#the difference of stage lights 🥴

[omg-hellgirl]

Mick Jagger and Keith Richards singing together "Far Away Eyes" in Texas, 1978.

[arminsumi]

geto who's way bigger than you. just imagine sitting on his lap while he hugs you. he might kiss you in the hair or make you ride him until you're dripping all over his pants <3

TOO SMALL TO TAKE IT ALL, HUH?

𝐆. 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 — 夏油傑

🔞 smut / n.sfw / 18+ content

NOTE: did I just read Geto Suguru with a size kink or do I need to get my eyes checked out again 🥴 anyways hehe my dearest mama pieck in my inbox good to see u angel 💗

WARNINGS — fem reader, size kink, implied clothed sex, implied unprotected sex + creampie, hair pulling, light roughplay, teasing/playfulness, dirty talk, slight dom/sub dynamic (?), nicknames (daddy, good girl, baby, etc), lmk if i have missed a warning thank u lovelies

That’s the first thing he noticed about you – you and him, the sheer size difference. It made his eyes light up, it made him smirk. He immediately compared his body size to yours and relished in the fact even your shadow was smaller.

Satoru had introduced the two of you to each other years ago during one especially hot summer. You’d coincidentally stayed at the same hotel in Okinawa for the holidays. Geto Suguru very unashamedly chuckled when you looked up at him, noticing how your eyes skimmed the strip of his physique that showed through his Hawaiian shirt. One of the first things he said to you was “You’re so small” as a playful, cheeky little remark.

And it wasn’t the last time he said it. That was a very common phrase to come out of him. He loved making you very aware of how much bigger he was than you.

Never mind the obvious height difference, he was just bigger than you in every aspect. Hands, feet, forearms, chest, torso, shoulders. So often in the early stages of your relationship, he would put his hand out and splay his fingers so that you’d bring your own hand up to compare, showing off his finger length by curling them over yours, with a suggestive smirk too. At some point he made the very expected dirty joke, “Bet you’d prefer mine over yours, huh? Yeah. I could reach much deeper.”

The size difference between you and him was on his mind whenever he hugged you. He made sure that you felt the tones of his torso pressing tight against your chest.

And it was killing him inside whenever you perched yourself on his lap. You felt his muscular thighs supporting your weight.

Pair those together – hugging him while on his lap? He was conscious of every part of your body that pressed against him, as were you; how could you ignore the press of his biceps against your sides? No one could.

His pants started tightening when he mentally compared every aspect of your body and his body. Your hand and his hand, your shoulders and his shoulders, your leg length and his leg length. You wouldn’t expect nasty thoughts to be circling his mind when he’s pressing such innocent kisses into your hair. But he’s thinking of pulling on that pretty hair, making you squirm on his cozy, comfy, big lap while he stuffs his cock inside your tiny hole.

He sweet talks you while palming and kneading your ass, feeling the supple skin bounce and jiggle makes him giddy.

 Geto was a giant, but a gentle giant. Well, mostly gentle – gentle when he wasn’t thrusting up into you.

He fucked you like a real show-off, ‘cause Geto wanted to make your pussy remember his size. Splitting you open and stretching you out always earned a wolfy grin from his lips. “Feel that? ‘so deep I’m in your tummy, baby. If I cum inside I’m sure not a single drop will spill out.” He coos into your ear, firm grip unmoving from your hips.

The curve of his cock had you seeing stars, it made your body so weak – he liked that. He liked that he had the ability to make your body practically melt in his embrace, he savored the feeling and sight of your body going half-limp like a ragdoll when you were getting fucked too good by him.

Sometimes he was so needy to feel you stretch around him that he didn’t bother fully taking off his clothes, he’d just unbutton and unzip his pants.

“But I’m gonna soak ‘em.” You forewarned.

“Yeah.” He hummed with a smirk, “I like that, baby. Soak daddy’s jeans with your pretty pussy like a good girl. Make a mess on me.”

Now, Geto only gives you a bit of freedom when riding his lap. Those big hands are always attached to your hips and helping to work you up and down. Sometimes he’ll give you the liberty of bouncing on his cock all by yourself, as clumsy as you are in that cock-drunk state, so he can hold the back of your head and give you feverish kisses all over your face. When he feels the tickle of your hair as it slips through his fingers, that’s when he takes a grip of it and pulls back so gently. Geto’s so sweet and gentle – ‘till he’s cumming, that is, then you feel a slight tingle across your scalp as he really pulls on your hair.

