. “The ones I wanna fuck.”

“Oh…” Your face instantly heated up and you grabbed your phone, opening instagram immediately to avoid addressing that.

“Come on, you can’t seriously tell me you haven’t thought about it.” You began to worry your lip with your teeth, not responding, and he continued. “Well I have and there’s a whole bunch I wanna do to you.” He paused, watching you as you stared at your screen and tried not to squirm. Fuck that was hot... You weren’t scrolling through posts anymore, you were just staring blankly as you tried to avoid looking at him, panties already damp from the confirmation that he wanted you. “Wanna hear about it?”

You noticed him lean forwards, elbows resting on his knees as he scooted to the edge of the massive chair he was seated on. You did wanna hear about it but talking about sex was never easy for you despite having had plenty. It felt awkward unless it was with your very best friend, who told you all about her exploits in great detail. You slowly lowered your phone away from your face and locked it, holding it tightly as you cautiously met his eyes.

“I knew you would.” He grinned triumphantly as he sat back. You quickly looked at the table between you, trying to avoid checking him out. “You can look. We both know you want to.” Your cheeks burned even hotter at his comment and you pulled a throw pillow onto your lap, picking at the threads along the seam. “Hell, you can come touch if you want.” You certainly did want that but didn’t move.

Finally, after what felt like years of waiting for him to continue and almost forgetting your embarrassment due to the fog you were in, he carried on. “I’ve thought long and hard about what I wanted to do to you if I ever got the chance. Truthfully, I’ve wanted you for years now.”

“Me and every other female on this side of the grave.” You snorted. He laughed, knowing it was true, and resumed.

“Yeah but you’re special. I know I’m a slut, I wear the title proudly, but you’re different from anyone else I’ve ever hooked up with. All those girls were passing interests. But you? You’re the one girl I can’t seem to get to.” He sounded like such an asshole, like he was entitled to the attention of every female he came in contact with and you were just another woman to be conquered, but you still wanted him. It was kind of pathetic to be honest. “You’re the one girl I’ve spent longer than two weeks fantasizing about. I’ve always wondered what you’d look like underneath me, how you’d feel…I’m thinking about it right now.”

You watched as his hand slid from his thigh to the front of his pants, pressing his palm firmly against his erection and tipping his head back. He let out a short sigh as the pressure offered some sort of relief, lifting his head and looking back at you as he let off. “You got me all fucked up right now, babe.” He groaned softly and you felt like you’d explode if he didn’t touch you right then.

“My room.” You finally said, standing abruptly from the couch as you tossed the pillow and your phone down on the cushions. You didn’t wait for a response, immediately taking off towards your bedroom.

He sprung up from his chair and followed closely behind you, teasing you as he walked. “Already? I didn’t even get to tell you what I wanna do to you.”

“Then start talking.” You shrugged, opening your door and stepping aside for him to enter the room after you. He stood frozen in place for a second, staring at you in mild disbelief.

“And here I thought you were the shy type.” He scoffed. “Shy girls are too cute. So much fun to break down. So obedient, too, once you coax them out of their shell.”

“Talking about fantasies is different from acting on them.” You said as you grabbed his wrist and tugged him into your room since he wouldn’t get out of the doorway. “But for the record, I am.”

“Sure doesn’t seem that way to me.” He chuckled as you turned towards him, feeling suffocated as soon as you were facing him with your back to the door. “All the fun thoughts I’ve had might have to be revised.” He hummed as he trapped you against the cool surface behind you, one arm propped above your head.

You couldn’t avoid looking at him given the proximity so you simply avoided his eyes. “There she is.” Your hands curled into fists at your sides in anticipation when his free hand came up under your chin and gently forced your head back. “Normally I wouldn’t do this, but it’s you. I have to.” His voice was quiet as he inched closer, finally pressing his lips against yours after a moment of hesitation to allow you to back out if that’s what you wanted.

It was clear his reputation was spot on from the way he kissed you. Despite his claim that he didn’t shove his tongue down other girls’ throats, he was an expert at this and you found yourself getting worked up even further. Your hands unfurled and moved to his sides and his arm that was above your head dropped down to snake around your waist, pulling you against him rather roughly and earning a soft gasp. He lightly bit your bottom lip in response and you gripped his shirt so tightly your knuckles went white.

The hand he held under your chin moved away, trailing down your body until it rested on your ass, which he promptly squeezed. He licked into your mouth and you let out a soft whine, making him smirk against your lips. You briefly chased his lips when he pulled back and that damn smirk was still on his face when you finally opened your eyes. “I’ve thought about that a lot.” He whispered.

“What else have you thought about?” You asked meekly, trying your hard best to maintain eye contact.

“Stripping you down and eating you out for hours. Fucking you in every position I know and then inventing new ones just so I can hear you slowly lose the ability to form any words that aren’t my name.” Your breath hitched as a fresh wave of arousal washed over you, making you clench in anticipation. “How good you’d taste, how pretty you’d sound, how tight you’d feel around me…so many things, babe.” He began to guide you towards the bed as he spoke. “Can I do that? Fuck you ‘til you see stars and find out all the things I’m curious about?”

You could only nod as his fingers slipped under the hem of your shirt. He swiftly removed the loose material and let his arms circle around you to unhook your bra. He was wasting no time here. It made sense considering how long he said he wanted this.

As soon as you were entirely naked on your top half, he hauled you onto the bed and leaned over you to attack your chest with kisses and bites. You let out a soft whimper and brought your left hand up to your mouth, muffling your sounds with the back. A cloud of warmth enveloped your body as your mind went hazy again. Your impairment heightened your awareness of your physical being and you were ten times more sensitive to the pleasure you were receiving from his suckling on your breasts.

Your eyebrows knitted together as he began to move lower, muttering something you couldn’t comprehend about how badly he wanted you. You allowed him to tug your pajama pants off and propped up on your elbows to watch helplessly as he mouthed over the wet patch on your panties. He took a deep breath, appreciating the scent of your arousal, before running his tongue up your slit. “Can’t fucking wait to taste you…can I take these off?” He asked, looking at you through his lashes as he hooked his fingers in your waistband and paused.

You nodded vigorously and watched with what you assumed were wide eyes as he slid the thin cotton down your legs. The way he stared at your pussy made you want to vanish, to hide from his view, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move as he let out a low groan. He cursed under his breath as he briefly admired you before urging your thighs over his shoulders. Once he had you how he wanted you, he wrapped his arms around your thighs and pulled you the slightest bit closer as he buried his head between your legs.

Your head tipped backwards and attempted to bite back a moan when his fingers spread you open for his tongue to circle your clit. “Lemme hear.” He mumbled, voice muffled since he didn’t want to pull away from your cunt for even a millisecond. As soon as the words left his mouth, he dove back in and there was no chance of keeping quiet when he sucked on your sensitive bundle of nerves.

Your arms gave way as you allowed yourself to fall back into the mattress, losing yourself in the moment. You were certain you’d never experienced such intense pleasure in your life and you knew it was because of the drugs. I’m gonna want him every time we get high now…

He was a fucking expert with his tongue and you realized why he was so popular with the ladies. You were certain he was going to suck your soul straight out of you through your cunt.

You couldn’t be sure how much time passed with his head between your legs, lapping and sucking at your dripping pussy, but it felt like he was pulling away all too soon. You let out a distressed whine and lifted your head from the bed, fully prepared to object but stopping in your tracks the moment he stood. He looked like a god towering over you the way he did. He only took a moment to admire you before he quickly stripped himself, your mouth going dry at the sight.

“Condoms?” He asked, hoping you had some nearby so he wouldn’t have to take time to fish through his wallet. You shook your head and he stepped back but you sat up and pulled him back by his wrist.

“It’s fine, I’m on the pill, please just fuck me already.” You begged, still pulling him closer. He groaned as he processed your words and leaned down, crashing his lips to yours for a brief, messy kiss.

“Hands and knees.” He commanded as he pulled back, wrapping a hand around his thick shaft and giving a few strokes. You eagerly complied, flipping over and letting out a delighted hum when he grabbed your ass. You immediately laid your head down on the bed, ass up and back arched, and he gave your soft flesh a slap before placing one hand on your hip while he used the other to line up. You shimmied back onto his cock before he could even ask if you were ready and he just barely managed to contain the choked sound he wanted to make. He had to at least pretend to keep his cool even if he had already revealed his hand to you.

You let out a pathetic moan at the stretch and he squeezed your hips with both hands as he bottomed out. He felt the need to make this memorable for both of you since he didn’t know if he’d get the chance to do this again, though he knew your memory would be lacking tomorrow if you were as fucked up as he was. He could barely string together a coherent thought and was working on pure instinct as he rolled his hips against yours before pulling out and slamming back in, setting a rough pace. He was gone.

He was correct in assuming that you would struggle to remember, of course, because you were floating through time and space. Everything felt pleasantly fuzzy as your muscles gradually grew more tense. His grip was tight as he drove you into the mattress and you felt like you might just catch on fire.

You felt his hands slide from your hips to your back, one resting on the slope of your spine while the other slid higher until his hand was tangled in your hair. The simple touch sent a thrill through your body and he hissed, cursing under his breath a moment later when you clenched around him. “Careful, baby.” He warned, knowing he’d fall apart if you tightened around him again.

You took it as a challenge and he pulled out the second he felt your walls gripping him tighter. You wanted to pout but didn’t get the chance as he flipped you over onto your back and pulled you towards him. He urged your legs around his waist and easily slid back in, resuming his previous actions.

You rocked your hips in tandem with his thrusts, desperate to get off. Time was passing strangely so you had no idea how long he’d been fucking you but you were getting dangerously close to the edge. You warned him of that and he reached between your bodies to thumb over your clit, pulling a moan from you.

You clenched around him in an attempt to get him just as close as you were to orgasm and the band in your belly snapped. You let out a series of pathetic, broken moans as your walls fluttered around him, your whole body spasming as you came. He managed to pull out just before he let go as well, cumming across your stomach with a loud moan that was several octaves higher than he’d intended.

He collapsed beside you and both of you stared at the fan whirring above your heads for what felt like hours but could realistically have only been two minutes. Finally, you looked over at him and broke the silence, grinning as you spoke. “I made you moan like a girl.”

He laughed and rolled over to face you. “Don’t go around telling people that, it might give them ideas.”

“I didn’t plan to share this with anyone but now I’m having ideas.” You teased with a giggle as he sat up.

“Well keep those ideas to yourself,” He started as he got up from the bed and grabbed a towel from the hamper by your closet to clean you with. “You’re not pegging me.” Both of you burst into laughter as he came back and wiped his cum off your stomach. He tossed the towel back across the room and laid back down beside you, pulling you into him. “I’m so fucking sleepy.”

“Me too.” You mumbled, shivering when his fingers began to lightly massage your scalp as he held you. “We should do this again.” You added as your eyes forced themselves shut and sleep took over. You definitely needed to do that again.

<-d-11 | d-13->

#kpop smut #stray kids #stray kids smut #stray kids han jisung #han jisung #han jisung smut #stray kids han #han #han smut #stray kids jisung #jisung #jisung smut #kinktober #alura’s works

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house-of-wise · 1 year ago

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konigsblog · 1 year ago

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‘smile for the camera, mäuschen’

pornstar könig and his little, naive plaything.

mdni - tw: dubcon (coercion), toxic relationship, manipulation, guilt tripping. photo credit @ave661

you knew könig was a pornstar, he made sure you knew before getting into a serious relationship with you, so that it wouldn't cause any issues. you had no issue with this, only feeling slightly jealous at the thought of him having sex with other women for content... ‘til könig perked in.

“you could always join me instead, dear.” he comments, leaning back on the couch with his thick thighs spread out. the thought of being on the internet recording yourself having sex with your boyfriend wasn't exactly something you wanted to do. but, könig pushed. he wouldn't let go without the answer he wanted.