“You’re so fucking tiny, baby. Too small to take it all, huh? Deep breaths, there we go – angel you’re so good for me, always listening to me – fuckkk – s-so fucking small, so fucking small ‘n tiny, ‘gonna milk my cum out with that tight hole of yours? Yeah? Good, be good and milk my cum out.”

When he’s through with you, he always praises you like a princess.

“You impress me.” He tells you, “it's so hot that you can take all of me like that, even thought you’re so small. Mhm, that’s right, you’re my baby angel, aren’t you? C’mere, let me kiss you.” He feathers tenderly against the crown of your head, ignorant of the fact his pants are soaked through with his pretty girl’s juices, and presses pretty kisses to your skin.

[uhgood-girl]

i haven't had a chance to fully form this thought yet so bear with me while i explore my own brain but my immediate response to this is i think two things can be true at the same time.

this is me playing devil's advocate with both you and myself, tbh. if you do not enjoy borderline pedantic over thinking, i recommend you turn back now.

i watched the entirety of standing next to you with my jaw on the floor. beyond seeing jk in what i would consider to be the epitome of his element, the arrival of all that experience and hard work and raw talent finely honed, culminating in the absolute pop perfection that is both that song and performance... well, i've made a joke on here before about my brains inability at this stage to not insert jikook into things. i could maybe help it if i wanted to (i can stop at anytime, says the alcoholic 🥴) but i don't want to because i'm having fun and i've made friends with the brain worms. they're my brain worms, who are you take them from me.

i have also mentioned jikook being it's own form of pattern recognition drug for mine, obviously, and probably other's more neuro-spicy tendencies. once you have seen and unlocked the code, it's really hard to turn the goggles off.

so let's talk about patterns. what is a pattern? a pattern is lmao no, i'm kidding, i don't think i need to define this for you but i guess when i say pattern here i'm referring to what a lot of people often call coincidences. (have i lost you already bc of this word? i know people throw it around often here, but again, bear with me) coincidences can become patterns if they repeat enough. how many coincidences does it take to form a pattern? three, i believe, is the universally accepted number but that feels so small when i type it out, much less think about it, tbh. but i suppose in the discourse of coincidences, something that reoccurs without apparent connection, (traveling strangers who keep ending up in the same cities together, you and your friend always texting each other at the exact same time, two people in a band who keep mysteriously referencing things that connect them in a particular sort of light) bc of the unlikelieness of their serendipitous nature, it makes more sense. and because i want to discuss this in a more tangible form and i believe humans to be meddling by nature, i think coincidences become patterns, beyond the number three, when intent enters the equation.

was that a very long way to say that despite the fact that jk didn't write any of the lyrics himself and is quoted in the article above as telling people to not take things too literally that i'm still going to intuit some autobiographical meaning from them? well, yes. i guess so. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

because ✨context✨(glass closet and comp het in particular). a context that i fully admit i am abscribing to the situation myself but if you're reading this i assume you're already in this boat with me, it's your context too, at least tangentially (GUILTY, your honor) by association. the entirety of any jikook argument has to exist in this space and to have gotten here at all required taking some liberties, a certain reading between the lines that is a tightrope of wanting to respect what someone says outloud and at face value while being aware few things are ever black and white (minus the infamous couple in question bah bum tiss 🥁).

if it feels different to you bc it's something he explicity expressed, that's totally fair. i've been back and forth about it a few times myself and maybe i'll feel differently tomorrow. but rn, this is where i'm at and this is all just spitballing at the end of the day, no?

in an attempt to not be accused of only picking and choosing the lyrics that suit my (gay) agenda, it feels worth pointing out that the lines i find applicable to jikook are not literal. as in while i fully believe jk could probably do anything he set his big, beautiful heart out to do, leaving someone's body golden like the sun and moon is unlikely. ( the jikook relevance is in it's choice, why that particular metaphor) and despite being more in the realm of possibility, i don't really believe he's fucking seven days a week either. his agreeance to the use of female pronouns in some songs and even the women in his music videos are a. the comp het standard for this worldwide pop boy takeover (inarguably) and b. don't automatically negate any potential underlying queerness of the artist himself. so when he sings she (is there even anything in the lyrics beyond the pronoun itself that could only refer to a cis woman? hell, does "she" only have to refer to a cis woman in this day and age? jimin is v in touch with his anima these days, don't kink shame :P) I'm taking that as an artistic liberty the same way I'm taking something like it's deeper than the rain. and the latter rain line only stands out to me because, again, broader context.