“please, mouse... it'll be fun, it's how i earn my money. do you want me to go get it elsewhere?”

his wording made your jaw drop slightly. of course you didn't want him sleeping with other women! but, this was his job; how he earned his money. he couldn't just drop it. “if you were committed to this relationship, you wouldn't have such an issue with either me having sex with women to earn my money, or becoming a part of it. what would go wrong? you're with me, safe in my arms, liebling...”

from then, he'd constantly pushed, manipulating you into saying yes, even if you were on edge. he had you on your back with the camera recording slightly from above, just over his shoulder. the flashing red light reminded you that it was there, that there were people watching. you were reminded könig was also there when he slapped his thick, meaty shaft down onto your clit, rubbing it with his tip. pearly beads of precum spilled onto your stomach, making you gulp nervously. he pinched your nipples, twisting them before angling his cock and pushing deep inside.

your mouth fell open, back arched and your body jolting with nerves. your bottom lip quivered, anxious as he continued to grind himself deeper, cursing under his breath at the tightness. you held back the tears that filled your waterline, gulping and bunching your hands into tight fists the more he filled your hole. you couldn't stop pulsing around him; squeezing his big dick with your gummy, tight walls. he furrowed his eyebrows together, eyes shut tightly as he bucked inside, filling you to the brim with his huge size. a small tear slowly rolled down your cheek, not visible to the camera from the angle.

“smile, mäuschen.” he threatened, wiping away your tears and rocking his hips slowly. your breathing picked up, became laboured and heavy and desperate the more he pushed inside. you gasped quietly, biting your bottom lip while rocking your hips in harmony. truthfully, you'd rather be anywhere else than on your back with your boyfriend's huge cock inside your cunt, for the internet to see. but in this moment, you couldn't do anything but freeze and take whatever könig decided to give you, no matter how rough or gentle he made it.

a low and guttural chuckle left his lips, with his dick throbbing inside your wetness and seeping out thick drops of cum. each thrust könig made knocked your body forward — probably due to the size and the impact his broad hips would make against your ass, his huge stature enveloping and curling around you. you gasped when he wrapped his arms around your body, picking you up into his arms and fucking you whilst standing. only drilling you deeper onto his massive size. you sobbed out, gripping his shoulders firmly and burying your face in his chest as he bucked and drove his hips up and into your slicken, wet folds.

“keep going for me-ja... good girl...” you could feel the wet head of his dick rubbing against your gummy cervix, smacking against it with each thrust, impaling you on his length.

broken sobs became muffled, drowned by your moans as he continued to fuck you harder. your eyes wet with your orgasm and anxiety, and the tightness in your stomach threatening to release, for you to coat and cover könig in your sweet, slick cum. you felt lightheaded — perhaps from exhaustion, maybe from anxiety, but the more könig rutted thrusted his hips against you, the wetter you became, leaving you now hot and flushed.

“that's it, my dear. you're doing well--look at the camera for me--ja... that's it, good.” maintaining eye contact with the camera, the live comments degrading you for getting fucked like a dirty whore.

könig breathed heavily beside your ear, growling out german while you grinded and rocked your hips down against him. you couldn't help it anymore. the tickling sensation of his pubes against your clit and your slit swallowing everything whole was driving you utterly crazy. you squirted down his shaft, lifting your hips off of him, your legs still wrapped around and clinging to his waist for support while he carried you with one, large hand cupping your ass, the other on your waist.

your cunny dripped with euphoria. juices dribbling onto his big dick while he groaned at the tight pain in his balls. “come on... your turn, then.” könig smirked a cruel grin at you, placing you onto your feet and sitting down on the bed, his bare body inviting and his thick, muscular thighs wet with his hot cum smeared along the skin.

“what?” you let out, a stuttered cry for help and support. the viewers watched as you nervously took a step closer, straddling his hips and easing yourself down onto his huge length. the veins on his shaft prominent, grazing against your walls at an agonisingly slow pace. two large hands guided your hips and you sobbed needily, anxious as he began fucking you down, showing you how to ride him.

“just like this, liebling...” your eyes rolled back at the sound of his accented and low voice, moaning out at the texture of his dick against your cunny. your pussy weeped cum, drooling with ecsasty. he spanked your tight ass, his other hand tugging at your hardened nipples while he kneaded the flesh and fat on your ass between his fingers, slapping you whenever your pace faltered.

“gutes mädchen, es geht dir so gut.” you panted, eyes drunkenly looking into his, filled with lust and piercing into yours. his silver eyes growing darker the longer and faster you rode him, ‘til he was pushing you down, making sure you took every single drop of his thick and hot cum like a good girl. you cried out, feeling as he stuffed you full of his semen, with your stomach tight and your hole gaping with his seed oozing out.

“all of it, my dear. take it all.”

translation: gutes mädchen, es geht dir so gut. (good girl, you're doing so well)

#i wish he was mine #DROOLING FOR THIS #könig fanart #könig call of duty #könig x reader #könig mw2 #konig #könig #konig x reader smut #konig x reader #konig call of duty #cod #call of duty #mw #mwii #mw2 #orla speaks

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liz-allyn · 2 months ago

Text

bittersweet: sugar + vice vol. 2 (pt 2) [mob!tasm!peter x fem!reader]

summary: "okay. about last night..." [mob!peter parker x oc!MJ] continued immediately from part 1 "Love on the Brain").

words: 5.6 k

tags: fluff and angst, my favs. food. stupid wealthy person antics, jealousy, boundaries, some world-building, PG-13 references to spicy memories from Pt. 1.

Part 2 - Bittersweet

The doorbell chiming yanked Honey unceremoniously out of her morning grogginess as she exited the bathroom. The bell tolled through her throbbing headache, causing her to squeeze her still-gummy eyes tight. She could only think of one word.

Peter.

Honey felt slightly guilty for throwing him out of his house last night. Even if it was an extravagant house. Even if it was at the top of an unconscionably expensive, 5-star hotel, where he could easily afford another place to stay.

Very slightly.

Even if she threw him out immediately after the most outstanding sex of her life.

Worrying her lip, she debated her next move. She let out a long sigh, tugging on the lapels of the spare bathrobe she'd found. She forced her legs to move, retracing the steps buried in the lust-filled haze of her memory.

Impatient, the door chimed again.

Her gait was more of a ginger waddle, and every muscle beneath her neck felt like it was made of jelly. Her body beneath the waist hummed. She could describe it as falling between a tender tingle after a deep tissue massage and the aching burn she'd imagined would follow a CrossFit session at the top of Everest.

Images from last night flooded Honey's brain. How Peter had pleasured and defiled her. He bent her body deliciously, fitting her to and around all of his aching needs while elevating her toward a new stratosphere of ecstasy.

She stowed those thoughts away. There would be a time for them later. Probably later that night. Maybe even in a week, after her body finally recovered.

For her own dignity's sake, she would not let the morning after Peter Parker walked back into her life be that time.

She stepped towards the entrance and saw the tattered remains of the clothes she wore last night scattered in the dining area. Shredded like a wild animal had gotten to them.

She averted her eyes, grinding her teeth as the door chimed again.

"Alright!" she hissed. "Hold your horses––!"

She gripped the doorknob and swung open the door, clipping her tone immediately.

A wide grin beneath a thin mustache and furrowed, silver, bushy eyebrows greeted her.

"Good morning, madam," the older gentleman stated.

He wore a crisp, fitted white uniform and a pleasant smile. She blushed immediately, gathering her bathrobe tighter at her chest, and gawked at the seven uniformed hotel staff in the hallway.

The man who greeted her had a warm, olive complexion with bronze freckles. Sunspots dotted his face, blended together the tiny wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. "Pardon our intrusion."

Honey jumped out of the way without much time to react as the gentleman dutifully led the staff into the penthouse. Wide-eyed and tongue-twisted, she stared with wide eyes as the man motioned for his staff to follow.

The scent of coffee filled the entryway as a young man rolled in a cart. It was stacked with an impressive display of cream, sweeteners, and tea bags circling two gooseneck, stainless-steel coffee pots. Her eyes followed the kid as he passed, her stomach growling at the familiar aroma of fresh Colombian coffee beans.

Honey opened her mouth to speak but hushed again as a middle-aged woman in a double-breasted white uniform pushed in another cart stacked with silver serving platters with cloche dome tops.

She could feel the steam wafting off the cart and had just enough time to move as she saw two more women, each with their own cart of linens and sizzling serveware, following behind.

Honey's stomach growled while her gaze followed. She opened her mouth to speak, but was cut short again. Two more uniformed women walked in wearing matching steel-gray housekeeping dresses. The sleek dark fabric was contrasted with white cotton trim on the short sleeves and the high, Peter Pan collar of the dress.

They moved like a rising surf—fluid, swift, and unstoppable—as they crested and split in opposite directions. They were gone again in a flash.

Honey barely had enough time to see them disappear before the heat of the subsequent presence was at her back. Her head snapped to the open doorway, and immediately, her face fell flat.

Peter.

His lithe form leaned against the doorframe, and she was sure he would've occupied the entire space had it not been an oversized 8-foot door.

Peter's presence came with a lightness Honey was unused to. Specifically, the light beige Ralph Lauren suit over a lilac button-up.

"Mornin,' sunshine," he drawled through a lopsided smirk.

The sunshine seemed like it was radiating from him. Sun rays reflected off the linen of his suit. A quick coy smile revealed a flash of his white teeth. His eyes glowed warm amber hues, highlighting the roasted chestnut of his hair. Despite it being freshly cut and combed and his waves being tamed with hair product, a stubborn curl peeked over his forehead, like a flower leaning towards sunlight.

Like the flowers in his hand. He held a thick bouquet of mostly yellow daisies and ivory roses. In between the perfectly crafted arrangement, stalks of delicate, purple flowers protruded from the thicket. They brought out the lilac in his shirt.

She reexamined it again.

Not lilac.

Lavender.

"M'surprised you're up this early," Peter dreamily murmured, observing her with starry eyes.

Honey looked down at the flowers pressed against his chest, then back at the gold in his gaze. She observed the gentle curve of his smile.

Honey's face was the polar opposite, with icicles to prove it. "I'm surprised it wasn't the cops at the door."

It was like popping a metaphorical bubble. Or one of his lungs.

Peter's eyebrows dipped as he pulled his lips into a frown. She turned her back to him smoothly, letting the door swayed open behind her. The door creak followed the sounds of her retreating steps.

Peter shot a quick glance toward the sky. He dragged in a breath and let his shoulders sag. Somewhere in his mind, the phrase 'Well, what did you expect?' echoed. He let the air out of his lungs, and turned on the unflinching charisma.

He followed her— because, of course, he did— meandering in with something of a swagger.

"Y'know, that's a good point," he said matter-of-factly, "now tha'cha mention it." He studied her from behind, watching her pad through his home, searching for the rest of her clothes.

Peter continued, slyly. "I'm surprised they didn't show up last night. All that screamin' you did when you were ridin' me..." He couldn't see the embarrassment on her face, but he noticed the way her back stiffened. "Surprised they didn't think a wild animal was on the loose," he added, lips curling with satisfaction.

"Congratulations!" she replied, her tone bright with feigned enthusiasm. "You went thirty whole seconds without bringing up your dick! What. An. Achievement." She pointed expectantly towards the dining area. "Are you hosting a party to celebrate your success?"

She observed the kitchen staff curiously. They were in prime form, quickly and quietly retrieving plates, serve dishes, cutlery, and linens from the cart. They flowed through their movements, like synchronized swimming. Her gaze drifted towards the housekeepers spraying and wiping down the table surface with cleaner.

Heat spread across her skin as she recalled how they had desecrated that spot just hours ago.