he didn't write any of the song lyrics but he was there for every step of the production and still approved what actually made it on to the album. he didn't write there for you, the song in gcf tokyo either but i dare you to go find a jikook argument about that video that doesn't list that song and its lyrics as evidence. he didn't write them but it's definitely something he cares about and is very aware of. i doubt anything was chosen without some degree of thought. which brings us full circle back to coincidences vs patterns and intent.

do i think the lyrics a lot of us collectively recognized as jikook coded, even if you respectfully don't want to read that far into it, were a coincidence this late in the game? ain't no way lmao. our jikook roads are paved with these sort of "coincidences." you think they weren't apart of the appeal? helped boost it right to main track status? maybe if it had just been the lyrics, without any of the imagery in the video (i would love to know how much creative direction he had here too, i hope we find out) to back it up, but between that not straight red line of fate, the black swan like wings, the dancing in front of the sun painting, the two households, both alike in dignity, in fair verona where we lay our scene aka the forbidden love vibes, etc. - it's too much for this sad little hyper-fixated romantic queer, personally lol.

so, i think two things can be true at the same time! i'm sure a lot of the songs and their implications have no autobiographical meaning to them beyond a universally relatable conversation and narrative about love, i do believe him. i think based on all the responses and feedback his first releases got, making a statement such as the one in the article was a good? pr move if nothing else too and definitely in line with what we have come to expect around an industry that bts is both sort of moving away from but still restricted by at this stage. if you've read any of my other ramblings so far on this site, you'll know i operate from a place of the more smoke screen around all this (this being a potential romantic relationship between jikook) the better, bc at the end of the day i want all of bts more than anything safe, happy, and free to pursue whatever creative fancy they can dream. them building a level of plausible deniability into this sort of stuff protects them. i will remain a broken record on that point.

but bc of the larger context of jikook as a whole and my belief that jk is both clever and also a romantic at heart, i'm going to take these crumbs and go. 🚗💨 i'm not in any sort of who can be the more superior, rational delulu competition, we're all in our own little clown cars no matter your chosen dressings until proven otherwise. that's the nature of this whole shebang, bby. 🤠👉👉

def feel free to come respectfully argue with me though, i'm never here to convince anyone but i enjoy these conversations and i love other people's perspective. are you ignoring the standing next to you jikook bait?

[clover-46]

I just got done with an 8 hour shift. How are you doing dearest?

At least I had Musician Gavin to keep me company!

Gavin who has kiddie merch that has a design Caelum made while the adult merch has him on it. Gavin who is trying to convince his PR manager to let him pull a Red Hot Chili Peppers and be naked on stage with just a bass guitar covering his personables. (they keep telling him no, even if they put a 18+ warning on the concert ticket site.)

Gavin who just sheds his shirt during concerts instead. And really, who can blame him? Those stage lights are hot and he's doing physical activities. He gets hot. And so does the person who catches his shirt that he throws out into the crowd. And so does the front couple rows that can see the sweat drops trace his skin and every muscle. 🥴

And he'll dance to his songs too. The edits that come from that really should be illegal or behind a paywall. I'm talking about like these types of edits:

https://youtube.com/shorts/EUNjng_hj34?feature=share

or

https://youtube.com/shorts/mT3woQTdGw0?feature=share

(I got flustered finding these clips omg)

Freelancer who got a backstage pass because they caught Gavin's shirt and the pass was clipped onto it. They go backstage, just clutching onto his shirt and butterflies are in their stomach. Because they get to meet THE Gavin face-to-face. The manager ushers them into a room with a couch and tells them to wait here because Gavin is getting some water and such. Which they're okay with because they need time to calm their nerves.

So Freelancer is just pacing and trying to calm their racing heart, not realizing that Gavin is already in the room, but his manager didn't know that.