Blinking the memory away, she watched the servers step in place of the housekeeping staff. They tossed a linen tablecloth flat over the surface, setting the table for a fancy breakfast.

"Brunch for the Royal Family?" she commented.

Peter peeked over to see the flush on her cheeks, the way her skin heated up as she looked away from the dining table. Setting the bouquet down, he smirked. He knew exactly what was on her mind.

"A queen, actually," he shrugged, suppressing the faint curl of his lips. He wasn't here to gloat. "More of a date, really." He watched her next move intently.

"Well, that's my cue," Honey muttered. "I outta get going. Especially if you plan on eating anyone else out at the table." Her chin held high, she turned her back to him once again.

A strangely familiar sound— like a sharp, slick whipcrack— echoed from behind. She felt a tug on her midsection, then went flying backward. The force yanked Honey off her feet—just as it had the night before. She landed in Peter's arms with a shocked squeak.

"What the fuck?" she shrilled, grasping at the foreign substance on her back. It suddenly occurred to Peter that they hadn't discussed what Peter was using to reel her in, like many aspects of his complicated life.

He turned her towards him like manipulating a doll. Smugness and affection layered on his expression, like the cat that ate the canary.

"What is that?" Honey gawked. As she pulled her hand away, she inspected it closely this time. Shimmery, silver twine made from gossamer threads tangled around her fingers. "Jesus— is that... coming out of you?"

"No," Peter chuckled, amused by her horror.

She observed him, confused by his immunity to the web's stickiness as he casually tossed the string aside. While she was distracted, he gathered her close to his chest. At any other point, she would've fought him—because, of course she would. Her curiosity drove her attention.

Her eyes were on the black leather cuff around Peter's wrist. He'd worn it many times before. Honey just assumed it was an odd piece of jewelry. Maybe he didn't like the feeling of $30,000 designer watches on his skin.

Now, the glint of a tiny metal device hidden beneath the leather caught her eye. Her eyes darted to his other wrist, spotting another device as his fingers enveloped her shoulders.

She blinked curiously between the balled-up silk, to the leather cuffs, and to the hotel employees. They didn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary. They were likely instructed not to see anything.

Eyes still wide, she blurted, "Seriously, what the fu—?"

A fierce kiss silenced her. Peter smashed his lips to hers, capitalizing on the slight part of her mouth, and slipped his tongue inside. If he could've inhaled her into his lungs, he would have. He noticed faint pressure from Honey's palms against his chest, stubbornly resisting, as usual. The tension drained slowly as she succumbed to his grip.

Maybe she quit wanting to escape him.

Maybe she realized he was inescapable.

Peter was the one who couldn't escape Honey. Nor did he want to.

Seconds turned hazy. Peter was dragged deeper into a maelstrom. The longer he tasted her tongue, the more his blood surged like the swell of the tempestuous ocean against a sea wall.

Lust filled his lungs and his brain with gale-force winds.

Peter remembered last night, too. God, he was already half-hard just thinking about it.

Before he melted from the memory, he pried his lips away from hers. The act took all of his power-of-will. The most he could manage to sacrifice was a couple of inches of distance apart. Peter was already a mess, chest heaving. Honey looked just as wrecked—swaying unwittingly with shaky breaths.

Peter whispered to her, his voice dark, "You're outta your mind if you think I'm lettin'ya walk away."

A pulse-pounding shudder racked through her body. Peter swore he could feel her pelvic muscles flutter in response. It triggered a sick feeling of validation of the sinful desire polluting his mind. For a moment, he felt free to wallow in its toxicity.

That voice always managed to subdue her. Peter locked this information away for later.

He was also aware that he needed to touch her. He craned his neck a little further until his nose kissed hers. The action grounded them both. A flicker of levity broke through the lust, and his familiar smirk returned. "And you're batshit crazy if ya think I'm here for anyone else but you."

Honey gazed up at him owlishly, still locked in a haze. She only vaguely registered the breeze as the staff rushed past them. Her cloudy eyes found their way over to the dining table, now fit for a queen. Or a Good Housekeeping magazine cover.

The door slam pulled her back to the present.

"I thought I made myself clear last night." Peter bit his lip as he said it, holding the sides of her face as he oozed with charm. His sultry eyes fawned over her. "M'not lettin' you go. Not again."

"Let me go, Peter." Honey's voice was firm with a stone expression.

Immediately, Peter's shoulders dropped a full inch, and his voice pitched into a whine. "Will'ya stop being so stubborn—?"

"Let me go, Peter."

"Fine. You're mad at me—Y'made'ya point. Now, can we just talk about this? Like adults? Just sit down—"

"Let. Me. Go. Peter."

Honey's voice seemed to echo as she said it, charged with an electrical current threatening to fry him alive. It was more than a sneer; it was an ominous rattle before a bite.

Instantly, the teasing nature of their banter evaporated.

Peter blinked several times, like he'd been sucker punched. He was unsure of how to respond. A tick formed in his jaw as he observed her, watching intently, gears turning. Lips pursed together into a thin line.

Seconds stretched out uncomfortably as she just stared back.

Honey's spine as she stood in front of him—stood up to him—was steel. The little line between her brows popped out like a switchblade, her eyes skewering him just as deeply.

If she was afraid of Peter's unreadable expression, she didn't show it.

Seconds ticked on in their stalemate, during which dozens of scenarios played out in Peter's mind. At least a dozen of those scenarios were inappropriate ways of... making her do it.

Didn't matter what it was. 'It' could easily be anything Peter wanted.

He had the power—not just metaphorically.

Peter had enough strength in the upper half of his pinky to simply bend her to his will.

Peter's throat felt so tight it began to ache. A dry swallow rippled through his neck. Then, he made his choice.

His hands opened, releasing her with a forlorn expression. The moment he did, Honey took a giant step back—a recoil. He could've sworn he heard a faint gasp fill the gap they formed, like she'd been holding her breath.

In terror, he realized with disappointment.

Honey curled her arms around herself. His eyes dropped to the floor.

That look cut him deeper than any blade could.

"Honey," he said softly, emotions lodged in his throat. Burning mist clouded his vision. He wasn't here to cry, either. But his heart felt heavy all the same. "I just wanna talk."

"I thought you wanted to have breakfast with me."

"I do—!"

"Then ask me!" she snapped, frustration heating up her words. "Ask me! Instead of dragging me around like you're some…some caveman!"

Peter glanced up. The way she spat out the last word gave him pause.

He studied the pout on Honey's lips. The angry scrunch in her nose. Arms crossed, jaw firm. She glared up at his tall stature, looking courageous and formidable. At the same time, her eyes betrayed her vulnerability. She was desperate to be heard.

Honey had demolished every obstacle placed before her. Even if the obstacle was him, she made it look (and him feel) three inches tall.

The ferocity of her gaze could intimidate a tiger.

Simultaneously, the butterfly wings of her lashes could charm a viper.

The bow of her lips could force a king to his knees.

How can she not know this? Peter mused with wonder. How on earth was she unaware of how much power she possessed?

Significantly more than he could ever have.

Honey could make Peter do anything.

"If I had five minutes left on this planet," he began, eyes brimmed with an ocean of unspoken words, "I would want them to be with you."

A pause filled the room, consuming all of its oxygen. Peter held his breath in anticipation.

A surge of terror tightened in his chest, but it was tangled with something deeper—an overwhelming sense of adoration. To the outside world, they were two halves of the same sunset, golden rays that kissed a dark, cold earth.

Honey gazed at him intently. "I would like that," she said.

And he finally could breathe again.

"—But I can't."

Honey stated it matter-of-factly. As if she didn't just reverse the planet's rotation. Peter's gaze dropped to the floor as his heart shattered. He was close to falling apart entirely.

"I can't… I-I…" her words trickled out, trying to support her stance with a lack of conviction. Or direction. Or sense. "I have things to do."

That sassy tone of hers was back. Peter lifted his eyes to hers, "Oh?"

She shrugged, "Important things."

"Oh," he nodded along, furrowed brows in a serious expression.

"Yeah." She mumbled, almost too quiet to hear. She fidgeted with her fingers, threading them together, until finally, she grasped her arms into a comforting hug. "Like normal people."

The last part was meant to be a jab. "Normal?" Peter replied with decorum.

"Like… taxpayers."

"Hmm."

"—and moms…" she gulped dryly, "on TV."

Peter nodded conspicuously as if he were fully supportive of her bullshit. His patronizing politeness only frustrated her further.

"Okay, like most people have things to do," she argued harshly, "like bills to pay, people to see—

"Bills."

"And chores! Tasks. Responsibilities."

Peter snorted with feigned enthusiasm, "Wouldn't know anything about that."

"Well, I have a job to get to," she blurted, solidifying her position. "I need to go home and shower and empty my dishwasher, bring my clothes to the laundromat—"

"Uh-huh."

Frustration carved out her tone. "And you know what else? You don't get to hijack my whole day just because you found a couple of hours in your schedule, Peter!"

He had nothing to say to that.

"And before you ask," Honey pointed a polished fingernail at him, "don't get hung up on last night! You're still in the dog house." She turned to leave but stopped to add, "Or… people house!"

A moment passed, but she still wasn't done.

"If I had a dog, you would be it!" she growled. "Outside, in the winter, in a tiny wooden shack of shame!"

Then…

"–Not that I would ever do that to a dog, but maybe a-a cold-blooded— if you were a turtle, or…wait, that doesn't work— A fish! You'd be on your ass! Or fin— is that Portuguese linguiça sausage?"

Her demeanor had flipped like a switch, from cold to curious, as soon as the smell of food hit her. It was as if the entire conversation had never happened until that point.

Peter couldn't help but smile. "From that place you like," he confirmed, his tone enticing.

She paused, silent.

Mused.

Deliberated.

"Alright. First—sausage," Honey blurted out,

decision made. The irritation in her tone seemed directed at herself.

"Then," she warned, "you're in the turtle-fish house!"

She spun on her heel and sauntered towards the buffet as if she'd dropped a mic.

"Okay, so hit me," Peter said.

Honey glanced up at him. The look she gave suggested she was willing to do exactly that.

They sat at opposite ends, so far apart at the dining table that it was almost comical. Only a few minutes had passed since they agreed to sit and eat together. It might as well have been years. Every moment was packed with awkward silence.

Straight-faced, he lifted his arms, extending them in a welcoming gesture. "Let's hear it. I know you got questions. I got answers. Let's go."

"Oh?" she lifted her eyebrow as she pinned him with a mocking glare.

"Yep," Peter shrugged, maybe a bit too aggressively. "Let's hear 'em. Fire away."

A tension-filled moment of silence settled between them. The whole time, Honey skewered him with her glare. Then—

"Where should I start?" she spat hotly like lava erupting from a volcano. "Should we start from the top? Gimme three hundred words on how you spent your summer vacation." Each word sizzled off her tongue. "Or should we rewind a bit and talk about the ropes of glue shooting out of your body?!"

An amused laugh burst from his lips, his teeth flashing wolfishly. "I mean… yeah—" he smirked. "When ya put it like that, I'd be willin' t'give you a demonstration—"

"Grow up, Peter!" Honey snapped, her fork clattering on the china.

The accused straightened his shoulders and mouth into a line.

Contempt filled her incredulous glare. "Y'know what? Let's talk," she sneered, her anger releasing. "Let's talk about you since you're the center of everyone's universe. You, right now. Peter Parker, the Boss." She was flippant, each word intended to pierce his prideful armor.

"What's been goin'on in your world, huh?" she questioned, pleasant in her tone. "How's crime?" She said it like referring to a common relative.

Peter shot her a brief glare, only encouraging her patronizing.

"Must be good," she remarked. "What's the mortgage on a ten-thousand-square-foot condo in Manhattan nowadays?"