"If it helps calm you down, you can wear my shirt Deviant." And they nearly jump a couple feet in the air because he came out of fucking nowhere. And then they realize that he's still not wearing a shirt. But he is aware that he's still half nude? So they hold the shirt out to him and he just smiles that arrogant little smile of his and moves closer to push the shirt closer to their chest again.

And so they get to have this conversation with Gavin, getting more comfortable as they talk about any topic under the sun while he's just lightly tracing patterns on their knee or lower thigh while they sit on the couch.

Gavin who's so unused to fans wanting to just talk to him, usually they flirt and such with him. But this a refreshing break. So he's content to listen as Freelancer talks about forestry, mushrooms, how much they want to help people, how they love his music, ect.

Freelancer who realizes they've just been talking his ear off for the past hour, grows quiet again while apologizing. But Gavin just takes their hand and presses a kiss to the inside of their wrist.

"You don't need to apologize for having an interests and talking about them, Freelancer. I like hearing you talk." He says. And Freelancer just feels all warm inside.

"You're one of the few that do." They respond and Gavin smiles before handing them his phone. They're different from the other people he's met in his life. He tells them that they can call or text him whenever they want to talk, and they can even hang out when he's in this area again.

And maybe he tells his manager that he wants this location to be a permanent spot on any future tours, press runs, retreats, all of it.

Who's to say?

-🙊

i just got done with a 2 hour shower!! sorry i didnt answer this sooner i took a reallyyy long nap and then the shower BUT HERE I AM.

STARTING OFF STRONG I SEE and is caelum his adopted son or something because 🥺🥺🥺

i have no words to describe how i was feeling when i read this part

mushrooms and forestry lmaoooo once again and i am a freelancer kin

god. i love them AHHHHHHHH 💖💖 (i was also feeling warm inside 😭)

i just watched the edits and omg why did i have a feeling it was gonna be jackson wang

@messenger-of-stupidity

[raitobie]

Alright I pretty much completed my Valentine’s Day art and I am so hyped to upload it I can’t wait 😩🥴 I drew myself with my natural hair and honestly, drawing me and Light together has been a struggle since I’ve been doing this because my hair has been so difficult to capture in the death note style. Not to mention my locs have taken on a different form and look everyday since I’ve started them, but they’re finally at a length and stage where I figured it out! So it feels fully like me now, even if I do like to wear a wig on occasion.

Now all that’s left is our birthdays and then I’m free to work on my other ideas✨ I have a character profile of my self insert I want to finish, and then I will have time to work on the actual layout of this blog and I’ll start posting headcanons and things about our ship dynamic ☺️💜

[yoonieper]

Some of these asks are making me cackle. Director dominate jungkook 😭😭 LMFAO. That’s a good one but I do agree. He has yet to experience things romantically and sexually. He’s suffered in his loveless marriage for too long 😔 Picking himself back up will be hard but I know he has good people around to support him, he just needs to let them in. Weren’t his parents also in an arranged marriage? They probably are stuck on the idea that they’ll eventually learn to live with each other without being in love and poor jungkook is a hopeless romantic. I know his brother was originally supposed to take over his current position hmmm they don’t seem too close since we haven’t had any scenes where they call to catch up etc. I know jungkook didn’t mind taking the position at the company but maybe it’s because that’s the only life he really knew, following and doing what his parents wanted of him. I do hope his parents help him out and see how much damage has done on their son. Y/n really is the light in his life so I hope he holds onto her and I hope she doesn’t give up on him. Their relationship is so special and vulnerable.

And I am on team who believes yuri has been cheating since day 1. That girl hasn’t put any effort in and expects everything to be handed to her on a silver platter. Why does she enjoy torturing jungkook so much? If she doesn’t know why she married or is still putting up with him why doesn’t she bring up leaving him and divorce? Why continue to stay if he “annoys” her so much? I need her to experience karma, she’s such an icky character 🥴 Y/n is much more classy, smart, confident, and beautiful than she is. I want jungkook to smile more and I want him to seek out Namjoon so I can finally swoon over Dr. Joon in glasses (he’s my bias if you couldn’t tell hehe).