"Wouldn't know," he shrugged, picking his fork back up to take another bite. He pondered quietly as he chewed. "I bought the whole building."

The crassness of his declaration gave her pause. Honey hated how cocky arrogance looked as good on him as one of his Ralph Lauren suits.

"You bought— a hotel?" she asked in confusion.

Peter's eyes slid over to hers, looking like the devil as he brought a coffee mug to his lips. His eyes were twin flames, burning into her like he was trying to ignite a fire in her belly. Sipping a hot beverage seemed like a lewd act.

Depraved thoughts filled his skull as he laved his tongue across his scorched lips. He pulled the mug away, and his mouth glistened. He watched Honey's reaction expectantly.

"Yup," was all he said.

She stared at him, face unreadable. Not the kind of way she stared at his hands or his mouth.

"I suppose…" she crooned in a silky voice that edged on seduction and trepidation. For a moment, Peter's belly flipped with the excitement of a fisherman sensing the first slight tug on a lure. "The fact that Wilson Fisk used to own it had nothing to do with that decision?"

A bucket of ice water had been dropped on him. Coldness stabbed his heart and splintered his bones.

That name.

The name that paralyzed him. Made his hair stand up on end, even after all these years. She exposed a nerve with just a couple of words.

"Oh," she said knowingly, reading him like a book. "Are we still afraid to say his name?"

Peter's own words echoed back at him.

"...We don't say his name..."

Peter traveled to the day he rescued Honey from Fisk's men. He remembered inexplicably snapping at her, his hackles raised at the thought of what Mayor Wilson Fisk could do—what he had already done—to Peter's family. What depraved violation he would have done to this unassuming, bright-eyed girl.

Unassuming, only because she had no idea at that point that she was his.

The memory blurred and morphed into a twisted reflection of the current moment.

Innocent. But smart.

Trying to ignore the sudden pulse behind his eye socket, he lifted a shoulder and dropped it. Peter's practiced indifference returned to his face. He returned to his plate, calm and collected. "I'm layin' down plans—"

"With Carol?" Honey finished, eyes narrowed into slits.

Peter's eyes shot to hers, and he looked truly confused momentarily. His expression only seemed to anger her further.

"Is that who you're 'layin' down plans' with?" she asked lividly. There was no concealing it. Honey's eyes were sharp enough to cut his throat.

"What?" Peter blurted out. "Carol??"

God, he hoped he didn't look as stupid as he sounded.

"Yeah!" Honey hissed back, hopping to her feet. The chair creaked loudly across the marble floor as she shoved it away. “Carol. Fucking. Danvers.” Honey spat each word out like they were sour. "I believe that's her full name, no?"

Peter's brow arched, bewildered. Confused.

"'America's Sweetheart'!" she added through gritted teeth, pushing her fists into the table. The plate clattered at the impact. "Captain America?" she said as if to aid his memory. "You know?"

He blinked.

She bordered on shrill. "The one with America's Ass?"

Of course, she referred to the former Air Force pilot who became a TikTok sensation, a pop star, a fashion model, and a feminist icon. Everyone's favorite.

Typically, Honey wouldn't resort to bashing another woman, avoiding the "cycle of patriarchal misogyny which pits women against each other," to quote her sister. But deep within her fiery eyes, jealous voices conspired against her rationality.

Meanwhile, Peter's eyebrows squished together, as if he couldn't quite grasp what language they were speaking. "Wha-What're we talkin' abo—?"

Her glare was razor sharp. "What's Carol laying down, huh? What's she like?"

Peter stared back with eyes like saucers and an empty thought bubble next to his head. "She's… Fine?"

It took less than one second for him to deeply regret his answer.

"Oh, I'll bet she is!"

Something wild sparked in Honey's eyes like a crackling bonfire. She rounded the table marching towards him. "Y'think I'm stupid? I follow Deuxmoi, asshole!"

Peter let out a long groan, practically dragging his fingernails down his face. "Honey—"

"Don't 'Honey' me!" she sneered, adding a mocking dramatization of his voice. She threw her hands up in front of her face as if waving them at an invisible breaking news chyron. "'Carol Danvers spotted at 1Oak last night with alleged Syndicate crime boss Peter Parker... Is Captain America About to Break Bad?'"

Frustration filled his tone, "That's—! That was noth—"

"Oh, don't gaslight me, Peter!"

"I'm not!"

"Don't gaslight me about gaslighting me!"

"That was all TMZ bullshit, and you know it!" Peter shot back, now on his feet as well. She pursed her lips together, shaking her head in disbelief. Peter took a steadying breath. "Yes," he admitted, more composed, "I met her at a club, yeah. Because that's where she wanted to meet! I had a business proposition–"

"Business?" she bitterly laughed, crossing her arms. "You two goin' in on a new restaurant? Hipster gastropub called Peter's Cockpit?"

"Jesus Christ, Honey, I didn't fuck her!" he exclaimed in a near whine, waving his arms like a windmill. "It was—" he fumbled over his tongue. "Nothing else happened! No one is in anyone's… cockpit…"

He winced at his own words. Raw memories from last night flared up in his chest. "Where d'ya get off accusin' me, huh?" he interrupted, suddently. "What about you and Pedro, eh?"

Honey's eyes bulged out of her head in shock.

Peter was referring to, of course, the sexy, hazel-eyed waiter that flirted at the restaurant the night before. Clearly, Honey didn't see the correlation.

"Pedro!?" she bellowed in disbelief.

"Pedro!" Both of their voices echoed off the stone of the lavish suite.

Honey groaned so loudly, it was a roar. "Pedro's gay, you dunce!"

Peter's brows furrowed as he considered this. "Come again?"

"I've known him since junior high! He helped Becca get her first job when she was 15. At that very restaurant!"

Silence.

Peter blinked, a trench forming between his eyes.

More silence.

"So. You're... not... ...into him?"

Honey scoffed at the question with a rueful chuckle. He sensed she would've laughed if she hadn't been so furious. "Seriously? I've seen rainbows that were straighter!"

He felt his skin fluster. The thumping percussion inside of his chest leveled out to a dull thud. His heart ached all the same.

Peter's eyes rested on her. She stayed rigid, arms wrapped tightly around herself in a way that reminded him of a tree fighting to remain upright in the wind. A cherry blossom braving an early-spring cold snap.

Her eyes were cast to the side, and filtered sunlight gave her an ethereal glow. Anxiety reflected across the color of her irises.

"Did it hurt?" Honey asked, barely above a whisper.

He tilted his head at her question, glancing briefly at the shimmer resting on her lower lashes. Her voice was meek but raw with unspoken emotion, like a wave of tears being held back. "Thinking I wanted him?" He recognized her attempts to look anywhere else but at him.

Peter's chocolate eyes softened. "Did you want it to?" he questioned gently. Not an ounce of judgment thrown her way. "Hurt me?"

His beautiful girl swallowed dryly, blinking the shimmer away. Her eyes wandered to the floor. "Maybe," she replied thoughtfully, discovering it herself.

Peter hadn't expected her honesty but wasn't surprised. If anything, he found it disappointingly refreshing.

He watched her fidget with her hands. "Regardless," she said, clearing her throat. "I guess now you know how it feels."

Shame brimmed her gaze as it bounced off the walls and floor. Peter considered her expression, silently reading all the emotions she could not conceal.

"Carol isn't what you think she is," Peter said, matter-of-fact. His ferocity had calmed, and his arrogance had dissipated like a storm cloud. Tiredly, he ran his hand back through his hair. "Matt heard that she might be making the leap into politics. People are saying she could make a play for Congress. Maybe even the governorship."

Honey stared at him in silence. Waiting.

"I was hopin' I could convince her to stick a little closer to home," Peter sighed with a half-shrug and a dim spark of hope in his smile. "Somewhere... maybe like City Hall."

Honey arched a brow, processing. "Mayor," she said, contemplative. "You want her to run against Fisk."

He looked sheepish now, pocketing his hands. "Lotsa people think she could win."

Honey's eyelids narrowed. "Do you even vote?"

"She'd have mine," Peter replied without hesitation, then his eyes snapped to hers. "And no," he added, muted but coy. "Before you say anything, that wasn't a euphemism. Or an objectification of any of her..." The words dwindled as he struggled to form the right word. "...Assets."

Peter cringed after saying it, and he could've sworn that her eye twitched.

"I wasn't lying, Honey," he added. His heart was in his throat. "Last night. When I said, 'There wasn't anyone else for me.' I meant it."

She was silent momentarily, but a million words bubbled up behind her glassy eyes. "There has to be something else for me," she whimpered, vocal cords tight.

Her vulnerability was in plain sight. No further posturing. The heartbreak in her voice felt like a knife jammed between his ribs.

"I can't—I-I just can't..." Honey struggled, losing her composure.

"I don't…" Peter muttered half-consciously. Terrified at the realization. "What-what are you saying, you-you don't wanna be with me?"

The tears bubbled up again on her lower lash line. Her plea ground out miserably, voice breaking, "There has to be more to me, to my life, than just being… yours."

He blinked at her, confused.

"I can't belong to you, Peter," she replied. Tears glided down her cheeks, now flooded with raw emotion. "I can't belong to anyone else."

His Honey shivered before him, choking back sobs. She barely looked strong enough to stand.

And that's when it hit him.

The sharp contrast between the woman who stared him down and the shivering girl before him became apparent. It was day and night, fire and fear.

Fear.

"Mari."

The word snapped her out of her downward spiral. Wide-eyed and caught off guard, Honey's gaze flicked up to his.

Peter gazed at her with a worried line between his brows. He focused on her eyes, made impossibly brighter from tears. The sight broke his heart.

Peter took a careful step forward, the way one would approach a wild horse. The slightest twig snap might send her running.

"I'm not trying to put you in a cage," he offered gently. Saying those words were painful, in a nauseating way. "Not again."

The gentle relief he spotted in Honey's gaze tore through his sternum. Peter couldn't decide whether he would rather bleed out or trap her away beneath his ribs.

Peter's hands itched, desperately wanting to close the gap between them, wipe away her tears with his thumbprints, and blanket her with his hold. Vigilantly, he kept his heels glued to the floor. He'd like to think he did so out of respect for her wishes and not with fear that she'd run away from him.

"I'm— I'm not," he babbled, dread filling him. Everything felt suddenly upside down. Reversed. He was a stranger again, with a frightened girl trembling in his bathtub. The thought terrified him. "If-if-if that's what you think—"

"I love you so much," Honey declared, clear as a bell. His heart was in his throat again. He swallowed it down, afraid he would empty his stomach in front of her. "I really do."

The opposite emotions tugging at his psyche felt like an ax swinging downwards, severing thick brush with a satisfying whistle. They culminated in a wet chopping sound—the split of his heart in two pieces.

"It's the first thing I think of in the morning and the last thing I think about at night." She dabbed at her chin with the back of her hand, taking a measured breath. "Sometimes I think that it's all I have left."

His heart sank. "But it can't be, though. "

The knowingness of his voice pierced her further. "It can't," Honey replied gently. Sorrow weighed down the corners of her mouth, though he could tell she was still trying to smile. "I need to love myself." The last word had her lip wobbling.

Peter tightened his jaw, trying to channel the energy of his agony into something other than tears.

"For now," Honey added. The soft reassurance flickered like candlelight, providing the only warmth he could hold onto.

Peter locked his jaw and nodded slowly, understandingly. The more he thought about the equation, the more sense it made to him.

It wasn't about him.

He declared, resolved. "You're the boss."

A/N: Go ahead. Let's hear it. If you loved this, reblog. If you thought it could be better, give it a like. If you hated it, do nothing. Thanks to my muses, now and forever. 🦌 Back to S&V Masterlist • Back to Main

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