Q: Since you have the chapters written out already, have you changed anything significant in the plot or added different scenes to the chapters? I know a writer’s mind is always changing once new ideas pop up so I wanted to see what your thought process looks like.

I won’t comment too much about most of this since all will be revealed in due time, but AHHH this was fun to read, I love long speculative post like this! Also jsksjsksksks with Dr. Joon, I’m excited too 🙂‍↕️

But to answer your question something MAJOR changed when I was still writing these chapters. I can’t really talk about it now because it deals with things in the future upcoming chapters but there was one important element to the story that I was indecisive about that became cemented once I moved closer and closer to it. Again I can’t talk about it right now but after the end of this arc I can kinda get into it! Oooo, I think I can say that I started writing the prologue back in 2020, and there was some changes to it over the years but it relatively stayed mostly the same, however I actually had two different drafts for part 1 that I originally started soon after! For the longest time I couldn’t figure out how I wanted to structure this story. I managed to get a couple k in then I was like sumn about it feels off before it was I think the end of 2022 that I finally decided to scrape it and change the structure entirely. Once again I can’t get into the details cause it would spoil the story completely but trust I will come back to this!

I can answer your question a little better with some changes to scenes! So typically how I write is I do very VERY rough first drafts to start with. I try and work in as many details as I can but if it’s not coming to me at the time I move on. Once the first draft is complete I then enter into the editing stage of what I call “putting meat on its bones” and working on the details I missed out on. Idk why but I find it easier to come up with those details when I don’t have the burden of finishing the story/chapter. This usually involves just adding the little details that make the story a little more lifelike. Then we move onto more traditional editing where I get into the grammar and making sure it actually reads well. I’ve been editing these initially chapters of For the Birds for over a year, but I’m only now having betas read through the chapters and give their feedback. Based on their comments sometimes I’ll make more drastic changes to scenes and sometimes add whole additional scenes, usually based off the notion that I just couldn’t figure out what a scene was missing based on my own editing and with more options it’s easier to manifest that discontentment into changes I can make. Part 3 is a great example! That whole scene with late night meeting between Y/n and Jk ended up getting like 3k added to it by the time I was publishing because I wasn’t very happy with how it lead into the smut and my betas gave some very helpful advice that lead to 3k being added to the scene. Oooo and I can give a more recent example but in part 4 that convo between Jk and Yoongi had some small but notable changes to Yoongi’s advice he ultimately gave Jungkook that ultimately worked out better to what I wanted! OOO and something a bit more specific but that part in part 4 with Y/n detailing what happened in the days leading up to when Jk and her talk again wasn’t there a few days beforehand so thank you to the betas for the help 😌🫶🏽 It’s typically things like this that end up getting changed and added. Editing for me usually takes forever but I find it one of the most fun stages! Some of these changes are big, some are some but noteworthy, but usually if I’m not happy with I’m changing something. This arc especially went through what I would say the most changes as I was a little less sure of how I wanted it to be exactly told starting out, but I have a storyboard now detailing the most notable details of the future arcs and chapter planned far out so I think things like that will happen a lot less now! The story has certainly evolved since I really got into writing it but once again I’ll discuss more of those details later!

Hoped this answered your question anon and sorry I didn’t expect this to become so long 😭~

[moonyslove78]

Reblogging this one again cause I am obsessed with it!

Here’s just a few of my favorite lines!

I will never deny “playing” with Peter!

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! 🥵🤯

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!

Yet another one I had a snort laugh come out while reading! This one was priceless! 🤣

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! 😅🥵

❤️Spider-Man Red❤️ is my favorite red of all! Especially when it reminds me of “who that ass belongs to.”!! 🤩😍👀

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! 😏

😂😂😂 she was like “fuck no it’s not too hard! Don’t even think about it!”

👀 Peter went from deranged sexual exhibitionist to protective possessive husband in no time! And I’m here for it! 😍❤️

Lmao!! 🤣 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! 👀🥵😍

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 🫠🥴!!

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 🫣🤣🥵)

Anyways, I loveeeee you! 😍🥰❤️

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.

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. 

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…

[kingkatsuki]

Have you heard doja cats song “streets?” If so hear me out. (This is going off my song bird and the rings ask)

Imagine mafia bakugou coming to an underground bar to do some business and he may or may not be going to see a certain song bird he’s been trying to get with. There’s talk around town about a very beautiful girl who sings like an Angel down town who is known for breaking hearts. Of course that draws bakugou in.

Long story short the song bird has a pretty fire quirk where she can engulf her whole body in beautiful flames and whatever she touches or walks around engulfs in flames.

He would be sitting back enjoying his whiskey and then the lights would turn into a pretty reddish pink and the sweet love song “put you head on my shoulder” that he thought was about to play turns into a totally different song which catches him off guard.

Next thing he knows there’s the song bird singing to him! The more she sings the more he can’t seem to look away. As if she was a siren drawing him in. He would smirk ear to ear.

His eyes would widen some when she starts to strip down to her underwear but before he knew it she would light up in flames. God she’s so pretty and so dangerous. How could a sweet thing like her be so dangerous?

I don’t know what else to do to this but it’s been running through my head all day 🥴

I love this, Anon!

First of all, Bakugou drinking whisky 😳

Like imagine Bakugou hates music/singing in the bar, often when he comes in the jukebox cuts off and the only sound is the low rumble of whispers while he sits back and drinks his whisky. But this time it’s different, your boss tries to signal to you to stop singing, the music being cut off completely but you don’t stop. Your voice carrying across the bar as you lose yourself in the song. Bakugou is shocked at first at how brave you are to just continue when you’re in his presence, but he allows himself to sink down onto the plush leather at his exclusive table, drink in hand.

Imagining him lounging back in his chair as he brings the glass to his lips, glancing over the rim as he watches you on stage. Because he’s such a prolific mafia boss he has special treatment in the club, his own private table and his own private rooms whenever he wants so all he has to do is raise his hand to get your boss to come over to make you come to his table after your set. Pouring you a drink as he makes you sit with him.

[blackberry-gingham]

Hi, for your fanfic writer ask game: 5. 19. 22. 23. and 46.

P.S: Have a nice day!! And i cant wait for your next work! <3

Ask list here! Asksksks Thank you so much!!! You too and thanks for the ask!! Sorry, it got a little long 😅😅🙏🏻

5) How many words do you write per day?

Aaaaaa, aha 😅😅😅 Heavily depends tbh. I suppose technically I do write every day, lol, but I don't really like work on fics or even sometimes request every day 😅😅 I can write about a 1,000 words in an hour if I'm fully focused, so when I post a new chapter of something there's a 90% chance I wrote it all in one sitting lol.

Anyway, I guess if I had to estimate, between shit posts and the chapter I posted yesterday that was nearly 3k words in one day. So... maybe 2k ish words on average? Not a lot tbh, but there it is 😂

19) Where do you write?

In my dorm 😭😭 Sometimes on my phone in the cafeteria if I'm like sitting with my back to a wall 🥴😂 Usually seated at some type of table tho lol, I don't really like writing in my bed as much as I use to for some reason 😅

I would love to go type in the university library tho! It's nice in there, but I'm usually busy lol.

22) Favorite part about writing fanfic?

I know I already answered this, but I have a lot that I like about fanfics so I can give a different answer lol. I also love the payoff of writing character development arcs 😩 It takes a loooooot of time to have your like bad guy romantic interest come to the conclusion that, "hmmm, maybe I don't want to be a criminal anymore" without it being like... bad writing lol. So it's always nice to get to that feeling of authentic, earned redemption at the end of most of my x reader fics.

23) Least favorite part about writing fanfiction

Smut scenes 😭😭😭 I'm not the best at them, and I kind of am not looking to be either, lol so idk. It's a wash I guess.

46) Favorite sentence/paragraph you've ever written?

Oof, I have a lot tbh Like... could make a whole post of little scenes here and there from all my works lmao 😂😂 I think a lot of my favorites come from first ever massive success of a fic, Last Pale Light from RDR2 tbh, but one that particularly comes to mind is in the big shoot out and reader, who Arthur has by now fallen very hard for, gets shot. It's that little brief moment where he basically goes through all 7 stages of grief in a just a few seconds, as some of their sweeter memories together flash before his eyes bc he genuinely fears she's dead.

Not only has half the gang been slaughtered at this point in the fic by the rival gang I created, but he now also thinks he's lost you two. The third woman in his life he's ever feelings like this for... and now she's gone too.

Looking back, I think it could be written a little better lol, but it was very impactful at the time for me, so I still love it. It's got great suspense (imo), plus in it's place in the fic, it's kind of your first glance at just how deeply Arthur feels and cares for you. This post is already long, but here, you guys can read the scene here if you want lol:

One of the gunmen, a little too on edge from the shoot out, pulled the trigger as soon as a target made itself available. A few cracks rang out in the town, and the whole world seemed to stop.

You gasped, slumping to the ground, as a deep red stain painted its way across your chest. Arthur went completely numb, as he watched your body fall to the ground in slow motion.

This was a nightmare. It had to be. Yeah, just a bad dream...

Any second now he’d wake up to your contagious laughter as you teased him for sleeping late and shook him awake. Any second and his eyes will snap open and all the screaming and gunfire will melt away to the sound of your beautiful, soft singing while you stroke his hair. Any second, and he’ll jolt awake laying beside you in your tent and stop himself before he rolls onto you again, turn on his back, and hold you close enough to keep your bad dreams away, while the scent of your hair and peaceful snoozing comforts him from the one he’s about to wake up from.

Any second now…

Arthur blinked once. Then twice. But the scene refused to change. His mouth twitched and a lone tear escaped down his cheek, but he was hard pressed to care. Not again. It was over. Everything he’d loved in life was gone. Mowed down before his eyes as a direct result of the very same life he’d so happily led.

[taemin-eternal]

I'd never seen a performance of heaven before and that music stage made me astral project minimum five times

YEAH ME TOO when he hit the high note while the light was beaming on him 🥴🥴🥴 i loved that he only used his female dancers this time but this performance is actually different from the T1001101 concert performance if you HAVEN’T watched that one you’re truly not living 😵

[twelvedaysinaugust]

What is your opinion on Louis wearing an H on his shirt or having bluegreen lights? Idk how I feel about it.

Idk how I feel about it either, anon. 🥴

The lights - and a lot of the so-called blue/green-ing, in general - I am willing to write off as unintentional. There are some potential exceptions to this rule, but I think it's important to remember that blue and green are common colors, especially in stage design.

The H shirt... I've deliberated long and hard and I lean toward it being a conscious choice on Louis' part. I say that for a few reasons.

1.) In general, Louis seems to put a lot of thought into his outfits - especially for performances. On this tour alone, we've seen custom-made pullovers, socially and environmentally conscious pieces, etc. The Maison Margiela "Memory of" label sweater in the Walls music video might be a relevant example here, too. So I don't think it's fair to say Louis just "throws on whatever" and walks on stage. I'm sure he has a stylist to help him with these decisions, but the custom-made shirts for AFHF and the opening night of LTWT suggest Louis has a lot of say and autonomy in this process.

2.) The H shirt was inexpensive and, quite frankly, unattractive. I also thought it was a strange choice aesthetically, as the big H was really loud and distracting - it detracted from the visuals and overall cohesiveness of the LFL stage. I don't see why Louis (or anyone else) would have thought it was a good fashion choice - unless he was trying to make some other statement.

3.) I think it's unfair and unrealistic to say Louis should anticipate everything that could connect him to Harry or be construed as "signaling" and avoid such things accordingly. However, I just wonder how he could have looked at the H shirt, put on the H shirt, and glanced at his reflection in the mirror, without realizing the conclusions his fanbase is likely to draw.

But it's interesting because the H shirt was interpreted in a lot of different ways. Larries viewed it as proof of Harry and Louis' ongoing relationship and undying love. Some Louies believed it was meaningless - the H stands for "Hotel," after all. In the context of the target imagery on stage and the alleged 2018 breakup, other Louies viewed the H shirt as a "fuck you" to Harry and a tacit confirmation that the songs on Louis' self-described breakup album are, indeed, referencing Harry.

There is also the argument that Louis wore the shirt to intentionally - albeit, disingenuously - play into the various fandom conspiracies about his relationship with Harry.

It's impossible to be completely certain of Louis' intent. I’ve said I’m a Louie. I - I guess I’m willing to entertain the latter Louie opinion I described. But if it was a coincidence or shameless larry-baiting, I’m going to feel really stupid for letting an ugly t-shirt take up space in my brain.